The Morris-Jumel Mansion Anthology of Fantasy and Paranormal Fiction

By Camilla Saly-Monzingo

“George Washington used the Morris-Jumel Mansion as a base while fleeing New York. I’ve had writing sessions and meetings for ‘Hamilton’ there. Some writers go to the Berkshires — I go to 162nd Street.”

—Lin Manuel Miranda, author of Hamilton

The Morris-Jumel Mansion Anthology is the first licensed short story collection about this legendary historic New York City landmark, that brings together all the myths and rumors from the hauntings by Stephen and Madam Jumel, the servant girl and the Hessian soldier, as well as the Cabinet meetings of President Washington and the wild parties of Vice President Aaron Burr.

In these pages, you’ll find 14 tales featuring the Mansion, and its inhabitants over close to 300 years, from the Revolutionary War through the time of Madame Jumel and Aaron Burr, to the present, and even beyond. This anthology features tales of romance, science fiction, mystery, historical fiction and time travel and the just plain supernatural. You’ll never see the Mansion the same way again after reading this collection.

“I wrote a whole musical about Washington Heights ... kinda hang[ing] in Aaron Burr’s bedroom, where I would go to work and write.”
—Lin Manuel Miranda, author of Hamillton, on the Morris-Jumel Mansion

• Language: English
• Publisher: Riverdale Avenue Books
• Release date: Oct 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781626013063

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The Morris-Jumel Mansion Anthology of Fantasy and Paranormal Fiction

Copyright © 2016 by Camilla Saly-Monzingo

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

For more information contact:

Riverdale Avenue Books

5676 Riverdale Avenue

Riverdale, NY 10471

www.riverdaleavebooks.com

Design by www.formatting4U.com

Cover design by Oleander Plume and Scott Carpenter

Front and back cover photo images by Trish Mayo

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62601-306-3

Print ISBN: 978-1-62601-307-0

All stories printed with individual authors’ permission

First edition, October 2016

Table of Contents

Foreword, by Carol S. Ward, Morris-Jumel Mansion Executive Director

Introduction , by Camilla Saly-Monzingo

A Brief History of the Mansion

Tea with the Lady, by Leanna Renee Hieber

How Eliza Became A Ghost, by Andrea Janes

Olde Mischief, by Diane Oates-Lopez

Whisper In The Shadows, by Gina Marie Guadagnino

Reflections on the Death and Life of Kings, by John Michael Curlovich

First Case Scenario, by Aaron Zwintscher

Eliza’s House: A Radioplay, by Silbin Sandovar

The Caretaker, by C. Rips Meltzer

The Intercession of Our Lady of Mt. Stephen (Patron Saint of Mothers, Fatherless Children and Girls Who Must Work for a Living, by Gregory Washington

The Spark, by JN Welsh

Invisible, by E.J. Rodriguez

The Life Between Lives is What Matters: The Eliza Jumel Incarnation, by Nikenya Hall

Convergence, by Lee Rose

The Making of a Modern Woman, by Tammy Rose

About the Authors

About the Editor

Foreword

by Carol S. Ward

What is history but a collection of stories, narratives left to us by those who came before so that we can learn and engage with the past? As the Executive Director of the Morris-Jumel Mansion, I am constantly telling the details of the past inhabitants of the museum—whether that is Roger and Mary Morris’ first calling Mount Morris home in 1765, George Washington looking out to see Manhattan burning in 1776, or the many amazing details of Eliza Jumel’s life in the home from 1810-1865. The stories don’t end there, though. The house has truly been a witness to history, having stood on the same spot during the Harlem Renaissance and the Jazz Age, and having served as a place for writer/director Lin-Manuel Miranda to write, sing and develop portions of his extraordinary musical, Hamilton.

I tell my staff, docents and volunteers that we are storytellers making history come alive for all who enter the museum. So it is with great pride and excitement that we see this anthology being published, turning history on its head a bit and creating more stories about the house. The Mansion itself is a character in all the stories you are about to read. Although when you visit it, the Mansion may seem silent, it speaks through these authors’ words and characters.

