Legend of Big Liz

Image from Foto Search
It seems that Big Liz was quite a woman, so much so that her legend takes on all kinds of twists and turns. It was never exactly the same in any retelling. But here's our version:

Big Liz was a slave woman who was owned by John Rustin, a Confederate fundraiser and owner of a Bucktown tobacco plantation on the Maryland Eastern Shore in southern Dorchester County.

It was obvious why she was called Big Liz - she was a huge, powerful woman, robust and strong from long days of toiling in the fields. And she most certainly did not share the political views of her master.

The boss thought she was a Union spy working with local collaborators, tipping off shipments of gold sent out from the plantation to pay the reb troops and even spilling the beans as to where his treasure trove was, hidden in the barn.

Rustin had to get rid of Big Liz and her big mouth, but he knew he couldn't take her physically mano a mano. Killing two birds with one stone, he had her carry the heavy gold chest to the nearby Greenbriar swamp and bury it. As a weary Big Liz was covering the strong box with a last shovelful of muck, Rustin struck.

He beheaded her with one mighty swipe of a foot-long tobacco knife.

Rustin buried her body in the swamp without her head, which had rolled away in the darkness. Big Liz's vengeance wouldn't wait to be served cold. It's said that he met his fate that same evening, frightened to death in his bedroom by a midnight visit from a zombie-like Liz, head tucked under her arm.

Fitting end, you say? Not quite. It's believed that Big Liz has never left the scene of her murder.

The DeCoursey Bridge crosses the serene Transquaking River as it meanders through the marshes. And if you want to meet the legend, at least in spirit, park on the bridge, turn off your car, honk your horn three times (others say you have to flash your headlights while beeping; apparently it's a pretty ritualized ceremony), and wait.

Big Liz’s presence will manifest itself. Some claim she comes as a glowing orb, or can be heard making a low, moaning sound. But the lore we prefer is that Big Liz will appear holding her head in her hands. If you follow her she will lead you through the trees and mud to where the wealth is hidden.

But no one has had the courage to follow her yet...because another piece of the legend is that Big Liz still haunts the area where the gold was buried. It cost Liz her life, and no one is going to take it from her - ever.

The Legend of Hessian Thal

Camp Security photo by Patrick McIntyre on Preservation Nation
Now partially private property and partially park land in Springettsbury Township, York County, Camp Security was a POW camp during the Revolution. The prisoners were mainly the captured troops of Generals Burgoyne and Cornwallis, taken during the battles of Saratoga and Yorktown.

The camp was loosely guarded by local militiamen, and it's said if you wanted to escape, all you had to do was walk out. But many of the prisoners actually had their families living in the compound in stone huts with them, and several ran cottage industries while imprisoned.

But that doesn't mean life was easy. Although most of the detainees had no desire to escape - they were treated relatively well there and the British Army life wasn't a exactly bed of roses - many perished in camp.

Especially rough was the winter of 1782-83 when fever swept the prison. Many died, and they were buried in a little dale outside Camp Security.

This became the site of its first ghost story, a poem entitled "Hessian Thal" written by Henry L. Fisher that tells of the specters of the dead German and British soldiers arising from the graveyard every Christmas Eve. They come back to mock their commanders for losing the battles that caused them to become prisoners and ultimately meet their death at Camp Security.

The inmates were interned at the camp until the British signed the Treaty of Paris to formally end the war on April 19, 1783. After their release, some of the freed prisoners stayed in America, while the others returned to their former homelands.

But it's said that a select few remained behind - forever. There's a trail that leads through the woods to the small valley graveyard of the soldiers, and several sightings of spook troopers have been reported from there at night, prisoners who can never escape.

The Legend of the Spirit Lodge

Lake Hopatcong photo from the Lake Hopatcong Commission
From the time the Lenape (Delaware) first discovered the waters of Lake Hopatcong some 12,000 years ago, it was a special place. A deep spring-fed lake formed by glaciers, it was an idyllic spot for a Native American community. Its wooded shores provided rich soil and ample game while the lake teemed with fish.

In the 1600's, the Nariticon clan of the Lenape lived on the eastern shore of Lake Hopatcong, in a large village on Halsey Island in northern New Jersey. The island was then connected to the mainland before the lake was dammed in 1750 for a forge and in 1831 for a canal.

Quaquahela, the clan's chief, decided to visit another tribe, and rowed his canoe across the lake. He reached shore, when suddenly he heard roaring and thrashing in the woods. A huge bear was charging at him.

The chief was brave, and armed with a war club and knife. But his totem was the bear; it was taboo for him to kill one. Someone should have told the bear!

