Atchison Globe Articles of Atchison's Haunted History
What follows is a collection of articles of note from the Atchison Globe Newspaper regarding various paranormal occurances. Please use the following navigation to find an article of interest.
- Spooks - A Truthful Narrative of Peculiar Facts
- February 11, 1878
- February 7, 1879
- February 10, 1879
- February 10, 1879 (#2)
- August 29, 1879
- August 3, 1882
- August 29, 1882
- September 18, 1882
- February 8, 1883
- February 22, 1883
- February 24, 1883
- April 7, 1883
- A Kansas Lynching
- February 1, 1887
- December 31, 1887
Spooks – A Truthful Narrative of Peculiar Facts
February 3, 1878
An Anonymous Contributor
The only merit in the few lines I am about to write will be their entire reliability, and the studied absence of anything calculated to mislead or mystify.
Well! I have lived in Atchison continuously for six years, and I am now about to leave it from a vague and inexplicable dread of a recurrence of the incidents I shall try to related. During that time I have made but few acquaintances, and perhaps none – I make the admission with regret – will be sorry to hear of my determination to leave, for the niche I have filled has certainly been a most ordinary one.
Notwithstanding the fact that we – my family consists of myself and my wife only – lived in a very dismal and unfrequented part of the town, we managed to get along very comfortably and contentedly until about two years ago, when a most melancholy and deplorable circumstance occurred – our little girl, not yet five years old, died on a cold, stormy night in mid-winter, kissing us both good-bye as if going to sleep. I will not attempt to describe our great grief, or our humiliation when nobody but ourselves and the grave-digger followed the dear little body to the grave. It would be impossible, and I am not a man to attempt impossible things.
Our residence being a long way out, and my business requiring the closest attention, I never went home for dinner at noon, but it was an invariable custom to spend my evenings at home, arriving sometimes as late as seven o’clock, and going down town again early in the morning. After the death of our little girl, I more than ever regretted the necessity of leaving my dear, patient wife alone so much in the dreary old house, without a single companion to pass the weary hours, and for some months had noticed that she seemed sadder, and more thoughtful. This went on for a time, until one night, after I had arrived home more tired and worried than usual, she gave me the first intimation of the circumstances of which I afterward became a careful witness.
When I say that the complained of strange noises, I am afraid people will accuse me of attempting to tell a ghost story, but I hope no one will be so inconsiderate until they hear me through. She said that in the middle of the day, while she sat down stairs brooding over her loneliness, she would become conscious of a strange feeling that her little girl was playing in the sleeping room above. At first there would be no other evidence of this than her settled conviction that such was the case, but finally the usual noises produced by a child at play would be distinctly heard. Little Emma, in her lifetime, had used an empty room across the hall as a playhouse, and to and from this the childish feet would be heard busily pattering, occasionally rattling tiny dishes, or moving boxes or other articles in searching for lost treasures. Sometimes the feet would start downstairs, but go back again, as if remembering that the article wanted was not below. For weeks she listened to this singular phenomenon, of daily occurrence, lacking courage to mention it. At another time, it seemed as if the child was rocking in her chair, and burden of a familiar lullaby was indistinctly heard. The door would then be opened, and the feet again patter to and from the playroom, long since shut up and heavily locked. On one occasion, just at dusk, while listening with beating heart to the peculiar noises, the pattering feet came to the stair landing, and a voice called: “Mamma! Mamma!” which was quickly recognized at that of the dead child. The frightened and anxious mother flew upstairs in spite of her terror, but she found the room just as she had left it in the morning, with no evidence that any but orderly hands had been about. This was the night that I was told of it. It strangely impressed me, of course, but I simply believed it to be an unhappy mother’s imagination, and so told her, although she firmly declared that it could not have been more natural or distinct. She said that every night, after we had retired, there was a recurrence of it, and although she always doubly-locked the bed-room door, there was the same pattering of little feet to and from the deserted room across the hall, as if our darling Emma was playing, playing, always! Although I guardedly refused to believe it, I nevertheless resolved to lay awake that night and listen, but in spite of my resolution, I went off into a light doze. I do not know the hour, but it was late, when I was disturbed by my wife rising in bed. Remembering that I had intended to keep awake, without giving evidence of it, I quietly listened. Certainly there was a pattering of feet, and although I had carefully locked the door, it was standing wide open. My wife called to it as though it were the child in life, and asked it to come to her. There was a little hesitation, and the steps came softly to her side of the bed. “Emma,” she said, “if it is you, kiss your distracted mother!” As certainly as I live, I heard the scrambling up on the bed, and my wife informed me the next morning that if she ever embraced her child in her life, she embraced her that night.
