Winter 2009.
My best UAW source sends along a sobering story from Detroit of a 53 year-old laid-off, disabled GM worker, Timothy H. Regan, who quietly gave away all his possessions and waited in his recliner in his empty apartment for the knock of the eviction notice from the court. When it came in late January, Tim quietly went out the window. There was no note. In fact, the eviction servers did not realize Tim had jumped. They cleaned out what was left into a dumpster and only gradually understood that the sirens were because Tim was dead below. Unmarried, well-liked, unassuming Tim lost his job on a Black Thursday in 2006 and quietly ran out of money, healthcare, time and explanations. His family members loved him and left him alone. The silent sadness contains a mystery. No note. Why no note?
Winter 1933
I have mentioned before the three odd stories if suicides without notes from the winter of 1933: The first was Merrill D. King, 45, president of the Rex Paper Company of Kalamazoo,
Michigan, was returning from a business trip in Havana, flying on Eastern Air Transport from Miami, bound for Newark, New Jersey. Thirty miles from Charleston, over the Edisto RIver at 800 feet, King got out of his seat and went for the door. The pilot, G.L Pomeroy, and other passengers saw King struggling to open the door, and called out for him to stop. King forced the door despite the air pressure and went out wordlessly. Another passenger reported later that on the bus ride to the Miami airport, King had asserted that he had "lost everything," and that he was suffering extreme headaches. Mr. King left a wife and three children. When notified, his widow said she knew of no "unusual business worries," and that he had not been in poor health. The second suicide without a note was March 1, 1933, when a 35 year-old New York City worker at the furnaces, complaining that he couldn't keep his family on $30 a month, climbed over the catwalk, said, "So long, Mike" to his mate, and leaped into the 400 degree furnace. The third was on February 28, 1933, when a sugar salesman returned from luncheon to his office at 99 Wall Street and climbed over the guard rail and leaped from 31 floors. I include two other noteless suicides in 1933, in Great Britain: The first was Phillip Henry Chetwynd, 27, graduate of New College, Oxford, a barrister in the City, the only child of a widow and a late Royal Navy captain, who one afternoon in early November 1933 stood alone on the Piccadilly station platform watching a train chug to a stop. The engineer told the court that he saw this tall young man throw his umbrella aside and leap directly under the slowing locomotive. No note was found. No romance mentioned. No debts, with two trust fund paying him six hundred pounds a year. The court ruled death by temporary insanity. One fellow commented, "He was trying to get work, but in the city, that's pulling a dead horse." The second suicide was a widow, 54, who was found dead in her bed in a bedsitter. No note. Her chin was wrapped in the style of the time to fight off a double chin. Death by overdose of a sleeping sedative. Her banker attested she was stable with comfortable money in a local account and income from Canada. There was a romance, a man who had gone on to North America, but no foul play. The corner ruled it death by accident, but everyone shrugged and asked again, "Are you sure there was no problem with money?"
No Notes.
What does it means that none of these very different people -- varied class, age, geography, occupation -- left a note? A colleague reminds me that the Romans committed suicide in order to regain honor. I cannot see a pattern. One moment the man or woman is there, and then he or she is gone. Is it like a virus? Can it strike anyone? Do many feel it, do many think about it and almost do it, and yet just a few act? There have been many suicides related to Bernie Madoff's crimes. Are the Madoff-related suicides different than Tim Regan's? Tim Regan's careful, thoughtful, silent preparation is haunting. He helped give away his treadmill the morning of his death. He unscrewed the window so that he could get out quickly. He left no wallet, no cell phone, no laptop, no debts. No notes. What to think when you watch someone you know who is out of work, or who is about to lose his or her job, go out in the morning looking for work, or security, or a new direction? Is there a question to ask? "Are you okay today?" Tim Regan didn't complain. His pal Darby said afterward, "We were supposed to go to a hockey game..."
very stirring, disturbing and depressing,JB.
This a nicely written piece. I wonder if the suicide hotlines are doing land office business these days.
Depression... not of the financial kind ... can swiftly turn an every day event into a moment devoid of any value or the worst possible one Mr.Batchelor.
The missing notes are less curious given the final solution of these souls... in fact the persons who leave the notes are likely the ones who haven't fully reached the crushing depths of depression in it's darkest corners.
Factoring for the economy - is yet another aspect though, how a person shall survive the long term difficulty could be one's reasoning... and how can one be successful as the world toils away in a pit of misery could be another's
Problem is that suicide hotlines have now been outsourced to India.
I got laid-off several times while I was still working. It felt horrible going home after getting that pink slip. Then, one day I decided to quit. It was one of the best days of my life.
