Mississippi Gunslinger

December 21, 2023December 21, 2023 ~ booksbytrista ~ Leave a comment

By Trista Herring Baughman

On a recent trip to San Antonio, Texas, I stopped by one of my favorite museums, The Buckhorn Saloon & Museum/Texas Ranger Museum. (I make a point to stop by anytime we’re in the area and I highly recommend it!)

I always look for a connection to our great state of Mississippi anywhere I go. Here’s what I found this trip.

Sam Bass born on July 21, 1851. He grew up without formal education on his uncle’s farm after the death of his parents. In 1869, at the age of sixteen, he boarded a steamboat to Rosedale, Mississippi, in Bolivar County.

It was here that Sam mastered gambling and gunplay while working at a sawmill.

*Reading that sign makes me wonder who wrote it. They sure didn’t like ol’ Sam, did they?*

Later, Sam would work as a cowboy in Texas, but after driving a large herd from Texas to Kansas, he and the gang decided to keep the cattle owner’s share as well as their own. They headed for Deadwood, South Dakota (another neat place to visit) and eventually formed The Blackhills Bandits, robbing stagecoaches and banks.

After the gang of six robbed a Union Pacific train in Nebraska, Sam escaped back to Texas. The gang made off with $60,000 in newly minted gold from San Francisco, California. This is the biggest train robbery to have been committed in the United States to this date.

Sam formed the Bass Gang, where he continued robbing banks and trains.

A group of Rangers were tasked with catching the criminals. They chased them all across North Texas. The Bass Gang illuded their pursuers until Texas Ranger John B. Jones turned fellow gang member, Jim Murphey into an informant.

The gang planned to rob Round Rock Bank on July 19, 1878. When they arrived, the Rangers were waiting and a gunfight ensued. One of the gang, Seaborn Barnes, was fatally shot in the head. Bass was wounded but escaped. The next day he was found lying helpless. He was brought back to Round Rock, only to die on July 21, thus ending his outlaw days. He was 27 years old.

Before my visits to the Buckhorn, I don’t recall hearing of Sam Bass, yet many have. His brief life inspired the following ballad:

A note from the editor:

This will be our last post of the year. We’ll be back next year with more Mississippi folklore. Be sure to browse our archives while you wait!

We will be making changes to our site in the near future. These changes will take time and we appreciate your patience and readership.

On behalf of the Mississippi Folkore Writing Team and myself, we wish you a very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Sources and further reading:

1. https://www.legendsofamerica.com/sam-bass-gang/

2. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sam_Bass_(outlaw)

3. https://www.roundrocktexas.gov/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/ballad_of_sam_bass.pdf

4. https://www.dentoncountymagazine.com/time_machine/sam-bass-the-notorious-texas-outlaw/article_11e465ac-af22-11ed-8be3-074c11abc854.html

The Headless Horseman

September 29, 2023 ~ booksbytrista ~ 1 Comment

Throughout history, there have been many stories and legends about the Headless Horseman. He has appeared in folklore across the globe since the middle ages, usually depicted as a headless rider with a flowing black cape on a black (or white, and sometimes headless) horse, either carrying his head or riding in search of it, depending on the legend.

He appears in Irish folklore as the Dullahan (dark man) or Gan Ceann (without a head)–said to be the manifestation of Celtic god Crom Dubh, who demanded sacrifices in the form of decapitation. Where the Dullahan stops riding, a person is due to die. He calls their name, thus summoning their souls; they drop dead on the spot.

In one legend, he drives a silent, black death coach (The Coiste Bodhar) drawn by six black horses so fast that their hooves set the hedges along the side of the road afire. All gates, even locked ones, fly open to let them pass.

During the Franco-Prussian War (1870), there was a story of a headless officer leading his regiment of cuirassiers in battle and encouraging them despite having been decapitated by a cannonball.

In Australia, drovers around Black Swamp told of a headless horseman who appeared suddenly, spooking the animals and causing stampedes. Along the Cob & Co Highway, which follows a historical route known as The Long Paddock, you will find a sculpture depicting the headless horseman.

In Rajasthan, India, the spirit of the headless horseman is called jhinjhār, a spirit that results from a wrongful death. Most stories mention a prince that lost his head while defending a village against highwaymen.

German folklore claims the headless horseman hunts and beheads any who have escaped punishment for their crimes in life so that they are doomed to roam headless through eternity.

Famous stories about him include Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (late 14th century England) and possibly the most famous, Washington Irving’s gothic short story, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (1820, America).

I found several states of the U.S. have their own accounts of headless horsemen, including:

Texas – The year was 1850. Texas rangers retaliated against a cattle rustler named Vidal by beheading him and tying his body to a bronco to roam the remote countryside. So began the legend of El Muerto. Mayne Reid based his novel, The Headless Horseman, on the legend. (1865 & 1866)

Florida – Dead Man’s Oak is a legend in Osceola County. There are two versions of this story. In one, Spaniards captured a man on a white horse. They strung him up and beheaded him for some crime against them. The other version states that a man was hanged at the tree for cattle rustling. They say a headless horseman on a white horse still rides there at midnight– sometimes he will chase you. Read more about this tale in Weird Florida by Charlie Carlson here.

Alabama – A tale of a phantom rider recounted from Uncle to nephew. Article below.

Monroe Journal in Claiborne, AL 1880

Louisiana – A New Orleans neighborhood reported a ghastly scene repeated every night at 11:30. A headless rider would dash to an abandoned house. A muffled conversation came from inside the house then the horseman would ride away swiftly as he had come. A beautiful woman with a dagger in her breast would appear at the upper-story window. From Natchez Democrat, 18 November 1883, page 4

And last but not least: Mississippi – Back in May, I asked our group for their accounts, and these are the stories I received.

Leake County:

“My grandfather said that when he was about 18 (so the mid-1950s) he saw a “headless” man dressed like a Confederate soldier. He was on his way home from a date late at night, and he saw him in the middle of a hay field. That was around Walnut Grove, MS.” J.L. Parish

Marion County:

I grew up in Foxworth, Mississippi. The community, with a population of 503, is named after one of its first settlers, Frank A. Foxworth. If you have ever been, you will know it’s little more than a map dot “On the banks of old Pearl River, neath the swaying pines”, but the people are some of the best I know.

This next story is one my grandmother told my sister and me. I could not recall all of the story details, but fortunately, I have a sister that could. My great grandfather saw a headless horseman on his way home one night crossing a bridge along the way. According to our grandma, he said horses would refuse to go over the little bridge. Others had witnessed the spectral sight. They believed when the horseman was around, the horses could sense it. Being a religious man, he was not prone to tell tall tales, and she believed her father spoke the truth.

A few miles up the road and across the Pearl River bridge, you’ll find our sleepy little city of Columbia, “The City of Charm on the River Pearl”. Founded in the early 1800s, in the Mississippi Territory, the settlement was first called Lott’s Bluff. The city was formally incorporated in 1819 and served as Mississippi’s temporary capital from 1821 to 1822 before LeFleur’s Bluff (what is now Jackson) was chosen for the permanent capital. Today, the city has grown to approximately 7,000 residents. It is well known for the Legends of Bluegrass and Country Music Festival, once held twice a year, and its Winter Wonderland Christmas festival, among other things.

Here lies the origin of the nearly forgotten legend of Headless Horseman road, better known to some as Columbia Purvis road. It’s believed that a man, now known only as Mr. Keys, was wrongfully accused of murder for which he would soon go to trial. He was to be taken to Hattiesburg for security, but instead, there was a lynching. Mr. Keys was hanged from a large Oak Tree and presumably beheaded near the Hugh Lawson White (former Mississippi governor and Columbia native) Mansion on Keys Hill (named for the incident).

