The Horrors of Whitaker House

By Ron LaCombe

Two young boy's accidental discovery, at the beginning of their summer vacation, lead investigators to reveal The Horrors of Whitaker House

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483503479

Book preview

things.

Chapter One

A leisurely after-dinner stroll along the boulevard, shaded by towering elm, oak, and chestnut trees. The local home owners stopping to greet and have a chat with their neighbours; or just stopping to admire the professionally manicured lawns and gardens of these stately homes. One house stood out, a massive house on sweeping grounds, a palatial mansion. Protecting it were tall square stone pillars with shiny black iron bars between them. Above the gate, the name Whitaker House was carved in the stone arch. The house exuded wealth and standing.

Whitaker House was built in the mid-1800s by Mordicai Whitaker. He was the very successful owner of a large slaughterhouse. His immense wealth allowed him to hire the best tradesmen from all over the world. They were encouraged to showcase their mastery and artistry—no detail was too small.

For many years after its completion, the design of Whitaker House was copied and similar houses were built in other cities and towns. Over time, more houses were built in the area, and a very affluent neighbourhood was born.

The who’s who of the city either lived in the neighbourhood or visited frequently. Almost every weekend, there was a dinner, dance, or festival of some kind—each household trying to outdo the other. Whitaker House was always the place to be. The food, especially the beef, was always a popular topic of conversation among guests.

In its early days, Whitaker House hosted many happy gatherings, welcoming neighbours, business associates, and politicians. There were very few family occasions, however. Mordicai became a very influential member of society.

Always at his side was his son Thomas Mordicai Whitaker. He was born in late 1870, and he was his father’s pride and joy. As he got older, he started learning the family business. This was no typical father-and-son relationship. They didn’t fish or play sports together—everything was business. This later would have an effect on the boy as he grew older. At ten years old, young Thomas was sent to private school for eight years. During this time, he observed interactions between his classmates and their fathers and began to realize what he had missed. After he graduated, he returned home and was immediately put to work in the slaughterhouse, starting at the bottom, cleaning up in the kill room.

When he was younger, he considered this to be a fun place to visit—to see the blood and guts. One day, he was standing too close as he watched the cows being slaughtered. Blood squirted him in the face. Another time, he was caught sitting in a pool of blood fondling a cow’s heart. To actually work in this environment was not much fun. He began to detest the smell. There was no way to avoid the stench anywhere at the slaughterhouse.

After five years, he was given his own office and he talked his father into investing in real estate and expanding the company into owning and managing cattle farms. His father agreed and added another project he wanted his son to look into, rail cars with ice, which would allow for shipping dressed meat to other cities. This was thought to be cheaper and much more profitable than transporting cattle on the hoof.

He enjoyed the time he was away on business and, more important, away from the stench. In 1896, he met Constance Matheson, the daughter of a wealthy dry-goods store owner. A year later, when he was twenty-seven, they were married. He invested in his father-in-law’s business, which quickly expanded to other cities. Thomas eventually moved his office downtown. He liked this arrangement for two reasons: no smell and he could step out from under his father’s shadow.

With the turn of the century coming and the country growing fast, the future looked bright for a young man on the move. Mordicai decided to retire and travel the world. He left the Whitaker Empire in the hands of his son and, in late 1899, he would start his journey. Within a couple days of Mordicai’s announcement, Constance told the family that she was with child. Thomas begged his father to wait until after the arrival of their child to begin his trip. His father said no and that he could cable the news to him and his mother.

In spite of the patriarch’s decision, Thomas was happy and looking forward to becoming a father. Constance would playfully scold him when he talked of spending time with his son, taking him fishing and camping, playing ball, and having fun. She would ask him what he would do if they were blessed with a daughter. He would smile and say, That would be wonderful too.

On a snowy January 17, 1900, Constance went into premature labour. The coachman was sent to fetch the doctor. There was only the mid wife a cook and one chambermaid in the house. The rest of the staff had been given leave to be with their families.

What was supposed to be a joyous time soon turned into a terrible tragedy. There were problems with the birth and bad weather caused the doctor to be late. The mid wife with the help of the chamber maid did their best. But tragically both Constance and the baby died.

In the spring, Thomas received news of another tragedy: his parents had succumbed to malaria. Their bodies would be burned to prevent the disease from spreading and their belongings would be crated and sent home.

In the aftermath of these tragedies, Thomas became moody and hard to get along with, leading to many confrontations with staff. Some employees quit, others were fired. He had contractors close off much of the basement of Whitaker House for use as a shooting range and deemed it out of bounds for staff. During this time, he became more reclusive. He would disappear into the basement for days at a time. He neglected business at his downtown office and the slaughter house.

