A Yankee Ghost.
Mr Patrick W Reardon, of San Jose, in the United States, has every right to consider himself an ill-used man. For no fault of his own, he has been subjected to most injurious treatment at the hands of a ghost. The matter came about in this way. Some time ago, an eminent individual named Tiburcio Vasquez, a resident in California, got into trouble with the law on certain questions connected with burglary and murder. The quarrel terminated in what the local papers styled “a little difficulty with a halter.”
Prior to his final exit from an ungrateful world, Mr Vasquez promised to return from spirit-land in ghostly form, and astonish his fellow-citizens with some lively pranks. As he had never kept a promise during his mortal life, this threat produced little impression, and the matter was beginning to fade out of public memory when Mr Pat Reardon, of San Jose, began to be strangely visited.
Every night the windows of his modest dwelling were assailed with volleys of stones, hurled by invisible hands. It was in vain that he placed a cordon of policemen round the premises. The storm of missiles continued with unabated force, until the house was a mere wreck. Thereupon Mr Reardon migrated to another quarter of the town, in the belief that he would escape further molestation.
Vain the expectation! No sooner was he comfortably established than a heavy downpour of stones set in, with the result of smashing every pane of glass in his new house. Once more the persecuted man had recourse to the police, and this time with good effect. Not that they apprehended the persecutor. That was beyond the power of the most astute detective; but they saw a large number of stones get up from the ground of their own sweet wills, and hurl themselves against the windows with immense force.
What was to be done under such very exceptional circumstances? The police could not say. So Mr Reardon went to a distinguished medium and laid his unhappy case before the spirits, with a fee of five dollars and a promise of another five if they enabled him to apprehend the culprit.
The latter task was declined by the medium, but he earned the unconditional fee at once by declaring that the offender was none other than the ghost of the deceased Mr Vasquez. This assertion was corroborated by the fact – of course it was one, like the rest of the narrative – that the stones, which were perfectly different from those ordinarily found at San Jose, corresponded exactly with the strata of the mountains where Mr Vasquez formerly carried on his peculiar business. The only point requiring elucidation is, why the ghost should have selected as its victim a gentleman who was in no way concerned with the halter difficulty.
Globe, 20th May 1876.
Spirits at San Jose, California
(San Jose Mercury)
The residence of Patrick W. Reardon on Fourth street near the corner of St. John has been the target of certain malign influences during the past few weeks, of such a strange and unaccountable character as to awaken the gravest apprehensions in the minds of the occupants regarding the cause thereof and ultimate intentions of the powers – human or inhuman – that control them.
Some three months ago Mr Reardon resided at the corner of Santa Clara and Sixth streets, and there the first outbreak occurred. Rocks and stones were thrown at the house in the daytime and after sun down, demolishing windows and shutters and raising Ned generally. On one occasion, early in the evening, a rock whizzed through the window and striking a lighted kerosene lamp smashed it into atoms. These occurrences became so frequent and annoying, that Mr Reardon, a few weeks since, was forced to leave the house and rent the one he is now occupying.
Every effort to discover the cause resulted in a failure. Where Mr R. now lives, there is a large open yard at the rear, over 100 feet in depth and to the north a large open lot extending to St. John Street. Since his removal the manifestations have taken place as before, only with more vehemence and with less regard to external conditions. The daytime has been selected for these exhibitions, and within the past few days they have increased to such an extent as to create the liveliest consternation in the household. Officers have been put on the watch, a reward offered for the discovery of the perpetrators and every means taken to arrive at a solution of the mystery, and all to no purpose. The rocks fly in the doors and through the windows in the broad, open light of the day, and while people are inside and outside, with an impunity and a disregard for consequences as to engender the belief that supernatural agencies are at the bottom of the affair.
On Thursday, while the door opening into the back yard was open, fourteen large stones came flying in, in quick succession, nearly all of them striking against a door on a line with the one open. Miss Mollie Barry who is stopping at the house, was struck in the head by one of these missiles, but not the slightest pain was experienced by the concussion. The rock seemed to have come down gently upon her head and it rested there until she removed it.
A man was stationed at the fence which divides the lot at the east and one by the fence on the north, and then when there seemed to be no possible chance for a human being to shy a rock through the rear door, not only one but several rocks were thrown by unseen hands as before.
Yesterday the house was rocked as it had never been before and the story of these occurrences having got about, a large number of persons visited the place, among them representatives of the Mercury. Though every precaution against the operation of human influences in the matter was taken, the rocks came whizzing through the door. While L.J. Hanchett, Mr Reardon, E. Knickerbocker, W.W. Pratt, J.J. Owen and others were there, several rocks came sailing, as it were, through the door, seemingly as if from the upper regions, one of them striking the ceiling in close proximity with Mr Knickerbocker’s head. The strangest part of it is that not one of the persons was hit.
At times, when the door was closed, the rocks would be thrown through the window in the north side and if the shutters were closed, the rocks would strike against them with tremendous and demolishing force. After the party, including Mr Reardon, had left the house, L.E. Jones, Mr Reardon’s partner, visited the place. He had not been there but a short time before there was a perfect shower of rocks, some of them larger than goose eggs and of the kind found at Alum Rock and unlike anything in the neighbourhood.
The most wonderful part of the manifestation was the direction taken by the rocks. They came sailing in the door and struck the ceiling, knocking the plaster off in many places. The ceiling is over three feet higher than the top of the door, and a human being to shy the rocks in that way must stand within three feet of the door on the outside and in a direct line with the persons in the room. Several of the windows have been almost totally demolished.
Reprinted in the Daily Colonist, 3rd June 1876.