Suicide as last resort during the great depression in York County

The situation

The Great Depression hit the United States in 1929 — York County included. York County played a crucial role in World War II manufacturing. Robust county industries spawned by the Industrial Revolution might have provided necessary jobs to lessen the blow of the greatest financial crisis America country has seen, but it didn’t make this southcentral Pennsylvania county immune.

“Dig just a little deeper, and it’s obvious the Depression caused widespread suffering in York County,” Witnessing York’s Jim McClure wrote. 

Let’s look at banks as an example. Prior to the collapse, 46 banks opened their doors in York County. Of those 46, eight banks failed and another nine reorganized thereby negatively impacting 40 percent of our local banks and the towns they supported. 

A York Family Service Bureau report indicated that the average York County family experienced a reduction in their standard of living. Many packed up their belongings, moving to smaller, more affordable homes. They lived off their savings, going into debt for basic necessities like food, clothing, and rent. Families even used their furniture as collateral for cash loans. 

Extensive relief efforts attempted to lessen the suffering, but do not be fooled into thinking grandparents and great-grandparents of county residents today weren’t affected. “The Depression did much more than pinch in York County,” McCure wrote. “It punched.”

Some were punched so hard that they consider if life was worth living at all. The National Library of Medicine reports that suicide rates peaked during Great Depression. In 1932 to be exact.

This National Library of Medicine chart shows the juxtaposition of the economy and rates of suicide. Notice the highest rates overlaps with the Great Depression, peaking in 1932.

The witness

John Ward had been drinking. 

His clothes were a mess and his hair disheveled, despite the cold January temperatures. He walked a lot — so much so that his worn out shoes had been sliced in several places. The writer of a 1932 York Dispatch article believed him to be a hiker having cut them to relieve pressure. But chances are that his state of destitution forced him to squeeze into too-small shoes. 

At 50 years in age, Ward was separated from his wife. However, he told people he was unmarried. According to a Johns Hopkins University, economic downturns actually slow the rate of divorce. During the first few years of the Great Depression (1929 – 1933), divorce declined by 25 percent. However, rates rose soon after, indicating that financial hardship doesn’t prevent divorce — it just postpones it. 

Ward approached the bridge on York’s Market Street that spans the Codorus, leaning on the railing of the south footpath. He laced his hands on the freezing rail and took a handspring, hurling his body into the cold, flowing waters of the Codorus. 

A man named A. S. Gross witnessed Ward jump, and he wasted no time. He screamed for people nearby to help. Some ran to the bridge, like Charles Sayers along with three other men, and others called for the police. 

Sayers had been out making deliveries that afternoon. As a drayman, his job included making the rounds around York with his horse and wagon. He ran to his loaded wagon and freed a piece of rope. 

Another onlooker ran to a banner hanging on the sidewalk along Market Street. The Spring Garden band was set to play that evening, but the rescuer was more concerned with the utility of the seven-foot pole.

The two made their way down the east bank of the Codorus. By that time, his head and body were under water. The only visible marker of his grave presence was the tales of his floating overcoat that rested on the surface of the creek. 

Together, the group used the pole and rope to snag Ward’s coat, tethering his body to their makeshift rescue device. 

About the time Ward’s body was dragged to the bank, two patrolmen named Williams and Harold as well as William Hershey of the Vigilant Fire Company arrived on scene. Trained in first aid, Hershey immediately started administering artificial respiration, today known as CPR. Once Hershey started working on Ward, he didn’t stop. It took 10 minutes, but Ward’s saturated lungs drew in the winter air all on their own. An ambulance transported Ward to the hospital. 

Once there, Ward came to consciousness. Anger overtook him. He fought and clawed the orderlies, interns, and nurses who tried to restrain him. “There was evidence,” the newspaper reads, “that the man’s mind apparently became temporarily deranged.” 

“His strength became such that after the interns had administered restorative treatment he jumped and ran about the room like a maniac. Finally he was overpowered.” He only remained conscious for a short time because he “suffered a relapse from which he did not recover.”

Four hours later, he was dead. The cause of death? The newspaper reported that he had drown on human sewage with a contributing cause of “aspiration pneumonia,” which can hasten death an hour after it develops. The autopsy showed no air in his lungs – they “were filled with dark, filthy water, which caused a congestion.”

As is the case today, local authorities attempted to contact the family. The Coroner, Dr. L. U. Zech, telegraphed his sister, Mrs. John Tabb of Wilkes-Barre who notified them of Ward’s wife and two sons who lived in Brooklyn, New York. 

She refused to claim the body, but she wanted to talk it over with their two children. If they disagreed with her, she would call Dr. Zech directly. She hadn’t seen him for 15 years when he abandoned the family, save once two months prior. Dr. Zech kept the body for two days in case he heard back from them. Similarly, the sister was “unable to take” her brother’s body. 

On Wednesday, February 3rd, 1932, they held a funeral for John Ward, whose real name was John Hibbard Hoskins at York’s City Cemetery. 

This story is sad — like many others buried in York’s potter’s field. At least seven of the 270 known deaths were by suicide. Many considerations influence this decision including medical, psychological, social, cultural, and economic factors. 

We’ll never know Ward’s exact reason for walking onto the Market Street Bridge on that January day. He died alone, away from loved ones and rests in an unmarked grave on a quiet hilltop in North York.

According to Pam Gay, the York County Coroner, suicides remain in the 60s and 80s per year. For the past 11 years, suicides have remained in the 60s to 80s in number of deaths in York “During our investigations,” the 2023 Coroner’s report states, “we learn that many individuals (even children) were experiencing one or more of the following: death of a loved one in recent years, health issues, financial stressors, break-up of a marriage or other intimate relationship, recent legal difficulties or charges and extreme depression, loneliness and/or isolation from others.”

The question

We used to say people “committed” suicide. Today, that language has been changed to “died by” suicide. The reasoning is that friends and family left behind by those who died don’t want to memorialize their loved ones as criminals who “committed” a legal violation. In what other ways can we make small, semantic changes to better reflect the hardships of mental health concerns?

Sources and links: Charles A. Bloomfield: “The Great Depression in York County, Pa.” Jim McClure, “Great Depression not only pinched in York County, it punched;” Coroner’s Office; for more information on the cemetery, visit Project Penny Heaven. Jamie Noerpel Photos.