Suddenly, Mary called to me from her room in a rather shaky voice. I asked what she wanted but all she said was “Goodnight” in a very strange voice. Just then, whatever it was hit me again. I lay there sweating and praying and wondering what, in the name of God, was happening to me. Again, I was released. I started to change positions so I could get up when, for the third time, I found myself unable to move. Now I was really frightened. I tried desperately to move and could not bring my mind to accept my inability to do so. Once again, I was freed.
Although each session could only have lasted a couple of minutes, it seemed like an eternity. I finally managed to call Phil. When I told him what had happened he came right to bed so I wouldn’t be alone again. Our talking had alerted Mary. She told us why she had called to me. She had seen a young boy in jeans standing beside the TV at the foot of the bed, watching me. At first she thought it was one of the boys but then she realized they were all downstairs. Whoever it was watched me until I called Phil.
Saturday–August 3, 1974
A miracle–everything was done in time for the wedding. The whole day was beautiful and went off as planned. Our friends and relatives provided most of the food. We really had a full house.
When Beth and Tim went back to the house to get changed I forgot to give them the door key. I would have liked to have a picture of the groom removing the screen window so his bride could climb in!
When we returned to the house it was full of people who were unwilling for the party to end. We were up very late. The last sight I saw as I went to bed was the stream of punch flowing across the kitchen floor. I ignored it.
Tuesday–August 6, 1974
Beth and Tim came back from their honeymoon early so they could see all their friends before leaving. Tim and I were talking about their going to California and I said I’d always wanted to live there. Tim said, “Why don’t you? and I couldn’t think of an answer.
Saturday–August 10, 1974
The happy couple has left already and the house seems somehow emptier than it ever has. After all the activities in connection with the wedding, we felt a real letdown. This was a different quiet than before because this time I knew Beth wouldn’t be back. Beth and I were not just mother and daughter but friends as well. I hope even though we’re separated by space, we can retain our present closeness. Beth’s departure after Mike had also left, made the house echo with emptiness. They had been such a large part of our household.
Saturday–August 24, 1974
Phil and I were getting worried about our financial difficulties. We had made attempts to sell the house but all to no avail. At one point a family drove from Buffalo to see the place. It just happened that a local psychic had said that something would happen that night so Paul and Father Al were present in case they were needed. Suddenly, one of our kids came running in and said, “The woman’s at the birdbath!” Father and Paul ran outside. The prospective buyer said, “Oh, I saw that lady out there–she’s dressed kind of funny.” I must have given her an odd look because her voice trailed off and they left almost immediately. How not to sell a house! It didn’t help that the ad I had taken out in the Buffalo paper listed the price of the house as $20 not the $20,000 we had stipulated!
In trying to sell the house, we made no secret of the troubles we were having. We felt we couldn’t foist our problems off on someone else unless they knew what they were getting into. We were kind of hoping that a research facility would buy it and try to find out what was going on here.
We had received publicity in the Buffalo paper, as well, and, from what I heard, some out of state papers had also picked up the story. We had a call from an out of state “expose” newspaper and from a radio station requesting an interview. All this had not changed the fact that we were headed for bankruptcy.
Sunday–August 25, 1974
Mum and dad have come for the weekend. There’s a heavy feeling in the house, probably caused by our sense of defeat at having to sell the house. Today I feel wiped out. My head has begun to throb. Mum told me to lie down so I wasn’t present for the following event although I did hear the voices and thought it was mum talking to Phil and dad. I hesitated putting this in the original manuscript because it sounds so incredible I was afraid no one would believe it. Now, I find myself feeling the need to tell you what happened to mum. Dad and Phil were walking the grounds outside and discussing a way to make the property more attractive to prospective buyers without deceiving them about the problems they might face. They were within earshot of the house. Mum was straightening up the kitchen, more to keep herself busy than anything else. Suddenly a woman walked in the door. She wore a navy blue suit, slightly out of date and, even more anachronistic, a cloche hat. She greeted mum and said she and her husband were interested in buying the property. They sat at the table and mum answered the woman’s questions about the rooms of the house. Finally, the woman rose and said she had to join her husband who was outside talking to dad and Phil. She left but mum was uneasy about the whole incident so she went outside to ask dad what the pair had said to them. Neither dad nor Phil had seen anyone–woman or man. There had been no prospective buyer, no visitor, no one. This is incredible to me and it upset mum when we showed any doubt. So, I must chalk up another first for the house. Interactive spirits?
Wednesday–September 11, 1974
Monday we picked Mike up at the Naval Base near Chicago. His boot camp training was over and he would have some time at home before his first assignment. On the way home, the water pump in our car broke and dad had to come and pick us up and drive us the rest of the way home. Luckily, it was only about twenty miles but it wasn’t a very good beginning for Mike’s leave.
Thursday–September 26, 1974
The car really went this time! The man who had changed the water pump had not done a good job and the engine was ruined. When we turned the key in the ignition, one of the pistons dropped right out. Just one more blow!
