Historic Pelham: The Ghost of the Insane Pelham Lover Banished to His Attic Cell

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The young man from Pelham was madly in love. He was in the midst of an affair with a young and beautiful Pelham woman. The pair were residents of the tiny settlement of Bartow that once stood on Shore Road in the Town of Pelham in the last half of the 19th century not far from today's Pelham Bit Stables (the Bronx Equestrian Center) in Pelham Bay Park.

Yes, the young man was madly, madly, madly in love. All he could ponder was his beautiful belle. He spent every waking hour thinking of her and planning his next opportunity to be with her. He spent every sleeping hour dreaming of his lovely coquette. It seems, however, that the object of his adoration was interested only in a flirtatious fling. She was, indeed, quite a coquette who flirted lightheartedly with the young man precisely to encourage his admiration and affection. She did not, however, share his insanely-intense devotion.

When the beautiful Pelham belle tired of the young man's attentions, she simply ended all contact with him. The young beau was crushed. For weeks he made every attempt to recapture the flirtatious attentions of his beautiful belle. With each passing week of failure, the young man grew ever-more despondent. As the object of his mad love began seeing others, ever flirtatiously, his despondency sank into a gloomy sadness that could not be shaken.

The young man's family grew ever more concerned as he began wandering the halls of the family's dark home at night. He muttered as he shuffled up and down hallways and stairs, though muttering the family could understand was the name of his young belle.

Concerned for the young man's safety, members of the family stayed with him day and night. They sat with him as he rocked back and forth, muttering as tears streamed down his face. The weeks turned to months and it became clear that the young man's mind had departed him. He had descended into madness.

Soon exhaustion set in. At night, the young man's family simply could not handle him. His mind may have left him, but his youth and strength had not. When his mutterings seemed to turn suicidal, the family began locking him inside the unfinished attic of their Bartow home with nothing but a mattress on the floor each night.

The walls of the attic were unfinished. Its rafters hung heavily above. There was a single window at one end. At night the room was exceedingly dark since the family was unwilling to leave a burning lantern with the young man overnight. Even worse, the home stood in an infinitely lonely and silent spot on the outskirts of the tiny Bartow settlement that consisted of only a handful of homes and commercial buildings near the old Bartow Station on the New Haven Branch Line railroad tracks. The family put a strong bolt on the outside of the door that led to the attic room to keep the young man locked inside. They also put strong iron bars on the attic window to prevent his escape. Soon, the young man had to be kept in the room around the clock rather than only at night.

Thankfully, the young madman was not violent. He was fed, clothed, and cared for tenderly, but his madness worsened.

His mental illness seemed intensely worse during each thunderous storm that swept over Pelham. When torrents of rain beat upon his roof, lightning crackled above, and thunder shook the house, the young man became uncontrollable. With each thunderbolt he wailed in despondency and even pounded his fists on the floor and walls of his attic cell. It was as if each thunderous blast drove him deeper into the dark depths of insanity.

During one terrible storm on All Hallows' Eve, lightning pierced the skies all over Pelham. Thunder blasted the region and shook the home. After one nearby lightning strike that was followed instantaneously by an ear-splitting blast of thunder, the young man wailed and pounded so violently that his family feared for him. They scrambled up the stairs and unbolted the attic door hoping to do something -- anything -- to settle and console him.

As the door opened, the young man bolted through it and bounded down the dark stairs as his family gave chase. Down the stairs and through the house he ran. He threw open the front door and plunged into the curtains of rain. As the family ran into the torrential downpour behind the young man, he began outdistancing them until the family could no longer see through the rain far enough ahead to see him clearly. Only because occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the entire region were they able to follow the fleeing madman from a distance as he ran toward Long Island Sound.

The howling wind drove the rain into wet needles that felt as though they would pierce the skin. The family was not certain if the howling they heard that night was only that of the wind as they ran after the young man.

He ran with insane purpose straight to Flat Rock. He looked directly into the howling wind over the frenzied waters whipped to a froth by the storm. He squinted for a moment as the driving rain blinded him. Just as members of his family arrived at Flat Rock, the young man turned and stared at them wild-eyed, then leaped into the churning waves, drowning himself. His body was never recovered.

His body was never seen again, but soon his spirit was. Each night, after darkness descended, the ghost of the anguished young man wandered the rooms and halls of the old house in which he had been held captive during life. All in Bartow soon knew that the home was haunted by the ghost of the insane Pelham lover.

Soon no one in the settlement of Bartow would go near the house. As one published account noted, "no villager can be found who will venture near the spot at night."

The family moved out of the sad haunted house and left it to the spirit of the mad lover. The isolated house sat forlornly on a hill at the edge of the settlement for a number of years until a New York City charity named the "Little Mothers Aid Association" decided to use the home and its grounds as a summer camp for "Little Mothers." These "Little Mothers" were young girls whose family circumstances required them at a tender young age to serve as substitute mothers to care for even younger siblings. See:

Fri., Apr. 15, 2016: The Little Mothers Aid Association and its Use of Hunter's Mansion on Hunters Island in the Late 19th and Early 20th Centuries.

