Haunted Hamptons

Since it’s the summer and many Long Islanders are flocking to the Hamptons, I figured I’d mention some ghostly hot spots you may want to check out in your travels. 

Halsey House is the oldest dwelling still standing in the town of Southampton. Built in 1648, it has a wonderful history and some ghost tales to boot. Owned and maintained by the Southampton Historical Society, you can call ahead and see when the building is open. It remains today as a museum, and is a wonderful example of the houses and lifestyles of the early settlers.  

The house was lived in by Thomas and Elizabeth Wheeler Halsey and their family. A tragedy is said to have occurred on the property, although the exact date is unknown. According to local lore, Elizabeth was attacked and scalped by three Pequot Indians who came down from New England. The Pequots Indians were a very aggressive tribe. The incident was mentioned in “Chronicles of the Pequot Wars” written by Lion Gardiner in 1660. He wrote about “the three Indians involved in a cruel and treacherous murder of an English woman in Southampton.” After the attack, the local townspeople became quite alarmed, and it created great tension within the town as well as with the local Indian tribes of the Shinnecocks and Montauks. 

Because of the brutal attack, even today, many people assume the old building must be haunted by the ghost of Mrs. Halsey. Cold spots have been picked up in the house, along with an EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomena) of a man’s voice saying “Out.” Another EVP was of an older woman’s voice saying “I’m tired.” Could this be the voice of Mrs. Halsey? 

Not too far away from Halsey House is the grand Greek Revival home known as the Rogers Mansion, which is currently the headquarters for the Southampton Historical Museum. Built in 1843, the Rogers Mansion was the home of whaling Captain Albert Rogers who lived there with his family until his death in 1854. The land the house was built on had been in the Rogers family since 1644, around the time when Southampton was founded. The Rogers family continued to live in the house until after Albert’s death until 1889. A Dr. John Nugent then purchased the house, added a carriage house, and lived there for ten years. In 1899, well-known philanthropist Samuel Parrish purchased it and began making additions in 1911.

Eventually the house became a Red Cross, a YMCA and then finally a historical museum. During this time, several employees experienced phenomena that could not be explained. Sounds of furniture being moved upstairs when no one was there was often heard, along with footsteps coming down the hall. Other strange sounds would come from the second floor, the attic and the widow’s peak. None of them could be explained. During our investigation there, the “ghost meter” (electromagnetic field indicator) picked up a lot of energy in the butler’s pantry. Cold spots were also felt.  

It is believed that one or more ghosts haunt the old mansion, possibly that of a Cordelia Rogers, Captains Rogers’ second wife, or even Mary Rogers, his first wife, who happens to be the sister of Cordelia. Whoever it is, the energy seems like it’s definitely feminine, according to museum employees.

On the old 135-acre college campus nearby, sits the haunted windmill of Southampton. Once referred to as the Mill Hill Windmill, and then later the College Mill, it is said to be haunted by the ghost of a little girl.

The windmill was built in 1713 in the English style, which differs greatly from the Dutch type, and it was used for grinding flour and feed. When the windmill was no longer needed it was going to be torn down. A local woman by the name of Mrs. William Hoyt couldn’t bear to see it destroyed, so she purchased it from Captain Warren, it’s owner, in 1890. A team of horses pulled it to where it now sits.

In 1896, Mrs. Hoyt sold her property to Arthur B. Claflin, a textile magnate from New York City who wanted to build an estate in Shinnecock Hills that would be used as a “summer cottage.” Construction on the new home began in 1898. He was thrilled with the old windmill that was located just a few hundred feet from the house. The windmill served as a playhouse for the Claflin’s daughter Beatrice. It was also used to entertain guests for afternoon tea, and it became a conversation piece because it was so unusual.  

According to legend, Beatrice fell down the steep windmill steps, broke her neck and died there. During my research, I could not find any evidence to prove this, but rumor has it that when the windmill became part of the college campus, students would often report seeing the face of a small girl peering out from its windows when nobody was there.  

So if you find yourself out and about in Southampton this month, check out these local historical sites. Maybe you too, will happen to find a ghost there.

 

Ghosts from the Past at Henry Lloyd Manor

When July 4^th rolls around I think it’s especially important to remember our founding fathers and the sacrifices they made for us. Here in Huntington, we have a rich and fascinating history which dates back to 1653, through the Revolutionary War and beyond. One of Huntington’s famous founding families were the Lloyds, whose homesteads still remain in the quiet and bucolic area of Lloyd’s Neck. 

Recently, clairaudient medium and paranormal investigator Joe Giaquinto and I were invited to tour the earlier Lloyd home, the Henry Lloyd Manor house. We were asked if we could do a ghost investigation there, and it does appear that some spirits do abound in the old house.  

Since I consider myself a historian first and a ghost investigator second, we decided to start with its history. Merchant James Lloyd of Boston, purchased the land once occupied by Native American Indians in 1684. James remained in Boston and leased his property, then known as Horse’s Neck, to tenant farmers for several years. By 1711, James’ son Henry Lloyd I inherited the land and established his home on the Neck. It was situated near the harbor on the south shore of what is today known as Lloyd Harbor. It was Henry’s intention to establish a working plantation and build a manor house. He hired both an architect and a contractor to build his home, and before long the Henry Lloyd Manor was built.

The original property contained several outbuildings including a barn, blacksmith shop and house, a school and a dove house. There were also livestock and gardens for raising food. In 1722 and 1732 some additions were made to the original house. Because it was a working farm, slaves were brought in to run the plantation. One of the slaves, Jupiter Hammon, became the first published Black poet in America. He was taught to read and write at the Manor’s school.

When Henry died in 1763, his son Henry Lloyd II acquired the property. Henry was a loyalist, so after the Revolutionary War, his land was confiscated by the new American government. He had no choice but to flee to England. Another family member, John Lloyd II, a patriot, took back the property and continued to use it as a working farm. Eventually non-family members purchased the house and by the beginning of the 20^th century, the house and property had fallen into a state of neglect. 

In 1921, Marshall Field and his architect John Russel Pope happened to find the house near Field’s estate and wanted to incorporate it somehow. So after doing some repairs, Henry Lloyd Manor became the gate house to the Marshall Field estate for four decades. Ruth Pruyn Field sold the estate in 1961 to the State of New York which called it “Caumsett.” The Henry Lloyd house was occupied by estate employees until the mid-1960’s. 

Finally, on September 7, 1978, the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation granted a contract to the Lloyd Harbor Historical Society “to restore, maintain and operate the Henry Lloyd Manor House.” After many years of hard work, Henry Lloyd Manor was restored back to its 18^th century condition, and remains a historical showpiece and museum today. 

