The Necrophiliac Couple, 1910 – A Macabre Pact Sealed With Letters Found in Kansas: Truth Revealed

In 1910, it was little more than a collection of modest homes, a general store, and farmland stretching into the horizon.

Most historical accounts of Donafan County from this period focus on agricultural developments or the occasional local politics.

But in the basement archives of the Donovan County Historical Society, filed away in a water damaged box labeled simply correspondence 1910 1915, rests a collection of letters that remained unexamined until 1963.

These letters exchanged between Theodore and Eleanor Blackwood contain details so disturbing that the historical society archivist who discovered them immediately contacted local authorities.

What followed was a brief investigation that was quickly and quietly closed.

The letters sealed and nearly forgotten.

It wasn’t until 1968 when historian Margaret Wells requested access to material for a book on early 20th century rural correspondence that the letters resurfaced.

Wells never completed her book.

Instead, she compiled a private collection of notes that remained unpublished until her death in 1969 when her daughter found them in a locked drawer.

What follows is based on Wells notes, county records, and testimonies collected from elderly residents of Elwood during the brief 1963 investigation.

Theodore Blackwood arrived in Lwood in March of 1908, purchasing a modest two-story house on the outskirts of town.

County records list his occupation as medical supplier, though later investigation would reveal no formal medical training or business license.

Neighbors described him as polite but reserved.

He kept to himself, made his purchases at the general store with minimal conversation, and was rarely seen after sundown.

The house he purchased had previously belonged to the Miller family who had relocated to Topeka after the death of their youngest child to influenza.

The property included a small outbuilding that Theodore quickly converted into what he called his workshop.

Local accounts suggest that deliveries to this workshop occurred monthly, usually after dark, from a wagon that came from the direction of St.

Joseph across the river.

Theodore established a routine in Elwood that aroused little suspicion.

He attended Sunday services at the Methodist church, though he never participated in social gatherings afterward.

He subscribed to several medical journals, which the postmaster, Harold Jenkins, later recalled were often accompanied by packages from universities in Chicago and St.

Louis.

The deliveries to his workshop became a subject of quiet speculation among his nearest neighbors.

particularly the Henderson family, whose farm bordered Theodore’s property to the east.

James Henderson, 17 at the time, later told investigators that he once observed men unloading what appeared to be a long wooden crate from a wagon well after midnight.

When questioned by his father the next day, Theodore explained that he had received a shipment of specialized equipment that required careful handling.

The elder Henderson, according to his son’s testimony, did not pursue the matter further, though he subsequently instructed his family to avoid Theodore’s property.

During his first year in Elwood, Theodore made three extended trips away from town, each lasting approximately 2 weeks.

County records show that he filed travel notices with the local postmaster, listing St.

Louis, Chicago, and New Orleans as his destinations.

What is known of these trips comes primarily from Theodore’s own correspondence with a doctor Harmon Phillips of St.

Louis, which was discovered among the letters collected by the historical society.

In these exchanges, Theodore references visits to medical facilities and meetings with individuals identified only by initials.

One letter dated September 15th, 1908 contains a disturbing passage.

I have acquired several excellent specimens during my travels.

The techniques suggested by EF in Chicago have proven most effective for preservation of delicate tissues.

The subject from New Orleans, a male approximately 30 years of age, demonstrates remarkable results after the application of the formula we discussed.

I have documented the process thoroughly and will share my findings when next we meet.

Dr.

Phillips’s identity and his relationship with Theodore remain unclear.

No medical professional by that name was registered in St.

Lewis during that period, according to records examined by Wells.

This has led some researchers to speculate that the name was an alias used for correspondence related to activities that both parties knew to be illegal or immoral.

The letters to Phillips ceased abruptly in December 1908 with no explanation for the terminated communication.

By early 1909, Theodore had established himself as a peripheral but accepted member of the Elwood community.

His business, whatever its true nature, appeared to provide him with sufficient income to live comfortably without regular employment in town.

He made improvements to his property, including the installation of a deep well and a coal fired heating system in his workshop.

According to building records filed with the county, he also reinforced the cellar of his house with brick walls and a new concrete floor, improvements that were unusual for the area and time, particularly given the expense involved.

Elellanar Wright arrived in Elwood in December of 1909, taking a room at Mrs.

Henley’s boarding house on Elm Street.

County records indicate she registered as a widow from Springfield, Illinois, though later investigation found no record of her previous marriage.

She was described by Mrs.

Henley as a handsome woman of about 30, wellspoken and educated with a peculiar intensity in her eyes.

Ellaner told Mrs.

Henley she had come to Kansas for a fresh start, having lost her husband to a long and painful illness.

