Kentucky Hauntings (7 page)

Reports of Elmer's last words vary. Some say he told the mob to go ahead because he had it coming. Others suggested that the mob might have made up those words to justify what they did to him. Some say he said he had planned to do the same thing to three other girls and only regretted that he couldn't live long enough to do it. Guilty or innocent, he was deprived of a fair trial by the hanging.

There are reports of sightings of Elmer Hill's ghost in the area where he was hanged. One child on his way to school reported seeing him hanging in the tree where he died. Two travelers who had a flat tire near where the lynching took place claim a man stood and watched them change the tire before disappearing. They described the man when they arrived at the place where they were staying for the night and learned that the ghostly watcher resembled Elmer Hill.

Considering that people still hear a little girl calling for her mama and see a restless figure appearing near the place of Elmer Hill's lynching, it seems that neither the victim nor the killer has yet found peace on the other side.

Stories of the ghost of a girl from Russellville is one of the most often told ghost stories in Kentucky. It is especially effective on stormy nights. We were so fascinated with the story that we went to Russellville a few summers ago to check it out. Unfortunately, the ghost did not make an appearance while we were there. Curious people like us still drive by to see if they can catch a glimpse of her.

Russellville is located in the southwest portion of Kentucky, just north of the Tennessee state line. The haunted house is located on Clarksville Road at a crossroads at a stoplight next to a cemetery.

This story has several variations, but the one most often told to us starts in a setting that is typical, yet perfect for ghost stories. This one truly started on a dark and stormy night!

On the night of this story, a young girl who lived in Russellville was dressed for a date that she had been looking forward to for a long time. Her parents had told her that she could go to a dance with her boyfriend if the weather was good. She spent the day in preparation for the big event. She was certain nothing would happen to spoil this evening for her.

As the afternoon wore on, however, dark clouds began to bank in the west. She began to feel uneasy as she heard a low rumble of thunder.

“Please don't let it storm tonight,” she prayed silently, but her prayer went unanswered.

She looked out and saw that the clouds looked more threatening than ever. As night approached, so did the storm. She hoped the cloud would go in another direction, but it showed no indication of doing so.

The girl watched anxiously out the window for her date to arrive, but all she could see was the lightning, which flashed constantly and lit up the empty road. The storm hit at her house with violent winds and pouring rain. The girl was furious. It was so unfair! Her boyfriend was delayed because of the storm and didn't come. The wonderful evening she had planned was not going to happen. She stomped around the room, angry and frustrated. Her father tried to calm her down.

“You knew that we wouldn't let you go out in such a storm, even if the boy showed up,” he said. “He was sensible to stay home. Travel on a night like this would be unsafe.”

The girl didn't agree. She ran upstairs to her room. Still upset, she pressed her face against the window and stared once more into the storm. Angrily, she cursed God for letting the storm come and ruin her evening. Just then, a bolt of lightning struck. The charge ran through her body, killing her instantly. By some freak occurrence, a clear photographic imprint of her face was created in the pane of glass. Some believe that her curse caused her spirit to be trapped in the glass windowpane.

According to the story we heard, the parents wanted to keep the incident quiet to preserve their privacy, so they buried her in the cemetery close to their house. Soon after her burial, a strange thing began to happen. The dead girl's image was seen in the pane of glass on stormy nights! People began to come to the house to stare at the face in the window. Having people come and gawk at the house began to take its toll on the parents.

They tried to remove the face, but nothing they did would take the image away. They tried cleaning the glass and covering it with paint, but the face continued to appear. Eventually, they boarded up the window.

The girl's family no longer lives there, but it is still a private residence. The window is still boarded up, so nobody knows if the face still appears or not. When we were there, it was sunny and peaceful, so we did not bother the owners. The face only appears, it is said, on dark and stormy nights.

We have been on many tours through Waverly, so we have personal experiences of our own to tell about. Many students in Roberta's classes at Pleasure Ridge Park High School sneaked into Waverly in the 1960s and 1970s because it was “the thing to do” to prove you were brave. These young people shared their experiences with us, too.

Waverly Hills Sanatorium, in southwestern Louisville, was formerly a tuberculosis hospital where thousands of people died before a cure was found for the deadly disease. Now it is famous for the ghosts of the dead who still linger there.

