Ghosthunting New York City. L'Aura Hladik
through the dining room, she pointed to the chandelier and told us, “People say they see one of the lights glowing when the chandelier is turned off.” (According to the flyer, “Martha is keeping a light on while she waits for her long lost love.”) Next, she took us to the portrait of Martha Mesereau. Pointing out the burn mark, she told us how the portrait caught fire during renovations when nothing nearby could have burned it.
Brian and I were left to wander the dining areas, the bar, and the second floor. We were on our own except for a catering manager and his two clients who walked by once as we stood in the downstairs hallway. There was activity in the kitchen, but nothing paranormal; the cooks were cleaning and prepping. We took several pictures of Martha’s portrait from various angles and positions. I left my digital voice recorder on the table in front of her portrait to record possible EVPs while we toured the adjoining rooms on the first floor. The average temperature in each room was approximately sixty-eight degrees. I retrieved the recorder before heading up to the second floor.
Upstairs, Brian and I had the whole floor to ourselves. This was perfect. It was quiet. The door of one room was slightly ajar; I peeked inside and saw chairs, tables, catering equipment, appointment books, and a bride’s hoop skirt and tulle. I thought it odd that this storage room was left unlocked. Later in my research, I read about the former bedroom that baffles the Inn’s staff because they find its door open when they know for sure that they locked it the night before. It’s thought that this is the room where Martha died.
In the larger room just beyond the unlocked storage room, Brian got out his camera to take pictures. At first he saw nothing out of the ordinary, but then his camera had an odd malfunction. Actually, it would have been functioning perfectly if someone had been in front of the lens. However, when he took a picture in the outer corner of the room, the camera went into face-focus mode, attempting to center and focus on a person’s face even though there was no one there that Brian could see. He thought something was wrong with his camera, but when he pointed it at the other corners of the room, it took pictures successfully without attempting to focus on a face.
Brian found me in the hallway outside the bathrooms and told me what had just happened with his camera. I followed him back to that room and took pictures with my camera. I had no problems, but my camera is a less advanced Nikon than Brian’s. He took some more pictures and the camera worked fine until he pointed it to the corner of the room where it had malfunctioned before. Again, the camera searched as if trying to focus on a face. This time I was there to witness it.
In the view screen on the back of the camera, I saw a blurry shape in the corner of the room. Whatever it was, the camera wanted to focus on it before it would allow the shot to be taken; I could hear the lens shifting in and out. Finally the camera just shut off, as if it were exhausted from focusing and had given up.
I asked Brian if he had shut the camera off. Looking rather perplexed, he said no. It’s unlikely that he shut it off accidentally. The power button on his camera has to be pressed and held down to turn the camera off; this prevents the user from accidentally powering down while taking a picture.
The beautiful chandelier at the haunted Old Bermuda Inn
As we left the room quickly, I asked Brian, “Is the battery drained?”
We stopped at the top of the main staircase. Brian pushed the power button, and the camera powered on perfectly. The battery level indicator read 90 percent, and the camera functioned properly as Brian took his last few pictures on the first floor and outside the building.
Martha’s ghost didn’t leave any EVPs on my audio recorder, but I think she liked having her picture taken by a young man. It’s possible that she was there in that room and saw my son not as a stranger but as her dearly departed husband. Ghosts have a tendency to see people and places as they remember them, not as they are; it’s part of their confused state of being. Given how tragically Martha took the news of her husband’s death, it’s a safe bet that her earthbound spirit is quite confused.
I found a Web site where ghosthunters and paranormal enthusiasts post their findings and thoughts about various locations that may or may not be haunted. Those who have posted comments about the Old Bermuda Inn range from believers to doubters to those who say it’s not haunted at all. If you’re bored—and if you do not suffer stomach upset from occasional exposure to gross misspellings, poor grammar, and completely erroneous information—you can review the site for yourself; the link is in the Directory of Places at the end of this book. I suspect the Old Bermuda Inn has more going on than just its advertised dinner and dancing specials. Make a reservation; Martha’s waiting for you.
CHAPTER 7
One If By Land, Two If By Sea
THIS RESTAURANT IS TOUTED as one of the most romantic in New York City. It opened in 1972 as a business partnership between Mario DeMartini and Armand Braiger. Many men have “popped the question” here. I personally haven’t eaten here, as the food appears to be more of a work of art on a plate than something edible. You know the type: it’s all about presentation, and then after dinner, you head to the nearest drive-through to actually eat. They get rave reviews for their artsy food, so please don’t think I’m putting it down. I’m just a gal who likes—okay, loves—to eat, so I need food on my plate, not a sculpture. I can, however, give this restaurant a “thumbs up” for the romantic ambiance, as I’m a sucker for candlelit dinners.
If you’re visiting this restaurant specifically for its ghostly aspect, I suggest you sit at the bar, enjoy the piano music, and be very careful walking downstairs to the restrooms. The ghost here is known to push people down the stairs. Since I tend to be gravity-challenged on occasion, I was especially careful to hold the railing when I made my way to the ladies’ room during my visit.
There is a lot of history that factors into the possible identities of the spirits here. First of all, this structure was originally the carriage house of the Richmond Hill estate of Aaron Burr, and it was located at Spring Street and Sixth Avenue, about three blocks up from what today is the entrance to the Holland Tunnel. The estate was acquired by John Jacob Astor after Burr’s 1807 trial for his July 11, 1804, duel with Alexander Hamilton. Astor moved the mansion fifty-five feet downhill to what is now the corner of Varick and Charlton Streets, and he moved the livery stable to 106 West Third Street. The carriage house, now the subject of our investigation, was moved to 17 Barrow Street. From the 1950s to 1984, the livery stable was a coffee house called Café Bizarre; sightings of a stern-faced Burr were reported there. New York University eventually took over the property for dormitory space, so the carriage house became Burr’s final haunt.
When Aaron Burr lived at Richmond Hill with his wife and two daughters, it was the place to dine and be entertained. Burr served the best wine at his lavish dinners, and his teenage daughter, Theodosia, played hostess, as her mother was too ill. Once Burr’s wife died, Theodosia became his confidant and companion. In fact, it was a snide comment about Burr’s supposedly having an incestuous relationship with his daughter, uttered by Alexander Hamilton at a social event, that led to the fateful duel.
Theodosia married Joseph Alston and moved to his plantation in South Carolina in 1801. They had a son whom they named Aaron Burr Alston. Theodosia suffered medical complications after the birth of her son and was unable to have any more children. Tragically, little Aaron died of malaria at the age of ten. To alleviate her grief, Burr invited Theodosia to visit him in New York. She accepted the invitation and boarded the Pioneer on December 31, 1812. When the ship did not arrive on schedule, Burr thought his daughter had perished at sea. One legend tells that a pirate was later captured and that some of Theodosia’s jewelry was found in his possession. Supposedly he confessed to pirating the Pioneer and forcing those on board, including Theodosia in her flowing white gown, to walk the plank to their deaths. In other versions of the legend, the ship was called Patriot and was simply lost at sea.