She found employment as an assistant at Dr.

Morrison’s medical practice where she demonstrated considerable knowledge of anatomy and surgical procedures despite having no formal training.

Dr.

Morrison’s records preserved in the county medical archives note that Mrs.

Wright shows an unusual fascination with terminal cases and has requested to be present during final moments on multiple occasions.

Eleanor’s arrival in Elwood coincided with a harsh winter that brought travel to a near standstill for several weeks.

With few patients able to reach Dr.

Morrison’s practice during this period, Elellanor spent much of her time organizing the doctor’s medical library and assisting with the preparation of various compounds and tinctures used in treatments.

Dr.

Morrison’s wife Sarah, who often helped at the practice, later recalled that Elellaner displayed an extensive knowledge of chemical preservatives and their applications.

She spoke of various formulas for imbalming with the enthusiasm most women reserve for recipes or fashion, Sarah Morrison told investigators in 1963.

Dr.

Morrison found it peculiar, but attributed her interest to her experiences caring for her late husband.

As a newcomer to a small town, Eleanor naturally became a subject of interest and speculation.

She declined most social invitations, citing her morning status, but was observed taking long walks alone, even in inclement weather.

Several residents reported seeing her at the local cemetery making sketches in a small notebook.

When asked about this habit by Mrs.

Henley Eleanor explained that she found peace among the gravestones and was documenting interesting epitaps anderary art for a personal project related to the beauty of remembrance.

Elellanar’s background as she related it to various Elwood residents contained inconsistencies that only became apparent when later investigators attempted to piece together her history.

To Mrs.

Henley.

She described her late husband as a professor of natural sciences.

To Dr.

Morrison, she referred to him as a physician specializing in research.

To the minister’s wife during a brief conversation after church services, she mentioned that he had been a military surgeon who served in the Spanishamean War.

No records have been found confirming the existence of an Edward Wright matching any of these descriptions who died in Illinois in the years preceding Elellanar’s arrival in Elwood.

The first documented meeting between Theodore and Eleanor occurred on January 12th, 1910, when Theodore came to Dr.

Morrison’s office complaining of persistent headaches.

Dr.

Morrison’s log notes that Eleanor assisted during the examination and that there was a curious recognition between the two.

Theodore returned to the office three more times in January, always when Eleanor was working.

By early February, they had been seen walking together after church services.

Mrs.

Henley’s personal diary, donated to the historical society after her death in 1921, records her impression that Mrs.

right seems to have found a companion in Mr.

Blackwood.

They speak in hushed tones and fall silent when others approach.

There is something in their manner that unsettles me, though I cannot name it.

The nature of Theodore and Eleanor’s initial connection remains a subject of speculation.

No evidence suggests they had known each other prior to Eleanor’s arrival in Elwood.

Yet their correspondence indicates an immediate and profound recognition of shared interests and proclivities.

In his first documented letter to Eleanor, Theodore writes of finding another soul who understands, suggesting that something in their brief interactions had revealed a commonality beyond ordinary social compatibility.

The first letter discovered in the collection is dated February 18th, 1910 from Theodore to Ellaner.

It reads in part, “My dearest Elellaner, I cannot express the profound recognition I felt upon our meeting.

To find another soul who understands the beauty of stillness, the perfection of the final moment is beyond what I had hoped for in this life.

” Your words regarding your late husband’s passing stirred in me a kinship I have long sought.

I believe we have much to discuss regarding our shared appreciation for what others fear to acknowledge.

The letter continues with vague references to Theodore’s collection and his desire to share it with Elellanor when the time is right.

Elellanar’s response dated February 22nd, 1910 has been partially damaged by water, but readable portions include, “Dear Theodore, your letter stirred in me emotions I had thought forever buried with my Edward.

To speak openly of matters I have kept hidden for so long is both terrifying and exhilarating.

I too have sensed our kinship from our first meeting.

There is a recognition that passes between those who have glimpsed beyond the veil that separates most people from the true understanding of beauty in its most perfect form.

I would be honored to view your collection.

Perhaps it will inspire me to share my own modest treasures which I have kept preserved these many years.

By March 1910, Eleanor had left Mrs.

Henley’s boarding house and moved into a small cabin approximately half a mile from Theodore’s property.

The cabin, according to land records, was owned by Theodore, who had purchased it the previous year, but never occupied it.

Neighbors reported seeing the two together frequently, though they rarely socialized with other towns people.

Clara Johnson, who operated the post office in 1910, later told investigators that Theodore and Elellaner exchanged letters despite living in close proximity.

They would hand deliver them to each other rather than send them through the mail, Johnson recalled in a 1963 statement.

