Читать книгу More Haunted Hoosier Trails - Wanda Lou Willis - Страница 11

A lively and fashionable young woman, devoted to her family and husband, Nellie Knickerbocker, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Winchester, was said to be the subject of more talk than anyone who ever lived in Elkhart. Although she’s been dead for nearly fifty years, she’s still the topic of conversation. There is “evidence” that she possibly still exists—at least on some level.

When William H. Knickerbocker met the diminutive blue-eyed beauty he fell in love. Although he was ten years older, Nellie’s father gave them his blessings. They were married on November 29, 1882.

Charles Winchester built a mansion at 517 South Second Street where the Winchesters and Knickerbockers lived together. At the time it was considered one of the best-built homes in the city. Air spaces between the inner and outer walls acted as insulation against outside noises.

The couple hosted many lavish parties with Nellie, a talented pianist, entertaining the guests. She was a very modern and independent young lady. The petite Nellie was often seen driving her 1914 electric Milburn around town.

For Nellie, however, it wasn’t all parties, music, and driving about town. There were times of sadness and desolate loneliness. Nellie and William had one son, Howard, who died in infancy. Shortly afterward, she lost her father and, then her mother passed away. Ultimately, Nellie was left completely alone when her husband passed away four years later.

During the years before her own death, she became a reclusive eccentric. She no longer drove her beloved Milburn. Her chauffeur would drive her to the Hotel Elkhart where she’d have her meals. She was known to the staff for her generous tips.

As the years passed, she adopted what some called a “fetish” about cemeteries. She spent a great deal of time at Grace Lawn Cemetery tending the family plot. She became obsessed with her own burial arrangements. She wanted to make sure her coffin was as good as her parents’ and husband’s. Afraid her surviving relatives (her husband’s nieces) would slight her in death and bury her in a cheap coffin, she purchased a seamless, solid copper casket and stored it in her dining room.

Stories about the coffin began circulating around Elkhart. It was said Nellie actually slept or at least rested in it to be certain that she would be comfortable during her eternal rest. Although this was a popular belief, no one knew for certain. In 1944 the house was sold to a couple from Goshen, with the understanding that Nellie could remain there until her death.

In 1947 Nellie died—alone. Her house attendant found her sitting in a chair. Again the rumors circulated. Some believed she was found lying inside the coffin, waiting for the undertaker.

Private services were attended by some of the bank’s directors, a few friends, and the waitresses from Hotel Elkhart. She was buried at Grace Lawn Cemetery beside her parents, son, and husband with a mammoth concrete cross towering over the site.

She had been the daughter and wife of prosperous businessmen, and yet her estate amounted to only $11,000. What had happened to the Knickerbocker fortune?

Shortly after her death, court and bank officials searched the home. Carpeting was removed. Even the spaces between the walls were searched. Neither money nor family documents were ever found.

The Goshen family lived in Nellie’s home for several uneventful years before leasing it to the Juhl Advertising Agency. A reporter for the Elkhart Truth asked several Juhl employees if they thought Nellie was still in the house. The question was answered by guarded laughter. Over the years, the employees had adopted a habit of half-heartedly blaming Nellie for any inexplicable happenings.

One employee commented, “If she exists, as a ghost, she’s fairly benign.” However, he admitted to being one of the first to have had an inexplicable experience. He was taking some friends through the mansion when the back of a grandfather clock fell out. No one had been near it, nor had there been a sonic boom, earth-moving equipment in use, or a tremor. Of course, Nellie got the blame.

Another strange happening occurred in a room that was being used to store magazines. Instead of the stacks growing, they seemed to be getting smaller. Later the magazines were found in the basement just below a laundry chute that began in this room. Some of the employees believed the fun-loving Nellie was still enjoying a joke from time to time.

Another employee admitted to the reporter that he’d experienced several bizarre events. The most bizarre of these happened during the Christmas season. He was walking past the office’s Christmas tree when suddenly it toppled over and fell on him! Again, no one had been around the tree, and there was no explanation—other than Nellie.

In another of the man’s stories, he was by himself working after hours in the conference room when all of a sudden a gust of wind scattered the papers he was working on. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it—if the windows and doors hadn’t been shut!

The employees also told of recurring strange experiences with a storage closet door. The door was secured by a latch that required a firm tug to open. Yet, employees were forever going to the room and finding the door open.

Another employee recounted experiences from an evening spent alone in the house with his young daughter. The girl insisted she heard something like money jingling. In an effort to quiet her fears, they looked around for the source but found no one in the building or anything unusual. A short time later, she tugged at her father’s arm, this time saying she heard footsteps on the stairs to the attic. At that point, her father decided it was time to leave.

Today, Nellie’s home, which has suffered from a lack of loving human occupants, will be getting a new lease on life. The newly created Winchester Group is planning to undertake its restoration. Once this has been done, the second floor of the building will be available for offices. The first floor will maintain the historical presence of the structure—and the entire home, perhaps, its ghostly presence.