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Arthur (Turkey) Gehrke
1883 - 1942
"Turkey's Roost"
416 E Main
Portion of image WHS_005_837
416 E Main (1977)
1942
01 16 1942
For more than 25 years Arthur E. (Turkey) Gehrke of
Watertown had been in the habit of going to bed early in November and staying
there until April. Last November Gehrke took to his room above his tavern here,
but the 59 year old tavern keeper will not be up again in April. He died at the
Watertown hospital.
Gehrke, whose sleeping habits earned him international
fame, was suffering from an anemic condition at his death, a physician said.
The once portly tavern operator had shrunk to less than 150 pounds. Emil
Kwapil, his bartender, said that Gehrke had begun to complain of not feeling
well last summer. He began to lose weight but refused to summon a doctor. Early
in November he took to his room: Two weeks ago he gave in to urging of his
sisters and friends and a doctor advised that he enter a hospital. Gehrke
refused until the night before his death.
Gehrke gained wide fame from his hibernating practice.
A Dr. Samuel Plahner, a psychiatrist, had visited Gehrke in September, 1935.
Dr. Plahner heard Gehrke explain why he took to bed every winter to keep from
getting sick and having an operation and dying. Dr. Plahner reported that the
215 pound tavern keeper was a "typical case of mixed compulsion and
anxiety neurosis" because of a shock experience resulting in an illness
from a liver ailment.
Because Gehrke found that staying in bed for a few
weeks allayed his suffering, the psychiatrist added, he came to believe that
the advent of cold weather, when his attacks recurred annually, meant that he
should go to bed to prevent them. Retiring to his room each winter made Gehrke
unhappy because it cut him off from the community and condemned him to
inactivity, Dr. Plahner said. Gehrke would lose about 10 pounds each winter.
The story was widely circulated by press associations
in this country and Gehrke subsequently was asked to appear on radio programs.
The London (England) Times even
called Gehrke by transatlantic telephone to verify his story in connection with
another man, a Norman justice of the peace, who also had gained fame by staying
in bed for long periods.
Few occasions ever caused Gehrke to interrupt his
hibernations. Some years he would not go to bed until after the November
elections. Once he was forced to report for jury service but was excused
because of illness. Another time he left his room to pay a court fine for a
liquor violation. And he stayed up through New Year's Eve one year to win a $25
bet.
Gehrke was proud of his late wife's forbearance, often
declaring that she understood why he had to hibernate every year and made no
effort to dissuade him from the practice. She died about five years ago.
He got his nickname, "Turkey," when he was a
boy because it happened to occur to one of his pals that "turkey"
rhymed with his name, he once explained.
Buried in Oak
Hill Cemetery.
__________________________________________________
When
“Turkey” Visited New York
Death of
Arthur “Turkey” Gehrke today
recalled his
visit to New York with a
Watertown
bowling team in April, 1937
1942
Watertown Daily Times, 01 17 1942
Article includes
group photo in front of café/tavern
Watertown’s most renowned resident, Arthur E. “Turkey”
Gehrke, died at St. Mary’s hospital at
In 1935 he won almost universal attention as the
“human hibernator” and as a result was publicized in newspapers all over the
world, in addition to an avalanche of national publicity which he received in
this country from newspapers and press associations.
Always “afraid” of hospitals, he had resisted being
taken to one until his condition he was critically ill. His condition was
described as acute anemia. For years he
had complained that cold weather gave him severe stomach pains which could be
relieved only by a long sojourn in bed.
Thus he developed the habit of retiring annually with the first sign of
severe cold and of remaining in bed until spring when the first thaw marked the
breakup of winter.
Won Fame in
1935
Prior to 1935 this had been his habit each year for
something like 25 years. It attracted
only passing attention in Watertown and some of his friends looked upon it as
something a little queer, but not too much out of the ordinary for a man like
Turkey who was so situated that he could go to bed and stay there as he
pleased. His tavern business continued
to run without him.
