Spooky Burial from Old New England

Cue spooky music oooooohhhhoooooohhhoohooooooohhhhoooooohhoooohhhhooooooo....

Holy Shades of the Living Dead, Bat Woman!

Yes, Dildohead, it's true.  These people actually thought there were such things as succubuses and incubuses and haunted souls that came out of the grave at night craving human blood and flesh.  Bwwwwaaahhhhaaaaahhhaaaaa!

Geez, Bat Woman, you give me the creepoids when you laugh like that!

Just so, Dildohead, just so.  Let's go, we've got a crime to solve...

The Great New England Vampire Panic

Two hundred years after the Salem witch trials, farmers became convinced that their relatives were returning from the grave to feed on the living

• By Abigail Tucker
• Smithsonian magazine, October 2012

[Side note: There's that Abi- again -- "daughter."  See prior post about the ruler of el-Dur possibly being a woman -- "Abi-El --" but the article didn't say whose daughter she supposedly was!  I think, actually, the name was complete and the rule was "Daughter of God."  Well, I'm descended from an Abigail too, a rather spooky-sad story, actually.  Seems there are probably several thousand distant cousins around today all descended from the same woman.  I'll write about her later.]

Children playing near a hillside gravel mine found the first graves. One ran home to tell his mother, who was skeptical at first—until the boy produced a skull.

Because this was Griswold, Connecticut, in 1990, police initially thought the burials might be the work of a local serial killer named Michael Ross, and they taped off the area as a crime scene. But the brown, decaying bones turned out to be more than a century old. The Connecticut state archaeologist, Nick Bellantoni, soon determined that the hillside contained a colonial-era farm cemetery. New England is full of such unmarked family plots, and the 29 burials were typical of the 1700s and early 1800s: The dead, many of them children, were laid to rest in thrifty Yankee style, in simple wood coffins, without jewelry or even much clothing, their arms resting by their sides or crossed over their chests.

Except, that is, for Burial Number 4.

Bellantoni was interested in the grave even before the excavation began. It was one of only two stone crypts in the cemetery, and it was partially visible from the mine face.

Scraping away soil with flat-edged shovels, and then brushes and bamboo picks, the archaeologist and his team worked through several feet of earth before reaching the top of the crypt. When Bellantoni lifted the first of the large, flat rocks that formed the roof, he uncovered the remains of a red-painted coffin and a pair of skeletal feet. They lay, he remembers, “in perfect anatomical position.” But when he raised the next stone, Bellantoni saw that the rest of the individual “had been com­pletely...rearranged.” The skeleton had been beheaded; skull and thighbones rested atop the ribs and vertebrae. “It looked like a skull-and-crossbones motif, a Jolly Roger. I’d never seen anything like it,” Bellantoni recalls.

Subsequent analysis showed that the beheading, along with other injuries, including rib fractures, occurred roughly five years after death. Somebody had also smashed the coffin.

The other skeletons in the gravel hillside were packaged for reburial, but not “J.B.,” as the 50ish male skeleton from the 1830s came to be called, because of the initials spelled out in brass tacks on his coffin lid. He was shipped to the National Museum of Health and Medicine, in Washington, D.C., for further study. Meanwhile, Bellantoni started networking. He invited archaeologists and historians to tour the excavation, soliciting theories. Simple vandalism seemed unlikely, as did robbery, because of the lack of valuables at the site.

Finally, one colleague asked: “Ever heard of the Jewett City vampires?”

In 1854, in neighboring Jewett City, Connecticut, townspeople had exhumed several corpses suspected to be vampires that were rising from their graves to kill the living. A few newspaper accounts of these events survived. Had the Griswold grave been desecrated for the same reason?
In the course of his far-flung research, Bellantoni placed a serendipitous phone call to Michael Bell, a Rhode Island folklorist, who had devoted much of the previous decade to studying New England vampire exhumations. The Griswold case occurred at roughly the same time as the other incidents Bell had investigated. And the setting was right: Griswold was rural, agrarian and bordering southern Rhode Island, where multiple exhumations had occurred. Many of the other “vampires,” like J.B., had been disinterred, grotesquely tampered with and reburied.

In light of the tales Bell told of violated corpses, even the posthumous rib fractures began to make sense. J.B.’s accusers had likely rummaged around in his chest cavity, hoping to remove, and perhaps to burn, his heart. ...

Read the rest of this quite lengthy article. 

