Ghosts or –?
A creepy story from Sunderland.
A correspondent writes: – During the last few weeks great alarm has been created in one of the streets in the west-end of Sunderland – off Chester Road – by the frequent noises and strange movements that are heard and seen between the hours of eleven at night and four in the morning. For some months past the tenants of three houses in Hutton Street have been disturbed by nocturnal noises and rappings, and have fled from the premises.
The middle house of the three is where the mysterious noises proceed from; but on each side the sounds are distinctly heard by the tenants, and the noises grow louder every night, it is said. Footsteps are heard on the stairs, and locked doors are flung wide open. Nothing is seen, but the noise has become so unbearable that the people, it is stated, dare not sleep in the rooms. Bells are heard to ring, although there are none in the house. The most frequent of the mysterious sounds resemble the groans of someone in great pain or distress, and the knockings as if someone wishing to be released from confinement.
The mystery is causing much alarm in the immediate neighbourhood, and already two gentlemen have remained in the central house all night to convince themselves of the reality of the mystery, and their evidence confirms the report that strange sounds were heard, and footsteps on the stairs when no figure was visible. Until the mystery or imposture is discovered, the houses are likely to be a source of annoyance to the neighbourhood. The floor of the room where the noises is loudest has been taken up, and the foundations examined, but nothing was found to explain the mystery.
Durham County Advertiser, 23rd August 1901.
The Sunderland Ghost Story.
Mysterious Knockings.
Unpleasant Experiences.
A worthy householder in one of the desirable quarters of Sunderland has been perturbed by something as suspiciously like a ghost as these matter-of-fact times will sanction. Like Horatio he addressed the awful phenomenon which usurped the dead hour of night; but unlike Horatio he was unable to see his visitor or to take note of the “martial stalk” with which he walked up walls, ascended staircases or passed through walls of the thickness duly enforced by the building by-laws. To do this the visitor must have had the agility of the spider, the boring capacity of a sword-fish and the noise-producing powers of a woodpecker. Whether or not it could a tale unfold whose lightest word would have petrified the strongest-nerved is immaterial. The rappings and knockings which we will recount answered the same terrifying purpose, and it is enough to say that the family have had a most unpleasant experience. If they did not undergo to the full the tortures which the revelations of the ghost were to inflict upon Hamlet, there were moments in the dead of night when the visitations caused “each particular hair to stand on end, like quills upon the fretful porcupine.”
The spiritualistic world has been duly agitated by garbled accounts which correspondents have sent to the press regarding this latest ghost story from Sunderland. Believers in the occult have seized upon it with avidity; they have sought out the ghost-favoured hosts and have come away triumphant. Crowds have nightly crowded the locality of the house, and for hours, to the great annoyance of the neighbours, have stood looking through the windows. There was nothing to hear, and still less to see, but the belief in the supernatural is so inherent in some people that they actually persuaded the by-standers that they had seen the ghost, and even went so far as to describe his particularly reposeful attitude by the drawing-room mantle. All this and more required investigation.
On the way to Sunderland our reporter brushed up the facts sent by a correspondent – “how during the last few weeks great alarm had been created in Hutton Street in the neighbourhood of Chester Road by the frequent noises and strange movements that were heard and seen between the hours of 11 at night and 4 in the morning; how for some months past the tenants of three houses in Hutton Street had been disturbed by nocturnal noises and rappings and had fled from the premises; how bells were heard to ring, and how the neighbourhood had been terrified by mysterious sounds resembling the groans of someone in great pain or distress; and finally how the houses were likely to be a source of annoyance to the neighbourhood unless the mystery or imposture was speedily discovered.”
Now all this was very alarming, and when our correspondent arrived at Hutton Street he was surprised to find everybody as respectably mundane as could be imagined. In this lately developed residential quarter, the street with its neat self-contained gabled houses, was as quiet and undisturbed as though it had never been singled out for such great distinction. We walked up and down the street to look for the empty houses from which the terrified neighbours had fled, and for the life of us could only find one which looked at all unoccupied.
