Spooky Staten Island

👻 A grand stone manor house has stood for centuries on Staten Island’s southern shore– overlooking the Raritan Bay. Built circa 1680, it was inhabited during the Revolutionary War by Colonel Christopher Billopp, who owned the house and surrounding lands. Like many wealthy New Yorkers, he remained loyal to the British crown.

The house was the site of failed peace negotiations, during which patriots including John Adams & Benjamin Franklin met to discuss an end to the war. Their conference was unsuccessful, and 7 years of bloodshed passed before the United States achieved independence. These events gave the Conference House its nickname.

But the Conference House has another claim to fame. It's the scene of one of Staten Island’s oldest ghost stories. As early as the 19th century, locals claimed that the Billopp House was haunted. A caretaker who lived there during this time delighted in sharing tales of the supernatural with visitors, taking particular care to point out a blood stain on the floorboards that could not be washed out. It was believed that a murder had taken place there: Legend holds that a servant of Colonel Billopp’s had been approached by American patriots to spy on the master of the house. Whenever he was home, she would light a candle in an upper window as a signal. When Colonel Billopp discovered this plot, he flew into a rage and threw the girl down the stairs, killing her on the spot.

Other legends report the apparition of a female spirit seen within the house and around the grounds: a young maiden who had been wooed by Colonel Billopp. But when the Colonel deserted her, she died of a broken heart. Those who slept in a certain room of the house reported being awoken “at midnight, by a sweet feminine voice murmuring a plaintive song.”

Still others have claimed to see apparitions of Native Americans, treading silently through the surrounding woods, by night. The area around the Conference House is also home to a site called Burial Ridge—the largest known Native American burial ground in the NYC metropolitan area.

Photo: Billop House / Library of Congress

Who was the girl in the well? 👻🕯️

Captain William Hill Merry was a wealthy and influential Staten Islander. He lived in Stapleton—specifically, on Beach Street. An 1865 census lists the captain, his wife Ann, four of their children, one son-in-law, and two Irish servants as occupants of a wood frame house there.

However, the census neglects to mention the property’s most famous occupant. For if local legends are to be believed… the captain’s house was haunted.

A “fine old well” stood on Captain Merry’s grounds, located not far from the road. Neighbors, who often drew their water from this well, whispered about its resident ghost. Local legend held that a murder had taken place there long ago when a young girl had been thrown into the well. Her name, and the details of her untimely death, have been lost to history.

Perhaps trapped by the injustice of what happened to her, the girl’s spirit had been sighted by many. But most disturbingly, local lore held that every seven years—presumably on the anniversary of her death—the girl’s ghost rose from the depths of the well and began a mournful march toward the bay, walking down modern-day Union Street.

The story of Merry’s Well was so well-known that it appears as an anecdote in a 19th century publication about place names on Staten Island. Today, the area has changed much, though hints of its history remain. The Captain’s house is no longer a house. Instead, The Hop Shoppe—a gastropub serving beer and custom cocktails—stands where it once stood. Merry’s Well is long gone, and if the ghost of the murdered girl still haunts the grounds, she must rise from a well of a different kind.

Photo: Beach Street, No. 129, 131, 135, 137. Percy Speer, NYPL Collections.

👻 Spooky Snug Harbor Tours are here! Join us all month long as we explore after dark, revealing thrilling & chilling tales from Staten Island history.

During the 19th century, hundreds of sailors spent their final days at Snug Harbor. And if legends are to be believed, some have never left.

Our tour will include tales of murder, mayhem, mystery, and the supernatural.

🎟️ To sign up, visit the link in our bio!

“Beware The Signs.” 🕯️

Imagine Staten Island before the Revolutionary War. Fewer than three thousand people lived here then, and the Island itself was sparsely-settled. There were few roads linking its villages, farms, orchards, and fields, and those few roads cut through miles of woods. Ghosts, witches, and even the Devil himself were said to haunt these dark forests and lonely roads.

