Grayson County TXGenWeb

Denison Daily Cresset
Thursday, December 2, 1875
pg. 1

DEAD
Suicide of Johnny Ryan

Last evening about 7 o'clock Johnny Ryan stepped into the saloon on Main street known as the "Railroad Office" and called for a drink of whiskey. The bartender placed the bottle on the counter; Ryan poured a small quantity into the glass, then took out of his vest pocket a small phial and emptied into the liquor about twenty grains of morphine. He called for a spoon and mixed the morphine well with the liquor.
The barkeeper asked, "What is that you are taking, Johnny, quinine? Have you been sick with the chills?"
Ryan answered, "Yes, it is quinine."
Standing on the side walk near the door of the saloon was a friend of Ryan's by the name of Redick. Ryan called for him to come and take a drink, also Ren Haguewood, who was present with Redick. Haguewood refused drinking, but said he would take a cigar. Ryan insisted, saying, "Ren, this is my last drink." Haguewood said, "What do you mean?" Ryan drank the liquor, tossed the phial on the floor, and laughingly remarked, "Here is what I mean. That is all that is left of a half a dollar's worth."
He then passed out of the saloon on to the side walk. Redick started for a doctor. Ryan grasped him by the arm saying, "I don't weaken a d--m bit. It will soon be all over," or something to that effect.
Haguewood and Redick then took hold of him, hurrying him down Main street. On turning the corner of Woodard street, he became faint and was unable to walk. His friends supported him in their arms and carried him home.
Dr. Woods was immediately summoned. Assisted by several persons, they worked over him all night, endeavoring by every means to save his life if possible. Towards morning he seemed a little better, and strong hopes were entertained that he would rally and live. His eyes opened and his breathing was more regular than any time previous.
About 10 o'clock this morning he turned a little on one side and gave two or three convulsive groans. That was the last struggle on earth. The spirit had taken its departure to the God who gave it.
When it was known that he was dead, a large number of sorrowing friends made every necessary preparation for a burial. A splendid coffin was ordered and he was laid out in a new suit of black broadcloth.
The funeral took place this afternoon at 4 o'clock from his residence on Woodard street. A large number of friends following the remains to the cemetery.
Mr. Ryan has been in Denison about three years, was a barkeeper at the Alamo for a long time. He then opened a saloon on Main street known as the "Railroad Office" and about a month ago he disposed of it; since then he has been doing nothing.
Financial embarrassment and domestic trouble coupled with excessive drinking drove him to ruin and death. Mr. Ryan had a ver large number of friends and had many excellent qualities of heart, and his untimely end is deeply deplored by all.
The writer of this has known him for the last two years and is indebted to him for many favors.
"The knell, the shroud, the mattock and the grave,
The deep, damp vault, the darkness and the worm."

The Sunday Gazetteer
Sunday, September 14, 1902

EARLY DAY STORIES
One of the most picturesque characters that ever lived in Denison was Johnny Ryan, who was a railroad and saloon man. Ryan, after quiting railroading, conducted the saloon business, his last venture being the "Blue Goose" on Main street, right where the Bray shoe house is at the present time. Ryan was an educated man. If his lot had been cast in a large city, he would have been a political boss. Ryan, when sober, was a most affable and magnetic personality and had many friends. Whisky was his fault and eventually proved his downfall and death. One day he disappeared from his place of business, and after several days he was located at Dallas. He went through with quite a large sum of money; he was a very liberal man, either drunk or sober. His wife was a beautiful and cultured lady. The oldest daughter, just budding into womanhood, was a perfect beauty. The family lived on Woodard street, east of where the McDougall laundry now stands. Where the vacant lots now are was a row of dwellings and 2 or 3 business houses. A day or so after Ryan returned from his Dallas trip, despondency seized him, and he was a changed man. There were stories of serious domestic troubles which hastened the final castatrophe. One day in his saloon, Ryan took a glass of whisky and droped a white power into it, and with the words, "Good bye, boys," drained the glass. The barkeeper said it was morphine. A hack was called and he was carried to his home. Dr. Williams, now dead, was called in, but he could not save the dying man. The scene at the bedside was most pathetic - the heart-broken wife and sobbing children.
When Ryan died a great storm passed over the city. The wind blew a gale and howled dismally; the window frames rattled. Almost at the last moment a blast of wind shattered the windows and the rain swept over the pillow of the dying man. The blast fairly shrieked and moaned through the house.
Ryan's grave, like many, many others at Oakwood, is obliterated, and no one can tell where he sleeps.
His family left here and that was the last ever heard of them. The death of Ryan points to a good moral: It doesn't pay to be a good fellow and drink too much.