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(Note: while this is a critical opinion, it’s a reflection on the novel itself, not on the people who may enjoy it. As my Grandma used to say, “It takes all kinds.”)

Ah, Wuthering Heights.

Come for the spooky highland moors setting, stay for the…well, I’m not sure why I stayed, actually. For me, it was 320 pages of, “Wow, this guy is irredeemable.”

I bought it for my Kindle because I have always been told that the novel is a mainstay of gothic romance literature. Could I really call myself a gothic literature fan/author if I never read Wuthering Heights?

(Narrator: “Yes, she could have.”)

I downloaded it to my Kindle app during a third trimester fit of restlessness and fatigue. Curled into a ball on my bed in between my fourth and fifth trips to the bathroom in one hour, I began.

I had zero expectations other than maybe a spooky setting and some type of love story. I didn’t anticipate perfect heroines or even a reliable narrator. In fact, one of my favorite novels is Lolita—the ultimate unreliable narrator. I don’t share this to brag, I’m just telling it as plainly as I can: my standards for readable characters aren’t high. I don’t need them to be likable or moral. The bar is on the floor.

Nevertheless, by page eighty, I was googling in earnest whether or not I was meant to despise the main characters of Wuthering Heights. I kept reading only to make sure everyone got what was coming to them. (Spoiler alert: they don’t.)

We all know the main couple. Even if you’re thinking, “No, I don’t,” I promise that you do. None of us has escaped witnessing this particular type of dysfunctional relationship.

Catherine and Heathcliff went to your junior high wearing vials of each other’s blood. They rode the bus with you in high school because Heathcliff punched his driver’s ed instructor. Catherine worked with you at the movie theater in college until she got caught recording films on her phone to upload to the internet. They’re chaotic, they’re messy, they’re likely third cousins, and they have matching Insane Clown Posse tattoos. We know them, we tolerate them—one time, we even lent them twenty bucks for Pall Malls and Monster Energy drinks.

The only successful love story comes at the very end and involves first cousins, one of whom repeatedly abuses the other for being illiterate. I got the impression this was meant to be heartwarming. (?)

I’ll admit to not being much of a romantic (or Romantic) novel reader. Still, I think a better love story would be Romeo and Juliet. Yes, it is a three day love affair between two teenagers resulting in the deaths of six people. I said what I said.

All of this with apologies to Emily Brontë. Bad reviews sting, and even though she’s been dead more than a century, I feel a little guilty lambasting her only novel. Technically, it’s fine. The writing itself is good, it’s organized and edited, it’s thorough and complex. I enjoyed the descriptions of the settings and weather in the moors. That part was peak gothic. But…

We don’t have to like characters, but we need to care what happens to them. By the end of Wuthering Heights, Heathcliff and all but one of the others could have hurled themselves into the sun and I would have barely registered a yawn. It’s not poorly written—I just don’t care. I wasn’t made to care. And that is the ultimate poison for readers. Apathy.

I’ll leave you with this exchange from Heathcliff, the “hero,” and Nelly, the housekeeper and narrator.

“If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable.”

“Because you are not fit to go there,” I answered. “All sinners would be miserable in heaven.”

Nelly gets it. I like to think Emily Brontë got it, too, and she’s winking alongside her. I’m willing to give the genre another shot. Jane Eyre awaits on my Kindle.

This is a dish surrounded by folklore. I’ve seen all kinds of different versions of the recipe’s origins on the internet, but they all boil down to pretty much the same thing: Eggs Goldenrod is a simple way to make everyday ingredients fancy enough for a special holiday brunch. The earliest iterations I’ve found online are from the 1940’s, but I suspect it goes back much farther, at least to the Depression. Eggs would have been a treat for some at the time, and this is a way to stretch them into a rich, satisfying meal fit for company, and one that can feed a crowd. As for me, I’ve got my own family story about Eggs Goldenrod. 

Every Christmas morning, my Grandma (Fran) would hover over her stove and make a huge batch of this for all of us. My parents, brother, and I would get up early at our house next door to open presents, and then Grandma would call us to let us know breakfast was ready. (“Yeah, are you coming up? Breakfast is ready.”) I’d run “up front” in my new Christmas pajamas, usually carrying one or two toys to show off to my cousins.

We’re a big family on my mom’s side. Her parents had 3 daughters, and they each married and had kids of their own, for a total of nine grandchildren. Add in my grandparents and a few extended family members, and you’ve got quite a crowd on Christmas day. It wasn’t a big house or a big kitchen. We didn’t care. A wood burning stove sat in the corner, and in the center of the kitchen was a table that really didn’t fit all of us, but we made it work.

Grandma poured Eggs Goldenrod on top of little Holland Rusk toasts alongside sausage or bacon. On the counter, there were plates of sweet pastries and freshly cut oranges and strawberries. Looking back, it wasn’t a big lavish thing, but it felt fancy and special. And really, it was. The house was warm, there was usually Christmas music wafting in from an old CD player (it was the ’90s…), and on really lucky years, snow fell outside, landing softly in the surrounding woods as the sun rose above the trees.

That’s what the holidays are all about, right? It’s so much deeper than the food. (Although the food was very good!) It was the care she always put into making memories for all of us. Hard boiling, chopping, slicing, stirring a roux in a warped antique cast iron skillet from the very early hours in the dark of her kitchen. Setting out the good china, piling them high with sweet rolls and coffee cakes. The fresh fruit that we could get any time of year but on Christmas somehow tasted like a delicacy.

All of it boils down to love. 

Our beloved Grandma has gone on to her great reward, and, logistically, my extended family can no longer gather for every single holiday. But on many Christmas mornings, my cousins and I still swap photos of our breakfasts or post them to social media. It’s always Eggs Goldenrod. The humble yet fancy dish is a link, an indelible memory we share–one of many, thanks to her.

Merry Christmas.

This is a dish surrounded by folklore. I’ve seen all kinds of different versions of the story on the internet, but they all boil down to the same thing: Eggs Goldenrod is a simple way to make everyday ingredients fancy enough for a special holiday brunch. The earliest iterations I’ve found online are from the 1940’s, but I suspect it goes back much farther, at least to the Depression. Eggs would have been a treat for some at the time, and this is a way to stretch them into a rich, satisfying meal fit for company, and one that can feed a crowd. As for me, I’ve got my own family story about Eggs Goldenrod. 

Every Christmas morning, my Grandma (Fran) would hover over her stove and make a huge batch of this for all of us. My parents, brother, and I would get up early at our house next door to open presents, and then Grandma would call us to let us know breakfast was ready. (“Yeah, are you coming up? Breakfast is ready.”) I’d run “up front” in my new Christmas pajamas, usually carrying one or two toys to show off to my cousins.

