by Bob Curran
A much more eccentric character was Captain John Morgan Stanwood, who was the village cobbler during the 1800s. He worked out of a “boo,” a small attachment to his own house on the Commons Road, which he had made out of slabs of turf and boulders set against the house frame. Although he claimed to be something of a naval hero during the War of Independence, it’s not actually certain that Stanwood had ever been to sea, let alone done any fighting. He had, however, been somehow involved in some foreign trade around the port of Gloucester and, after the War of 1812, he had stayed on as a Commons resident. He was crippled, claiming that he had been injured in a naval exchange, but later became convinced that his legs were made of glass and refused to walk anywhere. He married the daughter of Peter Lurvey, another Commons resident and something of a local hero. Lurvey had been killed, together with Benjamin Rowe and the minister’s pet hog, during the War of Independence, when the British frigate Falcon had opened fire on the town in August 1775. It had been Lurvey who had attempted to organize the Gloucester militia against attack from the vessel, and who had saved the town from being fired. His wife continued to live in Dogtown, reaching the imperious age of 104, although not in good health and with her mind wandering. Captain Stanwood, of course, never failed to trade on his father-in-law’s reputation, and besides being the cobbler, also set himself up as a kind of doctor, curing ailments in those who came to him.
Just as eccentric as the Captain was a freed slave named Old Ruth, who frequently dressed as a man and sometimes went by the name of John Woodman. She was employed around Dogtown as a builder and was well known for her hearty manner and hard work. Old Ruth also had certain curious physical characteristics, in that she had several long teeth. As far as vampire teeth go, both written fiction and Hollywood have led us to believe that these are either the canine teeth or the lateral incisors, thus allowing the vampire to maintain its supposedly good looks and not differentiate it too much from ordinary humans. However, within Westernized folklore, if the creature has long teeth at all, it can sink them into the body of its victim. Some German “shroudeaters,” for example, had two long and prominent front teeth, which they used to tear through their grave liniments in order to break free from the grave. Other vampires were said to have at least three or four teeth with which they can attack their victims. It was supposed that “Old Ruth” probably had the long, tusk-like teeth of the former kind, which perhaps set her apart from some (though not all) of the other inhabitants of Dogtown.
Although she had a hearty way about her and was regarded as a good worker into her latter years, Old Ruth was often regarded with some suspicion outside of the settlement. Her cross-dressing and the use of a masculine name would certainly have marked her out as something of a witch and perhaps as a vampire as well. In parts of Albania, for example, transvestism is often taken as a sign that the person will become a sampiro (an Albanian vampire) upon death. Indeed, male sampiro often appear to have feminine characteristics, and the creature goes about making kissing noises as it passes. Any form of deviation from the accepted social and sexual norms would result in the person concerned becoming one of the Undead. Therefore, Old Ruth, with her long, fang-like teeth, and her supposedly strange ways, might have been taken as a vampire. As far as Dogtown was concerned, the freed slave’s rather sinister aspects were somewhat moderated in that she lived on the upper story of a house. By Dogtown standards, she was reasonably wealthy, owning cattle, oxen, and several sheep. She made a living cooking meals for those less fortunate than herself. Her specialty was boiled cabbage.
Even so, there were some uncertainties about the strange woman. It was said, for instance, that she could travel the length of the Cape Ann coastline in the form of a great black crow or bat, doing harm against some of those that she encountered. In the end, Old Ruth was taken to the Gloucester Poorhouse where she was finally forced to wear skirts and adopt more feminine dress.
But Old Ruth was not the only person with strange teeth around Dogtown. At various times in the village’s history, there have been at least three or four individuals with unusual dental phenomenon living there. There was, for instance, Judy Rhines (born 1771), who was regarded as something of a witch and a prostitute, who had large incisors. At one time she lived with another lady, Molly Jacobs, and together they were said to “ply their trade” with fishermen and some of the crews who came on the ships sailing into Gloucester harbor. They and another lady of the night—Liz Tucker—made up a kind of “red light district” in Dogtown, but while the others were despised, Judy Rhines was feared. Local legend claimed she had supernatural powers and could make potions and salves for many cures and other purposes. The basis of many of these unguents was barberries, which she picked around the village. She made them into potions and candles by mixing them with other ingredients, one of which was rumored to be human blood. It was said that when one of the “special candles” was lit, things that had been lost were mysteriously found. However, it was also said that Judy Rhines traveled each night from Dogtown in order to acquire the blood of sleeping Gloucester folk in order to make her enchanted lights. It was also said that she drank blood and that she slept in the dark of a potato pit during the day.
