Archive for the ‘Mrs. Crouch’ Category

It’s time to celebrate — even before the holidays!

Friday, October 20th, 2023

The 3rd History Forum will meet from 10 until 12 at the Oysterville Schoolhouse on Wednesday November 1st.

Who’da thunk that I’d be looking forward to blustery old November with such excitement?  And even before the holidays begin!!  (Although I have to say that I did see some Christmas fruh-frah for sale at the Ocean Park drug store yesterday and had the uncharitable thought that maybe if I looked a little farther I’d see some Easter bunnies hopping around offering Valentines.)

But, “be that as it may” (as they say). November in Oysterville is shaping up to be a month to remember.  For starters, the History Forum meets on the first Wednesday of each month at the Oysterville Schoolhouse and in November that means November 1st!  Author Michael Lemeshko and Pacific County Historical Society President Steve Rogers will be our speakers.  The topic — “The Best Laid Plans”  will explore two of the earliest settlements in Pacific County — back in the days that we were just becoming independent of Oregon Territory!  The Forum is free and open to the public.  Hope to see you then.

Randal, Susan, Clint will be here Sunday, November 5

And hard on the heels of that Wednesday-the-1st gathering will be the House Concert here at the “White House” on Sunday, November 5th featuring internationally acclaimed Irish fiddler Randal Bays with his wife Susan Waters and their friend Clint Dye. Many of you remember Randal and Susan and their boys Willie and Owen from years of Vesper performances.

Larry Murante will be in concert here Sunday, November 19th

And, to put us right over the top here in the village, singer/songwriter Larry Murante will be here on Sunday, November 19th presenting his first House Concert in our area for a number of years.  Larry, you might remember, wrote “The Ballad of Mrs. Crouch” and so I’m wondering if she will manifest herself in any way during Larry’s performance!

If you are interested in attending either or both House Concerts, please email me at sydneyofoysterville@gmail. com.  But hurry!  Space is limited.  And, if you are like I am… I can’t wait for the fun to begin!

 

Did you mind sharing the limelight, Mrs. C?

Saturday, October 14th, 2023

But wait! That’s where I always sit!

Mrs. Crouch and I have been saving this afternoon for several weeks now for our date with Brandon,  a video producer from Fox13 News in Seattle.  He emailed that he was working on a story for a Halloween special about haunted places in Washington and my name was given to him by our Visitor’s Bureau.

“Sure!” said I.  I love talking about Mrs. Crouch and her villainous husband, the erstwhile Preacher Josiah Crouch.  So far, of course, there is no evidence that Josiah is hanging around this house that was once the Parsonage.  And certainly, he hasn’t set foot in the once-upon-a-time Baptist Church across the Road.  But still…  he’s definitely story-telling material!

The plan, Brandon had said, was for him to get some footage of the house and perhaps some of the church across the street.  Then he would interview me for 10 or 15 minutes in the room of my choice.  I had decided that I’d sit in my “usual” place — in the rocking chair in the library.  It seems a cozy spot for telling ghost stories.  But…

TV producers have their own ideas… the library was fine and so was the chair though he placed it on the opposite side of the room — no books in view, no fireplace in view, no cozy atmosphere.   His camera took my “usual” place. I was a tad disappointed; Mrs. Crouch was silent on the matter.

Brandon warned me that he would only be using bits and pieces of what I said.  I went ahead and told about my first encounter with Mrs, Crouch, about researching and writing about her unfortunate end in the Willapa River, and how the news stories at the time of her death led to my writing Gh0st Stories of the Long Beach Peninsula.  Mrs. Crouch remained silent.  And THEN Brandon asked me about shipwrecks on the beach — apparently another story he’s working on!  Fortunately, I’d just been working on my own story involving the Rescue Stallions and the wreck of the Strathblane or it would have been my turn to be silent!

Historic Haunts of the Long Beach PeninsulaAfter that little detour, I went right on and told about Josiah-the-Unrighteous and how getting his 1897 mug shot from San Quentin Prison prompted me to write a second book about local ghosts — Historic Haunts of the Long Beach Peninsula.  Still not a peep from Mrs. C. and, of course, not a whisper from the Reverend,  (But then, I’m pretty sure he isn’t here.  I can’t imagine that he’d come back after all the bad press he’s had.)

 I don’t expect that there will be much footage devoted to the Crouches and me.  I am already disappointed.  I wonder if she is, too.  Perhaps she’ll weigh in on her opinion when the program airs.  Brandon said he’d let me know the date and time and I will certainly pass on the information to Mrs. C. and to all of her friends and admirers.  Unless, of course, we end up on the cutting room floor…

 

Well, this time it was probably Mrs. Crouch!

