February is NOT my month!

I dislike this month immensely. Perhaps if I lived somewhere else things would be different. But I don't. It is New England at its worst. 

This vacation week I had a mini-cold, we had a major cold (like temps of -30's with wind chill factor) and most days were gray.

So as you can imagine (or maybe you can't, hence the pictorial representation coming up), my outlook shifts. I try mightily each year (last year even purchasing one of those ridiculous sun lamps that the cat loves + sits in front of, hence blocking my exposure and only darkening my mood some more) to look on the bright side, take to the car to ride around and see the bright side, but this is what I find:

Frozen in time because we've plaqued it. Words pop- "valued" by The Indians, "granted" to white man and "exploit." A little plaque has so much unkind history packed behind it. This was in Fiskdale, MA. A largely wooded small town with 3 bodies of water and population of about 2,000 mostly white folk. I often drive around and wonder, "where have all the Indigenous people gone?" Did they really ALL get driven out or killed by the white immigrants or did they assimilate and hid their identity? Our proud history of manifest destiny practically wipes them out of the books, excepting to depict the warring ways and days. 



At least we pay homage to the people who came before us in some of the names found in the region. Mashapaug is the name for this street, but it also is the name of a pond in Rhode Island, and a lake in Northwestern Connecticut. Can you guess the Nipmuck meaning of the word from the series of pictures above and below?



The smell and feeling of desolation in quiet frozen places can't be captured by photos. This is visceral. This is my bones responding to the crisp, cold air in silent protest. I want to find beauty, but I never do in New England in the winter. Never.



I travel on to the next little spot, next little town. Holland, MA home to my summer camp over 40 years ago! I am always a little surprised when I stumble upon this place (or kayak over to as I did a few years back)- it sits on another small body of water named Siog and has been there since 1928. Named Camp Mishnoah, it is owned and operated by the Boys + Girls Club of Springfield, MA. 

Holland, MA has about 2400 people and lots of woods. It collided with the tornado that wrecked havoc in 2011 and pieces of Holland and many other small towns around the area still look scarred. The camp received some damage, but not at the roadside section you see above. I couldn't even find any current information on the place, despite a nostalgic interlude several years back in which hubby and I volunteered to do some clean-up in attempts to keep the place viable as a multi-use property (after the highly publicised disappearances/murders of young girls in the area and the unpublicised, whispered gossip among townfolk that there may be a serial rapist/murderer of young girls, attendance at the remote summer camp for girls went down).

http://articles.courant.com/1996-08-10/news/9608100315_1_death-penalty-neighbor-killed

http://patch.com/connecticut/vernon/local-missing-girls-to-be-featured-on-investigation-ddd8c43a171

Anywho, I travel on out of this area, for as much as I loved it as a kid, coming to this distant and foreign land (which really was only 45 minutes or so away) and learning I'm sure hokey and mostly made up lore about Indians from the area (hence the camp name of Mishnoah which to this day I don't know what it means nor where it was derived from), now I only see gray and slightly disturbing scenes. 

This slightly larger town, Palmer, MA also has a "days gone by feel" and ugly look in the winter. Population of 12,000, I am not sure what is the draw to the place, nor what made it once a viable place. In my mind it is not a mill town, therefore I mostly have driven through it. I see it as a drive-thru town. In some weird re-routing done years ago, the major roadway actually bypasses this section photographed above and below (lower Main St. I'll call it). As you can see you don't miss much.

What I did miss, was the one attraction in the town that I really wanted to see= the H.H. Richardson designed Union Station which is on the left in this picture. This station and the grounds around it (designed by Fredrick Law Olmsted) were once premiere sites. It's a pretty big deal to have the two aforementioned men designing shit in your town, and I was so bummed to see the ugly thing overshadowing my search site, that I couldn't bear to go check out the station. 

And in case you are wondering about that eyesore, it was once the headquarters of Flynt Building and Construction Co. (1885), and is still called the Flynt Bldg. I wonder what the descendants think of this (hey, maybe it was one of the descendants who did this!)