It was in 1935 that the habit was publicized and the next
day Turkey awoke to find himself a national figure. Soon after the press of Europe, carrying
stories about him, made him a sort of international news figure and one day he
was aroused from his hibernation to answer a long distance telephone call. He heard a voice say: “Hello I say, are you
there, Turkey? Are you in bed?”
The call was from London. The famous newspaper, the London Times, known as “The Thunderer,”
had become interested in Turkey’s case and put in a trans-Atlantic telephone
call for an interview. The paper had
first called the Watertown Daily Times
which had the call transferred to Turkey’s home.
“I could hear the man just as plain as though he was
calling me from a phone next door,” Turkey said after the interview.
German newspapers, as well as papers in Poland,
Hungary, Russia, Italy and from countries all over the globe, printed stories
about “the man who slept through the winter like a bear.”
Tourists
Demand a Look
Turkey’s fame spread Tourists began to read and talk
about him, heard about him on the radio and many routed their trips through
Watertown to visit his tavern which became familiarly known as “Turkey’s
Roost.” They all wanted a glimpse of the rotund and jolly figure of
Gehrke. He was up and about most of the
spring and summer and early fall. He loved big league baseball games and it was
his contention that he was up with the crack of the first bat against a ball in
the spring training of the major teams.
He was a follower of the Chicago Cubs and saw a number of big league
games each season over a period of many years.
Gehrke was born in Watertown 59 years ago. He was a son of the late Mr. and Mrs. August
Gehrke, the family being well known and highly regarded in the community.
There are four sisters, Mrs. August Melcher and Mrs.
Arnold Gauerke, Watertown; Mrs. August Krueger, Mankato, Minn., and Mrs. Albert
Radke, Waupun. A brother and three
sisters preceded him in death.
His wife, the former Grace Schramck of Milwaukee, died
in 1936.
Part of
City’s Saga
Turkey became part of the legend of Watertown, famous
for its quiet and friendly humor of a comfortable and placid community where
“Gemuetichkeit” is the watchword.
There have been many accounts of how he acquired the
name “Turkey.” He wasn’t sure himself, but he believed it resulted from a small
boy’s version of how to pronounce Gehrke. The boy, a favorite of Gehrke’s, was
with him so often that patrons of his place picked up the nickname and made it
stick.
__________________________________________________
IN TIMES SQUARE
1967
Watertown
Daily Times, 01 10 1967
The Turkey Gehrke Story, the saga of Watertown’s famed
hibernating tavern keeper, has broken into the news again, this time in the National Observer, a weekly newspaper
which reprints the article that Robert W. Wells wrote for the Milwaukee Journal some months back.
The story has been told and retold many times in the Daily Times over a period of many years
but first attracted national- and international-attention in 1935 after the
late Richard S Davis of the Journal made a trip to Watertown to see for himself
and write the story of Turkey Gehrke.
The Wells article as it appears in the National Observer follows:
It has been 25
years since the death of Turkey Gehrke, but his name still comes up in Wisconsin
about this time of year. Since the white
men settled this north country under the misapprehension that it was habitable
the year around, Arthur E. Gehrke was the only one to figure out a satisfactory
way to deal with a Wisconsin winter: He
would hibernate-stay in bed-from November to April.
The overweight
tavern keeper from nearby Watertown attained some prominence in his day. Each
winter, when he took to his bed, the papers dutifully noted the fact as a sure
sign of snow and sub-zero weather ahead.
The notion of a hibernating human attracted interest as far away as
London, where the Times recorded Turkey’s habits as an example of what goes on
in the former colonies.
As with many men
who have attained their goal in life, Turkey had the help of a good woman. His wife, Grace, accepted his hibernation
without public complaint and brought him the one meal a day he ate during his
dormant period.
When Grace died,
there were those who supposed that Gehrke would become like other
Wisconsinites, suffering through a season not fit for man or beast. But when next November came, he crawled
between the covers of his bed in a room above his tavern. The bartender of the
establishment known as “Turkey’s Roost” sent him two sandwiches and a glass of
milk each day on a dumbwaiter rigged up between the bar and bedroom.