Lloyd Harbor Historical Society Trustee Joan McGee took us around the historic home. She, along with some other reliable sources, told us stories they had heard about apparent paranormal activity at the house. Many years ago in late winter, a barking dog and a singing canary was heard when no animals were around. Another woman who came into the Lloyd kitchen saw an actual hand seemingly floating in mid-air and reaching out. She was so frightened that she left the kitchen area immediately. Lights have been known to blink in the meeting room, and colder, heavier air can be felt in one of the bedrooms.  

I left Joe and the others in an upstairs room while I walked around and photographed. I received the image of an orb in a room on the main level. Upon leaving the house, I walked along the path to the front of the house. Twice I turned to look behind me, because I had the distinct feeling that I was being followed, yet no one was there.  

When I went back into the house I caught up with Joe and Joan. They were doing a question/answer session on Joe’s recorder to see if he could pick up any EVP’s, Electronic Voice Phenomenon. When Joe analyzed his recordings later that day, he found an EVP of pots and pans banging for no reason. There was almost a brief rhythm to it. A second EVP picked up the sound of a man’s voice thanking Joe for his respectful comment that spirits can come and go as they please. You can hear, "thank you" at the end of the clip.

It is unknown who the spirits are, but the energy we picked up there was all good and non-aggressive. There are spirits everywhere, so the Henry Lloyd Manor is no exception. Perhaps they like the old home. Maybe it’s the Lloyds or Jupiter Hammond coming back for a visit. Whatever it may be, the Henry Lloyd Manor’s wonderful history and “spirit” remains.

Physical Mediumship, Table Tipping

As described in The Element Encyclopedia of Ghosts and Hauntings, an A-Z guide to spirits, mysteries and the paranormal, by Theresa Cheung, it states that mediumship, which is the ability to communicate with spirits, takes two forms: mental mediumship and physical mediumship. In contrast to mental mediumship (when the phenomenon is demonstrated through the mind of the medium), the physical medium is able to produce for the benefit of those taking part. An example would be a séance when physical phenomena such as lights, sounds, materializations, levitations, etc occur.

I recently had the opportunity to take a workshop with world renown Scottish medium Bill Coller. He is very gifted, and has been teaching workshops and seminars throughout the world for many years. Despite the fact that I don’t consider myself a medium, I enjoy taking his classes when he comes to the United States, to further understand mediumship and communication with the other side. Joining me at this workshop was my partner for the Ghosts of Long Island books, paranormal investigator and clairaudient medium Joe Giaquinto, as well as mediums Richard Schoeller (Long Island) and Sharon Siubis (New Jersey) amongst others.

I have to admit, I wasn’t really sure what to expect with this workshop. I had seen video from past Table Tipping workshops where people were literally running behind moving tables! Was this really possible? If so, how?

Bill was very good at explaining things. First, physical mediumship was very popular in the 1800’s with the onset of Spiritualism, and the Fox Sisters. They often did this type of work. I think for more mediums today, their work is more refined, and they often don’t use such devices anymore. According to Bill, table tipping is the simplest form of physical mediumship, and also the oldest. There are two types. metaphysical and intelligent. Metaphysical is when a person transfers psychic energy to the table or any other object/divination device. Intelligent physical mediumship is when communication occurs when it is used as a divination device to answer questions, such as one tap for yes and two taps for no.

We worked on both types with Bill. For the majority of people attending the workshop, the metaphysical phenomena was much easier to do, and that was making the table move around the room as opposed to asking questions of the spirits and having the spirits move or tip the table. Bill said a cane wicker table works best because its absorbs energy better and it reacts better to voice vibration. A person’s energy absorbs into that table. It’s also ideal for speed because it’s relatively light. For the sake of the class though, we used four legged, light weight card tables. We had about six tables all together. Most tables had four people to them, others had more.

The energy comes from the gut solar plexus chakra. Through collective energy and the commonality of thought, which gives energy movement, it is said that you can actually make an object move. We were working with men and women, mediums and non-mediums, so it was an interesting mix of people. To give you an example, we were asked to say and think collectively, ‘Move table, move.’ Our fingertips were lightly touching the table top. After a while, (and sometimes it took quite a while) the energy began to flow under the table which then caused the phenomena. Your energy working with everyone else’s energy gives the table momentum, and several people reported feeling heat or vibration in the tips of their fingers.

It was a very slow process to get it going. It required a lot of work and concentration, and I felt very drained and physically exhausted after the workshop. Once the tables got going, it was hilarious to watch; people running around the room chasing table that seemed to have a mind of their own. If anyone came in off the street and saw us, they would have thought we were insane!

The one thing it taught me is that anything is possible, and that our own energy is a lot more powerful than we give it credit for.

If you’d like to learn more about this interesting and unique phenomena, check out my radio show archives from May 30 where we presented a show on the Table Tipping workshop. Go to www.blogtalkradio.com/kerriannandjoeshow.

Putting Northport on the Literary Map

One of the things I love about being an author is having the community come together because of my books, and for giving small businesses some recognition in the process. I had lots of haunted restaurants, shops and historical places in my Ghosts of Long Island books, and as I always say, ghosts are good for business. They do bring in customers! 

So when I set out to write my novel The Medal, I wanted to keep Long Island in the forefront once again. After all, I am a Long Island author, so why not promote it? Unlike my non-fiction books, I was able to now create my own places, but I wanted them to be modeled after places people were familiar with. I love reading books and trying to figure out if it’s based on a real place, so now I had the opportunity to do so. 

Since I live in Huntington, I didn’t want the book set in my own backyard, so I decide to place it in the seafaring town of Northport. I left the main streets, like Woodbine, as is, but changed the name of the street where the main characters call home. The house in the book is actually a real house in Northport where friends of mine used to live. I had spent a lot of time there when they owned it, and I was completely inspired by its tranquility and beauty. 

The main character, Bethany Fitzpatrick, is a pastry chef and owner of Giovanni’s Italian Bakery, otherwise known in real life as Northport’s Copenhagen’s Bakery and Café. In the book I changed the interior and made it an Italian bakery instead of Danish, but everyone who reads it asks if it’s based on Copenhagen’s. During the filming of my video book trailer, I needed a shot of cannolis (a running theme in The Medal) so I called up another bakery, Fiorello Dolce in Huntington, to get the look of the Italian bakery.  

Bethany meets with two of her friends at the cozy Villa La Marco restaurant in Northport, which is actually Campari’s Ristorante. I added a bar and a very Italian maître d', but kept it’s intimate  atmosphere. 

I did bring some of Huntington into the picture as well. Although set in Northport, Lorenzo’s Jeweler, where Bethany first lays eyes on a large Padre Pio statue, is actually Libutti Jewelers on New York Avenue in Huntington.  The church in the book is St. Francis of Assisi. Many people believe it is the church by the same name in Greenlawn (especially since they have a huge Padre Pio following.) I actually decided to name it St. Francis because of my own love for the saint, and since he too, like Padre Pio, bore the five wounds of Christ…the stigmata. By now, I’m sure you’re getting the picture that my book has something to do with Padre Pio; it most definitely does. To get back to the church in the book, however, the outside is modeled after St. Philip Neri in Northport, but the inside is clearly St. Patrick’s Church in Huntington.  