Tuberculosis was a disease that struck all ages. There were all types of people who were residents of the sanatorium, even entire families who became infected. Ghosts of children can be seen roaming the halls and playing in this now deserted place.

One night a tour guide was leading a group of tourists through Waverly when a question came up about the ghost of one of the children.

“I've heard there is a ghost of a little boy who plays with a blue ball here,” a tourist said. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” answered the guide. “We have reports of sightings of him. He was a patient here, but I haven't run into him myself.”

The guide was taking a few steps backward as he answered the question, when he suddenly slipped and fell. The group looked down to see if he had been hurt by the fall. They were surprised by what they saw. There at his feet was a little blue rubber ball that had rolled from somewhere on its own.

“Well,” said the guide, getting to his feet. “It looks like I've just had my first encounter!”

Other ghosts there seem to be indulging in their old habits. Some visitors see a tiny glowing ahead of them down the hall. One ghost sometimes comes out to meet the tour guests and have a smoke!

“When our smoker ghost was alive,” said the guide, “she would often ask everybody she saw if they could spare a cigarette. You would think that someone suffering from a deadly lung disease would not be interested in smoking, but I guess she figured the damage had already been done.”

Not all ghosts at Waverly are human, and not all groups who go there are led by tour guides. Before the current owners, Charles and Tina Mattingly, purchased the building and tightened security, it was like a “rite of passage” for boys to prove their courage by sneaking into the building and exploring alone. Some boys had heard that a homeless man and his dog had wandered into Waverly and died there. Their ghosts were said to roam the halls. The boys didn't know whether to believe the story or not, so they sneaked inside to try to find out for themselves. They were soon to wish that they had stayed outside.

They were about halfway down the hall when they heard a low growl of what sounded like a dog in the area where the old elevator shaft had been. It had been closed off after the homeless man and his dog had supposedly fallen to their death down the shaft. No electricity was on in the building, so the boys couldn't see the dog. Suddenly the empty elevator shaft lit up, and they heard the dog again. The growling seemed to be very near.

The boys ran as fast as they could, but the dog seemed to be gaining on them. They reached the outside door, thinking the dog was sure to leap at them. It did not follow them through the door, though. They fell to the ground to catch their breath, but all was silent behind them, like nothing had ever been there at all.

We have heard steamboat stories from crew members and read them in articles we found online. We experienced some paranormal happenings ourselves.

Steamboats have a certain romantic, haunting appeal in our history. Though the
Delta Queen
was not Louisville's own, Louisville citizens have always felt a special connection to this wonderful old boat because of the former annual steamboat races between the
Delta Queen
and the
Belle of Louisville.

The Great Steamboat Race was a yearly event that took place the Wednesday before the first Saturday in May, three days before the Kentucky Derby. It started in 1963 and continued each year through 2008. The race started underneath the George Rogers Clark Memorial Bridge, continued to Six Mile Island, and then returned to the bridge, covering a distance of fourteen miles. Other vessels joined the competition occasionally, but the races through the years were mainly between the
Belle of Louisville
and the
Delta Queen.
They battled for the prize of the Golden Antlers, which passed fairly evenly back and forth between the two boats.

People booked passage on the boats to take part in the race, and people lined the banks of the Ohio River every year until the
Delta Queen
was retired as a competitor and turned into a dry-dock hotel in 2009. Some believed that, in addition to the usual live passengers on board, there was a ghostly passenger as well
, Delta Queen
captain Mary Green.

Captain Mary Green was one of the nation's first female riverboat pilots. She died in her cabin on the
Delta Queen
in 1949. During her life on the
Delta Queen
, she did not believe in the sale of alcohol and refused to allow it to be served on the boat. After her death, a saloon was established on board. Immediately after the first drink was served, a barge bearing Captain Green's name rammed the
Delta Queen
and destroyed the bar. Was it coincidence? Maybe, but, if so, it was a very odd one.

