Growing up in the late 50’s and 60’s in New Jersey, just across the river from New York City, nearly every evening I was glued to one of our three local TV stations: channel five, nine, or eleven. Every night they showcased a plethora of black and white classics from the 30’s and 40’s. Besides a cascade of Sci-Fi, gangster, and western movies, Abbot and Costello flicks were among my favorites. I remember one in particular, The Time of Their Lives, 1946 (two years before their all-time classic, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein). In 1780, Costello plays a patriot tinker who is wrongly killed as a coconspirator of traitor Benedict Arnold. His ghost is cursed to haunt the home of his betrayer, “until the doom of time”. That is until 166 years later, when an ancestral nephew of the estate’s original owner, Bud Abbott, proves Costello’s innocence and the curse is broken. Costello arrives at the Pearly Gates, but there is one problem. He must wait another day. Heaven was closed in observance of Washington’s Birthday. NOTE: The movie is included at the end of this article.
“While study of the American Revolution quite often emphasizes the lasting legacies of unalienable rights and our visionary founders,” as quoted from Battlefield Trust, “many believe that the bloody battles fought for American independence also left behind specters of a spookier nature. From heroic figures whose presence exceeds their living days to those souls who can’t escape the wicked experiences of war, a lengthy list of paranormal activity can be connected to the nation’s founding conflict.” From Boston’s turbulent early days of the American Revolution, to countless inns and homes our founders laid their tri-corn hats, to the gory battlefields of horrendous spectacles, such as the Paoli Massacre, today’s paranormal tours are common. And many visitors will agree, quite fun.
Paranormal Investigatorslike Adam Berry from Kindred Spirits believe residual energy associated with this tumultuous time in American history may have left a supernatural imprint. “Anytime there’s a traumatic event, it could be left behind,” Berry said. “If you walk into a room and two people have been arguing, fiercely, you can feel that weirdness they’ve created or energy they emit spewing at each other. …The theory is that maybe that energy goes into the walls and lingers there.” Or hovers the twilight mist; orbs whose unsettled energy weaves a ghoulish dance among tombstones. Floating over mysterious meadows and veiled forests of echoed shrieks – a savage struggle, that left the remains of violent turbulence in its wake.
That said, I put together a tour of ghoulishly and spooky locations, events, and stories that defy reality to touch upon the paranormal world of the American Revolution. Believe or not lies within one’s imagination; upon which requires no other explanation beyond pure, interesting fun.
1. The Screaming Lady of Fort Mifflin
Of the many ghosts reported to have been seen and heard in Fort Mifflin over the years, the screaming lady is the loudest. She has never been seen, but wails from the old officer’s quarters, where she appears to be living out an eternity of regret.
Fort Mifflin was originally constructed by the British in 1772 on Mud Island in the Delaware River. It is fifteen miles south of Philadelphia and across the river from Fort Mercer at Redbank, New Jersey. Once war broke out, patriot troops garrisoned the fort and renamed it after Philadelphia native and Quaker, General Thomas Mifflin. Armed with artillery, both forts, along with gunboats, were engineered to prevent British ships from passing up the river from Delaware Bay to Philadelphia. After Philadelphia fell to the British on September 26, 1777, the forts became a nuisance to British shipping, preventing the British fleet from supplying the city with much needed supplies.
For the British, their capture became a priority. What befell the brave colonial defenders became the greatest bombardment to take place on American soil. Tens of thousands of rounds of cannon were fired upon the fort for several weeks, some estimates put it as a thousand rounds every twenty minutes. The colonists held fast, but defeat was imminent. It came on November 16, 1777, resulting in over three quarters of the garrison perishing while the rest abandoned the smoking ruin. The fort was rebuilt twenty years later and served as a garrison in the War of 1812 and as a prison. It is believed that the sustained and extreme violence of the bombardment, along with the fort’s use as a prison that lasted decades is ripe for paranormal activities.
Legend has named the screaming lady’s tortured soul. She is Elizabeth Pratt, an eighteenth-century neighbor of the region whose daughter had a relationship with an officer. Elizabeth renounced and threw out her daughter, who died shortly after from dysentery. Consumed with guilt at consigning her daughter to this fate, the story goes that she took her own life. In dank confines and drafty corridors, Elizabeth will release a sudden blood-curdling scream, thus solidifying the tale of the shrieking woman. She’s not the only spectral sound to be heard at the Fort—near the blacksmith shop, the rhythmic clash of hammer against anvil often sounds out, only to be silenced when people come by to peer into the empty but slightly echoing room.
