The Morning News

How One Is to Provide For the Other's Burial.

Topeka (Kan.) Correspondence St. Louis Globe-Democrat.

It is not often that a man in perfect health makes every possible preparation for his funeral, and for the care of his body after death. But that is what has been done by Sam Radges, a well-known citizen of Topeka, under circumstances that render the incident remarkable and interesting.

Several years ago Mr. Radges performed a valuable business service for Mr. John R. Mulvane, president of the Bank of Topeka, and refused to accept any compensation for it. Mr. Mulvane offered to pay him for his time and labor, but he declined all reward for his service on the ground that he was accommodating a friend, and scorned to put the transaction on a financial basis. The banker tendered him a check for a liberal amount, and insisted rather strongly upon liquidating what he considered to be a legitimate obligation, but Radges was equally obdurate and continued to protest his absolute freedom from mercenary considerations.

Finding that his friend persisted like another Caesar, in refusing the proffered crown, and, unwilling to rest under a debt so obviously just, the banker came back at him with this kindly proposition: "Well, Sam there is this much I insist upon doing for you—you will be able to keep yourself during life all right, but when you are dead I promise to see that you have a Christian burial."

"It's a bargain," Radges promptly replied, and at his request the promise was reduced to writing and duly signed, the banker binding himself not only to furnish a suitable funeral, but to provide for the care and safety of the body of the party of the second part for a reasonable period of time.

The banker is one of the wealthiest men in Kansas, and so universally honored and respected that it is readily admitted that he will keep his promise, even if no contract had been entered upon, but both parties are such sticklers for correct business forms that each felt a sense of relief when the written agreement had been approved by an attorney and declared not to be in violation of interstate commerce or the anti-trust law.

The fact that the banker is several years the senior of his comrade adds a feature of grimness to the deal, as no condition is made respecting survival. The banker has lived longest already, and the evident supposition is that he will continue to do so.

Something in the conversation over the negotiation of this strange contract led Mr. Radges to think more seriously of death than he had ever before done, and it was not long until he had purchased a beautiful lot in the Topeka cemetery and built a substantial and imposing vault to serve as his final resting place.

Determined to be eccentric to the last, he has already arranged to have the interior of the tomb illuminated at night by electric lights after he shall occupy it, and a copy of the leading daily paper of the city delivered at his door each morning.

When completed, the bank president was invited to inspect the vault, in consideration of his legal and personal interest in the matter. Mr. Mulvane is a great lover of flowers and plants, and offered many suggestions with a view to ornamenting the place and increasing its attractiveness.

It was during this visit that a happy idea came to Radges. "Uncle John," he said, addressing him by a familiar title, "suppose we change the wording of that contract a little. I have already constructed my own tomb, as you have seen, so that part of the work you were to perform has been lifted from your shoulders. Let's make the contract read that you will take care of me while I am alive, and leave me to hustle for myself after death."

The banker refused to accede to this request, but fell back on a strict construction of the contract, which contemplates only post-mortem expenditures, including obsequies of the best class the facilities of the town may afford at the time of demise—a full military band and a respectable number of carriages.

"I can grant you the usual extension Sam," he explained, in language easily comprehended, "and I am not averse to a reasonable discount, but under no circumstances will I permit an overdraft."

"In any event you will see that the proper caper is done for me?" inquired Radges.

"It is so nominated in the bond," the banker assured him.

"Then I am as good as elected," responded the happy owner of the tomb, as he took the arm of his financial backer and led him back to the carriage.

"Don't forget to order that Boston ivy I was telling you about." Uncle John reminded him as they were leaving the grounds; "it will be perennially green and beautiful when trained artistically over the walls," he added, in open enthusiasm.

"Is ivy the correct thing?" doubted Sam.

"Don't you think it would be more appropriate to get moss; it's for a mausoleum, you know?"

The story of the tomb and the odd circumstances connected with its erection, got into the newspapers, and the suddenly "famous" citizen of Topeka was soon deluged with propositions from all parts of the country for supplying him with everlasting embalming fluids, imperishable coffins, and time locks set to open at the first faint "call of incense-breathing morn."

