The Ridgeway Ghost
The year is 1842. Wisconsin is still six years away from statehood. Towering pines hover over the virgin forests, the lumber industry is still in its infancy, and settlers are only just now reaching the remote corners of the wilderness that stretches endlessly across the horizon. Valuable lead deposits have been discovered in the rolling limestone hills of southwestern Wisconsin. For a young nation, still struggling for survival, the soft, bluish-gray substance represents a valuable commodity on the world market. Perhaps more importantly, the veins of lead could help furnish the bullets and other products with which Americans would tame the rugged wilderness.
The opening of the mines attracted rowdy, tough, dangerous men whose job it was to wrench the lead from the earth’s grasp. From Ireland, Wales, and Cornwall, and from Germany and the American South, miners came to the lead district surrounding the pioneer outposts of Mineral Point, Dodgeville, Blue Mounds, and other small villages. At the height of the mining boom, nearly forty thousand pounds of lead would be hauled each year to markets in Milwaukee, Dubuque, Chicago, and Galena.
Roads were cut through dense forests over which the lead wagons would roll. Alongside the rutted paths another industry grew—the saloons and road-houses catering to the raucous appetites of the miners. These establishments had names like McKillip’s (about five miles west of Ridgeway), the Messerschmidt Hotel (five miles west of Dodgeville), and Markey’s (two miles west of Ridgeway).
There were more than twenty-two saloons on the main thoroughfare, called Military Ridge Road, between Blue Mounds and Dodgeville, a distance of only twenty-five miles, and roughly along what is now Highway 18/151.
Drunken fistfights, robberies, murders, or an occasional clubbing were not uncommon along that rough thoroughfare. Various criminal elements along with gamblers and prostitutes, their lives often tragically short, joined the immigrant miners. Burial services for the unluckiest ones were informal, the corpse dropped unceremoniously into a convenient grave with a few hasty words mumbled before the dirt was shoveled in. A modest wooden slab with the victim’s name crudely etched into it might be stuck into the ground.
For over two decades, wagons carrying lead for the processing mills rumbled along the road. The saloons, bawdy houses, and inns thrived. But all that ended in 1857 when the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad completed a branch line into Mineral Point. Lead could now be shipped out more easily by rail, and traffic along Military Ridge Road consequently declined. The notorious roadside lairs eventually closed down.
At the height of the mining era, however, wagon masters and wayfarers sometimes had more to fear than a chance meeting with a highwayman. Beginning in about 1840, a series of bizarre, often puckish, and generally inexplicable encounters with ghosts and phantoms beset those who lived or worked along Military Ridge Road. In particular, the small community of Ridgeway, halfway between what was then called Pokerville (Blue Mounds) and Mineral Point, became the center of activities for what came to be known as the Ridgeway Ghost.
This infamous ghost, it must be said, was not one spirit but rather a mischievous phantom that could change its appearance at will. It was known to appear as a dog, a horse, a pig, or a sheep, and it even took several different human forms, including that of a headless horseman. The ghost roamed the countryside, frightening farmers, miners, and travelers alike. The thing might shadow buggy riders or lead haulers as they ventured out along the road after dark, terrify farmers returning from their fields at dusk, and generally frighten the wits out of anyone unlucky enough to cross its path.
But is there any basis in fact for these stories of a ghost haunting the countryside around Ridgeway? We will never know the answer with certainty, despite the scores of stories that have come down to us. We must go back to the early 1840s to begin exploring the tales of the Ridgeway Ghost.
One of the seedier establishments was Sampson’s Saloon and Hotel. Many a traveler risked his earthly future in this pit of human depravity. The Ridgeway Ghost may be the earthbound spirit of one doomed wayfarer who checked in and never left.
The man was a peddler who stopped by Sampson’s after a long day’s ride, unaware of its unsavory reputation. He was seen entering his room but then vanished. Early the next morning, his fully saddled horse tried to enter the saloon hotel. The animal failed in its attempts and was chased off, never to be seen again.