The only place in my book where I kept the real name, was when I made mention of Mr. Sausage, the Italian Pork Store in Huntington Village; a cult following amongst Huntingtonians. Because of my long-time friendship with the owners, the co-authored cookbook I did with Sal Baldanza, their devotion to Padre Pio, and their support of my book, I couldn’t help but give them an extra plug as a thank you.  

In my efforts to support these local businesses, and to put Northport on the literary map, I came up with two unique book events that are actually taking place this upcoming week. As an author, it is often challenging to find places to give lectures and book signings. Our book stores are dwindling, and so many people are purchasing books online. I’m a book person. I love buying books, supporting authors, meeting them and getting books signed, and I love talking to people about my own books. What good is being an author if you can’t get feedback from your readers? 

So this Thursday, I will be at Campari’s Ristorante at 225 Main Street, Northport doing an Author Dinner. For $60 per person, guests will enjoy a special 4-course, prix fixe dinner, a complimentary glass of wine, and a signed copy of The Medal. During the dinner I will discuss the book, along with the true stories behind it, including a miracle that happened to me. The event takes place from 7-9 PM, and reservations are a must. You can call Campari’s at 631-757-6700.  

The next night, I will be at Copenhagen’s Bakery and Café, at 75 Woodbine Avenue for a Meet the Author, Book Discussion and Signing from 5-7 PM. Everyone who attends the event will receive a free cup of coffee. Books will be available for purchase, as will delicious cakes and pastries.  

Spread the word and help put Northport and our small businesses on the literary map. Hope to see you there!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fort Golgotha at the Old Burial Grounds

Whether you live in Huntington or have just visited here, you more than likely have driven past the Old Burial Grounds on the outskirts of town. It’s located on a high hill behind the Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Building. Yes, the old building with the cannon outside. 

How many of you know the intriguing and grisly story behind one of Huntington’s oldest cemeteries? The Old Burial Ground has silently bore witness to the scenes of the Revolutionary War that once haunted this most sacred ground.  

The cemetery was probably used for burial before 1700 although the earliest stone dates back to 1712. Unmarked graves were common during the early years, and several markers have also disappeared. The tombstones were made of slate, red sandstone and marble, and many of them are difficult to read, since nature has worn away at them.  

The Old Burial Grounds were turned upside down during the Revolutionary War, when Col. Benjamin Thompson, otherwise known as Count Rumford, used the land as a camp for his troops. Although he was born in Massachusetts, he joined the British after his application to join General George Washington’s army was rejected. In his rage against the Patriots, Col. Thompson tore down the Old First Church and used the wood to build their encampment which they called Fort Golgotha, meaning “a place of skulls.” 

Rumford built his barracks at the highest point of the cemetery in order to see incoming ships across the harbor. The British soldiers stayed in this location for three months. The people of Huntington were horrified. As if this wasn’t bad enough, the beloved and aged pastor of the Old First Church, Reverend Ebenezer Prime, was mistreated by the British. They not only destroyed his church, but they took over his home, and destroyed his furniture and his valuable book collection. When Rev. Prime died, he was buried in the old cemetery. Count Rumford pitched his tent in an area where he could trod over Prime’s grave. Rumford referred to Prime as “that dammed rebel.” 

The most horrific story however, is what the British soldier did with the tombstones. Not only did they make tables with them, but they also used them to build ovens. When the loaves of bread were removed from these makeshift ovens, the reversed inscription of the tombstones were imprinted on the lower portion of the crust.  

There are many other awful stories of desecration and destruction. There is a stone that is said to exist in the cemetery today which dates to 1779 and has two bullet holes shot through it. This is the grave of Silas Sammis, who lived nearby and whose home was taken over by the British.  

After George Washington became President, he visited Huntington in 1790. It is said that after having dinner, he was taken to the old burying grounds and was shown the site of Fort Golgotha.  

Today, the Old Burial Grounds are maintained by the Town of Huntington and contains approximately 800 graves. The last grave to be dug there was in 1948. Silas Wood, the author of the first history of Long Island, is buried there, along with patriots, soldiers and civilians. There is also a memorial to the thirty-nine citizens who gave their lives during World War I, located at the north entrance of the cemetery.

So the next time you’re traveling on Main Street Huntington and passing by the Old Burial Grounds, remember the history that remains there, along with all the lives whose spirits recall the atrocities from long ago.

Fiorello Dolce, Huntington's Haunted Bakery

There's more than delicious pastries and cakes at this popular Long Island Pâtisserie. 

If you're looking for the most amazing French and Italian cakes, cookies and pastries, Fiorello Dolce is by far, the place to go. Owner and pastry chef Gerard Fioravanti, a New York City, French Culinary graduate, opened Fiorello Dolce's in 2006. Every single one of this talented pastry chef's creations looks like it belongs on the cover of Bon Appetite magazine. Oh, and did I mention he makes homemade gelato and breads and croissants too? 

Needless to say, I am a big fan of his flourless chocolate cake, so over the years I've been in there numerous times for this decadent delight amongst other things. I knew Gerard by face, and we never really had a conversation until this past July when I called him with an odd request. I needed to bring a videographer into his bakery to film his cannolis. 

 

"You want to film my cannoli's?" Gerard asked.  

I knew it was a strange request, but I was filming my book trailer for my novel The Medal which was due to come out in September. My main character is a pastry chef who meets an Italian, cannoli-eating angel, so needless to say I wanted cannoli's featured in the video. I thought of Fiorello Dolce's immediately. 

Gerard was kind enough to let us come in and film, and I was delighted when I got to take the delicious cannolis home. While we were in the kitchen talking, out of nowhere Gerard mentioned that the bakery has a ghost. He was shocked when I brought up the fact that I'm also a ghost investigator and the author of two books on Long Island's history and ghost stories. What were the chances? 

Well, one thing lead to another, and since then Gerard and I have been speaking about the activity that has been occurring at his bakery. I asked him if he'd like paranormal investigator and medium Joe Giaquinto and I to come and do a ghost investigation there, and he agreed. So a week ago Joe and I headed over there to check things out.  

We started out with the history first. Fiorello Dolce is located off Wall Street in a tiny strip of stores within walking distance to the movie theater. During the 1900's, the area where Fiorello Dolce now sits, was a group of ramshackle row houses that apparently housed town workers. The area was said to have been one of the poorest areas in Huntington. Wetlands surrounded the houses, and later when they were demolished, fill was brought in so the stores and parking lot could be built. This was in 1974. The little strip has seen a variety of restaurants, bakeries and an Italian pork store over the years. Gerard's store is located at the far end, and is sleek and beautifully decorated.  

