ROBERT MORRISS: CANNIBAL SLAYER

When N H Hazelwood had me make eight copies of sheets with random numbers when we both worked for the NORFOLK & WESTERN RAILROAD, I had no conception where that simple favor would lead. What was to be a hunt for treasure near the Peaks of Otter became a decent into a madness of past events cursed with bloodshed, that I and I alone involved my brother, George L Hart.
I wish to this day that I just made those copies in 1897, then let the matter be.
Clayton I Hart, Roanoke, Virginia
 

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A stenographer must do what one must though..when the chief clerk to the Auditor assigns a task it is to be.
Curiosity and rapport with N.H. were my downfall after he answered my inquiry as to the document's unclear meanings, by suggesting treasure.
Though permission was kindly granted to retain a copy;conversing with N. H. about them led nowhere as to what they were to read. Though it must be said, he honestly gave what little information he had willingly.
Here in 97 he says it has been some FOURSCORE years since treasure arrived.
His health declines and less is said about searching anymore.
Yet from his home he continues to watch the PEAKS OF OTTER,sometimes jerking his head towards a window with a start as if hearing something or fearing he may miss something.

A WARD in Lynchburg is reputed to have turned the puzzling papers about, trying to decipher them and then printed his findings.
Here ,to keep a focus on searching for keys and following up on possible site locations my brother came into play. He would continue the work in BEDFORD while I tracked down this Ward fellow..
A visit to the crystal reader met during an introductory offer of class in mesmerism and hypnotism confirmed Ward should be queried and was still in Lynchburg.
Of course the crystal reader presented his card and the announcement that could he be of further use in locating, someone or something, please consult him as he had seen a GOOSE in a creek when looking for Ward and felt it related.
 

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My wife wanted to visit her Otey cousins in Bedford county, I agreed to take her this coming weekend, and it would give me the opportunity to visit with James Beverly Ward.
After leaving my wife in the Otey's care, I made my way to Lynchberg. Stopping at the local postal office to inquire of Ward's residence, luck would have it that Ward's son was in employ there. I told the reason and interest in my visit with his father, and he agreed to take to his fathers home, mentioning that his fathers health was frail.
Upon arrival to the Ward home, I was directed to the formal parlor where James Beverly Ward rested in a blanket covered divan. The pallor of the ill was apparent on his face, but he greeted me with a smile.
"So you want to know about THE BEALE PAPERS that I published".
"Yes Sir", I eagerly replied, "Is the story and the treasure real".
Ward was seized with several coughs and then replied," The story has some elements of truth concerning Thomas Beale, but much of it was the creation of myself, my cousins Hutter and Sherman, and friend Guggenheimer".
"Then the treasure never existed", I asked?
"The treasure is real, but it must be left alone. It was the cause of great horror in Bedford county..."
"HORROR!, I interrupted, " There is no horror in the story".
"In writing THE BEALE PAPERS we decided not to tell the true story of the events of 1821. Sir remember my warning, leave this matter be. I bid you, good day Sir".
With that said by Ward, I was escorted to the door by his son who told me to never return.
 

Upon returning to our home a message was received from brother George.
'Dearest Clayton: we would be met at Bufords, this very week of the last spring of these eighteen hundreds, to follow a lead.'
As well he had secured the services of my (now our) crystal reader.
News we had to share once met, for he too had been busy himself in pursuing our course. My finding our suspicions of treasure and it's general location now real would bring smiles from all.
I was away to them that same day.
East through the gap of the blue ridge with the fading sun at my back I arrived without incident and met my brother and our mystic full well at the tavern.
For the recently past days, among other works such as provisioning, they had had been inquiring of any Beale's.
A Beale plantation had been determined to be in Buchanan, on the James River.
Our goal however on that night was to be well short of Botetourt county; or any Beale's for that matter.
Across the rails we hied with our faithful Nell drawing the buggy. Our only member not exited about the prospect of a now confirmed treasure, yet game as always to chance the candle. Such was her spirit on most outings.
Towards the Peaks of Otter, turning to head up Goose Creek, thence a mile to a savanna where we paused to set our crystal reader into a proper state of hypnosis.
We then tended to his previous instructions and began to follow his wandering..soon we were at a trot again.
 

