Many ghosts haunt the famed Fairmont Empress in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada including that of its architect, Francis Rattenbury. Rattenbury himself was part of a salacious love triangle that led to a murder-suicide in Bournemouth, England. His ghost, however, haunts the Empress in Canada alongside the spirit of Lizzie McGrath and the lost soul of Margaret.

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Sources:

Accidental Death is Jury's Verdict: Rider Against Contractors Recorded in Inquest on Death of Mrs. Elizabeth McGrath. (1910, August 2). The Victoria Daily Times, page 5.

Adultery, jealousy and murder: How the Rattenbury case gripped the nation. (n.d.). Bournemouth Echo. Retrieved December 24, 2020, from https://www.bournemouthecho.co.uk/news/13217933.adultery-jealousy-and-murder-how-the-rattenbury-case-gripped-the-nation/

Bournemouth's most sensational murder | Dorset Life—The Dorset Magazine. (n.d.). Retrieved December 24, 2020, from https://www.dorsetlife.co.uk/2006/08/bournemouths-most-sensational-murder/

British Columbia, Canada, Death Index, 1872-1990—AncestryLibrary.com. (n.d.). Retrieved December 28, 2020, from https://search.ancestrylibrary.com/cgi-bin/sse.dll?indiv=1&dbid=6093&h=463325&tid=&pid=&queryId=65f42413adf181b27bd90780bad3225e&usePUB=true&_phsrc=eBA210&_phstart=successSource

Cold spots, scandals and Victoria's Empress Hotel – The Superstitious Times. (n.d.). Retrieved December 23, 2020, from http://www.superstitioustimes.com/cold-spots-scandals-and-victorias-empress-hotel/

Elizabeth B. McGrath (Unknown-1910)—Find A... (n.d.). Retrieved December 28, 2020, from https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/121312245/elizabeth-b.-mcgrath

Five haunted hotels with true-crime stories. - The Washington Post. (n.d.). Retrieved December 23, 2020, from https://webcache.googleusercontent.com/search?q=cache:wA5SdAuQMGkJ:https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/travel/like-a-good-scare-here-are-five-haunted-hotels-with-stories-fit-for-true-crime-files/2018/10/25/ddd4e70e-d3cb-11e8-b2d2-f397227b43f0_story.html+&cd=6&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us

Francis Rattenbury. (2020). In Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Francis_Rattenbury&oldid=995725423

Has anyone had a ghost experience here LOL. (n.d.). Retrieved December 28, 2020, from https://www.tripadvisor.com/FAQ_Answers-g154945-d155472-t3751444-Has_anyone_had_a_ghost_experience_here_LOL.html

Mrs. Alma Rattenbury Found Dead in a River: Man Tells of Seeing Her Fall, Knife in Hand, Vain Efforts to Save Her, Six Stab Wounds. (1935, June 5). Gloucestershire Echo, Page 1.

Murder comes with a question mark. (2011, October 30). Vernon Morning Star. https://www.vernonmorningstar.com/life/murder-comes-with-a-question-mark/

Staveley-Wadham, R. (n.d.). A Seaside Drama – The 1935 Murder of Francis Rattenbury. Retrieved December 24, 2020, from https://blog.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/2020/03/06/the-murder-of-francis-rattenbury/

The Ghostly Guests of the Empress Hotel. (n.d.). Retrieved December 24, 2020, from https://www.flightcentre.ca/blog/the-ghostly-guests-of-the-empress-hotel/

The Outrageous Life and Death of Francis Rattenbury. (2018, November 13). MONTECRISTO. https://montecristomagazine.com/community/the-outrageous-life-and-death-of-francis-rattenbury

Untitled. (1910, August 1). Victoria Daily Times, Page 3.

Villa Madeira, the home of home of Architect Francis Rattenbury and... (n.d.). Getty Images. Retrieved December 24, 2020, from https://www.gettyimages.dk/detail/news-photo/villa-madeira-the-home-of-home-of-architect-francis-news-photo/551907551

TRANSCRIPT:

Hello, and welcome back to another episode of Crimes & Witch-Demeanors. Today we're heading back to form and covering a sensational international murder with ghosts aplenty!

Our adventure begins in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada and then takes us across the pond to Bournemouth, England for a scandalous depression-era murder suicide…after which we'll be headed back Victoria's Fairmont Empress hotel to talk about the spirits that rest or, don't, there…including the ones from England? Yeah, it's a complicated ghost story where the ghosts didn't actually die on the property…or in the country…in fact they hadn't been there in over a decade prior to their death…but, hey, that's what we do here. So grab a hot coacoa, put on your mukluks…and yes I know mukluks are Inuit and not of the Salish coast people…but, hey, I don't know of any regional-specific waterproof clothing for this intro bit…but I digress. We're headed on up to Victoria, Canada!

At 721 Government Street in Downtown Victoria sits an empress. The Fairmont Empress, formerly known as the Empress is one of Victoria's historic landmarks and also happens to be the noble host of many mislaid spirits. Her architect, Francis Rattenbury, left an indelible stamp on the architecture of British Columbia. Originally born in Leeds, England, he skipped across the pond and a whole continent, landing in Vancouver in 1892. He was only 25 years old but he had incredibly grand plans; not all of them architectural.

Francis planned to take advantage of the westward expansion and building boom happening in the region. He placed an ad in the paper led him down the path that began his life. However, little did he know, that 42 years later an ad in the paper would also pave the path leading to his dreadful end.

Rattenbury's advertisement claimed that he was a classically trained architect who studied under the world-renowned architect Henry Lockwood…but if anyone had read further than his headline it didn't show—seeing as Lockwood died when Rattenbury was only 11 years old. Even if he had taught him anything, it couldn't have been very much. Despite this blatant and careless lie luck happened to be on his side.

An architectural contest had been announced in order to solicit a new design to replace Victoria's detested parliament buildings. Naturally, Rattenbury saw this opportunity and leapt at it. Rattenbury entered the contest, signing his designs with the pseudonym ,"A.B.C. Architect". His incredibly grand and overly-ambitious design caught the attention of the judges, with Rattenbury winning the competition out of 66 total entries from around the world.

While construction on the parliament building was still underway, Rattenbury had met and his wife, Florence Nunn. They married and had their first child seven months later—which was quite salacious for the time. Francis and Florence had two children together: Frank and Mary.

The construction on the parliament building was completed in 1898 and while grand and opulent, it had run $400,000 over budget…or the equivalent of 12 million dollars in the present day. In fact, this became a pattern: Rattenbury's projects were known to be a nightmare to work on. Rattenbury notoriously underestimated the cost of his bids, throwing the burden of the additional costs to the contractors, eventually driving one of them to bankruptcy. Rattenbury would change his designs at the last moment, reject building materials he had selected earlier in favor a new whim, and would battle with anyone who dared to stand in the way of his designs.

Despite this reputation, Rattenbury was extraordinarily successful. His portfolio came to include many high profile projects and he became the Canadian Pacific Railroad's western division architect. This title with the CPR is what allowed him to design ostentatious resort hotels across Canada, ultimately leading to the commission to design the Empress in 1903.

However, in 1906 Rattenbury, in his typical fashion, grew frustrated with others working on the Empress project. In his mind, Rattenbury believed that Walter Painter, CPR's head architect, was ruining his vision for the grand hotel. In a rage, Rattenbury left the CPR and the Empress project. And the losses didn't end there. After reaching such meteoric highs it appeared to all be crashing down around him. He lost two design contests and it was exposed that he had won others by less than honest means. Rattenbury was being accused of money laundering and his marriage was also suffering. One project that had the potential to save him—working on the Grand Trunk Railway—was ruined when the general manager Charles Hays died on the Titanic.

Unlike the Titanic, Rattenbury did manage to keep on enough projects to stay afloat but by the end of 1912 his marriage had hit rock bottom. Things had gotten so bad that his daughter Mary became the middleman between him and Florence, carrying messages between the two.

In 1923, at the age of 56 Rattenbury won the bid to design Victoria's Crystal Garden and also won the heart of Alma Pakenham, a 26 year-old flapper who had a scandalous reputation for drinking and smoking in public. Alma had been married twice before and had a son, Christopher, from a previous marriage.

Rattenbury first approached Florence for a divorce, but when she refused he decided to make his affair as public as possible and would flaunt Alma around in public before bringing her home to drink and fornicate late into the night...all the while Florence sat in her bedroom just above them. Eventually Rattenbury moved out of his home, shutting off the electricity and heating when he did so, leaving his wife and children without utilities. Rattenbury's scandalous and downright wicked behavior ultimately led to him being shunned by his friends, his profession, and the community.

Florence finally granted a divorce in 1925 and Rattenbury immediately married Alma and had their own son together, John. Due to his scandal and his architectural style falling out of favor with more modern times, Rattenbury and Alma faced financial hardships. They remained in Canada for some time and in 1929, the same year his ex-wife Florence died, they moved to Bournemouth England.

Rattenbury hoped that moving across the pond would improve their finances, however once they moved into the Villa Madeira on Manor Road things only worsened. By 1934 Francis Rattenbury was nearly deaf, impotent, and suicidal. Needing assistance around the house, the Rattenburys placed an ad in the Bournemouth Daily Echo seeking a "willing lad" who was "good-natured and honest" This ad would be the beginning of the end of Francis Rattenbury.

18 year-old George Stoner responded to the advertisement and was promptly hired by Alma. Stoner was a quiet, shy, friendless young man and was grateful for the work. Alma was entranced by George and his youthful virility, something that her husband lacked—Alma and Francis hadn't had intercourse since the birth of John. She was still rather young and was growing tired of her situation. And so, after three months of his employment, Alma seduced Stoner. Not long after the passionate affair began, George went from being their chauffeur and gardener to Alma's live-in lover, taking up residence in a spare bedroom.

It was said that Rattenbury acknowledged and silently excused the affair: he was well aware of his advancing age, ill health, and alcoholism. However, neither Rattenbury nor Alma could anticipate the rage and violent jealously that dwelt within the quiet Stoner. As their affair progressed, George would become exceedingly mad if Alma had spent any time with her husband, no matter how trivial. Alma tried to break off the affair on a number of occasions, but this would also send George into a rage, at one point trying to strangle her.

Things came to a head, so to speak, on March 24, 1935. Alma and Francis had just returned from a trip to London. As was usual, Francis was particularly depressed and Alma had decided to arrange another trip the following week to visit a friend, in hopes of cheering him up. George was already furious that Alma had spent the weekend away with her husband and the news of yet another trip sent him over the edge. He went to his parent's home and asked to borrow a carpenter's mallet that he said he needed to erect a fence at the Rattenbury's residence.

When George returned to the Villa Madeira he threatened to shoot Alma with a gun, but was quickly dissuaded. Later that evening, around 10 p.m., Stoner made his way downstairs with the carpenter's mallet and bashed in the head of Francis Rattenbury. Stoner had hit Rattenbury with such force that his false teeth fell out and half of his skull was removed by the blows. Despite the brutal injuries, Rattenbury did not die.

When the police arrived early that Monday morning, Alma appeared sleepless, disturbed, and under the influence of alcohol or drugs. "I've done him in, I've done him in, I've done him in" she repeated over and over to the police officers. The police arrived the next day where she repeated this confession and she was arrested for attempted murder.

While Alma was in prison, George Stoner allegedly confessed to the housekeeper that he had been that made the attempt on Rattenbury's life. This confession led to him also being arrested on attempted murder charges.

However, both Stoner's and Alma's charges were elevated to murder when Rattenbury succumbed to his injuries on that Thursday. After Alma's eldest son visited her in prison, she quickly recanted her earlier confession saying she was in a state of shock at the time.

The trial was an absolute sensation, mainly due to the rumors of Stoner's cocaine addiction and the scandalous affair. In fact, due to the local popularity of the case, the trial had to be held in London's Old Bailey instead of the Winchester. By the time of the trial, both defendants had entered a plea of "not guilty" and had taken back their previous confessions. Alma was acquitted and released but Stoner was convicted of murder and sentenced to death by hanging.

The public felt an immense amount of sympathy for Stoner and villainized Alma as a temptress who seduced him into committing the crime. As she left the Old Bailey that day, a free woman, onlookers booed her. Awful things were said about her in the paper and people called for her death. Distressed, Alma took a train from Waterloo to Christchurch. She walked across the meadows to the Three Arches Railway bridge. She sat down at the bank for a while, casually smoking a cigarette, before getting up, walking to the water's edge, pulling out a dagger, stabbing herself six times in the heart before falling into the River Stour at Christchurch.

A note in her handbag read "It has been pointed out too vividly that I cannot help him, and that is my death sentence"

Despite being initially being a villain in the media, over 3,000 individuals attended her funeral; a stark contrast to the "only a few" that attended her late husband's. Rattenbury didn't even receive a headstone and was buried in an unmarked grave.

In a turn of fate it turns out that Stoner was saved from death. A petition signed by over 300,000 people commuted his sentence to life imprisonment instead of hanging. Even stranger still, Stoner only served seven years of his sentence and was released in 1942 to fight in the second World War. After the war he married and had a daughter. He lived a quiet and fairly uneventful life until 1990 when he was arrested for indecently exposing himself to a 12 year old boy in a public bathroom. He received only two years' probation for this incident.

During his life he had stated that it was actually Alma who murdered her husband.

Curiously, in the year 2000 George Stoner a died in a hospital at Christchurch…less than half a mile from the scene of Alma's suicide, and on the 65th anniversary of the murder of Francis Rattenbury.

In 2007, 72 years after his death, Francis Rattenbury finally received a headstone which was paid for by a family friend.

Despite dying across the pond in England, Francis Rattnebury's ghost does not dwell in Bournemouth. If you spend a night at the Fairmont Empress back in Victoria you may be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Old Man Ratz. What better place for his ghost to dwell than his greatest pride? An opulent structure that reminds him of a time when his life was full of elegance, opulence, and prestige.

The last thing I expected when starting my research on the ghosts of the Fairmont Empress was to wind up in Bournemouth learning about a scandalous murder suicide! I synthesized a few sources to get the most accurate and well-rounded view of the murder. Even shaky sources were fairly accurate except they said the murder was conducted with a croquet mallet which is…just…not true? I guess it sounds more English, or something?

The one thing I don't understand about this haunting is…why? Why? WHY?

Yes, Francis Rattenbury designed the Fairmont Empress and it was one of his greatest designs…but…he left the project before it was completed. He was known to be rotten and controlling and he abandoned the project because things weren't going his way…so why would he haunt it? It doesn't make sense to me.

