April Slaughter

by Ghosthunting Texas

  Other visitors to OQ1 have often reported feeling dramatic drops in temperature throughout various areas of the house, and attribute it to Edith’s presence trying to manifest. Even on a warm day when the air outside is still, people feel these cold spots moving around the house.

  Visitor and Volunteer Services Coordinator Cory Robinson has worked at the fort for nearly nine years. When I spoke with him, I asked about the various reports of paranormal activity, and whether or not he had personally experienced anything of note.

  “Sometimes when I’ve been inside Barracks #5, I have heard what sounds like heavy footsteps hitting the wooden porch,” he said. “If you are familiar with large, heavy leather boots with those thick soles, you know that they have a very distinct sound when someone takes a step in them. This wasn’t at all like the shuffling sound of a visitor’s tennis shoes. I have heard the sound of those footsteps on more than one occasion.”

  “Is there any specific time you experience the sound of these footsteps?” I asked him.

  “It only seems to happen when stormy weather is moving in. Beyond that, no—there is nothing else I can think of that ties the incidents together.”

  As Fort Concho prepared for a Christmas program one year, Cory stayed the night in OQ1. He knew about the building’s reputation, but didn’t think much about it.

  “The day of the program, I got up and got into the shower,” Cory said. “While I was in the bathroom, someone or something slammed the door shut. It wasn’t hard enough to shake anything, but forceful enough to make me hear it over the water running.”

  Cory never discovered an explanation.

  I have not yet had the opportunity to introduce myself to Edith or to any of the other spirits that may be roaming the grounds of Fort Concho, but I do know that I will be back to try. They might be the souls of those once dedicated to the service of their country, their family members, or simply those passing through. In any case, the ghosts of Fort Concho’s past seem very much a part of its present, and quite possibly its future.

  CHAPTER 15

  Oakwood Cemetery WACO

  Coke and Wallace grave markers at Oakwood Cemetery (April Slaughter)

  IF YOU TAKE THREE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS—cemeteries, ghost stories, and thunderstorms—and roll them all together into one experience, you’d have my definition of a perfect day. You already know by now that wandering around cemeteries is a favorite pastime of mine, and that ghost stories are a huge part of my everyday life, but did you also know that I would take a stormy day over a sunny one anytime of the year? It’s easy to enjoy a sunny and warm afternoon; they are uneventful and calm. It is the chaos of a storm that attracts me. I revel in the constant push and pull of the environment and its unpredictability. I am the person out in the wind recording the crazy conditions on camera, rather than taking the safe route and waiting it out indoors.

  Most people hide themselves away from the rain, lightning, and thunder. I want to wander around and read headstones as a storm rolls on above me, and the Oakwood Cemetery in Waco provided me with the perfect opportunity to do so. The day I made my first visit, I had not planned it to coincide with a thunderstorm, but it pleased me a great deal that it happened to work out that way.

  Allen and I arrived mid-morning on a stormy spring day. The softened, rain-soaked earth gave a little every time we took a step. The air was warm and thick with humidity that stuck to our skin like sweat after a hard run. I wasn’t going to complain. I had heard many a ghost story about this place, and I was hoping I would be able to add my own to the mix.

  Land that was once used as a race track and fairgrounds became the Oakwood Cemetery in 1898. Individuals originally interred in other cemeteries in Waco were relocated to Oakwood that year, as the grounds were far better maintained and provided a more pleasant setting for their final resting places. The burial grounds stretch 157 acres, and by April 1969 there were nearly nineteen thousand graves. Today, almost thirty-five thousand souls are buried within the Oakwood Cemetery.

  As Allen and I wandered aimlessly through the scattered headstones, two in particular caught my attention. Atop large stone pillars stood the carved figures of two men, each facing one another. I wanted to photograph them, as I had never seen anything like that before. As I approached the markers, the rain suddenly began to pour down. As stubborn as I am, I decided it was worth the risk of getting muddy to get a picture.

  Allen had turned on one of our digital recorders, despite the sound of thunder and rain. After taking a few photographs, I looked at my shoes to find that they were indeed covered in mud and grass.

  “I think I had better find a mud puddle to wash off my shoes,” I said, not realizing that I had made the wrong reference.

  Immediately following my statement on the recorder, a male voice corrects me.

  “With water!” he said.

  At the time of the recording, I was standing between the statues of the two men, whom I would later find out were not only Texas historical figures, but best friends who wanted to be just as close in death as they were in life—Richard Coke, a former governor who died in 1897, and Dr. David Wallace, a psychiatric pioneer who died in 1911.

  Were either of these two men the one I heard correcting me when I played back the recording? I can’t be sure, but I wouldn’t be the first to experience something unexplained in that very spot between these two elaborate headstones. Several locals reported to me that they often spent time here and had also recorded a disembodied voice speaking to them. The voice often pokes fun and, at times, can even be heard laughing. Whoever he is, he seems pleased with his surroundings and enjoys it when those of us still living pass by for a visit.

