Ghosts of Southwest Pennsylvania

by Arcadia Publishing

Overview

Discover some of Southwest Pennsylvania's most harrowing ghost tales.

The ghostly woman of Summit Cut Bridge, a black hound that guards the Gates of Hell and the whispering dead entombed beneath the Black Crossthese are the spirits of southwestern Pennsylvania. Join local author Thomas White as he recounts such chilling stories as that of Revolutionary War witch Moll Derry and the phantom bride of White Rocks and the hair-raising tale of the angry specter of a steel millworker burned alive in a ladle of molten iron. Ascend the secret stairs of the Cathedral of Learning in Pittsburgh and wander the dim stretch of Shades of Death Road in Washington County to encounter the otherworldly denizens of the Keystone State.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781596299238
Publisher:	Arcadia Publishing SC
Publication date:	08/27/2010
Series:	Haunted America
Pages:	128
Sales rank:	1,014,179
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.30(d)

About the Author

Thomas White is the university archivist and curator of special collections in the Gumberg Library at Duquesne University. He is also an adjunct lecturer in Duquesne's History Department and an adjunct professor of history at La Roche College. White received a master's degree in public history from Duquesne University. Besides folklore and western Pennsylvania, his areas of interest include public history and American cultural history. He is the author of Legends and Lore of Western Pennsylvania and Forgotten Tales of Pennsylvania, also published byThe History Press.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

GHOSTS AND CURSES AT THE OLD QUAKER CHURCH

FAYETTE COUNTY

The Providence Meeting House and Cemetery is located on Quaker Church Road, just off Route 51 in the town of Perryopolis, Pennsylvania. Created as an offshoot of the Redstone Quaker community, the meetinghouse served the Quakers of Fayette County until the 1880s. The first structure on the site was a wooden building erected by John Cope in 1789. In 1793, it was replaced with a more substantial stone structure with wooden floors, benches and two fireplaces. When the Quakers had stopped using the meetinghouse, it quickly fell into disrepair. In 1893, descendents of the original community had the structure disassembled and rebuilt using as many of the original materials as possible. Slightly smaller than the original, the reconstructed meetinghouse stands alone in the middle of the one-acre cemetery that sprang up around it in the 1800s.

Over the years the vacant meetinghouse, often called the Quaker church, and surrounding cemetery have spawned numerous supernatural legends. This is not unusual considering that historically churchyards have been considered some of the most supernaturally active places. The church looks particularly creepy at night. A lone building silhouetted against the sky, surrounded by graves and an ominous looking metal fence. One of the most prominent legends about the church involves a curse. Two different versions of the story exist. The first warns that written somewhere on the inside walls of the church is a message. It describes the tragic death of a young woman who is buried outside. If you happen to read the description, you will die the same way. The other version involves a cursed tombstone. If you read the message on the stone or step on it as you pass through, you will die or have a string of terrible luck. There are many tales of those who tested the stone only to find death and disaster. Allegedly, at least one young man who tested the legend was involved in a serious car accident within the week. Another man came home the next day to find his home engulfed in flames. Similar accounts are related throughout Fayette County.

One firsthand account that was given to the author described a trip by several college students to the church one Saturday night in the mid-1990s. The students had heard the legend of the cursed tombstone and decided to investigate it for themselves. After they arrived and passed through the gates of the cemetery, they located the stone. One of the men read the inscription, but nothing else seemed to happen. They looked around the eerie property and then went home. The next morning, the man who read the tombstone went to church. When he returned home he saw firetrucks on his street — but not at his home. He soon received a phone call from a friend that had been with him the previous night and who happened to live just down the street. His car had apparently caught fire that morning. About a half an hour later, the man received a phone call from a friend who was attending Clarion University. He was back in Pittsburgh because his apartment burned in the middle of the night. A little while after that, the man received a call from the friend who had originally told him about the legend. His beloved dog had died. The man believed that the string of disasters might have been related to the curse. He believed that he had been spared because he had gone to church and received Communion early the following morning.