I don't have any evidence that he spent any time at the Empress after it was finished and just judging by his personality I don't think he would have. This is obviously all conjecture but am I the only one that thinks that? Plus, Rattenbury died 4,700 miles away in a place that he then considered to be his home. That doesn't add up, especially since ghosts who die in traumatic circumstances typically tend to haunt the location of their death due to being trapped there.

Take Lizzie McGrath for example, whose tragic and unexpected death at the Fairmont Empress has led to her being spirit being one of the most active ghosts at the hotel.

The story goes that Lizzie McGrath was a chambermaid at the Empress Hotel and in those days, maids and other employees actually lived at the hotel. Being an Irish immigrant she was a devout Catholic and would say the rosary on her fire escape every night. However, one night in 1909 Lizzie McGrath opened her window and got onto the fire escape…except there was one problem…the fire escape had been removed for renovations and she plummeted to her death on the walkway below, right at the entrance of the hotel. Her ghost is said to haunt the ___ floor and she can also be seen at the spot where she died.

I liked this story a lot and decided to investigate. Lizzie McGrath or Elizabeth McGrath is a very common name so I knew I had to narrow it down to 1909…but I couldn't find anything—even with a limiter to the city of Victoria. It turns out the Elizabeth died in 1910, not 1909. I've corroborated this with Victoria's death index, her gravesite, and newspaper articles from The Victoria Daily Times.

Lizzie McGrath died on July 30, 1910 at 50 years of age. The newspaper articles say that she was a native of Halifax, which I'm assuming would be Halifax, Nova Scotia…though there is a Halifax in England…neither of these would indicate she was an Irish immigrant. The article also states that her family all resides in Victoria with an exception of a few "in the east" which to me would indicate Nova Scotia or thereabouts. However, newspapers are known to be wrong quite often. McGrath is quite an Irish name but Elizabeth was actually married so I don't know her surname so it makes it difficult to find immigration records without spending a lot of time on it.

Lizzie also didn't die at the Empress as stated in all the stories; she died at St. Joseph's hospital. It did also seem strange that she wouldn't know that the fire escape had been removed, but there was prosecution where they were found guilty for not notifying the residents. It seems that this story, despite some minor details, is true!

Another popular ghost at the Empress is that of an elderly woman. Her identity seems to be unknown, although she has been given the name Margaret by Ian Gibbs, the author of Victoria's Most Haunted. Allegedly Margaret is an old woman who used to stay at the hotel every year for the winter season. She died on the sixth floor where her residence was, seemingly of natural causes. After her death they stopped renting out the room because of the weird things that would happen and eventually, because of this, it was chosen for the area where the new elevators would be installed.

Strange…seeing as they probably should have been installed where they would make architectural and structural sense? Maybe.

Regardless, those staying at the hotel may receive a knock on their door in the middle of the night, and if they answer it may find an elderly woman who says that she's lost. If you are kind enough help her find her room on the sixth floor, she'll promptly vanish at the spot of the elevator.

This story, like Lizzie's makes sense: she died in the hotel and she is lost, both spiritually and physically since her old room no longer exists. However, I couldn't find anything to verify this information since there isn't much for me to go on.

As usual, I wanted to try and find some firsthand encounters and stories about the ghosts in the hotel. I checked reddit and hotel reviews and I sadly came up rather emptyhanded. Most people said that they felt that the hotel should be haunted because it looks it – the period wallpaper and the old portraits on the walls. One particularly privileged man said his experience was haunted because he couldn't' find a king size bed and their accommodations weren't up to his standards? Gross.

But someone did ask a question on TripAdvisor. I wish you could read it, it just says "Has anyone had a ghost experience here LOL" No questions mark. Lol in all caps. It's great.

The answers are "We stayed on the sixth floor and there was an odd feeling" okay, supports the old lady. Another says "Yes, late at night on the 6th floor near room 657" okay, Wayne Carl…care to elaborate? Some of us have podcasts to make. What a cliffhanger. please feel free to elaborate. Another says they saw "something" They put something in quotes. WHAT DID YOU SEE DARREN? Another kind soul lets us know he did see spirits…in his glass. Wow, FERD, so original. HAVEN'T HEARD THAT ONE.

Did you know that many of the attributes Santa Claus actually come from a beloved winter witch? The giving gifts in a stocking if you're good, leaving you a lump of coal if you're bad, and the whole sliding down the chimney to do so schtick? Yeah, that's all plucked straight from the mythology one of our winter witches. But be forewarned…not all of our witches are good: some are frightening cannibals or violent hags that embody the ruthless spirit of winter itself. But history suggests that these witches were not always haggard old crones or even witches at all, but instead were once beautiful goddesses. Today we'll be looking at these winter witches, investigating their origins beyond superficial blog posts, and seeing how Christianity managed to turn divine goddesses into hook-nosed old crones who will rip our your organs.

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Episode Transcript: https://crimesandwitchdemeanors.com/2020/12/16/episode-007-the-witches-of-winter/

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Sources:

A mysterious woman comes to stay at the Hotel Del Coronado and winds up dead five days later from an apparent suicide. However, as the investigation unfurls, it becomes apparent she was not who she said she was. Was she a runaway? A conwoman? An assassin? It depends who you ask. Join me to help unravel the web of lies the beautiful stranger wove on today's episode of Crimes & Witch-Demeanors.

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Submit your feedback or personal stories to [email protected]

Episode Transcript: https://crimesandwitchdemeanors.com/2020/12/16/episode-006-the-beautiful-stranger/

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Podcast illustration by GiAnna Ligammari: https://gialigammari.wixsite.com/portfolio

Sources:

A Mystery Cleared Up, the Coronado Girl Suicide Identified. (1892, December 4). Los Angeles Herald, page 1.

Girardot, T. (2001). Chapter Five: The Coroner's Inquest. In The Ghost of the Hotel Del Coronado: The True Story of Kate Morgan. DME Creative Services. http://iagenweb.org/fremont/bios/morgan_kate_5.htm

Her Name in Doubt. Mystery of the Coronado Suicide. (1892, December 6). San Francisco Chronicle, 1.

Hotel del Coronado. (2020). In Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Hotel_del_Coronado&oldid=992717746

Kate Morgan. (2020). In Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Kate_Morgan&oldid=976675717

Lottie A Bernard (Unknown-1892)—Find A Grave... (n.d.). Retrieved December 8, 2020, from https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/30049343/lottie-a-bernard

Monroe, H. (2020, April 9). The Hopeless Death of Kate Morgan. Medium. https://medium.com/@hlemonroe/the-hopeless-death-of-kate-morgan-844f203a323c

Museum, O. (2017, May 8). The Beautiful Stranger: Kate Morgan and the Haunting of Hotel Del Coronado. The Occult Museum. http://www.theoccultmuseum.com/beautiful-stranger-kate-morgan-and-the-haunting-of-hotel-del-coronado/

Not Miss Wyllie. (1892, December 7). Grand Rapids Herald, 1.

Ram, A. (n.d.). Inside the Icon: Room 3327. San Diego Magazine. Retrieved December 13, 2020, from https://www.sandiegomagazine.com/neighborhoods/inside-the-icon-room-3327/article_68403330-a9d6-55ef-a0a9-d985a8f1fcd1.html

r/Thetruthishere—Hotel Del Coranado. (n.d.). Reddit. Retrieved December 7, 2020, from https://www.reddit.com/r/Thetruthishere/comments/9m0oaj/hotel_del_coranado/

Rubio, J. (2013a, November 12). DREAMING CASUALLY (Investigative Blog) by J'aime Rubio: Who Was The Beautiful Stranger? Part 1. DREAMING CASUALLY (Investigative Blog) by J'aime Rubio. https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2013/11/who-was-beautiful-stranger-part-1.html

Rubio, J. (2013b, November 18). DREAMING CASUALLY (Investigative Blog) by J'aime Rubio: Who Was The Beautiful Stranger? Part 2. DREAMING CASUALLY (Investigative Blog) by J'aime Rubio. https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2013/11/who-was-beautiful-stranger-part-2.html

Rubio, J. (2013c, November 20). DREAMING CASUALLY (Investigative Blog) by J'aime Rubio: Who Was The Beautiful Stranger? Part 3. DREAMING CASUALLY (Investigative Blog) by J'aime Rubio. https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2013/11/who-was-beautiful-stranger-part-3.html

Rubio, J. (2013d, November 21). DREAMING CASUALLY (Investigative Blog) by J'aime Rubio: Who Was The Beautiful Stranger?- Part 4. DREAMING CASUALLY (Investigative Blog) by J'aime Rubio. https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2013/11/who-was-beautiful-stranger-part-4.html

The Del's Kate Morgan Mystery Begins. (n.d.). Hotel Del Coronado. Retrieved December 7, 2020, from https://hoteldel.com/timeline/kate-morgan-mystery-begins/

Who Was Kate Morgan? | Hotel Del Coronado's Famous Ghost Story. (n.d.). Hotel Del Coronado. Retrieved December 7, 2020, from https://hoteldel.com/press/ghostly-goings-hotel-del-coronado/

Who was the dead woman really? - Lottiepedia many questions answered—John T. Cullen, a San Diego author—1892 true crime Hotel del Coronado famous ghost legend. (n.d.). Retrieved December 11, 2020, from https://www.coronadomystery.com/lottiepedia/lottiepedia-kate-morgan.html

TRANSCRIPT:

Hello and welcome to Crimes and Witch-Demeanors; I'm your host, Joshua Spellman. On today's episode we're finally hopping over to the West Coast on our ghoulish tour of the United States and stopping at the Hotel Del Coronado in sunny San Diego, California.

Today's story is bonkers. When I began investigating it, it seemed fairly straightforward and I thought this was going to be an easy episode…but I was incredibly wrong. While 98% of the articles and websites about this case make it seem like a simple open and shut cold case, after digging deeper I discovered it was anything but. And once again, the hotel website was not the most reliable source for this story.

But before we begin I just have some quick housekeeping. In order to make the podcast more accessible I am posting transcripts of every episode on the official website. You can find the link to the website and the transcript for this episode in the show notes, or you can simply view the blog at crimesandwitchdemeanors.com

Now I do have to go back and finish transcribing a few episodes…I don't think you realize how much writing I do for these. This episode alone is about 5,000 words…or 10 pages single spaced. It might as well be a legal brief…which…let's me transition into my next topic before we get started. God, I'm smooth as heck.

Did you know there was an intellectual property case in 1917 between Mark Twain's family and an author who published a book claiming that is was written by Twain beyond the grave using a Ouija board? What in the actual hell? Trial by Ordeal is a paranormal podcast that covers legal precedents and cases that were informed by the paranormal or strange events. I love my podcast because it blends archival science with the paranormal in what I like to think is a fresh take but if my take is fresh I don't even know how to describe this. It's great. I liked it and I figured you all would as well. But I'll let you be the judge (ahaz. But the host Sarah Arena is lovely and I wanted to shout her out because I figured if you liked my podcast you'd like hers. Us witches gotta stick together!

Okay. Housekeeping is finished…and speaking of housekeeping oh my god my segways are on fricken point…let's hop over to the Hotel Del Coronado and delve into the mystery of the Beautiful stranger…

It was Thanksgiving Day – November 24th, 1892 when a true Victorian mystery began to unfurl. It was on this day that Lottie A. Bernard was born a fully mature and elegant woman and who would die only five short days later.

"I understand" a young woman with short dark hair said, exasperated "but my brother has my baggage tickets…we…we were separated on the train. If you could please hand over my trunks to me, it would be greatly appreciated."

"Sorry ma'am. Without them tickets I can't give you your luggage"

"But I cannot be without them! They hold all of belongings. I don't know when I'll be able to find my brother again. So if you could please turn them over…"

"Railway policy, I'm afraid, ma'am," the ticket man said, a little more sternly "it's out of my control. Nothing to be done about it." he said with finality, turning to head back into his booth.

"Fine." the woman breathed, exhaling her frustration like the hiss of a train "but I will be back! And you'll hear about this!"

The main nodded to her expressionless, urging her to keep on moving.

Aggravated, the woman, with nothing but her handbag, made her way into the city of San Diego. First, she made a stop at the Hotel Brewster to ask if her brother and his wife had arrived. The hotel clerk informed her that no such persons were staying at the hotel, nor did they have reservations.

Not finding her brother at the Brewster, the woman made her way to the ferry, and then from there, once landing on Coronado island, she took the little red trolley 1.3 miles to her final destination: the Hotel Del Coronado. Or, as it was affectionately known to locals…the Del.

It was mid-afternoon as she approached the Del. It's massive white façade was blinding, even as the sun sat low in the sky. The Del was the largest resort hotel in the world and it's architectural style was distinct. Constructed entirely of wood painted white, with a red roofing – it was flanked by two wide and sprawling tower-like annexes, with a more rectangular midsection that was dotted with Victorian spires of its own jutting out here and there.

The woman made her way up the front steps but did not approach the main doors, instead she made her way to a separate entrance off to the side that read "Unaccompanied Ladies" on the lintel.

Making her way into the hotel, those inside where aghast. A woman? Traveling unaccompanied? In the Victorian era? How very dare she.

The woman made her way up to the small desk, reserved for ladies like herself…those that dare travel without the company of a gentleman or older woman. "I'd like to book a room, please"

The clerk looked her up and down. She was dressed at the height of fashion: wearing a large black hat and a solid gold ring with four pearls and a blue stone set in the center. Possibly a sapphire. The clerk could see that the woman was attractive, with her pale skin, high cheekbones, and short dark hair. Even the two small moles on her left cheek somehow seemed elegant.

"Are you traveling alone, miss?" the clerk replied.

"No, no…" the woman started "I…am waiting for my brother he's to join me soon."

"Alright, miss. And…" he now noticed she was carrying nothing but her handbag and found it quite peculiar "…do you have any luggage?"

A look of frustration flashed across the young woman's face. "Yes. My brother will be bringing it. You see, we were separated in Orange but we're meeting here, you see, and he has my luggage"

"That is perfectly alright miss" the clerk said, "And the name for the room?"

The woman hesitated for a moment. "Uhh…Lottie. Yes, Miss Lottie A. Bernard"

"Thank you Miss Bernard, and where are you from?"

"I'm sorry, it's Mrs."

"My apologies. Where are you from, Mrs. Bernard?"

"Detroit"

And it was at this moment that Lottie A. Bernard was born, springing to life like the goddess Athena from Zeus's forehead: fully grown and mature. But unlike the goddess Athena, Lottie was not immortal.

"Here we are Mrs. Bernard" said a young bellboy by the name of Harry West, "Room 302. I know it's a source of frustration for you but I for one am glad you didn't have any luggage! It saves me from hauling your trunks up three flights of stairs!"