I remember thinking it peculiar, as if they were playing some kind of game.

This period marks the beginning of the extensive correspondence that would later become the primary evidence of the couple’s activities and mindset.

The letters written on highquality stationery and preserved in a metal document box provide a disturbing glimpse into a relationship founded on shared obsessions that most would consider pathological.

Theodore and Eleanor wrote to each other several times a week, sometimes daily, despite their physical proximity.

The practice appears to have served both as a record of their thoughts and activities and as a form of foreplay, building anticipation for their in-person encounters.

The content of the letters becomes increasingly explicit regarding the couple’s fascination with death and human remains.

In a letter dated March 28th, 1910, Theodore writes, “Last night’s expedition was most successful.

The specimen exceeds my expectations in every regard.

I have begun the preservation process and anticipate completing the basic work by week’s end.

Then comes the artistry, the positioning, the fine detail work that transforms mere remains into something transcendent.

I find myself eager for your assessment, your artistic eye.

The techniques you described from your time with Edward have already proven valuable in addressing the challenges presented by the subject’s unusual features.

Eleanor continued to work at Dr.

Morrison’s practice throughout the spring of 1910, though her hours became irregular.

Dr.

Morrison’s records indicate that she requested and was granted permission to assist primarily with elderly patients and those suffering from terminal conditions.

The doctor, perhaps naively, attributed this preference to her experience caring for her late husband and her comfort with the emotional aspects of end of life care.

What no one in Lwood knew at the time was that Elellanar was methodically documenting the progression of various illnesses and the physical changes accompanying death.

Information she shared in detail with Theodore.

The letters, which span from February to November 1910, reveal a relationship built around a shared fascination with death and human remains.

The couple used coded language and references to preserving beauty and eternal companionship.

In one letter dated April 17th, 1910, Ellaner writes, “I have often thought that love in its truest form must transcend the crude boundaries of life and death.

What is the body but a vessel? When the spirit departs, does not the vessel retain its form, its essence? You understand this as no one else has.

Last night, as you showed me your treasured specimens, I felt I was truly seeing for the first time.

The specimens referenced throughout the correspondence appear to have been human remains in various states of preservation.

Theodore’s workshop, it seems, contained more than medical supplies.

According to Wells’s notes, based on the letters and later testimony, the outbuilding housed a collection of preserved human remains, Theodore had developed techniques for imbalming and preservation that he considered superior to standard mortuary practices of the time.

The letters suggest that in his previous location, believed to be St.

up blue.

Though records are incomplete, Theodore had worked as an assistant at a funeral home where he had begun his collection by taking small specimens, fingers, ears, and eventually larger portions.

His move to Elwood was precipitated by suspicions from his employer after several bodies were found to have been tampered with after preparation for burial.

The techniques described in the letters combined traditional imbalming methods with experimental approaches using compounds that Theodore either developed himself or acquired through his mysterious contacts.

He writes in detail about the use of arsenic compounds for maldahhide solutions of varying concentrations and alcohol-based preservatives each selected based on the specific characteristics of the subject being preserved.

Eleanor, for her part, contributed knowledge apparently gained during her husband’s illness and death, particularly regarding the preservation of soft tissues and the maintenance of lifelike coloration.

Eleanor’s background appears to have been similarly macob.

Her letters contain references to nursing her husband through his terminal illness and her special care of his body after death.

One passage reads, “I kept him with me for 17 days after his last breath.

Each day I washed him with alcohol and applied the preservatives as best I could with my limited knowledge.

When they finally took him from me, I felt as if a part of myself had been torn away.

Until I met you, I believed no one could understand this devotion.

Whether Edward Wright actually existed remains unconfirmed.

No death certificate or burial record matching Elellaner’s description has been found in Springfield, Illinois, or surrounding areas.

Some researchers, including Wells, have speculated that Elellaner’s husband may have been a man she cared for in some capacity, perhaps as a nurse or companion, whose body she subsequently kept and preserved until discovery became inevitable.

This theory is supported by references in her letters to having been forced to leave suddenly from her previous residence when questions became too pointed and the authorities were summoned.

The relationship between Theodore and Elellanar intensified throughout the spring and summer of 1910.

Their letters describe midnight excursions to the local cemetery where they would commune with the peaceful residents, as Theodore phrased it.

More disturbing are references to their acquisitions.

A letter from Theodore dated June 33rd states, “Our newest guest arrived last night from St.

Joseph.

The subject is male, approximately 40 years of age, with remarkable facial structure.

I have begun the initial preparation and anticipate excellent results.

Your suggestions regarding the preservation of the eyes have proven most effective.

” The letters suggest that Theodore had connections at hospitals and morgs in St.

