We live in a scary time. An unstable economy, frequent natural disasters, the threat of terrorism. But do you know what’s even scarier than all that? Ghosts. Turns out Philadelphia has tons of them, in addition to a history of countless other paranormal incidents. So how is one supposed to navigate this terrifying city without dying at the hand of its supernatural underbelly? As always, knowing is half the battle, so allow us to take you on a creepy, crawly tour of Spookadelphia.
Illustrations by Lauren Robie
In the depths of the woods of Fairmount Park lies a thick slab of stone. At first, one is mesmerized by the giant Stonehenge wannabe, seemingly lost on this hillside above the Creek. But the slab is just the indicator that you have stumbled upon something eerie. Right next to the stone lies a bunker–like construct. This, friends, is the entrance to the Cave of Kelpius.
Johannes Kelpius, forever known as the Hermit of the Wissahickon, emigrated to newly–founded Philadelphia from Germany in 1694. He traveled far and wide with a trove of like–minded Pietists who formed a monastic cult and become known as the Hermits — or the Wizards — of the Wissahickon for their proclivity for meditation, celibacy and general occultishness. They settled into isolation to wait for the end of the world, for they all believed that the world would reach its end within the year.
Shockingly, the end of the world wasn’t nigh and we are still here today. Though Johannes allegedly possessed the legendary philosopher’s stone (or sorcerer’s stone to those of us who read the American editions of Harry Potter), he chose to forgo eternal life and threw the rock into the Wissahickon just before he suposedly died in 1708. After that year, his troupe of merry men disbanded and went on to form other occultist religious colonies along the banks of the Creek.
They say that the days of the Wissahickon as an isolated religious refuge are seemingly gone. But Johannes himself said he wouldn’t die but rather transform into another form of existence, and that cave is still pretty damn spooky, so who knows?
— Raya Jalabi
THE PHILADELPHIA EXPERIMENT
In July of 1943, the portion of the U.S. government entrusted with all the spookiest, most top–secret schemes ordered the first testing of an experiment menacingly titled “Project Rainbow.” In the throes of WWII and seriously fed up with all those pesky torpedo–happy German U–boats, the government was looking to acquire the ultimate military advantage: invisibility. Project Rainbow, known today as the Philadelphia Experiment, aimed to successfully teleport warships by following the logic of Einstein’s unified field theory, a dense, boring theory that none of the scientists even bothered to read.
On the day of the experiment, several electromagnetic fields were engaged aboard the test ship, the USS Eldridge, rendering the ship invisible inside its electromagnetic fog. Prime witness Carl Meredith Allen, until later only known by his genius pseudonym of Carlos Miguel Allende, reported seeing a thick greenish haze surround the Eldridge before it suddenly disappeared. According to legend, the ship reappeared at a Virginia shipyard 300 miles away before returning to Philadelphia for the return leg of the most useless journey ever. Everything seemed to have gone according to plan until witnesses realized that several of the crew members had become fused to the body of the ship. Two sailors were reportedly buried within the bulkhead while another two lay dead beneath the deck. Even spookier were the sailors who had simply vanished into thin air! The government hastily terminated the project, telling the families of all the victims that the men had been lost at sea.
— Laura Keen
THE WAYNE INN
Since its 1704 construction, the General Wayne Inn has been known as a hotel, a restaurant, a general store, a post office and most recently, a Chabad Center for Jewish life. But for over 17 known entities, it’s simply known as “home.” The inn, located in Merion Station, hit the geographical jackpot during the Revolutionary War, garnering business from both the Redcoats and the Yanks. As if that weren’t enough to establish a sizable ghostly population, the inn continued to experience high traffic throughout the next couple of centuries and in 1996 was the site of its owner’s murder at the hands of his business partner. A more jovial owner in 1972 conducted a friendly seance to try and get to know his ghostly cohabitants and met a slew of ill–tempered guests who complained about the wine and messed with the cash register. Dead or alive, the customer is always right and the travails of dealing with these long–term, non–paying divas might have been the cause of the inn’s eventual closing.
