Midnight Mary

JUST INSIDE THE entrance to sprawling Evergreen Cemetery in downtown New Haven, a massive, modern-looking, pink granite tombstone stands in marked contrast to its smaller, grayer, Victorian neighbors. Even more distinctive than the stone, however, is the inscription, a concise tale of death's unexpected arrival in the midst of life, headlined by a mystifying assertion which many have read as a challenge or a personal warning. Upon a polished, elongated oval covering most of the otherwise rough-hewn marker is carved this cryptic story: AT HIGH NOON / JUST FROM, AND ABOUT TO RENEW / HER DAILY WORK, IN HER FULL STRENGTH OF / BODY AND MIND / MARY E. HART / HAVING FALLEN PROSTRATE: / REMAINED UNCONSCIOUS, UNTIL SHE DIED AT MIDNIGHT, / OCTOBER 15, 1872 / BORN DECEMBER 16, 1824. In larger letters, cut in bold, black relief, curving over the top half of the oval, appears the haunting proposition that THE PEOPLE SHALL BE TROUBLED AT MIDNIGHT AND PASS AWAY.
This striking monument to the memory of Mary E. Hart, known universally -- and for obvious reasons -- as "Midnight Mary," has inspired the folk imagination to such flights of fancy that Midnight Mary has become the central figure in what is probably contemporary Connecticut's liveliest supernatural legend tradition. Caught in the spell of story variants ranging in content from a premature burial and witch curses to ghost hauntings and unexplained accidents, scores of the curious have been attracted annually to the Hart gravesite, while Midnight Mary admirers from nearby Yale University have made a motion picture featuring her storied but elusive spirit.
Despite the active and widespread circulation of Midnight Mary legends in oral tradition, almost nothing is known about the historic Mary E. Hart. There are those who claim that their research into nineteenth-century documents has disclosed that she was, at the time of her death, a rather ordinary, hard-working, almost anonymous machine-stitcher and corset maker, who was born in New Haven and lived quietly in the Winthrop Avenue neighborhood of that city until she died, at the age of forty-seven. The same researchers also report that the circumstances surrounding her sudden demise were entirely unremarkable, as was the immediate cause of death: apoplexy (the Victorian term for what would be called today a massive cerebral hemorrhage or "stroke"). However, as far as can be determined, none of these "facts" has ever been verified by trustworthy scholars.
If anything, reliable information about Mary Hart's pink granite tombstone and its provocative inscription is even harder to come by. According to one tradition, the Hart family was so anxious to have their Mary given the kind of notice in death that she had never enjoyed in life that they ordered the impressive marker and invented the enigmatic words carved upon it. If notoriety was what they wanted, the monument has probably burnished Mary's memory beyond their wildest dreams.
But, in fact, no one really knows who erected the stone, when it was set in place or why the strange words appear on it. When asked about its history -- as he often is -- Patsy F. Santoro, Evergreen Cemetery's superintendent since 1969, merely shrugs his shoulders and says neither he nor anyone he knows can remember as far back as 1872. But he will tell questioners that the marker looks almost new because he persuaded a local monument dealer to refinish it, without charge, around 1970. The cemetery's star attraction had been looking a bit the worse for wear, he thought.
Of all the legends about Midnight Mary which circulate today in oral tradition, probably the one most widely-known recounts a tale of live burial. It has been reported that not only New Haven youngsters and area college students -- the most numerous bearers of the Midnight Mary tradition -- have kept the story alive, but also that older residents of the Winthrop Avenue neighborhood where Mary Hart lived have been active in perpetuating the legend. According to those who know "the facts," Mary E. Hart did not have a "shock" on that October day in 1872, but was struck down by a rare disease, undiagnosed back in those times, which gave its ultimate victims only the appearance of death. Blinded by grief and apparently convinced by midnight of the same day that Mary had indeed departed, the family called the undertaker in and he hastily went about his funereal work, including burying her body in Evergreen Cemetery.
During the night following her interment, however, Mary's aunt had a terrible dream in which she saw her late niece writhing about in her coffin, clawing at the satin liner and moaning piteously for help. Could a terrible mistake have been made? Was her beloved Mary, in fact, still alive? It did not take long for the family to check on the validity of the vision. They ordered the grave reopened and the coffin removed for inspection. When the heavy lid was finally raised, a ghastly sight met their eyes. Mary was now unquestionably dead, but it was also plainly evident from the grotesque position of the body cramped in the agony of struggle, that her death had been hard -- and very recent. To cover their mistake and ease their anguish, the story concludes, the family erected the magnificent monument with the weird warning and plausible but false death story inscribed on it.
