Phantoms

Ahhh ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Some say Montreal is scary even without ghosts. Most of its citizens insist on speaking French. They eat poutine--a gruesome mess of fries, curd cheese, and gravy. And if that doesn’t frighten you, just hang around Bagels Etc on Boulevard Saint-Laurent. When he’s in town, it’s a favorite haunt of the “Godfather of Gloom,” singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen.

But for some real spine-tingling, follow me. Plug your eardrums into Cohen’s Death of a Ladies Man and explore Montreal’s creepy history.

Dorchester Square is a good start. In the 1800s, it served as a cemetery for cholera victims. Rumor tells that not all who were interred had shuffled off this mortal coil. To prevent the disease spreading, burials were speedy...sometimes too speedy. Heavily dosed with morphine (thought to be a cure), some of the sick lapsed into unconsciousness and were promptly buried alive.

I hadn’t time to check if French soldiers’ ghosts gathered around Fort Stewart on St. Helen's Island, but Vieux (Old) Montreal’s Rue Saint-Pierre proved inexplicably spirit-free. Although said to be haunted by executed prisoners, not one passerby had a noose around his neck.

One well-documented gallow’s tale is that of Angelique, a black slave accused of setting fire to her furrier master’s home on rue Saint-Paul in 1734. The fire spread and burned down much of the colonial city. Angelique initially denied the crime, but after having her legs crushed by torture, she confessed.

On route to her appointment with the hangman, Angelique wore a white chemise emblazoned with the word incendiaire (arsonist). As she was also forced to carry a torch symbolizing the crime of arson, you’ll easily recognize her unquiet spirit.

Rue Saint-Paul also claims to have a phantom carriage. Along with horse and driver, it vanishes when anyone tries to climb in. How to tell if one of today’s horse-drawn carriages is really the ghost-mobile? I don’t know, but to ensure your money doesn’t vanish too, best leave paying until the ride is over.

Doubting IL would fund expensive carriage rides over Vieux Montreal’s cobblestones, I instead headed to Chateau Ramezay. I’d read this museum displayed an iron cage which had been erected at a crossroads to hold the decomposing corpse of Marie-Josephe Corriveau. Hanged as a witch in 1763, legend tells she returns to the cage tonight.

Sadly I couldn’t find the cage...and the receptionist had never heard the story. A crone-like guide who looked at least 200 years old was summoned from the museum’s depths. She didn’t know the cage’s whereabouts, but explained all about La Corriveau--who had dabbled in murder as well as witchcraft. She freed herself of two husbands by pouring molten lead into their ears. I assumed their restless wraiths were prowling about somewhere, too.

Montreal’s most infamous apparition is Mary Gallagher, the headless “supernatural sex worker.” Before fate intervened, she’d plied her trade as a lady of the night in Griffintown, a rough-and-tumble Irish neighborhood. In June 1879, Mary’s decapitated corpse was discovered in a house cornering William Street and Murray Street. Her head was dumped in a bucket. The murderer wasn’t a client, but a fellow prostitute called Susan Kennedy. Apparently they had picked up a certain Michael Flanagan, indulged in a lengthy drinking binge, then argued who should claim the prize. (By this time in a stupor, Flanagan was undoubtedly not a wonderful prize.) Anyway, the argument was settled by the axe-wielding Susan.

Every seven years, Mary’s ghost is said to wander the area where the dastardly deed occurred. But while William and Murray Streets still exist, little remains of traditional Griffintown. Wandering out this way, I found it’s now mostly car lots and an industrial park...and the last Mary sighting was in 1928. However, maybe the scent of fresh blood will tempt her to return. Some old Griffintown warehouses are being converted into apartments...

Spooky Harvey
Ghost-finder General, International Living

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