For reasons unknown, the ghostly phenomena at Fiorello Dolce only started to occur about three years ago. It began when Gerard was alone in the bakery and he was coming out of a walk-in refrigerator. As clear as day, he heard the voice of woman call out his name in a shriek. At first he thought that maybe it was the squeaky wheels on the cart he was pulling out, but he pulled it out it again and no voice was heard. He had been thinking about his deceased aunt recently and wondered if it could be her. It was weird, but Gerard said it wasn't scary.  

Around the same time a new employee started working for him who had some psychic abilities. Without Gerard ever mentioning the incident to him, the employee told him almost immediately that there were ghosts there. He admitted that his grandmother often followed him around, but he said there were others. 

Gerard's partner Steve didn't give much credence to any of this until he had his own experience of buckets falling down off the shelves in front of him for no apparent reason. Then, one morning at 6 AM while Gerard was rotating pans in the oven, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a wispy, white figure zoom by. He was in utter disbelief.  

All kinds of occurrences have followed. Metal spatulas hang from a magnetic knife rack in the kitchen. Gerard and other employees have witnessed one of the handles of the spatulas vibrate and move for no reason at all. A high school worker witnessed "S" hooks come off the racks by themselves, and cardboard cake bottoms fall out of boxes up on the shelves. This past fall a parchment paper sheet looked as if someone was pulling it off the rack. Meg, one of Gerard's pastry chefs along with another two employees, saw a rolling rack move a foot on its own. Gerard heard the shriek of his name being called again, and just two weeks ago, another pastry chef went inside the walk-in refrigerator and thought someone was behind her. She then heard a loud clap and turned around abruptly thinking it was Gerard playing a trick on her. No one was around.  

Gerard went as far as hanging medicinal sage to see if that would rid the place of the spirits. The next morning after he hung it, he found the sage lying on the floor.  

"It's not anything scary," Gerard said, "It's just that they're here." 

When Joe and I were at Fiorello Dolce we took a look at Gerard's surveillance camera. Gerard had noticed something really strange on it, a fleeting white ball of light. After examining it, we realized he captured an orb in motion. It flew from the front to the back, and then two other orbs appeared on the floor and whizzed by. Gerard has tons of surveillance footage. Never once has he ever captured anything like this.  

I used an electromagnetic field indicator, commonly known as a ghost meter, throughout the shop. The only time it registered was when we were near the area with the spatulas in the kitchen. We ruled out any other electrical devices that could be triggering it. The needle was off the chart! Joe then went around the kitchen with a set of dowsing rods. Again, there was no activity until he got to the area of the spatulas. The rods crossed at the same spot that the ghost meter had went off. Something was definitely there.  

Next I went around taking photographs. I captured orbs in both the bakery and in the kitchen, and a whole bunch outside and above the bakery. Joe used his recorder in a question/answer session hoping to get some EVP's, (Electronic Voice Phenomena) but the few voices recorded were too hard to hear over the white noise of the refrigerators and compressor. We experienced several cold spots in various areas throughout the night, and Joe was picking up information psychically.  

"I'm getting the image of a large African American fellow," said Joe. "I'm seeing a knife fight. Someone was killed in the back." Joe also kept getting the name Eddie. 

We walked to the back of the kitchen where a door lead to a creepy alleyway. The energy was totally different back there compared to the energy in the kitchen and bakery. It was heavy and negative, almost foreboding. Joe picked up a strange scent like some kind of sulfuric drug. None of us smelled it, only Joe. 

The next day we received a call from Gerard's friend Mark, who happens to be really good friends with someone who knew the area very well, and whose family has lived in Huntington for over 150 years. They consider themselves local historians. When Mark asked his friend if he knew of any incident that ever took place in the area of the bakery, his friend replied that there was a man who had been murdered there about thirty years ago. He said a big black man had been stabbed over a drug related incident. His name just happened to be Eddie.  

The phenomena continues. In fact, the day after we were there, Gerard told me that the door chimes kept going off even when no one was opening the door. Whatever spirits are at Fiorello Dolce, they are friendly and harmless. Why they continue to hang around, no one knows. Perhaps they're a fan of Gerard's chocolate flourless cake and cannolis.

The Art of Tea Leaf Reading

The Art of Tea Leaf Reading 

If you're not digging out your car or driveway from the blizzard, perhaps you're indoors enjoying a cup of hot tea and dreaming about being on a warm island somewhere. I know I am. The winter is not my thing. Instead of stressing about whether or not my trees will ever be the same, I thought I'd get my mind off it, write my blog, and look to the future...the future which just may be found in that cup of tea! 

A week ago I took a workshop at the Huntington Library on the art of tea leaf reading. Back when I was sixteen, my aunt took me to a psychic fair where I had my tea leaves read. Tea leaves? How can you get information about who I am, or what the future is by reading tea leaves? I thought it was very odd indeed. I sat down and watched as a woman stared into a murky cup, and I must say, she did tell me things that most definitely came true.  

All these years later, I've never had another tea leaf reading, but I still have always wondered about it. How does it work exactly? Since I study a variety of metaphysical and paranormal topics, my interest was piqued when I saw the workshop offered.  

There were about a dozen women at the workshop, and each of us were given a Styrofoam cup and bowl. Holding the cup, we had to move it in a circle to the right three times. We then were told to place the bowl over the top of the cup and turn everything upside down. Whatever remained in our cups is what you "read" from. Our partners were whoever you were sitting next to, and we would "read" from each other's cups. My partner and I had some technical difficulties. Somehow too much tea remained as a clump at the bottom, so the teacher had to come over and correct the situation. Once we were all set, we stared into each other's cups and then at each other. We weren't quite sure what we were looking for. Again, we needed the teacher's assistance. She told us to slowly turn the cup and look for pictures, symbols, numbers, anything we could pick out. She said it's like searching for hidden images in a child's picture book.  

Wouldn't you know, as soon as she said that, we actually did see real images. In my partner's cup I clearly saw a cat. According to the interpretations list we were given, a cat means independence. I asked my partner about this, and she said that she was extremely independent and that people often said things to her about her independence. In my cup there was an arrow pointing up, meaning that things are looking up, and there was also the image of a boat. The teacher came around and saw the boat too. She told me that I spend a great deal of time by the water, and that's where I go for solace, which is true. Hmmm...maybe there is something to be said about this. 

The art of tea leaf reading began in China. The Chinese would say that when you drink the tea, your spirit is left in the tea. Tea leaf readings in America did not become popular until the 1800's. I asked the teacher why did we have to turn the tea cup to the right three times. She told me, "because that's your future. You bring what's in your cup."  

The readings we did for one another were very basic obviously, but we did get the idea and I was happy we at least picked up on something.  

So if you've had it with the snow, make yourself and your significant other a nice cup of tea, and find out just what your future may have in store.  

