FASTER THAN A SPEEDING BULLET??

The Unsolved Mystery of George Reeves

Superman died at 1:59 am on June 16, 1959. Not the comic book character, of course, but the man who personified the "real" Superman for an entire generation of television fans. George Reeves, it was discovered, was not faster than a speeding bullet after all. Even though the initial coroner’s report listed Reeves’ death as an "indicated suicide," after nearly five decades there are many who do not believe that he killed himself. The death of George Reeves remains one of Hollywood’s most compelling unsolved mysteries, combining rumors of murder, conspiracy, cover-ups – and a lingering ghost.

He was born George Keefer Brewer in Woolstock, Iowa, the son of Don Brewer and Helen Lescher, just five months into his parents’ marriage. The pair separated soon afterward, and Helen moved back home to Galesburg, Ill. A short time later, George’s mother moved to Pasadena, Calif., to stay with her sister and there, she met and married Frank Bessolo. In 1927, Frank adopted George as his son, and the boy took on his new stepfather's last name to become George Bessolo. Helen's marriage to Frank lasted 15 years and ended in divorce while George was away visiting relatives. Helen told George that Frank had committed suicide. It would not be until George joined the Army during World War II that he discovered a number of things that his mother had hidden from him. She had concealed his true birth date and the fact that Bessolo was still alive and that he was actually George’s stepfather, not his biological father. This information disturbed Reeves so much that he did not speak to her through most of the 1940s.

George Reeves

Growing up, George was an accomplished athlete and in 1932, entered the Golden Gloves boxing competition against his mother’s wishes. He did well in the event and went to the Olympics in L.A. in 1932. After having his nose broken nine times, he hung up his gloves and decided to pursue acting.  He had started acting and singing in high school and continued performing on stage as a student at Pasadena Junior College. Accepted by the Pasadena Playhouse, Reeves had prominent roles. His film career began in 1939, when he was cast as Stuart Tarleton, one of Vivien Leigh's suitors in “Gone with the Wind.” It was a minor role, but he and Fred Crane, both with brightly dyed red hair as "the Tarleton Twins," were in the film's opening scenes. He was contracted to Warner Brothers at the time, and the actor's professional name became "George Reeves." He married actress Ellanora Needles in 1940, but had no children with her during their nine-year marriage.

Reeves starred in a number of two-reel short subjects and appeared in several low budget pictures, including two with Ronald Reagan and three with James Cagney. Warner Brothers loaned him out to co-star with Merle Oberon in “Lydia,” a box-office failure. After his Warner Brothers contract expired, he signed on with Twentieth Century-Fox but was released after only a handful of films. He freelanced, appearing in five Hopalong Cassidy westerns before he was cast as Lieutenant John Summers, opposite Claudette Colbert, in “So Proudly We Hail!” The war drama for Paramount won him critical acclaim for the role and considerable publicity.

Reeves was drafted into the Army about 18 months after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. In late 1943, he was transferred to the U.S. Army Air Forces (USAAF) and assigned to the Broadway show “Winged Victory,” produced by and for the USAAF. A long Broadway run followed, as well as a national tour and a movie version of the play. He was later transferred to the USAAF’s First Motion Picture Unit, where he made training films.

After the war ended, Reeves returned to Hollywood but many studios had slowed down their production schedules and others had shut down completely. He took work where he could find it, including in some outdoor thrillers with Ralph Byrd and a serial called “The Adventures of Sir Galahad.” These were low-budget films for which Reeves simply fit the rugged casting requirements and, with his retentive memory for dialogue, could do well under rushed production conditions. He also played against type with one villainous role as a gold hunter in a Johnny Weissmuller “Jungle Jim” film, which turned out to be a moderate success for a B-picture.

In the autumn of 1949, Reeves (whose divorce had recently become final) decided to move to New York. While there, he performed on several live television anthology programs, as well as on radio. Reeves returned to Hollywood in April 1951, specifically for a role in a Fritz Lang film, “Rancho Notorious.”

In June 1951, Reeves career permanently changed when he was offered the role of Superman in a television series. He was initially reluctant to take the role because, like many actors of his time, he considered television to be unimportant and believed that few would see his work. He worked for low pay, even as the star, and was only paid during the weeks of production. The half-hour films were shot on tight schedules of at least two shows every six days.

His career as Superman began with “Superman and the Mole Men,” a film that was designed to be a theatrical picture and the pilot for the television series. Immediately after it was completed, Reeves and the crew began production of the first season's episodes, shot over 13 weeks during the summer of 1951. The series began airing in 1952 and Reeves was astonished when he became a national celebrity in his role as newspaper reporter Clark Kent, who was really Superman. In 1957, the struggling ABC Network picked up the show for national broadcast, which gave him and the rest of the cast even greater visibility. His portrayal of the character became wildly popular and everywhere he went, children and adults alike clamored to meet him and obtain his autograph.

A publicity shot for the Superman series.

Reeves never resented doing personal appearances as Superman, especially since they paid money beyond his meager salary, and his affection for young fans was genuine. Reeves took his role model status seriously, avoiding cigarettes where children could see him, eventually quitting smoking altogether, and keeping his private life very discreet. But Reeves loved women and many who were close to him stated that he broke the hearts of many of the actresses that he worked with. In 1951, he had begun a romantic relationship with a married ex-showgirl, Toni Mannix, wife of MGM general manager Eddie Mannix. Some believe this affair may have cost Reeves his life.

Whether or not Reeves resented being typecast as Superman, he played the heroic role to the hilt, and sometimes not just on screen. With Toni Mannix, Reeves worked tirelessly to raise money to fight myasthenia gravis, a neuromuscular disease leading to fluctuating muscle weakness and fatigue. He served as national chairman for the Myasthenia Gravis Foundation in 1955. During the second season, Reeves appeared in a short film for the US Treasury Department, in which he caught some crooks and told kids why they should invest in government savings stamps.

The cast of “Superman” in a happy moment.

Jack Larson, who played Jimmy Olsen in the series, recalled that Reeves was always a gentleman to the other actors in the show, although he loved to play practical jokes on the cast and crew. He insisted that the original Lois Lane, Phyllis Coates, be given equal billing in the credits in the first season. When Coates was replaced by Noel Neill, Reeves quietly defended her nervousness on her first day when he felt that the director was being too harsh with her. He also stood by Robert Shayne (who played Police Inspector William "Bill" Henderson) when Shayne was subpoenaed by FBI agents on the set of Superman. Shayne's political activism in the Screen Actors Guild in the 1940s was used by his bitter ex-wife as an excuse to lie and say that he was a member of the Communist Party. On the other hand, Reeves delighted in standing outside camera range, making faces at the other cast members to see whether he could break them up. By all accounts, there was a strong camaraderie among the principal actors.

