Post by Graveyardbride on Oct 29, 2020 2:03:37 GMT -5
The Twilight Zone House of Mayport, Florida
Early one evening a young petty officer assigned to the nearby naval station and her boyfriend were strolling along Ocean Street enjoying the fresh sea air of Mayport, Florida. As the couple savored the magical moments only twilight can bring, someone called to them from across the street. Turning, all they saw was a weather-beaten old house, its dark windows indicating no one was home.
When the two reached the restaurant, they asked about the dilapidated building just down the street and discovered it was the local haunted house. Their waitress told them the ghost of a man in black was often seen in the hall. A gentleman at the next table, overhearing the conversation, claimed spectral floozies cursed at people from the balcony. “That’s probably what you heard,” he quipped.
“I think they cut somebody’s head off in an upstairs bedroom and you can hear strange, scraping sounds coming from the room where it happened!” a wide-eyed busboy added.
“No,” interjected another waitress, “A woman’s husband killed her with a pitchfork and that’s why the house is haunted. That place really gives me the creeps.”
Finally, an elderly lady with an academic air who seemed to be quite knowledgeable about local history stated definitively that the house was built on what was once an old Indian burial ground. “That’s what’s causing all the problems,” she asserted.
The William J. King house is, indisputably, the most haunted house in northeastern Florida and perhaps the entire state. When the property was owned by Al Millar, a local attorney, he erected a sign above the front entrance proclaiming: You are now entering THE TWILIGHT ZONE. Beside the wooden mailbox, a creepy wrought iron hand reached out to grab anything that came near. In a more jovial context, a sign to the left of the door warned: If you are smoking in here, you’d better be on fire!
Most of the ghost stories about the house can be traced to the late John Franklin King (pictured below), whose father, William J. King, relocated to Mayport from Delaware in 1878 and married 16-year-old Clara Arnau in 1881. The couple lived in Clara’s family home on Ocean Street and the two made extensive renovations to their residence around 1913, adding several rooms and a two-tier porch, which sports turned posts and a sassy, filigreed balustrade. Following the improvements, the house became the showplace of Mayport.
John Franklin King was born in the house in April 1896 and inherited it after his parents died. In later years, he regaled visitors with stories of ghosts and other strange goings on including the specters of two women of ill repute shouting obscenities from the upper balcony.
Before long, the reputation of the house was widely known and in 1968, the Psychical Research Foundation of Chapel Hill, North Carolina, conducted an investigation in which renowned British medium, Douglas Johnson, participated. The investigative team was headed by William Joines, Ph.D., a professor of electrical engineering at Duke University and in the fall of 1969, the official report was published in Theta, the Foundation’s quarterly newsletter. The report indicated that one day in 1966, Mr. King saw two ghosts and later encountered “about a dozen,” four of whom he recognized. This mass sighting prompted King to begin keeping a log of the strange occurrences and there were numerous independent witnesses to the various phenomena.
Johnson, who purportedly had been told nothing about the supernatural occurrences at the King home, claimed he perceived the presence of “a man named William, a blood relative” of Mr. King’s. The medium described this particular apparition as “a short man with a stubby beard” who “had some contact with the sea and something to do with music.” King proudly confirmed the gentleman described by Johnson was none other than his late father.
Johnson also sensed the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs and the presence of two phantoms, a weeping girl and an old grey-haired lady wearing a shawl. Additionally, he heard voices and heavy breathing, encountered cold spots in various parts of the house and saw strange lights in odd places. During the investigation, noises emanating from the second floor, which sounded like heavy furniture being dragged about the room, were recorded on tape.
Dr. Joines later remembered King as an amiable man who loved to tell stories about his house. Nevertheless, the professor declared he interviewed several individuals who corroborated King’s claims. Among these was King’s sister Clara, who admitted she had seen “some things” in the house but, unlike her loquacious brother, refused to elaborate.
By contrast, Gloria Wilson, John Franklin’s niece, during an interview some years later, said she would like to see a report “to end it all” and put a stop to the “nonsense” about her family home. “It is a gracious old house. Lots of love and lots of people.” She complained that her uncle had turned the reputed hauntings “into a big thing.” With each passing year, “his stories got juicer,” she claimed, and with the increasing number of uninvited visitors, some members of the family suggested he charge admission to keep out the riffraff. According to Mrs. Wilson, the King family lived in the house continuously from 1881 and there was no decapitation, pitchfork murder or other violence in the dwelling and certainly no loose women hanging about.
With such vehement denials of her uncle’s “stories,” one would assume Mrs. Wilson harbored no belief whatsoever in anything remotely supernatural. However, in the next breath, she conceded, “The house is strange. It was always strange. My mother knew it. Nothing that would hurt you, but strange.” The doorknobs, she asserted, would turn by themselves and sometimes, when everyone was downstairs, the sounds of something scraping across the floor could be heard overhead. She admitted she found these incidents “kind of frightening.” Although she never discovered any rational explanation for the incidents, the lady recalled a persistent rumor that the land on which the house was built “may have been an old Indian burial mound.”
Of course, a doorknob turning now and then and an occasional unexplained noise from upstairs are inconsequential in comparison to her uncle’s innumerable ectoplasmic encounters. But then Mrs. Wilson lowered her voice a decibel or two. “It was the winter of 1974,” she almost whispered. “The family had gathered to celebrate Uncle John’s birthday, the last he celebrated in the house, and I was sitting on a couch with my daughter beside me. Something, perhaps a premonition, told me to look in the hall and I noticed a grey mist coming down the hall. My daughter saw it too and moved to the other side of the room. I continued watching, but said nothing, just sort of watched out of the corner of my eye.
