When Dr. Adam A. Christman died at the age of 97, he was known to many Ann Arbor residents simply as "the man who grows roses". Beyond the confines of his incredible gardens, he had also trained thousands of University of Michigan medical students, and hundreds of graduate students, in biochemistry, bacteriology, physiology, pharmacology, pharmacy, botany, and zoology. His pioneering medical research had assisted in solving multiple criminal cases, including uncovering the truth behind a young woman's murder. He was also a devoted historian of Ann Arbor, who humorously documented city life in a collection of short stories that grew into a novel. Christman wore many different hats throughout his time in Ann Arbor, and his contributions spanned literature, science, and the arts.

Early Life

Adam Arthur Christman was born December 11, 1895 at his family's farm home near Shannon, Illinois. He earned a Bachelor of Science in Chemistry at Grinnell College in 1917, just as World War I was escalating. Based on his education, the U. S. War Department assigned him a position at the Hercules Powder Company in Kenvil, New Jersey, where he worked as a chemist preparing high explosives (nitroglycerine, dynamite, & TNT). When the war ended, Adam attended the University of Illinois and completed a Ph.D in Chemistry. In September 1922, he joined the faculty of the University of Michigan Medical School. The following year he married Mary Josephine Stevens, who also hailed from Shannon, Illinois. The young couple moved into a small attic apartment on Ann Street in Ann Arbor.

Biochemistry Solves A Murder

Dr. Adam Christman's career at the University of Michigan spanned 42 years, from 1922 to his retirement in 1964. He moved up through the ranks of the physiological/biological chemistry/biochemistry department in the Medical School, and served as chairman of the department from 1953 to 1955. In research he worked on allantoin and purine metabolism, calcium metabolism, antimalarials, and muscle metabolism. He served as chairman of the U-M Russell Award Committee, chairman of the Medical School curriculum committee, and on the National Science Foundation selection committee. He also served as a consultant to Oak Ridge Nuclear Institute and in other similar capacities.

Known as a gifted teacher and scientist, Dr. Christman was particularly well known for a quantitative method he developed early in his career for the rapid determination of carbon monoxide in the blood. In 1932 he presented this work before the American Society of Biological Chemists in Philadelphia. Four years later, in 1936, his method was used to help solve a murder.

On January 5, 1936, 24-year-old expectant mother Bernice Blank died after a fire in her home in Maple Rapids, a small farm town north of Lansing. Her husband George had reportedly not been around when a stove exploded, and her death was ruled accidental asphyxiation. Just days after her burial, suspicious family members requested that her body be exhumed for an autopsy. The Michigan State Police reached out to the University of Michigan Pathology Department, bringing Dr. John C. Bugher and Dr. Herbert W. Emerson onto the case. Bugher found evidence that Mrs. Blank had been struck in the head multiple times. Familiar with Dr. Christman's work with carbon monoxide, Bugher called on him for assistance.

Organs and tissue samples were brought to Dr. Christman, who used his method of detecting carbon monoxide in blood and determined that the level was less than the smoke from a single cigarette. According to Christman's work, Mrs. Blank was dead before the fire began. Once Christman's method ruled out asphyxiation from smoke, Dr. Emerson examined the body and found chloroform in the brain, kidneys, liver and stomach. Together the three scientists determined that Mrs. Blank had received physical blows to her head and was killed with chloroform. The fire was likely intended to cover the crime.

Faced with the autopsy results, George Blank confessed to the murder of his wife over a financial argument. Dr. Christman would go on to share detection of carbon monoxide in the bloodstream with law enforcement officials and forensic scientists, and his method would be used to solve many more investigations. In future interviews, Dr. Christman often mentioned that the Blank murder case was memorable for him because a brother of Bernice Blank was a medical student in his laboratory. The brother had expressed his appreciation for Christman's work in solving the murder. George Blank was sentenced to life in prison.

Life Consulting Rosarian

When he wasn't working as a biochemist, Dr. Adam Christman could often be found in his rose garden. In 1928 the Christmans moved into a newly built home at 1613 Shadford Road, in the Burns Park neighborhood. In their backyard they grew vegetables, a few flowers, and had space reserved for playing croquet. According to Dr. Christman, “By 1933, probably because of articles in garden magazines, such as Better Homes and Gardens, we were persuaded that the help of a landscape architect was needed to design a beautiful garden.” On a whim, the Christmans had a dozen rose bushes included in the plan for their updated yard. Years later, when Christman's garden contained over 200 rose plants and he was an avid member of multiple rose-related organizations, he would look back at these first dozen rose bushes as his gateway into a lifelong hobby and passion.

In 1936, the Ann Arbor Garden Club held a flower show, and Dr. Christman entered several of his roses for competition. One of them won a blue ribbon, and his interest in rose culture deepened. In 1937, Dr. Christman joined the National Rose Society (American Rose Society or A.R.S.) and the Detroit Rose Society. In 1945 he left the Detroit group in favor of the Greater Lansing Rose Society, which he belonged to until 1964. In 1964, he and eleven other local rose enthusiasts organized the Huron Valley Rose Society as part of the Great Lakes Division of the American Rose Society. By 1982 their group had grown to over one hundred members. Immersed in all aspects of rose growing and appreciation, Christman had become a true rosarian. On the occasion of his 90th birthday in 1985, friends presented him with a new rose cultivar, a dark red Grandiflora known as the "Adam Christman". Through the years he won numerous awards for roses he grew, as well as for his judging skills. In 1988 the American Rose Society made him a Life Consulting Rosarian, one of their highest honors. 

