The World's Most Haunted House: The True Story of The Bridgeport Poltergeist on Lindley Street
256
The World's Most Haunted House: The True Story of The Bridgeport Poltergeist on Lindley Street
256Paperback(First Edition)
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Overview
Decades after the publicity quieted, more than 40 hours of never-before-released interviews with police officers, firefighters, and others tell the story as it actually unfolded:
Return to 1974 and feel the Lindley Street experience from the inside. Find out why it is deemed the haunting that should have brought the paranormal into mainstream science.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781601633378 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Red Wheel/Weiser |
| Publication date: | 08/25/2014 |
| Edition description: | First Edition |
| Pages: | 256 |
| Sales rank: | 374,071 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.90(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.80(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
A Hole in Their Hearts
"We always work together. We never disagree on anything."
— Laura Goodin
They lived in the little house on Lindley Street Street for eight years before the strange events began. Soon after their February 1960 wedding, Gerard "Jerry" (age 41) and Laura (age 36), purchased the small ranch house in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Located in a lower-middle-class neighborhood near St. Vincent's Hospital, the compact, three-room house spanned 738 square feet. It seemed like just the right place for the excited couple to begin their life together.
Jerry had always been an independent and practical person, building and repairing whatever he could on his own. "I did everything myself since I was a little knee-high grasshopper," he commented. One of his earliest attempts at fixing something — messing with wires while trying to build a radio receiver — gave him a shock that threw him to the floor. Typically dogged and persistent, he landed still holding the red wire between his fingers.
As a young Catholic, he was an altar boy and planned to become a priest when he grew up. However, the Great Depression interfered, and he had to go to work instead. After graduating from Bassick High School, Jerry joined the Air Force. The G.I. haircut followed him back into civilian life, but he traded his uniform for flannel shirts and work boots. By the time the mysterious uproar began in his house, he had been a maintenance man for 23 years at Harvey Hubbell, Inc., a manufacturer of electrical equipment in Bridgeport. No one viewed him as a head-in-the-clouds kind of guy; he was known to be practical and down to earth.
His still-devout faith seemed to inspire generosity rather than mysticism. A family man even before he had a family of his own, he stayed close to his brothers, Edmund and Joseph, by getting together as often as they could. During his years as a Boy Scout leader, he had convinced a local shop owner to give shoes to boys who were in need of them. Jerry told the merchant that when those kids grew up, they would either be customers or they'd be stealing from his store. "Let's put them on the right path to be customers," Jerry said.
Loving and dedicated to her Native American family, Laura grew up in a home where there were no other children her age nearby. Between the lack of social skills that followed the isolation, and tending occasionally to be loud and high strung, she often experienced difficulty making friends. But she and Jerry had blossomed together as a naturally compatible couple. She genuinely delighted in laughing at Jerry's stories as if each retelling was the first time she had heard them.
Though they had had no definite plans for children, on Halloween day in 1961, the Goodins welcomed their son, Gerard J. Goodin, Jr. The baby was always with them, from occupying his crib that was squeezed into their bedroom, to weekend shopping trips for the always-needed supply of new baby accessories.
They saw him as a normal baby in every way until one day the family's next door neighbor asked Laura why his head always hung down. Although Laura had noticed it previously, she really hadn't given it much thought. Once alerted, however, she decided to get him checked out. The doctor reassured her that nothing was wrong with Jerry Jr. and that he was normal and healthy.
But by the time little Jerry was six months old, Laura and her husband saw more reason to worry. They took him to see doctors in New Haven and Middlebury. Eventually, Jerry Jr. was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. It was heartbreaking news and the beginning of a very different way of life, but the Goodins focused on doing all they could for their little boy.
"He was always a well-dressed baby," his father remembered. "We bought clothes in advance of his needing them — at one point, two station wagons full."
He also loved to play with his toys, which were soft and inflatable so he wouldn't get hurt. "We did without for him. Anything we could do to please the child we did. We spoiled him, and yet he wasn't a spoiled child. As long as we were able to, we were going to take care of him, and we would gladly do without."
Every week, the Goodins took him to a cerebral palsy center for weekly occupational therapy. Unfortunately, the house on Lindley Street posed an unexpected problem. The couple was disqualified from receiving financial assistance for their son's medical expenses because of their living situation. "We had to pay for these (therapy sessions) because we owned our own home," Laura explained.
The Goodins had braces made for him out of lightweight aluminum, covering him from his chest down to his legs. The brace alone cost $500 back then. A special chair for him cost $75. And to hold and carry Jerry Jr., Laura had to wear a special, metal reinforced girdle to support her back. The growing Jerry Jr. couldn't feed himself or crawl, walk, talk, or do most of the physical activities a child normally learns early in life.
"God gave us this baby, and we will take care of him. This is our cross to bear," Laura Goodin once said of her son's condition. "Did we love him? We both loved him. There wasn't anything we wouldn't do for him. One person told us to put him in the hospital, and we told her to mind her own business. Ask anybody. We loved him."
And then the couple took on another great responsibility: Laura's 75-year-old mother came to live with them when her brother couldn't look after her anymore. So, Jerry and Laura gave up their bed for her, and they slept on the living room floor with Jerry Jr. next to them. Later, they managed to buy a roll-away bed for Laura's mother and return to a more normal life for themselves. Jerry Jr. went back to sleeping in his crib next to his parents.
Jerry Jr. continued to always be with them. The Goodins never hired a babysitter. He went with them everywhere. He smiled and laughed and was a happy child, though he didn't like crowds and would cry when there was too much ruckus. He was a good eater, but because he couldn't chew, the food had to be pureed.
Year after year, Jerry and Laura continued to prepare his food and to provide everything they could for the boy. Limited as he was, they helped him experience as wide a world as possible.
"He even picked out our car," Jerry said. "In 1967, we bought a station wagon. We asked him, 'Do you like this car?' He clearly liked the red Comet station wagon. So we got it."
For four years, the couple provided nonstop care for both Laura's mother and the severely disabled little boy. Most of it fell on Laura while Jerry was at work during the day. When sleep came for the exhausted couple, middle-of-the-night care duties interrupted. They maintained that schedule until Laura's mother reached a point when it was too difficult to take care of her in the home. The constant daily care turned into visiting her regularly at a nearby nursing home until her death two years later.
In 1967, after a pleasant trip to St. Ann's shrine in Sturbridge, Massachusetts — where, says his mother, he was "so full of pep"— Jerry Jr. caught a cold. His condition worsened quickly and they rushed him to the hospital. Doctors tested for a number of possible causes, but all results came back negative. The boy's fever soared to 109 degrees as his horrified parents looked on.
Laura stayed at the hospital, never leaving his side as his condition continued to deteriorate. Many specialists saw the child, but they had no answers. "They took so much blood from him, he was like a pin cushion," Laura said. His prospects for recovery became bleak.
Neighbors and relatives flooded the family with support. One woman sent flowers, and mistakenly the card was inscribed to "General" instead of Gerard. It stuck as a nickname. The Little General continued to be at the front and center of their lives. "God only knows we did everything," Laura said looking back.
Seeing that the end was imminent, the Goodins asked Father Mark Grimes from St. Patrick Church in Bridgeport to give the Little General the Sacrament of Confirmation (the rite that reaffirms or "perfects" the grace initially conferred at Baptism). A few days later, on Wednesday, September 27th, 1967, tears streamed from Gerard J. Goodin, Jr.'s eyes as he lived out his last moments in silence.
"God took him home. He knew that was the best place for him," Laura said, crying years later as she recounted the loss.
"He was an angel," his father said, "because he never sinned. With an ordinary person there is always a possibility of sin; they have the willpower, mobility to sin."
The little body was laid out in white. The Goodins had a color picture taken of him in the child's casket. St. Patrick Church held services, and they buried Jerry Jr. at St. Michael's Cemetery next to his grandmother and grandfather. Nearly 50 cars brought friends and family to support the devastated parents. The couple had counted on having Jerry with them to care for as long as they lived. "We knew the child would never be able to work," his father said, but that didn't matter. "We would have taken care of him until he was 100 years old."
On the day of the burial, Father Grimes asked the Goodins if they wanted to consider adopting a child in the future. But the loss of Jerry Jr. was too recent for them to begin considering such a move.
Instead, they soon found themselves back at the hospital, this time with regard to Laura's health. The day after they buried their child, Laura had a hysterectomy. Her doctor had discovered a tumor a few months prior, and she had been scheduled for surgery on that day. Laura was hesitant about going through with the operation, but Jerry thought it was essential, so she proceeded with it. They both feared that the growth could become malignant and that if she were to get pregnant again, they might have another child with similar challenges.
After surgery, Laura woke in a room near the nursery. The staff had assigned her a room close to the newborns. This might have been a risky decision, given that she had lost her only child and her child-bearing ability within the previous few days. Instead, seeing the new babies helped her recover. "I didn't go into a shell like I might have," she said.
But the mourning had just begun. While Laura was healing from the operation, Jerry visited the cemetery nightly to pray at Jerry Jr.'s gravestone. When her strength returned, she joined him. Those trips became their ritual; they went to the grave daily, regardless of the weather, rarely missing a trip.
The grief was everpresent. In one corner of the living room, the Goodins kept a little shrine consisting of the picture of Jerry Jr. in his casket, a devotional light placed over his picture in vigil, and a statue of Jesus. The practices of grief at home and at the cemetery continued for about six months until one day Laura looked at the little living room shrine and decided, "No more. He's gone, and there is no way of bringing him back." Once Jerry arrived home from work, they discussed it and lovingly dismantled it; the time had come to move on.
This step in their grieving process also meant the Goodins were ready to visit Father Grimes and inquire about the adoption. As soon as the priest told them about an adoption agency in Stamford, Connecticut, the Goodins began the process of adopting a child. Laura's favorite saying was, "A home without a child is not a home." Word about their decision spread. So many people wanted the best for this couple. Their insurance agent, neighbors, family members — 25 in all — wrote unsolicited letters of recommendation praising Jerry and Laura as parents who would be loving, committed, and dedicated to whatever child came into their home.
In May 1968, the call the Goodins had been waiting for finally came. The adoption agency called to inform Laura that they had a child who needed their home. A pre-school girl from Ontario, Canada, was about to become the Goodins' daughter. "The moment I got the news at 10 a.m.," Jerry said, "I grabbed my coat and hat, and I left the shop and told people 'I'm going to Canada! Goodbye, good luck, God bless.' I only had 30 or 40 dollars in my pocket. As I ran by, people asked me if I needed money. People gave me — it must have been $100."
At home, Laura had everything packed and ready for the trip. Jerry swung by, picked her up, loaded the car, and they started their trip to Canada to meet their little girl. But their car ran rough and was not as prepared as the Goodins were for the long trip. "I drove up on two cylinders out of the six," Jerry boasted. Family and coworkers were pulling for them to get there, but were concerned. "They said I would never make it. It took me 18 hours."
The Goodins arrived, anxious and eager. A beautiful 4-year-old Native American girl was brought out to see them. She ran straight to her new parents. The Goodins fell in love with her instantly, and Marcia (pronounced Mar-see-a, and sometimes shortened to Marcie) took right to them as they happily ate their first lunch as a family. Jerry told Marcia he was going to build a brand new bedroom just for her. He made good on his promise as soon as he could, knocking down the wall to the large closet off the living room where he fashioned a small bedroom.
Laura assured Marcia she had everything that would make her happy and comfortable in her new home. She stayed close to them throughout finalizing the adoption process in Canada. "All we had before was a tiny picture that they sent a month or so before as a possibility," Laura said. "And that's all it took for us to fall in love with her."
