Capitol Hill Haunts

by Tim Krepp

Overview

“In a sprightly, entertaining style, Krepp tells of the spooks and specters that haunt the U.S. Capitol, the Marine Barracks, and other sites and homes” (Hill Rag).
 
From the Demon Cat that stalks the Washington crypt to the restless spirit of John Quincy Adams in Statuary Hall, it is no wonder that in 1898 the Philadelphia Press declared the Capitol to be the most thoroughly haunted building in the world. Yet there are as many ghosts in the neighborhood as there are beneath the dome. Local writer and guide Tim Krepp intrepidly takes on the best-known haunted tales while also exploring the lesser-known specters. From the weeping lady of the Maples to Commodore Tingey, who still stands watch in the Navy Yard, to the dozens of famous ghosts hosted by Congressional Cemetery, many former residents seem bound to their old home. Join Krepp as he explores the most historic and hair-raising haunts of the Hill.
 
Includes photos
 
“A hair-raising guide to Washington's ghosts.” —The Washington Post

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781614236566
Publisher:	Arcadia Publishing SC
Publication date:	01/23/2019
Series:	Haunted America
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	131
File size:	4 MB

About the Author

Tim Krepp is part owner of Walking Shtick Tours, a Capitol Hill-based tour company.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

PART I

THE HAUNTED CAPITOL BUILDING

Obviously, the Capitol Building is haunted — so well haunted, in fact, that in 1898 the Philadelphia Press called it the most thoroughly haunted building in the world.

How could it not be? It is one of the oldest buildings in the city and has been the epicenter for drama high and low for more than two hundred years. It is the symbolic center of the District of Columbia, so much so that our lettered and numbered roads start from here. Obviously, weighty decisions of great national and international importance have been and still are debated here, but the Capitol has also seen its share of violence, heartbreak and just general mayhem as well.

The Capitol, as both a building and an institution, has grown and changed alongside the country. George Washington laid the cornerstone in 1791, and the original plans called for a structure that would have been the most impressive building in the young nation, though much more modest than the grand structure we are accustomed to today.

Those plans were drawn up by William Thorton, a prominent polymath originally from the West Indies who, as just about every history of the Capitol will explain, was not a professional architect. This was not particularly unusual in late 1700s America, as architecture was just beginning to emerge as a separate discipline from construction, a process that was even less advanced in the New World.

Rather, William Thorton is often described as a doctor, having been educated as such at the University of Edinburgh. But he never really warmed to the profession of medicine, and perhaps for good reason. Among his few forays in the field was a case for which he was called to the bed of a dying George Washington. Arriving the morning after the general died, he refused to give up hope, writing in his own words years later:

The weather was very cold, and he remained in a frozen state, for several days. I proposed to attempt his restoration, in the following manner. First to thaw him in cold water, then to lay him in blankets, and by degrees and by friction to give him warmth, and to put into activity the minute blood vessels, at the same time to open a passage to the lungs by the trachea, and to inflate them with air, to produce an artificial respiration, and to transfuse blood into him from a lamb. If these means had been resorted to and had failed all that could be done would have been done, but I was not seconded in this proposal; for it was deemed unavailing.

Martha said no.

Unfortunately for the construction of the Capitol, many of Thornton's ideas were only somewhat more practical than his practice of medicine. In 1802, Thomas Jefferson appointed him head of the Patent Office, a position far more suitable to his abilities.

Lenthall's Curse

A British professional architect, Benjamin Latrobe was brought in to tidy things up a bit and move the ambitious Capitol project forward. Among many notable changes was one moving the House and Senate Chambers to the second floor, which would allow air to circulate below them and allow a little relief in the hot and humid Washington summers.

For the Senate, that meant taking the very large Senate Chamber and cutting it in half by adding a floor below. To build the new floor, Latrobe used stone ribs supported by brick piers to build a vaulted ceiling. This was a somewhat daring and ingenious method and had the attraction of not resting on the presumably unsound earlier work.

The new space created on the ground floor would eventually become the Old Supreme Court Chamber, still open from time to time on tours of the Capitol. The court would sit here from 1810 to 1860 until it was moved to the Old Senate Chamber.

