At the dawn of the Roaring Twenties, Hence Orme lived on a large estate farm in Glenn’s Valley, an area on Indianapolis’ south side near Morgantown and Bluff roads, which he intended to use as a model for modern scientific farming. Hence Orme’s specialty was raising pigs. As a young man, he played football for both Indiana University and Harvard College and was such an advocate of amateur sports that he even objected to the practice of scouting one’s opponent. Orme was also known as the father of modern tennis in Indianapolis and was instrumental in bringing the Western Open championship to the city in 1920. He seemed to be living the American dream.
On the evening of Thursday November 16, 1922, Orme and his “friend” Nellie McCune took an automobile ride in the vicinity of 56th street and Arlington Avenue, which in 1922 was a vast area of open farm fields bisected only by North Arlington. The area was between Fort Benjamin Harrison and present-day Cathedral High School, not far from the legendary “House of Blue Lights” property and then, as it is today, a secluded spot popular with young couples for the privacy it offered for intimate encounters. It must be noted for the record that Orme was married at the time, Nellie was not.
The couple was flagged down by two men standing in the middle of the road. As they slowed down to assess the situation, the men drew revolvers from their pockets and ordered the pair out of the vehicle. Miss McCune exited on one side and Orme on the other. The bandits demanded and received Orme’s wallet and jewelry from Miss McCune. As Miss McCune gave the robbers her diamond ring, she heard a gunshot and her friend groan, “Why did you shoot me?” The robber said, “You’re not shot,” but Orme fell to the ground. The robbers fled in panic and Miss McCune ran to the nearest farm house for help only to find that the house was dark with no one at home.
As the shock of the situation began to wear off, Miss McCune returned to the scene and found Orme conscious and breathing but weak from loss of blood. She placed him in the car and — amazingly though mortally wounded — he began to drive south towards the city. At 46th street and Arlington, Orme became so weak from blood loss that he could no longer operate the car. As the weaving car coasted to a stop, a local attorney who was passing by stopped to help.
This good Samaritan quickly assessed the gravity of the situation and after laying Hence flat on the back seat of his own car, he quickly drove the couple to the nearest city hospital, where it was discovered that the victim was suffering from a punctured lung caused by a small caliber handgun. A closer examination revealed that Hence had been shot twice, although Miss McCune had only heard one gunshot.
An emergency call for blood was issued, which was answered by many members of the Indianapolis Rotary Club, of which Orme was a member. After receiving numerous blood transfusions and despite the heroic efforts to revive him, Hence Orme died on the following afternoon, Friday November 17, 1922. The Indianapolis Rotary club offered a $1,000 reward for information leading to the apprehension of the murderers. The entire membership of the Rotary Club attended Orme’s funeral at his home south of Indianapolis. The Reverend F.S.C. Wicks officiated at the services.
The case remains unsolved, but in 1946, reporters from two Indianapolis newspapers reviewed the cold case. At the time of the murder, Lewis Coleman, president of the Indianapolis Bar Association, observed that Orme’s killing demonstrated the need for a coordinated county patrol system “as it had become unsafe for anyone to be on the highways after dark.” Although the murder had occurred outside of the city, the sheriff had virtually no enforcement ability and the mayor thought it unfair to expect police to patrol the area. Nevertheless, the disclosure aroused public opinion, causing the sheriff’s office to form a permanent patrol system. Ironically, the murder provided a major impetus for the creation of the Indiana State Police, the only silver lining to the tragedy of Hence Orme’s death.
However, the story of Hence Orme doesn’t end there. While at Indiana University, Hence was a member of Lambda Chi Alpha Fraternity located at 1210 East 3rd St. in Bloomington. Not only a member in good standing, Orme was Indiana’s old Mohican Chief and members both past and present claim that he is one of the two ghosts (along with Harold Mumby) that haunt the old frat house on IU’s campus. Hence and Harold were two of the first members to live in the Lambda Chi Alpha house and both donated a lot of money to the house. A huge picture of Orme is in the library and frat brothers claim that his eyes follow them wherever they go. There are inexplicable things occurring in the house including footsteps, lights going on and off, voices of laughter and disembodied heartbeats.
A former resident of the house, Kevin Gale related this story: “My fraternity father was at the house during the summer and myself and another brother heard running up the stairs of the house when no one else was in the house. The two brothers thought it was an intruder and tried many times to catch this person running up and down the stairs. But there was no one. The running up and down the stairs continued many times. The stairway from the library up to the third floor is haunted. Late in the evening you can hear someone breathing on your back and hear footsteps behind you. One of the brothers and his girlfriend were going through the informal and saw the piano keys playing by themselves.”
So ingrained and familiar are they that these ghost stories are now considered a part of the oral tradition of the Lambda Chi Alpha house and are told to younger brothers in order to give them the history and culture of the house. Former Lambda Chi Alpha members nationwide include President Harry Truman and World War II generals Pappy Boyington and Jimmy Dolittle as well as country music star Kenny Chesney.
The House rests on a slight rise aside one of the busiest streets on campus. Thousands, if not tens of thousands, of cars pass by the imposing stone faced building on the south side of East 3rd Street every day, perhaps never realizing that Hence Orme may be watching silently from an upstairs window as they pass. So the next time you’re in B-town to see a sporting event or visit a friend or relative on campus, drive by the spooky-looking old Frat house and see for yourself. Hence is waiting for you.
This column first appeared in April 2010
Al Hunter is the author of the “Haunted Indianapolis” and co-author of the “Haunted Irvington” and “Indiana National Road” book series. His newest books are “Bumps in the Night. Stories from the Weekly View,” “Irvington Haunts. The Tour Guide,” and “The Mystery of the H.H. Holmes Collection.” Contact Al directly at Huntvault@aol.com or become a friend on Facebook.
