Annie Krampitz’s Lonesome Death Tugs at Town’s Conscience

Everyone in town knew of Anna Krampitz, the deaf recluse who lived in the seedy white house next to a car dealership. They often saw her walking to and from the Bixby Memorial Free Library, where she would check out teen-age romance novels. She never married, never held a job.

That’s about all most folks know about her life, but many know of her death.

Anna Krampitz froze to death, alone, in the house where she had been born 82 years before. Her home had no running water, no central heat--just a coal stove to warm the single room in which she lived.

Her 69-year-old brother, Theodore, was arrested and charged with neglect of the elderly. He was his sister’s legal guardian and the state says he was responsible for her living conditions. He has pleaded not guilty and won’t talk about the case. His trial has been delayed indefinitely.

“I think most folks are afraid of dying by themselves,” said Michael Jackman of Miller Chevrolet Co. Inc., next door to Anna’s house on Main Street. “I don’t know if that could be true of Anna Krampitz.”

Community efforts to help her simply failed, some neighbors say. City Clerk Joan Devine recalled that one Christmas, when some Boy Scouts brought her a holiday basket, she threw the contents across her battered porch.

It seems many people have Anna Krampitz stories.

On several occasions, Jackman said, she dumped leaves and shrubbery on cars that were parked near her home. Maybe she didn’t like their color, he said. A barbed-wire fence was erected between the car dealership and her house.

The conditions in which she lived were a surprise “and we were right next door. Nowadays, something like that, in a little country town, you don’t expect that to happen,” he said.

Authorities say that Theodore Krampitz knew how his sister was living.

In a 1985 letter to the city arguing that a $30,200 appraisal of the house was too high, he wrote: “The house has no running water due to the pipes and plumbing all freezing up and breaking everything. There is no kitchen as such, no electricy (sic) in the upper part of the house. . . . The roof leaked badly in the past and the plaster is off the ceilings and walls in most of the house. The windows and the outside of the house is allin (sic) bad need of repair, but I:m (sic) not in the position ot (sic) spend 20,000 to repair the old place under present circumstances with my sister in there.”

The appraisal was lowered to $24,400, according to court documents.

Because there was no plumbing, Krampitz carried water to his sister in jugs, court records show. When Vermont state police Detective Sgt. Bernard Chartier asked him if he had considered getting the plumbing fixed, Krampitz said: “No chance--’cause it would just get ruined in no time at all.”

Chartier wrote in an affidavit that human waste was piled three feet high in the room that used to be the kitchen. Vergennes police Sgt. John Dugan said it was so cold in the house that he couldn’t smell it.

Dugan also recalled the books found all over the house. Even the bathtub was full of books. And there was Krampitz’s diary, in which she noted holidays and made detailed entries about the weather.

The last entry was Dec. 9, 1988. Her body was found 10 days later.

The Department of Social Welfare had sent her fuel-assistance checks, and some of that money cannot be accounted for, Chartier wrote.

Few people would admit having known Anna Krampitz well, and those who did refused to talk about her. One librarian made a face when told that others in town had described Krampitz as crabby. She looked away and murmured that it simply wasn’t true.

John Quinn, the Addison County state’s attorney, said: “I’m aware that she was an unfriendly old bird,” but he added that “the purpose of having a guardianship of someone is because they’re unable to take care of themselves.”

About 500,000 elderly Americans are believed to be under guardianship, judged unable to care for themselves or their finances and made wards of the court. Such wards have no control over their lives--over where they live, what medical treatment they receive or how their money is spent.

Quinn believes the Krampitz case has gone far to raise awareness about abuse of elderly dependents. “Perhaps probate judges may not have as high a good-faith assumption now that they might have had in the past,” he said.

One in 25 elderly adults is abused, according to an estimate in a 1985 report to Congress, “Elder Abuse: A National Disgrace.” The abuse takes all forms: psychological and physical torment, neglect and theft.

The Krampitz case “made every public official . . . more aware of these kinds of conditions,” said city manager and health officer Mel Hawley, adding he had not realized Anna Krampitz’s situation but is uncertain about what he might have done. “Anna was left in the care of her brother. There it is. I’m not proud of this situation. I don’t think I’m responsible (but) I’m a part of this community.”

Hawley wondered what would have happened had he condemned the house. “I just wonder what the editorial would have been.”

“It has opened the city’s eyes. A lot of these things you’re not aware of until something happens, and then you say, ‘Oh, my goodness!’ ” Devine said.

“I feel awfully bad about this one,” said Probate Court Judge Catherine Fitzpatrick, who supervised Anna Krampitz’s guardianship. “I was asked by an agency, ‘Do you think you’ve got any more?’ I mean, what can I say? I hope not. I’d hate to think anyone else is out there in this position.”

Anna Krampitz died penniless. The state paid $885 for her burial. Prospect Cemetery caretaker Norman Rheaume marked her grave with a simple wooden cross near the family monument.