The Cryptic Discovery on Somerton Beach
On the morning of December 1, 1948, a chilling scene unfolded on Somerton Beach, just south of Adelaide, South Australia. A well-dressed man, appearing to be in his 40s, was found slumped against a seawall, his legs extended and feet crossed, as if he had simply sat down to rest and never rose again. His attire—a polished suit, tie, and knit pullover—was immaculate, yet all clothing labels had been meticulously removed, leaving no trace of his identity. In his pockets, police found a used bus ticket, an unused train ticket, a pack of cigarettes, and a few other mundane items, but no wallet or identification. The absence of visible trauma or struggle puzzled investigators, and the coroner’s report, led by pathologist John Burton Cleland, noted an enlarged spleen and blood in the stomach, suggesting possible poisoning, though no toxic substances were detected. This lack of a clear cause of death, combined with the man’s unidentifiable nature, marked the beginning of one of Australia’s most enduring mysteries, known as the Tamam Shud case.
The case took a cryptic turn when, months later, a small, tightly rolled scrap of paper was discovered sewn into a hidden fob pocket in the man’s trousers. The paper bore the words “Tamam Shud,” Persian for “it is ended” or “finished,” torn from the final page of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, a 12th-century collection of Persian poetry translated by Edward FitzGerald. This rare clue deepened the enigma, as the phrase’s fatalistic tone hinted at suicide, yet the deliberate concealment of the scrap suggested something more sinister. Police launched a public appeal to locate the book from which the paper was torn, and a breakthrough came when a man reported finding a rare 1859 Whitcombe and Tombs edition of The Rubaiyat in the backseat of his unlocked car in Glenelg, near Somerton Beach, around the time of the man’s death. The book’s final page was missing, perfectly matching the torn scrap, and its back cover revealed faint pencil markings: a sequence of capital letters believed to be a code, along with an unlisted phone number. Despite extensive efforts, the code remains undeciphered, fueling speculation about espionage, secret messages, or a personal cipher.
Clues That Lead to Shadows
The unlisted phone number in the Rubaiyat led police to Jessica Ellen Thomson (née Harkness), a nurse living just a kilometer from Somerton Beach. When shown a plaster cast of the man’s face, crafted by taxidermist Paul Lawson, Thomson appeared visibly shaken, nearly fainting, yet denied knowing him. Her reaction, described as evasive by investigators, sparked suspicion, especially since she had once owned a copy of The Rubaiyat, which she had given to a man named Alfred Boxall during World War II. Boxall, a lieutenant in a military intelligence unit, was initially thought to be the Somerton Man, but he was found alive in Sydney in 1949, with his copy of The Rubaiyat intact, complete with the “Tamam Shud” page and a signed note from Thomson under the pseudonym “Jestyn.” This connection raised questions about Thomson’s possible involvement, yet she maintained her silence, taking any secrets to her grave in 2007. Her reluctance to engage, coupled with the book’s cryptic code, led to theories of a Cold War espionage link, as the case unfolded against the backdrop of heightened global tensions in 1948, with Australia’s proximity to sensitive sites like the Woomera Test Range.
Further clues emerged from a suitcase found at Adelaide Railway Station, checked in on November 30, 1948, the day before the body was discovered. The suitcase contained clothing, some with the name “T. Keane” or “Keane” stitched on, a shaving brush, a modified table knife, and a pair of trousers with sand in the cuffs, possibly matching Somerton Beach. Notably, an orange thread used to repair the man’s clothing matched thread in the suitcase, suggesting it belonged to him, yet the “Keane” lead led nowhere, as no missing person matched the description. The suitcase also held items of American origin, such as a jacket, hinting the man may have traveled from the United States, a detail that fueled speculation about his purpose in Adelaide. Some theorized he was a spy, possibly connected to intelligence activities, while others suggested a more personal motive, such as a jilted lover seeking Thomson. The absence of concrete evidence left these theories unproven, with each clue deepening the mystery rather than resolving it.
A Name Emerges, Yet Questions Linger
In 2022, a significant breakthrough occurred when researchers Derek Abbott and Colleen Fitzpatrick used DNA from hairs preserved in the Somerton Man’s death mask to identify him as Carl “Charles” Webb, a 43-year-old electrical engineer from Melbourne. By constructing a family tree of 4,000 people via genealogical databases, they linked Webb to distant cousins, confirming his identity through autosomal DNA. Abbott suggested Webb’s presence in Adelaide may have been tied to a personal quest, as his wife had recently moved to South Australia after their separation. Webb was known to enjoy poetry and even wrote his own, which could explain the Tamam Shud scrap, and his interest in betting on horses might account for the cryptic code, possibly a shorthand for racehorse names. Despite this identification, South Australian police have yet to officially confirm the findings as of August 2022, and the cause of death remains unresolved, with no definitive evidence of poison, murder, or suicide.
The identification of Carl Webb has not quelled the mystery’s allure. Theories persist about connections to other cases, such as the 1945 death of George Marshall in Sydney, found with an open copy of The Rubaiyat and suspected poisoning, or the 1949 discovery of a child’s body 20 kilometers from Somerton Beach, also without a clear cause of death. These parallels, though unconfirmed, add to the case’s haunting legacy. The Somerton Man’s grave at West Terrace Cemetery in Adelaide, once marked simply “the unknown man,” continues to draw visitors, with flowers mysteriously appearing over the years. For those intrigued by the case, the University of Adelaide hosts an online archive of original case files, offering a glimpse into the investigation’s Dewey’s work. The Tamam Shud case endures as a testament to the power of the unknown, its blend of cryptic clues, Cold War intrigue, and human tragedy captivating sleuths and storytellers alike.
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