The Haunting of Willington Mill E-Book

Michael J Hallowell

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 458

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

During the nineteenth century Willington Mill, near Wallsend gained an infamous reputation for being haunted. Bizarre noises, apparitions and poltergeist activity dogged the premises and were experienced by dozens of credible witnesses. The case attracted the interest of the country's leading psychical researchers of the time, but the mystery was never solved - until now. Using a wide variety of contemporary sources along with cutting-edge investigative techniques, Michael J. Hallowell and Darren W. Ritson have pieced together the true story of Willington Mill. As well as detailing the fascinating phenomena that occurred in the building, The Haunting of Willington Mill is at last able to offer an explanation for one of England's most enigmatic and puzzling hauntings.

Leseprobe

Dedicated to the memory of Catherine Crowe

First published 2011

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

© Michael J. Hallowell & Darren W. Ritson, 2011

The right of Michael J. Hallowell & Darren W. Ritson to be identified as the Authors of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 0 7509 9440 8

Typesetting and origination by The History Press

Printed in Great Britain

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Foreword

Introduction

1. The Willington Witch

2. Willington and its Mill

3. In the Beginning

4. 1835

5. The Procter Diary (Part 1)

6. The Vigil

7. Look into my Eyes

8. The Procter Diary (Part 2)

9. Problems with the Procter Diary

10 Further Incidents

11. ‘Old Jeffrey’

12. The Ghost Priest

13. After the Procters

14. Kitty, the Ghost of Haggie’s Mill

15. Animal Crackers

16. Catherine Crowe and William Howitt

17. The Visit

18. Phenomena

19. The Stone in the Cellar

20. Revelations

21. Making Contact

22. The Davidson Account

23. Tony Stockwell

24. Philip Solomon

25. Conclusions

Bibliography

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Our thanks must go to: Beth Amphlett of The History Press, for her tenacity and support. Colin Pratt, Operations Manager, and Ray Summerson from Bridon Ropes at Willington Quay, for their incredible co-operation. Colin Wilson, author and researcher, for kindly writing the foreword to this book. Dr Melvyn Willin, the Honorary Archive Officer for the Society for Psychical Research, and Peter Johnson, its secretary, for helping the authors access material crucial to their research. Durham County Libraries, for kindly supplying information regarding Dr John Trotter and ‘Jane’. Guy Lyon Playfair, for his well-received advice. Ionela Flood from the Romanca Society, for helping to resolve the enigma of the mysterious Umanian Magazine. Professor Katie Wales, Special Professor in English, University of Nottingham, for her advice regarding the use of English language in the nineteenth century and, in particular, the Procter Diary and other documents. Newcastle-upon-Tyne Central Library, for their help in tracking down The True Story of the Willington Ghost and other archived materials. North Tyneside Reference Library, for supplying much information regarding the history of Willington Quay and Willington Mill. North Tyneside Borough Council Planning Department, for information relating to Willington Quay in past times. North Tyneside Borough Council Housing Department, for information regarding the modern-day street layout of Willington. Peter Meadows, archivist at the Society for Psychical Research, for helping the authors ascertain the existence (or otherwise) of archived materials from the file on the Willington Mill enigma held at Cambridge University. Philip Solomon, clairvoyant medium, for his much-valued assistance and astounding abilities. Richard Freeman, Zoological Director of the Centre for Fortean Zoology, for his advice regarding the mysterious moonrat and for his contribution towards the discussion on ‘Window Areas’. South Tyneside Local Studies Library, for helping the authors track down rare pieces of archived information regarding Thomas Hudson. The Society for Psychical Research, for allowing us to quote liberally from their publications and for their valued assistance in so many other ways. Tony Stockwell, clairvoyant medium, for his much-valued assistance and astounding abilities.

FOREWORD

In my introduction to Catherine Crowe’s advertisements at the back of old Victorian novels, I experience a certain melancholy. It is sad to realise how many of the great and famous of the previous century are now totally forgotten. The once-celebrated Bertha H. Buxton can be found next to Honoré de Balzac, whilst Mrs Gore, Theodore Hook and Amelia B. Edwards seem to be as highly regarded as Walter Scott, Alexandre Dumas and Victor Hugo. And, to judge from the advertisements in the back of Routledge’s Railway Library, Mrs Catherine Crowe was as famous as Dickens and Thackeray.

Who was Catherine Crowe? Among other things, she was the narrator of one of the oddest ghost stories of all time, the haunting of Willington Mill in North Tyneside, to which this book is devoted.

Other well-known contemporaries, like W.T. Stead and William Howitt, were just as baffled by the procession of bizarre phenomena which occurred in the mill situated on a river called Willington Gut.

I also noted that, ‘to judge by her novels Mrs Crowe was a highly intelligent and imaginative woman, with a good ear for dialogue and a certain flair for languages’. But for all her qualifications, this gifted lady was as puzzled by the haunting of Willington Mill as we are today.

Not that Mrs Crowe was uncritical; on the contrary, The Night Side of Nature1 is the first sustained attempt to treat paranormal phenomena in the scientific spirit which would later characterise the Society for Psychical Research. In that respect, her presentation of the case of the haunted mill is a classic.

The problem faced by Crowe and others was not so much collecting the data – they were in touch with many of the eyewitnesses – but in interpreting it. That is our problem too. Over the passing decades the Willington Mill story has become confused by myth and folklore, so our perception of events is distorted, as if we were looking back at the mid-nineteenth century through a prism.