The Changing Scene

In 1978 Dr. Adam Christman was approached about writing an article on growing roses for the Neighbors Page of the Ann Arbor News. He agreed to the task and wondered if readers would be interested in his observations of Ann Arbor from when he first arrived in 1922. This was the start of a regular series of articles known as "Ann Arbor Diary" that Christman would write from 1978 to March 1981, covering the history of the city and the University. Ann Arbor Diary covered topics like streetcars, victory gardens, notable residents, neighborhoods, and education, and all of the articles are laced together with humor and quirky observations. The stories were entertaining, and popular with readers of the newspaper, and serve as a record of many people and places that no longer exist in our city. When the series ended, after 45 installments, Dr. Christman self-published a book called "Ann Arbor: The Changing Scene", which included much of his Ann Arbor Diary writing as well as a few additional pieces. Although he never actually wrote about growing roses in his newspaper series, a rose article is included in his published book.

On the occasion of his 94th birthday, in 1989, it was announced that Dr. Christman had established the Adam A. and Mary J. Christman Graduate Student Fellowship in Biological Chemistry at the University of Michigan. The university's current description for the award, which still exists to this day, reads as follows: The Adam A. and Mary J. Christman Award is presented to an outstanding Ph.D student in the Biological Chemistry Department who has demonstrated excellence in her/his academic scholarship and research contributions. The recipient receives a cash award of $1,000. Dr. Christman died in Ann Arbor on September 23, 1993 at the age of 97. He currently rests in the Washtenong Memorial Park Mausoleum, where his location is easy to find because of the roses it is decorated with.

Read the entire text of Ann Arbor: The Changing Scene.

True crime lovers, this is for you.

History of Washtenaw County, Michigan, published back in 1881, includes CHAPTER IX, DARK DEEDS. This summary of Ann Arbor’s earliest murders is fairly gruesome and disturbing. If gruesome and disturbing murder is your thing, grab your favorite snack and click the above link to read at your leisure. For more creepy details, local author James Mann revisited some of these crimes in his 2010 book Wicked Washtenaw County: Strange Tales of the Grisly and Unexplained. Both of these books discuss our city's first recorded killer, how he escaped his punishment, and disappeared. However, the digitization of old Ann Arbor newspapers offered up the whereabouts of our missing murderer. Let me update you on The Death Of Patrick Dunn.

Ann Arbor’s first murder was a feature story in The Ann Arbor Observer's January 1987 edition. (Disclaimer: This was the first documented murder in Ann Arbor’s history. Was it really the first murder? Maybe? Probably?) There are lots of sordid details, including the victim himself dramatically yelling, "MURDER!", and you can read all about it if you're curious.

The quick version: 

It was the early 1840s, and football traffic was not an issue in Ann Arbor. Patrick Dunn was known for being a bully. One summer, during an argument, he hit a neighbor named Charles Chorr over the head with a club. Charles was bedridden for at least a month, and suffered lasting head trauma. Patrick was indicted for assault, but never charged with anything. Patrick's bullying of Charles escalated. Charles wanted revenge. The following spring, April 1843, Patrick walked past the home of Charles on his way to work. Charles stepped outside with a rifle and shot Patrick through his torso. Patrick died the next day. Charles was put in jail to await a trial. Both men were of Irish descent, living with spouses and children in Ann Arbor's fourth ward.

In November of 1843, the case finally went to trial. The Michigan State Journal ran the details of the proceedings on their front page. For each and every little detail of the trial, go read it for yourself. Multiple witnesses were called to the stand. Chorr's lawyers argued insanity, based on his head injury inflicted by Dunn. It was clear that Patrick Dunn wasn't very popular in town, but now he was dead. When all was said and done, Charles Chorr was found guilty of murder in the first degree, and sentenced to death by hanging.

Yes, you read that correctly. Ann Arbor's first convicted murderer was going to be hung for his crime. Charles Chorr was Ann Arbor's first (and last!) instance of anyone being sentenced to death. Fortunately for Charles, his execution never came to fruition. Under mysterious circumstances, it was reported that he escaped from his jail cell and was never seen or heard from again.

All published accounts of the murder of Patrick Dunn end this way, with Chorr disappearing into thin air. Sheriff's Deputy Thomas Leonard reported visiting the jail cell of Charles Chorr, to bring him breakfast, and finding the cell empty. Suspicion circulated around Ann Arbor that Leonard had let Chorr go free, following the orders of Sheriff Peter Slingerland. Slingerland, who faced a looming election to maintain his role as sheriff, needed to appease local citizens who were upset by Chorr's death sentence. The hunt for the killer was not pursued, and the case went cold. So what happened to Charles Chorr?

Case closed?

Forty-two years later, an article randomly appeared on the front page of the Ann Arbor Register, which held answers to our city's first murder. The author of the article made mention of the story as the only known death sentence in Washtenaw County, and supported the theory of Chorr escaping with the help of law enforcement. It ended by declaring "Chorr was harbored in Northfield by Irish friends and finally reached Oakland county. He subsequently went to Galena, Ill., where he eventually met retribution, being murdered in cold blood by some railroad employes." How a local 1885 reporter got this information on Chorr's demise, we will never know. Searching for a death record in Illinois yielded no results. The accuracy remains up for debate but, perhaps, this is the way Ann Arbor's first case of murder came to a close.