The Tale of Mr. Shue and the Greenbrier Ghost

            The year 1897 is remembered for a great many things. William McKinley was inaugurated as the 25^th President of the United States of America. The first football game between African American Colleges Atlanta and Tuskegee occurred, with Atlanta winning by ten points. Sherlock Holmes began his ‘Adventure of Abbey Grange.’  John Phillip Holland launches his gas powered submarine and Utah elects the first female State Senator, M. H. Cannon.

While all this was happening, some unusual events were occurring in West Virginia as well. A meteorite enters the Earth’s atmosphere whereupon it explodes over New Martinsville in what was reported to be a spectacular display of brilliant shrapnel. While damage and debris were reported, thankfully there were no known injures to have occurred. Earlier in the year Elva Zona Heaster is found tragically murdered in Greenbrier County, West Virginia. The events surrounding the investigation of this murder brought her husband to trial for the act.  The case remains notorious to this very day because testimony from a ghost helped to bring about a conviction.

Elva Zona Heaster (Wikipedia)

The case of Elva Heaster is in many ways a typically tragic tale of spousal abuse, and the main reason it has survived to this day is the legends that surround the incident and have perpetuated the tale as stories of the Greenbrier Ghost. Sadly Elva’s life was not so remarkable. She was known to be a native to Greenbrier County, born there in the early 1870’s, and little information remains about her life except that it is claimed she had a child out of wedlock two years prior to her murder, something that was considered shocking for the time.  The autumn before her murder she met a man named Edward Shue who was a drifter who had moved into the area to look for work as a blacksmith. About the time that Edward found work in the shop of a James Crookshanks, is also said to be about when he and Elva met. It is said that the two fell into a whirlwind romance, delighting in each other’s company. Shortly into this budding romance, the two married. Elva’s mother, Mary Jane Heaster was known to have objected to the union, and many knew of her dislike for Mr. Shue. It was not very long after the wedding that Elva Zona Heaster was murdered.

Less than five months after meeting Edward, Elva was found dead in her home by a small boy. The boy had been sent to the house on an errand by Mr. Shue. Elva was found at the base of the stairs, laid out with her feet together and one hand upon her stomach. Dr. George Knapp was sent for, however due to difficulties and distance, it took over and hour for the Doctor to arrive at the scene of the murder. When the Doctor had finally arrived, Mr. Shue had already carried Elva Heaster’s body upstairs, laid her body upon a bed, and had washed and dressed the corpse himself, placing her in a dress with a high stiff collar and covering her face with a veil. Edward was said to be strongly affected by this tragedy, cradling Elva’s head all during the doctor’s brief examination of the body. The examination was cut short when upon the Doctor’s discovery and examination of bruises around Elva’s throat, Edward was said to have gone into a raging fit which frightened the Doctor and caused him to end the visit abruptly.

The Shue House (Wikipedia)

On January 24^th, 1897, Elva was buried in the local cemetery now known as the Soule Chapel Methodist Cemetary. Sadly it would be less than a month later before her body was exhumed for examination. A great cloud of suspicion grew around Edward Shue and his particularly odd behavior at the time of his wife’s death.  Despite Elva’s body being displayed at their home during the wake, Edward specifically loomed as an emotional guard over it, not allowing anyone to approach her too closely. He is said to have placed a small pillow on one side of his dead wife’s head, and a rolled up sheet at the other side. Her neck was wrapped in a thick scarf. Al of these Edward claimed were treasured items that would bring his departed wife comfort as she passed from this world to the next. Edward is said to have flashed from incredible sadness to a disquieting  energetic demeanor during this time, which also added to local suspicion.

None were more suspicious of Edward than her mother, Mary Jane Heaster, who had so strongly objected to their union. Mary Jane was convinced that Edward had murdered her daughter, and she prayed every night for four weeks that her daughter might be given the justice she deserved. Many believe her prayers were answered. Legend has it that Elva appeared to her mother four weeks after her funeral as an apparition. A distinctly bright light that gradually took on Elva’s form and filling the chamber she occupied with a profound chill. It is said she visited her mother for four nights in a row, imparting her tragic tale of woe.  Her ghostly form informed her mother that Edward Shue was in fact a cruel and evil man who abused her horrifically. He had attacked her in a fit of rage when he discovered she had cooked no meat that night for dinner and broker her neck. Unbeknownst to Mr. Shue, Mary Jane Heaster had retrieved the folded sheet from her daughters coffin prior to her burial. She had tried to return the sheet to Edward Shue, but he had refused it. Noticing an odd color to it, she washed it, which caused the water in the basin to turn a rusty red color, which permanently stained the sheet pink.

