This is a story that was related to me many years ago by a family member.
When I was a little girl, we lived on a small farm in Bethel. (This would have been between 1910-1920. -Wes) One afternoon in the late summer or maybe early fall, my oldest brother came running in the house yelling about something in the sky. We all ran out to the porch and we could see this thick trail of smoke in the sky. My brother said that there had been something bright flying across the sky and leaving behind all this smoke. It crashed into the ridge up the valley from our house.
My father and a couple of my brothers and a man who lived further down the road rode their horses up to the spot a couple of hours later and said they could see a hole in the ground that was glowing red and smoking something awful, and the stench was so bad the horses didn't want to go too near to it. They told us this when they got home that evening. I think my brothers went up there a couple more times before my mom made them promise not to anymore. I remember that the hole smoked for several days after it crashed. We had never seen an airplane, and I don't think I had ever even seen a car when this happened, so it definitely stood out as something out of the ordinary.
It was probably a week after we had seen this thing crash in the woods. I remember that my dad and brothers had gone to town for the day, so my mom and my sister and I were sitting on the front porch talking and waiting for them to get back. There was this strange feeling, like right before a lightning storm, but it was a pretty, clear sky day. But the air felt almost prickly. We could see something coming up the road towards the house. As it got closer it looked for all the world like an egg, but shiny. It was 3 or 4 feet long and seemed to be floating above the road. It didn't make a sound. It floated right past the house, probably 100 feet from us on the porch, moving a little faster than a man can walk. It kept going up the road until we couldn't see it through the trees anymore. This would have been in the direction of the thing that had crashed. I don't know what that thing was, and I don't know if the two things were related. Sure was strange though.
The first part of that story seems easy enough to explain (meteororite, etc.), but the second part is indeed quite weird.
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Monday, October 19, 2015
Monday, October 12, 2015
The Cowee Tunnel
In the years following the Civil War, the South seemed unwilling or unable to deal with the realities of an economy that couldn't depend on the free labor of slaves. Continued institutional racism, Jim Crow Laws, the Black Codes and the deprivations of indentured servitude meant that many blacks in the South were really no better off than they had been prior to the Emancipation Proclamation and the passage of the 13th Amendment. One lesser known approach that the southern states took in the decades after the War was the leasing of convicts for hard labor. Business owners, including the plantation owners further to the south, could acquire very cheap labor from the states prison systems, with almost no oversight into how they treated (or mistreated) the laborers. Keeping in mind that many laws unfairly targeted blacks and created harsh penalties for virtually any perceived crime (including walking outside after dusk, for example) and it's easy to see how this system became a nightmare for incarcerated blacks.
One salient example that leads us to our story: As the railroads began to push further and further into the mountains of western North Carolina, they started to encounter very treacherous terrain. Wide, fast, strong rivers flowed beneath steep and rocky peaks; deep gorges and isolated construction sites impeded and slowed the work. As the railroads found it harder and harder to entice workers to join the teams in the mountains, they turned to the state for a solution. In return, the state of North Carolina leased teams of convicts to the railroad to continue the dangerous work. These teams laid track and dug tunnels through some of the most inhospitable terrain in the eastern United States.
One of these chain gangs was tasked with digging the 700' long Cowee Railroad Tunnel, just outside Dillsboro, NC. They worked with pick axes and shovels throughout the winter of 1882 to clear the forest and tunnel through the rocky mountain. Every morning the team, one of whom was only 15 years old, would be shackled together, ankle to ankle, and make the long march to the site. They would be loaded into a raft and pulled across the frigid Tuckaseegee River. On the morning of December 30, 1882, 30 convicts were loaded in shackles into the boat. The river was especially rough that day, and the icy water crashed over the low sides of the raft. Panicking at the raging water spilling into the boat, the convicts rushed forward to the stern, causing the raft to tip and dump the passengers into the icy water. Nineteen convicts died, chained together at the bottom of the river. The bodies were dredged from the water two days later, on New Years Day, 1883, and buried in an unmarked mass grave near the mouth of the tunnel.
Other people have covered the history better and more thoroughly than I (specifically Gary Carden, although many others have written on the tragedy). Efforts have been mounted over the years to have the bodies exhumed and reinterred in a proper fashion, to give these men the respect they deserve.
Over the years, numerous people have reported noises emanating from the tunnel; the sounds of pick axes on stone, of voices echoing from inside the earthworks. On occasion, loud moans and screams and unexplained splashing sounds have been reported. Cave-ins and train derailments in the tunnel have led some to speculate about a curse directed at the place by the poor souls who worked on, and in some cases, perished at the tunnel.
Today, the easiest way to see the tunnel is to take a ride on the Great Smoky Railroad. Listen carefully as the train passes through the mountain, and you may just hear the cries of the men who died to cut this treacherous tunnel.
