Sit back and enjoy an old-fashioned storytelling event at Landmark Park in Dothan, Alabama! The focus of this story is Marianna, Florida's notorious "ghost of Bellamy Bridge."
Showing posts with label ghost story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ghost story. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 27, 2020
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
Pensacola's Ghost in Yellow
A haunting reminder of Spain's last days in Florida.
by Dale Cox
| A living history event at Historic Pensacola Village in downtown Pensacola, Florida. |
The sad story of the "Ghost in Yellow" is about a young woman named Felice who was so devoted to her country that she shed her own blood rather than accept Florida's transfer to the United States.
The story revolved around an old home near Plaza Ferdinand in Pensacola and was written for a newspaper by Ruby G. Powell in 1906. She repeated it as told by her grandmother:
...She was a Spanish girl. Years ago—nearly a hundred years,
when this house was not much more than a frame structure, partly log—and there
were only a few like it, for we had to have the lumber sawed by hand—my grand
mother had a ward—Felice. Her father was a Spanish officer at the garrison at
St. Marks; he died there and she was left in my grandmother’s charge. She was a
devout Catholic and a loyal Spaniard, high strung and emotional. Felice had a lover
at St. Marks, a dashing cavalaier, strikingly handsome in his glittering
uniform and clinkering silver spurs. [1]
The garrison or fort at St. Marks referenced in the passage was the Spanish fort of San Marcos de Apalache. It is preserved at the state park of the same name at St. Marks, Florida.
The young woman Felice loved her country above all else, but she was filled with dread for Florida's role in its future:
| Life from the time when Felice roamed the streets of the Spanish town is recreated at Historic Pensacola Village. |
Gov. Callava, the Spanish governor, was very kind to this young orphan girl, who lived at my grandfathers. He had befriended her soldier; had promised him a commission and many acres of land in Florida, if they would make their hole here. But Felice had strange forebodings.
“Florida, it is not for my people; it is for the Americans,” she would say, and often, after returning home from a visit and talk to the governor, her face was troubled, and she was very quiet for hours at a time, crooning over some strange old Spanish songs as she plied her needle between the rows of beautiful drawnwork for which she was so skilled. Her face grew sadder each day, after it was known that Spain had signed the treaty ceding Florida to the United States.
When a transport would come up from St. Marks, bringing soldiers to be taken back to Spain, Felice would kiss her crucifix, murmuring, in broken tones, "Ay de las vencidas," (woe to the vanquished) while her tears would overflow and drop on her work. [2]
The young woman's fatal date with destiny came on July 17, 1821. United States troops marched into Pensacola from their camp just outside town to meet their Spanish counterparts for a ceremony marking the official change of flags.
| The Lavalle House, seen here, stood in Pensacola at the time of the transfer of Florida from Spain to the United States. |
Andrew Jackson had twice captured the city at the head of conquering armies. This time he came as military governor to accept possession of West Florida from Spain under the terms of the Adams-Onis Treaty.
Felice watched from her window as he arrived in fulfillment of his duties:
But that her country had given up Florida—their own ‘land of flowers,’ theirs in its kindred warmth of climate, theirs by right of discovery, and glory of conquest—had given it up for a paltry consideration of money and claims, cut her to the heart.
As the Spanish flag touched the ground and our own was raised aloft, the band burst into a new and patriotic air. There was no cheering; the Spanish faces were stolid, stony as ever; they relaxed not a muscle, but Felice made the sign of the cross, and turned from the window with a sob. That night my grandmother sent a servant to call her to supper, and she was found at her mirror, seated in front of the low dressing table. She wore a yellow dress. A single red rose pinned on her left shoulder, gave the needed touch—her national colors. Her long hair hung down as if she were about to comb it out, but buried deep in her heart was a stiletto, her hand still clutched the handle tensely, and the warm blood dyed the front of her gown. She was dead, but her blood could not avail to save Florida for Spain. [3]
| The flag of Spain flies from the front of the Lavalle House at Historic Pensacola Village. The colors of this flag were reproduced in Felice's death scene. |
Felice's feet never set foot on Florida soil after the colony became an American territory. Still, her spirit continued to linger in the old house that stood somewhere in the heart of today's downtown Pensacola.
