By: Brandon Hardy
Showing posts with label gracey manor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gracey manor. Show all posts

Saturday, October 1, 2011

The Mansion

I find it's only polite to begin with the story of Gracey Manor itself. The Spirit of Place. So gather 'round, boys and ghouls, as I tell you how Gracey Manor came to be...




      The Mansion was built in 1671 by Ub van der Iwerks, a Dutch burgermeister. He chose the site on a hill overlooking the river despite warnings from the town elders that he was desecrating a sacred Indian burial ground. Construction was plagued by freak accidents, causing laborers to become scarce. The burgermeister finished the bricklaying himself, stubbornly seeing the project through to completion. He moved his family in on October 31, 1671. Details of what happened next are sketchy. . .apparently Ub went mad and sealed himself in a tomb in the adjacent graveyard. What is clear is that the van der Iwerks family abandoned the house.

      In the decades that followed, the Mansion served as a pirate’s hangout, a brothel, and an army barracks. Those buried in the Mansion’s graveyard are only a sample of the many that died on the premises.

      In 1871, the deed passed to Colonel Ronald Stevens, a wealthy publisher, in the winning from a riverboat card game. The Colonel began an extensive renovation of the Mansion, which was as ill fated as its original construction had been. When Fred, a stonemason, was killed by a falling rock, Colonel Stevens took over the stonecutting himself. He moved his family in on October 31, 1871. Shortly thereafter, the Colonel lost his mind. Neglecting his lithography business, Colonel Ronald Stevens spent his last days carving his name backwards on tombstones. He finally died in a boiler explosion. The remaining bits of him were buried under each of the gravemarkers inscribed SNEVETS NOR.

      The Stevens family sold the Mansion to the American Spiritualist Society, which used it as a retreat. The Society converted one of the rooms into a seance circle, which was used nightly to summon departed spirits from far and wide. They had logged over 900 contacts by the time the Society was disbanded in 1914. The trustees then sold the Mansion to Master Graceys father.

      George Gracey, Sr., bought the Mansion for use as the Graceys’ winter home. After George was murdered, his widow sold the Gracey estate, except for the Mansion, which Master Gracey inherited.

(direct from the good ghouls at the Ghost Gallery)

So it begins...


When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls; whenever candle lights flicker where the air is deathly still; that is the time when ghosts are present. Practicing their terror with ghoulish delight.


Welcome foolish muggles, to the Season of the Witch. The time of year when you can find wall to wall creeps, and hot and cold running chills. We've all heard of Gracey Manor and their 999 happy haunts from creepy old crypts all over the world. What no one knows, however, is how they became happy haunts in the first place! Tragic, really. So, I have decided to remedy that! Throughout this wonderfully wicked season, I will bring you stories of some of the Manor's more prominent guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal states. And to start off our month long swinging wake, I know just the spell to get us in the spirit of things! Given to me by our dear, beloved Madame Leota. You know, she has a remarkable head for materializing the disembodied!


Horntoads and lizards, fiddle and strum.
Please answer the role, by beating a drum!


Ghost fiends and furies, old friends and new.
Blow in a horn, so we'll know whether it's you!


Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat.
Call in the spirits, wherever they're at!


Rap on a table, it's time to respond.
Send us a message from somewhere beyond!


Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween,
Awaken the spirits with your tambourine!


Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pong.
Let there be music from regions beyond!


Wizards and Witches, wherever you dwell.
Give us a hint by ringing a bell!