Haunted Door County

indeed.

INTRODUCTION

It is wonderful that five thousand years have now elapsed since the creation of the world, and still it is undecided whether or not there has ever been an instance of the spirit of any person appearing after death. All argument is against it; but all belief is for it.

—Samuel Johnson

Unexplained noises. A sudden eerie chill that sends shivers down the spine. A glimpse of, well, something in our peripheral vision. Or maybe it’s just the odd sensation of being watched when we know for certain that we’re all alone. We’ve all had these experiences at some point, but what exactly does it mean? Oftentimes, things that go bump in the night have a perfectly logical explanation. But sometimes, there is nothing in the natural world that provides a satisfactory reason, and we are left to conclude that the experience was supernatural.

Human belief in ghosts goes back as far as recorded history, and archeological evidence shows that even preliterate cultures both worshipped and feared the spirit realm. But despite our mind-boggling scientific and technical advances, we still have no idea what any of it means. In many ways, we’re no closer to understanding the phenomena than our primitive ancestors, who performed blood sacrifices and left offerings of grain to appease the angry spirits. And as a society, we are incredibly ambivalent about the topic.

We snicker with derision when a friend or coworker claims to have had a ghostly encounter, yet we spend countless hours glued to a television to watch the latest episode of Ghost Hunters. Most of our religions angrily deny the concept of earth-bound spirits and yet, rituals such as exorcism are written into the doctrines. Ask almost any scientist, and you are likely to be answered with rolling eyes. The topic, however, is so contentious that organizations such as The Committee for Skeptical Inquiry (CSI), made up of scientists and philosophers—even Nobel laureates—was formed to study and dispute paranormal claims. Seems like an awful lot of effort to disprove the unproven. And still, the debate rages on.

In simplest terms, a ghost is usually defined as the spirit of a deceased person, although there are plenty of reports of ghost animals and even inanimate objects such as ships and trains. We also have multiple terms to describe the…ahem…beings: ghosts, spirits, specters, phantoms, apparitions and poltergeists, to name a few. The labels are often used interchangeably, but for serious ghost buffs, there are subtle differences. Poltergeists, for example, are typically considered to be a manifestation of spirit or energy tied to a specific individual. These spirits are sometimes described as mischievous and sometimes threatening, and they act out in a rather physical manner—banging on doors, knocking over furniture and levitating Grandma’s fine china. Because they are latched on to a living person, their hijinks only occur when that individual is present. Specters (sometimes spelled spectres) are usually considered threatening or horrific manifestations, but not all people use the word in this manner. In this book, the terms might vary for the sake of avoiding repetition.

But if ghosts do not really exist, then what exactly are we experiencing? It depends on whom you ask. Researchers have promoted theories that range from mass hallucinations to shifts in the earth’s geomagnetic field to infrasounds (extremely low frequency sound waves that we can’t hear, but that apparently fiddle with our senses somehow). Even carbon monoxide poisoning has been implicated as a factor. And of course, there are those who simply write off accounts of ghostly encounters as unadulterated lies.

In reality, it seems that many people don’t believe in ghosts until he or she actually sees one. Then they are left in the untenable position of experiencing the psychological state known as cognitive dissonance. In layman’s terms, they are confused as heck. This book makes no attempt to argue a case for the existence of wandering spirits, nor is it in any way intended to poke fun at the people who have had a close encounter of the strange kind. It is written in the spirit (pun intended) of descriptive storytelling, and it chronicles the history behind the sightings and takes a stab at describing the testimony of some witnesses.

In any case, enjoy the stories and consider spending some time in the beautiful Wisconsin county that spawned them. Who knows what you might see or hear on the quiet back roads or rugged shoreline? Perhaps you’ll head back home with a few stories of your own.

PART I

HAUNTED SHIPS AND LIGHTHOUSES

Some places speak distinctly…Certain old houses demand to be haunted; certain coasts are set apart for shipwrecks.

—Robert Louis Stevenson

SHERWOOD POINT LIGHTHOUSE

The musical tinkling of fine china cups on saucers. The lilting cadences of a woman’s demure laugh. These are soothing sounds that call to mind an elegant brunch in a stately old tearoom. Unfortunately, these sounds aren’t quite so soothing when they echo late at night through a century-old lighthouse perched high on the rugged limestone cliffs edging the mouth of Sturgeon Bay. The Coast Guard personnel who tend to the property, however, know there is nothing to fear—it’s just Minnie Hesh Cochems welcoming her guests. And although Minnie has been dead for more than eighty-five years, her hospitality has never wavered.

