The sisters would serve them personally, no wait staff allowed. Sometimes those gentlemen would look a bit unsteady when leaving, like they'd had too much to drink, though I never saw excessive alcohol being served. The youngest sister, Caroline, they called her, would often help them into cabs, saying they needed assistance returning to their hotels. Strange thing was, a couple of times guests who left like that came back the next day looking confused, saying they had no memory of leaving the night before."
Chicago police records from 1908 contained a report of an investigation into the disappearance of William Carver, a cattle buyer from Kansas City who was last seen entering the Sisters' Table for dinner on April 17th, 1908. The investigation was closed when the restaurant shut down and the proprietors left the city before being questioned. A notation in the file indicates that unusual modifications to the basement area were discovered during inspection of the vacated premises. The investigating officer, Detective Michael Sullivan, added a personal note to the file. Basement contained custom drainage system and evidence of regular hosing down.
Large hooks mounted in ceiling beams. Floor recently covered with new concrete, but core samples taken from several areas show possible blood residue in deeper layers. Neighboring businesses reported unusual garbage disposal practices. Sisters never used regular collection services, but removed trash themselves during late night hours. Sullivan's final comment in the file reads, "Similar pattern to Rochester and Cleveland cases.
Same three women, same type of establishment, same customer demographic. Targeted evidence suggests organized, methodical operation rather than crimes of opportunity. Recommend coordination with authorities in previous locations, though suspect subjects have already relocated beyond our jurisdiction." After Chicago, the trail becomes more difficult to follow. Whitaker's notes suggest possible connections to establishments in Detroit.
1909–1911, Buffalo, 1912–1914, and finally Pittsburgh, 1915–1917. In each case, the pattern remained consistent. Three women, exceptional food, disappearances, and abrupt relocation. The Pittsburgh connection is particularly interesting because it represents the end of the trail. A small restaurant called The Family Table operated in the Oakland neighborhood from 1915 to 1917.
City records show it was owned by three women who identified themselves as the Wilson sisters, Jane, Anne, and Martha, but whose physical descriptions in business license applications closely match those of the women who had operated the Sisters' Table in Chicago. In June 1917, the Pittsburgh Press reported on the sudden death of Martha Wilson, the youngest of the sisters, described as the culinary genius whose recipes had made the Family Table a required destination for those seeking exceptional dining experiences. The cause of death was listed as complications from influenza, though the Spanish flu pandemic had not yet reached Pittsburgh at that time. A more revealing account comes from the memoirs of Dr. Errol Jenkins, a Pittsburgh physician who attended Martha Wilson in her final illness.
In a privately published volume of recollections, Jenkins wrote, "The case of Miss Wilson remains one of the most disturbing of my career." Her symptoms did not align with any recognized disease process, progressive paralysis, cognitive deterioration, and eventually respiratory failure. Her sisters refused to allow her removal to hospital, insisting on home treatment only. Most curious was their reluctance to allow me to examine her food or medication. The elder sister suggested that Miss Wilson's condition might be the result of occupational exposure to certain chemical compounds used in their culinary business. I suspect a case of accidental self-poisoning, possibly from substances used in food preservation.
Though the sisters would not elaborate on their methods. Following Martha's death, the restaurant closed permanently. The two remaining sisters disappeared from public record entirely. A brief item in the Pittsburgh real estate notices indicated that all business assets had been liquidated and the proceeds donated to the Red Cross war effort as the sisters had returned to their family home in New England. Whitaker's notes speculate that Martha Wilson was in fact Ruth Blackwood and that her death represented the end of the sisters' activities.
If the pattern holds, Ruth would have been approximately 54 years old in 1917, relatively young, but consistent with a life of stress and possible exposure to dangerous chemicals used in their activities. What became of Margaret and Eleanor, if they were indeed the other Wilson sisters, remains unknown. Whitaker's research suggests they may have retired to a small town in Vermont or New Hampshire, using wealth accumulated over decades to live out their lives in anonymous comfort. In March 1968, while examining records in the basement archives of the Chicago Historical Society, Whitaker disappeared. His research materials were found neatly arranged on a table with a half-written note that read only, "I believe I am being." The sentence was never completed.
Chicago police conducted a cursory investigation, concluding that Whitaker had likely suffered a medical emergency while working alone and wandered off in a confused state. His body was never found and the case was classified as a missing person rather than a suspected homicide. This conclusion was reached despite the fact that Whitaker's hat, coat, and briefcase remained at his workspace, and weather records show temperatures well below freezing on the day of his disappearance. A curious footnote to Whitaker's disappearance emerged in 1969 when a clerk at the historical society reported finding an unusual item while reorganizing the storage area where Whitaker had been working. Tucked between two archived ledgers was a small leather-bound notebook that did not belong to the collection.
Inside was a list of names and dates spanning from 1893 to 1917 with annotations regarding quality, tenderness, and flavor. The notebook disappeared from the evidence locker at the Chicago Police Department three days after it was turned in. The clerk who found it reportedly took early retirement and moved to Arizona shortly thereafter. Federal authorities seized Whitaker's research within days of his disappearance. Most of it remains classified with access restricted until 2023.
What little has been released provides tantalizing but incomplete glimpses of a case that spans decades and possibly multiple jurisdictions. The few researchers granted limited access to Whitaker's files have emerged with more questions than answers. One such researcher, Dr. Elizabeth Chambers of Columbia University, published a carefully worded paper in 1965, suggesting that the Blackwood case represented a pattern of behavior that may have been repeated in multiple locations across the eastern United States between 1870 and 1915. Always involving female proprietors of boarding establishments, always targeting male travelers of means, and always characterized by an unusual attention to the culinary experience offered to victims.
Chambers's paper stops. Short of explicit accusations, but strongly implies that the Blackwood sisters and possibly others operating with similar methods were responsible for numerous disappearances spanning decades. Most disturbing is her suggestion that the sisters may have had associates or apprentices who continued their practices long after the original perpetrators would have reached advanced age. This theory gained unexpected support in 1966 when a journalist investigating a series of disappearances in Minneapolis uncovered records of a small restaurant that had operated there from 1920 to 1922. The establishment called Aunt Martha's Kitchen was run by two elderly women and a much younger third woman who claimed to be their niece.
The journalist's work was never published. He suffered a debilitating stroke while conducting research and died without completing his investigation. What truly happened at the Blackwood House remains subject to speculation. The physical evidence has long since disappeared. The sisters themselves, if they lived full lives, would have died before 1950.