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Welcome to Lore Legends, a subset of Lore episodes that explore the strange tales.

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We whisper in the dark, even if they can't always be proven by the history books. So if you're ready, let's begin.

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Most of us know the basics when we think about the Revolutionary War, we can name a handful of locations that we automatically associate with Lexington, Boston, Philadelphia, Valley Forge, Saratoga. These were all home to key battles and confrontations between the British and the Colonial army. But one state in particular stands out as a proving ground for America's New Jersey. Nestled along the Eastern seaboard between Pennsylvania and New York, New Jersey was the location of a number of critical battles. The Battle of Fort Lee, for example, in November of 1776 was a crushing blow to Washington's army, and the 10 crucial days that followed could have spelled disaster had his troops not captured the Hess in Trenton on Christmas. But the Garden State saw more than just a few decisive victories for the Colonial Army. It also saw heavy loss. And that loss can still be felt today. There are graveyards, fields, and even homes that bear the legacies of those who died fighting for their country. It's more than blood and bullets. Their restless spirits walk the earth, unaware that they did not die in vain. They search for salvation that will never come, haunting fields and houses where they took their final breaths. What happens to a soldier who doesn't come home from war? What becomes of their spirit? The Revolutionary War took the lives of as many as 70,000 patriots, but if the stories are true, many of them have yet to move on. They're still marching their spectral rifles at their sides into a battle they can never win so consider this your call to arms, because today we go to New Jersey to battle with a past. I'm Aaron Manke, and this is Lore. Legends. It was the place to be. In the lead up to the American Revolution, the colony of New Jersey enjoyed unbridled political and religious freedom. As the saying goes, everything is legal in New Jersey, and there was some truth to that. So, of course, New Jerseyans were prepared to hit and hit hard once the Revolutionary War came to the Garden State. But no matter how intensely they fought, no one was safe, Especially not James and Hannah Caldwell. Born in 1734 in Club Creek, Virginia, James was your average family guy. He graduated from what is now today Princeton University and was eventually ordained, becoming the pastor of the Presbyterian Church of Elizabethtown in 1761. Two years later, he married his college sweetheart, Hannah Ogden of Newark, New Jersey. Together they had a remarkable, if not exhausting, total of 10 children over the course of 16 years. But after the outbreak of the war, James had to put parenting on hold. In February of 1773, he joined the war effort as the chaplain and assistant Quartermaster General of the 3rd Regiment, New Jersey Line. For the next nine months, he earned the nickname the Fighting Parson, which, as far as nicknames go, is an excellent one. And he deserved it, too. He actually recruited 100 men from his congregation to join the military. And during the Battle of Springfield on June 23rd of 1780, he found a resourceful way to keep his soldiers on the battlefield. When his comrades started to run low on the paper wadding to pack the powder and ball into their muskets, James saved them with an ingenious idea. Use the paper from their hymnals. Sadly, though, his resourcefulness couldn't shield him from the worst of the war. On February 25th of 1779, Caldwell's home was burned to the ground by the British. He moved his family around after that, from Springfield to the town of Connecticut Farms, which is now known as Union, New Jersey. And from there, the Fighting Parson joined the army at Jockey Hollow. And yet, no matter how far he moved his wife and children, the fighting followed close behind. It would seem that James and his family just couldn't catch a break. In the summer of 1780, British troops made their way to Connecticut farms. Once James got word that the enemy was en route, he loaded his elder children into a wagon and sent them to stay with friends nearby. But the others would not escape. Hannah and three of their younger kids, as well as their nurse and a young girl the Caldwell family had taken in, all stayed back at the house on June 7th. Hannah had just retired to her bedroom with their eight month old infant in her arms when the alarm was raised that British soldiers were afoot. A reportedly squat soldier wearing a red coat stepped into their yard just as Hannah gave the baby to the nurse. He walked up to the window, calmly aimed his weapon and fired two musket balls into Hannah's chest, killing her instantly. Now, historians