Despite the tribal sanction, Quaquahela had no option but to engage the beast in combat. The chief finally dispatched the bear in a bloody contest, but lay dying on the forest floor, realizing by his deed that his spirit would never be accepted into the Happy Hunting Ground.

His body was never recovered, claimed by a wolf pack, but a friendly chieftain found the bear's body and Quaquahela's blood-crusted weapons, added two and two together, and after a fruitless search sent a messenger to the Nariticon to tell them the sad news.

About a month later, during a full moon, Quaquahela's clan saw an eerie mist spiraling up the side of a nearby hill, like the smoke from a fire. The haze formed into an unmoving cloud, despite gusty winds, and hovered over the hillside. The clan was mystified by the strange sight, and wondered why it had appeared to them.

That night, Quaquahela appeared in a dream to his medicine man. "It is I," he told him, "who have appeared in the mist on the hillside. I have killed the great bear who took my life, and so am forbidden forever to enter the spirit realm. Rather than roam the earth, I have determined to stay near my clansmen, and so have erected a spirit lodge on the hillside in the place which you saw tonight."

The chief promised the medicine man that he would be with his people on all their travels to watch over them. If they ever doubted his presence, all they had to do was look to the hillside. The mist was the smoke from his spirit lodge, and if they ever called to him, he would answer.

And while the Lenape remained by Lake Hopatcong, a call to Quaquahela was always answered by an echo in response.

Life for the Lenape would change with the arrival of the European settlers. Most of the Delaware people had died from disease or were chased from the area by the time of the American Revolution. But many Lenapes still came to the lake to drink from its waters before their ceremonies.

(The lake is now part of Hopatcong State Park, bordered by four different residential communities and a thriving recreational site.)

The legend goes that to this day, if you hail Quaquahela on the River Styx bridge towards the hillside, he will answer. But many have tried to reach him without success.

Maybe it's because they're not his clansmen. But we like to think it's because he's moved his spirit lodge to wherever the Nariticon call home, and can be found there as long as his clan needs him.

His lore is preserved by Henry Charlton Beck in Tales and Towns of Northern New Jersey and S. E. Schlosser in American Folklore.

The Legend of the Ape Boy

Gossamer from Lizzy Marboc's album
Hey, kids can be cruel - and not just today. Back in the pre-revolutionary days, there was a homely boy who lived in Chester. We're talking big-time whipped with an ugly stick here.

He was a tall, gangling, red-headed child, and the other kids ragged him terribly about his looks, or lack thereof, as only rugrats can. One day he had all he could take of their taunts, and fled into the peace and quiet of the swamps around the Delaware River, near where the Commodore Barrie Bridge now connects Pennsylvania and New Jersey.

He never rejoined human society. The swamp rat roamed the mire and woods and foraged for his food. Eventually, he mutated into a half-ape, half-human critter with thick red fur covering an Ichabod Crane physique, sorta like Gossamer of Looney Tunes fame.

Now back in the day, the Chester Swamps covered a huge expanse, but over the centuries it's been drained for homes, businesses, industries, and the Philadelphia International Airport. Civilization may be surrounding our Swamp Boy, but the Tinicum Watershed Wildlife Preserve remains, and should be off limits to developers for quite a while.

It seems like both the swamp and its denizens have survived modern times. It's been said that Delaware River fishermen and folk hiking through what's now called the John Heinz Wildlife Preserve at Tinicum have reported seeing a half-human, half-ape creature loping through the undergrowth, with dirty, matted, red fur. Could it be our boy, still around after 250 years? Hey, who else?

And ya know what? If you look across the swamp, you'll see the Pine Barrens, home of another legendary critter, the Jersey Devil. Maybe Swamp Boy finally found a friend.

The story is featured in Weird Pennsylvania, written by Mark Moran, Matt Lake, and Mark Sceurman.

Legend of the White Lady

White Lady's Castle - photo from Virtual Tourist by rdywenur (Chris)
At the turn of the century, Dr. Henry S. Durand owned a summer camp in Irondequoit, near Rochester, in New York's Monroe County. He and his friend George Eastman saw a need for a public park in the area and bought a number of farms around the Durand property.

They transferred the property parcel between the Genesee River and Irondequoit Bay to the people, and on May, 22, 1909, Durand Eastman Park was formally dedicated.

The park is a jewel, sporting a Lake Ontario shoreline, a Robert Trent Jones golf course, great trails, beaches, and about everything an urban boy could want to return to his outdoorsy roots - including a legendary "Lady In White."

The White Lady is well-known in local lore. The details of the legend are fuzzy and debated, but the main story is crystal clear - a man kills a girl, the mom searches unsuccessfully for her body, and finally dies, filled with pain. Then she returns from the grave to continue an eternal search, making sure to give any men she runs across a hard time on her daughter's behalf.