After two seasons, though, Reeves began to get tired of both the Superman role and the low salary he was receiving. He was now 40 and he wanted to move on with his career. He established his own production company and conceived a television adventure series called “Port of Entry,” which would be filmed on location in Hawaii and Mexico. He wrote the pilot script himself and prepared to start pre-production work when the producers of “Superman” offered him a large salary increase. Not wanting to turn it down, he returned to the role.

In 1957, there was talk of producing a new theatrical Superman film and possibly discontinuing the series, but this never happened. Instead, another season of the show was developed. By mid-1959, contracts were signed, costumes re-fitted, and new scripts were assigned to the writers. Noel Neill was quoted as saying that the cast was ready to do a new season of the still-popular show. Producers reportedly promised Reeves that the new programs would be as serious and action-packed as the first season, guaranteed him creative input, and slated him to direct several of the new shows, as he had the final three episodes of the 1957 season.

In between the first and second seasons of “Superman,” Reeves got sporadic acting assignments on television and in two feature films, “Forever Female” and “The Blue Gardenia.” But by the time the series was airing nationwide, Reeves found himself so associated with Superman and Clark Kent that it was difficult for him to find other roles. He also sang on the “Tony Bennett Show” in August 1956 and appeared in an episode of “I Love Lucy” as Superman. His good friend Bill Walsh, a producer at Disney Studios, gave Reeves a prominent role in “Westward Ho the Wagons,” in which Reeves wore a beard and mustache. It was to be his final feature film appearance.

In spite of his sporadic film and television work, and Superman appearances, Reeves was not doing well financially. In 1958, he broke off his affair with Toni Mannix and announced his engagement to society girl, Leonore Lemmon.  He complained to friends, columnists, and his mother of his financial problems. The royalties that he was receiving from the syndication of “Superman” were insubstantial, especially in view of his lifestyle. Apparently, the planned new season of the show, as well as his appearances were a much-needed lifeline. Reeves needed money and the only option that he had to make any was by portraying Superman, which he reluctantly agreed to do.

Just three days after his death, he was to have returned to the boxing ring with light heavyweight champion Archie Moore. The exhibition match was to be played on television so that viewers across the country could tune in to see Superman beat the champ. Reeves told reporters, “the Archie Moore fight will be the highlight of my life.”

After the fight, he and Leonore were to be married. They planned to honeymoon in Spain and then go to Australia for six weeks, where Reeves would pick up over $20,000 for appearances as Superman. The series had just been sold to an Australian television network and local viewers were clamoring to meet the “Man of Steel.”

Reeves would then return to Hollywood later in the year to star in a feature film that he was putting together, which he would also direct. He was then scheduled to shoot new episodes of “Superman” and receive another hefty salary increase. Things seemed to being going well for Reeves, even while being stuck playing Superman, and some said that he seemed to have everything to live for.

But all was not perfect in his life. In the three months before his death, Reeves was involved in three mysterious automobile mishaps that almost cost him his life. The first time, his car was nearly crushed by two trucks on the freeway. Another time, a speeding car nearly killed him, but he survived thanks to his quick, athletic reflexes. The third time, Reeves’ brakes failed on a narrow, twisting road. All of the brake fluid, it was discovered, was gone from the hydraulic system, in spite of the fact that an examination by a mechanic found the system was in perfect working order.

In the three months before his death, Reeves was involved in three mysterious automobile mishaps. He refused to believe that anyone had tampered with his car, even though a mechanic believed that someone had drained his brake lines.

"When the mechanic suggested that someone had pumped out the fluid, George dismissed the notion," said Arthur Weissman, Reeves’ best friend and business manager. Weissman always remained convinced that his friend had been murdered. He tried to convince Reeves that he needed to be careful, but Reeves brushed off the warnings.

About a month later, he began to receive death threats on his unlisted telephone line. Most of them came late at night and there were sometimes 20 or more each day. Often, the anonymous caller would simply hang up when Reeves answered. They said nothing, but after a few graphic and detailed threats, Reeves knew it was the same person. Nervous after the near misses in his car, Reeves filed a report with the Beverly Hills Police Department and a complaint with the L.A. District Attorney’s Office. He even went so far as to suggest a suspect, his former lover, Toni Mannix.

It was never explained why Reeves openly pointed the finger at Toni Mannix. Their relationship had never been a public one but it was a badly kept secret in Hollywood. Eddie Mannix was likely aware of the situation and didn’t like it. According to Reeves’ friend Arthur Weissman, Mannix was a disliked, but feared, member of the Hollywood movie industry. Weissman believed that the executive was responsible not only for the threats that Reeves received, but also for the attempts on his life.

The D.A.’s office investigated the complaint filed by Reeves, including his accusations of Toni Mannix’s involvement, but soon discovered that both Reeves and Toni were receiving telephone threats and crank calls. When that was disclosed, many people assumed that it was Eddie Mannix who had instigated the calls through employees or hired thugs.

Weissman believed that Mannix was behind Reeve’s near-fatal auto crashes, as well. In the film and theater business, Mannix had access to a lot of people outside of the general public. For a price, these men could maneuver two trucks close together on the highway, or could drain the brake fluid from someone’s car. Furthermore, he was sure that Mannix also had access to someone who could arrange a murder, too.

George Reeves’ home in Benedict Canyon

On June 16, 1959, Lenore Lemmon served dinner at around 6:30 p.m. at Reeves’ Benedict Canyon home. She had prepared the meal for Reeves and guest Robert Condon, a writer who was there to do an article on Reeves and his upcoming bout with Archie Moore. After dinner, they settled down in the living room to watch television. Around midnight, everyone went to bed. Around 1 a.m., a friend named Carol Von Ronkel came by the house with another friend, William Bliss. Even though the house was the frequent scene of parties and entertaining, Reeves did not want guests after midnight. However, Von Ronkel and Bliss banged on the door until Leonore got up and let them in. George also came downstairs in his bathrobe and yelled at them for showing up so late. After blowing off steam, he stayed with the guests for a while, had a drink, and then retired upstairs again. When he left, Leonore turned to the others who were present and said something along the lines of, “Well, he’s sulking, he’ll probably go up to his room and shoot himself.”

The houseguests later heard a single gunshot. Bliss ran into the master bedroom and found George Reeves dead, lying across his bed, naked and face-up, his feet on the floor. This position has been attributed to Reeves sitting on the edge of the bed when he shot himself, after which his body fell back on the bed and the 9mm Luger pistol fell between his feet.

Superman was dead.

The Beverly Hills police report of the incident states that, while entertaining his fiancée and three others in his home, Reeves suddenly, without any explanation, left the room and impulsively committed suicide. The statements made to the police and the press by those at the house that night essentially agree. Quite some time passed before the police were summoned to the scene, although neither Leonore nor the other witnesses made any explanation for the delay. They claimed that the shock of the death, the lateness of the house, and their intoxication caused the delay – they had nothing to hide. Detectives did say that all of the witnesses were extremely inebriated, and that their coherent stories were very difficult to obtain.

