by Bill Russo
Lucy’s mother is the second spirit in The House of Eleven Ghosts. In life, she refused to accept her daughter’s ill fate, and sat rocking back and forth in her chair awaiting Lucy’s return. Day and night for decades she rocked and waited.
In death, the little girl’s mother did not change her routine. It is said that she still waits and rocks in a chair in the “Blue Room”. Some accounts say that an empty rocking chair, has been observed, rocking on its own.
The rest of the eleven ghosts range from former owners to tavern customers. There was a suicide or two which produced some spectral encounters. In the 1970s when the building was temporarily unoccupied, a fire mysteriously broke out.
It is said that when firefighters got to the scene, a woman was calling for help from an attic window. The fire crews bravely went to rescue the woman, but she had mysteriously disappeared.
Yarmouth
Still on Route 6A, this time in Yarmouth, we find another 300 year old building that has spent most of its existence as a tavern and has its own complement of ghosts: The Old Yarmouth Inn.
The Old Yarmouth Inn on Route 6A in Yarmouth Port
As with most buildings that are older than the United States itself, it comes with ghosts from the original owners, the in-between owners, and the current owners.
The food is first rate and if you spend some time in the tavern, you’ll hear some pretty convincing stories of haunts from 300 years ago, right up to the present day.
The original building dates to 1696 and it may be the oldest establishment of its kind in Cape Cod. Like many taverns, in its early days, it was a stopping point for travelers. Situated near the half way point from Plymouth to Provincetown, it was a convenient stage stop in colonial days when this trip took more than a day and a half.
The two story building, with cellar and attic, has for most of the time between the 17th and 21st centuries been an inn and a tavern. It also was used for short periods as a family home, a boarding house for teachers, and even as a dentist’s office.
One of the owners discovered a long forgotten secret room, partitioned off in the attic. It was theorized that this compartment was used as part of the Under Ground railroad – a series of covert routes and homes to help slaves escape to ‘free’ states and Canada.
Chapter Four: The Lower Cape – Brewster, Harwich and Chatham
The Crosby Mansion
On the Old King’s Highway (6A), near Nickerson State Park is a magnificent, three-floor, 35 room mansion, complete with 15 fireplaces and a palatial great parlor. A storied home, it was built in 1888 by Albert Crosby, apparently as a gift for his second wife.
Matilda Georgia Sourbeck, was 20 years younger than her doting spouse. She was a woman of considerable cunning – a matter that will be discussed later in the chapter.
The sprawling manor, along with a cluster of cottages, overlooks Cape Cod Bay. It was said to have been designed by Crosby himself and constructed using local labor under the direction of a Yarmouth contractor.
The massive castle-like structure was actually wrapped around Crosby’s boyhood home, which was transformed into one of the building’s wings.
The Crosby Mansion, complete with its sixty foot tower, as illustrated in 1890’s
“History of Barnstable County”
As the 1900s wore on, the main building was abandoned and neglected. The Commonwealth of Massachusetts acquired the property, including the cottages, in 1985. In the 2000s, Brewster was able to gain a long-term lease on the complex from the State. Proceeds from rental of the cottages have gone into the restoration and rehabilitation of the mansion.
So far, the first and second floors have been completely renovated and a volunteer group leads visitors through the stately manor during summer tours.
As to the ‘ghosts’ of Crosby Mansion, there are a number of interesting reports. Most of them come from the period in which the building was vacant.
The electricity had been shut off. Paint was peeling, wood was rotting, and the once beautiful gem was quickly losing its charm.
Tourists and locals a-like filed reports that sometimes among the maze of upstairs rooms, the electric lights were blazing. Spectral faces peered out from the illuminated windows. It was impossible, because the power had been shut off for years. Still, reports of the bright lights continued for some time.
One paranormal reporter states that unexplained blood splashes have been observed on the front steps.
Of the Crosby family’s life in the dwelling, I was able to learn little. The clan was one of great importance in the development of the little community of Brewster, which was part of Harwich until 1803.
In “The History of Barnstable County”, edited by Simeon L. Deyo in 1890, the family is praised highly as influential community leaders.
Isaac Crosby, Albert’s nephew, and business partner, was a community paragon. Upon his passing in 1883, he was lauded by his fellow Directors of the First National Bank of Hyannis, who said, “In the death of Isaac, we have lost a true friend of the bank, a faithful and efficient officer – one of its earliest and best friends….a noble, energetic successful business man, who unostentatiously did many kind acts in his daily life.”
There would be no such praise for Albert. More on that in a few paragraphs, but first here’s the story that is told about him.
A typical American success story - that was the life of Albert Crosby. He left the hamlet of Brewster at the age of 25 and went west. He went as far as Chicago, and in 1848, Chicago was still pretty far west.
Apparently the Crosby name allowed him to pick up $10,000 worth of credit in Boston, where he bought a large stock of tea and liquor. He opened a wholesale business in Illinois that quickly prospered. Within three years he built a manufacturing facility and became the largest distributor of alcohol west of Boston and New York.
Crosby made enormous profits during the civil war when he was a major supplier of alcohol to the Union Army.