A great short historical piece on the Flynt Quarry in Monson:
http://www.opacumlt.org/documents/DS-Flynt.pdf

and from this document, check out what the Flynt Bldg. looked like in 1885:



Here is some historical information on the train station in case you should decide to go:

https://youtu.be/X3sh12y8hws

Steaming Tender Restaurant


At least it is salvaged, right? The granite came from next door quarry in Monson, MA and the brownstone trim from just a little bit down the road in Longmeadow, MA. I just adore that things were built solid and strong and local for a period of time. It somehow makes me feel more grounded to look at this enduring structures. On the flip side, decay and lack of care to some of our heritage sites makes me sad.




Before I left, I drove down and across the RR tracks to...you may have thought I would have said Mill St., but alas, this time it was the other street that I typically look for when I am sniffing out Industrial pasts- Water Street. Water and RR's usually somewhere, somehow lead to mills. Not the case here (other villages in the town hold that history). All there was on Water St. were a few run-down homes, and bleak scene of railroad yard and junk. But in the other direction, across the water, and into the neighboring Monson, MA (pop. 8500) was this gigantimous place. An 1860 constructed, 14 room, 3,856 sq. feet stately home that is now a multi-family (3) dwelling. I sure wish I could find out the history of that property. Somebody with a few bucks and some local prominence once lived there, I am sure.

If you are interested, and/or enjoy hunting old town history as I do, check out this cool site I found that has an entire Palmer history tour!

https://www.geocaching.com/geocache/GCTYB8_the-palmer-history-tour?guid=b4a09323-4ac8-4303-8252-d7959bc2a1b9

I did manage to find Mill Rivers and Mill Streets this vacation, but not Mills themselves.

Who knew? Another one of those drive-on-by places that most (of course not I) don't even see because the landscape has changed so much. Many of the Mill St.'s I find are but pieces of once was a road that ran along the river or brook that powered the mill that provided the grain or wood or a plethora of other small industrial concerns. 

This Mill St. in Northfield, MA a town that borders N.H. up...North is full of Indigenous spirits/history that isn't very well preserved. The Sokoki tribe were the folks in the region in the 1600's and the village was named Squakheag prior to colonization in 1673. It wasn't pretty making this town a colonial concern. Massacre is a word that would describe the eventual fate of the original inhabitants along with other not-so-nice words such as "displaced" or "sold into slavery." 

These next two houses aren't actually on Mill St., but are located across the Mill Brook on a short st. named Glen Rd. both streets dead end, but the Mill Brook drains into the Connecticut River not far from here. 

I am guessing that this home is 25 Glen Rd. a 1897 multi-occupancy 6 bed, 2 bath 2,903 sq. ft. home (last sold in 2000 for 134k)


This one I think is 18 Glen Rd., considerably older at circa 1790. It has 4 beds, 1 bath, 2,640 sq. ft. and is estimated to cost more than double its neighbor.

Much of the Main St. that runs through town (also known as RT. 63) has enormous stately homes, much of it owing to native evangelist Dwight Lyman Moody and his building of a Seminary for girls on a hillside on the East side of Main St. which was also used for religious conferences and in turn led to the buildup of this small New England town as a summer resort. 

For those history mystery murder lovers like me, there is great reading about the companion site Moody developed for boys, Mount Herman on the West side of town. 

Dig the name of this site, The Malefactor's Register. Yes another blogger like me. Here is the link to his blurb about the crime:

http://malefactorsregister.com/wp/death-comes-for-the-headmaster/


The book was a lovely winter's read a few years back.

But back to my old houses on the tiny side street of Glen Rd. and Mill St. and the Mill Brook in Northfield. 

Northfield, MA like many New England towns formed in a linear way, on a single main thoroughfare. So little information is out there for the side streets. Northfield then and now is known for agricutural crops of tobacco, hops and charcoal, not Mills. An interesting side note is that Maple Sugaring, now seen all over the region and in the small hilltowns of Western, MA is noted as starting in Northfield by the Scots-Irish who came to the region in mid 1700's.

