MrBallen’s Medical Mysteries - Fan Favorite | Darkness in Donora
Episode Date: September 11, 2025Following the epic crossover between MrBallen’s Medical Mysteries and Redacted: Declassified Mysteries, hosted by Luke Lamana, we’re revisiting some of our favorite episodes where the lin...e between medical mystery and dark conspiracy becomes blurred.In the 1940s, the people of Donora, Pennsylvania fall prey to a deadly epidemic that destroys their lungs. Doctors suspect it has something to do with the fog that is constantly blanketing their town… but why now? They need to find an answer fast – before the darkness claims more victims.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
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On the afternoon of Saturday, October 30th, 1948, a teenage boy wearing an orange and black
uniform ran across his high school's football field. He searched the sky for a pass from his
quarterback, but a thick layer of fog had rolled in that made it impossible to
see. As the boy waved his arms, the ball bounced off his helmet and fell to the ground.
But before he could even jog back to his teammates, the boy heard the school's announcer
call his name over the loudspeakers. The announcer sounded urgent and told the boy to report
to the sidelines right now. And when he got there, his coach told him he had to head home
right away. His mother needed him. So the boy just took off his helmet and ran home through
the fog. When he burst through the door, he saw his father lying on the couch with the
doctor standing over him, and his mother was standing by, weeping. The doctor told the boy that
he was very sorry, but his father had just died. The boy just stood there, stunned. His father had
been fine that morning. He didn't understand what could have happened. However, what this boy did not
know was that his father was not the first person in town to die that day, and he would not be the last,
because this community was in the middle of a medical disaster that would change the course of American
in history.
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From Bollin Studios and Wondry, I'm Mr. Bollin, and this is Mr. Bollin's Medical Mysteries,
where every week we will explore a new baffling mystery originating from the one place we all can't escape, our own bodies.
So if you like today's story, please go to a store the follow button is currently shopping at
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When they run out to go deal with it, steal their shopping card.
This episode is called Darkness in Denora.
On the morning of Friday, October 29th, 1948, a young woman named Helen Stack woke up inside her modest home in the small town of Denora, Pennsylvania.
And as soon as Helen opened her eyes, she started coughing.
Her throat had been sore for a few days, but this morning, it felt even worse.
She thought she might be coming down with a cold, but Helen was not the kind of person
to let a minor illness slower down. So she still got out of bed, got dressed, and then drank
some coffee and ate breakfast before starting her walk to work. From where her house stood
near the top of a hill, Helen could sometimes see the entire town. De Nora sat inside of a valley
right on the banks of the Monongahila River, surrounded on three sides by 400-foot-tall
cliffs. On the fourth side were rolling hills that stretched off into the distance.
That morning, though, Helen couldn't see any of De Nora's natural beauty, because fog was blocking
her view. In fact, low gray clouds had been hanging over the town for the past four days.
But that was actually normal, because De Nora was inside of basically a natural bowl in the earth.
The surrounding cliffs and hills blocked the wind, so the fog would accumulate and then get
stuck in the valley. To Helen, this was just part of life in De Nora. And while it was sort of
frustrating at times, it was easy to ignore, because there were so many other good things
about living there. Everybody was friendly, there were plenty of jobs, and there were always
fun events going on. As she walked to work, Helen could hardly see across the street,
but she could see enough in front of her to say hello to the neighbors who passed her by on her
side of the sidewalk, who all knew her by name, and then at some point she passed by a street
next to a bunch of industrial mills that were also shrouded in fog, and she knew that
somewhere in that fog, most of the men in Dinora were working. And when she reached
McKean Avenue, the main street in town, she could barely make out the workers who were hanging
up decorations for that evening's annual Halloween parade. Eventually, Helen came to a stop in front
of a tall brownstone building on McKean Avenue. She went inside, walked up to the second floor,
and unlocked the door of the doctor's office where she worked. Helen was the only employed,
working for the two doctors, Ralph Kohler and Edward Roth. To Helen, these two men seemed pretty
similar. Both were in their 40s, they were tall and heavyset, and they both had very kind and
patient demeanors. The only obvious difference between them was that Dr. Roth smoked cigars like
a chimney and Dr. Kohler avoided cigars altogether because he had diabetes and a heart condition.
