
Unsolved Mysteries - Washington Square Mystery - Aired 1936
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Narrator 1
Unsolved mysteries. An old saying is dead men tell no tales.
Narrator 2
Nothing could be farther from the truth.
Narrator 1
In the United States alone, there are several cases on record in which the police, after finding no clue upon which to work, have been led directly to the murderer by a force which, for
Narrator 2
want of a better name, we call supernatural.
Ghost Woman
Sam.
Narrator 1
Sa.
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Washington Square. An old residential district which has stood still in the loop as the rest of the city is rushed on in the mad world of modernism. The houses still have iron railings before them.
Narrator 1
The street lamps are few and far between.
Narrator 2
The causeway is cobbled, uneven and hard to walk on. Not a house, but has its five or six steps leading up to the front door. And full bells have not yet been replaced by the shrill ringing electric bells. Soft snow falls, softening the harsh outlines of the building's sidewalk and street parking lawn. And these are all one a wavy blanket of glistening white. A light shows in number 21, where Jack Hunter addresses a strange company of guests. No, everyone please make yourselves as comfortable as possible. Cigarettes in that lacquer box, cigars in the humidor. You'll find drinks to your taste in that cabinet. I. I'm going to stand here, if you don't mind, and explain this, well, rather unusual situation.
Guest 1
I've simply been on pens and needles ever since I received your letter.
Narrator 2
Yes, I can believe that. Putting it as simply as possible, every one of you ladies and gentlemen has
Narrator 1
at some time or another lived in
Narrator 2
this house sometime during the past 32 years. I lived here in 1911 for exactly four nights.
Guest 1
Well, that's one night longer than I would say. I insisted that George move me out. The third night I couldn't stand it.
Narrator 1
I believe that I am right in assuming that each and every one of
Narrator 2
us has had the same experience. I lived here one whole year, so
Guest 2
possibly I did experience a little more than the rest of you.
Narrator 2
Yes, Mr. Strange, according to my records, you have lived longer in the house than anyone else. Suppose you summarize.
Guest 2
Well, the first night I slept here, nothing happened. But the second night I woke with that strange feeling that somebody, something was in the room. I was about to turn up the
Narrator 1
light when I came to a realization.
Guest 2
It wasn't necessary. Although it was quite dark, I could see figures. They were ranged along the sides of my bed. Then across the bottom. I couldn't tell about the top because, frankly, I was too frightened to move.
Guest 1
That's just exactly what happened to me.
Narrator 1
I saw them the first night. Then they just stood there and stared and stared.
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They never said a word. And I couldn't.
Guest 2
That was my experience.
Narrator 1
And it happened no less than 103
Guest 2
times in one year.
Narrator 1
Gradually, I got used to them.
Guest 2
Used to speculate to myself that some
Narrator 1
of them were more dense, more immaterial than others.
Guest 2
Especially one. One who very often came by herself.
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A woman.
Narrator 1
May I interrupt?
Guest 2
Certainly.
Narrator 1
A woman is the key to the whole problem.
Narrator 2
May I take the story from there?
Narrator 1
Almost 20 minutes now.
Narrator 2
Mr. Crawford will arrive.
Narrator 1
He wrote to me and said that
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he had the solution to this visitation. And that he'd be here tonight. Until he arrived, I'll tell you about the woman.
Narrator 1
It was nineteen nine.
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I lived about a mile and a half from here. One morning, snowing wintry as could be. I left the house to go downtown to my office.
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I was walking along past Corson park.
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And the officer on the beat, Pat
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o', Malley, hailed me. Good morning to you, sir. And it's a right brisk morning. That it is, Mr. Hunter. Oh, yes. That's like the old days when we were kids going to school. Ah, yes, sir. That was the days. We never appreciate them till we have to be up and going in the mornings and off to work. Why, sir. What are you looking at?
Narrator 2
Look, Pat, over in the park, doesn't that look like the outline of a body there under the snow? Sure, and that it does, sir.
Narrator 1
And we'll be after going and satisfying ourselves. That everything is all right.
Guest 2
All right.
Narrator 2
If we can open the gate now that it's frozen stiff in this cold.
Narrator 1
Then we'll just have to clean the rail of them. That we will.
Guest 2
Ah, sure, now.
Narrator 1
And don't you be spoiling them good gloves of yours, Mr. Hunter. I'll open them gates they're opening. Well, whatever it is, it must have lain there all night. There's not a trace of footprints or anything else.
Narrator 2
Yes, that. And now that I'm close to it, it looks more like a body than ever.
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Well, we'll soon be after finding out that we will.
Guest 2
Oh, wet and sticky and red.