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Our crystal reader in full trance leap from our wagon and ran into the field, jumping over a rail fence. George and I followed, now at a run to keep pace with the mystic. Hopping across a spring branch, he ascended a hill, then went down the other side.
When George and I reached him, he was staring at a crater like place, covered in old oak trees, and the ground was covered in leaves. The musty smell of decaying vegetation assaulted our nostrils, as our crystal reader raised his right arm and pointed down into the crater.
"There's the Treasure!", his voice growing in volume, "Can't you see it! Gold! Silver! and jewels, by gosh! Diamonds! Rubies! Pearls! Emeralds! Ain't old man Beale rich!"
He then commenced a hysterical laughter, uncontrollable, as if possessed.
"And death", he screamed, "Death to all who came before and death to all that follow!"
He then fainted and fell face first onto the leaf bed, as one consumed with the vapors.
 

George and I came to his aid, but if it was not for his shallow breathing, our crystal reader appeared dead. We lifted his body and placed in our wagon bed, then removed our shovels to dig for the treasure.
Beneath the leafy loam the soil was soft and gave way with ease, and we dug down two feet in short time.
My shovel hit a solid object with a clang. I was excited! Was this Beale's vault?
Pushing hard on m shovel, then pulling back, I pried back and unearthed what my shovel struck.
I recoiled back several steps. It was a human skull!
Then George yelled that he had uncovered three skulls on a pile of bones.
This was not a treasure vault-it was a death pit!
Taking our shovels, George and I whipped Nell in fast retreat as Ward's words came back to me as tried to shake of the terror that coursed through my veins.
 

Our crystal reader never recovered and was sent to the Western State Hospital in Stauton where the doctor claimed he died of hunger.
The lure of Beale still called me and George, but we did not pursue the call, until I saw a handbill posted in the Roanoke Common.
A well known alienist who had mastered the art of mesmerism and had been involved in séances and spirit calling with British author Arthur Conan Doyle and Madame Blavatsky was to present a lecture at Roanoke College.
I was steeled in my conviction to attend this lecture and invite him into our endeavor.
 

ECS said:
One hundred years from now, someone will discover this thread, call it "THE WARD PAPERS" , write a book about it, claiming it is the true authentic account behind the never found Beale treasure and hunt is on once again!
Click to expand...

In their "Space-Suits... world is VERY "polluted"!
 

ECS said:
When N H Hazelwood had me make eight copies of sheets with random numbers when we both worked for the NORFOLK & WESTERN RAILROAD, I had no conception where that simple favor would lead. What was to be a hunt for treasure near the Peaks of Otter became a decent into a madness of past events cursed with bloodshed, that I and I alone involved my brother, George L Hart.
I wish to this day that I just made those copies in 1897, then let the matter be.
Clayton I Hart, Roanoke, Virginia
Click to expand...

So do the farmers... of Bedford County, VIRGINIA! DANG holes, EVERYWHERE!
 

ECS said:
My wife wanted to visit her Otey cousins in Bedford county, I agreed to take her this coming weekend, and it would give me the opportunity to visit with James Beverly Ward.
After leaving my wife in the Otey's care, I made my way to Lynchberg. Stopping at the local postal office to inquire of Ward's residence, luck would have it that Ward's son was in employ there. I told the reason and interest in my visit with his father, and he agreed to take to his fathers home, mentioning that his fathers health was frail.
Upon arrival to the Ward home, I was directed to the formal parlor where James Beverly Ward rested in a blanket covered divan. The pallor of the ill was apparent on his face, but he greeted me with a smile.
"So you want to know about THE BEALE PAPERS that I published".
"Yes Sir", I eagerly replied, "Is the story and the treasure real".
Ward was seized with several coughs and then replied," The story has some elements of truth concerning Thomas Beale, but much of it was the creation of myself, my cousins Hutter and Sherman, and friend Guggenheimer".
"Then the treasure never existed", I asked?
"The treasure is real, but it must be left alone. It was the cause of great horror in Bedford county..."
"HORROR!, I interrupted, " There is no horror in the story".
"In writing THE BEALE PAPERS we decided not to tell the true story of the events of 1821. Sir remember my warning, leave this matter be. I bid you, good day Sir".
With that said by Ward, I was escorted to the door by his son who told me to never return.
Click to expand...