Sources and Additional Info
Gary Carden theliarsbenchgazette.blogspot.com
The Ghost Writer https://spiritedwriter.wordpress.com/tag/cowee-tunnel/
Smoky Mountain News Article http://www.smokymountainnews.com/news/item/10992-1882-cowee-tunnel-disaster-comes-into-21st-century-spotlight
One salient example that leads us to our story: As the railroads began to push further and further into the mountains of western North Carolina, they started to encounter very treacherous terrain. Wide, fast, strong rivers flowed beneath steep and rocky peaks; deep gorges and isolated construction sites impeded and slowed the work. As the railroads found it harder and harder to entice workers to join the teams in the mountains, they turned to the state for a solution. In return, the state of North Carolina leased teams of convicts to the railroad to continue the dangerous work. These teams laid track and dug tunnels through some of the most inhospitable terrain in the eastern United States.
One of these chain gangs was tasked with digging the 700' long Cowee Railroad Tunnel, just outside Dillsboro, NC. They worked with pick axes and shovels throughout the winter of 1882 to clear the forest and tunnel through the rocky mountain. Every morning the team, one of whom was only 15 years old, would be shackled together, ankle to ankle, and make the long march to the site. They would be loaded into a raft and pulled across the frigid Tuckaseegee River. On the morning of December 30, 1882, 30 convicts were loaded in shackles into the boat. The river was especially rough that day, and the icy water crashed over the low sides of the raft. Panicking at the raging water spilling into the boat, the convicts rushed forward to the stern, causing the raft to tip and dump the passengers into the icy water. Nineteen convicts died, chained together at the bottom of the river. The bodies were dredged from the water two days later, on New Years Day, 1883, and buried in an unmarked mass grave near the mouth of the tunnel.
Other people have covered the history better and more thoroughly than I (specifically Gary Carden, although many others have written on the tragedy). Efforts have been mounted over the years to have the bodies exhumed and reinterred in a proper fashion, to give these men the respect they deserve.
Over the years, numerous people have reported noises emanating from the tunnel; the sounds of pick axes on stone, of voices echoing from inside the earthworks. On occasion, loud moans and screams and unexplained splashing sounds have been reported. Cave-ins and train derailments in the tunnel have led some to speculate about a curse directed at the place by the poor souls who worked on, and in some cases, perished at the tunnel.
Today, the easiest way to see the tunnel is to take a ride on the Great Smoky Railroad. Listen carefully as the train passes through the mountain, and you may just hear the cries of the men who died to cut this treacherous tunnel.
Sources and Additional Info
Gary Carden theliarsbenchgazette.blogspot.com
The Ghost Writer https://spiritedwriter.wordpress.com/tag/cowee-tunnel/
Smoky Mountain News Article http://www.smokymountainnews.com/news/item/10992-1882-cowee-tunnel-disaster-comes-into-21st-century-spotlight
Friday, October 9, 2015
The Fiddler's Grave, pt. 1
There's a story that I heard a few years ago that goes something like this:
There's a grave in a small cemetery in Waynesville inscribed with the name "The Fiddler." No matter the time of year or day that you visit, the grave will be swept clean, even if the rest of the cemetery is buried in fall leaves. Is this hallowed ground swept clean by the dancing of a spectral couple enjoying the fiddling of some long dead musician?
All good questions, I suppose.
I visited the site a few days ago as the initial visit in a longer research project. I had hoped to delve into the legend, find out who this mysterious 'Fiddler' was, then dip into the more supernatural side of things. I did find a little information on my brief visit, and I did notice some discrepancies with the original story.
There's a grave in a small cemetery in Waynesville inscribed with the name "The Fiddler." No matter the time of year or day that you visit, the grave will be swept clean, even if the rest of the cemetery is buried in fall leaves. Is this hallowed ground swept clean by the dancing of a spectral couple enjoying the fiddling of some long dead musician?
All good questions, I suppose.
I visited the site a few days ago as the initial visit in a longer research project. I had hoped to delve into the legend, find out who this mysterious 'Fiddler' was, then dip into the more supernatural side of things. I did find a little information on my brief visit, and I did notice some discrepancies with the original story.
The headstone is a little more informative than I had heard. The full inscription reads
Joe Gillian
"The Fiddler"
Died 1934
Died 1934
There were, in fact, a few leaves on the grave. Oddly enough though, is that there is very little grass or moss growing on the grave, which consists of the small headstone and a large (maybe 10' in diameter) semicircular depression in the bank, even though the rest of the graveyard is very lush and green.
To add to the weirdness is the fact that the grave site is set about 20 yards or so from the rest of the cemetery. If I hadn't been looking for this specific grave, I probably would have missed it entirely.
