There are, literally, hundreds of mysterious disappearances lurking in American history. What happened to Amelia Earhart, the famous female aviator of the 1930s? For that matter, what happened to Judge Joseph Force Crater, who disappeared in the summer of 1930? Or, a more recent case, what happened to Jimmy Hoffa, the Teamsters chief who went to meet a union official and was never seen again? But we can safely say that these were involuntary disappearances. Earhart's plane went down somewhere in the Pacific on a round-the-globe flight. Crater had some unsavory companions and was last seen carrying a great deal of money. In all fairness though, Crater's young mistress, Sally Lou Ritz, disappeared within weeks of Crater and, like him, has never been seen since. Hoffa, well, Hoffa had a lot of enemies.

But the story of Etta Place is rather more mysterious because it would appear that she chose to disappear, not long after the reported deaths of her lover, Harry Longabaugh and his friend, Robert Leroy Parker, better known to posterity as the Sundance Kid and Butch Cassidy. What makes it doubly mysterious is that we don't even know her real name or from whence she came. Katherine Ross did a wonderful job fixing her image in the public consciousness in the 1969 movie "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," elevating her to near iconic status. But all that did was birth a generation of Etta Place fans.

I would never claim to be a true Etta Place aficionado; I happened on the conundrum she poses quite by accident. In fact, I was a little surprised that the world had simply swallowed Etta up. But I quickly learned that except for about 12 years at the most, Etta Place didn't exist.

The majority of the experts agree that Butch and Sundance probably met Etta at a bordello around 1900. The Pinkerton Agency, which had a strong interest in Etta, described her as attractive, speaking with an educated tone. Estimates of her birth year range from 1878 to 1882 or 1883. Rumors suggest that she was a cousin of Longabaugh's since Longabaugh's mother was a Place. General consensus holds that Sundance met Etta at Fannie Porter's bordello in San Antonio about 1900. By 1909, Etta had ridden off into the sunset, while Sundance and Butch were said to be dead in South America. Indeed there are those researchers who say that Etta died in South America as well. Acquaintances, what few there were, called Etta beautiful and said that she spoke with a refined accent. Without ever saying anything explicit, she indicated that she hailed from the East Coast. Pinkerton Detective Agency reports supported this as well. Only a handful of people knew her well enough as Etta Place to offer descriptions – Annie Bassett, Josie Bassett, and Laura Bullion among these. This trio of young ladies were the girlfriends of various members of the Wild Bunch, the outlaw gang of which Butch and Sundance were a big part.

Assuming, as seems certain, that Etta (or Ethel) Place was not her real name, I set out to see what I could do to add to the mystery. (Notice I said "add.")

The United States census is a marvelous thing. Beginning with 1790, it has been taken every ten years. And, since I had a city (San Antonio) and a head of household (Fannie Porter), I thought it would be beneficial to look at the 1900 census of Bexar County, as the researcher consensus says that's the nexus year, the year they all came together. Fannie, herself little more than a girl in 1900, claimed to be of British extraction. The birthdates did not help all that much. Of the five girls, all were born in or around 1878-80. One girl in the household intrigued me beyond the others. Twenty-two year old Madaline (sic) Wilson appears in the census immediately beneath Madam Fannie. And like Fannie, she is listed as of English birth, immigrating to the United States in 1884 when she was six. Now here's where the conjecture has to come in. It is quite possible that she had changed her name, but does that dictate that she would have changed her date of birth, country of origin, and date of immigration? In the second part, I'll explore those questions and see if Madaline Wilson is a legitimate candidate for Etta Place.

I'm taking a short break from blogging. The Spring book tour has caught up with me, as I'm writing this from Tombstone, AZ. However, I'm coming up with great blog topics. Check back soon as I will be talking about the ghosts of Tombstone.

A few weeks ago, I spent some time talking about the phenomenon of ghosts, spirits, whatever you choose to call them. My father lumped them all together under the name, "Casper." As I stated then, I'm open-minded on the issue. As technology has advanced, so have the efforts to "pin" down ghosts. Photography was the first tool to be used, and cameras have produced some of the most thought-provoking images. Consider the famous shot below of the "Brown Lady" of Raynham Hall, taken in 1936.


Skeptics argue that it was "the result of mundane causes such as camera vibration, afternoon light from the window above the stairs catching the lens of the camera, and double exposure" (http://www.museumofhoaxes.com/hoax/photo_database/image/the_brown_lady_of_raynham/ ). They may be right. But WHICH of those possible causes resulted in this photo. I'm sorry, but if you're going to demand that presenters of such photos or other data, you have an equal burden of showing why it is NOT evidence of the paranormal. You can't just toss out a global, "it could be."

But back to ghost photos.

The photo below is also a famous one. It purports to be of a WWI airplane squadron. Two days before the shot was taken, according to the story, a mechanic, Freddy Jackson, was killed. Sources say that Freddy couldn't bear to miss the squadron photo and peaked in from the grave. Check the inset.



