NEPRONOMICON

Ghosts of Gay City

Part I:  BACKGROUND HISTORY

             Located in the shady woodland of Gay City State Park, off Route 85 in the Hebron township, lie the overgrown ruins of the ghost town known as Gay City.  During its heyday, the town of approximately 25 families was more probably known as Factory Hollow, of which “Gay City” was simply a district comprised of several homesteads belonging to the prominent Gay family.  Other prominent family names were Sumner, Peters, Porter, White and Doane.  Today, one can still find the foundation stones and abandoned cellar holes of several homesteads and one mill, as well as the remains of the ancient burial ground, in which several tombstones still stand.

            The community was begun by a charismatic preacher named Elijah Andrus, who led his flock into the wilderness in order to avoid nearby settlements.  He obtained a land grant of 50 acres in 1796, but had abandoned his fledgling community by 1800.  The Reverend Henry Sumner took over as pastor for the village, and settler John Gay took over as president of the community.  The Gays and Sumners continued to dominate Factory Hollow throughout its approximately 80 year lifespan, until the last settler abandoned the town when the last mill burned down.

            Factory Hollow was primarily a mill town and, over the years, boasted a saw mill, grist mill, paper mill and a woolen cloth mill (the foundation stones and wall of which can still be seen) that burned down in 1830.  The community failed primarily due to economic hardships brought on first by the War of 1812 and later by the Civil War, in which most of the town’s young men were killed.  After the Civil War, residents left to try and make a better life for themselves in nearby communities such as Glastonbury, Wethersfield, or Hebron.  The last man to reside in the abandoned town was Truman Porter, who left after the old paper mill burned down in 1879.

            Local legend, nearly 150 years old, tells of the haunting of Factory Hollow (or “Gay City” as it is now known) by two separate ghosts.  Locals from nearby communities have claimed to see the specters, sightings which have continued to the present day.  Both ghosts are murder victims, slain just before the Civil War (on or prior to 1860), though no record remains of either’s name, or the ultimate fate of their separate murderers.  One of the victims (the blacksmith’s apprentice) was buried in the Gilead Hill Cemetery.

            The first victim was a jewelry peddler who was killed and robbed of his wares by a town charcoal burner.  The murderer stuffed the peddler’s body into the charcoal pit, but his crime was discovered by suspicious town folk, who recovered the blackened skeleton.  The charcoal pit is said to still be haunted by the ghost of the jewelry peddler.

            The second victim was a blacksmith’s apprentice, killed with a butcher knife by the town blacksmith when he failed to show up for work.  His ghost has reportedly been sighted hurrying through the woods, in a futile attempt to get to work on time.  Some accounts even say the blacksmith chopped off the boy’s head, which the specter is sometimes seen to be holding in his hands.

            The abandoned town was reclaimed by the forest, on private land, and almost forgotten until its owner, Emma P. Foster (a descendant of the Sumner family), donated the 2,000 acre tract to the State of Connecticut.  The place is now open to the public as the Gay City State Park.

 

Sources:

 Blanchard, Fessenden.  Ghost Towns of New England.  Binghamton, NY: Dodd, Mead and Co., 1960. p. 23-42.

 Philips, David.  Legendary Connecticut.  Willimantic, CT:  Curbstone Press, 1984. p. 241-244.

 Smith, Donald.  “Scenes From Dead Past of Gay City, Connecticut’s Lost Village Reconstructed From Half Century Old Ruins Bordering Gilead.”  Hartford Courant, 10 November 1935, p. D3.

 “State Acquires Ghost Town in Gift of Woodland By Emma P. Foster.”  Hartford Courant, 10 September 1944, p. 1

 

 For Directions and Park Information:

 http://dep.state.ct.us/stateparks/parks/gaycity.htm

 

 

Part II:  THE INVESTIGATION, week 1

 

            On Thursday, 6 July 2006, Matt and I arrived at Gay City State Park.  It was around 2:30 pm, and the first time either of us had been to see the ghost town of Gay City.  We traveled light, taking with us only a couple of digital cameras, a camcorder, water bottles and some few digging implements, since this first excursion was primarily a scouting and fact-finding beginning for further field investigation of the area.  For the next three hours, we explored much of the southern area of the park, discovering five stone foundations.  We gathered many interesting digital pictures, some video and one mysterious metallic artifact (now badly rusted and, so far, unidentifiable) that may date to the town’s colonial beginnings.