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| To the right is the mossy green of the cemetery, to the left is the bare earth of The Fiddlers Grave |
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Beyond that, my research has been fruitless. I can't find any reference to the legend online, and almost nothing about the enigmatic Joe Gillian. So I'll put this here: Has anyone else heard this story? Does anyone know anything about Joe "The Fiddler" Gillian? If so, please drop me a note in the comments or via email.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
The Spirit Leaves
When I was a kid, my grandparents (like a lot of Southern grandparents) were full of great stories, including a few ghostly tales. This is a story from my grandmother.
When she was a young woman, she had an unusual experience after a family friend had passed away. As was customary, the casket and body were placed in the family's home so that friends and relatives could visit and pay their respects. The casket was on display in the back room of this small house, and most of the well-wishers had said their goodbyes and headed home for the night. My grandmother and her family lived only a few doors down, so they had stayed on to help clean dishes and put away chairs and the numerous pictures and mementos that had been hauled out as the various well-wishers had stopped by.
Late in the evening, with the still summer air hanging heavy in the house, my grandmother and the rest of the family found themselves sitting quietly in the living room. The silence was interrupted by a sharp creaking sound coming from the back room. They all realized that they were hearing the sound of the casket slowly opening. Everyone sat up, alert and scared and fascinated. They heard the creak of the wooden coffin as it opened and the dull pop as the lid closed again. Then there was the soft shuffle of footsteps on the worn wooden floor. And then last, the sharp metallic creak of the spring on the back screen door as it opened and then slammed shut. Silence followed, until the normal summer chorus of crickets and katydid's resumed in the darkness around the house.
They sat in stunned silence for several long minutes until a brave member of the family finally crept into the back room, followed closely by the rest of the family and friends. Nothing was obviously amiss so he slowly raised the lid of the rough oak box. The deceased was still there, still firmly deceased. They retreated to the living room and sat in the gloom of the late summer night until sunrise.
I think this is a great story, spooky and a little sweet in the picture that it paints of family and friends coming together and a less frightening view of the spirit world. The house is gone now, replaced with a parking lot for a builders supply store. But the good, solid darkness of a southern summer night is still around, and it's easy to imagine that the quiet is crowded with spirits if you try.
Friday, December 27, 2013
Boojum of the Balsams
There's an old legend here in western North Carolina that has been all but forgotten in the last few decades. The story of Boojum of the Balsams is sometimes cited as a peculiar Appalachian variant of the Bigfoot legend, but it's hard reduce this tale into something so simple. I've read several articles about the Boojum, both online and in print, and they all tell a very similar story, with only a few details changing between versions. I'll give you the condensed version of the Boojum story, and then we can discuss.
Boojum is described as tall, between 7 and 8 feet tall, and covered in shaggy dark brown or gray fur, except for his face, which is long and human-like. His eyes are almost always noted as being somehow sad. Most of the reports of Boojum, however, are based on his sounds and vocalizations. Lip smacking, grunting, and heavy breathing are all hallmarks of the Bigfoot of the Balsams. A particular noise, something of a cross between an owls hoot and the growl of a tiger is a frequent report.
Most of this sounds like a typical Bigfoot story; the physical attributes and noises are found in reports across the country. But where Boojum departs from the norm is in his actions and in the particulars of his story. He has an insatiable affinity for shiny jewels, rubies, sapphires and beryls found in the clear mountain streams of his home. He is said to hunt the hills in his search for these baubles, hiding them in caves scattered around the area. Beyond this, he has an affinity for human women, especially women who have slipped off to cool off in the mountain streams. Many less-than-fully-dressed young women have reporte hearing the sounds of breathing or a rustling in the leaves only to look up and see those sad eyes, framed in a dense mat of long hair, peering down from the underbrush.
It is said that one of these lasses, (named either Annie or Maggie, depending on the source) found herself drawn to that forlorn face. She followed Boojum into the forest, becoming his companion and eventually, his wife.
The end of this story revolves around another grand hotel here in the mountains, although this one is long gone: the old Eagles Nest Hotel. Built by S.C. Satterthwait of Waynesville, this high altitude hotel catered to wealthy patrons who could afford to escape the oppressive southern heat. Stories about strange occurrences started almost immediately. Well-to-do patrons of the hotel reported occasional sightings of Boojum and numerous unexplained sounds. Fearful of this strange beast, they demanded that Satterthwait put an end to the strange occurrences. I haven't found much in the way of historical documentation, but on April 22, 1918, the hotel burned to the ground. Some say that Satterthwait finally captured Boojum, and that a lonely, heartbroken Annie (or Maggie) burned down the huge building in retribution. The stories and sightings have continued, though only sporadically. Maybe the Balsam Mountains are home to some offspring of Boojum and his bride, still searching for gems in those cold and lonesome creeks.
