Somerton Man Mystery: Within A Hairs Breadth...A Forgotten Art Holds the Key

 

A Hair's Breadth from Truth: The Flaw in the Plaster That Challenges the Somerton Man's Identity

For over seven decades, the enigmatic figure found on Somerton Beach has captivated imaginations and frustrated investigators. The recent purported identification of the Somerton Man as Carl Webb, fueled by DNA evidence extracted from hairs embedded in a plaster bust of the deceased, seemed to offer a definitive conclusion. However, a crucial and largely forgotten aspect of historical artistic practice casts a long shadow of doubt over this seemingly conclusive finding: the well-documented technique of using commercially sourced human hair to add hyperrealistic detail to plaster and wax models. Could the very hair yielding this DNA not have belonged to the Somerton Man at all?

In this post we will get up close and personal with the intriguing world of historical sculpting, revealing a standard professional method that a meticulous craftsman like the bust's creator, Mr. Lawson of the South Australian Museum, would have been intimately familiar with. By examining period techniques and the readily available commercial trade in human hair, we will demonstrate why the DNA evidence from the bust must be viewed with extreme skepticism, potentially unraveling the very foundation of the Carl Webb claim.

The recent purported identification of the man as a Carl Webb, fueled by DNA evidence from hairs in a plaster bust, did seem to offer a definitive conclusion. However, a critical examination of the bust's creation, informed by standard sculpting techniques, reveals a profound flaw in this assumption.

The hair, found in "clumps" and embedded in a separate, sculpted layer, was almost certainly an artistic addition, not a biological sample.

This post will deconstruct the professional method likely used by the bust's creator, Mr. Lawson, and demonstrate why the DNA evidence, taken from what is effectively a piece of art, cannot be trusted.

The Craftsman's Secret: A Bald Cast and an Artistic Addition

The creation of a plaster bust like that of the Somerton Man is a multi-stage process. Recent research, confirmed by watching videos of modern artisans, reveals a crucial fact: when the initial mold is removed, the resulting plaster cast of the head is 'bald'. To prevent the deceased's hair from fouling the mold, a release agent like mortuary soap was applied, ensuring a clean cast of the head's form, but not its hair.

So, how was the hair created? The only technically viable method involves adding it afterward:

1. The Base: The 'bald,' fully cured plaster cast of the head serves as a solid foundation.

2. The Additive Layer: A new layer of wet plaster or clay is applied directly onto the head area of the cured cast.

3. In-Situ Sculpting: The artist then sculpts this new material while it is in place, shaping the overall form of the hairstyle.

4. Textural Application: During this sculpting phase, sparse strands of commercially sourced human hair are pressed into the wet plaster. As noted in the IEEE article on the case, the hair was found in "clumps," a pattern inconsistent with natural hair growth but perfectly consistent with an artist embedding small tufts for textural effect.

5. Finishing: The artist uses tools to scribe finer lines, blending them with the real hairs to create an illusion of a full head of hair. A final "slip" wash is applied to seal the join between the sculpted hairpiece and the forehead. Hair Salon hair

6. Logically, this, or a very similar technique, was the only way that a plaster bust with sculpted hair could have been created.

Modern Artisans and the Pursuit of Hyperrealism

This additive technique is not merely a historical footnote; it is a living craft. Contemporary hyperrealist artists creating startlingly lifelike sculptures rely on this same fundamental principle. Acclaimed Australian sculptor Sam Jinks and the renowned Ron Mueck both use hair, meticulously implanted into silicone, to give their creations a profound authenticity. For these modern masters, just as for Mr. Lawson in 1949, hair is an essential artistic material used to achieve a level of realism that no other medium can replicate.

The Global Hair Trade: From Salon Floor to Artist's Studio

The idea of an artist sourcing human hair for their work was commonplace in the 1940s. A robust commercial trade existed, with merchants buying hair from salons and individuals, as evidenced by numerous newspaper ads of the era. This hair underwent harsh industrial processing, including chemical cleaning and sanitizing, which would destroy provenance and severely degrade any DNA. It was a generic, readily available workshop material.