Lottie laughed, "Oh, don't you worry my brother, Dr. Anderson will bring them when he arrives."

"Yes, of course" Harry said, nodding. Not looking forward to his arrival.

"I do hope he comes soon. I am ill you see." Lottie replied somberly.

She looked in good health to Harry. "Oh I am very sorry"

"Yes, yes, I have neuralgia and a stomach cancer. My brother is arriving with my medicine and to treat me."

"Well, in that case, I do hope he comes soon" Harry replied, now feeling remorseful about not wanting him to bring her bags. "Well, Happy Thanksgiving, ma'am. Enjoy your night."

"You too, Harry" Lottie said, handing him a small tip.

Lottie slept soundly that night, and stayed on the hotel grounds the following day. She spent it mostly in her room, but she spoke to quite a few guests and hotel employees: most often telling of her frustration about the baggage fiasco at the San Diego train station and how she wished her brother would come soon. She inquired multiple times at the front desk if they had heard word from him.

On the morning of her third day Lottie slowly made her way down to the hotel drug store. She appeared to be in considerable pain, for which she requested medicine.

"Miss, you should really see a doctor" the chemist told her with concern.

"I am already seeing a doctor. My brother, Dr, Anderson, is a physician. He should be here any day now" Lottie responded before leaving. However, she came back to the store later that afternoon where she made an odd purchase consisting of an empty pint bottle and a sponge.

On the fourth day of her stay Lottie did not leave her room, save to inquire at the front desk about her brother who had still not arrived.

Dawn broke on the fifth and final day. Lottie awoke and requested that Harry, the bellboy, bring her up a glass of wine from the bar. For the pain, she said. Shortly thereafter, she called for Harry again to bring her a whiskey cocktail. Alcohol seemed to be Lottie's medication of choice since her brother was nowhere to be found.

Once Harry brought her whiskey, she requested that she draw a bath for her. She hoped the hot water would help soothe her stomach pain. Down the hall, Harry drew Lottie a bath (as on-suites were not customary at this time – even in such a fine hotel) and brought her a bucket of ice at her request.

"Thank you, Harry" Lottie mumbled weakly as she made her way from the room to the bath holding on the wall for support, "I should be finished in an hour or two"

An hour passed; and then two. BZZT, BZZT "Yes…yes…please…could you send Harry up to my room at the earliest, thank you, thank you" Lottie said over the phone.

Harry was sent up to the room and he was shocked to find Lottie soaking wet and groaning in pain. Lottie explained that she had fallen in the tub because she was so weak and had gotten her hair wet. She went on to mention that she feared her wet hair would worsen her condition and so asked Harry to dry her hair for her.

It wasn't a service the hotel provided but because of her insistence, Harry obliged. Lottie seemed to drift in and out of sleep throughout the process and would intermittently whimper in pain. Harry was uncomfortable but he was paid handsomely for his extra services: Lottie tipped him a dollar. Now, a dollar doesn't seem like much, but in 1892 it was worth a full day's wages.

After leaving Lottie's room, Harry told his supervisor Gomer of his concerns…who had some concerns of his own…namely Lottie's tab that she had been running up. Lottie was paying for her room daily, but her expense tab (which would customarily be paid at the end of a guest's stay) was starting to rack up. Because of his concern for her health—mainly her financial health—Gomer decided to visit Lottie in her room.

Gomer found her just as Harry had described: sick in bed and writhing in pain.

"Hello ma'am, I came to check on you, Harry told me you weren't feeling so well and maybe you should call a doctor" Gomer looked at the fireplace, which was unused, "you really should light a fire, miss. There's a rather frightening storm coming tonight."

"No need for a fire" Lottie said, "and I'm so near death now, all the doctors have given up on me and my condition. Calling another wouldn't be of used to me…"

"I'm sorry ma'am. Then there is the issue of your tab…" Gomer said awkwardly

"Telegraph Mr. G. L. Allen in Hamburg, Iowa" Lottie said, "he'll cover any additional expenses"

Lottie did decide to light a fire, though not as Gomer had recommended. She rang Harry once more and requested matches. Harry offered to bring a box from the store but Lottie insisted she only needed a few. Reluctantly, Harry gave Lottie the couple of matches in his pocket.

Lottie took them from his hand and lit one. She tossed it into the fireplace on top of what appeared to be a stack of papers or letters, burning them to cinders.

That afternoon, slowly, still in pain, Lottie made her way down to the pharmacy once more. During her conversation with a real estate agent, T.J. Fisher, she expressed that she had to head across the Bay and into San Diego. Naturally, Fisher advised her not to, not only because of her frail condition, but because the approaching storm could spell trouble for her journey. Disregarding this, Lottie went on to say that she had to go and identify her items at the train station because of her lost baggage tickets and promptly left.

Lottie began her journey to San Diego around 4 or 5 o'clock, first riding the trolley (where she required the conductor's assistance to board because of her weakened state) and then afterward, she took the ferry across the bay to San Diego. Lottie first made her way into a store called Ship Chandlery and asked the clerk if he sold revolver cartridges. He did not. But he told Lottie where she could purchase some: from Chick's Gun Shop down the road.

Lottie followed the clerk's advice and told the owner of the gun shop that she wished to purchase a revolver and cartridges as a Christmas present for her friend. The owner of the shop sold her what she requested and even demonstrated the proper use of her new firearm. With her new purchase in hand, Lottie made her way back to the Del.

After placing her newfound weapon safely in her room, Lottie made her way down to the hotel veranda. There she stood overlooking the ocean, watching the black storm clouds rolling on the horizon, approaching faster and faster bringing with them a sense of foreboding. Electric anticipation crackled in the air. The winds which grew ever stronger, carried the soft scent of Jasmine on its wings but it was tinged by something else…beneath the heady floral notes the unmistakable stench of death and tragedy loomed. From inside the hotel, Harry watched Lottie on the portico, not knowing that this would be the last time he would see her alive.

Breaking from her reverie, Lottie approached the front desk where Gomer was enraptured in work. Gomer had spent all evening fulfilling requests from guests to switch their rooms from the seaward side of the hotel to the landward side to buffer themselves from the storm.

"Has there been word from Dr. Anderson?" Lottie inquired.

"No. No word from your brother…same as always"

"I see…well, thank you…" Lottie said "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Gomer said sharply, annoyed not only by the fact that she had interrupted his work, but also because she still an astronomical tab to pay and he had not heard word from her brother nor the mysterious G.L. Allen he telegrammed earlier that day.

That night the storm lashed against the Hotel del Coronado, slamming it with torrents of rain. Lightning shot through the sky in spidery veins and the thunder roared like a circus lion. By dawn, however, the beast had been tamed. The sun broke through the clouds to filter through the morning mist, it's beams falling gently on the body of Lottie A. Bernard.

An electrician found her sprawled on the veranda steps leading down to the beach. A revolver in her hand, evidently the cause of her present condition. The coroner claimed her death a suicide without examining the body—if he had he would have noticed the bullet did not come from her gun. A circus of an investigation followed, riddled with more twist and turns than a corkscrew.

And that is how Lottie A. Bernard lived and died in just five short days. The body went on to be identified, misidentified, and identified again…but her true identity is still a source of conflict and mystery well over a century later. Was she a runaway? A con-woman? An assassin? Depending on who you ask, she was either one of these things or all of them.

Regardless of who she was in life, her restless spirit still haunts the Hotel del Coronado.

And that is the story of the beautiful stranger. I wrote the narration based off of historical accounts including witness testimony from transcripts of the coroner's inquest and news article. In fact, her physical description in the beginning? I just reworded the description the police gave of her body that was published in the Los Angeles Herald. We have a lot…I mean a lot…to unravel before we can even start to talk about the haunting because this case is just next level confusing.

In typical Victorian fashion the press coverage and the investigation into her death is insane. So who was Lottie A. Bernard? It depends who you ask, but I'm going to tell you what the historic record states first before getting into warring theories by some overzealous authors.

Initially, investigators had no reason to believe she was anyone but Lottie A. Bernard. In fact, $25.00 was wired from G.L. Allen after her death to cover her bill. However, it soon became apparent that Lottie A. Bernard was nothing but a clever façade.

Deputy Coroner Stetson did not hesitate to rule the death a suicide. As mentioned earlier he did not perform an autopsy: the wound to her right temple was enough to convince him. However, it was later discovered the bullet that caused the wound did not match the caliber of the pistol Lottie purchased. Perhaps Lottie bought the gun to protect herself from someone.

When the police searched room 302 they found quinine pills, handkerchiefs embroidered with the name 'Lottie' or perhaps 'Louisa' Anderson, and a pile of burnt letters. The items that remained intact had strange scrawls on them. One simply read "Lottie A. Bernard", another "I don't know any such man" and even an invitation to the Del signed by actresses Louise Leslie Carter and Lillian Russell.

The police sent another telegraph to Mr. Allen in Iowa but did not receive a response. In the meantime they found a Lottie A. Bernard from Detroit…but she was alive and well. Now it was clear that Lottie was nothing but an alias.

The police published the aforementioned sketch in the paper, which you can see on the podcast Instagram. A Mrs. Wyllie from Detroit came forward after seeing the rendering and reading the description and said the corpse in question was her daughter, Lizzie Wyllie. Lizzie had eloped from Detroit with a married man a few weeks prior. The description matched her to a T—even right down to the two moles on her left cheek– mystery solved…right?

Well…almost. There was one issue: Lizzie Wyllie had pierced ears. The cadaver did not. Nor did it show any signs that it ever had. Mrs. Wyllie telegraphed her niece in Pasadena to go and identify the body—but there is no record that she ever did.

Now, after the body was identified, Mr. Allen from Iowa responded to the police's telegraph. He explained that he knew Anderson Bernard, though he never met his wife, he sent the $25 as an act of charity.

A few days later Mrs. Wyllie received a letter from her daughter. She was alive and well in Toronto. With the body now once again unidentified, it was embalmed and placed on display in the window of the undertaker, hoping a passerby might recognize her. Every day Victorian women came to gawk but no one could identify her.

In Los Angeles, a maid by the name of Katie Logan had been missing since November 23rd. She had told her boss, Mr. Grant that she needed to sign some documents in San Diego and that she would return before Thanksgiving. Katie showed no signs of illness the day she left…and Mr. Grant claims she also didn't take any luggage with her. She left with only her satchel.

She left a trunk behind in the Grant estate in Los Angeles which was then opened. Their contents revealed that yet again the woman was not Katie Logan, but instead Kate Morgan. Inside was a lock of hair, old photographs, a tin with the name "Louise Anderson" on it, and a marriage certificate of a Kate Farmer to Thomas E. Morgan. They were both from Hamburg Iowa.

Kate had been married to Thomas but she left him for his stepbrother…G.L. Allen. Kate and Allen's relationship was fraught with its own dramas: Allen being a gambler and Kate a con-woman. Their most common trick was to have Kate flirt with wealthy men on trains. When the gentleman wanted to…take it to the next level…so to speak…Kate would say she would love to…if they could beat her brother in a game of cards. The two would then play a rigged game to swindle the lustful gentlemen of their cash.

Allegedly Kate and Allen had gotten in an argument on a train leaving from Orange that led to Kate leaving Allen and taking up a position at the Grant home. The 'brother' that Lottie was constantly asking for may have been Allen, but we cannot be certain. Her stomach pains were likely due to the fact she was pregnant and not cancer.

The coroner called JW Chandler, Kate's grandfather asking what they should do with the body. He simple sent the money required and said "Bury her and send me the statement". No one ever came to identify her as Kate Morgan.

It was noted by one newspaper that the photographs of Kate Morgan from the trunk did not resemble the victim in the slightest. And where would a maid get such elegant clothes? Kate Logan dressed plainly. She was a maid. Why were the handkerchiefs in the hotel room embroidered with the name Louisa? What happened to the three trunks at the San Diego station? They disappeared before they could be opened.

Most articles, blogs, and even the hotel's website do not mention these inconsistencies. They say that the woman was without a doubt Kate Morgan. I think the main source of confusion is the trunks. Most articles seem to indicate the trunk that was opened was from the San Diego train station. It wasn't. It was at the Grant home in Los Angeles. The "evidence" from the trunk didn't have anything to do with the dead woman. The photographs inside were said not even to resemble her. No of her family, nor the Grants went to identify her body.

I read a book "Dead Move" by John T. Cullen. He tries to weave an intricate story that it was indeed Lizzie Wyllie who died and she was part of a large conspiracy involving Kate Morgan, the owner of the hotel Coronado, and James Dole…the founder of the Dole Food Company…and a plot to…overthrow the kingdom of Hawaii…or…something?

I honestly couldn't finish the book. He seemed so desperate to sell this theory. At times it even seemed strangely aggressive…and…after coming across his blog page…I'm less inclined to finish his book.

He goes on a diatribe about some other author rambling two paragraphs and it honestly reads like Donald Trump trying to discredit his naysayers. He even contradicts himself, here is a sampling:

The Wikipedia entry for 'Kate Morgan' has been doctored by a person with a skewed agenda, so that I caution against trusting it. This individual, who pops up at every public forum where I attempt to discuss my results, is a smooth-talking purveyor of fractoids (details, either false or half true) taken out of context for the purpose of swiftboating a targeted researcher and his published results. His motivations are as hazy as his grasp on reality. It's simply in the nature of a story like this to attract the occasional crank, who can be as fanatical as religious zealots in the pursuit of their delusions, and therefore capable of Macchiavellian [sic] means in the service of their ends. A reasonable person will ask: "What on earth is the point? It's just a ghost story, after all, or a true crime story that most people barely know or care about?" In a disturbed mind, an entirely different scale of values may be at play. Hello, little colored pills and capsules, where are you when such persons need you?

He misspelled Machiavellian, by the way.. He even goes on to attack other authors saying:

As with the spurious Alan May book of 1987—which has planted so much misinformation in all sorts of rambling, un-fact-checked websites and ghost books—it is best to take most 'sources' under careful advisement. My own book rests on its own merits, and requires no defense from cranks. I am prepared to defend my thesis at the level of a doctoral monograph, so well-defined are my stated methods.

So…here's my take on that: if your book could stand on its own merits…then let it. He said himself that a reasonable person would ask "What on earth is the point?" and that "In a disturbed mind, an entirely different scale of values may be at play" and I'm just leaving it there. Because he scares me. But if you're interested in the nitty gritty details, give his book a shot. It's very detailed, for sure, even if there is a lot of conjecture.