The stone that is usually associated with the legend belongs to Ella Mae Lynch (1861–1930) and William J. Lynch (1860–1932). The inscription reads "Remember youth as you go by, as you are now so once was I, as I am now so you shall be, beware for death and follow me." The inscription sounds ominous to those unfamiliar with old epitaphs, but it is actually a variation of a fairly common grave inscription from the 1700s and 1800s. The more common version reads "Remember me as you pass by, as you are now so once was I, as I am now so you will be, prepare for death and follow me." It was not meant to seem menacing but rather serve as a reminder of mortality and our brief time on Earth. To visitors unfamiliar with the epitaph, the tombstone seems threatening. Of course, if someone ever actually did place a curse on the stone, they left no record. (And I'm still not going to touch it.)

Other strange incidents have been reported at the site as well. For many years a story has circulated about a bizarre death related to the Quaker church. One fall morning in the 1970s, a man was walking his dog through the quiet cemetery. He began to hear whispers, and then he clearly heard the words "you're going to die tonight." The man was disturbed but convinced himself that it must have been a prank by one of the teenagers who would often hang out on the property. He heard no further noises and saw no one else, so he continued his walk. Just before he left the cemetery though, he heard it again — "you're going to die tonight." The man was shaken and went home and told his wife what had happened. He continued to try to convince himself that it was all a prank or his imagination. The man went to work as usual and came home at the end of the day. The couple ate dinner and everything seemed to be normal. Afterward, the man went into the living room to watch the news while his wife cleaned up in the kitchen. About twenty minutes later the wife entered the living room to find the man slumped over in a chair. He was — of course — dead.

It is also commonly believed, despite a lack of historical evidence, that a witch was killed by members of the community on the site sometime in the 1840s. Her ghost supposedly inhabits the building, sometimes causing it to become unusually cold. While it is unlikely that there was an execution on the site, perhaps there may have been an accusation or rumor of witchcraft that entered into popular memory. There is another ghost that allegedly wanders the cemetery, pushing trespassers to the ground at night. The identity of the violent and protective ghost is unknown, but it is apparently unhappy when it is disturbed.

Strange happenings seem to plague the property. On one occasion, my friend visited the Quaker church during the day. What he found, though not necessarily supernatural, was bizarre. A fully grown deer was impaled through its neck on the metal fence. Most likely it had attempted to jump the fence and had miscalculated. Its lifeless body created a disturbing scene that almost seemed like an omen.

By the 1980s, there were rumors that the old meetinghouse was being used by a satanic cult to perform evil rituals and ceremonies. Allegedly some minor evidence of this cult was discovered, including strange writing, pentagrams and small animals that may have been sacrificed. Whether there was really a cult or just teenagers causing mischief and vandalism was never determined. The idea of a cult using the building seems to fit within the context of the Satanic Panic of the early 1980s. It was a nationwide scare over the alleged discovery of satanic ritual abuse, first in daycare centers in California and later in a variety of places around the country. Using now discredited methods like repressed memory therapy, a few psychologists and law enforcement officials claimed to have uncovered a vast satanic network with millions of members that were abusing and abducting children. Soon evidence of these satanic cults was being uncovered everywhere from games and music records to bar codes on household products. The media covered the topic obsessively and implied that the claims had credence. Though the panic eventually subsided, it left a tremendous impression on the folklore and urban legends of the 1980s. Many new legends were created and satanic elements were added into existing ones.

The road in front of the Quaker church and cemetery has also been involved in the stories. One motorist was supposedly chased by a ghostly black dog in the late 1980s or early 1990s. It appeared beside the car as the driver slowed to look at the cemetery. Its menacing growl and glare filled the driver with fear, so he immediately drove away. The dog managed to keep pace with the car but suddenly vanished once it had reached the end of the property. Ghostly black dogs have a long tradition in British folklore. They often appear on desolate stretches of road near graveyards or old churches. They are described as fearsome with strange or glowing eyes and are often considered to be the minions of witches or the hellhounds of the devil himself. The black dog at the Quaker church seems to fit firmly in this tradition.

Another driver who was passing the church had a frightening accident one night in the early 1990s. As he traveled past the property an old woman suddenly appeared in his headlights. He swerved to avoid her, but it was too late. The driver was sure that the car had struck her as he skidded off the road and into the brush. He immediately jumped out of the vehicle to help the woman but there was no one there. The man searched the road nearby, thinking that she might have been thrown from the impact. There was no trace of the woman. She had vanished as if she had never been there at all. It has also been said that if you drive in front of the cemetery late at night, the ghostly old woman may try to prevent you from leaving. If you shut your car off and then try to turn it back on, it will stall and the battery will seemingly go dead. When you look into the rearview mirror, you will see the old woman standing in the road behind you.

