The Veiled Woman of Penn Park

 

In 1903, the residents of the city of York were terrorized by the appearance of a woman in a long black veil who strolled through Penn Park every night, imploring frightened passersby to lift her veil and take a peek. As if this nightly occurrence wasn't bizarre enough, it just so happened that Penn Park was once the site of a potter's field where York's impoverished and unknown dead had been buried in unmarked graves, as well as the site of a Civil War hospital.

History of The Commons

When the city of York was laid out in 1741, tracts of land were reserved on both sides of Codorus Creek for public use. To the early residents of the city, these tracts were known as "The Commons", and were originally utilized as pasture for cattle and sheep. After the tract west of Codorus Creek was sold, the commons east of the creek, which totaled 20 acres, became the property of the Commonwealth. In 1816 these public lands were deeded to the city of York and renamed the Public Common. This deed also conveyed to the city two lots to be used as a potter's field, "to be kept as a public burial place forever, and for no other use, intent or purpose." 

These twenty acres have a long and colorful history; during the Colonial Era, when the Continental Congress held its sessions in York, an entire regiment of soldiers encamped at the Commons. In the fall of 1814, during our second war with the British, over 7,000 soldiers made their camp at the site in anticipation of an attack after the British burned Washington. In following years, when all young and able-bodied citizens were required by law to participate in militia training, the Commons were used four times a year for drills and exercises.

In 1842, six acres of the Commons fronting South George Street were sold, and the remaining 14 acres were put to use as circus and exhibition grounds; the first York County fair was held on this spot in October of 1853.  Barracks for the Sixth New York Cavalry were erected on the Public Commons in 1861 for use as a winter quarters. From 1862 to 1865, the northern portion of the Commons was used as a military hospital. During the Battle of Gettysburg, over 14,000 sick and wounded Union soldiers were cared for by nurses and surgeons at this hospital.

After the war, the Commons became a neglected and overgrown spot. The southern portion was used by locals as a garbage dump, and this spot was the home of "Squire" Braxton, a freed slave from Virginia who built himself a shack out of discarded junk. Squire Braxton (whose real name Charles Granger), along with his dozen dogs, remained the sole occupant of the Public Commons until 1890, when Penn Park was in its planning stage.

 

U.S. Army General Hospital on current site of Penn Park

 

Potter's Field and the Creation of Penn Park

In 1890, local businessman A.B. Farquhar contributed $1,400 toward the construction of a public park. Trees were planted, walkways were laid out, and the Commons were cleaned up. In 1898, the mayor appointed a Board of Park Commissioners, and Penn Park was dedicated with an impressive ceremony on June 15, 1898. At the park's center, a monument to the York County soldiers of the Civil War was erected, at a cost of $25,000.

However, while the park soon became a place for joyful picnics and band concerts, grim darkness lurked at its borders. On April 28, 1897, by order of the Court of Common Pleas, the potter's field at the northern section of the Public Commons was sold to the York City School Board for the erection of a new school (William Penn High School now occupies this spot). Under this agreement, the school board was responsible for the excavation and removal of bodies to the new potter's field, which had been established on the York and Harrisburg Turnpike. This, of course, violated the original 1816 deed, which guaranteed that the potter's field would be used as "a public burial ground forever", and that said land could not be used for a different purpose.

 

 

Dynamite and Disinfectant

Even before the sale was finalized, the school board sought ways to cut costs. They agreed that the excavation would be limited to the immediate site of the proposed school building only, an area 80 by 155 feet in dimension. Because of a boundary disagreement between the school board and the English Catholic Church (now St. Patrick's Church), which stands across the potter's field on South Beaver Street, the portion of the grounds used by the church for its stable was not excavated. Records show that the York School District spent $461.94 on dynamite and disinfectant during the hasty removal of bodies which had reposed in peace since 1816.

Although the Board of Health estimated that 600 bodies were buried at potter's field, work was suspended after just 168 bodies had been excavated, by order of President Evans of the school board, after an investigation showed that the school board had been misspending funds. The reason for the cost-cutting measures was because the excavation operation had been horribly mismanaged up to that point, with the school board purchasing hemlock coffins for $1.25 apiece, while less-expensive coffins were locally available for just fifty cents each. It was also revealed that, out of the 161 workers hired for the project, 12 had gotten their jobs through local political connections. Even worse, these unscrupulous workers had exhausted taxpayer funds by falsifying their time cards and claiming wages for work they did not perform. This financial scandal caused the York Dispatch, on April 19, 1897, to hail the scandal as "one of the most notorious pieces of political jobbery ever perpetrated in York."