True or a hoax? You tell me. But that certainly isn't dust and the afternoon light. And it would be a strange double exposure that impacted only that tiny fraction of the photograph. Critics spend most of their time discrediting the source of the photograph, a man named Goddard who, it would seem, was somewhat on the loony side. But, hey! Jack did indeed cry "Wolf!" a lot. And at least one time, there really was a wolf.

And then, there's the baby on the grave. Allegedly, when this photo was taken, there was nothing and no one on top of the grave. Only when the film was developed did the baby appear. And, again allegedly, there was a baby buried very, very near this grave.



I do not know that this is a fake. It looks much more like a double exposure than the first two. But who can say.

One of the things that I have done over the last twenty years is to teach basic writing at universities and community colleges. Hand-in-hand with that goes the task of introducing students to critical thinking and the research process. I've always hyped the virtues of being skeptical, of not taking things at face value, of looking at evidence and drawing your own conclusions. But then over this past weekend, I happened to surf onto a couple of the more prominent websites run by skeptics, and I realized that skeptics break faith with the critical thinking they claim to personify, and in a big way.

A basic tenet of critical thinking and the research process is to eliminate, as much as is possible, any research bias. When you enter into a project with a bias, you consciously or subconsciously seek out evidence that will support your position. Let's say you've always been intrigued by the legends of Robin Hood and you decide to write about that. If you already believe that Robin Hood existed, and you don't check that belief at the door, you are going to discount, disregard or downplay any evidence that strengthens the proposition that he was but myth.

Here's the thing. Skeptics approach their investigations automatically disbelieving. They demand to be presented with scientific, sustainable evidence before they will concede defeat. And they never concede defeat, or at least a cursory journey through their websites and magazines did not find such an instance. Besides having entered into the project with a pre-existing bias, they have another handicap – as avowed skeptics they have a vested interest in never being convinced that Robin Hood actually existed. How can they be a credible skeptic if they allow themselves to be convinced of anything. Thus, they never seem to have enough evidence to push them over that precipice, and they cloak their stubborn, biased brand of skepticism as critical thinking.

What they are not, in essence, are skeptics. Rather, they classify more closely as contrarians, always taking the opposite viewpoint, the negative side of any question. So, for these researchers, Lee Harvey Oswald will always be the lone assassin of JFK. Robin Hood will never be more than a myth dreamt up centuries ago. UFOs will never exist. King Arthur will never be more than a figment of Geoffrey of Monmouth's imagination. Ghosts and the paranormal do not exist.

We're humans, and we are susceptible to all the flaws and foibles that humans are heir to (to paraphrase Shakespeare – but wait a minute! He didn't exist either!) It is nearly impossible to eliminate all bias or prejudice from your research efforts. But it is a goal that we should never stop pursuing.

I don't have any problem with folks who try to argue that their point is a valid one, as long as they use facts and evidence to support their position and they acknowledge counter arguments. But don't cloak your bias as critical thinking when you start out violating a major tenet of the research process.

Okay, I'll climb down off my soapbox.

Let’s Talk About Ghosts, Part I

I spent my teenage years in an old house that was built before the Civil War. Our den was in the original log cabin portion of the house, and in the summer, it had the best cross breeze. Often, my father would sleep on one couch and I would sleep on the other. One night, when I was about 16, I awoke suddenly. I looked down at the end of the couch and saw the hazy form of a woman in 19^th century dress standing and staring at me.

Then she disappeared.

Had I seen a ghost? Or was I really still asleep and dreamed it? I couldn’t possibly tell you. But I believe that I really saw her.

Are ghosts real? I don’t know. But I do know that there are innumerable things in our world that we do not understand, yet. Consider the photo below. It was taken by a security camera at infamous Hampton Court Palace, built by the ill-fated Cardinal Wolsey who used the luxurious manor as a forlorn last bribe to Henry VIII to save his life. Anne Boelyn walked the corridors as did Catherine Howard.

Skeptics have tried to debunk the event, but the staff at Hampton Court have politely burst all their bubbles. They call the figure “Skeletor,” and he appears to be clothed in Tudor period clothing. The staff are adamant that such a costume has never been used by anyone there, and they further insist that no one was in that particular area of the building when the shot was taken. Actually, cameras caught two other strange incidents at this very door.

Often, debunkers are able to prove a simple explanation. On the southern edge of Kuwait City sits an abandoned royal palace. Rumor had it that the Iraqis used it as a prison/torture house during their occupation of the tiny Gulf emirate. Back in those days, I was friends with a group of half Kuwaiti/half American kids. We would slip into the compound at night (avoiding the little red flags marking landmines) and wander through the spooky old place. The stories of torture had some basis in fact. A number of the rooms had blood splattered on the walls. The girls always claimed that they could hear a baby crying, but it was really just the wind whipping through a sad, lonely relic. But, occasionally, there just isn’t a simple explanation. Like “Skeletor” at Hampton Court.