We’re a big family on my mom’s side. Her parents had 3 daughters, and they each married and had kids of their own, for a total of nine grandchildren. Add in my grandparents and a few extended family members, and you’ve got quite a crowd on Christmas day. It wasn’t a big house or a big kitchen. We didn’t care. A wood burning stove sat in the corner, and in the center of the kitchen was a table that really didn’t fit all of us, but we made it work.

Grandma poured Eggs Goldenrod on top of little Holland Rusk toasts alongside sausage or bacon. On the counter, there were plates of sweet pastries and freshly cut oranges and strawberries. Looking back, it wasn’t a big lavish thing, but it felt fancy and special. And really, it was. The house was warm, there was usually Christmas music wafting in from an old CD player (#itwasthe90s), and on really lucky years, snow fell outside, landing softly in the surrounding woods as the sun rose above the trees.

That’s what the holidays are all about, right? It’s so much deeper than the food. (Although the food was very good!) It was the care she always put into making memories for all of us. Hard boiling, chopping, slicing, stirring a roux in a warped antique cast iron skillet from the very early hours in the dark of her kitchen. Setting out the good china, piling them high with sweet rolls and coffee cakes. The fresh fruit that we could get any time of year but on Christmas somehow tasted like a delicacy.

All of it boils down to love. 

Our Grandma has gone on to her great reward, and, logistically, my extended family can no longer gather for every single holiday. But on many Christmas mornings, my cousins and I still swap photos of our breakfasts or post them to social media. It’s always Eggs Goldenrod. The humble yet fancy dish is a link, an indelible memory we share–one of many, thanks to her.

Merry Christmas.

“When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, ‘Come.’ I looked, and behold, a pale horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the Earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the Earth.”

— Revelation 6:7–8 (New American Standard Bible)

I’m your host, author Evan Camby. I write horror and suspense books and I’m the creator of this podcast where we discuss American legends, hauntings, and folklore. In today’s episode, we’re going to visit Waverly Hills Sanitarium in Louisville, Kentucky, one of the most notoriously haunted former hospitals in the United States, and a place that some have called “the most haunted building in America.”

Before Waverly Hills Sanatorium was featured on every ghost show on television, it was just a piece of land in Louisville, Kentucky owned by Major Thomas H. Hays, who purchased the property in 1883. Hays wanted a place for his daughters to attend school, and started a one-room schoolhouse on the site, hiring a woman named Lizzie Lee Harris to teach. In fact, it was Harris who coined the name “Waverly School,” as a nod to her fondness for the Waverly Novels by Sir Walter Scott. Hays liked the name, and so the land eventually became known as “Waverly Hill.”

The happy days of the one-room schoolhouse were short-lived, however. In its place, a two-story frame building with a hipped roof and half-timbering was constructed beginning in 1908. On July 26, 1910, Waverly Hills Sanatorium opened for business, with the goal of caring for and treating tuberculosis patients. While it was originally designed to accommodate 40-50 patients safely, the epidemic nature of the disease meant the the hospital soon outgrew its original capacity. Tuberculosis was running rampant, and Louisville was hit especially bad because of the wetlands along the Ohio River, which were a perfect breeding ground for the tuberculosis bacteria. In fact, at the beginning of the 20th century Louisville, Kentucky had the one of highest rate of tuberculosis deaths in the United States.

While we can treat tuberculosis today, at the time it was a very serious, often fatal disease. People of the time did not understand that it’s an airborne illness, but they did know that it was contagious. Because of this, those afflicted were isolated from the general public and put in areas where they could rest and have plenty of fresh air. Sanatoriums, like Waverly Hills, were purposely built on high hills surrounded by peaceful woods to create a proper atmosphere to help patients recover.

Much like Indiana’s Central State Hospital, which we discussed in the first episode of the podcast, Waverly Hills was a self-contained community. The hospital was almost a city in and of itself, complete with its own zip code. It had a post office, a water treatment facility, grew its own fruits and vegetables, raised its own meat for slaughter, and other necessities. Because of the epidemic nature of tuberculosis at the time, everyone at Waverly – not just patients but nurses, doctors, and other employees, had to leave everything they knew on the outside world and become kind of “citizens” of the facility. 

Even though it was the twentieth century, treatment of tuberculosis was limited at the time Waverly Hills opened. This was before the development of antibiotics, and patients were prescribed a regimen of fresh air year-round. In fact, there are photos of patients in hospital beds sitting out in the middle of winter, some of them covered with snow. Other treatments for tuberculosis were sometimes as bad as the disease itself. Some of the experiments that were conducted in search of a cure seem barbaric by today’s standards. One treatment involved patients’ lungs being exposed to ultraviolet light in an attempt to try and stop the spread of bacteria. This was done in what they called “sun rooms,” using artificial light in place of sunlight, or on the roof or open porches of the hospital.

In another treatment, balloons were surgically implanted in the lungs and filled with air to expand them. Unsurprisingly, this often had disastrous results, as did another operation that was commonly done where muscles and ribs were actually removed from a patient’s chest to allow the lungs to expand further. Doctors thought this would allow more oxygen to enter the lungs. This grisly procedure was often a last resort, and needless to day, most patients did not survive it. The treatments overall were largely ineffective, and hundreds (some reports even say thousands) of patients died during the thirty-five years Waverly Hills was in operation.

Beyond the sheer number of deaths at the facility, one of the most disturbing real-life elements at Waverly Hills is what’s known as the “Body Chute.” A five-hundred foot long concrete tunnel, it was designed to wheel the bodies of dead patients discreetly out of the facility to the bottom of the hill, where they would then be met by a hearse and taken for burial. While the purpose of the Body Chute, to shield patients from the potential reality of their illness and improve morale, was a good one, now that the facility is no longer in use, the tunnel is now one of the eeriest parts of Waverly Hills. The Body Chute was also used for delivering supplies from the local community to the closed off sanatorium, and during World War II was also used as an air raid shelter for patients and staff at the facility.

In 1961, the discovery of an antibiotic that successfully treated and cured tuberculosis rendered the facility obsolete, and Waverly Hills Sanatorium closed. In 1962, the building reopened as Woodhaven Medical Services, a nursing home. This facility was closed by the state in 1981.

In the following decades, the former Waverly Hills Sanatorium fell victim to vandals and damage, and the building was nearly condemned. In 2001, the building was purchased and since then many improvements and changes have been made to the building and surrounding property. The Waverly Hills Historical Society, established by the new owners, is tireless in their efforts to restore the historic building to its former splendor. But the former sanatorium’s legacy goes beyond the historic. The large amount of paranormal phenomena at Waverly Hills has attracted the interest of paranormal investigators from across the world.

