A tale told by Marjorie George Beougher
This story took place at the old Baldwin House (known as the haunted house on the corner of Marietta Road and the Pleasantville Pike or Route 188.
The Baldwin House was a tavern or inn or whatever they called them in those days. Farmers would drive their pigs or sheep to market and then would return here to spend the night and have a good bit of money in their possession.
The reason this inn was so handy was because this road was known to go clear to Marietta, Ohio, clear to the Ohio River.
One night two men were sleeping in the same room and one man was known to have a lot of money from having sold his cattle. The next morning, there was no noise out of the room, so the caretaker went up and looked and one man was dead and the other one had disappeared and there was blood on the floor. He had been killed somehow. Always after that it seemed like they could never scrub that floor, that no matter how they scoured, that stain was still there.
It went on for a while being a tavern and they wouldn't tell the people that came there to stay but the men who stayed in that particular room would get up and say, "Something kept walking around in the room and I couldn't get any rest."
In time no one would stay in that room. It's thought that they finally quit using it and across the windows to it they closed it up with tin. Now whether that was to keep out the spirits or not, I don't know.
The people that were living there were ancestral relatives of mine and they said they heard noises, unusual noises, and they thought there were ghosts in that room. Later, my uncle married the daughter of the family and they didn't believe in ghosts. She said that the whole time they lived there they never saw anything unusual. That was in 1918.
But around when the story I'm going to tell you took place, the people that lived there thought there were ghosts. They said the stove lids would just jump on the stove and come open all by themselves and have no reason to and they would hear strange noises from that room.
My grandfather, Olivet Perry Nichols, was a young man and he was visiting or staying there the night and they heard these terrible, horrible noises from out in the barn behind the house. They said, "Oh my, the ghost has gone out there now," and they looked out the back door and they could see something real white and oh the folks were so scared. My grandfather said, "I know that there's nothing to these ghost stories and I know there's no such a thing as a ghost and I also know for every noise there is a reason and I'm going to investigate. "Oh," the people said, "You'll be killed!" And the ladies tried to hang on to the straps of his overalls to keep him from going out because , he would never live through it, they felt. So when he got out of their grasp, he went out towards the barn and the noise got louder and the white spot was still there. When he got up real close he discovered it was a large, white mother sow with indigestion. She was making terrible groans so he went back and told them they should go out and doctor the hog. This was the ghost and the story of the one ghost that had gone to the barn. I think maybe we'd find a lot of ghosts stories are like that. They're real animals or real people in distress.
I am sorry to say that the old Baldwin House no longer exists. It stood at the intersection of Marietta Road and the Pleasantville Pike or Route 188 in Lancaster, Ohio. I have no idea as to when it was torn down. I have driven past this site most of my life, and have not seen or heard anything. I also do not know of anybody who has.
I have seen another article on the Baldwin House that is more detailed. As soon as I locate it I will replace or update the story above.
This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on on James A Sheets' site.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
The Clear Creek Ghost
This is one that I as a young teenager was familiar with when I was in High School. There are two locations for this haunting. The one I am familiar with is the old abandoned covered bridge near the intersection of McDonald and Clear Creek Roads in Fairfield County.The story is a short one. A woman sometime in the late 1800's was traveling home late at night with her husband, who was driving their horse and buggy. A severe thunderstorm over took them. The woman dismounted the wagon at the covered bridge to hand guide the horses and wagon across. She lost her footing in the storm, and fell into the swollen stream and drowned.
I have also heard a different version which claims that her husband was leaving her, and that she committed suicide at the bridge by jumping into the stream during a storm, or by hanging herself on the spot.
Which ever version is correct, it is said that on some stormy nights a woman can be seen just standing, or beckoning on the bridge.
I have been contacted by some readers that live in the area of the bridge. They have related the following additional details to the strange happenings in this area. On several ocassions travelers have seeen a truck who's headlights were clearly on the road ahead. After stopping to allow the truck to pass over the one lane bridge, they were mystified when the truck failed to ever appear. One traveler had a similar incident to my friends and I when he was crossing the bridge near midnight and his car stalled. The forward motion of the car carried it across the bridge, but the unfortunate man was forced to walk the remaining eight miles to his house in the pitch black night. Oh did mention that it was Halloween Night as well! This gentleman also was kind enough to remind me that the location of the bridge is not too far away from Written Rock on Clear Creek Road which has tales of Satanic Worship attached to it. It was also related to me that some late night travlers have had a clamy cold unseen hand grab their hands on the steering wheel and attempt to stear their vehicles off the road near the bridge. Maybe the poor lady desires some company.
