Ghosts along the Texas Coast

by Docia Schultz Williams

  The grateful parents made a novena at the church and the father set up a marker where the girl had been returned from the mesquite brush. But the old woman never returned, although the girl would always remember her “abuela,” even when she herself was already in her seventies. She would always remember a beautiful smile.

  Another incident happened right across the river on the road from Matamoros to Reynosa where a woman was about to deliver a baby in one of the desolate little farms. The young woman’s husband had gone to town on his horse to get the midwife, but was held up for some unknown reason. As the young woman was in pain, she screamed several times, and suddenly an old woman wearing an old outfit walked into the hut. Without saying a word she quickly boiled water, put cold compresses on the young woman’s head, massaged her abdomen to ease the pain, and then helped a healthy little boy into this world. The old woman then washed the baby, cleaned the young woman, and left the son with his mother.

  By the time the young father returned with the “partera” (midwife), he found only his wife and son, both sound asleep. The mother always remembered the beautiful and very soothing smile of the old woman, who was lovingly referred to as their “abuela.”

  In all such incidents, the outfit of the “abuela” was described to be similar to an old Indian costume as can be seen carved on some of Mexico’s ruins. Some of the people therefore believed that she must have been, and maybe still is, the good spirit of an Indian medicine woman.

  The Man With the Shovel

  This is another story from Studies in Brownsville History, edited by Milo Kearney. It was told by an old gentleman referred to as “Jefe” in the barbershop on Marketsquare in 1968, retold by a student in 1982, and recorded by Peter Gawenda.

  Several times during the past one hundred twenty years a strange appearance has saved people’s lives and at other occasions the reputation of young ladies. Two of these incidents are still being told in detail.

  It must have been in the year 1892 or 1893, when a man named Alfonso or Alonso returned from one of his usual visits to one of the town’s cantinas. It was a very stormy night, and he tried to get home as quickly as possible. He had only five blocks to go when he suddenly saw this man without a head, surrounded by a pale bluish light. The man had a shovel in his hands and was drawing a line across the street. Alfonso sobered up immediately, and was ready to run, but the figure had disappeared. Hesitantly he kept on walking, but when he approached the mark across the street, his feet seemed to become as heavy as lead, and no matter how he tried to move, he couldn’t. While he was still attempting to move, suddenly a tremendous lightning bolt turned the night into day. And then he saw this large object crash onto the ground only thirty or forty feet in front of him. It was the roof of one of the houses right there on Second Street.

  Needless to say, he was the first in church the next morning to attend the six o’clock mass. Very faithfully did he light a candle every Sunday for the following year, thanking our Lady for this miraculous rescue. He knew that our Lady must have had her hand in his survival, as his wife prayed to Mary every day.

  Another incident happened in the early 1930s. A very hot-blooded admirer of a Brownsville girl had come from Matamoros and was walking down St. Charles towards Second Street. He knew that the girl’s parents had left town to visit a sick aunt in Port Isabel, and he was looking forward to this night. The weather was bad; again it was very stormy and nearly pitch dark. Suddenly he saw a strange figure with a shovel. The figure had no head and was wrapped in a black cloak. A strange bluish light surrounded the figure, which was drawing a line across the street. Thunderstruck, the young man, named Salvador, stopped, but the figure disappeared.

  Quite scared, Salvador started running towards the house of his girlfriend. But as if held by a magic force he was stopped at the line. Again and again he tried to cross the line, but in vain. He therefore turned around, ran back to Third Street, ran down Third, turned onto Levee and suddenly saw the figure. Again a line was drawn across the street, and Salvador was held at the line. And when he tried to approach the girl’s house through Elizabeth Street and once more saw the headless man with the shovel, fear overwhelmed him, and he quickly returned to his home in Mexico.

  Quite often he had to think of his frightful experience, which he confessed to the padre on his deathbed. It is said that the headless man with the shovel has drawn lines to prevent people from falling into the flooded Rio Bravo, or into water-filled ditches, but it has also prevented young men from approaching unprotected young ladies. In one instance the figure is said to have prevented the abduction of a girl to Mexico. In this last case the boy was so frightened after seeing the headless man, that he tried to escape into Mexico. The people that fished his body out of the river said they never had seen such fright in any dead man’s face.

  The Brick-Throwing Ghost

  In August 1879, Brownsville made headlines throughout Texas when several newspapers carried a story which involved the home of the Glaevecke family. The Daily Express of San Antonio carried the following story on Tuesday morning, August 26, 1879, under the headline: “Brownsville’s Big Sensation, Spooks and Brickbats, a Prominent Citizen’s House Bombarded.”

