Some strange pranks in an Attercliffe home.
A week of folly.
Love laughs at locksmiths, but some Cupids of Attercliffe have found ghosts no laughing matter. These Cupids lived at No. 37, Candow street, one of the poorest neighbourhoods of Attercliffe, John William Cupid, a miner at Tinsley Park Colliery, being the tenant of the house, and in addition to Mrs Cupid and three little children, two brothers-in-law, Benjamin and George Cupid, also resided there. With the New Year commenced a series of strange incidents which soon gained the house the reputation of being haunted. It was an exceedingly weird account which Mrs Cupid gave our representative who called to inquire into the matter on Saturday morning. She said she had heard peculiar noises for some time, but had attributed them to nervousness on her part, but this week the noises had been accompanied by more disastrous demonstrations.
The first indication of anything unusual was on Tuesday morning at four o’clock, when Mrs Cupid got up to prepare for her husband going to work. Baking tins which had been put away at bedtime the previous night were strewn about the living room.
On Tuesday night the family went to bed about half-past nine o’clock, and a little over half an hour later Mrs Cupid heard a strange noise near the bedroom, and as her huband was dressing to investigate matters plates and ornaments could be heard smashing on the floor downstairs, where there was – or should have been – nobody; and on the floor were found two plates and a bread loaf.
On Wednesday night the “ghost” proved more demonstrative, for in addition to moving the table and flinging a fender about, it was alleged it spun the brother-in-law’s bed round, and clutching him by the throat dragged a jersey shirt off, tearing it considerably in the process.
By this time Mr and Mrs Cupid had reached almost a state of collapse. In fact Mr Cupid had not been fit to go to work all week. On Thursday night they determined to fathom the mystery, and Cupid’s mother, sister and brother came to help to lay the ghost. They sat in the darkness, evidently believing that they had to deal with an evil spirit. One of them was certain that there was a shadow on the stairs, but there was no special demonstration beyond occasional bumps which were heard all night. By Friday night many of the neighbours were taking keen interest in Cupid’s ghost, and the women folk did not tend to allay the trepidation from which Mrs Cupid and her husband suffered, though the two brothers were not so nervous.
Friday night was reserved for a special display, the “ghost” taking the opportunity of performing – to use theatrical parlance – to a full house. Mrs Cupid and children were stopping with Mr and Mrs Toy, at 33, Candow street. John William Cupid and Ben stopped in the house with two neighbours named Toy and Bailey, and while the light was out ornaments were flung off the dresser nearest to which Ben stood. Later, there were knockings under the window while they were upstairs, and then they went out of the house. The Cupids again entered, accompanied by Bailey and George Taylor and Toy, and this time a basin was flung across the room, narrowly missing one of the most sceptical of the party. Another trial was given the “ghost”, two women insisting on joining the watching party, but one was carried out fainting when a plate smashed, and the men continued their watch alone.
Delighted with the sensation it was causing, the “ghost” now strove to show what it could really do. It took a beer barrel from the cellar-head – so our representative was solemnly informed – bumped it down step by step, and then flung it to the top again with one throw. There it rattled the barrel and turned it on to its side. Cupid then called in Police-constable Garnham, and later Inspector Lacey and Sergeant Gladwin, but the “ghost” was tired by this time and contented itself with blowing the sergeant’s lamp out and upsetting a cannister.
In dealing with the “ghost” it is interesting to note that it had a certain amount of cupidity, and declined to perform when the faintest glimmer of light was shown in the room, and only performed when certain persons were present. By Saturday excitement had reached fever heat, for hundreds of people gathered in the road and yard when it was understood that the “ghost” was to be laid. Members of the Attercliffe police force were present, together with a representative of the “Sheffield Independent,” the tenant and his brothers and some neighbours.
When th ehouse had been enveloped in darkness and quiet reigned, a slight scuffle was heard, and when light appeared all were in the places they had previously occupied; but a plate had gone to the floor. Another time it was tried and again plates went flying, and a neighbour, striking a match, said excitedly, “Will you believe it now?”
