Ghosts of the Triad:: Tales from the Haunted Heart of the Piedmont

by Michael Renegar, Amy Spease

Overview

Don't be fooled by the scenic beauty of North Carolina's Piedmont Triad—the ghosts of the past haunt these rolling hills and unique cities. From the smallpox-stricken ghost that haunts Salem Tavern in Winston-Salem to the slain Revolutionary War soldiers who linger in the park surrounding Guilford Courthouse in Greensboro, these phantoms all have a tale to tell. Some ghosts even support education. Take Jane, the lonely spinster who haunts Aycock Auditorium at the UNC-Greensboro campus, or Herschel, High Point University's ghost of the former Memorial Theater. And though Spookywoods Haunted Attraction in Kersey Valley often frightens and astounds, some of the resident ghosts aren't just special effects. Join Camel City Spirit Seekers Michael Renegar and Amy Spease as they reveal the eerie and chilling stories from the heart of the Piedmont.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781609491406
Publisher:	Arcadia Publishing SC
Publication date:	08/23/2011
Series:	Haunted America
Pages:	128
Product dimensions:	5.90(w) x 8.80(h) x 0.40(d)

About the Author

Michael Renegar was raised in East Bend, N.C, where he still resides. He is an avid guitarist, songwriter and student of history. Sherry Holley, niece of rock 'n' roll founding father Buddy Holly, has recorded some of his music. Michael grew up listening to relatives and tell ghost stories and has since set out to record as many of these old legends as possible. He attended Appalachian State University in Boone, N.C. Michael is a model photographer and the co-founder of Camel City Spirit Seekers, a ghost investigative group based in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. He is the author of two previous collections of North Carolina ghost stories.

Amy Spease is a native of Winston-Salem. She still lives there with her husband, David, and two children, Rocky and Jade. She is an eclectic soul and collects many things, from odd antiques to 1950s tableware. Amy is part American Indian and embraces that heritage. She is an artist and has also been an alternative model since 2005. Her love of ghosts and the paranormal has been a huge part of her life since childhood, and she adores her home state and its rich history and ghostlore. She is the co-founder of Camel City Spirit Seekers.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

The Ghosts of Old Salem

Old Salem is one of the oldest settlements in Western North Carolina. It was initiated by the Germanic Christian sect called the Moravians, and the first settlers arrived from nearby Bethabra in 1766. It was once a separate town but merged with its neighbor, Winston, in 1913 to form the new city of Winston-Salem. Today, it has been re-imagined as a series of living history museums, complete with costumed docents and private homes and businesses operated in accordance with rules that maintain the spirit of the old town.

There are also other spirits present, according to various legends. One of the earliest and most famous of these is the Little Red Man. In life, he was known as Mr. Andreas Kremser. The moniker comes from a very distinctive red coat the well-known man, a cobbler by trade, usually wore.

Kremser lived with other single men in the Single Brothers' House. One evening in 1786, while working in the basement of the house digging out to expand the cellar, Kremser was buried alive by shifting earth. Miraculously, the poor man was still alive when the other brothers dug him out. He was mortally wounded, however, and though doctors were summoned, they could do little for the broken man. He lingered into the night but died in the wee hours of the next morning. The cobbler was laid to rest in God's Acre, the portion of the community cemetery reserved for members of the Moravian Church.

Thus the story of Andreas Kremser ended ... or did it? From the time of his death until well into the twentieth century, Andreas was said to still be around. People heard strange noises, much like a shoemaker's hammer, at all hours of the day. From the corners of their eyes, people would glimpse a short human form and a flash of red, said to be Kremser's well-known red coat. Any unexplained occurrence was attributed to the restless specter now called the Little Red Man.

The ghost was reported to be playful. Several children reported encounters with an odd little man who would talk to them or play with them. He could also be a bit mischievous. Once, two men were discussing the ghost in the cellar of the Single Brothers' House when Andreas suddenly appeared right in front of them. The men tried to grab him, but Kremser vanished immediately. He reappeared across the room, brazenly waved his fingers at them and, with a huge smile, disappeared again.

Early in the twentieth century, a visiting minister was talking with a local clergyman. Inevitably, the subject of Andreas Kremser's active ghost came up. The visitor decided that the ghost, though apparently harmless, should be exorcised. With this rite performed, the tenure of Andreas Kremser at Old Salem came to an end. But to this day, any odd noise or strange occurrence is blamed on the Little Red Man.