Joseph, Missouri, and possibly as far as Kansas City, who would alert him to unclaimed bodies or those of indigent individuals with no family to claim them.

There are also troubling references to individuals who presented themselves as ideal candidates during their travels through the area.

While the letters never explicitly confirm that Theodore and Eleanor committed murder, there are passages that suggest they may have hastened the deaths of the already ill or dying.

One such passage from a letter dated July 12th, 1910, reads, “The elderly gentleman at Dr.

Morrison’s practice, the one with the consumption you mentioned last week, would make an excellent addition to our gallery.

His bone structure is exceptional, and the disease has created a haunting gauntness that would preserve beautifully.

Perhaps you might offer to assist him home after his next appointment.

The wooded path near the creek offers privacy and opportunity.

A moment of discomfort for him would lead to an eternity of dignified repose under our care.

Whether Elellanar acted on this suggestion is not explicitly confirmed in subsequent letters, though she references a new arrival two weeks later that required substantial preparation due to the advanced state of illness.

The timing coincides with the disappearance of Edward Garvey, a 72-year-old patient of Dr.

Morrison’s who was reported missing in late July 1910.

According to police records, Garvey was last seen leaving the doctor’s office and was presumed to have become disoriented and fallen into the Missouri River as he had been suffering from confusion associated with his illness.

His body was never recovered.

Throughout the summer of 1910, several other disappearances were reported in and around Lwood and neighboring communities.

These included a traveling salesman whose wagon was found abandoned on the road between Elwood and St.

Joseph, a young woman who had been working as a domestic servant in a house near Theodore’s property and an unidentified male drifter who had been seen in the area for several days before vanishing.

None of these disappearances were conclusively linked to Theodore and Elellanar at the time, though the letters contain references to new acquisitions that correspond roughly with the dates these individuals went missing.

The letters also reveal that the couple’s activities extended beyond the mere collection and preservation of remains.

They engaged in what they termed artistic arrangements, the positioning of preserved bodies or body parts in tableau that they found aesthetically pleasing or emotionally significant.

Theodore writes of creating a family gathering at dinner, each member frozen in an expression of perfect contentment and lovers embracing in eternal stillness.

Eleanor’s contributions appear to have focused on the finer details, the positioning of hands, the arrangement of facial features, and the selection of clothing or drapery to enhance the overall effect.

By August 1910, according to the correspondents, Theodore and Eleanor had formalized their relationship in a private ceremony they referred to as their eternal binding.

The ceremony described in Eleanor’s letter dated August 12th involved the exchange of precious relics and vows spoken over our most perfect acquisition, the young woman from Aches, whose beauty now will never fade.

They considered themselves married, though no legal record of their union exists in county documents.

The ceremony took place at midnight in Theodore’s workshop, which by this time had been transformed into what the couple referred to as their gallery.

Elellaner’s description of the space pieced together from various letters suggests a room lined with glass fronted cabinets containing smaller specimens, while larger arrangements were displayed on raised platforms throughout the central area.

Special attention was paid to lighting with Theodore having installed a complex system of oil lamps and reflectors to highlight particular features of their collection.

The young woman from Aches, who served as witness to their vows, appears to have been the preserved body of a female in her early 20s.

According to the letters, she had been acquired several months earlier and represented what Theodore considered his finest work.

Elellaner describes her as possessed of a serene beauty that transcends life.

Her features composed in an expression of peaceful contemplation.

Her hands folded as if in prayer.

This description matches that of Katherine Miller, a 23-year-old woman who disappeared from Aches, Kansas in April 1910 while traveling to visit relatives in St.

Joseph.

Catherine’s disappearance prompted a substantial search effort, including dragging portions of the Missouri River, but no trace of her was ever found.

Following their marriage, Theodore and Elellaner’s letters indicate an escalation in both the scope of their activities and their emotional connection to each other.

They began to discuss more openly their ultimate plans for each other, the preservation of their own bodies after death, ensuring they would remain together beyond the limitations of flesh and mortality, as Theodore phrased it.

This aspect of their relationship appears to have held profound significance for them both, representing the ultimate expression of their shared philosophy regarding death and preservation.

The most disturbing aspect of the letters and what prompted the historical society archivist to contact authorities in 1963 was the couple’s apparent pact regarding their own deaths.

In a letter dated September 23rd, 1910, Theodore writes, “My beloved, we have discussed at length our ultimate contribution to each other’s collections.

I wish to formalize my desire that upon my passing you shall preserve me using the techniques we have perfected together.

My body shall remain with you not in cold earth but in your tender care until such time as you join me in stillness.

Then as we have arranged, our loyal friend Jay will ensure we remain together posed as we have illustrated in the drawings I have provided.