If you ever find yourself driving up to Waverly Hills Sanatorium, the first thing you will notice is that the building itself has a foreboding facade. It’s really like something from a gothic novel, or another time much farther back than the early twentieth century. A former reporter for the Louisville Courier Journal described it as looking like something “out of a comic book, a place where the Joker might hide out from Batman.” Today, Waverly Hill Sanatorium is widely considered to be one of the most haunted places in the United States, based on the sheer volume of paranormal activity.  Some of the paranormal phenomena observed include voices in the empty rooms of the building, odd smells, and even the sensation of being touched. In one of the most astonishing signs of “proof,” full body apparitions have been captured on film and video in the hallways. 

Not long after the new owners purchased Waverly Hills, stories began to circulate about the spirits allegedly residing there, like the little girl seen running up and down the third floor, a little boy spotted playing with a leather ball, the hearse seen in the back of the building dropping off coffins, and the woman with the bleeding wrists crying for help. Visitors reported slamming doors, lights in the windows even though power no longer ran through the building, and strange sounds and footsteps in empty rooms. 

Another legend of Waverly Hills involves a man in a white coat sometimes seen walking in the former kitchen and the smell of cooking food wafting through the room. When the new owners bought the facility, the kitchen was in a state of ruin, with broken windows, fallen plaster, broken tables and chairs and puddles of water and debris from a leaking roof.  The nearby cafeteria was in a similar state. While these spaces at Waverly Hills were obviously long-since abandoned, several people reported hearing footsteps in the rooms, seeing a door swing shut on its own, and the smell of fresh bread in the air.

Many who worked on repairs also reported seeing a mysterious man in white drifting through the corridors. Volunteers working on restorations experienced ghostly sounds, heard slamming doors, saw lights appear in the building when there should have been none, had objects thrown at them, were struck by unseen hands, and reportedly saw apparitions in doorways and corridors. Others had run-ins with a ghost named Timmy, a boy who roams the hallways and allegedly pushes a ball back and forth. When the facility finally opened to the public for tours, visitors frequently corroborated these experiences. One visitor claimed to see the distinct silhouette of a man crossing a doorway, passing into the hall, and then disappearing into a room on the other side of the corridor. The visitor claimed this was a man wearing what appeared to be a long, white drape, not unlike that of a doctor’s coat.

While the entire facility is said to be rife with hauntings, the fifth floor is especially notorious. Specifically, Room 502 is also known for being haunted by the ghost of a nurse who, allegedly despondent at finding herself pregnant and unmarried, hanged herself from a light fixture in 1928 when she was twenty-nine years old. It’s unknown how long she may have been hanging in this room before her body was discovered. In 1932, another nurse who worked in the same room allegedly jumped from the roof patio and plunged several stories to her death. No one seems to know her motive, but many have speculated that she may have actually have been pushed over the edge. I will note that there are no records to confirm either of these stories that I was able to find, but rumors, and strange experiences in room 502, persist. This floor of the hospital consisted of two nurses’ stations, a pantry, a linen room, medicine room and two rooms on either side of the nurses’ stations. According to the stories, visitors have seen human figures moving in the windows and have also heard disembodied voices on the fifth floor.

Today, the owners of Waverly Hills run a series of paranormal tours at the former sanitarium, including a 2.5-hour historical tour, a 2-hour guided paranormal tour, and a 6-hour public investigation tour. They also hold special events during the Halloween season, and all proceeds go towards the restoration of the century old facility.

As a history enthusiast, I am happy that the Waverly Hills Historical Society is so dedicated to preserving the building and history of the sanatorium. The tuberculosis epidemic is sometimes referred to as the “forgotten plague.” Even though you may not be aware of it, I can pretty much guarantee that an ancestor of yours succumbed to the disease, as it is said to have killed one out of every seven people during its peak. In fact, through my research I discovered that one of my great-great grandmothers succumbed to the disease in 1899 at the age of 28 after only twelve months of illness. I have a photo of her before contracting tuberculosis, and a photo of her afterwards where she is hardly recognizable. She went from a young, pretty woman to completely skeletal in less than a year. Tuberculosis was truly a horrific, miserable disease which stole the lives of scores of people until, mercifully, a treatment was discovered.

Below: her obituary from 1899. “Consumption” is another word for tuberculosis.

We often think of haunted places as being “bad” or evil.” While that might occasionally be true, I don’t agree in this case. Louisville’s Waverly Hills Sanitarium wasn’t necessarily a bad place. Doctors simply did not have the knowledge they do now, and some of their practices seem barbaric compared to present day medical care. Other tragedies also occurred there, almost as if the many deaths themselves were contagious.

Though it’s now perhaps most famous for being one of the many haunted former hospitals in the US, the land at Waverly Hills Sanatorium was, at one point, a lot of things to a lot of people: schoolhouse, hospital, work place, nursing home, sick bed, and for some, death bed. Some visitors have noted that the place gives them a feeling of sadness even more than any feelings of fear. Whatever the skeptics say, it’s evident to me that the sheer volume of emotional experiences there—both positive or negative—has resulted in the astonishing amount of paranormal phenomena that continue to be observed to this day. 

Maybe it’s not just the ghosts that haunt us, though. You and I know all too well the realities of pandemics, and I think we’re now acutely aware the the next scary illness could be right around the corner. There are limits to our knowledge and science, no matter the age we live in. Waverly Hills stands as a stark reminder of that reality, a glimpse of both the past and the future.

I’ll leave you some words from Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, “Masque of the Red Death.”

“And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.”

***

Thank you for tuning in to this episode of the Eerie USA Podcast. Make sure to subscribe to the show so you never miss an episode. Consider supporting us on Patreon at patreon.com/EvanCamby for where I share one exclusive piece of behind the scenes content every Friday for less than the price of a fancy coffee. 

For more scary stories, check out my books on Amazon. My horror story collection, “Walking After Midnight: Tales for Halloween” available on Amazon, and the entire series is available in ebook and paperback formats from .99 cents to $9.99.

Join us for the next episode where we’ll be visiting the allegedly haunted Congress Plaza Hotel in Chicago, Illinois, who’s notable guests include the likes of gangster Al Capone and serial killer H.H. Holmes. Until next time, I’m your host Evan Camby, bringing you America’s forgotten places and forgotten people.

https://www.courier-journal.com/story/news/local/2022/09/14/louisville-waverly-hills-sanatorium-urban-legend-history/9501082002/

https://www.spiritualtravels.info/spiritual-sites-around-the-world/north-america/ghost-hunting-at-waverly-hills/

http://edgewaterhistory.org 

“The Masque of the Red Death,” Edgar Allan Poe

Classic Horror 1″ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

“Zombie Hoodoo” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Quinn’s Song: First Night Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License
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“But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion”

“The Gettysburg Address,” Abraham Lincoln 

I’m your host author Evan Camby. I write horror and suspense books and I’m the creator of this podcast where we discuss American legends, hauntings, and folklore. In today’s episode, we’re going to visit one of our most storied and hallowed battlegrounds, Gettysburg Pennsylvania, and the many restless spirits believed to still walk its blood stained earth.