As we went through the process of selecting which stories to include within these pages, I was amazed at the creativity of the authors. Ghosts, time travel, romance, zombies are all here, but at the heart of each story is the Mansion and its history. The haunted (in more ways than one) past of Eliza Jumel grabbed many an author’s attention, and she deserves her due as a central character in this anthology. And yes, if you ask me, I do think she still walks these halls, and is thrilled to see the current administration of the museum honor her in word and deed. Eliza: We are working to bring the majority of the house back to your mid-19th century glory.

The museum’s official tagline has become There is always something new at Manhattan’s oldest house. This anthology is just the latest example of the plans that the Morris-Jumel Mansion has to honor the past, while staying relevant in contemporary society. We house an amazing American art, furniture and decorative arts collection. We exhibit the work of contemporary artists. We open our doors to New Yorkers, school groups, scholars and visitors from around the world.

I hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I did. May they inspire you to come visit the Morris-Jumel Mansion and become a part of our history.

Carol S. Ward

Executive Director, Morris-Jumel Mansion

September 2016

Introduction from the Editor

I can’t remember the exact date when I first came to the Morris-Jumel Mansion, but I do remember what a surprise it was. To come upon this place from another time, hidden right behind St. Nicholas Avenue was a surprise and a delight. Half a block from the 163rd Street stop of the C train, up a small flight of steps in a stone wall, I found myself standing on Sylvan Terrace: a street lined with small, old fashioned wooden houses. I was standing on what appeared to be cobblestones (they’re actually called Belgian blocks). The silent street was completely empty of cars. Straight ahead I could see a large iron gate. I’d stepped out of the present and into New York City’s past, but it wasn’t a dream: I’d found the Morris-Jumel Mansion, just as the writers of these stories have done.

Inside the Mansion’s grounds there is an unmistakable feeling of calm, and once you cross the threshold into the house, you know this is a real place—no theme-park recreation: people have lived and died here for centuries.

There is no other way to put it: the house tells you how to behave when you walk through its doors. For one thing, Eliza Jumel’s presence is unmistakable. Every time I come, I greet her and thank her for allowing me to visit. I have never seen her, but I feel her as soon as I enter the grounds, and I am honored to say she seems to have communicated with me at several of the museum’s paranormal investigations.

The writers in this anthology didn’t have a cabal to agree on their reaction to the Mansion. They have heard the house, too. They have listened, and it has told them things—and it has sparked their imagination. Yet each of them has a distinct sense of what has, or could, or will happen in this remarkable place.

What is particularly gratifying about this collection of stories is its diversity. These writers are Latino, African-American, white, gay, straight, bisexual. They are parents, they are childfree, they are single and partnered. They are young and hungry; they are settling into mid-life; they are older and wiser. What’s more, these tales are ghost stories, science fiction, mystery, romance, erotica, time travel, visions of the afterlife, and paranormal fantasy.

The more you know about the Morris-Jumel Mansion, the more fascinating it becomes. Its real history is, frankly, astonishing, but those tales are too numerous to be recounted here. Visit it. Research it. I think, like me, you’ll be amazed by what actually occurred in the lives of its inhabitants, and within its walls.

Step through the doors of the Morris-Jumel Mansion with us, and welcome.

Camilla Saly-Monzingo

Harlem, New York

September 2016

A Brief History

of the Morris-Jumel Mansion

The Morris-Jumel Mansion was built in 1765 as a summer villa by Colonel Roger Morris and his wife, Mary Philipse. Roger Morris was born in England, and Mary Philipse was born and raised in the colony of New York. Their country estate was named Mount Morris, extending over 130 acres from the Harlem River to the Hudson River. Mount Morris was one of the highest points in Manhattan, offering clear views of New Jersey, Connecticut, and all of New York harbor. With the help of their workers, the Morris family grew fruit trees and raised cows and sheep. At the time, the island of Manhattan consisted mostly of woods and farms. The roads were built on old trails made by the Native Americans. When New York began to heat up with the stirrings of Revolutionary War, the Morrises abandoned their home, fleeing to England because they were Tories, loyal to the British Crown.

In the Autumn of 1776, George Washington and his Patriot officers moved in and made the house their headquarters for five weeks. It was a strategic location because the house offered a great view of Manhattan, and both the Hudson and Harlem Rivers. Washington occupied the Mansion from September 14 to October 21. From this strategic position he planned his army’s first successful victory: The Battle of Harlem Heights. This victory demonstrated that the American army could beat the British in battle, and brought hope to the soldiers of the Continental Army. Even though Washington’s troops were victorious at Harlem Heights, he and his men were soon forced off Manhattan Island by the British.