In the press, Leonore attributed Reeves's apparent suicide to depression caused by his "failed career" and inability to find more work, which was clearly not the case. The witness statements and examination of the crime scene led to the conclusion that the death was self-inflicted. A more extensive official inquiry concluded that the death was indeed suicide. Reeves's will bequeathed his entire estate to Toni Mannix, much to Lemmon's surprise and devastation.

Many people at the time, and many more in later years, have refused to believe the idea that George Reeves would kill himself. Even though he believed his friend was murdered, Arthur Weissman surprisingly did not dispute the sequence of events offered by Leonore Lemmon and the other witnesses. He said that this was just how it happened, but that Reeves did not intend to kill himself. He explained that Reeves was just playing his favorite morbid game, a practic with a gun that was loaded with a blank. According to Weissman, that was why Leonore said what she did. All of Reeves’ friends knew that when he was drinking, he would sometimes fire a blank at his head in a mock suicide attempt, making certain that his arm was far enough away so that he didn’t get powder burns on his face. Weissman claimed that, unknown to Reeves, the blank was replaced by a real bullet by someone hired by Eddie Mannix.

Reeves’ clandestine former girlfriend, Toni Mannix, was madly in love with him and according to Weissman, their relationship was an open Hollywood secret. It continued for years and then came to an end when George announced that he was marrying Leonore Lemmon. Friends said that Toni was "enraged" over this development and began bombarding Reeves with phone calls, making all sorts of threats. It was believed that both she and her husband, who was openly humiliated by Reeves over the affair, had the perfect opportunity to seek revenge, especially since Toni possessed a key to the Reeves house. The police never looked deeply into Weisman’s claims of the switched bullet, believing instead that Reeves’ death had been self-inflicted.

Among those who were unhappy with the findings of "indicated suicide" were Reeves’ mother, Helen Bessolo. She retained the Nick Harris Detectives of Los Angeles to look into the case. At that time, a man named Milo Speriglio was a novice investigator at the firm and played a small role in the investigation. "Nearly everyone in Hollywood has always been led to believe that George Reeves’ death was a suicide," he said in a later interview. "Not everyone believed it then, nor do they believe it now. I am one of those who does not." And neither did Helen Bessolo. She went to her grave in 1964 convinced that her son was murdered.

The Nick Harris Agency, which had been founded in Los Angeles before the FBI was even in existence, quickly came to believe that Reeves’ death had been a homicide. Even based on the fact that many of the witnesses that night were intoxicated and incoherent, the detectives felt that they could rule out suicide. Unfortunately, though, the Beverly Hills Police investigators chose to ignore their findings. A review of the facts seemed to indicate the agency’s suspicions were well founded. They also ruled out the idea of Reeves’ “suicide game” as his cause of death – they believed that someone else was in the house at the time he died.

For one thing, the absence of powder burns on Reeves’ face showed that he did not hold the gun to his head, as the police report stated. For the weapon to have not left any facial burns, it had to have been at least a foot and a half away from Reeves’ head, which is totally impractical in a suicide attempt. In addition, Reeves was discovered after his death on the bed, lying on his back. The single shell was found under his body. According to experts, self-inflicted gunshot wounds usually propel the victim forward and away from the expended bullet casing.

Speriglio made a careful examination of the police report and noticed that the bullet wound was described as "irregular." So, the agency reconstructed the bullet entry and exit. The slug had exited Reeves’ head and was found lodged in the ceiling. His head, at the moment of death, would have had to have been twisted, making a self-inflicted shot improbable. Speriglio suspected that an intruder had entered Reeves’ room and that the actor had found his gun. A struggle had followed and Reeves was shot. The intruder then escaped from the house unnoticed.

While interesting, this theory does not explain why the gun (normally loaded with blanks) had a bullet in it and how the intruder escaped from the house with other people inside.

Regardless of whether or not he killed himself, it was obvious that Reeves’ death was never properly investigated. Police investigators never even bothered to take fingerprints at the scene and people like Arthur Weissman believed they were pressured to make it an "open and shut" case. George Reeves, according to the official findings, had committed suicide. But did he really?

We will never know for sure. In 1961, Reeves’ body was exhumed and cremated, forever destroying whatever evidence was left behind. The death of George Reeves will always remain another unsolved Hollywood mystery.

Could this be why ghostly phenomena has been reported at the former Reeves house ever since his death? Many believe that the ghostly appearances by the actor lend credence to the idea that he was murdered. Over the years, occupants of the house have been plagued by not only the sound of a single gunshot that echoes in the darkness, but strange lights, and even the apparition of George Reeves.

After Reeves’ death, real estate agents attempted to sell the house to settle the actor’s estate. Unfortunately, though, they had trouble. Occupants would not stay long because they would report inexplicable noises in the upstairs bedroom where Reeves died. When they would go to investigate the sounds, they would find the room was not as they had left it. Often, the bedding would be torn off, clothing would be strewn about, and some reported the ominous odor of gunpowder in the air. One tenant also noticed that his German Shepherd would stand in the doorway of the room and bark furiously as though he could see something his owners could not. The phenomenon in the house was so widely witnessed that at one point, two L.A. County deputies were assigned to watch the place because neighbors had reported screams, gunshots, and lights going on and off in the empty house during the night.

New occupants moved out quickly, becoming completely unnerved after encountering Reeves’ ghost, decked out in his Superman costume! The first couple that spotted him was not the last to see him either. Many later residents also saw the ghost and one couple became so frightened that they moved out of the house that same night. Later, the ghost was even reported on the front lawn by neighboring residents.

In the 1980s, while the house was being used as a set for a television show, the ghost made another startling appearance. He was seen by several of the actors and crewmembers before abruptly vanishing, furthering the mysterious elements of this strange and complicated case.

What happened to George Reeves? We will never know for sure and his story is doomed to become another of Hollywood’s many unsolved mysteries.

From Troy’s book, BLOODY HOLLYWOOD

FIRE ON THE WATER

The General Slocum Disaster

Guest Blog by Rene Kruse

On June 15, 1904 one of the great disasters in American history occurred in the Hell Gate area of New York City’s East River. Although overshadowed by ever greater disasters to come in the city’s history, the burning of the General Slocum and the loss of nearly 1,000 lives, remains one of the most horrific events to ever occur during our nation’s past – and it’s one that left tales of doom, curses, despair, death and even hauntings in its fiery wake.

By the early summer of 1904, the Knickerbocker Steamship Company needed a second passenger steamship to carry visitors back and forth from New York City to Rockaway Beach during the thriving resort season. The SS General Slocum was commissioned and built in Brooklyn to fulfill that need. Before and after the Rockaway Beach season, the General Slocum was an excursion ship carrying visitors around New York City and was available for private charter.