Someone else confessed, on their deathbed, to the crime Keys supposedly committed, but that was far too late. According to a local, Bill Simmons, “On moonlit nights, you can hear the headless horseman galloping across the bridge.” A family that lived on the road claimed to have witnessed the headless horseman riding a black horse.

This story was published in the Columbian Progress in 1997. Donna Michael, brought it to my attention. I read more about it on Newspapers.com.

I will continue to research the legends and report any new findings. The Headless Horseman legends have inspired and entertained many a child, as well as writers and painters, including myself.

The following poem is in my collection of poems, Halloween Night and Other Poems (I recently added to it).

Beware the Headless Horseman

Beware the headless horseman as he rides his spectral steed! He lurks among the shadows; Strikes with unearthly speed. An eerie fog surrounds him. His lantern glows bright red. He will not rest on Hallowe’en til he finds himself a head. Beware the headless horseman as he rides across the ridge, He’ll give chase and behead you, lest you make it ‘cross the bridge. Better heed my warning. You doubt it, but it’s true. Beware the headless horseman, lest you end up headless, too.

Some believe the headless horseman legends stem from one legend, passed on and embellished or tweaked to fit the storyteller’s purpose. But could there be something more to these sightings than tall tales and over-imagination?

Have you ever seen a headless horseman?

Let us know in the comments or send your stories to msfolklore@gmail.com.

Check back next week for more Mississippi Folklore.

The Headless Horseman Pursuing Ichabod Crane
John Quidor, 1858 Oil on canvas. Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C.

By Trista Herring Baughman

Original Post 8-18-22

Sources and further reading:

The Heartless Harpe Brothers

June 22, 2023June 9, 2023 ~ booksbytrista ~ Leave a comment

By Linda D Mann

“Two heads are better than one, brother
When everything’s said and done
If there’s a problem to master
Two minds can master it faster
And four eyes are better than two, brother
For seein’ a sticky time through
Two noses can smell better
Two throats can yell better
Two heads are better than one.
I can try on my own to get by on my own
But the fact of the matter remains
What I start every time falls apart every time
And that’s why I’m stickin’ to pickin’ your brains, Oh
Two heads are better than one, brother
When everything’s said and done
BIG HARP: I ponder and mull better; LITTLE HARP: I break a skull better
BIG HARP: I see the facts better; LITTLE HARP: I swing an axe better
BIG HARP: I do the plottin’, LITTLE HARP: But I do the swattin’
And that’s how the business gets done, brother, cause two heads are better that one.
ARE BETTER THAN ONE!”

So goes a show-stopping number in The Robber Bridegroom, a 1975 Broadway musical. The story is based on a 1942 novella by Mississippi’s beloved author Eudora Welty who spun legends and visions of the ancient Natchez Trace into a tale of mystery, comedy, lust, greed, and love. She recrafted the 1812 Grimm fairy tale of the same title and made a modern, American version.

Big Harp and Little Harp are comic villains of the piece, but Big Harp’s actions are limited, as he is literally reduced to a severed head carried around in a trunk by his little brother. The head comes out of the trunk when Little Harp needs help in the thinking department. A simple theatrical trick creates the delightful effect of a disembodied head talking and singing along in a duet!

In Welty’s fairy tale, the Harps are ruthless but stupid and bungling. Such characters can be endearing on the stage, but in real life, these two were evil-doers of the first order. If half their legendary crimes are true, they still qualify!

“Family” Life

One of the many legends of the Harp brothers – perhaps cousins named Harper or Harpe passing for brothers – was about that severed head. Whose was it, and who carried it around? More about that later. For starters, they were usually called “Harpe.” Eudora Welty dropped the “e” for her story.

Micajah “Big” Harpe and Wiley “Little” Harpe have been dubbed “America’s first serial killers” for the trail of brutal murders they left behind during their rampage through the South in the 1700s. They killed from 39 to 50 people not so much for money, but for pleasure.

They sided with the British during the Revolutionary War, joined a Tory gang, and practiced burning farms, raping women, and pillaging American patriots. They also served as military volunteers not paid by the British but content to survive by robbery and looting.

Later, they joined a group of Chickamauga Cherokee Indians to raid settlements in North Carolina and Tennessee. In 1782 they took part in the Battle of Blue Licks in Kentucky where they helped defeat an army of frontiersmen led by Daniel Boone.

They kidnapped the daughter of an American captain who wounded Little Harpe in his attempted rape of a young girl and made the captain’s daughter and her friend their “wives.” For the next twelve years, the Harpes, their “wives,” who may have changed from time to time, and other bandits lived in an Indian village near Chattanooga. When their “wives” repeatedly gave birth, the brothers killed their own babies if they cried too much.

In 1797 Little Harpe married a minister’s daughter, and the other two “wives” became property of Big Harpe. At some point, Big Harpe married twice – to sisters! The serial killings began around 1798 after they were driven from Knoxville, Tennessee, for stealing. They became known for disemboweling their victims, filling the cavities with stones, and throwing the bodies into rivers.

After several murders in the area were attributed to the Harpes, they were captured and imprisoned in Danville, Kentucky, but they escaped, leaving another trail of death in their wake. They made their way to the Cave-In-Rock on the Illinois bank of the Ohio River, where the notorious river pirate Samuel Mason kept his stronghold. The Mason gang preyed on helpless travelers on slow-moving flatboats below the cave.

The Harpes devised an entertainment of taking travelers to the top of the cliff, stripping them naked, and pushing them off to die on the rocks, sometimes on a blindfolded horse. This was too much even for Samuel Mason, and he forced the brothers, wives and surviving children to leave. The Harpes returned to Tennessee and continued the killings – a farmer, several men, a boy, a father and son, children–an entire family.

Natchez Trace Terror

They traveled parts of the Natchez Trace, an ancient sunken road stretching from Natchez, Mississippi, to Nashville, Tennessee, robbing and murdering as they pleased. It was a lawless frontier, and defenseless travelers feared robbers falling on them in the night during their journeys on the Trace. Stories vary in detail but persist today about the notorious Harpes and their terrorism along that road.

King’s Tavern in Natchez, opened in 1769, is the oldest building in town. During the Harpe’s reign of terror, it was a way station – a refuge and watering hole for weary travelers. Highwaymen often stopped there to spend money they’d stolen from their victims, and the Harpes were seen drinking in the bar while decent families slept upstairs.

One night a newborn cried incessantly and annoyed Big Harpe, so he got up from the bar, went upstairs, and brutally murdered the child to its mother’s horror. Today, visitors to historic King’s Tavern sometimes hear a baby and a woman crying upstairs when there is no one there. Some see the shadowy figures of several ghosts known at the property. Among them – the Harpes. Some say the ghosts of the Harpe Brothers wander the streets of Natchez for eternity.

In 1799, Big Harpe bashed his own infant daughter’s head against a tree to silence her crying. This was the only murder for which he ever expressed remorse. The Harpes were once shown hospitality at the Stegall home in Kentucky, but they slit the throat of their host’s four-month-old infant boy for crying and killed his wife for screaming at the sight of her baby being murdered. The brothers ran to the west to escape a posse that included Moses Stegall, the avenging father and husband of the victims. While attempting to flee, Big Harpe was shot twice and hit with a tomahawk. As he died, he confessed to twenty murders. When asked why he killed so many, he replied, “because I hate the whole human race!”

Moses Stegall slowly cut off Big Harpe’s head while he was still conscious. Stegall stuck it on a pole (or on a tree) at a crossroads for all to see and left the body to be devoured by animals. That intersection was called “Harpe’s Head” for years thereafter.