Saturday, August 5th, 2023

Albert’s Picture

I was just dropping off to sleep last night when there was a horrific thump, thump, thump just outside my bedroom doorway.  It took a minute or two but my curiosity overcame that scary feeling so I (bravely) went into the hallway.

My first instinct was to look out the east door — I had the inane thought that a fawn had tripped over our porch steps and might be lying on the porch.  One part of my mind dismissed that out-of-hand but…I turned on the porch light and looked anyway.

At that point, I glanced at the stairway and there was baby Albert sprawled on the last few steps — nothing broken, thankfully, due to the carpet and the way he must have fallen.  Lest you worry further, this was a picture of Albert — one of the many family portraits hanging on the stairwell wall.  It’s one of those old-fashioned composites with numerous pictures of Albert as an infant and toddler.  The little eye-fastener holding the picture wire had given way…

Albert’s Toy Fire Engine

His full name was Harry Albert Espy after his father (my grandfather), born in August 1900 and died in January 1905 “of an undiagnosed digestive ailment, perhaps cancer.”  He was my maternal grandparents’ second child, the first boy, and was said to be precocious beyond his years.  During his final days at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Portland, he and my grandmother were watching some boys playing in the snow outside his window.  “Maybe you’ll be able to play in the snow with the children next winter,” said my grandmother.  “Will they have snow in heaven?” was four-and-a-half-year-old Albert’s response.

Now you see it… Or hear it… And finally…

Tuesday, April 4th, 2023

Willard Espy, Raconteur Extraordinaire

So after all my F’n’B (Fuss and Bother) about the Shoalwater Bay Yacht Club Sign at the Taylor Hotel building in Ocean Park… it has totally disappeared.  Gone!  I did a drive-by today to check it out and … not a trace.  But their website is still up and running, so stay tuned…

I wondered why no one else was commenting but I guess between no sign and my writing about it on April Fool’s Day, there must have been a bit of confusion and consternation.  I imagine it will all come clear eventually.

In happier news, at least for me, I am beginning to get weigh-ins regarding my “Saints or Sinner” stories in the paper.  Two people — both from Oregon! —  have been in touch with me.  One, a former Ocean Park resident with a great story (and an artifact!) about someone now buried in the Ocean Park Cemetery. and the other a “musician/bard” who is interested in talking about a collaboration — my stories put to his music, perhaps?

It’s early days yet as to follow-ups on either idea, but I love it that people are taking notice and getting in touch with me.  And in a positive way!  Whether or not their ideas will fit into my scheme of things seems immaterial at this point.  What pleases me is that there are other folks out there who see the point of conveying our history through story-telling of one kind or another!

Which brings to mind Mary Garvey and Andrew Emlen and all the other local musicians who are keeping our history alive through song.  In fact, folk music might be one of the best ways of all to document our everyday events and to insure that some of the important ones, anyway, will live on.

Larry Murante, Documenter in Song

Along those lines… I wonder how many people “out there” know about the Reverend Josiah Crouch and his family who lived in this very house more than a hundred years ago — and all through Larry Murante’s song, “Mrs. Crouch.”  (Google Larry Murante and Mrs. Crouch if you haven’t heard it…)

 

 

 

Hello? Hello? Mrs. Crouch is it you?

Saturday, January 14th, 2023

Cell Phone With Its Red Case

Well, it’s a steep learning curve for a young woman of the 1890s, but I do believe that Mrs. Crouch tried her best to master the mysteries of my cell phone.  There really is no other explanation.

It all began yesterday afternoon when I drove through the raindrops to pick up my neighbor Carol for our coffee date at Colleen’s Coffee Shop in Ocean Park.  I was a few minutes early so I took my cell phone from my jacket pocket and called her, telling her I was out front.  She quickly joined me and then, as Lewis and Clark said in their journals:”We proceeded on.”

There were about a gazillion cars at Colleen’s so we parked at the western end of the allotted space, right next to a pickup with a very diligent watch dog — barking, barking, barking.  We gave him due praise and then went on in to meet Colleen’s newest cashier and to enjoy our coffee and conversation.  It was lovely. as always.

Inside Colleen’s — The Perfect Gathering Place for Refreshment and Conversation

Back to Carol’s an hour and a half later and a short visit with Tucker to see his new Oysterville Cemetery Map.  (Bravo!)  Then home to do a little more getting ready for tomorrow’s house concert.  Then, for some reason (was I going to call Charlie for something?) I reached in my back pocket for my cell phone.  Not there.