This was at Hunter's Hill; the ghost of James Beverly Risque was listening...
 

I attended the lecture at Roanoke College which I found most interesting. After an open question and answer session, the alienist concluded the night. With great trepidation, I made for the stage edge and introduced myself.
After a brief time of small talk, I presented the matter for which I came.
I spoke of the Beale Papers, my visit with Ward, the crystal gazer, and the death pit.
The alienist was most intrigued and stated he could mesmerize a subject into accepting a passed soul, but the subject must be an adept close to the spirit world. Also to truly work, the subject while in an induced trance, must be in a location that was once habited by the spirit being summoned.
I knew the location had to be the Washington Hotel in Lynchberg, as for the adept, I instantly thought of Crazy Chester.
Crazy Chester would walk the streets of Roanoke with his dog ,Jack, talking to unknown invisible entities in the ether, and speaking of the Judgment Day.
The alienist agreed that Crazy Chester would be a perfect adept for our endeavor.
I could not wait to tell brother George about this nights turn of luck.
 

A sideways glance told me George had chased enough geese for the time being and Chester was all on my efforts.
A few brief inquiries led to Chesters haunts. Intercepting him at the Nazareth livery heading out for his rounds of peddling his bagged" fertilizer" wares he greeted me with a brilliant grinning and a hearty handshake,yet a no to my offer of procuring him lunch.
Instead he introduced me to his horse Annie and repeatedly suggested I take a load offannie for free.
Mustering patience I offered then not just a lunch, but this time lunch at the former Washington Inn. Site of former tortured soul Morris,and strange tales of spirits.
He sobered then, and brushing his suit frantically asked who would pay for the trip; then before I could answer ducked back into the livery and relieved Miss Annie of her load.
A quick whistle for old Jack and Crazy Chester followed me and he caught me in the fog of his bouquet whilst imbibing in a fresh snuff ,with a "tally ho!" let us be gone.
 

The alienist was delighted with Crazy Chester, whom he deemed as a sensitive empath, a perfect subject for mesmerizing- he was not that pleased with his odor. We prepared a hot bath and placed Chester into the claw foot tub under his protests.
Afterward I presented him with a pair od blue canvas pants from San Francisco and a linsey-woolsey shirt.
Chester turned to me and asked me to see to his dog Jack, that no harm would come to him.
I replied, "Wait a minute Chester, you know I am a peaceful man, no harm will come to Jack, and I will lend a helping hand".
We were all taking aback, when George joined us at the Washington, ready to join our spirit call.
We were assured by the innkeeper that the room we were in was once occupied by Thomas Beale.
Our session would begin at nightfall.
 

ECS said:
The alienist was delighted with Crazy Chester, whom he deemed as a sensitive empath, a perfect subject for mesmerizing- he was not that pleased with his odor. We prepared a hot bath and placed Chester into the claw foot tub under his protests.
Afterward I presented him with a pair od blue canvas pants from San Francisco and a linsey-woolsey shirt.
Chester turned to me and asked me to see to his dog Jack, that no harm would come to him.
I replied, "Wait a minute Chester, you know I am a peaceful man, no harm will come to Jack, and I will lend a helping hand".
We were all taking aback, when George joined us at the Washington, ready to join our spirit call.
We were assured by the innkeeper that the room we were in was once occupied by Thomas Beale.
Our session would begin at nightfall.
Click to expand...

Getting GOOD!
 

