Karl P. Schmidt: A Life of Science and a Death Devoted to It

In the world of science, few stories illustrate the profound dedication to research as tragically and heroically as that of Karl P. Schmidt. Renowned for his work in herpetology, Schmidt spent his life studying reptiles and amphibians, and he remained committed to his work until his final breath—literally. On a fateful day in September 1957, Schmidt’s unyielding commitment to science ultimately cost him his life, but not before he left behind an extraordinary account of what happens when a herpetologist comes face-to-face with death.

A Career Built on the Study of Reptiles and Amphibians

Karl Patterson Schmidt was born in Lake Forest, Illinois, in 1890. From an early age, Schmidt was fascinated by the natural world, eventually pursuing a degree in biology at Cornell University, which he completed in 1916. Over the course of his career, Schmidt established himself as a preeminent herpetologist, renowned for his extensive studies of reptiles and amphibians, especially snakes. His work spanned numerous expeditions across continents, and he held prestigious positions at institutions such as the American Museum of Natural History and the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago.

Schmidt’s contributions to herpetology were substantial, leading to the identification and classification of many new species. His meticulous nature earned him a great deal of respect in the scientific community, and several species were named in his honour. However, beyond his accolades, it was Schmidt’s profound curiosity that truly defined his career. This same curiosity ultimately became his downfall when he encountered a mysterious and deadly snake in 1957.

The Snake That Led to a Scientist’s Demise

In September 1957, the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago acquired a small, brightly patterned snake and sought Schmidt’s expertise in identifying it. The zoo delivered the snake to the Chicago Natural History Museum, where Schmidt, the museum’s chief curator of zoology, examined it. The snake appeared to be from Africa, and Schmidt initially suspected it might be a boomslang (Dispholidus typus), a species known for its potent venom and native to Sub-Saharan Africa.

Boomslangs are notoriously dangerous, possessing haemotoxic venom that disrupts the blood’s ability to clot, leading to severe internal bleeding. However, Schmidt hesitated to identify the snake as a boomslang due to one inconsistency: its anal plate was undivided, a trait typically not seen in boomslangs. Despite this uncertainty, Schmidt decided to handle the snake for a closer inspection—an act that would soon prove fatal.

As Schmidt held the snake, it bit him on the left thumb, leaving two small puncture wounds. One of its rear fangs had penetrated his skin to a depth of approximately three millimetres. The bite, though small, delivered a dose of venom that would set off a series of deadly effects. Rather than seeking immediate medical treatment, Schmidt, ever the dedicated scientist, chose to document the experience in his journal. This decision would lead to his death within 24 hours.

In a demonstration of scientific commitment that bordered on the extraordinary, Schmidt began recording his symptoms in his journal immediately after the bite. He chronicled each physiological change with the same detachment and precision he had applied to countless observations throughout his career. His initial entry was straightforward:

“I took it from Dr. Robert Inger without thinking of any precaution, and it promptly bit me on the fleshy lateral aspect of the first joint of the left thumb. The mouth was widely opened and the bite was made with the rear fangs only, only the right fang entering to its full length of about 3 mm.”

Schmidt then began to document the venom’s gradual and terrifying effects on his body. His entries provide an astonishingly detailed record of a man observing his own death in real time:

4:30 - 5:30 PM: Strong nausea, no vomiting. Took a suburban train trip.

5:30 - 6:30 PM:Experienced chills, shaking, fever of 101.7°F. Bleeding from the gums began around 5:30 8:30 PM: Ate two pieces of milk toast.

9:00 PM - 12:20 AM: Slept well. Urinated at 12:20 AM, mostly blood. Drank water at 4:30 AM, followed by violent nausea and vomiting. Felt better and slept until 6:30 AM.

The next morning, Schmidt carried on with his routine, eating breakfast and continuing to document the venom's effects:

-September 26, 6:30 AM: Ate cereal, poached eggs on toast, applesauce, and coffee for breakfast. Noted continuous bleeding from the mouth and nose, though "not excessively."

"Excessively" was the last word Schmidt wrote.

The Final Hours

Despite his worsening condition, Schmidt refused to seek medical help. It was later revealed by the Chicago Daily Tribune that Schmidt had been advised to do so but declined, stating, “No, that would upset the symptoms.” This response suggests that Schmidt prioritised the scientific documentation of his symptoms over his own survival. He may have understood that his fate was sealed; at the time, the specific antivenom for a boomslang bite was only available in Africa, rendering any medical intervention in Chicago potentially futile.

Around midday on 26th September 1957, Schmidt vomited violently and telephoned his wife, indicating that his condition was rapidly deteriorating. Soon after, he became unresponsive. Despite efforts to save him, Karl P. Schmidt was pronounced dead at 3 PM that afternoon. The official cause of death was respiratory paralysis, brought on by the venom’s destructive effects on his body. An autopsy revealed severe internal haemorrhaging in his lungs, eyes, heart, kidneys, and brain—a grim testament to the potency of boomslang venom.

The Legacy of Karl P. Schmidt

Karl P. Schmidt’s death sent shockwaves through the scientific community. Here was a man who had spent his life studying the very creatures that had led to his demise. His decision to document the progression of his symptoms, rather than seek treatment, has been both lauded and questioned. Some view it as a tragic case of curiosity overcoming caution, while others see it as the ultimate expression of scientific dedication.

Boomslang venom is lethally potent, with just 0.0006 milligrams being sufficient to kill a small bird within minutes. In Schmidt’s case, the venom caused uncontrollable internal bleeding, leading to a slow, agonising death. His final journal entries stand as a chilling and fascinating record of his dedication to science, even as it consumed him.

Schmidt’s story is more than just a cautionary tale; it is a powerful reminder of the commitment that drives many scientists. Despite the risks inherent in his work, Schmidt’s passion for herpetology never wavered, even in the face of his own mortality. His legacy endures not only in the species named after him and the knowledge he contributed to the field but also in the poignant example of a man who, even in his final moments, remained first and foremost a scientist.

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