2. Hospital Horrors; Colonial Inn, Concord, MA
Among locations of intense pain, suffering and death, ripe for paranormal energy, are the homes and inns that served as Revolutionary War hospitals. Eighteenth century medical practice was extremely limited by today’s standards with no anesthesia, draconic and scant methods dealing with infection, surgical equipment borrowed from the local blacksmith, and amputation the normal procedure for the large caliber shot that shattered bones and tore muscle. With only 400 certified doctors of the estimated 1,400 practicing ‘physicians’ (most were aides and apprentices ‘learning on the job’), one can only imagine the hell many soldiers faced. One such makeshift hospital was the Colonial Inn in Concord Massachusetts, presently at 48 Monument Square.
Originally built in 1716 by James Minot, the home has been passed around by several family members through the decades. At some point in the 1770s, a third building was constructed next to the original. Prior to and throughout the war, the inn was used as storage to stockpile supplies including weapons, powder, and shot. But most dramatically, it served as a hospital for the sick and wounded soldiers; from the war’s opening salvo to its conclusion.
What is now room twenty-four of the inn used to be the operating room during the war. Just down the hall is room twenty-seven, the morgue, which was rarely empty. Sickness killed more soldiers than those in battle; smallpox and typhus among the main culprits. Of those wounded, a quarter would succumb to their injuries, many more suffering lifelong debilitating trauma.
Today, guests have noticed strange occurrences happening in these rooms and elsewhere in the inn. This includes lights and TVs flicking on and off, hearing voices that seem to come from nowhere, and bizarre floating orbs. The often reported ‘main attraction’ is the apparition of a woman named Rosemary. Believed to be a nurse at the inn during the war, she can be seen misting down hallways and hovering about the many rooms. One couple recently informed the manager of an encounter in room twenty-four. The wife had woken up to see a greyish figure, almost like a silhouette, moving from the bed to the fireplace. Then, it disappeared. A doctor seeking solace or warmth after yet another amputation? Or perhaps a patient, slipping off the table to escape the surgeon’s knife.
3. Vexed Ghouls; Copp’s Hill, Boston
The granddaddy of paranormal activity; cemeteries. King of B-rated movies. Where ghoulish arms burst through the soil and stiff legged zombies strut their stuff. And what better burial ground to immerse oneself in spooky encounters than a cemetery where the residents have been thoroughly ‘pissed off.’ Copp’s Hill, Boston, the second oldest cemetery in this Revolutionary hotbed. Since 1659, named after a true alliteration; Copp the Cobbler. It is an elevation in what we now call the historic North End, (though over time it has been leveled by seven feet to fill Mill Pond); bordered by Hull Street, Charter Street, and Snow Hill Street.
After the ruffians and rabble chased and hemmed in the British on Boston peninsula, these passionate patriots compounded British misery by cutting off foraging parties desperate for food and supplies. After a nasty affair on Noodle and Hog’s Island (both now gobbled up by landfill and a rather noisy airport), in which British livestock were killed or driven off, British Commanding General Thomas Gage and most of his army were bent out of shape; enraged if you like. The general decided to construct a battery at Boston’s north end, on a hill that overlooked rebel positions across the river, one that happened to be laced with numerous tombstones.
After the metal behemoths were hauled to the summit and the battery constructed, offending the nocturnal residents lingering six feet under, matters worsened. British gunners and troops stationed among the 24-pounders saw among the cluster of tombstones a means to take out their pent-up frustrations, and no doubt a means to stave off boredom. With little or no regard to the poor souls encased in eternal slumber, they leveled muskets and blasted away, practicing their marksmanship by turning headstones into Swiss cheese. Most likely preceded by a generous draft of rum and ale, to be followed by loud jeering and hurled oaths towards the pesky patriots.
One headstone in particular received the most punishment, that of Captain Daniel Malcolm. He was a smuggler and British agitator who once rallied over four hundred men and boys to prevent the British from confiscating his contraband wine. Illness overtook the industrious patriot smuggler in 1769 who commented just before death that he wished to be buried ten feet deep, so he’d be “safe from British bullets.” Seems the scarlet clad troops unleashed a barrage of lead in Malcolm’s direction to remind the captain of his deathbed wish.
Today, Copp’s Hill Cemetery is rife with paranormal activity; no doubt the restless souls still steaming after their rude treatment. So much so that some Bostonians refuse to even venture near the place. Everything from strange lights and muffled cries and painful groans to even shadow figures has been seen lurking among the ancient tombstones that still display chipped stone from British lead. Troubled souls driven by the indignation of their peppered gravestones; their legacy scarred and scattered to the wind. Enough to stiffen their resolve to seek revenge – a haunting vengeance that continues to this day. Understandable. What’s 250 years when you have all eternity to take out your anger?
4. Tortured Souls: Jockey Hollow, Morristown, NJ
If suffering like this did not ‘try men’s souls’ I confess that I do not know what could.