However, I do agree with one thing: the beautiful stranger was not Kate Morgan. I don't know who she is, and we may never. My fan theory is that she was Sadie McMullen since the description is close and she was said to have ran off to California…but she wasn't released until 1893. So, there goes that. Hopefully one day the mystery will be solved…and Mr. Cullen will never listen to this.…the Menger Hotel found my podcast episode on them and I truly regret calling them an upscale Holiday Inn…although people who have stayed there told me that I wasn't wrong in saying so.

So all that aside I hope you stuck around long enough to hear a little bit about the Beautiful Stranger's ghost. My favourite factoid is that the streetlamp above where her body was found never stays lit for long. The light almost immediately burns out and electricians can never give a reason as to why. I like this because an electrician found her body and I feel it goes full circle.

Of course the room is also haunted, and to be honest, it's pretty par for the course as far as paranormal activity goes. Guests claim that she loves to mess with the electricity: making the television and alarm clock radio to turn on by themselves. The curtains in the room often move on their own accord despite the windows being closed and there being no draft and extremely cold breezes can also be felt in the middle of summer with no known source. Maids say that objects in that room, including the doors, move by themselves.

Many presidents have stayed at the Del. On one such occasion, when H.W. Bush was staying there one of his secret service men had room 3312 and he was scared out of his mind. He ran down the front desk and begged for his room to be changed. Whatever happened, it was enough to scare a highly trained agent half to death.

I hope you enjoyed today's episode! Please, don't forget to subscribe wherever you like to listen…and if you listen on Spotify: if you hit the "Get notified of new episodes" switch you'll get a push notification whenever a new episode drops!

Next week we'll be talking about all the wonderful winter and Yule witches. Until then, stay warm, stay curious, and most importantly…stay spooky. God, I need a better sign off. Bye

A young girl in Newton, Massachusetts is visited repeatedly by the spirit of an old woman in her attic. After many discussions its revealed that the ghost has a mission for her...but what is it? This week we investigate the spirit of Jane Woodman and look at scientific reasons children seem to see ghosts so often.

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Sources:

A real-life New England ghost story for Hallowe'en. (2012, October 27). The Uncertaintist. https://uncertaintist.wordpress.com/2012/10/27/a-real-life-new-england-ghost-story-for-halloween/

Counter, R. (n.d.). Perspective | Why do so many kids 'see ghosts'? We asked some psychologists. Washington Post. Retrieved November 26, 2020, from https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/2019/10/28/why-do-so-many-kids-see-ghosts-we-asked-some-psychologists/

Dickinson, E. (n.d.). Emily Dickinson Collection [Text]. Retrieved November 26, 2020, from http://asteria.fivecolleges.edu/findaids/amherst/ma167.html

Dickinson/Abiah Root (Strong) Correspondence: 7 May 1845 (Letter 6). (n.d.). Retrieved November 26, 2020, from http://archive.emilydickinson.org/correspondence/aroot/l6.html

Ghosts, Spirits and Psychology, A Halloween Story: - Child Development and Parenting: Middle Childhood. (n.d.). Retrieved November 26, 2020, from https://www.mentalhelp.net/blogs/ghosts-spirits-and-psychology-a-halloween-story/

Harris, P. L., Brown, E., Marriott, C., Whittall, S., & Harmer, S. (1991). Monsters, ghosts and witches: Testing the limits of the fantasy—reality distinction in young children. British Journal of Developmental Psychology, 9(1), 105–123. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.2044-835X.1991.tb00865.x

Married. (1849, September 25). Hampshire Gazette.

McLain, A. (n.d.). 17 Times Kids Saw Ghosts, And Totally Scared The Living Daylights Out Of Their Parents. BuzzFeed. Retrieved December 4, 2020, from https://www.buzzfeed.com/asiawmclain/kid-ghost-stories

Moore, A. (2020, January 26). What is it about kids and ghosts? The tales that will give you shivers. Mail Online. https://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/you/article-7891245/What-kids-ghosts-Anna-Moore-hears-tales-send-shivers-spine.html

Mrs. Jane L. Woodman. (1915, June 7). The Springfield Union, page 4.

New England Historic Genealogical Society; Boston, Massachusetts; Massachusetts Vital Records, 1911–1915

r/Paranormal—Any stories of your children seeing ghosts? (n.d.). Reddit. Retrieved December 4, 2020, from https://www.reddit.com/r/Paranormal/comments/5rm3ig/any_stories_of_your_children_seeing_ghosts/

Sharon, T., & Woolley, J. D. (2004). Do monsters dream? Young children's understanding of the fantasy/reality distinction. British Journal of Developmental Psychology, 22(2), 293–310. https://doi.org/10.1348/026151004323044627

The Spirit of Mrs. Woodman. (n.d.). NECN. Retrieved November 26, 2020, from https://www.necn.com/news/local/_necn__the_spirit_of_mrs__woodman_necn/58282/

Woolley, J. D., & E. Ghossainy, M. (2013). Revisiting the Fantasy-Reality Distinction: Children as Naïve Skeptics. Child Development, 84(5), 1496–1510. https://doi.org/10.1111/cdev.12081

Year: 1910; Census Place: Cambridge Ward 9, Middlesex, Massachusetts; Roll: T624_596; Page: 27A; Enumeration District: 0781; FHL microfilm: 1374609

Everyone always says "Remember the Alamo" and the ghosts of San Antonino are keen on making it difficult to forget. Particularly, the spectral denizens of the Menger hotel, once known as the "finest hotel the west of the Mississippi" now holds the moniker of "the most haunted hotel in Texas" The battle of the Alamo, a deadly fire, a murdered maid, and more are the causes of its infamous reputation, allegedly being home to over 32 spirits…including that of Teddy Roosevelt. Now…let's hear the so-called history of the hotel before we dig deep in the archive to separate fact from folklore…

Submit your feedback or personal stories to [email protected]

Podcast Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/crimesandwitchdemeanors

Podcast artwork by GiAnna Ligammari: https://gialigammari.wixsite.com/portfolio

Episode Transcript:

https://crimesandwitchdemeanors.com/2020/12/11/episode-004-the-ghosts-of-the-menger-hotel/

Sources:

Another Outrage: Malicious and Probably Fatal Shooting of a Negro Woman by her Crazed Husband. (1876, March 29). San Antonio Daily Express, 1.

Captain Richard King. (1885, April 15). The Galveston Daily News, 1.

Haunted Menger Hotel | San Antonio's haunted Hotel. (n.d.). Ghost City Tours. Retrieved November 24, 2020, from https://ghostcitytours.com/san-antonio/haunted-places/haunted-hotels/menger-hotel/

Haunted Menger Hotel in San Antonio – Legends of America. (n.d.). Retrieved November 24, 2020, from https://www.legendsofamerica.com/tx-mengerhotel/

Historic Hotels San Antonio | Our Story | The Menger Hotel. (n.d.). Menger Hotel. Retrieved November 24, 2020, from https://www.mengerhotel.com/about-us

Professor's Wife Dies in Hotel Fall. (1952, June 21). Lubbock Morning Avalanche, 9.

R/Paranormal—[Experience] The Menger Hotel—I saw *something* in the ladies' restroom. (n.d.). Reddit. Retrieved November 24, 2020, from https://www.reddit.com/r/Paranormal/comments/1mgq3z/experience_the_menger_hotel_i_saw_something_in/

r/Paranormal—Menger Hotel, San Antonio. (n.d.). Reddit. Retrieved November 24, 2020, from https://www.reddit.com/r/Paranormal/comments/9qlr00/menger_hotel_san_antonio/

State News. (1876, April 2). The Dallas Daily Herald, 1.

The 140th Anniversary of Sallie White's Murder. (n.d.). The Sisters Grimm Blog. Retrieved November 24, 2020, from http://sistersgrimmghosttourblog.weebly.com/1/post/2016/03/the-140th-anniversary-of-sallie-whites-murder.html

Total Destruction Menger Hotel by Fire is Now Feared. (1924, October 15). The Eagle.

William A Menger (1827-1871)—Find A Grave... (n.d.). Retrieved November 24, 2020, from https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/47178741/william-a-menger

TRANSCRIPT:

Hello, and welcome to Crimes and Witch-Demeanors -- I am your host, Joshua Spellman. Thank you so much for tuning in and sticking with me. For everyone who enjoyed the first batch of episodes, thank you so much! I didn't think anyone was going to like them...but that's just my self-hatred. But I'm not going to talk to you about that -- that's what therapists are for. What we're here for is ghosts! I know last episode on Murder Creek was a little light on the ghosts and the spookiness...but this week we have plenty of ghosts to talk about. There is no shortage of ghosts.

I feel like we're slowly making our way from coast to coast. So we've done New York and we've done Ohio and now we're making our way to the Southwest. We're in Texas this week!

Everyone always says "Remember the Alamo" and the ghosts of San Antonino are keen on making it difficult to forget. Particularly, the spectral denizens of the Menger hotel, once known as the "finest hotel the west of the Mississippi" now holds the moniker of "the most haunted hotel in Texas". The battle of the Alamo, a deadly fire, a murdered maid, and more are the causes of its infamous reputation, allegedly being home to over 32 spirits…including that of Teddy Roosevelt. President Theodore Roosevelt. I thought you know...Texas no connection to me in Texas...but it turns out that I have a personal connection to this story as well. But we'll get into that later. But spoiler: it has to do with Teddy Roosevelt and my family.

If that's not intriguing you enough, let's dig into the so-called history of the Menger Hotel. And as usual, afterwards we'll dig deep into the archives to separate fact from folklore…

In the mid-1830's Texas was fighting for their independence from Mexico. Ultimately, what originated as minor disputes and squabbles erupted into one of the bloodiest battles in Texas history. In February of 1836, the Mexican General Santa Anna intent on quashing the rebellion descended upon the Alamo with a phalanx of almost 4,000 soldiers.

The Texians and Tejanos were vastly outnumbered but more determined than anyone to fight for their freedom. They banded together and held out against the Mexican forces for thirteen long, agonizing days. Missives were sent to neighboring communities to reinforce their numbers – and they did grow – but it wasn't enough. It was 200 against 4,000, and on March 6 1836, the Mexican soldiers made one final push and rushed the compound. Using a cannon, General Santa Anna's troops blasted open the doors of the church and began slaughtering those inside. The Tejanos and Texians fell one by one, including the American folk hero Davey Crockett.

23 years later, at the site of this bloody battle, the Menger hotel would eventually be built.

In the 1840's a German immigrant by the name of William A. Menger settled in the cattle ranching town of San Antonio. Menger stayed at a boarding house owned by a widow named Mary Guenther for three years while he found his footings in this new town. Menger quickly established himself and founded the Western Brewery with his business partner Charles Philip Degen, another German Brewmaster, just across the way from Mary's boarding house. The Western Brewery became the first brewery in Texas and also grew to become the largest in the state, with Menger buying out his competitor's breweries and earning the title of "The Beer King"

But what is a king without a queen? William Menger married Mary Guenther, and their businesses flourished, resulting in Mary needing to expand her modest boarding house. Together, the Mengers decided that they would construct an lavish hotel bearing their name—a true kingdom to reign over.

Construction on the new hotel was completed on February 1, 1859. It was a two story stone structure with 50 rooms and opulent decorations. A tunnel in the cellar attached it to the brewery. In fact, the hotel was so successful, after only three months of being open, William and Mary began sketching plans for the hotel's first expansion—increasing accommodations from 50 rooms to 90, effectively making it the largest hotel in the area.

However, the civil war began in 1861 which saw a sharp decline in paying guests at the hotel. Instead, they chose to offer the hotel to be used in the war effort. The hotel was converted to a hospital for the sick or badly wounded for the duration of the war. During this period the hotel saw many tragic deaths. Not long after, William Menger himself passed away inside the hotel during the March of 1871.

Despite William's death, Mary Menger refused to let this deter her hotel from becoming a success. She published a notice in the paper claiming his death "would cause no change in the affairs" at the brewery or the hotel…and she cashed in on this promise. She saw over 2,000 guests come to the hotel that year and even had the modern amenity of gas installed.

In March of 1876, the Menger received one of its…permanent guests. Sallie White was a chambermaid who worked in the hotel. One night, she got into an argument with her husband and stayed at the hotel to keep her distance. The next day her husband threatened to kill her…and did…and he shot her inside the hotel. Badly injured, Sallie held onto life before succumbing to her injuries on March 28. The hotel paid the cost of her funeral, because she had no other family. Grateful for the hotel's kindness, she is one of the most seen spirits of the hotel. She is typically spotted carrying out her housekeeping duties, bringing clean towels to guests or dusting the furniture.

The hotel continued to flourish and it seemed that nothing could stop Mary's unparalleled success…everything but her age. Her son refused to inherit the hotel and in 1881 she eventually sold it to Major J.H. Kampmann for $118,500 or the modern equivalent of 2.8 million dollars...Mary also managed to sell him the furnishings for an additional $8,500 or $203,000 today. Mary made sure she got her money's worth.

Kampmann added an east wing that December of and a new bar that was unrivaled by anywhere else this side of the pond – an exact replica of the taproom in the House of Lords Club in London, England. This is the same bar where Theodore Roosevelt would sit at, buying young cowboys drinks in order to convince them to join the Rough Riders. Teddy's ghost is still said to sit at the bar today to enjoy a cocktail.

The lavish Menger hotel continued to attract wealthy visitors…and claim their souls as its own. Originally from New York City, Captain Richard King was born to poor Irish immigrants. They could not afford to care for him and so sold him into indentured servitude. He hated being a servant and soon escaped on a ferry bound for the Mississippi river. Richard would go on to become one of the wealthiest entrepreneurs of the 19th century. He founded a steamboat company, served in the Civil War, and after his first visit to Texas…decided he was going to buy all of Corpus Christi. There, he opened his massive one million acre ranch.

King developed a love for the Menger hotel and he ended up staying there so often that he was given his own private suite on the second floor. This is where he died, after succumbing to a battle with stomach cancer on April 14, 1885. The Menger hotel held his funeral in the lobby and it was said to be one of the largest funeral processions that San Antonio had ever seen.

Captain Richard King's ghost is frequently seen inside his private suite…or walking through the wall where the original door to it had been. The shutters in the room open and close on their own, people hear his heavy footsteps, and a mysterious red orb only ever seen in his room

The last major tragedy to befall the Menger hotel occurred in October of 1924. A fire started in the kitchen and the flamed traveled up the walls to the ceiling. The Menger's intricate woodwork that trails throughout the whole hotel was the vector that allowed the fire to completely consume the third and fourth floors. However, a night clerk was able to evacuate all 101 of the guests from the hotel before they could be injured. Instead…the injuries occurred when the firetruck, on its way to the scene, crashed into a streetcar. The two firemen were injured as well as the three individuals in the streetcar. Thankfully, everyone recovered.

