The Heritage House Embarrass Minnesota

Background: In the small town of Embarrass, Minnesota, there is a very frightening legend behind a small stone building called The Heritage House. The small two stories home is the center of talk about the ghost of a young boy who was drowned by his abusive father in the nearby river. The ghost is said to roam the bridge that crosses that river. It is said that the boy was told by his father that, "If Jesus could walk on water, so could he." The young boy is said to be William Pyhala and the river in question is the Embarrass River. His family bought the Heritage House in 1909, six years after his father; Mikko Pyhala immigrated to the United States from Finland. Mikko took his son to the river in 1916 and ended the child's life with his infamous quote. Mikko was a busy man as he and his wife had 17 children with the last one being born in 1924. Since the death of young William, the locals have investigated into the stories. It seems that William did die in 1916 by drowning in the Embarrass River however; there are no records that show that his father had a hand in his son's death. Many of the Pyhala family reside in the area to this date. Several eyewitnesses have reported hearing strange sounds while walking the shores of the Embarrass River. Some have even claimed seeing a young boy lurking near the Embarrass River. They do believe this to be the spirit of William Pyhala.

Note: The Heritage House is Private Property


Guthrie Theater Minneapolis MN

"Dick Miller's ghost has not been seen here since the early 1990s," says Melodie Bahan, Guthrie Theater's production press representative. Implying, I guess, that it was there before. In addition, plenty of people — actors, stagehands, and theatergoers— believe it was. Richard Miller, described as "an awkward English boy with few friends," worked as one of the Guthrie's ushers in the late 1960s. On Saturday, Feb. 5, 1967, the 18-year-old Miller quit his job, purchased a surplus Mauser rifle and shells at a Sears store, returned to his car, and, still in his Guthrie usher uniform, shot himself in the head. His suicide note, so goes the story, requested that he be buried in the uniform. A few weeks later, theatergoers in Row 18, one of Miller's rows, complained of an usher walking up and down the aisle during a performance. One woman, in complaining to the head usher, described Richard Miller, right down to his cheek mole. Numerous sightings of Miller — on catwalks and in the exclusive Queen's Box, and still in his usher uniform — were reported by everyone from custodians to directors. Pianos played by themselves. Stage props moved by themselves. Finally, in 1993, an exorcism — "It's been called a spiritual cleansing," says a Guthrie spokesperson — was performed by an Indian elder. In addition, Dick Miller's ghost has not been seen here since.

Ramsey County Courthouse St. Paul MN

1906, the execution of William Williams went wrong. Williams, a 28-year-old steamfitter convicted of murdering his 16-year-old friend, was to be hanged at the gallows of the Ramsey County Jail. Williams stepped onto the platform. His head was put into the noose. The executioner, though, had misjudged the give of the rope. Here, according to the Minnesota legislature's Session Weekly magazine is what happened next: "After Williams' feet hit the floor, sheriff's deputies scrambled to hoist the rope. The police surgeon counted the minutes on his watch, waiting for the pulse to stop. A small crowd of spectators watched as it took Williams 14-and-one-half minutes to die by strangulation." After a renovation of the Ramsey County Courthouse in 1992, reports began to surface of visions of "a man dressed in clothing from the turn of the century, presumably William Williams" hanging in the center of various courthouse rooms. The execution, incidentally, was the last one held in Minnesota. Williams' case served as an anti-death penalty example and started a successful movement to abolish the death penalty in the Minnesota Legislature.

