April Slaughter

by Ghosthunting Texas

  Allen and I walked around the ballroom to gain a sense of what it must have been like all those years ago when patrons came to the Nat for a swim or for an enthusiastic night of dancing. The ballroom floor is immense, the ceiling high, and there is a slight chill that comes and goes without an obvious source. I walked from one end of the ballroom to the other in silence, all the while feeling as though someone were watching—just as curious about me as I was about them.

  The Nat has been visited several times by paranormal enthusiasts in search of validation that it is indeed a haunted piece of history still very active today. Are those who once enjoyed the boisterous music and nights filled with dancing and laughter still drawn to the Nat? Eerie recordings known as electronic voice phenomena (EVP) have captured the sounds of a solitary drum playing quietly as well as the distant melodic singing of an unknown woman. These recordings can be a bit unnerving at first, as it dawns on you that someone may be speaking to you. EVPs are some of the most commonly captured pieces of paranormal “evidence” obtained by ghosthunters. Sometimes these audio clips are recorded in places of ghostly interest, such as the Nat, while others are recorded entirely by chance.

  Branden has often allowed ghosthunting investigative teams and individuals into the building, and spoke with us about the most common phenomena they have reported during their visits. Sudden fluctuations in temperature have been among the most common experiences reported to occur on the upper floor as people have felt cold spots move around them with no apparent explanation.

  Investigators have attempted to capture the various reported anomalies and have often found it difficult to keep their video equipment up and running. Sudden and inexplicable battery drainages have puzzled many investigators as they have struggled to conduct the most thorough investigation possible. Whatever is responsible for the strange equipment failure still remains to be seen, but several people suspect it is largely due to the fluctuating energetic environment often experienced when paranormal phenomena occurs.

  After spending some time in the ballroom, Branden escorted Allen and me to a section of the bookstore also believed to have activity, where investigators had recorded a disembodied voice on their audio recording devices. We stood where a couple of these recordings had taken place, with a recorder of our own in hand. While we were unable to capture anything that day, it can certainly be said that the entire building has an undeniable nostalgic energy about it. I half-expected to turn around and see someone following closely behind us, listening to us as we discussed the ghostly experiences had by so many in the building.

  Natatorium Bookstore on the Route 66 side (April Slaughter)

  It is no wonder that the Amarillo Natatorium has garnered so much attention from paranormal enthusiasts and curious locals, as stories of ghostly couples dancing to unheard music on the large wooden dance floor are sure to be a draw for anyone interested in experiencing the unknown. Should you ever have the opportunity to visit the Nat, take the time to enjoy a good book, a good story, and perhaps have a ghostly encounter of your own.

  CHAPTER 2

  Motley County Jail MATADOR

  Motley County Jail exterior (April Slaughter)

  IN 1876, MOTLEY COUNTY WAS ESTABLISHED in the Texas Panhandle following a steep decline in the area’s buffalo population and after the Indians who once called this region home had been relocated to reservations. Signer of the Texas Declaration of Independence, J.W. Mottley became the county’s name-sake, though the spelling of his name was slightly changed in the process. Originally, Matador was not an actual town, but was a working ranch in the county created and managed by Henry H. Campbell. When organizing the county in 1891, the General Land Office required that there be at least twenty commercial enterprises in Matador before designating it the county seat. Campbell encouraged several local men to set up one-day businesses to fulfill the requirement, and the town of Matador was officially born. He also became the town’s first elected judge.

  A growing number of outlaws became such a problem in the area, that in 1891 the Motley County Jail was erected to help keep offenders under control. The jail construction provided a much needed resource for men to generate a small income to support their families, as business and money-making opportunities were scarce at the time. The building’s sandstone was manually hauled in by workers from Salt Creek, about five miles west of Matador; it was no easy task to complete. Upon completion, the top floor of the two-story structure housed the cells, while the lower level was made into living quarters for the jailer.

  Tom Fulcher, a handsome local, was one of the first people to occupy space in the new jail after he was arrested for the murder of a man by the name of Mr. Beamer. The community of Matador was shocked by the arrest, but not nearly as shocked as they would be when Fulcher somehow quickly managed to break free. He was sentenced to life imprisonment for the offense, but never spent any additional time in prison.

  A cowboy named Joe Beckham was appointed to become the town’s first sheriff, though his service to Matador was less of a priority for him than his outlaw ways. During the Oklahoma Land Giveaway, Beckham left the state of Texas to stake a claim of his own and was replaced as sheriff by a man who eventually arrested Beckham for fraud upon his return to Matador. District Judge Billy McGill ruled that the current sheriff had been illegally appointed, and chose to replace him with someone new rather than restoring Beckham’s title. Needless to say, Beckham was not pleased with the situation and decided instead to exact his own justice by arresting the new sheriff along with his deputies and hauling them off to jail himself. As a result, the governor of Texas sent Texas Rangers in to deal with the issue. They eventually caught up with Beckham in the Indian Territory of Oklahoma and shot him to death.

