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.
The restaurant’s romantic interior
After Theodosia’s disappearance and presumed death, Burr had all her belongings packed and stored in the basement of his carriage house. That would explain the attachment of his and Theodosia’s spirits to the place. On rare occasions, full-body apparitions have been sighted at the restaurant—usually late at night, after closing. Aaron Burr has been seen by employees, as well as a lady in a long white gown who descends the stairs and vanishes. They describe the gown as having an empire waist, a style that was fashionable in 1812, when Theodosia was lost at sea.
Another ghost spotted at One If By Land, Two If By Sea is that of an African-American man who is seen upstairs seated at a small table. By the time the waiter arrives to take his order, the mysterious guest has vanished. He has not been identified, but some suspect he is Burr’s devoted manservant of thirty years. I wonder if he could be James Brown, a tobacco merchant whose house was built in 1817 at the base of the Richmond Hill estate. Today, that home is the Ear Inn at 326 Spring Street, another haunted spot in this book.
Over the years, One If By Land, Two If By Sea has had consistent poltergeist activity, mainly harmless pranks. Napkins have been pulled off customers’ laps; chairs have moved as the customer attempts to sit down. Unseen hands move salt and pepper shakers. This telekinetic energy or poltergeist activity is strong enough to push an adult down the stairs. Two electricians working here witnessed their tools levitating and floating toward them; they were so frightened that they ran out and refused to return, not even to collect their fee.
The establishment is haunted by typical residual sounds, such as glasses clinking and heavy footsteps pounding across the third floor above the manager’s office when no one is there. More baffling is the sound of a cat meowing, as animals are not allowed in the restaurant. The sounds also include human voices; a customer or employee will hear someone calling his name from behind, and when he turns around, no one is there. Once the office copier started itself and began spewing out blank pages, which frightened one skeptical employee into believing “there are such things as ghosts.”
When I arrived at One If By Land, Two If By Sea, the head waiter and manager, Andreas, was quick to invite me in. He showed me around briefly, pointing out that the brick inside the bar is original, although the bar itself is new. Andreas also told me that two tombs had been discovered during excavation in the basement, but he was too pressed for time to take me down there. He was in a rush to get to the store to purchase some replacement light bulbs. As he dashed out the door, he said, “Feel free to walk anywhere you want.”
I went first to the staircase that leads to the balcony dining room; this is where the ghost lady is seen coming down the stairs. It was a great vantage point for capturing pictures of the restaurant and bar
