Provincetown's Forgotten Maritime Disaster - Cape Cod History

In the courtyard of a beautiful but unassuming church on the East End of Commercial Street in Provincetown, there stands a wooden cross. For a church, this is hardly a surprise. That is, until one approaches the cross and finds two plaques, one on either side.

On the side of the cross facing the church is a square plaque that reads: ‘In Memory of the Officers and Crew of the Submarine S-4. Sunk Off Wood End. Dec. 17, 1927.’ On the side facing Commercial Street is a much larger rectangular plaque. Here one finds the names of all of the men lost. There are forty of them. This is the story of the USS S-4, a deeply tragic and also mostly forgotten disaster.

Despite seeming like a 20th-century invention, the history of the submarine dates back to the late 1500s. It was in 1578 that English mathematician William Bourne first conceived the idea of an undersea vessel. It would, however, take more than forty years to put that idea into action. Dutch inventor Cornelis Drebbel is credited with the physical invention of the submarine. He was able to dive underneath England’s River Thames in 1620.

Over the ensuing three centuries, the submarine as a military vessel would grow and evolve. American colonist David Bushnell created a submarine affectionately known as the ‘Turtle’ in 1775. With hand-cranked propellers, it was meant to be used as a weapon against the British during the Revolutionary War. It was a failure.

In 1800, American inventor Robert Fulton designed his Nautilus submarine. It was seen as more modern, coming equipped with adjustable dive planes and a dual-propulsion system. The H.L. Hunley, a Confederate sub, sank the USS Housatonic during the American Civil War in 1864. It wasn’t until World War I that the submarine became a more common piece of equipment, particularly by the Germans with their U-boats.

The 1920s submarines were far advanced than those of the preceding century. Though not without their own operational difficulties, the U.S. Navy’s S-Class vessels represented the first properly functioning designs. S-4 was a diesel-electric submarine commissioned in 1919. The 231-foot-long steel behemoth was one of fifty-one such ‘Sugar’ boats built between 1918 and 1925. Eight years passed with little fanfare or issue with the S-4. That all changed on the afternoon of December 17, 1927.

The USS S-4(Public Domain)

On December 15th, the S-4 had been refitted at the Portsmouth, New Hampshire Navy Yard. After that, it headed for Cape Cod, captained by R.K. Jones. The S-4 was to be engaged in standard speed and maneuverability trials off the tip of Provincetown near Wood End Lighthouse. During the early afternoon of December 17th, while the S-4, with forty men aboard, was performing submerged runs. Up on the surface, a different sort of patrol was happening.

The 1920s were smack dab in the middle of the Prohibition Era in the United States. Provincetown, with its mass of challenging dunes at Race Point, was a haven for illegal alcohol smuggling. The Coast Guard had dispatched a 740-ton destroyer, USCGC Paulding (CG-17), captained by Lieutenant Commander John S. Baylis, to conduct rum patrols around the tip of Cape Cod.

Baylis had just investigated one schooner off Wood End and was headed back into Provincetown Harbor. In the days before radar and sonar, it was incredibly difficult for a ship to know the position of a submarine. What happened next was catastrophic.

The Paulding in 1918(Public Domain)

At about 3:37pm, while the S-4 was surfacing from a submerged run, the Paulding, which was steaming nearby, struck the sub at a speed of 18 knots. Accounts describe the telescope of the S-4 surfacing near the Paulding’s bow, less than seventy-five yards away. Ensign P. Miller, the man on watch for the Paulding, thought it was a fish stick, the marker fishermen use for their nets.

The destroyer collided with the submarine’s hull, punching holes that quickly flooded compartments. The S-4 rolled over and sank bow first within minutes to the bottom, roughly 130 feet down, less than a mile off Wood End.

The Paulding stopped and launched a lifeboat, but there were no men to be found. They all had gone down in the submarine. The ship next dropped a buoy to mark where the S-4 had gone down. To save itself from also sinking, the Coast Guard vessel had to run itself aground at Long Point with a gaping wound.