The ship had a 235-foot-long wooden hull, three expansive decks and a passenger capacity of three thousand.  The Slocum was, by design, a “sidewheel” boat. This means her paddlewheels, 31 feet in diameter, were located on each side, just aft of the center of the ship. Launched in 1891, her white hull with brilliant gold lettering and bright orange paddlewheels made her a spectacular sight as she steamed around New York. As an excursion ship, she was one of the most popular and recognizable steaming the New York City waters. At the time the General Slocum burned, at least half of the people living in New York had either been aboard her or had seen her close up.

Many believed the General Slocum was a cursed ship, however that idea never made it into print until after the fire and sinking. In support of these claims, during her fourteen years afloat, she did experience a series of unfortunate mishaps. The first in a long succession of problems that plagued the General Slocum involved the drowning of a young girl, who had been accidentally pushed overboard by an overzealous crowd.

The ill-fated General Slocum

It turned out that 1894 was a very bad year for the ship. In July, while carrying 4,700 passengers, she ran onto a sandbar so hard that her lights were completely knocked out. The New York Times reported, “A panic followed, in which women who fainted were trampled upon, and men fought with each other to get to the boats. Pandemonium reigned for half an hour, until order was restored by the crew. Then it was found that hundreds had been injured in the wild scrimmage.”  In August, she ran into another sandbar off Coney Island during a terrible storm. Panic again ruled the night until the storm eased and the passengers were transferred to another boat. The very next month, the Slocum collided with a tugboat, the R.T. Sayre. She drifted helplessly about the East River, nearly running aground on the rocks off Governor’s Island before another tugboat was able to push her to safety.

The General Slocum suffered only minor scrapes over the next four years; however, in 1898 she collided with the lighter Amelia, just off the Battery. The two ships struck each other so hard that they became locked together and had to be separated by tugs. Then in June of 1902, during a return trip from Rockaway Beach, she again ran aground on yet another sandbar. As it was already dark, the four hundred passengers on board had to camp out on deck all night until they could be rescued the next morning.

On August 17, 1901, a bizarre event occurred aboard the General Slocum. The ship had been hired to take a group of four hundred people, mostly men, to Rockaway Beach. The men, immigrant workers from the silk mills of Paterson, New Jersey, were reportedly already drunk when they boarded the vessel. As the ship steamed into open waters, she was met by a storm with heavy seas. The drunken passengers, whom news reports dubbed the “Paterson Anarchists,” for their rowdy behavior and labor union affiliation, panicked and insisted that the captain turn around. When he refused, a group of them stormed the bridge in an attempt to take over the ship. The crew fought the group off successfully and was able to lock them in cabins until the captain could land. At least seventeen of the so-called anarchists were arrested and most of those ended up in jail.

St. Mark’s Evangelical Lutheran Church was located in Little Germany, also known as Kleindeutschland, a New York community of eighty thousand German inhabitants located along the Lower East Side near Tompkins Square.  St. Marks held an annual celebration to commemorate the conclusion of their Sunday school year. In 1904, the parishioners chose to charter the General Slocum to take them to Locust Point on Huntington Bay on the North Shore of on Long Island for a picnic. The charter cost them $350 and for most of them, their lives.

On the morning of June 15, 1904, Captain William Van Schaick and his crew of twenty docked the General Slocum for boarding at the Third Street and East River pier. The scene was that of great fanfare with excited parents and children. The Slocum band played German favorites. Because it was a Wednesday and most men were at work, a majority of those boarding the ship that day were women and children. In all, 1,358 souls were on the General Slocum that day. Only 337 were still alive just two hours later.

  

The ship was loaded and underway by 9:30 a.m. One survivor recalled the General Slocum, “glided through the water so smoothly that the children were allowed to move around and play as they wished about the deck.” As it turned out, her smooth sailing was not so fortunate, as families who had wandered apart towards the beginning of the journey would later spend much precious time frantically searching the parts of the ship not burning, trying to find their children.  

Less than thirty minutes after casting off, twelve-year-old Frank Prawdzicki was the first to notice signs of fire.  He tried to warn the captain but was pushed away from the bridge and told not to bother the officers again. Ten minutes later, a general fire alarm spread through the ship. Young Frank Prawdzicki and his mother survived the fire but his four sisters, Annie, age fifteen, Henrietta, age thirteen, Gertrude, age three and one-year-old Johanna, were all lost.

The fire spread through the ship faster than anyone could have possibly imagined. Feeding the flames further was the highly flammable paint with which the ship had recently been repainted. However, the main reason the flames spread with such ferocity was because of what Captain Van Schaick did next. Many believed that he badly mishandled the fire and the situation that followed.

When the Captain was first notified of the fire in the forward compartment, they were steaming past a large set of piers where he could have docked in time to possibly save countless lives. Instead, he steamed ahead at full speed for nearly five minutes before beaching the ship on the shores of North Brother Island. He later tried to explain, “I started to head for 134th Street, but was warned off by the captain of a tugboat, who shouted to me that the boat would set fire to the lumber yards and oil tanks there. Besides, I knew that the shore was lined with rocks and the boat would founder if I put in there. I then fixed upon North Brother Island.”  

Unfortunately, as the ship steamed ahead at full speed, the wind fanned the flames fiercely and caused them to move toward the aft (rear) part of the ship where most of those aboard had taken refuge from the smoke and heat.  The fire ate away at the decks with amazing speed. A flotilla of small boats and tugs followed the raging inferno as she sped down river.

The ruins of the General Slocum, still on the water.

It would not be one single thing that doomed the ship. Even though the General Slocum had experienced a variety of mishaps during her short life, Captain Von Schaick had received a number of safety commendations as he was ultimately in charge of safety on board the ship. Little did anyone know that the Captain had become very lax in regard to safety. In reality, the General Slocum had become a floating deathtrap. The crew had never been trained in the required safety drills or with the safety equipment, most of which was aged and rotted. The ship’s life boats were originally lashed in place with ropes, but as the ropes had begun to rot, they were reattached with wire and could not be released during the fire.  

The times were also a factor in the large number of lives lost. In the early twentieth century, very few people knew how to swim, especially those living in the city. The clothing worn by the women and young girls also proved to be a great hindrance to their survival. Long, heavy skirts and the petticoats worn underneath grew heavy in the water and clung to their legs, pulling them down and making it impossible to for them to swim or even stay afloat.  And these were Victorian times. Devout, church-going women would never have considered stripping down to their undergarments before jumping, even to save their own lives. Also, many waited on the ship too long and were killed when the decks burned through and collapsed. Others were mauled to death by the still-turning paddle wheels as they jumped over the side. 

