Ghosts of the SouthCoast (2 page)

Through investigation of the paranormal and discussion of the topic on my radio show,
Spooky Southcoast,
I have found my own definition of a ghost to be forever evolving. Is it merely a discarnate soul left to wander in the oblivion that is not quite life and not quite afterlife? Or is its explanation something much more complex, involving quantum mechanics, alternate dimensions and inexplicable time slips?

For my own purposes, I have boiled ghosts down to their very essence—energy. Living human beings are comprised of electrical energy necessary for powering the body's various organs and systems. According to the first law of thermodynamics, energy cannot be created nor destroyed, only changed. That basic scientific law is the tenet on which the concept of a ghost is built. When our physical bodies die, the energy that was used to power them—what some might refer to as the soul—needs to go somewhere. That energy was collected and concentrated within us upon birth, and usually it dissipates back out upon death. However, for reasons not quite understood, sometimes that energy maintains its human form or some element of it. Therefore, the body can still appear completely or partially in the form of an apparition, or the voice can remain reverberating through the air.

At the risk of getting a bit trippy, it's also important to note that such energy doesn't have to actually occupy a human being in order to take the form or essence of one. The living can actually
will
a ghost into existence. Known as “thought forms”—or what the Tibetans referred to as
tulpas
—if enough mental energy is focused, an energetic being can be created. This was proven in the Philip experiments of the early 1970s, in which members of the Toronto Society for Psychical Research wrote a back story for Philip, an English nobleman from the mid-1600s. Although he never actually existed, through focus and many long hours spent around a séance table, his spirit eventually manifested and communicated through knocks and other sounds.

The same exact thing could be the case with a number of the haunts we will examine throughout this book. If a place is old or creepy enough, the legend will inevitably develop that it is haunted. If enough people begin to believe it, it will be—regardless of whether any restless spirits are roaming
its grounds. If people are focusing energy into the concept of an entity, that entity can become real.

Of course, all of this is an extremely basic concept of what a ghost might be. I'm not saying it's the correct one, either. So many other variables are eventually brought into the paranormal picture, it's hard to stand hard and fast by any definition of a ghost.

Now that we've got at least some idea of what a ghost is, how is it different from a haunting?

Again, there are a number of definitions for the word haunt, but I prefer to look at it like this: Paranormal activity can occur just about anywhere. But when it is sustained over long periods of time in a specific location, then that location can be considered haunted.

Most paranormal researchers delineate hauntings into one of two categories: either residual or intelligent. A residual haunt is also known as a replay haunt, in which the activity appears to occur over and over, like a section of videotape replaying on a loop. The activity is not interactive and goes through its process oblivious to the living that might surround it. Have you ever heard tales of how if you went to a certain location at a specific time and date—usually the anniversary of some tragedy associated with the spot—you'll be able to see or experience the ghost? It's probably because the activity is residual, an imprint of energy left on that location.

The intelligent haunt is where it gets interesting, especially considering our definition of a ghost as energy that retains its humanistic form. In an intelligent haunt, the entity can and does interact with the living. It might answer questions or respond to certain questions or stimuli. It knows you are there, and it wants to you to know it is there as well. Usually, the best and most convincing evidence of the paranormal comes from an intelligent haunt. But if a ghost is just energy that hasn't dissipated, then how can it continue to retain its consciousness?

That's the million-dollar question of paranormal research, and one that I personally don't think we're any closer to answering than we were when Pliny the Younger recorded his experiences with a phantom in Athens, Greece, in the first century AD.

It is also believed that if an event of enough magnitude happens in a certain area, that location can be imprinted by the energies surrounding the event. Have you ever been close to where lightning has just struck? The electricity in the air is palpable, and it lingers for quite some time after the bolt itself has disappeared. The ground where it struck is singed and bears a reminder of what took place.

Often, these haunts are the singed reminders of something that took place long ago in these locations. It can be a happy event or a tragic one, but the end result is the same: a permanent imprint on that particular spot.

If paranormal activity can happen anywhere, why can't it be observed and experienced everywhere? Well, after decades of paranormal research, there are a few factors that are believed to be conducive to a haunt.

Since we're dealing with energy, we need a way for this energy to be contained or recorded in a particular location. Quartz is the second-most abundant mineral in the earth's crust (behind fieldspar) and is a major component of granite, which is prevalent throughout the SouthCoast region and New England as a whole. Take a look at the rocks in your backyard or out in the woods near your home. It's everywhere.

Many of the older locations that are reportedly haunted were built with fieldstone foundations, which would feature a great deal of granite and, subsequently, quartz. Quartz is considered piezoelectric, which means it essentially records and stores energy. That's why it's used in wristwatches, radios and even cellphones. When the right pressure is applied, the energy stored can be released. This is known in some circles as the stone tape theory.

Now that we can trap the energy in a certain spot, we need a way to amplify it. Anywhere with a high level of electrical activity can help with this; some even believe that water, especially rolling water such as a stream or a river can help ionize paranormal activity. It's theorized that when the activity amplifies, there are changes in the electromagnetic field that surrounds it. This is quantified through the use of electromagnetic field (or EMF) detectors. A spike in the EMF of an area might possibly indicate the presence of a spirit.

Also, many who have ghostly encounters often report drafts, chills or cold spots. This is because the ghost attempting to materialize is what's known as an endothermic reaction, in which it draws in energy in the form of heat. The opposite is an exothermic reaction, which usually releases energy in the form of heat. However, it can also release it as energy, light or sound—all three are common forms of paranormal activity.