To unravel the truth behind the case is no easy task, as Henry Sidgwick, the founder of the Society for Psychical Research, discovered when he applied his mind to it in the 1890s. He also noted the involvement of several apparitions – such as a woman in a grey shawl, a boy in a ‘drab hat’ and a bare-headed priest in a clerical surplice, seen by various witnesses at the mill; not to mention a confusing menagerie of bizarre animals, such as an odd-looking donkey, a cat-like creature with a long snout, and a mischievous monkey, all of which appeared – and just as suddenly disappeared – without trace.

The authors of this book make no claim to have solved all the mysteries of Willington Mill, but they have certainly solved many of them, and for others offer some plausible and intriguing hypotheses. It is also worth adding that, if they are correct, they may also have gone far towards proving the reality of life after death.

In this book, for the first time, the full truth about what occurred at that sleepy Tyneside village has been laid bare for all to see. The strength of The Haunting of Willington Mill lies in the fact that the writers have, also, for the first time, drawn together almost all of the available historical material relating to the case under one literary roof.

In my own opinion, the authors have remained faithful to the high standards set by Catherine Crowe.

In my introduction to her book I stated ‘that Mrs Crowe … attempted to establish psychical research on a rational, scientific basis’. In another work, The Supernatural: Unlock the Earth’s Hidden Mysteries2, I also noted that, ‘with the wisdom of hindsight, we can see that the most interesting and significant pages of The Night Side of Nature are those that concern the haunting of a house owned by an industrialist named Joseph Procter. Here Mrs Crowe presents the kind of carefully documented account that would be the aim of the later investigators of the Society for Psychical Research’.

Also with the wisdom of hindsight, we can say that it is strange indeed that no one has hitherto attempted to write the definitive work on the Willington Mill mystery. The case has been detailed in numerous books, journals, articles and newspapers, but no one has penned an exhaustive, detailed work devoted exclusively to unravelling the truth behind this, one of the world’s most enduring paranormal mysteries. Michael J.Hallowell and Darren W. Ritson have decided to set matters straight, and you now hold in your hands the fascinating results of their handiwork.

Colin Wilson

Notes

1. Crowe, Catherine, The Night Side of Nature [ed. Colin Wilson, fr. The Colin Wilson Library of the Paranormal] (Aquarian Press, 1986)

2. Wilson, Colin, The Supernatural: Unlock the Earth’s Hidden Mysteries (Parragon, 1995)

INTRODUCTION

Ghost stories have an almost unique ability to marry the past with the present. A ghost may be the spirit of someone who lived then, but may well be seen by witnesses who live now. Hauntings are timeless – a fact which only serves to enhance their mystique. The allure of a true ghost story depends, of course, on what one wishes to draw from it. For some, it is the deep feeling of unease that permeates the senses combined with the soothing knowledge that one is not an eyewitness, but merely a reader. A colleague of ours once described this as ‘being scared at a distance’. Reading about truly frightening hauntings may rack up the tension, but is unlikely to cause blind panic. It’s a bit like going on a roller-coaster ride; you get scared, but all the time you know deep down that you’re really pretty safe.

For some, though, the allure is different. It is not so much the horror that attracts, but the ambience; the setting of the tale is, to many, of equal importance to the events. Hence, the ghost of a lady dressed in grey who walks the parapets of an old castle will act as a much stronger magnet than that of a spectral teenager seen riding a bicycle down the street. Some true ghost stories are fortunate enough to possess both qualities. Some researchers may instinctively shy away from accounts that are set in an environment rich in history. It is as if the ambience may in some way detract from the tale, making it sound more like a novel by Charles Dickens that an account of a real-life haunting. The authors would venture that to take such a stance would be to throw the metaphorical baby out with the bath water; if the setting of a true ghost story is rich in history and romance, then so be it. We should enjoy it without in the least feeling that our pleasure in some way diminishes the value of the facts.

This book is about one of Britain’s most notorious hauntings. For several decades in the mid-nineteenth century, a series of seemingly inexplicable events occurred in an old flour mill at Willington Quay, North Tyneside. To this day there have been no satisfactory explanations offered as to its cause. The story of the Willington Quay haunting is steeped in local history, and speaks of a bygone era divorced from our own in a multitude of respects. We live in a different world now, but what happened at Willington Quay all those years ago may – if you’ll excuse the pun – still come back to haunt us.

When the authors began their research into the case the story was not new to them. Indeed, both authors have made reference to the case in their previous publications. Mike’s attention to the case began when, in July 1999, he was researching material for another book project. He visited the Local Studies Library at South Shields and, quite by accident, stumbled across a yellowing newspaper cutting which detailed the death of a local character called Thomas Hudson. Much of the lengthy obituary was taken up with a discussion of the Willington affair and the part that Hudson played in it. On a whim, Mike photocopied the cutting and stored it away in his archives. Then, in February 2004, Alan Tedder – a first-class researcher and author from Sunderland – gave Mike another cutting from an undated, unsourced newspaper which also recounted the story. Both sources were filed away and forgotten about until, in February 2009, Darren suggested to Mike that they collaborate together on a book about the incident.

Darren first heard about the Willington Mill poltergeist as a youngster. He would often cycle past ‘Willington Gut’, and his father regularly recited stories to him about the ghosts which were said to have haunted an old mill that once stood there. In later years, he heard other tales of hauntings in the same area, including the spectre called ‘Kitty, the Ghost of Haggies’ Mill’, which will be elaborated upon later in this volume. After he moved into the area, in 2002, he began to visit the site regularly and would often walk along the bank of the dene in the hope of seeing the spectre of Kitty. Unfortunately, he never did.