Another legend centers on the ancient Salem Tavern. The original tavern was built in 1771 and was one of the first public buildings in town. It was widely known for exceptional hospitality and wonderful food. The first tavern was destroyed by fire in 1784, but it was rebuilt within the year.

Through the years, many famous and illustrious people patronized Salem Tavern — scholars, statesmen, generals, many founding fathers. George Washington himself arrived for a stay in May 1791. The building was host to many happy travelers over the years but also saw its share of tragic events.

During the Revolution, a soldier named William Brown became ill due to an injury. He was unable to travel, so his unit moved on, leaving him in the care of the operators of the tavern. Brown eventually developed gangrene. The stench became overwhelming for the guests and workers, so the wretched man was moved to the tavern's smokehouse.

Brown died in agony in the smokehouse on August 17, 1780. Moravian records indicate that the poor man's body had begun to rot and be eaten up with worms while he yet lived. He was buried in the Strangers' Cemetery, which was set aside for those of the community who were not members of the Moravian Church. But for many years, his ghost was said to haunt the place where he had died. Disembodied footsteps, loud moaning and a dark shadow were attributed to the fallen soldier. His ghost was also said to manifest in an overwhelming, foul, intolerable odor.

Salem Tavern's most famous ghost story, however, seems to arise from the death of a tavern guest on September 6, 1831. A man named Samuel McClary had traveled to Virginia's Mineral Springs seeking a cure for an undisclosed illness, perhaps smallpox. Whatever the illness, the cure did not succeed. His health failing, McClary began the long journey home. At the end of August or early September, the coach carrying Mr. McClary arrived at Salem Tavern.

The man was desperately ill. He stumbled into the tavern and collapsed heavily on the floor. The tavern keeper sent one of his slaves for a doctor and helped another to carry the man up to a room. When the doctor arrived, he realized the man was deathly sick. He could do nothing to save McClary, who lapsed into a coma and died before dawn.

The man had never spoken, and no one knew his name. The coach driver had left the sick man's things and moved on along his route. The keeper searched his belongings, hoping to find something to identify him. He found nothing, however, so the Moravian Church took charge and buried the mysterious traveler in the Strangers' Cemetery. The man's belongings were placed in storage.

Shortly after the stranger's death, unsettling things began to occur in Salem Tavern. The slaves and employees began to whisper that "something" was haunting the tavern and its grounds. Unexplained noises, creepy, echoing footsteps and strange moving shadows were noticed by several people. The tavern keeper tried to laugh it off, but the servants continued to be afraid. Finally, one night, one of the female servants burst into his office and shrieked, "Something awful is in the hall!"

The keeper was quite annoyed. Leaving the trembling young woman in fear, he walked out into the dimly lit hallway. In the flickering candlelight, he didn't notice anything at first — but then he saw it. The keeper's heart was filled with horror and dread. A shadowy apparition loomed before him! The tavern keeper recognized the clothes as those his guest had been buried in. He almost turned to run back to his office and slam the door, but something made him stop. The ghost, which had no face, was reaching out to him beseechingly. In a raspy voice, it cried, "Help me!"

The keeper's heart skipped. He stuttered, "Wh-what can I do?"

"My name is Samuel McClary," the spectral form replied. "I am begging you ... Please write to my brother in Texas and tell him I have passed away. My family is terribly worried over my fate!"

Touched, despite his fear, the keeper promised, "I will do what I can!"

The ghost thanked him, gave him the address and name and then vanished before the frightened keeper's eyes. Shaken, the keeper returned to his office, shooed the terrified maid away and sat down to pen the letter. He posted it the very next day.

Several weeks passed with no new appearances by the ghostly visitor. Then, two new strangers appeared in town. They were Samuel McClary's brother and sister. The pair had come to retrieve their brother's belongings and, possibly, his remains. Though they were given his things, it isn't clear whether the Texan was disinterred and taken home. His purpose achieved, the ghost of Samuel McClary never again disturbed the workers and guests of Salem Tavern.

The ghostly legends of Salem Tavern continued though. Along with the poor soldier, stories have persisted of a ghostly face being seen in a window of an upper floor. This is said to be the specter of one William H. Lutterloh, who suffered from dementia and either fell or leaped to his death from the window.