Ms. Powell's grandmother, who recited the story, told of seeing her in around 1896:
I, myself, have seen her once. ‘Twas Christmas, ten years ago. She sat over in that corner, combing out her hair. I could see her yellow dress as plainly as I see you, and could even see the stiletto glisten in her breast. [4]
She did not try to speak to the ghost, fearing that she would disappear as soon as she did so.
Felice gained no love for the United States after her death, and her ghost even associated itself with the Confederate soldiers who occupied Pensacola in 1861-1862. One sighting of her occurred on either November 22, 1861, or January 1, 1862, when the thunder of cannon fire shook Pensacola Bay:
| A display at Plaza Ferdinand in Pensacola shows what archaeologists found beneath the surface. Traces of the city's old Spanish fortifications run beneath this grassy lawn. |
When my father and husband were quartered here, with their company of soldiers during the blockade of the civil war, they were awakened one night by the firing of cannon, and rushing from their beds, to seize their guns, almost stumbled upon a women dressed in yellow, seated in front of the fireplace, combing out her hair. My father knew at once who it was, but Mac started toward her. ‘What the,’ he began, but he had hardly gotten the words out of his mouth when she seemed suddenly to disappear through the walls. The story leaked out, in some way, and soon every soldier in Pensacola knew about the ghost in yellow, and some even declared that they saw her moving around the men when the cannonading was heaviest. [5]
The specter made another appearance when Union forces occupied Pensacola on May 10, 1862:
...On the day that the federals got possession of the city, several of them came in the house, intending to burn it. They, too, saw the ghost in yellow, knowing that all the refugees had fled, and that there were no women and children in Pensacola, they were very much started at the apparition. But one, an Irishman, braver than his companions, put out his hand to touch her, when she seemed to crumble, and not a trace of her was left. The soldiers were so frightened that they fled, and not one could be induced to go near the house again. [6]
The fate of the Ghost in Yellow is unknown. Perhaps she survived the eventual demolition of the house to which she was attached and continues to roam the streets and sidewalks of downtown Pensacola. If so, she is no doubt comforted by the efforts of the University of West Florida and other entities to preserve and protect the old city's rich Spanish history.
A great way to learn about Pensacola's history is by visiting Historic Pensacola. The complex features "four museums, tours, & more!" Click here for more information: www.historicpensacola.org.
References
[1] Ruby G. Powell, "The Ghost in Yellow," The Weekly True Democrat, December 28, 1906, reprinted from the Florida Times-Union, December 25, 1906.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid.
Friday, October 18, 2019
Bellamy Bridge named to National Register of Historic Places
Florida's Most Haunted Bridge Receives National Recognition!
by Rachael Conrad
| Historical and haunted Bellamy Bridge is now on the National Register of Historic Places. |
The National Park Service has listed the historic steel-frame structure on the National Register of Historic Places. Authorized by the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966, the National Register is the park service's initiative to "coordinate and support public and private efforts to identify, evaluate, and protect America's historic and archaeological resources."
The bridge was built in 1914 using funds provided by the Jackson County Board of County Commissioners. It was prefabricated by the Converse Steel and Bridge Company and brought to the construction site on the Chipola River north of Marianna using ox carts. Crews assembled the pieces and completed the span in just over six weeks!
The bridge takes its name from earlier wooden bridges that crossed the Chipola River at the same site. These bridges have all been said to be haunted by the restless spirit of a young woman named Elizabeth Jane Croom Bellamy. Please click here to read more about the Ghost of Bellamy Bridge.
| A closer look at the surviving steel-frame structure. |
Historian and author Dale Cox, who assisted by providing documentation and other information, said he was thrilled by today's announcement. "This has been a goal for a very, very long time," he said. "A group of us first started working to preserve Bellamy Bridge all the way back in the 1980s. There have been ups and downs, but this is a definite up!"