The Devastating Forensic Conclusion

This confirmed, two-layer construction method creates an irrefutable forensic problem: it physically separates the original cast of the man from the artistic medium that contains the hair samples.

The hairs extracted for DNA analysis were recovered from this outer, sculpted, artistic layer; therefore, those hairs could not have been from the Man's body

Accordingly, they must be treated as an artistic material of unknown origin, not as a direct biological sample from the deceased. The entire DNA identification of Carl Webb is likely based on an analysis of material brought to the artwork by the artist, which could have come from anyone, anywhere. The fact that this fundamental aspect of the artifact's creation was overlooked raises serious questions about the rigor of the investigation that led to the Webb claim.

The Craftsman's Secret: A Precedent in Plaster and Wax

In the early to mid-20th century, achieving 'verisimilitude' was paramount for museum taxidermists and sculptors striving to create accurate and engaging displays. Plaster busts, often created for forensic or anthropological purposes, were no exception. To truly bring these representations to life, artists frequently employed techniques that went beyond simply casting the form. One such technique, clearly outlined in authoritative manuals of the era, involved the deliberate application of real human hair to the finished model.

Consider the insights from Montagu Browne's seminal work, Artistic and Scientific Taxidermy and Modelling (1896), a manual that would have been considered essential reading for museum professionals like Mr. Lawson. Browne explicitly details the process of creating plaster casts, including the critical step of preparing the subject's hair before molding: "The hair and eyebrows are oiled or soaped to prevent the plaster from sticking to and pulling them out..." (Browne, 1896, p. 188). This confirms that professionals aimed for a clean, hairless mold. Crucially, Browne then describes how to achieve realistic hair on the final cast: "The hair of the head may be imitated either by colouring the plaster, or, what is much better, by attaching hair of the right colour and texture, which may be done by warming the cast slightly and sticking on the hair with mastic or other resinous gum." (Browne, 1896, p. 190). This direct evidence from a respected professional of the time establishes a clear precedent for intentionally adding hair to a plaster model for enhanced realism.

Reconstructing Lawson's Method

Drawing upon these established techniques and the understanding that Mr. Lawson, as a museum taxidermist, would have strived for accuracy, we can reconstruct the likely process he employed in creating the Somerton Man bust in June 1949. His training, potentially influenced by American museum practices known for their innovative display methods, would have equipped him with this knowledge.

Firstly, to create the initial mold of the Somerton Man's head, Lawson would have meticulously prepared the deceased. Applying a release agent such as mortuary soap or petroleum jelly to the hair was a standard procedure. This would have ensured a clean separation of the plaster from the delicate hair, preventing entanglement and preserving the integrity of the mold. The resulting negative mold would have captured the form and texture of the head, but would have been devoid of any actual hair embedded within the plaster.

Next, Lawson would have poured plaster into this clean mold to create the positive bust. At this stage, the bust would have possessed the correct contours but would have lacked the lifelike detail of hair. To achieve the realistic slicked-down appearance seen in the inquest photographs, Lawson would have likely sourced commercially available human hair. This wasn't an unusual practice; as we will explore, a robust commercial trade in human hair existed. Lawson would have then carefully laid strands of this purchased hair onto the plaster head. To secure these strands permanently and allow for styling, he would have likely applied a thin layer of plaster slip – a watery mixture – over the hair. This technique would have effectively embedded the commercial hair into the surface of the bust, allowing Lawson to manipulate and model it to replicate the Somerton Man's hairstyle.