Witch Dance

There is a tale about Big Harpe’s visit to a fascinating spot on the Natchez Trace Parkway near Tupelo, Mississippi. The Trace is now a scenic National Parkway with many historic markers along the way to explore. As described on its marker, Witch Dance was a magical place for witches of unknown origin – perhaps ancient native people – to gather for wild nighttime dances and rituals. At each place where the witches’ feet touched the ground, no grass grows. One can still see the bare spots.

When Big Harpe arrived at Witch Dance with an Indian guide who told him the legend, Big Harpe laughed, danced on the bare spots, and challenged any witches to stop him. At the time, none did. After Big Harpe lost his head in Kentucky, a witch removed his skull from the crossroads where it hung and ground it into a powder to make medicine. People who retell that story on the Trace sometimes hear witchy cackling coming from the woods. A campground lies near the marker today. Imagine sitting around a campfire on Halloween and listening to the story of Big Harpe’s head! Wouldn’t you hear something strange in the woods?

Little Harpe escaped the posse that killed Big Harpe and rejoined the Mason Gang. Later, using the alias John Setton, he and another outlaw killed Mason and cut off his head to collect the bounty for it. They were recognized, however, and apprehended near Greenville, Mississippi. In 1804 they were hanged and decapitated. Their heads were impaled on tall stakes on the Natchez Trace as a warning to outlaws. There are other versions of the story, but Little Harpe loses his head in each one.

So many stories – so many severed heads! Which ones are true? Did the witch get Big Harpe’s head? Did Little Harpe carry Samuel Mason’s head around in a trunk? How many heads did the brothers cut off or bash in, anyway?
The Harpes were once called “inhuman fiends” and “the Bloody Harpes.” Some thought they must be shapeshifters because they were so cunning and elusive. Some said they posed as traveling ministers. There was a rumor that they pretended to be the men looking for the Harpe Brothers!

The notorious Harpes garnered such a bad reputation that many of their relatives and descendants changed their names to avoid association with them. Quite a few books and films used facts, legends, and re-imagined or supernatural versions of Harpe Brothers stories in their narratives. Eudora Welty knew all about the legendary Harpes when she wrote The Robber Bridegroom. Under its entertaining surface, her all-American fairy tale is as dark and horrifying as the Grimm fairy tale that predates it. It is about good and evil in the world. Once upon the Natchez Trace, the heartless Harpe brothers committed scores of grisly murders for pleasure and lost their heads as punishment.

So, are two heads really better than one, if the heads belong to the Harpes?

Harp Brothers Resources:
https://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-harpes/
https://www.bgdailynews.com/news/the-horrible-harpes/article_56c4c76f-7ce1-5d0a-ae53-
bdb06eecddfe.html
https://www.legendsofamerica.com/ms-witchdance/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harpe_brothers
https://www.supersummary.com/the-robber-bridegroom/summary/ (Welty)
https://www.pookpress.co.uk/the-robber-bridegroom/ (Grimm)
https://murderpedia.org/male.H/h/harpe-brothers.htm

Three-Legged Lady Road – Columbus, Mississippi

May 30, 2023May 30, 2023 ~ booksbytrista ~ Leave a comment

By Trista Herring Baughman

On the banks of the Tombigbee River on the Eastern border of Mississippi lies the historical “Friendly City” of Columbus.

In 1540 the Spanish conquistador Hernando de Soto described its location while on his quest to find the lost city of gold, El Dorado. Later the area was a trading-post settlement called “Possum Town” by the Choctaw and Chickasaw.

Columbus’s “Decoration Day,” held in remembrance of fallen Civil War soldiers, led to the United States’ National Memorial Day holiday.

Today the city attracts many tourists for its historical significance, blues and jazz roots, preserved Antebellum architecture, Southern cuisine, riverboat lore, and much more.

Aside from these attractions and excellent hunting and fishing opportunities, you mght find something a bit more sinistser along a particular stretch of country road here. The road’s official name is Nash Road, but locals call it “Three-Legged Lady Road.”

There are several variations of the legend of Three-Legged Lady Road; I’ll share a few with you now.

One version of the story tells of a young girl, possibly named Rose. Her murderer(s) dismembered her body and scattered the pieces into the nearby woods. A distraught mother roamed the woods searching for the bits, only to find a single leg. In some versions of the story, the mother sewed the leg to her body as a way to keep the remnants of her daughter with her; in others she carries the leg with her as she continues to search along the wooded roadside.

Another story is of a poor farmer and his wife who lived on the road. The wife had an affair with a Civil War veteran. When her husband found out, he killed his wife’s lover, drug his body down the road and over the bridge. The veteran’s leg was torn off and left on the bridge.

The wife found her lover’s leg and stitched it onto her own body, then in a fit of rage, killed her husband and commited suicide.
Some say she walks the road at night and haunts the cememtery of the now non-existant church where her lover’s funeral took place.

Another version tells of a devoted wife and her cheating husband who lived on the road. When she discovered his infidelity, she chopped him into pieces. She stitched one of his legs onto her hip–claiming a part of him for eternity. She buried the rest of his remains in the cemetery down the road.

Church members suspected foul play and threatened to turn her in, so she locked everyone inside and set the church on fire during one Sunday meeting. She was never seen again.

There are still other stories, but one common thread runs through them all; They say if you stop along the road, turn off your headlights, and honk three times, you’ll summon her. She’ll beat the sides of your car, and you may see her in the dim glow of your tail lights, chasing you as you flee into the night. Some have reported handprints and dents on their cars after an encounter.

I’ve heard the legend has caused many a car wreck; turning your headlights off on a dark country road usually isn’t a good idea. I’ve never driven down Three-Legged Lady Road, and I’m not sure I want to. But if you have or you have heard stories, I’d love to hear about it.

Add your story to the comments or send it to msfolklore@gmail.com.

Resources:

The Devil’s Crossroads: Clarksdale, MS

April 6, 2023March 30, 2023 ~ booksbytrista ~ Leave a comment

By Natasha Mills

I went to the crossroad, Fell down on my knees.

I went to the crossroad, Fell down on my knees.

Asked the Lord above, ‘Have mercy now,

Save poor Bob, if you please.

– Cross Road Blues by: Robert Johnson

Mississippi, the Delta region in particular, is often called “The birthplace of the blues”. The term “Delta blues” is used to describe music characterized by the percussive use of the guitar. While various researchers speculate that the blues first emerged in Mississippi in the 1880’s or 1890’s, by the 1900’s, blues was gaining popularity across the South.

The exact location of the birthplace of the blues is lost to the sands of time. However, one of the primary centers for that type of music in Mississippi was a place called Dockery Farms. It was one of the most significant plantations in the Delta and it was essentially a self sufficient town, complete with a school, churches, telegraph office; as well as having its own currency. It was owned by William Dockery and housed hundreds of tenant families, most of whom were African Americans who had come to the area searching for work.

Since William treated his workers fairly, most of them stayed for long periods of time. One such family living in the area was that of Bill Patton Jr. He eventually purchased his own land and operated a country store nearby. His son Charley Patton began a career in music. He had been inspired by a local musician and in turn, Patton inspired many more. So much blues has been traced back to Patton and his contemporaries around Dockery that the area is regarded by some as “The wellspring of Delta Blues.”

Mississippi was home to some of the greatest and most influential blues players of all time; Son House, Charley Patton, and Muddy Waters, just to name a few, but none have a story quite like Robert Johnson.

In the late 1930’s a young musician, Robert Johnson, recorded 29 songs that would become some of the most influential blues music of all time. About a year after he recorded his songs, he died. He was 27 years old. We don’t know a lot about him. His life was not well documented, but what we do know, from those who knew him and heard him play, has painted a very strange tale.