For the next few minutes I looked in my purse, in my jacket pockets, in my car and… then again.  And maybe again.  No cell phone.  I drove over to Carol and Tucker’s: “Have you seen my….?”  The answer was no.  Carol called my number and had me go listen in the car… just in case. No phone ringing.

“Come on with me,” she said.  “We’re driving to Colleen’s” — which, by then we knew was closed.  When we arrived, I banged on the door; Carol searched the parking lot — to no avail.  No, Colleen hadn’t seen it.  She and I looked in the area that Carol and I had been sitting and we promised to call one another if it turned up.

On our way back to Carol’s place (and my car) we stopped at my house to try calling there.  But before Carol could even punch in the number she said, “Is that your phone?  On the chair?”

And there it was!  Right on one of the chairs I had been setting up for the House Concert tomorrow!  Carol said that my jaw actually dropped!  Talk about gobsmacked!  And just what was Mrs. C. doing anyway?  Trying to reserve a seat?

I don’t know which emotion took precedence — relief or incredulity!   I phoned Colleen to call off the search and then went with Carol to pick up my car — clutching my cell phone and wondering how in the world Mrs. C. managed to get that close to modern-day contact.  But then, truth to tell, I wonder that about all of us nearly every day!

Contact attempted? Perhaps…

Wednesday, January 4th, 2023

Josiah Crouch, San Quentin Mug Shot, 1897

You can be sure that the first thing I asked Cuzzin Ralph when he came down to breakfast this morning was whether or not the Crouches had made themselves known.

“Well…” was his hesitant response, “maybe.”

It seems that when Ralph (who is a big guy) was in the upstairs bathroom (which is a small space), the bottle  of his contact lens solution disappeared from the shelf beside the sink.  A careful search revealed it floating in the toilet (“clean-water-not-to-worry” Ralph assured me).

He reported that he scooped up the bottle, washed it off thoroughly, and proceeded with his day.  “But,” he said — and more than once — “I can’t see how that bottle got way over into the toilet.”

“Unless…” we both said together.

“And it was contact lens solution,” I said.  “Do you suppose they thought it was some sort of solution that would aid in contacting you?”

We ate our breakfast and pondered that for a while.  No conclusions were reached.  But there’s always next time.

 

A day late and… you know the rest.

Monday, January 2nd, 2023

Cheryl and Virg, 2016

I promised myself that when the New Year began (as in yesterday), I would write one short story a day toward the eventuality of a new book I have in mind.  Well, here we are at Day Two of 2023 and Story Number One is still safely locked in my head.

I’m not beating myself up over it — not even vowing to get it plus Story Number Two done today.  That’s because my promise-to-self was not a New Year’s Resolution — just a way of setting a goal.  In fact, my actual resolutions — to develop more compassion and empathy — are being given a test with this very story-a-day promise.  “Cut yourself some slack, Sydney,” I say to myself.  “You had other fish to fry yesterday.”

Cuzzin Ralph, 2019

That’s the thought I woke up to this morning, anyway, and I do think compassion and empathy can be directed toward oneself as well as toward others.  Don’t you?   Besides… my Jeffords cousins are arriving this afternoon for a few days of visiting.  That’s my Cuzzin Ralph (who has done all the Rev. and Mrs. Crouch research for me), plus his sister Cheryl and her husband Virg who used to live here at the beach.  I’m so excited!  I haven’t seen Ralph since the sheltering began and Cheryl and Virg only oh- so- briefly at Nyel’s Bon Voyage Party.

So that’s why I had other things to do yesterday — making ready for the relatives!  But, honestly, they are the easiest guests EVER!  They bring food for the main meals AND do the cooking and, even in the days when Nyel was fit and well, they’d come and help with various projects around this old house.  (I have a little list of things for them if they will be so kind… mostly involving Ralph, who is tall, getting the top ornaments off the Christmas tree.)

Nope.  Not a bit hard to cut myself some slack this time!

 

 

Keeping Tabs on Mrs. Crouch

Wednesday, September 21st, 2022

Window That Has Settled To The Right

I am frequently asked about what kinds of mischief Mrs. Crouch has been up to lately, and I know my vague responses aren’t very satisfactory.  Although I am often aware that she is  just out of sight, she seldom does anything substantive enough to satisfy those who are looking for a good ghost “experience”– certainly nothing interesting enough to warrant the beginnings of a story.

