About Connections: Love it or hate it, history is a map. Those who hate history think it irrelevant; many who love history think it escapism. In truth, history is the clearest road map to how we got here: America in the 21st century.
Boo!
Yesterday was Halloween, the night of ghosts and ghouls. Berkshire County has no lack of haunted places, quite the contrary: the county is downright spooky.
There are disembodied voices, echoing footsteps, and mysterious shadowy figures from North County to South. Ghosts show no preference. In the north, strange voices and aberrations were reported in a tunnel, strange lights in a house, and, on Mount Greylock, a luminous ghost appeared and caused hikers to lose their footing. In South County the ghosts are seemingly everywhere. Here’s the odd part: while certain of the presence of ghosts, no one is certain of the identity. Who’s haunting?
Tanglewood
At Highwood on the grounds of Tanglewood, doors slammed, boards creaked, and lights went on and off all by themselves. Moreover there was a sighting of a semitransparent man, flamboyantly dressed in a cape and hat set at a rakish angle. Many reported seeing this ghost: some observers reported that he looked like Leonard Bernstein; others claimed it was Serge Koussevitzky. Everyone was certain what they saw but no one knew who they saw.
Stockbridge
This business of swearing to the presence of a ghost but being unsure who it is is more common that one might think. In Stockbridge, the owner insists her house is haunted. She has seen it. The clothing appears to be early 18th century, but the figure is so indistinct that it could be anyone, man or woman. The figure rises from the basement, moans and trudges dispiritedly along the upstairs hallway.
In the 18th century, the house was a “strong house:” a fortified house with thicker wall, a cistern in the basement for water, and food storage areas in a compound surrounded by a fence.
The French and Indian War raged in the mid-18th century and some skirmishes took place in Berkshire County. One attack happened on a summer Sunday in 1755 when most of the town was at church.
Indians crept into a neighbor’s yard. The Chandlers – father, son, mother, young daughter and infant – were at home. Also in the house was a servant named Owen.
As the Indians entered the house, the father and son escaped through a window and ran down the road to the strong house leaving mother and children alone.
The Indians immediately killed the infant. They attacked the mother, but Owen stepped in. They released the mother and brutally attacked Owen. They grabbed the 3-year-old daughter and fled.
Mrs. Chandler struggled with Owen’s inert body and dragged him and hefted him onto a pony cart. She took him to the strong house; there he died.
Perhaps Mrs. Chandler or Owen is angry enough to haunt the house to which husband and son fled to save themselves, but we don’t know.
The House
In North Adams, Albert Charles Houghton, businessman and first mayor, built his mansion in 1890.
Mr. Houghton lived in the house with his wife, Cordelia, and their youngest daughter Mary. Their other children married and moved out.
In 1905 at 61, Houghton’s health failed, and Mary resolved that she would never wed but would devote her life to taking care of her father.
On August 1, 1914, with their chauffer John Widders and two friends, Houghton and Mary went on a pleasure drive in the Pierce Arrow. There was an accident and only Widders survived. Widders blamed himself. At 5 a.m. on August 2, 1914, in the cellar of the house, Widders shot himself.
Everyone agrees the house is haunted. Television shows record phenomena and paranormal investigators swear to the authenticity. The problem is: no one knows by whom.
Logic dictates a remorseful Widders, an angry Houghton, or even Mary, keeping her view never to leave the house. Here’s the problem: the sightings are of a child. Who could that be?
True believers point out there was a house on the spot before the Houghton mansion, and the child may have been a resident of the former house. OK, but we still don’t know why she is sticking around.
The Tunnel
The Hoosac Tunnel is 4 ¾ miles long. It was hewn out of solid rock with picks, machines and explosives. From 1851, construction devoured 24 years, $21 million, hundreds of thousands of man hours, and 200 hundred lives. When they were through to the other side, it was 1875.
It was 1865, the Civil War was ending and the tunnel was progressing. Ringo Kelley and two coworkers, Ned Brinkman and Billy Nash, entered the tunnel.
Kelley had explosives. The explosives detonated prematurely; Brinkman and Nash were crushed under tons of rock. Miraculously Kelley was uninjured.
Immediately men reported that they saw, felt or heard the spirits of Brinkman and Nash wandering in the tunnel and waiting to even the score.
A year to the day later, Kelley’s body was found strangled. No weapon, no footprints and no signs of a struggle were found. It was proof positive that the ghosts of Brinkman and Nash had their revenge, except the haunting did not stop, so who’s that?
Believing can be enough; knowing may not be necessary.
In the late 18th century, there was a spinster in Stockbridge who survived all other members of her family. She inherited the family home and was proud and happy to live there until she came to believe the house was haunted. The fear grew but she could not bring herself to sell the house. Sleepless and torn between fear of the ghosts and love of her home, she struggled to find a solution. Finally, she had it! She reasoned the ghost would only come out at night. She went “over the road” and entered into an agreement with her neighbor. At night she would sleep in their house; in the day she would live in hers. The plan worked, and perhaps she was the first Berkshire lodger in the first Berkshire B&B.
Etiquette
Should you meet a Berkshire ghost, please note there are rules of etiquette. In any social exchange, the rules of etiquette inform us what is kindly, considerate, and appropriate. True, these are predicated upon the human/ghost social hierarchy that states without apology that the living are superior to the dead. After all, it is reasoned, the ghost is no longer of this world so, strictly speaking, has no social standing at all. You can, therefore, feel your superiority during the encounter, but good breeding will, of course, prevent you from showing it.
Though socially inferior, ghosts do have rights. Out of respect for the ghost, do not attempt to photograph it. Ghosts in all parts of Berkshire County have made it clear by their actions that they do not wish to pose: they disappear with a pop if you pull out a camera.
We are judged (correctly) by how we treat those inferior to us; we are all gracious to those we consider superior. So take the rights and the feelings of the ghost into account. Not every Berkshire resident who owns an old building has a ghost, but those who do should reconsider exploiting it for their own amusement or pecuniary gain. Too many have advertised their ghost without consideration for its/his/her feelings.
Very often social exchanges include a request or invitation. It is polite to answer. However, interactions between people and ghosts are different. Even if a ghost’s bidding is made manifest through pantomime or direct speech, even if the Greylock ghost invites you to jump off the mountain, you may, without fear of social recrimination, stand your ground. Of course, if the ghost cannot make its wishes clear, if all the clanging, bumping, howling, and zephyrs of cold air signify nothing, you can politely ignore the apparition altogether.
Finally, while you do not need to even consider doing the ghost’s bidding, and while you hold the superior social position, know in advance that it is probably equally hopeless to cause the ghost to do your bidding. So maintain your dignity and don’t attempt it. After those minimal courtesies required by civilized discourse such as a nod or a salutation, you might as well just walk away.