Gehrke was about
30 when he started his annual hibernations and kept them up until he died at
59. He began in a small way. The first year, he went to bed for only a few
weeks during the worst of the weather.
But before long he had the hang of it and was able to fight down any
foolish impulse to get up and fire the furnace or shovel the walk. On one occasion, a building next door caught
fire during his hibernation. Friends
shouted to him to run for his life. He
rolled over, looked out the window, decided the tavern probably wouldn’t burn
down, and stayed where he was.
It is also
recorded that he was once subpoenaed to testify before a Federal court. He sent back word that he’d be glad to testify,
providing they’d carry him there in his bed.
The lawyers decided to let the matter drop.
There is a myth
that he stuck with his hibernation no matter what happened. That is not quite
true. One year he stayed up until New
Year’s to win a $25 bet. Once he had to
report for jury duty, but was quickly excused and hurried back to bed. On another occasion he had to leave to pay a
fine for a liquor violation.
But three
instances of backsliding in 29 years only show the man was human. The bear stirs out of its den now and then in
winter too.
As for Turkey
Gehrke’s record, it seems safe. Each
year, when the wind begins to howl outside Wisconsin homes and taverns and the
snow comes slanting across the streets and fields, some of us consider
following his method. So far, it is just
talk. It is too hard to find a wife that
understands.
Mr. Gehrke died
on
How did he get
the name “Turkey?” It was because a
little boy in his neighborhood couldn’t
pronounce the word :Gehrke” and called him what sounded like “Turkey” and the
name stuck
__________________________________________________
Kiessling, Elmer C., Watertown Remembered (Watertown:
Watertown Historical Society), 1976, p 137-38
In 1935 the name of one of our
citizens became a household word on two continents when it was revealed that
Arthur "Turkey" Gehrke, a jolly, rotund tavern- keeper, had been
hibernating like a bear each winter for 25 years. He used to creep under the
covers in the middle of November and emerge each spring when the baseball teams
began practicing, for he was a great baseball fan, the Cubs being his
favorites.
A Chicago Daily
Times reporter first heard about the strange phenomenon and mentioned it to
some newsmen in Milwaukee. The Milwaukee
Journal sent out its star reporter, Richard S. Davis, with a cameraman, to
get the details. Turkey was a bit suspicions at first, but soon warmed up to
the affable questioner and provided Davis with all the material he needed to
write a rattling good story. It was printed in the Journal and was picked up by newspapers all over the country and
Europe.
The dignified London
Times called up Turkey by telephone, greeting him with these words:
"Hello, I say, are you there, Turkey? Are you in bed?" A famous
London haberdashery sent him one dozen fine silk pajamas. Robert L. Ripley
persuaded him to come to New York to appear on his' "Believe It Or
Not" radio program. Turkey made a surprisingly good impression. People
stopped in at his tavern, popularly called "Turkey's Roost," just to
see what a human hibernator looked like, and Dr. Samuel Plahner, a Milwaukee
psychiatrist, came out to give him a psychological once-over. Plahner concluded
that "Mr. Gehrke is a typical case of mixed compulsion and anxiety
neurosis." He used to suffer from cramps and pains every November until he
went to bed for a few days. It seemed like a good idea to forestall the aches
and pains by going to bed in the first place and staying there.
Turkey was fond of children, even though he had none
of his own, and one little boy who was a good friend unwittingly gave him his
nickname when he mispronounced Gehrke as Turkey. During the time of his annual
dormant state, Turkey's wife carried on the tavern business. But when she
died in 1936 [Gehrke, Grace F., b. 1888, d. 1936], he had to depend on
employees. In 1940 November was mild, and Turkey thought he might be able to
break his habit, but he failed. The following year he returned as usual to
"the pleasant land of counter-pane" at the onset of cold weather. But
after a snooze of only two months he became ill and had to be taken to the
hospital, where he died in his sleep, at 59,
Cross reference:
WHS_005_837
James D. Kehr, Charles Kehr, “Turkey
Gehrke,” Orville Kehr standing in front of cafe at 416 Main St. 07 20 1937