            The first stone foundation we found (dubbed by us Foundation #1) was quite obviously a deep and well preserved cellar hole for a rural homestead.  I photographed the stone walls and earthen floor while Matt dug shallow holes into the floor’s soil to find any potential long-buried artifacts.  Though no artifacts were found, I did get a photograph of the home’s most recent living occupant, a well-mannered tree frog that was kind enough to tolerate our presence in his demesne.

            Nearby, we found the old mill foundation (Foundation #2), that comprised an impressive stone wall, cutout where the large wooden mill wheel would have been, and a sunken stone-walled area that indicated a lower area of the mill’s foundations.  According to our documentary sources (namely, the 1935 Hartford Courant article, upon which later books based much of their information), the stone walls of this foundation are all that remain of the Sumner cloth mill that burned down in 1830.  Strange that anything of this one mill should survive, when the later Sumner paper mill, of which nothing remains, burned down as late as 1879.

            Here, Matt’s diligence at digging for lost treasures paid off.  While digging in the sunken area of the foundation, Matt uncovered a small metallic part of some kind.  I photographed the object alongside a dollar bill for size comparison.  Badly rusted, the object was unidentifiable to our untrained eyes, though it appeared to be of great age—probably dating to the mill’s heyday in the 19^th Century.  It is very probably one of many metallic parts that once comprised the machinery of the old cloth mill, though its specific function is now lost to us.  Excited and intrigued by the find, we both agreed that we would have to return at some later time with a metal detector.

            It was at about this time, while leaving the mill foundation and before our next discovery, that we realized we had neglected to bring along one indispensable piece of equipment—mosquito repellant.  This oversight on our part would cause us much misery over the next couple hours, as we swore repeatedly while slapping at the exposed areas of our bodies in a futile effort to confound our attackers’ sinister design.  Increasingly sweaty and itchy, we soldiered on.

            Searching the vicinity of the mill foundation, along the Blackledge River, we eventually came upon another cellar hole (Foundation #3).  This one was very shallow, and barely discernable.  It had quite obviously been a home foundation at one time, not large enough for anything more grandiose.  We spent only a brief time on this small ruin.

            Trekking through the forest, we eventually stumbled upon a much more impressive ruin (Foundation #4).  This foundation was unique in several ways.  Aside from the mill foundation, this was the largest and deepest foundation we found that day.  Square in shape, it was obviously grander in scale and workmanship than the other cellar holes we had discovered.  It was crowned by large, dressed squares of solid stone overtop the undressed stones comprising the deep cellar walls.  Between the dressed and undressed stone, a line of blackened dead plants (ferns, weed, or brush of some kind) droop like morbid black lace ringing the yawning cellar hole.

            Was this foundation that of a home?  If so, it must have been the home of someone important, perhaps a Sumner or Gay.  Matt proposed an excellent theory, that it may have been the village church.  I entertained the notion that it may have been the home of the murderous blacksmith, partly because of the small square of stones I found outside the cellar hole—could this square be the base of a blacksmith’s forge?  The pit is deep, cool once one makes the tricky climb down, and a little bit spooky—even during the daylight.

            We agreed we would have to return with Gail, our Sensitive, to this foundation to get her impressions on our next visit.

            Finding no more foundations in the nearby area, we began exploring deeper into the park forest.  We followed the Yellow Trail southward until we ran into a helpful bicyclist.  When asked about ruins, she told us about another foundation further south, that we could find on the left of the trail, after it connects with Red Trail.  We thanked her and followed her instructions.  After about a mile walk, we came to the foundation she described.

            The stones of this foundation (Foundation #5) are all entirely above ground.  If a cellar hole ever existed, it is entirely filled in now.  The short stone wall rises a couple feet above the forest floor, in a rectangle.  I took four photographs, one of which would prove to be our most interesting photo of the day… though I did not know it at the time.  Only later, while reviewing the digital photographs on the home computer, did we notice the white orb in one of the photos of Foundation #5.  Upon magnification, the orb has an intense white core, surrounded by a pinkish gray corona.  This foundation, too, we decided will warrant further investigation.