As for Helen, she was a receptionist, a secretary, and a nurse, so she had a lot of responsibilities
at the office. And today, like most days, she was the first one to the office. She turned on the lights
and opened up the blinds in the waiting room, then began sweeping up the thin layer of soot that
had blown in through the air vents and settled on the floor overnight. Like the fog in De Nora,
the soot was also very annoying, but totally normal to Helen. She knew it came from the mills
nearby. It was just a normal part of living in a factory town inside of a valley. After Helen was
all done cleaning up the waiting room, she looked around and smiled because she had just enough
time to go smoke a cigarette before the doctors came in and patients began to arrive.
Helen sat down behind the reception desk and lit her cigarette. She took a long drag, but immediately
she noticed it had a strange, bittersweet taste to it. She tried again, and suddenly the tobacco
tasted so awful that she doubled over coughing. She coughed until she had tears in her eyes,
but she wasn't sure if it was from the cigarette, her sore throat, or maybe both.
Either way, Helen stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette into her ashtray,
and then she heard the door open.
She looked up to see Dr. Kohler walking inside,
and so she knew her workday was about to begin.
A few hours later, at 3 p.m., Dr. Kohler stood in the back of the doctor's office
and pulled on his overcoat.
Even though it was only mid-afternoon, he ultimately.
already felt exhausted. His diabetes and his heart condition left him chronically tired, and to deal
with it, he kept to a very specific schedule. He went home every day at precisely 3 p.m. so he could
lay down and rest before dinner. But right when he was about to leave, he heard quick footsteps coming
down the hallway, and Helen rounded the corner. She looked concerned and said an older man had just
come in, wheezing and complaining that he couldn't catch his breath. Dr. Kohler knew he needed to get
home for his own sake, but his partner, Dr. Roth, had already gone on a break, and he couldn't
just turn away a patient who needed help. So he took off his overcoat and told Helen to bring
the patient back to an exam room. Moments later, Dr. Kohler met that patient in the exam room,
and he recognized him as one of his regulars. The man was one of many locals in town who Dr. Kohler
treated for asthma, which is a chronic condition that causes a person's airways to swell
and make it difficult to breathe.
And so as a result, Dr. Kohler wasn't surprised that this patient was wheezing.
Whenever the fog and denora got really thick, people's asthma tended to flare up.
So Dr. Kohler gave his patient the usual asthma treatment for 1948, which was a shot of adrenaline.
Adrenaline is a hormone that can help open a person's airway when they're having trouble breathing.
Once the adrenaline shot took effect and the man caught his breath again, Dr. Kohler sent him on his way.
Then the doctor put his overcoat back on and followed that patient out, anxious to go home and get in bed.
30 minutes later, Helen sat at the reception desk and flicked through the day's mail.
Usually, the office got quiet in the afternoons, and then business would pick up again in the evenings.
So she was using the lull to get some administrative work done.
Helen pulled out the junk mail from the pile and then got up to throw it away.
But as she was walking towards the trash can, she heard a loud crash from the hallway outside the office, followed by the sound of somebody yelling.
Helen's first thought was somebody fell down the stairs.
And so she rushed to check if they were okay.
And what she saw in the hallway absolutely terrified her.
A man she didn't recognize was clinging to the banister, and his knuckles were white, and his face was turning blue.
He was moaning in pain, kicking the wall and screaming, help me, help me, I'm dying.
Helen was so confused and afraid that she just froze.
Luckily, another doctor who ran his own private practice across the hall from them soon showed up,
and so did the other doctor that Helen worked for, Dr. Roth.
While those two doctors began to help the man, Helen heard the sound of her phone ringing at her reception desk.
And so Helen kind of broke out of her trance, ran back inside the office and answered the phone,
and immediately she heard the sound of a woman screaming on the other end of the line for help,
just like the blue-faced man in the hall had been doing.
The woman said her husband couldn't breathe,
and he needed help right now.
