We’re taking depositions of six locals who knew Bartram in the two months or so he was in Fulton’s Point or rather at the estate known as Ingoldsby. He seems to have made a good impression but no real friends. Naturally, as he was to leave in one week to return to school.
We’d appreciate your office sending a full search of the grounds of the estate, comprising fifteen acres. It’s more than our two-man office can handle. Keys will be made available to you. There is a small pond and a drag-net may be required. Otherwise it’s all on-foot or via ATVs.
Should we learn anything of import to end the search during the depositions, you will hear of it immediately. The Ingals Trust is admittedly pretty big and important in the state, but it’s only because of how total and sudden a disappearance this is that we’re making this request. Foul play is of course assumed.
Date Signature
I owe you one on this, Griff!
—Ab Estes
* * *
6-A.
PORTAGE COUNTY, WI
FULTON’S POINT POLICE
39000 Rte. 18
Fulton’s Pt., WI 53908
DEPOSITION
Mr. Joseph Weyerhauser, Fulton’s Point Pharmacy, 3300 Rte. 81
Yes, I do swear. I first met Neal Bartram the afternoon of May 24th this year when he came into the pharmacy and asked for the keys to Ingoldsby. Mr. Torrington had phoned me two days before to say Neal would be coming for the keys. I wasn’t very busy at that time of day, mid-afternoon, on a weekday, so I left my mother in charge of the cash register, infirm as she is and elderly–sixty-nine this November–and I drove over to the place, with Neal driving behind me.
Showed him how to use the keys and what they opened in the gate-house & the garage beneath filled with lawn and estate equipment he’d be using. I’d a few days earlier aired out the apartment and dusted it. Drove him to the main buildings and garages and gave him a guided tour. My grandfather worked at Ingoldsby when he was a young man and so I know a great deal about it.
As far as I know, everything went all right between Neal and the estate until three days ago, when I got the phone call from Mr. Torrington telling me he could not raise Neal on the phone all the previous day nor that morning. I tried locally and couldn’t raise him by phone either. So I drove over and looked for him. I found the little apartment as he’d left as though to go run errands. Same thing with the estate, which remains fully closed up, but ready to be opened at any moment if need be. I didn’t touch anything at all in either the gate-house or the main house.
There’s not much to do in this town and Neal began coming into the pharmacy around one p.m. most days, for lunch. You and he must have passed each other once or twice. Nice-looking feller, Neal is, strongly attracting the girls and well aware of it. Especially as he dressed more freely than most of the men around here, with small shorts and little, tight-fitting guinea-tee shirts, and on hotter days, nothing but shorts and those flat little sandals with thongs on ’em.
Even so he’s a well-brought-up, intelligent, courteous, and all-around good person. Able to speak on a variety of topics. Aside from how he dressed–or rather undressed–I never heard a negative word about him from any person in Fulton’s Point. Although it is true that he kept to himself mostly as he was preparing a book-length work for his Ph.D. I believe in mid-twentieth-century American History.
WITNESSED: A. Estes-TRANSCRIBED: A. Nichols, 9/4/00
* * *
6-B.
PORTAGE COUNTY, WI
FULTON’S POINT POLICE
39000 Rte. 18
Fulton’s Pt., WI 53908
DEPOSITION
Dr. Rodman Stansbury, M.D. 34 Aspect Ave. Fulton’s Pt., WI
I so swear. I met Neal Bartram on Memorial Day Eve, May 28th of this year, in the pharmacy. I’d heard from Joe Weyerhauser that Neal had come down from Chicago to mind the house and grounds at Ingoldsby. We’d gotten word a few months before that the Trust was planning to make it into a local historical landmark, possibly a museum. Big news in a town this small and sleepy, especially in summer.
So was Neal Bartram news to the town, according to Mrs. Stansbury. His arrival doubled the available bachelors in town, and the fact that he was a healthy, good-looking, and a usually exposed-to-the-skin specimen of young manhood certainly made waves around the feminine side of town, according to the Missus. Tonia Noonan at the library and Bev Freneau at the Post Office apparently vied for his attention. But younger teens also followed him around the main street or gathered at his Cavalier coupe whenever it was parked in town. Nothing better to do.
