Latest / Sandman Stories Presents / EP 304: Halloween- The Old Mansion (W Bob Holland)

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EP 304: Halloween- The Old Mansion (W Bob Holland) · Sandman Stories Presents

• 0:26
  Welcome back, listeners to Sandman Stories Presents.
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  This is the first installment of the Halloween series.
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  There's some talk of death and spookiness, so I would be
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  cautious with the easily spooked.
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  Today we are back in the book of 25 ghost stories collected by W
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  Bob Holland. You remember those, right?
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  Well, today he's taking us to an old mansion in New Jersey.
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  What happened to the old mansion?
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  Well, Are you ready to get spooky?
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  OK, let's begin. The old mansion down on the
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  Jersey Shore, that narrow strip of sand which stretches along
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  the New Jersey coast from Barnegat Inlet on the north to
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  Little Egg Harbor Inlet on the South, are many holiday maker.
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  The summer traveller at one of the numerous resorts May and
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  wandering over to the sand dunes just across the Bay from the
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  village of Manahawkin, stumble over some of the charred Timbers
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  or vestiges of crumbling chimneys, showing that once,
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  years back, a human habitation had stood there.
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  If the find rouses the curiosity of the visitor enough to impel
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  him to ask the weather beaten old Salt who sails on his
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  fishing trips, he will learn that these relics mark the site
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  of one of the first summer hotels erected on the New Jersey
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  coast. That's where the old mansion
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  stood. He will be informed by Captain
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  Nate or Captain Sam or whatever particular captain it may happen
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  to be. And if by good fortune it
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  happened to be Captain Jim, he will hear a story that will
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  pleasantly pass away the long wait for the sheep's head bite.
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  It was my good luck to have secured Captain Jim for Tutor
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  and the Anglers Art during my vacation last summer and his
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  stories and reminisces of Long Beach we're not the least
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  enjoyable features of the two weeks to adjourn.
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  Captain Jim was not garrulous. Few of the Bay men are.
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  They are a sturdy, self reliant and self controlled people, full
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  of strong common sense, but still with that firm belief in
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  the supernatural which seems inherent in Dwellers by the Sea.
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  The old mansion, said Captain Jim, or the Mansion of Health,
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  for that was its full name, was built away back in 1822, or so
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  I've heard my father say There had been a Tavern nearby the
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  spot for years before that. It was kept by a man named
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  Kramer, and people used to come from Philadelphia by Stagecoach
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  60 miles through the Pines to Hawkin, and then cross here by
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  boat. Some would stop by Kramer's and
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  others would go down to the beach on Homer's, which was
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  cleared down by the inlet. Finally, some of the wealthier
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  people concluded that they wanted better accommodations
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  than Cramer gave, so they formed the Great Swamp Long Beach
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  Company and built the Mansion of Health.
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  I've heard that when it was built, it was the biggest hotel
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  on the coast and it was considered a wonder.
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  It was 120 feet long, three stories high, and had a porch
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  run all the way around it with a balcony on top.
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  It was certainly a big thing in those days.
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  I've heard Father tell many times of the stage loads of gay
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  people that used to come rattling down a hawk, and each
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  stage drawn by four horses and sometimes four or five of them
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  in a day in the summer. A good many people, too, used to
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  come down in their own carriages and leave them over on the
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  mainland until they were ready to go home.
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  There were gay times at the old mansion then, and it made times
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  good for the people along the shore, too.
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  How long did the old mansion flourish, Captain?
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  I asked. Well, for 25 or 30 years people
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  came there summer after summer. Then they built a railroad to
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  Cape May, and that, along with the ghosts, finished the Mansion
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  of Health. What do you mean by ghosts?
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  I demanded. Well, you see, said Captain Jim,
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  cutting off a mouthful of Navy plug.
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  Their story got around that the old house was haunted.
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  Some people said that there were queer things to be seen there,
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  and strange noises were heard that nobody could account for,
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  and pretty soon the place got a bad name and visitors were so
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  few that it didn't pay to keep it open anymore.
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  But how did it get the name of being haunted, Captain Jim?
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  I persisted. Why was in this way?
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  Continued the Mariner. Maybe you've heard of the time
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  in the early 50s when a Powhatan was wrecked on the beach here
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  and every soul on board was lost.
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  She was an immigrant ship and there were over 400 people
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  aboard, passengers and crew. She came ashore here during the
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  mid season storm in September. There weren't any life saving
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  stations in them days and everybody was drowned.
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  You can see the long graves now over in the Hawking churchyard
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  here. The bodies were buried after
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  they came ashore. They put them in three long
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  trenches that were dug from one end of the burning ground to the
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  other. The only people on the beach
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  that night was the man who take care of the old mansion.
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  He lived there with his family and his son-in-law.
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  He was a wreck master for this part of the coast too.