Soon after the peddler’s disappearance, people began reporting a bizarre apparition on the road near the hotel. A black horse would gallop along the roadway, and on its back was the torso of a headless man mounted backward in the saddle. The horse and rider kept pace with and sometimes pass frightened travelers. If anyone tried to converse with the macabre apparition, unearthly groans would issue from the decapitated body.
One buggy driver encountered the horseman in a most unusual way. As the driver rode along, he heard an approaching horse. Turning in the wooden buggy seat, he saw a stallion upon which rode a figure in black—backward, and minus his head. Instead of passing the buckboard, the horse reared and planted its front quarters firmly in the wagon box. Frightened nearly senseless, the driver whipped his team forward but the horse and rider kept pace. The beast’s front legs were still in the wagon, only inches away. When—or if—the wagoner reached safety isn’t known. Perhaps he’s still whipping his team forward trying to reach the comfort of home.
McKillip’s was the name of another even more notorious tavern about five miles west of Ridgeway on what is now Highway 18/151. Some accounts of the origin of the Ridgeway Ghost stem from a horrifying incident at this saloon.
Two teenage brothers, aged fourteen and fifteen, ambled into the establishment one winter day and promptly became the subject of jest by the drunken customers. The ridicule soon turned to murder when one boy was grabbed and thrown into the blazing fireplace and burned alive. The other youngster managed to escape but was never heard from again. The next spring his frozen corpse was found in a field.
After the boys’ murder, a small, gray-haired woman would be seen wandering aimlessly along the road near McKillip’s. She would vanish when strangers approached. Those who saw her speculated that she might be the mother or grandmother of the murdered boys looking for their bodies.
Variations of a female specter abound in the Ridgeway vicinity.
A retired railroad man, Lyle Kramer, told a story passed down by his father. The elder Kramer said he often saw two old women on an isolated section of the railroad tracks flagging down a passenger train near Military Ridge Road. When the train stopped to pick up the women, they floated away into the forest.
On another occasion an unidentified man was driving his team of horses near Ridgeway when he sighted a woman directly ahead. She was going in his direction, but walking down the center of the road. He yelled at her to move but she didn’t respond or turn around. The horseman moved over to pass, but as he did so the mysterious woman moved to the side to block his approach. He urged his team into a faster gallop to get around her, but the woman always somehow managed to stay ahead. He halted his team—and she halted too. When he started again, she did likewise. After several miles of this frustrating exchange the woman vanished.
Others said an old woman would appear shuffling along the road. She would then disappear into a ball of fire.
McKillip’s Saloon also figures in another Ridgeway Ghost tale. A local man was riding home after a visit to the village. As he approached McKillip’s he passed a large white oak tree. A sudden gust of cold wind enveloped him. His horse reared, nearly tossing its rider onto the ground. The man managed to hang on as the animal raced wildly all the way home.
The death of the pastor at Ridgeway’s Catholic church gave rise to another version of the origin of the ghost.
The priest was walking down the steps of the church when he fell and struck his head on the stone steps. He died shortly thereafter. For many years, on the anniversary of his death, people claimed blood would appear on the steps of the church and
hideous sounds reverberated from within.
The church mysteriously burned to the ground several years later.
Whichever version one chooses to believe there is little doubt that the Ridgeway Ghost is the subject of more tales than any other legendary specter in the state. It showed no favoritism, assuming various disguises to frighten unwary victims. The following stories recount some of the Ridgeway Ghost’s more infamous appearances.
The long-vanished Messerschmidt Hotel in Ridgeway was the scene of several ghostly visits.
The hotel’s founder, George Messerschmidt, was a member of the county board. A railroad was to be built from Warren, Illinois, to Mineral Point, and board members had decided to raise the necessary capital by issuing county bonds.