Also sporting long fangs was another freed slave, Cornelius Finson, also known as Black Neil, one of the last people living in the village during the severe winter of 1830. He had served as the village hog slaughterer, but he had also had some minor clerking experience in Gloucester and Annisquam. He lived with Molly Jacobs, believing that there was a great treasure, buried by the celebrated pirate Captain William Kidd, hidden in her cellar. He dug several pits, but found nothing and, abandoning his former partner, went to live with Judy Rhines. The thought of two dentally abnormal people living together added to the sinister speculation regarding Dogtown. Some even suggested that it had become a nest of vampiric beings. At some point, Judy seems to have left Black Neil and the roof of her house appears to have fallen in. Neil moved into the cellar, where he lived for long periods. It’s thought that he was looked after in this latter time by Sammy Stanley, grandson of the enigmatic Mrs. Stanley, who lived at 25 Wharf Road in a house owned by the late Pater Lurvey. Although a boy, Sammy had been brought up as a girl and dressed as such, preferring to call himself “Sally” from time to time. He/she worked as a “washerwoman” around the area and was good to Black Neil, not particularly frightened by tales of the former slave’s vampirism. However, there seems to have been a falling out between them, and Black Neil was once again left to his own devices. During a severe winter in 1830, he was found huddled in the corner of the cellar, almost covered in snow and with his feet badly frostbitten. He was taken to the Gloucester poorhouse, but died a week later. However, his ghost, with its long teeth, was believed to hang about the ruins of his former dwelling in Dogtown for several years afterward. There were stories that it might attack those who came about the place, very much like a vampire.
But the person who terrified people the most and who was most strongly associated with witchcraft and vampirism (and who also had odd teeth) was Tamzin or Thomasine Younger. Known as Tammy Younger, or “the Queen of the Dogtown Witches,” she lived with her aunt, Luce George, at Fox Hill on the very edge of Dogtown. Luce George, reputedly a nasty old harridan with a foul tongue, had enjoyed a formidable reputation both as a healer and as a witch. The term witch (as was the term vampire) was a rather flexible one. In a number of fairly localized communities around Cape Ann and beyond, healing was primarily the preserve of a number of women who acted pretty much as the first port of call in instances of illness or injury. In the Puritan mind, however, there was not much to choose between such activity and witchcraft, so many of these healers were believed to be witches. And there is no doubt that at least some such women used their “arcane knowledge” or alleged powers to cast curses or prepare potions that were not altogether savory in nature. Whether or not they worked is another matter, but the perception was certainly there. Luce George belonged to the latter
class of women and reveled in the idea that she was a witch. She told fortunes and prepared “healing medicines,” but she was also said to make love charms and other philtres, which had no good purpose. She also wandered the Gloucester harbor, threatening the fishermen there that she would cause storms, which would sink their boats if they didn’t give her a share of their catch—which most usually did. She also claimed that with Tammy, she could bewitch her neighbor’s oxen on the hillside unless some sort of protection was paid. Among the colorful eccentrics who inhabited Dogtown, she represented the darker side of things.
