Ghosts of St. Augustine

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Ghosts of St. Augustine Page 11

by Tom Lapham


  Supposedly, many years later, on July 21, 1833, an engineer broke through the wall and was overcome by the powerful, sweet fragrance of the señora's perfume. There before him hung two skeletons, chained to the wall.

  Some say that even to this day there is an unearthly incandescence and the faint smell of sweet perfume emanating from one of the walls in the Castillo's dungeons.

  “I have a ghost in my house. I really wouldn't call her a ghost at all. She's just there. She's no trouble. I knew her when she was alive, a neighbor. She was killed in a car accident a few years ago and now hangs out in my laundry room. Not long ago a friend was over for lunch and, while sitting at my dining room table, told me there were no such things as ghosts. The lights in the house started going on and off, and a fuse blew. An electrician came out the next day and found a short in the dining room light. That could have explained the fuse problem, but why did it start so suddenly after my friend said she didn't believe in ghosts? Then, too, why did two light bulbs blow up in my hand before I even had them in the socket. That's not explainable. Yes, my ghost gets upset sometimes, but she's no trouble.”

  Bonnie L. lives on the south end of town in a large, rambling house built in the early part of this century. The previous owner was a popular man in St. Augustine, something of a celebrity. He had been a professional athlete and later a newscaster. He was a wonderful neighbor and a very kind person, respected and well-thought-of. He always had a twinkling eye and a smile for everyone, and you couldn't be around Frank very long without feeling good, regardless of the mood you might have been in.

  He loved St. Augustine, and he loved his country; he was a real patriot, and on every national holiday he flew American flags of all sizes from his porch. And so, it was probably fitting that Frank died suddenly on the Fourth of July. His funeral was a big event in town.

  His wife lived for several more years in the house and finally sold the place to Bonnie and her husband, who had known Frank and his family for years. Not long after they moved in, unusual occurrences started to happen. Bonnie would be standing in a room and suddenly be surrounded by a blanket of warm air and the feeling of another's presence. Small items would disappear and reappear. Often it seemed that someone had hidden them just for the fun of it. After a time Bonnie figured it out; Frank's ghost was still on the premises. He was responsible for all the mischief.

  Once, while working at the kitchen table, Bonnie's mother was looking for her husband's death certificate, which she usually kept in a small strong box with other important papers. She couldn't find it. Exasperated, she called out in a rather harsh voice, “Frank, bring back that death certificate. I need it.” Moments later she turned around and found the death certificate on the counter behind her.

  Bonnie's husband has his office in the house. He is a very meticulous person and has a place for everything. He keeps his sunglasses on the corner of his desk in a case—except when Frank decides to hide them. Her husband will play the game for a while and search the room, but if he's in a hurry or he's had enough he just says, “Frank, I'm tired of this.” By the time he reaches his desk, the glasses are back in the case.

  Over the years Bonnie and her husband have developed a strong attachment to Frank and can't imagine life without him, but whenever anything is missing, they'll smile and say, “Frankie took it.” And, usually, he has. Fortunately, he always brings everything back.

  “My family has a beach house; I think my grandfather haunts it. A couple of years ago my friend, Emmy, was here, and her fiancé came down to visit. They had been engaged for over two years but hadn't seen each for six months; he was a Marine stationed in North Carolina. I asked my mom if they could use the beach house for a weekend, and, at first, she was really reluctant. Finally, she gave in.

  “On Monday Emmy called me. She was indignant. I asked her what happened, and she told me the place was haunted. Windows shut; doors opened. Lights went on and off. There were noises all the time. They finally had to leave.

  “I guess Grandpa didn't understand. He knew us; he knew we lived in the house, or, at least, used it often, but he didn't know this strange couple. Maybe he didn't approve of them being there because they weren't married yet. Who knows? Anyway, it's nice to know he's sort of protecting the place.”