Bellamy Bridge is located off County Road 162 (Jacob Road) just west of the Chipola River. A trail leads from a gravel parking area there down to the bridge. Hurricane Michael did extensive damage to the trail. Cleanup efforts have been underway, and the path is once again open to the public, although more work remains to be done.
| Bellamy Bridge Heritage Trail as it appears today. Hurricane Michael did extensive damage to the nature trail, but hard work has it once again open to the public. More work is ahead. |
He also credited many others for their work in preserving Bellamy Bridge, among them current Jackson County Public Works director Rett Daniels, the Board of County Commissioners, the Northwest Florida Water Management District, the volunteers of the Friends of Bellamy Bridge, former tourism employee Whitney Clark, Brig. Gen. James W. Hart (ret.), Tracy and Susan Todd, Emerald Coast Paranormal Concepts, David Melvin Engineering, and current county tourism director Christy Andreasen.
Enjoy this free mini-documentary from Two Egg TV to learn more about the Bellamy Bridge ghost story and hear a great song about the haunting:
Thursday, October 3, 2019
Pirate Ghosts of the Emerald Coast
Headless Pirates haunt Santa Rosa Sound
by Dale Cox
| Santa Rosa Sound at Fort Walton Beach, Florida. |
Santa Rosa Sound is a beautiful natural waterway that extends east from Pensacola Bay past Mary Esther and Fort Walton Beach to Choctawhatchee Bay. It separates the sparkling white sand beaches of Santa Rosa Island and the rising condominiums and hotels of Okaloosa Island from the prehistoric Native American mounds and waterfront of Fort Walton Beach.
This stretch of water is a popular playground today, but is it also the haunt of a band of headless pirates? Legend holds that just such a crew is condemned to perpetually sail its surface on moonlit nights. The following report of an encounter with these seafaring specters appeared in Florida and Alabama newspapers in 1921:
This stretch of water is a popular playground today, but is it also the haunt of a band of headless pirates? Legend holds that just such a crew is condemned to perpetually sail its surface on moonlit nights. The following report of an encounter with these seafaring specters appeared in Florida and Alabama newspapers in 1921:
One night Mr. Lee Jernigan’s vessel was sailing up the
sound, just drifting along. As they passed Pirates’ Cove a yawl came out of the
cove and was rowed alongside. Mr. Jernigan was below. There were three men on
deck, and they declared that every man in the yawl was headless that they
watched the boat several minutes, when all at once—just like a flash—boat and
men disappeared. The three men took oath, kissed the Bible, and swore that they saw this. [1]
| Santa Rosa Sound on a "ghost story" perfect winter's day. |
Pirates' Cove is a shallow body of water within the limits of today's Gulf Islands National Seashore. It is directly across Santa Rosa Sound from the City of Mary Esther, Florida. Entirely surrounded by the dunes of Santa Rosa Island, it is connected to the sound by a shallow inlet.
The vicinity achieved note in 1906 after a significant storm exposed a cache of lost treasure:
...Spanish coins have been found in the sands of Santa Rosa
Island, and only a few years ago, 1906, after a great storm twenty were found
on the island in the sand. This find was on Santa Rosa Island, opposite Mary
Esther. They were stuck together, showing that they had been buried for a long
time aggregated in value several hundred dollars. Not far away is Pirates’
Cove, a little bay in Santa Rosa Island, so named because a pirate ship was
sunk there.[2]
| The Face of a Real Pirate William Augustus Bowles as painted in London in 1790. |
The ghosts of the lost pirate and his crew, of course, are said to be searching for their lost cache of coins. They are presumed to also be protecting other treasures that remain hidden on Santa Rosa Island and along the shores of Choctawhatchee Bay.
Anyone familiar with food and fun on the Emerald Coast is familiar with Fort Walton Beach's legendary Billy Bowlegs Pirate Festival. This fun escapade has been part of the local cultural scene since 1953 and celebrates the "life" and lore of a supposed pirate named Billy Bowlegs. The founders of the festival associated their event with the adventurer and pirate William Augustus Bowles, who prowled the waters of the Gulf of Mexico in 1799-1803. (Note: The real Billy Bowlegs was an important Seminole Indian chief. William Bowles never used the name).
So far as is known, Bowles never sailed from Choctawhatchee Bay, but the best pirate stories are not always the most authentic! The festival is fun and does exactly what its founders intended by bringing tens of thousands of visitors to enjoy a weekend in Fort Walton Beach.
Long before the pirate festival came into being, though, the ghost pirates were a force to be reckoned with for those sailing in Santa Rosa Sound. Strange lights were seen on the island at night in the vicinity of Pirates' Cove, and many fishermen swore to their own encounters with the spirits:
"You may ask any sailor who has passed Pirates’ Cove at night," continued the newspaper accounts, "and he will tell you of the lights and boat and headless men and if he has not
seen them his ship mates have."