Immediately, the Coast Guard and Navy dispatched vessels, divers, and salvage specialists. Captain Adolphus Andrews, commander of the Submarine Base in New London, Connecticut, was ordered to send all available vessels to the site. Word reached President Calvin Coolidge, who expressed regret and intense anxiety over the disaster.

Divers reached the hull and established that many of the crew had moved into dry compartments. It was only a slight hope, since sealed compartments could mean survivors if rescuers could keep them supplied with air and prevent flooding.

Communication was established with men trapped in the forward torpedo room by divers and the surface commanders. The men inside replied with a series of taps on the hull, demonstrating that at least six were known to be alive there in the hours after the sinking. Time was of the essence as some of the naval officers gave the crew roughly three days to survive under the water. It was seen as a 1000-1 shot, but it was enough of a chance for the rescuers.

Unfortunately, winter storms, rough seas, strong currents, and the limited depth technology of the era repeatedly hampered rescue operations. Teams attempted to rig air hoses and pumps to the submarine and to use divers to keep lines attached and to feed air into compartments. The weather and wreckage complexity repeatedly forced pauses in the operation. Over several days, rescuers worked frantically; the men in the torpedo room continued to send taps and other signals for some period.

Ultimately, after days of fits and starts in deteriorating conditions, those survivors succumbed before divers could effectively extract them. In the end, all forty on board died. Those aboard the S-4 included officers, enlisted men, a Naval officer, and a civilian. It was noted afterward that the thirty-two men found in the engine room had likely died within hours of the collision due to either drowning or asphyxiation, thanks to carbon dioxide.

The story of the horrific collision and the loss of all on board the S-4 was nationwide news. It stunned locals who could see the buoys that had been left on the surface above the location of the doomed vessel by the submarine tender Wandank. In the end, those buoys would be used for the salvage mission.

Secretary of the Navy Curtis D. Wilbur (2nd from left) during salvage work of S-4 in March 1928. Captain Ernest King and Lieutenant Henry Hartley in charge of the salvage operation, are first and second from right, while Rear Admiral Philip Andrews (left) looks on.(Public Domain)

Despite the massive loss of life on the S-4, the vessel was not a total loss. An experienced salvage force was sent to Cape Cod. This included Captain Ernest J. King, Commander Edward Ellsberg, other senior Navy and Coast Guard officers, and local crews from Provincetown.

Over the winter and into early 1928, divers and salvage crews worked to attach lifting pontoons and cables. After months of difficult work, a successful raising and tow to the Boston Navy Yard occurred in March 1928. S-4 was later repaired and returned to service as a test and training vessel before final decommissioning in the 1930s.

The S-4 being towed to Boston Navy Yard.(Public Domain)

In the end, though it was an accident, there was blame to be placed. Lieutenant Walter J. MacGregor, commanding officer in the Naval Militia, placed the blame on Prohibition. He said in an interview in the immediate aftermath that the vessels out searching for rum runners go where they please, while the submarines stick to very specific routes. The crew of the Paulding was not blamed for the accident. It was however used as a battle cry for those looking for the repeal of Prohibition. This ended up happening in December 1933.

One of the most important legacies of the S-4 tragedy was pressure to improve submarine escape and rescue capability. The limits of the 1920s response, weather-vulnerable diving operations, no standardized submarine rescue chamber, and primitive escape equipment for individual submariners became painfully obvious. The loss of S-4, which came after an earlier disaster involving the S-51 submarine in 1925, pushed submarine professionals and the Navy bureaucracy to accelerate research into reliable rescue tools.

Two major innovations that came soon after the S-4 disaster were first the creation of the Momsen ‘lung.’ These were individual escape breathing devices. The other innovation was the McCann Submarine Rescue Chamber. This was a chamber that could be lowered to a distressed submarine in up to 850 feet of water. The chamber later proved its worth in the 1939 rescue of 33 men from USS Squalus, the first large-scale successful deep submarine rescue.