Nevertheless, I have vowed to begin paying better attention and to document anything that seems enough out of the  ordinary that it might be attributed to Mrs. C — even a few definite indicators that she is still “looking out for the household” in her own inimitable  fashion.  I’ve decided to  write down each incident as it occurs,  and perhaps in time a pattern will become clear.  And, perhaps, a story will emerge.

Door From Library Into Hallway With Sad Iron Doorstop

With that in mind, I want to tell about what happened a day or two ago — nothing much, of course, but still out of the ordinary.  First, let me remind you that this house is now 153 years old and has settled and become comfortable on the sand dunes that underlie Oysterville.  Some of the windows no longer open and the interior doors need to be latched closed or propped open — otherwise they almost-but-not-quite shut on their own.

The door between the east room (where the TV is) and the hallway is kept open with one  of my grandmother’s old sad irons, and the door from the east room into the library is propped open with one of the old ballast rocks brought up on the oyster schooners of long ago.  Both doors are usually left open for ease of access, but occasionally I close one or both.

Door Between Library and East Room With Ballast Rock Doorstop

The other day, it felt a bit drafty as I was watching TV, so I moved the sad iron and firmly closed the door into the hallway.  Not ten minutes later, I heard the door unlatch and watched, fascinated, as the door swung slowly (uphill!) back to its wide open position.  In a moment of total disorientation, I thought that Nyel would appear in his wheelchair, probably miffed that I had closed the door.  But…

I went into the hall and looked around but there was nothing to see.  Nor did it feel cold as is often reported after ghostly activity.  All was as usual… except the door.  It seemed clear to me that Mrs. C. wanted it left open and so I have complied, draft or no draft.  (Or was that actually a draft?)  It’s always hard to tell with ghosts…

Sometimes it happens… sometimes not.

Thursday, August 11th, 2022

Just because I didn’t see it, doesn’t meant it isn’t there.  I’ve missed it before and I probably will again.

I’m talking here about the announcement of the upcoming Sunday Vespers program in the Chinook Observer.  Upon my query, the editor kindly agreed to run a short article each week that I would submit telling the who, what, why, when, and where of the  weekly Music Vespers Programs at the Historic Oysterville Church.  Most weeks I see it but this week… either I missed it or other  late breaking news pre-empted it.

So… just in case:  this is what I wrote.  (If you already saw it, just move on…):

            A Promise from Fred Carter For Sunday’s Music Vespers

“I’ll be playing favorites for everyone at the Oysterville Church on Sunday and that’s a promise!” local singer-songwriter Fred Carter said of his upcoming Music Vespers program on August 14.  Carter is well-known locally as a musician who can play almost any tune once he’s heard it.  “I just need a little help on the lyrics now and then,” he laughs.

Sunday’s service will open at 3:00 p.m. with an “Oysterville Moment” by Sydney Stevens.  This week she will tell the shivery tale of an early minister’s wife, Mrs. Crouch, who drowned under mysterious circumstances back in 1892. Steve Kovach will present a short homily after which pianist Barbara Bate will accompany the congregational hymn-singing,  The public is invited to “come as you are” to this free Sunday Music Vespers Service.

Hope to see you all there!

 

 

Report from Oz – Day Three

Saturday, March 12th, 2022

Well, wouldn’t you know it?  The spiffy free shuttle service from my Residence to Nyel’s Home-Away-From-Home doesn’t operate on the weekends!  So annoying!  It’s not like I don’t have wheels available seven stories below me in the parking garage.  And it’s not like I couldn’t get a taxi or Uber.  Or even walk the 1.8 miles to Nyel’s hospital bedside…

But… after an extensive consultation with the patient by telephone, we decided to just let things percolate this weekend — me vegging at this end and he concentrating on getting better at his end.  His team of doctors are also off-duty today and tomorrow, so it’s a good time for Nyel to focus all systems — voluntary and involuntary — on improving his situation.

The only overnight news was that he actually gained a little weight yesterday.  Boo!  Hiss!!  Let’s hope that pining away for me nips any trending in that direction in the bud, immediately!!!  The goal is to get the fluid and attendant poundage off — not the other way around!

Otherwise — the only news from Oz is that the power here at my Residence went off for a few minutes this morning.  I wondered briefly if that meant the elevators were also inoperable and if the fancy-schmancy door locks that work by magic card-wands were also dead in the water.  Was I stuck in a dark room on the fifth floor indefinitely?  BUT… the TV was still working!  Go figure.

And about then… the lights were back.  (Carol wrote that the power was out in Oysterville for a brief time last night, too.) Do you think Mrs. Crouch was looking for us?  Did she find me this morning here in Oz and has she settled in with me for the duration?  Stay tuned.  Perhaps we’ll know more soon…