Returning to Glennascaul

Sandy Hobbs | Letters to Ambrose Merton # 27, 2002

That contemporary legends appear in film in now well known. Some time ago, Paul Smith and I attempted a preliminary listing (Smith and Hobbs, 1990) but it is possible to multiple the examples we gave several times. Some films make explicit reference to the concept of the urban legend (for example, Candyman and Urban Legend). Short films employing legend themes have a particular interest, since they often focus on a single story and, because of their brevity they are closer to oral telling than is likely in a feature length film. Examples include The Date (see LTAM No. 13, p. 28) and the films discussed by Veronique Campion-Vincent in her paper “Preaching tolerance? (1995).

In discussing the film-legend relationship with students, there is one short film I find particularly useful, because it seems to aim to mimic some of the features of oral story telling. I have shown (and therefore seen) Return to Glennascaul many times. However, I only recently realized that I had overlooked one significant aspect of it.

Return to Glennascaul was shot in Ireland in 1951 or 1952 (sources differ)(Note 1). It was written and directed by Hilton Edwards and features Orson Welles, who both narrates the film and acts in it. Welles as a young man had acted in the Gate Theatre, Dublin, where Edwards was one of the directors. Hilton Edwards had a role in Welles’s film Othello which was being shot intermittently around that time. (Welles was having difficulty financing the project.) This is relevant to interpreting the blurring between the real and the fictional and between belief and nonbelief in the film.

Return to Glennascaul is subtitled “A story that is told in Ireland“, thus signaling from the beginning that it is a re-telling rather than simply the telling of a tale. The film opens in a film studio where Welles is apparently shooting Othello. He breaks off to tell the story of the film which he refers to as “a short story straight from the haunted land of Ireland”. Ireland, he says, is “crowded with the raw material of tall tales”. This one “purportedly happened to me”. Note this unusual context for the use of the term “purportedly”. Normally one would employ it to refer to the experiences or actions of someone else, the word indicating uncertainty as to how good the evidence is for believing what is being described. One would not use it about one’s own experiences, since we tend to claim good knowledge of what has happened to ourselves.

Welles is then seen driving at night. He stops when he sees a fellow driver tinkering with his engine. The driver, later named as Sean Merriman, says he is having trouble with his distributor. Welles says that he has similar problems, a pun on “distributor”, since Welles presumably is referring to film distribution. Merriman accepts a lift from Welles. When offered a cigarette, Welles comments on the cigarette case, which leads Merriman to refer to a rather strange experience involving the case. However, he hesitates before telling Welles about it since he expects Welles not to believe him. “Sometimes I hardly believe it myself”, he adds. To this Welles responds that if a man begins to doubt his own experience it must be a good one. Merriman proceeds to tell him a story, which the film portrays in flashback. It is a version of the legend generally called The Vanishing Hitchhiker. In the voice over, Welles states that he is telling the story as told to him. He does not ask the audience to believe it. “Judge for yourself.” At this stage, Welles’s commentary also includes an apology to two women. The reason for this apology becomes clear only as the film closes.

About a year before, Merriman had been driving late one night when two women stopped his car. He offers them a lift, which they accept. He drives them to their home, a house called “Glennascaul”, which Welles explains in the commentary is Irish for “glen of the shadows”. They invited him for tea or “something stronger”. Going upstairs, Merriman admired a painting, which the older woman explained had been a gift from a friend who had gone out East. The younger woman in turn admired Merriman’s cigarette case when he took it out. Merriman explained that it had belonged to an uncle who had died in China. However, the inscription dated from when his uncle was a young man in Ireland: “For P. J. M. from Lucy, Dublin, 1895. Until the day breaks and the shadows flee away.” Merriman said that he thought the words were from the Song of Solomon. (They are indeed. In fact, exactly the same words occur twice, at 2:17 and at 4:6.)

One o’clock struck and Merriman said he would have to leave. The women, especially the younger one, indicated that they hoped he would return. Having driven only about a hundred yards, Merriman realized that he had left his case behind and decided to return. However, when he reached the houses, the gates were shut and the driveway overgrown. He struggled up to the house itself but it seemed deserted. There is a sign indicating the house is for sale, so Merriman decided to go to the agent the following day.

Mr Daly, the estate agent, told Merriman that the house had been empty for years. Two ladies had lived there, a mother and a daughter. At first he could not remember their name, but when Merriman mentioned “Campbell”, the name they had given him, Daly agreed that that was indeed their name. Merriman asked if the daughter was a delicate girl with red hair. Daly explained that the daughter was over sixty years of age and her mother more than eighty. The mother had been dead for several years.