Beyond equipment, the S-4 tragedy contributed to procedural and cultural changes: improved training, standardized rescue ships and teams, new communications/telephone buoys and mating procedures, better watertight doors and bulkhead designs, and even hazard pay reforms for submariners, all measures aimed at reducing the chance that a similar accident would end in total loss.

Cape Cod paid homage to those lost on the S-4. On the tenth anniversary of the disaster, December 17, 1937, services were held at the Church of St. Mary of the Harbor. After the services, the pastor, Reverend Robert Wood Nicholson, dedicated a timber cross adorned with a pair of plaques commemorating those lives lost. It was fitting that the cross was fashioned from wood salvaged from another shipwreck off Cape Cod.

It has been nearly a century since forty men lost their lives in a horrific but seemingly unavoidable accident off Provincetown. The wooden cross, standing in the courtyard of the Church of St. Mary of the Harbor, is the only reminder of the tragedy that happened just offshore.

Cape Cod, especially the Atlantic Ocean side from Eastham to Provincetown, has a legacy of being a haven for shipwrecks. Sadly, many of those wrecks, and the people who went down on them, become lost to time. Such is the same fate of the forty men lost on the submarine S-4. If one is taking a stroll down Commercial Street, stop into the courtyard and pay respects to those lives lost in Provincetown’s forgotten maritime disaster.

Those lost aboard the S-4

In Their Footsteps: Cape Cod History - The Great Hyannis Fire of 1904

    Natural disasters come in all forms. Hurricanes, tornadoes, blizzards, earthquakes, tsunamis, and more attack without remorse and change land and lives in their wake. Fires are sometimes natural disasters and sometimes man-made. They are no less devastating whatever their origin is.

    Cape Cod has seen its share of fires. There have been some terrible forest fires over the centuries. However what about fires that caused an overwhelming loss of property? One of the deadliest such fires occurred in the first decade of the 20^th century and forever changed Downtown Hyannis. This is the story of Main Street’s great fire of 1904.

Looking west down Main Street before the fire. Everything on the right was basically wiped out.

    In the 2020s it’s hard to imagine that there was a time when Hyannis’ Main Street was anything but wall-to-wall shopping and restaurants. A century ago however it was dotted with residential homes as much as businesses. It has always been referred to by its ‘ends.’ The East End lies near the end of the railroad tracks and is close to Cape Cod Hospital, while the West End is today near a rotary and close to the Cape Cod Melody Tent.

    The Main Street area of Hyannis had actually seen a pair of large fires in the preceding years both in 1892 and again in 1894. What came in the early morning hours of December 2-3, 1904 topped both of them in terms of loss.

    The exact location and cause of the fire itself have never truly been established. However, it can be traced to one of two places. Although the fire could have begun at either L.P. Wilson’s grocery store or Walter Baker’s neighboring department store, both located near Center Street across from the railroad depot. It was Wilson who first was made aware of the blaze.

    Living above his store Wilson’s mother alerted him and his wife and two children just before midnight on September 2^nd. They were all able to escape the fire in the nick of time with only the clothes on their backs. Wilson’s store was the easternmost location to be lost. Wilson’s mother thought the fire began next door in Baker’s building. However with the buildings all being built so close together, some as close as six feet, it will likely never be known where the actual ignition location was.

    Shortly after midnight on Saturday, December 3rd the alarm had been sounded for the fire department in the form of the bell atop the nearby Universalist Church. It is unknown just how long the flames had been roaring before being brought to anyone’s attention. Wilson’s Hyannis Public Market and Walter Baker’s Department Store were the first structures to go, but they weren’t the last.