While the alienist and I were preparing the room with candles, sandalwood incense, and patchouli oil for the session, George and Crazy Chester were seated on the hotel's verandah keeping Miss Anna Lee company.
Miss Anna Lee of the Confederate War in Lynchberg when she was still a girl. How that damn yankee, Hunter, came through, and stayed at Mr Hutter's house, then departed after they took what goods they needed.
She went on to tell before the town was told that Richmond fell, Major Hutter on a noble steed led a group from VMI and two wagons, that were on the way to the Peaks of Otters.
We knew the Cause was lost when the Yankees returned and rang all of Lynchberg's churches bells.
"That winter of '65 was hard, we were hungry, just barely alive", Miss Anna Lee struck her tiny fist on her chair, "They left us with nothing, taking the very best".
"George, I hate to intrude on your conversation, but it is time to begin", I nodded politely at Miss Anna Lee as I helped Chester rise from his chair.
We made our way up the staircase, the alienist waiting at the landing.
 

The alienist had Chester sit in the gold brocade chaise that was in the room, and lit the candles and put the lock on the door, as if it were something he had done a hundred times before. the sweet smell of sandalwood and patchouli filled the room as candle shadows swayed across the room lie wheat n a breeze.
George and I were instructed to place cotton in our ears and face the wall as the alienist placed Chester into the trance state.
The alienist withdrew a large gold pocket watch and told Chester to follow its pendulum movements, as he spoke a soft sing-song.
I turned to the wall and covered both ears with my hands. George had done the same.
Like a castle in the corner in some medieval game, I perceived terrible trouble coming, but I stayed there just the same.
 

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ECS said:
The alienist had Chester sit in the gold brocade chaise that was in the room, and lit the candles and put the lock on the door, as if it were something he had done a hundred times before. the sweet smell of sandalwood and patchouli filled the room as candle shadows swayed across the room lie wheat n a breeze.
George and I were instructed to place cotton in our ears and face the wall as the alienist placed Chester into the trance state.
The alienist withdrew a large gold pocket watch and told Chester to follow its pendulum movements, as he spoke a soft sing-song.
I turned to the wall and overed both ears with my hands. George had done the same.
Like a castle in the corner in some medieval game, I perceived terrible trouble coming, but I stayed there just the same.
Click to expand...

Play the Twilight Zone Theme song, HERE!
 

With his cane tapping loudly on the table the alienist signaled we were ready.
A strange feeling in the pit of my stomach had arrived from the scents floating in the room,as well as a sense of dread from something unseen.
Turning about to face the table brought a rush of vertigo as words I would write continued with a poor focus, attended by an stepped aside of myself feeling having nothing to do with Chester having been induced.
Chester sat smiling. Answering the alienist's questions of what a man was doing with saddlebags.
I could smell meat now I thought. Perhaps the maid sent away was preparing something?
The clownish gyrations of the cane wielding leader and the babbling of Chester combined with George's look of disbelief was not helping my focus by thinking, clown to the left of me,joker to the right here I am.....
Someone or thing had brought us to this and it felt an unwilling task...an evil doing of someone else's we had become ensnared in.
I pulled a scrap from my pocket then scrawled/ tended my feelings as Chester continued his observations along the questions he received.

Light the candle
Put the lock upon the door
You have sent the maid home early
Like a thousand times before
Like the castle in its corner
In a medieval game
I foresee terrible trouble
And I stay here just the same
 

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Slipping my note back to my waistcoat pocket I looked to George.
No longer a slack jawed spectator he was taking notes himself.
When he looked at me I cupped an ear and pointed at Chester.
George nodded understandingly.
I was becoming heavy lidded from what ever, or whomever, was in the room.
I closed my eyes,only for a moment then the moment was gone...
I was a lightning rod, a chameleon.
Was that heavy scent of iron from the heated candle holder? No it is from blood,fresh blood,that became soured meat, now fresh...
A cavern, now a wagon.. then wagons , now Chester's excited voice,"gold, and emeralds",then in yet another wagon, "look at all that silver!"
The alienist asking about the saddle bags again and Chester repeating "diamonds all...diamonds all"
Gun shots and the most terrible snarling...a site on high ground near a jumble of rocks against a hillside..
Pictures out of order amidst a shuffling came and went behind my closed eyes.. A cabin yard and three men,one sitting,one tending a fire and one leaving the cabin door with a ghastly countenance as if having seen something horrible. A raven , now ravens, upset at having to leave the ground, flew about cussing...
 

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