The hotel recovered from this tragedy and continued to grow and expand. In 1949, an additional 125 rooms and air conditioning were added and the stately bar was moved to the other side of the hotel. In 1975 the hotel was added to the National Register of historic places and remains a popular place to stay to this day. Those that stay here frequently report ghostly sightings and unexplained events. The ghosts are here to make sure that no one forgets the Alamo…or them.

I know this sounded like more of a dry history lesson – but this part of the podcast is where it juicy. Last week with Murder Creek, we were pretty void of the paranormal so this week we have it in droves. We just have a small amount of history to trudge through first!

The details of the hotel, it's owners, and most of the ghosts have all been almost 100% historically accurate…save for the story of the chambermaid Sallie White. I ended up discovering something about her that lets me get on my soapbox in regards to the historic record.

So when I was looking for Sally White I was so sure that I was going to find a great deal of evidence since I had exact dates…and we had names. Sallie White and her husband was said to be Henry Wheeler so I was super excited but I was coming up empty-handed. I couldn't find any census information on Sallie White or Henry Wheeler. I couldn't find their graves – nothing. I was reading through the newspapers around those dates of not only San Antonio, but neighboring cities like Dallas as well, around the dates of the crime and I didn't see anything mentioning the name Sally White or Henry Wheeler, her husband or the Menger Hotel...but I did find a story that sounded vaguely like what happened to Sallie in the April 2, 1876 issue of the Dallas Daily Herald.

It reads as follows (please forgive the language of the time, it's important to the discussion and the context):

A negro woman was shot and dangerously wounded by her husband in San Antonio last Tuesday. But slight hopes of her recovery.

That's was it. That was the blurb. I looked at a calendar for 1876 and the Tuesday prior…to this issue…was March 28th. I found Sallie! And the reason I couldn't even find her name or a census record was because Sallie White was black. The civil war had only ended 11 years prior and, as we know, things were not in great for black people during that time, and it wasn't going to be for awhile...and it still isn't great today. But especially for black women.

But looking back this explains why I was able to find nearly nothing on Sallie White. In retrospect, I'm just an idiot. I didn't put two and two together that ledger from the hotel that lists the cost of her funeral says "col chambermaid, deceased, murdered by husband" and that clearly stood for "colored" and I just didn't put that together.

But this brings me to discuss a topic about archives and libraries before we get to the paranormal (I promise it's coming!). The historic record, archives in particular, always reflects the viewpoints of those in power. Typically, this has meant cis het white men with lots of money. No one cared about the archives of the Irish immigrants or free black slaves. These aren't the types of materials that museums and libraries have been interested in. So women, queer people, immigrants, and the poor rarely have their stories preserved or told. It's only been recently that people realize how important their stories are and are trying to scrape together what they can to fill in the gaps of the historic record.

At my job, even with cases recently as the 1970's, I've had so much trouble researching women…because I can never find their real names! Their husbands names are more often used such as Mrs. James McGovern that even if I can use that to find out some information…their name has been completely lost to history. So…yeah. That's my librarian shoptalk soapbox that I'm getting down from now so that I can tell Sallie's real story and then we can get to the GHOSTS.

So, Sallie was not shot within the walls of the Menger Hotel. Her "husband" aka her commonwealth husband Henry Wheeler was known to be prone to anger and jealousy. They were in and out of the courts at the time on domestic charges, which landed Wheeler with a criminal record. However, they stayed as a couple. On Monday, March 28th 1876, Henry was furious about something and Sallie wasn't home, which angered him even more. He scoured the neighborhood looking for her, and upon finding her began to abuse her in public.

He dragged her home and continued to hurt her and swore that he was going to murder her. Sallie managed to escape and contact the police, who searched the home for firearms but found nothing. Sallie pleaded with police that she couldn't stay with him that night because he would kill her as she slept. The police arranged for her to sleep at the Recorder's office where she was able to sleep safely.

The next morning, however, between 6 and 7 am, she made her way home to get ready for work. When she entered her neighborhood, there was Henry Wheeler, brandishing a six shooter in his hand. There, in the streets, he shot Sallie, wounding her in the bowels severely. She ran, as two more shots hit her in the bosom. She came to collapse at the Menger Brewery. Sallie was taken to the third floor of the Menger hotel where it took her two whole days to die. Mary Menger was said to have truly cared for Sallie and that is why she covered the costs of her funeral – 25$ for the grave and another 7$ for the coffin. Sadly, Wheeler escaped and was never caught.

Now…Sallie's ghost can be found on the third floor of the original hotel building, so if you want to see her, that's where you should go. People see a semi-transparent figure of a woman wearing a maid's uniform, a beaded necklace, and a scarf tied around her head. She's usually seen walking through doors or walls, carrying sheets or towels. One guest even saw Sallie folding sheets in her room as she was taking a shower and allegedly ran downstairs to the front desk out of fear.

Now I found this story on reddit from the user tuffythetooth:

I was at the Menger Bar and I had to use the restroom so I walked in and took care of business. No one was in the bathroom - it was a Tuesday evening, I believe, so the bar and hotel weren't busy. I exited the stall and walked towards the sink to wash my hands. I heard the door creak open (it's a rather heavy door so it makes a bit of noise) and I looked to see if anyone had entered the bathroom. Normally, I am not so nosy, but I just felt really strange. No one came through the door. I kind of shrugged it off and I started looking in the mirror to reapply my lipstick and all of a sudden, a bright ball of light about the size of a snack plate flew in front of my face, hovered, and then flew into a corner and disappeared. I saw it in front of me and I saw it in the mirror. Needless to say, I took the heck off.

Now people claim that this is Sallie, even though her haunt is the third floor. Other commenters in the thread say that people see Sallie in the restroom all the time and I guess I'll just have to take their word for it…now the next guest is unmistakeable when you see him or hear him. And that's Theodore Roosevelt.

Now I have two small personal connections to Teddy as well as the Rough Riders that he was recruiting at the Menger. First, allegedly my great, great grandfather was a Mexican outlaw that rode with Pancho Villa against the Rough Riders…which I think is kind of cute. Secondly…Theodore Roosevelt was one of the only Presidents inaugurated outside of DC, in this case due to the assassination of William McKinley in Buffalo. And…well…my father and grandfather reupholstered the historic furniture a the Theodore Roosevelt Inaugural site and museum which is also kind of cute!

Try as I might…I have had some kind of connection to most of the stories I've told here so far.

So Teddy was only at the Menger a total of three times in his life but apparently he loved the bar and is seen there quite frequently. He sits at the bar as a very solid apparition, and sometimes will holler at the workers to get their attention. For those that have spoken with him, he's said to try and recruit them to join the Rough Riders!

But…I love this one story about Teddy because it's so stupid.

A new employee was closing up the bar alone, and when he was nearly finished, he turned to see Theodore Roosevelt sitting at the bar. He was just sitting there, staring at the boy like he did with all the staff there, but this scared the crap out of this newbie.

The employee ran to the bar doors and tried to get out, but they were locked. In a panic he began to wildly punch the doors while screaming to be let out. And…I just cannot get the image of Teddy just staring at this maniac trying to run away while just sipping on his whiskey. I bet Teddy found it funny. Eventually another employee heard the pounding on the bar doors and let them out. The poor guy eventually quit.

Being a hotel, the Menger has seen countless acts of violence and murder. When I was investigating the fire that happened in the 20's I came across one of these many other deaths that happened there in 1952.

I'll quickly read the article from the Lubbock Morning Avalanche:

There's no stories of her ghost, but I can't help but think she must be one of the 32 purported spirits…maybe even the one that led to this horrifying story from reddit user Hakuhofan:

A few years back I took my wife to the historic Menger Hotel for her birthday weekend. The hotel is a very popular place and has been around since the 1800's. It has an old wing (original) and a new wing. The old wing is absolutely beautiful and we reserved a room in this section for the weekend. We checked in around midnight and go straight to bed. My phone battery died on the trip.

I put our suitcases in the closet and close the door. I have a habit. Anytime I close a door I give it a slight tug in the opposite direction to make certain it is latched. It's all one quick motion and it's just an old habit.

We get woken up at about 3:20am to my wife's phone ringing. We both wake up and she answers it without looking at it. "Hello?" static "Hello?" garbled voice

She's still on the phone and I say "Who is

it?" static...silence...AAARRGGBBRRGGHAAAGGHH!!!!!!! Same garble voice but agitated and then click it hung up. I could hear the last one because it was quiet. I was like WTF? We looked at each other and looked at the caller ID and it was MY PHONE. She pulled my phone out of her purse and checked it, I checked it. It was dead. It wouldn't turn on. Just like we left it.

We both looked at each other, kinda nervously chuckled a little (not much), and I said "Happy birthday?" We went back to sleep. I'll admit I kinda laid there for at least an hour just freaked out. When we woke up in the morning and the closet door was open. Not cracked or slightly open, ALL THE WAY OPEN as far as the door would go.

2nd day we ate lunch in the historic dining room and I had to get something from the room. I left her at the table and made my way to the elevator where it just opened. No sensors. It just opened. I said thank you and got in. All in all the entities we encountered were friendly. We will stay there again. Old section only of course.

...okay...first off...pretty friendly? A ghost called you and screamed at you. That's not friendly my friend. That is scary. But hey, if you weren't too freaked out and you just think "Hey let's just go back there, let's just get harassed by a ghost on my own phone" then sure. What the heck.

If you're looking for a spooky hotel to stay at and you happen to be going to Texas, it sounds like the Menger is definitely giving you some ghostly room service. If you stay in the old section of the hotel you'll get the full experience: you get to see Sallie, you can see Teddy Roosevelt, you get to get yelled at on your phone by some horrifying entity, and apparently their elevators are full service. Which comes in handy during COVID-19 times-- you don't want to have to touch those buttons everyone else is touching.

So that is the historic Menger Hotel and the ghosts that inhabit it. I hope you enjoyed today's episode. Any scans or images will be on the podcast instagram @crimesandwitchdemeanors.

Please leave us a review on iTunes if you like the show. If you have any feedback, please don't hesitate to either DM me on instagram or shoot an email to [email protected] I am all ears to any constructive criticism you may have.

Which brings us to the end of today's episode! I'll see you next week for another ghost story. But, until then...stay spooky!

Today's episode we'll be talking about…murder creek. Yes, you heard that correctly. That is the official name of this place and it got its name from…you guessed it…murder. There are two stories that surround this creek: The Legend of Murder Creek which gave it its name, and the curious case of child murderess Sadie McMullen.

Episode Transcript: https://crimesandwitchdemeanors.com/2020/11/23/episode-003-murder-creek/

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Sources:

Hello and welcome to Crimes and Witch Demeanors; I am your host Joshua Spellman. Join me today for a spooky tale of murder, mystery, and of course…ghosts.

Today's location is Akron, New York. A small village outside of Buffalo, New York and specifically we'll be talking about…murder creek. Yes, you heard that correctly. That is the official name of this place and it got its name from…you guessed it…murder. There are two stories that surround this creek: The Legend of Murder Creek which gave it its name, and the curious case of murderess Sadie McMullen. So without further ado let's discuss the tragic history of Angola's Murder Creek.

The sources of our first story vary, but I have acquired most of the information from The life of General Ely S. Parker : last grand sachem of the Iroquois and General Grant's military secretary written in 1919 by Arthur Caswell Parker and published by the Buffalo Historical Society. This book is accessible in its entirety from the Internet Archive at archive.org. However it should be noted that Arthur Caswell Parker lifted the story from a 1906 book written by Uriah Cummings called The Haunted Corners. However, the Parker version follows the original source nearly word-for-word. Uriah Cumming's book was written to explain the ghosts that he claimed lived on his property. There is only one remaining copy of the Haunted Corners in existence housed at the Buffalo and Erie County Historical Society's research library. The Legend of Murder Creek appears to be an actual historical account of events, or at least a version of them. In the newspapers for the murder case we'll discuss next the story seems to be a bit different, only mentioning a robbery. However, Cummings purports that he possessed the diary and personal papers of John Dolph, as the Dolph home once stood on his land, and that was the source of this legend. The Dolph family was indeed real, and are buried in Ledge Lawn Cemetery. You can find photographs of their graves on findagrave.com. Other sources used for this story include Erie.Gov, the official county website, and NYFalls.com.

Before Murder Creek obtained its haunting name, it was known to the Native Seneca tribes as De-on-go-te Gah-hun-da, or "the place of hearing" Other sources claim the original name as See-un-gut, or "the roar of distant waters". Colonizers knew it as Sulphur Creek as indicated on maps at the time. As with most early settlements by colonizers, water was an important resource to live by. In the spring of 1820, a white settler known as John Dolph built his cabin on the shores of the creek, with eventual plans to erect a sawmill with his business partner Peter Van Deventer, using the creek's water as a power source.

One chilly October evening, while Dolph was pouring over his plans with his wife, they heard a blood curdling scream emanate from the woods outside. Concerned, John and Sarah lept to their feet and threw open their door. Running towards them was a Native woman, wildly out of breath, shouting "Save me! Please save me!" and begging for refuge.

The Dolphs quickly obliged and without hesitation, ushered the woman inside, promptly barring their front door. Within moments of securing the latch, the door shook violently on it's hinges "Let me in!" a man bellowed, throwing his weight against the door.

John stalled the unknown assailant by asking him questions while motioning for his wife to hide the young woman. And he reached for his musket. Sarah opened a trap door, escaping into the night and leading her to the mouth of a nearby cavern.

The man impatiently responded to John's inquiries, explaining that his name was Sanders and that the girl was his prisoner. Her father, an Indian chief, placed her in his care because she wished to marry a "bad Indian". He asked once more, albeit more politely, for entrance into the Dolph's home. With the girl safely concealed from view, John Dolph's obliged.

Unbarring the door, John let Sanders inside. Sanders, panting and full of rage, surveyed the home. He saw no signs of his prey. He glanced upward, spying the attic opening and a ladder leading up into the darkness. John lit a candle, and handed it to Sanders. I imagine he did so quite smugly, "Please, feel free to look". Sanders ascended the ladder and soon came back down, in even more of a rage. "That girl is here!" he hissed, "I saw her come in! Where is your cellar?" he snarled, scanning the floorboards.

John moved aside his carpet to reveal the trap door and bade Sanders down to investigate. Again, Sanders discovered nothing. No trace of the girl and no visible means of escaping, aside from the ladder he just descended.

