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- Written by Stephanie Hoover Stephanie Hoover
Pennsylvania Dutch Country is an idyllic patchwork of farms and industry, suburban developments, and rural homesteads. Perhaps because of its strong, practical German influence, we don’t view this area as a hotbed of supernatural activity.
Surprisingly, though, one of the nation’s most famous “hauntings” originates in this region, as do other intriguing tales of ghosts and witchcraft.
The Blue-Eyed Six
Fort Indiantown Gap straddles the line between Dauphin and Lebanon counties. To locals, it’s just “the Gap.” To countless television producers and paranormal researchers, it is a mother lode of reported spirit activity.
In 1878, life insurance companies required no proof of “insurable interest.” This meant that anyone willing to pay the premiums could take out a policy on another individual, even if they had never met the person.
Such was the case when four men purchased policies on destitute widower Joseph Raber, who lived in a cabin at the base of the mountains surrounding the Gap.
Yet while the masterminds of the plan were willing to invest in the scheme, they weren’t willing to do the dirty deed of killing the widower. For the actual murder, two other men were hired.
On Dec. 7, 1878, the contracted killers drowned the old man in Indiantown Creek.
Unfortunately for all of the conspirators, their leader, Israel Brandt, was a talkative drunk. He bragged to the coroner about the life insurance policies, and even offered $20 for a quick finding of accidental death.
Within four months, all six men were found guilty of homicide. Five of them were hanged. The sixth, the only one to hire an attorney, appealed the decision, and was later acquitted. A reporter covering the case noticed the similarity of their eye color and dubbed the group the “Blue-Eyed Six.”
Joseph Raber was buried in the Moonshine Church cemetery. Stories of spectral activity at the church are as varied as they are numerous.
Some say cars of curious visitors, if turned off, won’t restart. Others swear to seeing ghosts peering in through the church windows. Claims of multiple murders on the site are unfounded, yet persistent.
By far, however, the most oft-reported story is that of six sets of glowing, blue lights floating through the cemetery. Is it the Blue-Eyed Six begging Raber for forgiveness? Or is this just the kind of folklore that so often serves as mankind’s coping mechanism when faced with such brutal acts as murder?
Perhaps one of the many paranormal investigators granted permission by Fort Indiantown Gap to research at Moonshine Church will someday find the answer.
A Shunned Witch
You might think that by the time the 1880s rolled around, the belief in witchcraft was just a bad memory. But a sad and curious case in Stony Creek, Dauphin County, proves that some superstitions die hard.
When William Gilday’s daughter, Emma, began convulsing, barking like a dog, and hissing like a cat, he had no doubt of the cause.
A few days earlier, a young man had asked to walk Emma home from church. When she refused, the outraged would-be suitor threatened to seek the assistance of Mrs. Boyer. The old witch, he promised, would cast a fatal spell on Emma for rejecting his company.
Sure enough, shortly thereafter Emma’s strange symptoms appeared.
For three years the superstitious Gilday consulted witch doctors, one of whom confirmed that Emma was indeed bewitched. Emma’s sister even claimed to see a likeness of Mrs. Boyer appear in a bowl of water in Emma’s bedroom.
After years of accusations, the Boyer family finally reached its breaking point. Mrs. Boyer’s son, John, filed a defamation suit. The Justice of the Peace at Fort Hunter determined there was enough evidence for the case to proceed but it never made it to trial because the Boyers moved away from Stoney Creek to escape their neighbors’ torments. They went on to live long, perfectly normal lives.
As for Emma Gilday, perhaps she truly was cursed. Her father, William, dropped dead less than four years after his daughter was first “diagnosed” as being bewitched by Mrs. Boyer. Adding to her sorrow, Emma’s first husband died at age 28.
The Hex Murder
On Thanksgiving Day 1928, Nelson D. Rehmeyer was found dead in his York County home. He had been badly beaten and the killers had tried, unsuccessfully, to burn his house—with his body in it.
Three persons were convicted of the crime: John Curry, age 14; Wilbur G. Hess, age 18; and John J. Blymyer, age 28.
The trio believed Rehmeyer to be a witch and went to his home with the intention of obtaining a lock of his hair. Burying the hair was, according to Blymyer, the only way to break the spell they believed Rehmeyer had cast upon them.
Once inside the home, however, things went terribly wrong. Rehmeyer fought his attackers but was eventually subdued by blows with a piece of firewood. The dismal attempt to cover the crime was futile, and within two months all three were tried and found guilty of murder.
News of the York County killing made national headlines. That it involved “powwowing”—the belief in special powers to cure illnesses and cast spells—fascinated readers and served to cement the widespread view that the “Pennsylvania Dutch” were a closed and superstitious sect.
The “hex signs” on barns, many said, proved the community’s belief in black magic. Today, of course, we know that the only thing frightening about these signs are the high prices paid by tourists who can’t seem to get enough of them.
Stephanie Hoover, whose books include Philadelphia Spiritualism and the Curious Case of Katie King, is a historical true-crime author and folklorist. Information about her books and writing can be found at www.stephaniehoover.com.