Hopefully you won't see the image of a snow shovel.

The Ghost of Asa Chichester

Anyone who knows the historic Peace and Plenty Inn in Huntington is probably aware that the circa 1680 home has supposedly been haunted for years by the ghost of one of the innkeepers, Asa Chichester. It is amazing to note that when doing research about the house, article after article can be found regarding this. Asa may be one of the most famous and written-about ghosts on Long Island. To understand him, it is important to know the history of the wonderful old home he once lived in.  

The Peace and Plenty Inn was owned by the Chichester family, who ran it as an inn for over 200 years. Located on a busy stagecoach route, Peace and Plenty became a prominent meeting place, and had even had the likes of Walt Whitman and President Theodore Roosevelt as guests. It is a 1½-story red shingle-clad building with a clapboard gabled roof. Although there have been numerous additions since its original construction, they were built early on. Today the house is on the National Register of Historic Places, and upon entering it you feel as if you have stepped back in time. Perhaps this is why Asa seems so comfortable here. 

Originally, the inn consisted of two rooms, and a bedroom in the attic crawl space. A winding, narrow boxed staircase led to a trap door that opened into the loft. These interesting features remain in the house today. These rooms, which obviously are the oldest part of the house, have been said to be the most haunted areas, although Asa has been known to roam other rooms in the house, and in the front and back yard. 

A tap room was added sometime before 1700. A unique 17th century removable hinged wall still exists in the house, and was originally used to temporarily enlarge the room when town meetings were held.  

Currently, the sprawling home, with its wide plank floors and beamed ceilings, has five bedrooms, four baths, and four fireplaces with interior chimneys, and sits on 2.3 acres in West Hills.  

Asa was born into the Chichester family on October 18, 1788. Like his forebears, when he was old enough he undertook to run the family business as an inn. In the mid-1800’s, however, business began to decline at Peace and Plenty because Jericho Turnpike was extended into Huntington. It was much easier to travel the new, direct road into Huntington, rather than taking the old stage coach and wagon route. There came a time when Asa had to make the decision to close the inn. This must have been difficult for him to do, since the inn had been part of his family’s history for so long.  

Asa died on May 13, 1841, and was buried in a family cemetery located on the original property. Once the land was divided up, the cemetery became part of someone else’s plot around the corner. The descendants of Asa remained in the house, using it as a private residence, until 1915. For a short time after that it was used as a boarding house, but was eventually turned back into a private residence. 

It is unknown exactly when the hauntings began. According to historical records, all of them mention Asa as the primary ghost. There is some speculation that perhaps his father, Captain Eliphalet Chichester, may also haunt the house. Eliphalet lived at the inn during the American Revolution, and he was known to the British as “one of the worst rebels in Huntington.” He, too, is buried in the old cemetery nearby. 

Most of the stories point to Asa as being the real ghost of the house, however. This is believed because he was the last of the Chichester innkeepers. Some say that the guilt Asa suffered for closing the inn makes him come back, while others think he may just miss the old place. Some believe that perhaps he left something concealed in the walls of the inn, and is coming back to retrieve it. 

Records dating back to 1970, and through the 80’s and 90’s, indicate that mysterious incidents have taken place in the house. The Long Island Press wrote, “Strange things have happened: a lamp and several candles have mysteriously disappeared without a trace. Footsteps have been heard, and footprints have appeared leading from the house. It is hardly likely that anyone would walk backwards to the house, and then leave, occupying the same footprints.” 

Another article from an unknown source states, “His [Asa’s] presence in the house has been detected in several ways. Not just the usual mysterious footsteps, queer sounds in the walls, and swinging doors, which accompany any tale about a ghost, but there is much stronger proof of Asa’s existence at Peace and Plenty. Odd objects such as a lamp and several milk bottles have disappeared without a trace. At times, Asa can almost be considered a poltergeist.”

The house has seen quite a number of owners throughout the years. An owner I interviewed in the early 90’s claimed that many things occurred electrically. Lights would go on and off, and the TV and stereo would go on and off or change channels. Her dog even refused to go up the narrow staircase to the loft bedroom. A passing blue light was once seen on this staircase as well. I spoke to another owner back in 2003 who claimed that Asa hadn't been there since she owned the house, and that she liked living there very much. 

So is the story of Asa just a legend that has been passed along through history, or does his spirit live on at the Peace and Plenty? Perhaps only the spirit of Asa could answer this most mysterious question.      

You can read this story in its entirety in Ghosts of Long Island; Stories of the Paranormal.

 

The Wickham Murders of 1854

The Wickham family of Cutchogue has an extraordinary farming history here on Long Island, but in 1854 they had a great tragedy befall them. The Wickham murders were one of the most horrifying events to take place on the East End. Like any event of its kind, tales of spirits haunting the place where the murders took place soon followed.  

The Wickham family history can be traced to the southern coast of England. By the middle of the 1600’s the family had fled their homeland for religious reasons and sailed to New England. One of its members, Joseph Wickham, settled on Long Island and operated a tannery in Bridgehampton. In 1698, he moved to Cutchogue and bought the old English house and 160 acres of fertile farmland which ran from the main road south to Peconic Bay. Joseph Wickham farmed the land until his death in 1732, at which time the land was willed to his eldest son, Joseph Jr. Now, 281 years later, the land is still being farmed by descendants of Joseph Wickham, and the old farmhouse where the murders took place still remains.  

James Wickham, who was married to Frances Post of Quogue, had left his grocery firm of Wickman and Corwin in New York City to retire to the family farm in Cutchogue. He farmed the land with a black servant and an Irish farmhand named Nicholas Bain.  

According to written descriptions, “Bain was a huge, black-haired fellow who walked with a long, rolling gait.” He had worked for Wickham for two to three years. Supposedly Bain had a drinking problem, and would often make advances towards the servant girls. One girl in particular, Ellen Holland, he had asked to marry. Upon her rejection, Bain became very angry. James Wickham argued with him, and had had enough of the turmoil Bain was causing on the farm. On Wednesday, May 31, 1854, Wickham terminated Bain’s employment. Bain continued to hang around and torment Ellen. By Friday morning, June 2nd, Bain was forcibly evicted from the farm by James Wickham. 

Nicholas Bain left for the railroad station in Greenport, all the while screaming for revenge on Wickham. He did not board a train; instead he checked his bags in town and began the ten-mile walk back to Cutchogue. By 11:00 that night, he was back at the farm and all was quiet. Searching through the yard, he came across a pole axe, picked it up and headed to the farmhouse.

Minutes later, two servant girls living in the house heard the screams of Mrs. Wickham, and the sounds of someone being beaten. Then Mrs. Wickham cried out, “Nicholas, don’t kill him, don’t kill him!”