Before Johnson recorded the music that would go down in history as legendary, he performed in local juke joints, reportedly Dockery Farms. Some of the bluesmen that frequented these establishments, such as Son House, remember Johnson as a kid who could play the harmonica well at age fifteen. However, he was horrible at guitar. He would come into the joint and beg the musicians to let him play their guitars between sets. House remembers Johnson grabbing a guitar while the band was on a break. He would play it, making noise and annoying patrons.

The story says that no one could stop him from playing guitar and his father dogged him about it so much that he ran away. He took off one night down the road from Dockery Farms, according to legend, and disappeared for six months.

The next time Johnson walked into a juke joint and grabbed a guitar, Son was there to see it. Johnson walked up and asked Son if he could play. Son told him to do whatever he wanted, but not to annoy guests. He suggested that Johnson make use of his time on stage. Johnson played and it is said that he was so talented that all of his audience sat with their mouths open.

People began to speculate that his leap from horrible noise maker to amazing guitarist was so drastic that it was leaning toward the supernatural. It was rumored that Johnson had spent his six months away learning to play guitar from a bluesman named Ike Zimmerman. They practiced at night, in a graveyard where no one would complain. Others say that he didn’t stop there. It is believed that when Johnson left Dockery Farms the night he ran away, he stopped at a nearby crossroads and made a pact with the devil.

The traditional belief by locals about the devil and crossroads goes like this…If you want to learn to play an instrument, you go to a crossroads at midnight and you take the instrument you want to play. You get there early so that you are certain to be there at the stroke of midnight. If you take your instrument and play it while you stand there in the center of the crossroads, a big black man will walk over to you and take the instrument. He will tune it and then he will perform a piece of music on it. He will then hand the instrument back to you. Some believe that you also have to write your request and offer of your soul on a note. The note must be buried in the center of the crossroads for this to work.

Either way, most people believed that something unnatural had happened to give Johnson such talent in such a short time. Even his own songs seemed to hint at something of that nature occurring. He recorded songs such as “Crossroad blues”, “Hellhound on my Trail,” and “Me and the Devil blues”, although his lyrics make no real mention of any unholy encounters.

As Johnson and his music became better known, he was warned about the hazards of working in juke joints. All the women liked Johnson. He was told to be careful of women, because most that looked at him would already be spoken for and that could get him killed.

One story of Johnson’s death states that Johnson had a lover, and his lover had a boyfriend. The boyfriend poisoned Johnson’s whiskey one night at the juke joint and Johnson was left feeling sick. He was taken to a friend’s home and died a few days later.

Some say that it wasn’t whiskey that killed him, but the devil that came to collect his soul. That version says that Johnson became feverish and seemed to think a hellhound was after him. He became ill and crawled across the floor while barking at the moon in pain. The official death certificate states that Johnson died from complications of syphilis.

There are conflicting reports as to his burial location. There are three different cemeteries with headstones that state he is buried there but none of them have ever been confirmed.

In Clarksdale, Ms., where the crossroads were said to have been, (Hwy 61 and 49) there is a large crossroad sign and a guitar to mark the spot, but that seems to be only a tourist attraction, meant to attract people to the area. It is said that the real crossroads are closer to Dockery Farms and the place where Johnson grew up. There is no marker. (Hwy 8 and 1).

What really happened to Robert Johnson? Did he sell his soul to the devil in exchange for legendary talent, or did he simply practice with a professional? Did he die of poison, or syphilis, or did the devil come to take his payment? Which one of the cemeteries houses his body?

We may never know for sure, but one thing we do know is that Johnson left his mark on not only Mississippi, but music history.

If you have been to Devil’s Crossroads we would love to hear about it. Leave a comment or send your story via email to msfolklore@gmail.com.

Resources and Additional Information:

Blues

http://www.clarksdale.com/crossroads.php

https://faroutmagazine.co.uk/robert-johnson-myth-devil-crossroads-story/

Robert Johnson: The Life And Legacy Of The Blues Giant

https://www.udiscovermusic.com/stories/devils-music-myth-robert-johnson/

https://www.roadsideamerica.com/tip/26919

Birthplace of the Blues?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Son_House

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muddy_Waters

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charley_Patton

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ike_Zimmerman

Robert Johnson: Murder or Bad Whiskey?

Fact-checking the Life and Death of Bluesman Robert Johnson

Vampires and Other Night Creatures

March 30, 2023March 28, 2023 ~ booksbytrista ~ Leave a comment

By Steven Cornelius

As a kid, I constantly read sensationalist magazines and trashy novels…especially anything I could find on vampires and werewolves. Visiting the town library, the summer I turned ten, I discovered the gory history of “Vlad the Impaler.” Vlad the Impaler, in full Vlad III Dracula or Romanian Vlad III Drăculea, also called Vlad III or Romanian Vlad Țepeș, (born 1431, Sighișoara, Transylvania [now in Romania]—died 1476, north of present-day Bucharest, Romania), voivode (military governor, or prince) of Walachia (1448; 1456–1462; 1476) whose cruel methods of punishing his enemies, by impaling his enemies on stakes in the ground and leaving them to die. This earned him the name Vlad the Impaler (Romanian: Vlad Țepeș). He inflicted this type of torture on foreign and domestic enemies alike: notably, as he retreated from a battle in 1462, he left a field filled with thousands of impaled victims as a deterrent to pursuing Ottoman forces. gained notoriety in 15th-century Europe. Some in the scholarly community have suggested that Bram Stoker’s Dracula character was based on Vlad.

After bombarding my brain with such stuff for years, it was easy for me to believe that hordes of eastern European monsters were traveling to America to dine on a fresh young victim who tasted like pinto beans and cornbread. These beasts lurked in the shadows on dark nights, waiting for me to drop off to sleep. I lay for hours, petrified with fear, covers clutched around my neck, staring through a curtainless window into infinite darkness, listening as it was rattled by a strong north wind. Dropping off to sleep was no help because vampires chased me through gory nightmares until dawn. Vampires were especially frightening to me because they wield truly otherworldly powers, preying on victims at night when we mortals are at our weakest. Applying rational thinking to the irrational, how do you fight a creature capable of turning into a bat and giving chasing, or become a wisp of smoke and enter your bedroom through the tiniest opening? A shape-shifting night creature that can morph from human form into a bat or a puff of smoke and then reappear in the shape of a man or woman really got inside my head, and I’m not the only one.

More people than one would imagine suspend disbelief and embrace notions of the undead roaming the earth at night. Zombies, vampires, and werewolves creeping around under the light of a full moon feeding on us as we mill around like cattle with little to no defense against them. Why an otherwise rational nurse, policeman, or accountant willingly buys into such myth and legend requires much soul-searching and critical examination. It makes a rational person want to jump to their feet and shout, “just how much of this stuff are we prepared to believe?” In laying the groundwork that allows belief in such creatures, it is important to point out that all good myths and legends contain a kernel of truth, such as our friend Vlad, whom I referenced above, or at least the distant appearance of truth. I’ve certainly encountered co-workers early in the morning who looked undead, especially after a long night of drinking. However, the bottom line is…humans love a good scare. Horror movies consistently pack theaters…even when the plot and execution stink.