With the curse, the witch, the cult, the ghosts and the mysterious death, it seems that the Quaker church is one of the scariest haunted places in the region. For those of you who wish to tempt fate (and the phantom black dog) and visit the church, do so at your own risk.

And just remember, as you pass through the graveyard, watch your step.

CHAPTER 2

THE GHOSTS OF ST. VINCENT ARCHABBEY AND COLLEGE

WESTMORELAND COUNTY

St. Vincent Archabbey, founded in 1846 in Latrobe, Westmoreland County, was the first Benedictine monastery in the United States. A Bavarian monk named Boniface Wimmer established the monastery and the associated college to train seminarians and missionaries to serve the needs of the large German Catholic community in southwestern Pennsylvania. He served as the monastery's first abbot. With the help of Bishop Michael O'Conner of Pittsburgh, Wimmer was able to purchase a tract of land known as Sportsman's Hall. On the property the monks constructed several buildings that formed the main living quarters of the community and classrooms for the students. In the 1850s, the Benedictines purchased some nearby property and built a gristmill and brewery. Food was grown in the large fields that surrounded the buildings. The goal was to make the monastic community self-sufficient. Years of prayer and hard work yielded a successful and ever growing institution. The monks of St. Vincent have fulfilled their mission of education and religious guidance ever since their arrival, overcoming numerous hardships along the way.

Like any historical institution, especially one associated with a college, St. Vincent has acquired a few ghost stories over the years. Some emerged from the growth of the monastic community and property. Others are campus legends that developed among the students. If all the stories are believed, it can be argued that St. Vincent's campus and the associated properties are some of the most haunted in the state. The hauntings discussed here are just a few of the more prominent legends.

The early years at the monastery were filled with challenges and struggles and were not without controversy. There were outside complaints over the monks' production and sale of beer; nativist anti-Catholic and anti- immigrant sentiments were common; and conflict loomed on the horizon between the northern and southern states. The oldest ghost story at St. Vincent emerged around the time of the Civil War and was related to internal dissent within the monastic community. Ultimately the story was determined to be a hoax, but not before it had attracted interest from around the region and threatened to tear the monastic community apart.

The story begins with a young man from Rheno-Prussia named George Keck. He had arrived at the monastery during the summer of 1859 to study and enter into the novitiate. Keck had previously been a professional actor before deciding to devote himself to the monastic life. The twenty-three- year-old took the religious name of Paul. It was not long before the name Paul Keck became synonymous with controversy. On September 18, Keck found himself lying in the infirmary because of illness. It was there that he claimed that he was visited by the ghost of a hooded monk who held a cross in one hand. The ghost stood and stared quietly; it is not clear how long the apparition lasted. Keck immediately told his superiors, and they believed his account to be authentic. Boniface Wimmer told Keck to attempt to talk to the apparition if it appeared to him again.

On November 21, Keck was with a priest when the ghostly monk returned. Though the priest saw nothing, Keck began to talk to the ghost. The phantom monk told Keck that his name was also Paul, and that he had died seventy-seven years before. The monk was in purgatory because of sins he "committed against monastic poverty." The ghost went on to say, "So far I have been allowed to appear every eleventh year, but until now all to whom I appealed refused to help." He asked Keck to have seven Masses offered, as well as a novena of nine days and a variety of other prayers. At this point Wimmer and other leaders of the community believed that Keck was having genuine visions, so the Masses and prayers were said. Allegedly, the phantom monk continued to appear to Keck throughout the end of that year. He also requested that they pray for the souls suffering in purgatory and mentioned that the five monks who had died since the founding of the monastery were also in purgatory. By the time the Masses had been completed, Keck reported another vision of the monk leaving purgatory for heaven.