  In the decades that have since passed, the Motley County Jail housed a fair amount of offenders until it closed in 1982. Earlier, in 1976, the jail had been recognized as a Texas Historic Landmark and remains today as a reminder of the frontier history of the state.

  On my way out to Matador with Allen, I enjoyed driving through what seemed like dozens of sparsely populated towns. Matador itself has a population of less than one thousand people—three hundred shy of its high in 1940. The buildings downtown sit alongside typical old-town roads, with wider than normal streets and businesses lined up right next to one another. The Motley County Jail sits just beyond the downtown strip, disconnected and solitary.

  I can only imagine what life would have been like for those spending any amount of time behind bars in the jail, as they awaited their sentences and served their time for whatever crimes they may have committed. It is quite possible that the wide range of emotions flowing in and out of the jail during its many years of operation have left some residual energy behind that today’s caretakers and visitors experience as legitimate paranormal phenomena.

  Lance Brooks, co-founder of the research group Texas Spirit Seekers didn’t initially set out to investigate the jail. In fact, he and his team had traveled out to the area to investigate a private residence, and when the appointment was canceled, case manager James Leslie suggested they check out the Motley County Jail instead. Lance thought it would be a good training exercise for his team, but did not expect it to yield any impressive results.

  “We initially thought this would just be a good practice run for our team—an opportunity to set up our equipment and make sure we had our process down. We’d had no reports of anyone experiencing paranormal activity in the building,” Lance said. “If they had experienced something, they certainly weren’t saying anything about it.”

  During their initial investigation, Lance was taken aback when the distinctly old-fashioned scent of rosewater caught his attention. No one in the building was wearing anything remotely aromatic, and certainly did not use or have access to anything that would have produced the scent, so Lance took note of it and continued on with the investigation.

  “The building smelled dank and musty—the sort of wet stone smell you would ex
pect in a building this old and unoccupied for a long period of time,” Lance explained. “The rosewater smell would unexpectedly come and go, especially when we moved from one floor to the next. It was my impression that something was trying to lead us away from the upper floor because as soon as we detected the scent in the jail cell area, we would follow it to the lower floor where it would suddenly dissipate.”

  In discussing the occurrence with the town historian following his visit, Lance was surprised to learn an interesting fact. A man who had been convicted of a crime and locked up just after the jail opened had reportedly used a type of balmy, rosewater-scented substance to lubricate the cell bars, allowing him to slip through them and escape. The scent was sometimes strongly pronounced, yet subtle and barely detectible at others.

  Pleasant scents are not the only thing the members of TSS experienced during their time in the old frontier structure. Members Chris Travis and James Leslie were troubleshooting an issue with a piece of equipment when they noticed something in one of the cells. For a brief moment, they both witnessed what looked like a person leaning out from the bunk and stretching out an arm in their direction. Just as quickly as the apparition appeared to them, it vanished. A short while later, while the group was descending the stairs, the figure of a woman appeared near the bottom step and stood looking at them. She too disappeared out of sight within a matter of seconds.

  “I unfortunately did not see the woman’s apparition,” said Lance, “but Chris and James had seen her twice that evening, and both times on the staircase. The rosewater scent was also very prevalent at the time she appeared, so we’re not sure if it is associated with her, Mr. Fulcher, or has some other explanation entirely.”

  Teresa, another of the group’s co-founders, reported that upon entering the gallows area on the upper floor, she began to feel dizzy and sick to her stomach, ultimately forcing her to exit the building in order to recover. No definitive cause for her sudden illness was discovered.

  “I hadn’t been near the gallows for more than five minutes when I began to feel really sick, and I just felt the need to get out of the building for awhile to get some fresh air. I knew from past experiences that this feeling meant I needed to leave, so I paid attention. After spending some time sitting outside, I returned but decided to spend the rest of the investigation on the lower level of the jail rather than returning to the second floor.”

  Lance and the TSS team continue to think of the building as an “unexpected hotbed of paranormal activity.” Standing as a reminder of all that once was in the rich stories of Texas’ past, the Motley County Jail may indeed be home to the restless spirits of those once physically held there.

  CHAPTER 3

  Fort Phantom Hill ABILENE / HOLLY

  Fort Phantom Hill guardhouse (April Slaughter)

  FROM A VERY YOUNG AGE, I have possessed a desire to step out of the present and into the past; to see and experience history and the world around me as it once was. I grew up fascinated with old and forgotten things. I had much more fun roaming around abandoned houses and exploring hidden cemeteries in the hills than I ever did playing at the local public park. Perhaps this is why Fort Phantom Hill first caught my attention. I was pleased to learn that for decades, people have reportedly encountered the unexplained all throughout the sprawling twenty-two-acre property.

  Established in 1851, Fort Phantom Hill—along with three additional sister forts in Texas—provided assistance to westbound settlers by ensuring safe passage through an area that was home to Comanche Indians. Captain Randolph B. Marcy sent Lieutenant Colonel J.J. Abercrombie to build the fort in 1849 and construction quickly began. Fort Phantom Hill was never officially given a name—it was originally referred to only as the “Post on the Clear Fork of the Brazos.” It has since become known as Fort Phantom Hill simply due to its location on the hill, although many legends exist to suggest that the spirits who inhabit the area today are responsible for the name.