The location of this spot is in Fairfield County at the old Johnson Covered Bridge. Take U. S. Route 33 south of the city of Lancaster. About nine miles out of town you will come to Clear Creek Road, and need to turn right or west here. I do believe that there is a Shell Gas Station there now. Follow this curvy and I do believe in spots unpaved road for about nine miles, or so to the where McDonald Road intersects Clear Creek Road. The bridge is just off the side of the road near here. This is a nice spooky ride at night, as there are few dwellings or lights on Clear Creek Road.
My friends and I as youths took a 3\4 ton GMC pick-up truck to this spot one night. There was around five of us as I remember, and we had been indulging in some illegal beer that evening. We began to yell and make the most rude comments I do believe trying to entice the ghost to come out. My friend's truck suddenly stalled and the entire electrical system failed. There we sat in the darkness for around ten minutes when a car came up behind us. The trucks lights came back on, and my friend cranked the engine into life.
WWWHOOOOOOOOO! I should mention that my friend had some loose wires from a trailer hook up in the bed of the truck, and they more than likely shorted out the electrical system. That wasn't discovered though until the NEXT DAY!
(After being sent e-mail describing how others have had stalls on this site, I'm not so sure about the wires in the bed of the truck theory.)
This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on on James A Sheets' site.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
The Blue Light Ghost
As told by Chris Woodyard in Haunted Ohio III
[affiliate link]
[caption id="attachment_38" align="alignright" width="300"]
Hummel Bridge[/caption] In the 1930's there was a young girl from Sugar Grove who was engaged to be married to a local fellow. The people of Sugar Grove had some serious doubts about this couples relationship, as they always got into the most terrible fights. They always seem to make up though. That was until one day when they got into the worst argument ever. Although they made up once again, the girl never acted the same. She seemed remote and isolated. Her eyes filled with anger and hate.
Late one night when the couple was parked out at the old Hummell covered bridge, the young lady pulled a knife from her purse and cut her lover's throat. She then proceeded to hack away at the corpse 's neck until the unfortunate man's head separated from his shoulders. She then carried his head up onto a small hill to the west of the bridge and sat down to cradle her gristly treasure. Crooning and whispering sweet nothings to the lifeless head, she was overtaken by grief. She then took her own life by cutting her throat.
She was found at the bottom of the hill still clutching her lover's head by the hair. From the blood trail the corner concluded that she must have staggered down the hill carrying her lovers head before death claimed her as well.
The old cover bridge has been torn down and replaced by one made of concrete and steel. But on dark moon less nights, if you call out the woman's name. A luminous blue shape will form on the top of the hill, and begin to stagger towards you.
The location of this site is in Fairfield County near the bridge on Hansley Road. To get there you must go south of the city of Lancaster on U.S. Route 33. Turn east on Hornsmill Road. Then turn right on the second road you come to which is Savage Road. Turn left on the first road you come to which will be Hansley Road. Follow this to Hummel Bridge which spans Rush Creek and you are at the spot! There is a house nearby. Sadly there was nobody home when I went to take the above photo. I would liked to have asked if they had ever seen anything. Maybe I will gather some brave soul and go and test out the legend some moon less night. Oh I should point out I think the girl's name is Mary!
This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on on James A Sheets' site.
[affiliate link][caption id="attachment_38" align="alignright" width="300"]
Hummel Bridge[/caption] In the 1930's there was a young girl from Sugar Grove who was engaged to be married to a local fellow. The people of Sugar Grove had some serious doubts about this couples relationship, as they always got into the most terrible fights. They always seem to make up though. That was until one day when they got into the worst argument ever. Although they made up once again, the girl never acted the same. She seemed remote and isolated. Her eyes filled with anger and hate.Late one night when the couple was parked out at the old Hummell covered bridge, the young lady pulled a knife from her purse and cut her lover's throat. She then proceeded to hack away at the corpse 's neck until the unfortunate man's head separated from his shoulders. She then carried his head up onto a small hill to the west of the bridge and sat down to cradle her gristly treasure. Crooning and whispering sweet nothings to the lifeless head, she was overtaken by grief. She then took her own life by cutting her throat.