Helen got the woman's address
and promised that Dr. Roth would be there soon.
However, before Helen could run across the hall
and tell Dr. Roth that another patient needed his help,
the phone rang again, and then again, and then again.
And everyone Helen spoke to said the same thing.
They couldn't breathe.
They were coughing up blood, their heads hurt,
their stomachs were killing them.
and they all thought they were going to die.
And unfortunately, the town only had a single ambulance, and it was booked solid.
And so one after another, Helen took down these people's names and addresses
and added them to the growing list of patients the doctors needed to visit.
Helen had no idea what was going on in De Nora,
but it certainly felt like all hell had broken loose inside of her normally quiet town.
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The stories we cover are well researched. Of the 880 men who survived the attack, around 400 would eventually find their way to one another and merge into one larger group.
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Two hours later, at 6 p.m., Dr. Roth squinted as he very slowly drove down McKean Avenue
after an afternoon of house calls. Because of the fog, which now had gotten so bad, he could hardly
make out the lines on the road, and so he just gripped the steering wheel tightly and went
really slow, keeping an eye out for the Brownstone building where he worked. Dr. Roth had never
been in a situation like this before. People all over town were struggling to breathe, regardless
regardless of whether they had asthma or not. And Dr. Roth really didn't know why. He figured it must
be something in the air, literally, but even with fog this bad, he'd never seen it affect people
this much before. By this point in the day, he'd already given so many patients adrenaline injections
that he'd run through his entire supply, and he'd barely made a dent in the list of people
who still needed help. And so now he needed to stop by the office and refill his supply of
adrenaline before making more house calls. But it was literally too foggy to even find his own
address. And so Dr. Roth figured he'd have better luck if he just parked his car and walked. So he
carefully pulled to the curb, turned off the engine, and got out. He went to the sidewalk,
and when he saw the nearest building to him, he realized he'd actually driven past his office
without knowing it. And so Dr. Roth doubled back towards the brownstone, threw open the door,
and began running up the stairs.
However, after only a few steps, he had to stop
because he ran out of breath, and then he began to cough.
His chest felt tight like somebody was squeezing the air out of him.
He managed to make it back to his office,
but immediately when he got there,
he doubled over in the entryway and coughed
until tears were streaming down his face.
Dr. Roth felt like he was choking.
He started to panic and looked around for help,
but his secretary, Helen, had left for dinner
and his colleague, Dr. Kohler, who had left to go take a nap, was still at home.
Dr. Roth realized he was all alone in his office.
He held onto a desk and tried to steady himself, but he kept hacking until he felt nauseous.
He managed to make it to the bathroom before he actually vomited.
And then after that, he stumbled to the bathroom's sink and splash cold water on his face.
His heart was racing and his whole body felt weak.
But he knew he couldn't just stand there because he still felt faint.
So he rushed towards the back room where drugs were stored and grabbed a vial of adrenaline and a clean syringe.
With his hand shaking, Dr. Roth filled the syringe, poked the needle through his pant leg into his thigh, and injected himself with adrenaline.
And after that, he just collapsed into his office chair.
After a few moments, Dr. Roth took a big, deep breath.
He sat there for several minutes, relishing how good it felt to breathe again.
And as he slowly calmed back down, Dr. Roth tried to figure out what had just happened to him.
Just like the patients he'd been visiting all day, he'd had what seemed like a sudden, very severe asthma attack.
But why?
He felt sure that something in the air, in the fog, was causing people all over town, including him to nearly suffocate.
But what?
Fog was normal in Dinora.
So what was different about it this time?
As he was thinking it over, Dr. Roth opened up a drawer in his desk, and out of pure habit, he grabbed a cigar.
Without thinking, he struck a match with the cigar and took a puff.
And immediately, he launched into another uncontrollable coughing fit.
Meanwhile, Helen was on her way back to work after her dinner break.
She walked through the fog and passed a crowd of people gathered on McKean Avenue.
There were adults and kids all dressed up in festive costumes.
Helen knew they were all waiting for the annual Halloween parade to begin.