We saved time by knocking next door, and to our cheery enquiry about the ghost, the somewhat anxious-looking lady of the house begged us not to mention it. She was tired to death of it, and if the police did not interfere and clear the crowd that nightly assembled for hours she could hardly put up with it much longer. They had actually smashed one of her bay windows, she continued, and the whole affair was most annoying. We agreed that it was, but what about the ghost? “Oh! the ghost – well there is no ghost. The people who lived next door say that they heard rappings, and removed from the house last Monday in consequence. But for myself I don’t believe it. I have lived here four years, and never heard of such a thing until a fortnight ago when my neighbour came and asked me if I had heard anything. I confess I did hear something. It was a noise as though caused by a hammer, but honestly I think it was done by someone in the house.” She added that she was sick of the whole business, and could tell us nothing more.
Perhaps, the lady on the other side of the empty house might oblige us. The lady on the other side could throw no fresh light on the matter. She was not quite so troubled, and looked at this most alarming visitation as a queer kind of joke. But perhaps, this was due to a more sanguine temperament, for she was most pleasant and agreeable and smilingly confirmed what her neighbour had told us. She was certainly not of the opinion that any spiritual entity had so far forgotten itself as to wander into this forgotten corner of suburbia, though she more than hinted that she had often been prevented from sleeping o’ nights by the restless wanderings from room to room of the disturbed householder. We thanked her kindly, and instantly felt that we were as far off that ghost as ever.
Various inquiries at length brought us to a particular house in a neighbouring street where we again endeavoured to trace our delusive goblin. We were on the track at last. The furniture was heaped pell mell into the passage and front room, and, as it appeared, belonged to the sole tenant of Hutton Street who a few days before had fled from the premises. The disturbed householder himself was not in, but his wife, busily engaged in arranging furniture as she was, was kind enough to give us some reliable data to work upon. Briefly she old us this:
They had lived in Hutton Street four years, and were attached to the place. Two years ago they had occasion to visit London – they were Kentish people – leaving the children in charge of the house. What was their surprise on returning to hear complaints from the boys (who were all in their teens) that they had heard the most alarming rappings at night when everything was quietest. The knocks commenced about midnight and were heard distinctly on the walls of the house until dawn. Invariably they started on the walls of the kitchen, and ascending the staircase; were then heard distinctly for hours against the walls of one of the small bedrooms. She herself was somewhat deaf, and up till three weeks ago when the noises became very loud, she had not heard anything. But in the terrifying three weeks just passed, she had almost been frightened out of her wits. No, she had seen nothing; if she had she would have dropped insensible from fright.
Last Saturday night, afraid to go to rest, she sat up with her husband in the kitchen. Precisely at midnight the door handle turned, and the door was pushed open. She was too terrified to scream. We turned instinctively to the door on hearing this, and there saw standing serious and open-mouthed several of the children. The youngest, a pretty girl about twelve, was pointed out by the mother as the member of the family who had been the most troubled. It was in her little bedroom where the knockings were most heard. Did you hear the knocking? we asked. She had heard it – heard it every a night for the last two years, and had buried her head under the bed-clothes for she felt sure some one was there. And then added one of the little lads: ” Yes, I have heard him go downstairs many a time.”
We were in the midst of these particulars when the disturbed householder himself arrived. He is a tallish bronzed man of about 45, and seemed somewhat careworn and disturbed. He at once took our reporter for a spiritualist, and it was only when we re-assured him that he became at all loquacious. The newspapers, he commenced, had a lot to answer for in their accounts of the groanings and the shouts and other horrors which they alleged had taken place in his old house, what he had heard were knockings and noises as though of someone moving. These noises he had heard between midnight and daylight for two years, but they were nothing so bad formerly as during the last three weeks. So awful was the disturbance during this latter period that he had determined to get another house.
He had tried in all ways to get to the bottom of the matter. He had watched for hours from behind the curtains of the front windows, to see if the ghost might be some practical joker with a taste for door knockings. Indeed, he had made assurance doubly sure by removing the knocker. He had at times run suddenly in the direction of the sound, diving into pantries, under stairs, and around by the back windows. He had at times addressed himself to the mysterious phenomenon. He had shouted at it to come out and show itself. Near where the noise was oftenest and loudest he had had the flooring pulled up. But all to no purpose.
