To celebrate Halloween, we repeat this blog post, posted in October 2012 by Hermann Trojanowski, who retired from Special Collections and University Archives this past summer. We hope you enjoy these extra spooky Spartan Stories.
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| Spencer Residence Hall |
Tales have long circulated about the ghosts that
allegedly haunt the campus. In the late 1960s, the Spencer Residence
Hall ghost was known simply as “The Blue Ghost” or “The Woman in Blue.”
In the early 1980s, students gave her the name “Annabelle,” possibly
alluding to the subject of Edgar Allan Poe’s classic poem “Annabel
Lee.”
Legend has it that Annabelle is the spirit of a
student who hanged herself many years ago in one of the building’s bell
towers; however, no such suicide has ever been documented. A member of
the residence hall staff reported that Annabelle had “appeared as a
blue shadow on two occasions in the Spencer’s main parlor and when the
building was closed for the Summer in 1976, the same staff member heard
the ghost “dragging something on the floor out in the lobby.”There have
been other reports of a blue haze passing by a second-floor laundry room
and of objects being flung across rooms.
In South
Spencer in the early 1980s, an apparition reportedly awakened two
different staff member on two separate occasions by walking into their
rooms. The building had been closed for vacations both times. It is not
known whether this was Annabelle or another ghost or ghosts.
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| Mary Foust Residence Hall |
Build in 1928, Mary Foust Residence Hall was named
for Mary Foust Armstrong, daughter of the college’s second president,
Julius Isaac Foust. Mary was a member of the class of 1920 – she died
in childbirth in 1925. Some believe that her ghost took up residence in
the dormitory that bears her name, because rumors have floated around
for years about random “unexpected crying” and “funny noises” on the
hall’s second floor. Mary Foust’s portrait, which had hung above the
fireplace, disappeared some time back without a trace. Another rumor
about Mary Foust Hall was that in the 1950s, three nursing students
hanged themselves from the rafters in the attic. Investigations have
shown that the structure of the beams would make hanging very difficult
but still the rumors persist.
The campus’ most well
documented ghost reportedly inhabits Aycock Auditorium, which opened in
1927. An interview with Raymond Taylor who taught drama and play
presentation and was the director of dramatic activities on campus from
1921 until his retirement in 1960, reveals that Taylor not only believed
in the ghost of Aycock Auditorium, but recounts his personal
experiences with the ghost.
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| Raymond Taylor |
According to Taylor, “at one time a sort of colonial
mansion stood on the corner where Aycock is. There dwelt in this
mansion an old lady all-alone. After a while she became extremely
unhappy about her lonely state and went up in the attic and suspended
herself from a rope on the rafters. Having committed suicide there, she
determined to stay on as a ghost. When they tore down the building,
she haunted the area for a long time until Aycock was finally built, and
then she adopted that for her home. She seemed, when I knew her to
delight in the upper reaches of Aycock foyer where she assumed the guise
of lights that flitted from ceiling place to ceiling place and dragging
chains and clanking objects over the floor down in the lobby up to my
office door.”
Taylor goes on to tell the story of an
incident that occurred one afternoon when he and the Aycock janitor were
working on the set for a play. The whole building was locked up, and
since it had been an extremely hot afternoon, he and the janitor
undressed down to their briefs to work. Taylor had left his clothes
neatly in a pile. During the afternoon, a storm came up that raged and
roared for quite a while and after the storm was over, Taylor went
upstairs to dress and found that his clothes had been disarranged. He
had been wearing a vest with a watch chain across it, and his watch
chain had been arranged on the table in the form of a cross. His other
clothes were “helter skelter all over the place.” Taylor just knew this
was the work of the ghost of Aycock Auditorium.
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| Aycock Auditorium |
Many nights, while working in the
auditorium, Taylor would hear all sorts of strange noises. He tried to
explain some of them by saying that they were the echoes of passing cars
or the reverberations of the passing trains shaking the building, but
one night he and a colleague, Jimmy Hogue, were sitting in his officer
around midnight talking. Hogue was sitting with his back to the door.
All of a sudden the door opened, and a cold air came in, and they heard
the receding clank of chains. They got up and turned on the lights in
the hallway and looked all over, but could never find an explanation for
that occurrence.
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| Jane Aycock |
Students have given the Aycock spirit a name, Jane
Aycock, and say that she is the daughter of the man for whom the
auditorium was named; but Governor Charles Brantley Aycock, whose two
wives bore him nine children, had no daughter by that name. Supposedly
she killed herself in the auditorium, a noose around her neck, her body
dangling from the fly-loft over the Aycock stage. But the only deaths
the auditorium has witnessed have been those acted out on stage, not
over it.
According to an article in the Winston-Salem
Journal in 1977, written when Aycock Auditorium was 50 years old and was
getting ready to reopen after renovations, the drama majors were so
attached to the specter that it became something of a tradition to
introduce her to new students. “An unsuspecting freshman would be handed
a lighted candle and shown the stairway leading to the attic,
reportedly the ghost’s favorite turf. Then the drama majors… would
solemnly watch as the flickering flame floated away into the gloom.
They knew there was a certain spot in the attic where a draft always
blew out the candle. It would take a few minutes for the novice spook
chaser’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then, the victim would see a
shape – a human shape – shimmering in the inky blackness. The drama
majors always got a kick out of hearing the screams that usually
followed. It’s surprising what a coat of luminescent paint can do for a
manikin borrowed from the theater’s prop shop.”