— Elizabeth Horkley
ST PETER'S EPISCOPAL CHURCH
The cemetery at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, located at 313 Pine St. in the heart of Old City, serves as the final resting place for many of the city’s most illustrious Revolutionary–era residents — war heroes, presidential portraitists, the first Southern plantation owner to cultivate indigo, the owner of a few historically significant bars in New York City and, oh… seven Native American chiefs who died of smallpox when they diplomatically visited Philly to meet with President George Washington in 1793. Oops?
Pretty much every famous figure interned in the cemetery is said to haunt it — just show up well past dusk or just before dawn and you’re guaranteed to encounter some kind of spooky something. Naval officer Stephen Decatur wanders around waxing on about nationalism and “intercourse with foreign nations.” Ghostly horse–drawn carriages rush through the cemetery towards the church at random. Witnesses have seen a colonially–clad African American man roaming through the area and spinning orbs hovering over gravestones. And a rather punctual phantom, who watches over the unmarked graves of the Native American chiefs, appears every night at 9 p.m., protecting them from the stumbling drunk masses of Jerseyites that populate the Old City streets.
— Sarah Beth McKay
PHYSICK'S WIFE
Dr. Philip Physick graduated from Penn in ‘85 (that’s 1785, for the record) and was a leading figure in the booming field of American surgery. He operated on a bunch of pseudo–famous people, like John Adams’s daughter, and once removed nearly 1,000 bladder stones from a dude, which is pretty freaking spooky in itself.
Though a great surgeon, his marital skills left something to be desired. During the beginning of the end of his marriage, he started giving his slightly psychotic wife opium so that she’d feel better. After giving her this “medication,” he would let her roam in the backyard of his house at 321 S. 4th St., where she would often perch near her favorite tree.
When this tree got cut down, she promptly died. Many people claim to have seen her ghost, complete with early American garb, sobbing where the tree used to stand.
— Joe Pinsker
BETSY ROSS HOUSE
America’s favorite seamstress, Betsy Ross, seems to like hanging around her old digs at 239 Arch St. Well, at least someone does. According to various ghost research societies, a few spirits didn’t leave the flag–maker’s home. Ross herself only lived there for a short period of time, with her third husband (true player) from 1773 to 1786. According to the Betsy Ross House website, other tenants included “a shoemaker, a shopkeeper [and] an apothecary.” Sounds pretty… not spooky at all.
But visitors reported noticing some paranormal activity during visits, so the organization behind the house let some ghost researchers stay overnight. Investigators from the South Jersey Ghost Research Team noticed a workman in the basement and a woman doing chores in the basement kitchen, but concluded that the spirits were “benign.” One curator claims that he heard a male voice say “Pardon me” while completely alone. Paranormal experts claim to have encountered more of these “electronic voice phenomena” throughout the house but we’re not so sure we believe them. That is until we heard that The Atlantic Paranormal Society also conducted research in the house confirming ghostly presence. No way that many specter scholars are wrong.
— Josh Goldman
PHILADELPHIA STATE HOSPITAL AT THE BYBERRY
Until its state–mandated shutdown in 1990, the Philadelphia State Hospital at Byberry housed thousands of the city’s finest schizos. Located waaaay up in Northeast Philly near the city limits, its staff took a few too many cues from Nurse Ratchet and allegations of patient abuse ran the gamut from unanesthetized teeth–pulling to 14–month–long restraints. However, when the hospital exceeded capacity in the '60s, patients started to get away with murder — quite literally. The criminally insane Charles Gable brutally dismembered a fellow patient before escaping from the facility. Gable was never seen again but his victim’s appendages were found, scattered throughout the hospital grounds. When the hospital closed, patients were transferred to nearby facilities or merely released; two of the latter were found dead in the Delaware within a week. The abandoned building became a hotspot for paranormal thrill–seekers, attracting hundreds of trespassers and fire–starting vandals. Residents began to complain about the “Byberry Problem” and most of the campus was demolished in 2006, but the land will be forever haunted by the disgruntled spirits of those who perished in the near–century of its operation.
— Lucy McGuigan
WISTAR INSTITUTE
Founded in 1892, this biomedical research facility is haunted by a ghost far spookier than those of its wimpy listmates — namely, a dubious and indirect connection to the spread of the Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV). According to author Edward Hooper, a polio vaccine developed in the pale yellow structure (which sits in the middle of campus, across from Claudia Cohen Hall) was concocted by taking cells from chimpanzees. This action allowed for the transfer of HIV across species, which apparently wasn’t possible before the 1950 experiment. Though Hooper’s theory was later discounted — researchers found no chimpanzee DNA in the vaccine samples — don’t let it detract from the Institute’s general spookiness. Wistar has had its hand in many odd ventures, such as the development of the first standardized laboratory animal, the Wistar rat, which is the ancestor of more than half of all laboratory rats alive today. Science, still freaky as shit.