Making his way back up, Sanders swore and muttered under his breath that he would have the girl if it was the last of his deeds. In exasperation Sanders said he was headed to Canfield Tavern for a drink and he quickly retreated into the night.

After some time, John Dolph reunited with his wife and they cautiously made their way down the side of the gorge to the cave that sheltered the young girl, located a little ways north of the falls. With the autumn moon shining brightly overhead, The Dolphs surveyed their surroundings. They looked up and down the dirt path, into the forest, and along the banks of the stream and saw no one. Satisfied they were not being followed, they entered the cave. However, though the moon illuminated the night, it could not penetrate the dense canopy of trees, and the Dolphs failed to notice the figure of a large man crouched beneath the shadows of a large pine.

The Dolph's entered the chamber and found the girl asleep, passed out from exhaustion. Upon hearing their approaching footsteps, the girl shot up in fright "Where is he?!" she cried. Sarah calmed the young girl, assuring her that she was safe. It was then that she recounted her tale of horror.

Her account of events was recorded by John Dolph in his diary and was reproduced by Cummings in full in his text. Though, I will be paraphrasing. Cummings notes his surprise of the young girl's fluency in English and attributes it to the fact she was most likely a student at the mission school in Tonawanda. I find it important to mention that these schools often forcibly took young children from their parents to enroll in these schools, forced to assimilate to American culture under harsh conditions of abuse. These schools played a major role in the cultural genocide, erasure, and decimation of many Native Nations with painful echoes and generational trauma that reach to the modern day.

Back to our story.

The girl's name was Ah-weh-hah or, as she said in "the language of the pale face" Wild Rose. She explained that she lived near Spirit Lake, under the cliff, about a mile from the Tonawanda Falls. Her mother had died several years ago and she lived with her elderly father, Go-wah-na (The Great Fire) who was a chief of the Seneca Nation. Moments before Ah-weh-hah happened upon the Dolphs, her father had been brutally murdered by Sanders.

Sanders had been stalking Ah-weh-hah for over than a year, asking for her hand in marriage. However, she already had a love, Tah-yoh-ne, Grey Wolf, who she was to marry. Enraged by this, Sanders vowed that instead of seeing Ah-weh-hah marry a Seneca, he would murder all those who stood in his path.

Ah-weh-hah took it upon herself to prevent her love, Tah-yoh-ne, from crossing paths with Sanders, for she knew if he were to harm Sanders in self-defense, that the authorities would not listen to his story and would punish him regardless of his innocence.

So, Go-wah-na, in an attempt to protect his daughter, decided to send her away to the Cattaraugus Nation. There she could safely be joined by fiancé Tah-yoh-ne away from the bloodthirsty clutches of Sanders.

That morning Ah-weh-hah and her father set out to Te-os-ah-wah, known as the city of Buffalo. When they reached the bank of the De-on-go-te Gah-hun-da, or modern day Murder Creek, they sat down to listen to the waterfall and rest.

It was then that they saw Sanders approaching. However, he approached them with his hand extended, apologizing for his past actions. He smiled as he explained to them that he made up his mind to let go of Ah-weh-hah and that he hoped she would be happy with Tah-yoh-ne. He explained he was currently making his way to the Wild West to start his life anew and has not expected to ever see Ah-weh-hah or her father again. However, as fortune had it, they appeared to be headed in the same direction and Sanders offered to help on their journey to atone for his sins.

They agreed to travel together. They walked for some time and set up camp for the night. Here, Ah-weh-hah stared into the east and saw a light in the valley not far away and at that very moment was startled by a loud sound followed by a groan. She turned to see her father lying on the ground, face-down in the dirt, and looming over him was Sanders with an uplifted club in his hands.

With a devilish grin, Sanders moved to attack Ah-weh-hah, but she was swift. Quickly, she made her way to the light in the distance, which happened to be the Dolph's residence.

After hearing her story, the Dolphs resolved to protect Ah-weh-hah. John made his way to the camp she had described. Here he found the smoldering coals of the campfire and the lifeless body of Go-wah-na. This is the spot that later became known as the Haunted Corners. When dawn broke, John and his business partner Peter Van Deventer buried his remains and learned that Sanders had taken the Buffalo stage at midnight.

Word of the tragedy spread quickly to the Seneca Nation and when John returned home, Tah-yoh-ne had already arrived to reunite with his love. Ah-weh-hah was elated to see her lover and begged to visit the grave of her father. Together they made their way to the newly dug grave of her father. Once there, Ah-weh-hah and Tah-yoh-ne chanted a traditional death song, ignited a grave fire, and burned tobacco.

While enveloped in their grief and distracted by their funeral rites, something leaped from the underbrush. Brandishing an ax, with a demonic glint in his eye, Sanders bore down on the couple but Tah-yoh-ne reached for his tomahawk and a brawl ensued. Both men lost handle on their axes and reached for their hunting knives and furiously ripped at one another's flesh. The blood flowed like a stream until suddenly…it was quiet. Sanders stopped motionless and fell to the ground.

Frozen in fear, Ah-weh-hah could not move. Tah-yoh-ne went to comfort her but he could not speak. He was too weak from the loss of blood. He swayed from side to side, staggered, and fell. Dying on the grave of her father. Ah-weh-hah let out a scream of pain which echoed through the woods to the Dolph's home. Upon hearing this cry, Mr. Dolph ran the quarter mile to the camp. Ah-weh-hah was sobbing, and between the heavy heaves of her cries she uttered the traditional death chant. John once again, dug two more graves.

Ah-weh-hah often visited graves of her father and her love to sing her grief. One day, many moons later, the Dolphs did not hear from her. They searched and came across Ah-weh-hah's lifeless body lying upon the grave of her love, seemingly having died of heartbreak. Here she was buried between the graves of her father and her lover.

As Legend has it, if you walk the trails of Murder Creek at night you may hear the voices of two the lovers as they wander the trails. They were forsaken marriage in life, but have been united in death by an unbreakable bond.

While it was these events that successfully changed the name of Sulphur Creek to Murder Creek, sadly these were not the last murders to occur there. For our next story, we're fast forwarding 70 years to the year of 1890.

It was October 31, 1890 a spoooooky Halloween just like any other when 17 year-old Sarah Sadie McMullen made a trip to the local store to buy some butter. That Halloween day had been spent at the Brown home, engaging in songs and parlor games that were popular among girls at the time. A Happy Halloween indeed. Sadie was accompanied on her trip to the Johnson's store by 6 year-old Delia Brown, the daughter of her widower boss, Simon Brown, and her friend, 10-year old Nellie May Connor. Nellie was reported as being four years old eight years old, and nine years old depending on the article. However, I looked up her grave and she was actually 10 years old. Sadie had worked as a servant in the Brown's household and helped care for the Mrs. Brown during a time of illness. She bonded with little Delia, and was kept on as a housekeeper after Mrs. Brown's passing.

Once at the Johnson's store, Sadie began acting very strangely. She took out a quarter and slammed it on the counter. She walked away before the store clerk could get her butter from the ice box or give her change. A quarter in 1890 is the equivalent of $7.15 and you know something's up if you literally just throw away money. And it only gets creepier from here.

After leaving the store, Sadie, with the children in tow, walked to the New York Central Railroad Bridge that stood over 50ft above the Murder Creek gorge. She coaxed the children to the center of the bridge before hurling little Nellie May Connor into the rushing waters below. Then Sadie turned on Delia, the girl who she supposedly loved like a daughter, and after a short struggle, managed to heave her off the trestle as well.

"Hello Sadie"

After committing these treacherous acts, Sadie made her way back to the Brown's house, walking through the front door without the children. Simon was not home, he was barkeeping at his saloon. Sadie was greeted instead by Hannah, Simon's sister.

Sadie just stared back at Hannah and held out her hand. "Goodbye Hannah"

"Where are you going?" asked Hannah, confused.

"WELL FINE! If you don't want to shake hands with me, well then alright" Sadie exclaimed, turned on her heels and stormed out of the house. It was then that Hannah realized the children were not with her.

Concerned, Hannah went to tell her father of her apprehensions. In the midst of her explanation, Simon happened to stop by and Hannah relayed her worries once more. Simon simply laughed and assured Hannah that the children were in good hands.

Meanwhile, Sadie made her way through the dark to a bridge behind the saloon owned by Mr. Brown. This bridge was much smaller than the trestle bridge, a mere 10 feet from the water. Sadie looked down at the stream below her, took a deep breath, and dove into the water.

Now drowning Sadie screamed in the night. Sadie was eventually rescued from the waters by the father of Delia, Simon Brown and his friend George Jones. Hannah claims she was there to extend her hand and help pull Sadie safely to shore. Sadie screamed and shrieked that they put her back into the water immediately, but against her wishes they carried the hysterical girl back to the Brown's family home where a doctor was called to tend to her.

"Where are the children?" the family demanded.

"What children?" Sadie replied, confused.

"Delia! Where is Delia!"

"Was she with me?"

"Yes!"

"Last I remember she was at the Johnson's store" Sadie replied, running her fingers through her hair "Why is my hair wet?"

A search party was set out for the girls. Nellie May Connor was soon discovered, her body twisted in a horrible manner, her lifeless eyes staring up at the bridge some 50 feet above her. Hours later, around 3 am, the search party heard a moan and followed it to find that Delia Brown had survived. As they carried little Delia up the gorge they heard her mutter weakly "Sarah was smart to throw us off the bridge"

Sadie was soon brought to trial and if convicted, was to become the first woman to be put to death by the electric chair. Many of the articles of the time oddly focus on her appearance:

Pale and slender as she is, and dressed in exquisite though simple taste, her long brown hair falling in thick waves around her face and shoulders, she looks more like a child of ten than a girl of seventeen, who is barged with a most awful crime, and whose life depends on the ability of her lawyers and the mercy of the jury. But she either does not mind or does not realize her position, for every once in a while she turns her face to the sunlit windows and smiles as though she were happy and contented. And then she scans the women who throng the court-room, only to sit back in her chair with a weary air as though the whole affair and her presence in court were bore.

Her face, while not particularly intelligent, is pretty. It bears a chic expression which is taking and she has a naive way of pursing up her lips which at times is, quite fascinating. There is nothing in her manners or her features which would indicate insanity or any other spirit than that of peace and girlish love.

Sadie's past was full of trauma and she was plagued by mental and physical illness. An Irish American, Sadie was raised in poverty with an absentee father and a mother described as "an irritable, quick-tempered, troublesome woman, with suicidal and homicidal tendencies." Sadie appeared to have suffered from epileptic seizures and lost time beginning very early in her childhood, presumably something inherited from her mother. When Sadie was only three her mother came across a bear while in the woods of Wisconsin and after running to a nearby house for help, she died soon thereafter, seemingly from shock.

At the age of 12 Sadie travelled with her alcoholic father, half-brother, and younger sister by foot from Wisconsin to Akron, New York. Which is very far.

Upon their arrival in Akron, Sadie's strange behaviors did not stop. Once Sadie had found herself atop a ladder picking cherries, miles and miles from home, and another time she found herself at her front door wearing nothing but her underwear, her clothes were tucked underneath her arm and were soaking wet and she could not remember why.

All of these stories of her losing time were never brought up until the trial. So, it's debtable whether she was insane. But let us give her the benefit of the doubt. Despite this history of mental illness Sadie showed many signs that her murders were premediated.

Two days prior to the murder, she sent a letter to her aunt in Buffalo, on October 29, which reads, in part: "I don't care if I never hear from him. I won't look at him when I come back. He will find that I ain't as soft as I look." Clearly a strange letter about a liaison with a lover.

On Halloween, the day of the murders, Sadie received a letter while in the company of Simon Brown's sister, Hannah. While Hannah did not know the letters' contents, she could tell it upset Sadie. It was from a servant at one of Sadie's former employers in Buffalo, accusing her of stealing diamonds and valuables from the mansion she used to work at. Barely hiding her emotions, Sadie ran home and penned the following letter to her aunt:

DEAR AUNTY:

When you get this I will be far from earth, I am sick and tired of living and as I told you my last hope is come at last—I am thankful to die, people rebuke me for things that I am not guilty of and as I have no one to love me, I can go in peace, as my heart I leave in Akron with the one I always spoke to you of, as he seems to not care for me. I know it is a sin to put an end to myself, but I am not the only one, my brain is longing for the end, now if I only had my little brother to take with me I would be happy. If I had died when I was young how thankful I would have been, but as it is, I must die as it is, so tell my sister that I love her as much as ever, but could not stay with her. I hope you will see to them as I know you will and when I am dead I will come to you and explain, but do not fear me I will not hurt you and the man I loved will know me as a frequent visitor. Oh dear, if it was only over how thankful I would be. I think I will take some one with me so I will close my last letter on earth, hoping God will do justice with me, as he does with everybody, so when you get this you will know that I am no more, you will find my body in the basin in Buffalo, please bury me in Akron as I will be near my loved one so good bye—from Sadie, your no more niece.

The letter was written in a haphazard scrawl that did not resemble Sadie's handwriting, and Sadie herself could not remember writing it. SoI believe that either someone else wrote it for the newspapers or she really had written it in an epileptoid state. Later, it was also discovered that the stolen valuables from her former employer were recovered, seemingly misplaced in one of Sadie's blackouts.

So who was this man that Sadie was obsessed with? Rumor has it that Sadie was in love with Simon Brown, jealous of Mrs. Eliza Connors, a widow and Nellie May's mother, whom was said to be involved with Simon. It was believed that Sadie and Simon were once engaged but he had put an end to it because of Eliza or because it was inappropriate, or even because he may have realized Sadie was a little off her rocker. Others purport that Sadie was in love with Simon Brown's brother, and this was the man mentioned in her letters. Regardless, people believed the murders were to exact revenge on her former lover and his new betrothed, but these claims were unfounded and mainly based on the sensationalist headlines.

Which, I just want to mention that while now, it being 2020 these newspaper articles are considered primary sources because they are reporting of the time. But at the time they were not primary sources. They were secondary and even tertiary sources. So, whenever you're reading historic newspapers, while they seem like primary sources, they also have a lot of their own biases. One of those is that they're written to sell newspapers. A lot of these stories that come up there's no basis in fact. For example, Hannah said a lot of things like "She was possessed by the devil, I saw it in her eyes!" but in another article she said that Sadie would never harm a child. So while these sources are historic, they are also very much tabloid-ish. But that's also the fun of Victorian news stories. The way that they write headlines is just so insane. But this was essentially their Keeping Up With the Kardashians.