She was found at the bottom of the hill still clutching her lover's head by the hair. From the blood trail the corner concluded that she must have staggered down the hill carrying her lovers head before death claimed her as well.
The old cover bridge has been torn down and replaced by one made of concrete and steel. But on dark moon less nights, if you call out the woman's name. A luminous blue shape will form on the top of the hill, and begin to stagger towards you.
The location of this site is in Fairfield County near the bridge on Hansley Road. To get there you must go south of the city of Lancaster on U.S. Route 33. Turn east on Hornsmill Road. Then turn right on the second road you come to which is Savage Road. Turn left on the first road you come to which will be Hansley Road. Follow this to Hummel Bridge which spans Rush Creek and you are at the spot! There is a house nearby. Sadly there was nobody home when I went to take the above photo. I would liked to have asked if they had ever seen anything. Maybe I will gather some brave soul and go and test out the legend some moon less night. Oh I should point out I think the girl's name is Mary!
This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on on James A Sheets' site.
Monday, September 2, 2013
The Horseshoe Tombstone
a tale told by James Heinzman
This story is about a tombstone up at Otterbein Cemetery in Perry County that has a horseshoe on it which appears to be bloody at times.
In 1844, or thereabouts, there was a young man named James Henry who lived in that area. At the time, he was courting two different young ladies and he couldn't make up his mind on which one he was going to marry. Being that period of time, he always drove a horse and buggy. His horse would always take him home at night if he went to sleep. It always returned to his house.
On night the horse went to one of his lady friend's house instead of his house. So he decided that he would marry her. That would be the one that he would make the choice of marrying. He married her and she was a avid horse fan, too. She always rode her horse around. Later on, she became sick with an illness and died in a short time. He was in deep mourning and always went to Otterbein Cemetery to put flowers on her grave and mourn.
One day, he was up there and his other girl friend came past and stopped to see him and they struck up a romance. Then he married her. He still kept, of course, the horse of his first wife. And one day, a passerby was going past Otterbein Cemetery and saw a bloody horseshoe on his wife's tombstone. He said it was an ill omen.
The skies became dark, all the cattle were spooked and they had thunder and lightening storms. The next day, in the morning, Mr Henry was going to take his new wife to town with the horse and buggy and have his first wife's horse to connect up to the buggy. He went out to the barn to feed the horses and was going to return to eat breakfast that morning but he was out there a long time and didn't return. Mrs. Henry went out to the barn. The barn was deathly quiet instead of noisy like the morning with the horses eating. Mr. Henry was laying, behind his first wife's horse, on his face. She turned him over and there was a print of the horseshoe in his forehead where his first wife's horse had kicked him. She took off screaming and hollering of course.
They buried him and whatever happened to her I do not know but even at times now, on foggy nights, you're supposed to be able to hear the hoof beats of him and his first wife riding horses up Otterbein Road, late at night when it's foggy.
The one thing I like about this story is that you can actually go to the cemetery and expect to see something as the photos below show. The graveyard is located in the western portion of Perry county just off of State Route 22. Otterbein Road runs south off of Route 22. Less than a mile up the road you will encounter a red brick church. The graveyard is adjacent to the church. Mary Henry's grave is oddly enough as far away from the church as possible. It sits by itself in the far southwest corner of the cemetery. It is easy to identify as the headstone is fenced off with a metal grate, and the headstone itself is supported by a metal frame. I do believe the stone was damaged by vandals some years ago. My in-laws have told me that the stone there is not the original one, but a replacement. (Apparently the mark came back on the second stone too!) They have also told me that the mark on the back of the headstone was examined by a local university, and that the reason for the mark is still unexplained. I must point out that I cannot verify this.
This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on on James A Sheets' site.
