I shared a lot of “Weird Wednesdays” on my Absolute Michigan website, when Weird Michigan author Linda Godfrey would share a story of what’s weird in the Wolverine State. Linda passed several years ago but I like to share her stories when I can … sometimes not even on a Wednesday. For sure seek out the book in your favorite used book store or read Weird Michigan online through the Internet Archive.
Michigan’s Glowing Tombstones
One of the best known graveyards with unexplained night lights is Forest Hill Cemetery just east of Evart on Six Mile Road. People have reported seeing strangely glowing objects there since the late 1800s. The cemetery lies near a place where Italian railroad workers once camped. According to local legend, a father and son from that camp both drowned in the nearby Muskegon River. The father’s job had been to light kerosene lanterns at nightfall, and after his death other workers claimed they saw lanterns that appeared lit at a distance but darkened when approached. They whispered that the lights were carried by the ghost of the father searching for his dead son. As the cemetery grew nearby, however, eventually the tombstones took on the glow of the phantom lanterns.
The tombstones also worked – and still work — the same way as the lanterns. Half a dozen or so tombstones appear to glow from within when viewed from outside the cemetery, but fade when the viewer moves in for a closer look. Jim Crees, editor of the Evart Review, wrote in a July 1, 1988 article that local investigators spent three weeks studying everything from the angle of passing automobile headlights to possible reflections of city lights. Phosphorescent headstone materials were also ruled out. Crees declared the mystery unsolved.
Harrison Cemetery at Schoolcraft also boasts glowing headstones. Strangely, they behave just like the Evart stones and lose their illumination at a distance of about 500 feet. Is this a type of spirit manifestation or some little known effect of Michigan air, soil or landscape that is somehow transferred to the headstones? Whatever the cause, Michigan’s glowing tombstones provide a year-round memorial to the unknown.
I originally shared this super cool tilt-shift photo way back on October 29, 2010. When I came across it again last night while looking for a photo for another post, the synchronicity was too good to ignore!
Back in the day, I used to designate the last Wednesday of every month a a “Weird Wednesday” on my Absolute Michigan website, when Weird Michigan author Linda Godfrey would share a story of what’s weird in the Wolverine State. Linda passed several years ago but I like to share her stories when I can, and also to urge you to seek the book out in your favorite used book store or read Weird Michigan online through the Internet Archive. This one was first shared back in September of 2011 so apologies if details have changed!
The Fenton Hotel, a former inn-turned-gourmet restaurant in the small, mid-state town of Fenton in Genesee County, is an establishment that prides itself on hanging onto things from its historic past. All the original tin ceilings still adorn the dining room, and the foyer looks much as it did back in stagecoach days. The second story’s glory days still exists in its tile-floor ballroom, the communal men’s and women’s bathrooms and the dingy corner room once reserved for Emery, the place’s late, longtime custodian. But the old brick building retains something far beyond old chairs and ancient porcelain fixtures in its aging halls.
Many people say the Fenton Hotel still hosts Emery, himself, along with an entire cast of ghostly hangers-on. People can hear Emery walking around in his former upstairs digs, his footsteps reverberating in the tin ceiling. Sometimes he thumps on the walls after customers leave, as if to tell the staff to get a move on. But Emery was a gentleman, say staff members at the Fenton. That’s how they know it’s some other ghost that sometimes gropes the arms or buttocks of unsuspecting waitresses.
And there are other spooks, each specter with his or her unique “signature” activity. The restaurant hostess told Weird Michigan in hushed tones that the incidents are not a thing of the past, either. “Things are still going on,” she said ominously as she seated us at one of the green linen-covered tables. We ordered baked brie from the extensive menu and waited for the unseen hotel guests to arrive and float around us. Surrounded by intricate stained glass windows and well-preserved architecture, it was easy to envision patrons of yesteryear enjoying the evening alongside the contemporary crowd.
Built in 1856, the Fenton boasts its own official state historical marker, which explains that the interior is still much the same, although the exterior’s old front porch fell victim to a team of runaway horses in 1904. The side of the building that faces the parking lot is embellished with paintings of ghostly inhabitants from another time, which only adds to the feeling of having stepped back into another century.
The bar area on the other side of the foyer is probably the building’s hottest ghost spot. A bartender named Brittany told Weird Michigan that she was standing at her work station one evening when one of the wine glasses hanging by its stem from a slotted nook suddenly flew off its perch and sailed across the bar, crashing and breaking. She has also heard someone call her name when no one else was in the room, felt something brush her leg, and on several occasions, customers have told her they saw someone hugging her at a time when she could see or feel no one.