Narrator 2
He's the murdered Pat, and that's no lie.
Narrator 1
For never yet did anybody stab themselves with a smile of the back like
Guest 2
this one's been stabbed.
Narrator 1
Well, I'll call the patrol and we'll take her to the bar.
Narrator 2
I. I don't know if any of you remember the affair.
Guest 1
I do. There never was a trace of the murderer or anything. The papers were full of it. Called it Philadelphia's Unsolved Mystery.
Narrator 2
Correct.
Narrator 1
I appeared at the inquest.
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But today no one but myself knows any more than they did then.
Narrator 1
You say no one but yourself?
Narrator 2
Yes. I. I moved from where I was living about five years later and came to live here. The first night I went to bed dead tired from all the hustle of moving. And just as soon as I'd set my alarm clock, I fell sound asleep. Midnight. The bedroom fills with ghostly, shadowy shapes. Wisps of an intangible something formed in the likeness of human forms. Transparent. Horribly transparent. They range themselves about the bed and in ghastly silence, they stare down upon the man, Jack Hunter, lying there. Jack stirs uneasily in his sleep, turns and tosses, twists himself about and opens
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his eyes, frozen with fear. He lies staring with wide eyes.
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His lips form words, questions, but nothing that he can do. No effort that he can make will force words out. Another shape enters the room. A woman. Those shadowy nothings about the bed look at the newcomer. And one by one, they melt into nothingness. The woman advances to the bed.
Ghost Woman
You can help me.
Guest 2
What? What is that?
Narrator 2
You said?
Ghost Woman
You can help me. I was murdered. I. I cannot rest until my murderer is known.
Guest 2
A woman. A murdered woman I found in the park.
Ghost Woman
Yes. You found me in the park. You know my murder, woman.
Narrator 2
I know your murderer, yes.
Ghost Woman
Come with me. Follow me to the living room. You will help me. You will let me rest.
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Jack Hunter follows the woman through the archway into the living room. He stops before the grand piano, turns her ghastly eyes upon him, and then, pointing to a portrait, his wife's portrait.
Narrator 1
Jack claps his hands to his eyes, rocks to and fro, and with a crash, falls to the floor in a dead paint.
Narrator 2
It was almost daylight when I came to. I. I was pretty roggy.
Guest 1
What a horrible experience to find your wife accused of murder.
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The horrible part of it was.
Guest 2
It was true.
Narrator 1
You can't.
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My wife had been in a private institution for the violently insane for years. She escaped. I knew nothing about her escape. But I investigated. He returned to the institution two days later, her clothes blood stained. And the institution management glad to get her back so easily. Never said a word.
Mr. Crawford
But why?
Narrator 2
Why in the name of heaven.
Guest 2
Has all this happened in this house
Narrator 1
to the rest of us?
Narrator 2
We've never done anything for which we should be haunted. Not by one ghost, but by dozens. I think that that ring at the doorbell is the answer we're seeking. Mr. Crawford. Yes, Mr. Crawford. I'll go and let him in. Make yourselves comfortable. I'll be down if I know what
Guest 2
to make of it.
Guest 1
No lie. I'm just as puzzled as I was when I lived here.
Guest 2
Well, we'll see what Crawford has to say.
Narrator 1
Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Crawford.
Narrator 2
How do you do, Mr.
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I have told them, Mr. Crawford.
Narrator 2
The story today about your.
Mr. Crawford
Your wife.
Narrator 2
Everything.
Mr. Crawford
In order to understand this, you must realize that Washington Square is very much changed. What it was back in the 80s, over where the hotel stands today. Is where the old courthouse used to be. Down there was the gasoline station stand. Used to be old Meeker's stables. The dale used to stand where the hotel stands now.
Narrator 1
This house. That's what we want to know.
Guest 1
Yes. I've been on pins and needles. I still am.
Mr. Crawford
This house. This house. This house used to be the morgue.
Narrator 1
After you've heard from your sponsor, a solution to the Washington Square mystery will be given. Ladies and gentlemen, the solution for what you've been waiting.
Guest 1
You said, Mr. Crawford, that this house used to be the morgue.
Mr. Crawford
Yes, I did, but.
Narrator 2
But that still doesn't explain it.
Narrator 1
It does as far as I'm concerned.
Mr. Crawford
You see, when you begin dealing with the mysterious realm beyond the practical and concrete things of life. Things that can be weighed, seen, felt and otherwise measured. You start dealing with situations that can only be investigated by comparison.
Narrator 2
What do you mean by comparison?
Mr. Crawford
Comparisons of happenings of a like nature. Comparisons with the experiences of thousands of reputable people. Who have testified to similar experiences.
