Lincoln’s Haunted House.
Young Married Couple’s Strange Story of Spirit Rappings and Moving Furniture.
Spiritualists investigate.
“Lincolnshire Chronicle” Special.
Stories of ghostly visitations and other supernatural happenings always excite the imagination and arouse a good deal of speculation as to their authenticity. Some people frankly confess that they are sceptical, others place full credence in the reported manifestations, but the great majority of the public generally preserve an open mind on the subject.
Many and varied have been the weird occurrences reported at one time or another from different parts of the country, and while a number of them have been proved to be nothing more than sensational hoaxes, others there are which to this day remain unexplained, in a material sense, in the minds of those interested. But whatever the beliefs or disbeliefs in the occult, certain it is that the subject holds a deep fascination for most people.
Nowadays, many towns pride themselves upon the possession of a reputed “haunted house,” and Lincoln, it appears, is not to be out of the fashion. During the past few days the attention of many local people has been focussed upon certain strange happenings which are stated to have taken place in a little house situate in one of the city’s most densely populated areas, the Drapery, and such, indeed, has been the remarkable nature of the supposed manifestations, that a party of spiritualists has made a midnight investigation.
In order to place the full details before the readers of the “Chronicle,” our representative has made special inquiry into the matter, and the information he has obtained from persons who vouch for its genuineness, makes a truly extraordinary and, what would appear to many people, to be an incredible narrative. In fact so astounding was the story told by the tenant of the house, that we have given the major portion of it in his own words, so that our readers may be better able to form their own opinions of it.
The house in question is No. 2, Brummitt’s-court – a small square, in which there are some half-cozen little dwellings – and is occupied by Mr Tom Newbury, a 21-year-old labourer, his wife, aged 20, and their 14-months-old baby girl. Up to about six months ago – when they became tenants – it was, we understand, occupied by the family of a gipsy named Joe Green or Smith, who met his death under tragic circumstances at Newark. Since then his wife and five children are stated to have lived in a caravan at Lincoln.
When the “Chronicler” called at the house- which by the way has only two rooms, a bedroom and living room – he found it deserted, but inquiries elicited the fact tha tMr and Mrs Newbury were staying with friends in St Martin’s-street, the wife’s nerves having been affected to such an extent she was afraid to remain in the “haunted house.” On proceeding to their temporary home, he saw the young couple, who readily consented to relate their experiences.
The husband explained that ever since they had been in the house they had heard various unaccountable noises, of a minor character, and invariably between 12-0 and 1-0 o’clock (by the old time) both noon and midnight, but a week or so ago they became so pronounced that he, naturally, became somewhat alarmed, and they moved their bed downstairs to the living-room. Newbury, himself, is a man who is obviously not troubled greatly by nerves – he is a boxer of note, and only a few months ago pluckily rescued a youngster from drowning – but his statement suggested that these experiences had by no means left him unmoved.
Continuing his “nightmare-like” story, he said “On Monday night last week, about 1.30 (summer time), the wife and I were in bed, and the baby in its cot near by, when I was awakened by the outside shutters of the window flying open. I had securely fastened them before going to bed. Then the window came open. I lay and watched for a minute, and saw a kind of face – a black face – at the window. Whether it was human or not, or whether it was imagination, I can’t say, but it seemed to come nearer to me all the time. I reached out and picked up the poker from the hearth, and threw it at the window, but it must have caught the sill, as it flew back over my wife’s head and hit the wall. The face then vanished. I got dressed and went outside, but could not see anyone, so I re-fastened the shutters and went inside again. Just after I had got back into bed – about two o’clock it would be – I heard six knocks, apparently upstairs.
On the Tuesday night I locked and barred the door as usual. About one o’clock we had just dozed off when we were startled by the lock of the door coming undone and the iron bar falling to the floor. I immediately dressed and rushed into the yard, but there wasn’t a soul about, and while I was looking round the window shutters flew open again. I saw a policeman not far away and asked him if he had seen anything, but he said he hadn’t, and he told me to go back to bed again, which I did. I had no sooner done that, however, than a small table standing near the wall and containing some ornaments fell over, breaking several of the ornaments. The same night we heard six knocks in the coal house under the stairs, just as though someone was using a big iron bar, and while I was looking there, there was a noise just above my head, like an ordinary footstep on the stairs.