One of the sad aspects of paranormal research – and in particular the investigation of hauntings – is that so many times the facts are distorted and twisted before being written down. The end result may be fascinating and make for a good read, but bear little or no relationship to the truth. The authors of this book have tried to avoid falling into this trap as much as they can. There may be mistakes in their work – no authors are perfect – but they endeavour to make as few as is humanly possible.

Like all supernatural stories, the haunting of Willington Mill has suffered from the effects of sloppy research and the making of too many assumptions. When seen in its true light, the affair is as fascinating – and troubling – as any of the romanticised versions.

There have been relatively few attempts to explain the Willington Mill haunting, despite the fact that, at the time, it received considerable media attention and was investigated by the Society for Psychical Research, which holds a file in their archives about the affair to this day. The authors have been given access to some little-used material held in private collections and have also uncovered documentary evidence which was previously thought lost or not even known to have existed. As with all their investigations, the authors went in with a completely open mind, neither believing nor disbelieving the accounts they had been made privy to. Approaching a case from the perspective of either a believer or a sceptic is hopeless and makes it virtually impossible to weigh the evidence objectively.

To the authors’ knowledge, this is the first book dedicated entirely to the haunting of Willington Mill. It is one of a handful of true supernatural stories that seriously challenges the sceptic. The authors make no apology for that, and are happy to present the facts to those who are open-minded enough to acknowledge that ‘believing only what you can see’ is a flawed philosophy. Sometimes we may see things that are truly hard to believe. Something very strange did indeed happen in that old mill house all those years ago, and we are still bereft of many answers. If this book goes some way to rectifying the situation, then the authors will rest content.

At first, the authors viewed their investigation as purely an historical enigma with distinctly paranormal overtones; a story about a fascinating haunting in an old mill which positively begged to be told. But then they uncovered a number of disturbing facts, little known or completely ignored by other researchers, which forced them to concede that there was far, far more to the case than met the eye and drew them to a conclusion that was nothing short of explosive. If they were right, then the haunting of Willington Mill provided them with an opportunity to answer a question that has plagued mankind since the beginning of time: is there really life after death?

The authors believe that they were privileged to be allowed to take part in the culmination of a drama that stretched over several centuries and has baffled a number of great intellects. The story begins with an old woman who lived in a cottage in the seventeenth century, and ends with two modern-day psychic mediums attempting to unlock the past. The haunting of Willington Mill is a story that touches every one of us, for the lessons learned from it indicate most powerfully that nothing can be hidden forever. The sands of time may ebb away from us, but they also flow back.

The ghosts of Willington Mill have waited long enough for their tale to be told, and this is it.

Michael J. Hallowell & Darren W. Ritson

Note

Unless otherwise stated, all quotations from the diary of Joseph Procter, and/or the introduction to and commentary upon it by his son Edmund Procter, are taken from the manuscript held by the Society for Psychical Research which was given to the society by Edmund Procter in 1892.

One

THE WILLINGTON WITCH

One of the difficulties surrounding investigations into cases like Willington Mill is that some aspects of the story that have been passed down are essentially unverifiable. This places authors in an unenviable position, for if they do not at least detail unverifiable legends in their writings they can be accused of overlooking what might be essential material. On the other hand, if they do detail them but are unable to furnish hard evidence in support, they will almost certainly be accused of playing fast and loose with the truth and placing too much stock in ‘old wives’ tales’.

The authors of this book thought long and hard about the problem, and decided quite simply to publish and be damned. If some of the old tales are true, then the haunting of Willington Mill had its origins long before the mill was even built.

For whatever reason, Willington Quay seems to have acted as a magnet for discarnate spirits. Although the village was relatively small, it managed to rack up an impressive array of spectres over the years. The earliest paranormal phenomena linked to the site of the mill itself now only exist almost exclusively within oral legends passed down from generation to generation.

One of the most controversial subjects in British history, stretching from the nineteenth century as far back as it is possible to go, is that of witchcraft. The north east of England, like everywhere else, saw the terrible persecution of those who clung to ‘the Old Path’, as it was sometimes called. For those who doubt that witchcraft really held much influence in the region in times past, a perusal of Dancing With the Devil1 by Jo Bath and More Ghost Trails of Northumbria2 by Clive Kristen should prove enlightening.

There have been times in our history when pretty much anything could get you accused of witchcraft. Witchfinders, like the infamous Matthew Hopkins, would be delighted to find you guilty for such obvious signs of devilment as not brushing your hair, refusing to drink milk from a cow that has walked through a churchyard or allowing fingernail clippings to fall to the floor in your kitchen.

That a witch once lived on the site where Willington Mill would later be built is generally accepted, although details are scant. The Catholic priest Montague Summers, in his book The Geography of Witchcraft3, made a brief but telling reference to the Willington Witch, saying that she lived in a cottage and was ‘notorious’.

We need to be careful when embracing the opinions of Summers regarding witchcraft, though. Although he wrote extensively on the subject, he was stridently opposed to ‘the craft’. His Catholicism, although not orthodox, still precipitated within him a dislike of the occult practices with which, ironically, he was so fascinated.

The Willington Witch lived in the village in the early part of the eighteenth century, when witchcraft was still shunned by all who believed themselves to be God-fearing – in such a social climate, the woman couldn’t have helped but be anything other than notorious.