The Mill Brook was named Cowas and Coassock in deeds made with the native folks in the late 1600's. Roughly translated as the pinetree's place. Grist Mills and Saw Mills were then built but up stream from the site I was at. In 1717, Saw and Grist Mills came to the West side site and a damn was also built by the Belding Brothers (Belding Rock is a historic marker on the main drag commemorating the scalping of Aaron Belding in 1748). 

https://www.geocaching.com/geocache/GC3CJ90_captain-beers-last-stand?guid=f26b2fd0-9d9d-43cb-892b-56dd29d28a4b

If you like Geocaching and history related to King Phillips War, another hunt in Northfield,MA

and if you, like me, love history and anything mill related here is the proposed Millbrook Conservation Area report of 2006:

http://www.northfieldma.gov/sites/northfieldma/files/uploads/millbrook_report_2006.pdf

In 1874 George Long built yet another Saw Mill on Glen Rd. I'm betting one of those houses above belonged to him.


A 20th century industrial concern on Glen Rd. Not sure how successful it is/was, but it sure speaks to the Yankee Ingenuity that abounds in the region!

The West side of Mill Brook led to a ferry crossing on the Connecticut River in the 18th century, and I could see traces of this road as I tried to drive down Mill St. Glen Rd. actually goes on further than Mill does, and it is up this road the walk/ride was from the ferry crossing.





So the last mystery for me was the house above. 

There is much written about the east side of Mill Brook b/c it involved big money and big building (like castles and huge hotels and boarding schools). There was a family in Northfield named Webster that it looks like from old maps had a mill on this very site. Henry William Webster (1841-1893) was listed as the owner. Arad Webster (1795-1872) was also on the map right next door to his son. He is mentioned as a blacksmith, saw-mill and grist-mill owner. 

Mystery answered (somewhat)- question remains: who is there now and is the home extant, converted, or ground-up construction. Front facing looks like the remnants of something old, and all the rest of the house is stone, but looks new.

The most I could find was that there are 2 houses on the small street. This one has to be the 1800 house that was sold in 2006, and it has been done over. Another of those, I-wish-I-had-the-courage-to-knock moments. But in todays world, and out that far, I could have been met with a muzzle. So I just admired, snapped a few and drove on.

Then before too long I emerged in another Mill St. area, this time in the big city. Springfield, MA (about 150k population last I checked, but #'s dropping fast). 

This Mill St. and Mill River has been a mess for a long, long time. It bums me out to traverse these streets no matter what time of the year. The last time I tried to make my way off the highway in this area for one of my bff's PhD completion party, I was snarled in a jam and missed the party altogether. That was on a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon about 1:30p. Little did I know someone was being murdered while I impatiently snorted at my delay. All kinds of construction all over this part of town in preparation for the big Casino coming. More heritage landscape going by the wayside. This place too was/is extremely historic for not only a piece of the King Philips War, but also John Brown's factory, and all the other Mills that once dotted this old, old settlement. I dropped my offerings at the Springfield Rescue Mission's new home of 10 Mill St. (a former Cadillac dealership it long ago lost its appeal to me, although I once did a scavenger hunt with a class and so I know there is a marker right in the middle of the road near here, but with all the construction going on I couldn't sight it. Who knows, maybe its gone? 

As I sped out of my old hometown, one last shot solidified my gloom on this dreary February day:


It has been up to -30 degrees in the region with the awful wind chill, how can these folks survive? Home in a cart, travelers on the road of...of what? Lost hope? Misery? What? Once again I so desperately wanted to stop and ask. My troubled, depressed yet still curious mind wanted to know. I did what it has taken me a lifetime of concerted effort to do- I drove on. 

Back home in the hills, the woods, the serenity space did not bring me peace. It brought me these final images that I drive by on a regular basis without ever really looking.



These two so reminded  me of my dad I just wanted to cry. But I was afraid if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. "Drive on," that voice reminded, "drive on."


There were not slow children playing here, hadn't been for a long, long time and rust never sleeps. 
No plowing...

   No Henhouse eggs laid...
No lay-ups made...


No backboard rebounds, no farm animals/farming in sight.

No romantic rocking rendezvous...

No way home...

Except I could hear all those ungraded papers calling me, all those lessons unplanned. Vacation week come and gone, and it was all so bleak and frigid. 

Have I mentioned how much I dislike this time of year in my beloved New England?

February is NOT my month!

It just keeps getting weirder all the time!

So those who know me, know this about me:

1. I am weird.
2. I like weird things (including my husband Puggles Pete).
3. I have magnificent obsessions, usually manifesting in the winter, which in the harsh New England setting of my domicile, forces me indoors for a (too long) winters journey into nothing, except manifesting and managing magnificent obsessions.

