Community Spotlight: 2021 Great American Haunted Main Streets

This Halloween season, we challenged our Main Streets to tell us their downtown’s strange sightings, haunted buildings, or other paranormal activities for a chance to be named a 2021 Great American Haunted Main Street. Members shared with us an impressive array of stories, from friendly ghosts haunting theaters to less-than-friendly creatures roaming nearby forests. From this fierce competition of frightening tales, we have selected four of the most chilling stories from Main Street communities across the Network. Prepare yourself for paranormal visitors, murders most foul, and alien abductions in our inaugural roundup of Great American Haunted Main Streets!

Jump to stories from:

Tucumcari, New Mexico | City District, Orlando, Florida | Pascagoula, Mississippi | Burlington, Iowa

A rustling, rowdy railroad camp in the New Mexico Territory, established in 1901 when the Rock Island Railroad pushed West. Alleged to be one of the toughest towns in the country where every man carried a six-gun, it earned the label Six Shooter Siding. The town soon took the official name of Tucumcari. Many bloody wild saloon stories circulated in the early days. One particular corner of Main Street seems to have carried ongoing mayhem, mystery, and murder.

Before becoming sheriff, Alex Street owned the popular Legal Tender Saloon off Main. In 1901, Street was out of town when a saloon brawl between railroaders and local cowboys broke out ending the lives of 13 men. Little is found in local newspapers about the story and just one article from the 1963 Frontier Times magazine tells the murderous tale and how the bodies were secretly buried. It may be one of Tucumcari’s best kept secrets.

Around 1910, the Legal Tender was torn down and the grand Vorenberg Hotel replaced the old watering hole. Even though the Legal Tender was gone, the restless wild spirits on that corner of Main still seemed to continue the murder and mayhem. On a late night you might encounter the ghost of salesman Wendt Schmidt, the victim of a framing attempt and murder in 1928 in room 36. You might catch a glimpse of the angry spirit of Vorenberg hotel café server, Bertha Kappel, as she tries to take her early morning walk over the overpass, moments before being bludgeoned to death with an ax by her husband!

After a devastating fire, only the building’s arches remain as a reminder of the once grand Vorenberg. However, on a cold dark night, dare to walk that corner of Main and you might encounter the many lingering restless spirits.

We have created Tucumcari's first haunted walking tour based on the murder and mayhem stories surrounding this little corner of our Main Street District. In addition to the tour, we have planned a month-long Fall/Halloween schedule of events titled TucumScary. The tour was researched and prepared by Laura Love, local historian and granddaughter of the District Judge at the time of some of the murders.

As told to us by Connie Loveland of Tucumcari Main Street.

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To us locals, Orlando is simply the City Beautiful. Others may note that we are the Lightning Capital of the World and certainly across the globe, the home to Walt Disney World and Universal Orlando Resorts. While our backyard serves as one of the top travel destinations to families year after year, there is a dark side that we clinch to, that many don’t know about. In the shadows of Harry Potter World and Cinderella’s Castle lies a history of haunting. To understand, let me remind you, Orlando is only two hours away, by car, from the oldest city in the United States, St. Augustine! So, way back when, when people wanted to escape for a bit, Orlando was one of the closest and easiest towns to reach.

Which makes sense why one of the very first developments in Downtown Orlando’s historic district, which is now called The City District and tagged as a Mainstreet U.S.A., was an entertainment complex at Church Street Station. This innovative venue brought thousands together nightly to enjoy music, arts and libations. Among the many who frequented Church Street Station, some visitors, well they never wanted to leave.

Let’s focus on a 1920’s building that served as a dry goods store alongside Church Street and Garland Avenue. Flash forward 100 years and multiple business occupants, the building now houses a restaurant called Harry Buffalo. It is three-stories tall and the epicenter for Orlando’s ghost sightings. Proof of the afterlife in this historic structure has been plentiful, just ask our friends at American Ghost Adventures who have been doing tours and investigations there for many moons.

