We wish to alert our readers that Halloween falls on a Thursday this year. That was the moon-faced Ghost of Queen Street’s favourite night to come out and knock about.

The Ghost of Queen Street first appeared at midnight, Thursday 10 August 1939. On 16 August, the Picton Gazette headline reads, “Knockings On Attic Door Still Unexplained, Give Town Real Ghost Story.” 

News of Picton’s ghost attracted reporters from far and wide. As the writer of the piece we reproduce here notes, “Though temporarily retired from public life, the ‘ghost’ becomes more famous as the story is told and retold by persons and the press.” In fact, the writer speculates, “Its fame may have caused it to seek refuge from the horde of reporters and photographers who descended upon the scene and sent the incident blazing its way over the whole continent.”

The same issue records the hearty laughter of the Chief of Police, Bert Biddle, “now to become an inspector of spectres after more than twenty years on the force. ‘I’ve been through lots of graveyards and never saw a ghost yet,’ he grinned. ‘Unless,’ as an afterthought, ‘I happened to be drinkin’ corn whiskey.’”

Without further ado, then: Here it is. Picton’s ghost. 

Mrs Jas. Ackerman’s Home Scene of Mystery

Pounding at Midnight Arouses Family and Neighbors

Knockings which were so loud that they aroused neighbors, have provided a first class ghost story, the solution of which is yet unexplained.

The scene is the home of Mrs. Jas. Ackerman, Queen St., Picton.

The time about midnight, Thursday.

Sounds coming from the house awaken the occupants and neighbors too. Police are called by one of the neighbors who believes that Mrs. Ackerman, who is 86, may be in trouble. An investigation reveals no source of the racket–which is heard by at least eight sober persons, including one policeman.

Mrs. Ackerman is remarkably active for her years. She has her nephew, Willet Brough, 20, and her niece, Elda Brough, 14, staying with her. All corroborate the story that a violent pounding came from the attic, seemingly on the door leading to the attic from the second floor. The door fairly rattled, they state, as if pounded on by two fists.

Many theories have been advanced but unless one or more of the principals’ testimony is discredited, none of them will stand up. All stick to their stories.

Mrs. Ackerman states she does not believe in spirits or ghosts and even if she did she wouldn’t be afraid.

Second Occasion

Last Thursday was the second time the sounds were heard.

“It came once before, just two weeks ago Thursday,” she related in an almost matter-of-fact way. “But the other night it was much louder. The heavy pounding went on for almost two hours. The door swung open and shut at least three times. Twice, as it swung into my line of vision, like a small moon, I saw a pale round light, against its back.”

There was no draft, Mrs. Ackerman emphasized. No windows were open in the attic. One small light burned in the hallway.

The 14-year-old niece, lying frightened near by, started to cross the hallway once to her aunt’s room while the noise continued. “I just about got there,” Elda said, round-eyed, “When the door shot open. I ran back to my own bed.”

Door Knob Turned

The nephew, Willet Brough, picks up the thread of the story there, and his is the weirdest chapter of all.

“When I got home shortly after midnight,” he recalled, “my aunt and sister accused me of pounding on the door. When they explained what they had been hearing, I hurried up and combed the attic. It was empty as it always is. When I came down, I left the door open. Suddenly it slammed shut, but there was no pounding. I went downstairs and waited alone. The pounding started. I crept up to the second floor and stood by the attic door. “Nothing happened, and I reached for the knob. Before I got my hands on it, the knob turned slowly and the door opened. Then I pounded a nail firmly through the jamb of the door and stuck a pair of scissors in the hinges. The poundings started up again, and this time it was twice as loud, as though somebody was in there and really wanted to get out. It was just like the noise a strong and heavy man might make with his fists. While I stood there rooted there was an extra loud noise and the door crashed open again.”

Constable John Armstrong arrived just in time for the last act of the performance. For several minutes he stood facing the door with the three occupants of the house, but nothing happened. He asked the two youngsters to go downstairs. “Then,” Armstrong said, “I turned out the lights. Sure enough the noise began. I rushed up to the attic, but I couldn’t see a thing. There was no repetition after that. The noise sounded as if someone was pounding on the door.”

Armstrong, like the other first-hand witnesses, doesn’t even try to rationalize the bewildering occurrence. Weighing each word carefully, he insisted on dictating the official version word for word. It is:

“If the statements we received from the inmates of the house were absolutely gilt-edged and true, then it’s still a mystery.”

The house was built fifty years ago and is a modern structure. The Gazette reporter found everything in order. The large attic is empty except for three large boxes. A short flight of stairs runs down to the second floor, containing four bedrooms. It is the door at the foot of these stairs where the sounds were heard. It is not possible for anyone to get into the attic from outside and all windows were closed.

A week later, on 23 August 1939, the Gazette carried another story, “Ghost Fails to Appear while crowd watches; police forced to disperse crowds which gathered Thursday night.” That story continues:

Picton’s now famous “ghost” has not made itself manifest in any shape or form since it aroused the neighborhood with its poundings on August 10.

A large crowd gathered Thursday evening but nothing occurred to provide a sensation. Many newspapermen and photographers were on the scene, ready to catch Mr. Ghost if he did appear.

Police dispersed the crowds three times but it was not until 12.30 that the last group could be forced to go home. 

It was then the occupants of the house went to bed and slept. Undisturbed.