The girls, fearing for their own lives, escaped through the windows just as Nicholas was entering their room. They ran to the neighbors, and Joseph Corwin, William Betts and Dr. Carpenter came immediately to the Wickham farm. 

The murderer was most definitely Bain, because he had left his hat behind in the rush to escape. Also, his very large bloody footprints tracked away from the house. Because of Bain’s size, only one person could have made those footprints.  

A manhunt began. The Wickham killings were the first murders the Town of Southold had seen in thirty years. That, coupled with the fact that everyone knew and liked the Wickhams, caused the town’s inhabitants to erupt in fury. Hundreds of men set out with pistols and rifles, looking for the murderer. At this point, Bain was successfully hiding in the woods. Days went by, and the enraged men kept searching the woods, the hills and the valleys. On the morning of the Wickhams’ funeral, the discharge of a pistol created a general alarm, and the teams of men knew that Bain had been caught. He had been captured in a south side swamp, east of Cutchogue. 

Upon their arrival, the men found Bain, greatly fatigued, with a two-inch wound visible on his throat. The New York Herald wrote, “In his pockets was found a single barrel pistol, loaded with small shot, a pocket knife, and a razor case, from which it is supposed he took the razor to kill himself, and after inflicting the wound threw it away. In his pockets was also found bread and cake enough for him to subsist upon for two days. The bottoms of his pantaloons were saturated with blood, apparently from that of his victims.” 

The townspeople wanted to hang him right away, and yelled all sorts of slurs at him. The sheriff stepped in and immediately led him to Riverhead, followed by a band of thousands of men and boys. Within four months Bain was convicted of first degree murder. On December 15, 1854 he was hanged in a courtyard behind the jail in Riverhead. The militia from Sag Harbor was called in to keep order within the angry mob of people who showed up for his execution. It turned out to be the largest crowd of spectators ever to attend a public execution in the county. 

Once dead, Nicholas Bain’s body was taken down, placed in a wooden coffin and brought to the south side of the Peconic River to a place named Egypt. He was buried in an unmarked grave.  

According to the local authorities, it was determined that Frances Wickham had died a few minutes before her husband. The Wickhams had no children, and as their wills were written the farm would have gone to her family, the Posts of Westhampton, had she outlived her husband. It is because she died first that the farm remained in the Wickham family.

You can read this story in its entirety along with an interview from members of the Wickham family in Ghosts of Long Island; Stories of the Paranormal.  

 

Angels and Miracles

Do you believe in miracles? It was over ten years ago when a stranger approached me in a store and asked me that very question. He came to me during a very difficult time in my life, when my father was battling multiple sclerosis. It is never easy watching someone you love die. I had given up all hope and faith. Meeting the man changed my life forever, and the experience ultimately led me to write my latest book. 

Illness can change a family. It is not only about the one who is ill, but it is also about the caretakers, those we love who are often pushed to their limits; those whose hearts are broken. It is a selfless act of kindness to care for another human being, to take on their suffering and to hold it all in. I've been there. I've watched it in my own family. So when all hope is gone, how would you react if someone said to you, "Do you believe in Miracles?" 

Miracles do happen. I know this because I've had one happen to me. It occurred within hours of my father's passing seven years ago. As much as I would like to reveal what that miracle was, I cannot do so because I would spoil the ending of my debut novel The Medal, a work of inspirational fiction, that is loosely based on a true story...mine and my family's. 

The point is, that sometimes the miracles we are hoping for or praying for, just aren't supposed to happen. Sometimes people are cured of illnesses, and sometimes they are not. The one thing I learned though, was that other miracles can come out of hardships. It might not be until years later when you realize or understand the deeper meaning as to why things have happened in your life. 

Why do bad things happen to good people? Why did those children in Connecticut have to die? I cannot answer those questions. I don't think anyone can. Where were the miracles then? For us, the miracle we would have wanted to have happened, would have been for all those children to have somehow survived the ordeal. For reasons we cannot understand, that did not happen. Back here on Long Island though, little miracles are taking place because of it. Miracles we may not even think are miracles. Are we not hugging our children more? Are we now saying I love you to a spouse before they leave the house? Are we not finally seeing the true meaning of the season? Why does it take something bad to happen, to make us realize what's important? Miracles take place every day, even if they're just in our own hearts.  

As for angels, they exist too. Sometimes they may come in the most unlikely of forms, but they're there for a purpose. They're there when we least expect it. They're there to guide us, to console us, to lend a helping hand. Look at all the angels who came out to help the victims of Hurricane Sandy. Angels are among us, whether they be in earthly form or as celestial beings. There were angels with the children last week...those first responders who arrived at the scene, and those unseen who led them up to Heaven.

Whatever you may believe, miracles and angels are available to all of us, regardless of who we are or what religion we may be. During this season of miracles, let's try to find the good amongst all the bad in the world, and maybe we can make a difference in someone's life. 

Believe in angels for they are the messengers of miracles.  

I wish each of you a happy and healthy holiday season, and a very Merry Christmas. 

For more information on miracles, including my own miracle, check out my videos on my website www.padrepiomedal.com.

 

 

 

 

Long Island's Legends and Myths - Part III - Sweet Hollow Road

It's been a while since I've written my blog, for obvious reasons. Even now I am sitting here at my desk, watching the snow and the nor'easter come through. I am amazed at what Mother Nature has thrown our way. I am still haunted by the stories and images of what has been happening in people's lives due to Hurricane Sandy. I was fortunate to have gotten my power back three days after the storm. I still have family members living with me, who still have no power at home. It is absolutely incredible that any of this has happened. 

Before the hurricane, I was just coming off my book launch at the Book Revue, in Huntington for my new novel The Medal. Thank you to all those who attended. It was a standing room only event, with over 200 in attendance! I have been overwhelmed by the responses I've been getting from readers, especially now in light of our recent devastation. To hear people say they were reading my book by candlelight, and that it gave them hope and faith to get through these difficult times, makes what I do worthwhile. To learn more about my book, be sure to check out my last blog from October 5, "From Ghosts to a Mystical Saint Who Bore the Stigmata." 

So I debated when I should post this blog. My original intention was right before Halloween, and then all hell broke loose. Part of me feels like I shouldn't post it all, in light of everything that has happened. Reading a blog about Long Island's legends and myths seems so trivial compared to what is going on here, but then I thought that many of us might just need the diversion, even if it comes in just a simple blog. For those of you who have power, I hope in some small way this helps get your mind off things. For those of you still struggling, I continue to keep you in my thoughts and prayers. 

Sweet Hollow Road. How many of us have driven there as teenagers at the stroke of midnight waiting to see if our cars would mysteriously turn off? It's ludicrous, I know, but people have told me countless stories of doing this very thing! I have to admit to taking my midnight blue, 1979 Camaro (with power windows, I may add) up there to see if the car would in fact, turn off. I went with my best friend, and we were terrified. Luckily nothing happened at all. Ahh...youth. 