It's hard to say much about this story. It's so completely tied to local legend that it's almost impossible to tease out what is true and what is purely imaginary. There are numerous mythological archetypes in here as well, and parts of the story seem to be designed to either teach a lesson (young women shouldn't be skinny dipping alone) or impart a moral lesson (true love is blind). Normally, I regard these sorts of stories with caution, simply because I can't prove or disprove anything. But the Boojum story resonates with me for a couple of reasons: I lived on Eagles Nest Mountain as a kid, and a relative of mine was said to have had a physical run-in with the elusive creature.
The story goes like this: A great uncle of mine was a driver for a livery company that existed in the days of the Eagles Nest Hotel. He would pick guests up at the old train depot just below Main Street, Waynesville and load them into his horse-drawn wagon for the trip to the top of the mountain. He reported several instances of feeling watched, of hearing strange noises in the forest or seeing shadowy shapes disappearing behind the brush. But on one night in particular, his experience became much more real. He was taking a load of passengers to the end, and the sun had begun to set as they made their approach to the hotel. Suddenly, his horses became skittish and refused to move another foot up the road. He urged them to move forward, as his passengers were tired and more than ready to check into their rooms for some rest. Almost instantly, the source of his horses fear became apparent as a tall, broad creature broke from the brush, crossing the road not more than 10 yards in front of him. As quickly as it appeared, it vanished into the dense forest on the other side of the road. After a couple of moments of coaxing, the horses began to walk towards the hotel, as if nothing had ever happened.
Unfortunately, this relative died long before I was born so I can't ask him for more details. This story was passed to me by my grandparents, like a lot of good stories are around here. I don't believe this story was ever written down, but I've told it as best I can remember. It mimics a more traditional Bigfoot story, but the location places it firmly in Boojum territory. I'll be looking at some more recent western North Carolina Bigfoot sightings in an upcoming article, so it'll be interesting to search for parallels with the Boojum legends of years past.
Monday, December 23, 2013
The Great Balsam Mountains
So far on the blog, I've written primarily about experiences and reports that are coming from within the confines of the actual town of Balsam, North Carolina. But the Balsam area is a much larger entity, covering several high mountain peaks and including parts of the Blue Ridge Parkway. This region is called the Great Balsam Mountains, and includes Cold Mountain, Black Balsam and Shining Rock. As I continue, I hope to expand the scope of this blog to include tales from these more far-flung areas. Beyond providing more area to cover, this expanded coverage also gives us a ton of additional history to look at, including some Cherokee legends. Included within the range of the Great Balsams are two incredible pieces of Native lore and history: Devil's Courthouse and Judaculla.
In Native tradition, Judaculla (or Tsul 'Kalu, more traditionally) was a slant-eyed giant known by the Cherokee as the lord of the hunt. His home was on the boundary of three western North Carolina counties in a high mountain bald. Judaculla rock, far below the bald in a river valley, is a huge soapstone boulder covered in undeciphered markings and pictographs. This piece of prehistoric art is said to be the result of the giant leaping from his high mountain home down into the valley. His huge, six-fingered hand print impressed in the stone is a visible reminder of his presence.
Judaculla rock can still be visited, although rain and wind have taken their toll upon the inscriptions. It's just a short drive past Western Carolina University off Caney Fork Road. Tanasee Bald, the legendary home of Judaculla, is a little harder to find. Some articles place it just down the parkway from Devil's Courthouse, while other reports seem to center on Richland Balsam, several miles further away. Judaculla rock is a fascinating artifact that helps make the legends of the past more solid and real.
Some researchers who have studied Judaculla and his significance to the Cherokee have noted the similarities between this mythological giant and stories of Bigfoot and Sasquatch. In fact, the very name Tsul 'Kalu, when used in its plural form, refers to a race of giants that the Natives believed lived far to the west. It's also interesting that Tsul 'Kalu and Bigfoot seem to share several physical similarities. There are more modern legends of Bigfoot-type sightings in the area; a famous case revolves around the Eagles Nest Hotel, now long since burned and forgotten. This creature was referred to as Boojum, but the story is remarkably similar to tales of Tsul 'Kalu. I'm working on some reseaarch into the Boojum story; I hope to have that up in the next few weeks, so more details on that are forthcoming.
So no real ghost story today, no tale of the paranormal. Just some history and legend that I find interesting, and maybe a reminder that this area, with it's high, dark and foggy mountains, has always been a place of mystery and mythology.