Merriman took the keys of Glennascaul and went to the house, which he found desolate. Footprints on the bare floorboards fitted his own shoes and he followed them to a fireplace. On the mantelpiece lay his cigarette case. Frightened, Merriman ran from the house. Here the flashback ends.

In the car, Merriman explains to Welles that he got in touch with the family solicitor. The mother had been dead for ten years. The daughter died two years later. Her name was Lucy. This of course was one of the names inscribed on the cigarette case. The other, “P. J. M.”, was his uncle, Patrick Joseph Merriman.

The film ends with Sean Merriman leaving the car and Orson Welles drives off. Two women, apparently seeking a lift, signal to him to stop but he drives on. The shorter of the women says “Did you see who that was?” and the taller replies “Yes, but I don’t believe it”. Thus it concludes with a further example of belief/nonbelief ambiguity.

One point to note about this outline is that it does not convey the contribution of the camerawork and the music to creating a feeling of mystery. However, at the end, there is a sharp contrast in the music, which becomes jaunty and lighthearted, as if implying that the story is, after all, just a piece of frivolity.

I hope it will be clear from this account I have given of the film why it has seemed worth using as a teaching aid when discussing the character of contemporary legends. As I mentioned previously I have shown it to students many times (and watched it with them). However, it was only recently that I realized that there was one significant aspect of the film I had overlooked.

As explained in my outline of the film, it starts with Welles filming Othello. I had failed to note the scene being filmed. Welles was delivering a speech from Act One Scene Three in which Othello, accused by her father of having bewitched Desdemona, explains to the Duke of Venice how he won her hand. He told her the story of his adventures:

Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances:
On moving accidents by flood and field,
Of hair-breadth ‘scapes I’ th’ imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery. Of my redemption thence,
And portance in my traveller’s history.

We hear only a fragment of the speech. Welles breaks off before the mention of Cannibals and “…men whose heads/Do grow beneath their shoulders”. However, it seems clear that the speech was not picked at random. Othello is telling the Duke about his own story telling. The stories are the stuff of “travellers’ tales”.

Notes:

  1. Main credits of Return to Glennascaul:
    T.R. Royle presents a Hilton Edwards and Micheal MacLiammoir Dublin Gate Theatre Production. Screen Play and Direction by Hilton Edwards.
    Cast: Michael Laurence (Sean Merriman); Shelah Richards (Mrs Campbell) Helena Hughes (Lucy Campbell); Orson Welles.
  2. It seems to me that the otherindcation that Lucy Campbell and P. J.Merriman had had a love affair that “went wrong”. Students do not always make this interpretation unassisted, however. We are given no hint that I can see as to why the lovers separated. However, it is just possible that a reason is suggested by the surnames: Campbell (Protestant?) and Merriman (Catholc?).

References

Campion-Vincent, V. (1995) Preaching tolerance? Folklore, 106, 21-30.

Smith, P. and Hobbs, S. (1990) Films using contemporary legend themes/motifs, pp. 138-148 in Bennett, G. and Smith, P. (eds.) Contemporary legend: The first five years. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press.

A Ghostly Hitcher

Bill Nicolaisen | Letters to Ambrose Merton # 13, 1998

A businessman was driving home to Scotland after a two-day trip down south, when, in the darkness, he saw a small figure walking along the hard shoulder. There was something odd about the way they were walking, he says, and stopped to see if they needed help. The figure, a young woman, never said a word and looked as if she was in shock, and he assumed she had been in an accident so insisted he take her to the nearest police station or hospital. She wordlessly got in the back of the car and he drove off. A few minutes later, when he glanced in the rear view mirror, she was gone. Shaken he went straight to the police, who, when he gave details, reacted oddly, quizzing him endlessly. It turns out he was the fourth driver to report exactly the same story involving te same woman and the same place, over a period of a year. More horrifying still, the site they all reported picking her up was the exact spot of a fatal crash a year ago, when a young woman passenger was thrown clear of the wreck and found dead some distance along the hard shoulder. She matched the description of the phantom hiker.

“Austin Healey’s diary”, The Scotsman, 29 November 1997,

Vanishing Hitchhiker Update

Teresa Cannon | Letters to Ambrose Merton # 5, 1996

Teresa Cannon has sent us a photocopy of a three page comic strip called “The strange story: The one who got away”, which appeared in Tammy Girls Annual 1982, published by PIC Magazines Ltd.