President Lincoln was correct when he said we could never forget what the soldiers at Gettysburg did. It was one of the most pivotal moments in our nation’s history, and also one of our bloodiest. For that reason, I’m going to delve into the history of this location a bit more than I usually do. Fought from July 1 through July 3, 1863, the decisive Union victory was a major turning point in a bitter, bloody, and emotionally charged civil war. With more than 50,000 estimated casualties, those three days were the bloodiest single battle of the conflict. Since 165,620 forces were engaged, that means for every three soldiers, one was a casualty of the battle. 

Gettysburg ended Confederate General Robert E. Lee’s second attempt to invade the North and bring the Civil War to an end. The loss ended the hopes of the so-called Confederate States of America to become its own independent nation.

While it might seem unlikely to us today that the Confederacy could ever have successfully invaded the North, Gettysburg came after a year of defensive Confederate victories in Virginia. Lee had hoped that, by winning a battle north of the Mason-Dixon line, it would force a negotiated end to the fighting. Of course, the writing was on the wall after the loss at Gettysburg, and Lee fled south with a wagon train of wounded soldiers making their way towards the Potomac. Unfortunately, the Union failed to pursue them, missing what some military experts note as a critical opportunity to trap Lee and force a Confederate surrender. The bitterly divisive, deadly war dragged on for another two years until Robert E. Lee surrendered the last major Confederate army to Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Virginia Courthouse on April 9, 1865.

But the effects of the civil war, and the tragic aftermath of slavery went on for many, many more years. From 1865 to 1877, the government took on the challenges of reintegrating the South back into the Union and determining the legal status of formerly enslaved black Americans during what’s now known as the Reconstruction era. It was anything but an overnight process and, in many ways, there are battles we’re still fighting today. 

Gettysburg represents this ongoing struggle well, because when it comes to the hallowed battlefield and town, many believe that some of its soldiers are still fighting as well.

Gettysburg was held at the battlefields just off of what is now known as Baltimore Pike. The restless spirits of those soldiers on both sides of the fence are said to be unaware that the battle has ended and that time has moved on without them. Some even say that, acre for acre, there is no place more haunted in the United States than Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

Visitors and residents alike have reported experiencing a wide variety of paranormal phenomena over the years, including: sightings of ghostly regiments, phantom horsemen, and even faces and figures mysteriously appearing in photographs taken by unsuspecting tourists. These Civil War apparitions have inspired the idea that the spirits of the battle’s many casualties were so disturbed by the violence and trauma that, in death, their spirits are trapped. Some are confused, some are heartbroken, still others are looking for victory or redemption. There are even rumors of exorcisms that have taken place on the battlegrounds—yet the spirits remain. 

Because of the age of the battlefield itself, it may be true that some of the more famous ghost stories have been passed around like a game of telephone and, at this point, are more based in legend than actual firsthand knowledge. But if that’s the case, how do we explain the numerous experiences that visitors have reported in the second half of the twentieth century, and continue to report today?

One of Gettysburg’s oldest, and some might say strangest, ghost stories began during the famous battle itself. According to the legend, some Union troops reported seeing General George Washington—dead since 1799—riding his horse in an apparent attempt to lead them to victory. While this sounds like propaganda or perhaps even motivation for Union troops who sought to emphasize their belief that our first president would have certainly been on their side, other ghost stories surrounding Gettysburg are more perplexing.

Now a national historic site, there are various older buildings within Gettysburg National Military Park which are used to house park rangers. At the time of the battle, the sheer number of the wounded and dying meant that nearly all of the nearby homes and businesses were, at one point, used during the battle as makeshift field hospitals and shelters. Some theorize that these traumatic events have resulted in the widely reported paranormal phenomena at Gettysburg. Many of these rangers have reported experiencing strange manifestations, including unexplained crying, the sounds of footsteps with no one else around, and the smell of tobacco when no one was smoking. 

The Herr Tavern, an Inn built in 1815, was used as the first Confederate field hospital at Gettysburg. Amputations were so commonplace that they allegedly resulted in limbs being thrown through the windows to be collected later. Unfortunately, due to unsanitary conditions and rampant disease, amputation rarely worked to save lives, and many of the soldiers died after the procedures. Today, it’s said that four of the guest rooms at the Herr Tavern are haunted, and the rooms are purposely numbered so that there is no room 13, thought to be an unlucky number in hotels across the world. 

The Dobbin House Inn is an old stone house that was famously once a stopping point on the Underground Railroad. Enslaved people who once hid  were forced to conceal themselves for lengthy periods in tiny, secret hiding places located beneath the floor and in the walls of the inn building. Those hiding places still exist and can be viewed by modern visitors as a stark reminder of this dark time in our history.

As far as the hauntings of The Dobbin House Inn go, some believe that the ghost of the Inn’s owner and founder, Alexander Dobbin, appears at various places throughout the inn, typically smoking a cigar. In addition, it is believed that some of those who came to this house in search of freedom and safety may have returned here after death, or perhaps the spirits of some who didn’t survived their flight to reach this place may have eventually arrived anyway and stayed at the place which promised refuge from the cruelties of slavery.

Spectral visions of of enslaved people and the ghosts of soldiers have been seen haunting the building. Even more disturbing, unexplained blood stains are said to manifest on the floorboards at night, only to disappear as the dawn breaks.

The George Weikert House is another building that served an important purpose during the battle. One of several farms of the family, the George Weikert House served as a field hospital just like Herr Tavern. And like Herr Tavern, many amputations were performed there, and hundreds of soldiers died either from their wounds or the surgery itself. According to the Weikert family history, six men died in the parlor, and the yard was filled with graves. Eventually, when the buried were exhumed to be placed in the National Cemetery, the missing parlor rug was found, cut into strips as the top and bottom layers of the burial trench.

Since the war, the George Weikert House has had many different occupants, and several of them have stories to tell about their experiences with the paranormal. One of the previous residents of the house claimed that a door on the second floor refused to stay closed, no matter what they did to it. One park ranger even nailed the door shut, and yet it somehow opened again. Other occupants have reported the sounds of footsteps pacing back and forth in the attic, as if the heavy tread of boots were crossing above their heads. Then, the boots would cross back, as if the person above them were pacing while in deep thought. Of course, when the residents would go upstairs to check, the would find nothing and no one. 