Joseph Plumb Martin, Continental Soldier
Abject pain, starvation, suffering, and unfathomable misery, what Washington’s Continental Army faced at Jockey Hollow during the winter camp of 1779 – 1780 was the stuff of nightmares; agony far greater than that endured at Valley Forge two years earlier. It was a winter of no less than twenty-eight snow storms with drifts as high as fifteen feet and temperatures that plummeted below zero for weeks on end. Destitute of funds to provide food, blankets, winter clothing, and the barest means for survival; ten or more men were forced into cabins barely large enough to accommodate two. Death and despair accompanied men on their daily struggle to stay alive. And down the hill from their drafty huts sits a boulder. It serves as a grave marker. For roughly one hundred soldiers whose remains lay like scythed wheat beneath the soil; literally a cauldron for restless spirits. No wonder it has seen its share of ghost sightings.
Numerous paranormal activities have been reported by hikers, visitors, and particularly reenactors. Common among the sightings is a group of soldiers marching lockstep through the dense trees. Shadowy outlines of soldiers have been seen darting amongst the huts. One reenactor, staying the night in one of the reconstructed cabins, was heading to the latrine when fife and drum music abruptly emanated right next to her, ending just as suddenly. During the quieter winter months, one spirit has been witnessed multiple times wondering the well-worn trails. She is a translucent apparition of a woman carrying a lantern and wearing a long, white, colonial-style dress. And in one of the park’s guest houses, visitors have seen a brown dog chasing the owner’s cat around the house until the canine suddenly vanishes. Journals of soldiers write that men were so desperate for food; some ate their pet dogs. Could that pooch be the same that met an untimely demise at the hands of his owner?
5. No Bones (or Lost Bones) About It
General ‘Mad’ Anthony Wayne, the name alone conjures up a soul whose passion for conflict is bigger than life and perhaps, so too, bigger than death. In this case, as his present-day ghost wonders along Route 322 in Pennsylvania every January 1st, he may be mad as hell over bumbling soldiers and their poor choice of transportation. Or maybe a Native American Curse scorned this Revolutionary War hero’s soul to eternal restlessness for leading an army that forced first nation folks from their ancestral homes.
Born January 1, 1745 in Paoli, PA, by age thirty-two, Wayne was promoted to Brigadier General in the young Continental Army. A renowned fighter, his men were as stubborn and fierce as their commander, earning accolades at the Battles of Germantown, Monmouth, Stony Point, and Brandywine, where his 4th PA regiment had the highest casualties of the war. So too, Wayne’s men suffered severely from a British surprise midnight bayonet attack, led by no other than the Earl Gray of tea namesake, his men known for their unleashed brutality; the Paoli Massacre. It has its own present day guided tours of mystifying apparitions of troubled pneuma that loft over grounds that had been soaked in blood. After the war, and a short stint as a state politician, Wayne was chosen by Washington to lead American Forces west against First Nation people in Ohio. The Battle of Fallen Timbers, Aug. 20, 1794, resulted in the mass exodus of Native Americans from their ancestral homes.
In 1796, while negotiating with the British over their outposts that still lined America’s frontier Wayne, age fifty-one, succumbed to what was termed gout. He was buried at Fort Presque Isle in present day Erie, Pennsylvania. Thirteen years later, in 1809, his son, Colonel Isaac Wayne, ordered his father’s remains be disinterred and brought to Delaware County, near Wayne’s boyhood home in the southeast corner of the state. Had the family known what actions those tasked with hauling the general’s body home would take, they may have let old Anthony lie where he was in peace.
After digging up Wayne’s body, it was discovered to be remarkably well preserved. So much so, that they decided not to haul such a ‘ripe’ carcass nearly four hundred miles; the stench perhaps even too much for rugged wilderness soldiers. A present day six and half hour drive along interstate, in 1809, on dirt and military roads that weaved over the Allegheny Mountains, was a month or more of tedious travel. They decided to boil the body and remove all remaining flesh. The bones were collected and placed in a box to be carted east. The remaining flesh was returned to the Erie grave where the present-day Wayne Blockhouse now stands. It is rumored that along the way, the box containing the general’s bones had jostled about, spilling several bones that were lost. Reaching Delaware County, certain that no one was going to dig through the bones to be certain the skeleton was intact, what was left was buried in the family plot in Radnor, Pennsylvania, at Old Saint David’s Church Cemetery.
Now, legend contends that the ghostly general, most likely with a reasonable sense that all is not whole, wanders the trek his bones had taken. His spirit can be seen each year on January 1st, the day of his birth, trudging old route 322. Encased in winter’s icy breath, a translucent orb rambles along the vacant roads, its head scanning the terrain, looking for lost bones and skeletal scraps on one of the longest nights of the year. A wretched quest ole Mad Anthony Wayne is most likely doomed to tread for all eternity.
6. Ghost Ships: HMS Jersey
I soon found that every spark of humanity had fled the breasts of the British officers who had charge of that floating receptacle of human misery.
Alexander Coffin, 18 yr. old prisoner aboard the HMS Jersey.