            Running out of time (Matt had an appointment to keep), we began the walk back to the parking lot.  I was a little disappointed that we had not found the ancient burial ground, supposed to be somewhere among the ruins, with 5 or 6 headstones still standing.  I had also hoped to find the “haunted” charcoal pit, in which the unfortunate peddler’s body had been stuffed.  Knowing the pit would probably be overgrown and unmarked, I had done some detective work and found that two distinctive plants commonly grow up over old charcoal pits; the mullen plant (Verbascum thapsus) and pokeberry weed (Phytolacca Americana).  I had hoped to find a formation, perhaps circular, of one or both of these plants that might indicate an old pit, but with no such luck.  Despite these failures on our part, and the constant mosquito bites, the excursion was informative and great fun, though our investigation of the area was far from complete.  We agreed to return next Thursday for follow up investigation.

  

Part III:  THE INVESTIGATION, week 2

 

            On Thursday 13 July 2006, I drove with Gail to meet Matt and Seth at the Gay City State Park.  Gail and I took a brief detour and decided to look around the nearby Gilead Hill Cemetery (known to me, but not to Gail, to be the final resting place of the body of one of Gay City’s “ghosts”).  Any one of several anonymous headstones could have been the one belonging to the unfortunate blacksmith’s apprentice.  Quite by accident, I found a stone obelisk monument to a trio of Sumners, possibly the last Sumners who may have lived in Gay City.  The stone is inscribed with the names Charles B. Sumner, who died at age 30, Dec. 14, 1880, Eva L. Sumner, who died Aug. 2, 1865 at age 19, and Benjamin T. Sumner who died Aug. 11, 1861 at 55 years and his wife Mary E. Buell, who died Jan. 19, 1890 at age 80.

            Gail knew nothing of Gay City’s history before we began.  She had requested not to hear, and I agreed, since neither of us wanted historical fact to intrude upon any revelations she may uncover through conversations with Gay City’s past residents.  As the only Sensitive in the group, Gail describes herself as clairsentient and clairaudient, but not clairvoyant.  In layman’s terms, this means she can sense the presence of and communicate with spirits, but cannot see them.  I had known Gail as an honest and trustworthy individual for several years, and Matt and I were both very excited to have her along for the nocturnal leg of our investigation.

            We arrived at the park at around 7:00 pm, where we met with Matt and Seth.  As we knew that we would be conducting much of our investigation after dark, when the park is technically closed to visitors, Matt and I moved our vehicles out of the parking lot to a separate area outside park property.  We had come well equipped with flashlights, voice recorders (both digital and tape), a camcorder with infrared lens, thermometer for temperature variations, notebooks, spare batteries, and most importantly… mosquito repellant!  We had learned from last week’s mistake, namely that the REAL horrors of Gay City are its bloodthirsty mosquitoes!

            Seth had located the Gay City Cemetery, set off to the right of the main entrance road as you drive into the park, near the wooden information booth.  Matt and I were very pleased, and could not believe we had missed the tiny plot on our last visit.  It is a very small little burial ground, with only six headstones standing.  Most are of children who had died after only a few months or years.  It is a very sad little place.  One headstone is particularly spooky, due to its ominous inscription.  It is the headstone of Matilda Sumner, who died Apr. 19, 1808 at age 7, and the ancient inscription reads; “Come pretty youth behold and see, the place where you must shortly be.”  I was faintly reassured since I, being neither young nor pretty, could assume the reference held no import for this particular reader.

            After photographing the cemetery, we started out for the mill site (designated Foundation #2, according to the order of discovery from last week’s excursion).  Upon our arrival, Gail began sensing lingering spirits, or unhappy spirit memories, right away.  It took some time for her to silently communicate with them before telling us what she had learned.  She told us of two deaths that had occurred at, or near, the mill.  One was a young man who had suffered accidental death during the initial stages of the mill’s construction, when a heavy stone had fallen upon his head, crushing his skull.  The male entity complained to Gail of having been unhappy about being forced into coming to the community and helping build the mill in the first place, but that it had been a family project that included his father and brother.  He was not trapped in the place, but wanted his complaint known, that he had felt abandoned and left by his family after his death, that nobody had really cared.  He went on to say that he had felt his family looked upon his death as spiritually significant, as blood sacrifices had been when constructing stone buildings (a medieval belief that would appear out of place among late 18^th Century settlers, and may reflect his resentment of his family’s ambivalence over his death).  It is important for the reader to note that the Gay family began the mill, several members of which were involved in its construction—involving the dragging and lifting of huge stones, some weighing more than a ton that had to be dragged by ox-drawn sledges.  Though no deaths appear in the fragmentary history of the town, such accidents were entirely possible.