Still, the fact that she earned such opprobrium and even came to Summers’ attention indicates that she was perhaps more notorious than most. What exactly she was supposed to be guilty of we may never know, although some hypotheses will be made later and at least one author4 has suggested that, shortly before her passing, a priest refused to hear her deathbed confession. After her demise, her humble dwelling and the land around it seem to have developed a reputation for being cursed and locals avoided the place.

Researcher Catherine Crowe5 stated, ‘We have lately heard that Mr [Joseph] Procter [a subsequent owner of the mill house] has discovered an old book, which makes it appear that the very same “hauntings” took place in an old house, on the very same spot, at least two hundred years ago’. While Liddell6 stated that the old house had actually been subjected to hauntings for a period of 200 years, to the authors’ knowledge no other researcher has made this claim.

When going through the mill-owner Joseph Procter’s diary, after his death, his son Edmund noted:

… in my father’s handwriting, is the following memorandum below the above recital; there is a line drawn through them, however, whether by himself I am unable to say, and the sentence is apparently unfinished:—

‘An infirm old woman, the mother-in-law of R. Oxon, the builder of the premises, lived and died in the house, and after her death the haunting was attributed-----’.

I have heard my father speak of this circumstance, but the evidence appeared to be of a slight and hearsay character.

As time passed, the reputation of the Willington Witch faded, but it never did disappear. We can, however, make a number of tentative suggestions regarding the Willington Witch. First, it may be that Summers had a particular dislike of her due to his Roman Catholicism. Could it be that the witch was someone who, peculiarly, practised both Roman Catholicism and witchcraft at the same time? Could this also be why she allegedly asked for a priest to give her confession when she was lying on her deathbed? Also, could her ‘notorious’ reputation identify her as someone who had drawn the attention of the authorities to her activities? These are questions the authors will attempt to answer later in this book.

There are reports – almost certainly true – that a small mill was built on the site, but later demolished. This building was also allegedly haunted – although this may have been due, at least in part, to the site’s chequered history.

When the Willington Mill proper was built there later, it was almost inevitable that it would inherit the spooky reputation of its architectural predecessors.

Notes

1. Bath, Jo, Dancing With the Devil and Other True Tales of Northern Witchcraft (Tyne Bridge Publishing, 2002)

2. Kristen, Clive, More Ghost Trails of Northumbria (Casdec, 1993)

3. Summers, Montague, The Geography of Witchcraft (London, 1926)

4. Anon, The World’s Greatest Unsolved Mysteries (Chancellor Press, 2001) pp 502-3

5. Crowe, Catherine, The Night Side of Nature, or, Ghosts and Ghost Seers, Vol. II (T.C. Newby, 1848)

6. Liddell, Tony, Otherworld North East: Ghosts and Hauntings Explored (Tyne Bridge Publishing, 2004)

Two

WILLINGTON AND ITS MILL

Flour mills were a common sight in the north east of England in the mid-nineteenth century as the Industrial Revolution began to take hold.

Willington Quay was a relatively small, picturesque village on the north bank of the River Tyne which mirrored much of what took place elsewhere along the banks of the region’s most famous waterway. Shipbuilding was already thriving, providing employment for carpenters, moulders and other tradespersons. The adjacent town of North Shields also played host to a number of busy chandler’s stores, where ship owners, captains and ordinary sailors could equip themselves with pretty much anything they required. Fishing, too, was a much-needed and valued profession. Indeed, the name North Shields is actually a bastardisation of the name North Sheels, a sheel being a small fishing boat used by many of the locals. In the mid-nineteenth century, communities like that found at Willington Quay were much more closely-knit than in our own time. It was quite possible to be born, raised and die within a small community without ever leaving it. Everything needed for survival was available on the doorstep, including a dairy, a bakery, a butcher (sometimes called a flescher), a cobbler and a fishmonger, and, of course, a miller.

Perhaps Willington’s most famous son was the engineer George Stephenson (1781–1848), who, although not born there, resided in a small cottage in the village after his marriage to Frances Henderson.

Willington also had within its precincts a rope factory, which was opened in the year 1843 by the firm Robert Hood, Haggie, and in 1900 became Messrs Robert Hood, Haggie & Son Ltd. This factory will figure in our story to some considerable degree in a later chapter.

Willington Mill was supposedly built around the year 18001 or 18062, and, as previously stated, there is some evidence that it may have been constructed on the site of an earlier mill. The bulk of the testimony strongly suggests that the mill itself may have opened for business in 1800, but that the mill house itself was not built – or at least occupied – until 1806. This, the authors assert, is simply not the truth, as we shall see.

The original mill house with the factory buildings in the background. (Courtesy Bridon Ropes)

The site of the mill house today, now a car park for employees. (Thunderbird Craft & Media)

According to legend, the construction of Willington Mill got off to a bad start. A dark aura seemed to hang over the place and few locals, although they were happy to purchase their flour there, had a good word to speak about it.

What precipitated this negative view of the mill and the adjacent mill house is difficult to say, although there is an unsubstantiated rumour that during the construction a local person murdered someone and subsequently buried the body in the foundations. The anonymous writer of Ghosts and Legends of Northumbria may be alluding to this when he says, ‘There were various rumours of evil-doing by workers engaged in the building of the house, and that it was haunted by the ghost of someone who had been “most foully murdered”‘3. Of course, the fact that a ‘notorious’ witch had once lived on the site didn’t help either.