This was all very well, but the Capitol was not Latrobe's only commission, and he hired his friend John Lenthall to supervise when he was busy elsewhere. Lenthall was made Clerk of the Works, a position we might call construction manager today. The design was tricky and intricate, however, and Lenthall attempted to economize by using less material and subtly changing the design. When it came time to remove the wooden supports, a decision Latrobe later wrote was premature, the stone and brick vaulting collapsed. Lenthall was crushed to death and, as he lay dying, uttered a curse on the building that killed him.

Latrobe would be personally and professionally haunted by his friend's untimely death, but Lenthall's curse seems to have left Latrobe to his guilt and plagued the Capitol Building itself. As the Capitol has been expanded over the last two hundred years, unexplained structural failings, mysterious crumbling columns and even delays on the recently completed Capitol Visitor Center supports are chalked up to that final curse uttered by John Lenthall.

Ghosts Of The Rotunda

As the young nation matured, it became apparent that the Capitol must grow as well. The chambers of both the House and especially the Senate were proving to be too small, so new plans were drawn up by Philadelphia architect Thomas U. Walter to build two new wings, clad in marble. As the proportions of these new wings dwarfed the existing copper-clad wooden dome, a new 288-foot cast-iron dome was planned to replace it. Construction began in 1855, and in 1861, President Lincoln was sworn in before an unfinished dome. Despite the grave national crisis of the Civil War, he insisted that work continue and drew strength from the placement of the statue of Freedom atop it in 1863. The dome would not be fully completed until 1866, after his death.

Naturally, the work of building the new dome while also dismantling the old one was particularly tricky, and Thomas Walter turned to master carpenter Pringle Slight. Slight had helped build the original dome, designed by Charles Bullfinch, and had been employed as the Capitol's handyman ever since. He knew where all the skeletons were hidden, metaphorically speaking of course.

Working with Walter and Captain Montgomery Meigs of the Army Corps of Engineers, who directly supervised the project, Pringle Slight built curved ladders to remove the copper cladding in single pieces so that it could be resold. He was also aware of the former hole in the Rotunda floor that had been closed off in 1828 and designed a tripod scaffolding to work above it. To protect the Rotunda from the elements while the dome was replaced, he constructed a wooden roof. His assistance was invaluable in completing the project.

Sadly, and ironically, Pringle's son, Robert Slight, fell onto that wooden roof while also working on the dome. He survived several days but finally succumbed to his injuries on December 27, 1861. But Robert didn't let his untimely death deter him from completing work on the new dome. He can still be seen walking through the Rotunda, clad in work clothes and carrying his tools, on the way to climb the scaffolding for his final day of work.

Nor is Robert Slight the only ghost in the Rotunda. Starting with Senator Henry Clay, the Rotunda has been considered the most suitable place for national figures to lie in state. Twenty-nine Americans have been granted the honor, most recently President Ford in 2007. All but Clay (obviously) have rested on the Lincoln Catafalque, a platform hastily constructed of rough pine boards after his death and now on display at the Capitol Visitor Center.

Among those who have lain in state is the unknown soldier from World War I. Following the war, there was a desire to recognize those who could not be identified. Great Britain and France started the trend by interring a single soldier in Westminster Abbey and the Arc de Triomphe, respectively. The United States followed a year later, and an unknown soldier was brought to the Washington Navy Yard by the USS Olympia. From there he was brought to the Capitol, where he became the eleventh person to lay in state in the Rotunda. For three days he laid there, and then he was taken to Arlington National Cemetery, where he is today guarded around the clock by soldiers from the Third Infantry Regiment.

But perhaps the unknown soldier has one final duty to preform. Legend has it that when the other unknown soldiers — from World War II and the conflicts in Korea and Vietnam — have come to lay here, the soldier, attired in his doughboy World War I uniform, appears briefly, snaps a sharp salute and disappears into thin air.