About a week after this, I was awakened very much the same way, except that my wife was getting up. Noticing her gazing intently out of the window, I arose and went to her side. The night was exceedingly dark, and at first I could see nothing, but gradually I became conscious of a dim circle of light forming outside. I am certain that I was awake, for I remember noting a neighbor’s house, which before could not be seen. It was an exact re-production of our sleeping room during the child’s lifetime, the crib alone making it different from the room we then occupied. We saw our dead girl’s form kneeling by the bed, in her night slip, and after good night kisses to two invisible persons, she retired to bed, and to sleep. It became dimmer, and dimmer, and finally vanished entirely, leaving us both weeping bitterly at the window. I must confess that I felt no terror at any of these manifestations, but rather longed for their recurrence.
At another time, one bright afternoon, my wife came downtown to my place of business, and as she came through the door, the little pattering feet were close behind, and I noticed that she held the door open for the invisible, but certainly present, child to enter. There happened to be no one in, and she told me that before she had fully prepared to go, the pattering feet flew up stairs, as if to get ready. In passing the houses, the feet would stop with groups of children, while the mother patiently waited. The dainty boots of a five year-old child distinctly walked beside her all the way to Commercial street, and the noise did not differ from that of her own shoes, except lighter. It stopped at the shop windows, and danced in merry glee at a particularly pleasing sight.
I might enumerate a great many instances of this character, but one more and I am done. Coming home one night, I found the room strewn with little Emma’s playthings, which I myself had locked in the deserted room. My wife knew nothing of it till I called her attention to the fact, and for the first time I noticed a change in her manner; she went about gathering the playthings up, and gently chiding the child for her carelessness! I then became convinced that her mind was becoming affected, and at once resolved to quit the house and the town. I dreaded a recurrence on her account, not my own, for they have never been attended with dread.
I will not blame anyone for doubting what I have written, for had I not witnessed it, I would doubt it myself. There are two persons in this town who could, if called upon, at least certify that I left a lucrative business to avoid the patter, patter of the feet I loved so well, and they can testify that my wife is a broken, miserable and unhappy woman from the same cause.
I give these facts to the world simply because they are curious. I cannot explain them, neither can I explain how a professional conjuror causes flowers to grow (apparently) at his bidding. I will be laughed at my many, but those who have followed their hopes to an early grave, will give me sympathy, if not credence.
February 11, 1878
Some time during last year, a colored woman, said to be intensely wicked, died in a house in North Atchison. Since that time no one can be found courageous enough to inhabit the house, as her uneasy spirit constantly hovers around, and utters the most terrifying advice and expostulations with reference to the place that Henry Ward Beecher claims does not exist. An old colored lady who did the last week’s washing at our house has frequently heard her make remarks of this character in a shrill and sulphurous tone of voice, at the same time rattling the dishes, and otherwise creating disturbances. A Globe reporter will interview the spirit to-night at the hour when graveyards are supposed to yawn and give up their dead – midnight.
February 7, 1879
A young colored woman named Tene Parker, living in North Atchison, to all appearances departed this life last Tuesday. The funeral was appointed for yesterday afternoon at 2 o’clock, when a large number of people gathered at the house. When the undertaker went to place the body in the coffin, he found it perfectly limber, and he at once suggested that a physician be sent for, who on arriving, suggested that the funeral services be postponed. In two or three hours, respiration began again, and the woman is now alive, and in a fair way of recovery.
February 10, 1879
It was found necessary yesterday to bury the colored woman who promised to become of scientific interest by coming to life. There were unmistakable evidences of decay.
February 10, 1879 (#2)
If that negro woman really was buried alive, her ghost is certain to haunt those who assisted at the funeral. There is nothing so certain as this, for scientific men now agree that a person’s ghost cannot walk the earth unless buried alive.
August 29, 1879
There is a revival of the nonsense that the colored woman buried several months ago while in a comatose condition has returned to walk the earth. One old colored lady informs us upon her honor as a Methodist, that the dead woman recently appeared at her back door, and said: “Believe in the Lord,” and then disappeared.