Eleanor’s response, dated September 30th, affirms the arrangement.

I accept this sacred responsibility and extend the same trust to you should you survive me.

I have updated my will accordingly, though I have been careful to word it in terms that will not alarm the authorities.

The required chemicals and equipment are secured in the hidden compartment beneath the east corner of the workshop.

Jay has been compensated generously for his discretion and assistance when the time comes.

The identity of Jay remains unknown.

Wells notes speculate it may have been Jonathan Puit, a reclusive individual who lived on the Missouri side of the river and occasionally performed odd jobs around Elwood.

Census records confirm his existence, but there is no documented connection between him and the couple beyond this speculation.

Puit according to Saint Joseph police records from 1905 1915 had been questioned several times in connection with grave robberies at local cemeteries but was never charged due to lack of evidence.

He lived in a small cabin on the Missouri side of the river and earned a meager living as a handyman and occasional trapper.

Locals described him as simple but not dangerous, though few had more than passing interactions with him.

His isolated residence and reputation for keeping to himself would have made him an ideal accomplice for Theodore and Eleanor’s activities, particularly regarding the transport of specimens across the river from St.

Joseph to Elwood.

As autumn approached, the tone of the letters shifts subtly, introducing notes of concern and urgency previously absent from the couple’s correspondence.

References appear to unwanted attention from neighbors and specific mentions of Dr.

Morrison’s increasing curiosity regarding medical supplies that had gone missing from his practice.

A letter from Ellaner dated October 8th, 1910 states, “Dr.

M made a pointed inquiry today regarding the missing bottles of formaldahhide and carbolic acid.

I deflected as best I could, suggesting they may have been used by him during my absence and subsequently forgotten.

He did not appear entirely convinced.

We must exercise greater caution in our acquisitions moving forward.

By late October, the couple’s concerns had expanded beyond Dr.

Morrison.

Theodore writes of unusual activity around his property at night and his suspicion that James Henderson, the teenage son of the neighboring farmer, had been observing the workshop from the adjacent field.

The boy’s curiosity may prove problematic, he notes.

Should he glimpse our gallery, even accidentally, the consequences would be dire.

I have taken to locking all entrances securely and drawing the blackout curtains even during daylight hours.

The final letters in the collection take on an increasingly urgent tone.

By early November 1910, references appear to unwanted attention and concerns about the doctor’s suspicions.

In what appears to be the last letter dated November 15th, 1910, Theodore writes, “My dearest, we must accelerate our plans.

Dr.

Morrison’s questions about the missing medical supplies have become too specific to deflect.

Additionally, the inquiry from St.

Joseph regarding the Potter Boy cannot be ignored.

I have made arrangements for our relocation.

Pack only essentials and your most precious specimens.

The rest must be hidden or destroyed.

Meet me at midnight on Thursday at the appointed place.

We shall cross into Nebraska and make our way west where we can continue our work without interference.

The Potter boy referenced in Theodore’s letter likely refers to Samuel Potter, a 17-year-old who disappeared from St.

Joseph on November 8th, 1910.

According to newspaper accounts from the time, Samuel had last been seen crossing the bridge to Elwood on an errand for his employer, a local pharmacist.

His failure to return prompted a search that eventually extended to Elwood, where St.

Joseph police officers made inquiries at various businesses and residences, including Theodore’s property.

What happened next is documented in fragmentaryary newspaper accounts and county records.

On November 18th, 1910, a fire broke out at Theodore’s property, completely destroying the house and workshop.

The Troy, Kansas Chief newspaper reported that the blaze was visible for miles and that efforts by neighbors to extinguish the fire were hampered by a series of explosions, likely from chemicals stored on the premises.

No bodies were recovered from the site, and Theodore and Eleanor were presumed to have perished in the fire.

The intensity of the fire was such that the wooden structures were reduced almost entirely to ash with only the stone foundation and chimney remaining intact.

James Henderson, who was among the first to notice the blaze and attempt to respond, later described the scene to investigators.

It wasn’t like any house fire I’d ever seen.

The flames were blue in places, and the heat was so intense we couldn’t get within 50 yards.

There were explosions that sent debris flying in all directions.

The smell was terrible.

Not just burning wood, but something else.

Something chemical and worse.

Something I can’t describe, but will never forget.

However, a report filed by Sheriff William Donovan on November 20th, 1910 notes that no human remains have been identified among the ashes, raising the possibility that Blackwood and the woman known as Wright may have fled prior to the confilration.

The report also mentions unusual specimens of an unidentified nature found in the ruins which were sent to medical examiners in Kansas City but never officially documented after that point.