The Vampires of New England

Happy Halloween, waaaaaahhhhhoooooowwaaaahhhhhoooooo - alright, you get the idea. Trail doesn't go dead for archaeologists traveling back in time By Jamie DeLoma Special Correspondent Published October 31 2007 Beliefs about spirits coming in the night to eat the flesh of the living were pervasive among early New Englanders, and may have inspired the creator of "Dracula" -- and fear of blood-sucking vampires lurking in the night. Although it is unlikely that the early settlers of Connecticut, Rhode Island, Vermont and New Hampshire used the term "vampire," historical evidence shows rampant belief in the undead. Unlike modern interpretations involving imposing castles, pale faces and menacing bats, vampires that were perceived to lurk in the backwoods and farmlands of Connecticut looked more like malnourished farmers. "We have found evidence of a vampire folk belief throughout New England," said Nicholas Bellantoni said, Connecticut's state archaeologist. "The accounts we have documented have primarily shown up in rural areas, with hot spots in eastern Connecticut and western Rhode Island." The fears may have been stoked by an outbreak of tuberculosis, which caused extreme abdominal pain, particularly at night when lying down. Some victims bled from their mouths, said Michael Bell, a Rhode Island author and folklore expert. Tuberculosis was the leading cause of death in 19th-century New England, accounting for 25 percent of all deaths at the time, Bell said. Although there were reports of unearthing the dead because of fears of vampires in Chicago, northern Pennsylvania and upstate New York, the folklore is rooted in New England, Bell said. People did not understand germs or the disease, or how it spread, Bellantoni said. "The idea of the undead was used to explain the epidemic death," he said. About two dozen cases of what could be considered vampirism were reported in five New England states from about 1784 to 1892, Bell said. "When these family members died and other people began to suffer similar symptoms, some people believed the people who died could spread the disease," Bellantoni said. "People were dying and had no way to explain why." Bellantoni compared this spread of tuberculosis with diseases that are not understood today. "These people were frightened and trying to save loved ones. They were willing to do whatever was necessary to save their lives," he said. It is more than coincidence that the vampires the farmers feared share traits with Bram Stoker's "Dracula," he said. "Stoker had newspaper articles of New England and New York cases," Bellantoni said. "He was collecting evidence on the undead from around the world." All the documented cases in New England occurred outside the Puritan heartland of Massachusetts and central and western Connecticut, Bell said. They took place in "fringe" areas where folk practices migrated from Eastern Europe, he said. Dr. Michael Parry, director of infectious diseases and microbiology at Stamford Hospital, said tuberculosis, a highly contagious respiratory illness, is almost always spread through droplets in the air. It usually travels to the lungs and battles the immune system for about two weeks. It could become dormant for decades before flaring up again when the immune system weakens. Victims primarily had severe cough, fever and weight loss. "As the illness progresses, the cough could become bloody and include chest pains," Parry said. "It goes on for months and months and becomes increasingly worse." A victim might develop nightmares or delusions from the fever, and leave blood on their bed linens from coughing -- things that some believed were caused by vampires. Bell studied one victim in southeastern Connecticut known as JB who is believed to have died between 1820 and 1840 in Griswold near the Rhode Island border. "On the lid of the hexagonal, wooden coffin, an arrangement of brass tacks spelled out 'JB-55,' presumably the initials and age at death of this individual," Bell wrote in his book, Food for the Dead: On the Trail of New England's Vampires. "When the grave was opened, JB's skull and thigh bones were found in a skull and crossbones pattern on top of his ribs and vertebrae, which was also rearranged." Bell and Bellantoni concluded the grave was opened five to 10 years after JB's death and his bones rearranged with the hope of preventing his spirit from terrorizing the village. "We do find certain references, about 22, that mention this going on," Bellantoni said. "One is from a doctor. He was outraged people were going into the graves. He . . . wrote an article in the local newspaper saying this should not be done." Two brothers, Elisha and Lemuel Ray, also in Griswold, were exhumed and burned in the hope of saving the life of their brother, Henry Ray, in 1854, though he died months later. People sometimes dug up a person they suspected was a vampire, burned the heart and fed the ashes to a victim, Bell said. In other cases, they burned the entire body and had the victim inhale the ashes. Most people avoided speaking about the taboo practice. Similar cases were reported in West Stafford, Conn.; Exeter, West Greenwich, Foster and Cumberland, R.I.; Plymouth, Mass.; Barnstead and Loudon, N.H.; and Woodstock, Manchester and Dummerston, Vt. "We do know it was going on," Bellantoni said. "These are probably not families who want to do this but are doing it as a last resort to save a loved one." After the publication of Dracula in 1897, vampire rituals seemed to stop, he said. "Two things, I think, are happening," he said. "In the late 1880s, you're getting a more medical answer where there's a scientific approach and information of how to deal with the disease, and once Dracula addresses it, it becomes a huge social stigma." Copyright © 2007, Southern Connecticut Newspapers, Inc.