    Strong northeast winds coupled with the wooden buildings being so closely packed together meant that the fire spread easily. The flames were essentially blown right down Main Street. Luckily many of the buildings in the path of the flames had items removed by volunteers before the flames could reach them. This included stock from some of the businesses. The Hyannis Fire Department got five pieces of apparatus together but it was no match for the growing fire. Calls were made to other local departments with firefighters from as far away as Middleborough, Provincetown, and Brockton making their way to help. In an extreme act of bravery, a man from the Telephone Exchange Co. was atop a nearby telephone pole sending messages for help as long as he was safe.

    The fire ate through more than 600 feet of Main Street real estate. The exclamation point in the carnage came at just after 3am when the steeple of the Universalist Church came toppling to the ground. A perimeter was set up using wet rugs and blankets on and around buildings that were just out of the fire’s reach. Eventually, the strong northeast winds died down, and by 4am the fire had been contained.

    Heading west along Main Street the following businesses were totally destroyed by the fire: The Universalist Church, post office, Richardson Bros. Photographers, William P. Bearse & Co. who sold meats and provisions, P. F. Campbell & Co. who were tailors, Singer Sewing Machine Co., Charles W Megathlin’s pharmacy, A. P. and E. L. Eagleston’s department store, New England Telephone Exchange, Julia Stevens dressmaker, James E. Baxter boots/shoes, Thomas Nickerson’s marble, and granite works, and finally A. B. Nye & Co.’s paint store.

Postcard of the fire's aftermath, taken by Walter Baker whose department store was destroyed.

    When all was said and done fifteen buildings had been destroyed. Conservative estimates had the damage somewhere in the neighborhood of $150,000($5 million in 2022). For A. B. Nye it was the third time that his paint store had burned down in twelve years. Only once had the fire started on Nye’s property. Sadly sixty-nine-year-old retired sea captain William Penn Lewis died of a heart attack while in the process of saving his house from the fire. As day broke on that Saturday morning all that was left was carnage. Nearly ten acres of property, retail and residential, government and worship, all lay in ruins.

    With the perseverance of a bygone generation, those Hyannis residents who lost their homes or businesses did not stay down for long. In fact, the post office was quickly moved into the home of Mrs. E. C. Benson. Thanks to the determination of Postmaster Percy Goss it was delivering its first shipment of mail by 7:30 that same morning. Most of the businesses quickly set up temporary locations in and around the charred remains of their establishments. Insurance adjusters came later in the day on Saturday, and by the end of the day, plans were already being made for rebuilding Main Street.

Main Street as it appears today. (Google Maps)

    By April 1905 nearly all of the lost buildings had been rebuilt, most of them in the same locations where they previously stood. Today there is little to no reminder of the devastating fire that changed the face of Main Street Hyannis. The ‘new’ buildings are all now nearly 120 years old themselves. They have seen generations of change on Cape Cod and in the world. The solitary reminder in plain sight is a historic marker at the intersection with Ocean Street. It was roughly where the fire was stopped and shows a photo of the aftermath of the blaze.

-----------------------------------------------

Previous Blog Posts:

Cape Cod History - Dorsie's Steak House, West Yarmouth MA

Searching for the Lady of the Dunes

Be sure to check out my website: Christopher Setterlund.com

Zazzle Store: Cape Cod Living

In Their Footsteps: Cape Cod History - Yarmouth's Hidden Dance Hall

    More than a half a century ago entertainment options for young people were far different than in the 21^st century. Drive-in movies, hanging out at a pizza parlor or other causal restaurant, or simply meeting at friends’ houses were common tropes. However the main form of entertainment revolved around music and dancing. Night clubs and dance halls were the most popular meeting spots for the younger generation in the years after World War II.

    Cape Cod was no different. In the 1950’s Places like the Rainbow Ballroom, Mill Hill Club, Pilgrim Club, Storyville, and more attracted young people with the promise of fun nights of dancing and music. These places were good business ideas which led to people looking to establish their own dance halls to bring in the younger generation. Some of these places were successful like those previously mentioned. Some came in with a bang and quickly fizzled out with a whimper. Others tried several different options in an attempt to find success and this is the story of one such place.