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  It wasn't till the 2nd day the people from Hawking could get
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  over to the beach and by the time the bodies had all come
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  ashore and the wreck master had them all piled up on the sand.
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  I was a youngster then and came over with my father and I tell
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  you it was the awfulest sight I ever saw them.
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  Long rows of drowned people all lying there with their white
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  still faces turned up to the sky.
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  Some were women with their dead babies clasped tight in their
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  arms, and some were husbands and wives whose bodies came ashore
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  locked together in a death embrace.
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  I'll never forget that sight as long as I live.
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  Well. The coroner came and took
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  charge, and he began to inquire whether any money or valuables
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  have been found. But the wreck master declared
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  that not a single solitary coin had washed ashore.
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  People thought this was rather singular, as the immigrants were
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  most of them well to do Germans who were known to have brought a
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  good deal of money with them. But it was concluded that that
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  had gone down with the ship well.
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  The poor immigrants were given a popper's burial and the people
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  had begun to forget their suspicions until three or four
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  months later when there came another storm and the sea broke
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  clear over the beach just below the old mansion and washed away
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  the sand. Early the next morning two men
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  from Hawkins sailed across the Bay and landed on the beach.
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  They walked across on the hard bottom where the sea had washed
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  across, and when they were about halfway from the Bay one of the
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  men saw something curious up against the stump of an old
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  cedar tree. He called the other man's
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  attention to it and then went over to the stump.
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  What they found was a pile of leather money belts that would
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  have filled a wheelbarrow. Every one of them was cut open
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  and empty. They've been buried in the sand
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  by the old stump, and the sea had washed away the covering.
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  The men didn't go any further. They carried the belts back to
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  their boats and sailed back to hawk in as fast as the wind
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  could take them. Of course it made a big
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  sensation, and everybody was satisfied that the wreck master
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  had wrapped the bodies, if he hadn't done anything worse.
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  But there was no way to prove it and so nothing was done.
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  The wreck master didn't stay around long after that.
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  The people made it too hot for him and he and his family went
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  away S where it was said that they bought a big plantation and
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  a lot of slaves. Years afterward the store came
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  to Hawkins somehow that he was killed in a bar room brawl and
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  that his son-in-law was drowned by his boat upsetting while he
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  was out fishing. I couldn't furnish any
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  affidavits for that part of the story, though.
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  However, after that, nobody lived in the old mansion for a
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  long time. People would go there, stay a
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  week or two, and leave, and at last it was given up entirely to
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  beach parties in the daytime and ghosts at night.
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  But, Captain, you don't really believe in the ghost part, do
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  you? I asked.
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  Captain Jim looked down the Bay, coughed up the Sherman's oyster
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  over the side of the boat, and answered slowly.
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  Well, I don't know as I would have believed in them if I
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  hadn't seen the ghost. What?
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  I exclaim, You saw it, tell me about it.
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  I've always wanted to see a ghost, or the next best thing, a
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  man who has seen one. It was August about 1861, said
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  the captain. I was a young feller and with a
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  half a dozen more over on the beach cutting salt hay.
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  We didn't come home at nights, but did our own cooking in the
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  old mansion kitchen, and at night slept on piles of hay
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  upstairs. We were a reckless bunch of
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  scamps, and we reckoned that no ghost could scare us.
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  There was a big full moon that night, and it was as light as
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  day. The mosquitoes were pretty bad
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  too, and it was easier to stay awake than to go to sleep along.
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  Toward midnight, me and two other fellers went out onto the
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  old balcony and began to race around the house.
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  We hollered and yelled and chased each other for 1/2 an
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  hour or so, and then we concluded we had better go to
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  sleep, so we started for the window of the room where the
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  rest were. This window was near 1 end on
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  the Oceanside and as I came around the corner I stopped as
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  if I'd been shot and my hair raced straight up on top of my
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  head. Right there in front of that
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  window stood a woman looking out over the sea, and in her arms
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  she held a little child. I saw her as plain as I see you
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  now. It seemed to me like an hour.
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  She stood there, but I don't suppose it was a second, and
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  then she was gone. When I could move, I looked
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  around for the other boys and they were standing there
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  paralyzed. They had seen the woman, too.
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  We didn't say much, and we didn't sleep much that night,
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  and the next night we bunked out on a beach.
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  The rest of the crowd made all manner of fun of us, but we had
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  all the ghosts we wanted, and I never set foot inside that old
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  house after that. When did it burn down, Captain?
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  I asked Jim as he relapsed into silence.
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  Somewhere about 25 years ago a beach party had been roasting
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  clams in the old oven, and somehow the fire got into the
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  woodwork and it was dry as tender and I hope the ghosts
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  were burnt up with it. The and.
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  None. I like this story.
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  It was a bit hard trying to come up with an accurate accent for
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  the captain so I hope I didn't butcher it too badly.
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  Thank you for listening and if you want more creepy stuff check
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  out E old Crime podcast. Thank you and happy Halloween.