Joseph Stang has gained his heart's desire. He is dead.
For Joseph Stang death drew aside its mask of horror and revealed itself the fair prize and ultimate reward of mankind, impartially awaiting the winners and losers in life. And the aged man pursued it for a year with patient resolution, undiverted by the inconsequential parade of the world's affairs.
During the last year Mr. Stang, who was 81 years old, and a retired real-estate man, living with an invalid wife at 4855 North Paulina Street, made three ineffectual attempts to commit suicide. His first effort was discovered before he had succeeded in injuring himself. On Oct. 30 he sent a bullet into his brain in his bedroom. Persons in the household ran to him and found him lying on the floor, the revolver beside him. He was placed on the bed, and during the excitement of telephoning for an ambulance and a physician, the members of the household left him alone, believing him unconscious, if not dead. He got out of bed and crawled to his revolver, which had been picked up and placed on the bureau. Then he fired another shot over his heart.
He was taken to the hospital, where his wounds, although both in vital parts, healed rapidly, and he was soon discharged. Because of his infirmities and the illness of his wife he was later taken to the German-American Hospital to be cared for.
Saturday morning he told his nurse that he was tired of life. She cajoled him into a better humor, however, and he ate three hearty meals during the day. Shortly after supper he was left alone in his room. He went to his window, which overlooks a cemented court twenty feet below, and dived out, striking on his head. He was dead within a few minutes.
Physicians at the hospital declare that Mr. Stang must have calculated his jump carefully, as a falling body would not strike head first unless by design.
DARK STREETS MAKE THREE ESCAPES POSSIBLE
Policemen on posts in the Bronx have frequently complained to their superior officers because the turning off of street lights before daylight often gives burglars and other criminals an hour or more of heavy darkness in which to carry on their operations unmolested. The most emphatic of such complaints was made yesterday morning, after three burglars had escaped from pursuit at 4:30 a.m.
According to the policemen who attempted to capture the men, all of the lights in the Bronx were out at the time and heavy clouds made the streets black as midnight in a country village. The policemen attributed the escape of the burglars entirely to the darkness. Not only did the men escape, but they fired revolvers at the policemen and narrowly missed one of them, who heard the bullet as it passed his head.
Sergeant Hale and Policeman Regen of the Morrisania Station were standing in Westchester Avenue near Union Avenue shortly before 4:30 o'clock, when they heard the crashing of a pane of glass. They ran to Union Avenue in time to see the dim shadows of three men running from the corner. The two policemen shouted to the men to stop and fired their revolvers, but the fugitives, returning the fire over their shoulders, darted down Union Avenue, separated, and disappeared into apartment house doors.