While it is never a good idea to park on any railroad track, visitors to the area have put their cars in neutral and sat at this intersection. Some visitors say that their vehicles were inexplicably moved off of the tracks as if being pushed out of harm’s way. It became a popular idea to assume that the spirits of the children lost long ago to the bus accident were indeed protecting these individuals by collectively pushing them off the tracks. To test their theories, some people would place baby powder on the bumpers of their cars and discover tiny fingerprints in the dust following the experiment.
It is sad to think that the spirits of the children lost in the accident might still be in the area, constantly reliving the incident in the experiments of others. On the other hand, it can be comforting to believe that, should the same fate befall your vehicle as did the school bus on the ghost tracks of San Antonio, there are several souls keeping watch over you who just might come to your rescue to make sure you arrive safely on the other side.
CHAPTER 29
The Alamo SAN ANTONIO
Chapel on the grounds of the Alamo (Sue Slaughter)
I COULDN’T VERY WELL WRITE A BOOK about paranormal encounters in Texas without including one of the state’s most recognizable symbols—the Alamo. Whether people know the exact history of the Alamo or not, most of us recognize the name. It is a place I deeply respect.
I had never been to the Alamo before moving from Rhode Island to Texas in August 2007, but I had often heard that visiting the shrine was something all Texans had to do at least once in their lifetimes. Friends and family had described it to me as an educational experience, but also a solemn and spiritual one as well.
Allen and I met up with his father and stepmother for a weekend in San Antonio to introduce them to their new grand-children, my twin daughters Madison and Jordyn. We didn’t have a whole lot of time to see everything we wanted to, but as we discussed the schedule, Allen and I believed it would be a good experience to see the Alamo and share a piece of Texas’ history with the girls.
Before we left for San Antonio, I did what I always do prior to visiting any new place—I pulled up the history and tried to somehow envision the events that made it so important in the past as well as the role it might play now and in the future. Texas is a state unlike any other, in that I have never before experienced the level of pride I have found in those who call Texas home. There are more state flags flying alongside the American flag than I have seen anywhere else. I have often mentioned to Allen, a native Texan, that this state is really a world all its own. He usually just nods and smiles at me in agreement.
The Alamo is an intrinsic part of Lone Star history. It began as Misión San Antonio de Valero in 1724 and served as a place where Spanish missionaries would educate and convert the Indian people. It was used in that capacity for nearly seventy years. In 1793, the Indians were given the land from the five missions throughout Texas when Spanish officials decided that the missions would no longer be used for religious purposes.
Troops fighting in the Mexican War of Independence took up residence at the mission in the early 1800s and nicknamed it the Alamo, which translates to “cottonwood” in Spanish. Some say that a nearby cluster of cottonwood trees was the inspiration behind the new name, though others believe it is simply because the men wished to name the mission after their hometown, Alamo del Parras, Coahuila.
For ten years during the Mexican struggle for independence, the Spanish, Mexican, and rebel militaries occupied the Alamo. In December 1835, during the Texas Revolution, Texian and Tejano volunteers won out in a five-day battle against Mexican troops led by General Marín Perfecto de Cós. The Mexicans were ultimately forced to surrender and the volunteers defending the site held their position. General Antonio López de Santa Anna advanced on the Alamo with his army on February 23, 1836, and for thirteen days the battle raged. The Texian and Tejano men fought a good fight, but the battle was lost and Santa Anna took control of the Alamo on March 6. While the exact number of casualties from the siege of the Alamo varies, it is estimated that nearly two hundred Texans perished and at least six hundred Mexicans (if not a great deal more) lost their lives.
Today, the old mission chapel and “long barracks” are the only remaining original structures at the site predating the Texas Revolution. The mission itself is gone, but the history is alive and well at the state’s most visited historic site.
Paranormal investigations of the property are not allowed, as it is a dedicated shrine to the many who perished there. This is not to say that stories of phenomena have not originated at the site—quite the contrary. The first of many paranormal events occurred after Santa Anna and a majority of his men advanced toward modern-day Houston shortly after the siege of the Alamo. Santa Anna ordered one thousand troops to stay behind in San Antonio to control the rebel forces. In April 1836, Santa Anna was captured by Sam Houston and his men; in an attempt at retaliation, Santa Anna ordered the remainder of his troops in San Antonio to completely destroy the Alamo. As these men approached, six apparitions materialized at the mission doors and commanded that they cause no harm to the mission, frightening the men away.
Assigned with the task of destroying the mission by Santa Anna, Colonel Sanchez was undeterred and sent a group of men to destroy the long barracks. Once again, an apparition appeared to dissuade them. The spirit of a tall man with large balls of fire in each of his two outstretched hands rose from the building and hovered over the men. They quickly retreated, unable and unwilling to complete their assigned task.
When the Alamo was overtaken, the bodies of those who defended it were burned on the property, leading some to believe that their souls had combined into the spiritual forces that continued to defend the site.