Movement in the crowded room could not be accomplished without noise, for the floor was strewn with the broken pots of the previous night’s adventures. When darkness and quiet were obtained again, a walking-stick was flung across the table, and the same excited neighbour shouted “Who threw that?” and getting no answer again asked “Now, will you believe it?” A neighbour pleaded for another trial, and this time the table turned over on its side, and again no one answered to the inquiry “Who did that?”
However, these tricks had only been performed by some of the investigators to show the “ghost” how easily it could be done, and the “ghost” did not walk at all on Saturday night, and will scarcely find it safe to do again. By this time John William Cupid had had enough, and was taken out fainting. The real test of the night was then applied, prior to which Mr Arnold Callis, agent for Mr W Brookes, owner of the property, had arrived.
Those in the house were so arranged that neighbours could not get near the table or dresser, and after a lengthy stay nothing happened. John William Cupid and his two brothers were then brought into the room, separated among the party, yet kept so that still no one but the police, the agent, or our representative could touch table or dresser.
This was at midnight, but still there was no demonstration, and it is safe to predict there will not be again, or there will be serious trouble for the “ghost.”
It is a palpable hoax, but a very cruel one, for it has brought Mrs Cupid almost to a state of nervous prostration; John William Cupid has lost a week’s work through it, and all their pots have been smashed.
However, the Cupids’ “ghost” will probably be on good behaviour for a time at any rate.
Sheffield Independent, 10th January 1910.
Attercliffe Ghost.
Household terrified by weird happenings.
Scared neighbours.
Destructive “spook” not laid yet.
Most of the inhabitants of Candow Street, Attercliffe, have forgotten for the time being the Budget, Tariff Reform, and Mr King Farlow. The fear of the ghost lies heavy on their souls. It is an invisible ghost – at any rate, one that does its work in the dark – and it possesses the vindictive, destructive instinct that distinguishes so many of its tribe.
It started its physical manifestations some days ago, and is a plebeian “spook,” selecting for its habitat and scene of operations not a picturesque country mansion, redolent of the mystery of centuries, but a working man’s small dwelling house in a thickly populated part of the east end of Sheffield.
The only really romantic flavour about the affair is the man’s name, Cupid – Mr William Cupid, of No. 37, Candow Street, who, together with Mrs Cupid, three little children, and two brothers-in-law, Benjamin and George Cupid, have been disturbed by a series of nerve-destroying incidents, by which, by a steady but sure progress, all the crockery and breakable things in the house have been completely demolished.
All the happenings have been in the dark. Let the faintest flicker from a wax vesta appear, and the supernatural symptoms vanish on the instant. Early last Tuesday morning noises were heard in the kitchen by the family upstairs, and on investigation two plates and a bread loaf were found on the floor.
On Wednesday the table was moved and a fender flung across the room, while a brother-in-law alleges that his bed was spun round and that he himself was clutched by the throat by unseen hands.
On Thursday night, when Mr Cupid’s mother and sister and brother came to lay the ghost, nothing but bumpings were heard, but the next night, when neighbours went in to prove or disprove these happenings, ornaments were flung off the dresser, and smashed; a basin careered across the room, narrowly missing a human head; a plate was smashed, and a woman fainted.
When, on top of this, a beer barrel bumped down the cellar steps, one at a time, rattled ominously and flew up, contrary to all known physical laws, to the top of the steps again, of its own accord, the only thing left to do was, of course, to call in those omniscient persons, the police. A large number of people gathered outside the house, when, on Saturday night, several members of the Attercliffe police force, fearing naught, entered with other persons, and then a number of plates smashed, a table turned over on its side, and a walking stick walked. But when the persons in the room were so disposed that nobody could get near the dresser or the table, the ghost became sulky, and refused to manifest.
