My wife and I had our own odd experience at the Occoquan Inn in September 2007, when we had dinner there to celebrate our anniversary. Whether it was indicative of a ghostly presence I am really not sure.
The restaurant was not crowded, with no more than two of the other tables occupied at any given time, and we were sitting at a corner table in one of the Inn’s little dining areas, so we had a good deal of privacy. Both the food and the service were good, and we enjoyed our champagne and each other’s company throughout most of our meal without noticing anything out of the ordinary.
Toward the end of the meal, however, we heard something that caught our attention, and almost simultaneously looked up at the spot on the ceiling above us from which the sound seemed to be coming. There, just beyond the intervening layer of plaster, we could distinctly hear what sounded like the pitter-patter of little feet, scratching, and other activities too obscure to clearly identify.
At the time, we thought these sounds might indicate rodent inhabitants of the inn, although we were by no means certain. We didn’t say anything to the restaurant staff, both because it enhanced our visit rather than detracted from it and because we did not want to unleash any sort of retribution against any little animal that might have been making its home in the inn. Upon reflection of the inn’s haunted reputation, however, we had to reassess to some extent what we had heard and wonder if it might have indeed been something paranormal. I couldn’t help but recall the classic H.P. Lovecraft horror story, “Dreams in the Witch House,” in which a Colonial-era house is haunted by, among other things, the rat-like familiar of an ancient sorceress.
Numerous other buildings in Occoquan are reputed to be haunted as well.
The 18th-century house at 206 Mill Street, for example, which faces the river and the old town common, is currently occupied by a boutique, an acupuncturist, a massage therapist, and a life coach. It has long also been occupied by a ghost various residents have dubbed “Charlotte,” who seems to become excited whenever new merchandise is brought into whatever store is at that time doing business in the building. On such days, she has sometimes been heard clattering noisily down the stairs, as if to get a look at the new items. She has also been known to have rearranged new inventory at night when the store is closed, presumably to display it in a manner more becoming to her own taste. And, perhaps even more mysteriously, she has been known to leave behind a single flower, which proprietors have found when they opened up the next morning.
At 302 Mill Street is the building built in the 1860s that was long known as Leary’s Lumber and Hardware Store, and which supplied the town and the surrounding area with general merchandise. Old Mrs. Leary is reputed to have not liked noisy children much—but then who does?—and to have frequently chased them off and tried to keep the area around her store quiet. People have reported seeing her, typically after the store is closed, standing behind the original sales counter that is still set up inside the store’s front window. Some claim to have seen her shaking her finger at unruly passersby. Today, the corner store is occupied by four different shops, among them two art galleries.
Since 1997, the old wood-frame building at 307 Mill Street has been occupied by Brambles, a store that specializes in artsy home and garden accessories. It has apparently been occupied since long before that by a female ghost who has been spotted by some people carrying a lighted candle. She has also been known, especially during the winter, to leave a lighted candle sitting on the counter during the night, which the store owners have found burning when they arrived to open up in the morning.
Seven businesses are currently located in the building at 309 Mill Street, including an artists’ cooperative, an art gallery, a jewelry store, a number of engineering or construction firms, and a law office. It was once a successful funeral parlor that served the needs of a two-county area. Local legends say severe flooding once smashed open the store front and washed out a number of coffins—with or without bodies in them is somewhat unclear—and swept them downstream, which could certainly contribute to some ongoing spiritual agitation. At least one ghost is believed to haunt the property, and some people believe it is the former undertaker, clad in the formal dark frock coat of his trade, looking back in on his former establishment. Among other things, people have reported hearing footsteps in parts of the building when it is empty of living occupants.
Seven shops also occupy the building at 313 Mill Street, near its far end, including Miller’s Lighthouse, which has been located there for more than thirty years. It was built around 1888 with bricks brought over from England that were used as ballast in ships that made port at Occoquan. From around the turn of the 19th century, its lower level was used as a general store, and upper areas served as a home for the owner and his family. No one seems to know the name of the ghost that currently occupies the site, but store owners have reported hearing strange whispered voices; finding display cases standing open when they should have been locked; and having merchandise moved around—and, in a few instances, even thrown across the room in the presence of customers! Business owners have also reported finding sooty footprints in a part of the building that had contained a coal bunker when it was built.
Constructed around 1760, the building at 406 Mill Street is believed to be the oldest extant home in Occoquan, and currently houses a hair stylist. Not much is known about the female ghost occupying the building, but she has been seen a number of times over the years (although her coiffure is likely outdated, and perhaps she is only seeking a new look).
MOVING A BLOCK INLAND from Mill Street up to 201 Union Street brings one to “The Courtyard,” an L-shaped building constructed with bricks baked at a kiln on the other side of the river (the remains of which still exist at Occoquan Park). It was the site of the town well, and today houses five businesses, including a candy shop and an ice cream store. It is not known whether or not the resident ghost has a sweet tooth, but it seems certain that he likes his quiet, because the owners always find their wind chimes mysteriously torn down.
A block down Poplar Alley at 204 Washington Street is a wood-framed building constructed in 1910 that currently houses an antique shop. It is reputed to harbor several ghosts, some of which have even been seen during the day, according to various witnesses.
Beyond the publicly accessible places in Occoquan, there are also a great many historical private homes that have long had a reputation for being haunted. There are so many, in fact, and Occoquan is such a small town—about one-fifth of a square mile in area with a living population of only about eight hundred—that one has to wonder if it might not have one of the highest haunting indices in the state. The inhabitants of the town seem to have established a good working relationship with their ghostly cohabitants, however, and to consider them one of the many elements that give the little waterfront village its charm.
CHAPTER 6
Rippon Lodge
WOODBRIDGE
Many tragic stories are told of Rippon Lodge. More than one murder is said to have been committed there. A victim of a fatal duel bled to death on the parlor floor. This house is said to be haunted in such a ghostly and sinister fashion that no one will occupy it, and the public road has changed its course to avoid the neighborhood.
—Manassas Journal, May 19, 1911
WHILE IT HAD A PRESENCE ominous enough to be commented on in newspapers a century ago, Rippon Lodge has since become somewhat more obscure, if not actually less menacing. Although I had read about it in Marguerite DuPont Lee’s excellent and florid Virginia Ghosts (and lived only fourteen miles from it for seventeen years), I was not even sure it still existed