Mary Jane Heaster (Wikipedia)

It was this evidence that Mary Jane took to the local prosecutor John A. Preston. Mr. Preston is not known to have given a great deal of credit to the ghostly visitations by Elva, however the evidence of the sheet and the general disposition of the local townsfolk, a great majority of whom suspected Mr. Shue of misdoing, persuaded him to open an investigation. Almost immediately, Doctor Knapp was questioned in the case. Dr. Knapp conveyed to Mr. Preston the events that occurred as he was examining Elva’s body when it was discovered, and confessed that he himself had not been able to make a complete and thorough examination of Elva because of the interference of Mr. Shue at the time. It was this testimony that convinced John Preston to exhume Elva’s corpse for a proper autopsy, and an inquest jury was formed. 

Elva Zona Heaster’s body was exhumed and examined in the local schoolhouse on February 22^nd. The examination lasted three hours. A report, dated March 9, 1897, "the discovery was made that the neck was broken and the windpipe mashed. On the throat were the marks of fingers indicating that she had been choked. The neck was dislocated between the first and second vertebrae. The ligaments were torn and ruptured. The windpipe had been crushed at a point in front of the neck." (Wikipedia) Edward Shue, who complained and protested his wife’s grave being disturbed, was immediately arrested and charged with murder.

The trial of Edward Shue would not begin until June, and in the time between then and his arrest, the people of Greenbrier County began to learn more and more about this wandering blacksmith, and the more they learned the more villainous Edward seemed. One of the first things discovered was that his name was not in fact Edward Shue, but rather Erasumus Stribbling Trout Shue. It was also learned that Mr. Shue had been married twice prior to his wedlock with Elva Zona Heaster. His first marriage had ended in divorce after his wife had accused him of great cruelties, and his second marriage had ended when the woman he had married died in unusual circumstances.  While imprisoned, it is said that Mr. Shue spoke frequently with reporters about his ambition to eventually marry seven wives, and his complete confidence that he would be absolved of any crime due to the lack of evidence against him.

The trial came on June 22^nd, 1897, with Elva’s mother, Mary Jane Heaster as the prosecution’s star witness. While the prosecutor attempted to focus more upon the physical evidence and public perception of the character of Mr. Shue, it was the Defense who questioned Mary Jane at length about her supernatural visitations, hoping to undermine her credibility with the jury. This plan is said to have backfired completely. Rather than make Elva’s mother look foolish, Mary Jane instead repeatedly and calmly related the events of the ghostly visitations with exacting details which never wavered despite the defense’s attempts to rattle and unnerve her during testimony. Because the Ghostly witness had been introduced by the defense, the Judge could not ask the jury to disregard that particular testimony. Erasumus Stribbling Trout Shue was found guilty of Elva Zona Heaster’s murder on July 11^th and was sentenced to life in prison at West Virginia State Penitentiary in Moundsville. There are stories that a local lynch mob tried to prevent this from occurring, but were dissuaded from their actions by the local Sheriff’s Deputy.

Mr. Shue would live the rest of his life in the Penitentiary in Moundsville. He died three years later on March 13^th, 1900 when an unusual epidemic swept through the prison. He was buried in an unmarked grave in the prison cemetery. It is said that Mary Jane Heaster remained convinced of the ghostly visitations that brought justice to her daughter’s killer up to her death in 1916. At no time did she ever recant, or alter her tale, and the Ghost is not said to have appeared to anyone else since.

 

West Virginia State Penitentiary, Moundsville

1897 was indeed a very unusual year, filled with a remarkable amount of extraordinary events and the Greenbrier Ghost is not the only one which we will whisper upon Night’s breath as we fly by in the Glittering Darkness. So check back soon for more tales and events from that remarkable year.

-Mr. Cat

Consider Ten Percent

I have this idea that I am going to whisper to the etherwinds, and hope that it grows and becomes stronger as it journeys the webway.

The next Presidential election season is coming up on us, and folks all over the nation are going to be passionately supporting their candidate of choice. A great deal of this support comes from campaign contributions, funding gifted to the campaigns by everyone from low income folks who donate what they can, to the incredibly wealthy who donate millions.

I encourage each person who plans to donate money to a particular candidate’s campaign to do so.

But I will ask you this, donate 10% less than what you originally planned, and donate that 10 percent instead to something in your local civic area. 

Just ten percent.

You could donate it to a local firefighter fund, or something to help improve local schools. Contribute something that directly benefits your chosen cause in your hometown. A 10 percent contribution could mean that a local facility will be offer a better meal and a bit more comfortable place to sleep for a fellow human being.

Many people might not think that this will accomplish anything. Who knows, it might not. However I read stories of folks planning to donate literally millions and millions of dollars towards Campaign funding. Millions. If we donated ten percent of that directly back into our local communities, it equates to hundreds of thousands we are literally investing in ourselves.