Sherwood Point Lighthouse first cast its beacon across the waves of Green Bay in October 1883, after a protracted legal battle over the title to the land. The site was originally settled in 1836 by Peter Sherwood and his wife, Clarissa, only the second white family to put down permanent roots in the area. At that time, the region was loosely populated by a transient handful of loggers, Indian traders, trappers and fishermen who came to claim a share of the seemingly endless natural resources. Sherwood’s homestead stood on a steep outcropping of land just north of Sawyer Harbor, where the deep blue waters of Green Bay faded quietly into the shallow and marshy Sturgeon Bay. Life was hard in the untamed wilderness and, as time passed, Peter sold off bits of his land to younger and hardier newcomers. Upon his death in 1867, the remaining property transferred to Clarissa, but apparently no formal deeds existed and the boundaries were unclear.

Minnie Hesh still greets guests at her beloved Sherwood Point Lighthouse, eighty-five years after her death.

A few years before Peter’s death, Joseph Harris Sr., the publisher and founder of the Door County Advocate newspaper, began to dream about the possibility of a ship canal that would traverse the Door Peninsula. The young city of Sturgeon Bay was becoming a popular port along the busy shipping route from Chicago to Green Bay. The fast-growing but prairie-bound city of Chicago desperately needed all the fine timber and stone that the lumbering and quarrying settlements along Green Bay could provide. In return, the farmers and merchants of Chicago sent corn, wheat and consumer goods to the settlers up north in Wisconsin. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, but with one major flaw: schooners traveling the route had to pass through the dreaded Porte des Mortes (Death’s Door) passage at the tip of the peninsula. This dangerous strait carried the dubious distinction of having the most freshwater shipwrecks of any place in the world. Strong and wildly unpredictable currents, rapidly shifting winds, unexpected shoals and a coastline formed entirely of jagged glacial stone threatened to pull the wooden ships to a watery grave should they be foolhardy enough to venture into the foreboding passage.

Harris knew that the shallow and brackish bay that was his city’s namesake dissected the Door Peninsula almost completely across its middle, with the exception of a little more than one mile of sandy and partly barren land on the eastern edge abutting Lake Michigan. In fact, most geologists believe that northern Door County was once an island that slowly connected itself to the mainland with a collection of silt and wave-tossed rocks. The Native Americans of the area had long paddled their canoes through Sturgeon Bay and made the short portage over land when crisscrossing between Lake Michigan and Green Bay. Harris realized that it would be a relatively simple and inexpensive engineering feat to create a ship canal by dredging the bay and digging a trench through the remaining sliver of land to connect the two great bodies of water. Not only would such a canal save ships from the necessity of sailing north through Death’s Door, but it would also cut about two hundred miles off of the round trip from Chicago to Green Bay, saving perhaps several days at sea.

With a handful of backers and an apparently sincere desire to improve the safety of Great Lakes shipping, Harris went before Congress in 1870 with a sixteen-point document entitled Proposed Ship Canal At Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin: Reasons Why Congress Should Grant Lands To Aid In Its Construction. After pointing out the dangers of Death’s Door and discussing the compelling trade reasons for the canal, Harris finished his appeal by stating, the true remedy is for Congress to give the mariner…a safe channel that looks like nature intended should at some day be made through the portage at Sturgeon Bay. Congress agreed, and work on Harris’s vision began in 1872. Unfortunately, the Depression of 1873 stalled the project, which didn’t resume in earnest until 1877. Finally, on June 28, 1878, laborers tossed aside the last few shovels of dirt that separated the waters of Lake Michigan and Green Bay, and the canal was born. Although it would be several more years until the bay was dredged to a sufficient depth to accommodate the largest ships, 415 smaller ships made use of the new canal in its first full year of operation, a number that increased nearly tenfold once it was at full depth.

All the new ship traffic created an economic boom for the city of Sturgeon Bay, but it also highlighted the dire need for a lighthouse to guide ships safely into the bay. The Lighthouse Board chose the thirty-foot limestone bluff known as Sherwood Point as the most logical spot to build, but it seemed that neither Clarissa Sherwood nor her neighbors could provide clear title to the property. After much bickering, the courts finally concluded that