Another family farm used as a field hospital and burial ground was Rose Farm. Like at the George Weikert House, hundreds of soldiers were treated and later buried around the house and property. They were exhumed in November 1863, although the claiming of the bodies and re-burials were  processes that took many years.

According to a local doctor named Dr. J.W.C. O’Neil, and reported by author Mark Nesbitt, one of the daughters on the Rose Farm lost her mind during the exhumations, traumatized from having lived through the battle and its aftermath in her own home. She claimed to have seen blood actually flowing from the walls of the house. Today, we might say she suffered from post traumatic stress disorder, and was reliving the days when the house served as a hospital. It’s easy to imagine that with thousands of amputations, at one point or another the walls would have become bloodied. 

These are but a few examples of the haunted buildings that still stand from the Battle of Gettysburg. There are undoubtedly many others which served as hospitals and refuges for soldiers that have been lost to time, along with graves that remain unknown to this day. Haunted buildings are common in every part of the world, but there are certainly a higher concentration of them in and around the battlefields of Gettysburg. 

Beyond the buildings, on the grass which once absorbed the blood of tens of thousands of soldiers, there are numerous tales of paranormal phenomena. Full body apparitions—soldiers riding horses and marching in formation—and horrible sounds— the groaning cries of the wounded and the shouting of commands issued in the heat of battle—have been reported in various areas of the battleground for more than one hundred years.

One of the oldest allegedly haunted sites of Gettysburg is Iverson’s Pits, an open field of nondescript farmland bordered on one side by a low stone wall, where supernatural phenomena has been reported as far back as the late 19th century. Since the fighting, tales of ghostly figures and mysterious lights have marked Iverson’s Pits. In a battle which saw enormous suffering and bloodshed, Iverson’s Pits stands out as a site of exceptional brutality. A hapless North Carolina brigade led by Brigadier General Alfred Iverson had only recently arrived at Gettysburg and were tasked to outflank the Union First Corps at Oak Hill, the northernmost point of Seminary Ridge. Iverson, either through incompetence or over-confidence, failed to deploy the proper defense to prevent an ambush, and within minutes, more than nine hundred of his brigade lay dying in the grass. The few still standing fled the field, leaving their wounded comrades behind. Iverson suffered a nervous breakdown shortly afterwards and was relieved of his command, banished for life from ever leading in the military again. Locals began calling the area “Iverson’s Pits,” and for years afterward, the owner of the property claimed that the wheat always grew tallest in that part of his field. 

Not long after the battle, the bodies were interred in rows of hastily dug trenches, basically in the same spots where they fell. As time went on and the grass settled, the field was visibly marked with sunken rows, a stark reminder of the field’s deadly past. Though the bodies have long since been exhumed and returned to the South, for decades after the battle, the owner of the property claimed that his farmhands were terrorized by the ghosts of soldiers, and they refused to remain on the property after sunset. 

On the grounds of the battlefield lies a natural rock formation known as Devil’s Den, which many believe has the highest concentration of paranormal phenomena in all of Gettysburg.

Although the Civil War made Devil’s Den famous, strange stories plagued the area for years beforehand. The site got its name because local residents long ago once believed a snake lived there ranging anywhere from 8 to 15 feet long, earning the nickname “The Devil.” Some early accounts of the area recall that the tangled outcropping of rocks was a hunting ground for Native Americans for centuries, and there are even reports that a huge battle was fought there predating Gettysburg, known as “The Battle of the Crows.” Early settlers reported hearing war cries and seeing the ghosts of Native American warriors, and there are stories that this was a site sacred to some native tribes. There is a theory that the scattered rocks are the remnants of a tall pyramid or structure built by Native Americans centuries ago. The area had long been considered a desolate and spooky place, and many settlers felt that it had an overall ominous vibe. While some believed that the rocks marked the entrance to a cave or cavern, no cave actually exists at the location, but the rocks are piled so high that the crevices between them give the illusion of deep, dark tunnels.

During Gettysburg, the terrain and piles of rocks created a maze for troops on both sides of the battle. As lines broke, the fight became man against man, and the large boulders helped provide hiding places as well as ambush spots. Soldiers ducked behind the rocks, running from boulder and shooting as they ran. Like many battles of the Civil War, the soldiers didn’t know if the person on the other side would be friend or foe, stranger or kin. 

The Confederate forces overwhelmed the Union at Devil’s Den for a time and took control of the ridge, but the victory was short-lived. The Union forces counter-charged and some Maine and Pennsylvania troops succeeded in pushing the Confederates back. By the end of the battle, the rocks of Devil’s Den had become a bloody pit of the dead, and the dead remained unburied for several days or up to several weeks. After fighting was over, some Confederate soldiers were ordered to stand guard at night. Many of them described Devil’s Den as strange and unnerving—as if it was an unnatural, shared space of the living and the dead.

Today, Devil’s Den is located in the Triangular Field, where cameras and electronic equipment are said to rarely work, within the larger Valley of Death, the area where apparitions of soldiers are frequently reported. Visitors to this area of Gettysburg battlefield have reported hearing the sounds of drums and gunshots, as well as spotting a barefoot, shabbily dressed man. Some even claim the man attempted to give them directions, and one visitor said he tried to hold their hand. One of the most repeated stories of Devil’s Den is that, when visitors try to take pictures, there is often some type of camera malfunction which prevents them from capturing their shot.

Another reputedly haunted area around the battlefield is the campus of Gettysburg College, where there are claims of a ghostly Confederate sentry still standing guard overlooking the campus. But my personal favorite story concerns an elevator located in an administrative office building now known as Pennsylvania Hall, and which existed in 1837.

Author Mark Nesbitt told of of two college administrators who were working on the fourth floor of the building one night. As they were leaving, they stepped into the elevator, pressing the button which would lead them to the first floor. Instead of taking them to their destination, the elevator passed it and came to a stop at the basement level. The administrators watched in horror as the elevator doors then opened to a terrible scene.

The modern day basement storage room had vanished, and in its place was a blood-splattered operating room of 1863. Wounded soldiers were lying  on the floor, and doctors and orderlies in bloody clothing tended to them. Thought it was obviously a chaotic scene, the witnesses reported that the entire basement was completely silent.

Shocked and terrified, the administrators repeatedly pushed at the elevator button, desperate to close the doors and escape the grisly scene before them. Just before the doors closed, they both said that one of the spectral orderlies looked directly at them with pleading eyes, as though desperate for help.

As President Lincoln once said, the soldiers themselves consecrated the grounds at Gettysburg, there is nothing we can do to add to it or subtract from  it. One of the bloodies battles of a war which remains a painful part of America’s past—it is a kind of wound on our nation’s collective soul, and it remains to be seen whether the wound will ever completely heal. Interest in the ghosts of Gettysburg remains as strong as ever, more than one hundred and fifty years after the battle and war ended. In addition to the battlefield itself, a visit to Gettysburg National Park offers the opportunity to see the more than thirteen hundred monuments on the battlefield. It is currently one of the most popular destinations not just for historical tourism but paranormal tourism in the country. Today, eight separate companies offer ghost tours at Gettysburg—some seasonally, others year-round.