Legend has it, one of the most chilling stories is that of a young adult, named Aaron who lives on the third floor. Aaron is a 15-year-old boy with brown hair who haunts the building. He’s shown himself to people before and is normally spotted in the storage area. He likes to open doors, peek out of windows and on occasion interact with guests. His manifestation is so clear that people who catch a glimpse can describe the very outfit he is wearing — a slightly oversized pin stripe suit.

Staff know Aaron is around when doors on the third floor open by themselves, lights flicker and when gathering supplies, a cold chill passes them. For the most part, Aaron is friendly and looking for attention, but you can imagine, if you are working by yourself, it can be quite scary seeing someone else in the building when you know you are the last person there.

Tour Guides say that Aaron reminds them to open doors for guests and he has even pushed over a mannequin to spook, I mean remind, visitors to purchase a ghost tour t-shirt on their way out. We’ve embraced Aaron as he serves as a guardian ghost to the building and makes sure to greet all those that pass his doors. If you are lucky, you’ll catch a glance of Aaron peeking out of the third-floor window as you pass by. If you see him, let it be a reminder that the music never needs to stop, and last call can be when you say it is — he is proof that you don’t need to go home.

As told to us by Rosangela Parker of City District.

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“For forty six years I kept it a secret. I didn’t even tell my wife about it,” Calvin Parker said with his thick Mississippi accent, referring to the evening of October 11, 1973. That evening, Parker was fishing on the Pascagoula River with his friend Charles Hickson. It was his first day on the job at F.B. Walker and Sons Shipyard; he was only nineteen years old.

The men tried in one location, but the bugs prompted them to move to another location where there were fewer lights to attract insects. There were “Posted” signs when the men pulled up, but Hickson said, “That don’t mean nothin’ -- I fish here all the time.”

They walked to the old pier, cast out their lines, and waited for a bite. Parker was lookin’ at a boat across; it was an old oar boat that they do weather with, and it was made of steel. “And I was thinkin’ to myself, ‘How does somethin’ made of steel float?’” Across the river, he noticed blue hazy lights coming from behind, reflecting across the water. He thought the lights were the police, so he turned to Hickson and said, “Charlie, we in trouble and fixin’ to go to jail.”

When the men stood up and turned around, they didn’t see police cars, but instead a long, ovular craft floating two feet from the ground, emitting a blindingly bright light. “There was three bulky-lookin’ creatures -- I still didn’t know what they were -- that was coming toward us... By the time they got to us, I still couldn’t see, for the light was so bright.” He described two of the creatures grabbing Hickson and one grabbing him. “And that’s when it carried me aboard the craft.” Parker said the creature stopped at the door and injected him with what he described as “Go to hell shot;” whatever it was ushered him from absolute terror to sort of a peaceful apathy. “I didn’t care what happened then.”

Parker described being taken aboard the craft, down a hallway, and into a room where the creature placed him on an “examination table” made of entirely glass. According to Parker, at that point the grey, wrinkled creature that brought him aboard the ship left the room. “That’s when something came out of the ceiling, about the size of a deck of cards.” He said the square-shaped object circled around him, making a series of clicking noises. “I never thought about it until here lately, it was like an MRI I was in that wasn’t loud... And then it shot back into the ceiling.”

Then, a smaller being entered the room, which made Parker feel more at ease. He couldn’t move his body but rolled his eyes toward the creature. “She was normal,” he said. She looked human, except for its middle two fingers. “Her two middle fingers were longer than what an average person’s would be.”

The creature put her left hand on his jaw and opened his mouth. “That’s when she took her right hand and started running it down my throat, and I started gagging.” She pulled it back out and then made a groan from deep within her throat.

They were both back at the riverbank and both had decided not to tell anyone about what had happened to them. Shaken and in shock, the men returned to the car to find the passenger door window shattered, though the frame was still in place. When they opened it, the glass fell out. Parker said the car, relatively new and with no prior issues starting, failed to start several times before finally cranking.

On the way back home, Hickson had changed his mind. He thought they needed to tell someone about what had happened to them, despite Parker’s protest. Hickson dialed Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi and briefly explained what happened to them before being told that they didn’t handle UFO reports anymore—Project Blue Book was finished; they said to call the local authorities.