Old maps of the borough feature places with names like “the Haunted Woods” and “the Haunted Bridge.” But of all the haunted places Staten Islanders whispered about, one of the most infamous was called “The Signs.”

Located in the area known as Bull’s Head, “The Signs” was a crossroads where signs of the supernatural occurred with startling frequency. According to legend, a tavern nearby played host to an array of shady figures. But amid the drinking, gambling, and merry-making, one visitor stood out. Tall, dark, and handsome, the man had “fiery eyes” and never spoke. It was said that he always remained until the wee hours, when the partying ended and travelers dispersed into the night. The unlucky might find themselves followed by this shadowy figure, who’d trail them without a word. No matter how they fled, or zigged and zagged, they could not escape his company. Some believed he was the Devil himself.

And, legend suggests he could take other forms too. One night, a horseman riding past “The Signs'' encountered a beast covered in dark hair. It resembled a dog, but was about the size of a horse. Its fiery eyes glowed red like coals. The horseman fled and the hound broke into a run, chasing him through the dark. Armed with a broadaxe, the brave man raised his weapon and brought it down onto the enormous dog. The beast howled and vanished as the axe clattered to the floor… only to reappear moments later, continuing its chase. Those who were brave enough to take aim at the black dog claimed that "it bore a charmed life against pistol shots."

Sightings of this “witch dog” continued for many years, some persisting into the early 20th century. You can still visit “The Signs” today: look for a street sign that says “Signs Road.”

Happy Thanksgiving 🦃 We’re thankful for all of you!

Enjoy this photo of two Staten Island turkeys enjoying a self-guided tour of the graveyard at St. Andrew’s Church.

Happy Halloween 🎃

Thank you all for an incredible spooky season. 👻 This year, nearly 200 people joined us for our Spooky Snug Harbor lantern tours!

We also shared stories about Staten Island’s haunted history with dozens more at Historic Richmond Town’s Decker Farm. 🌾

Then we lectured at Wagner College, held private cemetery tours, and so much more.

Thank you all for your support and enthusiasm for Staten Island’s graveyards, landmarks, haunted history and folklore! 🕯

“Clear Comfort” is famous as the home of pioneering female photographer Alice Austen.

But did you know that this old house was already famous long before Alice lived there? 🔎

Built circa 1690, “Clear Comfort” was once known by a different name: “the haunted house.” A newspaper article published as early as 1878 describes it as being “…in part inhabited by that truly genteel resident, a ghost.” 👻

By 1895, Clear Comfort was topping lists of haunted places in New York City. In an article called “Haunted Houses,” writer Cromwell Childe muses that “it is just the house to have a specter attached to it.”

Neighborhood superstitions held that the ghosts of enslaved people haunted the house at midnight— terrifying passersby with the sound of rattling chains. But the best known ghost story attached to the home is that of a grief-stricken soldier who visited during the Revolutionary War. Legend suggests that he took his own life in Clear Comfort’s north parlor.

The story goes that during the American Revolution, a young British soldier visited the house and fell in love with a beautiful maiden who lived there. However, her heart was with another— a patriot no less— and so she rejected his advances. This proved too much for the heartbroken trooper.

Late one night, it’s said that he hanged himself from the rafters of Clear Comfort. Folklore holds that ever since, the thudding of his boots can be heard in the halls by night. Some even swore that on the anniversary of this unhappy event, the sound of twinkling boot spurs could be heard overhead, jingling “as they did when the cavalier swung to and fro in death” centuries ago.

It’s said that these ghostly apparitions “kept many a tenant away.”

“What stories those walls could tell of wars and desperate fighting…” one newspaper remarked, “and perhaps of terrible suffering.”

Today, the Austen house is still standing. It’s a museum celebrating Alice Austen’s life & contributions to documentary photography. However, in the shadow of her legacy rests one of Staten Island’s oldest ghost stories.