August 3, 1882
A fatal accident happened to the Central Branch mail train while coming east at 6 o’clock this morning, between Cawker City and Glen Elder, at bridge No. 111, on the river bottom near the Great Spirit Spring. The bridge, which is a small one of seven bents, was found to be on fire, and as there is a curve and a cut just before it is reached, the engineer could not see it in time to prevent an accident. The engine dashed into it, and fell into the dry creek below, the mail and express cars following it, leaving the passenger coaches safe on the track. Conductor Dennison, followed by his crew, ran at once to the wreck, and succeeded in putting out the fire, which otherwise would have found its way into the disabled engine and cares. While this was being done, the persons in the wreck were being taken out. Charles McGee, the fireman, was so badly scalded by the escaping steam that he died in a few minutes. Bert Craft, the engineer, was also scalded, and the latest report is that he cannot recover. Dan Mahaffey, the express messenger, was bruised a litter, but not seriously, and Harry Wentworth, mail agent, had his ankle sprained. Dell Winegar, baggageman, was not hurt at all. Craft was immediately taken to Glen Elder, and physicians summoned, who found that he was horribly scalded internally and externally, and one of his arms crushed. Mahaffey was also taken to Glen Elder. The same engine and train passed over the bridge at 8:15 last night, at which time it was all right, and how it caught fire is a mystery circumstance in connection with the death of McGee is that he was a substitute. Joe Groome, Graft’s regular fireman, having been laid off yesterday to raise money for a Pacific engineer whose wife has been sick for several months, and who has been unable to work. It was Groome’s first day off in a good many months, and he is feeling very thankful. Bert Craft was regarded as the crack engineer of the road, as he is usually detailed to haul the superintendent’s specials, the pay car, etc., and was very popular with all classes. When Mr. Talmage, the general manager, comes on to the road he always asks that Bert Craft’s enginer pull him, and Mr. Craft has been with him through Texas several times. He went with the Centeral Branch company a little more than four years ago, having quit the Santa Fe during the memorable strike about that time, and has been steadily at work ever since. The writer, who has frequently been the guest of the general officers on their trips over the road, often rode with Craft on his engine, and knew him well. Yesterday morning, while his train was at the union depot waiting to start on the fatal trip, we talked with him as he was toiling around. His wife and children were at Arrington Springs, and he said he was going out to see them next Saturday afternoon and spend Sunday there. He was known far and wide as a very careful and competent man, and it was his engine which took the prize at the union depot opening, although the wrecked engine is not the same one. McGee is a single man, about 27 years old, and has lived in Atchison about twoy years. For several months past he as been firing on a Pacific yard engine, and has only made a few trips. He has lived with W.L. Patterson since coming to Atchison, and before his connection with the railroad worked for him. (Later: Bert Craft died at Glen Elder a little after noon. The delayed train, carrying both the dead men, and the wounded, will arrive in Atchison between 7 and 8 o’clock this evening. Mrs. Craft, who is at Arrington Springs, was sent for this morning, and will probably meet the train at Muscotah, She is an invalid, and it is feared the announcement of her husband’s death will be a serious shock.)
August 29, 1882
While walking in West Atchison last evening, a reporter sat down in front of an open store to rest, and heard a story which impressed him very much because of the earnest manner in which it was told. There were three men in the group, and the reporter learned by their conversation that one was a freight engineer on the Central Branch, the other his fireman, and the other a shop hand. The engineer said, in brief, that a few nights ago, while running on the west end, and while approaching the bridge where Brit Craft and his fireman were killed, that he distinctly heard an engine whistle ahead of him. Thinking there must be some mistake, he leaned out of the cab window to look ahead. At this moment he was within a hundred yards of the bridge, and while he looked a phantom engine came around the curve. The sight was so strange that he was powerless, and did not shut off steam, and the next moment the strange apparition disappeared through the bridge. Before he had time to look again his own engine was on the bridge, and across it. His recollection of the phantom is that it was drawn in white lines, an etching in the darkness, and he declares that Brit Craft was leaning out of the cab window looking ahead. The fire man was engaged in throwing in coal, and he noticed this because he saw him through the boiler head and steam dome. The engineer who told the story apologized a great deal for being so ridiculous, but he declared with great earnestness that what he said was true. The fireman who accompanied him was at the moment engaged in picking down coal, but he agrees that the engineer was white as death immediately after the bridge was passed, saying to him in a tremor: “I have see the ghost of Brit Craft’s engine!”