Besides the phantom cuddler, there is the recurring case of the mysterious man at table 32. Every now and then, a man seated there will order a shot of Jack Daniels on the rocks and the bartender will duly pour one, but upon attempting to serve it to the “customer,” finds nothing but thin air. Speculation is that one of the house ghosts wants a drink badly enough to show himself and order one, but ultimately lacks the cash to pay for it and the throat to gulp it down.
The dining room is active, too. Two waitresses have spotted a disappearing black cat running across the floor. One staff person told us that last December, one of the ghosts decided to make merry by grabbing the posteriors of several waitresses, who invariably whirled around only to find no visible face to slap. December seems to be one of the restaurant’s most active months for hauntings, said one waitress. “It’s like they get excited with all the decorations and the parties,” she noted. She also said that staff have heard ghostly voices admonishing them that “no personal calls” are allowed, and that sometimes a man’s voice comes out of the bar speakers, either singing along with entertainers or making comments to customers.
Weird Michigan was able to take a guided tour of the closed upper level, which generally is not allowed since it is used for storage and many of the old rooms are no longer in good repair. We didn’t see anything unusual; even Emery’s small, cold room was quiet, although we couldn’t help but wonder if the old custodian was upset at our intrusion. But while standing in the darkened hallway, one of us heard a female voice whispering close by that we could not explain. Strangest of all was the fact that after we descended the stairs, we found a small glob of melted candle wax near the viewfinder on our digital camera. There was no candle on our dining room table, and we saw none on the second floor. The wax globule was not there earlier while we were shooting other pictures. Perhaps one of the old hotel guests was examining us at closer range than we realized, using the lighting methods available in 1856! Or maybe someone was trying to tell us not to look at the upper story inhabitants through that viewfinder.
The book Haunted Michigan by Gerald S. Hunter devotes an entire chapter to the multi-spirited Fenton Hotel, and includes tales of various apparitions seen by staff and customers, including the face of a bearded man outside a second story window, a tall man in a black top hat, and a strange figure who actually took payment from several customers.
One other strange incident happened as Weird Michigan enjoyed the bizarre ambience of the Fenton Hotel. A dining room guest said she was in the ladies’ room, sitting in the third stall, when she felt someone touch her hair and lift up a few strands. She thought that was odd, so we asked the waitress about it and her eyes grew wide.
“Back when the hotel was open,” she said, “the cheaper rooms on the third floor were rented by working girls in the town. Rumor is that one of them got pregnant by a hotel patron, and she hung herself in the hotel. Other people have seen her in that third stall.”
According to a hotel brochure, several seances have been performed on the premises, but the ghosts seem determined to stay. Perhaps for them, the Fenton Hotel is like the Eagles song hit song Hotel California where “you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”
Dean shared this photo in the Absolute Michigan group on Flickr way back in 2005 writing “This photo was taken on a cold night in Michigan. It was not snowing. It was a clear night and I was attempting to get a picture of the undisturbed snow. I can’t explain why the misty shapes are in the picture. Was the camera catching vapor from my breathing? Maybe its ghosts, I live in a 135 year old house in a village that claims ghosts reside in a tavern within a block of the house. Neighbors claim my house was known as a haunted house.”
Did Dean catch some of the Fenton Hotel’s ghosts out for a walkabout? Let us know what you think it the comments and if you’ve ever been to one of Michigan’s most famous haunted locations! See more in Dean’s House gallery on Flickr & stay spooky with more haunted photos & tales from Michigan in Pictures!
Back in the day, Linda Godfrey would regularly share stories with me from her classic book Weird Michigan and her other works. Linda has regrettably passed on and her Weird Michigan website is lost, but here’s a seasonally appropriate tale of shipwrecks & lost love from my archives…
In the mid-1800s, the Lake Huron port and lumber town of Forester was a far cry from the sleepy, near ghost town it is today. The remains of huge pilings just off the scanty beach now stand as crumbling reminders of the great pier that once bustled with Great Lakes ships and sailors.
One of those sailors unwittingly started the legend that would be Forester’s main claim to fame after the lumber ran out and the ships stopped coming.On shore leave one day, the unnamed young man took up with a local girl named Minnie Quay, whose folks, James and Mary Ann Quay, owned the town tavern.
The Quays forbid Minnie to see her beloved, but the order proved tragically unnecessary after his ship became one of many that succumbed to Great Lakes gales. Minnie made one more visit to the forbidden pier after learning that news, and on April 26, 1876, at the age of 16, she threw herself into the water in hope of joining him in the afterlife. She lies in a waterfront cemetery now, next to the bodies of her father, mother and brother.
Legend says that she still wanders the beaches, moaning for her lost sailor, and that some have seen her standing waist deep in the water, beckoning others to join her. The former Quay home and bar still stands, giving Minnie’s ghost even more reason to linger.
Here’s hoping that everyone has a wonderful & safe Halloween … maybe not Jason tho ;)
Chris is a very creative photographer who took this at the the Voorhees grave marker in Belleville Cemetery way back in 2009. See more of his excellently spooky work in his Halloween Horror gallery on Flickr.
