Irene Corbally Kuhn, a pioneering journalist at the turn of the 20th century, embarked on countless adventures around the world. In her memoir ‘Assigned to Adventure’, published in 1938, she talks about her remarkable career up to that time.
Although her book covers a wide range of compelling stories, one passage stands out as particularly intriguing. In this section, Irene describes a terrifying experience that can be interpreted as a time slip or as a psychic vision of a future tragedy.
Let’s delve into Irene’s life and the context surrounding this extraordinary incident. In 1922, Irene was stationed in Shanghai, where she married Bert Kuhn, a fellow reporter who served as news editor for the China Press. The couple’s joy was even greater when they welcomed their daughter Rene the following year.
However, in May 1925, unrest broke out in Shanghai when Sikh police opened fire on a large group of Chinese students protesting the sentences of their fellow cotton workers involved in a strike.
The resulting riots created an extremely dangerous environment. Realizing the seriousness of the situation, Bert convinced Irene to take their daughter and travel to America for safety, while he stayed behind in China.
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Fast forward to a seemingly ordinary afternoon in December. Irene found herself strolling along Michigan Boulevard in Chicago, basking in the pleasant weather and feeling an overall sense of contentment. Little did she know that an extraordinary encounter awaited her, one that would forever engrave this moment in her memory.
“…suddenly and without warning the sky, the boulevard, the people, the lake, everything, vanished from my sight as completely and quickly as if I had gone blind. Before me, like on a movie screen in a dark theater, a strip of green grass unfurled within a fence of iron posts.
“Three young trees stood in the spring green on one side; Behind the trees and the fence, in the distance, factory chimneys billowed plumes of soot through the air.
‘Across from the trees stood a small circle of people, men and women, just a handful, wearing black clothing. And on a gravel road near the grass, a limousine came to a stop, from which two men got out and turned to extend their hands to a woman in black, who was now emerging from the car. The woman was me.
“I saw how I was being escorted against my will to the group that now separated to receive me. I made no sound, but struggled with the need to go to them. I took one step and then stood stock still. Gently the two men pushed me forward, step by step, until at last I was among the others and looking at the small hole in the grass – a hole no more than two hundred feet square.
“I took one look and turned my back on it, wanting to run away, but I was held there by an irresistible force. There was a small box that someone, now bent over, placed in the earth with infinite tenderness – a box so small and light that I could hold it in my hand and barely feel it.
‘What was I doing here? Where was I? Why did I let someone put this box in the ground, this little box that held something very precious to me? I couldn’t talk or move. These people – who were they? Then I recognized only the faces of my husband’s family, tearful and sad. The silence screamed and tore at me. I looked around. The whole clan was there. Only he was missing. Then I knew what was in the box and I fell silently into the grass.”
After the vision disappeared, Irene found herself visibly weakened, prompting a sympathetic stranger to offer assistance. Concerned for her well-being, the stranger quickly hailed a taxi, which took her to her brother-in-law’s office.
When her brother-in-law saw her exhausted appearance, he was shocked and promptly poured her a generous glass of whiskey. Despite Irene’s attempts to convince herself that the incident was merely a figment of her imagination, it remained seared in her memory for years.
In February 1926, Irene began her journey back to China, boarding the ship “Empress of Canada” from Vancouver. As soon as she boarded, the purser advised her to contact the passenger agent. Based on this advice, Irene contacted the agent, who presented her with a telegram from Bert’s family in Chicago.
The telegram contained the disturbing message: ‘Please inform Mrs. Bert L. Kuhn that her husband is dangerously ill. It would be best not to sail.” However, fate had even more tragic news in store for Irene. As she stepped off the ship, she received a second wire, which delivered the devastating blow: “Bert has died.”
When Irene returned to Chicago, she found solace in a new job at the ‘Mirror’. In the meantime, arrangements were made for Bert’s ashes to be brought into town for burial.
“And it was on May 30 that, after all the preparations had been made, I went with my two brothers-in-law in a limousine to Rosehill Cemetery, which I had never seen before.
“We drove through the city, through the cemetery gates and came to a stop. The men got out first and waited to help me. I put my foot on the ground and something stopped me. For a second I couldn’t lift my eyes because I knew what I had to see. Finally I looked. There was spring grass underfoot. There were the three young trees in fresh leaf; there the fence of iron posts, and the chimneys of the city’s industries, far beyond, in the distance. My feet were weighted with lead. I didn’t want to go.
“Bert’s brothers gently urged me forward. I saw the circle of black-clad mourners waiting off to the side. I have stopped.
“You didn’t have to open an entire grave, did you?” I have asked.
“‘How do you know that?’ Paul asked in surprise.
“There’s just a little square hole big enough to put the box with Bert’s ashes in, right?” I pressed on.
“Paul’s face was white beneath his natural color.
“‘Yes that’s right. They said it would be foolish to open a full grave for a small ashtray. But how did you know?’ he persisted.
‘I didn’t answer. I thought about that December day on Michigan Boulevard when I looked into the future, across the bridge of time…’
Her husband, Bert L. Kuhn, also a journalist, died in 1926 after four years of marriage. The circumstances surrounding Bert’s death add an intriguing layer of mystery to the story.
According to the official medical report, his death was attributed to ‘unknown causes’. However, there were certain factors that piqued Irene’s curiosity and fueled her suspicions.
Unbeknownst to many, Bert had been involved in covert operations for US Naval Intelligence, leading Irene to believe that his covert efforts may have played a role in his untimely demise.
Irena herself never found an answer to what happened to her that day.