Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
On Monday one of the Secrets asked if we could drive down to Jim Thorpe,
PA, and visit the old haunted prison there. Toney and the kids had been
there once before, with Sunshine and Mumbles, but I'd never been inside
for a tour. And because of the supposed coolness that transpired that
day, the Secrets had adopted it as a personal project to get me there.
On their first visit, you see, Mumbles was supposedly alone inside one
of the women's cells, videotaping with his trusty camcorder. And when
they played that part of the tape back, they could clearly hear a
woman's voice (all cigarette and whiskey-ravaged) holler, "Get
out of here!" I've seen it countless times, and Mumbles swears
he was completely alone at the time. Spooky, man.
Needless to say, this has captured the imagination of the younglings,
and they want to go back to the jail on a fairly consistent basis. We
had no plans for the day, and it wasn't a bad idea, so why the hell not?
We told 'em we'd do it, and there was much celebrating.
The jail, more like a small prison, was built in 1871, and was the site
where seven men, accused of being murderous members of the notorious
"Molly Maguires," were hung. All professed their innocence to
the end, and there's plenty of evidence to suggest that none were guilty
of the crimes they were accused of committing.
Here's
some info on the jail, and here's
a little historical background on the curious town of Jim Thorpe itself.
Jim Thorpe, the man, never set foot in the place, if you can dig it.
....At least not while he was alive.
So we headed down the turnpike, promptly missed our exit and had to
drive way the fuck out of our way to get turned around. Exits are
few and far between on that stretch of pay-as-you-go road, and I was
running my hands through my hair, trying to maintain. Finally, long
after we should've been there, we were there.
It's a cool little town. It's in the mountains, seemingly in the middle
of nowhere, and feels like a Swiss village or somesuch. Downtown is now
dominated by antique shops, and that sort of thing. But it's fun to walk
around, check out the old buildings, and try to imagine the place in its
heyday. Here are a few pics I took on
a previous visit to Jim Thorpe.
The prison isn't far from downtown, just
up the main street a few blocks. It's scary-looking, as most
nineteenth-century lock-ups are -- not the kind of place any sane person
would aspire to take up residence. Sweet Gothic Maria. I felt a little
uneasy just parking near it.
The next tour would kick-off in ten minutes they told us, and the four
of us could be a part of it for the nominal fee of sixteen dollars.
Grrrr.... Yuengling charges nothing for their tours, and there's beer
and ridiculousness at the end. But whatever.
After we had our tickets we were ushered into a small room, where other
members of our tour group were already assembled. There was a TV inside,
playing The Molly Maguires, an old Sean Connery movie about the
whole sordid affair. The scene that was playing on the screen was
clearly filmed on the streets of Jim Thorpe. Pretty cool. I made a
mental note to see if Netflix stocks the DVD. They
do, and it'll arrive here at the Compound on Friday.
Here's a sign that was propped up on
the mantel of the fireplace.
The tour guide was, oh, I don't know, twelve years old? That might be a
slight exaggeration, but I'd be willing to bet that she's still in high
school. She was OK, though. I had a little trouble understanding her,
but it was everybody there, not just her. The locals talk really
fast, and clip off the ends of their words, leaving me scratching my
tiny Duke head in confusion much of the time.
She showed us the warden's quarters, where his entire family, often
including little kids, cohabitated with killers and thieves. We saw the
main cell block, where the Molly Maguires hangings took place, complete
with a re-creation of the gallows. She took us to the exercise yard (chic!),
and down below the prison to check out the solitary confinement cells.
And that was the coolest part. It was like something out of Edgar Allen
Poe -- creepy as all hell. She told us that psychics claim the
"dungeon" is a hotspot for spirits and still-pissed ghosts.
There are hundreds of stories, she said, of strange encounters down
there. Many tourists have supposedly snapped photos inside the cells,
returned home, and found more people in the pictures than there
should've been. All sorts of stuff like that.... people being shoved,
anguished cries from abandoned cells, etc. And when you're standing in
the middle of it all, your skepticism starts to melt away.
Here's one of the pics I snapped
in the dungeon. Do you think the spirits know what scares us the most,
and customize their apparitions to fit the individual? Shit!
The final stop on the tour was a visit to cell 17, in the main cell
block, to see The Handprint. One of the Molly Maguires supposedly placed
his grimy hand on the wall, as he was being led to the gallows, and
proclaimed that the print would remain forever, to shame the county for
hanging an innocent man. Over the years they've painted over it, washed
it with every cleaner known to man, and even knocked the original wall
down.
Yet the handprint always comes back....
This
is a good summation of the legend. And here
are a couple of pics that I snapped -- before I read the sign that told
me pictures aren't allowed. Not that it would've made any difference, of
course....
It was a fun day, well worth the sixteen bucks and no beer. If you're in
the area, be sure to check it out. It's an off-the-beaten-path classic,
and receives the Surf Report seal of
approval.
-- And on that note, I'm gonna turn it over to Buck
now, and hit the dusty trail.
--
On Monday one of the Secrets asked if we could drive down to Jim Thorpe,
PA, and visit the old haunted prison there. Toney and the kids had been
there once before, with Sunshine and Mumbles, but I'd never been inside
for a tour. And because of the supposed coolness that transpired that
day, the Secrets had adopted it as a personal project to get me there.