Nearly twice as many American lives were lost aboard British prison ships anchored on New York City’s East River than in battles of the entire war. It estimated nearly 12,000 imprisoned perished among the sixteen dilapidated vessels, compared to 6,800 killed in battle. Captured soldiers were crammed into deteriorating hulks alongside citizens who opposed England. Overcrowded in the lower decks, prisoners lay gasping dank air between darkened hulls subjected to unbearably scorching temperatures. Neglected, starved, dehydrated with only brackish water supplied through ship’s sides, forced to lie among vermin, lice, and in their own feces; disease and impending madness awaited all, leaving death as one’s only escape.
The worst of the worst was the dismasted hulk, HMS Jersey, where each day, an average of six emaciated bodies were lowered over gunnels into waiting boats. Rowed to shore, they were heaped into mass graves along the shoreline with only a few shovels of sand as cover. Within a few days the sand would wash away, exposing the skeletal remains with putrid strips of rotting flesh still clinging to bleached bones; the stench and sight of the wretched souls was horrifying. For many years after the war, bones would continue to wash up along the Brooklyn shore “as thick as pumpkins in an autumn cornfield.”
October, 1902, while extending one of the docks, laborers at the Brooklyn Navy Yard accidentally pierced the sunken hull of the burned-out Jersey. Some reported that a foul and ominous stench misted up from the mud encased hulk. Soon after, and to this day, there are reports of strange activity, including faint whispers near the water. Perhaps these are the silent screams of tortured and ruinous souls, whose languishing cries remain forgotten, lost amongst the wind and waves of time.
7. Faceless Officer
After British General Johnny Burgoyne surrendered his army at Saratoga on October 7, 1777, prisoners were herded south to Boston, mainly just outside the city in Somerville. At first, requests were made of the people of Cambridge to house the prisoners; however, it was met with such animosity and intense anger that the matter was dropped. At Somerville, the men were eventually imprisoned in old barracks left by the Americans the previous year after the Siege of Boston ended. Officer prisoners had been paroled for the most part and while awaiting exchange, were given a freer rein than rank-and-file who would remain prisoners for the war’s duration.
On June 17, 1778, British Lieutenant Richard Browne, while descending Prospect Hill in Somerville, was accosted by a patriot sentry. When Browne refused to obey the guardsman, the man raised his musket and shot Browne point blank in the face, killing him instantly. Afterwards, a jury of fifteen Cambridge men acquitted the sentry. British Major General William Phillips, who had been left in command of the prisoners after General Burgoyne sailed for London, requested a funeral for his slain officer. It was permitted to be held at Christ Church in Cambridge, which, in 1775, had been used as a barracks.
Enraged Cambridge residents learned of the funeral and protested their displeasure by breaking into the church during the service. A British eyewitness reported, “…the Americans seized the opportunity of the church being open, which had been shut since the commencement of hostilities, to plunder, ransack, and deface everything they could lay their hands on, destroying the pulpit, reading-desk, and communion-table, and ascending the organ loft, destroyed the bellows and broke all the pipes of a very handsome instrument.” The funeral was eventually concluded and Browne was laid to rest in the Vassal tomb of Christ Church.
All these long years, there has been multiple reports of a faceless colonial soldier lingering the halls of Christ Church and haunting the Old Burying Ground that abuts the church. Perhaps Browne’s soul remains unsettled by the violent sendoff he received by Cambridge’s passionate patriots. Or maybe he seeks revenge for the unjust verdict passed down by the American guardsmen’s peers. One can only imagine.
8. Cries from the Deep: Cornwallis’ Cave at Yorktown
As every student of the American Revolution is taught, The Siege and Battle of Yorktown, September 28 – October 19, 1781, was the deciding action that ultimately ended the war. An American victory was assured once a massive bombardment by American and French artillery opened up on the trapped British army. So too, the hope of British supplies and reinforcements reaching General Charles Cornwallis’ beleaguered troops was dashed, blocked by a French fleet. Legend has it that many of Cornwallis’ soldiers and African Americans who had flocked to the British banner with the promise of freedom, sought shelter in Yorktown caves; particularly one of the larger caverns called Cornwallis’ Cave.
There is conflicting testimony as to if British troops sought refuge from the incessant bombing, or if it was the citizens of Yorktown who took shelter from explosive shells among the deep cavities. It is agreed that the cave was used for smuggling, a means prior to and after the war to avoid paying duty revenue on goods. Though the cave is now gated, voices are still heard at night coming from the darkness. Some say they are the muffled cries of British soldiers, the moaning of the injured and dying, that forever hide in the bowel’s darkened cave.
9. Ghostly Treachery: Fort Griswold, New London, Connecticut
Besides the usual sightings of George Washington’s spirit revisiting his former hangouts, the Shaw Mansion and Fairfield’s Sun Tavern, and Nathan Hale still conducting lessons in his school house in East Haddam, there is one site whose violence fits the bill for unsettled souls; Fort Griswold, New London. It was a tragedy that involved America’s greatest turncoat, Benedict Arnold, the burning of the entire town by British raiders, and the slaughter of over eighty patriot militiamen; this after they had surrendered.