This story is about a tombstone up at Otterbein Cemetery in Perry County that has a horseshoe on it which appears to be bloody at times.In 1844, or thereabouts, there was a young man named James Henry who lived in that area. At the time, he was courting two different young ladies and he couldn't make up his mind on which one he was going to marry. Being that period of time, he always drove a horse and buggy. His horse would always take him home at night if he went to sleep. It always returned to his house.
On night the horse went to one of his lady friend's house instead of his house. So he decided that he would marry her. That would be the one that he would make the choice of marrying. He married her and she was a avid horse fan, too. She always rode her horse around. Later on, she became sick with an illness and died in a short time. He was in deep mourning and always went to Otterbein Cemetery to put flowers on her grave and mourn.
One day, he was up there and his other girl friend came past and stopped to see him and they struck up a romance. Then he married her. He still kept, of course, the horse of his first wife. And one day, a passerby was going past Otterbein Cemetery and saw a bloody horseshoe on his wife's tombstone. He said it was an ill omen.
The skies became dark, all the cattle were spooked and they had thunder and lightening storms. The next day, in the morning, Mr Henry was going to take his new wife to town with the horse and buggy and have his first wife's horse to connect up to the buggy. He went out to the barn to feed the horses and was going to return to eat breakfast that morning but he was out there a long time and didn't return. Mrs. Henry went out to the barn. The barn was deathly quiet instead of noisy like the morning with the horses eating. Mr. Henry was laying, behind his first wife's horse, on his face. She turned him over and there was a print of the horseshoe in his forehead where his first wife's horse had kicked him. She took off screaming and hollering of course.
They buried him and whatever happened to her I do not know but even at times now, on foggy nights, you're supposed to be able to hear the hoof beats of him and his first wife riding horses up Otterbein Road, late at night when it's foggy.
The one thing I like about this story is that you can actually go to the cemetery and expect to see something as the photos below show. The graveyard is located in the western portion of Perry county just off of State Route 22. Otterbein Road runs south off of Route 22. Less than a mile up the road you will encounter a red brick church. The graveyard is adjacent to the church. Mary Henry's grave is oddly enough as far away from the church as possible. It sits by itself in the far southwest corner of the cemetery. It is easy to identify as the headstone is fenced off with a metal grate, and the headstone itself is supported by a metal frame. I do believe the stone was damaged by vandals some years ago. My in-laws have told me that the stone there is not the original one, but a replacement. (Apparently the mark came back on the second stone too!) They have also told me that the mark on the back of the headstone was examined by a local university, and that the reason for the mark is still unexplained. I must point out that I cannot verify this.This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on on James A Sheets' site.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Welcome
Wecome to the new section of Nitemare Cafe! This time around, it's all about "Ghosts of Ohio*," as I felt inspired by an old user site1 on Greenapple of the same name. Sadly, that site, whose original URL was http://www.greenapple.com/~jas1746/2, is gone, but I will slowly be dumping it's contents here. I hope you enjoy!
1 That "Ghosts of Ohio" site was by James A Sheets.
2 The link is to Archive.org's Wayback Machine version of the site from April 05, 2001.
*and other paranormal stuff
1 That "Ghosts of Ohio" site was by James A Sheets.
2 The link is to Archive.org's Wayback Machine version of the site from April 05, 2001.
*and other paranormal stuff
Friday, August 30, 2013
The Headless Motorcyclist Of Elmore, Ohio
As Told by Chris Woodyard, and countless others
who have e-mailed this particular tale to me.
This has to be one of the most popular tales in the entire state. I have been bombarded by individuals telling or asking about this particular tale. (And the Gore Orphanage in Vermilian, Ohio. Coming soon I promise!) So here it is at last.
I had a friend who would always yell "Speed on Moron, Hells only half full" at motorists passing him by at a high rate of speed. The ghostly rider of Elmore, Ohio has it seems chosen to defy my friends logic, that all speeders that meet their untimely deaths on Ohio's highways go to Hell. He has in fact chosen to go to neither Heaven or Hell, but instead remain here on Earth with the rest of us mortals.