Yet all these years later, people still bring up Sweet Hollow Road to me at my lectures. Are they true ghost stories? No. Instead, the stories that surround this road and the neighboring woods are legends and myths; stories which have become part of our culture on Long Island.  

This long and meandering road is located in the West Hills/Melville area of Huntington, and it is probably the most talked-about road on Long Island. In the early 1800’s, the area that stretched from today’s Jericho Turnpike at West Hills through Broad Hollow Road in Melville was known as Sweet Hollow. At the time, the area supposedly had an abundance of wild honey. Another story claims that a farmer was traveling there with a barrel of honey when it fell and broke, “sweetening the hollow.” In either case, it was the talk of honey that caused the locals to name the place Sweet Hollow.

By 1854, the town was beginning to develop and the name, for reasons unknown, was changed to Melville. The long stretch of trails through the woods, which eventually became a road, kept the name Sweet Hollow, as it remains today. Houses can be seen through the trees and are set away from the road. The surrounding area is comprised of a public riding stable, a state park and county parkland with trails, and a cemetery. There are places along the road where one can pull over and venture into the park, where all sorts of strange things have been said to occur. Just when and where these hideous tales originated is unknown.

One of the most well-known tales in the area is the story of the Lady in White. It is said that sometime between 1840 and 1851 a hospital was located near the crossing at Mount Misery Road. It mysteriously burned down, and many patients and staff were trapped inside. It was rebuilt fifteen years later. Only five months after the rebuilding, it supposedly was torched by an insane woman and burned to the ground again. The Lady in White, also known as Mary, was said to have been a patient at the hospital. It is rumored that moans, screams and cries for help can be heard, and even today, small burning specters can be seen. Other stories claim that the “Lady” or Mary was pushed out of a car on Sweet Hollow Road by a jealous boyfriend. While her injured body lay in the street, she was hit and killed by another car. An even earlier story goes back to the late 1600’s, and talks about Mary being a witch who was hung and buried in the area.  

Then there is a tale that there was a school at the end of the road, and the teacher who taught there killed all the children. Another version is that the school burned down, killing all the children, and still another claims that a camp counselor killed a group of children there. 

In many of these cases, there have been reports of a “veiled lady in white” wandering about the road and in the woods, especially near the area of Mount Misery Road where the hospital was. The lady is said to appear and walk right out into passing cars, terrifying their drivers until she quickly disappears. Some say, if she was the woman who was hit by the car, that she roams the street looking for her killer.  

Another source I came across mentioned a lady in red who was actually a gypsy, and is said to occasionally roam the area, as well as a man in a checkered shirt who walks the woods at night, carrying an ax in his hand.  

The most hideous and terrifying ghost I heard about was that of a slain police officer. As the story goes, there is a police officer who stops cars parked on Sweet Hollow Road. The officer seems normal until he turns around and has blood on his uniform, and the back of his head is missing. An officer is said to have died in the area while on duty. When and if this ever happened, no one seems to know for sure. 

Non-human ghosts are also said to haunt Sweet Hollow Road and include a black Labrador, a horse and a mysterious dog-like creature. The “Black Dog of Misery,” as the Labrador is called, is “an evil creature rumored to be a harbinger of death.” It is quite rare for anyone to see the dog, but if you do, it’s supposed to mean that death is on the horizon.  

The ghostly horse has been seen and chased into the woods near the crossroads of Mount Misery Road and Sweet Hollow. Once it enters the woods, it simply vanishes. In addition, there have been sightings of a dog-like creature who digs along where the woods meet the road, then stands on its hind legs and walks back into the woods. 

One of the most recent ghost stories is about a teenager or several teenagers who hung themselves from the Northern State Parkway overpass in the 1970’s. If you honk your car’s horn three times right before going under the overpass, it is said you will see the kids. A different version states that two boys were killed when they were hit by a car on Sweet Hollow Road. According to the story, they were unaware of the car heading toward them because the driver didn’t beep the horn. They say that today, if you don’t beep your horn before going under the overpass, the ghostly boys will jump in front of your car.  

Finally, there is the story of a thirteen-year old girl who was beaten and strangled in 1976. Her murdered body was found along the road. Supposedly the killer was never found, and the case remains unsolved.

So beware as you travel along this haunted roadway. You'll never know who, or what, you may run into.

 

 

 

From Ghosts to a Mystical Saint Who Bore the Stigmata

My blog has been a fascinating culmination of Long Island's history, ghost tales, spiritual stories and "make you think" stories, and it's been wonderful to see all the great comments my readers have to each of them. When I give lectures, I get the same types of responses. The one thing I hadn't anticipated was the number of people who have brought up Padre Pio during my ghost lectures. I have frequently been asked, "Do you know him?" For those of you who may not know him, Padre Pio, now Saint Pio, bore the stigmata, the five wounds of Christ, for 50 years. He died in 1968, but he is alive and well in peoples' hearts, and he continues to perform miracles to this day. There are over 2 million entries if you do an Internet Search on Padre Pio. It's astounding! He also happens to be the subject of my newly released sixth book, THE MEDAL, a novel, which takes place in the seafaring town of Northport. 

Padre Pio was born Francesco Forgione in the southern Italian village of Pietrelcina on May 25, 1887. He entered the novitiate of the Capuchin Friars when he was fifteen years old, and he was ordained a priest by 1910. Eight years later after offering his daily Mass he received the stigmata on his hands, his feet and in his side. Besides the stigmata, Padre Pio was blessed with divine gifts which included prophecy, miracles, bi-location, healing, reading hearts and the gifts of tongues and fragrance. At one point he was shunned from the church because of his miraculous powers. There are countless stories of people who had been cured by Padre Pio. Even more interesting is the fact that he still continues to perform miracles today, despite the fact that he's been dead for forty-four years! 

I attended Padre Pio's Feast Day at the Church of St. John the Baptist in New York City on September 23, the release date of my new book. I was taken aback by the countless stories people were telling me about their encounters with Padre Pio and their cures. On June 16, 2002, Pope John Paul II canonized Padre Pio a saint. The largest crowd ever attended the canonization at St. Peter's Square in Italy. One of the miracles that enabled Padre Pio to become a saint had to do with a man who was cured by Padre Pio after his death. This man, believe it or not, is from Long Island. I was blessed to attend a presentation he was giving many years ago at a church in Bayville. 

My own quest in following Padre Pio began when a stranger came to me during a very difficult time in my life when my father was battling Multiple Sclerosis. He gave me a medal containing a relic to give to my father while he was ill. It was that medal that ultimately changed my life, and what inspired me to write my first novel. 

THE MEDAL is loosely based on experiences I had during my father's illness and watching him die. The true life story of Padre Pio is woven throughout the book and is told by an unlikely, cannoli loving, Godfather-type character named Jimmy. Jimmy gives the main character, Bethany, a medal that changes her life. The miracle that happens at the end of the book is true. It happened to me. 

