Newspaper Clipping of the Day

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Some homes get a reputation for being, if not haunted, at least extremely unlucky for anyone who has the misfortune to live under their roofs. This account of one particularly cursed residence appeared in the "Pittsburgh Press" for December 19, 1892:

The old Durlan mansion at Hempstead, which is supposed to be a genuine hoodoo, has evidently lost its powers. It was believed to work harm on all who lived in it any length of time. Three heads of families which occupied it committed suicide. In one of the cases a coroner's jury placed the blame for the man's act on the house. The ghost of another of the victims was still said to haunt the place. On fine moonlight nights, it was alleged, the shade of the departed could be seen eating watermelons, a fruit he was passionately fond of in life. However true this may be, I.N. Carmen, who now occupies the house, says he has not seen the ghost.

The house was built in 1844 by Canan Durlan. It is a typical country mansion, with wide and cheery rooms. It was built of hewn oak and is very solid. Recently the present owner, while seeking to break a doorway through the wall, was compelled to employ three men to chop with axes two days before an opening could be made. The house stands on Front street, two blocks from Hempstead's busiest thoroughfare.

The old Huntington railroad, now defunct, was directly in the rear of the house. One day two trains came together with a crash. When the debris was cleared there were not enough people left to run the train. As soon as the framework was in position a carpenter tumbled from one of the beams and broke his neck. Durlan and his wife Margaret lived in the house exactly three months, when they died suddenly within a few days of each other. The house was willed to their only son, Valentine. The young man, who was a stonemason, took up his residence there. He had scarcely been in the house six months when he became morbid and looked upon everybody with suspicion. His ruling passion was avarice. He had a taste for watermelons in winter. He cultivated the fruit in hot-houses. The cellar was filled with fine wines and liquors.

One day in September, 1884, Valentine had a quarrel with a tenant. He worried over the trouble, became ill, and went to the rear of the place and drowned himself. He stuck his head in a pool of water two feet deep. The house was not through with him. Durlan's relatives believed he had money, as be lived in a miserly way. A search was made. Bricked up in the chimney was found $4,871 in bank notes and coin. Bank-books also were there, representing deposits amounting to $4,000. This, with real estate, brought the wealth of the dead miser up to $20,000.

With this wealth in view, relatives sprang forth from every direction, each claiming a portion of the estate. The case reached the courts, and when the lawyers were through with it only $1.54 remained for each heir. Next a rumor prevailed that Durlan's ghost haunted the place. Crowds gathered every night. Several reputable citizens say they saw it in the back yard eating watermelon. They describe it as wearing a long, flowing gown, the face being adorned with gray chin whiskers.

Alfred Weeks, undeterred by the black record, came from Brooklyn, where he was a prosperous truckman. He brought a wife and six children. He occupied the old house. Soon misfortune overtook him. His business dropped, his wife and children grew sick. Weeks became despondent, and In September, 1887, he went to the back yard, looked into the muzzle of a shotgun and pulled the trigger with his toe. The top of his head was blown off. This was the time the jury censured the house, with this verdict:

We find the deceased died of heart failure from hemorrhage and shock of gunshot wound received by the accidental discharge of a shotgun and the evil affects of the Durlan house.

The Weeks family still continued to reside in the house. Three weeks after the father's funeral Sadie, the eldest daughter, fell downstairs and broke her arm. A week later the youngest child died of diphtheria. Then Mrs. Weeks moved away.

John Griscom was the next inhabitant. Like others, he met death by his own hand. Griscom was an inventor. He was rich when he started in. He invented an incubator and squandered $50,000 to make it hatch, which it persistently refused to do. In March, 1890, be went to his office in New York city, attached a tube to a gas jet, put the other end in his mouth and lay down and died.

After the Griscoms moved away the mansion remained vacant a long time. The yard was overrun with weeds. Recently Mr. Carmen bought the place for a mere song. The house was repaired, and to show his contempt for the ghost, Mr. Carmen brought bis wife and two daughters in. Mr. Carmen has not felt the effects of the hoodoo. His business is prosperous. Mr. Carmen, laughingly, said: "I'm not afraid of the hoodoo. I have never seen Old Durlan's ghost and I am convinced there is no more of the miser's treasure in the house. My family are well and we are doing nicely. I am an old sailor and knew all about hoodoos. If I were in a ship I might believe it, but in a house, never. They can't hoodoo anything on dry land."

If you know anything about ghosts and hoodoos, you're probably thinking that Mr. Carmen was positively asking for it And you would be correct.

The sequel to our little tale appeared in the "Fort Wayne Sentinel," January 4, 1893. After relating the Durlan House's unfortunate history, the paper reported, "Two weeks ago Mr. Carmen and his little family were seated around the evening table, discussing the advisability of making some repairs on the second floor. They proposed to cut away the pine partitions and replace them with hardwood to match the first floor. Just as the proposition was made a fierce gust of wind seemed to pass through the room where they were. This was followed by a terrific volley of furniture which seemed to be thrown from one end of the upper rooms to the other. It did not subside for fifteen minutes. Then Carmen and his wife ventured above to see what was the cause of it all. Everything was found in its usual place and not a sign of the racket remained. The couple descended with whitened faces and that night took up lodgings at a neighboring hotel. The house is again for sale. It will in all probability remain on the market."

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I couldn't find any later information about the house.  I'm wagering the spooks did wind up owning it.