We’re baaaack! 🎃💀

And just in time for fall ghost tours! 🍂

This October, join us for SPOOKY SNUG HARBOR, a series of flashlight walking tours that will shed light on Snug Harbor’s darkest history…

Journey back in time with us to learn about murder, mayhem, and hauntings at Snug Harbor: one of Staten Island's most beautiful historic destinations.

👉Visit the final resting place of Captain Robert Randall, whose wealth willed Snug Harbor into existence.

👉Ponder the mystery of Chaplain Quinn’s murder, a crime that gripped the nation.

👉Learn about the 19th century disaster that rattled the harbor’s buildings and the unlikely reason its sole survivor escaped.

👉And discover a shocking disappearance that sent the institution into a frenzy.

Visit the LINK IN OUR BIO for tickets!

When Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt died in 1877, he was one of the wealthiest Americans who ever lived. Born to humble beginnings on Staten Island, his transportation empire of steam ships and railroads changed the face of the country.

Most Staten Islanders have heard of The Vanderbilt Tomb. It's a huge, church-like structure built into a hillside, separated from the rest of Moravian Cemetery by an imposing gate. It has been one of our borough's most iconic structures since its construction.

But that grand tomb was built long after Commodore Vanderbilt's death. When the Commodore died, he was actually interred among the humbler headstones of Moravian Cemetery's oldest section (adjacent to its church building) in a much smaller mausoleum.

This smaller tomb, which still stands today, was described as “a subterranean vault about thirty feet square laid in cement. This is entered through a small granite temple, of Doric style, above which stands a shaft of thirty feet in height. The statue of 'Grief' which adorns the temple is very beautiful as well as an appropriate addition to this costly place of sepulcher."

This photo depicts the weeping statue that stands atop the original Vanderbilt family mausoleum in Moravian Cemetery. She is identified simply as "Grief." The sculpture clutches a shroud, shielding her face. Her brow is furrowed with emotion.

Here, the commodore's funeral took place on a snowy January day. Though his estate was valued to exceed the holdings of the United States Treasury, his funeral was restrained. One contemporary newspaper reported: "Simplicity and careful avoidance of pomp and display marked every part of the funeral arrangements."

"Here the railway king expects to be laid," one newspaper mused, "far from the roar of his locomotives or the whir and excitement of Wall Street and the Stock Exchange."

While the famous Vanderbilt tomb is privately owned and off-limits to the public, this smaller structure can be seen anytime the cemetery is open.

Did you know that Staten Island’s colleges have a history of hauntings? 👻

This is Flynn Hall, an administrative building at St. John’s University. It’s a Georgian style mansion built in the early twentieth century.

But before the university moved in, this grand house & its surrounding grounds were part of the Gans family estate. This powerful family made their fortune in shipping, and chose this site on Grymes Hill for its sweeping views of New York Harbor below.

Today Flynn Hall retains much of its original character both inside and out. In fact, some even claim that the spirits of its former occupants still roam the halls by night.

Over the years, students, maintenance staff, and campus security officers have reported strange occurrences at Flynn Hall. Phantom footsteps, whispered voices, and shadowy apparitions have been observed there after hours.

In one particularly frightening incident, a campus safety officer was performing a routine sweep of the building one evening. Just as he was about to lock up, he heard noises coming from the former butler’s pantry. As he approached, he could smell cigar smoke in the air.

When he entered the dark room, he saw nothing… at first. As his eyes adjusted, he began to distinguish the silhouette of a man standing at the opposite corner of the room. Though obscured by the dark, he could see that the man had a thick mustache and eyeglasses.

Startled to see a stranger in the building after hours, the officer shone his flashlight at the spot. But when he did, he was shocked to find that the room was empty. There was no one there. He swept the building again but could find no trace of the shadowy man.

He was alone. Except, perhaps, for the mansion’s resident ghosts.