Changes and repairs to both the barracks and the chapel began shortly after Texas was annexed into the United States in 1846, and the city of San Antonio began to utilize the complex as their police headquarters and jailing facility. It didn’t take long for the prisoners and staff to complain about seeing strange shadows and hearing disembodied moans. San Antonio’s politicians eventually moved the facilities off-site as a result.
Today, there are more apparitions reportedly wandering the grounds than can accurately be numbered, but several of them make repeat appearances. The ghost of a small, blondehaired boy is often seen in the area that now houses the gift shop, though he also walks around the rest of the complex. For one reason or another, his apparition is most often seen on the grounds during the first few weeks of February.
The basement of the mission, which is now mostly used for storage, has also played host to ghostly experiences. Staff members have often felt as though someone were creeping up behind them while working. When they turn to see who might be approaching, the apparition of an Indian man is seen as he quickly steps backward through the wall and disappears. Employees have naturally become reluctant to enter the basement for fear of a repeat encounter with this entity.
Unable to conduct a formal investigation of the property, I decided that it might be helpful to invite a “sensitive” to go along with me and my family on our visit. I contacted a local associate of mine whose abilities have impressed me in the past and asked her if she would be willing to relay her impressions of the grounds. She agreed, but does not wish to be named. We’ll simply refer to her as Laura.
With Laura accompanying our family for the visit, we hoped that she would be able to describe for us anything she might sense or feel in regard to paranormal activity. She was fairly quiet as we first began to wander the complex, but as we approached the long barracks she became quite sullen.
“Are you picking up on something?” I asked.
“An overwhelming sense of sadness and defeat,” she began. “I see a small group of women crying; a few of them with small children. I don’t know for sure who they are, but I get the sense that they are connected to some of the men that lost their lives here.”
That thought made me instantly sympathetic, as I looke
d at my girls and wondered what it must have been like for the families of the men who died at the Alamo. The battles that took place here must have devastated those who were left behind to grieve for the loss of their loved ones.
“Someone wants us to go into the chapel,” said Laura.
As we followed her in, we all seemed to feel an automatic reverence. Even my little girls were well-behaved without my having to instruct them to be calm and quiet. There were fewer than a dozen other visitors in the chapel that afternoon. While we were slightly disappointed at not being able to take photographs within the building, we still felt privileged to be allowed in to see it along with the relics still encased inside.
After twenty or so minutes had passed, Laura pulled Allen and me aside and told us that she saw the apparition of a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, sitting on a ledge just below one of the windows near the ceiling.
“He likes watching the people who come in,” she said. “He’s looked at me and smiled a couple of times in the past minute or so.”
“So he actually sees us and knows we are all here?” asked Allen.
“Yes, but I don’t get the impression that he ever comes down from that ledge to observe. He may not be there every day, but he’s there now and it seems like he truly enjoys people visiting.”
“Do you know who he might be?” I asked.
“No, I don’t get a name or even if he himself lived or died here,” said Laura.
We spent more time walking through the chapel, but Laura did not receive any more impressions and we decided it would be nice to walk the grounds outside for awhile.
The entire complex is beautifully landscaped and maintained, obviously very well-cared for by those assigned with the task. The volunteers who give their time to preserve and educate others about such an important piece of Texas history truly touch my heart.
It is no wonder that a great deal of residual energy still resides at the Alamo; with such a tumultuous past and loss of life, it certainly has reason to be haunted. Other visitors undoubtedly feel the same respect and reverence for this historic site as we did on our visit. Perhaps one day the souls who still roam the grounds and buildings will move on and leave the past behind them. As for now, they remain and continue to touch the lives of all who remember the Alamo.
Spotlight on Ghosts: La Llorona
What could be more hau tingly eerie than the sound of a wailing woman, moving along th banks of rivers and creeks in search of her children? The legend of La Llorona has spread all over the world, and several versions have her haunting the state of Texas.
Hispanic cultures throughout the south have long known, and long feared, the lege d of “the weeping woman,” the Spanish translation of La Llorona. The legend suggests that her apparition appears to countless individuals in the southwest, dressed in a long white gown and crying uncontrollably. Who is she and why is her restless soul so tormented?
La Llorona is most often described as a young mother, distraught over the loss of her lover and father to her children. In a fit of rage and sadness, she murders her young children and disposes of their bodies in the river before taking her own life. As the evolution of this story has progressed, it is often said that her unfortunate soul was denied entrance into heaven for the gruesome act and her soul is destined to wander the earth forever in search of the souls of thosethose she murdered. While the gender and age of her children differ from version to version, one thing remains the same—La Llorona wanders and cries as she strikes fear in those who believe in her existence.