    In the 1950’s Yarmouth’s Higgins Crowell Road was a fairly barren two-mile stretch of road in between Route 28 and Willow Street. These were the days before the police station and two schools were built along this road. An idea was hatched to create a safe spot to entertain teens and young adults with dancing and music in a spot surrounded by woods.

    The project was named Sherwood Forest Recreation Center and was the brainchild of young Yarmouth builder Anthony Alosi. He had already built up several residences on the south end of Higgins Crowell Road and saw potential in a 25-acre parcel of land he had recently acquired. Alosi went to the Town of Yarmouth in April 1957 with his idea of building a dance hall in the area that had only recently been zoned for business or industrial purposes. The fact that it was a newly designated area meant that Alosi had to go through a few hoops to be approved, some in town were still getting used to the industrial zoning distinction of the quiet area on Higgins Crowell Road.

    Alosi’s project was approved. The town saw his intentions as good with the dance hall being alcohol-free. After some initial delays work began on Sherwood Forest in September 1957. Alosi was joined by Joseph Massi in clearing land and prepping for the construction. Massi was to be the leader of the house band that would play at Sherwood Forest upon its opening.

    The winter was spent clearing and prepping the land so that beginning in February 1958 work could begin on the building itself. Sherwood Forest when all was said and done, was a 200x60 foot building reinforced by steel trusses. It had a flat roof and the siding was covered in stucco. The building was to have a maximum capacity of 1,500. Out back was a patio and a fountain while the interior saw a large dance floor and a pair of snack bars on either side of the main entrance. Alosi wanted Sherwood Forest to have a gothic look.

An ad for Sherwood Forest from Yarmouth Register July 11, 1958

    Alosi and his crew worked tirelessly throughout the spring. The establishment had strict guidelines. No one under 17 could attend unless accompanied by a parent or guardian. Women had to wear dresses or skirts, men had to wear button-down shirts with sports jackets and slacks, no jeans allowed. Hours placed it open from 8pm to 1am every day except Sundays.

    Opening night of Sherwood Forest came on July 3, 1958 with a special guest night. It was led by Joe Massi and his fifteen piece band. The liquor-free dance hall opened to the public on July 4^th. It was a huge success attended by hundreds of local youth.

    Not willing to rest on his laurels Alosi announced four major events that summer at Sherwood Forest. They were the Tommy Dorsey Band directed by Warren Covington, the Glenn Miller Orchestra directed by Ray McKinley, the annual Yarmouth Police Ball, and a semi-formal ball for Centerville’s Our Lady of Victory church. All signs pointed to a banner summer of safe and fun entertainment.

    However that was not the case. Despite all of the hype and the roaring initial success Sherwood Forest found itself closed in early August due to a lack of customers. Alosi sold the building to the John Hinckley & Son company. The dream of Sherwood Forest was not over though.

    In February 1959 a new idea was brought forth. Staying within the restriction of any establishment being alcohol-free Hinckley & Son proposed that Sherwood Forest become a roller skating rink. The proposition was accepted and the Silver Roll-A-Way was born.

    New owner Walter Juskiewicz took the former Sherwood Forest through a litany of renovations. This included a plastic non-skid skating floor and a new snack bar. A major selling point was that in addition to nighttime skates there would be skating instruction on Saturday mornings from 10am to noon for children ages 4-10.

    Much like Sherwood Forest despite a successful beginning the project did not last. The large spacious building on Higgins Crowell Road was shuttered after one summer. It lay dormant throughout 1960 until another investor saw potential in the building. This time it was Ruth Feeley who operated a successful dance studio in South Yarmouth.

