Book Description
Join local historian Gregg Seidl on this deliciously wicked romp with New Albanys most heinousthe treacherous, greedy, drunken, insane and plain unfortunate. Catch a whiff of rum and candor when Jacob Ritter sits to write one morning in 1861. His opening line: I have killed my wife because she is a witch. When the trains roar through this New Albany, they are quite likely meeting flesh. The men in the saloons are armed and irritated. And the murderous can be most industrious, like the man who was sentenced to death, sold his body to New Albanys first physician, collected the cash, reneged on the contract and then tried to sell his corpse again. Millions have roamed these broad avenues during New Albanys nearly two hundred years. Most have been honest sorts. Others, well