Like my Ghost books, I believe I was meant to write this story. For anyone who has ever been a caretaker, for anyone who has given up on God and faith, this book is for you.  

Padre Pio is loved by thousands on Long Island. I think just about every pizzeria in Nassau and Suffolk County has a picture of Padre Pio on display. I've seen him everywhere, and he is beloved by people of all faiths. I spoke to a woman who was Jewish just last week. She keeps a medal of Padre Pio in her wallet. She had breast cancer, she prayed to Padre Pio and is now cured.

So I wanted to share this story with my fellow Long Islanders who love Padre Pio, but also for those who like me, didn't know a thing about him.  

I will be at the Book Revue in Huntington for my official book launch on Friday, October 19 7:00 PM. All are invited to attend. 

If you have a story about Padre Pio that you'd like to share, please leave your comments here.

 

Long Island's Legends and Myths - Part II - Lady of the Lake

There have been many tales surrounding Lake Ronkonkoma in Long Island’s Suffolk County. Because it is a story that has been passed down through the ages, I have come across several versions. As we know in our own lives, stories can often take on a life of their own, getting wilder or more exaggerated each time they’re  told. What once may have been a simple tale becomes something much more complex and possibly even farfetched. In this blog, I’ll recount all the versions I have come across. There are some common threads in these legends, as you will see, which may actually reveal to us the “true” story of the Lady of the Lake.

Lake Ronkonkoma is Long Island’s largest freshwater lake, and a beautiful one at that. For years it has been rumored that this lake has no bottom; it goes on and on into the depths of the earth. Some have said that there is a series of underwater tunnels that lead out to Long Island Sound, or to a river in Connecticut. Others say the water mysteriously rises and lowers, and yet another story says there are reports of whirlpools. How these myths came about no one knows. They set the stage, however, for our Indian legend.

The most popular story tells of an Indian princess who was deeply in love with a member of her tribe. On the night of the wedding, her husband-to-be was attacked and murdered by a settler. The princess, totally swept away by grief, decided to take her own life by tying rocks to her ankles and walking out to the middle of the lake, where she ultimately drowned. Her body was never found, but her spirit remains and haunts the lake. The legend says the princess was so distraught that, seeking revenge, she vowed to return each year and claim the body of a young virgin male. Supposedly, one male a year has drowned in the lake, although this has never been confirmed by the Suffolk County Police. The ghostly princess dressed in a long flowing gown is said to sadly roam the perimeter of the lake, where she seeks young men to lure into its waters. Noises and strange unexplainable lights have been heard and seen coming from the lake. It is said that these are the cries of the princess’s unending grief.

Another version of the story states that the princess committed suicide for  unknown reasons, and that her lover dived in after her but could not save her. The woman’s body was found, but mysteriously in a river in Connecticut.

Then there is a version where the beautiful princess fell in love with a pale- faced settler, and was not permitted to marry him. She was so distraught that she went off on her own and canoed into the middle of the lake. When the settler went after her, he found her dead in the canoe He then got into the canoe, and as the story goes, he was swept away and was never seen again. The drownings that are mentioned every year are supposedly caused by a curse that was placed on the lake.

The last of the Indian princess legends simply states that the Native American woman was sacrificed at the lake to appease a god. No other information is given.  

There does exist one story involving a Setauket Indian male. It is similar to the princess story, in that he was not permitted to marry his love. But in this case, it was he who paddled his canoe out onto the lake and committed suicide by plunging a knife into his heart. Supposedly it was his body, rather than that of the Indian princess, that was found in a Connecticut river. 

Did any of these events really happen? Interestingly enough, there are many similarities in the stories. To this day no one knows the truth, but neither can anyone explain the strange sounds they hear coming off the waters of mysterious Lake Ronkonkoma.

 

 

Long Island's Legends and Myths - Mary's Grave

Legends and myths abound on Long Island, and I'm sure many of you are familiar with several of them. Probably the most well known legend is that of Mary's Grave. How many of you have searched for the infamous grave of the lady in white?  

For generations, people have been looking for its location. Some claim it is located in the woods off Mount Misery Road in the West Hills area of Huntington. Other stories place her grave in Stony Brook, Head of the Harbor and Mt. Sinai. Who is Mary though? 

The legend of Mary herself, who doesn’t seem to have a last name, has changed several times over the years. One story claims that Mary murdered her two children and her husband, and because of doing this dreadful deed, she cannot rest peacefully in her grave. It is said that her tombstone has her birth date but no death date, and the location of her gravesite is a center for strange happenings. Supposedly, if the tombstone is found and you shine a flashlight on it at night, the face of Mary appears. 

Another story claims that Mary became possessed by an evil spirit. She was a lonely girl who was the daughter of a wealthy landowner. She didn’t have any friends because the family lived some distance from town, so she kept herself occupied with her animal friends. Her father built her a stone clubhouse on their property, where she played with the animals. As the story goes, it was at the clubhouse where she became possessed. She started mutilating the animals she had loved, and then set out to kill her brother and father with an ax. As time went on, the townsfolk wondered where the landowner was. When people came to the house to check on him, they found Mary sleeping in bed next to her dead father, who was covered in blood. Mary was hung by the townspeople in a nearby tree. This tree is said to still exist, although no one seems to know where. Burn marks from the rope supposedly can be seen on the tree branch, and the tree itself appears to be dead all year long. It is rumored that her stone clubhouse exists somewhere in Stony Brook on private property.  

In the 1960’s and 1970’s there was another story surrounding the Stony Brook location where the grave was said to be located. Young men were considered brave if they went up to the haunted gravesite and urinated on it. However,  rumor has it that whoever did so would get into a car crash on his way home, trying to avoid hitting a ghostly girl wearing a white dress.

There is also said to be a stone clubhouse located somewhere in Head of the Harbor. This particular story states that the father was abusive, and would abuse Mary at the site of the stone clubhouse he made for her. Not being able to bear it any longer, Mary took her own life by hanging herself in a tree. Her body was buried somewhere nearby, and her gravesite contains an angelic statue. The statue appears to be crying, and some believe it is Mary crying for other abused girls that she cannot protect.

Finally, there is the story of Mary’s grave being on the old Chandler estate in Mt. Sinai. When Mrs. Chandler converted her house to a boarding house, a girl named Mary came to stay. Supposedly, she had been a patient at Kings Park Psychiatric Center. Whether Mrs. Chandler was aware of this or not is unknown, but as the story goes, Mary disappeared suddenly and Mrs. Chandler was concerned about her whereabouts. The rent had not been paid, yet her room looked still lived in. At night, the lights were said to go on in her room when nobody was there, and strange noises could be heard. Mrs. Chandler was quite worried, but never did she see Mary again.  

Have you searched for Mary's grave?