One man was so frightened by his encounter with the ghosts that local residents swore and began to tremble so badly that "he became bowlegged."
If you want to see the pirate ghosts for yourself, just enjoy a midnight boat ride west from Fort Walton Beach down Santa Rosa Sound in the direction of the Navarre Bridge. The red pin on the map below points out Pirates' Cove.
Editor's Note: The lands surrounding Pirates' Cove are part of Gulf Islands National Seashore. Treasure digging is strictly prohibited and can lead to a lengthy prison term!
Saturday, June 8, 2019
Spirit of the Spring: A Northwest Florida Ghost Story
Blue Springs - or Jackson Blue Spring as it is known today -
is the only first magnitude spring in the Chipola River basin.
|
The following story was handed down from the earliest settlers of what is now Jackson County, Florida, who said they learned it from Muscogee (Creek) and Seminole Indians still living in the area at the time. Many of the events described took place before the first Spaniard set foot in Florida.
Blue Springs Recreational Area is currently closed but county officials hope to reopen it in time for July 4, 2019.
Ghosts haunt Jackson Blue Spring
Blue Springs Recreational Area is currently closed but county officials hope to reopen it in time for July 4, 2019.
Ghosts haunt Jackson Blue Spring
by Dale Cox & Hon. Francis B. Carter
A war once raged in eastern Jackson County. The Chacato, a Native American group that had intruded into Florida from the north, established settlements between Holmes Creek and the Chipola River. They soon began to raid the towns of the Apalachee Indians who lived east of the Ochlockonee River around present-day Tallahassee.
The Apalachee fought back and the region between the Chipola and Apalachicola Rivers became a depopulated buffer zone that separated the warring chiefdoms. The attacks and counterattacks continued but neither could defeat the other and the war bogged down into a bloody stalemate.
Jackson Blue Spring, locally called Blue Springs, is the head
of Marianna's beloved Merritt's Mill Pond. It is an impressive
first magnitude spring and the largest source of water for the
Chipola River.
|
It was in this time of conflict, the Blue Springs legend holds, that a young woman of the Chacato stumbled upon a young warrior of the Apalachee. The two fell in love but kept their romance secret because they knew that their families would object.
The young woman, however, was the daughter of the most powerful Chacato chief. He hoped to form a military alliance with the Chisca, a militaristic group that lived along Irwin's Mill Creek and the Chattahoochee River. The Chisca were fiercely independent and involved in a war of their own against the Apalache.
The chief of the Chacato offered his daughter as a bride to the young war chief of the Chisca in a gesture that he hoped would cement the proposed alliance. The latter group agreed to the proposal and a wedding was scheduled on neutral ground at Blue Springs.
The prospective bride, however, pleaded with her father and in tears begged him to call off the marriage. He refused and ordered her to comply with his will.
The mouth of the cave as seen from beneath the surface.
Photo by Alan Cox.
|
The young woman's desperation grew as the hour approached andshe concluded that she could not allow the marriage to happen.
Crowds of Chacato and Chisca gathered at the spring for the ceremony but instead watched in stunned disbelief as she suddenly bolted for the water. Before anyone could stop her, she leaped into the spring and dove down deep through the clear water and into the mouth of the submerged cave itself. All efforts by the bravest warriors to find and save her ended in failure.
At this point her true love arrived on the outskirts of the camp, determined to rescue her from her pending marriage. The scene of panic that he saw from his hiding place confused him and it took until sundown that he was able to learn that his beloved had taken her own life by diving down into the spring.
The young warrior waited for darkness and then walked down into the spring himself. He too dove down into the cave and disappeared forever in its depths.
The chief of the Chacatos was despondent and filled with regret over the loss of his daughter. He walked down to the spring at sunrise the next morning to think and express his grief. As the ray of the rising sun penetrated to the bottom of the spring, however, he saw two figures standing there in the shadows at the mouth of the cave. They were holding hands. He knew that it must be his daughter, Calistoble, and her beloved.