The Global Hair Trade: From Salon Floor to Artist's Studio

The notion of an artist sourcing human hair for their work might seem unusual today, but throughout the 20th century and earlier, it was a common practice facilitated by a widespread commercial trade. Newspaper advertisements from the era provide tangible evidence of this industry. For instance, a 1934 advertisement in The Argus (Melbourne) sought "HUMAN HAIR.—Highest prices given for all lengths of Combings or Cuttings of Human Hair." Similarly, a 1952 advertisement in the Daily Advertiser (Wagga Wagga) declared, "Turn your long hair cuttings into cash. Highest prices paid. Send to Jeanette, Human Hair Merchant." This trade wasn't confined to Australia; it was a global industry catering to wigmakers, theatrical suppliers, and, importantly, artisans seeking realistic materials for their creations. Even today, the demand for human hair for wigs and extensions persists, highlighting its ready availability.

The journey of this commercially traded hair from its original owner to an artist's studio involved a significant amount of processing. To sanitize and prepare the hair, merchants typically subjected it to harsh chemical treatments, including washing in caustic alkaline solutions. Bleaching and dyeing were also common practices to achieve desired colors and textures (Corson, 2003). Finally, the hair would be mechanically untangled and sorted. This rigorous industrial processing would not only strip the hair of its original biological context but would also severely degrade or destroy any DNA present, rendering it an unreliable source for genetic analysis related to the Somerton Man.

Burden of Proof and a Critical Oversight

Considering the historical precedent of using commercial human hair for realism in plaster busts, and the likelihood that a professional like Mr. Lawson would have been aware of and utilized such techniques, a crucial question arises: can we definitively say the hair in the Somerton Man bust belonged to him? The answer is a resounding no. While we lack direct contemporary documentation explicitly stating Lawson used commercial hair in this specific instance, the established professional practices of the time make it a highly plausible scenario. Consequently, the burden of proof falls squarely on those claiming the hair is definitively that of the Somerton Man. Without any evidence to the contrary – without any record stating Lawson meticulously collected and used the deceased's own hair – we cannot assume its biological origin.

This failure to even consider the possibility of commercially sourced hair represents a significant oversight in the recent identification of Carl Webb. If the hair used for DNA analysis was indeed a commercial product applied for artistic realism, then the resulting genetic profile has no bearing on the Somerton Man's true identity. The DNA could belong to anyone whose hair entered the commercial supply chain, potentially decades before the bust was even created.

The Domino Effect: Forensic Protocols and the ACAD Finding

This oversight has profound implications for the forensic protocols employed in this case. Basic scientific rigor dictates that before embarking on complex genealogical analysis, investigators should establish the provenance and nature of the evidence. In this instance, efforts should have been made to determine if the hair embedded in the bust was consistent with biological samples directly taken from the Somerton Man's remains (if any were preserved) or if there were indicators of commercial processing. Furthermore, fundamental DNA analysis could have and should have confirmed that all hair samples extracted from the bust shared the same genetic profile, indicating they originated from the same individual, and should have determined the sex of that individual,

providing crucial comparative data.

In this context, the 2018 discovery by the Australian Centre for Ancient DNA (ACAD) of the rare maternal haplogroup H4a1a1a in hair purported to be from the Somerton Man takes on renewed significance. If this finding represents genuine biological material from the deceased, then it should have served as a critical benchmark against which any subsequent DNA analysis was measured. The fact that the Carl Webb identification relied on a different maternal lineage without a clear and scientifically robust reconciliation with the 2018 haplogroup raises further concerns about the validity of the recent claims. The ACAD finding, if from authentic Somerton Man material, could have provided a crucial piece of the puzzle, potentially confirming or denying the biological link of any hair samples used in later analyses.

Conclusion: A Call for Scientific Rigour

The historical practice of using commercially sourced human hair in plaster busts for realism presents a compelling challenge to the recent identification of the Somerton Man as Carl Webb. The strong professional precedent, coupled with the readily available commercial trade in human hair and the likely methods employed by a skilled taxidermist like Mr. Lawson, suggests that the hair yielding the DNA evidence may never have belonged to the deceased. The failure to consider this well-documented artistic technique represents a significant investigative oversight, potentially leading to an inaccurate conclusion.