  There's always a lot going on in St. Augustine. Almost every weekend there are activities of one kind or another. There are fishing tournaments, historical presentations, and parades. Seven or eight times a year there are “Night Watches.” On Night Watch weekends, enactment groups from all over the state, and, in fact, from all over the country come to St. Augustine to relive history and to have fun. There are Spanish Night Watches from both the First and Second Spanish Periods, British Night Watches, Territorial Night Watches, and Civil War (War Between the States) Night Watches. Participants come dressed in period costumes and uniforms and can be seen at all hours of the day and night wandering around town. Their reenactments are very interesting to watch and are always informative. These revelers also provide color and gaiety to an already festive atmosphere.

  The British Night Watch is usually held in December or January, and sometimes enactment groups are allowed to camp in the open field next to the castillo. During one recent encampment, a group of about thirty “British soldiers” dressed in eighteenth-century uniforms decided late one evening to cross the Avenida Menendez and have a beer at the Mill Top at the north end of St. George Street. It was a cold, dark, and foggy night. Now, there is a hedge between the parking lot and the Mill Top, and as these thirty soldiers passed through the hedge and were coming out of the fog, a slightly inebriated fellow came downstairs from the tavern. As he stepped outside into the cold, his blurry eyes in the dim light saw thirty eighteenth-century “ghosts” charging toward him. Realizing what he saw, he stopped, gasped—and passed out right on the spot! Fortunately, one of the “ghosts” was close enough and caught him before he hit the pavement. After they revived him, they took him upstairs for another beer and some good-natured ribbing, then made sure he got safely home.

  “There's a man down on Bay Front who has this haunted house. I can't tell you which one; he doesn't want it publicized. It's haunted by a woman. I think she used to live there, and she's very territorial about it. Anyway, he has a large formal dining room, and he loves to have dinner parties. She apparently walks around during his parties and makes him quite uncomfortable, although he's the only one who can see her. But one time, one of his lady guests saw her and about choked. I think that was the only time. Anyway, one day someone broke into the place and was stealing the silver, when she appeared. Of course, she scared them out of their wits, and they crashed right through the dining room window. The police caught them just down the street.”

  “My brother, Steve, had just died in a tragic accident. It was really weird, because my Uncle Richard had died about three years earlier. We all went over to my grandmother's house the night before the funeral, and we stayed there. I was fourteen; the rest of the kids, except for my brother, Terry, were all younger. Terry was just thirteen months younger than Steve, and they had really been close.

  “All the kids slept in one bedroom that night. I was sleeping on the floor. So I'm lying there asleep, and I woke up; something woke me up. Something or someone was in the room. The door was locked, too, because my grandmother is paranoid about some things. She has these huge locks on every door in the house. So, whatever it was standing there, I couldn't see a face, but I could tell it was a person. He or she was standing upright. I think, now, that it might have been my Uncle Richard.

  “It was really weird. It went straight over to Terry and said, ‘Terry, Terry, get up. Take your shower. It's time to go to Steve's funeral.’ I was scared stiff. In a weak voice I said, ‘Get out of here. Get out of my room!’ The other kids started to stir. It walked over toward the door.

  “Then it was gone. I jumped up and checked; the door was still locked. That was very strange.

  “Then about three or
four months later, I went to my grandmother's house, which was very close to the cemetery where Richard and Steve are buried. I had skipped school and was over there watching soap operas. Gramma left to visit friends. Well, I was watching TV, and I kept hearing a noise, a rattling noise. I looked out in the hall and and couldn't see anything, but it sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. Finally, I went down there.

  “As I got near the kitchen I thought someone was in there. I got really scared. So, finally, I got up enough courage and went into the kitchen. I was standing in the middle of the room. Nothing moved. There was no sound. All of a sudden, the stuff inside the refrigerator started rattling, ketchup bottles and jars and things. Then it said, ‘Hi, April.’ The refrigerator said hello to me. I jumped out of my skin. I raced out of there so fast I tripped over a laundry basket, fell flat on my face, and raced into my grandmother's bedroom, locking the door behind me. As soon as I could catch my breath, I called my grandmother. ‘Does your refrigerator talk o you, Gramma?’ She said no.

  “Well, it's talking to me!”