Jackson Blue Spring is the only first magnitude spring in the
entire Apalachicola/Chattahoochee/Flint/Chipola River Basic.
|
The chief decreed at that moment that the spring would bear his daughter's name. People from any tribe or nation could come there without fear to enjoy the cold water, beautiful forests and abundant wildlife. It remained known as Calistoble Spring for many years.
The chief's decree also came with a serious warning. If anyone should disturb the beauty of the water where his daughter's spirit remained, the spring would stop flowing and become nothing more than a stagnant pool.
The Chacato, Chisca, and Apalachee eventually disappeared from Florida, the victims of war and oppression. The Creeks and Seminoles that followed, however, abided by the powerful declaration of the ancient chief and preserved Calistoble as a place of recreation, beauty and peace. They also handed down the old warning that damaging the beauty of the spring would bring about its death.
Visitors claimed that the spirits of the lost lovers could be seen moving in the waters of the spring on moonlit nights, constant reminders of the long ago tragedy and a father's warning to to any who might disturb his daughter's peace.
Possession of the spring eventually passed on to the whites, but they soon adopted a plan to adapt it for industry and in doing so awakened the curse and summoned the anger of the Spirit of the Spring.
Blue Springs continued to flow through times of war and peace for hundreds of years after Calistoble and her lover disappeared into its depths.
The Spanish never settled at the spring but preserved it as a stopping place on their journeys into the Florida Panhandle. They continued to call it Calistoble and marveled at both the crystal clear waters and the surrounding hills on which grew wild grapes in profusion. Bison (buffalo) roamed the slopes and drank from the spring.
The British and Americans that followed changed the name to Big Spring and then Blue Springs. The ancient Chacato chief's warning against damaging the spring was forgotten as early entrepreneurs arrived on the scene.
Filming from the diving board at Blue Springs with crystal
clear water rising from the cave below.
|
One such developer viewed the rapid current with awe and speculated as to the profits that he could make if the spring was dammed to power grist, saw and cotton mills. Plans were prepared and a date set for the beginning of construction.
The Spirit of the Spring watched from within her watery domain:
It is not known until this day how the spring became aware of the business man’s purpose. It is thought that the wind whispered the secret to her while on a moonlight visit. She, who from Creation’s dawn had remained unmolested, now conceived the idea that her privilege – the privilege of being beautiful – was about to be invaded, and that she would be forced to do menial service, which would not only mar her beauty, but degrade her to the level of an ordinary water course. She could not endure the thought of adding an artificial growth, and sitting by the side of a great wheel, turning it all the day long and far into the night. She rebelled at the thought of such desecration and resolutely determined not to submit. The sordid hand of commerce might mar, but it should not forever destroy the beauty and wild freedom of this romantic spring.
Hon. Francis B. Carter
Associate Justice, Supreme Court of Florida
and writer of 1907 account of the Spirit.
State Archives of Florida
|
The above passage was written by Judge Francis B. Carter of Marianna. He owned the beautiful old Ely-Criglar Mansion from 1889-1900 and was an associate justice of the Supreme Court of Florida in 1897-1905.
He wrote the story of the Spirit of the Spring in 1907 (his words appear here in italics):
...At great expense a building was erected for the mill; the miller’s house arose among the oaks, a dam was constructed a few yards below and the Spirit of Commerce gloated over the prospect of its almost brutal conquest of the fairest and loveliest spring in all of Florida. An immense undershot wheel was put in position, the breach in the dam was closed and the Spirit of Commerce took his stand by the side of the waters, awaiting the moment when the clear and limpid element should rise to a sufficient height to do the menial service of turning the great wheel.
The dam discussed in this story was not the one associated with Merritt's Mill where U.S. Highway 90 crosses the foot of the mill pond, nor was it the one at the midpoint of the pond that provided power for Coker's Mill. The first dam was at the spring itself. Heavy wooden beams from the mill can still be seen on the bottom of the swimming area, especially during occasional draw downs for control of aquatic growth.
Merritt's Mill Pond is a stunning Marianna landmark that
is a favorite place for outdoor fun including swimming,
paddling, fishing, diving, birding, boating and more.
|
...The energetic and farsighted business man whose brain conceived the plan took his place near the mill, and awaited the event which, though it destroyed the romance surrounding the spring, would add to his commercial enterprises another great source of income. The breach was closed, the waters poured forth with their accustomed vigor for a few hours, and then the flow began to decline. The waters which before, from time immemorial, had been free, which in their wild freedom had danced and sparkled in the sunshine, humming low melodies, clear as crystal, cold as an Arctic river, now refused to the work appointed by the Spirit of Commerce.