Always interested in the arts, he expanded his empire by opening the Crosby Opera House. All went well until a devastating fire in 1871 wiped out his manufacturing facility.
According to the “official History of Barnstable County” and of other reports that I have studied on the internet, losses from the fire were over one and a half million dollars (in 1871 dollars).
Yet, it is said that even before the fire was out Crosby and his men were cooling off the charred bricks from the burned out buildings in a nearby river and planning a ‘rebuild’.
In thirty days, according to the legend, Crosby was operating again, out of a new building. It was a structure two stories high and 300 feet long – and all fabricated with burned out bricks from the original factory.
It sounds like a great story. Crosby supposedly continued his
enterprises with even greater triumphs. He branched out further when he became President of the Chicago City Railway Company.
All of the published reports say that Albert Crosby just kept heaping success on top of success. Finally around 1875 Crosby obtained his ultimate prize – a beautiful second wife, some two decades younger than himself.
A few years later, he decided to leave Chicago and retire with his bride, to his boyhood home in Brewster. Apparently the modest abode was not ample enough for the ambitious Matilda Georgia Sourbeck Crosby.
To rectify the situation, an enormous house (The Crosby Mansion) was built for her. She evidently deferred to old Albert’s affection for his childhood home, by allowing it to be swallowed up and made part of the new construction. Albert and Matilda Georgia called the humble little castle, Tawasentha. It was named after a real place in New York State that was referenced in Longfellow’s Hiawatha.
Let’s go over the dates of all this. It’s going to be important when I reveal some information not previously written about. According to all available sources, construction of the mansion was started in 1888 and finished in 1889.
Concurrent with the development of the lavish estate, an
art gallery was built, just off to the side of the main structure. Not a common gallery was this. It stood as high as the tower – sixty feet above the ground – and was made entirely of brick. Rectangular in shape, it was 75 feet long and 50 feet wide and was 100 per cent fireproof.
When the gallery was completed, it was laden with perhaps the most extensive and expensive collection of art in Massachusetts. There were paintings, drawings, and all manner of statuary including bronze sculptures.
Thus, between 1888 and 1889 Crosby erected a 35 story mansion, numerous outbuildings, cottages, and the fireproof art gallery. Now here comes the caveat. Crosby by his own admission was flat broke. This man, who was supposed to be as rich as a Rockefeller, had no money.
Long before the dirt was first pierced by the spade, or the initial red brick was laid, Crosby had sworn before a judge that he was bankrupt.
In researching old newspaper files for information on this tale, my eye caught a headline concerning Albert Crosby in the July 12th, 1899 issue of the Daily Star, a small newspaper in Oneonta, New York.
The Daily Star, still operating today, is an ambitious little paper with a circulation of some 12,000 copies daily, plus an on line website. I was able to find the clipping because the publisher has made all issues freely available online, dating back to 1890 when the newspaper published its first edition.
Here’s the headline:
AN OPULENT PAUPER
Albert Crosby Asks to be Adjudged A Bankrupt
THOUGH LIVING IN LUXURY
Dateline: New York City
“Albert Crosby, of Brewster, Mass., and formerly rich and prominent in Chicago, where he owned Crosby’s Opera House and the McAvoy Brewing Company, was examined here in bankruptcy proceedings yesterday.”
Crosby told the judge that his only possessions were a few old clothes. He admitted that he has a large home in Brewster and that he and his wife have been in Europe for several years, during which time the authorities had been trying to question them.
The rest of the story is certainly not ghostly, but you may find it interesting. As mentioned, Crosby and Matilda Georgia had been abroad for quite some time and out of the reach of the inquisitive law enforcement officials.
It seems as though Albert’s business luck had finally run out about the same time he married his second wife. His Indiana operations were failing. He had made some land purchases and owned a barrel making company. He ran up debts of $30,000. For a person of his supposed wealth, that should have been petty cash, but Chicago wanted a lot more than that.
Crosby and the City Treasurer of Chicago had obtained an enormous bond from the city and defaulted on the payments. Crosby’s name was on the bond and the city of Chicago got a judgment of a half million dollars against him.
It was apparently at this time that Albert and Matilda Georgia decided they needed a long, long vacation in Europe. The officials lost track of them. They might have stayed there unmolested for the rest of their lives, but for an art loving judge, named Martin Winfield.
A State Senator as well as a judge in Logansport, Indiana, Winfield enjoyed spending summers on Cape Cod. In July of 1895, as luck would have it, he was staying in the lower cape when a friend suggested going to some nearby art galleries.
One of the closest showplaces was on the estate called Tawasentha, the Crosby Gallery. When the judge and his friend arrived, the name Crosby did not ring a bell with the judge. In the middle and lower cape there are lots of people named Crosby. But there’s only one “In the Yosemite” by Alfred Bierstadt.
In the Yosemite, by Albert Bierstadt, a German born, American painter of artworks of the Great American West
“That’s it!” screamed Judge Winfield to his friend. “That’s the ‘Yosemite’. It’s one of a kind and the last time I saw it was in Chicago where it is still supposed to be.”