            The second lingering spirit was that of a young woman, whose death had occurred much later in the mill’s history.  She had committed suicide by throwing herself into the river, over a lost love.  The entity seemed sad and despondent to Gail, not hostile or overly bitter.  Gail spoke to her and encouraged her to move on and let go of the past.

            Gail also had a profound feel of the communal sense of the workers that helped construct the mill.  She distinctly felt a profound difference of opinion among the two groups of workers; one group that felt almost spiritually invested in the project as something that was good for the community, and one group that simply went where the work was and were not particularly happy with the work.  This fits with what little we know of the history of the old woolen mill, that the Gays recruited many workers from outside settlements as well as local workers (who stood to benefit the most from the economic boon such a mill would bring the town).  Dissatisfaction among the hired workers had indeed occurred, when the winding canal that brought the water uphill provoked the superstition of one worker who quit because “he wouldn’t work in a place where water ran uphill.”

            We left the mill site shortly afterward and started walking in the direction that Matt and I knew Foundation #1 would be.  To our surprise, we discovered a foundation that we had missed on our last visit, one which we now dubbed Foundation #6.  Here, Gail felt the strongest presence of the entire visit.  A very unhappy spirit remained at this cellar hole (a short walk from the mill site and within 30’ or so of the river), who called himself “The Pastor.”  When we referred to him as “Reverend,” assuming him to be the village preacher, Gail was quick to correct us, that he was the “Pastor.”  This would be important in reviewing the tapes and written record later on, in determining this mysterious character’s identity.  Gail explained to us that the Pastor had left his old community because of a sickness that had infected its townfolk (probably smallpox), and had settled here with his family.  The Pastor blamed himself for the deaths, including those of his own sons, because he had been unable to save the people spiritually and thereby prevent the sickness.  He had been a religious pastor in his last community, but upon coming to Gay City had taken more of a political role as foreman of the community.

Suspecting that this was someone of importance to the town history, we prompted Gail to ask his first name.  She said it sounded like “John.”  When we prompted her to ask him his last name, she reported that the entity became upset at the question, stating that the name had become more of a political title to him than a surname.  He had shouldered considerable responsibility in the community, and blamed himself for everything that had gone wrong.  Gail described him as a good but tormented man, someone who had lost faith in his God and in himself.  Gail said that he had lingered into his old age a spiritually broken man, who had eventually ended his own life with a noose.  The spirit did not want to be released, saying that he felt he did not deserve it.  This unhappy spirit was, by far, the strongest one Gail felt that night.

Could this tormented soul be that of John Gay?  He certainly took over most of the management of the town after the Reverend Elijah Andrus founded then abandoned the community.  Though the Reverend Henry Sumner would take the place of Andrus in religious affairs, John Gay was saddled with most of the foreman-type administrative, economic and political responsibilities of the town.  Gail, who had no prior knowledge of any of these facts, described a character that could very possibly have been the former president of the colony.  I resolved to see what further information I could find on this elusive character, perhaps from the Hebron Historical Society.

After this long conversation with the Pastor, we continued along the trail until we encountered Foundation #1.  This cellar foundation lies very near the stream.  Gail immediately felt that children had once lived here.  After moments of silent reflection, and perhaps conversation with the last living residents, she was able to provide more details.  The family included two children, girls, who had been born before the family moved to Gay City.  A third pregnancy, after their arrival, had not resulted in a living child, but the family had borne the tragedy stoically.  Overall, the family was a happy one that had worked hard and believed strongly in their community.  They had never regretted their decision of following Rev. Andrus into the wilderness.

Gail told us that the two little girls were playing in the nearby stream, that they wanted to show what life was like for them.  At this, Seth, who had drifted nearer the stream of his own accord, admitted that he had just prior to Gail’s announcement had a feeling of children near, or on, the stream.  This was the first and only supernatural feeling on Seth’s part throughout the night.  He insisted that he “just felt” the presences by the water.  We took several photographs of the stream and stone cellar, but with no positive results.  These spirits that Gail communicated with insisted that they were not stuck there, that they had only come to visit and show that some in the town were happy.

