Belle Gunness Exploited 19th-Century Male Loneliness to Make a Killing
Women’s History Month is over, and while we nearly bid farewell to covering our rule-bucking foremothers of yore, we remembered we had free will—for now!—so we’ve decided to keep celebrating bad women for infinity.
This week, we’re thrilled to tell you about a woman who made history by taking advantage of lonely men. Meet Belle Gunness, the “butcher of men,” who made a killing by, well, killing.
Gunness was born in Selbu, Norway, in 1859, as Brynhild Paulsdatter Strseth. (Objectively a cooler name than Belle Gunness, but whatever.) She moved to Chicago, Illinois, in 1881 in search of a wealthier life, and married fellow Norwegian Mads Albert Sorenson three years later.
Not much is known about Gunness’ first marriage, but according to varying records, the two ran a confectionery shop and had four kids. Soon after their wedding, their shop burned down, and they pocketed the insurance money. Then, in 1900, their house burned down and, again, they cashed in on the insurance. But a few months later, Sorenson died of a cerebral hemorrhage, with the fishy detail being that it was on the exact day when his old life insurance policy was expiring, and his new one was starting. The newly widowed Gunness walked away with $8,500 for both policies ($150,000 today). But that wasn’t enough!
Sorenson’s family demanded further investigations into his death, and it was later revealed that he’d been poisoned. But no charges were ever filed, so Gunness moved to La Porte, Indiana, where she bought a 41-acre farm with her newfound wealth.
It was about two years later that Gunness met and married Peter Gunness, though he died that same year after a blunt object hit his head. (Gunness told investigators a meat grinder fell from a shelf, but the coroner considered this a fishy explanation.) According to some accounts, Gunness’ foster daughter saw what actually happened and told her schoolmates, “My mama killed my papa. She hit him with a meat cleaver and he died.” She swore her peers to secrecy. Fishy!
Peter’s death was ruled an accident, and Gunness added to her widow’s fund for the second time in two years.
Ever the hustler, Gunness then launched into the business of wooing lonely men through newspaper ads, trying to get them to come to her Indiana farm. “Comely widow who owns a large farm in one of the finest districts in La Porte County, Indiana, desires to make the acquaintance of a gentleman equally well provided, with view of joining fortunes,” one of the listings read. The men would pack up their belongings and savings, and take a train to their deaths.
It’s not certain exactly how Gunness killed her victims, but historians agree that most of them were likely poisoned or bludgeoned. What is known is that, afterwards, their bodies would be sectioned, wrapped in burlap, and buried, spread out across Gunness’ dozens of acres. After Peter, there was John Moo, then Henry Gurholdt, Olaf Svenherud, Ole B. Budsburg, Olaf Lindbloom, and Andrew Hegelein. RIP.
Gunness’ crimes went mostly unnoticed, with the exception of Asle Hegelein in 1908, who grew suspicious that his brother never returned from her farm. If it wasn’t for the work of one particularly jealous man (ugh), she might never have been identified.
Ray Lamphere, Gunness’ farmhand, had developed a crush on Gunness and was getting jealous of all the men who kept showing up. She ultimately fired him, and he apparently went crazy and threatened to kill her. Gunness went to see an attorney in La Porte, telling him she needed to construct a will because she knew Lamphere was “out to get” her: “I fear one of these nights he will burn my house to the ground.”
Hours later, her farm burned down.
Investigators eventually found the headless body of a woman clutching the remains of three kids, leading people in the town to believe Gunness was an amazing and noble mother. That perception held for about five minutes before authorities started finding the other bodies.
Across the nation, Gunness quickly became renowned as the “Black Widow,” “Helle’s Belle,” and “Lady Bluebeard.” (In the year 2018, Vice also named her the “Craigslist Killer.”) For his part, Lamphere got away with only an arson charge, as opposed to a murder charge.
Historians vary on how many people they think Gunness murdered, with some saying 14, some saying dozens, and some estimates even going up to 40. However, authorities never found the head of the woman discovered on Gunness’ farm—with some claiming they spotted Gunness from California to Illinois over the years.
But for all Gunness’ tricks, the woman certainly knew her way around pulling off a scam. So, if you ask me, her greatest trick may have been the oldest one in the book: convincing everyone she was dead.
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