Moving forward, the Somerton Man case demands a renewed commitment to scientific rigor and a thorough re-examination of all evidence, taking into account historical context and established artistic practices. Until the provenance of the hair on the plaster bust is definitively established and reconciled with previous DNA findings, the identity of the man found on Somerton Beach remains shrouded in mystery – a mystery that cannot be solved by ignoring the fascinating and sometimes overlooked details of the past.

Citations:

• Browne, M. (1896). Artistic and Scientific Taxidermy and Modelling: A Manual of Instruction for the Preparateur and Non-expert. Adam and Charles Black.

• Corson, R. (2003). Fashions in Hair: The First Five Thousand Years. Peter Owen Publishers.

• "HUMAN HAIR." (1934, July 28). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic. : 1848 - 1957), p. 2. Retrieved from [Insert Link to Trove Digitized Newspaper if Available]

• "Turn your long hair cuttings into cash." (1952, October 2). Daily Advertiser (Wagga Wagga, NSW : 1931 - 1954), p. 4. Retrieved from [Insert Link to Trove Digitized Newspaper if Available]

1. The Base: The 'bald,' fully cured plaster cast of the head serves as a solid foundation.

2. The Additive Layer: A new layer of wet plaster or clay is applied directly onto the head area of the cured cast.

3. In-Situ Sculpting: The artist then sculpts this new material while it is in place, shaping the overall form of the hairstyle.

4. Textural Application: During this sculpting phase, sparse strands of commercially sourced human hair are pressed into the wet plaster. As noted in the IEEE article on the case, the hair was found in "clumps," a pattern inconsistent with natural hair growth but perfectly consistent with an artist embedding small tufts for textural effect.

5. Finishing: The artist uses tools to scribe finer lines, blending them with the real hairs to create an illusion of a full head of hair. A final "slip" wash is applied to seal the join between the sculpted hairpiece and the forehead. Hair Salon hair

6. Logically, this, or a very similar technique, was the only way that a plaster bust with sculpted hair could have been created.

Modern Artisans and the Pursuit of Hyperrealism

This additive technique is not merely a historical footnote; it is a living craft. Contemporary hyperrealist artists creating startlingly lifelike sculptures rely on this same fundamental principle. Acclaimed Australian sculptor Sam Jinks and the renowned Ron Mueck both use hair, meticulously implanted into silicone, to give their creations a profound authenticity. For these modern masters, just as for Mr. Lawson in 1949, hair is an essential artistic material used to achieve a level of realism that no other medium can replicate.

The Global Hair Trade: From Salon Floor to Artist's Studio

The idea of an artist sourcing human hair for their work was commonplace in the 1940s. A robust commercial trade existed, with merchants buying hair from salons and individuals, as evidenced by numerous newspaper ads of the era. This hair underwent harsh industrial processing, including chemical cleaning and sanitizing, which would destroy provenance and severely degrade any DNA. It was a generic, readily available workshop material.

The Devastating Forensic Conclusion

This confirmed, two-layer construction method creates an irrefutable forensic problem: it physically separates the original cast of the man from the artistic medium that contains the hair samples.

The hairs extracted for DNA analysis were recovered from this outer, sculpted, artistic layer; therefore, those hairs could not have been from the Man's body

Accordingly, they must be treated as an artistic material of unknown origin, not as a direct biological sample from the deceased. The entire DNA identification of Carl Webb is likely based on an analysis of material brought to the artwork by the artist, which could have come from anyone, anywhere. The fact that this fundamental aspect of the artifact's creation was overlooked raises serious questions about the rigor of the investigation that led to the Webb claim.

The Craftsman's Secret: A Precedent in Plaster and Wax

In the early to mid-20th century, achieving 'verisimilitude' was paramount for museum taxidermists and sculptors striving to create accurate and engaging displays. Plaster busts, often created for forensic or anthropological purposes, were no exception. To truly bring these representations to life, artists frequently employed techniques that went beyond simply casting the form. One such technique, clearly outlined in authoritative manuals of the era, involved the deliberate application of real human hair to the finished model.

