Born in 1865, in Chicago's "Little Poland," Tillie Gbrurek went to work in a sweatshop as a child. She grew up beefy, muscular, and unattractive, but she was a wizard in the kitchen, and her specialty was hearty stew. In 1885, a marriage broker paired her off with one John Mitkiewitz, a shiftless lay-about whom she supported, fed, and pampered for a quarter of a century before the tables finally turned.

One afternoon, in 1911, Tillie was working her usual job in the sweatshop when she observed her employer bullying a child. Fed up at last, she crossed the room and decked the foreman with a single punch. From there, with the applause still ringing in her ears, she turned for home and gave her worthless spouse a thrashing which induced him to evacuate the house and find a steady job.

Around the time of Tillie's sudden turn-around, she also started having "visions" which allowed her to "predict the future" with amazing accuracy. Staring at a mongrel dog one afternoon, she solemnly predicted it would die within a set amount of time. The mutt fell dead on cue, and others followed. Tillie Mitkiewitz was building up a reputation as a "seer."

In 1914, Tillie's "ancient powers" led her to announce that husband John had only three more weeks to live. Her prophecy was accurate, and with a thousand dollars from his life insurance in her purse, she paid another visit to the marriage broker. Soon, she was the blushing bride of John Ruskowski, but again the "powers" brought bad news. Three months after the wedding, Tillie began dropping hints that her husband would die in two weeks. Again, her reputation as a visionary was upheld -- and more insurance money came her way.

Creeping up on fifty now, the portly widow had no time to spare for mourning. John was barely in the ground before she married Joe Guszkowski, but her luck was running true to form. The "powers" spoke. Joe died. His life insurance paid. In 1916, Tillie married husband number four, Frank Kupczyk. She seemed happier with Frank -- he managed to survive four anniversaries -- but in the meantime, Tillie's extrasensory perception found another target. Neighbor Rose Chudzinsky made no secret of the fact that she regarded Tillie's miserable luck -- and her predictions of disaster -- with extreme suspicion. Tillie huddled with the spirits, and they told her that Chudzinsky's days were numbered. Neighbors waited patiently for yet another funeral, and no one seemed surprised when Rose collapsed on schedule.

Shortly after the removal of her neighbor, Tillie visited a fabric store and purchased black material to make a dress in preparation for her husband's funeral. The clerk was sympathetic. When had Mr. Kupczyk died? "Ten days from now," came the reply.

Frank kept his schedule, to the day, and Tillie married Anton Klimek, husband number five, in 1921. By now, Chicago's finest had become suspicious of the high mortality in Tillie's household. When detectives paid a visit, on October 27, they discovered Anton Klimek sick in bed, his wife beside him, feeding him his stew. A stomach pump saved Anton's life, and lab analysis discovered arsenic in Tillie's winning recipe. She grappled with police, and sent a couple of patrolmen to emergency receiving as they dragged her to a cell, but Tillie's run was over. On conviction, she was sentenced to a term of life imprisonment, with the express condition that she never be allowed to cook for other inmates.