Willington village as it is today. (Thunderbird Craft & Media)

A digital reconstruction of the mill house, as it would look today on the original site if it was still standing. (Thunderbird Craft & Media)

Although a number of murders did take place in the North Tyneside area between 1798 and 1806, in all cases the body was found at the crime scene. Neither were there any reports of missing persons subsequently being found buried at the mill by the authorities. If that had been the case, then it would surely have been written up in the local newspapers. This leads us to conclude that if someone was murdered and buried at the mill then the crime did not come to the attention of the authorities. Perhaps the victim was an itinerant worker or even a homeless individual.

When the mill house was later demolished, no skeletons seem to have been found when the foundations were disturbed. Of course, that doesn’t mean that they weren’t there.

Notes

1. Poole, Keith B., Britain’s Haunted Heritage (Guild Publishing, 1988), p. 92

2. Tegner, Henry, Ghosts of the North Country (Butler Publishing, 1991), p. 67

3. Anon, Ghosts and Legends of Northumbria (Sandhill Press, 1996), p. 45

Three

IN THE BEGINNING

According to some researchers, Willington Mill was built at the behest of (or at least first occupied by) George Unthank and his family. The enterprise was a successful venture from the outset, being the first steam-powered mill in the north east of England. When the mill house was constructed in 1800, so the story goes, the Unthanks moved in straight away, occupying the three-storey dwelling that was adjacent to the mill itself.

There is a problem with this scenario, though. In 1829, George Unthank formally entered into a business partnership with his cousin Joseph Procter (in some accounts wrongly called Proctor). In his diaries, Joseph says that the Unthanks ‘entered it [the mill house] in 1806’ and enjoyed an ‘occupancy of 25 years’, indicating that the Unthanks left the mill house in 1831. However, if, as some researchers have suggested, the Unthanks moved into the mill house as soon as it was built (1800) their twenty-five-year occupancy would have ended in 1825. Further confusion is added by the fact that there is almost unanimous agreement amongst historians that the Unthanks left the mill house in the year 1829.

The belief that the Unthanks left the house in 1829 is probably a misinterpretation of facts. Records state that Joseph Procter entered into a renewed formal business relationship with George Unthank in 1829 and, almost immediately, took up residence on the mill site, and this is assumed by many to be the mill house. However, the mill complex included a number of residences that had been built for managers and employees, and it is perfectly possible that Joseph Procter initially lived in one of these whilst the Unthanks were still ensconced in the mill house itself. Two years later, in 1831, Joseph Procter married Elizabeth Carr from Kendal, and it is presumably then that the couple moved into the mill house and the Unthanks vacated it. This version of events would agree with the testimony of historians that their occupancy began in 1806, and also with the testimony of Joseph Procter that the Unthanks lived in the house for precisely twenty-five years. For a period of two years, then, between 1829 and 1831, Joseph Procter was living at the mill site but not in the mill house.

Having solved one conundrum we are immediately faced with another: if the mill complex was built in 1800, but the Unthanks did not move in to the house until 1806, who occupied the building during those first few years? The Monthly Chronicle1 states that Joseph Procter’s ‘relatives appear to have bought the building in 1806’, which would indicate that another owner, perhaps completely unrelated to the Unthanks, was the first occupant. Either that, or, for the first few years, they initially only rented the house and merely purchased it in 1806.

Some researchers seem to suggest that the conventional story – that the Unthanks moved into the mill house immediately after it was constructed – is the correct one. Poole, for example, says, ‘It was first occupied by Joseph’s cousin named Unthank’2, although Poole may simply have meant that Unthank was the first occupant connected with the case to live at the mill house, and not the first person to live in it after it was constructed.

There was (and still is), for instance, a generally held belief amongst North Tyneside’s mill cognoscenti that it was someone attached to the Unthank family who, at least in part, commissioned its building. If this is the case – and it does seem likely – then the first occupants were either called Unthank or were in some way connected to them.

What we do know is that almost from the day the mill was erected it gained a terrible reputation for being haunted. Poole3 relates how Mr Unthank was warned that the mill house was haunted even before he moved in, whilst another author4 points out that, later, the Procters knew of the rumours about the haunting before they moved in but chose to disregard them. If the mill house was already enjoying a reputation for being haunted before the Unthanks moved in, then it is obvious that they could not have been the first to reside within its walls. Who could have warned Mr Unthank about the building’s reputation? It seems likely that the previous residents were close enough to the Unthanks to be able to confide in them regarding this matter. This may indicate, albeit circumstantially, that the first occupants of the mill were related to the Unthanks in some way or intrinsically connected to them.

As readers will have gathered by now, when one reads books dealing with the history of Willington Mill confusion reigns supreme. However, by careful research and investigation, the authors believe that they have managed to cut through the miasma of conflicting theories and ‘facts’, and uncovered the truth about what really happened during the first few years of its existence.

In the late nineteenth century there lived at Yarm a draper by the name of Joseph Procter. Procter, a Quaker, married a woman, also of good Quaker stock, called Elizabeth Richardson. Elizabeth was the son of John Richardson, and had an elder sister named Margaret. Margaret subsequently married a man called Joseph Unthank in 1791. Joseph Procter and Joseph Unthank thus became brothers-in-law.

Margaret was originally from the area of North Shields known as the Low Lights, named after a beacon situated near the river to help shipping navigate safely. Joseph and his new wife went to live in Whitby, but Margaret just couldn’t settle. Joseph Unthank could see that his wife was pining for her home and mentioned this to his brother-in-law. Between the two of them they hatched an idea. They decided to purchase the old mill situated at a village called Willington Quay, North Shields. They were confident that the business would provide them with a good living and, of course, it would allow Margaret to return to her beloved Tyneside.