The Fitzgerald Theater St. Paul MN

In 1985, theater renovations revealed a previously unknown balcony. That is when Ben, said to be an old stagehand, started haunting the place. Patrons have felt cold spots and have seen Ben's dark figure on catwalks. Antique bottles of muscatel — props — moved on their own. Now Ben has a girlfriend. The singing of Veronica, a long-dead actress, has been heard echoing in the auditorium at night. Holy Trinity Churchyard Goodhue "The tales of a ghost in the cemetery near Holy Trinity Church," according to Troy Taylor, an author and president of the American Ghost Society, "plagued the little town of Goodhue during the 1920s." Here, according to Taylor, is the nutshelled story: "A man named Tunis Parkin, the town painter, a respected and upstanding young man, was the first to see the ghost. He was walking past the graveyard one night on his way to the home of a young lady that he had been courting. As he approached the apple orchard beside the church, he froze with fear. He was being followed from the cemetery and he caught a glimpse of his pursuer ... a glowing apparition that was shrouded in mist. Others, including Tom Riley, also met the graveyard ghost. Riley ran all of the way to the main street of town, yelling that he had seen the ghost, although some claimed that it had only been a white cow owned by a local farmer."

Griggs Mansion St. Paul MN (Private residence)

Twenty-four rooms. A 120-year history. Half dozen ghosts. Built in 1883 by former Civil War Colonel Chauncey Griggs — a wholesale grocer, land investor and lumberman — the Griggs Mansion has been called "The Most Haunted House in Minnesota." The Victorian sandstone has been through its share of owners (Griggs himself moved out West after just four years) and has housed, according to numerous reports, its share of ghosts. Like the maid who allegedly hung herself on the fourth floor landing following a failed romance. Alternatively, Charles Wade, the "intense, fanatical gardener" who can be heard, just as in life, flipping through gardening books late at night. The thin man in the black suit and top hat. The man in a Civil War uniform — possibly Chauncey Griggs, back to check on his home. In 1964, the mansion was purchased by Carl Weschke, the founder of Llewellyn Publishing, which specializes in books on paranormal and the occult and publishes the Twin Cities-based Fate Magazine ("True reports of the strange and unknown"). In 1967, while working at a desk in his library, Weschke saw what has been described as "a thin, long-faced man with white hair, dressed in a black suit" which faded away after less than a minute. Closed windows open mysteriously. Footsteps are heard on empty staircases. Rasping coughs echo through empty rooms. Light bulbs shatter, paper bags "jump off the shelves, and across the floor." In 1969, Weschke — in one of those classic, oft-repeated examples of "expert proof" — invited a pair of Pioneer Press reporters and a photographer to spend the night in the mansion and experience the hauntings first-hand. The newsiest, frightened, did not last the night. Weschke sold the mansion in the early 1990s to a couple who, he says, "has little interest in the occult." So do not drop in looking for ghosts.  

BARDSTOWN CEMETERY

There is a moving and haunted gravestone in Bardstown, Kentucky, located just south of Louisville and the Indiana border that has acquired a rather unusual legend over the last 150 Years. This stone is placed over the grave of John Rowan, one of historic America's most Prominent men. He was a state judge in Kentucky, served seven terms in the legislature and was elected to the United States Senate. He was also Kentucky's Secretary of State and the Chief justice for the court of appeals. His cousin, Stephen Foster, is probably the best Remembered songwriter of the 1800's and Rowan's former mansion, Federal Hill, is now a popular tourist attraction. When Rowan died in July of 1843, he expressly stated that he\   Wished to have no monument or stone placed on his gravesite. His family and friends ignored this request, believing that such a great and prominent man deserved a suitable marker to Grace his final resting place. He was buried in Bardstown Cemetery and a tall, obelisk-shaped Stone was placed at the site. Within a month or two, the marker starting falling over for no apparent reason. No matter how many times it was replaced, the stone tumbled off its base   In addition; fell onto the grave of John Rowan itself. Rumors began to spread that the unhappy spirit of John Rowan had returned and was knocking over the marker that he had not wanted placed there in the first place. It continued to fall over on a regular basis and finally, frightened stone Masons refused to return to the cemetery. Inexplicably, workers and caretakers are still trying to keep the stone in place today. It continues to fall over for no apparent reason. Why? No One seems to know. Bardstown is about thirty miles south of Louisville, Kentucky, which is Just over the Southern Indiana border. The cemetery is at the center of town and the Monument is described as being an obelisk shape with a wreath and an accounting of Rowan is many life achievements.