Local rumor as recorded in several personal diaries and letters from the period suggested that the authorities had discovered more than they publicly acknowledged in the ruins of Theodore’s property.

Martha Wilson, wife of one of the men who assisted in searching the debris, wrote to her sister in December 1910.

Henry came home in a state I’ve never seen before, white as a sheet, and unable to speak of what they found in that man’s cellar.

He would say only that it was unnatural, and that the sheriff had ordered everyone to keep silent about the matter.

He has had nightmares since, calling out about the faces and the glass eyes.

The trail of Theodore and Elellaner goes cold after November 1910.

No death certificates were ever issued, and no further documentation of either individual appears in Kansas or neighboring states under those names.

The letters somehow preserved in a metal box that survived the fire were found during cleanup of the property and eventually made their way to the county records office where they remained unremarked upon for decades.

When historian Margaret Wells discovered the letters in 1963, she attempted to trace what happened to the couple.

Her notes indicate she followed leads to Nebraska, Colorado, and eventually California.

tracking reports of similar cases involving missing bodies and individuals with medical knowledge living in isolation.

She believed she had located them in a small coastal town in Northern California where a couple matching their description had lived from approximately 1911 until 1935 under the names Thomas and Elizabeth Bradford.

Local records indicated the couple operated a private museum of medical oddities that was only open to select visitors.

Following the woman’s death in 1935, the man was reported to have disappeared with her body before authorities arrived.

Wells investigation uncovered a newspaper article from the Humbult County Gazette dated September 1935 which reported that local recluse Thomas Bradford disappeared following the death of his wife Elizabeth.

Neighbors concerned after not seeing activity at the Bradford residence for several days alerted authorities.

Upon entry, officers discovered evidence that Mrs.

Bradford had died some days prior, but her body was not on the premises.

Mr.

Bradford’s whereabouts remain unknown.

Of particular concern to investigators was the discovery of what appears to be a private collection of preserved human specimens, which Mr.

Bradford had occasionally shown to selected visitors under the guise of a medical museum.

County officials have removed these items for proper examination and burial.

The article goes on to describe the Bradford residence as a modest home with extensive modifications to the cellar, including specialized ventilation, unusual lighting fixtures, and various chemical apparatus.

The couple who arrived in the area approximately 25 years ago kept largely to themselves but were regarded as educated and refined by those who interacted with them.

Mr.

Bradford claimed to be a retired medical researcher while Mrs.

Bradford was known to possess considerable knowledge of anatomy and occasionally assisted local midwives with difficult deliveries.

Wells traveled to California in early 1969 to investigate further, but suffered a stroke shortly after arriving.

She died three weeks later without regaining consciousness.

Among her effects was a sealed envelope addressed to the Donafan County Historical Society, which contained her compiled notes on the Blackwood case, along with a brief letter stating, “What I have found confirms my worst suspicions.

The Blackwoods did not perish in 1910, but continued their activities for decades.

More disturbing still, I believe they may have had disciples who carry on their work to this day.

I have arranged to view the Bradford collection tomorrow through a contact who claims to have preserved it after Thomas Bradford’s disappearance.

Should anything happen to me, please forward these materials to the proper authorities.

Included with Wells notes were several photographs she had obtained from the Humbult County Historical Society, purportedly showing Thomas and Elizabeth Bradford at a local community event in 1925.

While the quality of the images makes positive identification difficult, Wells had annotated the photos indicating strong similarities between the Bradfords and descriptions of Theodore and Elellanar Blackwood.

She also noted that Elizabeth Bradford appeared significantly younger than her purported age would have suggested, raising the disturbing possibility that the woman in the photograph was not Elellaner or Elizabeth, but a later acquisition posed as Theodore Thomas’s wife.

No action was taken regarding Wells findings.

Her daughter, upon discovering the notes, sent them to the historical society as requested, but the director at the time deemed the matter a historical curiosity of no contemporary relevance and filed them away.

The letters and Wells notes remained largely forgotten until 1968 when a graduate student researching early 20th century rural crime came across references to the case in the society’s catalog.

Today, the site where Theodore Blackwood’s house once stood remains an empty lot at the edge of what is now a much expanded Lwood.

Local residents report that nothing grows on the property, though soil tests conducted in 1972 showed no chemical contamination beyond what would be expected from a house fire.

The cabin where Eleanor lived was demolished in the 1940s to make way for agricultural development.

No known photographs of Theodore or Elellanor exist, and their true identities, including whether Elellanar Wright was indeed a widow from Springfield, remain unconfirmed.

What is perhaps most unsettling about the case of the Necriliac couple, as Wells labeled them in her notes, is not just the nature of their activities, but the evidence suggesting they were not unique.