I never had the pleasure of meeting Ann Rice, renowned author of “Interview with the Vampire,” though I would have loved to have sat down with her for an hour or so. Maybe I could have screwed up enough nerve to ask her if she believed any part of the well-crafted fiction she created. I remember watching an interview with Ms. Rice just after her debut novel hit bookstores and became a runaway bestseller. She was very forthcoming in answering questions about how the idea for such a book came about. After a few minutes, the psychology behind her story wasn’t too difficult to puzzle out. Ms. Rice had recently endured the horror of losing her young daughter to leukemia. She began writing as therapy. Her daughter died from a disease of the blood, one of the characters in her first novel is a child vampire, created by the ageless vampire Lestat. In advanced stages of leukemia, the patient only looks truly alive after they’ve had a blood transfusion. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that one of the oncologists involved in her daughter’s treatment nicely fit the description of Lestat in her first book. Ms. Rice’s Vampire books created a huge number of fans, many came to book signings dressed as characters from those novels, and like any writer, she reveled in such devotion.

In searching the internet of things, I found oblique and vague accounts of those having seen or encountered a spirit, but no one has admitted to a firsthand encounter with a vampire, zombie, or werewolf. That supernatural aspect of the undead remains a mystery because apparently, no one survives such an encounter or will admit to having seen such a creature…if they indeed exist. I included one story below about vampires in Mississippi, though the proof is very sketchy. In the Vampire House story below, a body is found drained of blood. A hundred years later, a reporter accidentally captures a ghostly, transparent spirit on camera. These adventure seekers saw what they saw was captured on a digital camera for posterity, except it was ultimately lost to time. I have my own ghost stories, so I am the last person to cast doubt on what these young men experienced. Read the story and decide for yourself.

The Vampire House
Published 1 year ago on October 24, 2021, reprinted with permission
By JD Fogas

(Photo by Aaron J Hill from Pexels)

“When I was a younger man in my 20’s, my friends and I decided to play around with the paranormal. We heard a rumor that an old, desolate home that rested beside the roadway was haunted. Some called it the “Vampire House”. The origin of the name was unclear, but the gist was that over 100 years ago, a reporter came to do an interview for a story. That reporter never returned to work. They found his body, drained of blood, a few weeks later. I was the skeptic of the group. I didn’t believe in all the mumbo-jumbo but was more than happy to entertain the notion with my friends. So, we decided to pay this place a visit for ourselves and see what was so spooky about it. We arrived to the home late one night. It was in autumn, though I cannot remember the exact month or day. I remember it being cold. The home was falling apart. Half the ceiling was in the living room and the floors were riddled with holes.

Being the bright bunch of individuals we were, we decided to enter the home and explore. Two of my friends started freaking out, saying they saw something, and decided to run to the car. Me and another friend decided to stay a bit longer and prove that we were not going to be scared so easily.

Now, I did not see anything myself, nor did my friend. We decided to go back to the car and take the others home. When we got to the car, the two friends that got scared started pointing at the house. “TAKE A PICTURE! TAKE A PICTURE!” I did not see anything worth taking a photo of, but I was getting bored with the experience and humored them and took a photo with my cell phone. We got back to town, and I dropped everyone off and didn’t give it a second
thought.

The next day, one of the friends who wanted the photo asked me if I could send it to them. I told them it was no problem and began to pull up the photo. That’s when my heart felt like it stopped. I remember taking the photo. There was nothing to be seen with the eye except an old, abandoned, falling-apart home. However, the photo told a different story. The photo captured, clear as day, an old woman standing on the porch. She was dressed in an old-time dress with ruffled shoulder sleeves and a long dress. The dress stopped at where her ankles would have been, and it appeared she was floating. Her hands were clasped together as if she was praying. Her hair was arranged in a bun, and she appeared to be older, maybe in her 60’s or 70’s. There was also transparency to her. The home could be seen through her, yet she was opaque enough to be perfectly made out in the photo. I freaked.

My skeptic thought at first “double exposure,” but this was not a film camera. This was digital, there would be no way to double expose it. I was at a loss for an explanation. I kept the photo for years, unable to explain it and showed it around to friends, who equally had no explanation to offer. Eventually the photo was lost. I made an attempt a few years later to go back to the residence to see if I could reproduce the photo but to no avail. The home had since been torn down the rest of the way and all that existed in that location anymore was woods.”

It is a shame that photo was lost to time. In the end, people will believe what they want to believe, and folks will forever remain spooked by swirling fog, glistening in the moonlight and cold shadows cast by tall, weathered tombstones in centuries-old graveyards.

I refuse to dismiss any claim of supernatural encounters, but I also reserve the right to be a skeptic. For a number of years, Duke University offered undergraduate and graduate degrees in Parapsychology and maintained an Extra Sensory Perception (ESP) lab on campus, conducting wide-ranging research, some of which was funded by the CIA. After three decades, Duke shut down the program. One day, maybe I can gain access to their archives and see what evidence professors and students gathered over those thirty interesting years.

Resources:

Pallardy, Richard. “Vlad the Impaler”. Encyclopedia Britannica, 1 Jan. 2023, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Vlad-the-Impaler. Accessed 12 March 2023.
Vicksburg Daily News, October 24, 2021, Staff Reports (https://vicksburgnews.com/the-vampire-house/)

Bigfoot in Mississippi

March 23, 2023March 28, 2023 ~ booksbytrista ~ Leave a comment

by Linda Mann, March 21, 2023

It was a perfect fall night for camping under the sky – clear, cool and dry. My friend and I settled in our sleeping bags on a slight incline with our feet against a log. We camped in hilly woods below Raleigh, in Smith County, Mississippi, on private property far away from towns. The woods were beautiful that day. We rode our horses all afternoon to make camp in time for supper cooked over a fire. Darkness came early under tall trees, and two tired campers welcomed it.

A large pack of coyotes tore through the hollow below us and ripped the quiet forest with their yipping and yapping. I still heard them as they ran farther away. Soon, all was quiet again, and I slid deeper into my sleeping bag for the night.

Forest sounds – water droplets, an insect’s buzz, an armadillo or racoon scratching around the little creek below us. The horses were quiet, but they shifted occasionally. A bird flew off a branch near us. Soon, these little noises began to lull me to sleep, but when they stopped all at once, my senses quickened to wide awake. Something was coming.

I heard someone approaching from a distance – a big man walking heavily and taking very long strides. In only a few steps he walked right up to me in the dark (our little fire was out!) He stopped next to my head. I heard steady, robust breathing.

I count only about three times in my life when I was so frightened that I could not move. This was one of them. I was too afraid to turn my head, too scared to move or even breathe lest I attract attention. My mind raced ahead to tomorrow’s headlines: COUPLE FOUND MURDERED IN THE WOODS BY MYSTERIOUS GIANT!

As I held my breath and awaited my fate, the intruder suddenly strode off at an abrupt right angle and was gone in a few steps. I felt deep in my gut that the giant decided to leave us alone instead of smashing us. When he was gone, I woke my friend up. He’d slept through the whole thing. He was sure I’d heard a deer. Giant, two-legged deer indigenous to Smith County? What the heck?

“I heard a huge, loud, two-legged animal walk right up to me in the dry leaves!” I told him.

“This is private property, and there’s no one else around,” he said.

“Well, there’s a big guy in these woods somewhere!” I insisted.

Since then, I’m much more interested in the possibility of an unidentified, highly intelligent primate living in remote areas. Yeti, Sasquatch, Skunk Ape, Bigfoot. I’ve noticed that in hundreds of sightings around the world, the creature stalks, frightens, chases, screams, howls, smells terrible, builds shelters, leaves gifts, knocks wood and throws rocks. Mostly, it hides and runs away. I don’t know of any attacks on humans. Oh, there are ancient stories about Bigfoots carrying off children – very effective in keeping the kids close to home and out of the woods. Bigfoot may be the original Bogeyman!