Soon after Messerschmidt decided to sign the bonds, a strange creaking and groaning sound filled the hotel at night. Messerschmidt couldn’t sleep. Night after night the uneasy noises grew in intensity. Sometimes a voice cried out in the night, “Don’t sign the bonds. Don’t sign the bonds.”
Perhaps a disgruntled taxpayer had discovered a political use for the Ridgeway Ghost. Or perhaps the spirit realized the railroad would take away the traffic along its favorite haunt, Military Ridge Road.
Throughout the hotel’s history, customers heard moans coming from the walls accompanied by the sound of dragging chains.
An early Irish settler named Kennedy accumulated quite a sum of money and used part of it to build a large home on land he owned near the old Porter Grove cheese factory.
One evening he visited the nearly completed house. Kennedy unlocked the front door and strolled through the many rooms. Upon entering the dining room he saw a person’s misty form seated at the table. The old man fled in terror, never to return. He built a smaller house nearby and lived there the rest of his days, convinced the Ridgeway Ghost had taken up residence in his mansion.
Other stories are told about Kennedy. He had a penchant for burying his money. His favorite hiding spot was close to the railroad tracks, where he could check on its safety each day. One night after visiting the cache, he was walking home when he saw a light mysteriously dancing up and down, one moment dim, the next quite bright. A train? A flagman? Perhaps. But Kennedy didn’t wait to find out. He fled across the fields.
In the end, Kennedy’s death was attributed to the nightly visitations at his earthen bank. As the years passed, his hearing deteriorated. One night a train struck and killed him as he sat on the tracks. No one knows for sure what became of the money.
Years later a local character named Rocky Jim Ryan moved into the old Kennedy house. Jim claimed that at night he could hear the old man’s boots tromping through the rooms. He finally moved out the morning after “something” pulled the covers off his bed.
The old Reilly house stood near the Catholic church in Ridgeway. But when it was built more than a century ago the house was located several miles west of Ridgeway near the railroad tracks. A ghostly history is connected with the house.
An old gentleman named Peavey once lived at the house’s original location. After he moved away, the place burned down. Another house was built on the foundation, but the new owners left within a few days. A large black dog would appear, tired and panting, under their dining room table every night after dark. The animal would then disappear as suddenly as it had come.
The house was eventually moved to its current location in Ridgeway. The dog never reappeared. Some people think the canine apparition was connected somehow to the location of the original house.
But a couple who have lived in the Reilly place more recently have reported other unusual events. When their daughter was young, she would become frightened at a noise coming from the attic that sounded like children playing with marbles. The “marbles” rolled across the floor for several minutes on end. Nothing was ever found that could explain the sound.
There are two versions of Evan “Strangler” Lewis’s mysterious death.
Lewis was a well-known local wrestler of immense size with a fearlessness that matched his physical strength. When he wasn’t winning bets in the wrestling ring, he supported his family by farming and helping neighbors butcher their animals. It was after a day of such butchering that Lewis took a fateful walk.
He had been warned not to travel home after dark because of several recent appearances by the Ridgeway Ghost. He sneered at the reports, citing his strength, agility, and the butcher knives he carried as protection enough against any would-be phantom.
According to one version of the tale, Lewis was walking across a field when a white horse pulling a driverless carriage charged at him. Lewis jumped out of the way and as he did so the horse and carriage rose and disappeared into the sky. He ran all the way home.
The second tale likewise has Lewis crossing a large field. He suddenly felt something warm breathing on his hand. Lewis turned and found himself staring directly into the red eyes of an immense black dog. He tried to chase it away but the beast kept following him at a distance. A few yards farther along Lewis again felt the panting beast at his heels. This time he aimed a kick directly at the dog, but his foot flew through the empty space where the dog had been only seconds before.
Fleeing the scene, Lewis thought safety was within his grasp. The darkness was almost total as he crashed through the brush. His cabin only a hundred yards away, Lewis again felt the pressure of the black beast at his back. Lewis drew one of the butcher knives and slashed at the dog, but hit only air. He continued attempting to fight off the dog until within sight of his house—when the canine disappeared.
