Lore - Episode 135: A Good Death

Episode Date: February 3, 2020

We like it when things go according to plan. Even when it comes to death, we long to have some semblance of control over our path. So when those best-laid plans are disrupted by the unexpected, it’s only natural to assume the worst. ———————————— Episode Resources: Episode Music: lorepodcast.com/music Episode Sources: lorepodcast.com/sources Lore News: www.theworldoflore.com/now Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.com Access premium content!: https://www.lorepodcast.com/support See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

It's an unremarkable stretch of land by both standards. Wide open fields surround the place, with marshland and the occasional rise in the landscape. It's the Scottish Highlands in just about every way you can imagine, windy, wet and steel gray and immensely beautiful, but it's also haunted. Many who visit this patch of land due east of Iverness have reported the most unusual experiences. Some visitors have seen injured men lying in the tall grass, only to watch them vanish as they move in for a closer look. Others have witnessed men in military uniforms walking out of the marsh toward them.

An artist of all, local birds either avoid the area altogether, or somehow feel compelled to remain silent, adding to the eerie atmosphere. The good news is that these sightings only happen once a year, on April 16th. That's because the land is the site of a bloody battle known as the Battle of Culloden. It was a confrontation that took place in 1746 between British forces and rebels from the Jacobite uprising, and a conflict that saw the loss of nearly 2,500 lives. And every year on the anniversary of that tragic event, the past, it seems, returns to make itself known. Because some tragedies are too difficult to move on from,

and as a result, they gnaw at the present, either through unusual experiences or the details of the stories we still tell about them today. But it's not the only battlefield known to be haunted by the events they once played host to. All over the world, there are locations where soldiers fought and died that still seem to have an atmosphere of their own, where the darkness has yet to let go. And it's easy to understand why. All of that pain and suffering and death concentrated into one location can't help but leave a mark. Even in a relatively new country like the United States,

there are countless battlefields with the reputation for something darker, as if the past still waits for us behind a thin veil. And thanks to its pivotal role in American history, and the magnitude of suffering that took place, there is one battlefield that most people today have heard of. Even if they don't know about the shadows it contains. Gettysburg I'm Aaron Mankey, and this is Lore. It wasn't just a battle. That's probably not a shock to many people, but if we're honest,

most of the time someone says the name Gettysburg, it's in reference to the battle. But long before shots were fired, Gettysburg was a community. It was first settled in 1761, when a tavern was built at a well-traveled crossroads for people journeying between Baltimore and Philadelphia. In what could be seen as a bit of foreshadowing, most of those travelers were soldiers, and their frequent stops helped turn the tavern into something more. By the 1790s, locals were referring to the community there as Gettysburg. By the time the dark clouds of the American Civil War were gathering on the horizon, Gettysburg was home to nearly 500 buildings, most of which were homes, but also businesses

and centers for manufacturing. And of course, there was the railroad line that passed through, which also contributed to the community's growth. Gettysburg was also more than a battle in another way. While the infamous battle most people remember only took place over the course of three days, it was part of a larger campaign called, creatively, the Gettysburg Campaign. For most of June and July of 1863, military activities swirled around the little community there, like a large beehive hanging from the branch of a small tree. But that would change soon enough. Southern General Robert E. Lee had been trying to invade the North for a while. His hope was that if he succeeded, he might force President Lincoln to consider some kind

of peaceful agreement. But Lincoln wasn't going to let that happen. In the weeks leading up to the main battle, Union forces under the command of General Joseph Hooker positioned themselves in the area around Gettysburg, hoping to act like a barrier between Lee and the North. What took place between July 1st and July 3rd was the bloodiest battle of the entire Civil War. Despite replacing General Joseph Hooker just three days earlier, Union General George Mead managed to repel the Confederate forces and send General Lee back south. It saved the North from invasion and helped turn the tide in the larger conflict. But that victory came at an enormous cost, with over 51,000 casualties between the two sides, roughly 30% of everyone involved.

Historian Drew Gilpin Faust puts that figure into morbid perspective by equating it to 6 million pounds of dead bodies. And those bodies were left to rot in the hot July sun, too, because the long-held tradition of the victors burying the dead had been tossed out the window earlier in the war. It was just too hard to keep up. But it's not just that the Union forces didn't have time to dig graves. It turns out there weren't enough supplies to get the job done, either. A key tool in that process was shovels, obviously, and there weren't enough to go around. And so the dead, for a long while, were simply left in the sun. Because of this, the people of Gettysburg reportedly began using scented oils like pennyroyal and peppermint as a way of masking the stench.