“I saw a man walk out of the mist, over six-feet-tall, coal-black hair, dark brown eyes, immaculately dressed in a black broadcloth suit with very shiny boots, a stiff white shirt collar and a magnificent diamond stickpin in his black tie. I immediately sensed that this gentleman was not of the ‘now’ since his shirt collar was stiff and not in style. I had always thought if I actually saw a ‘vision’ I would be frightened to death. Instead I was extremely calm.
“I knew this man was a friend and that he would not harm me,” she continued. “He was definitely an outdoors man and I felt that he belonged to the sea.” However, Mrs. Wilson emphasized the male figure was not her grandfather – who was reportedly relatively short in stature – but a total stranger.
To lend credence to her claim, she quickly added, “I consider myself a fairly normal person ... I am definitely not lacking in self-confidence and I do not suffer from hallucinations.”
For some inexplicable reason, Mrs. Wilson apparently expected people to accept her claim of having seen a ghost, while at the same time, discounting the similar allegations of her uncle. However, this “man in black” has apparently been observed by others because it is one of the most-repeated stories about the house.
Declining health forced John Franklin King to vacate his beloved home approximately three years before his death on January 26, 1977, at the age of 80. Shortly thereafter, a neighbor, who had grown up in Mayport and knew the King family, reported an odd occurrence:
“I had heard Old Man King tell his ghost stories,” he began, “but with him, you never knew what to believe. This happened toward the beginning of February, right after he died. I was coming back from the docks. It was getting dark and as I was passing the house, for a split second, I swear I saw old King himself standing on the balcony, just like I’d seen him for years. I admit I was scared. I didn’t run, but I walked as fast as I could the rest of the way home and when I got there, I won’t ever forget the look on my wife’s face. She said that when I came through the door that I was as white as a sheet. It was probably just a trick of the light, but it made my blood run cold and it’s not something I ever want to see again.”
The King house is located at 4627 Ocean Street, which runs parallel to the St. Johns River as it curves northeast toward the Atlantic. The dwelling is situated on the east side of the street, facing the St. Johns. Historical records indicate the home was painted an unappealing dark green following the 1913 renovations and later repainted white as it appears on the early 20th-century postcard above. In more recent times, the varying coats of paint have been removed to reveal the natural beauty of its wooden construction. Now, the quaint, weather-beaten dwelling with its elaborate two-story veranda dwarfs surrounding structures in the sleepy fishing village and some say it’s spookier than ever.
To this day, people walking along Ocean Street as the sun is setting occasionally hear someone calling to them, yet, when they turn to look, all they see is the creepy old house – surrounded by palm trees and mystery – silhouetted against the darkening sky. Old-timers say the phantom voice sounds very much like that of John Franklin King.
“I knew this man was a friend and that he would not harm me,” she continued. “He was definitely an outdoors man and I felt that he belonged to the sea.” However, Mrs. Wilson emphasized the male figure was not her grandfather – who was reportedly relatively short in stature – but a total stranger.
To lend credence to her claim, she quickly added, “I consider myself a fairly normal person ... I am definitely not lacking in self-confidence and I do not suffer from hallucinations.”
For some inexplicable reason, Mrs. Wilson apparently expected people to accept her claim of having seen a ghost, while at the same time, discounting the similar allegations of her uncle. However, this “man in black” has apparently been observed by others because it is one of the most-repeated stories about the house.
Declining health forced John Franklin King to vacate his beloved home approximately three years before his death on January 26, 1977, at the age of 80. Shortly thereafter, a neighbor, who had grown up in Mayport and knew the King family, reported an odd occurrence:
“I had heard Old Man King tell his ghost stories,” he began, “but with him, you never knew what to believe. This happened toward the beginning of February, right after he died. I was coming back from the docks. It was getting dark and as I was passing the house, for a split second, I swear I saw old King himself standing on the balcony, just like I’d seen him for years. I admit I was scared. I didn’t run, but I walked as fast as I could the rest of the way home and when I got there, I won’t ever forget the look on my wife’s face. She said that when I came through the door that I was as white as a sheet. It was probably just a trick of the light, but it made my blood run cold and it’s not something I ever want to see again.”
The King house is located at 4627 Ocean Street, which runs parallel to the St. Johns River as it curves northeast toward the Atlantic. The dwelling is situated on the east side of the street, facing the St. Johns. Historical records indicate the home was painted an unappealing dark green following the 1913 renovations and later repainted white as it appears on the early 20th-century postcard above. In more recent times, the varying coats of paint have been removed to reveal the natural beauty of its wooden construction. Now, the quaint, weather-beaten dwelling with its elaborate two-story veranda dwarfs surrounding structures in the sleepy fishing village and some say it’s spookier than ever.
To this day, people walking along Ocean Street as the sun is setting occasionally hear someone calling to them, yet, when they turn to look, all they see is the creepy old house – surrounded by palm trees and mystery – silhouetted against the darkening sky. Old-timers say the phantom voice sounds very much like that of John Franklin King.
Sources: Albert S.C. Millar (1999 interview); Maggie Fitzroy, The Florida Times-Union, October 26, 2002; Ann Hyman, The Florida Times-Union, March 21, 1999; and "Ghost Files," Jacksonville Public Library.