I have no idea what, if any, kind of relationship Neal ever developed with either woman or any woman or girl here. Or in fact with anyone. But since apart from Joe himself there was no real romantic competition for Neal, I doubt that has any bearing on the matter.
As for myself, I played cards with Neal twice weekly, along with Joe Weyerhauser. Mostly at the pharmacy, on those “cafe” tables Joe’s recently put inside; and once or twice at Neal’s gate-house apartment.
Neal Bartram did come to me in a professional capacity a few weeks after he’d moved into the gate-house. While he was sound as a drum, he was complaining of night noises and other unlikely disturbances that were keeping him awake at night. Sometimes the country is too quiet for city dwellers. I prescribed a light sleeping medicine, Diphenhydramine Hydrochloride, similar to what you can buy over the counter, but in a 50 mg dosage. After that he had no further complaints.
Neal did become interested in Ingoldsby and its history. But that was only to be expected, being as he was in and out of it and around it daily and it is a fascinating place. Me and Joe told him what we knew, including when he asked about the tragedy there in the spring of 1940 when Chester Ingals and his guests died in a freak fire inside the house. There wasn’t much to tell. I think Neal looked up more himself.
After that, his questions about the place were pretty specific and even pointed. Joe and me humored him. Neal’s an ace Rummy player and a super guy. We hope you find him soon and unhurt.
WITNESSED: A. Estes-TRANSCRIBED: A. Nichols, 9/4/00
* * *
6-C.
PORTAGE COUNTY, WI
FULTON’S POINT POLICE
39000 Rte. 18
Fulton’s Pt., WI 53908
DEPOSITION
Ms. Antoinette (“Tonia”) Noonan, Librarian, 9 Drake Rd. Fulton’s Pt., WI
Yes, I do swear to tell the truth. I met Neal Bartram on the Saturday of the Memorial Day weekend. Was that the 29th of May? The library was closed on the holiday. Neal sort of wandered into the building, and as it is much cooler than the near hundred-degree temperatures we were experiencing, he immediately put on his T-shirt.
He looked surprised to find a library at all, never mind one so handsome as ours is and so well kept. Of course now that we’ve brought in the three computers, all as search engine/catalogue files and also for Internet use, the library is updated, so it’s used by youngsters in addition to retirees and other regulars who came in.
Neal had been having trouble linking up to the Net from Ingoldsby and had been referred to me. As he always was, Neal was polite, courteous, and well spoken. After he’d received his e-mail and answered it on the library’s machine, we spoke a bit and he told me about himself. I offered to subscribe to The Chicago Sun-Times if he wished–it’s a paid service of the library. But he said he could read it online.
He came into the library after that once or twice a week, and I also encountered him at the Pharmacy’s lunch counter. Although he was reading quite specialized books for his thesis, he occasionally leafed through a current auto magazine or a New Yorker.
As you know, it’s been an exceptionally warm summer with few rainy days, and Neal dressed as people did at Northwestern and in Chicago, which some older residents in town found shocking. I saw nothing wrong with it, as he was a healthy-looking, well-behaved young man.
People have gossiped that Neal and I went out
together. That’s simply not true. We did have several long conversations at the Pharmacy cafe, and Neal seemed to be a genuine young man, sensible, and sensitive, yet practical too. Although he found his new home odd at times, he also loved living in a historical site. We spoke about “the good old days.” I told him what I’d heard about it from my grandparents.
A month after he arrived, Neal began borrowing and reading about the history of the town and estate. He also drove to the Junction City library and got books there.
I do not believe Neal Bartram would leave of his own volition without fulfilling his employment obligation. I believe something was not quite right in his life, but I couldn’t broach this matter with him. I feel harm has befallen Mr. Bartram and I pray to God he is found safe.
