Fearing Tavern Museum
WAREHAM, MASSACHUSETTS
“WELCOME TO WAREHAM. Gateway to Cape Cod.” That is what a decorative sign declares at the edge of town, on Route 28 East. Most modern maps show Cape Cod as starting east of the canal, but the folks of Wareham strongly beg to differ on that notion. Setting all local debate aside, it can be agreed that Wareham is one of the oldest settled areas in Massachusetts and if a long history of human habitation is truly an ingredient for ghostly activity, it would explain why the town is so haunted.
Friends and colleagues who grew up in Wareham have brought to my attention about half a dozen private homes and businesses they know through family, friends, and their own personal experiences are very haunted. One such ghost is believed to be the original owner of the Tremont Nail Company; he has been seen walking from the front of the factory to the little shop across Elm Street. The nail company is the oldest manufacturer of hand-cut nails in the United States, and the little shop was originally its company store.
The haunted rocking chair
Nearby, on the Cranberry Highway (Route 28), stands the fifties-style Mill Pond Diner. It is the third diner to occupy the location since the 1920s. One of the cooks, Timmy, who has been working there for sixteen years, told me that he and some of his fellow employees have seen a fast-moving form enter the back of the diner and move down the stairs to the cellar. A psychic visited the roadside eatery and claimed that there are spirits walking back and forth from the cemetery on the other side of the highway to the Fearing Tavern, which is directly in back of the diner. She said they are just passing through because the diner is in their way.
The land on which the nail factory, the company store, and the diner are located was originally owned by Isaac Bump, the miller, who built a simple, two-room house on the land in 1690. Isaac ran three gristmills, and as time went on the Bump family grew, bought land, and eventually became involved in the iron industry. Over time the Bumps sold off their holdings and moved away to follow prosperity elsewhere. (An interesting side note to the Bump family is that one of their descendents was Mercy Lavinia Warren Bump—aka Mrs. Tom Thumb).
Israel Fearing bought the three-and-one-half acre plot and its little house from Isaac Bump. In 1765 the Fearings added an upstairs floor. Sometime around 1774 it became known as the Fearing Tavern. Further additions were made in 1820, making a total of sixteen rooms. The house and land would stay in the Fearing family for two hundred years. It would also play an important part in the history of Wareham.
The old Boston Post Road, known today as Elm Street, ran right in front of the Fearing Tavern. Stagecoaches would stop here and unload their weary travelers for food, drink, and a place to spend the night. The tavern’s Tap Room, or Publik Room, was not only a place for passengers to refresh themselves, but also a place for town business to be discussed by Wareham’s selectmen. Grog, the common drink in those days, was served to the town officials during these meetings at the taxpayers’ expense. People were not the only important cargo carried by the stagecoaches; mail was also delivered and picked up here, making the tavern also the town’s post office. The small room that served as the post master’s office is still in place on the first floor as is the well-restored Tap Room.
From the early 1940s to the late 1950s, the Akins family owned the property and ran the aptly named Akins Diner. They also lived in the old Fearing homestead while running their business. No one from the Akins family will go on record about whether anything “strange” went on in the old tavern while they lived there, but locals say they have heard rumors of such happenings.
In 1957 Ernie Blanchard bought the tavern and adjacent diner from the Akins family. Ernie replaced the original wooden diner for an O’Mahoney model, but found it too small, so he changed it out for the larger one that is there today. The Blanchards chose not to live in the Fearing Tavern because it was badly in need of repair and had no modern conveniences, although they appreciated the significance of the historic building and felt it should be saved. In 1958 Mr. Blanchard donated the tavern to the Wareham Historical Society and so began the difficult task of polishing this amazing gem.
A successful campaign to raise funds allowed the historical society to hire building contractors skilled in the art of restoring old homes. Their talents are evident the moment one approaches and enters the building. All the rooms are furnished with eighteenth- and nineteenth-century pieces, some of which are original to the home. The tavern is almost exactly the way it was in the days the Fearing family owned it. There is no plumbing and only a few electric lights. The museum has a telephone, but it is well hidden from view and is only used for necessary communications. Some of the best paranormal investigators in southern New England believe the Fearing Tavern holds more than just material objects from its past. This writer agrees.
On the evening of September 24, 2008, the historical society allowed the hosts of Spooky Southcoast Radio to conduct the first-ever paranormal investigation of the Fearing Tavern Museum. The host of the program, Tim Weisberg, and his science advisor, Matt Moniz, invited along an expert in electronic voice phenomenon (EVP for short) named Mike Markowicz, as well as local paranormal enthusiast Carlston Wood and me to help out. Earlier in the evening, I hung out with the team at the diner to hear tales of strange happenings in the old tavern. Besides whispers that the Atkins family had experiences they kept to themselves, I was told about unearthly lights seen moving about the building when it was unoccupied. Those who witnessed these lights did not believe that the energy producing the brightness was nothing more than flashlights used by people exploring the empty house.
The Toy Room. A strange little light was captured on infrared video coming out of the wall on the left and traveling to the dolls on the shelf.
Carlston Wood’s daughter, Ashley, stopped by to tell us about an exceptional moment she and a girlfriend shared one summer afternoon while on a guided tour of the museum. The two teenaged girls were taking up the rear as the tour group exited one of the upstairs bedrooms, their guide leading the way. They both turned to take one last look at the room, and as they turned back to walk through the doorway, their eyes met. “I think we must have had the same expression on our faces. We turned to look back into the room and she was gone, but the rocking chair was still moving. We looked at each other without saying a word and then we caught up with the group downstairs.” They later told the guide what they had seen; the translucent form of an old woman, sitting in the rocking chair, knitting. The guide told the two girls she believed them and left it at that.
As for our team’s investigation that night, we did not go home disappointed. We felt honored to be given first crack at catching any evidence (or as we like to call it, data) that could back up the claims that the tavern is haunted. Just to be allowed into this fantastic museum, at night, with all our equipment, was a thrill in itself. We were, of course, not left alone in the tavern. A member of the historical society, Carol McMarrow, was there to keep an eye on things, just in case. When you see for yourself the wonderful antiques held within the place, you will understand why. In addition to Carolyn, a few other people from the society dropped by to check out the investigation.
After we had taken in the whole layout of the house, members of the team and the folks from the historical society took a walk down Elm Street to see the Tremont Nail Company. The only living souls left behind were Matt Moniz, Carolyn, and I. Since the house was now quiet, I took the opportunity to conduct an EVP session in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Matt and Carolyn were downstairs talking about the society’s need for volunteers. Later, when the audio recording was played back, the unmistakable sound of someone “shushing”
