Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

As I’ve said before, it’s just not Halloween if I don’t come out with a Henry Shoemaker story. The McElhattan writer and folklorist has always been one of my heroes, and a source of constant fascination for me. Shoemaker wrote down a lot of ghost stories from Clinton County, making his work perfect for this time of year.

This one comes from his 1913 book “Susquehanna Legends.” The title of the story is “His Rival’s Ghost,” and it’s typical Shoemaker—Weird, scary, and unexpected.

“The shadows of the long autumn afternoon, vivifying in the crispness, were deepening among the hemlocks and laurel as Ambrose Gaily drew near the Forest House,” the story begins. I love the way Shoemaker starts some of his stories.

Ambrose Gaily, the focus of the story, had come to check into the Forest House, a local hotel deep within the woods. Shoemaker implies that the story happens somewhere around Chapman Township, which makes sense. Shoemaker mentions Youngwomanstown, which is present-day North Bend, and there were definitely remote hotels in that area.

Gaily stopped at the Forest House as a bunch of pigeon hunters were out chasing their game, and chatted with the daughter of the owner, Mabelle Banks. Gaily and Mabelle had feelings for one another, but Gaily had married another girl named Reba. The two of them settled in Jersey Shore.

Reba, however, was cheating on him—Ambrose Gaily could tell. When he went away on business, he came home to find signs that there was another man. He strongly suspected Jake Bendel, a local man from Lycoming County.

Ambrose chatted with Mabelle for a little while, talking about the pigeon hunters. There was an excess of available pigeons that year, and the hunters were going crazy for them. Unsurprisingly, pigeon pot pie was on the menu of the hotel, but Ambrose decided to pass on that. Mabelle could tell something was bothering him, but she didn’t pry, and in the end, Ambrose walked to his room and went to bed.

He’d traveled a long way throughout the day, so he fell asleep almost immediately. He awoke to hear footsteps in his room. The clock was just chiming off twelve rings—It was midnight.

“Who’s there?” Ambrose called.

A voice came back.

“It’s me, Jake Bendel.”

Ambrose grabbed a match from his nightstand and lit it. And he saw Jake Bendel. Shoemaker wrote,”By the flickering bluish light he beheld his rival, more bloated, hideous, and red-bearded than ever. Springing out of bed with a horrible string of oaths, though he was usually not profane, he rushed at the huge, soggy figure.”

Ambrose lunged at Bendel, attacking him and going for his throat. He attempted to kick Bendel, but to his horror, his foot went through Bendel and connected with the walnut door of the hotel room, doing it considerable damage.

He fell back onto the bed, in some pain. Half an hour later, he opened his eyes and sat up, lighting his candle. He found that his foot was injured and bleeding, and a trail of blood crossed the room from the door. He bandaged his foot, coming to the conclusion that he’d only dreamed of Bendel in his insecurity about his marriage.

Embarrassed, he left the hotel, not speaking to anyone but leaving money on the table. He saddled his horse and rode down into Youngwomanstown, where he spent the day. That evening, he found a tavern and sat for a while. Eventually, a traveler came in.

“Did you hear the news?” the traveler asked. “Jake Bendel died last night at the Eagle Hotel. Some say he took a dose of rat poison.”

Ambrose went pale, realizing that he’d seen a ghost. He had a glass of ice water and went to bed, knowing he’d had an encounter with the paranormal. One of the locals in the bar said,”Boy, he seemed to take Jake Bendel’s death awfully hard.”