In Native tradition, Judaculla (or Tsul 'Kalu, more traditionally) was a slant-eyed giant known by the Cherokee as the lord of the hunt. His home was on the boundary of three western North Carolina counties in a high mountain bald. Judaculla rock, far below the bald in a river valley, is a huge soapstone boulder covered in undeciphered markings and pictographs. This piece of prehistoric art is said to be the result of the giant leaping from his high mountain home down into the valley. His huge, six-fingered hand print impressed in the stone is a visible reminder of his presence.
Judaculla rock can still be visited, although rain and wind have taken their toll upon the inscriptions. It's just a short drive past Western Carolina University off Caney Fork Road. Tanasee Bald, the legendary home of Judaculla, is a little harder to find. Some articles place it just down the parkway from Devil's Courthouse, while other reports seem to center on Richland Balsam, several miles further away. Judaculla rock is a fascinating artifact that helps make the legends of the past more solid and real.
Some researchers who have studied Judaculla and his significance to the Cherokee have noted the similarities between this mythological giant and stories of Bigfoot and Sasquatch. In fact, the very name Tsul 'Kalu, when used in its plural form, refers to a race of giants that the Natives believed lived far to the west. It's also interesting that Tsul 'Kalu and Bigfoot seem to share several physical similarities. There are more modern legends of Bigfoot-type sightings in the area; a famous case revolves around the Eagles Nest Hotel, now long since burned and forgotten. This creature was referred to as Boojum, but the story is remarkably similar to tales of Tsul 'Kalu. I'm working on some reseaarch into the Boojum story; I hope to have that up in the next few weeks, so more details on that are forthcoming.
So no real ghost story today, no tale of the paranormal. Just some history and legend that I find interesting, and maybe a reminder that this area, with it's high, dark and foggy mountains, has always been a place of mystery and mythology.
Friday, December 20, 2013
More tales from the Balsam Mountain Inn
In doing some research, I stumbled across another book that mentions the strange occurrences reported at the Balsam Mountain Inn. Ghostly Encounters: True Stories of America's Haunted Inns and Hotels was written by Frances Kermeen. Kermeen is the owner of Myrtle's Plantation in Louisiana, which is touted as one of America's most haunted locations. The full book is available on Amazon.
The brief chapter on the Inn includes a bit of the history of the structure and the surrounding town, and speaks briefly of the restoration of the Inn in the 1990's. Reports from guests of footsteps and jiggling doorknobs are cited. The most interesting aspect of the article is something I've never heard before. Back in the years when the Inn was a seasonal operation, the employees spoke of how they would spend hours buttoning up the building for the winter, tidying up, turning off lights and closing the windows and doors. They would leave the dark structure, say their goodbyes for the winter and then trek down the hill. Once at the bottom of the drive, they would be shocked to look back at the grand old hotel only to find all of the lights burning brightly. They would return, extinguish the lights, and leave again. By the time they had gotten to the bottom of the hill, the lights would be on again.
This is an interesting report, but little additional detail is given, so it's hard to investigate further. It's a fascinating tale, however, that points to a long history of the paranormal at the Inn.
The brief chapter on the Inn includes a bit of the history of the structure and the surrounding town, and speaks briefly of the restoration of the Inn in the 1990's. Reports from guests of footsteps and jiggling doorknobs are cited. The most interesting aspect of the article is something I've never heard before. Back in the years when the Inn was a seasonal operation, the employees spoke of how they would spend hours buttoning up the building for the winter, tidying up, turning off lights and closing the windows and doors. They would leave the dark structure, say their goodbyes for the winter and then trek down the hill. Once at the bottom of the drive, they would be shocked to look back at the grand old hotel only to find all of the lights burning brightly. They would return, extinguish the lights, and leave again. By the time they had gotten to the bottom of the hill, the lights would be on again.
This is an interesting report, but little additional detail is given, so it's hard to investigate further. It's a fascinating tale, however, that points to a long history of the paranormal at the Inn.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Update on the Claud Green Murder Research
I've been doing a little follow up research on the murder of Deputy Sheriff Claud Green in 1928. Some attribute the unexplained phenomenon at the Balsam Mountain Inn to this tragic occurrence. We know that Deputy Green was shot on the grounds of the old Balsam School (now the Balsam Community Center) during a community dinner. We know that a man named Ed Smathers was arrested and convicted of the murder, but only spent a short amount of time incarcerated before being released. Several questions remained unanswered for me, most notably: What connection would this murder have to the experiences at the Inn? Was Green taken to the Inn before he expired?
I began my investigation by searching for newspaper reports from the time period. My first attempts were stymied by bad luck. The archive of newspapers in Haywood County for the years of 1927 to 1931, including the crucial year of 1928, were lost in a fire that destroyed the old Haywood County library. Other archives of local papers were either missing or damaged beyond use.