Wells research uncovered similar cases across the country during the same time period.

Individuals with medical knowledge living in isolation, reports of missing bodies, suspicious fires destroying evidence.

She posited the existence of a loose network of like-minded individuals who shared techniques and sometimes specimens through coded correspondence.

Whether Theodore and Eleanor were part of such a network or isolated practitioners of their Macob craft remains unknown.

In 1965, during renovation of an old building in St.

Joseph, Missouri, workers discovered a hidden room containing preserved human remains arranged in lifelike poses.

According to newspaper accounts, the specimens dated from the early 1900s and showed evidence of sophisticated preservation techniques not consistent with standard mortuary practices of the era.

The building had previously housed a medical supply company until 1910.

Records indicate that Theodore Blackwood had made regular purchases from this company.

The discovery was quickly contained by authorities.

The remains were buried in unmarked graves and the incident received minimal press coverage.

The discovery in St.

Joseph provides a tantalizing potential connection to the Blackwood’s activities.

The medical supply company Henderson and Sons operated from 1898 until 1910 when it abruptly closed following the death of its proprietor William Henderson.

No relation to the farming family near Theodore’s property.

According to business records examined by Wells, Theodore made substantial purchases from Henderson and Sons throughout his time in Elwood, ordering chemicals, specialized glassware, and various instruments that would have been consistent with both legitimate medical supply operations and his preservation activities.

The hidden room discovered in 1965 was located behind a false wall in the building’s basement.

Construction workers breaching the wall discovered a space approximately 15 ft square, lined with shelves containing dozens of glass jars with preserved specimens, primarily human organs and smaller body parts.

More disturbing were three full body preparations posed in sitting positions around a small table arranged as if engaged in conversation.

According to the limited newspaper coverage, these bodies showed remarkable preservation despite having been sealed in the room for over 50 years.

All three were fully clothed in early 1900’s attire, their features carefully arranged in lifelike expressions.

The St.

Joseph Police Department records regarding the discovery remain sealed, but Wells managed to interview one of the officers present at the scene.

According to her notes, officer Raymond Daniels described finding papers within the hidden room that suggested a connection to other locations where similar collections might be found.

There was a map, Daniels told her, with markings in several states, Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, and points further west.

Each marking had a date beside it.

The latest was from 1935 in Northern California.

The whole thing gave me the creeps, like we’d stumbled onto something bigger than just one sick individual’s hobby.

The captain ordered everything boxed up and sent to the state authorities.

I never heard another word about it after that.

The last verified connection to the case came in 1967 when a retired physician from Aches, Kansas, responded to a newspaper article about historical crimes in the region.

Doctor James Harper, then 85 years old, wrote a letter to the editor recalling a strange couple who had attended the funeral of a young woman in 1910.

They stood apart from the other mourers, he wrote, and watched the proceedings with an intensity I found disturbing.

The woman made sketches in a small notebook.

3 days after the burial, the grave was found disturbed and the body missing.

I reported my observations to the sheriff at the time, but nothing came of it.

Seeing the dates mentioned in your article brought this incident to mind.

Dr.

Harper’s letter led to a brief revival of interest in the Blackwood case among local historians, including Wells.

When interviewed by Wells in 1968, Harper provided additional details about the couple he had observed.

The man was tall, well-dressed, with a full beard that seemed almost too perfect, as if it had been carefully shaped for a theatrical performance.

The woman was striking rather than beautiful, with very pale skin, and the most penetrating gaze I’ve ever encountered.

They carried themselves with the confidence of people accustomed to moving in educated circles.

Yet, no one present knew who they were, or could recall seeing them before.

After the burial, I noticed them lingering, examining other gravestones with particular attention to the more recent burials.

When I approached to introduce myself, thinking they might be relatives from out of town, they departed hurriedly.

The grave that was later disturbed belonged to Catherine Miller, a young woman who had died of pneumonia.

She was considered quite beautiful in life, and death had not diminished her appearance significantly.

The description provided by Harper matches that of Theodore and Elellanar as described by Elwood residents and the timing aligns with references in their letters to acquiring the Aches beauty who later played a central role in their marriage ceremony.

This connection, if accurate, provides one of the few concrete links between the couple’s letters and verified historical events.

The letters between Theodore and Elellaner Blackwood, the notes compiled by Margaret Wells, and the scattered reports from across decades form an incomplete picture of a couple bound by a Macob obsession that transcended conventional notions of love and death.

Their story remains one of the most disturbing cases in Kansas history, not for what is known, but for what remains hidden, both literally and figuratively.

As Wells wrote in her final note, “Some truths once glimpsed cannot be unseen.