This morning a “Star” representative saw Mr and Mrs Cupid, who are so frightened that they have removed many of their goods and chattels from the house, and refuse to return. They are lodging with a kindly neighbour. The neighbours up and down the street are all in a state of excitement over the occurrences, and their imaginations are so over-wrought that they scorn the suggestion that the Cupids have been victimised by a silly and too obvious practical joke.
The floor of the kitchen was this morning strew with broken crockery. Mr Cupid told our representative that the ghost had been up to his pranks again last night. Nobody slept in the house, but late at night, Mr Cupid and another, drawn thither by the fascination of the unknown went into the kitchen, where all the manifestations have occurred, and placed a bottle on the dresser. Then, in the darkness, the bottle jumped off on to the floor. Trembling, but inquisitive, Mr Cupid replaced the bottle on the dresser. But off it hopped again on to the floor, and this time the spiteful ghost smashed it.
While Mr Cupid was relating this latest incident a crowd of open-mouthed onlookers who were assembled about the open doorway commented in awe-stricken accents on the mystery, and the cynical smile of the sceptical reporter drew only a chorus of invitations to “Come to-night and see for yourself.” “Come late,” said Mr Cupid, “and you can have the house to yourself as long as you like.”
Sheffield Evening Telegraph, 10th January 1910.
Attercliffe “Spook”
frightens family of Cupids
but shirks publicity.
Pressman’s vain vigil.
For the past week, Mr. and Mrs. William Cupid, of 37, Candow Street, Attercliffe, have been frightened nearly out of their wits by the nightly visitations of a vindictive “spook” who has demolished nearly all the crockery in the house, flung ornaments to the ground and caused a beer barrel to bump down the cellar steps one by one, and rattle ominously, and then fly up to the top again. The ghost refused to perform any of his operations except in the dark, and thus it was that small detachments of the Attercliffe police force and nervous neighbours were unable, when they tried to investigate, to see any of these mysterious happenings, though they heard the rattling of plates, and listened with respect to the story told by a brother-in-law of Mrs Cupid, who lives with the family, and whose bed had been spun round at the same time that his throat had been playfully clutched by invisible hands.
Yesterday a “Telegraph” representative saw Mr and Mrs Cupid, who are so frightened that they have removed many of their goods and chattels from the house, and refuse to return. They are lodging with a kindly neighbour. The neighbours up and down the street are all in a state of excitement over the occurrences, and their imaginations are so overwrought that they scorn the suggestion that the Cupids have been victimised by a silly and too obvious practical joke.
The floor of the kitchen was yesterday morning strewn with broken crockery. Mr Cupid told our representative that the ghost had been up to its pranks again on Sunday night. Nobody slept in the house, but late at night, Mr Cupid and another, drawn thither by the fascination of the unknown, went into the kitchen, where all the manifestations have occurred, and placed a bottle on the dresser. Then, in the darkness, the bottle jumped off on to the floor. Trembling, but inquisitive, Mr Cupid replaced the bottle on the dresser. But off it hopped again on to the floor, and this time the spiteful ghost smashed it.
While Mr Cupid was relating this latest incident a crowd of open-mouthed onlookers who were assembled about the open doorway commented in awe-stricken accents on the mystery, and the cynical smile of the sceptical reporter drew only a chorus of invitations to “Come to-night and see for yourself.” “Come late,” said Mr Cupid, “and you can have the house to yourself as long as you like.” The Pressman cordially accepted the invitation, and come again at the appointed time.
It was within an hour of midnight. A curious crowd was still on the spot, when at eleven o’clock, Inspector Lacey and six or seven constables in plain clothes, startled their investigations, for it was at that hour that Mr William Cupid had presaged a re-appearance. The door was locked, and the shutters were pulled across.
A candle was called for, and the approach was made at the back entrance. Only a few were permitted in that particular vicinity, but they closed around the door. The key was turned, and the police officers, with the “Telegraph” representative and others, were soon within. Three plates were on the table. Everyone stood breathlessly close to the wall, and the candle light was put out. After some moments of waiting, the ghost failed to oblige. The glow worm lights of some cigarettes may have prevented the working of the phenomenon. Lights or no lights the ghost was not there.