When Lewis reached home he was dripping with sweat, shaking, and exhausted. His family sent for the doctor. Upon examining the still-traumatized Lewis, the physician claimed that his heart had moved nearly two inches from its proper location.
Lewis died two days later.
All sorts of strange animals have been sighted as part of the Ridgeway Ghost stories—pigs, sheep, horses, dogs, and “critters.”
One night, a Mr. and Mrs. Buckingham were returning home from a day of shopping. As their buckboard approached Markey’s Saloon, two miles west of Ridgeway, Mrs. Buckingham noticed what she thought was an animal on the road. Her husband squinted into the gloom and said it looked like a breed of dog he’d never seen before. Whatever it was, the couple claimed the entire area around the animal was illuminated with sparks flying from its back. The horses nearly bolted at the sight. The apparition slowly vanished. The Buckinghams never encountered the creature again.
Boo Tesch and his dog were returning home just after midnight after an evening at a friend’s house. As they passed a low bank of earth, Tesch heard a sound; looking up on the ridge, he saw a giant, snarling dog crouching as if ready to spring at any moment.
Tesch’s dog took one look at the creature and scampered away down the road, whimpering, tail between its legs. Tesch was left alone to face the brute. He looked for something to use as a weapon and found a stone, which he hurled at it. The rock missed and the dog began circling the vulnerable Tesch. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the dog vanished.
Until his death fifty years later, Tesch could neither forget nor explain what he had seen that night.
Sailor Dave Jones often courted his future wife at her home in what is now part of Governor Dodge State Park, just north of Dodgeville.
Jones was returning home on horseback one evening when he heard sheep bleating on the trail behind him. He stopped his horse, and a herd of sheep passed on either side of the startled rider. Behind the sheep rode two silent men. They did not look at Jones or say a word. The sheep and their stoic herders faded into the distance. Later, a group of men examined the trail but could find neither sheep nor riders.
George Russell, a farmer near Ridgeway, had arranged with another man to purchase a pig. Russell agreed to meet the man in Ridgeway to pay cash for it. The two met, the pig was placed in Russell’s crate on the back of his wagon, and the seller departed. Russell finished a few er
rands in the village and finally hitched up his team for the drive home.
At his farm, Russell backed the wagon up to the chute and opened the crate but, instead of the pig, a large dog jumped out. To this day no one knows how the exchange took place, whether it was the work of the Ridgeway Ghost, or whether a practical joker was having some fun at Russell’s expense.
Interestingly, a phantom pig or drove of pigs was a quite frequent encounter in the Ridgeway area.
One particular teamster reported that he encountered several on Military Ridge Road. As he approached, they dissolved into a cloud of dust.
Wagon drivers would often stop at one (or several) of the saloons for a shot of bottled “courage,” despite knowing they were within the stomping grounds of the Ridgeway Ghost.
John Riley was one such frequenter of a particular saloon near Ridgeway. His team of oxen would stand outside with a load of pig lead destined for Galena.
One night after finishing his brew he stepped outside the door to find that his oxen had been rehitched to the rear of the wagon. And walking down the road was the Ridgeway Ghost with a whip in one hand and a lantern in the other.
Riley spent the night in the tavern.
There was a “haunted grove” west of Ridgeway on Highway 18/151. During the era when the highway was known as Military Ridge Road, a phantom would often appear there to startled passersby.
One story describes a man on foot who encountered a team of huge black stallions pulling a black carriage. The apparition charged directly at him but, incredibly, flew directly overhead, leaving him lying prone in the dirt, dazed and frightened but unscathed.
Other travelers passing through the “haunted grove” reported that a strange white apparition flew out at them from the forest before disappearing into the brush. Some heard an eerie, wailing scream from the bowels of the grove. No one ever ventured in to investigate.
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