In the morning my wife went upstairs about 9.30 to clean the room up, and when she had come down, a big tin box which had been left the far side of the bedroom fell down the stairs, scattering the contents all over. The missus rushed out of the house screaming, and a neighbour then came in, and we were talking, when a picture fell off the wall on to her head. The nail was still in the wall, and the cord hadn’t broken. She ran out of the house shouting ‘He’s got hold of me,’ and when she got into the yard she slipped and fell. While I was outside helping her up, I heard the table with the ornaments fall over again.
On the Wednesday night we determined to sit up and keep watch. I brought two of my pals in, and there was also my wife and a neighbour. We were in teh dark, and while we were sitting talking – about 1.30 a.m. – we heard a terrific rattle and clashing as if all the pots in the house were being smashed. We kept quiet, and then something came downstairs. It sounded like a man walking, and when it got to the bottom it rattled the door. The door, against which was the bed, opened, and the bed moved about 18 inches, as if something was pushing the door open to get out. My wife said she saw something in white on the bottom step.”
Mrs Newbury here interrupted, and asserted that as the door at the foot of the stairs opened she saw a figure, all in white, standing on the bottom step. She could not see its face. All she remembered then was that it vanished suddenly.
The husband, taking up the thread of the story again, went on: “The missus said ‘Look what’s come’ and then she fainted, and I carried her out, and took her down to her sister’s in Princess-street. On Thursday night a neighbour, Mr Wright, and a Mr Birch stayed in the house with me. We were sitting in the dark, near the table, and about 1.30 a.m. we heard three knocks in the coal-house, as if someone was striking the wall. There is no building next to this side of the house. Mr Wright said, ‘Well, old man, give us half a dozen,’ and we heard three more knocks. We didn’t stop to hear anything further.
Two other men asked if they could stay in th ehouse on Friday night and I agreed, so we all three decided to get into bed. About 12.30 we heard the table fall over, and I found that two ornaments, which were a wedding present, and cost 35s, were broken. In fact I haven’t a whole ornament in th e house now. After the table had fallen, about six pictures, of varying sizes, over the mantelpiece came off their nails and fell to the floor, breaking the glass in all the frames. After that we got up and lit a candle, and squared things up a little.
Later that night, three men and the wife of one of them, came to the house, and while we were all in the room – in the dark – the table toppled over again. We kept putting it back, and it fell over about six times. Then about 1.30, when we had a candle lit, the cradle, which was on the floor near the bed, was suddenly lifted by unseen hands into the air, and swung over the bed. We left the cradle swaying on the bed and cleared out; and I haven’t slept in th ehouse since. Several people stayed in the house on Saturday night, but I don’t know what their experiences were.”
At this point the tenant of the house in which the interview was taking place – Mr A Caro[?], of 9, St Martin’s-street – interposed with the remark that he could speak as to a certain incident which occurred on Sunday night. “Mr Newbury, my wife, and myself,” he said,” went to th ehouse about 11.45, and sat in the dark until about 1.10. Up to then nothing had happened, and I lay on the bed. Mr Newbury sat at the head of the bed, and my wife was in a chair the other side of the room. About one o’clock Newbury said ‘Let’s go home, there’s nothing going to happen to-night,’ but we decided to stay a little longer. Then at 1.10 there was a terrible crash in the cupboard in the corner, where there were various pots and other articles. It sounded as if all the things were falling. My wife in fear and trembling rushed out the house and went home, and I helped Newbury outside. I returned to the house with a lighted candle, to see what damage had been done, but all I could find on the floor was one glass, and there was nothing broken.”
