“See what a lot of land these fellows hold, of which Vicksburg is the key! The war can never be brought to a close until that key is in our pocket…We can take all the northern ports of the Confederacy, and they can defy us from Vicksburg.” – Abraham Lincoln
I took pictures of the outside of the USS Cairo, walked around the starboard side, and was shocked to find a bridge leading to the inside of the ship. I entered the ironclad, imagining I was a sailor during the battle, rushing to man one of the many gun ports on the main deck. It was amazing inside. It felt like I was looking at a massive sea animal from the inside out. Interpretive panels explained the different parts of the ship as I walked along the main deck to the other side, then around the back to see where the mine had detonated against the hull. I took more pictures and then crossed the bridge leading to the museum.
The museum had some great exhibits. I could spend hours, days, in a museum. Time, however, didn’t allow. I went through the artifacts on display, took pictures, then left through the exit. I worried about time, considering I hadn’t yet reached the battlefield. On my way out, I dropped by the front desk to pick up a brochure and get directions from an adult.
The conversation started with the Ranger explaining, “Usually, people start the battlefield tour at the beginning, where the main visitor center is.”
The Ranger pulled out a map of the battlefield and explained that I had come in through the back, and I needed to drive back the way I came and get back on Old Hwy 27. Makes sense. I thanked him and left, thinking, “Pull it together, man.”
I left the way I came and followed the Ranger’s instructions to a T. I was relieved when I saw the visitors center on my left. I pulled in, found a parking spot, and walked the immediate grounds, taking in the scenery. I picked up another map from the visitor’s center. The battlefield is huge so I knew there was a good chance I would get lost at some point. But on the other hand, I could think of no better place to get lost.
To say the battlefield has a lot of monuments would be an understatement. Vicksburg National Park is one of the world’s most “monumented” pieces of real estate. The monuments, sculptures, tablets, and statues began appearing when Vicksburg was established as a park in 1899. Each monument testifies to the courage and sacrifice of both Union and Confederate soldiers. The 1,300 sculptures and markers earned Vicksburg National Military Park the world’s most extensive outdoor art gallery. That’s a lot to visit in one day, so I had my work cut out.
The one-lane, one-way loop road through the park is split between Union Avenue and Confederate Avenue. The entrance passes through the Memorial Arch along Union Avenue, where I started my adventure.
Forty-seven. That’s how many steps I climbed to get to the top of the Illinois State Memorial. At 62’ tall, the Illinois Monument sits atop the park’s highest point and has a Neoclassical design. The forty-seven steps that make up the staircase symbolize the forty-seven days of the siege of Vicksburg.
When I got to the top of the staircase, I turned around and had a clear view in all directions of the rolling hills where 110,000 men fought. And over 37,000 of them were wounded or lost their lives. The view was stunning. The steps led to the doorway of the memorial, which is always kept open. Inside, the floor has unique décor beneath a vaulting dome. The dome’s center is open, allowing rain or sunshine to pass through. Along the marble wall, hundreds of names were etched onto bronze plates. It was pretty powerful. In my opinion, it was hands down the best monument in Vicksburg National Military Park.
Next to the Illinois Memorial is the Shirley House, a white frame structure that is the only surviving wartime structure within the park boundaries. James and Adeline Shirley owned the home, which was almost destroyed in May 1863 as the Confederate defensive lines were being dug and Union troops were closing in. Confederate soldiers were ordered to burn down all the buildings on Shirley’s property, but the soldier who was ordered to set fire to the house was shot and killed before he could do so.
When the Union troops moved in, the Shirley House became the headquarters of the 45th Illinois Infantry. The soldiers dug in to protect themselves from Confederate artillery fire. The house was damaged but not destroyed during the battle. That shocked me, considering how close it was to the Third Louisiana Redan, a fortified position along the Confederate lines named for its defenders, the 3rd Louisiana Infantry. A redan is an arrow-shaped embankment forming a part of a more extensive fortification.
To get at the enemy, General Grant had the army dig trenches approaching the Confederate forts. Tunnels were dug underneath the defensive position and packed with enough gunpowder to blow a hole big enough for Union troops to barrel through. The first trench operation targeted the Third Louisiana Redan.
On July 24, 1863, the Union mining operation reached forty feet under the redan. It was filled with 2,200 pounds of black powder, and on June 25th, fuses were prepared, and the mine exploded. At the same time, Union artillery and infantry began to fire all along the line. The 45th Illinois spearheaded the attack where a massive crater (12 feet deep, 40 feet wide) was made. The Confederates held their ground and eventually pushed the Union soldiers back to the Shirley House. I’ve heard some loud explosions in my time, but I can’t imagine how loud that was when it went off.
By the time I reached the last monument, I was dead tired and starving. I picked up some food to go and made my way back to the Duff Green mansion. With a fair amount of trouble, I managed to get my truck into a parking spot and then drag myself down to my quarters. I didn’t get undressed; I just ate my food in bed and drifted into deep sleep.
I woke up and could see through the curtain that it was getting dark out. I felt energized, like I had slept the entire day. For some reason, I needed to Google “night historic tours;” I felt like I had the energy for one last tour before my departure the next day. I scrolled through several locations I had already been to, but one stood out as a place I hadn’t been or heard of, and it was close… a couple of blocks from the mansion. It was the McRaven Mansion. I read a little summary of its historical significance, went to their website, and found that they had a night tour at 9:30 PM. Sweet, like it was meant to be. I booked it, got up, and took a shower.