The numbers argue against there being nothing to the phenomenon called ghosts if nothing else does. Hundreds of thousands of people have had such experiences. Not all of them were just seeing things. Not all of them were simply lying. Life is energy. We do not completely understand the mysteries of energy. Perhaps, just perhaps, phenomena such as “Skeletor” are the flickering impressions of energy on the atmosphere. Perhaps events of enormous emotion leave reminders where they occurred. Just perhaps.

When I was a little boy, my brother, Ronnie, told me that if you dialed a certain telephone number, you would reach the Bell Witch of Adams, Tennessee and hear her screech. Dutifully and curious, I dialed the number as instructed. You did hear a screech, but I think it had more to do with telephone circuits than the supernatural. But, in Tennessee and throughout the country, the witch was a true phenomenon. Few houses back then didn't have a copy of the infamous Red Book, written by 19^th century newspaper editor M.V.B. Ingram, that detailed the witch's treachery, beginning in 1817. Nearly 200 years have passed since its alleged first appearance, but the Bell Witch story is still alive and well, evidence the movie An American Haunting with Donald Sutherland and Sissy Spacek.

According to the basic story, a paranormal entity (exhibiting poltergeist-like behavior) harassed the John Bell family of Adams, Tennessee starting in 1817. The "witch," frequently called Kate, was particularly cruel to John Bell and his daughter, Betsy, being eventually credited with causing John's death. It was said to slap and pinch Betsy mercilessly. Once it caused John's tongue to swell so that he could neither speak nor eat. Apparently, though, it had a soft spot for John's wife, Lucy, once treating her to grapes (appearing from thin air) when she was sick. A disembodied voice would regale visitors of happenings in the neighborhood or repeating, word-for-word two sermons given at the same time, but miles apart. According to Ingram's account, it was phenomena witnessed by many in the community and was widely spoken of throughout the region. Spinoff stories told of Andrew Jackson's encounter with the witch. The witch remained until 1820 and the death of John Bell. It promised to return at a specific time in the future, which the Red Book says it did. Included in Ingram's book is an eyewitness account written by one of John Bell's sons.

All of that said, there are problems with the story. It's not like the David Lang story that I spoke of last week. John Bell and his family were unquestionably real, living exactly where they were alleged to have lived. A few years ago, I took it upon myself to annotate the Red Book, tracking down as many of the people mentioned as best I could. The people were real. Ingram's book contains numerous interviews with people who witnessed those long ago events or whose parents did, allegedly. But here's the thing. While north central Tennessee was still, truly, a frontier at the time of the events in question, there were area newspapers. Extant copies are silent on the Bell affair. It is alleged that the Saturday Evening Post ran an article on the story in 1849, but the issues for that year do not exist any longer and so can't be checked. Ingram's account did not appear until 1894. There are absolutely no corroborating documents to support the Andrew Jackson encounter.

But the families named did exist. Their descendants were living in the area at the time that Ingram's book was released. Were the entire affair fabricated by Ingram, I sincerely doubt that those descendants would all have remained unanimously silent. Somebody would surely have disputed the account, unless they too had been hearing the story their entire lives.

It is a mystery. And is destined to remain one. All that I can say with any certainty is that the world contains many things that we do not understand, and most probably will never understand. This may be one of them.

(Thanks to my friend Woodson Marshall for prodding me on this.)

Often, I'm reminded of Abraham Lincoln's old dictum: "You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time." And, of course, there's George W. Bush's attributed quote on the same question: "You can fool some of the people all the time, and those are the ones you want to concentrate on." In the course of my research on various topics, I'm often amazed at what people accept as the absolute truth without a speck of proof.

For many years, one of the oddest stories in human experience was that of David Lang. Lang, a farmer in Sumner County, Tennessee during the 1870s and 1880s, was out in a field near his home one soft, spring evening, just before sundown. As the rattle of a buggy sounded on the lane, he looked up to see his brother-in-law and a local judge riding towards the house, where his wife and children were outside as well. Lang started across the field to meet his visitors. And then something truly bizarre happened.

Lang disappeared in full view of the judge, the brother-in-law, his wife and children.

A full-fledged search was launched, but no trace of David Lang was ever seen again. That winter, the children noticed that at the very spot where their father was last seen, the grass had turned yellow in a perfect circle. They claimed that, once, they heard the distant sound of their father, calling for help.

In the 1950s, the story reached worldwide circulation through the writings of Frank Edwards, whose Amazing But True books were widely read. Reader's Digest carried the story in the 1970s. The Disney Channel also ran a program on the story. Always presented as the truth.

But there was a real problem.

David Lang never existed. Sumner County records show no Lang family at the time in question. Indeed county officials in Sumner County are still at a loss to explain how the story came to be universally accepted as fact. The judge cited could not be found. It was, completely and totally, a tall tale, but one that fooled not only a lot of people, but Reader's Digest, which has always boasted a world-class fact checking department.

Nobody checked the facts until long after the tale was in wide circulation. And even then, people refused to believe that it was made up. In actuality, it is virtually word for word a copy of Ambrose Bierce's 1909 short story "The Difficulties of Crossing a Field."

For me, the story of David Lang (or non-story) is a cautionary tale, reminding me to never accept anything at face value.