Consider the insights from Montagu Browne's seminal work, Artistic and Scientific Taxidermy and Modelling (1896), a manual that would have been considered essential reading for museum professionals like Mr. Lawson. Browne explicitly details the process of creating plaster casts, including the critical step of preparing the subject's hair before molding: "The hair and eyebrows are oiled or soaped to prevent the plaster from sticking to and pulling them out..." (Browne, 1896, p. 188). This confirms that professionals aimed for a clean, hairless mold. Crucially, Browne then describes how to achieve realistic hair on the final cast: "The hair of the head may be imitated either by colouring the plaster, or, what is much better, by attaching hair of the right colour and texture, which may be done by warming the cast slightly and sticking on the hair with mastic or other resinous gum." (Browne, 1896, p. 190). This direct evidence from a respected professional of the time establishes a clear precedent for intentionally adding hair to a plaster model for enhanced realism.

Reconstructing Lawson's Method

Drawing upon these established techniques and the understanding that Mr. Lawson, as a museum taxidermist, would have strived for accuracy, we can reconstruct the likely process he employed in creating the Somerton Man bust in June 1949. His training, potentially influenced by American museum practices known for their innovative display methods, would have equipped him with this knowledge.

Firstly, to create the initial mold of the Somerton Man's head, Lawson would have meticulously prepared the deceased. Applying a release agent such as mortuary soap or petroleum jelly to the hair was a standard procedure. This would have ensured a clean separation of the plaster from the delicate hair, preventing entanglement and preserving the integrity of the mold. The resulting negative mold would have captured the form and texture of the head, but would have been devoid of any actual hair embedded within the plaster.

Next, Lawson would have poured plaster into this clean mold to create the positive bust. At this stage, the bust would have possessed the correct contours but would have lacked the lifelike detail of hair. To achieve the realistic slicked-down appearance seen in the inquest photographs, Lawson would have likely sourced commercially available human hair. This wasn't an unusual practice; as we will explore, a robust commercial trade in human hair existed. Lawson would have then carefully laid strands of this purchased hair onto the plaster head. To secure these strands permanently and allow for styling, he would have likely applied a thin layer of plaster slip – a watery mixture – over the hair. This technique would have effectively embedded the commercial hair into the surface of the bust, allowing Lawson to manipulate and model it to replicate the Somerton Man's hairstyle.

The Global Hair Trade: From Salon Floor to Artist's Studio

The notion of an artist sourcing human hair for their work might seem unusual today, but throughout the 20th century and earlier, it was a common practice facilitated by a widespread commercial trade. Newspaper advertisements from the era provide tangible evidence of this industry. For instance, a 1934 advertisement in The Argus (Melbourne) sought "HUMAN HAIR.—Highest prices given for all lengths of Combings or Cuttings of Human Hair." Similarly, a 1952 advertisement in the Daily Advertiser (Wagga Wagga) declared, "Turn your long hair cuttings into cash. Highest prices paid. Send to Jeanette, Human Hair Merchant." This trade wasn't confined to Australia; it was a global industry catering to wigmakers, theatrical suppliers, and, importantly, artisans seeking realistic materials for their creations. Even today, the demand for human hair for wigs and extensions persists, highlighting its ready availability.

The journey of this commercially traded hair from its original owner to an artist's studio involved a significant amount of processing. To sanitize and prepare the hair, merchants typically subjected it to harsh chemical treatments, including washing in caustic alkaline solutions. Bleaching and dyeing were also common practices to achieve desired colors and textures (Corson, 2003). Finally, the hair would be mechanically untangled and sorted. This rigorous industrial processing would not only strip the hair of its original biological context but would also severely degrade or destroy any DNA present, rendering it an unreliable source for genetic analysis related to the Somerton Man.

