Lore - Episode 91: Beneath the Surface

Episode Date: July 23, 2018

Islands have served a variety of functions for people over the years. They can be a place of safety and privacy, or of simplicity and escape. But islands have played host to other less savory events over the years. And just because they can be small, it doesn’t mean they can’t be dark. 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.

In a lot of ways, it's just one more beautiful European setting. The land is covered in lush green trees, a 12th century bell tower hovers above a sprawling complex of ruined buildings, and it has the manicured coastline and man-made seawalls that you might expect from a city on the northeastern coast of Italy. But that beauty hides a darker past. Thousands of plague victims are buried beneath those idyllic green fields. That manicured coastline is actually part of an 18th century fort where hundreds of French soldiers were brought ashore and slaughtered.

And those old ruins jutting up from the trees are all that remain of an early 20th century asylum for the mentally ill. You'll never accidentally stumble into this ancient town though, because it's an island, Povalia Island to be specific, and only the people who want to go there ever do. Located just two miles south of the grand city of Venice, Povalia is an abandoned time capsule of pain and suffering, one that illustrates the true power of islands. Unlike a metropolis like London or Los Angeles, there's a limit to how far an island can spread out over time.

Those shorelines act like a sort of wall trapping whatever happens there, inside. Sure, they might offer more privacy or safety, but as far back as we can remember, communities have been using islands to contain their diseased and undesirables. Places like Alcatraz and Rikers Island are infamous homes to brutal prisons. St Helena in the South Atlantic was used by the British as the home and exile of Napoleon Bonaparte. Whenever humans encounter a problem, the instinct has always been to bundle it up and lock it away, even if that thing is a human life.

But just because you can lock something away doesn't mean it's gone. The tragedy and pain that follows humanity always tends to leave a mark. Of course, we try to hide it, but it's always there if you know where to look, even if that mark is on an island. So come ashore with me if you dare. There's something I want to show you. I'm Aaron Mankey, and this is Lore. In the early 1600s, Europeans were obsessed with the idea of a northwest passage that

cut through the northern parts of North America, giving them easy access to the wealth that could be found in the Orient. They were positive this passage existed, too. One French explorer by the name of Jean-Nicollet actually had a robe made out of Chinese fabric that had been purchased from silk traders in Europe. So when he sailed through the waterways that led him to Green Bay in 1634, he brought that robe along with him so that he could look presentable when he stood on the shores of China.

His passion for finding the northwest passage drove the French to explore much of the area that is now the border between the United States and Canada. Much of that territory is connected by waterways and lakes, making it possible for ships to sail in from the east. Jean-Nicollet is famous for being the first European to set foot in Wisconsin, but he was also the first to set eyes on something else. An Island It's not a large island, less than four square miles, in fact, but he had to pass it on his way to what would someday become

Wisconsin. You've all seen a map of Michigan before, right? It's an oddly shaped state with two large areas broken up by water. The lower peninsula looks like a mitten. Hold your left hand up, palm away, and fingers together, and you'll get the idea. Across the tip of those fingers stretches the upper peninsula, running roughly east to west. Using them, though, right in that narrow gap between the tip of the mitten and the peninsula

above it sits an island. Jean-Nicollet didn't stop there, but he made note of it on his way by. A few decades later, a Jesuit priest chose it as the perfect spot to build a mission, which he called St. Ignace. The trouble was, very few people actually lived on the island. That was by choice, too. Obviously, the Europeans weren't the first humans in the area. Long before Jean-Nicollet arrived, the Great Lakes area was home to the native inhabitants

of the region. The Ojibwe tribe of Native Americans and their ancestors had lived there for hundreds of years, at least as far back as the 12th century. They used this small island as a gathering place for the tribes of the area, and as a burial ground for their dead leaders. They referred to the island as Misha Mackenac, a word that means big turtle. It's an allusion to the larger Algonquin mythology that tells the story of the entire world being crafted on the back of a great turtle.

By doing this, the Ojibwe were declaring this island to be sacred and different from the rest of their territory. It was special, but at some point around the time the Europeans arrived, the native tribes abandoned it. Those early French explorers took the island's name and shortened it. Misha Mackenac became Mackenac, and it's been called that ever since. Over the centuries that followed, the island played host to a number of new inhabitants, each with their own purpose.

Through the late 17th and early 18th centuries, it served as a hub for the fur trade and then became British property following the conclusion of the French and Indian War. They were the ones to build the first fort there on the island, Fort Mackenac. It never saw action, and once the Revolutionary War was over, the British handed control of the island to the Americans. They took it back during the War of 1812, building a second fort there known as Fort George, but returned the island to the Americans just three years later. In honor of Major Andrew Holmes, who died leading the final attack on the British there,

Fort George was renamed Fort Holmes. It still bears his name today. Through the American Civil War, a large portion of Mackenac Island became a national park, the second in American history after Yellowstone. And that seemed to act like a beacon, drawing tourists from all over. With visitors, came money, and with money came growth. The wealthy elite built extravagant vacation homes along the coastline, while railroad companies built public resorts and hotels.

