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.