The original mill at Willington seems to have been owned by a man called William Brown, who later became related to both the Unthanks and the Procters by virtue of his marriage to one Mary Richardson. Between Brown, Unthank and Procter, Brown was the only one with any milling experience. Joseph Unthank, on the other hand, was the oldest of the trio and had a good deal of business acumen. Procter, still only a young man, had experience in neither business nor milling, but did have a large amount of capital. Unthank and Procter approached Brown and suggested that the three became partners in Brown’s mill. The men then came up with a radical plan; why not demolish the old mill completely and replace it with one of the new steam mills that were becoming more fashionable? Steam mills could churn out flour at an unbelievable rate, and there were huge profits to be had. Shortly afterwards, the firm of Brown, Unthank & Procter came into being, and the three partners commissioned the building of the grandiose new mill.

As soon as the new mill house was finished, the Brown family moved into it. However, at this time rumours of a murder began to circulate and the premises gained a reputation for being haunted. Sometime between the years 1801 and 1806, the Browns left the mill house, but whether this was because of the alleged haunting we cannot say. Then, in 1806, Joseph Unthank and his family moved in. In 1807, Brown sold his share in the business to the other two partners and opened up two mills of his own; one in North Shields and the other in Sunderland.

What precipitated this dissolving of the partnership we do not know, but it was odd to say the least. The new mill at Willington was thriving, so why pull out of a business that was making money hand over fist? It is possible, although it cannot be proved, that it may have had something to do with the alleged murder.

Despite later denials, from the outset the Unthanks began to see and hear strange things in the house. Robert Davidson, in his book The True Story of the Willington Mill Ghost5, relates the following incident:

Mr Unthank … did not at all believe in the existence of the ghost. Shortly after his arrival at Willington he enquired of the housekeeper if there was a mangle in the house. On being answered in the negative he replied, ‘Dear me, that is strange; I have heard a mangle going all night’; and never after was he heard to deny the existence of things mysterious.

By the time Joseph Unthank and his family had moved into the mill house, his wife had already given birth to several children, including a son whom they named George. George must have been aware of the supernatural occurrences at the house and very probably experienced some of them himself. This piece of information will prove to be of crucial importance later in this book.

We know that the mill house consisted of three storeys, but as far as we can tell the Unthank family only ever occupied the ground floor and the first floor. The second floor – and specifically one room within it – was never regularly inhabited or, it seems, even utilised for storage purposes. This was odd, for one would think that a reasonably wealthy family like the Unthanks would have made use of every available part of the building. Even stranger was the fact that at least one of the rooms on the top floor was permanently locked, and, as Keith B. Poole relates6, even had the windows bricked up.

Prosaic explanations for such a circumstance are not easy to come by. It is possible that after they moved in Joseph Unthank might have decided to use the upper floor for storage purposes for the company and had the windows bricked up to reduce the likelihood of the premises being robbed. Although not impossible, this explanation is extremely unlikely, particularly as the storage facilities at the mill itself were extensive and he had the financial wherewithal to extend these facilities if necessary.

The alternative explanation is that the upper floor of the dwelling was left unused because it was the epicentre of some extraordinary paranormal activity that, being so intense, rendered it uninhabitable and unusable.

Both the Unthank and Procter families were members of the Society of Friends, commonly called Quakers, and were held in high regard by their neighbours. However, that ‘locked room’ on the top floor of the mill house gives us just the faintest clue that something in that mansion was wrong.

In 1813, Joseph Procter died. Legally, Joseph Unthank and his son George, who had by then purchased a stake in the business, could simply have seized control. However, they magnanimously made Joseph’s thirteen-year-old son, also called Joseph, a partner in the firm. This meant that the mill now had two partners; Joseph Unthank and Joseph Procter Jr. George Unthank was a financial stakeholder, but not a partner, although he was eventually made a full partner in the year 18297.

The disposal of George Unthank’s estate, as publicly announced in the Port of Tyne Pilot, 28 October 1842.

Altogether, there were four Josephs attached to the mill, and three of them carried the surname Procter; it is easy to see how researchers often became confused. The most common mistake has been to confuse Joseph Procter Sr with his son, the second Joseph Procter who lived on the premises.

In 1842, Joseph Unthank passed away. This left only two partners, the young Joseph Procter, who had succeeded his father’s position, and George Unthank. What happened after this would, in the history of psychical research, prove to be truly fascinating.

Notes

1.Monthly Chronicle, June 1887

2. Poole, Keith B., Britain’s Haunted Heritage (Guild Publishing, 1988), p. 92

3.Ibid.

4. Anon, The World’s Greatest Unsolved Mysteries (Chancellor Press, 2001), pp 502-3

5. Davidson, Robert, The True Story of the Willington Mill Ghost (Robert Davidson, c. 1886)

6. Poole, Keith B., Britain’s Haunted Heritage (Guild Publishing, 1988), p. 92.

7. Boyce, Anne Ogden, Records of a Quaker Family: The Richardsons of Cleveland (Thomas Harris & Co., 1889)

Four

1835

In the year 1831, the Unthank family terminated their residence at the mill and moved to Battle Hill Farm in the Battle Hill area of Wallsend, several miles away, and Joseph Procter Jr moved into the mill house. Joseph’s diary, in which he kept a record of the bizarre phenomena which occurred in his home, begins in the year 1835. It has been presumed from this that during the first four years of his occupancy nothing of a supernatural nature occurred. Indeed, William Howitt1 states, ‘We learned that the house had been reputed, at least one room in it, to have been haunted forty years ago, and had afterwards been undisturbed for a long period, during some years of which quietude the present occupant [Joseph Procter] lived in it unmolested’.