are divided as to why she was shot. Some say that the soldier had mistaken her for a sniper, while others believe her murder was retaliation for what her husband had been doing during the war. Time has erased any chance we might have of finding the answer. But the pain of that loss would never go away. Hannah's body was removed from the home before it was burned down, and she was buried shortly after. James Caldwell survived for another 17 months, until on November 24 of 1781, he too was killed. Sadly, despite everything he had gone through, his death was not a heroic one. He simply became just one more of the war's many victims to senseless violence. James, it seems, was shot by an American sentinel over a dispute regarding a package. It was rumored that the man had been bribed by the British to take him out, but there was no evidence of this claim. Still, the perpetrator was tried, convicted and hanged for his crime. Meanwhile, the Caldwell's parsonage in Connecticut Farms was rebuilt in 1782. It was constructed right over the foundation of the original structure with the hope that even though the Caldwell family was gone, a new family could breathe life into it once again. But no matter how many new lives blossomed under that roof, the old ghosts never left. In fact, the large colonial home is said to be haunted by the spirit of poor Hannah Caldwell. Paranormal investigators have heard bizarre sounds and reported strong electronic voice phenomenon. Their cameras have captured shadows moving through the rooms, as well as balls of light that have been used as evidence of restless spirits residing within the house. And they have even asked those spirits specific questions that have led them to believe that the largest presence in the house is in fact, Hannah. Guests who have attended events at the parsonage have felt rooms suddenly change in temperature without warning. They've also reportedly felt feelings of nausea and dizziness while walking throughout the house, along with the sensation of being pushed as they descend the stairs. Looking back, it's clear to say that Hannah was dealt an unfair hand. Living through a war, separated from her loving husband, and dying without knowing if her children would all survive. It was all unbelievably traumatic. If her spirit truly is wandering the Halls of the Caldwell parsonage. I don't think anyone could blame her. Perhaps she's searching for her family, or maybe just lamenting the home she'd lost. But as tragic as the Caldwell's fate turned out to be, they were just one family out of thousands that had to suffer through the war. And their parsonage house is only one of many that still has souls wandering its halls. It seems that no one was safe. Not even those who abstained from fighting were safe from meeting a bloody end. A little over 100 miles south of the Caldwell home is Salem county, just across the Delaware river from Wilmington. And it's there where the Hancocks, a prominent Quaker family, built a home for themselves that has lasted for more than two and a half centuries. But they made much more than just a house. They also built themselves a legacy, one that has been stained by blood since the Revolution. The home was constructed in 1734 by William Hancock and his wife Sarah. But during the Revolution, it was owned by their son, William Hancock Jr. Who served in the Colonial assembly and as a judge of the county court for Salem County. And In September of 1776, William Jr. Accepted a commission to be a county judge for the newly formed state of New Jersey. Now, as a Quaker, William was a pacifist. In keeping with his deeply held personal beliefs about violence, he did not enlist in the fight in the Revolution. But even though he abstained from the war, it wouldn't matter in the end, because the war was coming to his front doorstep. In the winter of 1777 into 1778, George Washington's army and the British troops were both encamped in snowy Pennsylvania, exposed to the elements and starving without proper food or supplies. With no relief in sight, each army set out on foraging missions in search of, well, anything really. They had gone without food for too long. Any longer, and they'd all be done for. And as we all know, desperate people do terrible things. And so, In March of 1778, the British marched on Salem County, New Jersey. 