That being said: Sadie's trial was extraordinarily short, lasting only two days. In fact, she was acquitted of the crimes due to insanity. Even though all the newspapers said she didn't seem insane, all the witnesses said she didn't seem insane, the medical community of Buffalo believed that she had carried these acts out in an epileptoid state and that she was not at fault. And so, the medical community decided that she should be institutionalized and treated.

Sadie was sent to the Buffalo State Asylum for the Insane. Which, by the way is very famous for its architecture, it has served as inspiration for horror movies and video games and is very haunted. It is still an active asylum…and I attended undergrad only hundreds of feet from it.

After only a year and a half, the Asylum Superintendent, (J.B.) Andrews, said, "that she is now perfectly sane" and they just released her. That's it. I thought there might be some outrage in newspapers at the time but I was reading them and they were more or less apathetic. "Oh, yeah, Sadie got out. She's cured now." Which a) I think is rare for them to be like "Oh someone is cured of mental illness!" instead of just torturing them but also b) it's also weird that they just didn't report on it.

So this begs the question…was she just faking it? Since all these stories of her history of mental illness didn't arise until the trial and then she was miraculously cured and let go? Was she faking being insane to avoid the electric chair, and once she was in treatment in the asylum was just like, "Oh, wow! I'm better now!" It's weird to me.

One of her descendants has talked in YouTube videos and stuff and has tried to spin it as "This is the tragic story about Sadie and mental illness" and all this stuff. And yes, mental illness is very important to discuss—I'm not trying to crap on that—but we also cannot forget that this woman's story wasn't that tragic: she went to the asylum for a year and a half and was let go and she fell into obscurity. No one knows what happened to her. Some say she went out west to Kansas, others claim she travelled to California. But ultimately no one knows what happened to Sadie McMullen.

In the end Sadie lived, a child died, and another was permanently injured because of her actions. So yes, it's important to focus on the mental illness part of the story it's also important to focus on the fact that a child's life was taken for no reason and this woman didn't even spend much time in the asylum; they just let her go. What's to stop her from doing it again? It's a complicated issue, but I don't know if I buy that Sadie was insane. It seems just all too convenient that she got out after only a year: that's unheard of. But maybe I'm just being problematic.

So, I used a number of sources for this story. As usual they are in the show notes.

Stay spooky, my friends.

One of the most famous haunted houses in all of Ohio is located on Franklin Boulevard, and known to most as Franklin Castle. This glorious home, though not a castle, has a unique architectural style, described as "Victorian eclectic" Its stone face and castle turret are strongly reminiscent of Shirley Jackson's Hill House (the book, not the poorly adapted Netflix show). However, can Franklin Castle hold a candle to Hill House? Tales of a family curse, a stern patriarch prone to fits of rage, murder, staged suicides, incest, Nazis, and infanticide all surround this kingly estate.

Submit your feedback or personal stories to [email protected]

Podcast Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/crimesandwitchdemeanors

Podcast artwork by GiAnna Ligammari: https://gialigammari.wixsite.com/portfolio

Sources:

Year: 1880; Census Place: Cleveland, Cuyahoga, Ohio; Roll: 1007; Page: 100C; Enumeration District: 031

Tenth Census of the United States, 1880. (NARA microfilm publication T9, 1,454 rolls). Records of the Bureau of the Census, Record Group 29. National Archives, Washington, D.C.

Year: 1870; Census Place: Cleveland Ward 10, Cuyahoga, Ohio; Roll: M593_1191; Page: 428A; Family History Library Film: 552690

1870 U.S. census, population schedules. NARA microfilm publication M593, 1,761 rolls. Washington, D.C.: National Archives and Records Administration, n.d.

Deaths. (1895, March 29). Plain Dealer, p. 1. Available from Readex: America's Historical Newspapers: https://infoweb-newsbank-com.i.ezproxy.nypl.org/apps/readex/doc?p=EANX&docref=image/v2%3A122AFBBA107AC9E4%40EANX-125B82720365D544%402413282-1259E7039A87F410%400.

A.J. Tiedemann Dead. (1906, April 21). Plain Dealer (111), p. 14. Available from Readex: America's Historical Newspapers: https://infoweb-newsbank-com.i.ezproxy.nypl.org/apps/readex/doc?p=EANX&docref=image/v2%3A122AFBBA107AC9E4%40EANX-125D4300F8779155%402417322-125B863C012FB806%4014-138EBFA6F9A8C3CE%40Mortuary%2BNotice.

Colangelo, B. J. (n.d.). Artist Zac Webb Talks About Living in Franklin Castle, the "Most Haunted House in Ohio." Cleveland Scene. Retrieved November 12, 2020, from https://www.clevescene.com/scene-and-heard/archives/2018/10/11/artist-zac-webb-talks-about-living-in-franklin-castle-the-most-haunted-house-in-ohio

Quinn, T., J. (1999, November 8). Fires set in historic Franklin Castle. Plain Dealer, 1A.

R/GhostAdventures—Newest Season, Latest Episode, #2. At seven minutes and thirty second I to the episode ( 7:30) Zach explained how as man set "Franklin Castle" on Fire. Zach said he could not disclose the details of the Mans Intent, or his name, or anything else about the Arsonist. Does any1 know why that it ??? (n.d.). Reddit. Retrieved November 12, 2020, from https://www.reddit.com/r/GhostAdventures/comments/ff7ouv/newest_season_latest_episode_2_at_seven_minutes/

Join me in uncovering the truth behind the legend of Angola's Pigman. This half-man, half-beast spectre stalks Holland Road in Angola, New York. In life he was a brutal butcher responsible for murdering teens and countless others, in death he still terrorizes those who dare step foot on his property...or was he? We use archival resources to dissect this legend and discover the truth.

Submit your feedback or personal stories to [email protected]

Podcast Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/crimesandwitchdemeanors/

Episode Transcript:

https://crimesandwitchdemeanors.com/2020/12/11/ep001-legend-of-the-pigman/

Podcast Artwork by GiAnna Ligammari: https://gialigammari.wixsite.com/portfolio

Sources:

Angola Butcher Slain; Suspect Held. (1931, July 13). Buffalo Evening News, 1, 3.

Anselmo, Francis J. WWII Draft Card (1947). WWII Draft Registration Cards for California, 10/16/1940-03/31/1947 (Record Group: Records of the Selective Service System, 147; Box: 49). The National Archives in St. Louis, Missouri.

Carnegie Hero Medal and $1,000 Cash Awarded Ted Miller for Saving Boy's Life. (1919, May 1). Angola Record, 1.

Colmerauer, Catherine. (2011, October 27). Misguided man or unmerciful monster: Uncovering the legend of Pigman. The Hamburg Sun, 35–36.

Francis Joseph Anselmo (1913-1981)—Find A Grave... (n.d.). Retrieved November 7, 2020, from https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/85844336/francis-joseph-anselmo

THEODORE MILLER, Angola, New York. (n.d.). Carnegie Hero Fund Commission. Retrieved November 7, 2020, from https://mychfc.org/hero.aspx?hero=18422

Theodore Miller Dies, Native Angolan. (1962, April 26). Evans Journal, 2.

Vogel, Charity (2013). The Angola Horror: The 1867 Train Wreck That Shocked the Nation and Transformed American Railroads. Cornell University Press.

TRANSCRIPT:

Hello, and welcome to the first episode of Crimes and Witch-Demeanors, I am your host Joshua Spellman. On this podcast, we investigate the paranormal, historic crimes, myth, legends, and other curiosities through a critical lens. I am an academic and a skeptic, but also a practicing witch. I find many paranormal podcasts are either a little dry in their tellings or are poorly researched and a detached from reality. I am a librarian and archivist by day and have worked in museums, special libraries, and universities. I have an undergraduate degree in anthropology and a master's degree in information science. With my professional background, I'm hoping to bring a little archival spice into the usual ghostly gab, and see if we can seek out the truth among the tall tales. I'm hoping to strike a balance between fun and facts while also looking for logical explanations of some of our favourite ghostly tales.

I want to play around with format, but the idea is that each episode will begin with a formal story time, after which we will have a ghoulish gossip sesh where we investigate the history of the locations or topics using primary sources, seeing what is fact and what is fabrication, and read first-hand accounts of the ghostly activities experienced in these locations. In today's episode we will be covering the Legend of the Pigman. The Story? A crazed butcher with a deformed face, placed pig heads on stick s outside his home to keep away intruders and he was responsible for the brutal slayings of innocent teenagers, leaving their bodies hanging from hooks in town. He murdered his children and his wife. In death, the Pigman now roams Holland Road as a half-man half-pig hell beast summoned from the hereafter by demonic rituals and pagan sacrifice. In his new form, he continues his reign of terror confronting anyone brave enough to enter his land between the two tunnels on Holland Road. Sit back, relax, and let's learn about the alleged history of Angola's Pigman.

The myth of the Pigman is part of an intricate interwoven web of tales, or as I see it, a tangled mess resulting from using a common thread to attempt to weave together a number of tragic events that befell a small town. But, in order to understand the story of the Pigman, we must begin our tale with a seemingly unconnected, very real mass casualty event: The Angola Horror.

The village of Angola, in Evans, New York, is a town seemingly plagued by strife. It is located 30 miles south of Buffalo, New York and sits on the western edge of Lake Erie. This small village was erected around the Evans train built in 1852 which serviced the Buffalo and State Line Railroad.

Elisha Derrecks was a gentleman who built a homestead in 1855 on Holland Road, just south of newly laid tracks of Angola. Winters in Western New York are unforgiving due to the lake effect snow that blows off of Lake Erie to the west and Lake Ontario to north, capable of snowfall of over 8 feet. In the winter months, Elisha and his teenage sons, Loring and Henry, would scour the railroad tracks in search of coal that had fallen from the passing trains. They would use this coal to fuel their hearth as it burned longer and hotter than wood. During one of these such trips in 1867, the Derrecks boys, while collecting coal, decided to remove a couple of the rail ties from the track use to as braces for one of their fences that had fallen into disrepair. Little did they know this decision would impact their lives and change the history of Angola and the railroad forever.

A train heading from Cleveland Ohio to Buffalo New York on December 18, 1867 was running very, very late. It had departed Cleveland's Union Terminal at 6:40 that morning and was due to arrive in Buffalo at 1:30 in the afternoon. However, along the way, the train lost time and was running 2 hours and 45 minutes late. In an attempt to not be any later, the train was traveling at a dangerously high speed and at 3:11pm, just as it was approaching a truss bridge over Big Sister Creek, the train derailed.

The train rocked from side to side. The brakes were applied. But the train was traveling too fast across the bridge. The last two cars detached from the train, with the last car careening down into the icy gorge below. The other car made it safely across the bridge, but slid 30 feet into the embankment. Only one person was killed in this car. The passengers in the other car were not so lucky.

As the last car plunged 40 feet into the gorge below, it came to rest at a dangerous angle, sending all the passengers toppling to one end of the car. As they lay there in a pile, the stove fell upon them, releasing hot coals. The train caught fire. The kerosene from the gas lamps fueled the fire as it ignited the upholstery and dry wood inside. While some of the passengers died from the smoke, the majority were burned alive. Witnesses to the scene heard the screams of those trapped inside and could smell their burning flesh. For five long agonizing minutes the horrid scene was filled with tortured shrieks of those inside …then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Nothing but the silence could be heard over the freshly fallen snow.

49 people died and even more were injured. This infamous accident led to a number of railway reforms, including safer methods of heating and more efficient braking systems. However, the role of the Derreck boys in this tragedy was allegedly covered up by the town of Angola, for fear of any further damage to the town's already tarnished reputation. Nevertheless, a clipping from the Buffalo News detailing the accident was hung in their home. It sat there either as a grim reminder of their shame, or as a macabre testament to their ghoulish accomplishments.

Henry married and moved to main street, while Loring remained on the original homestead on Holland Road. He renovated the property immensely and Loring married Betsy Crabtree, a woman who lived as an outcast in her hometown due to her parents being first cousins. Loring Derrecks' hand in tragedies did not end there. In 1911 he volunteered to help ignite fireworks for Angola's July 4th celebration. In unexpected turn of events, falling sparks ignited the store of fireworks launching them into the crowd, one rogue rocket pierced the arm of a young boy and burned many others.

After this incident Loring became more or less a recluse, rarely leaving the homestead on Holland Road. Despite this, Loring and Betsy bore a son, William Derrecks, on April 13, 1913. This would-be joyful event was marred by misfortune as the boy was born horribly disfigured. He was of normal proportions but possessed a clef lip and his nose was upturned and split down the center like a pig's. Perhaps William's physical disabilities were due to the nature of Betsy's parentage, but Loring couldn't help believe that he was paying for his crimes.

After the birth of their son, the agoraphobia of the Derricks only worsened, ashamed to let anyone ever see the boy.

In 1919, the six year old Derricks boy had wandered onto the train tracks completely unaware that a speeding train was barreling quickly towards him. Luckily, he was spotted by the one-armed crossing watchman, Theodore Miller, who ran to his rescue, pushing him out of the path of the oncoming train. Miller was awarded the Carnegie Hero Medal for his heroic act and gained some notoriety, for he was already somewhat known as skilled a one-armed boxer who used to travel the country demonstrating his skills. However, William Derricks was never identified in the press, for he was deemed too horrific. Despite this, Theodore felt for the boy as he also had a physical disability, and became friends.

As William grew older, he worked as an apprentice in a butcher shop not far from the Derrick's homestead on Holland Road. Though, it turns out William wasn't very good at butchering, and was soon was relegated to cleaning up the mess in the shop; sweeping up entrails and wiping the floors clean of blood.

Theodore Miller, having been a traveling oddity himself, used his connections in the circus to get William Derricks a deal. William jumped at the chance to be able to travel the country, earn a decent wage, and escape the ridicule and shame of his family. After a few years traveling with PT Barnum and Ripley, Derricks grew tired of the unsanitary conditions and transient nature of circus work, and once again returned to his home on Holland Road, marrying a woman by the name of Mildred Crabtree…his first cousin.

During his absence, Ed Ball Sanitation had opened a landfill adjacent to the Derricks family homestead and William gladly took up the position of night watchman and morning gatekeeper for the facility. Wearing a hood to hide his deformities, William conducted bi-hourly nightly checks of the landfill to ensure there was no trespassing or illegal dumping, and in the morning he would open the gates to allow trucks inside and hand off to his daytime replacement. Although, there was one aspect of his job that William loved the most – he had first dibs on any items coming into the landfill. He took full advantage of this perk, filling his home with items he considered to be valuable. This perk of the job soon evolved into a hoarding obsession and he ran out of room inside his house and so began scattering his spoils about his property.