There have been many sightings of Captain Mary on deck, but perhaps the most dramatic account that river lore gives us was told by retired captain Mike Williams. In 1984, Captain Williams was sleeping in his bunk on the
Delta Queen
when he woke up to a whisper in his ear. He could feel someone's breath, but there was no one there. He ignored it at first, but after it happened twice more, he got up to check. He found nobody there, but he did find water flowing into the lower level of the steamboat. A hole big enough to sink the boat was found and repaired. He believes that he was warned by the ghost of Captain Mary Green, a kind and watchful spirit that still lurks on deck looking out for her boat. If not for this warning, Captain Williams might not have awakened in time to find the hole and save the
Delta Queen
from sinking. It seems that Captain Mary stays on board to watch out for the welfare of the passengers.

The
Delta Queen
is now docked on the Tennessee River at Coolidge Park Landing in Chattanooga North Shores. On June 5, 2009, the renovated steamboat opened as the Delta Queen Hotel. It has the distinction of being the only floating Historic Hotel in America and is considered one of the most haunted ships in the United States. Guests still have occasional encounters with Captain Mary's friendly spirit.

Out of respect for this great steamboat, the Golden Antlers were retired when the
Delta Queen
retired. Now the winner of the annual race with the
Belle of Louisville
and its competitor receives Silver Antlers. Even though the
Delta Queen
no longer sails the waters of the Ohio River, the great old steamboat and the spirit of Captain Mary Green will live on forever in Louisville.

S
tories from homefolks are the ones we like best. They take us back to times when we sat on the front porch in good weather, or inside by the fire when the weather was bad, and shared stories with family and friends. History is embedded in these tales, but mostly they reflect personal experiences told for entertainment. Most of the storytellers are long gone, but their stories live on.

Some stories from history are very similar to stories from homefolks. In some cases, we had a hard time deciding which story belonged in which category. The tales in this section are about people we knew, or they were told by someone who was close to the story itself. Some of them illustrate beliefs and customs in times past.

Roberta's great-grandmother Alley was an “herb woman” who helped treat the sick near her home in the Kentucky hills. She died before we were born, but her stories were passed on to her daughter, Lou Ann, who, in turn passed them to her son, Tom Simpson. We heard them from Tom and Lou Ann
.

In the early 1900s in Kentucky, doctors used to stretch their services over large areas. Paying house calls meant they couldn't always be at a central location when they were needed. Women in the different neighborhoods who had knowledge of herbs and home remedies were often called on by their neighbors to help the sick and injured when a doctor was not immediately available.

Granny Burton was always called on to sit with the sick, especially children. Neighbors helped each other out like that back then because parents would often be completely worn out from trying to take care of a sick child day and night and then do their regular chores, too.

Granny was always more than happy to help when she was called on. She had learned quite a lot about herbs and healing from her mother. In fact, she planted an herb garden every year and tended it with loving care, so she would have the herbs she needed for remedies. Each year, she would harvest her crop and store everything carefully so she would always have a supply on hand.

She had to admit to herself that her favorite patient was Little Willie Dunbar, who lived on the next farm. Little Willie was a sickly boy who often caught colds that sent him to bed with a high fever. Granny Burton spent many nights through Little Willie's childhood, doctoring him with a poultice or herbs to heal a sore or break a fever. Regardless of how bad Little Willie felt, he always had a smile for everybody and tried not to be any trouble. Granny Burton would keep the fire going in the fireplace, keep Little Willie covered with Mrs. Dunbar's handmade quilts, and let Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar get some sleep.

“You always take better care of me than anybody,” Little Willie told Granny Burton. “Promise you'll always come when I'm sick.”

“Well, of course, I promise,” said Granny Burton.

Unfortunately, Granny Burton was a little hasty with her promise. Suddenly one day, without any warning, Granny Burton died of a heart attack. Everybody was deeply shocked because nobody had known she had a heart problem. She had never complained, so maybe she herself didn't know how serious her condition was. Nobody was around to take her place nursing the sick. The Dunbar family especially missed her.

Little Willie insisted on going to Granny Burton's funeral with his parents. It was a chilly day and his parents didn't want to take him out, but he was so persistent in his intent to go that they finally gave in. As Little Willie stood by Granny Burton's grave, he realized he should have listened to his parents. He could feel the damp air sinking into his bones, and by the time the funeral ended and he got home, he was chilling and running a fever. The local doctor came and left some medicine, but he had to be on his way to pay another house call.