Chapter Two

In the late 1920s, there were warnings of bad times to come. As business dried up, Thomas continued to provide financial support for some of his staff, leaving him almost broke. He wouldn’t take anyone’s advice on how to save the business. In late 1929, he hired a contractor to seal off the basement and neither Thomas and or the contractor were seen again.

Whitaker House sat empty for years. The Whitaker fortune and the house’s owner had vanished. Seven years after his disappearance, Thomas was declared dead, and all of his remaining property was sold. The money raised covered back taxes, maintenance, and legal fees.

Many of the neighbours faced similar problems. Some of the houses were divided up into four- and six-unit apartments; some of the owners lived in the smaller unit, renting out the rest, hoping in time to return to prosperity once again.

The new owners divided Whitaker House into two large, lavish apartments and added a smaller apartment above the coach house, now a four-car garage and workshop. In late 1945, parts of the property was sectioned off and sold to developers to build houses for returning soldiers.

Many people watched in sadness as large oak, elm, and chestnut trees were cut down. Within months, Whitaker House was surrounded by smaller houses, and the once-stately grounds were gone.

Over the next sixty years, tenants came and went, and Whitaker House was sold twice. From the outside, the house hadn’t changed much. The inside was modernized a couple of times. Other than some paint and wallpaper, the rooms had remained largely intact. The exceptions were the billiard room, which was now a living room, and the smoking room, which had been converted into a bathroom. Whitaker House had survived.

In early 2000, two brothers, Mathew and Paul Worthington, who are related to Thomas’s uncle and their wives, Mary Lou and Elizabeth, made a small fortune with a computer business. They decided to buy a large house and divide it into living and working spaces. Whitaker House was on the market and empty, except for the mean old man Wilford Everest who lived above the coach house. He had been there almost thirty years and would not move.

He was given a lifetime lease by a previous owner; it wasn’t worth fighting in court to have him evicted. He was a writer and spent most of time sitting at his desk looking out the window at the comings and goings of the tenants in the big house and yelling Keep the noise down. He would be gone for months at a time researching a story.

At the beginning of 2001, the two couples moved into the newly decorated and modernized Whitaker House. They had planned to make the apartment over the coach house their offices. Instead, they used the old smoking room and study. When the old man left or passed away, they would convert the apartment into a fitness centre with an outdoor pool behind the coach house.

Everything was going fine for the Worthingtons. Shortly after the move, both wives gave birth to boys within a few months of each other. The cousins grew fast and were inseparable. Whitaker House was alive with happy families.

The backyard that once featured walkways, gazebos, and gardens now became a kids’ play area with swings, jungle gyms, slides, hoops, and a mini ball diamond.

The company was constantly growing, which meant that one or sometimes both brothers would often be away on business. On a hot, sunny Sunday afternoon, Mathew was packing for a two-week trip. He was in his office going over contracts and proposals.

He answered a light knock on his office door. Hi Jason, what’s up.

Ah hi dad, sorry to bother you, but I have to ask you something.

Okay, but make it fast.

Dad, umm can Sean and me build a fort?

First, Sean and I. Where?

Yeah, sorry. Sean and I, out in the backyard.

What do you want a fort for?

Somewhere to hang out.

What’s the matter with the basement?

Oh it’s okay, but umm, we just want a place of our own.

Okay buddy, give me a minute to finish up here and I’ll go talk to Uncle Paul.

Ah Dad, thanks, you’re the best!

Whoa now, no promises yet…

Yeah, thanks Dad.

Jason sat quietly watching his dad check some file folders and carefully place them in his briefcase. Mathew stood up as he scanned his desk once more to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. Okay, done. Let’s go find Uncle Paul.

I saw him on the back porch.

Mathew closed his briefcase and met Jason at the door.

Jason cut him off. Race ya.

The two bounced down the stairs, almost knocking Mary Lou over. They crashed out the kitchen door out to the porch. Uncle Paul was immersed in his notes.

Hi, Uncle Paul.

He looked up. Hi guys. Matt, you packed?

Yes and you?

Pretty much just going over the order. He watched Jason fidgeting.

Good, the limo’s due here at six.

Jason asked, Uncle Paul, where’s Sean?

He’s with Aunt Lizzy visiting her sister. He looked at his watch. They should be back any minute.

Matt said, Our boys have a request we need to talk about.

Sure what is it? He looked over his glasses at Jason.

Uncle Paul, Sean and me…

Sean and I.

Sorry Dad, Sean and I want to build a fort in the backyard.

Why? You guys have full run of the basement.

Yeah, but it’s not the same, it’s creepy.

Matt smiled. Paul, it is a little small.

Paul