The Farmer Who Became a Railroad Ghost

This case isn’t exactly a railroad haunting. Not at first, anyway. Instead, it transformed into one in under two years.

To understand this, we need to look back to November 14, 1903. On that day, an Indiana farmer named Columbus Cole was using a steam-driven machine to process a corn harvest. The boiler exploded, killing Cole and injuring those working alongside him. The next day, The Indianapolis Journal reported that the tragedy occurred “four miles south of Stillwell, Laporte County.” The next week, the Walkerton Independent specified that the accident took place “on the Flaherty farm at the Kankakee river.” The fact that Cole died at the Flaherty farm will become important in a moment.

For now, we should note that both papers describe Cole’s death very similarly. The Journal states: “top of head blown off and body mangled.” The Independent explains that the explosion caught Cole, “tearing off a portion of his head and killing him instantly.”

In August of 1905, a ghost identified as Columbus Cole was observed. Now, however, his head was completely missing, and the remainder of his form was said to haunt the platform of a train depot. The figure even gave signs of trying to signal a train. In other words, over time — and not much time — the case had become a railroad haunting.

The Richmond Planet report on Columbus Cole’s ghost makes many mistakes, as discussed below, but this illustration is pretty cool. I especially like the two gents who seem mildly concerned about what they’re seeing.Fast Folklore and Rotten Reporting

On August 12, 1905, Virginia’s Richmond Planet made some mistakes. Relating the ghost story, it says the haunting was occurring in Flaherty, Indiana. There is no Flaherty, Indiana. They add that citizens of Flaherty have been avoiding “Flaherty station” each night, since that’s where and when the ghost manifests “on the platform.” Hold on now. There might have been a siding — a stretch of side track where a train can sit while another passes or where cars might be stored and shuffled around — and this siding might have been near or on the Flaherty farm. But even this is iffy. There almost certainly was no station with a platform there, though the Lake Eire & Western line had scheduled stops at nearby Walkerton, Kankakee, and Stillwell. (It’s possible that the Kankakee stop was called “Flaherty” by the locals, but I’ve found no evidence that there was ever a structure there as depicted in the illustration above.)

The subtitle of the Planet article even compares the ghost to a railroad worker: “Appears in Attitude of Switchman Flagging a Train.” If readers don’t know that Cole was killed by farm machinery, they’re likely to picture a steam locomotive when reading that he “lost his head years ago in a boiler explosion.” Not years exactly. Closer to 21 months. But folktales prefer hazy “once upon a time” settings.

A different ghost report appeared a couple of days later in New Haven, Connecticut’s Morning Journal and Courier. Here, the ghost is said to haunt, not the station platform, but “the old water tank by the station on the Lake-Erie Railway at Flaherty’s Slinding.” It’s next spelled “Sliding,” but I assume they mean “siding.” Oh, but things get even worse. We read that Cole

was run over by an engine within a few feet of the spot where the water tank stands. In the accident his head was completely severed from his body. At the time the body, after being decapitated, stood erect and walked several feet from the spot. After emitting a terrible shriek, it fell against the water tank.

I’m not sure how a man with his head blown off is able to stumble and shriek — but I bet it’s a darned unpleasant experience for all involved. Can we blame the reporters? Sure, but I have a hunch the tragic death of Columbus Cole had inspired the locals to tell grisly, if not outright fantasy, folk stories about the event. Along the way, that man’s headless phantom had ambled from an actual farm toward a non-existent railroad station. This, then, is what the reporters were reporting.

Locating the Farm and the Tracks Nearby

Where the Flaherty farm once was is easily pinpointed. agrees pretty well with the Journal article: it was about four miles southeast of Stillwell. Zoom in on that map, follow the Lake Eire & Western line down, and you’ll spot the land just northwest of where the tracks cross the Kankakee River. Indeed, those tracks cross the Flaherty farm, too, which begins to explain how the ghost became associated with the railroad.

I put a red star to help locate the Flaherty farm on this (1901).

Google Maps suggests those tracks north of the river are still in place — but it’s tricky to decide how to launch a search for the headless ghost. State Road 104 comes close to the general area. Still, does a paranormal investigator try to reach the farm, where the death occurred? Or examine the tracks, where the ghost reports imply the specter walked? Are there any rusty remains of a water tank? Assuming one can legally and safely roam the area, a nice bit of roaming would seem to be required.

If you do accept the challenge, please let us know about your experience in the comments.

Discover more “Railroad Hauntings You Can Still Visit” at the page for
After the End of the Line: Railroad Hauntings in Literature and Lore.