A knock at the door in conditions nearly as dramatic as the knocking in “Macbeth,” struck the ear. All eyes turned eagerly to the door. The latch was lifted. The door was opened. But it was not the ghost who entered. It was merely another police officer. A further patient wait in the dark ensued, at the end of which the Inspector asked the occupier whether he was satisfied that all was natural, and, in official parlance, “correct.” Mr Cupid pointed dumbly to the broken crockery on the ground.
A further test was then made. The door between the front room and the back room was opened, the party dividing itself in two, one section being in the front with Mr Cupid’s brother, and the other in the back room with Mr Cupid himself. There was still no ghost, after prolonged waits in the darkness and in profound silence, disturbed occasionally by the knocking hilarity of the crowd outside the haunted room. The ghost did not appear, and the police vigilance could not have been deceived.
Was it in the cellar? Well, the bounding beer barrel was now known to be empty, and the officers were satisfied that no such perilous adventure with the evil spirit down below was necessary. “Another ten minutes,” came the order, and at the end of that time, yet an additional trial was given, for Mr Cupid’s satisfaction and pleasure, all the company again seeking courage in their combined presence. But the three precious plates on the table remained immovable and intact. The darkness and silence were equally unavailing.
At last, Mr Cupid made some vague reference to spiritualism, and a Mr and Mrs Johnson, members of the Spiritualist Church, were called in consultation. They informed the Inspector, who throughout the seance maintained an unfeelingly jocose demeanour, that a lady medium had been in the crowd without, but she had left, convinced that there would be no return of the spirit that night, as the people were too noisy, and the proper conditions for the return were not present. They themselves expressed their belief that an evil spirit was trying to make itself known to Mr Cupid, but Mr Cupid had evidently not gone the right way to work to gain its estimable acquaintance. It was, they held, within his power to do so.
Inspector Lacy then asked Mr Cupid whether he would consent to remain a tenant of the house, and he said he would. He did not know whether his brother would live with him. The sportive movements of that barrel in the cellar were also explained in the same way by Mr Johnson, but he admitted such a thing had never occurred before within his experience. The impression which Mr Johnson’s intervention left was that Mr Cupid was the only person who could have any dealings with the spirit, except the lady medium they had spoken of, so that, as far as the general public is concerned, they are in Mr Cupid’s hands.
Crockery may break, beer barrels may roll upwards, Mr Cupid may be flung out of bed, but no one will know or see the creature who works these wonders except Mr Cupid, and he, apparently, will not see it, unless he has very good luck.
The general attitude with regard to the affair – and the most obvious one – is that Mr Cupid has been the victim of a silly practical joke. The crowd in Candow Street thought so. Other people will agree with them.
Sheffield Daily Telegraph, 11th January 1910.
A Sulky “Ghost”.
Declines to play to packed audience.
Credulous crowds.
Despite the ridicule and contempt poured on the Attercliffe “ghost” story in our columns yesterday, there are still many people credulous enough to believe that the silly pranks played at 37, Candow street, owed their origin to supernatural powers. Yesterday hundreds of people thronged to the house, and last night thousands congregated in the street between ten and twelve o’clock. The owner of the property appealed to the Attercliffe police to intervene, and steps were taken to put an end to the nonsense.
Some adventurous neighbours went into the house on Sunday night, and profess to have had further demonstrations, and fetched the unfortunate tenant, John William Cupid, from the neighbour’s house where he was sleeping to tell him of the pranks of a bottle and to show him an overturned table.
Inspector Lacey, accompanied by some seven or eight constables, last night gave Cupid every opportunity of testing the power of his “ghost” in the presence of these officers and three reporters. The inspector and some constables remained in the front room, while Cupid, two reporters, a police officer, and Mr A Callis (agent for the property) were in the living room. Darkness prevailed throughout the house, but nothing happened. Again and again was it tried in this way, and still nothing happened, while crowds outside anxiously awaited the result.