The story begins in the early-to-mid 1800s, when the White Lady and her daughter were said to have lived where the Durand Eastman Park now stands.

The mother was abused by her husband and he eventually split the scene, leaving her to raise her daughter alone. It also gave her quite the attitude regarding men, which carried over in her relationship with her girl (and into the afterlife).

At this point, the tale diverges a bit. One version said the teen daughter had a boyfriend that the mom disapproved of, and another claims that a neighboring farmer had been making lustful eyes at her.

The girl left the house one evening to take a walk on the beach with maybe her beau, or maybe alone. Either way, she never returned, perhaps killed by her lover boy after a spat (don't you hate it when your mother's right?) or raped and murdered by the jilted local.

The distraught mom reported her missing child to the local gendarmes, who did next to nothing about her claim (although her report is supposedly still on file; talk about your cold cases!). The White Lady took to searching the shoreline herself day after day, accompanied by her two albino German Shepherds, but they had no luck in discovering the girl's body.

Finally, overwhelmed by her grief, the mother threw herself off a cliff into Lake Ontario (or perhaps off a bridge into Durand Lake; other versions say she lived to be an old lady and died a natural death). Her dogs pined away for their mistress and shortly joined her in the netherlands.

A sad story indeed. And it's just beginning.

Legend relates that the White Lady and her two dogs rise from the foggy mists of the lake (Ontario, Durand, a pond, take your pick) at night and together they roam through Durand Eastman park, still searching for her missing daughter or any other woman in trouble.

Some isolate the Lady in White's haunting to a crumbled foundation on Lakeshore Boulevard, with a great view and reached by twenty stone steps leading from the road. The ruins are known as the "White Lady's Castle." They do in fact look like a castle's remains, made of stone with round turrets.

It's said to be the remnants of the White Lady's house or an old hotel, although local historians say that the stonework is what's left of an old Conservatory built over the bones of a former battery guarding Lake Ontario from the Canadians and their Brit buds.

The spirit is said to hateful toward males (little wonder) and pounces on men relentlessly, seeking her vengeance against the guys visiting the park for her daughter, especially when they're with a girl. Mother's instinct, hey?

She actively seeks out guys, supposedly searching vehicles for necking couples. The White Lady picked a good spot for her mission, too - her castle is party central for teens and a popular lover's lane. Many young couples have allegedly been scared witless during their smooch sessions after seeing a white apparition with two spectral dogs drift towards their car. And it doesn't pay to be brave.

There have been many reports of the White Lady chasing men into the lake, shaking their cars, scratching their faces, sending her dogs (oddly, most reports say they're Doberman's) after them, and generally raising havoc until they leave the park. She has reportedly never touched any females, although they've seen her and her dogs. They say she seems very peaceful, yet extremely sad. (The guys may argue the peaceful part).

It's also been claimed that the daughter's muffled cries and sobs can be heard near the Castle. But it's not the only place the White Lady and her pooches visit. The Lady in White has been spotted all over park, even on the golf course. Her misty form has even been allegedly photographed a couple of times.

Many consider her not to be a spiteful spook, but a guardian spirit (well, the girls, anyway).

It is said that if a gal suspects that her guy has been fooling around, one acid test of fidelity is to take him to the park. If he has been untrue, the White Lady will come a callin'. He'll be the only one able to see her, and she'll use her supernatural wiles to compel him to tell all about his cheatin' heart. Hey, who needs a big scene or Sodium Pentothal when the Lady in White is waiting in the wings?

There's an almost entirely different spin thrown on the tale by "Rochester - Off the Beaten Path" on the Virtual Tourist site. It goes like this:

In an age when the mentally ill were hidden away, she, the insane wife of the influential Dr. Durand, was cloistered in their vacation home on the lake. Abandoned and embarrassed by a philandering husband, she torched the house. The charred bodies of her nurse and orderly were found in the rubble (now known as The White Lady Castle) but Mrs. Durand had disappeared. Lady Durand roams the park, hunting unwitting young men who, she believes, take advantage of the young women who accompany them.

While there are multiple versions of the White lady legend, how many ghosts can claim to be the inspiration for a movie? Writer/director Frank LaLoggia is said to have created his 1988 supernatural thriller "The Lady in White' based on her lore.

Her legend is featured in many books, including Weird New York by Chris Gethard and Spooky New York by folklorist S.E. Schlosser.

The locals even get into the act, hosting a "Lady in White" candlelight Halloween Ghost Walk.

(While researching this post, H&H ran across nine other "Lady In White" legends based in New York alone. Geez, aren't there any ladies in black or red?)