  Five companies of infantry were housed at the fort, but life for them was anything but easy. The area was barren and finding a reliable and steady source of water was one of their greatest challenges. I am sure the soldiers would have appreciated access to the man-made lake about two miles south of the fort today. Life was relatively uneventful for the soldiers occupying the land, save for a few encounters with Kiowas, Penateka Comanches, Kickapoos, and Lipans—none of them especially confrontational.

  Fort Phantom Hill was not destined to last forever, as it was abandoned in April 1854. Sadly, most of the buildings were set ablaze and destroyed, though no one could determine how the fire began. What was left of the fort following the fire was turned into a way station for the Southern Overland Mail in 1858 and manned by a Mr. and Mrs. Burlington, who lived alone on the property. Colonel J.B. Barry of the Confederacy used Fort Phantom Hill as a base of operations during the Civil War, and in 1871 it served as a sub-post of Fort Griffin, which was located near what is now Albany, Texas.

  Today the property remains isolated and nearly deserted, with three buildings still standing and about a dozen stone chimneys scattered about.

  Both paranormal enthusiasts and everyday visitors to the ruins have often reported hearing what they believed to be Indian voices and calls coming from several areas within the fort. At times they have felt surrounded by the voices, becoming so uncomfortable that they felt forced to leave. Other stories circulate regarding a man who was supposedly lynched near Fort Phantom Hill for a crime he did not commit; one by one, all of his executioners soon met mysterious deaths of their own. Perhaps the spirits of the Native Americans and this unfortunate individual still keep a close and watchful eye on everyone who enters their territory.

  After my discovery of these legends, I was eager to experience Fort Phantom Hill for myself. Allen and I marked it out on our map and set our sights on arriving one blustery winter morning just as the sun came up. As we approached the intact magazine sitting just off of the highway, we noticed a sign reading “No Metal Detectors Allowed.” Preservation of the site is the main priority of the Texas Historical Survey Committee, which oversees the property. Whatever remains beneath the surface at Fort Phantom Hill, it is best left undisturbed.

  After spending a few moments snapping pictures near the magazine, we crossed the highway and waited for the caretaker to come and unlock the chain that secures the main entrance to the ruins. The sun had been up only for a short while, and the sky was littered with grey and looming clouds. It was a chilly morning and we had bundled up in anticipation of wandering about the grounds in the cold air. After just a few minutes of waiting in the car, a gentleman approached us with a friendly wave and allowed us to enter. Michael Sanchez introduced himself and walked us toward the guardhouse, which is the main building closest to the entrance.

  “Sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I am a little bit slower on Saturdays.”

  Mr. Sanchez lives in a home just across the street, and opens the fort to the public every day at dawn, making sure to also lock it up at dusk every evening.

  He took a quick look around as we discussed our excitement in visiting the ruins. Both Allen and I walked around the guardhouse and peered into the small barred windows and locked door.

  “This building used to be open to the public, but it has since been locked up,” explained Michael. “But sometimes if you look in through the doorway and let your eyes adjust, you can see a big owl roosting up near the roof. It’s kind of neat to have him in there, making the fort his home.”

  I stood in the doorway and tried to focus my vision, but there wasn’t a lot of light and I did not get to see the fort’s resident feathered friend.

  I went on to mention that I was interested in profiling Fort Phantom for a paranormal book project, and Michael told us that several investigative groups had made it out in recent months to try and capture activity. Michael has been the caretaker of the fort for over twenty years and has met a lot of curious people interested in learning more about the history of the
ruins.

  “Throughout all of the years you’ve spent out here at the fort, have you ever personally experienced anything paranormal?” I asked.

  “I was so proud of this one experience,” he said. “About a year ago, I walked out of my house when I heard troops calling cadence down in the valley behind the powder magazine. I went in to grab my wife so that she could hear it. When she came out, we didn’t hear anything except the sound of cars passing by. When a car passes, that’s really all that you hear. She wanted to go back in the house, but I told her to stay and listen. After the cars were gone, my wife heard the voices off in the distance too. I wish I would have written down the date somewhere so that I could go out at the same time a year later to see if I would hear it again. I never did.”

  Allen mentioned the possibility of residual energy still present in the area.

  “What else would there have really been to do out here but practice their marches?” he said.

  Michael told us we were welcome to walk the property and spend as much time there as we needed before he left to return home. We had a very pleasant time discussing the fort with him and the possibility that maybe some of the soldiers who once lived here may still visit from time to time. I could tell he was extremely proud of how long he had been at the fort to oversee the ruins, and that he hoped to be there for many more years to come.

  Just north of the guardhouse sits an old cistern. Just beyond that is a cannon, which stands alone in an area just before where the officer’s quarters once stood. The old stone chimneys and what remains of the foundations are really impressive, and inspired me to imagine what the structures looked like when they were new. I could picture the soldiers as they moved from one area of the fort to another, with a positive liveliness and purpose. I felt a sense of reverence as Allen and I explored and photographed each crumbled structure.