    Feeley planned to turn the property back to a dance hall. She planned on local dances combining live bands and vinyl records. There were also plans for special junior high school nights, fashion shows, and dance competitions. The Prom Ballroom Club opened for business April 9, 1961. After a few successful months the establishment quickly fizzled out. Once the summer ended Feeley’s Prom Ballroom became the third business to fail inside the expansive building. It would not be the last.

    In the summer of 1962 Donald Putignano of Brockton took a swing. He reopened the building this time under the name of the Cape Cod Tropical Ballroom. This fourth incarnation of Anthony Alosi’s structure was able to stamp its name in the annals of Cape Cod history based around one night.

    On July 3, 1963 more than 2,000 people crammed inside the building which was zoned to hold roughly 1,200. The reason? They wanted to see the iconic Ray Charles and his band play. There was little advanced notice given and despite that people came from as far as New Bedford and Provincetown to hear Charles play among the woods of West Yarmouth. It was a legendary night. That being said, it was par for the course, as banner single nights did not a successful business make.

    The Cape Cod Tropical Ballroom did not last. Ironically there was never an issue with disorderly conduct in the area throughout all of its incarnations. It was the lack of profit that caused such constant turnover. The fifth time was not the charm either.

A concert poster from A Go-Go 1966 (Record Mecca.com)

    In June 1965 Charles MacKenney and Jimmy Troy took their shot. The dance hall was reopened as the A Go-Go. It featured more mainstream music for the time, long hair, electric guitars, and still no alcohol. Club membership passes were sold to give patrons a discount in admission from $2.50 down to $1.75. Boston-based band the Barbarians frequented the A Go-Go while outside acts such as Roger Pace and the Pacemakers as well as Joey Dee and the Starlighters graced the stage during that first season. The Animals and The Velvet Underground played there in 1966 and 1967.

    The issues with the establishment came quickly. Averaging 600-700 people during the weekend dances led to issues between rival towns. Alcohol use by minors in the parking lot and at home before coming to the club led to numerous fights inside and outside of the A Go-Go. This in turn led to an increase in the police presence in the area.

    Although relatively successful for a few years the problems at the A Go-Go proved to be too much. It became the fifth business to try and fail at the Higgins Crowell location in a decade. The building remained closed for a few years before a permanent resident came along.

The former location of Sherwood Forest/A Go-Go. (Google Maps)

    Interestingly despite five attempts at entertainment in the building it was the New Testament Baptist Church that gave the property stability. After the building and property was taken by the town by eminent domain in early 1972 a buyer was sought. The church purchased the property in October 1972. Major renovations were done to the property and the organization has called it home for nearly fifty years.

    A decade of turbulence saw five business try and fail in a location that was a blessing and a curse. Quiet and secluded to keep any noise localized, and yet so secluded that it had trouble bringing in customers. Though Sherwood Forest, the A-Go-Go and the others have been lost to history, a mere blip on the radar, the building itself designed by Anthony Alosi is still standing and still entertaining people, albeit in a far different way than he initially intended.

--------------------------------------------------------

Previous Blog Posts:

In Their Footsteps: Cape Cod History - The Unsolved Murder of Clarence Parker

In Their Footsteps: Cape Cod History - Kemp's of America Restaurant

Be sure to check out my website: Christopher Setterlund.com

Zazzle Store: Cape Cod Living

In My Footsteps: Medfield State Hospital

            With 130 articles written during my travels I have seen a lot of amazing places.  However, as can be the case, with showcasing a town in an article some of the places can be glossed over to make sure everything fits.  I have decided to start a series of articles each showcasing one specific place per article.  There are so many that have their own story and my experiences there deserve more than just a paragraph.  Since it is the Halloween season, or was, I have decided to begin with the scariest place I have visited: Medfield State Hospital.