It seems in life this man answered his country's call and bravely went off to fight the Germans in Europe in the raging conflict which is known as "The Great War". This would be World War I for those not familiar with the era. He returned from Europe at the end of the fighting in 1918. Being discharged from his unit he returned home to pick up his life where he left it off like so many others. Of course the first order of business was to rekindle his romance with a lady friend whom he had left behind. Deciding to surprise her, he jumped on his powerful V-twin powered motorcycle that was one of his favorite pastimes before the war. Many hours had been spent riding the backroads of the surrounding country side. Roaring down roads that were as familiar to him as his own backyard, he thought of the warm embrace and slow long kisses that awaited him at the end of his late night ride. He remembered her smell like that of fresh lilacs, her smile, and her beautiful blue eyes that could drain a man of his soul. He thought of the night they had parted and said goodbye, the tears streaming down her face as she promised she would have no other, and would wait for him to return. Friends and relatives had made weak attempts to tell him that people change, but he would hear none of it. She had promised. She would be there waiting, sitting in her rocking chair waiting for his return. They would marry as planed, and he would take her away from the family farm no matter how much her father complained.
Finally the lane leading to the farm house hove into view. He killed the engine of the motorcycle and allowed it to coast to the edge of the gravel lane. He then quietly pushed the motorcycle up the moonlit roadway. Nothing was going to spoil his surprise. As he neared the house he could see her through the window which was in the kitchen. Approaching the door to the kitchen he could see her standing at the table peeling potatoes. Moving with stealth he crept into the kitchen right behind her. Then he wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her close to him. Instead of the pleasant gasp of surprise, and then warm embrace he envisioned on his night time ride, he was rewarded with a ear splitting scream. She jerked away and turned around to face him. Recognition flooded into her eyes, now the kisses and hugs he desired would come, he had just startled her that was all. With tears streaming down her face she slowly raised her left hand. There on her fourth finger shone the brilliant gleam of a gold wedding band. Staring in disbelief, joy was replaced with rage and anger, he had been betrayed. The blood rushed up to his watering eyes. Twisting away from her still tearing eyes he fled back into the night. His rage built as he found the motorcycle where he had left it in the darkened lane. Furiously he kicked life into the powerful machine. The roar of the engine echoed it's owners rage. Rocks flew as the clutch engaged the rear tire. With reckless abandon he hurtled the bike down the gravel lane. Reaching the end of the lane he ripped onto the main dirt road and gave the machine full throttle. Tears filled his eyes as rage gave way to pain and anguish, but still he speed on to the waiting bridge ahead. Hitting the bridge the motorcycle bucked and heaved at it's owners refusal to let off the throttle. Tear blinded and traveling a such a high rate of speed, finally the laws of physics and averages took over, and the motorcycle plunged off the road. The last thing his living eyes beheld was the barbed wire fence closing at break neck speed in the jiggling headlights beam.................then oblivion.
The legend goes that if you go to the bridge on the anniversary that this poor soul found his death on (March 21st), then blink your lights three time and honk your horn three times, the ghost of the betrayed lover will repeat his deathly ride across the bridge.
On March 21st, 1968 folklorist Richard Gill went to the site to investigate the legend. He went with a friend and was armed with a host of cameras and tape recorders. Sure enough when they blinked their cars lights and blew the horn, a ghostly light appeared up the lane at the farm house and came down the lane onto the road and disappeared in the middle of the bridge. The two men then tied a string across the bridge. They repeated the required blinks and horn soundings. Once again the ghostly light appeared and made it's journey down the lane and road to disappear in the middle of the bridge. Investigating they found the string was still intact. For the next run the friend decided to stand in the middle of the bridge. (What a brave soul!) Gill let go with the lights and horn again. The light just as before came down the lane and onto the road to disappear in the same spot on the bridge. Gill waited for a few minutes, but his friend never appeared. He found him in a ditch on the side of the road unconscious and looking like he had been just run over. This would have been enough for me at this point, but these two just had to have one more go at it. This time they parked to the side of the bridge and stayed in the car. Three blinks and three honks latter, here came the light. They began to move down the bridge, the light caught and passed them to disappear in the same spot. The friend wanted to stay and do some more tests, but Gill drove on proclaiming that he was a believer in ghosts. You would think the friend who got mowed down by a ghost on a motorcycle who be the first to announce that he was a believer! (I guess there is just no convincing some people.) The movie film shot showed nothing at all. Still photography turned out some of those familiar glowing blobs that are normally found in ghost pictures. The audio tape had a peculiar buzzing sound on it.
