The Trained Diaphragm

The old man who collapsed in downtown Reno's 100DEG heat told the Red Cross a wonderful story: he was Lieut. John Boyer, a Union veteran of the Civil War; he was hiking in search of a great-great-grandson, and he was 104 years old. He looked it, with his snowy beard, sparrowy build and parchment skin. The Red Cross rushed him to Washoe Medical Center, where doctors went to work, nurses stood over him day & night, and the Ladies' Auxiliary of the G.A.R. sent bushels of flowers. Reporters filed tender pieces. That was "Lieut. Boyer's" undoing.

To the Veterans Administration in Washington, the story had a familiar ring. A quick check showed no John Boyer among the thinning ranks of the G.A.R. (now down to seven members), revealed instead that the patient was really a famous old fraud. He was Walter Engle Urwiler, no centenarian but a mere 69, who has been pulling similar tricks at dozens of hospitals for 15 years. Urwiler uses a hatful of aliases, blames his "illness" variously on the exhaustions of deep-sea diving, treasure hunting, trapping in the Rockies and bandit chasing in Texas. He has also piled up a cross-country record of arrests, mostly for vagrancy and gypping the VA. He is a veteran of no war; his Army record: two peacetime enlistments, two desertions.

When this word reached the hospital last week, Urwiler's heart stopped fluttering. He promptly got up, dressed and discharged himself from the hospital in a huff.

Eight hours later, "Robert Larson, a 104-year-old veteran of the Civil War," was picked up, almost dead of a heart attack, in the streets of Susanville, Calif., 90 miles north of Reno. In a Susanville hospital, "Larson" got four days' care before he was recognized. Told that the jig was up, Urwiler packed his ancient bag and hit the road. Said he: "There's been too much newspaper talk."

Few medical fakers have made the A.M.A. Journal as often as Urwiler. Besides a galloping case of the "Munchausen syndrome" (TIME, March 5), which makes hospital care irresistibly attractive to him, he has a rare ability: he can control his phrenic nerve so that his diaphragm flutters. This, along with loud complaints of chest pains, helps him fool the doctors. When Old Man Urwiler gets tired of hitchhiking in California's summer heat, his trick diaphragm is usually good for a comfortable bed and kind attention.

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