            Medfield State Hospital is an historic spot.  It was a mental hospital built on Hospital Rd. in Medfield, Massachusetts in 1892.  At its peak there were fifty-eight buildings located on the grounds and could house 2,200 patients.  It was a self-sufficient property, raising its own livestock and produce while also producing its own heat and power.  The property was closed in April 2003 due to a decline in patients.  The grounds have been used for films such as Leonardo DiCaprio’s Shutter Island.

            The grounds are still open for walking as of November 2012.  When I visited I had high expectations from photos about the experience and I was not disappointed.  I pulled up and parked in a dirt area directly across the street from the imposing collection of buildings.  Sure, I had read the grounds were open but I did not see any other vehicles.  There was a white trailer located at the entrance to the grounds so I approached and a security guard stepped out.  He told me the grounds were open to be walked but there was to be no photography.  I clutched my tiny digital camera tightly in my pocket and moved on past.

            The road curves slightly and soon I was out of sight of the trailer and pulled my camera out.  I was immediately fascinated by the boarded up brick buildings.  The blood red plywood over the windows made the stoic buildings more eerie.  The sunny day added haunting shadows to these buildings.  I had the grounds all to myself and did my best to soak in this unique atmosphere.

            The deeper I got into Medfield State Hospital I began to notice something.  The silence.  It was a creepy calm.  There were no birds, no squirrels running around, nothing.  When I had parked my car there was the normal buzz of nature but not on the grounds.  It felt fitting.  The silence would eventually be broken by the howls of the wind passing through cracked windows.  The first such howl sent a chill down my spine.  It was thrilling.

            So much of my time was like something out of a suspense-filled horror movie.  I felt like I was on camera awaiting a monster or killer.  Then my fears were realized.  Okay, not really, but as I was at the furthest end of the Medfield State Hospital grounds I noticed a beige sedan slowly creeping its way up one of the roads.  There was a single man driving and scoping things out.  A perfect horror movie setup, right?  I tucked my camera in my pocket as he slowly passed.

            On the eastern edge of the grounds is a white water tower which gave me a dream vibe, like it was something you would have seen in a dream sequence of A Nightmare on Elm Street.  Perhaps the creepiest part of these buildings was the ‘crying’ windows.  The window frames were painted white and the years of weather had caused the white paint to run some down the bricks looking like ‘tears.’  In a place where mental patients once roamed it again seemed fitting.

            All of these creepy experiences are not meant to drive potential visitors away.  On the contrary, I believe that these things make it a more desirable place to see.  Some of the buildings were in great condition such as the main hospital building and the church.  Other buildings were damaged and had the red ‘X’ on the façade indicating they were most likely meant for demolition.  With roads and sidewalks there were times it felt like I was walking through a haunted ghost town; I could almost hear the sounds of the former patients on the wind.  To make the creepy journey complete if you’d like there is a Medfield State Hospital cemetery a few hundred yards west of the ground where 841 patients were buried between 1918-1988.  I did not venture that far.

            Easily the most eerie spot I have visited, Medfield State Hospital is a must see for horror fans.  I heard the howling winds, saw the creepy man slowly driving the grounds in his car, and heard the silence from the birds and squirrels.  Who knows what experiences you will have when you go?  Perhaps you should bring your running shoes though.  Have fun and happy traveling!

     My first book, In My Footsteps: A Cape Cod Travel Guide, is now available at SchifferBooks.com, and Amazon.com, soon to be in stores everywhere!  Follow me on Twitter!

Medfield State Hospital: 9 Hospital Rd., Medfield, Mass. GPS (42.207954,-71.335561)

            From I-95 N take Exit 9 for Rt. 1. Take 1^st left onto Rt. 27, follow it 8.6 miles. Turn right onto Hospital Rd., hospital grounds will be on the left.

Links: Medfield Patch.com - Medfield State Hospital

The hospital grounds looked like an abandoned ghost town.

Some buildings were in relatively good condition.

This look like a something dream sequence from A Nightmare on Elm Street.

The 'crying' windows.

The creepy church.