Mrs. Dunbar was afraid that Willie's chill might turn into pneumonia, so she bundled the little boy up in the quilts she had made for him. She sat by the fire to make sure he didn't kick the covers off. He was due to be given another dose of medicine in two hours, and she wanted to be sure to stay awake to give it to him.

Little Willie slept fitfully at first, but he finally settled into a peaceful sleep. His mother, tired from the household chores and from Granny Burton's funeral, sat in her rocking chair in front of the warm fire. The flames danced in the fireplace, and the penetrating heat relaxed her exhausted body. Soon she was fast asleep. Time passed, but she was not aware of it.

Then suddenly, she woke up. She wasn't sure what woke her, but she saw that dawn was breaking. Her first thought was that she had missed giving Little Willie his medicine and had let the fire go out. She could see that the fire was burning, though, and the room was warm. She stood up and moved quickly from her chair to Little Willie's bed. She was sure he would be feeling worse without his medicine, but he opened his eyes and smiled up at her.

“Honey, I am so sorry,” she said. “I fell asleep and didn't give you your medicine. I'll get it for you right now.”

“Wait, Momma!” he said. “I've already had my medicine.”

“Son, I've told you not to get out of bed and get medicine by yourself,” she scolded gently. “Why didn't you wake me up?”

“I didn't get up, and I didn't need to wake you,” he told her.

“Then how did you get your medicine?” she asked him.

“Granny Burton brought it to me,” he told her.

“That's impossible!” exclaimed Mrs. Dunbar. “You must have been out of your head with fever! Granny Burton is dead!”

“I know she's dead, Momma,” said Little Willie, “but I woke up and she was right here by my bed. She put her finger to her lips and shook her head so I'd be quiet and not wake you. Then she brought me my medicine and tucked the quilts around me. After that, she put some wood in the fireplace, and just vanished.”

“That just couldn't happen, honey,” she told Little Willie. “Are you sure you weren't dreaming?”

“I'm sure,” he insisted. “She opened the bottle and gave my medicine to me.”

Mrs. Dunbar looked at the bottle on the dresser. She could see that the level of liquid was down in the bottle and the spoon beside the bottle had traces of medicine on it. The bottle and spoon definitely had been used.

Mrs. Dunbar couldn't understand it. She asked her husband if he got up and gave Little Willie his medicine, but he insisted that he had slept through the night. Little Willie never changed his story. He knew Granny Burton had kept her promise, even though he didn't know how she could have done it.

After a while, Mrs. Dunbar began to believe the story. There was no other explanation for what had happened. At other times after that when Little Willie got sick, she would notice small signs that Granny Burton had paid a ghostly visit to watch over Little Willie. She would just smile and say a silent thank you to Granny Burton for taking care of her child while she got a good night's sleep.

Tom Simpson told us this story. We thought of Tom and Edgar as the Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn of their day
.

Country living did not always offer a lot of excitement for growing boys in the early 1900s, so they often manufactured their own. Sometimes they got more excitement than they could handle.

Two young friends, Tom and Edgar, had heard graveyard tales all their lives while sitting around listening to older folks weave their magic with words. One of their favorite graveyard stories was told in different versions as part of many cultures. A neighbor said it really happened to his aunt in Kentucky. Edgar had read that it happened to a man named Ivan in Russia. Tom once met a man from South America who told him it happened to a child in that country.

The story has a simple plot. A person (man, woman, or child) is told that there is an odd grave in the local cemetery where a strange woman was buried long ago. This spirit did not like to be bothered, and she would reach up from the grave and grab anyone who dared to come to her grave and disturb her in any way. She would pull the person down into the grave, and the visitor would be lost forever. After hearing the story, the listener is challenged to go alone to the grave one night and stick some object (a knife, machete, fork, or whatever is appropriate in that culture) into the grave to prove his or her courage. The person making the challenge would tell the listener that he, the teller of the tale, would go in the morning to retrieve the object from the grave and return it to the brave owner.

In the story, the person goes to the grave and kneels to stick whatever he has brought into the grave. The poor person, being so frightened, doesn't realize that the object has pierced through a garment (a cape, jacket, raincoat, or whatever), thus pinning the visitor to the grave. When the person tries to stand up and realizes that something is holding him, he assumes it is the ghost's hand reaching up from the grave and grabbing him, so he dies of fright. The challenger goes to the grave the next morning and is shocked to find the person's body across the grave.

