In the early 1900s, the automobile suddenly leapt from rare rich man’s toy to ubiquitous rich man’s accessory. It had not yet reached the masses in 1905, but the automobile business was already making fortunes, and dozens or hundreds of firms went into the car-making business.
In Pittsburgh, Alvin P. Shumaker was one of the first to make his fortune selling cars. He secured the agencies for a number of brands, including Packard and Searchmont, and he was manager of the American Motor Company, which opened an office in one of Pittsburgh’s towering skyscrapers, the Park Building, and planned a big garage downtown where the rich could leave their cars for the day.
In 1905, we read that he was building a house:
PITTSBURGH, PA—Architect Titus De Bobula, Farmers’ Bank building, has completed plans for a brick and stone dwelling and garage, to be erected in the East End, for A. P. Shumaker, Park building. Cost, $25,000.
—The American Architect and Building News, April 8, 1905.
This was the eye-catching fact that led to an hour’s research into the Shumaker story. Titus de Bobula was the extravagantly eccentric modernist genius who would later give up architecture to become, in succession, a wastrel playboy, failed would-be Nazi dictator of Hungary, and an arms dealer. His surviving works are few. Was there an unidentified De Bobula house still standing somewhere in Pittsburgh? It would have been a fine house: $25,000 would have built a mansion fit for a rich family, at a time when $4,000 would build a good-sized house, with servants’ rooms, for the upper middle classes.
But it looks as though this house was never built. By the end of the year, Shumaker was dead—run over by a train in Union Station in Pittsburgh.
That is where the story becomes interesting. The coroner’s jury returned a verdict of suicide. The story was that Shumaker had found his wife with another man, and—according to one witness, a waiter—had run out declaring, “I’ll end it all!” Throwing oneself in front of a train was a popular if messy form of suicide in those days.
But there were life-insurance policies—four of them, each worth $10,000. When the insurance companies refused to pay, the widow sued. The various legal proceedings kept the insurance trade journals interesting for months. The insurance companies alleged not only that Shumaker committed suicide, but also that he had made false statements in taking out the policies in the first place. His wife was not his wife, at least not at the time, and he was not a man of “correct and temperate habits.”
Claiming that their policies on the life of Alvin P. Shumaker of Pittsburg are voided in that he committed suicide and was not accidentally killed, as shown by the verdict of the coroner’s jury, four accident companies, each having $10,000 insurance on the life of the deceased, are contesting the payment of the amounts to the widow. Mr. Shumaker was killed by a train in the Union Depot at Pittsburgh on the night of December 12, 1905. He had accident policies for $10,000 each in the Preferred Accident, the Fidelity and Casualty, the Travelers of Hartford and the Central Accident of Pittsburgh. The bill of particulars filed by the Fidelity and Casualty in the case alleges that a breach of warranty was made by Shumaker in the statement that “the beneficiary is Ella H. Shumaker, relationship, wife,” when the plaintiff in the present action was not at that time the lawful wife of the assured. The lawyers for the insurance company contend, too, that the policies were procured by perjury and fraud. Shumaker, when he took out the policies, declared that he was a man of correct and temperate habits. The lawyers of the companies will try to prove that he was ever of “extravagant, reckless, dissolute and intemperate habits,” and that policies issued on such a man’s false statements should not be valid. The outcome of the suit is awaited with interest.
—The Weekly Underwriter, May 11, 1907.
Much of the case hung on the testimony of that one witness, the waiter who claimed to have heard Shumaker say “I’ll end it all.” He was summoned to give his testimony—and then he disappeared.
With the waiter missing, there was no testimony. Three of the insurance companies, unwilling to face a long and expensive trial, settled for less than the total, but still a substantial amount. The waiter was later found and arrested, but the settlement had already been made.
THE SHUMAKER CASE.
Three of the companies carrying accident insurance on A. P. Shumaker, of Pittsburg, who was killed by a train on the night of December 12, 1905, have settled on a basis of sixty per cent. Rumors have, however, been current that these companies confessed judgment in order to prevent a scandal in high life, and on account of these Judge Buffington of the United States Circuit Court has made a demand on the attorneys of the defendant companies for the exact terms of settlement. The defense of the companies was suicide and untruthful statements in the warranties. The disappearance of W. Willis Burnett, a waiter, the principal witness, caused the settlement. He has since been arrested in Cincinnati and returned to Pittsburg, where he is held under charges of contempt. Kimball C. Atwood, of the Preferred Accident, explained the reason for settlement by his company as follows:
“We settled the claim against us for 60 per cent of the full amount alleged to be due, but not because somebody indemnified us. The chief witness, the waiter who heard Shumaker say, ‘I’ll end it all,’ as he left the place where he is said to have found his wife with another man, was spirited away. All the companies spent considerable money in trying to locate this man, but he escaped. The last place in which we found any trace of him was Los Angeles. While we are all assured that it was a case of suicide, and therefore a vitiating of the policies, I came to the conclusion that it would be very difficult to prove our side, as well as very costly. For that reason, and for no other, the Preferred decided to settle on a 60 per cent basis. I have no doubt that the other companies felt as I did, and that they also confessed judgment for the same reason. We are not blackmailers. and to accept indemnity from any person to pay a claim would, in my opinion, amount to blackmailing.”
—The Indicator, June 3, 1907.
So that is the story of the car dealer who would have had a remarkably interesting mansion in the East End of Pittsburgh if he had lived long enough. It sounds as though he and the equally extravagant Titus de Bobula would have understood each other perfectly, and we can only regret that we do not have the house De Bobula designed.