George Kleiber died 1924

George Kleiber was not a stranger to danger—or to the police.

Known throughout Tonawanda as a volatile fisherman, Kleiber lived much of his life in conflict: with the law, with other men on the river, and eventually with his own family. His name appeared repeatedly in newspapers under grim headlines—attempted murder, illegal fishing, violent assault.

One summer night, inside the bottling department of the Tonawanda Brewing Company, an argument erupted between Kleiber and another fisherman, George Walrath. Each accused the other of illegal fishing on the Niagara River—specifically the use of dynamite, a destructive and outlawed method.

Words quickly turned to threats.

Witnesses later said Kleiber became enraged, shouting that he would kill Walrath “if it took all night.” When others tried to remove him from the building, Kleiber drew a revolver from his hip pocket, leveled it, and pulled the trigger. Only the quick action of a bystander saved Walrath’s life—the bullet struck the building instead of its intended target.

Kleiber fled but was arrested near his home on Adam Street. The revolver—a .38 caliber—was seized by police. At the time, he had just been released from the Erie County Penitentiary, where he had served time for illegal fishing.

But the violence did not end there.

In another chilling incident, Kleiber’s own wife accused him of attempting to poison her with carbolic acid, pouring it into her tea, onto her bread, and even onto her clothing. She survived only because she detected the smell before swallowing more than a small amount. Neighbors revived her after she collapsed.

When arrested, George Kleiber told police he had bought the poison to end his own life. He refused to explain what happened at the supper table, calling himself “a devil.” Doctors questioned his sanity. Friends and neighbors whispered that he had threatened to kill his wife before—and that his behavior was growing worse.

Standing at this grave, the chaos has finally ended.

George Kleiber left behind no heroic legacy, no public honor—only court records, frightened witnesses, and a string of near-fatal moments that could easily have ended other lives.

This is the dark side of the city: when violence lives close to home, and survival depends on seconds, smells, and chance.