  “She talked to me a few more minutes and calmed me down some, then told me to go back and make sure the refrigerator door was closed. I was still scared out of my wits, but I went back to the kitchen. This time the refrigerator started rattling before I got to the door, and as I entered it said hi again. I knew it was my brother because I could recognize his voice, and I said, ‘Steve, I know it's you, but don't you ever do that to me again!’ I guess he was trying to tell me everything was okay. He'd just been trying to get my attention.”

  IN CLOSING

  THIS BOOK BEGAN AS A LAMENT. MY wife and I were entering the Booksmith, the superb bookstore on the plaza in St. Augustine, as another couple was leaving. As we entered, Angie, the salesperson, was complaining that someone needed to write a book about the ghosts of this ancient city; the just-departed couple had asked about such a book. One thing led to another, and I accepted the challenge. I had always had a casual interest in ghosts and the supernatural and thought it would be an interesting project.

  As it turned out it was more exciting than I could have imagined at times. Shortly after starting my interviews, taking notes, and collecting information, my computer started acting strange. For example, once I tried to pull a file off the disk I was using. It showed in the directory, but I couldn't load it. There was no reason; it just wouldn't load. I went to my priest for a blessing, and my wife bought me a small pewter cross to carry in my pocket. Inexplicably, the day after, the file loaded, and I had no more trouble with my computer.

  Another incident occurred the day after I returned from interviewing in St. Augustine. My wife and I were standing in the kitchen, both wearing shorts and rubber-soled sandals, peeling shrimp for a dinner party. I happened to lean against the dishwasher and received a sharp jolt of electricity. I jumped back, quite surprised. I wasn't wet or anything, and I wasn't touching any other metal.

  I touched the dishwasher again, and, again, I got shocked. Then, cautiously, my wife touched it. Nothing happened. Later in the day, my daughter who lives near us came over and did not get shocked when she touched the machine. The next day my wife called the repairman who could find no electrical shorts; nothing was wrong with the dishwasher.

  My brother did the illustrations for the book. A few days after I had sent him several stories, he called. He said he had just drawn the illustration used with “Gateway to Hell.” He had felt funny while drawing it, tingling spine, hair standing up on his arms. In fact, it was spooky, he said. When he finished the drawing, he sat there for a few minutes just looking at it to make sure it was right.

  Tom is a black-powder enthusiast. He collects antique powder flasks and other black-powder paraphernalia and has a particularly nice Confederate powder flask hanging on the wall of his studio. While he was looking at the drawing in question, the flask fell to the floor. He went over, picked it up, and examined it. The hook was still tightly secured in the wall, and the leather thong on the flask wasn't broken. The flask had hung on the wall for three years; there wasn't any reason for it to have fallen. He looked at the flask, then at his drawing and got a really eerie feeling. He immediately stuck the drawing in an envelope and took it to the post office to mail it.

  These incidents may have been, and probably were, purely coincidental. On the other hand, my own mystical nature causes me to be quite superstitious about some things, and I choose to believe that forces beyond my comprehension were helping me keep my passion up for this project.

  Sadly, in all my wanderings throughout St. Augustine, during the many interviews, and in all the time spent researching and just meandering around, trying to feel this ancient city, I never actually met a ghost face to face. The closest I ever came was my visit to the old Victorian house when I first started working on the book. Still, I'm not through with the ghosts of St. Augustine, and I surely hope they aren't through with me.

  Here are some other books from Pineapple Press on related topics. For a complete catalog, write to Pineapple Press, P.O. Box 3889, Sarasota, Florida 34230-3889, or call (800) 746-3275. Or visit our website at www.pineapplepress.com.

