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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 References:
WHS_005_837
James D. Kehr, Charles Kehr, “Turkey
Gehrke,” Orville Kehr standing in front of cafe at 416 Main St. 07 20 1937
“Watertown
was home to hibernating ‘Turkey,’” Wisconsin State Journal article, Doug
Moe, 10 16 2008
