“I am a little nervous about singing this one. But I have to.,” said Mary Chapin Carpenter before ending her May 17, 1997 concert at the Peoria Civic Center Theatre with a final encore of “John Doe #24”
John Doe Boyd
Unknown – Nov 28, 1993
Buried, Parkview Cemetery, Peoria, IL
John Doe not only inspired a song, a biography, and a best selling novel but, as author Sheila Allee writes, “represents tens of thousands of individuals who have lived in obscurity and anonymity in similar institutions throughout history […] what human potential has been lost because people didn’t know how to give individuals like John Doe No. 24 what they needed.”
Blogger Briar Rose describes his story as such –
Police found a teen-age boy in the early morning hours of October 11, 1945, in Jacksonville, Illinois. Unable to communicate, the deaf and mute teenager was labeled “feeble minded” and sentenced by a judge to the Lincoln State School and Colony in Jacksonville.
He remained in the Illinois mental health care system for over thirty years. Deaf, mute, and later blind, the young black man survived beatings, hunger, overcrowding, and the dehumanizing treatment that characterized state institutions through the 1950s. In spite of his environment, he made friends, took on responsibilities, and developed a sense of humor. People who knew him found him remarkable. He had a straw hat he loved to wear, and carried a backpack with his collection of rings, glasses, and silverware with him everywhere.
Possible hints to his identity include his ‘scrawling “Lewis”‘ and his ‘pantomimed, wild accounts of foot-stomping jazz bars and circus parades.’
He died after having a stroke at the Sharon Oaks Nursing Home in Peoria on November 28, 1993. Officials believe he was around 64 years old at the time.
After reading a story about him in the New York Times, singer-songwriter Mary Chapin-Carpenter wrote and recorded “John Doe No. 24”. It would be included on her 1994 album Stones In The Road, which reached #1 on the country charts.
The song inspired writer Dave Bakke to research and write the biography, God Knows His Name: The True Story of John Doe No. 24. Soonthereafter author Rachel Simon, was inspired to write a New York Times best selling novel, The Story of Beautiful Girl, loosely based on his story.
In 1997, a short time before a concert performance in Peoria, the Peoria Journal Star reported that a marker had been placed at the unmarked grave. “Richard Jamirson, who handled the installation of the marker [at Parkview Cemetery], said the purchaser requested anonymity. Still, he added that the purchaser had asked him to refer all calls to the management of Mary Chapin Carpenter.”
The New York Times, December 5, 1993
“Unknown Since ’45, John Doe No. 24 Takes His Secret to the Grave
There were few clues when he was found wandering the streets of Jacksonville in 1945, a deaf, blind teen-ager. There were no answers when he died last week.
He was unable to speak, his relatives could not be found and he was put in an institution. He became John Doe No. 24 because he was the 24th unidentified man in the state’s mental health system.
Officials believe he was 64 when he died of a stroke last Sunday at the Sharon Oaks nursing home in Peoria.
“It’s just sad to think that you could disappear, and no one would miss you,” said Glenn W. Miller, the nursing home administrator. “You wonder how often it happens.”
The man’s caretakers believe diabetes made him lose his sight, and records indicate he was severely retarded. But workers at the Smiley Living Center in Peoria, where he spent the last six years of his life, remember a proud man, more intelligent that standard tests showed.
They remember the tantalizing hints to his identity — the way he would scrawl “Lewis” and his pantomimed, wild accounts of foot-stomping jazz bars and circus parades.
“It was so obvious from what he pantomimed that he had quite a life at one time,” said Kim Cornwell, a caseworker. “Like a grandfather, he could probably tell funny stories. We just couldn’t reach out enough to get them.”
After he was found in Jacksonville, John Doe No. 24 spent 30 years at the Lincoln Developmental Center, a state home in Lincoln. He was then transferred several times before going to the Smiley home in 1987.
He had a straw hat he loved to wear, and he took a backpack with his collection of rings, glasses and silverware with him everywhere. At Christmas parties he danced to vibrations from the music.
Last Christmas the staff at Smiley bought gifts for residents who did not have relatives or other visitors. They bought him a harmonica.
“He just grinned from ear to ear,” said Donna Romine, a nurse.
In August he had surgery for colon cancer. When he came back from the hospital, he had trouble eating and was depressed. He was transferred to the nursing home in October.
At a brief graveside service last Wednesday in Jacksonville* (PEORIA), a woman asked if anyone had any words to say.
No one did.”
JOHN BOYD
December 2, 1993 | Peoria Journal Star, The (IL)
Page: B5 | Section: OBITUARIES
John D. Boyd, 64, died at 10:55 a.m. Sunday, Nov. 28, 1993, at Sharon Oaks.
He was deaf, mute and blind and was also known as John Doe 24. Officials where he was institutionalized most of his life didn’t know his real name.
Officials estimated that he was born some time around Jan. 1, 1929. Graveside services were Wednesday at Parkview Cemetery in Peoria. The Rev. Wayne H. Jordan officiated. Simons Mortuary is in charge of arrangements.
John Doe #24, music and lyrics by Mary Chapin Carpenter
“I was standing on the sidewalk in 1945
In Jacksonville, Illinois
When asked what my name was there came no reply
They said I was a deaf and sightless half-wit boy
But Louis was my name, though I could not say it
I was born and raised in New Orleans
My spirit was wild, so I let the river take it
On a barge and a prayer upstream
Well they searched for a mother and they searched for a father
And they searched till they searched no more
The doctors put to rest their scientific tests
And they named me “John Doe No. 24”
And they all shook their heads in pity
For a world so silent and dark
Well there’s no doubt that life’s a mystery
But so too is the human heart
And it was my heart’s own perfume when the crepe jasmine bloomed
On Rue Morgue Avenue
Though I couldn’t hear the bells of the streetcars coming
By toeing the track I knew
And if I were an old man returning
With my satchel and porkpie hat
I’d hit every jazz joint on Bourbon
And I’d hit everyone on Basin after that
The years kept passing as they passed me around
From one state ward to another
Like I was an orphan shoe from the lost and found
Always missing the other
And they gave me a harp last Christmas
And all the nurses took a dance
But lately I’ve been growing listless
I’ve been dreaming again of the past
I’m wandering down to the banks of the great Big Muddy
Where the shotgun houses stand
I am seven years old and I feel my dad
Reach out for my hand
While I drew breath no one missed me
So they won’t on the day that I cease
Put a sprig of crepe jasmine with me
To remind me of New Orleans
I was standing on the sidewalk in 1945
In Jacksonville, Illinois”