I often cyclically return to my obsessions as well. Because as we all know- the internet, like the universe, keeps on expanding. An example: I quested for years and years in the days of yore for  Max Roach's We Insist! Freedom Now Jazz Suite. I got it in my head that since Max had once been local (UMass Professor in Amherst), a percussionist born in the same year as my percussionist dad, that I could troll the local record shops and find a used copy. No luck. Then the internet was invented (very fortunate for me and zillions of others), and one day my husband, who sometimes helps with my MO's, found a copy of the album (then of course on CD, probably now on MP3) and had it sent, not from a local spot, not even from the US, but from Europe.  I was free to internet trawl on something else.

That is sort of how it goes. Places are big on my MO list, and I love to read through historical information or look over maps for hours. Or the reverse is sometimes true= in a journey a stumble-upon happens and I  store the cool find for delayed MO, and then come back home and dive deep into research on the find.

Well I have a local obsession (of course it is one among many) that has loomed and lingered since I first saw the blip in the newspapers many years ago. It is a hybrid of a sorts, from newspaper to sojourn, sojourns to internet, back to sojourn, libraries and far, far too long on the internet.

Whately and Warren are two small New England towns that are in Western MA. They are not neighboring, in fact Warren buttes up against Central MA and is considered Worcester County. Whately is closer to Northampton, MA (a Western MA hub and home of Smith College) and Greenfield, MA (a Northern hub about 30 minutes North of Northampton).

The two towns are about 50 miles apart. Warren at about 5,000 population, is the larger and actually consists of a two distinct areas- the Center Village, as well as West Warren with its own zip code.
Having lived in a "village" within a Town that became emancipated and received its own zip code, I can tell you that this is a BIG deal. But, I can also tell you that Warren, once an exclusive agricultural and then later a Mill town with numerous Quaboag River Mill Sites, and a West Warren Mill Complex, is now a sort of rusted and run down small town with some large tracts of remaining agricultural lands and a few industrial concerns.

Now and again you here news out of Warren, usually about weird family feuds, or some sort of aberrant event, most recently and for years since, the disappearance and death of young Molly Bish, a lovely local teen who disappeared one day in late June 2000 instead of showing up for her lifeguard job at the local pond. Her remains were found in the woods of Warren in 2003 and the case remains unsolved.

West Warren Center the convergence of Rt. 67 or Main St. West Warren, MA and corner of North and South St.'s

The Warren Cotton Mill:  by 1883 the complex consisted of four distinct mills scattered along the River.

By 1864 the  Warren Cotton Mills owned more than 34 tenement homes in West Warren

 The mid-19th century saw the introduction of the West Warren Cotton Mills, these later became known as the Wright Mills at 85 South St. and in the back of the large complex,  was the former  (Warren Fabrics) Hardwick Knitters Mill 81 South St. Welted Knit established 1935 closed in 2006. The complex stands empty with plans in the works to try to convert/use as re-use space. I hope they succeed.

The other side of town

Downtown Warren

Not much to look at or offer- a package store and a bar on this little block

In 1889 the Richardsonian Romanesque stone library was constructed at the corner of Main and Bacon Streets as a cornerstone

to the Bacon Street neighborhood that rose behind it with a collection of mid-late 19th century  homes. The stone library and depot were both designed by a large Boston firm, indicating the kind

of wealth and prosperity that the town was experiencing at the time.

1839 the Western Railroad came through town and established a depot at the southwest corner of the common in Center Village.  It's a shame it just sits there empty now.

This vintage and bizarrely situated laundromat at the edge of town and right in front of the Quaboag River is an odd sight.

Little neighborhoods of smaller stick construction simple houses are tucked in here and there around town.  Most are located in close proximity to the river, which literally runs through the center of the town. At one time the town was dotted with mills all along this waterway. Like this street, named Bridge St. 

This once proud, stately home is on a main street and close to the road. It, and many of those around it are mid-to-late 1800's constructions. 