10 years ago today, I shared this story from Legends of Le Détroit by Marie Caroline Watson Hamlin with illustrations by Miss Isabella Stewart. If I were you, I would click over to the book right now on the Internet Archive and read it there!
In the spring of 1712, the English sent a war party of Fox & Macoutin to try and take Fort Pontchartrain in Detroit from the French. Over 1000 were massacred by tribes loyal to the French near Windmill Point at the mouth of the Detroit River on Lake St. Clair, effectively destroying the Fox nation. We join the story…
Years after the dreadful massacre which converted the beautiful spot called Presque Isle into the grave of the Fox nation, a stone mill was built there by a French settler, who came to reside with his sister Josette, undaunted by the ourrent traditions which peopled it with the spirits of the departed warriors. Jean was a quiet, morose man, different from the laughing, careless, pleasure-loving Canadian, — for rare were his visits, to the fort, and it was noticed that he never lingered over his cidre, nor spoke to the smiling, piquante daughters of the habitants.
…Josette was much older than her brother, and by dint of thrift and economy had saved enough to become a half owner in the mill. … Naught disturbed the monotony of their lives ; each day was but a repetition. The river flowed calmly on, the birds sang their songs – for nature has no moods, they belong to man alone.
At last Josette fell sick. Jean attended her as carefully as he could, and like a prudent man, would frequently ask her to whom she would leave her interest in the mill. Irritable from suffering, she became annoyed at his importunities, accused him of taking care of her for the sake of obtaining her money, and told him ‘she would leave it to the devil.” Jean tried in his clumsy fashion, to soothe her. He sent for some of his kindred to reason with her, but they only infuriated her the more, and she solemnly declared that not one of them should have her share in the mill, but “she would sooner leave it to the devil.”
Josette recovered, however, and with that perversity born of stubbornness, would not relent. A few months afterwards she was found dead in her bed, having died suddenly. That same night, whilst the candles threw their dim shadowy light in the room of the dead, a furious storm arose, lashing the waves against the shore, the winds howling fiercely around the point, the black clouds chasing each other across the lowering skies, as lurid gleams of lightning and deafening reverberations of thunder, made all the habitants shudder while they crossed themselves and told their beads. All at once there came so tremendous a shock that it seemed to swallow the island. The old stone mill was rent in twain. A pungent smell of sulphur filled the air, and a fiendish, laugh was heard loud above the raging storm from the shattered ruins. The arch fiend had come to claim his share.
For years afterwards when a northeast storm blew from the lake, making night hideous by its echoing peals of thunder, it was said that a hairy figure, with a horned head and forked tail tipped with fire, his mouth and eyes darting forth ruddy flame, could be seen in the mill, trying to put together the ruined machinery to grind the devil’s grist. And the lonely wayfarer to Grosse Pointe would see the marshes around Presque Isle all illuminated by flames, called by the hab- itants feu-follet (Will-o’-the-Wisp), which would try to inveigle the unhappy traveler and bring him to help grind the devil’s grist.
Christopher took this photo of the Quincy Mine way up in Houghton being struck by lightning way back in 2014. Felt perfect to me! See more in his awesome Keweenaw Lightning gallery on Flickr.
If you are interested in learning more about Quincy Mine, Michigan in Pictures has you covered!
When I was looking through the many haunted tales on Michigan in Pictures the other day, I realized that one of the many things I enjoy about Halloween is how it draws you into history since so many of our spooky tales are rooted in the long ago. A number that I’ve shared are from our friends at Mysterious Michigan including the brief tale of Crying Mary of Oak Hill Cemetery:
Established in 1844 and over 160 years old, Oak Hill Cemetery in Battle Creek, Michigan has a lot of history. It’s the final resting place of famous people such as Sojourner Truth, C.W. Post, W.K. Kellogg, his brother John Harvey Kellogg, Bill Knapp, Ellen & James White, founders of the Seventh Day Adventist Church and others. Among the many famous people slumbering within the grounds of Oak Hill, another famous person exists above ground. While Crying Mary may not be a living, breathing person, she does happen to be a beautiful statue of a Greek goddess at the grave site of Johannes Decker and is well known by the residents of Battle Creek.
The legend of Crying Mary says that at the stroke of midnight every Sunday, the statue cries. People have claimed to have seen and felt her tears. Some say she only cries at night and never during the day.
Crying Mary of Oak Hill Cemetery
The photo makes it appear to be a natural effect of water on the greening bronze, but whatever the cause, I doubt she’s crying about the view – what a gorgeous little cemetery.