I made my way to the Jackson County library and hit the jackpot. The September 6, 1928 edition of the Jackson County Herald opens with the headline "SLAYERS OF GREEN STILL AT LARGE." The article goes in to significantly more detail about the events of August 31, and creates even more mystery. I'll attempt to condense and clarify this information as much as I can. I think the easiest way to do this is probably a simple timeline. I'll put my notes and comments in italics.
Friday, 31 August 1928: During a box dinner and play at the old Balsam School, Sheriff's Deputy Claud Green is shot seven times with two different guns. Only one eyewitness is noted in the reports, a 14 year old student from the school. His name is never mentioned again. The Jackson County Herald reports two shooters.
Thursday, 6 September 1928: Alney Mehaffey is arrested for the murder of Green. Mehaffey is a 24 year old escaped convict.
Tuesday, 11 September 1928: Ed Smathers is arrested for the murder of Green. Smathers is a 35 year old escaped convict1. He is asleep in a friends home when deputies Strike him in the head, knocking him to the ground2. He is taken to a local doctor for medical care before being imprisoned.
16 October 1928: The trial of Edward Smathers begins. He stands accused of first degree murder. Smathers' defense team argues that his trial should be delayed until his accused accomplice, Alney Mehaffey is indicted. The prosecutors acknowledge that the case against Mehaffey is so weak that he will probably never be indicted unless new facts are brought up in the trial of Smathers3. The defense then argues that a fair trial in Jackson County is nearly impossible. To alleviate this concern, the judge orders that the jurors should be pulled from the eastern part of Haywood County4.
18 October 1928: A witness in the trial testifies that she heard Smathers confess to his wife his role in the death of Claud Smathers, and further implicates Alney Mehaffey in the death. She quotes Smathers as saying, "I shot Claud Green, but I had to do it." The character of the witness is called into question, and it is noted in court that she has repeatedly denied that Smathers ever made the admission that she is testifying to5.
Smathers has a comprehensive alibi; several people testify on his behalf as to his whereabouts on the night of the murder. School children that were present on the night of the shooting claim that they believe that Smathers was at the scene, but none of them will testify that it was definitely him.
25 October 1928: Smathers is convicted of second degree murder and sentenced to 20-25 years in prison. The jury is concerned that there are no eyewitnesses and that the case is entirely cicumstantial.
Beyond this date, I don't have a lot of solid information. There are two interesting tidbits, however. It is known that Smathers only served a short portion of his sentence before being released and moving west. This seems strange, considering that he had been convicted of murdering a police officer, and that he was an escaped convict when he was apprehended. This doesn't seem like the type of prisoner who gets an early release.
Secondly, there is a story within the Smathers family that seems to hint at a cover-up. According to the tale, Smathers sent a letter from the prison to his cousin George that said, "If you don't get me out of here, I'm coming with the truth." Was Smathers taking the fall for someone? According to this story, most locals understood that it was in fact George Smathers, and not Ed, who had murdered Deputy Green.
So what does this have to do with ghosts? If some theories are to be believed, a spirit may become stuck if there is some great unsettled tragedy or a wrong to be righted. Does Deputy Green still hang around because he feels that Smathers got off too easy, or is he still looking for the real killer?
I began my investigation by searching for newspaper reports from the time period. My first attempts were stymied by bad luck. The archive of newspapers in Haywood County for the years of 1927 to 1931, including the crucial year of 1928, were lost in a fire that destroyed the old Haywood County library. Other archives of local papers were either missing or damaged beyond use.
I made my way to the Jackson County library and hit the jackpot. The September 6, 1928 edition of the Jackson County Herald opens with the headline "SLAYERS OF GREEN STILL AT LARGE." The article goes in to significantly more detail about the events of August 31, and creates even more mystery. I'll attempt to condense and clarify this information as much as I can. I think the easiest way to do this is probably a simple timeline. I'll put my notes and comments in italics.
Friday, 31 August 1928: During a box dinner and play at the old Balsam School, Sheriff's Deputy Claud Green is shot seven times with two different guns. Only one eyewitness is noted in the reports, a 14 year old student from the school. His name is never mentioned again. The Jackson County Herald reports two shooters.
Thursday, 6 September 1928: Alney Mehaffey is arrested for the murder of Green. Mehaffey is a 24 year old escaped convict.
Tuesday, 11 September 1928: Ed Smathers is arrested for the murder of Green. Smathers is a 35 year old escaped convict1. He is asleep in a friends home when deputies Strike him in the head, knocking him to the ground2. He is taken to a local doctor for medical care before being imprisoned.
1Smathers was convicted in 1926 for manslaughter after claiming self-defense. He is sentenced to 5-7 years, but escapes after just six months.
2It is almost definite from reading the reports that a relative of Smathers turned him in for the reward. He is lured to a friends home with the pretext of meeting this relative and procuring some liquor. It is here that he is arrested after nodding off at the kitchen table.
