his team around, the farmer lashed the horses into a run, racing back toward the house of the friend he had just left. The next day in broad daylight the couple once again began their trip home—this time completing their journey without incident.
Shortly thereafter another farmer in the area encountered the giant ghost. This man had a reputation for being not only intelligent, but without fear. His encounter with the giant club-wielding ghost, however, left him greatly fearful. He never again traveled that road at night.
On a number of occasions, several groups of curious citizens have attempted to investigate and solve the mystery of the giant ghost. In each instance they, too, saw and were convinced of the actual presence of the ghost.
Several conflicting reports described the ghost as being eight to ten feet tall and having a badly mangled or missing head. But all the reports mentioned the club. The story evolved to allege that the entity was the spirit of the elderly man who must have been murdered by a gang of gold-seeking ruffians. Some said that the ghost would not hurt the innocent; he was just waiting for the murderers to come down the road, so he could take his revenge.
Needless to say, when darkness comes, those of the Benton com-munity steer clear of the road beside the old graveyard on U.S. Route 33 where the giant ghost waited—and still may be waiting.
The Haunting of Ruthmere Mansion
I had just begun my telephone conversation with Father George Minnix, the interim director of Ruthmere House Museum, when the alarm system began making its high-pitched screams of warning. Father Minnix’s distressed and anxious voice announced, “I must go. The alarm has gone off.” Our connection went dead.
Was this yet another in a series of unexplained happenings ru-mored to be plaguing the beautiful Beaux Arts home of the late A.R. Beardsley and his wife?
In the 1880s, Dr. Franklin Miles began marketing his home remedies to Elkhart citizens. Nine years later Albert R. (A.R., as he was known) Beardsley joined the firm. Alfred R. Beardsley’s successful life story is the classic American dream. Born in Ohio in 1847, A.R. had completed a common-school education when, as a teenager, he moved to Elkhart to live with his aunt, the widow of his notable uncle Dr. Havilah Beardsley, who established a gristmill. A.R. earned his keep by milking his aunt’s cows, doing chores for neighbors, and eventually working as an apprentice clerk in a dry goods store.
In his early twenties, he opened his own dry goods store and became one of the city’s leading merchants. Twelve years later he left the dry goods business, purchased stock in the Muzzy Starch Company, and within only six years became the president.
The well-liked and prosperous A.R. soon became part of the political environment at the local level, serving as city clerk, treasurer, and councilman. Finally entering the state arena, he was successful in his bid for Elkhart County’s state representative. Continuing to hold state-level positions, he served two terms (1905 and 1907) in the state senate.
Elizabeth Florence Baldwin became his bride in September of 1872. They settled into a house at 307 West High Street. In December 1880, Ruth Beardsley, their first and only child, was born. It soon became apparent, however, that the infant was afflicted with hydrocephalus, a condition in which an abnormal increase of fluid occurs within the cranial cavity. The baby died in July 1881.
After a period of grief, A.R. and Elizabeth began again to entertain friends at their home, something they both loved. As A.R.’s political popularity grew, though, so did the need for a larger home in which to host their many friends and political acquaintances.
In 1908 they started building a new home named Ruthmere along the bank of the Saint Joseph River: Ruth, after their beloved child, and “mere,” meaning “near the water.” No expense was spared in the building of the home, dedicated to the memory of their child and intended as a warm and welcoming showplace for their many guests. After two years the Beardsleys moved into their beautiful new home at 302 East Beardsley. Almost immediately they began hosting numerous parties, inviting influential friends and colleagues.
By all accounts (including those of Robert B. Beardsley, the couple’s great-nephew,) Elizabeth was quite a lady! Often she’d re-ceive her guests wearing a hat and gloves and standing in front of the drawing-room fireplace. Elizabeth was gregarious, hearty, flamboyant, and daring—wearing lipstick and heavy white powder when few women did so. She was also known for expressing a gentility in her love of Worth perfume and tea roses, while exhibiting characteristics unbecoming a lady such as swearing when she felt like it, and later in life, drinking a split of champagne, as prescribed by her doctor, before going to bed.
The parties ended with the Beardsleys’ deaths in 1924 (they died within five months of each other). Upon their death their nephew, Arthur Beardsley, purchased the house. He died in 1944, and the home then passed out of the Beardsley family and was purchased by a family with five children.
Unfortunately, through the years the property was abandoned and fell into disrepair. In 1969 the Beardsleys’ great-nephew, Robert B., began a restoration that took five years to complete. It was opened to the public in 1973 as a Beaux Arts-style house museum.
During all its years, no “strange” events had ever been reported. However, today docents and visitors alike have whispered rumors of experiencing strange and unaccountable happenings. Lights go off and on when no one is in the house. Small items are moved from room to room—a few stories even state that the items have actually been seen “floating.” And then there’s the mystery of the alarm!
I’ve been told that frequently the alarm will sound and, upon investigation, nothing is wrong and no one is around. During my telephone conversation with Father Minnix, I heard this phenomena happen.
Later that day I called back and talked to one of the docents. She assured me that she’d never experienced anything out of the ordinary while working in the house. I asked about the alarm that had abruptly ended my telephone conversation earlier that day. She knew that the alarm had sounded, but after investigation by Father Minnix, it was determined nothing was amiss. Although the docent had never heard or experienced anything while working in the house, she did say there was at least one docent who on many occasions had.
Could Ruthmere be haunted? Is it the fun-loving, gregarious, hearty, flamboyant, and daring ghost of Elizabeth?
The Umble Ghost
Goshen College, a college of the Mennonite Church, was founded in 1903. It was a continuation of the Elkhart Institute founded in 1895. In 1920 the college obtained accreditation by the state.
Five years later the arrival of John S. Umble as professor of En-glish marked the beginning of a new era. Among his many accomplishments and achievements for the school were the creation of speech courses and the development of a strong debate program. He believed in the power of communicating. The highly respected and innovative professor died in 1954.
His son, Roy, had joined the faculty in 1946, adding his support and dedication to his father’s belief in the power of communications through the establishment of a Drama Department. Although both Umbles taught and stressed the importance of communications, a department dedicated to this discipline was not created until 1972. Within a few years, it became apparent that this department needed a new communications center.
The John S. Umble Center was dedicated in 1978. The inaugural play, Shakespeare’s As You Like It, was directed by Roy Umble. As more and more