1,500 soldiers occupied the town, confiscating cattle, hay, and corn from the people living there. They had found sustenance, but they also found the wrath of the local militia. Local colonists managed to thwart the British plans to overtake Quinton's Bridge, one of several key bridges in the county. This loss angered the redcoats, and the people of Salem noticed. They decided the best course of action to protect their town from further attack was to damage the bridge and keep the British at bay. 20 militiamen took up the task of rendering the bridge uncrossable. When they were done, they retreated to the Hancock house to rest. Meanwhile, on the other side of the creek, a group of loyalist troops decided enough was enough. Joined by 30 British soldiers, they all took boats across the creek and marched under the COVID of darkness to the Hancock house. They were told, go, spare no one. Put all to death, give no quarter. On the morning of March 21st of 1778, around 5 o'clock that morning, the loyalist and British troops surrounded the Hancock house. Bursting in through the front and back doors, they attacked the men in their sleep. The militiamen, caught by surprise, were quickly struck down by bayonets. They didn't manage to get a single shot in before they were all killed. The day after the attack, the massacre was described by Colonel Elijah Hand as a killing, and I quote in the most cruel manner, in cold blood. Men who were taken by surprise in a situation in which they neither could nor did attempt to make any resistance. How many men were slaughtered is up for debate, with a number ranging from 10 to 30. And despite their best efforts to kill them all, a few did survive. But among those who were killed was Judge William Hancock, Jr. And considering the Hancock house's tragic history of bloodshed, it's no surprise that it's been named the most haunted house in New Jersey. Apparitions of slain Revolutionary war soldiers have been spotted patrolling the grounds of the property, While blood curdling screams have been heard by visitors, echoes of the militiamen who were brutally slain in the night. The attic is also the site of significant paranormal activity, no doubt due to the blood stained floorboards from local soldiers who had been brought upstairs to recuperate. Visitors to the attic have felt the presence of a very discernible line of energy that they did not want to cross. And some have spotted movement out of the corners of their eyes, right around the section of the attic containing the bloodstains. Many people believe this to be the ghost of Sarah Hancock, the house's original mistress. Others have sensed the presence of an elusive male spirit inside the home, which is believed to be Judge Hancock or possibly one of the men brutally butchered on that fateful night. War, you see, doesn't discriminate between the peacemakers and the killers, between Quakers or the generals. It came for everyone. And in the end, many wound up as little more than tragic players in a brutal moment in our nation's history. It's like something straight out of a James Bond film. If James Bond had lived through the revolution that is the Seabrook Wilson House is a solitary home nestled along the Sandy Hook bay of Middletown, New Jersey. It was built in 1720 by Daniel Seabrook on the 200 acres or so of land that he purchased from his stepfather in 1696. It started out small, just a one and a half room cabin, but it eventually grew into a multiple story house that sits there today. Over time, the property passed into the hands of Daniel's son, Thomas. He held a few different positions within the community, such as the overseer of highways, the overseer of the poor. But when the American Revolution broke out, Thomas and his son Stephen took up arms against the British and his house, the house that he and his wife Martha had raised their six children in, well, it became part of the Patriot spy network, something that led to its super creative nickname, the Spy House. The real benefit of the Spy House was that it was in the perfect location. You see, during the war, the British had taken over both Sandy Hook, New Jersey and New York City, giving them control of the surrounding waters. So the Seabrook House provided patriots with a great spot from which to watch British ships sailing in and out of New York Harbor. And whatever information they gleaned from their observations, they gave to General Washington himself. Following Thomas death in 1805, the property passed through multiple members of the seabrook family until 1850, when the home was sold to Reverend William V. Wilson and his wife Martha. From then on, it was referred to as the Seabrook Wilson House. And over the next 100 years, it went through a number of changes. Between 1900 and 1950, it was used as a boarding house, an inn, a restaurant, and a beachfront resort until it became vacant in the 1950s. Then in 1967, when the House was about to be torn down, the town purchased it and saved it from destruction. The property was restored and converted into the Shoal Harbor Maritime Museum around the time of the U.S. bicentennial. But for as dead as museums can be, there was one woman there who continuously managed to inject a bit of life into the home, or shall I say afterlife. Her name was Gertrude Niedlinger, and she would give tours to visitors, telling them all about the home's daring history as a spy house. But Gertrude did more than just tell stories about revolutionary intelligence tactics. She also