16 October 1928: The trial of Edward Smathers begins. He stands accused of first degree murder. Smathers' defense team argues that his trial should be delayed until his accused accomplice, Alney Mehaffey is indicted. The prosecutors acknowledge that the case against Mehaffey is so weak that he will probably never be indicted unless new facts are brought up in the trial of Smathers3. The defense then argues that a fair trial in Jackson County is nearly impossible. To alleviate this concern, the judge orders that the jurors should be pulled from the eastern part of Haywood County4.
3I have yet to find any further mention of Mehaffey, either in the papers or online, other than a census record from 1940 and a few pages about his burial. If this is the same Mehaffey, he passed away in 1985.
4This is a distance of only 30 miles or so; the idea that the people in this area wouldn't have heard of the murder of a policeman seems ludicrous.
18 October 1928: A witness in the trial testifies that she heard Smathers confess to his wife his role in the death of Claud Smathers, and further implicates Alney Mehaffey in the death. She quotes Smathers as saying, "I shot Claud Green, but I had to do it." The character of the witness is called into question, and it is noted in court that she has repeatedly denied that Smathers ever made the admission that she is testifying to5.
Smathers has a comprehensive alibi; several people testify on his behalf as to his whereabouts on the night of the murder. School children that were present on the night of the shooting claim that they believe that Smathers was at the scene, but none of them will testify that it was definitely him.
5The story gets murky here. To paraphrase, the witness testifies that she overhears Smathers admitting to the murder to his wife. Smathers goes on to explain what happened, and that Deputy Green had attempted to search a man on the Balsam School grounds. She never names this man. A scuffle ensues, and another man fires at Deputy Green. At this point, the man involved in the scuffle opens fire as well. She ends her testimony by saying that she also overheard Smathers telling his wife that he didn't kill Green and that she should believe him no matter what she hears. This testimony is all over the place, and makes little sense. This could be chalked up to poor reporting by the newspaper, or it could simply be an untrustworthy witness. It's important to note, however, that this is one of the only witnesses that is mentioned by the paper.
25 October 1928: Smathers is convicted of second degree murder and sentenced to 20-25 years in prison. The jury is concerned that there are no eyewitnesses and that the case is entirely cicumstantial.
Beyond this date, I don't have a lot of solid information. There are two interesting tidbits, however. It is known that Smathers only served a short portion of his sentence before being released and moving west. This seems strange, considering that he had been convicted of murdering a police officer, and that he was an escaped convict when he was apprehended. This doesn't seem like the type of prisoner who gets an early release.
Secondly, there is a story within the Smathers family that seems to hint at a cover-up. According to the tale, Smathers sent a letter from the prison to his cousin George that said, "If you don't get me out of here, I'm coming with the truth." Was Smathers taking the fall for someone? According to this story, most locals understood that it was in fact George Smathers, and not Ed, who had murdered Deputy Green.
So what does this have to do with ghosts? If some theories are to be believed, a spirit may become stuck if there is some great unsettled tragedy or a wrong to be righted. Does Deputy Green still hang around because he feels that Smathers got off too easy, or is he still looking for the real killer?
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Balsam Images
These are the railroad tracks that bisect Balsam, and run directly in front of my old home. These tracks delivered upper class tourists to the Balsam Mountain Inn for years, now the tracks sit mostly idle.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Balsam Mountain Inn backstory
If you live in this area long enough and talk to the right people, you'll eventually hear stories about the supposed haunting at the Balsam Mountain Inn. Guests relate stories of footsteps, covers being pulled from their bed, mysterious shadows with no discernible source. Employees of the historic building also have tales of lights that are turned off by unseen hands, items thrown in empty rooms, even apparitions. I'll be examining some of these stories in detail in later posts, but I want to take a minute to discuss the history of the Inn, and the potential source of the haunting.
The Balsam Mountain Inn was opened in 1908 and served the well-to-do tourists who came to the area in search of cool summer days, clean air, and quiet. Built by Joseph Kenney and Walter Christy of Athens, Georgia, the Inn was a grand destination in the heart of the Smokey Mountains. But when the passenger train service to the area ended in the late 1940's, the Inn began a slow decline into disrepair. By the end of the 80's, the Inn was only open seasonally, and served very few guests. A restoration by a passionate innkeeper began in the 90's, and the Inn is again a vibrant destination in western North Carolina.1
So with this long history, there are obviously stories to be told. But is there a source for the allegations of a haunting, some trauma or horror hidden beneath the fresh paint and well-varnished floors? Most stories elude to a shooting on the property, with only a vague idea of the time frame in which this murder may have occurred. In general though, the tale goes like this:
Sometime in years past, the community of Balsam was holding a picnic, celebrating the warm, long days of summer. One of the local deputies was in attendance, enjoying the hospitality and friendship of this small mountain community, when he was shot by some long-forgotten villain. The deputy was carried inside, but died in one of the rooms before medical assistance could arrive. His spirit, tied forever to this place, is now one of several ghosts seen on the property.