Just ten percent of what you spend to help a candidate you –hope- will win, could create an amazing victory for your local community.

Think about it.

Thank you for your time and attention.

Bret B. Dusic

aka Mr. Cat

       The Cheshire Saucerian

#just10percent

Let's look toward the beauty we can make together as a community... 

FictFile: 13d

From the Journal of Professor Tot

As I begin to scribble words into my red ledger, trying to describe the things I have learned in recent years, one of the things I find which gives me the most difficulty is describing my first encounter with Mr. Cat. There is a dreamlike haze that lingers over the memory, displacing it. If I were to venture to guess, I would say this might be due to the unique ways in which Mr. Cat sometimes communicates. Very often I could swear we have had quite intense lengthy conversations when in fact barely a spoken word has passed between us.  However it is important that I remember this correctly, especially for the ledger.

           

            It was late in the year. I had recently celebrated a small Thanksgiving, thanks mostly due to being a new hire at Fire Creek, so invitations to celebrations were obligatory. However rumors of the scandal at the University had followed me south, and so my presence was more often something which chilled celebrations rather than warmed them. Because of this I paid courtesy visits to those it was important to keep good relations with, and kept my visits politely early and short, so as to not intrude on the dinner festivities of others. For my part, when I arrived home I enjoyed a fine soup, a good cigar, and several pages of Hobbes’ Leviathan. I am uncertain (due to the years between that moment and now,) exactly how many days after this I met Mr. Cat, but it could not have been many, and I am almost certain it was before December set upon us.

            He was in the parlor pub of the only hotel our small mining town possessed, and he was attempting to interview people with little success. There were a variety of reasons for this. Partially it was due to his manner of dress. He wore a nicely fitted, but oddly styled black suit which by itself made many assume he was some wandering Methodist evangelical. This alone made him seem off-putting in this little company town. There was also an odd appearance to the man himself. His derby removed revealed a quite bald head while his goatee was styled in a manner would seem much more in the style of Hakodate Harbor rather than Bostonian. His appearance suggested European heritage, but also had features akin to the peoples indigenous to the Americas. This seemed most evident in his eyes. His generally soft speaking voice contained hints of different accents, but none seemed to find a home there.

            He was pointed out to me and I to him because, I was told, he was doing research on the local area and had some questions pertaining to geology. Naturally this sparked my employer’s suspicions that a speculator was surveying in the region to set up a competing mining interest. Such towns and operations were springing up all up and down the New River at that time, as fast as veins of ore were discovered and rail lines needed laid for moving it. However as soon as I spoke with Mr. Cat, there was something to his manner which assured me his interests did not lay in the realm of business and profit, but was instead more academic in nature.  He informed me he was doing research for a company who was writing an Encyclopedia and wanted to get as much information as he could about both the history of the region and about coal mining in general. It did not take long before our conversation led to mechanical talk of locomotives and the machinery we used in our operations. I remember being impressed with his depth of mechanical knowledge, and at the same time a bit confused by his odd exuberance to learn as much as he could about the local flora and fauna, all of which he gave the impression of being wildly ignorant of at the time.

            I recall he only stayed in town a few weeks, and was gone by Christmas. During that time he was reported to have spent some time with a few of the trappers and hunter folk who live up in the hills. Most considered him a carpetbagger of some ill repute, but a few kind souls apparently took him in occasionally as he traveled the region. All I spoke with gave the same report of the man, that he was an odd stranger who seemed to care little for the cold but had a fondness for information. I met one trapper who swore that Mr. Cat was in fact a dangerous pistoleer he had known in his youth, but seemed confused as to how it was possible Mr. Cat was not now old and feeble. I suggested that the man we knew might be a descendant, but the trapper insisted they were in fact the same person. Had I known then what I do now, I might have put more faith in the old trapper’s tales.

            And that is, in fact, the first memories I have of Mr. Cat. Nothing terribly remarkable or noteworthy, which is amusing to me given the conversations he and I would later have. At the time I first met the man, I was impressed with him, but put off as well. For a long time I could not place my finger on what it was that made me seem to want to initially distrust him. In fact the reason for my unconscious discomfort did not occur to me until many years later on a visit to Washington D.C. I was there for business, but had the time to take in an enjoyable evening of Opera.  That night I had the honor of meeting the famous tenor Feodor Ivanovich Chaliapin, after being invited backstage. While speaking with the artist I noticed the unique cut to his suit. His swallowtail coat, worn open of course while he sang, had his double breasted vest sewn directly into the opening of the coat. They were not two separate garments but one costume, which imparted the illusion of a matched suit. This was done, Feodor said, so that he could take full advantage of his expansive lungs and diaphragm while singing, which made perfect sense.