After Washington’s army abandoned Manhattan Island, the house served as headquarters to the British and their allies, the Hessians, who were hired German soldiers. It is during this time that a Hessian soldier died on the stairs of the mansion, impaled by his own bayonet, in what seems to have been an accident. When the war came to an end, the new government of the United States of America confiscated the Mansion and its property.

Twenty years after the Revolutionary War, in 1810, Stephen and Eliza Jumel purchased the house. Stephen Jumel had come to New York from southwestern France to make his fortune as a merchant. Favorable tariffs and faster sailing technology made Atlantic trade in raw materials and luxury products highly lucrative. His wife Eliza had grown up in poverty in Rhode Island, but became one of the wealthiest women in New York due to her business acumen. At a moment when Stephen’s business was foundering, Eliza applied herself to the real estate trade, buying and selling land and renting properties downtown. Her success made large profits for her husband and herself at a time when it was very unusual for a woman to be active and successful in business.

Stephen Jumel died in 1832, purportedly in a haying accident. Shortly thereafter, Eliza Jumel married controversial former statesman Aaron Burr. Burr had run for President in 1800, but lost the election to Thomas Jefferson. As the runner-up, he became the Vice President, a position that did not carry much political power. He ran for Governor of New York in 1804 and lost that race as well. Burr blamed his political opponent Alexander Hamilton for both defeats. Culminating a long-standing rivalry, he challenged Alexander Hamilton to a duel. The rest, as they say, is history. Hamilton was killed, Burr was tried and acquitted, and Burr lived on to the age of 80.

In 1833, just 14 months after Stephen Jumel’s death, the 58 year-old Eliza Jumel married the 77 year-old Aaron Burr. Eliza married Burr most likely for his status as a former Vice President. Burr married Eliza most likely for her money. The marriage did not last long. Eliza soon realized that she was in danger of losing her fortune due to her husband’s financial excesses. She filed for divorce in 1833. Her divorce lawyer was Alexander Hamilton’s son, Alexander Hamilton, Jr. Interestingly, Aaron Burr died in Staten Island on the day the divorce was finalized.

Eliza lived on in the house until her death in 1865 at the age of 90, exactly 100 years after the Mansion was built.

In 1904 the City of New York purchased the house and turned it into a museum. When the museum first opened in 1907, it was almost exclusively focused on celebrating George Washington’s brief time there. Today, the Mansion honors the history of all of its inhabitants.

The Morris-Jumel Mansion is the oldest remaining house in Manhattan. It is a museum highlighting over 200 years of New York history, art, and culture.

The neighborhood surrounding the Mansion is known as the Jumel Terrace Historic District. This important area has been the home to many illustrious individuals. The hill that Roger Morris once called Mount Morris, Eliza Jumel renamed Mount Stephen. The area became known as Sugar Hill during the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s. Prominent African-American statesmen, artists and public figures including Duke Ellington, Paul Robeson, Jackie Robinson, W.E.B. DuBois and Thurgood Marshall lived in this area. The buildings in this district are protected by the New York Landmarks Commission and must be maintained by their owners to look as they did when they were new. Because of this, the appearance of the neighborhood has changed very little since the late 1800’s.

Tea with the Lady

by Leanna Renee Hieber

Nothing less than my very best dress would do for afternoon tea with the Lady Jumel. She deserves the utmost respect, and I would happily go through every ritual of the age to offer it. I have always been a woman trapped out of time. A house call such as this is an oasis for my thirsty old soul. So donning doubled skirts, a jaunty hat, lace gloves, and fitted bodice, I armored myself to face the anachronism that is me, myself, in this modern age.

Withdrawing a fan from a drawstring bag, I set off to that glorious mansion in Washington Heights: a place where the continuous bustle of Manhattan Island seems never to have managed to disturb the peace and serenity of those carefully tended 18th Century grounds. This place was my favorite respite, a warm shelter for memories of a distant past.

