Mahanoy City - July 1890
Every small community seems to have a part of a road known as “Dead Man’s Curve.” These treacherous, legendary locations often have tales linked to them, even if there is no true history to back them up. Perhaps it is the dark, daunting environment that prompts individuals’ worst nightmares. Maybe the uneasiness of having to slow down to a snail’s pace on the never ending curves or meet your demise. Most likely it is because those traversing these paths never truly know what lies waiting just around the bend. Route 61 South from Frackville to St. Clair is home to a very well known “Dead Man’s Curve” within Schuylkill County. Sadly, there have been numerous accidents over the years on this winding location. The road way that will be showcased today may not be officially known with the deathly moniker, but it certainly meets all the criteria.
Situated between the small community of New Boston and Mahanoy City lies a road which has checks in all the menacing categories to classify it as a “Dead Man’s Curve”.
Haunting Darkness, a feeling of isolation, disorienting winding roads, and handed down tales of accidents are linked to this two mile stretch of road. As an additional creepy factor, a series of cemeteries lie next to the path travelers coerce. The road’s official title is Mahanoy City Road. However, it is affectionately known as “The Pottsy” to those living North of the Mountain. The nickname originated because of its usage as a shortcut towards Pottsville. If you have driven down the dips and turns, you know the location has all the makings for legends and ghostly narratives. In fact, this stretch already has several claims of unearthly entities witnessed over the years. Spirits said to walk and roam along the winding road have been witnessed for generations. Today, we focus on one apparition noted in the Miner’s Journal. It tells the tale of two businessmen and one borough resident who had experiences on this road that were not for the faint of heart.
On a sultry early July night in 1890, two men were finishing up business transactions in a small crop of mining houses known as New Boston. The early evening had grown into the late night as the men shared conversations and business talk. Realizing the clock was approaching midnight, the businessmen wished their thank you’s and bid a good night to their host.
Leaving the well-lit establishment, the men began their journey towards Mahanoy City. The distance was just shy of two miles. Certainly manageable on a warm summer night.
The men began venturing briskly towards their destination. Their path darkened until only a faint ray of moonlight illuminated the road. They walked the hills taking in the land’s serenity. The cohorts shared chit-chat and laughs as they made their way down the dark path.
For the most part, their journey was uneventful. Normal summer nighttime sounds surrounded them. Crickets serenaded them as a soft summer breeze made the tree leaves dance in rhythm. Just as the pleasant night soothed the men, the ambience rapidly changed.
The men’s demeanor shifted as they sensed malice in the air. It seemed the area that had been alive with nightly sounds only moments before had become silent and still.
The travelers followed the roadway to the left before straightening down the path again. Pausing for a moment, the men heard a faint sound coming from the depths of the surrounding forest. A wailing as if a person was in terrible turmoil.
The sound continued to intensify as it came closer. The tension grew as the two spoke about the sound. A feeling set in, as though they were being watched by someone in the darkness. The travelers quickened their steps. The men reached a point in their journey when a second path came into view to their right. This path led up towards a cemetery.
The yowl seemed to hit a crescendo as it closed in. And then, as quickly as the wailing began, it stopped. An uneasy silence encompassed the darkness. With no warning, a bright light abruptly shone out from the darkness and illuminated the dark forest around the travelers. The stunned men shielded their eyes.
One of the weary traveler’s mouth dropped, and his eyes grew wide. He thrust his right arm up, pointing towards the path leading to the local’s final resting place. His traveling companion set his eyes upon the point that was singled out. There, as though levitating, was an apparition standing clothed in a white flowing garment. Its arms held aloft. The apparition held no instrument that created the blinding ray. Instead, the source of the light originated from the center of the specter’s hand.
The men stared, frozen by fear, as the apparition stood silently. Their blood ran cold as they realized the ghost that stood in front of them appeared to have no head.
No more than 30 feet away stood a sight the travelers could not rationalize. The light gradually darkened as the specter slowly closed its hand. Silence and the blackness of night smothered the men once again.
The travelers ran for their lives, leaving the dissipating apparition in their wake. Through the darkness, the men ran as fast as their legs could carry them. The winded travelers followed the path towards Mahanoy City. The silence was jolted away from the men as a blood-curdling shriek could be heard from where the men had just seen the spirit. They were being pursued as the ear-splitting scream wailing closed in on them. The sound was rapidly coming upon travelers. Just when the men expected to meet their untimely demise, the ear-piercing shriek completely stopped.
The men cautiously looked behind them. There was nothing there but darkness. Turning their heads, the men continued on the road towards safety. Just as a feeling of security slowed the men’s heart, the realization of impending death ripped it away. Slowly manifesting just a short distance ahead of them was the headless apparition. Their path blocked by its fully illuminated presence. Panic ensued. Surely, the apparition intended for the men to meet their end. Overcome by the apex of the moment, one traveler could not control his anxiety and fainted on the road. His cohort, awaiting his final breath, fell to the ground, cowering. The conscious man covered his head and waited for his end.
Seconds seemed like an eternity. Nothing happened. The terrified man removed his arm from his head. He raised his eyes just in time to see the light of the apparition slowly dying out. The darkness again engulfed the men. Coaxing his companion to wake up, the traveler attempted to flee the scene. Slowly coming to, the traveler gathered up his associate. The men made their way into Mahanoy City as quickly as their weak legs would carry them.
The travelers entered the safety of the small borough. Regaining his wits, the traveler who had fainted asked what had just happened. His friend’s response was silence.
The men made their way to their lodging and attempted to settle their nerves for the night. There was no sleep to be had through the final hours until daybreak. Each time sleep began, one traveler would jump to his feet screaming about the approaching light or swear a wailing scream was approaching nearer and nearer.
The next morning, the men did not want to think about the experience that haunted them the previous night. However, as time passed, an urgency to tell their tale prompted them to open up. One entrusted borough man began a conversation with the two travelers. The travelers told of their experience as the local listened on. Upon the completion of their story, the listening man smirked slightly. He confided to them he too had a similar experience with the wailing apparition in the same location not too long before their experience. The borough resident claimed upon seeing the lighted specter; he ran and never stopped until he reached his own doorstep, threw open the door, and locked the evil outside. The scared man said, when the world becomes still, he could still hear the haunting wailing sound.
Over the next two weeks, one traveler could not shake the traumatizing experience he and his business companion had experienced. He needed to have his story told as self-validation and a warning to other weary travelers. Locating a Miner’s Journal reporter, he told of the ordeal. His only request; that he and the other two men who experienced the illuminated apparition remain anonymous. He did not want their personal and professional lives affected by their haunted experience. The reporter was a man of his word, as the traumatized men’s identities were lost to time.
The next time your journey takes you over the Pottsy be sure to keep your eyes peeled. You may experience one of several otherworldly entities said to call the twists and turns of this stretch of road home. And if the weather allows, roll down your window. You too may hear the blood-curdling wail that was experienced over 130 years.
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