And Tammy was just like her and certainly enjoyed a similar, if not greater, reputation than her sinister aunt. A short, rather stout woman, she had a mean way about her and was widely disliked by many of the inhabitants of Dogtown. She churned butter, which she sold, as well as baskets of berries, which she gathered in the surrounding countryside. Both women were incredibly foul-mouthed and were well known for their colorful and intricate curses. Their house stood at the end of the bridge, which spanned the Alewife Brook and actually marked the entrance to Dogtown. Consequently, anyone who entered the village—carters, tradesmen, or ordinary travelers—had to pass by their front door. As soon as she heard a sound on the bridge, Tammy would open a small hatch in the doorway, secured by a piece of string, in order to see who it was. If it was someone she didn’t really like (or even if it wasn’t) she would hurl a string of obscene imprecations at them as they passed by. Some of these curses also contained threats, for example, that ill-luck would befall them or that Tammy would visit them in some form during the dark hours of the night. It was this latter threat that alarmed many and gave rise to the vampire myth around her, for Tammy had two long tusk-like teeth. In fact, many people who traveled into Dogtown and who fell under her curses were terrified that Tammy would indeed visit them at night and attack them with these fangs, drawing blood and consuming flesh as they slept. Realizing this, Tammy (and Luce George) used such threats as a form of extortion, charging a kind of “toll” on all those who passed into Dogtown and beyond to Rockport. Many carters and other travelers who passed across the bridge paid this awful toll and were supposedly spared Tammy’s nightly visitations. Even so, the fact that she had made such threats and the fact that she had long and malformed teeth led to the rumors that she was, in fact, a vampiric being.
Tammy’s teeth must have been uncomfortable when she ate, for at some point she approached Captain John Morgan Stanwood, the village cobbler, who was also an amateur dentist. He took a pair of pliers and attempted to extract them, but without much success. Despite a lot of pulling and straining, he only managed to pull them a little further out, and in the process, he caused Tammy a great deal of pain, much to the delight of those whom she had terrified. Now, with her hideous teeth even more prominent, the vampire stories concerning Tammy spread even further, and passers-by became even more terrified of the strange-looking little woman. Her threats became even more vicious and her reputation both as a witch and a vampire grew, extending beyond the borders of Dogtown and into the Gloucester area and beyond. Stories of her traveling across Cape Ann in various guises—a bat, a crow, a black dog—were legion. And when Luce George died, she became a figure of terror all through the community. Few dared cross her and there were tales of those who had met an untimely end through Tammy’s nocturnal “visitations.”
At the time of Tammy’s death in 1829, her name had become so notorious throughout the Cape that it was difficult to actually find anyone who would bury her. Eventually, a cabinet maker named Hodgkins made her a coffin, but because he was convinced that her spirit still hovered around it and would attack anyone who interfered with it, both he and his family refused to have it in their shop and it was left out in a yard. There were many who said that Tammy had not died at all, but continued to live on as an immortal vampire. Some even claimed to have seen her figure walking around Fox Hill, long after she was dead. The vampire hadn’t really gone away, as far as some people were concerned!
In many ways, it had become something of an embarrassment to the respectable citizenry of Gloucester and many of them were anxious to forget its history of poverty and degradation, witchcraft, and vampirism. Any reference to it is notably absent from many official records. John Babson’s celebrated History of Gloucester (written in 1860), for instance, barely mentions Dogtown. A map, however, drawn by Major John Mason in 1831, identifies an area on the highlands, which it names “Dogtowne.” It is also mentioned in a book entitled Around Cape Ann, which was a kind of walking gazetteer for the Cape and published in 1885, although here it is described as a residential area for some of Gloucester’s more prominent and prosperous citizens and is dated from 1740. No mention is made of witches and vampires.
Although the famous author and historian Henry David Thoreau visited the now-abandoned village in 1858 and wrote about his experience there, most of our information concerning Dogtown comes from the work of Charles Mann, who in 1896, published a booklet entitled The Heart of Cape Ann: The History of Dogtown, which proved an invaluable source of material about the place. Mann interviewed a number of people who had been born in Dogtown or who remembered the location and recorded their memories before they passed into history. In 1901, new maps of the village were drawn up by the Cape Ann Historical Society, which conducted a walking expedition of the area, led by an old man named Eben Day. However, the result was a confused mish-mash of drawings with several important streets, locations, and houses omitted. The village also lives on in the paintings of the artist Marsden Hartley, who visited the region in the 1920s, and was inspired by many of the stories that he’d heard there. In 1931, he devoted an entire summer to producing a series of stunning oils coupled with poetry based around the site. Many of his paintings on the subject now hang in art galleries and museums.