Eventually Cupid (the tenant) said he would be convinced that the place was not haunted if one more test was given. It was a most ridiculous position, but to set his mind at rest a further test was given, all being in the living room, with no one who could be interested in keeping up the silly game allowed near the table. For fully ten minutes was the farce maintained, and Cupid was then asked if he was convinced that he had been hoaxed.
He said he was not convinced, for he had been told by some Spiritualist that nothing would happen that night. He had also been told he was a good medium if he would allow this to develop. However, he professed himself quite willing to remain a tenant of the house.
At that the affair will have to go. The perpetrator of the hoax has not been caught red-handed, and now it is pretty safe to predict that the nonsense so far as 37, Candow street, is concerned, will cease, and that Cupid’s “ghost” will rest on his merits unless some foolhardy person tries fresh pranks.
Sheffield Independent, 11th January 1910.
Ghost Stalking.
More tales of Attercliffe’s ogre.
Mr Cupid and a seven-foot spectre.
The mystery of the turbulent spirit which has smashed the crockery of Mr and Mrs William Cupid and driven them from their home at 37, Candow Street, Attercliffe, is still the premier topic of the district. The residents are no longer divided into the red and blue political camps; such a remote concern as the national welfare is forgotten; and the question of the day (writes a “Star” representative), is whether you wear the superior smile of the rank materialist or possess the assured belief of the seer of spiritual things. On the side of the earthy sceptics are the Attercliffe police in a solid and stolid body.
“It’s a rare bit of luck,” said the genial officer as he showed me my way about late last night, “I had only been on the beat about a month and I fall across this, the funniest thing of a lifetime. I begin to think I never knew what it was to laugh before.” The landlord of the public-house at the top of the street was in a state of divine rhapsody. “I wish we had a ghost every week,” he chickled. “I have never had such a boom in trade.”
The Cupid ghost mystery, of course, is solved. It is a rough practical joke. It is a psychical manifestation. It is also somewhat of each. You may select your own solution at leisure and be satisfied. Everybody is so naturally inclined to doubt that it is only just to present the case of the ghost itself.
It was done last night very effectively by Mr J A Gledhall, a member of the Darnall Spiritualist society, at a little seance held in a neighbour’s house, in the presence of members of the Cupid family, and a crowd of sympathetic neighbours. With the manifestations as a theme, Mr Gledhall has palpably made converts. Mr Cupid and his mother were the principals of the piece.
“I see,” said the clairvoyant, “a man wearing a black coat and waistcoat, a pair of corded trousers, a pair of heavy boots very slushy, grey hair and grey beard and moustache, and fresh complexion. I see an old lady with dark grey hair, broad forehead, blue eyes, sunken in the cheeks, and a little rounded at the chin. Her skin is of a dark yellowish colour and wrinkled. She wears a drab plaid shawl, red blouse, and black skirt.”
“That,” declared Mr Cupid’s mother, “is my husband’s father and mother.”
“He was a violent man,” pursued the remorseless clairvoyant, “and was addicted to smashing crockery and overturning tables. On one occasion he took his wife by the throat and beat her. He died in agony. The old lady suffered from bronchitis.”
“Yes,” assented Mrs Cupid, “she died with that on the top of dropsy. The old man would not keep off the drink, and lounged about, and nobody would have him. He went into the Workhouse, and was not long before he pegged it.”
“That’s the man,” explained the clairvoyant to the “Star” representative, “who has been making all the bother. They are still on the material side, just as they were in the body; they have not developed at all. I have told him” – nodding to Mr Cupid, who stood awestruck by – “to strengthen his nerve and tell his grandfather that they have had quite enough of this, and that he will help him to progress.”
“We ought to have him in a circle,” observed an enthusiastic young friend of the clairvoyant. “It would be a rather warm meeting?” I suggested. “Oh, if we got him in a circle he would not have any power at all,” was the confident answer. Despite the reassurance, a visible shudder went round the room.