“Somewhere in the north woods darkness a creature walks upright, and the best advice you may ever get is don’t go out at night.” -Steve Cook in The Legend of the Michigan Dogman
The Pacific Northwest has its Sasquatch, West Virginia has their Mothman, Jersey has their Devil, and we in the Great Lakes State have our Dogman, a fearsome werewolf-like beastie that purportedly roams the wilds of Northern Michigan. Discovery UK shares some of the Legend of the Michigan Dogman:
The first of the alleged Dog Man sightings in Michigan was in 1887, during a boom in US lumber production known as the great logging era, which roughly ran from 1870 to 1890. During this time, Michigan was its biggest producer of white pine lumber. Perhaps it’s therefore of little surprise that the initial influx of stories emerged then, with so many workers living and working in the woodlands in the area. The first of these is said to have taken place in 1887 in Wexford County, when a group of lumberjacks stumbled upon a creature they described as having the body of a man and the head of a dog. Its piercing eyes were either blue or yellow and its howl a terrifying scream.
1917: Four horses found dead, all with their eyes wide open. It’s said the examining vet believed they appeared scared to death.
1937: A victim of an attack by a pack of wild dogs claimed one of them walked on two legs.
1957: A newspaper report stated that claw marks found on a church door could only have been made by a creature reaching a height of 7”4.
1997: A farmer was found deceased at his plough from a heart attack, surrounded by dog tracks.
Unknown year: An army veteran claimed he saw the Dog Man of Michigan in Manistee National Forest, describing “a wolf head the size of my window” as the animal kept up with his truck travelling at 25 miles per hour. He also recalled it having sharp white teeth, three-inch long fangs, human-like hands some 14 inches across, black pointed ears, and yellow eyes.
Overall, Michigan Dogman stories often share common themes: a sinister canine visage, towering stature, and an unnerving ability to walk upright. What’s more, they all seemingly occurred in years ending in the number seven. This latter point has become a part of the mythos, with enthusiasts suggesting a possible ten-year cycle in the creature’s appearances.
Otisourcat originally shared this photo way back in 2008. Head over to their Flickr for the latest including some awesome shots of a raccoon on a snowman.
Some other Dogman related content you might enjoy includes this post on Michigan filmmaker Rich Brauer’s latest Dogman movie (third in his trilogy), the comprehensive Michigan Dogman entry in Wikipedia that relates the dogman is said to have been stalking the area around the Manistee River since the days when the Odawa tribes lived there, and of course Steve Cook’s song that “started” (or restarted) it all. Enjoy the song, but know that although author Steve Cook loves to claim he started the legend, it has been around for generations.
White River Light in Whitehall was built in 1875. It is now home of a maritime museum, but as this 2012 article from Michigan History Magazine that I shared years ago relates, the light station seems to have a keeper who never retired:
When Karen McDonnell is alone she sometimes hears footsteps on the stairway of the former White River Light. But she isn’t afraid. She says, “I like the comfort it gives me. It’s like a watchman, just making sure everything is okay before it’s too late at night.”
McDonnell is the curator of an old lighthouse that has been turned into a museum. She takes care of the light and gives tours to visitors. Sometimes early in the morning or late at night she hears what sounds like somebody climbing the stairs and walking around on the upper level. She wonders if it might be the spirit of the light’s first keeper.
When the White River Light opened in the mid-1870s, William Robinson and his wife Sarah moved in. Over the years, the English couple raised their family at Whitehall. Sarah died at a young age, but William remained the lightkeeper for 47 years. When the government forced the 87-year-old keeper to retire in 1915, William’s grandson became the next lightkeeper at White River. William helped his grandson run the light, but the rules said that only the lightkeeper and his “immediate” family could live at the lighthouse. William would have to leave. But he refused, telling his grandson, “I am not going to leave this building.” He was right. The day before he had to move out, he died. His grandson buried him in a small nearby cemetery.
Besides Karen, others have heard the unexplained sounds when visiting White River. Karen once asked friends to care for the light while she was gone. She did not mention the unexplained visits. When she returned, her friends asked, “Do you have some kind of ghost walking around upstairs?” They described the same sounds Karen often heard. Although Karen has “never felt fear” when she hears the footsteps, she has never gone up stairs when she hears it. As she explains, “I feel it is a ritual and that I shouldn’t disturb it.”
The grave is said to be immediately to the left of the entrance; if you stand in the vicinity long enough, the stench of death will reach you. This smell is followed by the appearance of the gardener, whose ghost will appear coming over the hill towards you. Be alert, because his apparition only lasts for a few seconds before he decides to disappear.
The Gardener is not the only ghost that makes its presence known here. The disembodied sobbing of a woman can be heard; but when trying to pinpoint the exact location, she can never be found…but the sound of the sobbing will continue.Apparitions, shadow people, and dark figures are seen in the surrounding forests, and the ground has been known to rumble and shake from time to time.