The location of this haunting is of course near Elmore, Ohio in Ottawa County. The bridge where the ghost is suppose appears is across the middle branch of the Portage River east of Elmore. I would strongly suggest not standing in the middle of the bridge!
Ryck Zarick and Joe Thielen have graciously provided not only the photos above [missing] but the follwing links and directions to the bridge.
Here is the address for a topographic map showing the bridge:
http://www.topozone.com/map.asp?lat=41.42293333333333&lon=-83.20163333333333
Notice that there are four map scales and three map screen sizes available.
Here is an aerial picture of it (look for dark spot on road and creek at bottom of picture:)
http://terraserver.homeadvisor.msn.com/image.asp?S=11&T=1&X=790&Y=11470&Z=17&W=0
Zoom out to get a better idea of where it is located.
The GPS coordinates for online maps places the bridge at Latitude 41.4228, Longitude -83.2018. (Online maps use NAD27 Datum, and GPS devices use WGS84 Datum. However these coordinates will place you near the bridge regardless of the GPS Datum setting.)
Here is the most detailed description that I could come up with. This bridge is over Muddy Creek (one of several "Muddy Creeks" in the area) in Ottawa County on the boundary of Washington Township Sections 1 and 2, on Fought Road, one half a mile south of the Ohio Turnpike I-80/90, one mile east of Lindsey Ohio, and six miles southeast of Elmore Ohio.
Joe describes this bridge as being in a valley where fog can obscure the bridge at eye level, making the area very eerie. He said that the pictures do not do it justice.
This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheets' site.
who have e-mailed this particular tale to me.
This has to be one of the most popular tales in the entire state. I have been bombarded by individuals telling or asking about this particular tale. (And the Gore Orphanage in Vermilian, Ohio. Coming soon I promise!) So here it is at last.
I had a friend who would always yell "Speed on Moron, Hells only half full" at motorists passing him by at a high rate of speed. The ghostly rider of Elmore, Ohio has it seems chosen to defy my friends logic, that all speeders that meet their untimely deaths on Ohio's highways go to Hell. He has in fact chosen to go to neither Heaven or Hell, but instead remain here on Earth with the rest of us mortals.
It seems in life this man answered his country's call and bravely went off to fight the Germans in Europe in the raging conflict which is known as "The Great War". This would be World War I for those not familiar with the era. He returned from Europe at the end of the fighting in 1918. Being discharged from his unit he returned home to pick up his life where he left it off like so many others. Of course the first order of business was to rekindle his romance with a lady friend whom he had left behind. Deciding to surprise her, he jumped on his powerful V-twin powered motorcycle that was one of his favorite pastimes before the war. Many hours had been spent riding the backroads of the surrounding country side. Roaring down roads that were as familiar to him as his own backyard, he thought of the warm embrace and slow long kisses that awaited him at the end of his late night ride. He remembered her smell like that of fresh lilacs, her smile, and her beautiful blue eyes that could drain a man of his soul. He thought of the night they had parted and said goodbye, the tears streaming down her face as she promised she would have no other, and would wait for him to return. Friends and relatives had made weak attempts to tell him that people change, but he would hear none of it. She had promised. She would be there waiting, sitting in her rocking chair waiting for his return. They would marry as planed, and he would take her away from the family farm no matter how much her father complained.
