A Haunting in Shipoke

 

First settled by Europeans in the early 18th century, the quaint neighborbood of Shipoke is one of the most desirable in Harrisburg. With expansive views of the Susquehanna River, short and narrow streets and charming Victorian architecture, a visit to Shipoke is like stepping back in time. Interestingly, the name of the neighborhood is a relatively recent appellation, not appearing in print until the mid-1920s. While many people assume the name is of indigenous origin, or the surname of some early settler, the word is derived from "shi-poke"-- a small heron-like bird that was commonly hunted for sport on the many islands and reedy shorelines of the Susquehanna more than a century ago. This solitary bird, which earned its nickname from its habit of timidly poking its long neck over the marsh grasses in which it nests, is better-known today as the American bittern.

There's probably a good reason why shi-poke hunting fell out of favor so long ago. By most accounts, hunting these creatures didn't quite offer the same thrill as hunting other feathered targets; in 1919, one Kansas sportsman wrote: Woe unto the "shi-poke" that lumbers up out of the grass with the nimbleness of a breadbasket. A game bird that is killed in the air falls with a degree of gracefulness... but when you shoot a shi-poke, his long legs, long neck and long wings which are attached to a measly little body, starts gyrating toward the earth like a dish rag with a number of superfluous rags attached.

While hunting for shi-poke is no longer desirable, living in Shipoke is. However, for much of its history, Shipoke was regarded as a run-down, squalid place populated by Harrisburg's working poor. One of the more run down locales was Indian Alley, a short thoroughfare which used to intersect Race Street and ran for two blocks parallel to Paxton Street before terminating abruptly at the towpath on the south bank of the Pennsylvania Canal. It was on this street where a house once stood that was rumored to be haunted. In fact, the home was so infested with spirits that the city ordered workmen to dig up the basement of the property in an attempt to unearth the source of the phantom sounds which terrorized the family living inside the home.

Mysterious Rappings on Indian Alley

In September of 1916, Rudolph Steiner and his wife, Mary Rohrbach Steiner, found living at 136 Indian Alley unbearable. Over a three-day span, the Steiners were subjected to a flurry of ghostly activity. Their troubles began on Sunday evening, September 10, with knocking on their back door.
"I first heard the mysterious rappings at the rear kitchen door Sunday night," said Mrs. Steiner. "I thought someone wanted to come in and I opened the door, but no one was there. The rapping was loud, too." Chalking up the rapping to a prank, the Steiners put the incident out of their minds and went to bed. 

"On Monday, the same performance was repeated," stated Mrs. Steiner. "This time, on the front door. I was sitting in the dining room today when there was a mysterious rapping on the cellar door, and at the same time, three window panes in the dining room window fell out." Rudolph Steiner had also been tormented by the knocking, which he had also heard at other times. On several occasions, the knocks had come from the front and back doors simultaneously.

There were also a boarder living in the Steiner home who experienced the strange activity. John Hubler, in addition to hearing the phantom knocks and heavy thumps on the door, also reported hearing the footsteps of an unseen person walking across the floor. In addition, the loud thumps were also heard by a next-door neighbor, as well as another neighbor who lived a block away on Race Street. The Steiner children, however, kept their mouths shut, leading many to wonder if they were the ones responsible for the phantom racket.

Seeks Help from a Pow-wow Doctor

Believing her home to be haunted, the Steiners employed a practitioner of Pennsylvania Dutch witchcraft, a "pow-wow" doctor, to chase away the angry spirits. The witch doctor's efforts, however, failed and the rappings continued. By this time, word of the queer happenings had spread throughout Harrisburg's First Ward, and eventually reached the ears of the police, who decided to investigate.
On Tuesday, September 12, Patrolman Whiting was dispatched to 136 Indian Alley, determined to apprehend the prankster responsible for the frequent disturbances. Much to his surprise, he also witnessed the mysterious rapping, but found that no one was outside the home. The patrolman's failure to apprehend the spook forced the city's mayor, Dr. Ezra Meals, to personally pay a visit to the Steiner family.