However, most researchers who have delved into the Willington Mill case have concluded that, almost from the day the Procter family moved in, they were confronted by paranormal phenomena for which they had no explanation. Poole2, for example, states that strange things began to happen, ‘from the very beginning of the Procters moving in’, whilst Puttick3 adds, ‘The family had scarcely settled in before the alarming disturbances … began’.

The first hint that the paranormal activity at the mill house began before 1835 can be found in Edmund Procter’s commentary on his father’s diary: ‘On my father’s death in 1875, a diary that he had kept almost from the outset of the disturbances, and during many years of their occurrence, was found among his papers’ (italics ours).

Edmund Procter’s use of the word ‘almost’ indicates that, even if only briefly, there had been some supernatural occurrences at the house before his father began to keep a diary of them. However, as the authors will show presently, we have reason to believe that the paranormal phenomena had been manifesting themselves long before that.

Joseph Procter Jr was a dynamic businessman. Two years after entering into a formal partnership with George Unthank, he married Elizabeth Carr of Kendal. Elizabeth was the brother of George Carr, who ran a highly successful biscuit factory. Indeed, the Carr’s brandname is still in use today and owned by United Biscuits (UK) Ltd4.

Despite his large workload and strong business connections, Joseph Procter eventually put pen to paper and started to detail the bizarre things that were happening within his home. It is customary for researchers who have delved into the case to refer to Procter’s account as a ‘diary’, and the authors have fallen in with that convention. However, strictly speaking, the term is inaccurate. Gauld and Cornell5 have correctly said that, ‘it is not strictly a diary, but rather a series of memoranda, some dated and contemporary with the events they describe, some not …’ Procter’s diary is not an orderly, sequential history of events. At times it is confusing, inconsistent and muddled. In fact, the more one reads Procter’s account the more difficult it becomes to follow it. Events are mostly listed in chronological order, but many are completely out of sequence. Unfortunately, too many researchers, unlike Gauld and Cornell, have been willing to trust that Procter laid down his recollections with fastidiousness and meticulousness when, patently, he did not. Once the authors came to see Procter’s diary for what it truly was, they also came to see the Willington Mill haunting in a far different light.

Joseph Procter opens his diary as follows:

Particulars relating to some unaccountable noises heard in the house of J. and E. Procter, Willington Mill, which began about three months prior to the time, viz., 1 mo. 28th, 1835, still continuing, and for which no adequate natural cause has hitherto been discovered.

The first thing to note is that Procter does not say that he is about to write a complete history of the paranormal events within his home, but merely that it is an account beginning with ‘unaccountable noises’ which manifested themselves in January 1835. This allows for the possibility that other phenomena occurred before 1835, although they were not auditory in nature. Poole6 seems to pick up on this fact and actually dates the beginning of the events within Procter’s diary to within a mere six weeks of his family moving into the mill house. In fact, as we shall see, there are some events detailed in Procter’s writings which must have occurred before he even moved into the mill house at all. The authors believe that this is a fact of pivotal importance which radically impacts upon the generally accepted view of the entire affair.

At this juncture, we will relate Joseph Procter’s diary entry about the first incident he records, and then discuss the profound implications generated by exactly when it took place:

About six weeks ago the nursemaid first told her mistress of the state of dread and alarm she was kept in, in consequence of noises she had heard for about two months, occurring more particularly nearly every evening when left alone to watch the child [Edmund’s older brother then about two years old] to sleep in the nursery, a room on the second floor; she declared she distinctly heard a dull, heavy tread on the boarded floor of the unoccupied room above, commonly pacing backwards and forwards, and, on coming over the window, giving the floor such a shake as to cause the window of the nursery to rattle violently in its frame. This disturbance generally lasted ten minutes at a time, and though she did not heed it at first, yet she was now persuaded it was supernatural, and ‘it quite overset her’. The latter was indeed evident from the agitation she manifested.

There are several important facts that can be either drawn or deduced from the above diary entry other than the description of the phenomena themselves.

Firstly, Procter states that, ‘About six weeks ago the nursemaid first told her mistress of the state of dread and alarm she was kept in’ (italics ours). It is curious that Procter doesn’t say ‘told my wife Elizabeth’, as if the nursemaid’s mistress at the time of the incident was someone other than a member of his immediate family. This makes perfect sense, of course, if the incident took place when the Unthanks lived at the mill and before the Procters arrived. The nursemaid’s mistress would then have been Mrs Unthank, and not Joseph Proctor’s wife. It is almost certain that after the Unthanks moved out and the Procters moved in the nursemaid was allowed to continue her employment at the home under its new residents. If the incident involving the nursemaid took place before the Procters moved into the mill house, but Joseph describes it as having occurred ‘about six weeks ago’, then it is clear that he must have written up his account long before 1835. In fact, what Procter wrote in his diary about the occurrence must have been transcribed from notes he made much closer to the time, before his own family moved into the mansion. We can also deduce from this that Procter was aware of supernatural occurrences taking place in the mill house whilst the Unthanks were still living there.