Based on the grip the battle and its spirits have on us, we might say that Gettysburg haunts us as much as the restless soldiers still haunt its hallowed grounds.

I’ll leave you with some words from the 1974 Pulitzer prize-winning book The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara, a historical novel based on the Battle of Gettysburg:

“Chamberlain closed his eyes and saw it again. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. No book or music would have that beauty. He did not understand it: a mile of men flowing slowly, steadily, inevitably up the long green ground, dying all the while, coming to kill you, and the shell bursts appearing above them like instant white flowers, and the flags all tipping and fluttering, and dimly you could hear the music and the drums, and then you could hear the officers screaming, and yet even above your own fear came the sensation of unspeakable beauty…So this is tragedy. Yes. He nodded. In the presence of real tragedy you feel neither pain nor joy nor hatred, only a sense of enormous space and time suspended, the great doors open to black eternity, the rising across the terrible field of that last enormous, unanswerable question.” 

***

Thank you for tuning in to this episode of the Eerie USA Podcast. Make sure to subscribe to the show so you never miss an episode. Consider supporting us on Patreon at patreon.com/EvanCamby where I share one exclusive piece of behind the scenes content every Friday.

For more scary stories, check out my books on Amazon. My horror story collection, “Walking After Midnight: Tales for Halloween” available on Amazon, and the entire series is available in ebook and paperback formats for less than the price of 2 cups of coffee.

Join us for the next episode where we’ll be visiting Waverly Hills Sanitarium, one of America’s most infamously haunted former hospitals. Until next time, I’m your host Evan Camby, bringing you America’s forgotten places and forgotten people.

Show Notes:

Hotel Gettysburg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghosts_of_the_American_Civil_War

battlefields.org 

“Ghosts of Gettysburg: Spirits, Apparitions and Haunted Places of the Battlefield,” Mark Nesbitt

https://www.americanhauntingsink.com/gettysburg

“The Gettysburg Address,” President Abraham Lincoln

Music Credits: 

Hidden Past” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Classic Horror 1″ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

“Zombie Hoodoo” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/b...

“Not far from this village, perhaps about two miles, there is a little valley or rather lap of land among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, with just murmur enough to lull one to repose; and the occasional whistle of a quail or tapping of a woodpecker is almost the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity.”

—The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Washington Irving

I’m your host author Evan Camby. I write horror and suspense books and I’m the creator of this podcast where we discuss American legends, hauntings, and folklore. Welcome back to our show after a brief hiatus! I’m happy to be back with a biweekly show for you. In today’s episode, we’re going to visit the legendary Hudson River Valley

What do you think of when you think about then spookiest places in America? Maybe it brings to mind abandoned insane asylums, or haunted houses, or former battlegrounds like Gettysburg. For me, one place I think of is the Hudson River Valley. The site of Washington Irving’s classic story, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, it brings to mind a rugged, mysterious, and frightening version of America: of an untamed wilderness that had yet to be conquered. The Hudson River Valley is one of the America’s most well known and historic regions. Discovered by Henry Hudson in 1609, the 315-mile long river was America’s first river for many of the colonists. European settlers first arrived established villages there in the 17th century, but its important to note that the area had long been inhabited by various branches of the Native American Algonquin tribe. For the Algonquin peoples, the Hudson estuary was called Mahicanituk, or “The River That Flows Both Ways.

The Hudson River itself was of strategic importance during the Revolutionary War, and many battles were fought in the area. In the early 19th century, popularized by the stories of Washington Irving, the Hudson Valley gained a reputation as a somewhat gothic region characterized by remnants of the early days of the Dutch colonization of New York. The area is also associated with the Hudson River School, a group of American Romantic painters who worked from about 1830 to 1870.During the Industrial Revolution, the Hudson River Valley became a major location for production. Tourism became a major industry as early as 1810. With convenient steamboat connections in New York City, and numerous attractive hotels in romantic settings, tourism became an important industry. Early guidebooks provided suggestions for travel itineraries. Middle-class people who read James Fenimore Cooper’s novels, or saw the paintings of the Hudson River School, were especially attracted to the region. Today, The Hudson River Valley National Heritage Area promotes historic, natural, and cultural sites in 11 counties. The region in large, and is divided into upper, middle, and lower sections.

Today, it’s one of the most beautiful parts of the country and home to a thriving tourism industry. In 1996, Congress formed the Hudson River Valley National Heritage Area to recognize, to preserve, to protect, and to interpret the nationally significant history and resources of the valley for the benefit of the nation. Congress deemed the Hudson River Valley to be the “fountainhead of a truly American identity” because it has provided the setting and inspiration for new currents of American thought, art, and history. But to the early Dutch colonial settlers, the dark, mountainous region was thick with mystery and often danger, and the legends of their own homeland melded with this those of this new land, sparking a new breed of folklore. In the beginning of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Washington Irving describes the region and its pervasive eerie aura: 

“From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by the name of SLEEPY HOLLOW, and its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys throughout all the neighboring country. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere. Some say that the place was bewitched by a High German doctor, during the early days of the settlement; others, that an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held his powwows there before the country was discovered by Master Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the place still continues under the sway of some witching power, that holds a spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvellous beliefs, are subject to trances and visions, and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; stars shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other part of the country, and the nightmare, with her whole ninefold, seems to make it the favorite scene of her gambols.”

Such was Irving’s description of the site, and the legends persist. Tales of strange creatures roaming the mountains and ghost infested buildings are just a few of the tales the region boasts today. 

One legend, known as the Imps of Dunderberg, dates back to the Dutch sailors of the 17th century. The sailors of the New Netherland colony feared the southern entrance of the Hudson Highlands, where Dunderberg lies. The winds were dangerous for ships heading through the area, and the blame fell on the Imps of Dunderberg. These Imps (sometimes called goblins), they were malicious tricksters, not harmless mischief makers. They would play nasty tricks on people, such as the decades-long sleep in Irving’s famous story, “Rip Van Winkle.” 

These Imps were headed by the Heer of Dunderberg. The Heer was said to be none other than the restless spirit of John Colman, a crew member of the ship Half Moon under Henry Hudson who was killed by Native Americans with an arrow to the neck. People of the Hudson Highlands area believed that Colman’s spirit became the Dwerg, or Heer of Dunderberg, a goblin who dressed in Dutch clothing, who raise storms to sink ships at World’s End (the area just north of West Point where the Hudson is over 200 feet deep.) The Heer even appears in writings by Washington Irving. When a ship went through Peekskill Bay, superstitious sailors did several things to make sure that the Heer would not doom their ships to the depths. Either tipping their hats towards Dunderberg, or tying a horseshoe on the mast.