Bigfoots may be mostly nocturnal. They are carnivorous. They are communicative with their kith and kin. They are intelligent. Most people think that Bigfoot sightings in North America occur mainly in Alaska, the Pacific Northwest and Appalachia. I now find in my research that Smith County, Mississippi, is a hotspot of Bigfoot activity; furthermore, coyotes and Bigfoots may hunt together in symbiotic relationships! Our campsite was a pretty good location for finding Bigfoot. What?

That’s not all – I am gobsmacked to discover that people see Bigfoot in Mississippi all the time! Who knew?

MISSISSIPPI WAS FIRST

Many believe that according to the historical record, the very first documented case of a Bigfoot sighting in North America took place near Natchez, Mississippi, in 1721.

French explorer and priest Pierre François-Xavier de Charlevoix made a journal entry on December 25, 1721, that described his first night staying with the Natchez Indians. He wrote that there had been “a great alarm about nine o’clock in the evening.”

The Natchez told him that it was caused by “a beast of an unknown species, of an extraordinary bulk, and whose cry did not in the least resemble that of any known animal.”

The beast carried off some sheep and calves. The priest tried to convince the people that it was a wolf, but they were sure it was not a wolf, but a “monstrous beast.”

The Chatawa Monster (see the Mississippi Folklore’s The Chatawa Monster for more details)

The Chatawa Monster is a famous tale about a circus train that derailed in the Tangipahoa swamp near Chatawa freeing a ferocious half-man, half-ape hybrid who roams the area to this day. There are nearly as many stories of derailed circus trains freeing beasts to terrorize swampy communities as there are swampy communities with train tracks. Could these simply be legends to rationalize the presence of real Bigfoots?

On SuperTalk Mississippi, Don McDonald, of the Gulf Coast Bigfoot Research Organization (GCBRO), related an experience he had at twelve years of age with found evidence of a beast in the woods. He came across a dead, 200-pound hog with its hind legs broken. Next to it was a tree with one of the hog’s ribs embedded in it. The hog had been slammed into the tree by its legs so hard that its rib broke away! Years later in 2012, he saw a Bigfoot, “not a bear,” that was 7 -71/2 feet tall.

In 2014, Peyton Lassiter found a large animal footprint in an abandoned Vicksburg playground and made a plaster cast of it. He invited David Childers, co-founder of the Delta Paranormal Project, also from Vicksburg, to see it. Coincidentally, Childers previously saw a grayish-brown creature with a shaggy coat run through the woods near the place where Lassiter found the footprint. The footprint cast trapped grayish-white hairs from the animal and showed ridges, unlike bear prints, which have no white hairs or ridges as primates do.

In June of 2016, at the tenth annual Down South Bigfoot Rally in Hattiesburg, the host Don McDonald of GCBRO spoke of his twenty years tracking Bigfoot while simultaneously being called crazy. “It has become a nuisance animal.” McDonald said about Bigfoots in the area. It kills pets and farm animals – even cows. It beats on people’s houses and frightens them!

In 2021, local organizers Brandon “Gator Man” McCranie and Jimmy “JimBob” Allgood threw a Bigfoot Birthday Bash in Natchez to commemorate the 300th birthday of that first recorded event in 1721. The weekend festivities included Bigfoot movies, bands, a casino event, a Barbeque Cookoff, 5K run, kids’ activities, and a lecture series featuring three well-known Bigfoot experts M.K. Davis, Dr. Jeff Meldrum, and Todd Standing. Other states throw annual Bigfoot Bashes to celebrate the great tourism attraction the big guy creates and for a perfect excuse for a party!

Meanwhile, native Americans, including the Choctaws of Mississippi, hold close their stories of big black monsters in the woods that have been passed along since the people emerged from the mother mound.

In January 2021, Finding Bigfoot on Animal Planet traveled to Jackson, the capital of Mississippi, for a town meeting where about 40 people from southeastern Mississippi reported experiences with the big critter. They were thrilled at a local recording of a “big male howl.” The familiar howl occurs at about the same time each year in the same area, so it may be linked to mating behavior.

An attendee reported a tall, dark, upright, hairy animal that walked from behind her barn and easily stepped over her fence without breaking stride before disappearing into the woods. Earlier, more coyotes than usual were noisily active in the area.

Another attendee described finding a pile of 26 deer legs in the woods! Someone else witnessed an animal jump down from a tree a few feet in front of him. It had a human-like face, dark, baby-fine hair all over its body, and it was about five feet tall.

Several others described face-to-face encounters with huge hairy primates ranging in height from five to seven feet. One animal was a female found shaking an empty trailer. As she walked away, she turned and screamed. The witness said he’d heard that sound a lot and believes there are many such creatures in the area – perhaps families of them.

BIGFOOT HERITAGE

Some believe that Bigfoot could be a relict population of one of several extinct apes including Gigantopithecus blacki, Paranthropus robustus, Neanderthal, Homo erectus, or Homo heidelbergensis. No trace evidence of any of these species exists in North America, however. A few black bears (200-250) live here, but no other bears, such as grizzlies, do. Most experts say that Bigfoot sightings are cases of mistaken identity. Bears walk upright and exhibit some of the same behaviors as Bigfoot, but they don’t run bipedally, swinging their arms, as humans do.And black bears have big ears.

The greater scientific community maintains there are simply not enough resources in nature to sustain a breeding population of large North American primates. Meanwhile, Bigfoot sightings continue.

In a National Public Radio interview, Jane Goodall, world-famous primatologist, joked, “Well, now you will be amazed when I tell you that I’m sure that they exist,” adding, “Well, I’m a romantic, so I always wanted them to exist.”

Later, in a Huffington Post interview, she said, “Of course, it’s strange that there has never been a single authentic hide or hair of Bigfoot, but I’ve read all the accounts.”

How do we explain a creature that cannot exist, yet appears frequently to people around the world? How does Science convince us that this ancient story is mythology while rational citizens encounter the “myth” face-to-face somewhere every day?

One thing is certain. Until physical evidence of Bigfoot appears, Bigfoot remains the stuff of folklore. I could have reached out and touched the “folklore” that scared me nearly to death that night in the woods in Smith County. It remains a great mystery in my life today.

References:

BIGFOOT IN MISSISSIPPI?: https://www.magnoliastatelive.com/2021/10/30/did-bigfoot-once-roam-the-mississippi-woods-man-uncovers-300-year-old-sighting-planning-bigfoot-bash-to-celebrate/

BIGFOOT ON WIKI: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bigfoot

SUPERTALK:https://www.supertalk.fm/man-recalls-bigfoot-encounters-

VICKSBURG FOOTPRINT: Is this Bigfoot’s footprint? Men discover evidence of mysterious six-foot-tall creature in Mississippi woods | Daily Mail Online

GCBRO RALLY: Bigfoot hunters gather in Hattiesburg (wdam.com)

FINDING BIGFOOT: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNSnxZzqFwk

BEARS: Information about Black Bears in Mississippi (msbear.org)

Terror in Taylor, Mississippi

March 3, 2023 ~ booksbytrista ~ Leave a comment

by Trista Herring Baughman

Taylor, Mississippi, population 298 as of 2020, is a small (4.1 square miles) town in Lafayette county, seated near the top of the state. Once home to the Chickasaw tribe, it was later founded in 1832 by the son of a Revolutionary War Veteran, John Taylor. Back then known as Yokona Station.

In the following years, the town saw homes and churches built, its railroad completed, an invasion of Grant’s army during the Civil War, and later Reconstruction. In 1907, the name officially changed to Taylor.

Taylor suffered many tragedies: the worst trainwreck in the state, fires, yellow fever, and boll weevils. Though considered a declining small town by 1970, the town has persevered, thanks, in large part, to farm life, restaurants, and the arts.

Taylor’s past, although rich, may seem pretty average on the surface. But not everything is as it seems.

