Rix Roundree-Harrison
Berkeley Plantation: Grace Hosts Presidents’ Ghosts
RicSam (Clarence) & CdiG (Chuck)
Berkeley Plantation, birthplace of our nation’s ninth President William Henry Harrison, is haunted. Over 100 ghosts reside there. I know, I’m one of Berkeley’s tour guides and I’ve encountered many of the ghosts. One of the ghosts is Grace. She’s Berkeley’s owner, who died in the house in 1999. I’ve spoken with Grace many times. My friend Chuck, a historian, met her too. It was when we both spent the night at Berkeley, the haunted mansion. Before our night of fright began, I felt obligated to acquaint Chuck with Berkeley’s haunted history. There are many ghostly spirits there as many people have died there between the years 1622 and 1999.
First there was the Indian uprising of 1622, when the Native Americans killed dozens of British colonizers. Those colonizers are now ghosts. Then there are two wars that involved Berkeley, the American Revolution and the Civil War. There are causalities from both wars whose ghosts haunt Berkeley today. One can’t shake a stick at Berkeley without running into rich ghost, poor ghost, enslaved ghosts, Native American ghosts, Yankee and Confederate ghosts. There are ghosts everywhere – literally.
Grace died in 1999, so she’s only been a ghost for about 30 years. That makes Grace Berkeley’s newest and youngest ghost (in ghost years). There are many ghosts who have seniority over Grace, as some have been ghosts for over 400 years. But be it 30 years or 400 years, Grace’s ghost rules the roost. Yes Grace, the newest and youngest ghost, is the lead ghost. She lords over the other ghosts in the mansion, telling them all what they can and cannot do. Why is Grace the lead ghost? Well, because in 1930 when Grace moved into Berkeley, the mansion was a falling down monstrosity and an eyesore. It resembled the Addam’s Family creepy abode, The Munster’s haunted hideaway and Oliver & Lisa Douglas’s decrepit plywood claptrap on the TV show Green Acres. Berkeley was a nightmare. But after 20 years of renovations, Grace turned the haunted mansion into the beautiful tourist destination showplace that it is today. Grace put a lot of time, work and money into Berkeley’s restoration. She has told all the other ghosts, “Berkeley was a dump before I got here! I fixed it up, so Berkeley is MY house! Do as I say and follow my rules or I’ll evict you and you’ll have to go find another house to haunt! Capisci?” Afraid of becoming homeless, the other ghosts reluctantly agreed to Grace’s demands.
When you walk into Berkeley, you’re immediately assaulted by spooky ghostly wails and cries. Tour guides have seen ghosts walking up and down Berkeley’s elegant staircase. We’ve heard petulant ghosts slam doors and stomp on the floors. Doors mysteriously creak open on their own as ghostly moans come from Berkeley’s basement. Now it’s not just my view that Berkeley is haunted. The History Channel’s ghost hunters and UVA’s (University of Virginia) paranormal studies department have recorded Berkeley’s ghostly activities and confirmed this. My least favorite part of Berkeley is its basement. In Berkeley’s basement, one can hear the ghostly chatter. It’s like being in a movie theatre before the movie starts and everyone is softly chattering. That’s what Berkeley’s basement is like. You can hear their ghostly conversations. I entered the basement once and the ghost stopped talking. It was unnerving. I wondered, “Why did they stop talking? Were they talking about me? If so, what were they saying about me they didn’t want me to hear?” So you see, ghosts can cause anxiety.
The ghosts of two American Presidents haunt Berkeley. One is the ghost of President #9, William Henry Harrison or as Chuck calls him, “WHH.” Berkeley is WHH’s family home. The other presidential ghost is #16, Abraham Lincoln or as I call him, “Linky.” Chuck and I are both aware of the fact that the ghosts of both presidents are not happy with us and we know why.
I believed that WHH would haunt Chuck because I thought Chuck called him a Native American genocidal generational killer. But Chuck corrected me, “RicSam, I did not call WHH a genocidal killer. Yes, he’s angry with me, but I’m convinced WHH would seek pay-back against me for my political analysis of his shortcomings. But he would not consider himself as failing either in point of political policy or Christian morality. He would have blithely accepted, even boasted about, his prejudices against Native Americans who got in the way of White Expansionism . . . tho’ he might have disguised it under the mask of scientific determinism – you know, the superior White DNA thing.”
I processed Chuck’s explanation and concluded, “Oh, so WHH is pissed with you because you called him a White Supremacist?”
“RicSam I did not call WHH a White Supremacist!”