Resuming his narrative, Mr Newbury stated that on Monday afternoon he and a companion attended a spiritualist meeting in the Oddfellows’ Hall. “The medium spoke to me,” he said,” and I told her what was happening at the house, and she promised to come, with a party, that night. There were about 14 of them, and they met at 12.30 a.m. and entered the house. A candle was lit, and we gathered in a circle and joined hands. The medium said we had to sing – and sing softly to ourselves – and we sang two or three hymns and prayed. Then one of the party – a young man – seemed to go into a trance. He clenched his hands and set his teeth, and his appearance seemed to alter altogether. The medium said she saw a spirit enter this man, and he was in the trance about 20 minutes before she could get any answer out of him. She asked ‘Now stranger, what is your name?’ and there was no answer for about ten minutes. The spirit in the young man appeared to be trying to speak, but could not get it out. Then we heard some muttered words ‘The weapon! the blow!’ and some other words I could not catch. She said ‘I am not going to let you go back again unless you tell me your name,’ and he muttered ‘Joe, Joe Greeny. Pray for my wife and children.’
She said ‘Tell me the rest of the message or I will not send you back’ and he answered ‘Good night, my friends all of you, and God bless you.’ She said ‘You are not going; you must tell me your message before you go,’ and he kept muttering ‘The instrument, the instrument,’ and she said ‘What is the instrument?’ but he could not get it out. And then the young man came out of the trance. The medium said that the spirit would go to their meeting room, and she did not think it would come to our house again. Whoever that spirit is going to tell, she said, it will come and stand by their side.”
Mr Newbury added that the name Joe Greeny evidently referred to the man whose family had previously lived at that house, and who died about six months ago at Newark, as a result of being hit with a bottle.
The “Chronicler” received ample corroboration of Mr Newbury’s statement as to what transpired at the seance in the home on Monday night, when he called upon the medium, Mrs Horton, of Leeds, who was staying with Mrs Carline, 49, Cromwell-street, Lincoln, and who was visiting Lincoln to conduct the week’s services of the Spirtual Alliance at the Oddfellows’ Hall.
“Tom Newbury attended the Monday service, in company with another man,” she said,” and afterwards he asked if he could speak to me. He asked if I could give him any explanation of what was taking place at his house, and if I could take this condition from the home. He said he had had advice from a clergyman, who had prayed in the house for an hour, but still the noises were there; and that he had also been to the police. We promised to visit the house that night, and at 12.45, some 14 or 15 of us assembled there. It is not our business to go into other people’s affairs. All we want for was to give light to that spirit, so that it might go to rest. In that small room at the house a service, as reverent and as beautiful as you would hear anywhere was conducted.
The room was lit by a candle. We joined hands, and sang one of our hymns ‘We do not die, we cannot die, we only change our state of life,’ and I offered prayer. We then sang ‘Behold me standing at the door,’ and after further prayer, another hymn ‘Jesu, lover of my sould,’ was rendered. And then a young male worker in the cause – a Lincoln man, connected with Coultham street – was taken trance by the spirit giving his name as Joe Greeny. He had great difficulty in speaking. I just asked him if he tried to realise he had passed this stage of existence, and he said ‘Yes.’ We prayed again, and he actually got on to his knees, put his hands together, and prayed. It was one of the most beautiful services ever seen. I asked him if he realised he had passed this life’s journey and entered another sphere, and that he was not to come back like this but was to try and progress, and he said ‘Yes.’ And I said ‘And not disturb these people again, but try and find peace, and he again said ‘Yes.’
I actually saw the material spirit, and it seemed to be wearing brown corduroy trousers and an old coat, and no cap; and it appeared to personate through. It was a broad-set figure, and I could see the change in the young man’s appearance. He was only small built, and he appeared to become broader, and his face took on the look of a gipsy. I asked Tom Newbury if he was familiar with the appearance of Greeny, but he said he was not. We had no other manifestation at the service, and heard no noises in the house. At the close of the service we sang ‘Abide with me.’