But she couldn't think about candy in costumes right now.
She was too preoccupied with getting back to work and making sure her patients were okay.
She soon made it to the brownstone and went upstairs to the doctor's office.
And right when she opened the door, she heard the phone ring.
But before she could answer it, she heard something else.
There was a groaning sound coming from the back hall.
It made the hair on the back of Helen's neck stand up, because Dr. Kohler and Dr. Roth were
supposed to be at home on their dinner breaks. Helen should have been alone at the office.
She followed the groaning sound back to Dr. Roth's private office, and she opened the door
to find one of her bosses slumped in his chair. His face was bright red and drenched in sweat,
he was wheezing, and his eyes were huge and terrified. But somehow, Dr. Roth spoke, and he told
Helen, he was okay. He just needed to catch his breath. Helen did not believe him. But she could
still hear the phone ringing, and Dr. Roth told her to just go answer it. And so perhaps against
her better judgment, she turned and left, and when she got back into the waiting room to answer
the phone, she now saw there were a few patients that had come inside. She gestured to let them know
she'd be with them in a second, and then she answered the phone. But this time, Helen didn't
hear a patient begging for help. She heard her other boss, Dr. Kohler, and his voice sounded strained.
He said that ever since he had left the office earlier that afternoon, he'd been struggling
to breathe too, and he said he didn't know when he'd be able to come back to work.
Helen said okay, but it really was not okay, because as she stood there holding the phone to her
ear, the office door swung open and more coughing, wheezing patients tumbled inside.
Helen felt so confused and helpless.
Half the town was outside enjoying the Halloween parade, totally oblivious to what was happening.
Meanwhile, the phone wouldn't stop ringing and patients were flooding into the doctor's office one after another.
And the doctors, Dr. Kohler and Dr. Roth, were both deathly ill, and no one actually knew what was causing any of this.
Helen felt like she had no choice but to close the office, because there was nothing Dr. Kohler or Dr. Roth could do for anybody.
So she hung up the phone and turned around and told the patients gathered in the waiting room that she was very sorry, but they would have to leave and go to a different doctor's office for help.
About seven hours later, a man named Rudolph Schwerha was lying in bed with his wife.
They were both fast asleep until the sound of the phone ringing jolted them awake.
Rudolph rolled over, looked at the clock on his bedside table, and sighed.
It was 2 a.m., which meant the call could not be good news.
And that was because Rudolph was both a mortician and the county coroner.
He lived right above the funeral home that he owned and operated,
and he only got calls in the middle of the night if somebody had died.
Rudolph picked up the phone and said hello.
And sure enough, the woman on the other end, a dispatcher at the local sheriff's office,
said a 70-year-old man had passed away about half an hour earlier.
She said he'd suddenly developed severe respiratory symptoms and stopped breathing.
Rudolph did not ask any follow-up questions because it was 2 a.m. and he wasn't really thinking straight,
and also because he was totally unaware of the mysterious illness currently plaguing De Nora.
He just asked the woman for the address and then said he would send his hearse, pick up the man's remains.
Rudolph then called his hearse driver and explained the situation, and the driver said he was on it and would bring the remains back to the funeral home soon.
Rudolph hung up, and while his wife went back to sleep, he laid there awake in bed and listened for the sound of the hearse pulling into his driveway.
He figured the driver would show up within minutes because the address was only two blocks away.
But half an hour passed by before Rudolph finally heard a car's engine rumbling outside.
Rudolf was about to get up to go greet the driver, but as soon as he threw back the covers,
his phone rang again.
And again, it's the middle of the night, and so these calls are not good news.
Rudolph noticed his wife had just woken up, and she sat up next to him, looking confused.
Rudolph picked up the phone and said hello, and he was surprised to hear that another person had passed away.
And like the first, they'd suddenly developed severe breathing problems and then just died.
Two deaths, within an hour of each other, was unusual in a town as small as De Nora.
And it was even more strange for two people to just suddenly stop breathing.
Rudolph didn't know what was going on, but now he felt uneasy,
and he decided he should go with his driver to the next address.