The Heer’s domain was said to stretch from Polopel Island (also known as Bannerman’s Island), an island between Cold Spring and Beacon. The legend says that sailors especially dreaded seeing the “Storm Ship,” a ghostly ship crewed by an army of the Imps of Dunderberg.

One of the most enduring stories of the Hudson River Valley Region is that of the surprisingly fact-based story of Dorothea Swarts. Anna was a young servant girl who, in 1755, met a grisly fate. Records show that young Anna worked for the owner of the Salisbury manor in Leeds, William Salisbury. William was a known tyrant who treated his staff terribly. One night, tired of the ill treatment, Anna attempted to escape. Salisbury caught wind of this and caught her, tying her to the back of horse, and dragged her back to the farm. Anna was horribly dashed to death. William Salisbury was found guilty of the murder of Anna, but he bribed the judge to suspend his sentence until he turned 99. It wasn’t long after the trial that citizens of Leeds claimed to see her ghost sitting on the wall outside of the Salisbury Manor. Others have seen a huge ghostly horse riding by the manor, which is now thought to be haunted, and could hear the galloping hooves of the horse and the screams of Anna. Salisbury Mansion still exists today, although it is not open to the public. But some say that the ghost of Anna Swarts still haunts the grounds, refusing to let any inhabitants of the mansion live in peace as vengeance for her terrible death. 

And what would any region be without a legend of a greedy pirate? The tales surrounding the Hudson Valley’s own Captain William Kidd has been the source of much inspiration for famous American authors. This article by Kirk Moldoff from the Peekskill Herald (link in show notes below) tells the story: 

“The night is dark and stormy as Captain William Kidd’s treasure ship, the Quedah Merchant, approaches Caldwell’s Point at the base of Dunderbergh Mountain. This part of the river is the beginning of the Race, the treacherous Southern Entrance to the Hudson Highlands. Chased by British warships, Kidd is wanted for piracy and murder. As they approach this deadly spot, his crew panics at the thought of running the Race on a stormy night and scuttle her. Or the ship runs aground. Or hits a rock. Or she is set afire and sunk by Kidd. There are many versions of the story. William Kidd and his crew take what they can, but the bulk of the treasure goes down with the ship. The year is 1699.

So the legend goes, with Kidd and his crew escaping overland and ending up in Boston, where Kidd is arrested. He was sent to England, tried, and hanged in 1701.

There has always been a fascination with Captain Kidd and his treasure. His exploits inspired Edgar Allen Poe, Herman Melville, and Robert Louis Stevenson. Stories of his hidden spoils place it at dozens of locations on the Eastern seaboard from North Carolina to Long Island.

In the book Myths and Legends of Our Own Land (1896), Charles M. Skinner described the rock where many believe the treasure is buried: “Though it is 200 feet up the cliff, inaccessible either from above or below, and weighs many tons, still, as pirates and devils have always been friendly, it may be that the corking of the cave was accomplished with supernatural help, and that if blasts or prayers ever shake the stone from its place a shower of doubloons and diamonds may come rattling after it.” 

In different versions of the story Captain Kidd — who was executed for murder and piracy — is the ghostly guard of his treasure. In 1825, two soldiers attempted to dig at a purported hiding place along the Hudson, and the story goes that a terrifying apparition rose from the ground, causing the men to faint. The soldiers later swore it was the specter of Kidd, keeping watch over his ancient treasure.

Tucked into the sleepy Catskills in the town of Kingston is a church with a haunted history that dates all the way back to 1658. It is this church and churchyard that feature in Irving’s Legend of Sleepy Hollow, though many get it confused with the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery nearby. The church’s 2.5-acre burying ground is the alleged haunt of the headless horseman, and also the resting place of local citizens who likely inspired Irving’s characters of Katrina Van Tassel, Brom Bones, and others in “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”

Like the Hudson River Valley itself, the Old Dutch Church has witnessed many different groups of people – Dutch Settlers, Native Americans, African American who were enslaved and servants, and British soldiers. The cemetery is the final resting place of many Revolutionary War Veterans whose homes were burnt by the British in 1777, as well as George Clinton, the first governor of New York, and Sojourner Truth, who escaped slavery to become an abolitionist and activist. 

One of the best known legends of the Old Dutch church is that of a hobgoblin who is said to be trapped in the steeple. The legend claims that the creature had originally attached itself to the mast of a ship carrying the pastor and his wife up the Hudson River in the early days of the church. The creature’s presence caused high winds and rough waters, and the pastor began praying, attempting to cast the creature out via exorcism. The next morning, the goblin’s cap was found hanging on the tip of the steeple, and the story says that is how the creature came to be imprisoned in the 217 foot high steeple, where some believe he remains to this day. 

The sensationalism of a legend of a hobgoblin stuck in a church steeple aside, people have reported some kind of spiritual presence in that area of the Old Dutch Church. There is a story that, in the 1980s, a man painting the building felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, the painter glanced up just in time to see the face of the steeple’s clock changed from Roman Numeral 7 to 8.

The burial ground of the Old Dutch Church is one of America’s oldest, and surrounded by numerous ghost stories. The most famous, of course, is that of the headless horseman. The legend says he patrols the churchyard, protecting the sacred site from those who would do it harm. Others say he is searching for his missing head, or out for revenge for his centuries old murder. In every version of the story, the horseman is unable to leave the grounds, confined to the old burial ground for eternity as a lost soul.

America has plenty of homes which are famously purported to be haunted: The Winchester house and Amityville are two that come to mind. But did you know there was such a thing as a “legally haunted house? The house in question, the Ackley House, is located at 1 LaVeta Place in Nyack, New York, and is one party in the famous trial, Stambovsky v. Ackley, sometimes referred to as “The Ghostbusters Ruling” because of the astonishing decision by the court that the house was, as a matter of law, haunted. Because of this ruling, for many years afterwards New York state realtors were legally required to disclose to buyers if a home had a reputation as being haunted. But what really happened at 1 LaVeta Place? 

Little is known about the 3 story Victorian clapboard house’s early occupants. Some believe it was likely home to a family that is still in the area until it went unoccupied for about a decade in the 1960s. The home  isn’t the site of any highly publicized murders or gruesome tragedies. Still, the  rumors of ghosts can be traced back to a mid-1970s Reader’s Digest article called “Our Haunted House on the Hudson” written by resident Helen Ackley, wife to George Ackley, and mother of four now adult children. In it, she wrote about the family’s experiences with ghosts when they lived in the home.