Then there is Augustus Staub, a German immigrant who arrived in Salem in 1847. He had a fascination with chemistry that would prove fatal. On the night of August 2, 1857, there was a tremendous explosion at Salem Tavern (by that time called Salem Hotel). The smell of volatile chemicals hung in the air. Apparently Staub, ever the amateur chemist, had mixed the wrong ingredients and BOOM! A member of the Moravian Church, Staub was laid to rest in God's Acre. The building was heavily damaged. The owner, Adam Butner, sued the dead man's estate and was awarded money for repairs. Staub's ghost is said to haunt the room where he met his untimely end.

Salem Tavern no longer serves guests. It is one of many living history museums in the Old Salem complex. But echoes of the past still linger in the old place, and the Salem Tavern Annex next door is alleged to be haunted. It is home to the Salem Tavern Restaurant. Perhaps Brown, Lutterloh, Staub and company enjoy visiting patrons of that establishment.

CHAPTER 2

From a Darker Place

Waughtown is one of many historic areas in Winston-Salem. The community is rich in history, steeped in the industrial growth of the late 1890s and the early twentieth century. One of the largest and most successful of the businesses that arose in the area was the J.I. Nissen Wagon Works. Established in 1834, by 1870 the complex had spread to cover a six-hundred-acre tract.

The Nissen business flourished into the 1900s, when the rise of the automobile put an end to the use of horse-drawn wagons. Over the years, thousands of men and boys worked, sweated and bled, producing sturdy wagons. There is little wonder that, to this day, echoes of their work can still be heard. Though the wagon works are long gone, replaced by homes and various small businesses, some say the spirits of those long-ago laborers continue going about their routines.

In the early mornings, as people rise for breakfast and shopkeepers prepare to open their stores, the sound of a blacksmith's hammer can be heard, clanging and ringing out, echoing among the homes and businesses along Waughtown Street, Pleasant Street and other streets in the area. One may also hear the neighing of horses and the clop of their hooves. And in the mists of early morning, the indistinct gray forms of men and boys can be glimpsed working on wagons and doing jobs that haven't existed for one hundred years.

In 1986, Amy's mom and stepdad bought a home on Pleasant Street, in the midst of Historic Waughtown District. As a child, Amy always enjoyed hearing stories of history and folk tales. Her granny loved to regale Amy with as many stories as she could find. Amy's granny told her about the old days and other things. She told of a certain Ms. Elliot who built the house on Pleasant Street and lived there until she passed away. She told Amy that the sweet old lady died in the front bedroom — which Amy shared with her sisters, Amanda and Amber!

Amy wasn't frightened at all by these stories. She slept quite peacefully in the room, even though she knew Ms. Elliot was still there. She'd sensed the good-natured spirit many times. Her sisters wanted nothing to do with that. They would barely stay in there.

Amy was always comforted by the shade of the departed woman. She felt Ms. Elliot was watching over her and the others like a guardian angel. The old woman had kept a big old grandfather clock, which was long gone by the time Amy's family moved in. "One of my fondest memories from childhood," Amy says, "was the tick-tock of an old grandfather clock. And it would chime on the hour. I'm still not sure why I heard this clock ... there wasn't one in the house ... But maybe it was Ms. Elliot, sharing her love in this way."

Amy was witness to other ghostly goings-on there as a child. When she was outside, sometimes she would hear horses nearby, though none were anywhere in the area. And she would sometimes see men and young boys in strange, unfamiliar clothing. It wasn't until her granny told her about the wagon works and ghost stories that Amy realized who they were.

Eventually, the family moved, though they did not sell the home. In July 2002, Amy moved back into the house on Pleasant Street, this time with her husband David and two-year-old son, Rocky. She was six and a half months pregnant at the time with her daughter, Jade.

Amy spent many hours alone in the house. She cleaned, painted and did various small repairs, getting the place ready for the family. She'd had many experiences as a child with Ms. Elliot's ghost, so she wasn't afraid. She simply didn't pay much attention to the various odd noises or randomly misplaced tools or objects. But one evening, something happened that got her direct attention.