A truck has a puncture on a bleak moor. AS the driver and hs daughter are repairing it, a prison warder approaches with an escaped convict in his custody. Their dress is old-fashioned and the warder demands they drive to Fleetwood, a prison that had been pulled down several years before.

The passengers’ destination turns out not to be the prison but a fancy dress party being hosted by the chief constable. When the truck driver’s daughter tells the chief constable that she had thought the two men were ghosts, he replies:

“Ghosts, eh? Now that’s strange. Well about fifty years ago – almost to the day, in fact – a prisoner escaped from Fleetwood. He was the only one who was never recaught… A year after he escaped someone else admitted committing the crime our escapee was put inside for. If he’d really got away, he’d have shown up for his pardon, but he never did, so I reckon he lost his life trying to cross the moors.”

He goes on to say that he started by hitching a lift in a truck, but was seen by a young girl and ra away when the truck was stopped.

“Crikey” says the driver’s daughter. She remembers that she saw a second person in convict uniform get in the back of the truck. Looking out of the window, she sees the second “convict” get out of the back of the truck. When she mentions this friend to the other two passengers, they deny all knowledge of him. Only the two of them had set out for the party.

“B-but who did I see then?”

The girl’s question is answered in the final frame of the strip by the narrator, a man in evening dress holding a glass of wine. Addressing the reader, he says:

“Perhaps it was simply someone gatecrashing the party. But I don’t think so – and neither do you, do you?”

Vanishing Hitchhiker Update

Paul Smith | Letters to Ambrose Merton # 5, 1996

Under the heading “A haunting we will go”, the Pittsburg Post-Gazette (31October 1995) printed letters from readers about their experiences of “ghosts and other haunts”. These include the following account from Christopher Cservak, aged eight, of Bridgeville.

One night last fall I was coming home from a football game with my mom and dad and brother Reid when it started to rain. Then it started to pour, lightning flashed, and the thunder was so loud it almost woke u my brother.

Just then my dad slammed on the brakes, and I looked out the window. I saw a little blond girl standing there soaking wet. I wondered what she could be doing out by herself late at night.

My mom asked her if she needed a ride home. She said she would be grateful if we could drop her off at her house about a mile up the road. When she got in the car, she was shivering because she was so wet and cold. I offered her my green sweater s she could keep warm, and she put it on.

WE drove down the street to her house, it was still raining hard, and I was looking out the window at the lightning. When we reached her house, my dad stopped the car. I looked over to where she was sitting, and she was gone! I couldn’t believe it.

My mom ran up to the house t see if she had gone inside. A woman answered the door, and my mom asked if she a had a little girl about 8 years old with blond hair. My mom explained that we had found her by the side of the road and were worried about her.

The woman looked upset and said that she did have an -8year old daughter named Mary, but that she had died three years ago on that very night. Well, my mom couldn’t believe it! The woman told us to go back to where we had found the girl. Nearby was a cemetery where Mary was buried.

My dad drove back to the cemetery, and we got out and found Mary’s grave. Ext to her name on the headstone was hanging my favorite green sweater.

A Note About “The Vanishing Hitchhiker”

Bill Ellis | Dear Mister Thom # 35, 1994

Bill Ellis has written to suggest that maybe the earliest clear reference to the “Vanishing Hitchhiker” plot line can be found in William Henderson’s Folklore of the Northern Counties of England (1866) The story pp 273-4 of the American edition of 1973 (Ottowa: Rowman and Littlefield) has the “hopeless pilgrimage” motif common in “Vanishing Hitchhiker” stories but unusual in a ghost story of the period. Here is the story:

“On St Thomas’s eve and day, too, have carriers and waggoners been most alarmed by the ghost of the murdered woman, who was wont to haunt the path or lane between Cradle Well and Neville’s Cross. With her child dangling at her side, she used to join parties coming or going out of Durham in carriers’ carts or wagons, would enter the vehicles and there seat herself, but always disappearing when they reached the limit of her hopeless pilgrimage.”

Bizarre Tales of a Mysterious Hitchhiker

Bill Ellis | Dear Mister Thom # 34, 1994

FRACKVILLE – If someone walked up to you and told you a story about an experience they had or about which they heard concerning a hitchhiker who foretold “The end is near” and disappeared from “inside” a vehicle, what would you think?