The first action taken by the crew was to try to put out the fire using the on-board fire hoses. Having never been used before or replaced as needed, most crumbled as they were taken from their racks. The hoses that didn’t crumble into pieces, burst apart when the water pumps were turned on. After this first course of action failed, a majority of the crew abandoned ship leaving the passengers to fend for themselves. One survivor related, “...it seemed to me that the crew of the boat lost their heads -- they were undisciplined, and did not do what sane men would have done to stay the panic and restore order.”

Three thousand life preservers were hung along the interior deck walls near the ceilings. Passengers climbed onto deck chairs and camp stools to take them down but found that many of them were stuck to the walls, evidently put back too soon after the recent paint job. Others simply fell apart in their hands, the fabric shredding, releasing the granulated cork inside. At that time, solid pieces of cork were sewn inside life preservers and maritime law required a minimum amount of cork be placed in each, measured by the weight of the finished jacket. The Nonpareil Cork Works, makers of the life preservers used on the General Slocum, had used useless lightweight granulated cork instead of the required solid cork. It was later discovered that in order to reach the required minimum weight, the company had placed iron bars and pieces of stone inside the jackets.    

A few of the life jackets did stay intact for a while. Mothers strapped their babies and young children into the remaining life preservers, took them to the rail of the ship and dropped them over the side. To their utter horror, they stood and watched as their children hit the water’s surface and immediately sunk from sight, pulled down by the weighted jackets that were supposed to keep them afloat.

Joseph Halphusen, the church sextant described the scene as “pure panic.” He further described how a sheet of flame followed rolling clouds of smoke. A rush began towards the sides of the boat during which women and children were thrown down and trampled. He said that many were pushed overboard and even more jumped into the river.  Mr. Halphusen waited till the last minute before he dropped his two daughters over the side and jumped himself, just as a rescue tug arrived in time to fish all three from the water.

Because this was to be a cheerful family-oriented outing, George Maurer, the Slocum bandleader, brought along his wife. Margaret, and daughters Clara, age twelve, and Matilda, age fourteen. Margaret died a few days after the fire from burns. His daughters drowned, as did Maurer himself. When his body was recovered, his forehead carried the imprint from a boot heel. It was believed that after he was already in the water, someone landed on him as they jumped.

As the General Slocum struck the shore of North Brother Island, Nicholas Balser was at the aft end of the ship, waiting till the last minute to jump. When at last he did jump, to his surprise he landed in water only up to his armpits and walked out onto the shore. “When I finally emerged, I looked back and to my dying day I’ll never forget the scene. Around me were scores of bodies, most of them charred and burned. I helped as many as possible of those still living to land. From the stern of the boat, where hundreds of persons were huddled fighting like mad to leap into the water, I saw dozens of women and children throw themselves over the side.”

Catherine Kassebaum, and the ten family members she brought with her that day, wanted to listen to the music, so they all gathered around the band. A woman’s scream reached them before any smoke was noticed.  Thinking that someone had fallen overboard, she and her family scanned the waters below. Within seconds, the true nature of the problem became apparent when smoke began billowing toward them and they heard general panic on the forward part of the deck. Catherine, realizing that she had to stay calm if there was any chance for survival, called her family together, instructing the strong to care for the weak, but they were soon overtaken by a mass of screaming women and children rushing toward them in an attempt to escape the oncoming smoke and flames. 

Catherine’s family disappeared as the crowd swept past her. She was able to climb onto a rail for a better vantage point, trying to spot any of her family. Her hands and face were scorched and blistered, holes were burning in her clothing; she finally decided to take her chances by jumping into the water. She described the feeling that she would never again surface when she saw a flash of light and something solid above her. She was later found alive, clinging to the ship’s paddle box. Her daughter Nettie had waited until she saw a tugboat approach the burning ship and jumped onto the deck, breaking her leg. Though mother and daughter were reunited, the remaining nine members of their family perished.

The family of Anna Weber was slightly more fortunate than the Kassebaums. At the first puff of smoke, Anna began rushing about the deck searching for her children. The heat was so intense that her face was scorched and her hair caught fire. Hoping that her husband had found their children, she went to the side of the boat and tried to lower herself down by a rope. Her flesh blistered every time her hands or face touched the side of the boat. She finally dropped when her rope burst into flames. Anna was soon pulled to the shore of North Brother Island by an unknown savior where she found her husband with his clothes burned off, wandering about looking for their children.

Frank and Anna Weber lost both their son and daughter, along with her sister. Their friends, Paul and Anna Liebenow, whom the Webers had invited along as a special treat, lost two daughters but their six-month old daughter Adelia was miraculously saved. The following year little Adelia Leibenow (later Witherspoon) unveiled the Steamboat Fire Mass Memorial. She went on to live a full life and was the last known General Slocum survivor. She died in 2004 at the age of one hundred.

The Reverend George Hass, pastor of St. Marks, had been on a tour of the ship as it first got underway. As smoke began pouring up from below he was able to find his wife, Anna, and his sister, Emma. They waited on the middle deck, searching for George and Anna’s thirteen-year old daughter, Gertrude. When they realized that the deck above them was about to collapse, they jumped together into the water.  Rev. Hass described how he thought he must have put on his life preserver incorrectly because it seemed to be pulling him deeper under water. He was able to free himself and floated to the surface, but by that point, had lost track of his wife. Of the entire Hass party, only Rev. Hass and his sister survived the ordeal.  

By the time the General Slocum was beached on North Brother Island, she was fully engulfed in flames. She ran aground in about 25 feet of water, just off the shoreline. Fireboats arrived shortly, along with other small boats and tugs. These smaller boats maneuvered around the bodies and wreckage, plucking any survivors they found from the water. Captain Van Schaick jumped to the deck of an approaching tug, with an injury to his eye that left him blind on one side, but otherwise unharmed and dry. 

North Brother Island was a hospital island for contagious diseases. Many medical personnel and patients watched from the hospital windows as the General Slocum approached. They rushed the short distance to the shore to render any aid they could. City Health Commissioner Thomas Darlington happened to be visiting the hospital that day. “I will never be able to forget the scene, the utter horror of it,” he said later. He described how the patients in the contagious wards “went wild at the things they saw from their windows.” They screamed and beat at the doors until they were finally quieted by a number of staff members. They watched as the small boats were arriving with the survivors, and towing large numbers of bodies.

The island became a “scene of courage and panic.” Many stories of heroism and cruelty were printed in the newspapers over the next week. A tugboat captain risked his boat and crew by pulling right up to the flames and is said to have saved nearly a hundred lives. Some quite ill patients left the safety of their hospital beds and ran into the water, rescuing as many children as they could. One newspaper reporter wrote of the actions of a particular hospital staff member, “A nurse who always wished she could swim ran into the river to grab some children, which she did again and again until she was swept into deeper water, where she discovered that she could swim, and continued saving lives.”

