He told his son that it was no one’s fault but his own, an accident due to his own carelessness. He was Leonidas Campbell Houk, Union army veteran, attorney, judge, state representative and then-congressman for Tennessee’s 2nd district, in the midst of his 6th term.

Leonidas C. Houk (Photo credit: Library of Congress)

It was Sunday, May 24, 1891. Houk attended church that morning with his wife, and they both took a stroll that afternoon through what was known as Gray Cemetery at the time. Now it’s known as Old. They returned to their home on 5th Avenue, but later in day Houk decided he was in the mood for a smoke.

So, he strolled down to the corner of Crozier (Central) and Park (now 5th) to A. Allen DePue Drugstore for some cigars, He bought 25 cents worth, then went out and sat on the sidewalk to smoke up and had a conversation with a friend. Feeling parched, he went back into the drugstore to get a drink of water.

And this is where things went seriously awry. The clerk, Phillip Lobenhoffler, fixed a glass for the congressman then returned to compounding some pharmaceuticals. Houk finished his water, noticed another glass on the counter and drank from it as well. Soon after he commented that the contents didn’t taste very good. Which is when Lobenhoffler realized that Houk had errantly sipped from a glass of arsenic, “enough to kill half a dozen men.”

The good clerk sprang into action though, quickly preparing mix of water and mustard for Houk to drink to bring everything back up with the quickness. A doctor was called for, more emetics administered, and eventually Houk went home in a carriage with a doctor by his side. He then got to enjoy the pleasures of a stomach pumping at home, late 19th century style.

Doctors stayed with him until past 10 p.m., and it was generally felt that Houk was out of danger. His 20-year-old son Elmer determined he should stay by his father’s side just in case. At 6 a.m. on the 25th, the son confirmed his father was still breathing, just sleeping, and went to have some breakfast. Upon finishing his meal, he asked a house servant to check on his father, and he was quickly called to back to the bedside to find Houk gasping for air. Though he administered the medicine left by the doctor, it was too late. His father, quite literally, had passed into the ether. Houk was only 54 years old.

Clinch Street Methodist (Photo from First Methodist Church archives)

Houk’s funeral was held three days later. Originally planned for the 27th, it had to be delayed because all the carriages downtown were already let out for a convention of Knights Templar, many of whom stuck around for the funeral at Clinch Street (First) Methodist Church. It was reportedly one of the largest (if not THE largest) funerals ever held in the city, with the procession going from the Houk home, to the church then back out to Old Gray Cemetery. It was attended by political and business luminaries across the state as well as his fellow congressmen and U.S. senators. President Benjamin Harrison sent his condolences.

Beth Kinnane writes a history feature for KnoxTNToday.com. It’s published each Tuesday and is one of our best-read features.

Sources: The Knoxville Journal digital archives, Tennessee Encyclopedia, Library of Congress digital archives.