Saturday–September 29, 1974
We have decided to declare bankruptcy. After putting the house in the hands of real estate agents and trying to sell it ourselves, we have given up. The house was notorious at this point and who wants to buy a haunted house? Our many accidents and the loss of my income had also contributed to our present state and we could see no other way out. With my heart in my shoes, I promised to call the lawyer.
Friday–October 11, 1974
It’s amazing how easy it is to lose everything you own. Well, it’s done. The girls are set to leave with mum and dad this weekend. Phil and I are going to stay and finish up the odds and ends. The cats are going to Buffalo with mum and dad too and we are going to bring the three dogs. Paul took Pixie. Mum took Barney and Jingles. I had to give my beloved Dolly to some friends. Gypsy got the jump on all of us by leaving a couple of months ago with Jasper. Maybe she knew something we didn’t. It was sad watching out little family break up.
Phil has decided to go to Ohio to stay with his family for a while and I am going to stay with mum and dad. I think Phil is an emotional wreck. All we have worked so hard for during the past twenty years is gone. His nerves have been shattered by the events in the house so I hope his staying in Ohio will help.
Sunday–October 13, 1974
The house is really quiet now. Only Phil and I remain with the three dogs–Lassie, Julie and Peanuts. Today we went to bed early. We had just settled down when a car drove into the yard. Phil jumped up and ran to the back door. There was no car–yet we had seen the lights and heard the motor. There had even been the sound of a car door slamming. He no sooner got back into bed when it happened again. This happened six more times before I could get Phil to ignore the lights and sounds. Complete silence descended.
Then, just as we started to relax, a gong started in the cellar! A real Chinese gong! And it was loud! Again, Phil raced downstairs despite my protests. Again–nothing. In rapid succession we were subjected to sounds of a baby crying, a whistle, a siren, bells and a repeat of the gon
g (I guess they ran out of sounds!). Each time Phil insisted on investigating. “They’ve got a baby down there–they’ll hurt it! Finally, whether because of my persuasive powers or, more likely out of sheer exhaustion, he ignored the noises. Thereafter all we heard were the familiar footsteps.
Monday–October 14, 1974
We are both tired and ill at ease. Phil went to the store this morning, leaving me alone. Suddenly, someone pounded hard on the living room window, starting the dogs barking furiously. I ran outside–nothing! Feeling a little better in the open, I walked around the pond for one last time–the dogs at my side. I had just reached the other side when I heard someone call what sounded like “Mama”. I looked up the hill to see a figure near a pine tree. Then it was gone. I went back to the house.
When Phil came home I said, “Don’t we have somewhere we have to go?” He knew just what I meant. We went to visit Hugh and Lois, Tim’s parents, in Olean. We were so glad to be away from the house. On the way home we stopped and had a sandwich at Bernice’s restaurant and she insisted we stay overnight the rest of the week with her. Gratefully, we accepted. We only went back to the house to feed the dogs.
Still, I fought the feeling, as we had all fought it for so long. The house had been called so many things: evil, haunted, troubled, diseased, leprous, insane. If so, then why did I love it? Why did we all love it? Why was it so hard to leave? And so necessary?
Thursday–October 17, 1974
It was time to go. The tension grew, almost palpable in the air, making our movements hurried and uncoordinated. Slowly, the house grew colder, the cold reaching within and clutching at our midsections with a death grip. How can cold come from inside? Was it trying to hold us here or finish driving us out? We felt like mice, scurrying through a maze, never quite sure what we’d see at the end. The house was silent, waiting, making our silence even more pronounced. The boxes accumulated in the kitchen and were loaded one by one in the car. To add to the general confusion, the three dogs wove in and out, tripping us, knocking over boxes and generally slowing us down. And yet, with all this canine activity, there was not a sound–no barking, whining, howling–only silence. I guess this kind of proves what they say about animal sensitivity. Also, I’m sure, they didn’t want to be left behind.
Finally, the last box loaded, the last dog settled, we got in the car and, with a sigh of relief, drove away. And yet, my feelings weren’t all of relief but of a gnawing sense of failure and sadness. A deep, heavy feeling I have never experienced before and, with the help of God, never will again. Strangely enough, I also felt a sense of betrayal, a sense of abandoning something–house? Spirits? Who knows? I asked Phil to stop the car just past the driveway and looked back. The scene appeared so normal, so bucolic! I looked at the house, sparkling white, with the beautiful New York hills as a backdrop; the pond, twinkling in the autumn sun, reflecting the tapestry of the leaves, my beloved garden, now stripped and forlorn and the stately pine tree guarding the entrance to the drive. The ache in my heart started a pressure behind my eyes and I knew I would soon give way to tears. How could I leave this place? My mind screamed, “It doesn’t even look haunted!” then, as I watched, the face of the house became malevolent. Was this shifting, pulsating metamorphosis in my mind or was I seeing the place as it really was? I turned to face the windshield and didn’t look back again.