To deter thieves from stealing his treasure, Derricks acquired animal heads from the butcher he used to apprentice for, and placed them on sticks around his property as a gruesome deterrent. The stories typically only speak of the pig heads, but William also used the heads of cows, goats, and sheep to repel unwanted guests.

William and Mildred had a son, William Jr., in 1962, and a set of twin girls at an unknown date. In 1966 Mildred died and, like all of the trinkets that William loved so much, he buried her in an unmarked grave on his land. William Jr. was sent away to a boarding school and no one knows what became of the twins. Word of mouth says they went to live with Crabtree relatives in Pennsylvania, but no one knows for certain.

Ed Ball Sanitation left the Angola area, leaving Holland Road destitute and nearly abandoned. The road fell into a state of disrepair, so eroded and full of potholes that it was nearly impassable by car. However, nestled between the two tunnel bridges, the Derricks' Homestead still stood, William left to reign over his kingdom of refuse, now truly and utterly alone.

Local teenagers began to use Holland Road as both a party spot and a lover's lane, since it was convenient that police rarely patrolled the area, due to the poor condition of the road. But it wasn't the law enforcement they should have been worrying about. Young lovers spending time together in their cars would be suddenly startled by loud poundings, not their own, on the car. And through the fog of their windows they could see the monstrous face of a Pigman leering at them, striking their vehicle in a rage. These reports continued without serious threat or injury until 1972, when things really…caught fire. So to speak.

Jacob Nesbit and Melissa Mallory had pulled over on Holland Road because they were, "lost and needing to read the map" when all of a sudden flames surrounded their vehicle and smoke flooded their lungs. Hastily, the couple pulled back onto the road and headed west toward Route 5 and Lake Erie to escape. It should be noted that while Holland Road is a two-way street, the bridges are only wide enough for one car to pass at the time, and they are nestled at the corners of hairpin turns. Speeding now, they came to the bridge but their way was blocked by a large, old black Ford Pickup truck, revving its engine. It's blinding headlights, nearly falling off the vehicle, shook violently and appeared to strobe. Flames shot from the exhaust stacks. Fearing for their lives, Jacob and Melissa turned around as quickly as they could but the old truck was in quick pursuit. It tailed them closely, nearly running them off the road, and now they were coming upon the second one-way tunnel bridge. They didn't even think to see if another car was making its way through the other side of the tunnel. They pressed hard on the gas, accelerating faster, plummeting into the darkness of the tunnel, and before they could even register it…they made it safely to the other side. The truck did not cross the threshold, and they were fortunate enough there were no oncoming cars. The police sent two officers to the area but never saw a sign of the truck, but they found the patch of scorched earth, steaming in the night. They went to William's house and knocked, but the lights were out and there was no answer. Since no one was hurt, the incident was written off.

The first nefarious incident happened that same year when a utility worker by the name of Harris Tompkins went missing while conducting door-to-door surveys. He was said to be last seen around Route 5, not far from Holland Road. Is it possible he knocked on the door of William Derricks and suffered at his hands, his body now buried amongst William's hoard as a gruesome trophy?

This time, law enforcement followed up on the tips they received and searched William's property. They did not find poor Harry Tompkins, but the site they discovered was almost as gruesome as happening upon a corpse. The Derricks' homestead was filled to the brim with newspapers, feces, and piles of William's spoils. Put more bluntly: garbage. Amongst the squalor they found a child, aged approximately 11, who was presumed to be William Jr., with a number of animals. William Sr., however, was not able to be located.

Before any legal action could be taken to remove the child and the animals from the property, on the night of October 31, 1973 the home was set ablaze. The smoke could be seen from miles around but nothing could be done. The road was not easily accessible and the water level of nearby Delaware creek was so low it could not be used as a source of water to extinguish the blaze. The house burned hot, fueled by the kindling of garbage inside, straight down to the foundation. Investigators could not discover a source of the fire and no bodies were ever recovered. However, William and his son were presumed to be dead.

Nevertheless, the sightings of the Pig Man continued. Strange guests began visiting the area, stealing from local shops and camping in the woods. They were thought to be William's family members or perhaps comrades from his circus days.

Then, on Halloween of 1978, exactly five year's since William's house went up in flames, the last home that stood on Holland Road was burned to the ground. The owner had been away on vacation at the time and so escaped a fiery fate. Although, upon his return, he discovered that all of his belongings from inside were scattered around the woods in neat little piles. The road was repaved in 1980, making it accessible by car once more. Fisherman and Hunters reported finding makeshift huts in the woods and in caves. Piles of trash would be found along the side of the road, and animal carcasses could be found hanging from the tunnel bridges that bookended the property of William Derricks.

To this day, sightings occur to those foolish enough to pass through the tunnels on Holland Road, or as it's become known, as he's made it clear the land is his…Pigman's Road.

Wow, what a ride! I really hoped you stayed with me for it, because here's where the fun starts. Where we can sus out fact from fiction and read first-hand paranormal encounters. How much of this legend is true, and what ghosts sightings are seen around here? So…what here is true? I can tell you with 100% certainty that the Angola Horror was very real and it had a lasting impact on the history of railway safety. But did the Derricks' boys have any part in it whatsoever? Probably not. There's a fantastic book by Charity Vogel titled he Angola Horror: The 1867 Train Wreck That Shocked the Nation and Transformed American Railroads covered the event itself and the factors leading up to it great detail. No boys or track tampering had been mentioned. If there was any evidence of track tampering or the boys' involvement, it would have been included.

So there's no mention of the Derrick's family in her book...and actually I couldn't find anything on the Derrick's family. I assumed their names had been changed for privacy, as one of the main internet sources claims, but using their birthdates I couldn't find anything. The source allegedly had pictures of William Derricks but they were conveniently removed for the family's privacy. Which is a little fishy. If this was the case, maybe their names and birthdates were changed? So...what could I look up to discover their identities?

I looked up the botched July 4th celebration that was mentioned and couldn't find any evidence of it happening. I scoured microfilm scans of The Angola Sun following that particular Independence day and those for an entire decade before and after and came up empty-handed. I think it would have been quite newsworthy if someone launched a whole bunch of fireworks into a crowd and burned their clothes to cinders and pierced a young boy's arm...but alas, nothing.

What else could I look up? What else would have been notable and recorded? And then I thought...oh my god. Theodore's heroic act on the train tracks. The story mentioned that he had won a Carnegie medal and a cash prize for his heroism. And I know for a fact that many institutions like the Carnegie keep records of all their awards. So I went to their website and they had a database.

So I searched: ANGOLA 1919. Nothing. THEODORE MILLER, 1919. Nothing. THEODORE and ANGOLA…bingo!

It actually did happen but it did not happen in 1919 as the story claims, the incident occurred in 1917. But there is an explanation for the 1919 date. That is when the Angola Record published the story and the award was officially granted. The actual event happened in 1917. And even better, a great surprise, even though the legend says that the name of the boy was never revealed...both the Carnegie foundation's records and the Angola Sun mention the name of the boy prominently. The boy who was allegedly never identified because of who he was. Was it William Derricks, the Pigman?

No. It was Francis J. Anselmo. But assuming his name had been changed maybe it was him. So, I looked up his birth records…and yes! He was born in the spring of 1913 as William was supposed to. This matches up perfectly with the information we have. While Francis was born in May, and William was supposed to have been born in April, it lines up nicely. It's the same age and he was involved in the incident. This must be the disabled man that the story is based on. But...it definitely wasn't.

I investigated further. Dead end. It turns out Anselmo had moved to California was drafted into the second World War; I found his military registration records. The good news is he survived the war and lived to be 68, dying in 1981. He's buried in Los Angeles' Forest Lawn. So…definitely not the Pigman. During the events of the Pigman, Francis would have been off living his best life in sunny California away from the 9 feet of snow that we get in Western New York.

But finding out that the boy was real, and that Theodore Miller was real...I was like -- okay. What about Theodore Miller was true? Did he really have one arm and was he really a wondrous one-armed boxer? This was…somehow...ABSOLUTELY true. It was probably the most joyous discovery was his obituary in the April 26, 1962 issue of the Evans Journal as he seems to have been the sweetest man. He passed away at 88 years old on April 15, 1962. It turns out that he was a world champion "arm bag puncher" and boxer having won a few medals. But the thing that really pierced my heart and made me go "Oh my god, Teddy is so precious" is that he was an accomplished glass etcher and known for his love of flowers (particularly roses) and was known for his beautiful gardens.

For his time, Teddy was really subverting stereotypes. He had one arm, so he was disabled, he was a world champion boxer, he saved a boy from being struck by a train, he was a real estate mogul (which I didn't mention earlier, but it was also in his obit), and he was also this really sensitive artist who just loved roses? Like. Teddy. I love you. But I digress. Enough about my crush.

I searched all the birth records of Angola and wasn't able to find anything matching the description of William or Loring or Henry or anyone in the family. So where did the name William Derricks even come from?

The name William Derricks didn't even show up until 2011 when a story was published in the Hamburg Sun about Holland Road. The information came from Tony Burtis of Western Door Paranormal Soceity. But other articles including emails from Angola historians support my hypothesis that William Derricks never existed.

I also looked for Harris Thompkins, or Harry Thompkins, the missing meter man? I didn't find any record or any story of that ever happening.

There's also that myth I briefly mentioned in the beginning of teenagers sneaking into the Pigman's home, being murdered, and their heads replacing the pigs on the sticks. Well, first off that is extremely unlikely that it happened…someone would have noticed and it would have been national news.

Another tale is that the Pigman had killed a butcher and hung him on a hook in his shop. Interestingly enough, this story has more of a…hook…in history so to speak. There actually was a murder of a butcher near Angola which made headlines in 1931. An interesting tale in its own right, involving the mob and warring meat sellers, but this was most likely the source of the butcher part of the Pigman story as it was an eventful part of the town's history.

On a scale of ooky to spooky, this story is rated dukie. There is no basis in fact. There may have been a boy that had a disability that people were scared of and maybe this developed into the legend being mixed with people retelling parts of the town's history they heard as kids. Overall, it seems the Legend of the Pigman was a desperate attempt to make sense of all these tragedies and crimes that occurred within Angola and try and make this mythology of their own.

But what about the sightings on Pigman's road? What are people seeing that is so scary?

I can tell you firsthand that I went to Pigman's road. I went there with my ex and his friends one winter night and the scariest thing about it is honestly those tunnels. The roads are newly paved. There's room for two cars on the road, but the tunnels only can fit one car at a time. So when you're driving through them in general you're supposed to honk your horn because there are hairpin turns right at the end of the tunnel so you can't see if another car is coming through or not. The horn honking is supposed to let them know that you're coming.

But interestingly, this has even been incorporated into the Pigman myth where you're supposed to turn off your headlights, drive through the tunnel without stopping your car, and if you honk your horn 13 times by the time you get from one end of the tunnel to the other the Pigman is supposed to appear. I can tell you that we did this--and there was no Pigman.

Other things that people are alleged to see are fires that start seemingly out of nowhere and are extinguished just as quickly. They report being followed by vehicles that just come out of nowhere or disappear into thin air, especially when they're entering or exiting one of the bridges. The sounds of humans screaming or the sounds of pig squeals coming through the woods with no known source are also heard. Shadow figures looming on the bridges. Sightings of the Pigman himself doing various things including walking in the woods, pickup up trash on the road, chopping down trees, or...asking you to stop your vehicle. Which, honestly? I would crap my pants.

And also trains. The bridges are still used by trains, mind you. But people see trains that are absolutely silent or trains that stop on top of the bridge as they're driving up to it and then when they get out of the tunnel, the trains have disappeared completely. So that could just be...trains.

So Angola and Evans are a small towns and I think a lot of the disturbances and screams are honestly just bored teenagers. I mean, what are you going to do? Go to Pigman's road to drink and do drugs? Or stay at home to drink and do drugs? You're obviously going to go to Pigman's road.

And then people say that especially in winter there are many experiences that they attribute to the Angola Horror. Which, I would be 100% on board with (chugga-chugga-choo-choo) for...but the Angola Horror...if you actually look at a map...happened nowhere near Holland Road. It actually happened 3.6 miles north. I don't think that the ghosts that suffered a horrible, tragic death 3 miles away would come all the way to Holland Road just to hang out and sit there.

Also, people report electronic interference a lot. People lose their cell signals and radio signals. I think that happened to us when we were there. We either had walkie-talkies or old flip phones and we found it hard to communicate with one another. SO maybe there is something fishy going on there...but don't take my word for it.

I looked at comments on news articles and facebook posts to see if I could find some other firsthand encounters. The first one is going to ruin everything. I'm not going to give her name, but her comment on the facebook post was just:

Sorry to ruin everyone's experiences but my family raised pigs on hardpan road... That's where the actual squeals came from. There's an explanation for everything that has happened there. And a lot of people where just like "Yeah, I grew up there. Literally nothing happened." But one person named Curt, had this story to tell:

Two events happen to me in early spring of 2015 My son and I were driving on Pigman road as soon we went under the stone bridge my GPS and cell phone was turn off the GPS was still plug in after a few past the bridge they turn again.The other event took place around this time last year I was going under the same bridge my car high lights started to fade and my engine started to loss power it was like something was draining all the electricity out of the car after few yards away from the bridge the car was fine.I truly believe that the road is haunted.

And this is not the first story within the comments about car engines mysteriously stopping and lights fading. But who knows? I don't have an explanation for that. It's not like car engines run on electricity -- I mean, well, mine does because I have a Prius, but not everyone has a Prius...so...who knows? Maybe there is something strange going on there...but it's definitely not the Pigman.

Hi! I'm Joshua Spellman, an archivist, librarian, practicing witch, a lover of all things weird, and the host of the Crimes and Witch-Demeanors podcast. Join me for ghost stories, historic true crime, legends, and tales of the paranormal examined through the lens of a quasi-skeptic! We put the "ahh!" in bibliography and try and seek out the truth among our favorite tall tales. I've found that paranormal shows are either quite factual but dry or really entertaining but lacking in the research department – on Crimes & Witch-Demeanors I seek to strike a balance between the two and separate fact from fiction while still having fun; adding some archival spice to the typical ghostly gab. I start off each episode with a ghost story or paranormal topic as it's typically told and then we have a ghoulish gossip sesh where examine historic and archival resources to learn what really happened and read first hand encounters of ghosts, goblins, and ghouls. We cover everything from local legends, historic true crimes, cryptids, aliens, and anything out of the ordinary -- if it's weird and you want it? We've got it! Please subscribe on Apple Podcasts or wherever you like to listen and let's get spooky!