  Brownsville is just now dazed with wonderment at a startling manifestation of a spiritual character, which if not convincing to the skeptical are none the less violent to those who come within the range of the unseen battery [sic]. Last Monday the family of county clerk Glaevecke complained to him that the servants could not enter the yard without being attacked with a volley of brickbats, which a neighbor’s servant would fire at them. There had been between the servants of the family of Mr. Glaevecke and that of Mr. Yznaga, a neighbor, some little difficulty, and to this cause was ascribed the attack. Mr. Glaevecke paid no attention to the complaint at the time, only remarking that as long as they were not seriously hurt the family had better not interfere. But after dinner the old man suddenly changed his mind; for on taking his chair into the back garden to enjoy a smoke, he was assailed by a shower of brickbats, he receiving two wounds. He immediately reported to the police authorities the circumstance and asked that an officer be put on the watch, that the offender might be arrested. The officers were unable to discover from whence the missiles came, but they continued to come . . . in fact they came so thick and fast that Lieutenant Herrera, who was stationed on the tip of the roof, was obliged to descend and seek safety within the walls. This state of things continued up to Thursday, when Mr. Glaevecke swore out a warrant for the arrest of a servant belonging to Mrs. Yznaga on suspicion. In the meantime, Mrs. Glaevecke and her daughter had become so alarmed that they fled to the rancho for safety, leaving behind the elder sister, who is more courageous. The arrest of the servant had no visible effect upon the throwing of bricks, and they continued as before, with remarkable precision, generally coming through the open doorway, and when the doors were closed they came crashing through the windows. On Friday one was fired through the doorway, killing a parrot; while at supper one came booming over the table, scattering the china in all directions. On finding that the arrest of the neighbor’s servant had no effect, Mr. Glaevecke ordered his release; but Mrs. Yznaga, who is sorely perplexed, ordered him to Matamoros, until quiet shall be restored. This morning Mr. Glaevecke caused the arrest of another of the Yznaga’s male servants, and for a time it seemed the firing ceased; but it was only temporary, and about ten o’clock today it recommenced.

  In company with Mayor Carson, Sheriff Brito and others, a Democrat reporter visited the premises and witnessed an ocular demonstration of the singular performance. He found abundant evidence of the attack. On all sides were brick and fragments of brick, and sixteen shattered windows and broken crockery on every hand confirmed the rumors that had prevailed. He found Mr. Glaevecke haggard, his daughter careworn, and the servants trembling with fright. A boy servant, Anastasio, bore many wounds; his head was bandaged and one of his feet was swathed in linen and arnica, while his limbs and body bore ab
rasions and contusions. He seems to have been singled out by the enemy for an especial target, and whenever he appeared in the yard he received their fire. Mr. Glaevecke also had a wounded hand.

  The objective point seems to be the kitchen and the dining room, and this morning the firing was incessant, so that the family was obliged to abandon the kitchen and send to a neighbor’s for breakfast. While we were investigating, a brick struck the house with considerable force, shortly followed by another. John Clark dodged into a corner, the servants scattered, the mayor tried to appear unconcerned but failed. The reporter was unmoved; he had come to see, and this was what he wanted. With the air of a veteran he walked to the door to obtain a better view. A full grown brick howled over the alley like a cannon ball; two more rebounded from the roof. The reporter had gratified his curiosity and was willing to go. Mayor Carson suddenly recollected that he had business at the office, and we were hastily joined by Mr. Clark, who appeared to think His Satanic Majesty had visited Brownsville to protest against the observances of the Sunday law.

  At the time these missiles were thrown there were three policemen in the yard, who saw nothing of them until the concussion was heard. And of all that have been hurled none have been seen by those on watch till they reached the house. Not only have policemen been thus baffled, but squads and throngs of neighbors who have been on the qui vive have been also deluded. This afternoon the daughter received a contusion on the head while overseeing the dinner, and the doors had to be closed and windows protected.

  Among the many who were attracted to the strange scene this evening was Mr. Yturria, the extensive wholesale merchant on Elizabeth Street. While awaiting developments he was hit, without warning, on the head by a brick, which inflicted a severe scalp wound. And tonight we learn that the fusillade is more brisk than ever.

  The missiles fell at intervals during the day and up to about nine o’clock at night, which would seem to indicate that it is the work of human hands. On the other hand, every vigilance has been employed to discover the author without avail. Policemen and citizens have been hit while watching, and sufficient numbers have been on the alert to cover ordinary range. Clerk Glaevecke discounts the idea that any supernatural agency is employed, and firmly believes it is the work of the neighbor’s servants, who will be arrested tonight.?

  THE LATEST

  Quoted by the Daily Express from

  the Democrat, a few days later:

  The firing of brickbats at county clerk Glaevecke’s house ceased on Saturday night, and the invisible fiend rigidly observed the Sunday law, and the occupants had begun to think that peace had come with the arrest of Mr. Yznaga’s remaining servants. But on Monday, at about 10 o’clock, it recommenced. Mr. Yznaga returned home on Sunday, and aided Mr. Glaevecke in every way to discover the perpetrator, and arrest him. He called together all his servants, and while thus gathered the firing began again, which would seem to disarm any suspicion that might be directed against them. On Monday night but two were fired. On Tuesday the boy Anastasio was again hit on the head, and a hot brick fell in the yard, and several have been thrown today. The cook has become thoroughly alarmed at these strange manifestations and has quitted the house. No one has yet been able to discover the bricks in the air, or until they reach the house, and the trees and foliage surrounding the house are untouched by the missiles. Truly, it is a strange proceeding.