Another tale known to many in New Haven may originally have been related by an 80-year-old Winthrop Avenue resident who swears to its veracity because he was involved in the incident. As the elderly informant tells it, he answered a knock on his front door one night and upon opening it, was greeted by a pleasant young man with a question: had the middle-aged woman he had given a lift to the previous night gotten in safely? The youth quickly added that the rather disheveled woman had been hitchhiking on Davenport Avenue, and after he picked her up, she told him that her name was Mary and that she was trying to get home. She had given the address of the informant's house, the young man said. He had dropped her off at the door and now was simply checking on her well-being. Although the homeowner had to inform the puzzled visitor that no one named Mary lived there, he later became convinced that the mysterious hitchhiker was Midnight Mary. Her grave in Evergreen Cemetery lay directly across the street from his house. (Folklorists would call this legend "Midnight Mary Meets The Vanishing Hitchhiker.")
Far and away the greatest number of legends involving Midnight Mary recall the disastrous consequences of "defying the curse" presumably chiseled on Mary Hart's monument. Known and retold by generations of young people in New Haven, each story incorporates the popular belief that Midnight Mary was a witch whose restless spirit continues to wreak vengeance upon those who fail to heed her tombstone's warning. Typical of the "consequences" cycle is the following account, taped by a 19-year-old South Central Community College student and life-long New Haven resident, in 1972: The story that I'm about to tell you now is one in which three young people went to Midnight Mary's grave one night and walked on her grave and disturbed it. You know she had been accused of being a witch and before she died she claimed that anyone who shall come and try to strike her grave shall die at the stroke of midnight. Well, seven years later, at the stroke of midnight, the exact day that they were there, one youth was found with his throat ripped open. Seven years after that, the second youth was found with his throat ripped open. Seven years after that [the other] youth was found with his throat ripped open, like someone had just slaughtered it away.
Another story which I have heard is about three sailors one time [who] were reported missing. After an investigation, their hats were found at Midnight Mary's gravesite. Supposedly, the way the story goes is that they had gone to Midnight Mary's grave and had heard something and they were frightened. When they ran away, they had to jump over the fence, but they got caught on the fence and they were stabbed by the spiked fence. [I don't know if] this is fact. This is only what I've heard. It should be noted that the wrought iron fence, with its spike-tipped palings, which completely surrounds the Evergreen Cemetery has held a special fascination for Midnight Mary legend-tellers. Many of the stories about those who defy the curse, conclude, like the one involving the three sailors, with the contemptuous disturbers of her grave impaled -- usually through the throat -- on the fence or gate.
Another group of legends about midnight intruders at Mary's grave tell of terrible accidents or strange disappearances which have followed close on the heels of such bold defiance. Two teenagers, for example, are said to have remained at the gravesite overnight to prove their courage. The next day, so the story goes, one was killed in a traffic accident, while the other later fell down a flight of stairs and was seriously injured. On another occasion, according to tradition, a horse and wagon made the mistake of passing by the main gate at Evergreen Cemetery one night, at the stroke of midnight. Witnesses claim that they watched both cart and horse slowly sink from view, as if in quicksand, never to be seen again. Similarly, two fraternity pledges from Southern Connecticut State University, sent at midnight to Mary's grave to make rubbings which they were then to sleep on the rest of the night, simply vanished. Their parents had difficulty accepting the loss.
Perhaps the most widely-believed legend of this sort, however, recounts the tale of two young men who set out one night to stand vigil at Midnight Mary's grave, hoping to see her ghost arise from the tomb at the witching hour. As midnight approached, one of the intruders could stand it no longer and hastily departed over the wrought-iron fence, carefully avoiding the spear-like palings. His companion, however, stayed on, thus apparently sealing his fate. When, in the morning, the lad who had taken early leave of the cemetery failed to meet his friend at a prearranged spot, he told his story to the police, who immediately began an investigation. A search of the cemetery quickly turned up the dead body, rigid in fright, with the cuff of a pant-leg caught tight by a thornbush. Everyone agreed from the evidence that he had been literally scared to death.
So what of the accidents, the disappearances, the injuries and deaths? And what of the message on the pink granite slab of Mary E. Hart? Coincidence? Curse? Hardly a week goes by when someone fails to put such questions to Patsy Santoro at the Evergreen Cemetery. He always has the answer for those who come, often from a great distance, to see and wonder at the legendary grave of "Midnight Mary" Hart. "All I know," says Santoro, "is what I hear."

from Legendary Connecticut by David E. Philips / ISBN 1-880684-05-5 / $17.95

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