as both my hands were occupied with my audio recorder and camera. I called out to Theodosia and to “Vice President Burr,” but upon reviewing the recordings, I heard no answers. From the balcony, I went into the main dining area. I kept the audio recorder going, and I alternated between temperature scans and picture-taking. The temperature was averaging 68 degrees. The photos showed no anomalies. Then I went into the front parlor dining rooms. These adjoining rooms are smaller and more intimate than the main dining area, and each has a beautiful fireplace. It was a few degrees warmer in these rooms, perhaps because they’re smaller.
I went down the narrow staircase to the restrooms in the basement. Again I was thankful that the ghost didn’t push me. I was hoping to find an entry to where the tombs had been unearthed, but the “Employees Only” door was locked. Inside the ladies’ room, the heat was intense: 78 degrees! But this wasn’t para-normal; I saw the radiator and realized the door had not been opened for a while, so the heat had built up.
I know a temperature drop is a more typical indication of a ghost’s presence than a temperature increase. Occasionally, though, a ghost will drive the temperature up to an uncomfortable level in order to be noticed or to drive living persons away. So I kept my audio recorder going while in the stifling-hot bathroom. I did not capture any EVPs. As for the tombs, I learned that of the two headstones that were unearthed in the basement, only one was legible, and the name on it was Elizabeth Seaman. Is it possible that Elizabeth haunts the restaurant, rather than Theodosia?
Who was Elizabeth Seaman, I wondered? I discovered that a woman named Elizabeth Cochrane Seaman was an investigative journalist known publicly as Nellie Bly. The New York Press Club dedicated a headstone to her at the Woodlawn Cemetery in 1978. I asked them if there was a correlation to the headstone found at the 17 Barrow Street restaurant. They said they had no knowledge of another tomb or headstone being discovered. So the Elizabeth Seaman whose tomb was found downstairs at the restaurant is obviously not the famous one known as Nellie Bly.
“One if by land, two if by sea,” as everyone knows, was the lantern signal sent to Paul Revere from the Old North Church in Boston during the Revolutionary War. Perhaps the ghosts of the restaurant play off this theme, moving one object at a diner’s place setting to signal an order of beef, two objects for an order of seafood. I suppose if two objects are moved and the diner is pushed down the stairs, it means she ordered the surf and turf.
CHAPTER 8
White Horse Tavern
THE WHITE HORSE TAVERN is a popular destination for tourists primarily because of its association with Bohemian literary greats such as Jack Kerouac, Norman Mailer, and Dylan Thomas. The structure that houses the tavern was built in 1817 as a livery and stable; in 1880, it became a bar for sailors and longshoremen.
Fast-forward to 1950, when Welsh poet Dylan Thomas arrived in America to present a series of lectures. He was quickly introduced to the White Horse Tavern by fellow poet Ruthven Todd. Thomas favored a table by the window. He would reposition it so that it aligned perfectly with his paper while writing his poetry. When he wasn’t writing at his favorite table, he was at the end of the bar hoisting another whiskey to his lips. One day in November 1953, he had one too many. Reports vary from seventeen to nineteen shots of whiskey; suffice it to say, it was a lethal amount. After setting down his empty shot glass, he declared his consumption record-setting and proceeded to stumble out of the White Horse Tavern. He made it to his residence at the Chelsea Hotel, then collapsed. He was taken to St. Vincent’s Hospital, where died of liver failure at the age of thirty-nine.
The spirit of Dylan Thomas has been witnessed at the White Horse Tavern many times. It’s quite possible that the reason he lingers is that he was too drunk at the time of his death to recognize that he had died. At least twice a month, the staff find Thomas’ favorite table rotated to the position he preferred, instead of where they positioned it the night before at closing.
I spoke with Rosamond Kiefer, a history major and member of the Valley Forge Historical Society, who once saw the ghost of Dylan Thomas. In June of 2002, she and two friends were touring the Museum of Natural History and then decided to walk around the East Village. By late afternoon, one of the friends who knew how much Rosamond is intrigued by the paranormal said, “Oh, you’ll love this place! They say this tavern is haunted.” They entered the White Horse Tavern and went to the left to sit at a table facing the long bar. The bar was not crowded at all.
Rosamond asked her friend, “Where are we supposed to see a ghost?” The friend, who had no interest whatsoever in the paranormal, had no idea. So Rosamond sat with her back to the wall to have a clear vantage point of the length of the bar, and her two friends sat across from her, facing the wall. Rosamond kept an eye on the bar as the three friends conversed. At the far end of the bar on the right-hand side, she noticed a man standing with his foot on the bar railing, his right arm raised with a glass in his hand. She heard him say, “Drinks for everyone!” No one around the man reacted—not even the bartender, who would have made quite a tip.
Seeing that no one had paid attention to the man, Rosamond figured that perhaps he had no money, and that the people around him knew that and therefore ignored him. As she stared at him, she realized his attire was not of this time period. She interrupted her friends and asked them to look at the man and give their assessments. They turned around and looked in the direction she pointed, but he was gone. Rosamond was completely baffled. How could he have left the bar so quickly? That’s when it hit her: She’d seen a ghost!
At the end of that summer, Rosamond was in a bookstore and saw the book Discovery Travel Adventure Haunted Holidays. As she flipped through it, she found the section for New York City and saw the White Horse Tavern. She read the part about Dylan Thomas frequenting this bar when he was alive and hoisting his glass. The chill that shot up Rosamond’s spine confirmed the identity of the ghost she had seen in June.
During my visit to the tavern, I took some pictures and attempted to record EVPs. I also spoke with the bartender about the haunting of the tavern. He said he had worked at the tavern for a little over two years, and that every year around Halloween, reporters come in to interview staff about the haunting. He told me he has not experienced anything paranormal and assured me that he has been there well past closing. He was intrigued when I told him about the apparition that Rosamond witnessed. I’m sure he’ll be telling that story this October to the reporters that show up.
My audio recordings and photos collected nothing substantial. I can’t drink alcoholic beverages when I am investigating and interviewing, so I did not hang around too long in the bars I visited for this book. Another time, I will revisit the White Horse Tavern to have a leisurely drink or two. Hopefully Dylan will join me.
CHAPTER 9
St. Mark’s in-the-Bowery
THE WORD BOWERY comes from the Dutch bouwerie, meaning farm. That’s exactly what this place was when Petrus Stuyvesant was lord and master of the land and first governor of New Amsterdam, now known as New York. Stuyvesant arrived in the New World in 1647. Having lost a leg while fighting for the Dutch in Curacao, he had a wooden leg complete with silver studs, which earned him the nicknames “Peg Leg Peter” and “Old Silver Nails.” Stuyvesant used a cane for stability, which gave his walking gait a distinct sound. While he was not known as the kindest man, he did maintain order and contribute to the development of this area of Manhattan. He had a small chapel built on his estate, and in 1672 he died and was buried in the family crypt beneath the chapel. Eventually that chapel was torn down, and on May 9, 1799, a new church was completed