In late August and early September, 1781, while General Washington marched his army to Virginia to hem in British General Charles Cornwallis at Yorktown, the Commander-in-Chief of the British forces in America, General Henry Clinton in New York City, decided that an invasion of New England would distract the American commander, forcing him to shift forces back north. Benedict Arnold, now in scarlet, had ravaged Virginia earlier in the year, and found himself back in New York. Hankering to prove himself, and ripe for revenge against his home state of Connecticut, he eagerly accepted command of Clinton’s invasion force of 1,600 troops. Along with thirty-two transports, he would raid and burn New London. This was justified, for the town had proven itself a nuisance by harboring pesky privateers.
The British sailed on September 4, 1781, and arrived at 2 PM the next day. On the 6th, at 10 AM, Arnold landed his men, splitting up his force near equally. He remained with the branch that entered New London and began burning the town. The other half, numbering over 800 men with six-pounder cannon, were landed across the Thames River. The American militia, under Colonel William Ledyard, had mustered 160 men to man the fort that overlooked the town. While Arnold watched from Ye Antientist Burial Ground heights in New London, the attacking British, led by Lieutenant Colonel Edmund Eyre, seconded by Maj. William Montgomery, assaulted the fort. The British attacked again and again, and under fierce resistance by the militia, they were thrown back, only to regroup and come on. Lt. Colonel Eyre was seriously wounded and Maj. Montgomery, just as he mounted the fort’s parapet, was killed by African American, Jordon Freeman.
With the fort overrun, Colonel Ledyard ordered his men to lay down their arms. Up to that moment, only 5 Americans had been killed and 18 wounded. However, 48 British had died with another 127 wounded. With the commanding British officer wounded, Eyre, and the second in command dead, Montgomery, the British victors, mad as hell and lacking a competent commander, unleashed a brutal massacre on the Americans. Colonel Ledyard’s surrender sword was accepted and immediately run through him. A horrendous killing spree erupted that when ended, eighty more Americans lay dead with sixty wounded, most mortal. Arnold was later criticized so severely for the brutal raid, that he was basically shunned and never received another credible command.
Of the lost souls who valiantly defended the fort? Some claim they never left. You can visit the fort, now a national park, and maybe decide for yourself. Stroll among the defenses as this writer has done. Close your eyes and imagine the violent assault and the terrible slaughter that took place, particularly after the defenders had laid down their arms. Open your eyes. Perhaps you will see what many picnickers have reported over the years; strange apparitions of wounded soldiers, often suddenly appearing to sit beside them. Freaky at best and unnerving to the extreme. With so much violent energy intensely compacted into one area, it is no wonder spirits roam the grounds upon which so much blood was spilt; and tragically…so needlessly.
10. The Headless Sentry
Now here is a ghost story that stands up to Ichabod Crane’s nemesis, the Headless Horseman of Washington Irving’s classic, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. The story of this poor hapless sentry who was on the wrong end of a dragoon’s sword has a twist of clandestine intrigue. Add to that the famous “Swamp Fox,” General Francis Marion, and an apparition who refuses to part with his oh so important anatomy, and we have a classic campfire tale to raise the hair on the back of listeners; providing it is told with just the right finesse.
By 1780, the American Revolution had moved to the south after a stalemate in the north. With the falling of Charleston, South Carolina, British General Charles Cornwallis’ forces overwhelmed the American defenders throughout the Carolinas. However, many patriot militiamen and factions of Continental troops reformed and with the advent of General Nathanael Greene to take command, they eventually wore the British invaders down. One such rebel leader was General Francis Marion, of “Swamp Fox” fame. He used some pretty unconventional tactics to outwit and defeat the British, including the use of spies. One such spy was a young girl whose father was a wealthy Loyalist.
Some of Marion’s men had been taken prisoner in the Georgetown, South Carolina area. Anne (who later married Thomas Ferguson), was the daughter of large landowner Samuel Wragg and owner of Wedgefield plantation, a few miles outside of Georgetown. Though her father was a stout Loyalist, his brother William had been given a plaque in Westminster Abby upon his death, Anne supported the patriot cause. When Marion’s men were imprisoned at one of the plantation’s outhouses, Anne got off a note informing Marion. She told the ‘Swamp Fox’ that most of the British soldiers were attending a party at a nearby Mansfield Plantation and that Marion’s men were guarded by only one dragoon sentry.
That night Marion took immediate action. He and his men rode to Widefield. The young sentry heard the thunder of hoofs and called out, “Who goes there?” In the frail light, a rider suddenly burst from the night and with one brutal slice with his sword, beheaded the sentry. Marion quickly rounded up his men and escaped. The sentry was taken and buried in an unmarked grave on the plantation. But the incident did not end with the death of a guardsman and prisoner rescue. A few nights later, one of the plantation servants saw a headless man staggering up the drive. He was dressed in a British uniform and coated with blood that dripped down from his severed neck. The bondsman ran and reported what he’d seen, but no one believed him. That is until a few nights later.