Mrs Horton added that she felt that that spirit would rest, as it promised to do at the service; but it might again visit the young man who was taken trance, until it had delivered its message. “We are out to give light to everybody,” concluded Mrs Horton, “and to tell people there is something after this change called death. We wanted to bring light to this spirit; to give peace to a darkened soul. No doubt this man has been taken out of life without realising there was another thing besides this world, and I think the reason he cannot rest is because he has not finished life’s mission, or there is something else.”
Apparently the visit of the spiritualists has not proved efficacious, however, for it is stated that there are still mysterious rappings and other strange happenings.
Lincolnshire Chronicle, 30th June 1923.
The Black Face At The Window.
Mystery House. Nocturnal Vigils of Police and Neighbours.
(From our own correspondent). Lincoln, Saturday.
The police of Lincoln and many inhabitants are to-night holding watch over a tenement house, in Brummetts Court, where strange happenings are reported to have taken place. It is occupied by Mr Thomas Newberry, his wife and child.
The trouble started at 1.30 a.m. on Monday last. Newberry and his wife were awakened by a moaning sound. On looking towards the window they saw pressed against it a black, grinning face. Newberry jumped out of bed, picked up a poker and threw it at the face. The face disappeared and Newberry rushed into the yard, but saw no traces of anyone.
About the same hour on Tuesday morning Newberry and his wife were awakened by a terrific bang at their bedroom door. The door flew open and a crowbar fell inside the room. As Mr and Mrs Newberry rushed outside to get some neighbours, a large tin box, which had been stored in another room, mysteriously came tumbling down the stairs. Mrs Newberry fainted. Her husband got in two neighbours. While they were attending to his wife a picture fell from the wall on to the head of one of the women neighbours.
On Wednesday night Newberry got some male friends to stay with him in the house to keep watch. At 1.30 a.m. they were staggered by the crashing and smashing of pans and crockery in the kitchen.
On Thursday night several neighbours went into the house to keep watch with the Newberrys. About 1.30 a.m. there was clanging and knocking in the coal-house.
At 1.30 a.m. this morning, the company were staggered, while in the kitchen, by sounds of wild laughter; the table turned over, and several pictures fell from the wall.
A number of spiritualists, with a medium in charge, held a seance in the house. One young man is said to have gone into a trance, and a man’s name was given by the “controlling spirit.”
The People, 1st July 1923.
” A Nice ‘Ouse.”
Pictures flung off the wall and cradle upset.
Doings in the “Drapery.”
The doings at Brummitt’s Court are causing considerable comment in the city. Ghosts, real or imaginary, are always the means of drawing excited crowds, and the story to hand this week of how the Brummitt’s Court ghost flung pokers about with fiendish accuracy, broke crockery, and lifted cradles and beds on high, is having no less effect on the people of the neighbourhood.
On Monday a “Leader” reporter visited No. 2, Brummitt’s Court, occupied by Mr Tom Newberry, but disappointment was in store, for the unobliging denizen of the ethereal regions was not to be seen or heard. Mr Newberry expressed no surprise at this. Casually he remarked that the ghost would not appear until midnight. “The first time our visitor made his appearance,” added Mr Newberry, “was on Monday when I was reading a paper at about 1 a.m. Without any warning the shutters of the window burst open and there followed the opening of the window and the appearance of a ghostly hand and a no less ghostly head at the window. The face was intensely black, with the exception of the lips which were snow white and thick. A long thick poker was lying on the floor and this I flung at the face. You can imagine how surprised I was when the poker came back with considerable force, narrowly missing my head and shattering the glass of a picture on the wall.” Mr Newberry pointed to the damaged picture and the broken glass on the floor.
Nothing exceptional, it seems, happened on Tuesday, but the following night the ghost, possibly thinking its eerie reputation in danger, made up for lost time by displaying its abounding energy in banging on the floor and tables. At that time two men were alone in the house, and having just partaken of one kind of spirit, were nothing loth to experience the other, and the more objectionable one. As the night wore on so the ghostly atmosphere increased in intensity – and there was a corresponding decrease in the courage of the room occupants. To show his unfailing courage, one of the amateur spook-hunters called out and peculiarly enough his shout was followed by six thuds, and the waiting watchers stayed to hear no more.