“I’m sorry CdiG, but that’s what I heard.”
“Did not!”
“Did to!”
During the Civil War, Linky, President Abraham Lincoln, visited Berkeley twice in 1862 and fell in love with the place. In my opinion, Linky’s ghost is angry with me because I called him a whore. It is written that Linky had affairs with women and men while married to Mary Todd Lincoln. So, because Linky had been an unfaithful husband, I’ve been saying for years, “Linky is a ‘ho.”
Chuck grimaces, “RicSam, you called Abraham Lincoln a whore! I’d be mad with you too.”
So, because of our views on presidents no#9 and no#16, Chuck and I both expect the two angry presidents to confront us in an attempt to frighten us to death. But WHH and Linky can come after Chuck and I with all they’ve got in their ghostly arsenal. We ain’t ‘fraid of no ghosts (even if we do run from them). We are not going to change our views and opinions on them. But Chuck and I wanted to hear from the two presidents themselves to learn why they did the things they did. So, we decided to spend the night at Berkeley, conjure up the spirits of the two presidents, WHH and Linky, and have them explain themselves to us.
Chuck and I got permission to spend the night at haunted Berkeley from the sweet, kind and goodly Tammy, the Plantation Manager. When Tammy gave us permission, the Plantation's black cat, King George, purred lovingly at her feet. Then Tammy issued a warning to us. She explained, “Other tour guides and historians have spent the night at Berkeley. Before the night was over, these tour guides and historians ran screaming from the house in terror as Grace and her ghost posse tried to frighten them to death. As they fled the haunted house, they vowed never to step foot inside that house of evil again.” So, Tammy had Chuck and I sign a waiver stating that should we be frightened to death, Berkeley would not be held responsible for our demise.
Inside the haunted mansion, Chuck and I unpacked our gear and awaited the ghosts of Wiilliam Henry Harrison and Abraham Lincoln. Almost immediately we hear doors slamming, feet stomping on floors and all sorts of loud noises mixed with ghostly wails, screams and moans. Suddenly, on the wall of the guest bedroom Chuck and I will occupy; a giant shadow of a cat appears. Its back arched, its fur stands on ends as it hisses in fear. When King George sprints through the hallway. We exhale a sigh of relief as I say, “Whew, that shadow was only that darn cat, King George.” Then Chuck and I hear a ghostly scream, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” We turn and see Grace’s ghost floating towards us, and she doesn’t look happy. Grace’s ghost is a horrific sight. Her ghostly ephemeral face is stark white. Her eyebrows arched high above haunted hollow large, dark expressive eyes that floated in large round pools of garish thick dark gothic mascara. Her lips are painted black and fixed in a contorted cartoonish ghostly frown. Her ghostly white attire was soiled and tattered. The ghost resembled a pixilated pantomiming crazed silent era movie star high on crack cocaine. Think Bette Davis in the film Whatever Happened To Baby Jane? Yeah, Grace’s ghost was a nightmarish mess.
King George meows at the hideous ghostly apparition and wraps himself around her legs. Grace's ghost wails at Chuck and I again, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Frozen with fear we can’t move. When Grace’s ghost is almost upon us, we run. Grace’s ghost runs after us, chasing us through the house. We hide in what is called, Ye Olde Kitchen. Hiding behind the kitchen hearth, we make a discovery, we find a poker chip. Also, behind the hearth we discover a secret door to nowhere. Grace’s ghost doesn’t see us hiding behind the hearth. She leaves the room in search of us. As Grace’s ghost disappears, Chuck and I confer about that poker chip and the hidden door. We determine these things are clues as I smile and exclaim, “CdiG, there’s something funny going on here.”
“I concur RicSam, and you know what that means?”
We both shout in excited unison, “WE’VE GOT A MYSTERY TO SOLVE!”
I contemplate, “CdiG, to solve this mystery, we need to capture Grace’s ghost.”
Chuck plots, “Yeah, we’ll set a trap for our ghost hostess in the dining room.”
In the dining room, Chuck and I stand beneath a massive, elegant Waterford crystal chandelier. Standing next to the dining room wall, Chuck holds in his hands the rope that one pulls to raise and lower the chandelier for lighting and cleaning. “Here’s the plan RicSam. With you as the bait, you’ll go to the house’s main hallway. Wait for Grace to find you. When she does, let her chase you in here into the dining room. Get her beneath the chandelier. When you do, I’ll release the rope and the chandelier will fall on Grace’s ghost, pin her down and trap her. We’ll unmask Grace’s ghost and see who this fiend really is. And we’ll have solved this mystery.”