Anne, the plantation’s daughter, heard what she thought were hoofbeats in the drive. She looked out her window to see a headless British officer climbing down off his horse. He stumbled toward the veranda and as she watched, he disappeared. Over the years, many other sightings of the headless ghost had been reported, either mounted or staggering along the road or driveways. As one witness observed, “Usually before the ghost is seen strange noises are heard. Sometimes it sounds like the distant roar and clattering’s of the hooves of many horses. This happens just before nightfall. Then the ghost appears, an awful gruesome sight to behold!”
More recently, it is nearer to Halloween when the headless sentry shows himself in unexpected places, including downtown Georgetown. Thundering hoofbeats usually announce his presence. However, it has been reported that when hoofs are not heard, his arrival is announced by what sounds like chains dragged across the front porch. He always appears headless in a British Dragoon uniform. When not riding, he totters about with a pistol in his hand; some claiming his body shifts from side to side, as if searching for his head. Though one curious aspect; he might be a somewhat bashful ghost for he always vanishes as soon as he is spotted. Obviously one of the creepier and more chilling paranormal experiences of the American Revolution, one witness some years back claimed ‘the rush’ was well worth the fright.
11. Valley Forge’s Ghoulish Cows and Pigs
The famous 1777-1778 American winter camp at Valley Forge, northwest of Philadelphia, renowned for the ‘time that tried men’s souls,’ has its own ghost stories that well…many believe was a vision of imagination, if you pardon the pun. Prior to the eighteen nineties, labeled the Victorian Age, there were no sightings or reports of anything out of the normal lofting from the hills and vales of Valley Forge. It took just over a hundred years and the Victorian interest in graves and mystifying horrors associated with ghouls and spirits, to stir up paranormal intrigue at the old American camp. This was the era of the blockbuster novel by Bram Stoker, Dracula, published in 1897, that unleased Vampires on the world stage and cashed in on the new obsession in the paranormal.
Starting around 1895, there were reports of ghostly campfires and veiled orbs of Revolutionary War soldiers floating about the hillsides, particularly on stormy nights. An 1898 letter described how the sloping ground had been eroded to reveal the knee bones of soldiers buried in a crouched position. Soon, folks were speaking of seeing spirits of Continental soldiers hovering over mass burial sites. Years after, it became common knowledge that these unmarked graves were clustered throughout the park.
However, recent studies of eighteenth-century documents reveal few references to burials at Valley Forge. It appears that soldiers who became ill in camp would have been taken to outlying hospitals. Any deaths would have been interned at graves sights nearby. Recent archaeological investigations found no graves at Valley Forge, but did locate buried bones. Turned out these remains were offal pits, where soldiers buried the remains of slaughtered livestock and refuse. Is it possible that the spirits emanating from burial grounds that late 19th century travelers envisioned from their horse an’ buggies were standing on four and not two legs? Valley Forge could claim the unique honor of being haunted by the spirits of unsettled cows and pigs. But there is a precedence; Jockey Hollow is spooked by dogs.
12. Crossroads of War: Spooky New Jersey
Two armies stood face to face for nearly seven long years of war. They fought several major battles over this same stretch of ground while the need for one side to forage and the other to stop them forced a clash of arms nearly every day. Add to that the intense hatred between loyalists and rebels, not unlike the civil war that brewed throughout the Carolinas with both sides raiding and killing indiscriminately, and New Jersey is ripe for paranormal pneuma misting up from beneath the hard-fought grounds and sights of unspeakable violence. Here is a fraction of the ghostly tales that New Jersey has to offer the paranormal fan.
- Legless Captain: Old Tennent Presbyterian Church, Manalapan. On June 28, 1778, as the Battle of Monmouth raged, a weary and thirsty Continental soldier Capt. Henry Fauntleroy of the 4th Virginia Line, trotted his horse to the nearby Perrine Farm to seek water. According to the Recollections and Private Memoirs of George Washington, written years after the war by his adopted son Parke Curtis, Capt. Fauntleroy “was on horseback, at a well near a farmhouse; waiving his turn while the fainting soldiers, consumed by thirst arising from their exertions on the hottest day supposed to have occurred in America, were rushing with frantic cries to the well imploring for water…when a cannon shot, bounding down the lane that led to the farm house, struck the unfortunate officer near the hip and hurled him to the ground a lifeless corpse.” The cannonball had torn though his body and ripped off one or more legs of the twenty-two-year-old soldier. The captain’s friends carried him to a church, which was being used as a battlefield hospital. Fauntleroy was laid in a pew at the back of the sanctuary; bloodstains are still visible on the pew to this day. And if you happen by the church at night, you may see Fauntleroy’s iridescent spirit in the window staring out, toward where he met his grievous end, perhaps wishing to spot his legs so he could once more roam the world.