— Daniel Felsenthal
CITY TAVERN'S CORPSE BRIDE
City Tavern, built in 1773 at 138 S. 2nd St., provided the delegates of the Continental Congress and the Constitutional Convention with essential items: food and booze. Our nation’s founding fathers, including Washington, Jefferson and B. Frank, spent countless nights at this famous hangout, getting drunk, winding down after heated debates and talking about what a babe Betsy Ross was. The restaurant continues to be a popular Philly destination, especially for dinner and private events.
Unfortunately, what stands today is a mere reproduction, as the original structure burned down in an 1854 tragedy: a bridal party had taken over the second floor in preparation for a wedding, but they were so excited for the big event that they failed to notice that a candle had fallen over. Given the flammability of fabric and the primitive nature of fire extinguishers back then, it’s no surprise that many women, including the bride, perished in the flames.
Probably bitter about not having the chance to live through her special day, the bride’s ghost has been spotted over the years, still in her wedding gown. And she’s not alone. A waiter died in City Tavern during a duel and he has reportedly been responsible for countless incidents of moving table settings.
Of course, every party held there must be a slap in the face to our unfortunate corpse bride, forced to witness the happiness she never had. According to some, she mainly takes her revenge by showing up in your muploads, reminding you that any day may in fact be your last.
— Nick Stergiopolous
FORT MIFFLIN
If you are looking for some tormented ghosts, Fort Mifflin will leave you satisfied. Known by the historically–inclined as the “Fort That Saved America,” its claim to fame came when a small contingent successfully delayed British invaders, allowing George Washington and the Colonial Army to escape to safety. The slaughter of hundreds of soldiers within its walls paired with its stint as a prison during the Civil War has rendered the fort a haunted hotspot. Meet William Howe and Elizabeth Pratt, the two celebrity spooks. Howe, “The Faceless Man,” was once a general imprisoned in Casemate 5 (a dungeon–like cell). Accused of murder and hanged in the courtyard, story has it that he still haunts his former home. His cohort Elizabeth, who hanged herself after discovering that her daughter had died of typhoid fever, has earned the title of “The Screaming Woman.” She yelled in agony as life left her body and her screams endure to this day. It may sound like shenanigans, but many skeptics have left the Fort’s grounds pale and vowing to never return.
— Sara Brenes–Akerman
THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY
In September 1875, Madame Helena Petrovna Blavatsky founded the Theosophical Society, which studied the true nature of religion and spirit based on three underlying principles: brotherhood of man; study of the ancient world religions; and the study and development of the dormant divine powers in man. Blavatsky drew a large amount of controversy throughout her life for a high level of racism in her work, despite the first pillar of the philosophy. She also was widely viewed as a charlatan by intellectuals and scholars.
But how does Blavatsky’s work effect our lives? She’s perhaps the spooky Philadelphian who hits closest to home. In the months immediately prior to founding the society, Blavatsky grew extremely ill with an infected leg. Though doctors wanted to amputate, Blavatsky refused surgery. Instead, she slept every night with a white dog spread across the infection in her home at 3420 Sansom St., the current location of the White Dog Cafe. Though we think she was healed by the power of cuteness, she saw it as a transcendental experience, which inspired her to found the aforementioned Society. Not sure how we feel about Theosophy, but thanks, Blavatsky, for our go–to late night happy hour spot.
