From time to time, Francisco went to Cuba on tobacco-buying trips; he was no longer persona non grata. On one such trip he died. His death certificate stated that he had died under mysterious circumstances. Hetty was devastated by the news, as anyone can well imagine, but she was consoled by the fact that she had a grand home and a healthy income. And, of course, she had her eight children to comfort her.
A few weeks after the funeral, however, one Señora Maria Ignacia Garcia de Marrero arrived in Key West by ship with her husband’s last will and testament. She was Francisco’s first wife, whom he had neglected to divorce, a nearly impossible task in Catholic Cuba, before he married Hetty. A bitter legal battle ensued, and Hetty lost. She lost everything—the cigar factory, her only source of income, and, most devastatingly, her house. She and her eight children were summarily thrown out into the streets.
As she was being evicted by the sheriff, she stood on the steps, looked at the mansion one last time and said to passersby and anyone who would listen, “Here today you are witnessing a grave injustice. Although you remove me now from this house, you should know that it is rightfully mine, and here I shall remain even if only in spirit.”
Key West in those days was a pretty rough town. Within two years Hetty and all her children were dead. Her oldest son committed suicide. She and the rest of her family died in the streets of Key West from consumption, diphtheria, and yellow fever.
Maria Garcia de Marrero sold the cigar factory and the house, liquidating all of her husband’s assets and returning to Cuba a very wealthy woman. Later, however, she was implicated in Francisco Marrero’s untimely and mysterious death.
Enriquetta meant it when she said that she would remain in the house forever. So far, she has. James Remes and his guests have had many exciting experiences in the mansion. When he bought it in 1983, it had been a residence, a law office, a bordello, and a restaurant and casino. James turned it into a bed-and-breakfast.
The Martins, who did remain but moved to another room, were not the first guests to see Hetty walk out of the armoire in Room 18. The adjacent room had been a nursery, and there was a long-sealed door behind the armoire. To Hetty, of course, it didn’t matter. She still went in and out of the nursery checking on her children. She also wandered throughout the rest of the house, as she does to this day.
The mansion’s heavy, wooden front door shakes, windows rattle, lamps switch off and on, and a light often flashes in the attic. Guests have seen Hetty walking down the hall and up and down the stairs. Many times guests sitting in the living room will see a shadow descending the stairs and expect to see a person following. They are surprised to see just the shadow continue on down the stairs, across the hall, and out through the front door, which remains closed. At other times guests will see a woman standing in the hall, and when they address her, she vanishes.
A crystal chandelier, a stunning antique piece, lights the front hallway. Hetty is a welcoming person, but occasionally someone with negative energy will come into the house. The chandelier will begin to rattle and sway, and the person will inexplicably get tense and nervous. Most often they just leave without checking in. Those who do stay usually have bad experiences and decide to check out.
Jeffery Beane* and a friend checked in one weekend and were staying in Room 18. The first morning they were there, Jeffery awoke to see a woman standing at the foot of the bed looking in the mirror and brushing her hair. Shocked, he reached over to wake up his friend.
The woman turned and stared at him, put her finger to her lips and whispered, “Don’t wake your friend.”
Startled, he grabbed his friend’s arm and started to sit up. Hetty was immediately at his side and covered his mouth with her hand. He jerked back and flew out of bed, and Hetty evaporated instantly.
John Diebold is the current owner and ran the place himself for many years. Steve and Jackie Mackiewcz visited every year for ten years until John finally lured them to Key West permanently to be the innkeepers.
Sue and I visited the bed-and-breakfast on a warm September afternoon. We sat on the porch with Steve in comfortable wicker chairs enjoying a cool breeze and watching the tourists pass by. Steve related some of his and Jackie’s experiences in the mansion. On their first night as innkeepers Jackie saw Hetty walk right through a wall. Not long after, Jackie’s laptop with a fingerprint and retina security system booted up all by itself. Recently, Steve and Jackie were enjoying a quiet evening together, sitting on a couch reading. Jackie got up to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Steve looked in her direction and was surprised to see her shadow moving in the opposite direction. As she rose, her shadow was actually sitting down. Moments later, after Jackie returned and sat down again, the TV came on—to a porn station!
And then there are the keys. Steve’s and Jackie’s keys continually disappear and eventually reappear in odd places. The week before our visit, Steve went to retrieve his car keys to run an errand. They were gone from the peg in the kitchen where he normally keeps them. Two days later, one of the staff found them on the front steps.
In spite of the sometimes startling experiences that staff and guests have had at Marrero’s, most seem to enjoy having Hetty around. It’s all in good fun, and very few get upset from their experiences with her.
As one guest put it, “It’s almost like visiting my grandmother’s house. It seems that Hetty gives the mansion a homey, lived-in feel. I like having her around. If nothing else, she’s a great topic of conversation.”
Spotlight on The Everglades
Everglades National Park is a vast, million-and-a-half acre wilderness, which covers most of south Florida. It’s ironic that the state’s most populated area lies just to the east of its most isolated.
On the evening of December 29, 1972, Eastern Flight 401, a Lockheed L1011 Tri-Star, was flying into Miami International Airport. Captain Robert Loft and Second Officer Don Repo began their approach and were lowering the landing gear when the captain noticed that the nose gear light and some of the other landing gear lights were not illuminated. That indicated that the nose and other landing gear were not down and locked in position. Captain Loft so informed the control tower, which directed him to circle the airport at an altitude of two thousand feet.
Although the altimeter and auto-pilot indicators were both lit, the crew realized too late that the plane was rapidly descending. The last, chilling words from the flight recorder were the captain’s: “What? We’re at two thousand feet, right … Hey, what’s happening here? Tower … Impact!” Then Flight 401 disappeared. The plane had crashed into Shark River Slough in the Everglades. Ninety-eight of the 163 people aboard, including the entire crew, perished.
Shortly after the accident, an Eastern Airline executive was flying to Miami on another Tri-Star similar to the Flight 401 plane. He sat in first class next to an Eastern Airline pilot in uniform, and assumed the man was headed home. Not unusual. But the pilot sat staring out the window, even when the executive tried to converse with him. Finally, the pilot turned to face him, and, aghast, the executive recognized the face of Captain Robert Loft. Instantly, the ghost evaporated.
Immediately after the crash, cleanup crews went into the Everglades to search for human remains and remove wreckage. The crews worked late into the night under the strong glare of large search lights, and would often hear screams, moans, and whimpering coming from the slough. Very unnerving.
One evening, a crew member in a johnboat heard moans coming from an area thick with saw grass. He guided his boat to the spot where he thought the sounds were coming from. As he plowed into the grass, he was horrified to see in the dark, tannin-stained waters the eyeless, bleached-white face of a man, his mouth open as if screaming. The crewman quickly poled his boat back out of the grass and screamed to his companions, “I found a body! I found a body!” When the others rushed to his aid, they saw nothing. There was no body.
Over the years since the crash, many have seen both Captain Loft and Second Officer Don Repo on flights to south Florida. And even to this day, airboat captains who run tours to the site hear moans and see ghastly