Thu., Jun. 28, 2018: More on the Little Mothers Aid Association and its Use of Hunter's Mansion on Hunter's Island.

Though the haunted house at Bartow sat empty throughout the fall and winter each year, it became a cheery summer camp center for happy "Little Mothers" from New York City during the spring and summer. Despite the happy occupants of the home, the anguished mad specter of the insane Pelham lover continued to stalk the hallways and rooms of the home after dark frightening all who saw him.

Wise camp counselors and experienced campers made certain to warn new campers of the ghost of the insane Pelham lover as each new wave of campers arrived. Each new wave of little campers who arrived, after hearing the terrible story, ventured to the top of the attic stairs, pulled back the heavy bolt on the outside of the door, and peered timidly into the dark attic room where they could see the heavy iron bars at the window of the room that once housed the captive. Of course, the little campers only ventured to the top of those stairs during bright, sunny days. . . .

During about the mid-1890s, on a dark and cold winter day when, of course, the Little Mothers camp was not in session and the haunted house sat empty, a New York City Policeman patrolling in Pelham Bay Park stopped by the house to check on it.

The first thing Officer Gilmartin noticed as he approached the house was an outside cellar door that had been broken in leaving the basement open. The officer climbed into the cellar and groped about in the semi-darkness. When he reached a rear corner of the dark room, he felt an odd, irregularly-shaped bundle that "rattled as if in protest as he dragged it out into the air."

Tied up in what evidently had been a bed sheet was a human skeleton. The policeman recoiled in horror, tucked the bundle under his arm, and raced on foot to the nearby police station that once stood near the Bartow Station on the New Haven Branch Line. There officers at the station contacted the local coroner and wired a report to New York City.

Word in the little settlement spread quickly regarding the skeletal remains at the police station. Nearby residents began crowding into the tiny police station to view the skeleton. According to one account: "much alarm was felt. . . . [t]hat a horrible crime had been committed." Had the ghost of the insane Pelham lover turned violent in the afterlife?

Thankfully, the skeleton was not that of a little camper. Rather, it "was evidently that of a full grown man of large stature."

It took a reporter for the New York Herald to solve the gruesome mystery. According to a newspaper account, the ghost of the insane Pelham lover had not turned to murder. The reporter visited an official of the Little Mothers Aid Association, told her about the alarm in the settlement of Bartow, and inquired about the origins of the skeletal remains.

After the official finished laughing, she explained that the skeleton was a medical specimen that belonged to Dr. William Percy who had practiced for many years in New York City but since had moved his practice to Elmira, New York. According to the official, Dr. Percy became fascinated with the many accounts of the ghost of the insane Pelham lover and decided the previous summer to try to frighten the ladies who ran the Little Mothers Aid Association.

He sneaked up to the attic, known to all as the "Haunted Room" and strung up the skeleton like a marionette puppet, rigged for motion when anyone entered the room. One night he enticed the ladies who ran the camp up to the Haunted Room, expecting to frighten them out of their wits. Instead, according to the New York Herald, "His effort failed ignominiously." The women were neither frightened nor amused by the amateurish efforts to scare them.

Dr. Percy bashfully wrapped up the skeleton and hid it in a corner of the basement so as not to frighten the little campers. He forgot, however, to remove it when he departed and, despite numerous requests from the staff that he remove it, he never did before the camp ended for the summer. Only a short time later, the Little Mothers Aid Association seemingly could take the ghost no more and moved its camp to the Hunter Mansion on nearby Hunter's Island off the shores of Pelham.

Thus, the ghost of the insane Pelham lover murdered no one of which we know (at least no one whose remains have been found). The settlement of Bartow is now simply a ghost town with all structures except the stone remnants of the Bartow train station long gone. In this case, the Bartow area is a true ghost town as the "Ghost of the Insane Pelham Lover" who once was banished to an attic cell can still be seen running from the area to the Long Island Sound where he leaps from Flat Rock and disappears beneath the inky waters. . . .

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"SPOILED A FINE GHOST STORY.
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Accounting for the Mysterious Skeleton Found in Bartow's Haunted House.
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IT BELONGED TO A PHYSICIAN.
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Neighborhood Residents Feared That It Might Be Evidence of a Dreadful Crime.
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MERELY PART OF A JOKE.
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The residents of the village of Bartow, two miles above West Chester, were greatly agitated yesterday over the finding of a nearly perfect skeleton in the empty, rambling old Holcomb House, known in town tradition as the 'haunted building.'

The house is perched on a high hill, overlooking Long Island Sound, on the southern side of Pelham Bay Park. It is nearly a mile from any human habitation, and was purchased by New York when the city acquired the 1,700 acres around the village for a public playground several years ago.

An infinitely lonely and silent spot it is in winter, but in summer troops of merry children transform the house and grounds into a place of life and laughter. Mrs. John H. Johnston makes semi-weekly trips there with half a hundred New York children, under the auspices of the United Charities. They are known as the 'Little Mothers,' because as far as possible they are girls of tender age on whom devolves the care of their younger brothers and sisters.

