Happy Halloween — Spooky myths and legends live on at Panther Hollow

The wind blows through Panther Hollow and across to Salem Cemetery on weird octaves, each sequential note haunting as it whistles near the earth. Local lore delves deep into the psyche and unsettles generation after generation.

Panther Hollow near Saltillo was created in part by glaciers that spread here. Roughly 216 acres, it is home to a canopied, dense forest with huge rocks, boasting one township road in and out. It is said to be one of the first byways in the area and the perfect spot for myths to flourish.

Mary Tipton, local historian and author, has researched the area extensively. She said it received its name from a legend of a traveling circus that lost several panthers. Whether true or not, it isn’t the first tale to spring from the hollow. A much older tale tells of a witch living in a small cabin there many years ago. When settlers moved in, they burned her alive for her practices, but not before she put a curse on the land.

Tales of ghostly panthers, suicide, a spooky Civil War veteran that appears amongst the rocks, a crybaby bridge and happenings at an abandoned house persist today. It became a rite of passage for local high school kids to pass through Panther Hollow and turn off their car, letting the darkness wash over them.

“The house at the bottom was spooky. One night we were shining our headlights on the house, and there was something white that kept moving past the upstairs window. We were convinced it was an old curtain, so the next day we went in to make sure. There was no curtain and nothing white in the whole house,” Berlin native Gary Alberts said.

“In the late ‘60s, my friends and I decided to go to Panther Hollow during the full moon. The drive down the road to the hollow was so dark because of overhanging trees, and we drove with no lights just for extra thrills,” Kathy Schmid said. “We came to the open bottom, and the moon was bright as day. There was an eerie circular glow in the yard. It looked like a space ship had landed. We scooted out of there but returned the next day with the sun. Here a patch of tiny, beautiful, white flowers had grown in a perfect 8-foot circle. Since then I prefer fact over fiction.”

The legend of the hollow grew for thrill seekers. A carful of teens and their mom tell a tale of driving slowly down the hollow, then turning around to meander back through. On return, they saw two steady lights come toward them, then fly straight up toward an opening in the trees. They all looked at each other and sped away with urgency.

But Salem Cemetery, known to all as the headless angel cemetery, might be spookiest of all. If we could talk to Mary Magdalena Conrad, who lies beneath the soil, she would tell us she hasn’t had a day of rest in years.

Tipton’s research tells us The Salem Reformed Church of Saltillo was formed in 1843. Both members of this church, Mary Magdalena married George Conrad. Upon her death in 1890 at the age of 57, he erected a 15-foot marble statue of a huge angel over her grave. The church was torn down after WWI, but the cemetery remained.

Her imposing height and nature spawned tales of terror.

“She was said to leave her pedestal at night and fly around the cemetery,” Tipton said. “And if a group of people were standing around the grave, the head would turn to face the doomed individual.”

The biggest thrill was leaving a tape recorder to record her heart beating.

“A friend and I put a tape recorder on the angel grave marker and left for 30 minutes. We got the recorder and listened,” Alberts said. “We could hear ourselves shut the car doors, but the trouble was there were two of us, and we heard three doors closing. For the entire 30 minutes you could hear a heartbeat. I don’t think we ever went back.”

One year her head was vandalized and disappeared, and later her wings and hands were broken off. Her legend grew, along with the imposing figure she made against the night sky. Local trustees often had to run off kids who wouldn’t leave the cemetery alone.

Tales of who stole the head and where it is today still circulate, many believing the sheriff’s department has it.

“The sheriff’s department has had the (angel) head off and on through the years. At one point we gave it to family,” said Richard Haun, chief deputy at the Holmes County Sheriff’s Office. “We do not have it right now.”

Dave Hall, Holmes County commissioner, went down into what is nicknamed “the dungeon,” a holding cell beneath the old jail, to see if the angel head was stored there. He remembers the urban legends.

“We looked in the dungeon and didn’t find the head. I then looked at the old commissioners’ journals but couldn’t find anything about the county receiving the head,” Hall said.

It also is reported Mechanic Township trustees at one point gave the head to remaining descendants.

Elizabeth Russell lives in Hawk’s Landing near Berlin. Originally from Steubenville, she has lived there for eight years with her husband. They live in the third house built in the Hawk’s Landing area. They uncovered something rather curious while digging in the garden.

“We were doing some landscaping in this area, and it was buried. I looked at it and said, ‘Oh my goodness, that is a skull,’” Russell said. “We just added it to our landscaping and thought it was hilarious.

“When my neighbor told me about the story of the angel head, I just couldn’t get over it. The house was built by someone else in 2006, and before that, I was told it was a field that belonged to the people that owned the farm up the hill.”

Russell said she wouldn’t be averse to giving it back to the Conrad family, if any descendants still live in the area — if it is the angel head.

“We just figured it was kids playing a prank at Halloween and didn’t want to get caught with it, so they buried it,” she said.

Myths and legends are a part of every culture. Holmes County’s lie inside a mysterious hollow and spine-chilling cemetery on a hill. The best part of any legend is the mystery of it. Not completely solving that mystery lets it live on.