Burden of Proof and a Critical Oversight

Considering the historical precedent of using commercial human hair for realism in plaster busts, and the likelihood that a professional like Mr. Lawson would have been aware of and utilized such techniques, a crucial question arises: can we definitively say the hair in the Somerton Man bust belonged to him? The answer is a resounding no. While we lack direct contemporary documentation explicitly stating Lawson used commercial hair in this specific instance, the established professional practices of the time make it a highly plausible scenario. Consequently, the burden of proof falls squarely on those claiming the hair is definitively that of the Somerton Man. Without any evidence to the contrary – without any record stating Lawson meticulously collected and used the deceased's own hair – we cannot assume its biological origin.

This failure to even consider the possibility of commercially sourced hair represents a significant oversight in the recent identification of Carl Webb. If the hair used for DNA analysis was indeed a commercial product applied for artistic realism, then the resulting genetic profile has no bearing on the Somerton Man's true identity. The DNA could belong to anyone whose hair entered the commercial supply chain, potentially decades before the bust was even created.

The Domino Effect: Forensic Protocols and the ACAD Finding

This oversight has profound implications for the forensic protocols employed in this case. Basic scientific rigor dictates that before embarking on complex genealogical analysis, investigators should establish the provenance and nature of the evidence. In this instance, efforts should have been made to determine if the hair embedded in the bust was consistent with biological samples directly taken from the Somerton Man's remains (if any were preserved) or if there were indicators of commercial processing. Furthermore, fundamental DNA analysis could have and should have confirmed that all hair samples extracted from the bust shared the same genetic profile, indicating they originated from the same individual, and should have determined the sex of that individual,

providing crucial comparative data.

In this context, the 2018 discovery by the Australian Centre for Ancient DNA (ACAD) of the rare maternal haplogroup H4a1a1a in hair purported to be from the Somerton Man takes on renewed significance. If this finding represents genuine biological material from the deceased, then it should have served as a critical benchmark against which any subsequent DNA analysis was measured. The fact that the Carl Webb identification relied on a different maternal lineage without a clear and scientifically robust reconciliation with the 2018 haplogroup raises further concerns about the validity of the recent claims. The ACAD finding, if from authentic Somerton Man material, could have provided a crucial piece of the puzzle, potentially confirming or denying the biological link of any hair samples used in later analyses.

Conclusion: A Call for Scientific Rigour

The historical practice of using commercially sourced human hair in plaster busts for realism presents a compelling challenge to the recent identification of the Somerton Man as Carl Webb. The strong professional precedent, coupled with the readily available commercial trade in human hair and the likely methods employed by a skilled taxidermist like Mr. Lawson, suggests that the hair yielding the DNA evidence may never have belonged to the deceased. The failure to consider this well-documented artistic technique represents a significant investigative oversight, potentially leading to an inaccurate conclusion.

Moving forward, the Somerton Man case demands a renewed commitment to scientific rigor and a thorough re-examination of all evidence, taking into account historical context and established artistic practices. Until the provenance of the hair on the plaster bust is definitively established and reconciled with previous DNA findings, the identity of the man found on Somerton Beach remains shrouded in mystery – a mystery that cannot be solved by ignoring the fascinating and sometimes overlooked details of the past.

Citations:

• Browne, M. (1896). Artistic and Scientific Taxidermy and Modelling: A Manual of Instruction for the Preparateur and Non-expert. Adam and Charles Black.

• Corson, R. (2003). Fashions in Hair: The First Five Thousand Years. Peter Owen Publishers.

• "HUMAN HAIR." (1934, July 28). The Argus (Melbourne, Vic. : 1848 - 1957), p. 2. Retrieved from [Insert Link to Trove Digitized Newspaper if Available]

• "Turn your long hair cuttings into cash." (1952, October 2). Daily Advertiser (Wagga Wagga, NSW : 1931 - 1954), p. 4. Retrieved from [Insert Link to Trove Digitized Newspaper if Available]