Famous Ghosts by Hans Holzer

Author:Hans Holzer [Holzer, Hans]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-7971-7
Publisher: Running Press
Published: 2012-08-27T21:50:00+00:00

* 16

Benedict Arnold’s Friend

“I WAS COMPLETELY FASCINATED by your recent book,” read a letter by Gustav J. Kramer of Claverack, New York. Mr. Kramer, it developed, was one of the leading lights of the Chamber of Commerce in the town of Hudson and wrote a column for the Hudson Register-Star on the side. “During the past three years I have specialized in writing so-called ghost stories for my column,” he explained. “We have a number of haunted houses in this historic section of the Hudson Valley. President Martin Van Buren’s home is nearby and is honestly reputed to be the scene of some highly disturbing influences. Aaron Burr, the killer of Alexander Hamilton, hid out in a secret room of this estate and has reliably been reported to have been seen on numerous occasions wandering through the upper halls.”

This was in 1963, and I had not yet investigated the phenomena at Aaron Burr’s stables in lower Manhattan at the time. Perhaps what people saw in the house was an imprint of Burr’s thought forms.

From this initial letter developed a lively correspondence between us, and for nearly two years I promised to come to the Hudson Valley and do some investigating, provided that Mr. Kramer came up with something more substantial than hearsay.

It wasn’t until July 1965 that he came up with what he considered “the house.” He explained that it had a cold spot in it and that the owner, a Mrs. Dorothea Connacher, a teacher by profession, was a quiet and reserved lady who had actually had a visual experience in the attic of this very old house.

My brother-in-law’s untimely and unexpected death postponed our journey once again, so we—meaning Ethel Johnson Meyers, the medium, my wife Catherine, and I—weren’t ready to proceed to Columbia County, New York, until early February 1966. GHOST HUNTER VISITS HUDSON, Gus Kramer headlined in his column. He met us at the exit from the Taconic Parkway and took us to lunch before proceeding further.

It was early afternoon when we arrived at Mrs. Connacher’s house, which was situated a few minutes away on a dirt road, standing on a fair-sized piece of land and surrounded by tall, old trees. Because of its isolation, one had the feeling of being far out in the country, when in fact the thruway connecting New York with Albany passes a mere ten minutes away. The house is gleaming white, or nearly so, for the ravages of time have taken their toll. Mr. and Mrs. Connacher bought it twenty years prior to our visit, but after divorcing Mr. Connacher, she was unable to keep it up as it should have been, and gradually the interior especially fell into a state of disrepair. The outside still showed its noble past, those typically colonial manor house traits, such as the columned entrance, the Grecian influence in the construction of the roof, and the beautiful colonial shutters.

New York State in the dead of winter is a cold place indeed. As we rounded

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