Ghosts of the SouthCoast (12 page)

Another story that comes from the village is that of the Assonet Inn, and how it was a preferred rest stop for weary travelers during colonial times. In order to have a warm bed for the evening and to avoid possible harassment from area Indians, travelers would be more than happy to pay to spend the night at the inn along the shores of the Assonet River.

They'd check in—but they wouldn't check out.

Supposedly, some sinister people in the area—perhaps Indians, perhaps not—would rob these travelers, kill them and throw their bodies in the river. Thus, their spirits are said to linger around the river and attempt to warn others who try to stay at the inn.

It is another interesting tale, but one where the true history gets in the way of the good story. Actually, the Assonet Inn wasn't built until 1896, as a private residence for local Civil War hero major John Deane. It became an inn in 1940.

The Assonet Inn may bear the ghostly legends of a former Assonet tavern, the Green Dragon.

However, the Green Dragon Tavern did exist on the other side of the river from 1773 until the 1930s, when it was destroyed and replaced with the band shell that is still there today. Is it possible that this is a true story that was just transposed, over time, from one establishment to another?

One thing I am certain of—if you choose to dine or lodge at the Assonet Inn—you'll make it through your visit unscathed. And try the boneless fried chicken; it's to die for (pun intended).

In early 1652, thirty-six settlers in the Massachusetts Bay Colony—including John Cooke, a passenger on the
Mayflower
in 1620—purchased what would become known as Dartmouth from the Wampanoags. Massasoit and his eldest son, Wamsutta, sold the lands to the English for the sum of “thirty yards of cloth, eight moose skins, fifteen axes, fifteen hoes, fifteen pairs of breeches, eight blankets, two kettles, one clock, two English pounds in Wampum, eight pair of shoes, one iron pot and ten shillings.”

Not a bad price to pay for some of the most picturesque lands in the SouthCoast region, but, again, it was laughable to the Indians that anyone could actually own land.

About six months after the purchase, the Society of Friends (also known as the Quakers) left Plymouth to escape the strict religious views of the Puritans and worship as they saw fit. In November 1652, they settled Dartmouth, which was comprised of lands that were formerly known as Acushnea, Ponagansett and Coaksett.

In 1671, Richard Sisson and his family moved out to the Coaksett section of the settlement, also known as Acoaxet, in the area that would eventually secede from Dartmouth in 1787 and become Westport.

In modern times, each town is now known as a residential community, despite the bustling economic centers that have sprung along Route 6, which bisects each town as it heads west into Fall River. Both towns also feature sprawling farmland and gorgeous waterfronts as well.

We learned of Hetty Green, the Witch of Wall Street and the World's Greatest Miser, when discussing the Millicent Library in Fairhaven. But Green had a more direct connection with Dartmouth, because when she died in 1916, her son Edward Howland Robinson Green inherited half of her $200 million fortune and freely spent her money, much to the benefit of the town and of science.

Green purchased Round Hill and erected a mansion that still stands today. Known as Colonel Green's Mansion—even though “Ned” Green had no military rank—it is now used as high-end condominiums in a private, gated community. But during Ned Green's time there, he allowed the Massachusetts Institute of Technology to conduct experiments such as atom-smashing at his mansion, and he also built his own radio station, WMAF, on the property and allowed MIT the use of his radio transmitters. MIT used the equipment to track polar expeditions and transatlantic zeppelin flights, while Green spent his time amassing one of the greatest stamp and coin collections of anyone at the time.

Ned Green also purchased the
Charles W. Morgan
and had it put on display at Round Hill, a nod to his family's roots in whaling. In 1933, he allowed physicist Robert J. Van de Graaff to conduct his electrical experiments at Round Hill, building the forty-foot-tall Van de Graaff generator that is still on display at the Museum of Science in Boston.

Green died in 1936, and, in 1948, his family donated Round Hill to MIT for continued experimentation and defense use. MIT eventually sold it off but not before constructing a giant radio telescope that would become known as the martini glass until it was demolished in 2007 to make room for new construction.

Considering the great deal of electrical equipment and experimentation at Round Hill, it's no surprise that visitors to its shores often reported seeing ghostly ships sailing through Buzzards Bay, apparently feeding off the energy generated from Colonel Green's mansion. What's more, ufologists recognize it as one of the East Coast's UFO hot spots. Since the erection of the radio telescope, there have been frequent reports of strange lights and mysterious objects in the sky. No doubt “Colonel” Green would have taken great delight in that knowledge.