It was moving into the future, full speed ahead. Well, almost. You see, right around the turn of the century, there was a bustling industry of horse-drawn carriages that transported tourists around the island. In 1896, sensing the threat from the newly arrived, horseless carriages, otherwise known as automobiles, the carriage drivers managed to get their motorized competitors banned from the island. And it's still in effect today.

While it might seem like Mackenac Island has transformed itself from an abandoned frontier camp into a safe destination for families looking for a nice getaway, all of that polish and shine hides a collection of dark shadows. Over the centuries, events have taken place there that most people would like to forget. And there's a good reason why. Wherever humans settle down, they leave their own special mark. A horrible mixture of tragedy and pain. It's easy to assume that such a small island couldn't possibly contain enough tragedy

to fill the storybooks. Like I said earlier, Mackenac Island has less than four square miles of land. But that's not how darkness works. Wherever people go, the shadows seem to follow. Death has always been a part of life on Mackenac Island. From its earliest days centuries ago as a burial ground for the most revered and sacred of the Ojibwe leaders, to its time as the centerpiece of conflict between the British and the French, this tiny island has seen it all.

If the stories are true, that even includes the execution of witches. The legend says that in the late 1700s, the community that grew up around the military fortifications there included at least one brothel. We don't know exactly who made the accusations, but at some point people became upset at the presence of these women. They viewed them as temptresses, luring the noble men of Mackenac Island against their will into illicit activities. True to 18th century form, seven of these women were arrested and accused of witchcraft.

When they were subjected to the same sort of trial so many others had been in the centuries before, they were each bound securely to a large stone and then dropped into the deep waters of a lagoon on the southeastern tip of the island. If they floated, they would be executed as witches. If they drowned, well, they would still die, but with their name cleared. That somehow made it better in their eyes, despite the complete lack of common sense. Regardless, all seven women were said to have perished that day, giving the locals a new name for that lagoon.

Even today, it's still referred to as the Drowning Pool. In 1860, the Post Hospital was built on the island to treat the soldiers stationed there. While a lot of the care was focused on the typical things you might expect to find in any hospital, there were also records of deadly outbreaks of disease like typhoid fever and tuberculosis. When the suffering wasn't limited to the soldiers either, their families often found themselves needing the same medical care, and records show that death didn't discriminate between any of them.

Most of the suffering to take place on the island, however, seems to have involved the two separate military bases. In Fort Mackinaw, the older of the two forts, there's a legend about the death of at least one prisoner in a dungeon referred to as the Black Hole. A murder took place in 1828 in the Fort's mess hall when a private named James Brown shot another man in the heat of an argument. Brown claimed it was an accident all the way to the gallows, but in the end, he was hanged for the crime, the only hanging on record on Mackinaw Island.

A year later, an incident occurred that left its own mark on Fort Mackinaw. A dozen or so soldiers had gathered outside on Christmas night when their commanding officer, Lieutenant Ifrium Smith, discovered one of the men had brought alcohol into the fort. Known for his quick temper and taste for violence, Smith proceeded to beat the young soldier in front of the others. Now, maybe it was the Christmas spirit, or perhaps they had just reached their limits of patience with Smith. Whatever the reason, all of the other men jumped to Brown's defense, pulling him away

and then giving Smith a taste of his own violent ways. When another officer arrived to help, Smith ran away like a coward and then made a list of all the men who had attacked him. He managed to have six of the men sentenced to hard labor for their actions. Others though, he tracked down one by one, delivering severe beatings to them in retribution. As a result, Smith was court-martialed and discharged. One final tale from Mackinaw's history might just be the most powerful example of darkness contained in a small space.

In 1823, a reverend named William Ferry arrived on the island with his wife Amanda. They came with a mission to care for the growing population of orphaned children that seemed to have slipped through the cracks of society there. Most of them were of mixed descent with European and Native American parents, which somehow made them undesirable to the community. So Reverend Ferry built a boarding school called the Mission House and brought as many of these orphaned children as he could under his roof. A few years later, though, an outbreak of tuberculosis put the school in a panic.