September 18, 1882
A few weeks ago we published the statement of a Central Branch freight engineer that one dark night a few days after the accident he saw the ghost of Brit Craft’s engine near the bridge where he was killed. The Police News of last week illustrates the story.
February 8, 1883
Central Branch engine No. 162, which tumbled over near Glen Elder last Monday morning, is still on its head, and the damage to it is much greater than was at first supposed. This is the same engine which went through a bridge with Brit Craft last year, and there is a story among the men that its ghost still makes trips just before the break of day. Several have seen it, a locomotive etched in white lines on the darkness, near where the dreadful accident occurred, and as brave and good a man as Joe Pack has been known to shut off just before coming to the bridge where the spectre was first seen. At first it was thought that the appearance of the “New hundred and sixty-two,” as it is called, meant an accident that day on the line, but as the accident did not happen, little attention was paid when the story of the white engine having been seen running wild was revived. On Sunday night, however, the spectre is said to have been seen at three different places between Downs and Beloit, and before day the next morning the hundred and sixty-two ran into an obstruction within a mile of the first accident, and was badly wrecked.
February 22, 1883
A lady who lives near the river was annoyed so much last night by ghostly noises, that she left her house, and spent a part of the night in the waiting room of the Union Depot. True, if important.
February 24, 1883
The government steamer Melusina, which was built with money filched from the appropriation for river improvement at Atchison, is said to be haunted. The St. Joe Gazette thus tells the story. “One dark, rainy night not long ago, one of the men who sleep on the boat woke with a start, and turning over beheld a sight which stopped his heart’s beating for a moment, and caused his hair to rise up, while a cold chill crept down his spinal column. Directly in front of him stood the upright figure of a man, right arm upraised, perfect in body and limb, except that the trunk was headless – close to the shoulders the head was gone. Silently it stood for a minute with the arm upraised, and then slowly it stepped backward to the edge of the boat, and suddenly and silently disappeared. The man aroused his companions and told them what he had seen, but they laughed at his fright. He, however, was positive in his declarations and never since has slept in the boat. A few nights later another of the party saw the same vision, spirit or spectre, in every detail as described by the other man. There are several men who now claim to have seen the spirit, and ridicule only adds to their protestations of their sincerity, and of the truth of their statements.”
April 7, 1883
The Missouri Pacific company has settled with Mrs. Brit Craft, whose husband was killed about a year ago, for $1,250.
A Kansas Lynching
July 7, 1885
Girard, Kans., July 6 – John Lawrence, a colored boy of sixteen, who raped Elmira Harman in Baxter Springs, July 4, was brought to Girard and committed to jail. At half past twelve to-day a posse of about twenty of the best citizens of Baxter came to Girard and forced the jail, took Lawrence out and hung him to the joists of a new house. The work was done while the Sheriff was at dinner. The outranged girl was but twelve years old and has since died from the effects of her injuries.
February 1, 1887
Miss Laura Coakley, one of the enrolling clerks of the House of Representatives at Topeka, committed suicide at the Dutton House in that city at one o’clock this morning, with prussie acid. Her motive for the act is unknown.
December 31, 1887
A curious story originated in Atchison on Christmas Day, and is told with a great deal of sincerity by a gentleman of average intelligence. He says that when his first wife was alive, he did not have the Christmas habit, believing it to be a species of foolishness, but his first wife thought a great deal of the festival, and was always disappointed when she did not receive a present. The poor woman died some time ago, and when the husband married again, he reformed, and made Christmas a happy time in his family. On the 24th of December of this year the man presented his second wife with a handsome seal skin cloak, and at five o’clock on the morning of the 25th, the man says that he was awakened from sleep by a strange oppression in his breathing. He sat up in bed, and declares that a strange light was burning in his room, and that he distinctly saw his first wife sitting at the foot of the bed, looking at the seal sack, and softly crying to herself. She did not seem to realize that she was in the presence of her husband, but the handsome cloak greatly distressed her, and as she examined the silk lining, and the fine quality of the seal, cried quite pitifully. The man’s second wife was not awakened, but she was moaning, as though the strange presence in the room affected her. The strange light gradually disappeared, and with it went the phantom.
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