Then Mr Cupid thought it time to add to the general awe. “On Boxing Night,” he said, “about twenty past 12, I was sitting up alone. I had been reading, and had thrown the paper aside, when suddenly I saw the figure of a man about seven feet high moving from the dresser into the passage and back again. He seemed to be getting hold of someone and strangling him. He was there about four minutes.”
“He described him to me, and it was his grandfather,” added Mrs Cupid. “But seven feet high?” I objected. “Probably he seemed so,” explained the ready clairvoyant, “but he would not be touching the floor. They are often in the air.”
It was Mrs Cupid’s turn. “On Wednesday night, about 12 o’clock,” she said, “I was at the top of the stairs when I saw my husband’s father at the bottom holding his throat in his hands. I shouted to my Bill, ‘Come here, my lad!’ He said ‘I’ve seen it, mother.’ So I shouted ‘George, come here,’ but he said ‘I’m not coming, mother.’ I told them it would not hurt them, but they would not come. The figure stood still with his hands to his throat. Afterwards I went downstairs, and had not been sat many minutes when he came again in the passage.”
Mrs Cupid went on to describe another terrible occasion when, as she was sitting in the throes of neuralgia, a cold hand ran up and down her back. As she told of her eerie adventures, her auditors paled and one by one, with faint excuses as to the lateness of the hour, slipped out furtively into the night.
Only the Spiritualists seemed really at home, and after earnestly exhorting the family to take a courageous outlook, they said good-night. But they were cormorants. “It is a pity, though,” remarked the clairvoyant regretfully, as we walked up the street, “that the landlord has taken the key of the house. I should have liked to have felt the conditions.”
Sheffield Evening Telegraph, 12th January 1910.
Ghost in a cottage.
Clutched by the throat by unseen hands.
Crockery destroyed.
A series of [?] destroying incidents have occurred at No. 37, Candow-street, Attercliffe, Sheffield, and the fear of the ghost lies heavy in the souls of the occupants and their neighbours. The house is occupied by Mr Cupid, a working man, his wife, three little children, and two brothers-in-law, Benjamin and George Cupid. All the crockery and breakable things in the house have been destroyed.
In the early hours of the morning noises were heard in the kitchen by the family upstairs, and on investigation two plates and a bread loaf were found on the floor. The table was moved and a fender flung across the room, while a brother-in-law alleges that hiss bed was spun round and that he himself was clutched by the throat by unseen hands.
When Mr Cupid’s mother and sister and brother came to lay the ghost, nothing but bumpings were heard, but the next night, when neighbours went in to prove or disprove these happenings, ornaments were flung off the dresser and smashed; a basin careered across the room, narrowly missing a human head; a plate was smashed, and a woman fainted.
When, on top of this, a beer barrel bumped down the cellar steps, one at a time, rattled ominously and flew up, contrary to all known physical laws, to the top of the steps again, of its own accord, the only thing left to do was, of course, to call in those omniscient persons, the police.
A large number of people gathered outside the house, when several members of the Attercliffe police force, fearing naught, entered with other persons, and then a number of plates smashed, a table turned over on its side, and a walking stick walked. But when the persons in the room were so disposed that nobody could get near the dresser or the table, the ghost became sulky, and refused to manifest.
Mr and Mrs Cupid were so frightened that they removed many of their goods and chattels from the house, and refuse to return. They are lodging with a kindly neighbour. The neighbours up and down the street are all in a state of excitement over the occurrences, and their imaginations are so overwrought that they scorn the suggestion that the Cupids have been victimised by a silly and too obvious practical joke.
Late at night, Mr Cupid and another, drawn thither by the fascination of the unknown, went into the kitchen, and placed a bottle on the dresser. Then, in the darkness, the bottle jumped off on to the floor. Trembling, but inquisitive, Mr Cupid replaced the bottle on the dresser. But off it hopped again onto the floor, and this time the spiteful ghost smashed it.
Empire News and the Umpire, 16th January 1910.
another
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