Narrator 1
You mean that if someone is emotionally
Guest 2
upset in a certain house.
Narrator 1
The imprint of that emotion will be left in the house.
Narrator 2
Almost like a photograph?
Mr. Crawford
That is the claim of many.
Guest 1
Even if people know nothing of what has happened.
Mr. Crawford
Yes. Have you ever walked into a house. And had an unexplainable feeling of dislike for the place?
Narrator 1
Of course.
Mr. Crawford
What causes it? Well, there are many people who say it's an invisible influence. Left by the previous occupants or previous happenings. It is easy to imagine the heartbreaking scenes in this morgue. The air of gloom. The constant stream of people walking through this building. With nothing in their mind. But the identification of persons who have been murdered or otherwise met violent death.
Narrator 1
Then these things which we saw and heard are, well, our own sensitive natures. Becoming aware of the what you call invisible photograph of previous happenings.
Mr. Crawford
Yes, that is the theory advanced in that state between sleeping and waking. These previous happenings took on an almost tangible form. And when you came back to consciousness, fully aware of what had happened and fully convinced that you had been quite awake the whole time.
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Podcast: Harold’s Old Time Radio
Host: Harolds Old Time Radio
Episode Date: August 5, 2026
This episode of Harold’s Old Time Radio transports listeners back to the Golden Age of Radio, featuring a chilling installment of "Unsolved Mysteries": the “Washington Square Mystery.” Set in a former residential district marked by old houses and lingering secrets, the story explores a supernatural phenomenon—chilling hauntings experienced by every tenant of a single ominous house. As a gathering of former residents compare notes on their terrifying encounters, a deeper mystery emerges—connecting spectral apparitions, a decades-old murder, and the house’s haunting legacy.
"The houses still have iron railings before them… the causeway is cobbled, uneven and hard to walk on." (02:24-02:40)
"Every one of you ladies and gentlemen has at some time or another lived in this house sometime during the past 32 years." (03:30-03:37)
"They were ranged along the sides of my bed… They just stood there and stared and stared." (04:16-04:34) “Especially one. One who very often came by herself. A woman.” (04:48-04:52)
“I was walking along past Corson park… doesn't that look like the outline of a body there under the snow?” (05:24-05:41)
“He's the murdered Pat, and that's no lie. For never yet did anybody stab themselves with a smile of the back like this one's been stabbed.” (06:26-06:32)
“You can help me. I was murdered. I… I cannot rest until my murderer is known.” (08:36-08:50) Jack discovers the truth is painfully close to home when the ghost leads him to his wife's portrait.
“My wife had been in a private institution... She escaped. I knew nothing about her escape. But I investigated. She returned… her clothes blood stained. And the institution management… never said a word.” (10:04-10:22)
“Why in the name of heaven has all this happened in this house to the rest of us? We've never done anything for which we should be haunted. Not by one ghost, but by dozens.” (10:22-10:27)
“This house used to be the morgue.” (11:25-11:33)
“When you begin dealing with the mysterious realm beyond... things that can be weighed, seen, felt… you start dealing with situations that can only be investigated by comparison.” (13:19-13:34) “The air of gloom. The constant stream of people walking through this building. With nothing in their mind but the identification of persons who have been murdered or otherwise met violent death.” (14:04-14:27) "These things which we saw and heard are, well, our own sensitive natures... becoming aware of the what you call invisible photograph of previous happenings." (14:27-14:37)
“In that state between sleeping and waking, these previous happenings took on an almost tangible form.” (14:37-15:18)
Jack’s Haunted Experience:
“It happened no less than 103 times in one year. Gradually, I got used to them…” (04:41-04:43)
The Ghost’s Plea:
“You can help me. I was murdered. I… I cannot rest until my murderer is known.” (08:36-08:50) — Ghost Woman
Chilling Realization:
“The horrible part of it was… it was true.” (10:01-10:04) — Guest 2, after Jack reveals his wife was the killer
Mr. Crawford’s Explanation:
“This house used to be the morgue.” (11:25-11:33)
“Have you ever walked into a house and had an unexplainable feeling of dislike for the place?” (13:55-14:02)
“There are many people who say it's an invisible influence left by the previous occupants or previous happenings.” (14:04-14:07)
This atmospheric radio drama, rooted in classic storytelling, expertly weaves together elements of mystery, the supernatural, and psychological horror. Through gripping voice performances and shadowy soundscapes, it explores how places are marked by their histories—and how the echoes of past tragedies can ripple through generations. The Washington Square Mystery remains, as ever, unsolved—but listeners are left with a haunting sense of the unseen and the unknown that lingers in old walls.