After a short walk, we arrived at Foundation #3, the most poorly preserved and overgrown foundation we had discovered.  Here, Gail told us of a man who had come to the town for economic opportunity, but who had failed at achieving any sort of profit.  He complained of not having been in a position to benefit from the town’s brief prosperity, and at having ended up in a “house that leaked all the time.”  His situation seemed one that was probably typical of many of the colony’s early settlers.

Shortly after leaving Foundation #3 and before arriving at Foundation #4, Gail had the worst communication of the night.  This came from an extremely troubled entity, a murder-rape victim named Rebecca.  Rebecca’s story, as communicated to Gail, was as follows: upon the death of her husband, a friend of her husband—named Ephraim or Esau (Gail was uncertain which name was right) who had promised to take care of her, stopped at the house, raped and strangled her.  Rebecca believes that the town knew the culprit, and of his history of abusing animals and children, yet did nothing to apprehend or punish the murderer.

It is important to note that, upon later examination of our photos and comparison with our notes, that it was shortly after our having left Foundation #3 that Matt took one of his most interesting photos.  This photograph has both me and Gail in the picture, with a bluish gray mist twisting up between us and reaching a tendril toward Gail.  This would have been just around the time that Gail received the disturbing revelation of Rebecca’s sad story.  This, some of our group believe, was a Psychic Mist that purposely sought Gail, as someone who could hear and relate a story that had remained untold for far too long.  Gail spent some time in silent conversation with Rebecca, encouraging her to let go of her past tragedy and move on to a better place.  Gail feels that she succeeded in putting Rebecca at peace.

Gail believes that the murderer, this Ephraim or Esau, was a person of prominence in the community.  He was someone that we would today dub a sociopath, who hurt weaker creatures for pleasure, and with no remorse.  He was never held accountable or punished for the crime.

This lack of an effective justice system was a distinct failing of Gay City.  Two historical murderers, the town blacksmith and the charcoal burner, were never known to be charged, held accountable or punished for their crimes.  Gail was not then aware of Gay City’s historical murders (as I had not yet revealed any of the town’s history to her), until the end of the night when we had concluded our expedition.  I then told her of the blacksmith who killed his own apprentice and the charcoal burner who had robbed and murdered the jewelry peddler.  She became convinced then that Rebecca’s killer had been the same person who had murdered the young apprentice with the knife (the blacksmith).

We proceeded on to Foundation #4, the largest and most structurally interesting of the cellar holes.  It is also, to my feeling, the spookiest of the foundations.  By now, night’s full darkness had fallen and we had all fallen to using flashlights.  Being a skeptic myself, I have to admit that this largest foundation was the first and only time I felt what may have been a supernatural presence.  Worse, I felt it was malignant and hostile.  It was at this foundation that Matt, Gail and I would all feel distinct presences.

Gail informed us that this had been the town meeting hall, a comparatively large structure that served multiple functions as church, festive place, and a meeting hall to air grievances and conduct town meetings.  Gail also mentioned another function the place served, specifically the basement area, as that of a holding facility for ne’er-do-wells and miscreants (much as a pillory or stocks would have done in the colonial period).  The town was too small for a jail or holding cells, so the basement of this meeting place served as a place for the temporary confinement of petty criminals and drunks sleeping off a binge.

I went down into the cellar first.  Again, I felt a significant temperature change, as I had the first day I had entered the basement, last week.  Matt’s thermometer would afterward confirm that there was a distinctly cooler temperature in the cellar hole than outside.  I was faintly reassured to find out that the slight chill was not just my imagination.  For some reason (I have told myself since that it was nerves) I did not want to stay long in the cellar, and rapidly climbed back out.

Gail told us that she sensed several spirits gathering in the foundation, many of them unhappy persons who had been confined in the basement at one time or another.  She later told me that she had felt their anger at my entering the basement, but said that this had been due to their confusion at my purpose for being there.

Matt knew I was uncomfortable inside this particular structure, so he went down himself to see what he could feel or record.  Gail announced that one spirit was moving toward Matt.  Matt tried speaking with the spirit while within, in between snapping pictures.  I began to have a bad feeling and suggested to Matt that perhaps he should come back out.  A moment later, Gail also suggested he get out.  Matt continued to talk to the spirit and held out his hand, asking the spirit to touch it and let him know of its presence.  A branch of one of the fernlike plants moved near Matt.  Matt asked the spirit to move the same branch again (which we then shone our flashlights on) and we all saw the branch move a second time.  Repeated requests by Matt to get the spirit to move the branch met with failure.