Like most people, you would probably doubt the report or maybe turn the TV set to the popular “Unsolved Mysteries” show and try to summon its host, Robert Stack, to unravel the bizarre event.

Editorial sceptics

Such a story was brought to the attention of the Evening Herald recently and the reactions of editorial department personnel were predictable “Yeah, right”.

A check with state police, however, revealed troopers had received several calls relating to the hitchhiker incident.

Sgt. Barry Reed, station commander at Frackville, confirmed receiving three or four calls about the mysterious vanishing hitchhiker, from reliable and credible individuals who all shared the same experience.

The “hitchhiker” was described as a tall, thin man with long dark hair and wearing a long dark coat. He was picked up on Route61 near Frackville’s southern end on Monday, Jan 31, between 6 and 7 a.m.

Several stories

However, contrary to the “unofficial” reports, state troopers said they received no reports about the “hitchhiker” in conversation about the weather, the turbulence of society or the Angel Gabriel “tooting his horn for the second time”.

However, troopers did say reports made to them concerned the hitchhiker having said ‘I am here to tell you the end is near,’ before vanishing into thin air.

Some reports relayed to the Evening Herald alleged the mysterious hitchhiker warned, ‘Jesus is coming! Jesus is coming’ and then disappeared.

Sgy. Reed recalled that while he was stationed in Lancaster County about 10 years ago, a similar ‘hitchhiker tale was circulated.

Think it was a hoax

In reference to the Lancaster County incidents and the Schuykill County reports, Sgt. Reed said, ‘I believe it is a hoax. But the people are reliable.’

Sgt. Reed said he travels ‘up and down’ the Frackville grade to Saint Clair daily and never noticed anything.

‘Even people who never pick up hitchhikers pick them up,’ said Sgt. Reed, who particularly pointed to a case involving a Frackville woman who apparently had never before stopped for a hitchhiker.

Motorists tend to feel sorry for hitchhikers, especially during the cold winter weather, and subsequently act contrary to their beliefs by picking them up.

Sgt. Reed said, ‘In at least one of the reports, I regarded the person as the most reliable.’
No calls elsewhere

A check with the Hazelton and Schuyhill Haven state police revealed there were no calls about the mystical man.

Sgt. Reed offered this advice to motorists, ‘Don’t pick up any hitchhikers. That’s always good advice.’

Story by Rosanne M. Hall, Evening Herald (Shenandoah, PA), 4 February 1994.

Haunted by a Song

Mark Moravec | Dear Mister Thom # 30, 1993

Mark has found the clipping below which recounts an English “Vanishing Hitchhiker” story. He asks whether any reader has heard the specific legend mentioned. The item comes from New Idea, a popular Australian women’s magazine. It is also, he observes, “an example of the exploitation of contemporary legend storylines by popular culture, this time as the basis for a song”.

If any DMT reader with access to local newspapers in the South East would like to check whether the story rally did form the basis for a court case in Southend, we would dearly love to hear from you.

“Haunted by a Song

Several times over the past few years rock star and actor Jon English has made the big decision to drop the ghost song She Was Real! From his concert performance.

But for some inexplicable reason, at the last minute before he steps on stage, he always changes his mind.

It’s now 10 years since Jon wrote and first performed She Was Real! Which tells the eerie story of a ghostly sighting of Susie, a teenage girl who had been killed in a traffic accident. And he still can’t bring himself to put the song to rest permanently.

‘Susie’s ghost is just hanging around and haunting me’, Jon lightheartedly confesses wit a hint of nervousness. ‘I could have killed her off from my concerts long ago, but here we are 10 years since I wrote the song and she still won’t go home. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever get rid of her.’

She was real! Is based on an 1982 court case in Southend, England, where Jon’s family lived. A young motorcyclist had faced the court charged with causing malicious mischief, and in his defence he said he’d been riding his motorcycle around midnight in Southend when he was hailed by a girl hitchhiker of about 18.

They stopped to have coffee at a café, and she told him her name was Susie. She told the motorcyclist where she lived so he could drop her off.

When they came to the Cheltenham Road roundabout the bike went over a bump and the young man thought he heard a thud from behind. He looked around and the girl was not there.

He rode to the nearest police station to report the accident. The police returned to the roundabout with him and after a lengthy search there was no sign of the missing girl. So the police went to the address the motorcyclist gave them. A middle-aged woman gave them the astonishing information that her daughter Susan had died in 1970 in a motorcycle crash at the Cheltenham Road roundabout.