Back then, they still didn't know how to properly care for those who had contracted the disease, so the most common solution was simply to isolate them. According to the story, Reverend Ferry and his wife locked dozens of children in the dark, damp basement. Maybe he was hoping they would get better, but he was more than likely just trying to save the ones who were not yet sick. As a result, many of the isolated children died there. Perhaps it was the rumors of this tragedy or the pain of knowing he played a pivotal role

in the deaths of so many children. But by 1837, Reverend Ferry had closed the school's doors for good and then moved away. But not everything can be forgotten. In fact, the buildings on Mackinaw Island with the darkest stories turn out to be the most difficult to avoid. You see, every year, hundreds of thousands of tourists flock to the island for a chance to get away. They bring their children, their luggage, and their walking shoes, and then stay at one

of the island's many resorts or hotels. They aren't alone, though, because that dark past is right there waiting for them. The shadows might have checked in a long time ago, but they've never really checked out. It's a tale almost as old as time. A building or location plays host to so much tragedy and suffering that for centuries afterwards, people who visit that location claim to experience echoes of the past. Some people see or hear things, while others just sort of have a feeling about it, as if they aren't alone, even when they are.

But that's the trouble with Mackinaw Island. So much bad stuff has happened there that it's almost impossible to find a building there that doesn't have a story or two to tell. Take the drowning pool, for example. Visitors there have seen shadows drift up from the water, while others have heard the sound of large stones being dropped in. Stones, perhaps, like the ones used to weigh down a witch. Fort Mackinaw has become a popular tourist destination, but visitors there have seen

much more than historical exhibits and guided tours of the old building. Down in the old dungeon, people stopping by the black hole have reported cold spots and unusual balls of light. On the nearby rifle range, the ghost of Private James Brown has been seen by multiple people. How they know it's him, though, I'm really not sure. Like I mentioned earlier, though, it's in the most public places that the majority of these experiences have taken place. In the places where visitors feel the most safe, where they let down their guard.

Right in the very same buildings they unpack, settle in, and spend the night. Mackinaw Island has a lot of hotels and inns, and inside them are just as many unusual stories. One of the popular places to stay is called the Inn at Stonecliff. It's one of those picturesque buildings at the top of the cliffs overlooking the water, and because of the view, it tends to be a popular wedding destination. But visitors there have seen more than formal attire and flower arrangements. The legend says that long ago, a woman traveled to the island to marry her true love, one of the British soldiers stationed there.

Sadly, he said to have tragically died before their wedding day, and now her ghost wanders around the Inn at Stonecliff, doing her best to disrupt the joyful celebrations there. The three-story Pine Cottage is a large bed and breakfast that plays host to its own dark story in the form of a brutal murder that took place there in the 1940s. A few decades later, the building was purchased by a man named Bob Huey, and from the very beginning of his time there, the past did its best to make itself known. Over the years that followed, he and his wife witnessed everything imaginable, from a floating, disembodied torso to shadowy figures that would stand over their bed at night.

But if you ask around the island, most of the locals will point you to one place in particular that is renowned for its unexplainable activity. The Grand Hotel It's a massive structure deserving of that name, with the longest front porch in the world at nearly 700 feet and close to 400 guest rooms. There's a theater, a tea garden, and casino there. Notable guests at the Grand Hotel over the years have included five US presidents, one Russian dictator, countless entertainment stars, and even the well-traveled author Mark Twain.

Thomas Edison also stayed there, and it was outside on the massive front porch of the hotel that the first public demonstration of his phonograph took place. Like I said, this place is grand. But there are darker stories. One legend says that during the construction of the hotel in 1886, workers digging the foundation uncovered a number of Native American burial sites. But rather than move the remains to a new location, the builders simply poured concrete over the graves and moved on.

It's a mistake that, according to some, invited more than just guests to the hotel. Visitors have frequently reported seeing a woman in the area used by staff as a living space. She's always dressed in clothing from the late 1800s, and while she sometimes has interactions with the employees, no one has ever felt threatened by her. Others have claimed to see a man in a top hat in the bar on the second floor. He's always spotted beside the piano, but after a second glance, he vanishes, leaving behind the distinct smell of his cigar.

The most frightening story, though, took place in the hotel's theater. Years ago, two employees of the hotel were alone on the stage one night, most likely cleaning up after a performance or event of some kind. With all of the guests finally off to their rooms, the vibrant energy of the theater had been replaced with silence. The two men were working beside each other when one of them was overcome with the feeling of being watched. Glancing up, he looked toward the back of the stage and noticed something odd.

There were shadows everywhere, as you might expect for a theater at night, but hidden among them was something else. I've seen it described as a black mass as if a dark cloud had gathered together into one specific spot, and at the center of this shadowy form, the man reported there were two red eyes. He froze. His mind tried to process what his eyes were seeing, looking for some logical explanation that would wash away the fear that was quickly creeping over him.