I ponder Chucks plan and asks, “Why do I have to be the bait CdiG? Why can’t you be the bait and I hold the rope?”
Chuck’s curt reply, “Because RicSam, it’s my plan! Now go out there, find Grace’s ghost and let her chase you!”
As I reluctantly stand alone in the haunted hallway, Grace’s ghost spies me and comes after me howling, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I run like Hell into the dining room. Grace’s floating ghost is hot on my heels. I run beneath the chandelier and to the other side of the dining room to stand beside Chuck. We both smile at Grace’s ghost as Chuck pulls the rope. Our smiles fade when the rope becomes knotted up and the chandelier does not fall on Grace’s ghost. Grace’s ghost looks up and sees the chandelier that didn’t fall on her. Chuck and I are both frantically tugging on the rope to unknot it. Grace’s ghost moves from beneath the chandelier as we unknot the rope and the chandelier falls. But, the chandelier misses Grace as it falls to the floor and smashes into pieces. Now Grace’s ghost is the one smiling when she sees our perplexed faces when Chuck’s plan fails. Chuck and I both exclaim in unison, “Uh oh, we’re in trouble!” Grace’s ghost angrily floats towards us.
“What do we do now?” Chuck asks.
I shout, “WE RUN!”
Chuck and I are about to flee from Grace’s ghost when suddenly disembodied electronic dance music, at 130 beats per minute, fills the haunted house with the vocals, “I, I, I-I-I-I-I.” We both stare up at the ceiling searching for the source of the music. Chuck wonders aloud, “Where is that music coming from RicSam?”
“If I’m not mistaken CdiG, I believe it’s going to be our chase scene music.”
‘“Chase scene music’ RicSam?”
“Yeah, Scooby Doo Where Are You, season 2, 1970. When the ghostly villains chase Scooby and the gang, music would come from out of nowhere that accompanied the gang while they are chased by the monster. I recognize the tune that’s floating through the house now. It’s appropriate for our moment. It’s 80s band Dead Or Alive’s dance hit, 'There Is Something In My House'” Dead Or Alive - Something In My House.
Grace gets closer to us and Chuck shouts, “Then to quote Scooby Doo’s Shaggy, ‘Feet don’t fail me now!’”
Chuck and I haul ass away from Grace’s ghost.
The song’s lyrics:
I, I, I-I-I-I-I
I, I, I-I-I-I-I
I am being haunted there is something in my house
I just keep-a hearing you runnin' under my stairs
But you're not there
Like cartoon characters with arms outstretched before us, Chuck and I run through the haunted house and up the elegant staircase.
The song’s lyrics:
And there's bangin' round the bedroom
But no one knows there's no one there
Grace’s ghost is right behind us as we run into one of the bedrooms that contains two double beds. Using the beds as trampolines Chuck and I bounce from bed to bed and out into the hallway. Grace’s ghost bounces on the beds after us.
The song’s lyrics:
“And I am here all by myself
And you're somewhere else with someone else.”
Bedroom furniture and books fly though the air in the hallway. Chuck and I duck the flying furniture and books. We get back to the stairwell and slide down the banister of the elegant staircase.
The song’s lyrics:
And I think about what might have been
If I'd never met that wicked queen that midnight on Halloween
As we slide down the banister, Grace’s angry ghost hurls incendiary Jack-o'-lanterns pumpkin bombs at us. The pumpkin bombs miss hitting us as they explode in the air around us. We rapidly slid off the base of the staircase banister. As we do, we fly through the air and crash through the basement door and find ourselves on the other side of the secret door to nowhere.
The song’s lyrics:
There is something in my house, but you’re not there
The music stops. Dazed and confused from our fall, Chuck and I look around us to discover we’ve crashed into what appears to be a closet in a dark tunnel. In the closet there’s gaming equipment such as roulette wheels and slot machines. There are large bulging sacks on the closet’s shelves. As we brush poker chips off our bodies, we look up to see Grace’s angry ghost coming at us. We’re trapped in the closet and cannot get away from Grace’s ghost. Grace cackles a sinister, “There’s no place for you to run! I’ve got you now!” But suddenly, one of those large sacks that was teetering on the shelf falls on Grace’s ghost and pins her to the floor. The sack burst open and money, dollar bills and coins fall out. Chuck and I remove pinned down Grace’s ghost mask. Beneath the mask, it’s not Grace’s ghost; it’s the sweet, kind and goodly Tammy, the Plantation Manager.
