As the opponents fell, both seconds, indifferent to the welfare of the combatants, vanished. Decatur was taken home by friends, to a loving wife who had no idea where he had gone when he had walked out of their house that cold morning. She only knew that when she awoke, he was gone. They brought him to a room to the left of the domed entrance hall, the room where he signed his will and then, a few hours later, died.
Behind Decatur’s success was more than good fortune, more than audacity, and more than courage, although he had all three in abundance. What drove him was a reckless quest for glory that was rooted in a sometimes ruthless ambition.
Where this ambition was taking him can be seen in the location he chose for his house: Lafayette Square, across the street from the White House. It also can be seen in its design. Decatur used much of the fortune in prize money that he won during the War of 1812 to construct a home that would be, in his words, “suitable for foreign ministers and impressive entertainments.” He selected as his architect none other than Benjamin Latrobe, the man who had designed the U.S. Capitol.
This house became a center of Washington social life, where the dashing Decatur and his alluring wife entertained the capital’s elite. In return, they were frequent guests of the Monroes at the White House.
That Decatur had aspirations of being more than just a guest in the White House is not attested to by his correspondence or other documentation. It has to be found in his actions and his relationships. But what else would one expect of the resourceful naval officer who had so successfully duped the Tripolitan prize crew on Philadelphia?
Could it be, in the leisure that death had provided, that Decatur looked back on the events leading up to the duel and could see how he and Barron—for whom he surely still harbored some affection—had been cleverly maneuvered into a duel by seconds who had no love for either of them? It is certainly easy to see how Decatur, cheated as he was of a possibly even more illustrious future, including, quite possibly, the highest office of the land, might not be able to just let go and move on. One need only think of the ambitious political candidates of our own era to get a sense of what it must have meant to Decatur, harboring his presidential dreams, to be cut off from life literally within sight of the White House—and then to die in a room whose sole window looked out at the object of his ambitions.
My wife and I entered the house from the rear, the main entrance now being closed. There was a docent sitting at a desk near the door, and I wasted little time in engaging her on the subject of ghosts. In what I have since come to learn would be a pattern, especially at the more established sites which are controlled by foundations or boards of governors, she referred me to Assistant Director Katherine Malone-France.
It was some weeks, however, before I succeeded in reaching Ms. Malone-France. She was rushed but, somewhat to my surprise, quite pleasant and forthcoming. She revealed to me her participation in the investigation a couple years previously and how it had yielded no indication of any other-worldly presence. She also told me that she had never received a credible report of ghostlike activity from her staff.
How is it then that stories persist of hauntings at the Decatur House, if not by Decatur himself then by his bereaved wife or even a denizen of the slave quarters behind the house? Are the stories groundless or were the investigations flawed? Did they fail to take into account the true nature of the man? Has the focus been on the wrong place and the wrong time?
I, for one, can see him plainly in my mind’s eye, staring forlornly from his death-room toward the home he so desperately yearned for: the White House. I will return to the Decatur House some cold March evening, when the renovations in that room have been completed and the lights of the White House can be seen through the leafless trees of Lafayette Square—and Decatur, I believe, will be there.
CHAPTER 30
Ford’s Theatre
WASHINGTON
It is required of every man … that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellowmen, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world—oh, woe is me!—and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!
—Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
IN THE EARLY 1990s, my wife and I spent an evening between Christmas and New Year’s Eve at Ford’s Theatre, and during our time there we distinctly saw four separate ghosts and even learned their names. They were, in fact, the ghosts of Jacob Marley, Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Future, and they were characters in a production of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, which was an annual tradition at the historic theatre. But, beyond those thespian shades, we did not see or otherwise sense the presence of any lingering spirits.
I did, to be sure, encounter some particularly annoying ghosts of a modern nature prior to my visit to this famous theatre in Washington, D.C., in mid-April, 2008, but a bit more attention to detail, however, would probably have allowed me to avoid them. In short, while doing some online research prior to visiting Ford’s Theatre, I stumbled across an outdated National Park Service Web page for the site that did not mention that “Ford’s Theatre is currently undergoing a major renovation,” as noted on the updated version of the page, which further notes that “the theatre will not be open for public access for several months” True, both versions of the page neglected to list the address for the theatre, but that seems like an overly subtle way of informing people they should not bother to visit it.
Upon actually venturing downtown to Ford’s Theatre, I saw an old-fashioned, analog “Closed” sign hanging above the entrance that revealed the electronic specters that had deceived me into thinking it would be open until 5 P.M. A smaller sign revealed that it would not reopen until at least February 2009. Still, it was nice to be downtown with my other business dispensed with, the five-block walk from the new [Walter E.] Washington Convention Center had been nothing but pleasant, and the bright, sunny afternoon provided me with the perfect opportunity to take some decent pictures.
Dickensian spirits and Web clutter aside, the ghost commonly associated with Ford’s Theatre is, of course, Abraham Lincoln, who was mortally wounded by assassin John Wilkes Booth while attending a performance of Our American Cousin. Ever since then, the small, historic theatre has been the site of ongoing strange sightings and occurrences. The idea of Lincoln’s spirit haunting this theatre, however—or any other particular spot, for that matter—is somewhat problematic.