  Being able to see the likeness of a person, or an actual photograph incorporated into their memorials makes a cemetery experience more human to me. I feel as though it puts me in touch with who the person was when they were alive, and knowing even just a small part of their story establishes a sort of connection, however slight and fleeting it may be.

  When it is my time to go, I do not want to be forgotten amidst a collection of stones. Would someone want to know who I was, or what impact I made on the world? Whoever is given the responsibility of laying me to rest when my time comes, I can only hope they will see it fitting to remember me with a unique stone or carving. If not, chances are I won’t stay quiet about it for long!

  Oakwood Cemetery is filled with all kinds of different headstones and markers. As we walked through just a few of the acres that sprawled out in front of us, Allen and I saw and photographed some of the most beautiful statues I had ever seen in a graveyard. Life-sized angels were scattered all around, each with their own individual style of grace and beauty.

  “Hey, look at this headstone, April,” said Allen. “It looks like it’s been shot at.”

  “What? Why would anyone shoot at a headstone?” I asked, puzzled.

  “I’m guessing, and I could be completely wrong here, that someone had it in for this guy,” he said.

  The headstone he was referring to belonged to a man named William Cowper Brann, a Waco journalist who, at the time of his death in 1898, owned and edited the Iconoclast newspaper—a controversial publication in which he fervently attacked groups such as African-Americans, Baptists, Episcopalians, and the British. He often wrote about his distaste for Baylor University, which he claimed was involved in importing children from South America to place in the administration’s homes as servants. He was also very outspoken about Baylor being corrupted by sexual misconduct, and warned that any parents who enrolled their daughters there were taking the risk that they would be raped.

  Brann’s statements had upset many people in the community, and would ultimately lead to his demise. Tom Davis, a local man whose daughter attended Baylor, was highly insulted by Brann’s attacks on the university and took it upon himself to shoot him. The bullet entered Brann’s left lung and exited through his chest, but he was able to turn and shoot Davis several times, leaving him to die
in the doorway of a local cigar shop. Brann lived until the next morning before dying in his home.

  Below the word “TRUTH” spelled out on the headstone is a profile view of Brann’s face, with a bullet hole in the temple. Locals say this bullet hole turned up on the stone only after Brann had been buried in Oakwood Cemetery. Apparently, some Waco residents were still adamantly opposed to Brann and his writings even though he was already dead.

  Individuals I spoke to after visiting the cemetery believe an apparition that appears near Brann’s grave may indeed be him, but also say that his appearances are erratic and do not last for more than a few seconds. Those who have seen his picture say the apparition bears a striking resemblance to the man, and wonder if this once-impassioned writer is haunting Oakwood Cemetery to make sure he and his ideas are never forgotten. Perhaps he is restless because the living are still taking their “shots” at him and his infamous newspaper.

  Angel memorial at Oakwood Cemetery (April Slaughter)

  Oakwood Cemetery has become a favorite of ghosthunters over the years due to its reputation for providing incredible EVP evidence and the occasional sighting of ghostly specters. It is a landscape of eclectic style and beauty, and a testament to the human desire to honor those who have been laid to rest.

  I’ve been through my share of cemeteries, but this one impressed upon me a great sense of peace. I walked, read names and dates, and took dozens of pictures. I ended up a soaking wet mess from the rain as a result, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. I could have spent all day wandering about, and probably will on the next chance I have to make the trip back out to Waco. Hopefully, another storm will blow in and make it an equally perfect day.

  I’ll always wonder who it was that reminded me that water would be a better solution for me to clean my shoes with than mud, and if they’re always so willing to be heard. Should you ever have the chance to visit Oakwood Cemetery, remember—tread lightly as you walk through, for you just never know who might be walking right alongside you.

  Spotlight on Ghosts: The Devil’s Backbone

  The Texas Hill Country is home to forty-seven hundred acres of beautiful landscapes and Native American history. The Indians revere this area as sacred land, and taking a drive through it is sure to convince any visitor that it is just that. The Indians, however, aren’t the only ones who believe the Devil’s Backbone is a unique place. It has earned a reputation for unexplained phenomena in nearly every form and continues to draw visitors not only in search of beautiful country to see and explore, but also those seeking paranormal encounters.

  Legend has it that the apparitions of Native Americans are often seen by hunters and hikers exploring the many trails that wind in and out of the Devil’s Backbone country. Moving slowly through the trees, they have reportedly been seen following closely behind those alone in the hills.

  Campers have told many stories about witnessing an entire troop of mounted Confederate cavalry suddenly appearing in front of them and then quickly disappearing. One story in particular tells of a group of men who experienced the sound of pounding hooves rushing toward their cabin. The incident prompted them to inspect the area outside the cabin, but they found no physical evidence that horses had even been close by.

  Apparitions have become so commonplace that locals have come to expect them rather than be surprised by them. Ghostly cattle ranchers driving their herds through the hills are just another example of the type of encounters people continue to report today. Even the ghosts of monks are often seen. What keeps these spirits tied to the hills may never be discovered, but chances are that anyone willing to brave the dark just might have a tale or two of their own to share when the sun rises the next morning, as a night in the Devil’s

  Backbone could be a very long night.