Shortly after her passing, her apparition repeatedly appeared on the banks of rivers in south Texas and reportedly still does. When night falls, she can be seen floating among the trees and over the water, her long white gown flowing quietly behind her. While she has been said to ruthlessly attack anyone who crosses her path, what is most frightening is her rumored preference for dragging children off in the night to a watery grave. Children are warned not to go out alone in the dark as La Llorona may snatch them up, never to be seen or heard from again.
Other accounts of La Llorona place her on lonely back roads approaching vehicles with an outstretched and withered hand, crying and seemingly in need of help. Drivers have swerved off the road to avoid running her over. Still wearing her long white gown, always weeping, La Llorona is a legend that continues to live on to this day. Perhaps you will see her for yourself on some dark Texas night.
CHAPTER 30
USS Lexington CORPUS CHRISTI
USS Lexington exterior (Sue Slaughter)
IF YOU’VE NEVER BEEN ABOARD an aircraft carrier, you’ve missed out on a truly awe-inspiring experience. I have always been mystified by how these massive ships stay afloat. I know there is a science to it, but nevertheless, they always impress me each time I have the opportunity to see one.
The USS Lexington was built during World War II for the United States Navy as one of twenty-four Essex-class aircraft carriers. Its designated name was to be the USS Cabot, but changed to the USS Lexington after the ship originally bearing that name was sunk in the Coral Sea. The 910-foot carrier was commissioned in February 1943 and went on to serve the United States longer than any other carrier in our nation’s history. The ship was engaged in twenty-one out of twenty-four battles during World War II, and over three hundred of its men were lost in the war.
Unlike its sister ships, the Lexington was painted blue, earning it the nickname “the Blue Ghost.” The Japanese reported that they had sunk the carrier at least four times, yet it reappeared to engage them in battle once again after every attempt to sink it.
After serving the United States Navy in various capacities, The USS Lexington CV-16 was permanently decommissioned on November 8, 1991. The ship was donated to the state of Texas in 1992 and currently operates as the USS Lexington Museum On the Bay. The ship was designated a National Historic Landmark in 2003.
Allen’s father and stepmother live in Corpus Christi, so we often have the opportunity of visiting the area. When we mapped out all of the places around town we’d like to see, the USS Lexington was at the top of our list. Allen had passed by the ship many times, but he had not yet been able to tour it. Our time schedule was limited, so we knew we had only a matter of hours on the ship before heading to our next destination.
We arrived just as the museum opened at nine o’clock in the morning, and as we drove up the ramp to the parking area adjacent to the ship, Allen reached his hand over to my face and gently pushed my lower jaw upward. I didn’t realize that my mouth had been wide open as I sat there in silent awe.
“It’s like a skyscraper lying on its side!” I exclaimed.
We parked and stepped out of the car, all staring upward at the massive structure we were about to board. For just a moment, I thought, Man! I want to join the Navy! I quickly recovered after remembering how hard military life could be sometimes. Still, if anything would ever have inspired me to join the military, this ship would have been it.
The self-guided tour began as we walked across an aircraft elevator into a hangar bay. Eleven decks and 100,000 square feet of the ship are open to the public to tour. The day I visited, I happened to be wearing one of my group’s t-shirts with The Paranormal Source written across the front of it. We were standing out on the main deck looking at different aircraft when a group of young people noticed my shirt and asked me about it. I told them who we were and what we were about, and they were instantly intrigued.
“Is this ship really haunted?” asked a young man.
“A lot of people believe it is, yes,” I answered.
For years, those who have come to tour the USS Lexington have reported encounters with an entity in the engine room of the ship referred to simply as “Charlie.” He is a polite young man with striking blue eyes, and is always willing to share information on how everything in the engine room operates. His knowledge and demeanor have captivated people so much that they have often spent more time in that one room than anywhere else on
the ship. The sailor is described as being dressed in his white uniform and walks with a slight limp in his left leg. Of course, when he is seen it is not immediately apparent that he is a ghost, and visitors are shocked to learn after the tour is over that no volunteer or staff member fitting his description actually mans the engine room.
“I’ve heard about him before,” said one of the young men we’d just met. “They actually have a webcam set up online where you can view a live feed of the engine room. There are several creepy pictures on the Internet of spirits caught on that camera.”
I have seen some of those images. One in particular had me staring at it for hours trying to deconstruct it to see if it had been faked. I could find no fault or alteration in the still shot taken from the webcam. It was not the young man in a white uniform as others had reported, but there is most definitely a man in the shot in a WWII uniform. The details are clear in the picture, right down to the buttons on his clothes. I wish I could get my hands on the raw file, just to verify its authenticity. In any case, people from all over the country have relayed stories of encountering a ghost in the engine room.
One of the young women in the group said she thought she was in the middle of a reenactment one day while touring the ship several years back.
“I was walking down one of the narrow hallways toward the front of the ship,” she said, “and about five men in uniform ran past me yelling stuff at each other. I just stood there up against the wall and watched them until they were out of sight. None of them even acknowledged that I was there, like they didn’t even see me.”
April Slaughter Page 17