Thursday, May 10, 1900
DOCTOR SUICIDES – SECOND ATTEMPT SUCCEEDED
Addison W. Va. – Dr Lyman Eugene Wyeoff, who a year ago tried to commit suicide at Benwood, where he was located for the practice of medicine, killed himself here a few nights ago by the use of cocaine, morphine, chloral and amyl nitrates. He had practiced medicine in Benwood, Mannington, Grafton and at various places in Randolph, Tucker and Pendleton counties, and came here two weeks ago from Romulus, N. Y., where his mother and little son reside. His wife, from whom he has been separated several years, lives at Franklin.
Several years ago, he was in partnership with Dr. Judy, at Harman and accusing Judy with intimacy with his wife, shot and badly wound-ed him. He claims Judy did him up in business and taught him to use cocaine. In his will, in which he left several thousand dollars’ worth of property to his wife in trust for their son, he co-signed Dr. Judy to “the hottest portion of hell, to be punched up with Roman javelins and forever haunted by my sad and heart-broken spirit.” He cosigned to purgatory others in Randolph County, who, he said, had conspired to bring about his ruin and disgrace.
He left a scrap of paper near him when he died, on which was written:
April 29, 1900 – I swear before God that this is the first cocaine I have used since November 22, 1899, and only a small amount of morphine – two drachms of morphine a month. Long ago, two years, I used one ounce every one or two days. – Dr. L. E. Wyeoff
In his hip was found a hypodermic needle, with evidence that it had been used a great deal. He seemed broken-hearted because his wife refused to return and live with him.
A LEAF FROM MY NOTEBOOK
Here we are at Robert Gibson’s, a beautiful garden spot, with its fertility and beauty it presents to the eye of the onlooker much to attract his attention and incline him to pitch his tent in this vicinity. Robert is a clever man, and has, like many of his neighbors, heaven’s second-best gift to man – a good wife.
We pass the schoolhouse where during five months of the year the training of the “young idea how to shoot” goes on. Here a large and commodious church stands, inviting everyone within its reach to bow down and worship the Lord his Maker.
Away to the left of us nestled in against the foot of a grand old mountain in Uncle Jim Gibson’s residence. Mr. Gibson has seen much of the cares and trials of this life. Two of his daughters live with him, his wife having gone on before him to the spirit world. He is kind and hospitable, and both able and willing to use you well. He feels sure that his visitors can make an occasional meal on what he lives on all the time.
We also have a word of good cheer and pleasantry for his son, John Gibson, who lives near by his father. We think as we pass of that bright-eyed little boy of his, who like some of the other little folks of Elk, gave us some money for the preacher not long since.
Away up the mountain side lives James Jackson. He has grown large and fat from laughing or otherwise. We will not be obligated to wrestle with him as he will outweigh us, if we were both put on the scales. We hope, however, he will not mind our foolishness as –
“A little nonsense now and then
Is relished by the best of men.”
We get in earnest in reference to our “present peace and eternal welfare.”
We wish those well whom we pass, as in gloom, up this ravine towards the heights of the gigantic Knob without mentioning names. Here we hasten by John Jackson’s. He has built an addition to his house. We certainly wish him well in his hard struggle to live. We often think of many a poor fellow who has such a hard time in this world, and then, after all that, if he were to miss heaven at last, how very sad it would be. …
Still to the left we keep looking. Now J. H. Shelton’s residence attracts our attention. He and his family are from Bath County, Va. They show very plainly the commendable politeness of Virginia. We pass them in haste as we fall in with some others going to Marlinton to Court.
“Little” Jim Gibson lives up a hollow here still to the left. He is not so little either in body or mind, but we presume he is like the man who said he was little when they named him. You can get honey here at Mr. Gibson’s nearly any time, and it will be good. We scarcely know how we came so far up this creek without making mention of the delightful honey so plentiful in this section. This is a clever man and makes things that he takes hold of come to pass.
We look up this run farther still past Randolph Hambric’s and Mr. Rider’s. Mr. Rider is badly crippled; we hope he is making the proper preparation to walk where people will never be lame. Up near an elevation is a house some time vacated, but Little Jake Gibson is preparing to put a bird in his cage. This is all right Jake. We wish you much happiness in this life and pure unalloyed happiness in the world to come. A. M.