In one of the most compelling stories in the article, George Ackley claims to have seen a pair of disembodied moccasin-clad feet walk by him from the hallway above the staircase he was standing on. On another occasion, Helen saw a man dressed in Colonial or Revolutionary war attire emerge while she was repainting the entryway. Their daughter Cynthia, a high school student at the time, was allegedly awakened daily by something shaking her bed. One day she politely asked the room to let her sleep in, and the shaking stopped. Though these experiences might disturb some, the Ackleys were more or less welcoming to the paranormal events. They thought the spirits seemed friendly, and eventually considered them part of the family. The Ackleys claimed that before they moved in, a neighborhood child believed the house was haunted, and asked Helen, “lady, you know you just bought a haunted house, right?”

In 1989, about 25 years after the Ackleys moved into 1 LaVeta Place and 15 years after the article was printed, the Ackleys wanted to downsize, so they listed the house for sale at just under $800,000 with Ellis Realty. Helen was thrilled when a young couple, Jeffrey and Patricia Stambovsky expressed interest in buying the property. According to the realtors, Helen did in fact disclose the haunted nature in a few passing conversations (in fact, one of the realtors claimed he remembered Helen refusing to sign her end of the contract before having a conversation with the Stambovskys about it), while the Stambosvskys claim they found out about the haunting through a contractor, and that they wouldn’t have bought the property had they been properly informed. Mr. Stambovsky’s position has consistently been that, while he doesn’t believe in ghosts, he does believe in the market and the fact that other people who do believe in ghosts can impact it.

Unfortunately, these interactions weren’t documented, and we’ll never know for sure what the Stambovskys did or didn’t learn prior to the contract. Regardless, Helen was notified that the Stambovskys wanted to back out of the deal after she’d received the down payment. What’s more, the couple filed a lawsuit against her for fraudulently misrepresenting a material condition of the home (i.e., that’s legalese for “you did’t mention the ghosts). The Stambovskys argued that the ghost stories devalued the property, but the court initially dismissed the complaint and said that Helen did not have a duty to disclose the haunted house stories to the Stambovskys. 

However, this was not the end of the legal battle. Ultimately, the case settled out of court, but not before it reached the New York State Supreme Court ruled the home legally haunted. This changed New York State real estate license law for a brief time, requiring the broker to automatically disclose if a home owner said they had a ghost. As a result, the Ackley home has gone down in history as America’s “legally” haunted home.

But the legend doesn’t end there. I found an interesting anecdote on the website of the original realtor, Ellis Sothesby (linked in the show notes below). 

“Fast forward to about 2012, the third owner after Mrs. Ackley called us to list the home for sale. While the owners didn’t mention the ghosts, the first day I had a showing there, I had my own supernatural experience. As I went around the house putting the lights on, the door bell rang as I made my way to the Tower Room on the top floor.  The clients had just arrived to view the home. As I put the last light on a light bulb burst and a small fire started.  The flame grew larger and a nearby shade caught fire before I could put it out.Was it a ghost I encountered that day? Did they object to the house changing hands again?  Many in the psychic world say there is no such thing as coincidence.  Perhaps the activity at 1 La Veta Place was simply an old soul wanting me to know they were still there. We will never know for sure… one thing is certain, however, the next time you hear a creek in the floor or a voice in the night, just keep moving forward and don’t look back.”

The Hudson River Valley, nestled snugly in the picturesque mountains and valleys of upstate New York, is an area just as thick with legends and lore. It was truly hard to pick just this small smattering of stories for you for this episode, but I think all of them together get the point across the the region is truly rife with legend in a way few other parts of the world are. When I think about haunted America, I think about places like the Hudson River Valley because of its mysterious aura and the sheer number of paranormal phenomenon reported in the region for centuries. There is just something about driving through the winding roads cutting through the forests and hills that brings to mind all things spooky.

I’ll leave you with this quote from the poem Castle of Indolence which Irving quotes at  the beginning of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”

“A pleasing land of drowsy head it was,
    Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye;
And of gay castles in the clouds that pass,
    Forever flushing round a summer sky.”
                    CASTLE OF INDOLENCE, James Thomson

***

Thank you, listeners, for tuning in to this episode of the Eerie USA Podcast. Thank you for your patience during our brief hiatus. I hope you enjoy our new longer, biweekly format of the show where I can go into more depth on each topic and also enjoy a bit more time for writing.

Please subscribe so you don’t miss an episode, and leave us a quick review if you enjoy the show. Consider supporting us on Patreon at patreon.com/EvanCamby where I share one exclusive piece of behind the scenes content per week, every Friday.

For more scary stories, check out my books on Amazon. My horror story collection, “Walking After Midnight: Tales for Halloween Part III” available on Amazon, and the entire series and my other books are all in ebook and paperback formats for less than the price of 2 cups of coffee.

Join us for the next episode where we’ll be visiting the famous grounds of the Battle of Gettysburg and its untold number of restless spirits. Until next time, I’m your host Evan Camby, bringing you America’s forgotten places and forgotten people.

Music credits:

“Classic Horror 1” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

“Zombie Hoodoo” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

“Come Play with Me” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Show Notes/Sources: 

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Washington Irving

Myths and Legends of Our Own Land (1896), Charles M. Skinner

The Legend of 1 La Veta Place, Ellis Sothesby Realty

https://www.housebeautiful.com/lifestyle/a40706898/haunted-ackley-house-true-story/

Paranormal Stories Haunt the Mid-Hudson Valley, Richard Ellis (2016)

Hudson Valley History: The Imps of Dunderberg, Gabriel Berger (2021)

Treasure on the Hudson and Captain Kidd’s Humbug, Kirk Moldoff (2021)

Old Dutch Church and Burying Ground, VisitSleepyHollow.com

Old Dutch Church a Symbol of Kingston’s History, Paula Ann Mitchel (2013)

Episode 1 is live! Listen here and anywhere you listen to podcasts.

Below are some of the photographs from items I mention in this episode, taken from the Indiana state archives’ website.

Get your copy by clicking here!

In Hollow Spring, Indiana, local beauty queen Aubrey Gailbraith becomes the victim of a brutal crime.

It’s not the first time something like this has happened. A cold case, the disappearance of a young boy from the quarry in 1984, still haunts the town’s residents.

And no one is more haunted than Detective Cal Brennan.

As tensions rise and neighbor begins to question neighbor, Cal races to solve the crime. But will his personal ties to the original case cloud his judgment? And finally, can he discover the answer to the question on everyone’s mind:

“Who left Aubrey in the dark?”

“Cabin Creek” is a story in my second “Walking After Midnight Book,” which details how the tiny town came to hold such a terrible secret. Get the book here, and enjoy this story trailer: