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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781596298804 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Arcadia Publishing SC |
| Publication date: | 08/20/2010 |
| Series: | Haunted America |
| Pages: | 112 |
| Sales rank: | 1,061,119 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.80(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.40(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
PORT CLINTON
Ezekiel Haines officially founded the city of Port Clinton, Ohio, in 1837. The story goes that he first owned a hunting and fishing lodge where the Lake House Hotel used to stand. Wendy's is there now. It took his friends and him three and a half days by horseback to ride from his home in Cincinnati to "his place at the lake" Today, it takes three and a half hours by car. As with many cities in Ohio, Port Clinton has changed from a home to the location of industries, some now closed or moved elsewhere, such as Standard Products and the Matthews Boat Company to more of a tourist destination. Officially, about 6,500 people live within the city limits. During the summer, if one considers the surrounding areas of Catawba, Portage and Danbury Townships, the count rises to somewhere around 30,000. Bed-and-breakfasts, hotels, condominiums, restaurants, delightful pubs and gift shops offer tourists relaxation and fun during the summer months and the shoulder seasons of mid-April to Memorial Day and September through mid-November.
Mention Port Clinton and you will see smiles on people's faces for any number of reasons. Those folks who yearly or just occasionally drive up from regions south for a day of recreational fishing on charter boats can happily recount adventures, real or expanded with time, on the water. Sailors, golfers, swimmers, campers and owners of private yachts of all lengths think of Port Clinton as their getaway spot, the best place to go to lower their blood pressure and have a good time. Within downtown Port Clinton, the Jet Express to Put-in-Bay carries eager travelers to South Bass Island, where they enjoy the sites and the beverages of that most famous of destinations. At Catawba Point, the Miller Ferry runs between Put-in-Bay and the peninsula. Take your pick; tourists do, and they have fun!
Because Port Clinton is nearly 175 years old, it seems reasonable to consider that ghosts and spirits are as much a part of the community as permanent residents and tourists. Whether one believes or not, a brief walk at twilight down Second Street east to Fulton Street or north to the Portage River might confirm that indeed we are not, as the more solipsistic of us may like to think, alone. Here are stories of Port Clinton.
AN OFFICIOUS ORB
People fade to spirits; spirits fade to orbs, balls of energy left behind where human beings or ghosts used to be. One such orb appropriately inhabits the second floor of the old Port Clinton Municipal Building at the corner of Second and Adams Streets. An officious one, volunteering its services, which are neither expected nor appreciated, the orb peers out from the former city council chambers, suggesting to onlookers that business as usual continues within the limestone edifice that until 1995 held the mayor's offices, the fire department, the police headquarters, a jail and a museum.
Perhaps this officious orb is a former candidate, unsuccessful in a mayoral bid. Or, as city council members recall with annoyance, it could be one of the many naysayers who occupied front and side seats at meetings, people who offered unappreciated suggestions or comments that contributed nothing but a waste of time for beleaguered officials. At any rate, the orb has a nasty streak; this mysterious glow disappears almost immediately after someone takes its picture. Subsequent pictures from the same camera usually show nothing but a darkened window. Things grew worse in mid-August 2009; the orb threw a tantrum, knocking out the upper casement window, which then had to be replaced by some intrepid worker who braved spiders and other rodents in the long abandoned building. More than a decade has passed with interested developers reviewing this once hub of municipal activity, but any number of reasons cause them to turn their attentions and their investments elsewhere. In the autumn, a gingko tree, its lineage linked to the era of the dinosaurs, sheds golden leaves down onto the tiny yard. Winter winds howl around corners; in the summer, all that flourishes on the property are weeds.
Actually, the entire block from Adams Street to Perry Street emits an aura that drives people away. Except for attorneys' offices located in a former funeral home, buildings and their occupants meet with, if not disasters, at least dreadfully unfortunate occurrences. An apartment in one small complex houses a rapid turnover of tenants who do not enjoy whatever opens and closes locked windows and doors at will. In fact, an official at the water office confirmed such annoying goings-on; he mentioned that no sooner had someone come out to read the meter for the new tenant than that tenant chose to live elsewhere. Mischievous uninvited spirits, earlier occupants perhaps of the framed structure, most likely vex the landlord more than they do the tenants. Nevertheless, vex they do; over the years, buildings ingest the characters of their occupants to the distress or satisfaction of the owners.
Spirits manifest their anger in several ways, among them fires. On this same block at the opposite corner where Perry Street and Adams Street meet, Port Clinton's first lighthouse, built in 1833, guided navigators to safety from far out on Lake Erie, the most treacherous of the five Great Lakes. The lighthouse was razed in 1899; a marker commemorates its significance. Here in the early to mid-twentieth century a home later divided into apartments and a beauty shop was all that reminded anyone of the once historic aspects of this corner. Then a family of entrepreneurs bought the property, converting the building into what became a business well known for fine dining and excellent service. It was aptly named the Garden at the Lighthouse. For more than twenty-five years, the owners dedicated themselves to professional excellence but also contributed time and energy to their adopted community. Then, late at night in September 2009, a fire broke out in the basement; investigators ruled arson. But one wonders about the real cause behind this sad ending. Spirits in other lighthouses return to reenact again and again some deed that resulted in their misery or their death. Did a vengeful ghost return to this historic place to wreak havoc for some forgotten affront or just for the fun of it? The question remains unanswered; the owners work against odds to reopen their business as they accept condolences from a community that cares for them. Curious passersby may still peer through windows to tables set for dinners that may never again be served, but sadly, the Garden at the Lighthouse sits forlorn and closed.
MRS. EDNA HESS AND THE NEW NEIGHBORS
People who enjoy the additional pleasures that spirits bring to their quality of life appreciate the presence of Mrs. Edna Hess. As an efficient and no- nonsense secretary, for over forty years she served the law firm of Meyer and True. Some say she practiced law as well as her bosses; some that she practiced law even in her bosses' absence. Legend holds that clients who needed help in a hurry spoke directly with Mrs. Edna Hess; she handled matters from there.
She and her husband, Donald, never had children, but they did have each other. They lived in the house at 204 West Second Street where Edna had spent all her life. No one really remembers what Mr. Hess did, although it is thought that he sold insurance. Certainly, he did well professionally. Although the home had been built when Edna was a little girl, the Hesses kept it updated inside and out. Even after Donald died in the early 1980s, Edna continued to hire painters for the interior and exterior and contractors to upgrade other aspects of the house. First-time visitors liked to remark that they sank past their ankles in the plush, sage-colored carpet that she had installed. The house was quiet, serene and tastefully appointed with antiques and expensive furniture.
She kept the yard as attractive as the interior of her home. In the spring, pink creeping phlox cascaded down walls of her small rock garden; hundreds of grape hyacinths graced her front walk. At the age of ninety-five, she decided her landscape plan was too old, so she retained the flowers but had new holly and burning bushes brought in "to keep things nice."
Edna took a lively interest in her neighborhood as well. Despite her advanced years, she continued on pleasant summer days to carry a chair out onto her small front porch so that she could sit in the afternoon sun and enjoy the activity that a location one block from the center of town provides.
She kept her figure, too: slim, fit. She wore her hair as she always had, neatly arranged into a French twist. Edna favored the attire of a professional woman in the 1960s: dresses, accessories of jewelry, hose and shoes with small heels.
In the neighborhood, she was one of us, and yet not. She remained friendly, dignified, polite — very much a lady. According her the respect and kindness due a woman of her age and gentility, Edna's doctor paid house calls. Her lawyer visited her at least quarterly.
Sometime about 1999, Edna granted some concessions to her advancing years. Caregivers stayed with her during the day. She had her bedroom moved downstairs because the steps to the second floor became a little difficult. But other than the minor problems age brought her, Mrs. Hess enjoyed her long and prosperous life almost entirely without the plague of ailments that afflict people her age. In fact, although nearly one hundred at the time, she seriously considered attending a cousin's birthday party in Indiana, some four hours away. She didn't go, but she wanted to. She thoroughly loved her life.
After a few brief hospital stays in 2002, Mrs. Edna Hess died quietly, at peace with herself and her world. Her impeccably maintained home and yard passed into her estate, thus opening the door for Fred and Diane Pachasa, Cleveland residents who always liked Port Clinton, to move in. One of those handymen who remodels "for something to do," a fellow who can fix almost anything, Fred is accustomed to the quirks that come with old houses. His wife, Diane, loves to garden, so for this couple, Edna's house seemed perfect.
Now, Edna had been meticulous: she wanted things done just right. A few years before her death, she had requested the landscapers remove three or four bushes she had, only a month previously, ordered planted. They just weren't doing well, and they were not quite what she had anticipated. Apparently this tidiness, this attention to detail, attracted the Pachasas to the home but also guided their remodeling efforts. Both Diane and Fred worked sedulously to update their new house but also to keep it the way they hoped Edna would like it. Today, the entire house is upgraded for the needs of a professional couple in the twenty-first century.
They do have one problem, however. Edna, always one to take a lively interest in her neighbors, returns occasionally to the house she had lived in since her girlhood. Fred and Diane are believers, so a spirit manifesting its presence would be noticed and appreciated. That first year the Pachasas settled in, they were in the living room watching television one evening. Fred noticed a ghost walking down the stairs. Assuming it to be Mrs. Hess, both he and Diane greeted her and then returned to the TV program. It's rather simple, really: when someone else is in the house, in this case a kindly spirit that bothers no one, accept it as part of life and continue with your own.
But not only do the Pachasas blithely accept her presence, they also delight in her sense of humor. Edna turns a light on in the third-floor attic whenever she visits. At first Fred, having repaired more electrical problems than he can remember, felt mildly annoyed with the light's intractable behavior. He or Diane turned the light off; a few minutes or hours later, it came back on. They switched it on; it went off. The couple admits that it took them a while to understand her pervasive behavior, but as with most people who live with ghosts and spirits, the Pachasas greet Mrs. Hess politely and then go on about their activities.
In a curious but pleasant sort of way, Edna continues her presence too in the front yard she so enjoyed. A rosebush with delicate pink blossoms grew at the side of her garage; after her death, the bush withered almost, but not quite, to death. Diane and Fred moved it to the front of the house, near the winding sidewalk in full view for Edna as she sat in her chair there on her porch on a sunny summer day. Deep into the fall the rose still blooms; its color is the delicate complexion of a lady, beautiful even into her nineties.
One final thing bothers the Pachasas, however. First combing through the remainders of an estate sale and then requesting pictures from relatives, friends and organizations to which she belonged, they have been entirely unsuccessful in finding even one photograph of Mrs. Edna Hess. Is she unhappy with her appearance? Is her hair not exactly as she wished? Or is she making sure that when she does present her gift to the new neighbors, who honor her life and respect her property, that everything looks perfect, just the way she prefers?
THE HAUNTINGLY BEAUTIFUL HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT
Port Clinton High School opened its doors in 1963; the old high school at the corner of Madison Street and Fourth then became the junior high, now known as Port Clinton Middle School. It is at this aging brick edifice, a monument to what is called the International style of architecture so popular for public buildings erected in the 1920s, that the ghost of the Hauntingly Beautiful High School Student has appeared.
Whether she was running late to class or wandering the halls as she looks for a lost boyfriend, the custodian she startled could not say. This, however, is how she appeared. It was late one evening. Greg, we'll call him, had been working the graveyard shift, that time between 11:00 p.m. and 7:00 a.m. when Port Clinton is dark and still. High school students who wrestled with homework, or neglected it, had long since been asleep; middle school students tossed and turned, unaware that the school they would reluctantly or excitedly attend the following morning was a familiar building to our lovely wanderer.