For years stories of strange creatures lurking in the woods of oak and magnolia, stalking the town’s inhabitants, have surfaced. These creatures are known to the locals as the dogmen. They are said to have driven a local family from their ranch in the late ’40s.

Dark Waters’ recording, linked above, recounts the story of the Lockett family as told by Edward Lockett the third; he mentions Chickasaw and Choctaw legends of the dogmen, but I haven’t found written documentation of this. I have not yet researched extensively.

The story goes (and I’m paraphrasing for those who didn’t listen to the aforementioned audio recording) that the Lockett family bought a large piece of land to farm from Chickasaw. For a while, things went well, but then the family decided to provide timber for the local sawmill.

The loggers began working.

Soon they started to feel uneasy, as though someone or something was watching them.

They claimed to see fast-moving figures that followed them. Then, one of the men went missing. All they found of him was a piece of bloody clothing.

It wasn’t long before attacks began on the family home. Growling and howling creatures surrounded and smashed into the house on more than one occasion.

The family tried to protect their farm and kill the beasts. Armed with shotguns and rifles, the loggers attempted to help. Their attempts were feckless. There wasn’t one dogman, but many.

Not unlike the werewolf and rougarou or loup-garou of neighboring Louisiana in appearance, these enormous beasts are described as wolf-like, covered in hair, but with the uncanny ability to walk on two legs.

More men disappeared. The attacks continued. People in the town began to talk. What was happening at the Locketts’ farm? Were the Locketts murderers?

In a final attempt to save their farm, the Locketts set traps and hunted the dogmen. Once again, they were unsuccessful.

Ostracized and defeated, the family deserted their farm and moved fifty miles or so away. Some say the dogmen still plague the town of Taylor and that the people of Taylor are reluctant to talk about it.

While not everyone in Taylor believes (or has even heard of) the terrifying tales, dogmen sightings are not exclusive to the town (see Google Maps’ North American Dogman Sightings tracker).

There was even a recent dogman encounter in the Australian outback.

Growing up in the woods of Mississippi, I can attest that there are unknown, perhaps dangerous critters, in their depths.

Are these sightings legit? Are they hoaxes? Perhaps well-intentioned citizens who’ve experienced optical illusions or the misidentification of some local animal? With so many sightings, it makes you wonder what is out there?

Have you seen a dogman or know someone who has? If so, we’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment or send your story to msfolklore@gmail.com.

Original post-July 2022

sources:

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taylor,_Mississippi

2. http://taylorms.org/about/history/#:~:text=Founding,a%20mill%20on%20the%20river.

3. https://hauntedlocation.blogspot.com/2017/06/dogman-siege-of-locket-ranch-full.html

Franklin Cemetery: Gautier

February 23, 2023February 16, 2023 ~ booksbytrista ~ Leave a comment

By Natasha Mills

The Garden of Hope

Gautier Mississippi: The pronunciation of the name incites controversy amongst residents and visitors alike, so I wasn’t surprised in the least to discover a local cemetery that is equally as controversial.

Gautier is a city in Jackson County, Mississippi. It lies along the Gulf of Mexico, west of Pascagoula, and just like its neighboring coastal areas, Gautier is home to numerous paranormal sites. One such site is a cemetery known as the Garden of Hope.

The first problem you may encounter when visiting the cemetery is finding its location. There isn’t an area listing that bears that name. But in the allocated spot, down a lonely, desolate road, you will find Franklin Cemetery. Some researchers have indicated that it is entirely possible that Franklin Cemetery was, in past days, known as the Garden of Hope. Regardless of the name, if the legends are to be believed and the location is correct, this resting place for the dearly departed is one of the most haunted cemeteries in the country.

The most oft-repeated supernatural story surrounding the cemetery is a tragic tale of murder. According to the tale, a local man traveled to work at Ingalls Shipbuilding in the late 1970s expecting to receive a bonus check. His wife and five children were waiting for him at a local motel. They were planning to use his bonus to put a down payment on their dream house. Instead of receiving a bonus that day, the man was laid off from his job. The story says that the man was so distraught that when he arrived at the motel that night, he murdered his family with an axe as they slept. He then walked into traffic where he was hit and killed by a passing truck.

Some versions of the tale give the man the name Hal and one of his daughters is called Cheryl Anne. Most of the story versions place the father and mother in a “New Orleans style” tomb, but according to visitors to the cemetery, there is no such tomb in the graveyard. Most allege that there are several unmarked graves that could possibly belong to the family. However, none of the locals who were in the area during the time frame of the incident recall any such murders occurring there.

Regardless, stories continue to be told and ghosts claimed to have been seen. The most “sighted” ghost in this hauntingly tragic tale is a small girl of about 10 to 12 years, named Cheryl Ann, who is said to follow visitors through the graveyard. She appears to be a solid and very much alive little girl, eager to help people find whatever grave they are seeking. She even offers to hold your hand or carry flowers for you to place on the grave. She disappears as suddenly as she appears. Some reports state that she is often heard saying “Hope you’ll come back and see me soon.” Reports state that there have been many visitors to the site that have caught her likeness on camera, but my research efforts failed to uncover any such photographs.

Franklin Cemetery is also home to other ghostly legends. One such story tells of a man who climbs out of his grave and steals flowers from the headstones. He takes the flowers to his own grave and places them there. One version of the story tells of a mourner who complained that while at the cemetery, she was accosted by a man. He stole a bouquet of flowers from her hands. When the incident was investigated her flowers were located on the grave of a man unknown to her. His likeness was on his headstone and the woman identified him as the man who had stolen her flowers.

If that paranormal encounter isn’t enough to raise the hairs on your neck, there is the story of Bloody Sarah. Her name is reason enough for me not to want to discover her in the dark. Those who have encountered Sarah say she is seen walking through the grounds wearing a blood-soaked housecoat and fluffy white slippers. She has even been seen during daylight hours when it is said that she runs in front of passing cars. Drivers slam on the brakes and exit their cars thinking they have hit someone, only to be met with nothing beneath their vehicles. As the drivers return to their cars, her insane laughter can be heard.

There have also been sightings of orbs in the cemetery. Visitors have reportedly taken photos that show red ghost lights hovering above graves. They are said to fly high into the air and then dive back down. Again, my research failed to produce any such photos. Despite the lack of visual proof, people have claimed to have been chased out of the graveyard by the previously mentioned red lights.

Another spooky spirit said to haunt the cemetery is Gus, the grave digger. The tale states that Gus likes to help dig graves and is often seen by people who knew him in life. He has haunted the area since 1965. He is described as having dirty hands and knees but a smiling face. He is reported to leave the cemetery every day at 5pm heading for the area of the road where he was killed. Whether he was killed by a passing car or murdered, the story does not specify. It does however say that he liked to hitchhike and his ghost can be seen hitching a ride from passersby. Once someone picks him up, he looks at them and says, “You know, this is where I died” and promptly disappears, leaving the driver rattled.

One ghostly resident of the cemetery rivals even our first story of murder. This story revolves around a woman called Joanna. The story recounts that long ago, in the dark of night, Joanna followed her husband to the area of the cemetery. She saw him having a secret love affair there. Once she saw the two together she flew into a rage and murdered them both. Afterward, she shot herself in the head just inside the front gates. She has been known to chase visitors and even hit them. Those who have felt her angry fists say that they feel very solid.

The last, and certainly the most unbelievable tale of this garden of hope, is that of a grave that contains a coffin that has been cemented into the ground. The story says that contained in the coffin, wrapped in chains, is a werewolf. He is believed to be somewhere between life and death, trapped in his grave and begging to be set free. Visitors to the cemetery say they have heard him howling in agony from under the earth.