It went beyond smells, though. After the battle, farmers headed back out into their fields, only to find dead soldiers littered throughout their crops. One farmer, George Rose, found at least 50 bodies in his field, while another farmer discovered an entire front line of 80 soldiers that had died in a tidy row. Everywhere people looked, there were dead horses and dead men. It wouldn't be until October that the National Cemetery was set up at Gettysburg. The battle might have been four and a half months in their past, but I can't imagine anyone there felt as if it was over or had begun to forget. That's because there was something else going on in the hearts and minds of those connected to the Battle of Gettysburg. You see, the people of the late

19th century lived in a world where death was more of a community event. The overwhelming majority of people from that era died in the presence of loved ones, almost always at home. It was viewed as a good death, where the final moments and words of the dying might be recorded. But war robbed families of that experience. All throughout the Civil War, parents and spouses had to wrestle with the knowledge that their loved ones had traveled far from home, only to die suddenly in battle with no one to witness or comfort them. That wasn't a good death, as far as they were concerned. One common fear that came out of this bitter side effect of war was that the dead might linger, that the lack of a good death had the potential to create a cloud of souls who were

separated from their bodies in a less than ideal way. People feared those souls would never rest or find peace, and in turn, might stay to haunt the land of the living. Now, obviously, life moved on in Gettysburg. People put their lives back together, businesses reopened, and farmers went on to plant and harvest new crops. But the specter of all those bad deaths lingered on. We know this because of the stories they told, stories that have held on to this day of tragic loss and painful death. And if they're true, Gettysburg is filled with more than just stories of the past. It's also haunted by the dead. If the shifting battle lines were waves, the community of Gettysburg was the shoreline.

Depending on the time and day of the conflict, you never knew which side would have control over the homes and businesses there. Barns were used as military hospitals. Kitchens and dining rooms played host to officers planning their next moves. Naturally, the people of Gettysburg did their best to disappear and stay out of harm's way. And for the most part, it worked. The home of local farmers Daniel and Rebecca Lady was taken over by Confederate forces around July 2nd. It was stressful for the family on a number of levels, not least of which was the fact that Rebecca had just given birth to their fourth child a week before. But the beautiful field stone farmhouse quickly became a hospital for injured troops. And that meant that there was

a lot of blood. Again, the house is made of stone, so it fared better than its wooden neighbors against stray mini-balls. But inside, the Confederates got creative with everything they could find in order to help their injured soldiers. Doors were taken off hinges and used as stretchers. The dining room tables served as a location for emergency operations. And amputated limbs were piled outside the kitchen window, a pile that reached so high that it was visible from inside. Today, there are still visible blood stains in various parts of the house, remnants of that painful and tragic week. But some believe the stains aren't the home's only reminders of the past. Visitors have seen ghostly figures in military uniforms throughout

the property, while others have heard screams of pain as if someone were injured and afraid, like a dying soldier. Another place with its own connection to the battle is the Fairfield Inn, which was already nearly a century old by the time the battle washed over the community there. Some people tell stories about its use as a Confederate hospital, but there's no solid proof to back up that claim. What we do know is that the property was used as the site of a mass grave for dead Confederates. As the story goes, the Southern forces retreated westward at the end of the battle, a path that took them directly past the house. Whispers rippled through the broken Confederate soldiers that a physician lived in the house, and as a result, hundreds

of injured stopped there for help. In addition, wagons filled with corpses were guided into the yard and emptied there, leaving the owners with over 800 bodies to bury. That's nearly a thousand lives that were lost to violence, only to be buried with no identification or honor, far from their home and loved ones. They might have dreamed of a good death, but what they received was far worse. Today, the house seems filled with echoes of that tragic past. Objects have been known to move on their own, such as dishes in the kitchen. Mysterious sounds are often heard throughout the house, like footsteps in an empty room, and doors have been seen to open and close on their own.