As I made my way through the city’s endless, raucous clatter, I thought of my host. I couldn’t help but refer to Mme. Eliza Jumel by a title, for she was a woman of the poise, grandeur and presence one might associate with aristocracy. She was possessed of a strength and certitude rare in her contemporaries, unheard of to many: a woman as ahead of her time as she was integral to its chronology. But she was not, officially, a titled Lady. She was never actually accepted by high society, due to many aspersions cast by that oft-hypocritical class. One such judgment was that she had once trod the theatrical boards. Actresses may have long been a part of high-society’s diversions, but actors were not accepted into the best circles. Yet many made their way into influential homes, and such was the way Mme. Jumel had secured her first husband.

I have always understood and empathized with such difficult seas as Eliza navigated. I have always been a theatrical spirit, tossed between the worlds of struggling city artist and storyteller. Having also basked in footlight and spotlight myself, I’m fully aware that the beleaguered profession is not always afforded its due respect.

Perhaps it is my ardent commitment to being a teller of tales and a writer of words that has made me so welcome in my host’s home, for I honor her tale above all others. She has never made me feel anything less than a participant in the unfolding of history. Her Mansion, remaining in her name, still stands. It has the last word. No other such home stands on this island as does hers. She and the house are entwined.

The moment I step foot onto the terrace, I feel the tensions of the city fall away. Every care that has ever plagued New York’s starving artists may be vanquished by this space, so carefully tucked away, so preciously preserved, straddling the centuries. It has survived despite all odds; so then will I.

The grounds are tree-filled and flower-rich, the stone walk is a comfort to sole and soul: my feet understand the feel of slate better than the press of modern concrete and asphalt. Curving around to the front entrance and the grand pillars, climbing up the wide porch and portico, I feel the stage is always set for me.

Under those great Federal eaves all are welcome, provided fundamental respect remains the ground upon which any visitor stands. She brooks no nonsense, and steers those too forward back into their place, making gentlepersons of the city—one visitor at a time.

At a time when so grand a mansion and its environs would have been subsumed, relegated and descended upon by any number of New York’s leading male entrepreneurs and developers, the Lady has maintained the property within her name, her asset, her agency, and her legacy.

Yes of course, the great names that have occupied that house excite the imagination: a cycle of Loyalists who fled, revolutionaries who were sheltered there, heroes like George Washington, and men of infamy like Aaron Burr, who were housed there, and countless unnamed women who would have waltzed in and out of the elegant Octagon Room. And mysteries remain, about LaPrince, the Hessian, the Maid on the Stairs, and many others. This house is a foci of import across centuries as history was made and remade, victors crowned and villains sheltered, but now all must bow to Eliza’s name that alone remains. It is as if Manhattan heights breezes only blow at her altitude, and out across the Hudson in accordance to her will—she is that much of a force in this place.

On this fine Sunday when she bid any of us who remained within her orbit to come calling, I let loose the doorknocker and was led inside. The wide Romanesque arches inside the front foyer have always been transportive portals, rooms where it happened, and there the Lady of the House has always managed to stop time.

I drifted, as was my custom, into the stately parlor of cooling blues and greens, where, on this visit, the elegantly patterned paper was upstaged by the Lady’s portrait. The likeness of the infamous Mr. Burr and hers were hanging respectively over handsome desks, parted by a hearth. Unpinning my hat and slowly sinking into a velvet-covered seat, I patiently awaited the lady of the house’s ineffable presence.

During our periodic visits, she does not necessarily speak. The companionable silence is never strained. Spending time with an old soul and a long lost friend is a refreshing, regenerative act each and every time. Consummate, eternal hostess, she did not keep me waiting long.

Today, a cool breeze picked up as she entered the room. The modern electrical lighting, a necessary concession, blinked.

Hello, m’lady, I murmured, bowing my head.

The lamps flickered response.

I smiled. It is good to see you too, my friend.

There we sat with centuries between us, but what are centuries between old souls?

I sipped tea with the Grand Lady, admiring her irreplaceable home, the treasure of Manhattan, sacred to my heart, cherishing that her spirit remained in it in so faithful and vibrant a watch, so fierce a protectorate. In her eternal company, I lost myself to time.

How Eliza Became A Ghost

by Andrea Janes

The night she became a ghost, Eliza Jumel threw a party.

All day long the halls of the great house had rung with servants’ footsteps. Horse hooves and carriage wheels clattered without ceasing as men made deliveries of fresh flowers, cakes, and fowl. The servants worked without speaking; perhaps they were