The illusion of free will is one of the finest elixirs, bar none. America has not done itself a favor voting for ever increasing government dependence and control. For the past several election cycles, Americans have voted for governments that have been increasingly vague about their goals on the assumption that everything will invariably be better than it was before. This is America, after all; where the water slide always points down into a suitably deep solar heated pool. Then, when the slide suddenly shifts, we wonder how it could have happened.
Now we find ourselves in a bad way. The slide is still there but it’s pointing straight down onto a dry patch of yawning concrete. Worse yet, we find ourselves bound, gagged and hobbled, and forcibly put at the top of that slide by the very government we freely elected. Common sense tells us that our brains will splatter when we hit the bottom at breakneck speed. We try to alert our handlers to the danger but they don’t listen. We, who have entrusted them with our lives and well-being, have become disconnected from them. They appear to be living in a separate universe from ours, with separate concerns. Our words no longer matter.
In a final show of courage aimed at saving face, we push ourselves off without waiting to be shoved.
Futility and Depression and Helplessness come together in diverse ways to devastate and destroy. It's not always only the obvious incitements with a sudden leap from the ledge. More often, it's a slow, grinding wheel taking away layer after layer of lifes metal until there is none remaining. The facade remains undisturbed until the last. Then when it is finished, the suspicion that things were not right are justified. No notes of explanation. Just questions for the living.
Yes, they all seem to look forward to tomorrow. When they take the prospects of tomorrow from themselves, we allow our own selves to reflect and some times we are able to see how it had come to this: The 17 year old who hangs himself; the man who slams his car into the back of a parked semi truck; the alchohol poisoning; the plastic bag over the head; the drug overdose; a shotgun blast to the face; on and on the grinding wheel wears them down into desperation and the thought that there is no other way out.
Once decided, no family nor friend can bring them back from the brink. It is theirs to decide.
'Does it take much of a man to see his whole life go down,
To look up on the world from a hole in the ground,
To wait for your future like a horse that's gone lame,
To lie in the gutter and die with no name?
Only a hobo, but one more is gone
Leavin' nobody to sing his sad song
Leavin' nobody to carry him home
Only a hobo, but one more is gone'
B Dylan
Just learned an interesting little tidbit from the comment section at CR. The term depression was coined in the 1930's because they were avoiding the word panic which is how they described the aftermath of the real-estate bubble/stock market crash of the 1870's.
Too bad about Tim Regan .... but if his family members loved him, why did they leave him alone when they may have had indications of his troubles? I am in my '60s, have owned my own business for 25 years, support parents in their '90s, have lost my 'ass' finacially twice in my life, survived cancer, still work(love it)12 hours a day, been blessed with good health, ain't rich but don't owe anybody $$$, did not rebank my real estate for 125%, do my own investments, donate my personal time and $$ to underpriveleged .... but most of all am damn LUCKY to be a resident of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!!!! The problem just may be that toooo many people have their hands out for a freebe .... or just plain don't care about how good life really is .... even here in DETROIT!!! Please send palm trees and sun. Failure is not an option.
AMEN! You said it.
Very happy THJ-Detroit is doing so well. Congratulations on the upbeat attitude and determination to continue on in the face of adversity. I would ask THJ to consider, however, that we are not all "built" the same way. We have different physiologies, different nervous systems, different ways our minds works, different life experiences, and as a result our minds and bodies literally respond differently to different inputs. THJ clearly was blessed with a physiology able to always look on the bright side. Tim Regan sounds like he was born with an apathetic mind, incapable of seeing the bright side. Some people are just born that way. Not their fault -- just the hand they were dealt.
I agree with Pat-- there is just too much we don't know about this story. Depression is a state of reality for some, regardless of circumstances. And others can somehow make it through Nazi prison camps and live to tell the tale. All we usually get in the news is the calamity, no context.
Excellent points, Pat- Everyone knows that many tolerating the most miserable of existences are actually the extremely successful and highly esteemed... and all the while roiling maelstroms tear at their souls.
Hey Mark:
I guess that I really missed a good conference up in Sacramento this week … Gale (Banks) and John (Espino) who did get to go, had a great time and came back just brimming with enthusiasm about what they heard and saw.
It was quite an honor for Gale to be the only aftermarket manufacturer invited, I feel that it speaks to the fact that this company is in the business to be the very best in all aspects of engine efficiency.
I simply want you to know that if there’s any follow-up that you need with Gale, or any additional information that you need about us and our projects, please do not hesitate to call or e-mail us.
We’re currently celebrating 50 years in the business of increasing all aspects of engine performance and are very proud of our accomplishments, but even more excited about what’s coming down the road (pun intended).
In other words: consider this as an open invitation to use Gale Banks himself and Gale Banks Engineering in general as a trusted resource for information and for you to honor us with a visit us at our Azusa, California HQs when you are next in the area.
-Stokes
Gale does radio good too!