The second crucial piece of information concerns the nursemaid’s description of where the phenomena seemed to be occurring. Procter’s diary states that ‘she distinctly heard a dull, heavy tread on the boarded floor of the unoccupied room above’ (italics ours). This enables us to determine that the upper floor of the house – or at least one room of it – was, during the time of the Unthanks’ residence, already not in use.

These two facts contradict the almost universal assumption amongst researchers that during the tenancy of the Unthank family there had been little or no supernatural activity taking place.

This new version of events is also supported by another of Joseph Procter’s diary entries. When discussing the first flurry of incidents which took place shortly after his own family’s arrival, he speaks specifically of the haunted room on the top floor and states, ‘The room is devoid of furniture, and for some time the door was nailed up’.

If, as is generally accepted, there had not been a hint of supernatural activity in the mill house before the Procters moved in, why would the room be devoid of furniture? Another intriguing thing about Procter’s statement is that, whilst he describes the absence of furniture in the present tense – ‘the room is devoid of furniture’ – he then changes to the past tense and adds, ‘and for some time the door was nailed up’. At the very least, there is a strong hint here that the door to the room had been nailed up in the past but was not nailed up any longer. We know this to be true, for in his diary he talks of servants entering the room on a number of occasions to investigate strange noises.

The number of possible explanations for this circumstance is extremely limited. The first – although highly unlikely – is that as soon as the Procters moved into the mill house Joseph immediately hammered the nails into the door and then, within a few days, changed his mind and removed them. The second possibility – and almost certainly the correct one – is that the door was nailed up before the Procters moved in and hence must have been secured by someone in the Unthank household.

It is not just the nailed-up door which is puzzling; there is also the matter of a plastered-up window. Procter adds in his diary, ‘It seems impossible that there can be any trick in the case; there is a garret above, and the roof is inaccessible from without; the house stands alone, and during most of the time the window was built up with lath and plaster, whilst the other only [sic] communication with the outside, by the chimney, was closed by a fireboard which was so covered over with soot as to prove that not a pebble or a mouse had passed’ (italics ours).

Again, Procter’s change of tense is fascinating. He states in the present tense that ‘it seems impossible … there is a garret above … the roof is inaccessible … the house stands alone …’ but then he switches to the past tense to relate that, ‘during most of the time the window was built up with lath and plaster, whilst the other only communication with the outside, by the chimney, was closed by a fireboard which was so covered over with soot as to prove that not a pebble or a mouse had passed’ (italics ours).

The inference is perfectly clear. Whereas the door had been sealed at one time, it was not now. The window which had once been boarded up was now clear. The fireboard which had sealed off the chimney had now been removed. To suggest that Procter could have done and undone all of this work within days of moving into the house – or even wanted to – is patently absurd. The room had, for some reason, been perfectly sealed off so that no light could enter, no one could see in and nothing could get in or out. Procter specifically mentions an accumulation of soot which had built up, further proving that when his family had moved in the room had already been disused for some time. There can be no doubt, then, that it was someone in the Unthank household who had sealed off the room and not one of the Procter family. The big question, though, is why?

As we shall see, the vast majority of the bizarre phenomena – particularly the auditory ones – took place within the room that had been sealed off and it was sometimes referred to as ‘the haunted room’ or ‘the disturbed room’. The obvious explanation is that someone, patently aware of the fact that something very odd indeed was occurring within its walls, had made an attempt to seal off the room from the rest of the house and, perhaps, ‘contain’ the problem.

The circumstantial evidence is overwhelming, then, that the Unthanks, far from being blissfully unaware of the problem as they later claimed (Procter recalls that, ‘On First day, 2 mo., 15th [1835], my wife and I were informed by our cousin, the Unthanks [sic], that they understood that the house, and that room in particular in which the noises now occurred, was said to be haunted before they entered it in 1806, but that nothing that they knew of had been heard during there [sic] occupancy of 25 years’), knew that their house was haunted before they moved out.

Before we move on to examine other aspects of the haunting, we must first look at what seems to be an insurmountable impediment to the idea that the ‘nursemaid’ incident took place before the Procters moved into the house. There is a singular statement in Joseph Procter’s diary that would seem to rule this out completely:

About six weeks ago the nursemaid first told her mistress of the state of dread and alarm she was kept in, in consequence of noises she had heard for about two months, occurring more particularly nearly every evening when left alone to watch the child [Edmund’s older brother, then about two years old] to sleep in the nursery, a room on the second floor …

Edmund was Joseph Proctor’s son. If Edmund and his older brother were being watched in the mill by the nursemaid when the occurrences happened, this would indicate that the Procters were already living in the mill at the time. However, as we have seen, there are numerous other facts which mitigate against this. There are a number of possible solutions to this dilemma.

The first possibility is that Joseph Procter was simply mistaken; mistaken about the fact that it was his own children who were being looked after by the nursemaid when in reality it had been the children of his cousin, and/or mistaken about when the incident had actually occurred. However, Procter was seemingly writing his ‘diary’ mere weeks after the event, and, if so, it is highly improbable that he would have made such an obvious error.

A second possibility is that the two Procter children were staying overnight at the mill house as guests of their uncle and aunt, the Unthanks. There is nothing implausible about this scenario, except for the fact that it seems odd that Joseph Procter neither mentions it in his diary nor, indeed, attempts to explain it.

A third possibility is that the remark in parenthesis was actually Edmund’s own insertion into the text, and this may indeed be the answer.

But there is a fourth solution to the enigma. It is possible that Joseph Procter was actually lying. If so, what on earth could his motive have been?