Finally the lane leading to the farm house hove into view. He killed the engine of the motorcycle and allowed it to coast to the edge of the gravel lane. He then quietly pushed the motorcycle up the moonlit roadway. Nothing was going to spoil his surprise. As he neared the house he could see her through the window which was in the kitchen. Approaching the door to the kitchen he could see her standing at the table peeling potatoes. Moving with stealth he crept into the kitchen right behind her. Then he wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her close to him. Instead of the pleasant gasp of surprise, and then warm embrace he envisioned on his night time ride, he was rewarded with a ear splitting scream. She jerked away and turned around to face him. Recognition flooded into her eyes, now the kisses and hugs he desired would come, he had just startled her that was all. With tears streaming down her face she slowly raised her left hand. There on her fourth finger shone the brilliant gleam of a gold wedding band. Staring in disbelief, joy was replaced with rage and anger, he had been betrayed. The blood rushed up to his watering eyes. Twisting away from her still tearing eyes he fled back into the night. His rage built as he found the motorcycle where he had left it in the darkened lane. Furiously he kicked life into the powerful machine. The roar of the engine echoed it's owners rage. Rocks flew as the clutch engaged the rear tire. With reckless abandon he hurtled the bike down the gravel lane. Reaching the end of the lane he ripped onto the main dirt road and gave the machine full throttle. Tears filled his eyes as rage gave way to pain and anguish, but still he speed on to the waiting bridge ahead. Hitting the bridge the motorcycle bucked and heaved at it's owners refusal to let off the throttle. Tear blinded and traveling a such a high rate of speed, finally the laws of physics and averages took over, and the motorcycle plunged off the road. The last thing his living eyes beheld was the barbed wire fence closing at break neck speed in the jiggling headlights beam.................then oblivion.
The legend goes that if you go to the bridge on the anniversary that this poor soul found his death on (March 21st), then blink your lights three time and honk your horn three times, the ghost of the betrayed lover will repeat his deathly ride across the bridge.
On March 21st, 1968 folklorist Richard Gill went to the site to investigate the legend. He went with a friend and was armed with a host of cameras and tape recorders. Sure enough when they blinked their cars lights and blew the horn, a ghostly light appeared up the lane at the farm house and came down the lane onto the road and disappeared in the middle of the bridge. The two men then tied a string across the bridge. They repeated the required blinks and horn soundings. Once again the ghostly light appeared and made it's journey down the lane and road to disappear in the middle of the bridge. Investigating they found the string was still intact. For the next run the friend decided to stand in the middle of the bridge. (What a brave soul!) Gill let go with the lights and horn again. The light just as before came down the lane and onto the road to disappear in the same spot on the bridge. Gill waited for a few minutes, but his friend never appeared. He found him in a ditch on the side of the road unconscious and looking like he had been just run over. This would have been enough for me at this point, but these two just had to have one more go at it. This time they parked to the side of the bridge and stayed in the car. Three blinks and three honks latter, here came the light. They began to move down the bridge, the light caught and passed them to disappear in the same spot. The friend wanted to stay and do some more tests, but Gill drove on proclaiming that he was a believer in ghosts. You would think the friend who got mowed down by a ghost on a motorcycle who be the first to announce that he was a believer! (I guess there is just no convincing some people.) The movie film shot showed nothing at all. Still photography turned out some of those familiar glowing blobs that are normally found in ghost pictures. The audio tape had a peculiar buzzing sound on it.
The location of this haunting is of course near Elmore, Ohio in Ottawa County. The bridge where the ghost is suppose appears is across the middle branch of the Portage River east of Elmore. I would strongly suggest not standing in the middle of the bridge!
Ryck Zarick and Joe Thielen have graciously provided not only the photos above [missing] but the follwing links and directions to the bridge.
Here is the address for a topographic map showing the bridge:
http://www.topozone.com/map.asp?lat=41.42293333333333&lon=-83.20163333333333
Notice that there are four map scales and three map screen sizes available.
Here is an aerial picture of it (look for dark spot on road and creek at bottom of picture:)
http://terraserver.homeadvisor.msn.com/image.asp?S=11&T=1&X=790&Y=11470&Z=17&W=0
Zoom out to get a better idea of where it is located.
The GPS coordinates for online maps places the bridge at Latitude 41.4228, Longitude -83.2018. (Online maps use NAD27 Datum, and GPS devices use WGS84 Datum. However these coordinates will place you near the bridge regardless of the GPS Datum setting.)
Here is the most detailed description that I could come up with. This bridge is over Muddy Creek (one of several "Muddy Creeks" in the area) in Ottawa County on the boundary of Washington Township Sections 1 and 2, on Fought Road, one half a mile south of the Ohio Turnpike I-80/90, one mile east of Lindsey Ohio, and six miles southeast of Elmore Ohio.
Joe describes this bridge as being in a valley where fog can obscure the bridge at eye level, making the area very eerie. He said that the pictures do not do it justice.
This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheets' site.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)