  St. Augustine Ghosts

  Ancient City Hauntings by Dave Lapham. In this sequel to Ghosts of St. Augustine, the author takes you on more quests for supernatural experiences through the dark, enduring streets of the Ancient City. Come visit the Oldest House, the Old Jail, Ripley's, the Oldest School House, and all the many haunted B&Bs and other establishments that harbor wandering souls and spirits from ancient times. (pb)

  Oldest Ghosts by Karen Harvey. In St. Augustine (the oldest settlement in the New World), the ghost apparitions are as intriguing as the city's history. Meet a Colonial-period ghost who hangs laundry in a Spanish courtyard, the ghosts of Will Green and Judge John Stickney, and many others. (pb)

  St. Augustine

  Houses of St. Augustine by David Nolan. Photographs by Ken Barrett Jr., watercolors by Jean Ellen Fitzpatrick. The complete and fully illustrated book of the architecture of the Spanish, British, and American periods. Full color. (hb & pb)

  Flagler's St. Augustine Hotels by Thomas Graham. Describes Henry Flagler's three lavish hotels in St. Augustine: the Ponce de Leon, Flagler's preeminent hotel, now houses Flagler College; the Alcazar now holds the City Hall and Lightner Museum; the Casa Monica (previously called the Cordova) has been restored as a hotel. Full-color photographs. (pb)

  St. Augustine and St. Johns County: A Historical Guide by William R. Adams. More than eighty of the oldest historic sites in the U.S. are found in and around the Ancient City of St. Augustine, Florida. Includes color photos, maps, and directions, as well as visitor information and accurate historical narrative for each site. (pb)

  Florida Ghosts

  Florida Ghost Stories by Robert R. Jones. Stories of ghosts and spirits and tall tales of strange happenings fill this volume. If they don't give you goose bumps and make your hair stand on end, at least they will offer you food for thought. (pb)

  Florida's Ghostly Legends and Haunted Folklore, Volume 1: South and Central Florida; Volume 2: North Florida and St. Augustine; and Volume 3: The Gulf Coast and Pensacola by Greg Jenkins. The history and legends behind a number of Florida's haunted locations, plus bone-chilling accounts taken from firsthand witnesses of spooky phenomena. Volume 1 locations include Key West's La Concha Hotel, the Everglades, Stetson University, and the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. Volume 2 locations include Silver Springs National Park, Flagler College, and the St. Augustine Lighthouse. Volume 3 covers the historic city of Pensacola and continues southward through the Tampa area, Sarasota, and Naples. (pb)

  The Ghost Orchid Ghost and Other Tales from the Swamp by Doug Alderson. Florida's famous swamps—from the Everglades to Mosquito Lagoon to Tate's Hell—serve as fitting backdrops for these chilling original stories. Who but a naturalist can really scare you about what lurks in the swamp? Doug Alderson has been there and knows. From the Author's Notes at the end of each story, you can lear
n a thing or two about Florida's swamps, creatures, and history, along with storytelling tips. (pb)

  Haunt Hunter's Guide to Florida by Joyce Elson Moore. Discover the general history and “haunt” history of numerous sites around the state where ghosts reside. (pb)

  Haunting Sunshine by Jack Powell. Take a wild ride through the shadows of the Sunshine State in this collection of deliciously creepy stories of ghosts in the theaters, churches, and historic places of Florida. (pb)

  The Ghost Orchid Ghost and Other Tales from the Swamp by Doug Alderson. Florida's famous swamps—from the Everglades to Mosquito Lagoon to Tate's Hell—serve as fitting backdrops for these chilling original stories. Who but a naturalist can really scare you about what lurks in the swamp? Doug Alderson has been there and knows. From the Author's Notes at the end of each story, you can learn a thing or two about Florida's swamps, creatures, and history, along with storytelling tips. (pb)

  Haunt Hunter's Guide to Florida by Joyce Elson Moore. Discover the general history and “haunt” history of numerous sites around the state where ghosts reside. (pb)

  Haunting Sunshine by Jack Powell. Take a wild ride through the shadows of the Sunshine State in this collection of deliciously creepy stories of ghosts in the theaters, churches, and historic places of Florida. (pb)

  Mystery in the Sunshine State edited by Stuart Kaminsky. An enticing selection of Florida mystery fare from some of Florida's most notable writers. (pb)

  National Ghosts

  Haunted Lighthouses and How to Find Them, Second Edition, by George Steitz. The producer of the popular TV series Haunted Lighthouses takes you on a tour of America's most enchanting and mysterious lighthouses. New edition is completely updated and has four new lighthouses. (pb)

  Georgia Ghosts

 

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