WITNESSED: A. Estes-TRANSCRIBED: A. Nichols, 9/4/00
* * *
6-D.
PORTAGE COUNTY, WI
FULTON’S POINT POLICE
39000 Rte. 18
Fulton’s Pt., WI 53908
DEPOSITION
Ms. Amanda Ettrick, 27 Wausag Drive. Fulton’s Pt., WI
Sure, I’ll swear on it. But whatever happens, you’ve got to swear that you won’t ever tell my best friend Ashley what I’m going to tell you about Neal Bartram or she will have six fits and absolutely die… Yes, I do realize this is an official investigation and no information will leave this room. I’m making sure… I’m thirteen next month.
Okay, so this is what happened. Ashley and me first saw Neal when he came to the Post Office a few days after Memorial Day. He was picking up mail for himself and for Ingoldsby. Bev Freneau, the postmistress, told us when we asked. He was by far the cutest male in town in five years, ever since Jake Holloway had to move to Idaho, and he wore like nothing! A teeny little pair of shorts so thin you could see everything, and no shirt. Of course it was hot out. But my best friend Ashley almost died right there in line at the P.O.
I said hello and he was really friendly. He was always friendly to me, whenever he’d drive into town in that little red Chevy coupe of his. So Ash and me took to hanging around him or his car. He never seemed to mind. We knew he was too old for us and all, still you never know.
Well! This went on all summer. We’d see him in the pharmacy, or at the pizza place. We saw him at that multiplex over on Route 18, with Bev. She’s older than him and I guess they got along. And that would have been “it,” you know what I mean, two girls hoping, except Ash thought we could see him without any clothing if we went to Ingoldsby. There’s a pool and we knew he’d been a swimmer. Maybe he’d swim nude.
Well! We biked out there even though it’s a trek and it’s got a reputation for being haunted and all. We saw him at the pool. He wore a gorgeous white and purple Speedo, so Ash, who’s never seen real dick, was disappointed. He stretched out and all and never knew we were watching. That’s when we saw him talking to himself. Or rather to someone else, maybe two someone elses, on the terrace. Except there was no one there!
Well! You can imagine! Ash said, “Maybe he’s rehearsing, like for a play, or something.” Sure. A play! I think they were ghosts!
So! To make a long story short, even though she’ll deny it up and down, I think that absolutely gorgeous as Neal Bartram was–is, you’ve not found a body, right?–that living at Ingoldsby all alone with those ghosts there, he just snapped one day and killed himself, and I guess you’ll find the body sometime soon if you look really hard. Which is a shame because he’s like the most beautiful guy in the county.
WITNESSED: A. Estes-TRANSCRIBED: A. Nichols, 9/4/00
* * *
6-E.
PORTAGE COUNTY, WI
FULTON’S POINT POLICE
39000 Rte. 18
Fulton’s Pt., WI 53908
DEPOSITION
Ms. Ashley Sprague, 11 Wausag Drive. Fulton’s Pt., WI
What-ever! Yes, of course, I’ll swear on it. But in turn, you have got to promise that you don’t ever let my best friend Amanda know what happened between me and the Divine Neal Bartram, because she is like a total child, not a grown-up, though she thinks she is… Oh, great! So…like nothing I say can ever leave this room? Terrif… So this is how it goes. We meet Neal in town at the P.O. and he’s drop dead gorgeous and we’re stupid girls and immediately get ideas, right? Right! But I mention him at home at dinner that night, and my dad he makes this weird little thing with his mouth like he just ate a rancid nut or something, and he says to my mom, “I thought you told me they’d never have another caretaker at Ingoldsby after what happened to that guy from Ohio?”
This is something I totally do not know. So while my mom says, “You read that article in the paper. The Trust is turning it into a museum and landmark and all so they need someone out there, I suppose.” To which my dad makes another one of those faces and so does she.