            What struck me was that I had seen a similarly tailored costume before. It was almost exactly like the odd little black ‘suit’ worn by Mr. Cat that day I first met him. 

Mr. Cat is a proud supporter and sponsor of Vandalia-Con. Vandalia-Con brings hope to numerous women in West Virginia, but it needs folks like Mr. Cat and yourself in order to do so. Find out what you can do to help at Vandalia-Con.org. 

Author'sNote: FictFiles are works of Fiction.  The FictFiles posts here in this blog are one of my ways of both sharing these stories with a wider audience, and collecting them in a easy to locate place.

Cat Sightings

Cat Sightings

 1-15

A travel log

            Recently I’ve been able to travel a little more around Appalachia, and so I wrapped myself in my black suit and heavy coat found myself adventuring. Helping with Vandalia-Con means that I now frequently travel to Parkersburg, West Virginia,

Gingerbread Blennerhassett on display in Lobby.

and stay at the historic Blennerhassett Hotel. I must confess this is something I have come to adore. The hotel is where Vandalia-Con takes place and they have been such wonderful hosts, I cannot speak too highly of them. The convention would not be the success it is without their involvement. However wonderful as they are, this little travel log is not about them, but rather some of the places I visited while on my journey.

            One great thing about Parkersburg visits is taking the time to stop in to obtain a small box of Holl’s Chocolates. For those who have not had any of these handmade Swiss style delights made right here in West Virginia, it is impossible to describe what you are missing. The varieties offered allow one to create a custom box of treats to impress any individual palate or party of guests. I will also mention that I have a fondness for the coffees they offer there as well. My personal preference is a cup of Highland Grog accompanied by a Royal Truffle, but I encourage everyone to experiment till you find your favorite combination. It is also my personal opinion that chocolate and coffee are a great way to begin any adventure.

            While I was in Parkersburg I also got to visit the Point Park Marketplace. Last year this was where we had hosted the Pink Block Party segment of Vandalia-Con, which was a Health Fair open to the public and featured a small parade and some amazing live music. It is a nice spot and worked well for our needs. However upon entering the marketplace this time I was very impressed with the change that I saw. There were many vendors present, offering a variety of things from fresh produce to remarkable artwork. As the Lady Captain went around to discuss the upcoming year’s event with the merchants present, I simply looked around tried to get a sense of all the nice change. I immediately noticed the coffee fellow right off of course, a stand named Randy’s Rub. However as I had already had indulged that day I resisted the temptation. I will say whatever brew he was making had a very pleasant aroma, and the gentleman at the counter greeted everyone with a smile and friendly conversation. I sat for a bit and took in the other food offerings. Across from the coffee shop was a stand for James’ Mama Mia Pizza, which offered a nice menu of favorites. Located near these was also, Jeff Adams a Nutritionist,  Breads & Beyond Bakery, and a Bersky’s Ice Ex-Creamery.  On a bit more of the adult side was offerings of Toscano in Appalachia Wines and North End Tavern and Brewery.

Stop in, spend a little time.

            As one stepped into an adjoining area the food offerings were Foggy Dale Farms Beef & West Virginia Foods & Things. This latter is a produce stand which also offered a variety of other local goodies. (I myself am fond of kettlecorn, I admit.) I also enjoyed looking at the variety of local theme cookbooks on offer. Hand knit items from Heavenly Sunlight Alpaca Farm, and the art by Three Dimension Wooden Pictures by Gale Karcher finished out the visit on a most enjoyable note. Though most might find it odd that one of the things I was drawn to was the easel stands holding up Gale’s art. They are a neat set up of copper pipe fittings which I just thought was really neat. All in all it was a wonderful visit and I was very happy to see the Marketplace looking so nice and doing so well.

            After leaving Parkersburg we traveled up Rt 2, enjoying the scenery. A light snow was falling and clinging to everything, creating a nice wonderland out of the landscape around us. Between Parkersburg and Sistersville, the Lady Captain and I were lucky enough to get a sighting of a trio of Bald Eagles, a male and two females as they swooped very near to the car while they played in the air currents above the roadway. It was a breathtaking moment and was done and over before I could even think about taking a picture of it. I have no regrets in that regard however, as now it is a nice private magical moment which existed just for the wife and I. It is now something we will always share together when we want to make the other smile.

No Eagles in this Picture, but it was taken along Rt. 2 that day, north of Parkersburg.

Shortly after that remarkable experience we arrived in Sistersville..

But that’s a different story...

For more info you may want to check out the following.

theblennerhassett.com

www.holls.com

pointparkmarketplace.com

Dream Well..

Till the Last Cup & Saucer...

Quiet Respect