Over the following few days, hordes of souvenir hunters made the recovery of bodies much more difficult as they washed ashore on North Brother Island and other sites down river. Thieves stripped many of the bodies of jewelry and other valuables as they lay at the high tide line. Hospital attendants chased away a man they found stooped over the body of a woman, attempting to steal the gold watch chain that she wore at her waist. Then there was the large and mysterious white yacht that was cursed by many as it lay just yards away without making any attempt to help with the rescue. A New York Times headline screamed from the page that the private captain “Kept His Yacht Back While Scores Perished: White Vessel’s Captain Watched Slocum Horror Through Glasses.”

The bodies that were pulled from the water or washed ashore on North Brother Island were laid out side by side on the grass outside the hospital. They were later moved to a makeshift morgue at the East 23^rd Street Pier. Coroner William J. O’Gorman announced that more than $200,000 in cash and jewelry was recovered from the victims. Eva Eingler’s body was found to have $30,000 in cash, securities and bankbooks on it. It is unknown why she took that much money with her on what was supposed to be a short excursion. The funds, jewelry and personal items taken from the victims were taken to the coroner’s office to be held for the owners’ survivors. A volunteer who was taking inventory of the victims’ personal effects was startled to discover that fifteen-year-old Clara Hartman of East Ninth Street, pulled from the water and thought to be drowned, was still alive three hours after the fire on board the General Slocum.

Bodies of the dead were placed on display on North Brother Island. They were eventually packed in ice so they could be preserved until someone could identify them.

Rescue volunteers and police openly sobbed as they moved bodies hour after hour. As morgue staff worked to lay out the bodies as they arrived, others were sent to search the city for wooden coffins. Still others brought back tons of ice to help maintain the bodies until they could be identified and claimed by family members.  

While still burning, the hull of the General Slocum was washed a few thousand yards down river by the current until it became lodged in the mud. In following weeks the hull remained partially submerged just off of Hunts Point in the Bronx. Divers were sent down into the hull to search for and recover trapped bodies. Police continued to search the riverbanks for many weeks, collecting bodies and debris from the boat that continued to wash ashore.

While the divers were searching the burned-out hull, they discovered many bodies lying at the bottom of the river. Continuing their search they found a deep hole in the riverbed from which they retrieved more than fifty more bodies. All of these bodies were wearing life preservers. The very life preservers that were supposed to save their lives were weighing their bodies down, making the recovery that much more difficult.

When news of the disaster spread, grief-stricken families flocked to St. Mark’s Church to await the news of their loved ones.

When they heard about the disaster, huge numbers of people amassed at St. Mark’s Church to await news of survivors. Still others rushed to the morgue trying to get information faster. Over the next week, thousands upon thousands of New Yorkers walked past the rows of bodies, hoping to find a lost friend or family member. Though many bodies were never recovered, assumed to have washed out to sea, 61 were never identified and were buried in a common grave in the Cemetery of the Evergreens in Brooklyn. The tragedy was further deepened as people committed suicide after learning they had lost their entire families. They may have died later but they were killed by the General Slocum as surely as if they had been killed by the flames.

Funerals were held every hour around the clock in Little Germany. With such a large number of dead, all having lived in the same community, nearly everyone in Little Germany had lost a friend or family member or knew someone who had. The deep sadness of the tragedy seemed to permeate the very fabric of the community and people started to leave. Within a few years, only a small handful of the original inhabitants were left and Little Germany was no more.

Of the 1,021 people who died as a direct result of the fire on board the General Slocum, over ninety percent of them were women, children and infants.

Outrage was the order of the day as people wondered how such a tremendous tragedy could occur within a few hundred yards of one of the most modern cities in the world. Someone had to be held accountable for such a great loss. City leaders vowed to bring to justice those who were to blame. Within a few weeks, the main executives of the Knickerbocker Steamship Co. were indicted along with Captain Van Schaick and a safety inspector. Also indicted were the top executives of the Nonpareil Cork Works, makers of the deadly life preservers. They were never convicted.  

During the trial, it was revealed that the Knickerbocker Steamship Company had falsified records, covering up its lack of concern for passenger safety. In return for their complicity in the tragedy, they received only a small fine. 

Captain Van Schaick’s story ended differently. Though he tried to explain his actions on that terrible day, the jury was not convinced. In the end, the captain was the ultimate authority for safety on his ship and he was held accountable. Convicted of criminal negligence and manslaughter, Captain Van Schaick was sentenced to ten years hard labor at Sing Sing Prison. Though he appealed for his release directly to President Theodore Roosevelt, a native New Yorker, he was repeatedly refused. After serving three and a half years, he was pardoned under President William Howard Taft and spent the rest of his life in seclusion, a broken man, until his death in 1927.

The cause of the fire was quickly discovered. The night before the General Slocum’s final trip, deck hand Dan O’Neill violated fire regulations by storing a barrel of packing hay on board. He placed the hay in a closet with a stash of oil lamps. This proved to be the deadliest of mixtures.

Just one month before the fire, Henry Lundburg, Assistant Inspector of Hulls, performed a safety inspection of the General Slocum. During this inspection, he determined that the life preservers were “up to date and of good quality.” When inspecting the water pumps and fire hoses, he didn’t seem at all concerned that no water came out when he turned the valves on and off. Another part of the inspection required him to climb up to the lifeboats to check them. Instead, he merely glanced up and checked the box for “in good condition” on his form and walked on.

The great tragedy that occurred aboard the General Slocum, resulting in the horrific deaths of so many innocent men, women and children were in large part due to the illegal actions and corrupt behaviors of Henry Lundberg and Dan O’Neill. Neither of these men spent a single day in jail.

In 1906, a memorial fountain to the victims of the fire was erected at the north end of Tompkins Square Park.

The remains of the General Slocum’s hull were recovered and rebuilt into a barge named the Maryland, which sank off of Sandy Hook, New Jersey, during a December storm in 1911. The curse, some said, continued.

Captain Van Schaick lived for twenty years after he was released from prison, though he didn’t get much rest during that time. He privately told friends that his nights were frequently interrupted by the screams of women and children. His days were filled with shadows in the corners and the smell of burning flesh. In the end, it was said that he welcomed death. Was he being haunted by the victims of the great tragedy in which he was at least partially to blame, or was his tormentor his own conscience?

So many suffered to learn such harsh lessons. Perhaps the greatest tragedy of this disaster is that so much is left without rest, so many lost forever. But many were left witness, to remember the flames, to remember the screams, to remember the horror. 