  CHAPTER 16

  Dead Man’s Hole MARBLE FALLS

  Boulder-lined entrance to Dead Man’s Hole (April Slaughter)

  PARANORMAL PHENOMENA can pop up anywhere. Creepy old buildings and so-called “ghost towns” are not the only places one might be able to find and interact with the spirits of those who have crossed over. Fact is, you can’t judge a location simply on how it looks. Some of the scariest places I have ever been were not at all the kind that people would normally think of as haunted. Have I encountered ghosts in dilapidated old homes and buildings? Absolutely! I have also seen my fair share of phenomena in pristine, newly built structures and entirely unassuming locations. Sites in the great outdoors have often proven to be some of the most interesting and fun to visit and investigate. I think it is important to keep in mind that anywhere you might go, someone else has been there before you—and still might be hanging around!

  Dead Man’s Hole intrigued me enough in my research to go looking for it, which was a bit of a task in and of itself. Allen and I were following the only directions we could locate (which were vague), and realized that we had passed the site several times before finally finding our way. A path lined with large stones led us off the winding farm road, which was the only indication that we had found what we were looking for.

  It is not immediately noticeable, but the actual site sits no more than a few dozen yards beyond the road. Loose gravel lines the path up to a historical marker, briefly describing the history of what lies just behind it. Dead Man’s Hole was reportedly first discovered in 1821 by Ferdinand Lueders, an entomologist studying insects in the area. Several decades later, it would become known as a popular dumping ground for many unfortunate souls, including Unionists who were killed during the Civil War. It was widely rumored that the bodies of at least seventeen people were tossed into the cave, which stretches seven feet across and reaches a depth of over one hundred and fifty feet into the ground. Only three bodies recovered from the cave have ever been positively identified, while the rest of those presumed dead remain a mystery.

  An oak tree that once towered over Dead Man’s Hole was rumored to bear the marks left by ropes used for hangings. I doubt that neither the cave nor the tree was intended by Mother Nature to serve such gruesome purposes, but as history so often shows us, human beings are creatures of mass consumption who tend to use up any resources they can find—this cave being no exception.

  In August 1872, a man known as Benjamin McKeever noticed a neighbor’s dog out snapping at the heels of his horses, and became so annoyed by it that he thought he would take matters into his own hands and fire shots at the dog. The pet belonged to a nearby African-American man, and McKeever (a reportedly proud racist) took no issue with attempting to shoot the animal. The dog’s owner was also shot at when he went to intercede, but was unharmed. He and his friends were angered over the incident and went after McKeever himself for revenge. Naturally, when his body came up missing, local law enforcement paid a visit to Dead Man’s Hole and found some of his personal belongings hanging partially down into the cave. His body was recovered a short time later, and those accused of his murder were subsequently punished.

  Dead Man’s Hole (April Slaughter)

  Settlers in the area knew the natural fissure to be a popular dumping ground, but as it accumulated a large amount of noxious gas, it was almost impossible to fully explore the underground cavern at the time. As technology progressed, the invention and use of gas masks made it possible for the Texas Speleological Society to map out the cave in 1968. Land owner Ona Lou Roper initially allowed qualified spelunkers down into the cave for exploration. Her husband’s family had purchased the land in the 1920s, and they have been ranching on it ever since. Mrs. Roper eventually donated six acres of land that surrounds Dead Man’s Hole to the county for preservation, and assisted in erecting the historical marker visitors see today.

  The cave has since been sealed off to prevent harm to anyone curious enough to climb down into it, as well as to any animals that might be wandering nearby. The “hanging tree” has been removed as well, and much of the surrounding brush has been cleared. Scattered limestone rocks and a small patch of brush near the cave’s en
trance are all that remain.

  As Allen and I walked the boulder-lined path up to Dead Man’s Hole one sunny and humid afternoon, Allen asked me an interesting question.

  “Do you hear anything?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” I replied.

  “It’s completely silent out here. It shouldn’t be. I can’t hear a bird … insects … anything making noise out here,” he said.

  I stood still and began to pay attention to my surroundings. He was right—I didn’t hear a single thing. There was an eerie calm about the place, and it seemed a bit strange.

  “I don’t hear anything either,” I said. “I’m sure we will. It’s probably nothing more than a coincidence that we happened to notice.”

  We had turned on our digital recorder as we got out of our car, and decided to let it rest on top of the granite historical marker while we took a look around. I walked down a small slope that led to the entrance of the cave and sat on one of the boulders. Allen began to snap photographs and was no more than about five yards away when I heard the sound of a rock being thrown and landing close by. I looked to see where it was, or where it might have come from, but I saw nothing. For a moment, I thought Allen might have been playing around and decided to chuck a pebble at me, but he had his back turned to me and was too far away to have done it. A few minutes later, the exact same thing happened. I heard the same sound, but once again, I could not see the source.