An Armistice for a time was declared after this, and Friday and Saturday evenings were comparatively quiet. When Sunday arrived, however, things changed, and the few daring people who congregated in the house were treated to a real exhibition of ghostly enthusiasm. From the floor, so the story goes, rose a cradle, unoccupied, and transferred itself, unaided, to the bed. Tables turned turtle, pots crashed, and pictures fell from the walls. The news soon spread and a crowd quickly assembled, but the ghost being of a retiring disposition, adjourned for the evening.
Its reputation, however, remains, and many sleepless nights are spent by residents in that vicinity. One half is trying to catch the ghost – the other trying to avoid it. The passages around Brummitt’s Court are strangely deserted at night. At first the neighbours thought Newberry was bluffing. Then they thought it was a practical joke. But when Mrs Newberry was brought out of the house last week in a fainting condition they thought it was past a joke and hardly know what to think. They have no faith in spooks in the neighbourhood, but the happenings of late have made many marvel at the phenomena. The explanation doubtless lies in the fact that operations in some excavations beneath the house are responsible for these weird effects.
Matters had reached such a climax by Monday evening, that practical joker or wandering spook, it was determined to lay him by the heels, and at the top of High-street at half-past twelve that night, various figures moved in the direction of Brummitt’s Court. A “Leader” representative was present.
Once inside the house the buzz of excited whispers grew in volume, and weird and wonderful were the theories put forward to acount for the ghost’s ungentlemanly conduct. The party was composed of eight local Spiritualists, an unpaid medium from Leeds, Mr Tom Newberry and the “Leader” man.
With reminiscences of flying pokers, floating cradles, and other implements of danger, every possible precaution had been taken against humorously inclined neighbours, and practical jokers would have been assured of a hot reception. Windows were sealed, the bed, table, chairs and pictures, etc., thoroughly examined, whilst delicate burglar alarms were strung over the stairs and every part of the house except where the party actually stood. None of the Spiritualists or Mr Newberry were aware of these precautions which did much to eliminate any possibility of practical joking.
When all were inside the house the light was turned low and hands were linked in a chain, the Leeds lady being the controlling factor. After hymns had been sung in subdued voices, silence was commanded. Shuffles of uneasiness followed this request, and anxious glances were cast towards the door. A whisper that the door was locked scarcely added to the peace of mind.
All at once a cry issued from the lips of Miss Wrench, who, it was assumed, was falling into a trance. More shuffles of uneasiness and more glances towards the door. Then from quite near at hand came an awful fiendish wail. The wail was repeated, followed by a series of howls, which those present had no difficulty now in fixing the origin of – it was a cat, making night hideous from the roof.
Business now became serious. The “control” was transferred to a young man, and so great was the intensity of it that it brought him to his knees. His body shuddered, there was froth on his lips, and with a cry he fell, being caught in time to avoid injury.His tongue clicked, yet no word could be distinguished, but in answer to repeated requests for his name the medium stuttered out “Joe,” and once again went off into fearful convulsions. After about another half-hour of attempt the full name of “Joe Green” was uttered, and also came the statement that he had some property in the house which he promised not to disturb again.
The “Leader” man spent another quarter of an hour alone in the house, but apparently the ghost had knocked off for the night and returned to his slumbers – our reporter did likewise.
Enquiries from different people in the neighbourhood, who knew nothing of any seance being held and who repudiated the ghost story, revealed the fact that a man named Joe Green had lived in the house, but was murdered at Newark in a fracas, by a blow from a beer bottle. The table in the house had been given to Mr Newberry, but had been the property of Joe Green. This had not been told beforehand to the medium, who was an entire stranger to the district.
Newberry has since left the house.
Retford and Worksop Herald and North Notts Advertiser, 3rd July 1923.
Evicted By Ghost. Curious conduct of Lincoln Household’s Furniture.
