It is with great pleasure that I welcome Chris Woodyard to The Witch, The Weird, and The Wonderful for this week's Wednesday Weirdness with a curious tale of burning beds in Cleveland, Ohio. Was it witchcraft, poltergeists or was something else to blame for the terror that struck the Busch family?
In
studying that most elusive of supernatural creatures, the
poltergeist, it becomes obvious that poltergeist manifestations go
far beyond the species’ signature rappings. While some
poltergeists knock, others throw and break objects or make them
vanish. “Stone-throwing devils” hurl mysterious showers of stones
that never do more than lightly bruise. Still others, less benign,
slash clothing and set fires.
*********
In 1880 a
German family living in Cleveland, Ohio found themselves at the
centre of an extraordinary and terrifying incendiary poltergeist
incident.
IS IT
WITCHCRAFT?
MYSTERIOUS
FLAMES IN A CLEVELAND DWELLING.
"Cleveland, Ohio, April 28th. An extraordinary series of mysterious
fires has occasioned an unusual sensation in one of the outlying
wards of this city, and as yet no solution to their strange cause has
been furnished. Bedding and articles of domestic use have caught fire
from no apparent cause, and an entire family has not only been kept
in constant terror of flames, but has been subject to pecuniary loss
that falls hard upon a man who can ill afford to lose even so much as
a dollar.
“A
short time ago there came to this city from North Amherst, a
hard-working and honest German named John Busch, whose principal
worldly goods were a “poor man’s blessing” of eleven children.
Two of these latter were twins at their mother’s breast…
Shortly
after Busch removed to Cleveland his family began to be troubled by
fires breaking out in various parts of the house without any apparent
cause. Busch was living in a house on Lincoln Avenue, and, becoming
imbued with the belief that the place was haunted, he removed to 77
Lussenden Avenue, where he thought he would find relief from the
annoyance…”
The new
house was a small one and the front parlour was set up as a bedroom
with three beds for children, as well as a baby’s crib in one
corner. On Sunday, April 18th, shortly after moving in, the parents,
several children, and a few friends were sitting in this room
chatting, when someone noticed a thread of smoke coming through the
key-hole of an unused closet behind one of the beds. An old suit of
clothes—the only garment in the closet—was found burning briskly.
The fire was quickly put out, but the family was baffled as to how it
had started. Worse was to follow.
“On
Monday when Mrs. Busch, in going about her domestic duties, entered a
pantry used for dishes, she was startled to see flames rising from
the shelves. In a moment the paper which had been used for lining the
shelves was consumed, and nothing remained but the ashes, while the
dishes were blackened with the smoke. Some relatives were summoned to
the house by one of the children, and while they stood in the kitchen
discussing the strange occurrence the child’s crib in the front
room began smoking, and upon their hastening to extinguish it a hole
was found burned clear through the bed-tick.”
In the
next few days fires flared up in several rooms of the house. After
yet another mattress was consumed by fire, the terrified family fled.
But the first day at the new house, one of the beds was burned to
ashes; the next day a hen’s nest in the back yard was consumed.
“Saturday, while Mrs. Busch was in the coal-shed adjoining the
kitchen, she saw smoke rising from an old coat that was hanging on a
nail. She says that the fire seemed to begin about the middle of the
back. It was ruined before she could put the fire out.
“The
terror of the family increased day by day. The children were kept out
of school to watch for fear the house would be burned. On Sunday a
number of friends and relatives stayed during the day with the
terrified people… Shortly after the bed caught fire, and was burned
for a space of several feet before it could be extinguished. The
stock of straw-beds was now exhausted, except one which on Monday met
with the fate of the others.”
A
correspondent for the Cincinnati Enquirer visited the family and
found the family in a “pitiable state,” while the Busch’s
friends and neighbours corroborated their incredible story. The
mysterious flames were reported to be a hellish blue and they had a
particular target: the household beds. As an aside, would it be
possible for straw-beds to spontaneously combust? Straw was usually
thoroughly dried before being stuffed into ticks.
Wrote the
reporter: “The fire had absolutely burned all of their bedding
except a couple of feather-pillows and a feather-tick. The mother was
almost distracted, while the father acted like a man bereft of his
senses.”
Enter an
accusation of witchcraft:
“A
rather strange feature of the mystery was called out by the
declaration of an old German lady that if they would look in the
feathers of the feather tick they would find a solid wreath of
feathers, which was “the witch” that was causing the trouble. She
said that if they would boil this “the witch” would be destroyed
and they would suffer no more annoyance. Acting on her advice, they
ripped open the tick, and, sure enough, there was a wreath of
feathers several inches thick, forming a ring about ten inches in
diameter. On Monday they gave it a vigorous boiling, but it did not
prevent the return of the fires.
Mr. Busch
has had to abandon his work to watch over his family, all of whose
members are in constant dread of some serious calamity.”
The
“wreath of feathers” or feather crown, was a well-known sign in
German lore that the family had been bewitched. Boiling the crown was
supposed to either bring the malefactor to the house so they could be
forced to remove the curse or neutralize the witch’s power.
Although
the wreath-boiling did not work immediately, apparently the fires
ceased without any of the family being incinerated, for here the
story ends, as far the newspaper coverage goes. According to the
census, the Busch family was still alive and well in 1900 Cleveland.
What was
termed “witchcraft” in an 1880 German community today might be
labelled “telekinesis” or “poltergeist activity.” Some who
study poltergeists say that the attacks are highly symbolic and often
reflect—quite literally—difficult family dynamics and stressors.
What the mechanism might be is not specified.
If we
care to play psychologist, we might note that the family bedding was
the main target for the fires. Perhaps Mrs. Busch, who was about 37
at the time of the fires and went on to have at least two other
children, was exhausted by fulfilling her marital and maternal
duties. No beds, no bedclothes, no “bedding,” and no more babies?
It’s a theory impossible to prove. Poltergeist activity has also
been linked to adolescents--possibly one of the eleven children was a
fire-starter in a very real sense. But whether witchcraft or a
Fortean “wild talent,” the mystery, I fear, is long past solving.
Ashes to ashes…
The full
story of the Busch family may be found in The Face in the Window:
Haunting Ohio Tales. All quotes in this story are from Cincinnati
[OH] Enquirer 29 April 1880: p. 4
Thanks to Undine of Strange Company for the Illustrated Police News Images.
Thanks to Undine of Strange Company for the Illustrated Police News Images.
Chris Woodyard is the
author of The Victorian Book of the Dead, The Ghost Wore Black, The
Headless Horror, The Face in the Window, and the 7-volume Haunted
Ohio series. She is also the chronicler of the adventures of that
amiable murderess Mrs Daffodil in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre
Tales. She blogs on international fortean topics here and on costume and the ephemera of history here. You may find her on Facebook
at Haunted Ohio by Chris Woodyard, The Victorian Book of the Dead,
and Mrs Daffodil and on twitter @hauntedohiobook.
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