The Demon Cat

Without doubt, the best-known ghost of the Capitol is the famous Demon Cat, or "D.C.," as it is occasionally known. The story varies with each telling, but in general, the cat is seen at night in the lower reaches of the Capitol, often in the crypt that was built for George Washington but never used. When first seen by the flickering glow of a lantern, it appears to be a normal tabby cat, unusual perhaps but no real source of concern. After all, mice and rats were (and often still are) constant problems in the Capitol, and cats were kept on staff as mousers.

But then it fixes its spectral eyes on its hapless victim, with a glow described as "having all the hue and ferocity of a fire engine entering one of Washington's notoriously dark alleys." As the witness stands rooted at the site, either in fear or some sort of supernatural hold, the cat approaches, growing in size. The terrified observer swears that it reaches the size of an elephant or, at the very least, a good-sized tiger. Finally, "this demon cat emits a fierce yowl and with eyes ablaze and mouth open leaps toward the spectator, but invariably leaps quite over his head." He disappears into the darkness, not to be seen again soon, although it's unlikely that the watchman put up much of a search.

As many of the nocturnal observers were watchmen or Capitol police officers, it was not uncommon for the officer to take a shot at it. In an 1862 episode, the watchman shot at it, but nothing was hit and no corpse of a giant cat was found. A description in the early 1930s of a more recent shooting indicated that "the Stygian feline appeared to have the eyes of Eddie Cantor and the generous proportions of Mae West plus the disposition of Bela Lugosi." If this riot of a metaphor needs decoding for modern readers, Eddie Cantor was a vaudeville performer known as "Banjo Eyes," Mae West was an actress so well endowed that a rather bulky life jacket was named for her and Bela Lugosi is known for his title role in the 1931 movie Dracula.

Over time, the legend grew that the feared Demon Cat was a harbinger of doom, appearing before national calamities. It was claimed, often years after the fact, that D.C. appeared before Lincoln's assassination, the stock market crash of 1929 and Kennedy's assassination. Noticeably missing from this list is Pearl Harbor and 9/11, but perhaps we shouldn't look a gift cat too closely in the mouth.

But not everyone was a believer. A 1909 article recalls an amusing anecdote from a few years earlier:

When the body of President Garfield lay in state at the capitol an old engineer who was employed in the basement and who ridiculed the idea of ghosts decided to be avenged upon the watchmen and policemen who remained in the building through the night. He procured two large English walnuts, securely tied the half shells on the four feet of the pet cat and carefully turned her loose in Statuary Hall.

The noise of these shells on the marble floors at midnight in the near darkness as the distracted cat scampered about, trying to get rid of her new shoes, gave the watchers the worst fright of their lives.

Well, it was amusing to everybody but the cat.

While the Demon Cat apparition hasn't appeared in some time at the Capitol, the D.C. DemonCats live on as a team name for Washington's own roller derby league, the D.C. Rollergirls. According to team co-captain "Hooah! Girl," the team started out as the National Maulers, but it conflicted at the time with a similar name elsewhere. Fortunately, team member "Blonde Fury" knew the story of the Demon Cat, and they "knew right then that we wanted that name for the team."

John Quincy Adams's Last Address

One of the most dramatic events in the history of the Capitol occurred in the old House of Representatives Chamber, now Statuary Hall, on February 21, 1848. The House, and indeed the nation, was celebrating the end of the Mexican-American War, an event that had sparked a surge of patriotism. Accordingly, now that American forces were victorious, the House was voting to honor the U.S. Army for its service by awarding medals to senior officers.

This was understandably a popular decision, and only a small majority opposed it. A proposal to close debate was offered, and one voice loudly "voted 'No,' with unusual emphasis; the great loud No of a man going home to God full of 'the unalienable right of resistance to oppression,' its emphatic word on his dying lips."

That voice belonged to John Quincy Adams, the only president to continue his public life by serving as a representative after his term of office. Adams had been soundly defeated by Andrew Jackson in the 1828 presidential election, but he found new strength in the House. Freed of his responsibility to the nation as a whole, he championed issues dear to his heart, notably the founding of the Smithsonian Institution and fighting slavery. Adams would be an increasingly loud and persistent voice against human bondage in a way that he hadn't necessarily been as president.

