The year was 1911. It was quite a year. John Turner died that year. He was a big man for that era. John was 7 foot 3 and weighed 343 pounds. He had to have a custom built coffin. It was no small chore getting him into it and to the funeral home.A surgical resident named William Sharpe was going to get quite an education. He was sent by surgeon Harvey Cushing to go perform an autopsy on the giant. A bribe of 50 dollars was sufficient to gain him access. There was a problem, no one had given permission for an autopsy, he couldnt get the body out of the casket, and John Turners regular-sized relatives were opposed to it. But science must go on, and Sharpe was at the cutting edge of a new era. The funeral was scheduled for 1 pm so Sharpe had to hurry. He started flaying the body and making incisions at 11 am. He was so focused on his project, time flew and mourners began gathering in the parlor. Damn, he should have started with the head, he needed the pituitary gland. He had to saw through the head and quickly, but Turner had a thick skull. This might not end well. People were pounding on the door demanding to know what in the hell was going on. A revolt was in the making. Sharpe gathered up what parts he could and tried sewing the body back together, but the dam burst. In came the relatives and mourners - and they were furious. If they could get their hands of Sharpe, there might soon be another corpse on site. But Sharpe was sharp, he had a taxi waiting - out the back he went and into the cab as rocks started flying. When he returned to his lab and deposited the pieces in a refrigerator, he was nearly breathless and tried to get some sleep. Alas, Cushing shook him awake and screamed at him because he missed some key items. Sharpe got fired! It really was quite a year.
Posted on: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 23:07:28 +0000
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