So is there any truth to this? Surprisingly, there is. On Friday, August 31 (or Saturday, September 1, depending on the source) of 1928, Deputy Sheriff Claud Green of the Jackson County Sheriffs Office, was shot and killed during a box supper at the Balsam School, which lies at the foot of the hill below the Inn and is now used as the Balsam Community Center. His attacker, a man named Ed Smathers, used two separate weapons to shoot the deputy, and was later convicted of Second Degree Murder. He served only a short sentence before being released and moving west.2,3 However, the family of Ed Smathers has their own version of events, one in which Ed was not the true killer, and that a cousin of Ed's had actually pulled the trigger that ended Green's life.4
I can't find much else about the death of Deputy Green. Did he, as the legend insists, make his way to the Inn before passing? It's unclear. I've begun some research into this, but it's hard to find historical accounts from the time period. Green is buried in the Parris Cemetery in Dillsboro, NC5, but does his spirit still roam the halls of the Balsam Mountain Inn? Did his traumatic death somehow stain the grand old hotel, causing countless unexplained encounters? Guests have spoken of a shadowy man in a hat lurking on the second floor porch. Are they seeing Deputy Sheriff Green searching for peace? Is he still trying to find justice, more than 80 years after his death?
Sources and Notes:
1: A Brief History of the Balsam Mountain Inn
2: Jackson County Fallen Officers
3: Officer Down Memorial Page
4: Smathers Family Legend
5: Claud Green's cemetery record
Note: Deputy Green's first name is spelled either Claude or Claud depending on the source. I've chosen the less common spelling of Claud because that is what is on his tombstone.
 |
| Photo by W. Hill |
The Balsam Mountain Inn was opened in 1908 and served the well-to-do tourists who came to the area in search of cool summer days, clean air, and quiet. Built by Joseph Kenney and Walter Christy of Athens, Georgia, the Inn was a grand destination in the heart of the Smokey Mountains. But when the passenger train service to the area ended in the late 1940's, the Inn began a slow decline into disrepair. By the end of the 80's, the Inn was only open seasonally, and served very few guests. A restoration by a passionate innkeeper began in the 90's, and the Inn is again a vibrant destination in western North Carolina.1
So with this long history, there are obviously stories to be told. But is there a source for the allegations of a haunting, some trauma or horror hidden beneath the fresh paint and well-varnished floors? Most stories elude to a shooting on the property, with only a vague idea of the time frame in which this murder may have occurred. In general though, the tale goes like this:
Sometime in years past, the community of Balsam was holding a picnic, celebrating the warm, long days of summer. One of the local deputies was in attendance, enjoying the hospitality and friendship of this small mountain community, when he was shot by some long-forgotten villain. The deputy was carried inside, but died in one of the rooms before medical assistance could arrive. His spirit, tied forever to this place, is now one of several ghosts seen on the property.
So is there any truth to this? Surprisingly, there is. On Friday, August 31 (or Saturday, September 1, depending on the source) of 1928, Deputy Sheriff Claud Green of the Jackson County Sheriffs Office, was shot and killed during a box supper at the Balsam School, which lies at the foot of the hill below the Inn and is now used as the Balsam Community Center. His attacker, a man named Ed Smathers, used two separate weapons to shoot the deputy, and was later convicted of Second Degree Murder. He served only a short sentence before being released and moving west.2,3 However, the family of Ed Smathers has their own version of events, one in which Ed was not the true killer, and that a cousin of Ed's had actually pulled the trigger that ended Green's life.4
 | ||
| Deputy Sheriff Claud Green |
I can't find much else about the death of Deputy Green. Did he, as the legend insists, make his way to the Inn before passing? It's unclear. I've begun some research into this, but it's hard to find historical accounts from the time period. Green is buried in the Parris Cemetery in Dillsboro, NC5, but does his spirit still roam the halls of the Balsam Mountain Inn? Did his traumatic death somehow stain the grand old hotel, causing countless unexplained encounters? Guests have spoken of a shadowy man in a hat lurking on the second floor porch. Are they seeing Deputy Sheriff Green searching for peace? Is he still trying to find justice, more than 80 years after his death?
Sources and Notes:
1: A Brief History of the Balsam Mountain Inn
2: Jackson County Fallen Officers
3: Officer Down Memorial Page
4: Smathers Family Legend
5: Claud Green's cemetery record
Note: Deputy Green's first name is spelled either Claude or Claud depending on the source. I've chosen the less common spelling of Claud because that is what is on his tombstone.
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