At the Jackson County Sheriff’s Department, the men were questioned separately about their experience, then put in a room alone together, where they were secretly tape recorded. On that tape, they were still talking about what happened to them, and how scared they were. Parker said that after the deputies listened to the secret tape recording – which he and Hickson didn’t learn about until much later – they took them more seriously. Parker urged the authorities not to tell anyone about what they reported. When the men returned to work the next day, everyone already knew.

In addition to reporters, astronomers and pioneering UFO-logists Dr. J. Allen Hynek and Dr. James Harder arrived in Pascagoula within thirty-six hours to interview Parker and Hickson.

In case you haven’t heard of this case before, it is the most documented UFO case in history. I must give credit to Alexandra Kennon with Country Roads magazine for much of this piece. She reached out to me, and I got her in touch with Mr. Calvin Parker for a phone interview.

On October 15, Main Street Pascagoula hosted an Out of this World event with Mr. Parker telling his story.

As told to us by Rebecca Davis of Main Street Pascagoula.

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The golden age of the circus is long past. The thrills of the big top, animal training, death-defying acrobats, the sounds of calliopes, and the laughter brought on by clowns. In Burlington, Iowa, the sight of clowns diminished long before the modern world pressured circuses out of business. Before the turn of the last century, Burlington, Iowa hosted many circuses -- both big and small. It was the entertainment of the era, where rich and poor were brought together to experience thrills like no other. People from all over the county came by foot and wagon to experience the Rankin & Thomas Circus. The R&T was small but well known for its entertainment. One of their biggest draws was the clown show, at least until the year 1898. This was the year of the tragic death of Reginald the Clown.

A world celebrity of his time, Reginald performed for kings and queens of Europe. Born Frederick Van Lammers, Freddy took the name Reginald the Clown when he mastered his art with the Barnum & Bailey Circus. As a child, Freddy lived in an abusive home. A particularly terrible beating with a glass bottle had left Freddy missing his left ear: a trait Freddy used to his advantage as Reginald the Clown. Reginald the Clown fashioned an oversized ear made of papier-mâché and would strap it on to the side of his head. To the delight of the audience, he would then pull all sorts of paraphernalia from the fake ear, including small animals, birds, and handkerchiefs --he even had a mechanism that squirted water whenever another clown or, more likely, an audience member would stand next to him.

On the day of his death, the circus had a parade down Jefferson Street. The sidewalks were spilling over, and thousands of people were in attendance. Reginald was riding a circus elephant waving at the crowd. Next to him was a carriage driven by Scurge, another clown who was jealous of Reginald's fame. Scurge never wasted an opportunity to take Reginald down, and he tossed a lit firecracker in front of the elephant, startling the pachyderm and tossing Reginald underneath the carriage. Reginald’s head was crushed by the heavy wheels. A rabbit scurried from his papier-mâché ear.

Realizing it was no accident, the carnies and spectators immediately retaliated against Scurge. The evil clown jumped from the carriage and tried to outrun the crowd, but he was soon apprehended at the River Front. However, before the Burlington Police could get involved, Scurge the Clown wrestled away from his holders and jumped into the choppy waters of the Mississippi River. His body was never recovered, and it was believed because of the added weight of his costume and larger than normal shoes, he sunk to the bottom and was covered in silt.

The circus never fully recovered. Reginald’s elephant friend refused to eat and died soon after. Associates of Reginald and Scurge reported years of bad luck, many dying very young or experiencing dire heartache. In Burlington, phantom figures of clowns were reported in the reflections of store front windows. Some with ears. Some without.

If you happen to walk past a well-lit store window and in the corner of your eye you spot a red balloon, or maybe a goofy circus employee in greasepaint, you might be tempted to scream -- but remember… There are good clowns, and there are bad clowns. (Count your ears).

As told to us by Christopher Murphy of Downtown Partners, Inc.

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Congratulations to our top four Great American Haunted Main Street winners! Thank you to everyone who submitted a story for this year's competition. We hope you have a happy and safe Halloween weekend if you celebrate!