Okay so enough on the worn out former mill town. The decay of Warren, MA was little different than many of the other New England towns that had their moment of prosperity. Believe it or not, I was not here to ogle  its decaying mills. Here is the real reason why I was here:




No, The Warren's were not the connection to Warren, MA



No the movie is not really the connection to Warren, MA

Yes, I know what you are thinking,  and I am not proud, just curious. The book is shit, the story almost laughable, and the movie even worse until you pair it with the video

https://youtu.be/T9SyQd4AF-M

I don't make this shit up, I don't seek it out- these are the stumbled-upons that make life for me interesting. I vaguely remembered this stuff from the local press long after everyone else's memories had faded. It came up with one of my sons over the silly movie and this couple of demonologists, Warrens. So off again I was down the road of...you got it! Magnificent Obsession,

So into the hinterlands of Warren I went. A farm site on Brimfield Road. No address, just a road, so here it goes:

Was it here?

Couldn't be here.


Nope, more trailers.


Definitely not a farmhouse. I was pretty discouraged and for once to ashamed at myself and this silly quest to stop and ask.

And that was about all I could see. Woods and trailer homes, and then the houses were closer together and older:

 

Finally, I hit this one and I knew I was coming close to town and the river:





Next stop= find the church where the exorcism business began. St. Paul's wasn't hard to find.



It stood on a hill, looking down onto the town. That it was a part of this most bizarre story could not be ascertained by this solid brick holy place. I could find little history on this place. I could guess at its construction date (mill era), population base (recently arrived immigrants to human-power the mills), and given that there is a street down the road named "Canada St." near the Cotton MIlls complex, and given that Maurice "Frenchy" Theriault went there, I'm guessing it was a mainly French-Canadian base of faithfuls that once (and maybe still)  populated the place.



As I turned my car around in this driveway, I caught this picture for my curious mind. If the town was as I thought, a pretty downtrodden place, then house values would likely reflect that. So here is the information on this place: This circa 1830 Colonial home has 6 rooms, is bank-owned and the asking price "as-is" is 60k. I'm thinking of NOT moving to Warren, MA.

So off I went again in search of some farm land. Warren once had 53 farms, but now that number is severely reduced. There is a vast swath of farm land in an area called Coy Hill that has a mid-18th century farmhouse and still has dairy farming, and then another old, old farm to the East called Shepard's Farm, but this one has sold its dairy herd. I needed something near Brimfield Road. Here is what I found:

Reed St. is just off Brimfield Rd. and in fact runs parallel to it. A nice sight at dusk, until you get a bit closer 


Poor barn, like many I see all around, just crumbling away into antiquity.

Okay so I didn't find the home of Maurice Theriault. The book ended in 1990, the exorcisms over, Maurice is cured. Moved on and that is that. OF COURSE NOT!

Which is why there is another half, hence it got weirder.

The Theriaults moved to......................yes, a drum roll please

https://youtu.be/itAOGRiYRLI



Whately, MA!

Sweet rural, historic, scenic Whately MA.  Whately, the bifurcated town of uplands and lowlands with water running by and through it. I suppose you could claim the same of Warren, but you would not be capturing the beauty of how Whately has aged (vs. the worn and faded look of Warren).

Western Whately is mostly hilly (and those hills are considered the foothills of the Green Mtns. that originate in Vermont), while to the East are the flat plains that terminate at the Connecticut River. A rich history of farming the goes back to the Indigenous people (and one farm currently named after their leader Quonquont) also includes, at one time, small mills and such a large number of potters (21 in the mid-19th century) that the town is still known for the highly collectible wares they produced.

Whately has no remaining mills to even look at, but it does have some stately and beautifully historic homes that run along its main thoroughfare, which is not called Main St. (this in my mind is what separates rural New England towns from former Industrial Milltowns), but instead is Chestnut Plain Road. It doesn't have a downtown, although it does have its very own strip club, The Castaway Lounge, located along the former main highway (prior to Interstate 91 being built in the late 1960's), Route 5.

In a sort of similar way to Warren, the Route 5 corridor (which bisects the town to its West-East orientation) is where the landscape changes. Also similar to Warren, there is still farming that happens on both sides of the split, with the prime agricultural real estate still sitting alongside the large Connecticut River and its rich alluvial soil. Unlike Warren however, tucked into the hills of Whately are some very wealthy folks, white collar business and educational folk who commute (there are five colleges in the surrounding area), and a fair share of the doctors and medical professionals who work at the regional hospital in Northampton, MA.