Thursday–October 31, 1974
Phil has gone to live with his parents in Ohio for a while. The girls are staying in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The dogs and I make our home in the attic. The four of us sleep in a twin bed. At least I don’ get cold. The cats go wherever they want, as cats are wont to do. On an impulse, I called Bob C to let him know that we had left the house. Last Saturday afternoon, dad, Mary and I went to see him in his office for one last interview. In as concise a manner as possible, I recounted my version of what went on in the house–not an analysis, just a statement of events. Today, the interview was printed under the title: “‘Spirits’ Drive Buffalo Family Out of Their Home in Hinsdale”. With only a few exceptions, he got the facts straight. At the end of the article, Bob C says “I know this story will bring another rash of cynical letters and I can understand the criticism. But I won’t go along with it because of the people involved. Nor will I stop trying to find out more about the matter from my friend, Father Alphonsus.”
Saturday–November 23, 1974
Apparently, the interest in our house hasn’t died. Bob C’s column today was titled “Readers Drop a Line to Get a Few Loose Ends Tied Up”. In it was a letter from a reader in Silver Springs requesting an update. Bob informed the man that he was still gathering information on the house. From where?
June, 1975
Unfortunately, the date has been cut off the article in the Buffalo newspaper. As usual, it was Bob C’s column and it was titled “For Rent: Nice Home in Hinsdale Suitable for Psychics, Skeptics”. Another letter from a reader, this time from Cheektowaga, prompted this column. Bob relates that on June 7 he and his son had journeyed to the house. Father Al accompanied them as he knew they’d never find the place by themselves. He reports nothing new but only goes over old material. One thing I found interesting, though, he had the same idea I did. He suggested that psychic groups rent the place and do a thorough investigation. This had been my hope for a long time. A hope that was apparently never to come to pass.
Friday–October 31, 1975
Halloween seems to bring out the worst in some people. Father Al sent me a copy of an article carried in The Bona Venture, the student newspaper at St. Bonaventure University. In it, they thoroughly ridicule our family. Supposedly, “fictionalizing” the account gave them this right. Most of the details were wrong. Apparently, the reporter visited the house and talked to the current owners who also made fun of our ordeal. The new owners stated that I had said there was “blood running from a faucet”. That was a blatant lie and I have no idea where they got such a preposterous notion. The owner then claimed to have cleaned the pipes of rust whereupon the “blood” disappeared. I wonder how he found the rust in plastic piping?
They also claimed I had been fired from my job at BOCES. Never in my life have I been fired from any job. If I weren’t in San Jose at this point, I’d sue for libel. However, on the 15th of this month, I started a job for the City of Santa Clara in California so I’ll try to put this calumny behind me. Anyway, since it’s written under the guise of “fiction”, I suppose I wouldn’t get anywhere.
The ultimate insult, though, really made me angry. Clearly, they had found an old diary of Beth’s. At the time of the trouble, if you remember, she was a teenager. Affectedly, she had signed her name “Dorcus” for no real reason except she liked the sound of the name. Dorcus has a ring to it that “Beth Ann” doesn’t. The writer of the article made a big deal about it saying that “Dorcas” was a character in the bible under Acts 9:36-43. I very much doubt Beth has ever read Acts. Someday, I’ll make a point of reading it myself since, according to them, it involves a woman who died in an upstairs bedroom and was raised up again. The musings in the diary were intensely personal and I resent their using the inner turmoil of a young girl for their own purposes. If they had been any kind of decent people, they’d have given the diary to Father Al who would have returned it to Beth. I’m sure she never intended to leave it for anyone else to find. Will they never let it rest? At first, I felt guilty since I was responsible for packing things up. Beth and Tim were in California. However, I have since learned the diary was in the crawl space....a place I have never gone nor intend to go!
Thursday–May 27, 1976
Still, the interest in the house continues. Bob C’s column was entitled “Last Rites Given the Spirits That Haunted Hinsdale House”. Once again, a letter from Batavia which referred to Alex T’s book, Beyond Coincidence, prompted the article. Apparently, Bob had contacted Father Al to ask questions posed by readers. Alex’s book mentioned our house and aroused a renewal of the curiosity we had become accustomed t
o. The questions and answers were a re-hash of everything that had already been said. One exception this time was a comment from Bob himself. When asked whether we could have moved the bricks in the crawlspace, Father had said that it was virtually inaccessible. Bob said, “I had a chance to see the small ‘attic’–really a crawl space as Father T calls it and will say that only a small acrobat could get to its entrance and through the opening without a 6-foot plank.” Will this article mark the end? One can only hope.
Sunday–October 27, 1985
I have in front of me an article from a magazine which I cannot identify. It is titled “Encounters with the Supernatural” from a column by Jane K called People Talk. The piece is about Father Al and features a very fetching photo of him holding a skull. The photographer must have been very talented to make a mild, gentle looking man like Father Al appear even remotely menacing.
Once more, our house is mentioned. The article is tongue-in-cheek and, at last, gives readers a hint of the humor that characterizes our friend, Father Alphonsus. When asked if he has any plans for Halloween, he answers, “I invite over a lot of very, very friendly spirits. Those that come into my classroom every day, and some poltergeist spirits, some deceased friends that I know very well. We have a good time–talk over old hauntings together and see what’s new in the spirit world. Only kidding.”
Echoes of a Haunting - Revisited Page 18