So Rudolph told his wife he'd be back soon, then he got dressed and hurried outside.
A few minutes later,
Rudolf rode in the passenger seat while his hearse driver inched down the street.
It had taken the driver so long to get to the funeral home
because the fog outside had somehow gotten even worse.
It was like a solid gray wall.
As the driver slowly inched forward,
Rudolph stared intently out the windshield,
desperately trying to somehow see through the fog.
They were headed to a neighborhood on the opposite side of the Monongahela River,
and to get there, they would have to drive across a very thin road right next to a cliff.
And so Rudolph, naturally, was very concerned that they might accidentally drive right off of it.
So when they neared the cliff, Rudolph told the driver to stop and said he wanted to drive,
but he would still need the driver's help.
While Rudolph got behind the wheel of the hearse, the driver got outside and stood in front of the car.
Then he used a flashlight to guide Rudolph through the fog and make sure the car didn't slip off the side of the cliff.
And so Rudolph gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles and did his best.
to drive as carefully as he could, he knew they would only need to cover a very short distance,
but every inch on that cliff felt like torture.
Finally, after what seemed like in eternity, they made it past the cliff and into the neighborhood.
They picked up the deceased person's body and then turned right back around and did the same
process of slowly driving past the cliff, and then finally once they were on the other side,
they headed back to the funeral home. And by the time they finally got back there, it was almost
sunrise, and Rudolph's wife at this point was wide awake standing by the front door.
And the totally overwhelmed look on her face made Rudolph's stomach drop. He didn't need to ask her
what was wrong. He could tell by the bags under her eyes that she must have been up all night
answering phone calls intended for him, meaning more people must have died. So as soon as Rudolph
and the driver had moved the second body into the funeral home, they got back in the car to go pick up
another, and then another, and another.
By 10 a.m., there were nine bodies waiting in the morgue, and the phone kept on ringing.
On Boxing Day, 2018, 20-year-old Joy Morgan was last seen at her church, Israel United in Christ, or IUIC.
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Four hours later at 2 p.m. on that Saturday afternoon,
a man named August Shambone
pulled into the driveway of a stately home in Dinora.
August was the town mayor,
but he'd recently been away on business.
So, when he walked inside,
he immediately went to the pile of messages
his family had written down for him while he was gone.
And as he worked his way down the stack of paper,
his face went pale.
Like many people in Dinora,
August had had no idea
that a mystery illness was suffocating people to death all over town
until he saw all these panicked messages
from residents, doctors, and morticians
begging him for help.
August realized,
he had a very serious emergency on his hands.
De Nora didn't have a single hospital,
and several of the town's doctors were too sick themselves to work,
so people who fell ill literally didn't have anywhere to turn.
Meanwhile, bodies were piling up.
Between Rudolph's funeral home and the others in town,
the death toll was now at 11 people,
and based on the calls he'd received,
August estimated that hundreds, maybe even thousands more people, were sick.
August spent the rest of the day doing whatever he could to help.
He worked with local nurses to create emergency medical stations.
He called in doctors from out of town to come help.
He had extra oxygen and inhalers shipped into Denora.
He even called the state health department for backup.
But at the same time, August didn't make any emergency announcements.
But in fairness, he didn't really have a way to.
Denora didn't have a local TV or radio news station, and the newspaper was only published
on weekdays. And since this disaster had happened on a weekend, the only way for news to travel
was by word of mouth. So while half the town did their best to deal with this mysterious outbreak,
the other half was blissfully unaware, carrying on business as usual. The local high school even
went ahead with their scheduled football game, even though their players literally couldn't see
more than a few feet across the field. But finally, after what felt like one of the longest days of his
life, August felt like he needed to call a town meeting. Everybody needed to know what was going
on. However, he couldn't get everybody from the city council and the Board of Health together
until the following morning. And so first thing, the next morning, which was Sunday, October 31st,
August made his way through the thick gray fog to a government building downtown. There, he met
with a bunch of community leaders to discuss what was going on. And they all agreed that the fog
must have something to do with it. But there were a lot of questions that nobody could answer,
like, what made this fog different? And why was it making some people sick and even killing some
people, while others seemed totally unaffected by it? They couldn't make sense of it, let alone
figure out how to stop it. Then, at some point during their conversation, August began to hear
rain pattering down on the roof. He looked out the window and saw the drizzle turn into a full-on
downpour, and he watched an amazement as the rain seemed to wash the fog away.