Lincoln’s “Ghost”
Still causes excitment among Drapery residents.
Practical Jokers?
Although the “spirit” of Joe Green – the gipsy who was murdered at Newark about six months ago, (being hit on the head with a bottle, by some unknown person during a fracas) – is supposed to have promised a medium that it will try and find peace, and progress, and not return to disturb the slumbers and break the pictures and pots of innocent mortals, “manifestations” at No. 2, Brummitt’s court, Lincoln – the little two-roomed house in the heart of the Drapery, where the aforementioned Joe previously lived – are still causing excitement among the residents in that particular locality.
But whether the subsequent “manifestations” are as authoritatively genuine as the previous “mysterious” happenings – reported in last week’s “Chronicle” – is a question upon which there are widely divergent views. Certain it is, the credulity of a large section of the public has been severely tested, and equally certain is it that, since the disclosures made in the “Chronicle,” there have been incidents which no stretch of imagination could bring within the category of supernatural.
Almost every night there have been “amateur seances,” and several of those who have taken part in these midnight sittings have come away convinced that the house is haunted, and that old Joe’s “spook” is still roaming about the dwelling, tapping at the wall, and overturning the furniture.
On the other hand, there is certain evidence which would appear to suggest that practical jokers have found this a subject for the expression of their peculiar type of “humour.” One night, a party of investigators were sitting quietly in the house, awaiting the appearance of they knew not what, and the tension had reached almost breaking point, when the “spell” was broken by a terrific crash on the roof. Whether the would-be ghost hunters thought the spectre of old Joe had taken to wearing clogs and was dancing a lively jig on the tiles, or that the chimney pot had simply fallen off, it is difficult to say; but for a few moments excitement was intense.
However, no fearful apparition appearing, the investigators set about ascertaining the cause of the alarming noise, but without success. Subsequently, it is stated that a man from another part of the town, and evidently a sceptic, but desirous of making certain of at least one “manifestation,” was heard to boast of the fact that he had thrown a brick on to the roof. In spite of the antics of these”jokers,” however, the tenant of the house, Mr Tom Newbury, is still convinced that the frequent weird occurrences are not created by human agency. Such is his and his wife’s belief in their reality, that they will not sleep in the house, but have gone to live with Mrs Newbury’s sister in Princess street. Mr Newbury is averse to vacating the house entirely, however, particularly in view of the fact that the spiritualists assured him that they did not think the spirit would trouble them again, so he occasionally returns.
Telling his story to our representative of what has happened this week, he said:
“On Monday night, about 12.30 o’clock, I heard a rattle of pots upstairs – although there are no pots there – and the pictures shook on the wall, one or two of them falling. I also heard noises just like a man walking downstairs. That was quite sufficient for me for one night, so I came away.”
“Another night four young men and myself sat down in a circle holding each other’s hands. We had a candle lit, and just before one o’clock the pictures again began to shake on the wall, and three fell down. What sounded like a ‘sneck’ on the door, rattled, as if someone was outside – but there is no sneck outside, only a catch on the inside of the door. One of the other fellow’s caps was lifted twice, and my cap was lifted off my head. Then something bumped against the legs of two of the party and caught me in the back. A little later the table fell over, smashing more ornaments. That was as much as we stopped to see that night.
“I determined to spend another night in the house, so I and a couple of pals went there the following night. We lit a candle, and were sitting quietly when, about 1.30 we heard three or four knocks from upstairs. We went into the bedroom, but could not see anything, and while we were there two of the pictures fell off the wall downstairs. We had had enough, so we cleared out.”
Our representative has also had a chat with a local spiritualist – who was present at the seance, which was recorded in last week’s “Chronicle” – and she agreed that there appeared to be some practical joking being indulged in just now, and she advised Mr Newbury not to admit any other sceptical parties to the house. She added that now they had held their seance, the spirit would eventually tell them who had committed the murder. It may take months or years but she felt convinced that they would get the message.
Lincolnshire Chronicle, 7th July 1923.