This Fort Worth man spent more than two years buried alive. And found love along the way

Charles William (“Bill”) White made his living by dying.

By the time he moved to Fort Worth in 1965, he had already died 10 times. You see, White billed himself as “the Living Corpse”: He traveled around the country to be buried as a publicity stunt for drive-in theaters, taverns, automobile dealerships and other businesses.

White typically was buried in a plywood coffin that was roomy enough to allow him to lie flat. A vertical shaft provided him with air. He communicated via a microphone and a telephone, chatting with followers and reporters. The lid of his coffin had a clear viewing panel so that people could look down the shaft and see him.

For example, in February 1966 he was buried in the parking lot of Panther Hall, the country music venue on East Lancaster Avenue.

White had just begun his Panther Hall burial when a woman began to call him on his coffin phone. First she called during the day. Then she began to call at night.

White found himself looking forward to her calls.

White recalled: “The girl told me her name was ‘Lottie Howard.’ More and more keenly I anticipated her phone calls. And though I couldn’t see her, I soon knew I was in love.”

That love was reciprocated by the young Fort Worth secretary White had never seen.

One night, still in his Panther Hall grave, White proposed marriage to the voice on the phone.

The voice accepted, and Lottie Howard was waiting for White when, after 24 days underground, White cut short his burial and surfaced in the name of love.

In March, an Owens & Brumley ambulance delivered White and his coffin to the Twin drive-in theater to begin his next burial. Theaters often presented horror movies while White was the cadaver-in-residence.

After four days below ground, White told Star-Telegram entertainment columnist Elston Brooks that he had smoked four packs of cigarettes and missed several of his favorite television programs.

Then Lottie got in on the act: In June, Bill and Lottie were wed — while she was buried at a drive-in theater in Denison. After she had been underground a week, Bill and a justice of the peace crouched over her grave. Lottie stuck her hand through a slot above her coffin, and Bill slipped a ring on her finger as six witnesses stood by wearing their best “This is normal” faces.

From Fort Worth, White dragged his coffin to Waco for another burial at a drive-in theater.

White’s burial in Waco ended prematurely when heavy rain seeped into his coffin, and an emergency exhumation was necessary lest the living corpse become a for-real corpse.

White encountered other occupational hazards over the years.

For example, during one burial his coffin lid caved in from the weight of the dirt on it. During another burial he ran out of air, and rescue workers lowered an oxygen mask to him as they dug to free him.

His coffin also was not entirely vermin proof.

“Every once in a while the bugs and lizards get in. I find deodorant spray works. A little Right Guard drives ’em right out.”

His coffin also was not serpent proof. Once a woman dropped her pet snake — a 6-foot boa constrictor — down White’s air shaft. That encounter did not end well.

For the snake.

But White persevered. Often he attempted to stay buried long enough to break the record for what the “Guinness Book of World Records” termed “endurance burial.”

In Largo, Florida, in 1967, Bill broke his own record, staying down 56 days.

In Austin, in 1968, he broke his own record with 63 days.

Also in 1968, in West Virginia, White was buried with a go-go dancer and a grandmother (the ‘60s — you had to be there).

In February 1969, White was buried at a strip club in St. Petersburg, Florida. Topless women danced on his grave.

“This sure beats being buried in a used car lot,” White said.

In January 1978, White was buried in New Bedford, Massachusetts. This, his 51st burial, was sponsored by a local radio station. White set a new record of 134 days.

In 1981, White again broke his own record: He was buried for 140 days at National Hall country-western nightclub in Killeen.

By 1987, Bill White was 53 years old. He had been buried 61 times. He had spent more than two years of the last 23 underground in a box with night crawlers for neighbors.

Perhaps just as a gunfighter knows when to hang up the holster, just as a matador knows when to hang up the cape, a living corpse knows when to hang up the shroud.

Bill White retired.

On December 21, 2006, Bill White died. For real.

“The Living Corpse” has now been buried for 15 years, 9 months and 20-plus days.

That’s a new record for him.

Mike Nichols blogs about Fort Worth history at www.hometownbyhandlebar.com.