Finally, an agent came all the way from Cincinnati to tempt the tomb-builder with an entirely new pattern of casket, made of aluminum, elaborately finished and decorated. Sam was attracted by the symmetry and magnificence of the box, as well as by its interior comfort and apparent durability, and closed a trade for one of the elegant receptacles under conditions that still further illustrates the peculiarities of the man.

The price mutually agreed upon was $1,000, and under the terms of the contract the casket is not to be delivered until the year 1900, unless sooner demanded by the exigencies of the case. At the time of delivery, if the purchaser be still alive in 1900, the casket is to be placed in the vault, there to be preserved and displayed to the public until required for actual use; provided, that in consideration of the display, and the consequent benefit to the manufacturer in advertising, the purchaser is to receive a rebate at the rate of $100 a year for ten years. If he shall live until 1910 the article is to become his individual property without payment of the purchase price. On the contrary, should his death occur at any period between the years 1900 and 1910, there shall be deducted from the original cost price the said annual amount of $100 for such time as the contract may run previous to the death of the purchaser.

It is one of the most novel contracts ever entered upon. The manufacturer was perfectly willing to take the chances on the proposition, in view of the fine opportunity offered him for introducing his goods to the notice of the public. On the other hand, Radges is now in excellent health and believes he has a clinch far superior to the lead-pipe variety, in that it is hermetically sealed.

Sam Radges, to speak of him as he is best known, is an Englishman by birth, but came to America while yet a boy, and was for several years employed with a mercantile agency in Chicago. When the civil war broke out, he enlisted in the union army, in a western regiment, and served as postmaster of the camp at Fort Hays. At the close of his military career he settled in Topeka, where he has since resided, his business being the publication of the annual city directory.

He has no relatives in this country, but his friends are numerous and devoted. His constant companion on the street is a silken-haired, blue-eyed dog called Mollie, who has her name enrolled in the directory, and will no doubt be supplied with a perpetual haven of rest in the new tomb.

It is unnecessary to say that the subject of this sketch is a bachelor: an old bachelor, in fact, for he acknowledges to 50 years, and no one knows how many more he might be convicted of. The years have not borne heavily upon him; he has always taken life easily, dressed well, and boarded at the best hotels. The only ailment he has ever been called upon to endure is an affection of the eyes, and this became so serious at one time that it was feared his sight would be completely lost; but a circus man who sat in a game of poker with him one night laconically observed at the close of the exercises that he failed to notice wherein Sam had overlooked anything.

Mr. Radges is a prominent Mason, Odd Fellow and comrade of the Grand Army of the Republic. Finding that he lacked sufficient lodge meetings to occupy all his evenings, he long ago organized the St. Ananias Club, one of the oldest societies in the capital city, its membership embracing senators, Congressmen, governors, lawyers, doctors and leading business men of every class.

The only inflexible rule of admission to this select circle is that each candidate shall possess an indisputable record for absolute unacquaintance with the truth.

In years when the legislature is in session the capacity of the Ananias clubroom is severely taxed. Sam has been secretary of this club from the date of organization, and his signature adorns all its records. His signature, by the way, looks like a woman's back bonnet after receiving a chance blow from an Oklahoma cyclone.

It only remains to add that the whole population of Topeka is curiously interested in the outcome of Sam's various contracts against the day of dissolution, and no little interest attaches to Banker Mulvane's part in the unusual transaction here related. There is a wide-spread feeling of distrust in the entire community that Sam is not acting with entire prudence. He has arranged for electric lights at the tomb—the banker is concerned in the electric light plant. He has ordered a daily morning newspaper to be left indefinitely at his last address—the banker owns the newspaper.

He contemplates having the telephone line extended to his stone house on the hill—the banker is president of the telephone company.

Should all these utilities be secured, things will certainly be coming Uncle John's way, and when the last day of grace shall have expired, and he proceeds to administer on Sam's estate, he is almost sure to find that his strange contract will not prove to be such a very disastrous investment after all.