And also like Warren, sweet ole Whately has had it's share scandal. Recent news included this big doings in town right on Christmas morning:

http://www.masslive.com/news/index.ssf/2014/12/theft_of_500-pound_safe_from_w.html

http://www.recorder.com/home/15153551-95/footage-to-be-analyzed-in-whately-inn-safe-heist


http://www.gazettenet.com/news/townbytown/whately/14972850-95/thieves-take-500-pound-safe-from-whately-inn

As far as we, John Q. Public know, the heist is an unsolved crime, as is this additional happening:

Elderly man brutally slain in his Whately home

https://business.highbeam.com/3972/article-1G1-58300727/elderly-man-brutally-slain-his-whately-home

Yes, it was a screaming headline! The year was 1999, and like Warren and the Bish case, it went unsolved with the occasional press that questioned:

http://www.masslive.com/talk/index.ssf/2012/01/just_ask_what_ever_happened_in.html

What ever happened in the Howard Hoxie murder case in Whately?

Time and memories fade. What remains are the images, and here are some:


This is the Whately that comes to most folks minds.



And this is indeed a giant milking jug advertising the farm that the unsolved murder happened on. The brick schoolhouse ceased functioning as a school in 1991. The farm, which I am sure culled its name from the earlier settlers, the Norwottucks, or Fresh Water Indians, and their Sagamore (leader), Quonquont. They once had an abundance of settlements in the area.


The farm did get refurbished and is a multi-function place now. It is very beautiful, and many a wedding has been had in the old barn below:




A few other farms still operating in Whately include,

Nourse Farms

Nasami Farms

And then there is this written about Whately in the Heritage Report put out by the Massachusetts Heritage Landscape Inventory Program 3 Whately Reconnaissance Report:

Whately's main street, Chestnut Plain Road, is lined with historic buildings such as the Town Hall and the Congregational Church, as well as many historic houses. With its large trees set back from the road, it is said to be one of the finest main streets in New England. 

Whately Inn The distinguished Whately Inn (formerly known as the Whately House) was built in 1874, burned down in 1897 and was rebuilt in 1900. Of the 19 taverns and inns that operated at one time or another during the 1800’s, the Whately Inn can boast that it has continuously served food and drink to the public since its opening over 130 years ago. Until 1929, a general store occupied the north end of the building, which also housed the Post Office and the telephone switchboard. The building is now used as an inn and restaurant as well as a banquet hall. 



Before Whately’s Town House was built in 1844, town meetings were held in Daniel Morton’s tavern and later at the home of Reverend Rufus Wells. In 1871, the first floor of the 43 x 34 foot town house was raised up to become the 2nd floor and a new first floor was added underneath. The footprint of the building was also lengthened by 12 feet. The first floor accommodated Town offices, a library and a school while the second floor was used for Town Meetings. By 1900, the Town House was referred to as the Town Hall. Over the years, the second floor has been used for a variety of community gatherings, including basketball games, auctions, and wrestling matches. In 1967, the building underwent significant renovation, which included adding plumbing, wiring and heating to the interior of the building and new steps and landscaping outside. Today, the stately Town Hall still houses Town offices and offers a meeting room used by the Grange and other community organizations.



This is the Jehu Dickinson House, located at 155 Chestnut Plain Road, a gorgeous and historic site that is circa 1791.


The Reuben and Chloe Winchell House, 169 Chestnut Plain Road, ca. 1807-13



 And of course there is a church! A staple to any town, this one is The Second Congregational Church, built in 1842.

Okay so it all looks so New England'ish right? But this is the historic district, a small strip of street that lies in a North-South direction  in what would be described as the sort of town center. Head over to Route 5, or the old North-South highway from Connecticut to the Canadian border and you'll find some not so old, and not so nice establishments:



The Whately Diner is better known as a truck stop place (complete with showers), and/or the late night place to get grub after a drunken night of partying for college and town folk alike. Yes, I ate there when I was in college in the area.

