he Pennsylvania anthracite coal region is known for time-honored ghost legends.

In fact, the area ranks right up there with Gettysburg when it comes to ghost lore, in part due to a tumultuous history.

The coal fields of Carbon, Schuylkill and Luzerne counties were the site of 16 to 24 horrendous murders known as the “Reign of Terror.”

That period of underground violence and intimidation lasted from 1862 to about 1875, linked to the reputed Molly Maguires, a secret Irish-Catholic society.

The era ended with trials and the hanging deaths of 20 men, whether rightly or wrongly. “The Day of the Rope” remains one of America’s largest official mass executions.

That period of violence has spawned ghost stories and supposed hauntings that have only grown in interest with the passing of time.

Handprint

Among the well-known tales is that of the mysterious handprint.

It can be seen on the wall of Cell Number 17 of the historic Old Jail Museum, formerly Carbon County Jail, Jim Thorpe.

There, on June 21, 1877, prisoner Alexander Campbell, Irish coal miner and suspected Molly member, pressed his dusty or bloody hand against the wall. He said the handprint would never wash or fade away as testimony to his innocence. It hasn’t.

Another site of alleged unrest is at the location of the Wiggans Patch Massacre, now called Boston Run, near Mahanoy City.

There, on the night of Dec. 9, 1875, reputed Molly Charles O’Donnell was shot dead along with his pregnant sister and her unborn child.

The perpetrators were believed to be a group of about 20 armed vigilantes, supposedly seeking retaliation for mine boss murders.

The bodies were taken to the 1874 Tamaqua train station and held on ice overnight. Same too, for the bodies of three executed Mollies.

As a result, some say the Tamaqua train station is haunted. Eerie things have happened there.

On Jan. 5, 2001, a team of eleven experts from the Central Pennsylvania Paranormal Research Association conducted an overnight, eight-hour investigation.

During the night, a thunderstorm rolled in and bats invaded the building, which, at the time, had no electricity.

In the turmoil, the paranormal experts captured on audiotape a voice they came from beyond the human realm.

The recording can be heard saying either “Can you help me?” or “Damn you, help me.”

Other hauntings

Immigrant Jost Fohlhaber’s ghost is said to haunt Locust Mountain between Shenandoah and Mahanoy City. He was savagely murdered while riding his horse on the Catawissa Trail in Aug. 1797. People report seeing a headless horseman galloping along the trail at night.

Near the town of Catawissa you will find the very strange Hooded Grave Cemetery where a few of the 1850-era graves are oddly encased in wrought iron.

The reason for the ornate cages has been lost to history.

Some say it was to keep grave robbers from digging up the dead. Others say it was to prevent vampires from emerging from down below.

Hooded Grave Cemetery is unlike any other in the entire United States.

Then there’s the Stone Couch of Buck Mountain, atop rural Eckley Road.

It’s been a landmark for as long as anyone can remember. A granite couch weighing a few thousand pounds, nobody is certain of its origin, possibly natural.

According to legend, a Native American woman with a papoose on her back hiked up the steep mountainside.

She stopped at the rock formation to feed her baby. But when she reached around, the child was dead.

Brokenhearted, she placed a curse at the site, they say.

As a result, it’s believed that anyone who rests at the couch will meet with tragedy.

If you sit on the couch once, you’ll encounter bad luck. Or discover scratches on your skin.

Sit on it twice, and someone you know will die. Sit on it a third time — you will die.

Some visitors say they’ve seen a specter on that lonely road, a ghostly figure carrying a dead baby.

The stories survive, solid as the rock itself.

They say there are places on this earth that are portals to a different realm.

If that’s true, then the age-old mountains of Pennsylvania’s hard-coal region might just hide a doorway to the unknown.