Later on that evening I ask my mom what happened to the other caretaker at Ingoldsby, and she tells me what happened when she was my age, around 1979 when they were planning to do something with the estate, remodel it or open it to the public or something like that, she wasn’t exactly sure. Her dad (my grandpa) and my Uncle Matt (by my grandpa’s first wife) owned this landscaping and garden business and they were hired to do major work out there at Ingoldsby. According to them, at the end of summer this guy whose name my mom didn’t remember who’d been hired from out of state just disappeared. So the Trust closed Ingoldsby down again and only her dad and my uncle ever went out to Ingoldsby anymore from the town and they only went by daylight and always remained together whenever they went.
So I asked my mom what happened to the guy and she said that his body had never been found. And she said that her grandmother had talked about Ingoldsby as being weird when she was a little girl. So that’s a long time ago. Was it haunted? I asked. And Mom said the way she understood it, it wasn’t so much ghosts and all, as just there was something wrong with the place. According to her family, who’s lived here in Portage County a hundred and twenty-five years, there’s been something wrong with the land on which the estate was built right from the beginning. Which was why no one outbid Frank Ingals when he first got it in 1901 and why his son Chester Ingals had been forced to hire a county construction team from outside Portage County to build the place.
At any rate, my dumb pal Amanda gets some idea in her head that she can seduce Neal Bartram, as though a stud-muffin like him would look twice at a skinny infant like her! But to keep her out of too much trouble, I agree to bike with her out to Ingoldsby one day. We see Neal using the pool, swimming laps, then he’s on the deck drying off and then, well suddenly it’s like he’s talking to people—people who aren’t there. You know, gesticulating and all, all totally natural. I’m sure he wasn’t onto us hiding and trying to freak us out.
Amanda, however, was totally freaked out, saying that Neal is talking to the Ingoldsby ghosts and all. But I remember what my mom said about the original Indians who lived on that land, how she told me that they believed there were strong spirits on the property. I figure if anyone would be cool enough to talk with spirits it would be Neal, since he was so smart and virtually a history professor already, getting his doctorate in American history, according to Miz Noonan at the library. She told me that he and she talked a lot and from the way she spoke of him, I think she kind of also had a crush on Neal.
So Amanda is freaked and we get out of there, and she’s like crying all night, saying how will Neal ever escape these awful ghosts and all. Real weepy and a complete child! For the next few days all I hear from her is Neal this and Neal that. So I decide on a plan.
We both know Neal has lunch most days at Joe’s Pharmacy lunch counter, so the next day as me and Amanda are waiting for him at his car, I slip a note into his hand when Amanda’s not looking and it says to meet me at a certain time. Well, later that day I get a phone call from Neal at my home and he says we can’t meet secretly because I’m underage and all.
So I tell him it’s not about me or any gooey c
rap like that, it’s about Ingoldsby and I know a lot about the place, so he does agree to meet me. We meet after dinner behind this very office right here, and I tell him what my mom had told me about Ingoldsby and he takes notes and all, and he thanks me and when I ask him to, he gives me a kiss, which is lovely. He also asks for my grandpa’s address ’cause he wants to visit him and also ask him questions about Ingoldsby.
A few days later Neal phones me again and thanks me again and he says he’s found a lot more information about Ingoldsby and about that caretaker who disappeared from old newspapers he’s dug up at the Junction City Library. I’ve been really invaluable and a true friend, and if he ever publishes an article about the estate, Neal will be sure to give me credit along with my mom and Grandpa, which is how really nice Neal always is.
So I was feeling really good about it, and even though I was curious, I was also afraid to ask him who he was talking to and all. He never seemed in the least bit afraid, or upset, and I never got the idea that he thought anything was out of his control at the estate. So you can imagine how like totally bummed I was when I heard that Neal vanished too, just like that caretaker from twenty years ago. I just hope you find him okay.
WITNESSED: A. Estes-TRANSCRIBED: A. Nichols, 9/4/00
* * *
6-F.
PORTAGE COUNTY, WI
FULTON’S POINT POLICE
39000 Rte. 18
Fulton’s Pt., WI 53908
20th Century Un-limited Page 19