It was this issue that drove his strident opposition to the Mexican- American War and, by extension, to closing off debate on the proposal to award medals to army officers on that eventful day. As Adams rose to emphatically object, he suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage and was taken to the Speaker's Room just off the chamber. He died there two days later, wife and son by his side. "This is the last of the earth. I am content," were his final words.

But he must not have been that content, for he never left. Adams was nothing if not a passionate advocate against slavery, and he had for years challenged the House's "Gag Rule" that prohibited discussion of the topic. If proslavery southern politicians couldn't stop him from loudly decrying it, certainly death couldn't. To this day, Adams rises to speak, finishing the speech the stroke curtailed.

"Old Man Eloquent," as he was both respectfully and derisively called, was first seen a few years after, on the cusp of the Civil War, when the House was moved to its current home in the new House of Representatives Chamber. He has since been seen repeatedly over the years and is a regular fixture in contemporary newspaper stories about ghosts of the Capitol.

In one particular example, the witness was a member of the Capitol Police. Today a professional and well-trained police department, at one point the Capitol police was often regarded as a source of patronage jobs for congressmen, which perhaps explains why our officer was being dismissed for drunkenness. Either way, he testified in his sworn statement that he saw not only John Quincy Adams but also the entire Congress of 1848 going about their business in Statuary Hall.

A more credible eyewitness is the U.S. Capitol Historical Society's chief guide, Steve Livengood. Mr. Livengood often attends functions on the House side of the Capitol, and as he returns to his office late in the evening to retrieve his coat, he passes through Statuary Hall. As he put it, "If I've had a lot of wine, I always see John Quincy Adams's ghost in Statuary Hall, giving the speech that he wanted to give attacking the presentation of medals to the generals in the Mexican War because he felt it was an unjust and imperialistic war."

The Speaker's Room where Adams passed away became in time the Congressional Ladies' Retiring Room, addressing an issue that earlier Architects of the Capitol had not foreseen. It was later formally renamed the Lindy Claiborne Boggs Room, the first, and to this day only, time a room has been named for a woman in the Capitol. When she dedicated it in 1991, former congresswoman Boggs quipped, "When they finally gave us a room, wouldn't you know that they'd give us one that was haunted?"

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Capitol Hill Haunts"
by .
Copyright © 2012 Tim Krepp.
Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgements 7

Introduction 9

Part I The Haunted Capitol Building 13

Lenthall's Curse 15

Ghosts of the Rotunda 16

The Demon Gat 19

John Quincy Adams's Last Address 20

Wilbur Mills's Office Hours 23

Tubbing with Henry Wilson 24

The Haunted Committee Room 27

The Bloody Steps 28

Keeping the Capitol Running 30

Part II Other Federal Haunts 33

The Phantom Wheelman 34

John Calhoun's Ignored Vision 38

The Guilty Henry Wirz 40

A Mysterious Violinist 43

Time to Read for Mr. Folger 44

The Lost Stash of Government Bonds 45

Ghosts of the Jefferson Building 48

The Trials and Tribulations of Judge Holt 49

Part III Haunted Houses Of Historic Capitol Hill 53

The Faded Glory of Duddington Manor 53

A Contemporary Haunted House 57

Olivia's Ghostly Housemate 60

The Spooky Police Station 65

Old Howard 68

Part IV Ghosts on Duty: Haunts of the Navy and Marine Corps 73

The Watchful Commodore 74

Buried Treasure 78

Archibald Henderson's House 81

The Red Rubber Ball 84

Part V Near Northeast: Urban Renewal? These Ghosts Never Left 87

The Gas Lamp Suicide 88

Silver Bullet Sedgwick 90

H(aunted) Street Playhouse 92

The Brent Vault Vampire 96

Ghosts of Gallaudet 100

Part VI Beer, Bones and Cemeteries: Ghosts of Hill East 105

The Haunted Brewery 105

Ghosts of the Last Mile 108

The Head of William Wirt 112

Beau Hickman: Prince of American Bummers 114

Ghosts of the Cemetery Proper 116

Notes 121

About the Author 127