Is the Garden of Hope and Franklin Cemetery one and the same? Does the Garden of Hope even exist? If they are, and it does, is it really haunted by these lost and tortured souls? If you are in Gautier and you happen to find its location that is only part of your task completed. Franklin Cemetery is a privately owned property. Any visitor needs permission to enter the grounds. Should you be lucky enough to find the spot and enter, let us know what spooks you discover!

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gautier,_Mississippi

https://vocal.media/horror/spirits-roam-at-the-garden-of-hope-cemetery

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.547470108605884.134569.489354544417441&type=3

https://www.gulflive.com/mississippi-press-news/2015/10/does_the_haunted_garden_of_hop.html

These 8 Haunted Cemeteries In Mississippi Are Not For the Faint of Heart

The Bride of Annandale

February 9, 2023February 9, 2023 ~ booksbytrista ~ Leave a comment

by Linda Mann

It was on a black night many years ago, and as the tires hit the crunchy gravel driveway, I felt a heavy dread like nothing else in my experience.

Earlier, my friends and I decided to drive north from Jackson to explore the Chapel of the Cross in Annandale, Mississippi. We wanted to find the ghost that everyone was talking about in the old
cemetery around back. Only last year a friend told me that he once peered into the chapel through a window and saw a huge ghostly figure behind the altar! It scared him half to death.

“I’m not going,” I said, frozen in my seat. Everyone else in the car objected, of course. They said they couldn’t leave me alone, but they did, and I locked myself in to wait forever until they came back. I was
terrified, but it was better than being outside in that deep, black Dread, I told myself.

After what seemed like hours, they all came running back breathless, but unscathed, unafraid, and disappointed. They hadn’t seen a thing. I knew, though, that something was out there on that night so
long ago. They simply missed it. Perhaps it had lingered next to the car, near me.

At the time, none of us knew the story of the “Bride of Annandale”. We just knew that the chapel and its cemetery were supposed to be haunted.

Annandale

Annandale Plantation was built in the late 1850s in Livingston – now Madison, Mississippi, by Margaret Thompson Johnstone, the wealthy widow of John T. Johnstone. Before building the mansion, Mrs.
Johnstone erected a Gothic Revival structure on the property, the Chapel of the Cross, in memory of her late husband. The Chapel was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1972. Events surrounding the chapel compose a sad tale of lifelong grief and loss.

Left – Chapel of the Cross, photo by Linda Mann Right – Anandale Plantation, side view

During Christmas of 1855, the Johnstones’ younger daughter Helen met and fell in love with handsome Henry Grey Vick, of the Vicksburg, Mississippi, founding family. A carriage accident caused Vick to visit the Johnstones long enough for the two to fall madly in love before Henry returned to Vicksburg. Helen was only sixteen, and her mother persuaded her to wait until her twentieth birthday, May 21, 1859, to marry Vick in the Chapel of the Cross. As their wedding day approached, spirits soared, and preparations reached a fever pitch. Four days before the wedding, although he promised Helen never to engage in a duel, Henry Vick got into a disagreement with a friend and was pressed into a duel near New Orleans.

To keep his promise to Helen, Henry fired into the air but was shot in the head and killed. The Vick family sent his body to his bride-to-be on what was to have been their wedding day; the funeral took place in the Chapel of the Cross; and he was buried in the Johnstone family cemetery late that night. The inconsolable Helen wore her white wedding dress with a black veil that day.

Top Left – Henry Vick, Bottom Left – Rev. George Carrol Harris, Center-Helen, Right – Henry Vick’s grave, photo by Linda Mann

Afterward, she spent most of her time sitting on a wrought iron bench beside Henry’s grave, weeping, talking to him, and brushing away the leaves from his grave. She made her family promise to bury her
beside Henry when her time came.

Mont Helena

Although Helen’s mother worried that she might never recover from her deep grief, she eventually married an upwardly mobile young minister named George Carrol Harris. She promised him loyalty and
duty but not the love she held for Henry.

The Rev. And Mrs. Harris moved frequently during Harris’ busy ministry, and the couple had three children, the first of which died when he was only days old. Helen was a dutiful minister’s wife, playing an active role in her community and raising their children.

In 1896, the couple built a beautiful colonial revival-style retirement home on Johnstone family property (on a ceremonial Indian Mound) in Rolling Fork and named it Mont Helena. It became a showplace in the
area where many weddings and christenings were performed.

As time passed, Helen’s mother died, and Annandale Plantation was sold. After 49 years of marriage, Helen’s husband George died in 1911, and Helen lived at Mont Helena until her death in 1916. She was
buried beside her husband at Mont Helena, not beside Henry Vick in the Chapel of the Cross Cemetery.

Helen’s Earthbound Spirit

Helen’s life was filled with tragedies. When she was still a child, she lost her two brothers in the same year. Her father died at only 47, and then Henry Vick – the love of her life – was suddenly and tragically
killed. Her mother, her sister, her newborn baby boy, and finally her husband of 49 years also predeceased her. The horrific Civil war raged during these years. Its violence and unchecked epidemics
of the time brought even more losses.

Did these tragedies set the scene for a grieving spirit to remain earthbound?

“The Bride of Annandale” is a famous local legend. Many see the apparition of a young bride wandering through the cemetery at the Chapel of the Cross and weeping on the wrought iron bench beside Henry Vick’s grave. Some kind souls offer help only to see the apparition dissolve into air!

Simultaneously, over 60 miles away, in Rolling Fork, Mississippi, a ghostly lady dressed in white is often seen at Mont Helena, and according to local folklore, it too is Helen’s ghost!

In an episode (Season 15, Episode 3, airing 10/15/2022) of the Travel Channel’s Ghost Hunters series, entitled “On Hallowed Mound,” the team investigated Mont Helena where many reports of apparitions,
sounds, and other phenomena are made since the mansion’s restoration and opening to the public. During the investigation, direct contact was made with a spirit identifying itself as Helen and saying that she stayed to be with her baby who died at only ten days old.

Is it possible for a spirit to haunt two places at once? I could find no solid reference to this oddity, but one explanation might be that the Bride of Annandale is a “residual” haunting, and the Lady in White at
Mont Helena is an “intelligent” haunting.

A residual haunting is defined as simply an impression of a past event that has been left in space and time to repeat again and again. It does not interact with living persons. The apparition of the Bride is
seen but does not speak to people or seem to know that they are there.

An intelligent haunting is the presence of a spirit that can interact with people trying to communicate with it. The Lady in White identifies herself and answers questions when asked.

Another phenomenon, Bilocation, defined as the ability to be two places at once, is found in many religions and mythologies. Accounts of Bilocation solely in the spirit world are elusive, if not nonexistent,
however. Bilocation occurs when a living person is in one place while spiritually transporting to another.

Could this be possible in Helen’s case? It seems unfair that Helen must haunt two places at once because of her tragically sad life. Perhaps she is able to find a measure of peace with her firstborn child at Mont Helena.

Since that first visit, I go to the Chapel of the Cross often. I wander quietly in the little cemetery and admire the beautifully carved headstones and intricate iron gates and fences. I sit on Helen’s wrought
iron bench beside Henry’s grave and hope that she might appear. I enter the chapel and think of that dark night when Helen, dressed in white but veiled in mourning, dreaded the arrival of the carriage
bringing the dead body of her beloved bridegroom to the chapel for his funeral instead of his wedding.

That dread surrounded me – nearly suffocated me – on a very dark night so many years ago.

SOURCES:
https://fairweatherlewis.wordpress.com/2012/02/09/the-bride-of-annandale/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Annandale_Plantation
https://www.justshortofcrazy.com/mont-helena/
https://www.monthelena.com/story