As to the experience of two of his friends who had undergone with him a weary vigil he had nothing to say. He had told the truth, though now he wished he had kept his own counsel. The scenes which had followed on the relation of his experiences were disgraceful, and should be stopped. He himself had gone and sought policemen to clear away the crowd. “Mind you,” he said impressively, “I have seen nothing. What the cause is I don’t know. I am not a spiritualist; nor do I believe in it. Spiritualists are trying to convince me that the noises are associated with some unknown murder that might have been committed on the site of the house. Well, I don’t believe anything of the sort. What I do believe is in visions of death. Of that I have had practical proof. Sometimes I think the noises are associated with a number of deaths that have occurred in my family during the last two years. In any case I am thankful that the knockings have not followed me to my new house.” With this hint that he preferred being undisturbed we left him still engrossed in thought.
So far then the latest local ghost story is like the birth of Jeames Yellowplush – “wropt in mistry.” Spiritualists may be content with this account of the unwelcome seances; but we are reminded that they have not left the slightest visual shadow behind them except that of doubt. Ghosts sometimes allow themselves to be photographed, if not by the camera at least by the mind’s eye. In this case the Sunderland ghost has not even the distinction of being what the occults call a “materialised Spirit.” Which also reminds us of the saying of Richard Burton that materialised spirit is only a form of speech whose genus is Taurus and species Hibernicus. One hope we only have, and that is in the proximity of the haunted house to a railway. But even this obvious suggestion would be a libel on the substantial, desirable, two-storied houses that as yet are scarcely weather-stained or soiled.
Newcastle Daily Chronicle, 24th August 1901.
The Sunderland Ghost.
(To the Editor of the Daily Chronicle)
Sir, – I and other people living near here have for months together heard the same sort of noises and rappings at regular intervals as reported about the Sunderland Ghost. We soon ascertained that it was cuased by the miners below firing shots commencing at regular times. There is 70 fathoms of clay between us and the coal, yet you would fancy some one was busy only a few feet away. I expect it is the same at Sunderland as it was at Dunston about two years ago, and will be the same till the pitmen get further away.– Yours, &c., JOHN SPOOR. Dunston, Aug. 24.
Newcastle Daily Chronicle, 26th August 1901.
A Local Ghost Story.
Some too enterprising newspaper men have during the last few days been “working up” what is described as a Sunderland ghost story, the only foundation for which appears to be that a householder in one of the streets off Chester Road has become alarmed at some supposed mysterious knockings during the night, and some believers in the occult, together with other people actuated by curiosity, have been attracted to the place, and have caused considerable annoyance to the neighbours, who have heard nothing of the mysterious sounds. One Newcastle paper has taken the trouble to thoroughly investigate the affair, and it suggests that the noises come from the adjoining railway.
Sunderland Daily Echo and Shipping Gazette, 24th August 1901.
The Sunderland Mystery.
(To the Editor of the Daily Chronicle.)
Sir, – I am much surprised at the absolute nonsense which is appearing about a so-called Sunderland ghost, and the letter by Mr. John Spoor in to-day’s paper is but another which adds to the weariness one experiences in wading through columns of news to get at the really interesting and important. I happen to be a miner myself, and I assure you that it is most awful nonsense for anyone to tell us that, either at Dunston or Sunderland, it is possible for the working of coal miners to be heard at the surface.
I will tell you what happened at our colliery a few years ago, where the depth to the coal seams is very much less than in the two places above named. A family complained to our master, who is fortunately possessed of common sense, that their lives were rendered a burden to them and their nerves were racked to distraction by the knockings which, in the absence of ghosts, were ascribed to the mysterious working of miners, all the more mysterious from the fact that these strange beings actually worked on holidays, Saturdays, and even Pay Mondays. Vain was it for our respected manager to assure the family that there were no such possibilities! The family, however, had two eminent mining engineers, who, being called in, listened to the knockings, and came to the conclusion that the sounds were due to the working of miners. They likewise were assured by our manager of the utter impossibility of anything of the kind. But all in vain!
They were allowed to examine the colliery plans and were offered an opportunity of inspecting the mine. But still were unconvinced. Then our manager at last succeeded in hearing the sounds for himself. His proceedings then became somewhat peculiar. He went out of the house and gazed heavenward! Was it ghosts after all? But no, for then he asked for a ladder and surely he could not climb so far. Then particularly requesting that the inmates of the house should not know what he was going to do, and that they should listen for the dread sounds, he mounted the ladder and rocked to and fro the loose chimney pot!! And that is the end of the tale. – Faithfully yours, A. MANN. Saltburn, Aug. 26th.