One Bristol man stopped his own funeral

Frequently, I am requested to write on certain subjects for this column.

Usually, I am happy to oblige if enough information and suitable photo or two can be found. Of course, my subjects are often chosen months ahead, and this can delay the granting of a request. It may surprise you to know that the subject most frequently requested is that of ghosts. From all sides, folks keep begging for another ghost tale.

Spurred on by that, I have written a book on Bristol ghosts. I will here share one of the tales in that book with you.

First, let me say that what seems to be one of the most haunted places in Bristol is our historic East Hill Cemetery. Those who believe in and fear ghosts have long feared to pass that place at night.

Fred Worley, who long lived on Skull Hill near the end of State Street, has told me that he and other youth used to go to night movies in Bristol.

On the way home, they had to pass the supposedly haunted cemetery. For some reason, they believed the continual slapping of their thighs would scare away any spirits that might be lurking about.

Recently, there has been a rash of reports of daytime ghosts in that cemetery. This is not new. The ghostly appearance of which I will here write happened on a bright and balmy day in October 1879.

A man lived here who hated funerals, especially the thoughts of his own which was certain to come at some future time. Thus, he instructed his family to make his just as short as possible. As it happened, it was shorter than he had hoped for and came sooner than he had ever anticipated. Soon after he gave these instructions, he was murdered in a drunken brawl on what was then called "Holy Hill."

The preacher secured for this service was very young (barely out of his teens). The family chose him because they thought he wouldn’t know much to talk about and would keep the service very short, as requested by the deceased.

In those days, the casket was not suspended with straps over the grave as is now done with such a service. Rather, it was set on top of the outer case.

The family, along with the small crowd, stood on the side of the grave where the casket was located. A few stood on the opposite side. Among the latter was Ol’ Dad Thomas who rarely missed a funeral of even local citizen, whether he knew that person or not.

Here is what happened as told to this writer more than 50 years ago:

"That strip of a preacher – he were tall and bright red-headed, hadn’t said a half a dozen words until one of the dead man’s little sons, who wasn’t paying much attention to what was being said but were looking around all over the graveyard, screeched out, ‘Why yander comes Pa.’

"Then one of the older boys called out, ‘Sure as the devil it is.’

"Well I looked and all of them people looked and sure enough, the ghost of the dead man were coming right down through the graveyard.

"Oh, it was a sight. There were black smoke a-puffin’ out of his mouth and nose and ears with streaks of fire mixed with it. Folks around here thought he was already burning in torment.

"Well, sir, that strip of a boy preacher let a yelp and jumped plum across that open grave and took off across the tan-yard holler just a leaping like a chased deer and a-yellin’ every breath.

"Well, them people over there broke and scattered like a bunch of chickens that a big hawk had just been to. Blessed Becky, if they didn’t knock that coffin over, and the lid flew open, and that dead man’s body fell right down in the grave. That coffin fell right on top of him.

"Yes sir, I seed this happen with my own eyes. By that time, all that bunch was a-tearin’ off in every direction, even that dead man’s old Aunt Belle. Oh, she was powerful old, but she was outrunnin’ that whole bunch.

"I tore off too because I didn’t want to be left alone with that smokin’ haint after me!

"Well sir, I reckon that smokin’ haint scared the preaching idea plum out of that boy’s head. He quit cold that day, never did preach another sermon. Finally, he got to be one of the wildest bucks in town. Wound up down there in Little Hell, a boot-leggin’, a-gamblin’ and doing all kinds of bad stuff. There was nobody left to do the burial.

"Late that day, Mayor Terry (Capt. John F. Terry) hired a couple roughnecks off of Loafer’s Glory to go up and finish the job. But he had to liquor them up good before they’d do it for they’d done heard of that smoking ghost up there.

"Later, one of them got to drinkin’ bad and told me private-like that they just throwed the box in on top of the coffin and didn’t have much room for dirt. I reckon that’s the only man up there who’s buried under his coffin instead of in it."

The family of that man soon left Bristol leaving the grave unmarked. It is now lost. Dad Thomas once showed me the general area but could not locate the exact spot.

BUD PHILLIPS is a local historian and author. He can be reached at (276) 466-6435. For more about Bristol’s history, visit www.bristolhistoricalassociation.com.