  The quoted articles appear in Studies in Brownsville History, edited by Milo Kearney. No other articles about the strange occurrences at Clerk Glaevecke’s home were available. My personal opinion is that a very bad poltergeist set off the brick bombardment, and we have to hope he finally tired of his mischievous activity and let the family get back to the business of peaceful living once more.

  A Dead Dog’s Devotion

  An acquaintance of mine who lives in the Valley shared a personal experience with me recently. She requested that I use all the facts, except for her name, and I shall respect her wishes. I will call her Mary.

  Now Mary is an elderly widow who lives in a tiny white frame cottage in a small community south of McAllen. Her husband had been a citrus farmer before his death. They had no children, but Mary was very devoted to a little gray toy poodle whom she called Buttons because of his shiny little shoe-button eyes. The dog slept in a little basket beside Mary’s bed. Sometimes if Mary overslept, Buttons would wake her up by rearing up on the bed and scratching at the covers to uncover Mary’s arm. He would often make a little whimpering noise as if to say, “Wake up! I need to go outside!”

  In time, little Buttons became very old and arthritic, and then he developed a heart problem. Mary was heartbroken, but she knew she had to have her beloved pet put to sleep. She vowed never to get another dog to whom she would become so attached.

  Several months after the dog died, on a rainy November night, Mary was awakened in the middle of the night by feeling the covers being tugged from her arms. And she heard the unmistakable sound of Buttons’ “let me out” whimpers. As she awoke, she looked at the side of the bed, and there in the glow of her night-light she could plainly see two shiny shoe-button eyes staring at her.

  Astounded, she turned on the lamp beside her bed. But there was no dog there . . . nothing at all. Mary had been so sure she had seen and heard her little poodle. Unnerved, she decided to get up and go out in the kitchen and make a cup of hot chocolate to calm herself. As she walked through the hallway into the kitchen she was almost overcome by the smell of gas coming from her gas range. Evidently the pilot light had gone out and the odor of gas filled the room. She raised the window and opened the outside door, but it took some time for the noxious fumes to disappear.

  Mary always wondered if, had she slept all night in that tiny little cottage with all the doors and windows tightly closed, she would have been “put to sleep” by the gas fumes coming from her kitchen if not for the protective spirit of her little poodle, Buttons, coming back to alert her.

  Is There an Explanation for This?

  The story I am about to tell you is so unusual that I frankly didn’t know what else to call it. Since it isn’t exactly (or is it?) a ghost story, I didn’t know just what to do with it, but I want to share it with you. It is a true story of an ongoing situation, and therefore I am changing the names of the principals and not mentioning the name of the town, which is in far South Texas.

  It was just a few weeks ago that I heard of the experience a young woman I will call Betty Chambers. She and her husband live on a farm a short distance from the town where she serves as the elementary school’s librarian. One summer night about a year and a half ago, she woke with a start, from a sound sleep. The room in which she and her husband slept was not very dark, as there is a giant security light mounted outside the bedroom window. Usually the Chambers kept the drapes drawn to darken the room, but tonight they were open and the room was well illuminated. Betty glanced to her right, and there, standing beside the bed, was the figure of a little boy. He looked to be no more than 7 or 8 years old. He had very fair skin that had an almost translucent look to it, big blue eyes with dark circles beneath them, and blond hair. Although he appeared real, Betty said he also looked to be of another era. He wore a collarless buttoned-up white shirt, dark knicker trousers, and had long socks tucked up into the knickers. He looked to be wearing old-fashioned high-buttoned boots. His attire was that of the early 1900s. Betty said she was very startled to see the youngster standing there, staring at her, and yet she was not particularly frightened by the figure. She called out, “Who are you . . . what do you want?” When she spoke, the figure disappeared! Her husband, Bill, awoke and asked her what she had said. Betty told him that she had seen a little boy standing by the bed, and her husband said, “You must be having a bad dream. Go back to sleep.” And with that, he rolled over and it was only a few minutes before his deep, even breathing told her that he was fast asleep.

  Betty didn’t mention seeing the youngster again, but she certainly did not forget the incide
nt, and she thought of the strange nocturnal visitor many times over the rest of the summer.

  When school started in late August, Betty was in her library with a group of first-graders clustered about, when the first-grade teacher came to the door with a little boy. She called Betty to come over and meet the youngster, who had been late in enrolling. As she bent down to say hello and take his hand, she said the child looked up at her and she knew. There was no doubt. The same fair skin and blond hair, the same deep-set blue eyes, with the same dark circles beneath them. And unlike the other blue-jean clad little boys, his clothes seemed “different” too, sort of old-fashioned, Betty said.