The thick gray clouds that had hung over De Nora for nearly a week disappeared in minutes.
And with it, the mysterious illness disappeared too.
Just like that, the phones at De Nora's doctor's offices stopped ringing.
It would take years for public health researchers to understand what had happened during that October
were weak in DeNora, Pennsylvania. And that's because there was essentially a large-scale
misinformation campaign to hide the truth. However, eventually, the truth came out.
The so-called fog that blanketed DeNora that week was not actually normal DeNora fog. It was smog
from DeNora's many industrial mills. These mills manufactured steel, zinc, and sulfuric acid,
and as part of that process, they pumped dangerous chemical byproducts directly into the air.
Normally, the smog would float up towards the sky and dissipate quickly.
But during October 1948, De Nora was hit by a very rare weather event called a temperature inversion,
which in short kept these dangerous chemicals down at street level for days.
It worked like this. Usually air is warmest near the surface of the earth and gets colder as a
goes upward towards the sky. But during a temperature inversion, this gets flipped around.
Warm air moves into the space above cold air and traps the heavier cold air underneath it.
And when this happened in De Nora, which was situated inside a natural bowl in the earth,
the warm air was almost like putting a lid on top of that bowl. And so the deadly chemical
byproducts from the mills were trapped, turning the air in DeNora into a concentrated poison.
But because fog was so normal in the valley, most people didn't think anything of it.
Plus, throughout that very consequential week, and for years afterwards, the owners of the mills
insisted they were not to blame, putting out a blizzard of misleading information to defend
themselves. They claimed the weather was the problem, not the chemical byproducts. And many locals
believe this, because they didn't want the mills to shut down. Two-thirds of the men in Dinora worked there,
and the majority of families in town depended on that income.
All told, at least 70 people died as a result of what became known as the Denora smog,
and over 4,000 people were sickened.
Experts said that x-rays of survivors' lungs looked like victims of chemical warfare.
The DeNora smog incident was the worst air pollution disaster in United States history.
But it also sparked a national conversation about air pollution and the need for better industrial safety regulations.
Two years later, in 1950, the U.S. held its first ever national air pollution conference.
After that, progress was slow but steady.
The nation's first major air pollution law was passed in 1963, and the Environmental Protection Agency was formed in 1970.
As of today, all of DeNora's industrial mills have been shut down.
There's now a museum in that town that commemorates those who lost their lives during DeNora Smog.
And proudly displays the slogan, Clean Air started here.
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From Ballin Studios and Wondry, this is Mr. Ballin's Medical Mysteries, hosted by me, Mr.
Ballin.
A quick note about our stories.
They are all inspired by true events, but we do sometimes use pseudonyms to protect the people
involved, and also some details are fictionalized for dramatic purposes.
And a reminder, the content in this episode is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment.
This episode was written by Karras Allen Pash Cooper.
Our editor is Heather Dundas.
Sound design is by Ryan Petesta.
Our senior managing producer is Nick Ryan.
And our coordinating producer is Taylor Sniffin.
Our senior producer is Alex Benadon.
Our associate producers and researchers are Sarah Baitak and Tasia Pelaconda.
Fact-checking was done by Sheila Patterson.
For Ballin Studios, our head of production is Zach Levitt, script editing by Scott Allen and Evan Allen.
Our coordinating producer is Samantha Collins.
Production support by Avery Segal.
Executive producers are myself, Mr. Ballin, and also Nick Witters.
For Wondry, our head of sound is Marcellino Villapando.
Senior producers are Laura Donna Palavota and Dave Schilling.
Senior managing producer is Ryan Moore.
Our executive producers are Aaron O'Flaherty and Marshall Louis for Wondry.
Thank you.