by Susan Couso
Sometimes you just have to give people credit for trying, and that’s just what Walter Eugene Urwiler did. He tried, and tried, and was successful, to a point.
Walter was born on December 31st, 1880, and for some reason, just didn’t fit into the normal ways of supporting himself.
About 1935, he began a way of living that most people wouldn’t care for, but it came with absolutely no expenses. Work, for Walter, was completely unnecessary. Walter had discovered through a medical examination that he had a paroxysmal flutter of the diaphragm. That means that Walter could make his diaphragm ‘flutter’ to simulate a heart attack… a very neat way to get medical attention.
The fluttering diaphragm made stethoscopes appear to ‘hear’ over 300-heartbeats per minute!
When doctors discovered the true cause of the amazing ‘heart rate’, Walter simply threw in a new symptom, an extremely high temperature. Walter’s temperature was recorded as high as 112 degrees.
When this happened the doctors usually gave up and supplied the morphine and oxygen that Walter asked for. Of course, this weird patient piqued the doctor’s curiosity, and Walter did not plan on being poked and prodded and tested. Therefore, his usual hospital stay was about a week-to-ten days. Then he moved on.
He traveled around the United States, using over 40 different aliases, collapsing in various places, and getting free room and board in hospitals. When he added the story that he was a 104-year-old Civil War veteran, he got even more attention, and upgraded accommodations.
One day in 1951, Walter showed up in Reno, calling himself Lt. John Boyer, one of his favorite aliases. He told authorities that he was stricken with angina downtown, he was 104 years old, and he was on his way to find his great-great nephew in California.
The authorities sprang into action and notified the Veterans Administration. The press was alerted, and the usual mundane stories of the day were set aside to tell the startling story of the Old Veteran.
Unfortunately for Walter/Lt. Boyer, his story had preceded him and the head of the hospital let Walter/Lt. Boyer know that ‘the jig was up’. Walter stopped fluttering, got up, got dressed, and left the hospital. Eight hours later, 104-year-old Robert Lawson collapsed on Main Street in Susanville.
It took a bit for the news of the affair in Reno to reach Susanville, so, for a while, Walter/Robert Lawson had a good time. But four days later, it all came to a close.
Mrs. Emma Randrup, hospital superintendent, said that Walter’s bill totaled $75 or $80 and Walter was still hospitalized. When Randrup was asked just what the hospital was doing with Walter, she said, “Well, we’ve given him his supper.”
When asked who was going to pay for it, she replied, “Dammit, I guess I am. He’s such a nice fellow really.”
On August 2nd, Dr. Bachelor, of the hospital staff, told Walter that the story was out.
Walter replied that it was just a bunch of ‘newspaper talk’. But Bachelor said that he had checked Walter’s records. At that point Walter said, “Then give me my pants.”
By August 6th, Walter appeared in Tacoma, Washington, where he told authorities that he needed money because his $40 pension check from the Pennsylvania & New York Central railroads (he’d supposedly earned it by flagging down a train, with his coat, before it hit a slide near Altoona, Pennsylvania, in 1945). But Walter was foiled again, this time ending up with a vagrancy sentence.
After he was discharged from Tacoma by authorities, he showed up in Denver, claiming that he was a trapper and that the high altitude had caused the flutter. Once again, Walter’s story soon caught up with him. Then, he was on to San Francisco, where he claimed to be a Texas Deputy Sheriff who had succumbed to an attack while chasing outlaws in Colorado. Once again, he was figured out.
The FBI knew about Walter. They had at least 30 aliases in his file. But the government figured that it would cost even more to investigate, prosecute and incarcerate the old fellow than the thousands of dollars that he had already swindled out of unsuspecting institutions.
Walter’s early life is a mystery. He had enlisted twice in the army, once in 1907 and once in 1919. Both instances resulted in Walter’s desertion. He said that he was born in New York, but also Pennsylvania and Maryland. He said that he was mining engineer, who got scoliosis in the mines and that turned to TB, and that he had an operation for the TB. But there was no sign of an operation during a medical exam.
Walter also said that he was a deep-sea diver, and the flutter was caused by staying too long in a diving bell.
In the 1930’s, in Pasadena, Walter claimed that he had been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for personally raising two submarines while working as a diver.
But he really came into his own when WWII erupted. Walter wore fake uniforms and medals, even a Purple Heart, and his stories brought him immediate attention and sympathy.
He was finally convicted of two counts of wearing the uniform of the U.S. Maritime Service. This resulted in six months of free ‘room and board’.
Before his ventures to Reno and Susanville, Walter showed up in New York, where he again… surprise… collapsed!
As doctors at the Veteran’s hospital brought him back to consciousness, he said he was a Civil War Veteran named Samuel Bennett, who had been a drummer boy.
Samuel Bennett said that he had been born in 1848 in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and served with the 10th Pennsylvania Volunteers, and had seen action at Gettysburg and at Yorktown (yes, Yorktown!).
Later, he told them, he had been employed at the Diamond S Ranch in Coeur d’ Alene, Idaho.
He claimed that he got a $90 per month pension from the government, but then changed that to a $60 per month check from the Cattleman’s Association. The pension checks were always late, waylaid, or missing.
So, Walter Eugene Urwiler was probably one of those guys that worked really hard trying not to work, but he had a heck of a time doing it. Although Walter claimed that he didn’t mind being ‘found out’. He didn’t really like hospital food. The 5′ 6″, 100-pound Urwiler claimed that he was tired of being on a strict diet. He needed a steak!