- The Ghost with Piercing Blue Eyes: Ayers-Allen House, Metuchen. The oldest standing structure in Metuchen, located at 16 Durham Avenue, this former tavern, built in 1740, is host to a number of ghosts, including a Hessian soldier who it was reported to have hung himself in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Zacharia Allen, and his wife Catherine were the owners of the Allen House Tavern during the American Revolution. It served as “an inn where British and Americans met to find common ground over [ginger cakes and] a yard of ale.” One of the popular ghosts who haunts the home is that of a young mother seeking her kidnapped child that was reported killed by British soldiers. History does not confirm that this mother is the tavern’s proprietor, Catherine. Other spirits of colonial soldiers have been reported as sighted over the years including that of two Native American who were unjustly hanged from a tree in the house’s yard. Yet perhaps not all apparitions are the scary tales of Halloween campfires. A former school teacher who had lived in the house for fifty years, Louise King, spoke often of the ghost “with piercing blue eyes,” and with whom she had become very fond. Perhaps over ginger snaps and a cup of tea?
- Ironbound Ghosts: Ringwood Manor, Passaic County: At the northeast corner of New Jersey near the New York State line, Ringwood was a center of iron manufacturing and the early residence of many of the colony’s ironmasters. Ringwood is now a state park with museum at the manor. William Cernyk, the estate’s superintendent, and Mr. Prol, museum curator, both believe that ghost sightings are the work of “overactive imaginations with an occasional kook thrown in here and there.” But then neither has admitted to spending the night at the estate so take their opinion with a grain of salt. Not one, but three prominent ghosts haunt Ringwood State Park and the resident manor.
- Ghost 1. Colonel Robert Erskine, Scottish engineer, inventor, and ironmaster, immigrated to America in 1771 to manage the ironmaking operations at Ringwood, which proved to be a crucial supplier of the American army’s war needs. In 1777, General Washington hired the able ironsmith to form the famous chain link across the Hudson at West Point as well as draw a total of 275 maps of the northern sector. Commissioned a colonel, Erskine was on a map-making expedition in 1780 when he fell ill, dying of pneumonia on October 2, 1780, aged forty-five. Erskine’s tomb is in the old Ringwood Cemetery near the main house. Erskine’s ghost has been seen sitting upon his tomb, but also has been known to escort travelers late at night to an aging wooden bridge at Drink Brook, a hundred yards distant. He carries a pale-blue lantern that smacks against his shinbone. Upon reaching the bridge, Erskine vanishes.
- Ghost 2. This nighttime visitor, thought to be a servant by the name of Jackson White, seems to be in the throngs of a crisis. He is said to pass through the front door, slams it behind, bounds noisily down the hallway and up the stairs, where he vanishes atop the second-floor landing.
- Ghost 3. Along an old mining road called Margaret King Avenue, the spirt of a woman, affectionately known as “Mad Mag,” emanates from a fissure of a huge roadside boulder appropriately called “Spook Rock.” She spends some time wailing and moaning before vanishing into the rock. For years, residents avoided this stretch of road after nightfall.
- Ghoulish Cries of Man & Beast: Nellie’s Pond, Delanco: The identity of this Revolutionary War messenger who died while whisking dispatches has been lost to history. Though the pond he attempted to cross has pretty much dried up, anguished cries of both messenger and his horse as they thrashed to save themselves from drowning can still be heard.
- Spirits and Spies: Gallows Hill, Westfield: This is the story of both a British spy, a murder, and execution. James Morgan, was an American soldier. He was on sentinel duty at the docks of Elizabeth when the Reverend James Caldwell (the same for which Caldwell, NJ is named) accosted the reverend over a package he was carrying. When the patriotic preacher refused to disclose the package to Morgan, he was shot and killed. After a search of Morgan’s residence, they discovered British gold. The sentry was quickly accused of spying for the British. Town residents adored the preacher and demanded that Morgan be drawn and quartered. He was quickly tried in Presbyterian Church of Westfield (where Caldwell had preached) and taken to a large tree on the Scudder Farm nearby. Morgan was hanged and his body secretly buried in an unmarked grave, so residents wouldn’t dig it up and desecrate it. Seems the townspeople couldn’t let a good tree go to waste. Before the war ended, other accused spies found themselves dangling from the spacious limbs. So many, the location acquired the name Gallow’s Hill; presently at the seemingly innocuous corner of Brookside Place and Gallow’s Hill Rd. The tree is no longer there; however, to this day, on particularly dark nights, from a distance, locals claim one can spot iridescent lights and eerie movements swirling over the ground of Gallow’s Hill.
