Schuylkill Avenue
Pottsville
Over the years, I have given many presentations on hauntings in the Anthracite Coal Region. Audience ages have ranged from the very young to the more advanced. One of my favorite parts has always been after the presentations concluded. That is when I have an opportunity to speak with the attendees. These conversations have resulted in some of the most interesting and eye-opening stories I have heard of. I would like to share some of these haunted tales with you.
About five years ago, I had just finished a haunted presentation. I was conversing with some people when a woman of advanced age and kind eyes approached. She mentioned she enjoyed the stories, which I promptly thanked her for the kind words. Then a sly smile appeared upon her face. “I have a ghost story my family experienced, if you would like to hear it.” Immediately I answered I would love to. Over the next ten minutes, the kind woman told me one of my favorite tales of all-time.
The Anthracite Region has a decorated history besides just hard coal coming out of the ground. One of which is a profound military service record. There are many individuals in the area that have studied and become experts on the vast stories of individual military service. One timeframe many people have become well-versed in is the Anthracite Region’s impact on the US Civil War. From Nicholas Biddle to Henry Pleasants to James Nagle, the stories are plentiful and incredibly interesting.
When the smiling woman asked me if I would like to hear her tale, I gave her my undivided attention. She said she had a grandmother who at one time lived on an “upper block” of Schuylkill Avenue in Pottsville. She lived alone for a long period because of the untimely death of her husband. The kind woman said she would stay at her grandmother’s home to keep her company from time to time while growing up in the county seat.
Her grandmother’s home was described as warm and comfortable. It never took on a menacing feeling during all her time spent there.Her grandmother’s preferred location to spend much of her time was a small sitting room on the first floor. The two would sit, talk, laugh, read, and sometimes even play games. Oddly, though, on several memorable occasions, the social time would abruptly end.
Without warning, the woman’s normally jovial grandmother would become quiet. It felt as though tension suddenly filled the air. The woman’s grandmother would then usher the young girl upstairs to bed with an odd feeling of urgency. The two would go to her grandmother’s bedroom, kneel alongside the bed to say their nightly prayers, and hold the covers tightly after extinguishing the lights.
This rushed conclusion to the night happened intermittently several times over the years. Each time the young girl questioned why the night ended so abruptly, however, her grandmother never gave a full explanation. She would just be told, “It was time for bed.”
As time ticked forward and years passed, the young girl spent fewer nights at her grandmother’s to the point she would rarely even see her. As the young girl grew into her early twenties, she decided to spend time with her aging grandmother. The two sat in the same sitting room, catching up for a time. After much conversation and laughs, a lull in the conversation occurred. The location they sat in no doubt rekindled memories of the nights spent within the home. It also sparked the woman’s memories of rushing to bed. The girl broke the silence and asked her grandmother why they would rush off on those few occasions.
The grandmother raised her eyes, looked at her granddaughter and calmly said, “I had the feeling.”
“What feeling?”
“The feeling he was near.”
“Who was near?” inquired the girl.
“The soldier.”
The grandmother then recounted her experiences to her bewildered granddaughter.
She had been in the house for a time when she would feel as though someone had entered the room with her. Looking over her shoulder, sure enough, there was no one there.
These feelings persisted, especially while within the sitting room. One night, the woman sat in her home enjoying the evening. Time moved forward and the sitting room took on a colder feel as a chill went down her spine. The woman sensed as though someone was in her home. Her eyes darted around the room and then towards the hallway off of the room she occupied. The hallway was dimly lit by a small lamp on an end table. Just then, a shadow seemed to be cast from the lamplight and a figure of a young man walked briskly past the opening down the hallway.
Frozen, the woman sat stunned. There was someone in the house with her. Born of a brave and sturdy stock, the woman made up her mind to investigate.
Slowly and as quietly as possible, the woman rose from her seat and walked towards the hallway. She peered out into the dimly lit house. There, standing still at the base of the stairs, was a young, semi-translucent uniformed man. His pants and coat appeared to be a weathered blue from a distant time. Bronze buttons shone in the dim light. A pained expression painted his weathered face. His dark, tired eyes fixed on the home’s resident. Although the unearthly visitor did not utter a word, his message was clear - follow me.
The weary soldier ascended the stairs at a slow pace, almost as though he waited for the elderly homeowner to follow. When the young soldier had made his way up the stairs out of sight, only then did the bewildered woman move. She walked to the base of the stairs and peered up. Standing there was the soldier, staring down, waiting for her before continuing.
The otherworldly visitor turned and made his way down the upstairs hallway. At a slow and steady pace, he walked into the darkness. The frightened but intrigued woman gripped the handrail and made her way up the staircase, keeping stride with her otherworldly visitor.
Once at the top, she peered down the hallway. Staring back at her with his body turned was the soldier. Their eyes locked. He began forward again, ascending the attic steps, walking directly through the closed door.The woman hurried forward and opened the door to see the soldier traveling across the attic landing. She rushed up the several steps just in time to catch the soldier spirit walk directly towards the far wall and disappear seemingly into thin air.
There, near the base of the wall, was a small door affectionately known as a cubby door.The woman moved forward, looking for where the visitor had gone. He had simply vanished. She walked to the small door, kneeled down, and opened the latch.
A rush of cold air expelled from the opening. The woman, cold to the bone, composed herself and looked into the blackness within the small storage area. She saw nothing. Taking her left hand, the homeowner felt around the floor within and, after a few seconds, took hold of a small wooden box off to the left in a crevice.She picked up the box and examined it. It appeared to be old and dusty. She unlatched the box and opened it. Within were a few torn, folded rags stained brown. They appeared to be bloodstains from a far off time of the past. Looking down into the box, she also noticed a withered slip of paper. Carefully, the home owner took the paper and unfolded it. Written with a steady hand long ago was the name and information of a Union soldier who had fought during the Civil War.
I was told the elderly woman witnessed the spirit of the Union soldier within the home on several occasions afterwards. The homeowner also had “the feeling” when the spirit was nearby. However, it was emphasized the grandmother was never frightened of the spirit. She was startled when witnessing the young deceased soldier from another time, but never felt threatened.
It is impossible to say if the soldier haunted the home itself or attached himself to the bloodied rags from a time in the far-off past. Sadly, the grandmother passed away within a few years of divulging the experiences to her granddaughter.
One thing is certain, the grandmother attempted to shield her granddaughter from witnessing the soldier. She did not want the young girl to become frightened within her home, which both felt comfort within. This explains why when the elderly homeowner would feel the willies when the soldier was present, she then knew it was time to make her way and her granddaughter’s way to bed.What happened to the container with the rags is anyone’s speculation. We can say the same regarding the spirit which traversed through the home. He may have accompanied the container of blood-stained rags, still uses the house as a temporary stop n the afterlife, or may have ultimately passed over for all eternity to the other side.
However, at least for a period of time, the weary, war-torn, young soldier has been witnessed walking within the small Schuylkill Avenue home making.his sacrifice known.
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