AMERICA'S 10 MOST HAUNTED PLACES

COMPILED BY TROY TAYLOR & APRIL SLAUGHTER

Co-authors of the upcoming book, DISCONNECTED FROM DEATH

BELL WITCH CAVE

Adams, Tennessee

Few accounts of ghostly phenomena in American history can compare to that of the Bell Witch. Beginning in 1871 and lasting nearly four years, the Bell family was plagued by disturbing experiences in their home. What began as simple yet inexplicable rapping and scratching noises quickly escalated into violent personal attacks. When the entity responsible for the anguish found its voice, it claimed to be the “witch” of Kate Batts, a former neighbor who’d fostered resentment for John Bell over bad business dealings. John fell ill and would eventually die, all at the hands of the witch who was more than willing to take credit for his demise. The spirit left the family in peace for seven years, only to return to taunt them again for weeks. Whether or not the ghost was the spirit of Kate Batts or something far more sinister, nobody really knows, but it is speculated that when it retreated, it took up residence in a cave close to the Bell home near the Red River. Many who visit the cave today report experiences such as hearing the sound of footsteps, seeing apparitions, and even feeling as though they have been pushed or slapped. Some believe the ghost of Kate Batts is the culprit, while others believe the cave’s famous resident was never a human at all. You can read more about it in "Season of the Witch!" 

WAVERLY HILLS SANATORIUM

Louisville, Kentucky

This massive structure was built in 1926 to house and treat patients afflicted with tuberculosis; a disease that gripped much of the nation, but was particularly prominent among the residents of Louisville. Hundreds of patients were admitted and treated for the disease, but many of them did not survive. Treatments were not only painful and usually ineffective, they were often deadly. Bodies were removed via the “bloody chute” which was a tunnel leading from the back of the building down a hill to a railway where they were kept out of site of the surviving patients. By 1943, advances in medicine had nearly eradicated the disease in the U. S. and the sanatorium closed. A year later, it was re-opened as the Woodhaven Geriatrics Sanitarium and would remain in operation until 1982, when conditions and budget cuts led to mistreatment and the neglect of patients and the state of Kentucky shut it down permanently. Waverly Hills has exchanged hands a number of times over the years, but one thing remains constant… visitors to the building continually experience a wide range of paranormal phenomena from hearing disembodied voices, feeling an ominous presence, to seeing shadow figures move from room to room. With so much and death and suffering that occurred within its walls, is it any wonder that the sanatorium is considered one of the most haunted locations in the country? Read more about this location in “Haunting of America!”

THE MYRTLES PLANTATION

Near St. Francisville, Louisiana

This plantation was originally built in 1794, and in the many years since, has become a home of ghostly legend. The most famous of which tells of a jaded house slave named Chloe, who – knowingly or not – poisoned her master’s wife and children. Another tale includes the tragic death of previous owner William Winter, who was shot on the porch of the house and then wounded, made his way into the house and up the staircase to the 17th step where he collapsed and died in the arms of his beloved. While stories such as these would certainly support the claims of paranormal activity within the home, they are unfortunately untrue. No record exists of Chloe, and those she allegedly poisoned all died at different times from yellow fever. William Winter was indeed shot, but died immediately and did not stumble into the house. Even so, there are a few ghosts of the Deep South that have made The Myrtles their home. The apparition of an African American woman wearing a green bonnet has been seen (and photographed) on the premises. Children are often seen playing in and around the house and peering into windows. The grand piano on the first floor often plays on its own, only to stop as soon as anyone enters the room to investigate. The legends of The Myrtles may not be accurate, but one thing remains true… it is a home with a deep history that continues to haunt visitors to this day. Read more about this location in “Haunting of America!”

THE LEMP MANSION

St. Louis, Missouri

The Lemp family began building their empire in the beer brewing business in St. Louis in 1838. Driven and quite successful, the Lemps enjoyed many prosperous years in the industry, but with success also came hardship. Death would first visit the family when it came for William Lemp Sr.’s eldest son, Frederick. In 1901, and at only 28 years of age, his health rapidly deteriorated and he passed away, leaving his father completely devastated. Ultimately unable to pull himself out from underneath the sadness, William retired to his room in the family home on the morning of February 13, 1904 and shot himself with a .38 caliber revolver.  His daughter Elsa Lemp Wright would follow in his footsteps in 1920 after struggles with a rocky marriage and the decline of the family business. The Lemp plant was eventually sold to the International Shoe Co., which devastated William Lemp, Jr. By December 1922, Will had slipped into a terrible depression and social withdrawal and he too took his own life in the Lemp family home. The remaining Lemp brothers, Charles and Edwin, were largely involved in other ventures, but tragedy would reduce the family yet again. In May of 1949, Charles was found dead in the home he’d loved, a victim of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Edwin passed away at his estate in Kirkwood at the age of 90 in 1970. The family home was sold after Charles’ passing, and while it briefly served as a boarding house, it fell into disrepair until 1975, when it was purchased and remodeled as a restaurant and inn by Dick Pointer. During renovation, the Pointer family experienced phantom footsteps and voices in the house. Restaurant staff have reported seeing apparitions appear and vanish at will, glasses inexplicably flying from the shelves, and hearing the bar piano play entirely on its own. In 1980, an article appearing in LIFE magazine named the Lemp Mansion as “one of the most haunted houses in America.”  Discover the full history in “Suicide &Spirits!”

THE BATTLEFIELDS OF GETTYSBURG

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

Famous haunts across the country attract large numbers of ghost hunters every year, but few of them can compare to the allure and reputation of Gettysburg. Three bloody days of battle during the Civil War in June of 1863 resulted in a large number of casualties, and this small town was ill-prepared to handle the fall out. Nearly one third of all the soldiers engaged in battle here were dead by the end of the third day; a catastrophic loss leaving bodies strewn in all directions. The wounded were treated in homes and businesses that were made into makeshift hospitals while the dead were exposed to and rotted in the Pennsylvania summer heat. The suffering and death that occurred in the fields, in local homes, and the surrounding areas has left a lasting impression on the land, as is evident by the sheer number of paranormal encounters that are experienced and recorded here. It is said that when the ladies of Gettysburg traveled through town following the battle, their only relief from the overwhelming stench of death were scented handkerchiefs pressed tightly to their faces. “Phantom smells” of peppermint and vanilla are experienced by visitors even to this day. Apparitions seem to frequent homes and various other buildings, disembodied voices and the sounds of war still linger in the air. The most active location in Gettysburg is an area called The Devil’s Den. Visitors find it difficult to keep their electronic gear up and running, as inexplicable failure is common here. Many people have often encountered an unkempt man amongst the boulders, who approaches to speak with them and suddenly vanishes. Soldiers are seen, gunfire is heard, and the weight of the devastation that occurred here is quite often felt. Those who visit the battlefields of Gettysburg come hoping for an encounter with those on the other side… and few are disappointed. Discover the many stories of Gettysburg in “Soldiers& the Supernatural!”