Amy was once again alone in the house, painting in the kitchen. As she worked, she began to notice odd shadows moving in her peripheral vision. She tried to ignore them, but they began to become more frequent. She'd see movement out of the corners of her eyes, but when she would turn to look in their direction, the shadowy figures were gone. Hmmm ... Amy thought. This didn't feel like Ms. Elliot. Finally, she put down her paintbrush and, hands planted firmly on her hips, growled at thin air: "Look! If you think you are scaring me, you're NOT!" This seemed to calm the activity — for a while.

But the atmosphere of the home was changing. David would also notice the unusual energy of the place and knew something unnatural was going on. Though they could still feel the presence of the ever-watchful Ms. Elliot, there was something else. Even after the arrival of baby Jade in October, the feeling of the house continued to grow heavier and darker. At times, the feeling was downright oppressive. Amy began to wonder if she should have the house cleansed.

At the time, the growing family attended regular church services and had become members of a local congregation. Amy was especially active in the church and decided to go to the assistant pastor to seek guidance and help. Instead of being attentive and helpful, as any clergy should be in such a situation, the assistant pastor laughed at her. He then said that maybe they could get some of the deacons to come by and pray at the home — at their convenience. The minister, charged with listening to his congregation and helping in any way possible, just seemed to be brushing her off. Amy asked for help three more times and waited for someone to help. She guesses she'd still be waiting until this day for them. Finally, after months of her calls for help going unanswered, Amy and her family left the church.

Amy knew she had a deep faith in a Divine Power. After leaving this church, Amy still felt this faith, despite the way she had been treated. Her Native American roots called to her, and she continued on a very spiritual path. She began going to the library, researching reports and theories on paranormal activity.

Amy was becoming increasingly alarmed that her home had become a harbor for some dark, negative force. In March 2006, Amy met her best friend and erstwhile big brother, co-author Michael Renegar. He visited the Spease home a month later and knew instantly that something was amiss. There was something that just felt off about the house, and even with all the lights on, it seemed darker than it should have.

In her reading and studies, Amy had learned many theories about the dark shadow people she'd been seeing. Many of these theories held that the shadow figures were not human in nature. Amy was unnerved and concerned that this dark energy was becoming stronger and worse as time went by. Nothing seemed to make it stop. Amy and David burned white candles, burned sage smudge sticks, sprinkled holy water and even used anointing oil to bless the house. Crosses hung on the walls. Though the activity would lessen at times, nothing seemed to work completely. Things would calm down for days, weeks, even months at a time. But the shadows and heaviness would always return, seemingly stranger and angrier each time.

Amy was at her wits' end. Chaos seemed to reign, and nightmares vexed and plagued the young family. The final straw was a nightmare that left Amy afraid to sleep, fearing death would come to claim them all. In the dream, Amy found herself in a funeral parlor. All their loved ones were standing there in tears, wracked with grief. There were four closed caskets in the room. There were flowers and pictures arranged on each casket — photos of Amy, David, Rocky and Jade. A loud voice told her, "It is time to leave this house!"

Amy awoke in a cold sweat. She believed this to be a warning, perhaps from a guardian angel — perhaps even Ms. Elliot — that they needed to move before something tragic befell them. On March 1, 2010, Amy and her family moved out of the house on Pleasant Street to their new home. Their new house is much brighter and friendlier than the old one, and all are much happier. They have much more peace there, and there has been no sign of the shadow figures or the feelings of darkness and doom.

As for the house on Pleasant Street, Amy's stepdad still owns it. The property has been cleaned up, and the house has been painted, but if you drive by there, you can still feel heaviness radiating from it. The house seems to watch you as you go by — like a spider, waiting patiently for an unfortunate fly.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Ghosts of the Triad"
by .
Copyright © 2011 Michael Renegar and Amy Spease.
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,
The Ghosts of Old Salem,
From a Darker Place,
Reynolda: Carolina Royalty, Enduring Mysteries,
Tales from Salem Academy and College,
Pawpaw's Message,
A Hanging Sadness,
Three Little Indians and Other Tales,
Korner's Folly,
The Legend of Aycock Auditorium,
Greensboro College Ghosts,
The Americans Fought Like Demons,
Dana Auditorium,
The Lonely Girl,
Real Ghosts at Spookywoods?,
Herschel,
J.H. Adams Inn,
In Conclusion,
Selected Bibliography,
About the Authors,