And then there is this:



A sort of non-descript plain joint on Route 5.  Except cast away inside the joint are females who take off there clothes and slither around poles (some call it exotic dancing, I will refrain from commenting as I have never been inside the place). Yup, this is a Whately strip joint located in the badlands of the town. It too has had fairly recent press

http://www.masslive.com/news/index.ssf/2014/11/former_bartender_at_whately_st.html

The owner, who has operated this place since 1977, was acquitted in the case. He must be like the Teflon Don mafia dude from NY, because his name and club was also linked to a further back unsolved murder involving a young black woman, college student, and part time waitress in Northampton, Seta Rampasad. She didn't work at the club, but the incident/death/murder(?) happened in September 1978 and it involved both the owner of Castaways and the bar as having been the last place Seta partied at before mysteriously dying at the Motel 6 just down the road.

It is hard to find information on the case, for it has gone the way most cold cases go, into obscurity, excepting for those locals who knows someone who knows someone involved and then the story pops out after loosened tongues at some party in someones back yard or cozy home.

https://archive.org/stream/index1979univ/index1979univ_djvu.txt

You have to dig through this UMass published text to get to the case, but it pretty much lays out all the ambiguity and innuendo involved in the case, which was closed without anyone being charged in this young woman's death.

So now that we have all that laid out, you can see that every small town, and big ones too, have skeleton's in their closets. But not many can brag of having the devil in their midst and this is where Warren and Whately intersect. I bet by now you are just dying to know what happened in the next chapter, huh?

The book ended and the dude was cured. At least that is what famous demonologists (I chuckle every time I read/write that word, but I don't downright LOL b/c I was once a cryptozoologist, or maybe deep down I still am, stayed tuned for future posts if I take up the occupation again), the Warrens said. But it wasn't over. Whately was to make the news when the Frenchman Theriault came to town. I don't know for how long he came. I do know I can remember clear as a bell all the sensational publicity and absurdity the case garnered. But when I went to the Whately Library to enquire about the case, no one knew what I was talking about!




The town is much more about Jam making then to involve itself in the foolishness of exorcisms and chasing away the devil. So I went over to Northampton's reference librarian who was intrigued, took my email address, and said she'd hunt and get back to me. Within hours, viola! I had some newsprint on the subject. I gladly share it here with you:






So there it is, the ending. only for me it wasn't the end. I still had one last task. I had the who, what, when, but now I MUST have the where. Especially since I couldn't find it in Warren. I only had a street name, not an address. This time I had it!

Theriault Exorcism House 59 LONG PLAIN RD. WHATELY, MA

So one afternoon in the dregs of winter, with my re-kindled interest in the odd and bizarre, I headed over to Long Plain Rd. The road is another of those that parallels Route 5, but on the river side. It runs from South Deerfield down into Whately and then turns to Hatfield. All small farming towns and I expected to see farms everywhere. Here is what sadly greeted me:



Can you say gentrification? I can and do- all the time, for that is what has happened to a large part of the "Happy Valley" that I used to like to call my home turf. I liked it's quirkiness, hippies, and I have even come to like eating Kale and Bocca burgers. I love diners and I used to go listen to NRBQ and local rock bands in an old tobacco shed on one of the streets near here. And heck, it makes me giggle every time I drive by Castaways in the middle of the day way out in the country and see a car or two. But now we have these "estates" happening everywhere. Goddammit, I wanted an exorcism house!

Instead I got this. Listen to the blurb from their website:

CHECK OUT THIS  AREA OF NEW HOMES AND MEET NEIGHBORS WALKING AROUND THE BLOCK

Pine Plains Estates is a new subdivision located along the Pioneer Valley “Knowledge Corridor”on 52 acres of wooded land in the Eastern plains of Whately, Massachusetts. 

Knowledge corridor! Do they know they tore down my haunted house. MF'ers couldn't preserve a little bizarre history for us hounds out there. I think I am going to start walking around their block and telling them about the past.

BUT, for there is always a but...

I hopped on the tube to see the slick video (and yes of course you can too):

https://youtu.be/SN9V2UQiQtI

and what? wait a minute. Well hot damn, now don't we all grow up and into something we once weren't or swore we would never be. Of course this little corner of the earth is very, very, teensy-tiny small and don't you know I recognized one of the pitchmen in a flash. All grown up and a family man now. I don't care, I am still mad they torn down the devil-man house!