In 1894, the Union Street Railway Company was operating a line from New Bedford to Providence, Rhode Island. Disappointed with lagging sales on the weekends, the company purchased some lands around an old dance hall near the Dartmouth–Westport line and invested about $150,000 to build an amusement park that would be a destination point for city residents that was right along the Union Street line.

For nearly one hundred years, Lincoln Park was exactly what the company had hoped it would be, bringing families from miles around to enjoy its splendor. In 1946, the park added the Comet, a three-thousand-foot-long wooden roller coaster that featured top speeds of fifty-five miles per hour.

Baby boomers flocked to Lincoln Park in the summers of the 1950s, '60s and '70s, but by the mid-'80s, the park's attendance figures were in serious decline. Smaller, independently owned amusement parks like Lincoln Park or Rocky Point Park in nearby Warwick, Rhode Island, were often overlooked by vacationers, who instead chose to make longer trips to larger theme parks outside of New England.

All that remains of Lincoln Park in Dartmouth is the skeleton of the Comet.

Safety issues began to plague the nearly century-old park as well. According to the website
RideAccidents.com
, a twenty-seven-year-old park employee was killed when he fell from atop the Comet on August 17, 1986. A year later on September 29, 1987, the Comet again was in the news when the brakes failed and one of the cars jackknifed on the track. The roller coaster never ran again, left in that position as the park closed permanently in December of that year.

Park owner Jay Hoffman sold off many of the rides and attractions to pay off debts, and what little remained of the park burned to the ground in subsequent fires around the now abandoned property. It soon became a haven for thrill-seeking teenagers and drug addicts, until they found out that even though the rides are gone, the ghosts remain.

The spirit of the park employee who fell from the Comet was often seen walking the tracks, making his usual daily inspection round. As the story goes, each time he got to the top of the steepest hill, he'd disappear—perhaps a residual haunt replaying to the point of the worker's fatal fall.

The sign says No Trespassing, and so do the ghosts.

Other reports include the faint sounds of carousel music and the smell of Lincoln Park's famous clam cakes wafting through the air. These are common reports from abandoned amusement parks, and considering the high amount of energy exerted in these places—screaming, laughing, running children and strong feelings of joy, exuberance and adrenaline—it's no surprise that an imprint of that energy could remain behind.

While it's important to again note that no area should be investigated without permission, this is especially true of Lincoln Park. As tempting as it may be to hop the fence and climb what remains of the Comet, the wood has completely rotted through and it's only a matter of time until the rest of the ride crumbles to the ground. In addition, the land has been purchased for development into condominiums and a shopping center, and the neighbors keep a vigilant watch for trespassers.

Colleges and universities are breeding grounds for urban legends. For some, such as Bridgewater State College or Stonehill College that are located within the Bridgewater Triangle, those legends are the product of actual paranormal activity. In the case of University of Massachusetts–Dartmouth (UMD), however, it's mostly just a good story.

Ask any student (and some of the faculty) at UMD, and they'll tell you about how the campus was designed by a man who was possessed by the devil; that he created it as an unholy temple to worship Satan; and who eventually was driven to leap off the campanile that stands in the center of the campus. Some legends even claim that he did it on June 6 sometime between the hours of 9:00 p.m. and 12:00 a.m., and, from that point on, whenever the calendar reaches the sixth of any month, his glowing spirit can be seen atop the tower between 9:00 and midnight.

The odd details of the campus design certainly don't help dispel this rumor, either. The infamous 666 benches are often the first thing incoming freshmen want to see. Three walking paths that cross the campus converge in front of the liberal arts and auditorium buildings in rounded alcoves with benches inside them. From a ground-level perspective, the design doesn't make much sense, but take a look from one of the upper floors and clearly see that the three paths and rounded alcoves spell out 666, the number of the beast. There are also six steps in each of the three staircases outside of them.

The University of Massachusetts–Dartmouth, where some believe the campus was designed by a devil worshipper.

Other claims that have less validity are that the buildings are all in the shape of the number six (Google Earth easily dispels this notion); each staircase on the campus grounds contains either six or thirteen steps, with the six-stepped staircases always grouped in threes with each stair being six inches high; there are no clocks within the buildings so students won't realize when the clock has struck midnight; the campanile is a giant beacon broadcasting to demons around the world; the campanile is also supposed to represent a giant middle finger giving the salute to God; the buildings' roofs were made flat in order to accommodate flying cars in the future promised by Satan; and the concrete structures are designed to keep students feeling cold, anxious and desperate.