In their coverage of the events at Lindley Street, the media would mention that the Goodins had adopted a 3-year-old girl named Marcia Lydia Goodin, Lydia after Laura's mother's name. She was, in fact, 4-and-a-half years old, born December 28th, 1963. She was the youngest of a family of nine children and had already lived through difficult times, including being tied to a chair for periods of time. The agency told the Goodins that the family did not want her and had chosen them because Laura's heritage was also Native American (Bohemian and Cherokee) and they tried to match such similarities when possible. Mother and daughter's dark hair matched each other, although Laura's curled. Marcia clearly was "full-blooded Seneca," as Laura would proudly say.
Refreshed and focused on the new possibilities of the future, they showed every sign of loving Marcia as unconditionally as they had loved Jerry. "A wonderful child," Laura said. "She's not taking the place of him. But without Marcia, we would have nothing to live for. Marcia makes our life complete." When Marcia was a few years older, the Goodins told her that she had a brother, but he had died. Marcia, Laura said, "filled the hole that was in our hearts."
The couple's one fault as parents — which neighbors and family pointed out — was that they were overprotective. Under the circumstances of the illness and early death of their son, most people couldn't blame them. But their actions were taken to an extreme, resulting in parenting behavior that was abnormal and very hard on the child.
In many ways, they were raising Marcia similar to the way they had to raise Jerry Jr.; Laura walked her to school, carried her books, walked her home for lunch, and walked her back to school again. She wasn't allowed to walk across the street or up the street to play with anyone for fear that she might die. Marcia was always with her parents, except when Jerry's brother or other close family or friend was watching her.
Laura didn't consider that to be abnormal because she had no friends growing up, either. She felt that family was all Marcia needed, but welcomed friends for her daughter if they would come to the house or if she accompanied them on their activities. Those strict rules made fitting in even more difficult for shy Marcia. She learned to play alone, liked puzzles and TV, and loved Monopoly. She usually set up multiple players and played the classic game all by herself.
Her favorite pastime, however, was one for which she had a real talent: art. She was an accomplished artist for a young girl and spent a great deal of time making pictures and working on craft projects. She was "always keeping her mind and hands busy," Laura said. The child had high standards for her work; she was known as a perfectionist and would tear up what she'd done if it wasn't coming out right.
Although Laura saw no problems, Marcia was frustrated with her situation. Her birthday parties were with family rather than with children her age. She resented Laura — her ever-present companion who allowed her little privacy and no freedom. By contrast, however, she followed Jerry around whenever possible. She was a daddy's girl.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The World's Most Haunted House"
by .
Copyright © 2014 William J. Hall.
Excerpted by permission of Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC.
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.
Table of Contents
Disclaimer 13
Note to the Reader 15
Foreword 19
Introduction 21
1 A Hole in their Hearts 25
2 Intelligent Noises 39
3 Hell Weekend Begins 45
4 Ordinary No More 49
5 All the King's Men 55
6 The Goodins Become a Household Name 67
7 A Talking Cat and a Second-Degree Burn 79
8 Parasitic Entities 89
9 "There are No Ghosts in Bridgeport" 103
10 An Extraordinary Game Ok Checkers 113
11 Haunted Holiday 117
12 Marcia's 11th Birthday 127
13 The Scientific Investigation 131
14 Exile On Lindley Street 153
15 A Preliminary Evaluation of the Bridgeport Poltergeist 161
16 Other Theories 171
17 Witness Interviews 179
18 Goodin Bad Memories 191
Conclusion: The Devil's in these Details 199
Epilogue 203
Appendix I Police Reports 205
Appendix II Incident Log 217
Appendix III Incident Data Sheets 223
Appendix IV In the News 231
Appendix V Bonus Features 237
Notes 239
Bibliography 241
Index 245
About the Author 251
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