Greg worked alone that night, quietly emptying trash, sweeping the floor and making small repairs as teachers had earlier requested. But something stirred him from his routine, causing him to peer down a second-floor hall toward a presence that drifted ever closer to him. "She was beautiful," he recalls, "dressed in a red blouse and black skirt. She floated toward me." She floated, you see, because she had no legs.
Greg's story alone is frightening enough, but the consequences he suffered for "telling tales out of school" are even more frightening. He recounted the tale of the Hauntingly Beautiful High School Student in the spring of 2006. During mid-August of that same year, I greeted Greg in the post office, asking him cheerfully if he was ready for another school year. "I'm not going back," he glumly commented. "Something happened to my knees. The doctors don't know what caused it, but I can't walk very well. I had to retire." With that, he turned dejectedly and limped away. Whether the spirit of a high school girl with a bad temper and a thirst for vengeance punished a good, kind man for narrating a rather innocuous incident or whether Greg's knees gave out suddenly from other causes, we do not know.
What we do know is that Greg has turned to another, more spiritually fulfilling career. After his retirement from his custodial position at the middle school, he embraced a more ethereal life. You can find Greg most Sundays where he pastors at a newly painted little white church in an older section of town. The only ghost he has ever wanted to deal with he deals with now: the Holy Ghost.
As I often remind guests on the ghost walks I guide, things happen that we cannot explain. Greg's granddaughter flew in from Florida to stay with her grandfather for a week or so in the summer of 2009. For no apparent reason, she was drawn to my ghost walk; neither she nor I knew of her connection to the Hauntingly Beautiful High School Student until we approached the middle school and the story unfolded. Greg's granddaughter capped the tale with a final remark. Her grandfather's mysterious affliction has disappeared. He walks today without a limp. He is, indeed, a healthy man again.
During the lunch period, elementary children's delighted cries drift up from the playground adjacent to the middle school. On beautiful autumn days or those late spring afternoons more than one upper-level student, deemed too old for recess and who certainly would never be caught actually playing, has probably daydreamed instead of paying attention to the lesson. It's easy to do; I suspect the teacher who happens to continue the lecture as he or she moves over to the window lets their mind wander as well. What draws teachers' and students' longing gazes other than the fine weather and the knowledge that they could be elsewhere?
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Ghosts And Legends Of Lake Erie's North Coast"
by .
Copyright © 2010 Victoria King Heinsen.
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.
Table of Contents
Introduction,
PORT CLINTON,
An Officious Orb,
Mrs. Edna Hess and the New Neighbors,
The Hauntingly Beautiful High School Student,
The Lonely Divorcée,
Two Murdered Girls,
Mother Evers,
Parliament,
Railroad Disasters and Tragedies,
The Island House,
Port Clinton Fisheries,
He Waits. He Watches,
Three Churches,
The Marshall Inn,
Colonel and Mrs. Archie King,
Santa Claus,
CATAWBA ISLAND AND MON AMI,
Nabagon,
The Tree of the Bleeding Heart,
Caves and Prohibition,
Mon Ami,
PUT-IN-BAY,
KELLEYS ISLAND AND THE LAKE ERIE TRIANGLE,
MARBLEHEAD, DANBURY TOWNSHIP, THE VICTORIAN INN AND THE SURF MOTEL,
Marblehead and Danbury Township,
East Harbor State Park,
The Victorian Inn,
The Surf Motel,
JOHNSON'S ISLAND,
PORTAGE TOWNSHIP AND LOCKWOOD ROAD,
BAY TOWNSHIP,
If These Bones Could Talk,
Night Life,
Dan's Dream Girls,
FRIENDS AND RELATIVES IN FREMONT,
Spiegel Grove and the Rettigs,
Aunt Martha,
Ari's Ghost Stories,
FINAL THOUGHTS,
The Witching Hour,
Ask Saint Anthony,
Reflections,
References,
About the Author,