In 1984, the old Dogtown area became the scene of the brutal murder of a local schoolteacher named Anne Natti. She had been walking her small dog in the area of the vanished village when she was attacked from behind with a massive rock. Not quite dead, she was then stripped in a nearby copse. She was left facedown in the mud and allowed to suffocate slowly. Her murderer was a local boy, Peter Hodgkins, who was a local dockworker and drop-out, and was regarded as something of an oddity by folks around Gloucester. He had several convictions for exposing himself to women and small children, and had been bullied as a child because of his long and rather strange teeth. Hodgkins confessed and then tried to commit suicide three times (once in the bathroom of the court) before his conviction. Although some writers have tried, it is difficult to overemphasize the emotional impact caused by this particularly horrific crime on Gloucester. Traditions and memories relating to Dogtown seem to have run deep within the community. Maybe the idea of Tammy Younger and her hideous teeth had not fully erased themselves from the communal mind.
Where do the roots of the connection between vampirism and Dogtown lie? Perhaps the idea was first formed when Nathaniel Coit initially split the Gloucester community in two over the location of the Meeting House. This created a “separateness” in the area that was to become known as Dogtown and the rest of the Gloucester folk, and allowed myth and exaggerated story to develop in the gap between the two. The ordinary, God-fearing people of the Gloucester port were ready and willing to believe all manner of things relating to “the other sort” in the run-down, embarrassing Dogtown community. And of course, there was a strong connection between vampirism and witchcraft. The old women—many of them widows of the men who had sailed on the vanished Gloucester—made a living by telling fortunes and preparing potions of various kinds, which in the eyes of godly people was tantamount to sorcery. Unlike the wholesome Gloucester harbor area, Dogtown was a place where both witches and vampiric beings dwelt. Some of them even had hideously malformed teeth and everyone knew that witchcraft and vampirism were closely connected. So it was believed that certain individuals from Dogtown could go about in spirit form, attacking those respectable people as they
slept. And, indeed, the colorful and often downright bizarre characters that inhabited the village only leant weight to this perception. Like witches, vampires were never far away in the area.
Today, what was once Dogtown is something of a wilderness. Trees and large boulders—some inscribed with the names of Dogtown residents and information—litter the area. Although the area is beautiful, a palpable sense of desolation and menace hangs over it like a funereal pall. So, on a day when the cloud drifts low over Cape Ann and the sunlight dims just a little, maybe old ghosts of the eerie former inhabitants of the vanished settle-ment—the alleged witches and vampires who once gathered there—aren’t really all that far away.
OHIO
Vampires are not always the suave, handsome European noblemen or beautiful ladies that we sometimes see in films or on television. Nor are they troubled, but essentially good-looking teenagers—this is the stuff of young adult fiction, television, and cinema, and has very little to do with the folkloric vampire. Here, many of the vampire creatures that infest myth and legend are often hideous and misshapen monsters. The tikoloshi of South African history, for example, is a grotesque dwarf with twisted limbs that can sometimes grow to the height of a giant in order to ensnare its victims. In its original state, it will climb onto a victim’s bed and attack him or her by drawing blood from the crook of his or her arm. It is so terrifying that the very sight of it can drive a person insane. The Brazilian jaracaca or lobishomen is a small, monkey-like vampire that actually does not drink all that much blood, but can drain a sleeper of his or her energies, simply by squatting on their chest. It has a wrinkled, malignant face that can disturb or unsettle anyone who wakes long enough to see it. The sampiro of Albania is another truly frightening apparition. A tall and menacing figure swathed in winding sheets, its eyes are big and glowing like car headlights and it has terrible rending claws. It moves along on what seem to be high heels, making an eerie sound along the stony roads through the countryside. Many sampiro appear to be associated with individuals of Turkish origin, probably reflecting the antipathy between Albanians and Turks. Other vampire creatures, for example, in parts of Romania and Bulgaria, are little more than decaying animated corpses that do not venture too far from their graves. These are ghastly, terrifying things, often in an apparent state of decomposition, which seem all the more frightening along the darkened country roads.