Others have felt cold spots and photographed orbs, those classic visual clues that ghost hunters look for. Most frightening of all though, many visitors have claimed to see the pale figure of an older man, sometimes dressed in military uniform. He's most commonly seen in the main floor of the dining area, a portion of the house that was built on top of the mass grave of Confederate soldiers. He never speaks, but it's hard not to feel disturbed by his presence. And I could go on, because there never seems to be a shortage of structures in Gettysburg that claim a connection to the infamous battle of 1863, and with them comes just as many stories

of the dead who refuse to leave. In fact, I've been told that the local police there receive so many calls about unusual sightings that they have their own response code for such reports. 1863. Some locations in town seem to have more activity than others. It's not a competition, of course, but there's certainly a difference from one place to the next. At the top of that list, though, is a building that seems to have experienced more echoes of the past than most. And if you're up for it, I'd like to take you there. It was built before the war, and its story continued long after it was over. The house that stands today at 401 Baltimore Street was constructed in the early 1800s by

its original owner, a man named John McFarlane, who lived there until his death in 1851. His death, however, would be the first of many to take place in the life of the home he built. Today it's known as the Farnsworth House Inn, but in July of 1863, when the armies of the North and the South converged upon the community there in Gettysburg, the house was owned by Harvey Sweeney and his wife Catherine. They lived there with their daughter Elizabeth, as well as some lodgers who rented a room. But when the Union forces arrived, they also took on larger duties. Those Union troops needed space for supplies and safe medical care, and set up camp at the Baltimore Street house. But after just one day of fighting, the Union had lost ground,

and the Sweeney's home became a meeting place for the Confederates instead. In fact, it's said that southern sharpshooters actually fired at the northern line from within the house, literally placing part of the battle inside the Sweeney home. For three days, the Sweeney's were forced to stay away from the house, and probably wondered if they would ever get back. We can look back today and know that the battle would end on July 3, but to those in the middle of it, it must have seemed like a new reality with little hope. Thankfully, on July 4, they were able to return. But it wasn't a warm welcome. According to the stories told about the house, Catherine and Elizabeth were the first to step back inside, and when they did, they discovered a scene of horror and

destruction. The interior of the home was in disarray, windows were broken, furniture had been destroyed, and blood was everywhere, including the walls. That wasn't the worst of it, though. They apparently discovered a room on the second floor that was absolutely covered in blood, and when they examined it more closely, they noticed drag marks that led out into the hall and then down the stairs. Following the red smears, they were led to the cellar, where they discovered a horrifying scene, the bodies of two Confederate soldiers, one of which had nearly been decapitated. Most people have assumed that these two soldiers had been stationed in the upstairs room as sharpshooters, but had retreated after being mortally wounded,

a retreat that led them to the dark silence of the house's cellar. And that same cellar has been reported to be the location of a number of unusual things over the years. Some claim that an aggressive Confederate spirit fills the place, which some are quick to blame on the two bodies that the Sweeney women had discovered there, but there's also a mysterious mirror down there that seems to have a mind of its own. It leans against one of the walls down in the cellar, and while it doesn't have a menacing appearance, many who have spent time with it come away feeling threatened and oppressed. Others have seen ghostly images behind themselves when looking into the mirror, and some have even captured mysterious shapes on film. It's even been

known to move overnight, as has the plain white sheet that sometimes covers it. It's not the only space in the house that's reported to be haunted, though. Upstairs on the second floor is a room known today as the Sarah Black Room, named after one of the previous owners of the building. Witnesses claim that visions have been so strong inside that room that they've even been photographed from the street below, although I haven't been able to track down images to back up that claim completely. But if you ask most people in Gettysburg today what the most famous ghost is in the entire house, nearly everyone will agree that it's Jeremy. Legend says that Jeremy is the ghost of a young boy

who died outside in the street due to a tragic carriage accident. The injured boy was apparently brought inside for medical attention, but passed away before he could be saved, and perhaps because of his painful death, some think the boy has simply refused to move on and find peace. Interestingly, the stories claim that the room he died in eventually became a bathroom, the bathroom, in fact, that's connected to the Sarah Black Room that I mentioned a moment ago. Jeremy has also been seen or felt in other parts of the house, including the cellar and the kitchen, but it's one particular story that has left many people scratching their heads. And if it's true, it's more than a little frightening.

In another room in the house where Jeremy has been known to frequent, a red wooden toy box has been kept, perhaps to let him know that he's still remembered. Once, a visitor used a recording device to listen in the room, and apparently captured a small, quiet voice that whispered, Jeremy, red box. Later in that same room, another visitor became frustrated by a table lamp that kept switching on and off. Despite everything they tried, and making sure to press the button firmly until the light came on, it would switch back off a few minutes later. It was only after hearing what they believed to be the gentle laughter of a small child that this guest decided to see if the lamp perhaps had a faulty cord. They approached the table one more