THE STANLEY HOTEL

Estes Park, Colorado

This beautiful and historic hotel, which sits in the picturesque community of Estes Park, has been home to ghostly activity experienced by staff and guests alike for years. Famed writer Stephen King was so impressed by the hotel that it became the inspiration behind his novel The Shining. No one knows exactly when the activity began in the hotel, or why, but experiences have long been a part of the hotel’s mystique. Nearly every room has been host to one phenomenon or another, though most of the activity seems to occur on the fourth floor. Guests often report that items are inexplicably moved in their rooms, and children are heard at odd hours running and playing in the hallways. F.O. Stanley (of Stanley Steamer fame) and his wife Flora opened the hotel in July of 1909, but neither seem to have left it behind. It is not unusual for guests and staff to briefly encounter F.O. walking through the lobby, and the sound of the piano playing on its own in the Music Room is often attributed to Flora. The beauty and comfort of the Stanley Hotel attracts hundreds of people every year; more, if you count those who remain unseen.

THE WINCHESTER MYSTERY HOUSE

San Jose, California

Haunted houses are interesting, but there aren’t any in existence that can compare to the oddity of the Winchester Mystery House. The story begins with the birth of Sarah Pardee in 1839 to a family in New Haven, Connecticut. At the age of 23, Sarah married William Wirt Winchester, heir to the Winchester rifle empire. Life seemed to be going well until disaster struck four years later. Sarah had given birth to her first and only child, Annie, but the infant fell ill and passed away a mere nine days later. Sarah drew inward from the loss, and struggled to regain a balanced emotional footing. In 1881, Sarah lost her husband William to pulmonary tuberculosis, which only added to her agony. Urged by a friend to visit a Spiritualist medium for guidance, Sarah was told that a terrible curse loomed above her family for all of the deaths the Winchester rifles had been responsible for. The medium relayed to Sarah that her husband wished for her to move on and build a home she could inhabit with the spirits of those who’d lost their lives to the weapon. In order to remain living, Sarah needed to keep construction on the home constant. If she ceased, she would die. Sarah and her vast fortune moved west, eventually settling in California’s Santa Clara Valley in 1884. She purchased an existing six bedroom house resting on 162 acres and immediately began construction on her new home. As time passed, the house continued to grow. Crews worked round the clock to add entire wings, doors that were joined to windows. There were countless staircases that led nowhere; a blind chimney that stop short of the ceiling; closets that opened to blank walls; trap doors; double-back hallways; doors that opened to steep drops to the lawn below; and dozens of other oddities. Sarah also maintained a connection to the spirits in her home by communing with them in a séance room she had constructed for that purpose. After one such session on September 4, 1922, Sarah retired to her bedroom where she passed away at the age of 83. The mansion is now a California Historical Landmark, and many believe that the spirits Sarah worked so hard to appease still occupy the house. Inexplicable footsteps, banging doors, strange lights and cold spots are just a few of the things reported to have occurred in the home over the years.  Read more about this location in “Haunting of America!”

BACHELOR’S GROVE CEMETERY

Chicago, Illinois

This cemetery sits on land first set aside for burial in 1844. Now largely abandoned and sheltered by trees on the edge of the Woods Forest Preserve, this piece of land has become fairly well known for the accounts of paranormal phenomena it has produced over the years since the last recorded burial in 1989. Problems arose in the 1960s when vandalism and decay descended on the cemetery. Headstones were broken, stolen, and defaced. Caskets were unearthed and bones strewn about the ground. Rumors of occult rituals taking place also began to surface. Today, the cemetery is unkempt, overgrown, and surrounded by a large chain link fence, which has proven to be a poor deterrent for anyone determined to enter the premises. The apparition of a horse has been seen emerging from a small stagnant pond near the rear barrier of the cemetery, pulling a plow and driven by the ghost of a man who had allegedly drown when the horse plunged into the pond, dragging him under. The apparition of a woman wandering aimlessly around the cemetery, holding an infant has been a common sight, though she seems unaware (or perhaps disinterested) in interacting with anyone who encounters her. The surrounding area seems to be equally active, as phantom vehicles have appeared only to vanish on the nearby roadway. For several decades, individuals have reported the appearance of a phantom farm house appearing and disappearing from sight in various locations nearby as well. Many cemeteries are often rumored to be haunted; the phenomena experienced at Bachelor’s Grove leave little doubt that it is.  Read more about this location in “Haunting of America!”

YORKTOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL

Yorktown, Texas

Tucked away in a small south Texas town sits a privately owned vacant building that was once the Yorktown Memorial Hospital. Built in 1950 and operated by the Felician Sisters of the Roman Catholic Church, the hospital remained in operation until it closed its doors in the late 1980s. It is reported that close to 2,000 people passed away in the building, and over the years, stories of strange occurrences have poured out from within its walls. Caretakers of the property often see and hear sounds emanating from within, as though the hospital were still in working order. Women crying out as if in labor, the groans of individuals in a great deal of pain, disembodied conversations, and shadowy figures moving from room to room are commonly experienced. Investigators who have repeatedly visited the building report encountering spirits who have identified themselves on several occasions and seem to recognize them upon their return, engaging in lengthy conversations via Electronic Voice Phenomena (EVP) and the use of Instrumental Transcommunication (ITC) devices. Orbs of light (seen with the naked eye) have been witnessed moving about the halls and doorways of Yorktown, and the activity within is no less active in the daylight hours than it is at night. While no one knows exactly what sets this hospital building apart from any other, one thing remains clear… Yorktown is one of the most consistently active paranormal locations in America. Read about this location in April's "Ghosthunting Texas!"

THE VILLISCA AX MURDER HOUSE

Villisca, Iowa

On the morning of June 10, 1912 the bodies of eight individuals were discovered bludgeoned and blood-soaked in the Moore family home in the tight-knit community of Villisca. J.B. Moore, his wife Sarah, their four children Herman, Catherine, Boyd, and Paul were all murdered, their skulls crushed with an ax, along with Lena and Ina Stillinger, two young girls who had spent the night. J.B. Moore’s brother Ross had been alerted by neighbor Mary Peckham who became concerned about the family’s well-being when she realized there was no activity in the usually busy home. Ross’ discoveries of the bodies sent the community reeling, as nothing quite like this had ever happened in their town before. News spread quickly, and soon the house was overrun with those curious about the murders, which likely destroyed whatever evidence there might have been. While there were several suspects in the case, it was unfortunately never solved and remains a mystery to this day. In the years that have passed since the grisly discovery, the Moore home has had various owners and tenants, but in 1994 it was purchased and restored as closely as possible to its original condition by Darwin and Martha Linn. Individuals who have stayed in the house have reported waking to the sound of children’s voices when there were no children present at the time. Children’s laughter, moving objects, and strange banging sounds are just a few of the experiences many have had in the Villisca Ax Murder House. Read the true story of the Villisca Ax Murders in “Murdered in their Beds!”