In my experiences, though, the best amplifier for paranormal activity is a person paying attention to it. By being receptive to the paranormal, it gives it credence and it supplies it with the energy it needs to manifest. Human beings are perhaps the best conductors of the paranormal, even if the debate lingers on about whether we are helping it along or creating it in our own minds.

One must always be careful how much to give it, though. As my good friend and colleague Matt Moniz often quotes from his mentor, Maurice DesJardins: for every step you take toward the paranormal, it takes two toward you.

B
efore we can examine the haunts of the region, we have to understand the tragic history and the mysteries of the land itself that could be the major factor in why the SouthCoast is so haunted.

Considering our attempted definition of them, no ghost can exist within a vacuum. There has to be something giving power to the paranormal, something that charges the electricity for the spirits to draw upon or opens the doorways for UFOs and mysterious creatures. It's more than just the abundant quartz and bodies of water, the time slips and the thinning membrane between reality and something just beyond it.

John N. Mitchell may have been the disgraced attorney general convicted in the Watergate scandal, but he did provide us with a great quote that applies here: “our attitude toward life determines life's attitude toward us.”

That fits perfectly in figuring out just why the SouthCoast and its immediate surroundings are so haunted. In some respects, it's because we've made it that way. Our attitude toward the area has determined its attitude toward us—and we've given it plenty of reasons to not like us too much.

Even in the history books used in SouthCoast schools, little is taught about King Philip's War.

Often called the Forgotten War, it still stands today as the bloodiest war ever fought on American soil. More of the population died in this war than did the Civil War, and it was a great stain on the young colonies.

Revisionist history likes to look back at the early English colonists as those seeking freedom and opportunity in the New World and the Native Americans of the time as kindly helpers to their cause. Every Thanksgiving, schoolchildren are told the tale of Squanto, the kindly Patuxet who helped the pilgrims get through their first hard winter in Plymouth. What isn't taught is how Squanto, also known as Tisquantum, had been twice kidnapped by English visitors to this land and spent time in Britain before returning to find his people decimated by disease. Because of his close association with the English and his ability to speak their language, the great sachem of the Wampanoag Confederacy of area tribes, Massasoit, used Squanto as an envoy when the permanent settlers arrived in 1620.

However, neither side completely trusted Squanto. Some speculate that his death in 1622 was due to poisoning by fellow members of the Wampanoag Confederacy because he had betrayed his people in favor of the English, who refused to turn over Squanto to the Wampanoags upon such suspicion.

The settlers' early alliance with the Indians was just the beginning of a long period of peace between the English and the Wampanoag tribes that always had the undercurrent of mistrust and dislike that would eventually culminate in war.

The seeds of conflict actually were planted under the guise of peace. Massasoit and the pilgrim leaders forged an early alliance against the neighboring Narragansett tribe. After the Indians helped the pilgrims through their first winter in Plymouth, the two sides signed a peace treaty on March 22, 1621. For more than fifty years, the two sides would stand by each other, even as other tribes such as the Pequots attacked the settlers.

Eventually, more settlers arrived and the Massachusetts Bay Colony was formed. To keep the peace with the English, Massasoit sold them land. To the Indians, it was laughable that the settlers would want to give up anything valuable for something such as land, which they felt no man could rightfully own anyway. The one thing Massasoit wouldn't barter was the beliefs of his people, attempting to stave off the English attempts to convert the Indians to Christianity even as the concept of the Praying Indian began to evolve within neighboring tribes.

In the last years of his life, however, Massasoit saw many of his Wampanoags convert to both the English religion and culture, and the strength of his people diluted over time. His eldest son Wamsutta—whom the English dubbed Alexander—ascended to great sachem upon Massasoit's death, believed to be in either 1661 or 1662. By this time, the colonists and the natives had a completely different relationship than the one Wamsutta's father had fostered with those original pilgrims in Plymouth. The colonists were no longer dependent on the Indians for survival and instead sought to expand their colony deeper into Indian territories. The Indians, no longer able to use furs and other items as trade commodities, could only give up more of their land in exchange for items such as weapons and tools from the English.

As the spread of the English grew and the power of the Indians waned, Wamsutta was desperate to keep his people united. Some historians believe he was suspected of meeting with the Narragansett tribe in order to plan a revolt against the colonists. Others believe he was selling land to opposing colonies instead of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Either way, Wamsutta drew the suspicions of the colonial governor and was summoned to court at Plymouth, reportedly at gunpoint after he failed to appear under his own free will. At some point in the journey, he fell ill and subsequently died. His brother Metacom—or Philip to the English—became the great sachem after his death.

Metacom had his own suspicions about the mysterious passing of his brother; he felt that someone within the colonial government had poisoned Wamsutta in order to quell a potential rebellion.

With all this ill will beginning to build up between the two sides, it was only a matter of time before something would spark the powder keg. That event came in December of 1674, when Metacom's advisor Wassausmon—known to the English as John Sassamon, one of the Praying Indians—approached Plymouth governor Josiah Winslow to warn him that Metacom was planning to unite with other tribes to attack the settlers. Not long after that, Sassamon's body was found in Assawompset Pond in present-day Lakeville or Middleboro, and the settlers accused Metacom and his warriors of his murder. A fellow Indian named Patuckson claimed to bear witness to three of Metacom's men murdering Sassamon, and the trio became the first to be tried in front of a jury of both whites and Indians. The trio was found guilty and subsequently executed in June of 1675, and the colonists remained convinced that Metacom was somehow involved.