Mayor Meals arrived by automobile on Tuesday night, and found Indian Alley thronged with hundreds of curious spectators. Perhaps it was the mayor's imposing demeanor, or the heavy cane he always carried, which kept the spirits-- or hoodlums-- at bay, as the house remained silent during his visit. The mayor left Shipoke convinced that the paranormal activity was either a prank or a hoax, but other city officials weren't too sure.

Digging Up the Cellar For Clues

On the following night, two men armed with picks and shovels, under the direction of Detective John Murnane, excavated a three-foot trench in the cellar of the Steiner home in search of clues. Some wondered if the home had been erected on top of a forgotten burial ground, or if someone's murder victim had been buried in a shallow grave. Detective Murnane wasn't the superstitious sort, but one of the neighbors had informed him that there was a mysterious stone slab in the cellar which the Steiners were reluctant to talk about. The detective ordered the Steiners, their children, and their boarder, John Hubler, locked in an upstairs bedroom while his men went to work. Their excavation failed to yield any results. But the knocking returned as soon as they left.

In the morning, Rudolph Steiner invited a number of friends to the house to witness the ongoing spectacle. Three of the guests reported hearing rapping noises at noon, and again later that afternoon. One the Steiner children, Rudolph's 10-year-old stepdaughter Lena Rohrbach, was rumored to be responsible for producing the prank, and the front page of the September 13 edition of the Harrisburg Star-Independent featured Lena's "confession" to Detective Shuler. However, the September 14 edition of the Harrisburg Telegraph refuted that any such admission had been made, writing: The report that one of the children confessed she was the spook was denied by the detective supposed to have received the confession.

With no other information to go on, Chief Wetzel announced they would be making no further investigations.

The Steiner Family Curse

While the cause of the supposed poltergeist activity at 136 Indian Alley has never been determined, the fate of the individuals involved proved to be nothing less than remarkable-- or some may say cursed. Just seven months after making his visit to the Steiner home, Mayor Ezra Meals died in office at the age of 65 after developing gangrene in his leg.

As for the Steiners, they vacated their Shipoke home just days after the mayor's visit and relocated to Christian Street in Steelton. They only found tragedy there; on October 15, 1916, just one month after abandoning Indian Alley, they buried an infant daughter, while a 9-month-old son, John, died in January of 1918. Another son, Frank, passed away in August of 1919 just five days after being born. Rudolph's wife, Mary, died the following year at the age of 44, only a few months after Lena, now a teenager, ran away to Chicago with a 37-year-old man who was renting a room from the Steiners.

After the death of his wife, Rudolph decided to move back to his native Germany with his surviving son, Rudolph, Jr. The younger Rudolph eventually settled in Hungary, until he and his family were displaced by the Russian invasion. After being housed at a displacement camp in upper Austria, Rudolph, Jr. returned to the city of his birth in 1952, bringing his wife and children with him. They moved in with the family of his half-brother, C.W. Rohrbach, on Race Street in Shipoke-- just a stone's throw away from the "mystery house" on Indian Alley.

The Demise of Old Shipoke

At the time of the reported haunting, the Shipoke neighborhood was a pretty rough and desperate place; burglaries, suicides, drunken brawls and even knife fights weren't uncommon. By the 1930s, the city had torn down many of the blighted properties on Indian Alley (which had long since been renamed Indian Street), and most of the land was sold to the Pennsylvania Railroad in 1937. The last traces of Indian Alley disappeared when the land was bulldozed to build the I-83 ramps on Second Street, and the spot where the Steiner's home once stood is now the site of the UPMC Harrisburg employee parking lot.





Sources:

Harrisburg Patriot-News, Sept. 13, 1916.
Harrisburg Star-Independent, Sept. 13, 1916.
Harrisburg Patriot-News, Sept. 14, 1916.
Harrisburg Telegraph, Sept. 14, 1916.
Harrisburg Evening News, Sept. 16, 1937.
Harrisburg Patriot-News, April 26, 1952.