The sudden halt in the flow of water from the spring stunned those who waited to see the undershot wheel of the new mill begin to turn. A few older members of the community, however, remembered the ancient legend of Calistoble and her lover. They knew the answer to the mystery that puzzled those who had gathered to see the mill begin its operation:
"The Spirit of the Spring laid her hand upon the opening" to
stop the water that flowed from the magnificent cave at
Blue Springs (Jackson Blue Spring).
Photo by Alan Cox
|
...The Spirit of the Spring laid her hand upon the opening and said to the waters: “Come not forth,” and they obeyed gladly. She furnished other outlets for some, drove others back into the bowels of the earth, filling surface wells on neighboring plantations, supplying waters for new springs and lakes never before heard of, but refusing absolutely to supply the power requisite for the great wheel. The waters of the spring ceased to flow, they assumed a lifeless appearance, the long green moss settled upon the bottom gasping for breath, a dark green substance rose to the surface and like a thick veil hid the waters from view.
Judge Carter, a boy at the time, was among those who witnessed the stopping of the spring. He knew that the Spirit of the Spring was responsible:
...She mourned and would not be comforted, but she consistently refused to do the work assigned. The great wheel and the mill house which marred the beauty of the spring and had brought about all the trouble, remained idle and vacant, and the Spirit of Commerce, try though he did, could neither coax nor drive.
Blue Springs (Jackson Blue Spring) is
the only first magnitude spring in the
Apalachicola/Chattahoochee/Flint/Chipola
River Basin.
|
The mill was a failure. The beautiful Blue Springs, just as the Chacato chief had warned centuries before, turned into a stagnant pool. It remained so until the businessman responsible for damming it gave up his project and began to dismantle his mill and dam.
What remained of it finally rotted and broke to pieces:
...The Spirit of the Spring came forth and removed the dark veil that so long had covered the face of the waters, the water began to dance and sparkle and sing as of yore, the long moss, now a dull lead color and lifeless, rose from the bottom, assumed its accustomed hue, waving its long arms in gladness and joy, now rising to the surface to be kissed by the sunbeams and caressed by the breezes, now falling to the bottom, forming momentary hiding places for the fishes and the turtles.
The story, however, did not end there. The Spirit was so angered by the effort to commercialize the spring that she turned harsh and vengeful. The rushing water that now poured from the cave dug deep holes in the lime rock bottom of the creek that flowed from the spring.
These holes and caves have claimed many lives through the years:
The Spirit of the Spring, according to legend, stands ready to
stop the flow of Blue Springs forever should humans again
attempt to destroy its natural beauty.
|
...Woe to the heedless one who, tempted by appearances, enters one of these seductive places for a bath. Better heed the warnings which the angry waters – angry because obstructed by the remains of the dam – continually thunder forth to the unwary, for the icy coldness of these beautiful waters will chill the blood, and the Spectre of Death will rise from the spring as it has risen, since the Spirit of Commerce hardened the heart of the Spirit of the Spring.
Future efforts to dam Spring Creek were more successful with the resulting mill pond being among the clearest and most beautiful lakes in the world. Those dams were placed far downstream, however, in order to preserve the natural beauty of the spring.
The Spirit of the Spring still resides in its depths with her beloved. She can be seen there on starry nights, when the light of the full moon strikes the water just right, floating in the edges of the shadows with the ghost of her true love.
Calistoble's heart is still hardened and she remains ready to stop the flow of Blue Springs forever at the first sign of damage or disrespect by human beings.
--
Note: Blue Springs Recreational Area will hopefully open for the summer in time for the 4th of July as Jackson County continues to recover from Hurricane Michael. To learn more about the history of the spring, enjoy the video below.
Friday, May 12, 2017
Ghost of Jericho Pond: Old U.S. Road legend a memory of Reconstruction
| The Old U.S. Road where it passes over Jericho Pond north of Marianna in Jackson County, Florida. |
It is also the center of a bizarre ghost story that has its roots in the turbulent days of the Reconstruction era.
