Cincinnati's "Old Cunny": A Notorious Purveyor of Human Flesh

The Dray-man Bogeyman

More stories were told about Cunningham than of any other of the resurrectionists in Ohio, of his grave robbing episodes and of his escapades in eluding law officers. He was the bogeyman of all ill-behaved children in the environs of Cincinnati during the period when he plied his trade in corpses, which was between the years 1855 and 1871. He was known locally by various names, including Old Man Dead and The Ghoul, but he was more familiarly called “Old Cunny,” not simply because it was a contraction of his real name but since he was as cunning as the proverbial fox, and due to his adroitness and daring, he was deserving of the cognomen.

He was born in Ireland in 1807 and is described as having been a big raw-boned man with muscles like Hercules, a protruding lower jaw and an insatiable thirst for hard liquor. During the day he was ostensibly a dray-man, but at night he plied his trade as a professional resurrectionist, supplying the medical colleges of Cincinnati with cadavers which he and his hired helpers exhumed from the local cemeteries.

According to a Cincinnati physician, who knew him in a business way, “Cunny was an expert in his business.... Usually he took the body to town in a buggy sitting in the seat beside him. The corpse was dressed up in an old coat, vest and hat. He would hold the reins in his right hand while he would steady the corpse with his left arm around the waist of his silent companion. Whenever people passed and the corpse would gravitate forward and downward Cunny would slap his inoffensive partner in the face and say to him ‘Sit up! This is the last time I am going to take you home when you get drunk. The idea of a man with a family disgracing himself in this way!’”[1]

Old Cunny’s Cunningness

Illustrative of Old Cunny’s cleverness are the following incidents related about him. One night between the hours of eleven and twelve o’clock he and two of his confederates stopped at a saloon in Carthage to have a drink. His identity being known by almost everyone in the environs of Cincinnati and his nightly movements always arousing suspicion, after he and his helpers had departed several of the patrons of the saloon organized themselves into a posse and proceeded to follow the ghouls to the cemetery used by the City Infirmary in the rear of that institution. The party in pursuit surrounded the cemetery just as the ghouls were in the act of raising two subjects from their graves and commenced firing promiscuously at them. His two helpers escaped into an adjoining woods but Old Cunny stood his grounds and obstinately refused to obey the command to hold up his hands. Finally when one of the members of the party drew a bead on him with a rifle which failed to go off when the cap snapped he reluctantly gave himself up and begged them to spare his life.

Old Cunny was then piled into his conveyance and accompanied by his captors was forced to drive back to Carthage. On their return to that village, he persuaded his captors to stop at the saloon where he bought them several drinks. When they were properly mellowed, he was released and permitted to return to Cincinnati with his empty wagon. However, instead of continuing toward that city, he circumvented the route and returned to the cemetery, during which time his doughty captors merrily dispersed to their homes. Meanwhile, his helpers, having been well trained in their duty, had returned to the scene of their ghoulish task, had hooked the two subjects from their graves, and placed them in sacks all ready for transportation to one of the medical colleges.[2]

Two Bodies Twice Snatched

On another occasion, he and two of his helpers were apprehended on Reading Road near Walnut Hills with their booty which consisted of two bodies which they had just exhumed from a cemetery near Hartley and were concealed in gunny sacks. The three were immediately placed under arrest and taken to the Ninth Street police station and the bodies were delivered to a near-by funeral establishment for subsequent identification.

The following morning the suspects were released on bail, and that afternoon two unassuming individuals, unknown to the attendant in charge, called at the undertaker’s establishment and claiming they were from the coroner’s office, demanded the bodies for the purpose of holding an inquest on them. The two bodies were released without hesitation. Upon the arrival of the proprietor, when told of the incident he contacted the coroner’s office only to learn that the bodies in question had not been sent for or been seen. Inasmuch as there were no corpi delicti as evidence, no case could be made out against Old Cunny, and he and his confederates were released.[3]

In the CINCINNATI DAILY GAZETTE, under date of November 22, 1870, is a news item to the effect that a body delivered to one of the medical colleges of that city “was stolen by the enterprising sawbones of a rival establishment during the night. Old Cunny was therefore compelled to make another midnight expedition last night much to his disgust—not that he dislikes the business, but that he is now getting old, and that which was once pleasant recreation has now become somewhat of a burden.” Wonder if it ever occurred to that reporter that there is a strong likelihood that Old Cunny himself might have been the guilty one who “stole” the body and re-sold it to a rival institution? Such episodes were known to occur.

Evidently not all of Old Cunny’s contraband was destined for the anatomy laboratories in Cincinnati, as judged from a news item in the CINCINNATI DAILY GAZETTE, dated January 20, 1870. According to this news report “Cunningham, the resurrectionist, deposited a box at the U. S. express office marked ‘Glass with care, C. O. D. Dr. M. P. Hayden, Leavenworth, Kan.’ Suspicions of the company’s agents were excited, and when they opened the box it contained the body of a negro woman prepared for the dissecting knife and served up in a sack. The freight was returned to Mr. Cunningham.”

Although Cunningham probably was booked in the police records of Cincinnati more often than any other of its citizens during his time, not all of the charges brought against him were based on his resurrection activities. As mentioned previously, he was addicted to strong liquor, and because of that weakness he was occasionally booked on charges of drunkenness and disturbance of the peace. Thus, for example, in the CINCINNATI DAILY GAZETTE on January 13, 1870, we read that “William Cunningham, an express driver, who will be remembered by all who have attended the medical colleges in this city, managed to get arrested last night. He first fired his brain with whisky then fired off an enormous revolver on Central Avenue.” The report goes on to say that he had on his person more than seventy dollars in greenbacks, a sum according to the write-up slightly larger than usual for station-house visitors.

Evidence that Old Cunny enjoyed a lucrative income from his nefarious business is furnished by an editorial in the CINCINNATI DAILY ENQUIRER on February 21, 1871. It comments upon the poor conditions of the Wesleyan Cemetery in that city, pointing out that “several of the graves look as though they had been robbed by a professional body-snatcher. The heads of the graves about two feet square in area are sunken lower than the rest.... Indeed, after a consideration of the ease with which any one can get into the grounds, it is not a matter of surprise if Cunny or some other professional has often paid nocturnal visits to the Wesleyan and obtained subjects for the various medical colleges.” It then goes on to say that “When men of small means, and endowed with a bare living, can afford to purchase fine residences and building sites, can drive home four-hundred dollar carriages right from the manufacturer, things do begin to look somewhat suspicious.” It may be assumed that, by inference, the editorial writer refers to none other than William Cunningham.