Newspaper Clipping of the Day

Via Newspapers.com

Family banshees can come in different forms, I suppose, but a piano is a new one for me.  The “Richmond Independent,” May 1, 1933:

The Wetherill family of Continental, O., desire to get rid of their piano, which isn't of the player type. For the third time in less than 12 years, the omen of death has been sounded on the piano. The other night, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Wetherill and their two daughters were awakened by the piano as two keys, one of high pitch and the other of a bass key, played for several minutes--so the Wetherills say.

A week later. Mrs. Wetherill's sister-in-law died. Ten years ago, a week before Wetherill's mother died, Mrs. Wetherill declared part of a hymn was played on the piano by an invisible hand.

Seven years ago the family was awakened by the piano, apparently playing itself, and a week later Wetherill's sister-in-law died. Wetherill is shown beside the piano.

An article in the “Alexander City Outlook,” on December 14th gives a few more details:

CONTINENTAL, O.-The Wetherills want to get rid of their piano. They are afraid to have it in the house any longer. It is not a player piano, but it plays itself as a sign of death. That's what Charles E. Wetherill, head of that house, maintains.

And the neighbors shake their heads and say, "If Charlie Wetherill says it, there's something to it." They are wondering now who is going to die. The terrible message came again a few days ago. Wetherill says. This is the fourth time, he tells his neighbors, in 12 years. The Wetherills were proud of the piano when they got it, something like 12 years ago.

It is a handsome big upright. They put a copy of "Perfect Day" and "Poet and Peasant Overture" on its elaborate music rack. Before the excitement of the novelty was worn off, the first message came, the Wetherills say. In the dead of the night, one note kept drumming over and over, until everybody was awake and wondering what on earth was happening. A few days later Charlie Wetherill's mother died.

"It's a coincidence," the Wetherills decided. "There was a mouse or something in the piano." And they forgot all about it. For six years. Then Wetherill told his neighbors one morning that he had been roused out of his sleep by the drumming of that one note again. "It makes a person feel mighty funny," he said.

"I don't believe in spooks, but there's something funny about this." A few days later his sister-in-law died. They talked then about getting rid of the piano. But they didn't. They didn't even sell it when the message came again and another sister-in-law died. But now they're talking about it.

Because this time it was even more weird than before. When they heard it this time they got up and rushed down to the parlor and turned on the light. They could see that one key still moving lightly up and down--not quite hard enough to make a sound. That is what they told their neighbors. The Wetherills look at each other with frightened eyes.

They are saying in their hearts. "Did it call for you, or did it call for me?"

I was unable to find out what became of this Instrument of Doom, but if you happen to have an early 20th century piano in your home, and one of the keys starts moving on its own, it might be wise to get rid of it.