13. George Washington Haunted Here: Mt. Vernon, VA
Leaving the big guy for last, to claim that George Washington slept here is an inn keeper’s dream. Actually, nearly every third town between Virginia and Boston can boast this gem of marketing gold. And of course, with such an incredible celebrity snoring between the walls, can’t argue with locals that George hadn’t left behind a bit of swirling paranormal energy. But there’s one place where the energy is pure. Where Washington’s thoughts remained focused every day of a war which kept him away. Where he eventually, once the war and presidency were put aside, he spent most of his time; home – Mt. Vernon. Add that the four-poster bed whereon he passed his last moments is still there and well, where else would his spirit reign supreme?
We’ll start with the bed where George breathed his last. It is said that many people within recent years, after having slept in it, declared that they were awed by the former president’s “viewless presence.” Now they earnestly believed that his notion, or feeling had nothing to do with their imagination. Besides the question some may raise of pure malarky, this writer wants to know how did they get permission in the first place to sleep in something so valuable and sacrosanct as Washington’s 250-year-old bed? Makes one wonder what kind of fancy car one of the park’s curators may drive from handing out favors to these influential folks. But moving on.
Let’s now go to a real head scratcher. Many who spent the night at Mt. Vernon witnessed a true paranormal vision. An unidentified woman, garbed in 18th century dress, has been seen on the main stairway. The apparition caries a large punch bowl filled with flowers. Upon reaching the end of the stairs, she disappears. A quiet ghost, those who viewed her graceful descent admit they just stood there in awe. There’s also the report of one woman who felt something brush past as she exited the Little Parlor. She looked down, then forward and saw what were just the feet and bottoms of the skirts of a young girl in an 18th century dress running across the Central Passage.
Then there’s Washington’s Keys. It was well known that the general carried a heavy set of keys and that they could be heard as he walked about the house. When Washington died, Tobias Lear, his secretary, took the keys from the death bed and gave them to enslaved manservant Christopher Sheels. One of the night security guards spoke of a strange occurrence: “[After] I locked myself in, it was my responsibility to check the alarms for their proper positioning. When I was in the Mansion Study, I heard a heavy set of keys being walked across the floor in the Washington Bedchamber directly above. As I approached the back stairs to go up to the bedroom, the sound of the keys abruptly stopped.
A Tour Guide had multiple experiences involving Washington’s Tomb: “I stood in front of the open door, and I saw an ectoplasm in the far-right corner of the Tomb. When I moved, the ectoplasm moved. I watched as it became a blur in my vision, and it continued to move around. I took a photo that showed a streak of light through the blur. The second photo showed the blur. As soon as voices of the guests coming down the hill could be heard, the ectoplasm disappeared. This happened on three different occasions.
Lastly, we come to the brave heart. Since most paranormal activity occurs at night, you have to have some pity for the night security guards. They spend the entire evening listening to old buildings’ strange and creaking noises while also driving around somewhat spooky drives and ancient outbuildings. This last episode involved two security guards driving around the Mt Vernon grounds very late at night. They suddenly saw a little girl directly on the path ahead of them. They immediately slammed on the breaks. As they watched, she vanished. In the same breath, the girl appeared right next to the car. They immediately spun around and drove off as fast as they could. One may wonder, what kind of face that little girl made as to scare the socks off of two burly guardsmen?
Happy Haunts!
If You Would Like to be Further Spooked by Revolutionary Wraiths, Check out these Haunting Books on Amazon
Of Similar Interest on Revolutionary War Journal
RESOURCE
Baltrusis, Sam. Ghosts of the American Revolution. 2021: Globe Pequet, Guilford, CT
Barefoot, Daniel W. Spirits of ’76: Ghost Stories of the American Revolution. 2009: John F. Blair Publisher.
Dacus, Jeff. “A Gift of General Washington.” January 16, 2015. Journal of the American Revolution.
Dingle, Becky. “South Carolina’s Own Headless Horseman.” October 10, 2019. Chapel of Hope Stories.
“Ghosts of the American Revolution” Ghost City Tours.
“Haunting Encounters with Revolutionary Ghouls.” October 2020: American Battlefield Trust
“The Many Ghosts of Fort Mifflin.” Weird U.S., Travel Guide to America’s Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets
Martin, Joseph Plumb. The Narrative of Joseph Plumb Martin. 2006: Reissue by Dover Publications, Mincola, New York.
McInvale, Courtney. Revolutionary War Ghosts of Connecticut. 2016: Haunted America, Charleston, SC.
Parisi, Albert J. “Ghosts in Ringwood Manor.” Oct. 26, 1998. New York Times.
Seminerio, Keith. Morristown Green. 2019: “If you see these Revolutionary ghosts at Jockey Hollow, thank them for our Independence”
Reuter, Tyreen. “Ayers-Allen House.” Metuchen Edison History.
Wolf, Christopher E. Ghosts of the Revolutionary War. 2010: Schiffer Publisher, Atglen, PA.