— Colette Bloom
EASTERN STATE PENITENTIARY
An active prison from 1829 until 1971, Eastern State (2124 Fairmount Ave.) was the first American jail to practice the torturous tactic of solitary confinement. Both revolutionary and controversial in its time, it is now a famous destination for those looking to admire the innovative pinwheel architecture or catch a glimpse of something (or someone) a bit more ghoulish. It’s no surprise that Eastern State captured the attention of Ghost Hunters in its first season and the Travel Channel’s Most Haunted or that it has been said that “If ghosts exist, they must be [there].” Boasting big–name inmates such as Al “Scarface” Capone and “Slick” Willie Sutton, the Penitentiary is one of the country’s most haunting — and likely haunted — attractions. Ghost sightings have been reported and range from darting shadows to trailing voices and physical contact. These paranormal reports are nothing new; inmates reported spectral encounters even during the days of operation. Needless to say, the creepy corridors and cells of Eastern State are intended only for the brave of heart. The Penitentiary has been left in its crumbling condition so as not to destroy the integrity and spirit of one of the eeriest monuments around, which only adds to the fright factor. We dare you to visit this haunted torture chamber and not get the chills. It doesn’t help that their Terror Behind the Walls haunted house has been named the scariest in the country — and is open through November 6.
— Hilary Miller
THE BALEROY MANSION AND THE KILLER CHAIR
Deep in the WASP–y arms of Chestnut Hill is something sinister. And no, it’s not a grotesquely over–priced panini shop, three Starbucks on a single block or even culturally–encouraged incest, though those are probably there as well. At 111 West Mermaid Lane lies the Baleroy Mansion, which has been freaking the shit out of people since it was built in 1911. Longtime owner George Easby probably thought it was cool when he inherited the mansion as a six year–old. That was until move–in day, when he and his little bro Steven ran to the backyard fountain, looked in and saw the reflections of George and a skeleton staring back. As any good student of haunted stuff should have figured out by now, Steven died shortly thereafter. But the spook–fest doesn’t stop there.
Several ghosts are said to inhabit the house, including Steven, a curmudgeonly old woman and Thomas Jefferson, who apparently can’t resist this bumpin’ paranormal hotspot even though he died 85 years before its construction. Most famous is a spirit named either Amelia or Amanda — none of the ghost interpreters can agree on which. What they can agree on though is that if you dare to cross through the shroud of mist with which she surrounds a certain room and sit in her winged–back chair, she’s gonna kill yo’ ass. Four victims have sat in the chair only to die in the months following. Mr. Easby passed away in 2005 (no word on whether he said, “Fuck it, that chair just looks too comfy” or what) and the new owners aren’t into the whole let–us–search–for–ghosts–in–your–bedroom thing. But it can’t hurt to take a detour to Chestnut Hill while trick–or–treating. Besides, rich neighborhoods have all the good candy, anyway.
— Anthony Levy
EDGAR ALLAN POE HOUSE
Fans of Poe will die for this former home of the author, to which Bob Dylan is said to be a repeat visitor. Poe lived in his house, located just off Spring Garden Street at 532 N. 7th St., during what is often called the most prolific time of his life; after all, he wrote some of his most famous horror stories — such as The Tell–Tale Heart, The Fall of the House of Usher, The Murders in the Rue Morgue — and began work on The Raven within these four walls. See the rooms that inspired Poe’s most macabre masterpieces… shut the window so the raven can’t fly in, launch the hot–air balloon from his The Balloon–Hoax and descend into the cellar that became the site of Fortunato’s demise from The Cask of Amontillado. The house is open to the public Wednesdays through Sundays from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., admission is free and they offer both audio and guided tours. Popular activities include posing in front of Poe’s portrait–mural, admiring the statue of his famous black bird and rocking out to Poe tales set to music by artists such as the Allan Parsons Project. But no matter what you choose to do there, Poe’s house is sure to be the spooky site of a hauntingly good Halloween.
— Paige Rubin
PHILADELPHIA GHOST HUNTER'S ALLIANCE
While Ghostbusters may have been on the cutting edge of their field in the ‘80s, the Philadelphia Ghost Hunters Alliance is currently the leading professional organization of paranormal investigators in the greater Philadelphia area. Big honor, we know. The PGHA is devoted to gathering and organizing information about ghostly appearances of any kind. Their website has detailed descriptions of how to go about locating ghosts and how to identify one as such once it has been spotted, and they’re always encouraging new members to join in their search for specters. According to their experts, “The main ingredient to a successful investigation is an open mind.” Basically, if you’ve ever seen a mysterious shadow or a weird blur in one of your photos, you’ve probably encountered what these people would consider a ghost and are more than qualified to join the team. Check them out at phillyghost.com.
— Adrian Franco