Chuck and I called the police. When the cops arrived, they were placing Tammy in the squad car when Chuck explained to the police. “Officers, be gentle with Tammy. She is a member of the Chickahominy Tribe and she’s Native American royalty. She’s Princess Tamarinda, the great-granddaughter of Chief Tenskwatawa, “The Prophet,” who is the brother of Chief Tecumseh.” Chuck sees the confusion on the cop’s faces. “Okay, I see your confused faces. You wonder, ‘Well Tenskwatawa died in 1836. How could only three generations separate him from his great-granddaughter Tammy?’ Well, if John Tyler—Berkeley’s near neighbor to the east—can have living grandchildren to this day, why not Tenskwatawa? So, putting that aside, here’s why Berkeley is haunted. Tammy’s tribe, the Chickahominy, wanted to establish a Native American casino but couldn’t get a gaming license. So, Tammy set up and operated an illegal casino in the secret tunnel in Berkeley’s basement. To keep inquisitive tour guides and historians away from Berkeley’s basement, Tammy devised her Grace’s ghost scheme to frighten curious people away. That sack of money fell on Tammy is from the fortune she has made from her illegal gambling casino/speakeasy.”
I add, “We got suspicious when we found that poker chip. Also, King George was a clue. He loves Tammy but is afraid of ghosts. Yet he wrapped himself around ghost Grace’s legs. His affection for Grace’s ghost told me things aren’t as they seem. So inventing Grace’s ghost to keep folks away from Tammy’s secret underground illegal gambling casino is what it was all about.”
The sweet, kind and goodly Tammy, the Plantation Manager hisses, “And I would have gotten away with it too! If it hadn’t been for you two pesky historians and that cat, King George!”
As the police drive away with Tammy in tow, Chuck and I go back inside Berkeley. As we close the door behind us, outside three angry ghosts appear. It’s the ghost of President William Henry Harrison, the ghost of President Abraham Lincoln and the real Grace’s ghost. Grace’s opaque spirit is dressed glamorously. Atop her head sits a white designer cowboy hat. From its brim falls a gossamer veil that partially conceals her beautiful ghostly visage. Her svelte curvaceous body is adorned in a lustrous white satin floor length gown that firmly wraps her Venus de Milo figure. Matching opera gloves flow from her fingertips and up her slender arms until they reach thin sparkling translucent bulbs that cover her bare ghost shoulders. Between her shoulders, the gown's cleavage revealing neckline plunges downward pointing towards her thin waist which is wrapped in a large thin sparkling translucent bulb, matching those on her shoulders. At the rear of the butt bulb, gleaming white satin fabric falls from her perfectly formed buttocks to the ground and trails along the ground behind for at least three feet. She shimmers in the ghostly light of a full moon that brilliantly bathes her. “So, Abbott and Costello in there think it’s over, do they?” Grace’s real ghost moans. “It’s far from over! Those two lunatics smashed and destroyed my priceless irreplaceable exquisite 18th century antique candle-powered Waterford Crystal chandelier!”
WHH hisses, “Well, that Chuck called me a White Supremacist.”
“And that Clarence,” Linky wails, “he called me a ‘ho.”
WWH and Linky’s angry ghosts growl, “Let’s scare the Hell out of them!”
“No!” shouts Grace’s ghost, “I’ve a better idea. Lets frighten them to death!” The three ghosts dematerialize. Then inside the haunted Berkeley, through the mansion’s large windows, Chuck and I can be seen screaming and running.
On a serious note, if your mental health is being haunted by the specters of addiction, abuse, etc., please contact any of the following mental health professionals:
Lesbian Gay Bisexual and Transgender National Hotline: 1-888-843-4564 or help@LGBThotline.org
988 SUICIDE And CRISIS LIFELINE: Dial 988 or 1-800-273-8255 or 988lifeline.org
SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration) National Helpline: 1-800-662-HELP (4357) or samhsa.gov
NAMI (The National Alliance on Mental Illness) Helpline Monday - Friday, 10 a.m. – 10 p.m., ET: 1-800-950-NAMI (6264) or info@nami.org
Finally, there is an actual person whose memory will haunt a family. His name, Michael Anderson. He murdered a police officer who lived in my neighborhood. President Trump wants to reinstate the death penalty nationwide to execute violent 1st degree murderers. The president and I believe that if Mr. Anderson had been given the death penalty back in 1975 when he killed his father, all those he killed since would be alive today. I’m going to do my part, via my Writer’s Block posts, to help President Trump with reinstating the death penalty nationwide. Here’s President Trump, in his own words, advocating the death penalty:
Please give it some thought to reinstating the death penalty.
Thank you.