I got out of the shower and dressed quickly. I locked up my room and headed to the front door. The sky was dark, and the moon looked ominous. The parking lot was filled, so I assumed all the guests were in for the night. I opened my truck and was bombarded by empty water bottles, Starbucks Frappuccino bottles, and Nicorette boxes.
“You’re pathetic.” – I thought to myself.
I started my truck and put the address of the McRaven mansion into my phone, even though the place was supposed to be right around the corner. I conducted a 19-point turnaround to get out of the parking lot, then pulled into the empty, semi-lit street. I reached my destination on the first try, quite shocking, and pulled into an empty parking space. To my front was a fence with abundant overgrowth that led to an open gate flanked by a lamppost and a semi-lit sign. I couldn’t read it from where I parked. I couldn’t see any other cars, and the neighborhood looked questionable. I began to rethink my life’s decisions.
I got out of my truck and approached the gate. Behind it was a cobblestone path curved through overgrown hedges and trees leading up to the mansion’s front yard.
There it was, in all its nightmarish glory. I felt the hair stand on my neck as I took it all in. Maybe I should have researched this place a little more. I felt scared like I was back in the shit, and that felt exciting for some reason.
I walked to the entryway with its grand front porch in Greek revival style. I gave two hesitant knocks on the unusual door knocker and stepped back, unsure what to expect.
I heard the crunching of footsteps on the cobblestone path behind me. My blood chilled as I slowly turned around to confront the noise.
Ambush – came to mind.
I caught my breath again as an older couple appeared through the overgrowth. The tour started at 9:30, so we had a few minutes to explore the outside of the property. I was entranced by one of the trees in the yard when I heard the front door of the mansion creak open behind me. Our tour guide, Sharon, received us dressed in a late 19th-century outfit. She informed us there would be a five-minute video on the property’s history.
The couple sat at the bottom of the winding staircase, and I sat a couple of steps above them. I didn’t know these people, but I wanted to stay close to someone. The house had a creepy vibe to it. I can’t explain it; maybe the lighting or just how old it all was.
McRaven was built in three sections (1797- Spanish Colonial) (1836- American Empire) (1849- Greek Revival), and each section of the house is still furnished true to the period in which it was built. Every room is lavishly furnished with museum-quality antiques and artifacts valued at over $1,000,000. McRaven was featured in National Geographic Magazine as “The Time Capsule of the South.” And I could see the transition from one period to the next. The entire tour felt like a walk through time.
McRaven Mansion has a long history of war and brutality. No wonder it’s considered the most haunted home in Mississippi. Many called this place home. The first portion of the home was built by a highwayman called Andrew Glass, circa 1797. Glass enjoyed robbing people on the Natchez Trace and stowing his loot at the McRaven House. His wife eventually killed him on the top floor.
The property was then purchased by Sheriff Stephen Howard in 1836. Stephen and his 15-year-old wife, Elizabeth, wanted to start a new family in the home, and soon after, Elizabeth became pregnant. Unfortunately, childbirth back in the day could quickly take a turn for the worse. In this instance, it did, and Elizabeth died in the upstairs bed. Stephen was overcome with sadness, so he moved out and sold the property to its next resident, John H. Bobb.
Mr. Bobb owned the home from 1837 to 1864. During the Siege of Vicksburg, John allowed his home to be used as a Confederate hospital. During that period, many soldiers died in the home, their names lost to history.
While the Union occupation of Vicksburg kicked off, tensions between locals and Union soldiers began to mount in the city. On May 18, 1864, John got into a shouting match with Union soldiers passing by his home. When they threatened John, he took offense and retaliated. Finding a brick, he hurled it at one of the Union officers, hitting his mark and knocking the soldier out. The Union soldiers dragged their comrade away, vowing revenge.
Later that day, more soldiers returned and arrested John and his nephew. They were told they would be escorted to Union General Slocum’s headquarters. They were led into a wooded area where John and his nephew tried to escape. John was shot in the back and hit the ground. The soldiers finished him off with a bullet to the face. Pretty violent end.
Sharon led us up the winding staircase to the second floor, reliving the stories behind each room. Civil War artifacts were placed on an old hospital table in the 2nd floor hallway. Andrew’s room was pretty spooky. It had a Hannibal Lecter feel to it. The shawl draped over the bed gave a creepy spider web effect. No bueno.
Sharon shared the haunted history behind the home as we made our way down to the old kitchen from the original structure. Dr. Steven Reed and his wife Kendra, who bought the home in 2015, said as many as fourteen spirits inhabit the property.
Elizabeth Howard’s spirit is said to be one of those spirits. Her figure has been seen on the flying wing staircase and in the dining room. Leland French, the present owner, saw the ghost of William Murray (Owner in 1882, who also died in the home) on the staircase. French ran back upstairs and locked himself in Mr. Bobb’s bedroom. The next day, he contacted a local priest and had the house blessed.
It was fascinating to hear the stories of owners and visitors and their encounters with the spirits that share the home. Sharon had her own experiences after working at McRaven for over two years. There’s no amount of money you could pay me to work there.
We ended the tour in the old kitchen from 1797. Sharon gave me a McRaven chip and bid farewell. I had enough of McRaven. Now, I just wanted to jump into my bed at the other haunted mansion. Fantastic planning all around.
1 Comment
Tom Heffernan · December 2, 2019 at 00:15
great read, Michael, I enjoyed the factual parts as well as your side comments to yourself (and anyone listening nearby, I’m guessing). thanks for sharing your journeys! be well, see you when i see you. Mr Heff