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.
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
https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0000276/19100110/106/0005