By early the following year, word of the apparitions had spread to Pittsburgh. The February 26, 1860 issue of the Pittsburgh Dispatch ran an article about the ghost with a nativist–anti-Catholic slant. The article claimed that the ghost appeared to the entire congregation, stated that purgatory did not exist and that only two Catholic priests had ever gone to heaven. Whether the mistakes were intentional or not, Wimmer wrote to the paper to set the story straight. The Pittsburgh Catholic had a more accurate account of the story but a skeptical reaction, choosing not to give too much credence to the claims.

Meanwhile at the monastery, Paul Keck claimed to have received more instructions from the ghost. The monks were now to wear a rosary on their belts, suspend missionary work, change all of their middle names to Mary and engage in a more ascetic and contemplative lifestyle. The suggested changes caused a rift in the community. Some of the supporters of Keck may have been pushing their own reforms and used him as a catalyst. The more traditional Benedictines rejected the proposed changes. At that point Wimmer still believed that Keck's visions were authentic but was unwilling to put an end to their missionary work. He found himself caught between the competing factions within his own monastery.

The traditional faction had the upper hand by 1861, and Keck was dismissed from the monastery. His exile did not last long. After receiving outside support from other affiliated monasteries, Keck found himself reinstated and receiving his minor orders in Latrobe in April of 1862. He still retained a substantial amount of support in the monastery, but he soon made a critical mistake. Keck informed Wimmer that the ghost appeared to him again in a vision, telling him to request ordination. Given that Keck was not even close to that important step, Wimmer refused. Keck then accused Wimmer and his associates of doing the work of the devil. He set off to Pittsburgh to try to convince Bishop Michael Domenec to ordain him. The bishop also refused, so Keck headed to the Diocese of Erie.

While waiting to gain an audience with Bishop Young of Erie, Keck attended a party at a private home. After the party, Keck and another priest walked back to St. Mary's Priory where he had been staying. Keck made homosexual advances toward the other man and attempted to seduce him. The other priest was enraged and told not only his community of Keck's actions but also told Bishop Young and Boniface Wimmer. Keck attempted to blame the other priest, claiming that he was drunk, but Wimmer now saw through his deception. After a series of investigations, Wimmer discovered that many of Keck's supporters that sought to implement his ghost-inspired reforms were part of a homosexual subculture at the monastery, and Keck had made advances toward other monks. Wimmer, who once believed in Keck's visions, was now shocked and angry at the violation of the monastic vows of chastity and obedience. Both Wimmer and Keck's supporters took the issue to Rome. Some monks who had personal issues with the way that Wimmer ran the monastery supported Keck and thought that his encounters with the ghost, whether real or not, would bring changes. After several years of arguments it was decided that Keck's claims had no merit. His supporters were reprimanded, and Keck was banished from the monastery and was not heard from again.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Ghosts of Southwestern Pennsylvania"
by .
Copyright © 2010 Thomas White.
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,
Introduction: Hauntings, Legend Trips and Memory,
Ghosts and Curses at the Old Quaker Church: Fayette County,
The Ghosts of St. Vincent Archabbey and College: Westmoreland County,
The Specter of Summit Cut Bridge: Beaver County,
Was the Asylum Haunted? Allegheny County,
Mysterious Mudlick Hollow: Beaver County,
Strange Happenings at West Overton: Westmoreland County,
The Haunted History of the Evergreen Hotel: Allegheny County,
Shades of Death Road: Washington County,
The Ghost of Friendship Hill: Fayette County,
The Deacon Is Watching: Allegheny County,
Cries at the Black Cross: Butler County,
Ghosts in the Cathedral of Learning: Allegheny County,
The Gates of Hell: Fayette County,
The Phantoms of Covert's Crossing Bridge: Lawrence County,
Something Came with the Building: Allegheny County,
Ghosts at the KKK House: Lawrence County,
Who Walks at the Weitzel House? Allegheny County,
The Ghost of the Old Shot Tower: Beaver County,
A South Side Specter: Allegheny County,
The Haunted House of Harlansburg: Lawrence County,
Ghost in the Mill: Allegheny County,
Moll Derry, Fortuneteller of the Revolution: Fayette and Bedford Counties,
The Phantom at the Pond: Allegheny County,
The Devil Takes the Wheel: Allegheny County,
More Ghostly Graves and Haunted Cemeteries: Various Counties,
More Haunted Colleges and Universities: Various Counties,
Conclusion,
Selected Bibliography,
About the Author,