time, and then knelt to trace the cord down to the outlet, where they hoped to find an answer. Instead, they discovered something that caused them to catch their breath. The lamp, you see, hadn't even been plugged in. Everyone wants a good death. We envision a peaceful ending to a lifetime of challenges and joys, preferably surrounded by those who love us. It's an ideal, and thankfully many people still get to experience that in our modern world. But nothing is guaranteed. That idea of a good death wasn't new in the 1860s, but it had certainly reached its peak in the zeitgeist of the day. It was helped along by Protestant Christianity, and found a foothold

almost everywhere, including popular literature and books on health and wellness. But the Civil War offered it a new stage, and the way it was handled can still be seen in the folklore surrounding battles like those at Gettysburg. The war pulled people out of their comfortable plans and forced them into a situation where death was always around the corner. There was fear and anxiety, but also a good amount of plain old coming to terms with it all. I mean, you and I go through life thinking about death as a someday sort of thing, but the soldiers that converged on Gettysburg knew it was a lot closer than that. And if it arrived the next day, it would more than likely not be a good one. War is complex. It's not a black and white issue that we can easily

parse and declare fixed. It's messy and difficult to pin down. And it's out of those complex situations that the shadows of life tend to grow. Tragedy, heartbreak, suffering, and pain. We are powerless to stop it, and that can be absolutely frightening to many people. So it's no wonder that whole forests of stories have sprouted up on the battlefields like Gettysburg. And honestly, it's stories like those that show us the full power of folklore. In the face of lost records and destroyed lives, those stories help us keep the past alive. Are they always the most accurate? Absolutely not. But they perfectly capture the overwhelming feelings of loss and suffering that the people of Gettysburg felt. Stories like those about another room in the

Sweeney's house. Today it's known as the Garrett Room, but in 1863 it was most likely the location those Confederate sharpshooters were stationed in and where they received their bloody injuries. And for a long while, guests in that room have reported unusual things. None though speak to the tragedy of war more than one experience from 1993. According to the tale, a mother and her young son arrived to spend the weekend there in town. They toured all over Gettysburg that first day and returned to the Farnsworth House Inn in the evening to get ready for bed. Because the room didn't have its own bathroom, each of them took turns using the one on the floor below them, first the mother and then her son,

Daniel. But while he was gone, the boy's mother heard him scream and rushed down to see if he was all right. She found him curled up on the floor outside the bathroom door, crying and covering his face. Other guests arrived as well, and together they all tried to figure out what had happened to the boy. When his mother asked him what had happened, Daniel simply replied, blood mommy, blood everywhere, while pointing at the door. One of the guests checked the bathroom, only to find that it was clean and safe with no signs of blood anywhere. After apologizing to the other guests for disturbing them, the mother then led her son back upstairs, where he hopefully slept well and forgot all about it.

And it's easy to listen to a story like that and let logic take over, isn't it? The boy had spent all day touring civil war sites, and his overactive imagination simply got the better of him, filling his head with horrible visions. But it's difficult to miss the coincidence of a mother and child returning home to a bloody scene, because that's exactly what happened to Catherine and Elizabeth Sweeney in the very same house on July 4th. A coincidence, because that's the same date that Daniel claimed to see the very same thing. 130 years later, to the day. The battlefields of our world have played host to immeasurable pain and suffering, and few can hold a candle to the fields and streets of Gettysburg.

And while I've given you a glimpse into its shadows, there's one more story I just have to share. Stick around after this brief sponsor break, and I'll tell you all about it. Death is frightening, but death on a grand scale is something more complex. Yes, it's disturbing, but it's also easier to distance ourselves from it. All of that tragedy happened over there, we might say, but it didn't follow us home. And Gettysburg was no exception. As I mentioned before, the loss of life during those three days of battle is a number that's difficult to fathom, with the casualties totaling over 50,000 soldiers. More surprising, though, is the fact that, as far as we can tell,

only one civilian lost their life during the conflict, meaning, for one family, the war did follow them home. The Wade family had lived in Gettysburg for quite some time, although life wasn't always the easiest. While I haven't been able to track down the father's name, we do know that he was arrested and sent to prison in 1850 for the crime of larceny. When he returned two years later, his wife took steps to protect her family from him, and had him declared insane before sending him away. That left Mrs. Wade with four children to care for on her own, and by all accounts, she did a wonderful job. Her oldest, Georgia, married a Union soldier in 1862,

and her younger daughter, Jenny, became engaged just a year later. Her betrothed was actually a childhood friend named Johnson Skelly, although most people just called him Jack, but due to his active service in the military, it seemed that their wedding would have to wait. Jack Skelly wouldn't return, though. On June 15 of 1863, he was mortally wounded at the Battle of Winchester before being taken captive by the Confederates. Before he passed away, though, fate brought him comfort in the form of another childhood friend, a young man named Wesley Culp. On his deathbed, Jack Skelly asked Culp to carry a message to his true love, Jenny Wade. We don't know what that message was, but it's safe to assume it was not unlike the countless