The half dozen park policemen visit the premises at irregular intervals during the winter months to see that nothing has been disturbed or stolen. Numerous tramps haunt the wooden slopes, and frequently signs are found to show that they have used the house as a lodging place.

SHUNNED BY VILLAGERS.

It is no chamber of horrors to the uninformed itinerant vagabond, but no villager can be found who will venture near the spot at night. It is generally accredited in town lore that a ghost stalks abroad throughout the rooms of the old structure after darkness has descended.

The villagers say it is the shade of the young man who went crazy over a love affair and was confined in an attic room for many years. He escaped from custody one stormy night and drowned himself from Flat Rock, in the waters of the Sound. The iron barred windows and heavy bolted door of the room are still to be seen.

Policeman Gilmartin set out to inspect the premises late Monday afternoon. It was so late, in fact, and so well aware was he of the house's grewsome [sic] reputation, that he wished before he started that his errand was completed. As he climbed the steep heights to his destination, he perceived that the outside cellar door had been broken in. Entering and groping about in the semi-darkness his hands touched an irregular shaped bundle in a rear corner which rattled as if in protest as he dragged it out into the air.

Tied up in what had evidently been a sheet, the light disclosed the nearly perfect skeleton of a human body. Without continuing his search the policeman, greatly excited at his find, hurried with his burden to the police station, near the little railroad station.

Resident Policeman Hodgins and the chief of the Pelham Bay Park force sent immediate notice to Coroner Banning, of Mount Vernon, and a report was despatched [sic] to the Central Park Arsenal.

The news spread rapidly throughout the village and numbers came to view the bones at the police station. Many wealthy New York people spend the entire year in handsome cottages outside the town, and not far from the scene of the ghastly find, and much alarm was felt. That a horrible crime had been committed in the neighborhood at some distant date and that its discovery had just been made was the only explanation. The tramps infesting the wide, open territory were at once suspicioned as the authors of the deed.

THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED.

The skeleton was evidently that of full grown man of large stature, and the oldest inhabitant cogitated in vain to identify the remains.

Bartow was in a state of nervous excitement yesterday afternoon when I departed, and went at once to the residence of Mrs. Johnston, at No. 305 East Seventeenth street. The mystery was soon solved.

'Why, I can very easily account for the presence of the skeleton,' said she, after her laughter at the alarm of the village had subsided. 'It is the property of Dr. William Percy, formerly of this city, but now, I think, practising [sic] in Elmira. You see, he visited us at our summer quarters last summer, and was much amused over the ghost story associated with the old house.

'He placed the skeleton in the 'haunted' room and attempted to give some of the ladies a fright. His effort failed ignominiously, however, and I suppose he concealed his improvised puppet in the cellar afterward and forgot to remove it.

'We were afraid some of the girls would find the skeleton and become really excited, and enjoined the physician to effectually dispose of it.'

Coroner Manning has sent notice that he will view the sheet of bones to-day. His services are not in as urgent demand as Bartow has led itself to believe."

Source:  SPOILED A FINE GHOST STORY -- Accounting for the Mysterious Skeleton Found in Bartow's Haunted House -- IT BELONGED TO A PHYSICIAN -- Neighborhood Residents Feared That It Might Be Evidence of a Dreadful Crime -- MERELY PART OF A JOKE, N.Y. Herald, Mar. 21, 1894, No. 21,030, p. 13, col. 6.

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I have collected ghost stories and legends relating to the Town of Pelham for more than fifteen years. To read more examples that now total in the several dozens, see:

Bell, Blake A., Pelham's Ghosts, Goblins and Legends, The Pelham Weekly, Oct. 25, 2002, p. 1, col. 1.

Bell, Blake A., More Ghosts, Goblins of Pelham, The Pelham Weekly, Vol. XIII, No. 43, Oct. 29, 2004, p. 12, col. 1.

Bell, Blake A., More Ghosts & Goblins of Pelham, The Pelham Weekly, Vol. XV, Issue 40, Oct. 13, 2006, p. 10, col. 1.

Bell, Blake A., Archive of HistoricPelham.com Web Site: Pelham's Ghosts, Goblins and Legends (Oct. 2002).

Bell, Blake A., Bibliography of Pelham's Ghost Stories and Legends (Oct. 2002).

Mon., Oct. 29, 2018: The Ghost of the Insane Pelham Lover Banished to His Attic Cell.

Fri., Oct. 26, 2018: The Ghostly Gunship That Sails Off the Shores of Pelham.

Thu., Oct. 25, 2018: The Ghostly Lantern-Bearer of Baychester and Pelham Bridge.

Tue., Oct. 31, 2017: An Eyewitness Account of the Headless Apparitions of the Haunted Cedar Knoll in Pelham.

Mon., Oct. 30, 2017: The Ghost of Captain Kidd Guards His Treasure on an Island Off Pelham.

Fri., Oct. 27, 2017: An Unusual Account of the Dark Spirit of the Devil and His Stepping Stones: A Pelham Legend.

Thu., Oct. 26, 2017: The Cow Rustler Ghosts of Pelham Road.