I was reminded of the story a few years ago by a retired Jackson County resident who said that it was one of three ghost tales that he vividly remembered from his childhood. The other two were the Ghost of Bellamy Bridge and the haunting of Holyneck Road.
The legend holds that Jericho Pond is haunted by the ghost of a freedman (i.e. freed slave) who was murdered there during the years following the War Between the States (or Civil War).
| Jericho Pond |
Travelers would avoid following that section of the road at night, especially in the days before automobiles, because of the ghost. Residents of the area claimed that the spirit would waylay wagons or buggies at Jericho Pond, unhitch the horses or mules pulling them and then try to make its escape by riding them away. Drivers would be left stuck in the swamp with their vehicles.
The road passed by an old church not far away, however, and the ghost could not set foot on holy ground. People who walked out of the swamp after having their horses or mules taken would find them grazing peacefully in the moonlight of the churchyard, left there by the ghost as it returned to pond.
Each escape attempt ended in the same way with the ghost left trapped in its perpetual haunt.
The tale of the Ghost of Jericho Pond began to fade with the arrival of automobiles and the eventual widening and paving of the road. I remember from my own childhood, however, stories of a ghost that would try to stop cars on Old U.S. Road.
| The dark swamp of Jericho Pond. |
The new reality did not extend the right to vote to women and Native Americans and more decades would need to pass before they too gained suffrage.
Florida in 1867 was a place of simmering emotions. Rumblings in the U.S. Congress made it clear that Abraham Lincoln's dream of a peace "with malice toward none, with charity for all" was not the goal of many political leaders. Calls for the punishment of the South were rising in Washington, D.C., as politicians - many of whom had stayed as far away from battle as possible - demanded that Constitutional protections be suspended in the former Confederate states.
| Another view of Jericho Pond, where Gilbert Walker was killed by Hugh Parker in 1867. Walker's ghost supposedly haunts the swampy pond. |
In this time of growing tension, an incident took place at Jericho Pond that characterized life in 1867.
Two wagons approached the pond from opposite directions on the Old U.S. Road. One was driven by Gilbert Walker, a freedman, and the other by a white farmer named Bell. The passage of the road through the swamp was narrow and it was impossible for two wagons to pass by each other.
Each man pulled his wagon as far to the side as possible but there was still not enough room for them to pass. Seeing this, Walker got down from his wagon and pulled back the limbs that extended from roadside bushes to help Bell get past. It was at this point that a third man, named Hugh Parker, arrived on the scene.
Parker lived in Texas and was making his way home through the Deep South. He ran up to Walker and demanded to know why he had not gotten his wagon out of the road so the other man could pass. The freedman explained hat he had done so as well as he could and was holding back the brush so that Bell could get by.
This did not placate Parker, who warned that he would kill Walker if he ever again failed to give way for a white man to pass. Before either Walker or Bell could attempt to explain further, Parker suddenly pulled a pistol and said, "I might as well do it now."
| T. Thomas Fortune, who recalled the search for Walker's killer, was born into slavery in Jackson County but later became a prominent writer and newspaper publisher. |
The murder shocked Jackson County and alarmed black and white residents alike. T. Thomas Fortune, a prominent African-American newspaper publisher of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, in 1867 was the young son of Jackson County freedman Emanuel Fortune. He published his memories of the search for Parker more than 60 years later:
...The news of the tragedy swept through the county like a prairie fire. Negro men and women from every direction swarmed into the village [i.e. Marianna], fighting mad and determined to be avenged. The village and nearby swamps and forest were thorough searched for the bloody miscreant, all of the afternoon and night, but he eluded capture. It was good for him that he did, as the Negroes were outraged and thoroughly aroused and would have torn him limb from limb if they captured him. - (Philadelphia Tribune, July 28, 1927).
The passage of so much time caused Fortune to mistake the murderer, Hugh Parker, for Sgt. Thomas Barnes, but the alarm caused by the killing was every bit as vivid as he described.
Parker was never apprehended for his role in the crime, which may be why Walker's ghost became associated with Jericho Pond. Perhaps he continues each night an attempt to escape the injustice that befell him there 150 years ago.
Dale Cox
May 12, 2017
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