Tom and Edgar didn't believe anything drastic would happen to anyone who stuck something in a grave, but they did believe it would be a perfect prank to play on their not-so-brave friend Clarence. The more they thought about it, the more they knew they had to do it. It would be so funny to hide and watch Clarence approach the grave.

First, they found an old grave at the back of the cemetery by an old community church. Then they told Clarence the story, showed him the grave in daylight, and dared him to go alone at night and stick his new pocketknife in it.

Clarence resisted at first, but he finally agreed to do it just to shut them up.

“You guys have got to come along and stay close by,” he told them.

They considered it and decided it might be fun to go along as far as the cemetery gate and watch, but they had to agree to come running if Clarence called for help.

They picked a late summer night when a steady rain was falling to put their prank in motion. They made a point of wearing their lightweight raincoats in the hope that Clarence would stick his knife through his coat and freak out.

As they approached the cemetery, rumbles of thunder and jagged streaks of lightning in the distance provided the perfect atmosphere. Their nerves were a bit unsteady as they opened the gate and silently pointed Clarence toward the grave in the old section in the back. Clarence took a few steps and stopped, losing his nerve altogether.

“I don't think this is such a good idea,” he said. “It's disrespectful. Nothing good can ever come from disturbing the dead.”

Tom and Edgar looked at each other. Their prank was not going as planned.

“Nothing's going to happen, Clarence,” Edgar assured him. “It's not like we're digging her up or anything.”

“You're just scared,” said Tom. “I knew you'd chicken out. Come on. Let's all go stick our pocketknives in the grave.”

The idea of not being alone boosted Clarence's courage.

“Okay,” he said. “Let's go.”

Tom and Edgar took the lead, and Clarence followed closely behind. It didn't take long until they had crossed the cemetery and reached the grave they had chosen. Knives in hand, they raised their arms to plunge the blades into the earth, when suddenly a bolt of lightning danced on the old tombstone and thunder crashed angrily overhead. The rain turned to a white mist that rose from the grave and engulfed the boys. They felt an intense, unearthly cold penetrating their raincoats. Even though it was summer, they felt a sudden chill as they had never felt before. Shivering and without saying a word, they turned in unison and ran for the gate.

Tom and Edgar were in the lead again, with Clarence not far behind, trying with all his might to keep up. Suddenly, he stumbled and grabbed a tall tombstone to break his fall.

“Wait!” he screamed to Tom and Edgar. “It's on my back! Get it off! Get it off!”

Tom and Edgar stopped and looked back through the light mist that was still clinging to them. They could barely see Clarence, but they could tell that he was struggling with something.

“Hold on, Clarence! We're coming!” they yelled in the same breath.

They reached the obviously terrified Clarence, who was now gasping for air. They realized the best way to help him was to get him out of there as fast as they could. Each grabbed an arm and literally dragged Clarence along between them. They couldn't see anything on his back, but both boys felt that he weighed as much as two people!

The rain let up as they reached the gate, and the mist dissolved as they pulled Clarence through. Once outside the cemetery, the stricken boy's breathing returned to normal, and he was able to stand and move on his own. The three ran from the graveyard as fast as they could. They never went back there again at night. Later, when they looked at the graveyard through the church windows on Sunday mornings, they could still feel the penetrating cold.

From that night on, Tom and Edgar sat in storytelling circles and heard that old tale told and retold. They no longer thought it was just a harmless story. They vowed never to play a prank like that again. They had come to believe that Clarence was right. Nothing good could ever come from disturbing the dead!

There was a peculiar old custom in Kentucky of putting a birthday person under the bed on his or her birthday. The more times the person was put under the bed, the more he or she was loved and the more good luck would come to the birthday person the following year. Some people believed that this practice should stop at the child's ninth birthday because bad luck would come after that. It was said that the child would never grow after the age of nine if the custom continued past that year, but no reason was given for why this particular age was the cut-off point or what might cause the bad luck from then on
.

This practice is mostly forgotten now, but it persisted into the middle 1900s. In fact, each of us experienced it, but we never heard where it came from.