Ford’s Theatre
For one thing, Lincoln had achieved many things of monumentally historical significance during his terms of office and must be ranked among our greatest presidents. Another argument against the presence of Lincoln’s ghost at Ford’s Theatre, of course, is that it has been regularly spotted at so many other places, including various locations in the White House and numerous sites in his home state of Illinois (described by John Kachuba in his own book, Ghosthunting Illinois). While it may be possible for a ghost to haunt several sites simultaneously, to travel back and forth between them, or even to have its essence parsed out to the various places with which he had connections in life, this would certainly be contrary to conventional wisdom associated with ghosts and their attributes.
Lincoln is, nonetheless, reputed to haunt Ford’s Theatre, as is the spirit of John Wilkes Booth, the fanatically pro-Southern actor-turned-assassin who mortally wounded him with a shot to the head. Over the years, numerous people have claimed to see one or both of them in the theatre, typically in the raised box where they played out their ultimate drama. (The issue of the killer’s specter is just as problematic as that of the slain president’s in its own way, as Booth could hardly have succeeded in wreaking more damage to the Union than he did. A reasonable suggestion might be that he is tethered to this plane by deep regret for the grief his actions contributed to the defeated Confederate states, but I have never heard this explanation or many as complex or psychologic
al from the people who typically spin ghost stories.)
It would be perfectly reasonable, of course, to suggest that the spirit of Lincoln can be felt at the historic site, which is part of a complex that includes the working theatre itself, a museum in its basement, and the house across the street where Lincoln died. And the current multimillion dollar renovations—which began in May 2007—are apparently being undertaken with an eye toward creating a “Lincoln Campus” centered on the theatre that will be a monument to the president’s life and works, not just his death.
In the nearly nine-score years since it was built in 1833, Ford’s Theatre has not always been known by that name nor has it always served as a place of entertainment. Its original function was as the First Baptist Church of Washington, and it served as such until 1861, when the congregation relocated to a new building and sold off the old one.
Career stage promoter John T. Ford purchased the former house of worship and converted it into a theatre that he dubbed Ford’s Athenaeum, associating his own name with it for posterity. Fire gutted the building the following year, but Ford had it rebuilt and reopened it in 1863 as Ford’s New Theatre.
Lincoln, who suffered from the immense stress of leading the United States through its greatest crisis before or since, enjoyed attending the theatre when he could as a distraction from his worries. Ford’s New Theatre, located in the Northwest quarter of the city about eight blocks east of the White House and four blocks north of the National Mall, was a natural choice. It was thus that he and his wife were sitting in the theatre’s “State Box” the evening of April 14, 1865, five days after rebel General Robert E. Lee surrendered his forces at Appomattox Court House, Virginia. Present with them were Army Major Henry Rathbone and his fiancée, Clara Harris. Absent were General Ulysses S. Grant and his wife, who had been invited by Lincoln but were otherwise occupied that night.
During the play, Booth stepped into the president’s box, fired a .44-caliber derringer into the back of Lincoln’s head, and stabbed Rathbone with a dagger. He then leapt onto the stage below and, before making good his escape, declared “Sic semper tyrannis!” (a Latin phrase that means “Thus always to tyrants,” which seems an especially inappropriate label for a man who had freed an entire race from bondage). An unconscious Lincoln was taken across the street to a boarding house, the Petersen House. There, after being treated by physicians and visited by government officials throughout the night, he died the next morning at 7:22 A.M. He was 56.
The investigation that followed the assassination of Lincoln and the manhunt for Booth degenerated into a vicious witch hunt that resulted in many innocent people being imprisoned for various periods (and, perhaps, a few of them being put to death). Ford and his two brothers were among those rounded up and languished in prison thirty-nine days before being exonerated.
A year later, Congress authorized purchase of the theatre by the Federal government, which then forcibly seized the theatre and forever banned it from being used as a place of entertainment. It paid Ford $100,000 for his property despite his desire to keep it, further contributing to the bitterness he felt toward the government.
Ford’s former theatre was soon after taken over by the U.S. military, which used it as the repository for War Department records, the library of the Surgeon General’s Office, and the Army Medical Museum for a bit more than two decades. In 1887, the medical functions were removed from the building and it was thereafter used as a clerk’s office for the War Department. Just six years later, however, the front section of the building collapsed, killing twenty-two of the clerks working there and injuring another sixty-eight of them. After the building was repaired the government used it only as a warehouse until 1931.
Two years later, the structure was transferred to the National Park Service, but sat unused for more than two decades. Then, in 1954, Congress approved funds for a restoration that began ten years later and was completed in 1968. Ford’s Theatre was reopened for performances at that time and the Ford’s Theatre Society, a nonprofit association, now has an exclusive contract with the National Park Service to stage plays at the site.
In 1970, both the theatre and the Petersen House—a brick, Federal-style rowhouse—were combined into the Ford’s Theatre National Historic Site, which is currently administered by the National Park Service. The museum beneath the theatre contains a large collection of “Lincolniana,” including the original door to the theatre box where the shooting occurred, the president’s coat, a variety of portraits and statues of Lincoln, the pistol used by Booth, and the assassin’s diary.