” The Blackwoods understood that death need not be the end of one’s usefulness or beauty, at least in their distorted view.

What troubles me most is not what they did, but that they found in each other the perfect companion for their darkness.

It suggests that no matter how deviant one’s desires, there exists the possibility of finding another who shares them.

In that sense, theirs is a love story, perhaps the most terrifying kind.

The Blackwood case files were officially closed in 1969 with the conclusion that no further investigation was warranted given the passage of time and presumed death of all involved parties.

The letters remain in the archives of the Donafan County Historical Society, accessible only to researchers with specific authorization.

As for Theodore and Elellanar, if they did indeed escape the fire and establish new identities elsewhere, they have taken the full truth of their activities to whatever resting place they ultimately found or created for themselves.

The last entry in Margaret Wells notes, written the day before her fatal stroke, reads simply, “I believe I have found them at last, or what remains of them.

God help me.

I think they achieved their final wish.

” What exactly she found in that coastal California town died with her.

The Museum of Medical Oddities, she referenced, has never been located, despite inquiries by subsequent researchers.

Some local residents recall stories of a reclusive couple who kept to themselves, but concrete evidence remains elusive.

In 1969, shortly after Wells’s death, a fire destroyed several buildings in the small California coastal town she had been investigating.

Among them was an abandoned house on the outskirts that locals had long believed contained something unnatural.

According to newspaper accounts of the time, the house had been vacant since 1935 following the disappearance of its owner after his wife’s death.

By the time firefighters arrived, the structure was completely engulfed, and nothing was salvaged from the ruins.

The cause of the fire was officially listed as unknown, though rumors persisted of a deliberate act by persons familiar with what the house contained.

Perhaps it is better that some mysteries remain unsolved, some doors unopened.

The case of Theodore and Eleanor Blackwood stands as a disturbing reminder that the human capacity for deviance knows few bounds, and that the most terrifying monsters are not supernatural beings, but ordinary people with extraordinary obsessions.

In the quiet town of Elwood, Kansas, few remember the strange couple who briefly lived there in 1910.

The land has been tilled, buildings have risen and fallen, and generations have passed.

But somewhere, perhaps in a private collection or forgotten storage space, the legacy of the Blackwoods may still exist, preserved like their specimens against the natural order of decay and remembrance.

For those who study the darker aspects of human psychology, the Blackwood case represents a rare documented instance of shared psychopathology.

Two individuals whose aberrant desires found perfect resonance in each other.

Their letters reveal not just the details of their activities, but the psychological framework they constructed to justify them.

A philosophy that viewed death not as an ending but as a transformation, a preservation of beauty beyond the corruption of life and vitality.

In their distorted worldview, they were not desecrating the dead, but elevating them to a state of permanent perfection.

As one local historian noted in a 1968 article about the case, the truly frightening aspect of the Blackwoods is not what they did, but how completely normal they appeared to their neighbors.

They walked among the citizens of Elwood, attended church services, and conducted business, all while harboring thoughts and engaging in activities that would horrify those same neighbors.

It raises the unsettling question.

How many others walk among us wearing masks of normaly that conceal unfathomable depths? The sound of Theodore’s workshop door closing against the Kansas wind.

The scratch of Eleanor’s pen across paper as she documented their specimens.

The quiet conversations between two people who had found in each other a recognition of their darkest selves.

These echoes from 1910 still resonate across the decades, a reminder that some human mysteries remain impenetrable and perhaps should remain so.

In 2005, during the demolition of an abandoned property in Northern California, workers discovered a sealed room in the basement containing what appeared to be two mummified bodies arranged in an embracing position.

The property, which had changed hands numerous times since the 1930s, had most recently belonged to a reclusive individual who had died without heirs.

County records traced ownership back to a Thomas Bradford who had purchased the property in 1911.

Forensic examination of the remains proved inconclusive regarding identity due to the advanced state of preservation and the unusual chemical treatments that had been applied.

The bodies were eventually cremated and interred in an unmarked grave.

The incident documented only in county coroner’s records with minimal detail.

Whether these remains were those of Theodore and Elellanar Blackwood preserved as they had planned in their Macob pact or yet another manifestation of their disturbing legacy will likely never be known with certainty.

The case of the Necriliac couple of 1910 reminds us that history’s darkest corners often remain unexplored, not because they cannot be illuminated, but because what might be revealed there challenges our understanding of human nature itself.

As we close this account, one question lingers.

In the quiet moments between dusk and dawn, in isolated places where no one can observe, how many others like Theodore and Ellaner continue their work preserving what should decay, loving what should repel, and finding in each other the validation that transforms deviance into devotion.