A picturesque town with rolling green hills, a beautiful common, and glistening churches; it’s hard to believe Harvard has a dark, mysterious side. But as autumn winds whip shriveled leaves across the barren landscape, townsfolk draw close to the fireside and whisper tales of unnatural forces, misplaced bodies, and witchcraft.
One strange location is near 38 Stow Road, where vehicles appear to defy gravity. People come to the base of what’s known as Magnetic Hill, especially at night, and put their car in neutral. Releasing the brake, they marvel at how the car rolls up the hill as if pulled by an unseen hand. Is it magnetism? An optical illusion? Or have natural forces been inverted on that particular stretch of road?
The latter possibility cannot be ruled out, given the town’s spooky past.
In the late 1600s a man named John Willard owned 30 acres in Still River. Unfortunately, he also had land interests in Salem Village and was hired to hunt down people accused of witchcraft there. But when ordered to arrest people he knew were honest, upright folk, he had misgivings and quit his job. Thus vulnerable, he himself was accused. Fleeing Salem, he was arrested in Groton and brought back for trial.
Willard’s chief accuser was 12-year-old Ann Putnam, one of the so called ‘afflicted girls,’ who said he had beaten her baby sister, Sarah, to death. Two other girls were overcome with ‘terrible fits’ when they tried to approach him on the stand. Ann Putnam’s mother also confronted the man, saying she had seen, “many ghosts who claimed Willard had killed them.” Professing his innocence to the end, Willard was hanged Aug. 19, 1692.
About 30 years later, three girls from Littleton started acting ‘bewitched’ and accused a neighbor of sorcery. The hapless woman died in childbirth soon afterwards, and although one of the girls admitted it was a hoax, the incident caused quite a stir in neighboring villages.
For instance Mrs. Knight, a Harvard woman, was having trouble making butter. One day she noticed a large black spider crawling out of the churn and gave it a whack. Though seriously crippled, it got away by crawling up the chimney. The next day her neighbor, Goody Pollard, sent for a doctor, saying she was badly lamed from a fall. This was reason enough for Knight to accuse her of witchcraft, but Pollard was never sentenced.
Another creepy situation occurred in the late 1700s. When tuberculosis was sweeping the area, one Harvard family lost eight children. A daughter, who knew she would soon succumb, gave a final wish to her friends. She instructed them to cut out her heart and burn it. All the family members then inhaled the fumes, hoping this would prevent further spreading of the disease. Apparently it was successful, because family members lived to pass the tale along to their grandchildren.
Around that same time, a man named Shadrach Ireland came to Harvard. An itinerant preacher of the Great Awakening, he publicly proclaimed that churches of the day were stagnant, and said the clergy were “sunk in sloth and selfish indulgence.” To avoid persecution, he secretly built the Square House on what is now Shaker Road. All construction was done at night, and workers built concealed chambers in the cellar and a hidden stairway that led to a cupola on the roof.
Ireland hid in the basement, allowing his followers to occupy the main living space, and would occasionally sneak up to the cupola to watch for pursuers. This kept him safe, and he lived long enough to die of old age. But Ireland believed he was immortal and left instructions that he should never be buried: “I will arise on the third, or ninth, day with rejuvenated powers.”
Upon his demise, Ireland’s flock followed his wish, but before long the stench from his decomposing body made them realize his immortality claims were exaggerated. They first stuffed his corpse into one of the hidden cellar chambers, but after a while they had to creep out at night to bury him in a nearby cornfield. His unmarked grave is still there today. This left the group without a leader, but a year later they were visited by Ann Lee, who converted them to the United Society of Believers, also known as the Shakers.
People in town who believe in ghosts tell of a Revolutionary War drummer named Hill who was passing through Harvard on his way home from Boston. The war was over, and he carried his wages with him. After stopping at the Saunderson Tavern on Littleton Road, he was never again seen alive. Some suspected that a shady character named McDaniel did him in. Others suspected Saunderson himself, who left town soon afterward.
A few years later, someone plowing Ebenezer Bridge’s nearby farm discovered a skeleton in one of the furrows. A peculiarity in the young man’s teeth allowed his father to identify the remains as the missing drummer. They buried him under a tree but never solved the case. Some say he still searches the area for his money and his killer because people on Littleton Road at night have reported hearing the sound of drumming.
So, a word to the wise: beware when walking the streets of Harvard after dark, especially around Halloween, because there’s no telling when Harvard’s mysterious past may come back to haunt you.