told everyone about the ghosts. The Hancock House might be the most haunted house in New Jersey, but depending on who you ask, the Seabrook Wilson Spy House is considered by some to be the most haunted house in America. Over the years, a number of paranormal investigations have been conducted on the property, which have led Some to believe that there are spirits roaming its halls. Visitors have reported hearing screams or feeling the sensation of being choked while they visit the basement. Some have seen a rocking chair move on its own, while others have reported seeing children in historical outfits playing in the front yard. Perhaps most odd of all, visitors have seen the specter of a man who enjoys pinching women's rear ends. And if I'm being honest, that sounds scarier than any of the other ghost stories we've discussed so far. One man said that he saw a woman dressed in colonial era garb wandering around the house during his tour, but none of his friends saw her. When he asked Gertrude about any of the employees who might be in costume, she told him that there were none. He had been seen a spirit. But the house's most famous resident is Abigail. According to one legend, the ghost of a woman named Abigail can be seen looking out the easternmost window of the second floor. Clad in a long black skirt with a red blouse, a cap, and her hair pulled back with a black bow, she gazes out on the water, looking for her husband, who was allegedly lost at sea. According to one story, a visitor to the house witnessed a ghost that matched Abigail's description standing not inside the home, but on the shore instead, with a troubled look on her face. Upon their approach, this woman did not move. So the visitors turned around and walked back to their car. When they got there, they turned back for one last glance, only to discover that the woman was gone. She had vanished into thin air. New Jersey was central to it all, geographically and militarily speaking, of course. Tucked right into the heart of the action, it's easy to see how so many families and their homes could become tangled up in the tragic mess the revolution left behind. And, of course, generate rumors of ghosts. Stories about hauntings are always a little touchy. They require the listener to suspend their disbelief and ideally, to trust the storyteller completely. Only then can anyone really give in to that spine tingling sensation that's brought on by the thought of, what if there's more to this place than meets the eyes? And to be honest, it's a lot easier to believe in ghosts inside old houses where war and tragedy once came knocking at the front door. But what happens when the historical record contradicts the lore? Well, that's a question that folklorists have been wrestling with for some time now. I doubt I can answer it for you today, but I can give you an example of what I'm talking about. At the Spy house, one of the more famous ghost stories is that of Penelope Stout. Penelope and her husband John traveled from Holland to America in 1622, but before arriving in New York City, their ship wrecked near Sandy Hook. John, sadly, was unable to keep going, as he was either too sick or too injured from the accident, so they stayed behind while the rest of their party moved deeper into America. While stranded in Sandy Hook, the couple was discovered by a group of Native Americans who killed John and wounded Penelope, leaving her to die. In the story, Penelope was injured and left to languish alone until her death. In reality, the Lenape chief nearby took her in and helped her recover from her wounds. She went on to marry a man named Richard Stout and gave birth to at least 10 children. It's an old legend, one that started being passed around in the 1760s, a few decades after Penelope's death, but here's the Neither Penelope nor her deceased husband John had anything to do with the Seabrook Wilson house. They never lived there. Yet, oddly, Gertrude, our infamous tour guide, claimed to have seen the spirit of a woman who was gravely injured, she said, who she claimed was Penelope. When you dig deep enough, you'll discover that many of the ghosts that this creative tour guide has claimed to identify never actually lived in that house, or even, as far as we can tell, worked at the spy house. So are the tales of supernatural sightings true, or just the work of an imaginative woman trying to make a historic house a little more exciting? We may never know for sure, as Gertrude herself has since passed on, although perhaps it's worth paying the house a visit to see if her spirit is up for a little chat. The Revolutionary War was easily the most formative event in America's history, but it's left scars on the land that we can still see, and sometimes even here to this day. So get your fife and drum ready, my friends, because I have one last tale to tell you. Stick around through this brief sponsor break to hear all about it.