Whether a ghost is among the things that can be associated with the site is, of course, an open question. If Ford’s Theatre is really haunted, it is far more likely that the spirit of its namesake lingers at the place than it is that Lincoln’s does. After all, the shabby way by which Ford was dispossessed of his property is certainly the classic sort of incident often associated with sites haunted by disgruntled spirits. Frankly, constantly being mistaken for either the slain president or his killer and having his own grievance perpetually ignored by those hoping or expecting to see someone else, would hardly mollify the unhappy spirit of Ford if it indeed haunts the building that bears his name.
Visiting Haunted Sites
Each of the haunted sites in this book is located in one of six different geographical areas: the Northern, Central, Coast, Mountain, and Valley regions of Virginia, and Washington, D.C. A great many haunted sites in these various regions have some connection to the Colonial era or to the Civil War, two defining elements in the history of both the Commonwealth of Virginia and the District of Columbia.
All of the information in the following section has been verified to the best of my abilities — and was often what I used while working on this book — but ghosthunters are advised to confirm as much as possible before heading out into the field.
VIRGINIA
Virginia has an area of 42,774, square miles, making it the thirty-fifth largest state. It is bordered by Maryland and the District of Columbia to the north and east; the Atlantic Ocean to the east; North Carolina and Tennessee to the south; Kentucky to the west; and West Virginia to the north and west. The Commonwealth of Virginia is divided into thirty-nine independent cities and ninety-five counties.
Northern
Northern Virginia consists of Arlington, Fairfax, Loudoun, and Prince William counties, and the cities of Alexandria, Falls Church, Fairfax, Manassas, and Manassas Park. Important battlefields and other Civil War-themed attractions dot the region, most notably Manassas National Battlefield Park. Other attractions include Mount Vernon, home of George Washington, and the Pentagon.
Arlington National Cemetery (703) 607-8000
Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, VA 22211
http://www.arlingtoncemetery.org
Spirits of those who have fallen over the past two centuries in the service of their nation are believed to haunt many locations within this burial ground for America’s military personnel.
Bunny Man Bridge
Colchester Road (just south of the intersection with Fairfax Station Road) Fairfax Station, VA 22039
While it is often described as being in Clifton, it is easier to find the correct section of Colchester Road by treating it as a Fairfax Station location. This site is reputed to be linked to a serial killer from the 1970s, whose spirit is said to make his presence known in some way if his name is uttered three times. Bunny Man Bridge may also have influenced scenes in at least one movie and one video game.
Gadsby’s Tavern (703) 548-1288
138 North Royal Street, Alexandria, VA 22314
http://www.gadsbystavernrestaurant.com
[email protected]
A beautiful young woman who died at this historic tavern nearly two hundred years ago is sometimes still seen there, as are a variety of other strange phenomena.
Manassas National Battlefield Park (703) 361-1339
Park Visitor Center, 6511 Sudley Road, Manassas,
VA 20109
http://www.nps.gov/mana
Site of the first major battle of the Civil War, ghosts of fallen soldiers have long been seen roaming the fields where they fell during the bloodiest conflict in U.S. history.
HOURS: The park is open daily from dawn to dusk. The visitor’s center is open daily, 8:30 a.m.–5 p.m. It is closed on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day.
Historic Occoquan (703) 491-2168
Route 123 (a few miles west of I-95 south of Washington, D.C.)
Occoquan, VA 22125
http://www.occoquan.com
According to local legend, an Indian chief haunts a restaurant in this historic town; activity is said to be especially predominant upstairs in the ladies’ restroom.
HOURS: Operating hours vary for the shops and restaurants, but most shops are closed daily by 5 p.m.
Rippon Lodge (703) 792-6000
15520 Blackburn Road, Woodbridge, VA 22191
This Colonial-era home acquired a gruesome reputation for being haunted that it has only shaken in recent years. At this writing it was under renovation, so call for hours and visitation information.
Weems-Botts Museum (703) 221-2218
Corner of Cameron and Duke Streets (Annex at 3944 Cameron Street) Dumfries, VA 22026
http://historicdumfries.com/weemsbotts.html
Formerly the home of Mason Locke Weems, the man who fabricated the story of George Washington and the cherry tree, this site is now a museum and is said to be haunted by the ghosts of two women who dwelled there in the past century.
HOURS: The museum is open Tuesday–Saturday, 10 a.m.–4 p.m. No tours are given after 3:30 p.m.
Central
Much of the Civil War was fought within this broad region, which stretches from Spotsylvania County in the north to the North Carolina state line in the south, and links the coastal areas to the east with the valley and mountain regions to the west. Cities within it include Charlottesville, Danville, Fredericksburg, Lynchburg, Richmond, and Petersburg. Its counties include Appomattox, site of Robert E. Lee’s surrender at the end of the Civil War, and Bedford, location of the National D-Day Museum. Attractions include Monticello, home of President Thomas Jefferson, and Montpelier, home of President James Madison.
Ghosthunting Virginia Page 21