Shortly after that the name Crosby did ring a bell for the judge. He was also the lawyer for an estate that was the largest Indiana creditor against Crosby. The judge began a relentless campaign to file suit and force Crosby and Matilda back to the U.S.
It took four years and the cooperation of the supreme court of Massachusetts, but finally papers were signed and the judgments of over $500,000 were issued.
But suddenly, Crosby turned up in New York City and filed for bankruptcy. Crosby claimed that he had been impecunious since 1875. He said he had absolutely no money. He later admitted that he had been drawing a salary of a thousand dollars a month from the brewery but he claimed he didn’t own it anymore – he was just an employee.
Under further questioning, he admitted that he was very fond of his second wife and in 1875, out of gratitude for her in saving much of his artwork in the 1871 fire, he decided to give all his possessions to her.
He gave her the homes, the McAvoy Brewing Company, and everything else he owned.
Under testimony Matilda Georgia said that she had $160,000 in the bank, another $160,000 in mortgages she owned, and $12,000 worth of artwork. The resulting amount, about $375,000, was a tidy sum for the year 1899, but it wouldn’t even come close to paying the judgment against Crosby.
Matilda Georgia also told the referee she wanted to be included in the judgments against her husband. She said she desired $50,000 to reimburse her for money she had advanced him from time to time.
I was not able to find out how the bankruptcy proceedings worked out. But I did learn that they did not lose the house. Albert died in it in 1906, at the age of 83. He may still be patrolling it in a ghostly form, looking to acquire new artwork.
Matilda Georgia Sourbeck Crosby survived him and lived in the house for 22 more years. Even in her old age, she was a woman who knew how to get what she wanted. It’s reported that after Albert passed on, she told Brewster town officials that she was going to open the art gallery to the public one day a week during the summers. Apparently, in return, the grateful town fathers did her the favor of not raising her taxes!
In spectral form, she is quite possibly still wandering the estate, on the lookout for new artworks and such. I’m told she was especially fond of jewelry – rings, necklaces, and such. Keep that in mind if you decide to roam the property. It’s on Crosby Lane, right near Route 6A.
The Crosby Mansion is open for guided tours during the summers. You can visit both the first and second floors. The restoration work is ongoing and in future the entire property will be restored. The cost for the guided peek into the opulence of the early 1900s is a mere $3.00.
Chapter Five - The Outer Cape
Orleans, Wellfleet, Eastham, Truro, and Provincetown
In the final stretch of driving along the 64 miles of Route 6 and 6A, you come to the narrowest part of the sandbar called Cape Cod. At times, the sliver of land becomes so small that you think the road will end, not in Provincetown, but in the encroaching waters of Cape Cod Bay and Nantucket Sound, on either side of your car.
Just keep your foot on the gas pedal and plow ahead. The way becomes a little wider as you get nearer to the site of where the Europeans landed in 1620.
Miles Standish and company first set foot on the new world in what is now Provincetown. There is no “Provincetown Rock” to commemorate the event – there is however, something that is perhaps a little more inspiring. It is the Pilgrim Monument.
Entering Provincetown, you may find that you have an odd feeling. You might have a sense that you truly are at the place that the Native Americans called, The End of the Earth. There’s water all around. Sand dunes and salty air abound. You can almost feel the history of the place, and of my favorite ghost, Maria Hallett.
The sign and the Start/End of Route Six in Provincetown
She’s called by several names including; Goody Hallett, The Wicked Witch of Wellfleet, The Witch of Eastham, and more. I choose to call her simply, the beautiful Maria.
Her spirit is said to walk the sandy shores from Orleans and Truro, right through to Eastham and Wellfleet and on to Provincetown. She’s searching for her tr
ue love – the real life Pirate, and Captain of the Whidah, Black Sam Bellamy.
In summer, a year or two ago, she was said to have been spotted using a ladies’ room in Provincetown. She has been seen on the beach in Eastham, in Orleans, and all of the outer towns. Reports of sightings of Maria come from 300 years ago and they also come from today.
Though she’s often depicted as a witch and Sam as a murderous pirate, my vision of the couple is softer. I see them as two unfortunates, swallowed up in a swirl of ill fate.
Let me tell you about Maria. Poring over dozens of documents old and new, I learned much about her. Most reports agree on this: she was a gorgeous, natural blonde. Her luxurious tresses dove in golden waves all the way down to her slim waist. Though only 15, she was in all ways a woman.
Her formal education was little or none, but from her toddler days she had busied herself in her father’s tavern in the Town of Eastham. Almost before she could walk, she helped her Dad, who was a widower, swamp out the outhouses as well as serve drinks and repast to the patrons.
She learned sums and cyphers from drummers who sold her father rum and beer; and how to read, from school masters who summered in shacks near First Encounter Beach. Her father instructed her in how to write. Before she was nine, she was writing the weekly inventory and order list for the family’s pub.
She toiled at cooking, cleaning, and serving customers by day and devoured books by night in the light of candles on her headboard. Teachers and sailors alike brought precious volumes to the young girl in a quantity sufficient to fully stock the shelves of the village library.
