John Proctor's Ghost

Not the Ghost of John Proctor...



Mr. Proctor had his own personal ghost.



My home town of Brighton, Ontario had but one real Ghost and as I said, it was not John Proctor.



Proctor was a wealthy businessman who lived during the 1800s and during that time he built a large mansion that overlooked our fair village. His home was to the north of town less than a rifle shot away from the village grave yard.



On top of the Proctor home was a widow's walk where it is said Proctor kept close watch on his many ships entering and leaving Brighton harbour which in turn led to Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence.



As a prosperous businessman, Proctor had many workers toiling on his behalf one of which was a poor soul by the name of Nix. Nix was married and no doubt had a bevy of little Nixes. What he did not have was money. In fact he was in debt to old man Proctor for advances made on his puny pay.



All would have gone along okay except for the fact Nix up and died. No doubt from being worked to death by Proctor.



His distraught wife came to John Proctor requesting the body of her husband for burial. To her absolute dismay, Proctor refused her request. Nix, he said, owed him $20.00 and his body would not be released to the family until said debt was paid in full. No doubt he put in an additional request for interest on the loan.



The widow having no means whatsoever, went home sans husband.



Proctor then placed Nix's body in the dank cellar of this mansion and there, over the years, it rotted - so to speak.



Now some strange happenings occurred. People living in the vicinity of the Proctor Mansion began to see at night a bright ball of fire emanate from the vicinity of the basement and fly through the air to the Town's grave yard which was located a short distance to the east. No doubt Proctor had an unrestricted view of these occurrences from his perch on high in the mansion's widow's walk.



But these occurrences unfortunately did not persuade Proctor from doing the right thing and turning over the body of Nix over to his wife and family.



I say unfortunately, since a short time later it cost Proctor, himself, his life. He was working on the barn roof next to the mansion and inexplicably fell (was pushed?) to his death.



No accident, said the locals - olde Nix had just taken his just revenge.



That's the story of Proctor's Ghost.



But let's move ahead a little.



It is now the 1950s in fair olde Brighton and yours truly and several other contemporaries are attending Johnny's 10th birthday party in February - in the evening. It was dark and on leaving the party we all decided to walk one of our number - Eric - home. Eric lived near the olde Proctor mansion and to save time we decided to cut across a few fields that cut just south of the mansion and behind the homes on Yonge Street where Eric lived.



On route, we ran into a chap by the name of Kenneth. Kenneth lived just below the mansion and indeed his home was closest in the village to the Proctor mansion. We naturally began talking about the Ghost Story.



Had Kenneth ever seen the Ball of Fire trying to enter the Grave Yard? - we asked. Of course he had - "numerous times". Our imagines went wild.



Just as we were approaching a wooden bridge - that crossed a small creek - that then led to Yonge Street, a man jumped out from under it and headed directly for the Proctor Mansion. Well you can imagine. We had scared ourselves quite enough before this happening - now with it - we screamed bloody murder and raced to the safety of Eric's home.



An unforgettable moment they say.



Now let's flash further ahead.



I am grown and once again living in Brighton and decide one day to take my 3 children to the Proctor House which has now become a museum.



Of course I tell them first about the Ghost - to get them in the right frame of mind.



A pleasant middle age woman greets us at the door and then accompanies us around the house pointing out various things of interest. Of interest to her that is. My children and I are only thinking about one thing - the Ghost in the Basement.



After she concludes the tour she asks if we have any questions. Only one I blurt out - "would it be possible for us to go down in the basement"?



"Whatever for" she replied. "There is nothing down there except the gardener's tools".



Nonetheless, I prevail upon her to let us see the basement telling her, in my pitch, about the John Proctor Ghost. She looked at me as if I had two heads - obviously the woman is a transplant from Toronto.



Anyway - we creep down the olde wooden stairs - and the lady was right - no Ghost, only a bunch of rakes and shovels.



How disappointing.


"Galagher"

p.s. During public school, I delivered the Globe and Mail and one of my customers was Stella Proctor - the last of the Proctors. During the summer months, Ms. Proctor lived in the olde Mansion with a woman companion who served as her aide. Years later, my wife was the head nurse at a Nursing Home in Trenton, and one of her patients was a 105 year old by the name of Amelia. This lady told my wife about the wondrous Balls that the Proctor family held at their mansion, high on Brighton hill, in the late 1800s. I often wonder if, during those glorious Balls, any of the guests took it upon themselves to check out the basement?