Matt then moved away toward the wall to climb back out.  He did not look well, and announced that he felt sick.  He held his hand over his stomach and complained of nausea.  Once out of the cellar, however, he began to feel better.

That adventure in Foundation #4 would prove to be the most interesting and exciting one of the night.  It would become even more exciting the next day, when Matt showed me the photographs he had taken while in that cellar hole.  Three of these photos proved to be our best paranormal pictures of the night.  The first shows a nebulous spiral of green mist forming in the left hand corner of the cellar hole (this was around the time that Gail had told Matt that a spirit was moving toward him), the second shows the same green mist growing larger (perhaps taking shape), and the third appears to be the faceless head, half torso and outstretched arms of a luminous green male figure stretched supine in mid-air.  We have dubbed this picture the Green Man, which appears to be a half-manifested apparition.

The interesting thing about the Green Man is that his arms are stretched as though restrained in some way, not relaxed or bent at the elbow as one who is comfortably reclining.  This fits well with what Gail had told us of the basement having been used as a holding facility at times.

Having left Foundation #4, we went down toward the river where Gail and I sat at the picnic table and Matt and Seth set up their video and voice recording equipment beside the wooden bridge.  Gail said that the road here was a good place, as spirits had started gathering in this area.  While Gail sat at the table, she got a sudden chill that made her jump as another spirit contacted her (her sudden motion made me jump, too, but mine was surely an instinctive reaction, not due any paranormal communication).

After conversing silently with the spirit, Gail told us its name was Sarah, or Emma.  She had been a seamstress in the town, and had lived her life a spinster, having preferred the company of women to men.  Hers was a friendly visit, like most of the others.

We started back shortly afterward, as it was getting late.  On the way out of the park, I decided to stop one last time at the tiny Gay City cemetery and its few sad headstones.  I took a few more pictures, which I found later to be quite interesting.

In one picture, two bars of light appear over two of the headstones.  These bars appear to have been made by fast moving orbs, the outlines of which are fairly clear in the photograph.  Reluctantly, we left the ghost town of Gay City, if only for the time being.  We arrived back at our cars (thankful we had not been ticketed or towed) around 11:00 pm.  All agreed that the night investigation had been a fun and enlightening one.  At the time of this writing, Matt intends to return next week, perhaps with our friend Pat, for further field investigation.  I intend to hit the Hebron Historical Society and see if I can follow up any of the names or incidents mentioned by Gail.      

  

Part II: THE INVESTIGATION, week 3

 

            Upon our third and final trip to Gay City, Matt, Gail and I revisited Foundations 1, 2, 4 and 6 for GPS coordinates and EMF readings.  We arrived around 6:30 pm on Thursday 10 August 2006.  Matt and I gathered the following GPS coordinates for the most interesting foundations:

 

F1        Family Residence          ELEV: 544 ft.               N 41*43.203’  W 072*26.730’

F2        Mill Site                        ELEV: 534 ft.               N 41*43.255’  W 072*26.746’

F4        Meeting House             ELEV: 548 ft.               N 41*43.205’  W 072*26.793’

F6        Pastor’s House             ELEV: 604 ft.               N 41*43.226’  W 072*26.736’

 

            Hopefully, this data will be of use to anyone who wishes to visit these locations themselves.  Unfortunately, due to heavy rains that evening, we had to cut our visit short rather than risk water damage to any of our equipment.  We were especially disappointed at not being able to get good EMF readings from Foundation 4, which we had considered the most likely to give us good paranormal readings (typically between 2 and 6 mg).  Any paranormal photographs we may have gathered, in the form of orbs and such, were also hopelessly contaminated by light reflecting from raindrops and wet foliage.

            I had also been unable to get a response from anyone in the Hebron Historical Society and attempts to gain further documentary information on the defunct town had reached a dead end.

            Gail did sense and communicate with one new presence that evening.  A male spirit communicated to her his cause of death, a chest injury from a severe blow.  This occurred at a point between Foundations 1 and 6.  The exact nature of the man’s injury was uncertain, possibly the kick of a horse, or falling off a wagon.

            We said our farewells to the ghost town of Gay City and fled from the park amidst a thundering storm and heavy deluge.  Our investigations would not end that evening, however.  The night still being relatively young, we decided to proceed to another project we had begun working on… the old Seaverns Mansion in Hartford.