But before he could rationalize away the dark shape and glowing red eyes, the mysterious form began to move toward him. A moment later, it collided with him, knocking him backwards off the stage to the main floor below. According to the story, he awoke in a hospital bed two days later. He never set foot in the Grand Hotel again. Mackinaw Island is one of those places that defies logic. At first blush, it seems like nothing more than a tiny island far up north between Michigan's

two separate peninsulas, almost out of the way and forgettable. On the other hand, though, so much has happened there to keep it alive and active, and not all of it has been positive. Everywhere you go on the island, it seems there's something else beneath the surface. Sure, the hotels and tourist attractions are nice, and the absence of automobiles lends a sort of old world charm to the place, but you can't help notice the shadows, too. It's almost as if the modern version of Mackinaw is nothing more than a shiny veneer that hides a rotten foundation.

From the darkest corners of Fort Mackinaw to the bright halls of the Grand Hotel, countless visitors each year have seen the cracks in that pretty façade. Whether or not you believe in ghosts, Mackinaw Island is haunted by the past. That includes the places that are off-limits to tourists. Remember the old mission house? That boarding school for Native American children I mentioned a while ago? After changing hands and functions a number of times over the years, the mission house now acts as a dormitory for the seasonal workers who take care of Mackinaw State Park, which

means it's off-limits to most people. That doesn't mean there isn't darkness there. It's just that you and I will probably never experience it for ourselves. But of course, stories have a way of leaking out, don't they? It's said that many of the people who have stayed there over the years have seen dark shapes moving through the halls of the lower levels. It's the sort of thing that's usually caught in the corners of your peripheral vision, just out of reach.

Whenever people have tried to get a better look at them, though, they vanish into the walls. Others have heard the sounds of distant footsteps and creaking floorboards, objects being dropped in the rooms above them, and the occasional sound of strange voices from empty parts of the building. Alarm clocks have a tendency to go off on their own at times no one was expecting. Despite the multitude of reports that would seem to hint at something nefarious and evil, the unusual activity in the mission house seems to have been limited to things we might

think of as pranks, which actually makes a lot of sense when you look at the pattern people have noticed between them all. According to everyone who has seen them, all of these shadowy figures have one very specific thing in common. They're small, like children. I hope you've enjoyed this guided tour through one of America's most haunted resort towns. Depending on your worldview, there is a lot to love about Mackinaw Island, or to be afraid of.

But I'm not done just yet. Stick around after this short sponsor break to hear one last tale of tragedy and loss. I know you're going to love it. If you ever decide to travel to Mackinaw Island for a little vacation time, there are a lot of places you can stay, and I've covered a few of them today. One I haven't mentioned yet, however, is the Mission Point Resort. Mission Point gets its name from the old Jesuit mission that was built there in 1671. If you look at a map of the island, there's a whole southeastern corner called Mission

Point, and it's right there that you'll find Mission Point Resort. What you might not know is that before they functioned as a resort, many of the buildings were part of a complex built in the 1950s by a religious group known as the Moral Rearmament. A decade later, the buildings were turned into Mackinaw College. They changed hands a few more times before finally becoming part of the Mission Point Resort in 1972. The resort inherited a lot more than just buildings, though. With them came a dark tale, one that has its roots in the resort's days as a college campus.

According to the story, a young man made a very public marriage proposal to his girlfriend, but she turned him down. Devastated, the student rushed off into the woods between the school and the cliff that overlooks the water, where he used a gun to kill himself. They say his body was found six months later. The year since had been filled with stories of a ghost that most locals have taken to calling Harvey. Whether or not that was the real name of the student is a mystery.

But what we do know is that multiple people have had unusual encounters with something in and around the modern day resort. Voices in the dark, the feeling of being touched by something invisible, lights that turn on in the middle of the night, or furniture that seems to rearrange itself. Guests in the resort have even reported items missing from their locked luggage, only to find them hidden elsewhere in their room later. It all feels like a lot of pranks, something college students are sometimes known for. Perhaps Harvey is just a bit more playful than most ghosts.

But there are also darker rumors. One state police officer told a reporter shortly after the student's death that the circumstances were more than a bit suspicious. First, no gun was ever found at the crime scene. And sure, perhaps someone stumbled upon it and kept it for themselves, but that would also mean that they found the young man's body and simply ignored it. The other odd detail is more intriguing, because it points to a very different story than the official explanation of a desperate suicide.

When the medical examiners finally had a chance to study the young man's body, they found something shocking. There were two bullet wounds, not one. This episode of Lore was written and produced by me, Aaron Mankey, with research help from Arsett Crockett and music by Chad Lawson. And I make another podcast called Aaron Mankey's Cabinet of Curiosities, and I think you'd enjoy it. It's a twice-weekly podcast that explores some of the most bizarre events, objects,

and people in history. Each episode is a bite-sized collection of two short tales that show you just how unexplainable our world really is. Learn more about it over at curiositiespodcast.com. Lore exists outside this podcast as well. There's a book series in bookstores around the country and online, and the Amazon Prime television show is out there for Prime members. Check them out if you want more Lore in your life.

And you can always learn more about everything going on over in one central place, theworldoflore.com. And finally, you can 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.