other letters from soldiers of loved ones that have been preserved over the years. But we do know that Wesley Culp was guided home by the March of War just a couple of weeks later, joining his regiment to fight in the Battle of Gettysburg. War had come home for a lot of people, though. As I mentioned earlier, the Union and Confederate forces played tug of war with the homes and businesses of the town, and many of those who lived there were forced to find shelter elsewhere. Some, though, stayed, either because they wanted to help or because running wasn't an option. It was the latter case for the Wades. Georgia and her husband welcomed their first child into

the world on the first day of battle, July 1, and because of that, they were essentially trapped at home. To help them, her sister Jenny and their two younger brothers, along with their mother, all converged on Georgia's house at 548 Baltimore Street. It had to have been a bittersweet time in the house. On one hand, they had the joy of a new baby to put a smile on their faces, but just outside their walls, the rumble of battle shook them to the core, reminding them that while life was precious, it was also precarious. Death could come for anyone without warning. In fact, historians know of at least 150 bullets that struck their home during the battle. Most people believe that the family would have spent their time hiding in the cellar,

but we also know that Jenny and her mother lended their support to the Union troops by baking loaves of bread for them. But that, of course, meant leaving the safety below in order to work in the kitchen above. On July 3, Jenny was standing in her sister's kitchen, kneading the dough that would be used to bake yet another batch of bread when a stray shot pierced the house. Historians say that it passed through the parlor door and the kitchen door without losing its lethal velocity. That's when it struck Jenny from behind, just below her shoulder blade, allowing it to penetrate her heart. Jenny slumped into a heap where she had stood, and moments later her mother discovered her lifeless body on the kitchen floor.

There was wailing and tears, but also a rush of panic from fear that more bullets would follow the first. Still, they managed to bring Jenny's body back down into the cellar, where they would mourn in the darkness by candlelight. That final message from her beloved Jack Skelly would never reach her ears, although it wouldn't have, even if she had survived. It seems that less than a mile away, Jack's childhood friend Wesley Culp had also been shot, and whatever the message he had been tasked with had truly been, he took it with him to the grave. It's said that Wesley Culp died on Culp Hill, a piece of land named after his own family. But that wasn't the only coincidence that would haunt the Wade family as they moved forward into

life without Jenny. Those steps would be slow. Because of the battle, Jenny's body had to remain in the cold, damp cellar of her sister's house. When it was over, they quickly buried her in the backyard in a borrowed coffin, probably out of fear that her body would decay before a proper funeral could be planned. It wasn't until January of 1864, roughly six months after her death, that they disinterred her and removed her remains to a local graveyard, along with the proper burial service. But Jenny wasn't finished moving quite yet. Just a year later, in 1865, she was moved one last time to be closer to the grave of her beloved Jack Skelly, who had been buried nearby in Evergreen Cemetery. Both of them had died alone,

denied the good death that most people craved. But by moving her body, they would, at the very least, be near each other for eternity. One last thing. Evergreen Cemetery might be home to the tragic couple Jenny and Jack, but it's also the site of something else. Because less than two years earlier, in November of 1863, a ceremony was held to dedicate the Gettysburg National Cemetery, which sits right beside the Evergreen. And to do so, locals built a platform inside Evergreen Cemetery, where an important dignitary would later stand and deliver a powerful message, a message that transformed the enormous tragic loss of life into something more meaningful, into a good death. And the man,

President Abraham Lincoln, and his message, the Gettysburg Address. This episode of Lore was written and produced by me, Aaron Mankey, with research by Taylor Haggardorn and music by Chad Lawson. Lore is much more than just a podcast. There's a book series available in bookstores and online, and two seasons of the television show on Amazon Prime Video. Check them both out if you want more Lore in your life. I also make two other podcasts, Aaron Mankey's Cabinet of Curiosities, and Unobscured, and I think you'd enjoy both. Each one explores other areas of our dark history, ranging from bite-sized episodes to season-long dives into a single topic. You can learn more about both of those shows

and everything else going on over in one central place. The World of Lore, dot com slash now. And you can also follow the show on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. Just search for Lore podcast, all one word, and click that follow button. When you do, say hi. I like it when people say hi. And as always, thanks for listening. Love yous.