Work resumed in late April and by month's end, 323 of the approximate 600 bodies had been excavated and reburied. The total number of bodies excavated from the old Public Commons is unclear, but, for years afterward, ghost stories abounded in the vicinity of Penn Park, amid rumors that an untold number of bodies had been left behind in the school board's haste and scandal-inspired costcutting measures. When the new high school opened in September of 1899, six thousand children marched in a parade from Centre Square and across Penn Park to the new school for the dedication ceremonies, perhaps unknowingly trampling on the bones of the long-forgotten dead.

 

 

The Veiled Woman

With its history as a military hospital and burial grounds, it is not surprising that Penn Park soon became the topic of ghost stories and strange tales, though none are as strange as the story of the Veiled Woman, who made her appearance in the fall of 1903.

In early October, residents walking through the park after dark reported the presence of a woman dressed in black, her face covered by a veil, who approached them at random and implored them to lift her veil. On the night of Wednesday, October 7, the veiled woman approached a young man and asked him for the time. After giving her the time, the mysterious woman asked, "Don't you recognize me?" When he replied that he did not, she asked him to lift her veil. The young man did not comply; he was so spooked that he took off running. He friends laughed at him after hearing the story-- but then others came forward with their own experiences with the Veiled Woman. One such witness was Charles Jacobs, of 51 West Princess Street.

The following Sunday night, Jacobs was walking near the park's fountain when he was approached by a "very tall and thin" woman who asked him to lift her veil. Jacobs, like the others who had been presented with the same strange request, ran away down Beaver Street as fast as he could. At the corner of Princess Street he met a teenager who was on his way home from church. Jacobs warned the youth to "watch out for the ghost of Penn Park", but the teenager laughed and continued on his journey, but he, too, was approached by the Veiled Woman when he entered the park.  He also took off running when she asked him to take a peek under the veil. When he returned home, he told his parents of the strange encounter, and the police were notified.

Despite the police presence, the woman in black continued to make her nightly appearances. Though her identity has never been ascertained, a young man named William Burger was reported to be the only one who had the courage to accept the woman's challenge and raise the black veil.

According to Burger, he was cutting through the park on his walk home from work on the evening of Monday, October 26, when he encountered the woman near the high school, on the grounds of the former potter's field. After she had asked her usual questions, she said: "And do you not recognize me?"

"No," replied Burger.

"Then lift my veil," she said. The young man placed his fingers on the black fabric and lifted it, revealing a young and beautiful face with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks. Suddenly, she brushed Burger's hand away, and the veil once again concealed her face. By the time Burger was able to regain his composure, the Veiled Woman was gone.

Patrolman Miller, who was park's night watchman, had heard about the strange woman, and told the Reading Times that he had been accosted by the Veiled Woman on three separate occasions. Like William Burger, Patrolman Miller was convinced that she was not a ghost, but a living creature of flesh and blood. Though he was unable to detain her, it was his belief that the apparition was merely a demented woman.

An Unsolved Mystery

So who was the mysterious Veiled Woman of Penn Park, and why did she only implore young men to lift her black veil? Was she merely a prankster looking to scare unsuspecting park visitors out of their wits? Or was the park policeman correct in his assumption that she was deranged? If so, one has to wonder what bizarre mental aberration compelled her to dress in funereal clothing and search for a man who recognized her. Had she lost her mind after being deserted by a lover? If such was the case, why did she choose to haunt Penn Park, and why after dark? Did the park hold a special romantic significance in her tortured heart? Maybe she had strolled the park with him on some long ago starry night, holding hands, unaware that this rendezvous might be their last. 

These questions are nearly as intriguing as the possibility of a lifelike ghost prowling the grounds of the old potter's field, upset over the desecration of a grave which had been undisturbed since the early 19th century, or perhaps a phantom distraught over the terrible fate of a Union soldier who drew his last breath on the same piece of land where children now play.


 

Sources:

History of York County, Pennsylvania. Vol. 1. George R. Powell, 1907.
York Dispatch April 19, 1897.
York Gazette, April 20, 1897.
York Dispatch, April 29, 1897.
The York Daily, Sept. 5, 1899.
The York Daily, Oct. 13, 1903.
Reading Times, Oct. 27, 1903.