Police tracked down the motorcyclist and, although he stuck to his story, he was arrested for the trouble he had caused.

‘The guy was so convincing in court, they let him off’, says Jon.

‘It’s a story that fascinated me so much I just had to write a song about it’, he says.

‘She just won’t disappear, Creepy, isn’t it?’

Story: Alan Veitch”

The Phantom Meaning-Giver Strikes Again

Gillian Bennett | Dear Mister Thom # 23, 1991

In an article, “modern-day folk tales too strange to be true”, in the Sacramento Bee (31 May 1991), the writer, Katherine Bishop, goes on a quest for urban legends and finds Jan Brunvand and Alan Dundes. Brunvand keeps to description, but Dundes engages in some pretty fancy interpretation when asked to comment on thefamiliar legend of “The Vanishing Hitchhiker”.

“Dr Alan Dundes” says Bishop, “a professor of anthropology at the University of Caifornia, Berkeley, said the story was widespread and the the driver was always a man and the hitchhiker was always female.

“Instead of viewing the events in the ale from the point of view of the driver, he said, thetale should be told from the point of view of the young woman, since it is usually told by adolescent girls to one another.

“It is a cautionary tale” he said, warning girls that if they allow themselves to be “picked up” – an idea loaded with sexual innuendo and threat – their punishment will be that they can ever go home again.”

There is only one thing wrong with this statement – it is ridiculous.

Unfortunately it is typical of the sort of things that modern legend scholars are coming up with these days – no better, no worse. Grated, if a journalist called me up while I was having my lunch and asked me to say something interesting about ”The Vanishing Hitchhiker”, I probably would say something silly too. But many respected academics are making similar statements in respectable professional journals too, so these sorts of interpretations can’t all be blamed on the importunateness of the press.

The trouble is that meaning is thought to reside in the plot or the content of the story, not in the minds of the tellers and hearers who share it. In effect, therefore, these meanings actually reside in the mind of the commentator him/herself.

In fact, the stories can be fitted into almost any preconceived intellectual formula. Max Muller would have seen that “The Vanishing Hitchhiker” was plainly the remnant of a moon myth. Its central character is a pale virgin who walks the night, disappears at regular times ad places, only to reappear once more at the spot where she was first seen. Obviously the vanishing hitchhiker is the vanishing moon. Even the car can be fitted in to the scheme: it is dark, it is enclosed and secret, it swallows her up – it is plainly the night.

Frazer would have seen it as a very interesting and important vegetation myth. With the aid of comparative data from the Bonka-Bonka tribe of the Upper Limpopo Valley, he would have shown that it is the last remnant of a goddess cult. And very exciting it would have been, for usually the vegetation God who dies and is revived again is a male, but here the hitchhiker who dies and reappears and dies again is a female.

Nowadays the fashion is for psychoanalytic-symbolic approaches, allied to a functionalist orientation which demands that modern legends are dire social warnings. Hence, the Dundes interpretation of the legend as a sexual cautionary tale. However, even given this framework, it doesn’t make sense to say that the story warns girls that if they get picked up by men they’ll never go home again. In these stories, the girl is already dead before she takes the ride. If anything, it would go to prove the reverse – that her only, last chance of life is to be picked up (what’s more it would actually accord with many girls’ opinions).

So, personally, if we have to have a modern “psychological” explanation of the story, I prefer te interpretation which my friend Professor Toni Baloni, a keen student of modern folklore, proposes.

“The Vanishing Hitchhiker”, she wrote only recently, “is best understood as a poignant story about an unwanted pregnancy and the consequent stillbirth. The car in which the passenger travels is obviously the womb – an enclosed space in which the stranger travels for a short time, lulled by the drone and vibration of the body’s engine, the parent heart. The hitchhiker – unnamed, unknown, mysterious – is an unborn child. This much is quite clear and allows us to reconstruct the rest of the allegory.

The hitchhiker flags down the driver and imposes herself unexpectedly on him (we can see here the monstrous effect of out paternalistic society, where even the procreative function is linguistically and metaphorically attributed to the male) – so plainly this is not a planned pregnancy. The hitchhiker appears out of nowhere with no past: it appears then that the woman does not know who the father is.

But there the child is, to be carried, silently and passively, to her destination. Alas! The pregnancy doe not continue to full term: the “hitchhiker” disappears from the “car” in mid-journey. Very little is left to mark her short passage of life – a pool of water on the floor (waters of life? Amniotic fluid?), a marker on te grave, maybe a picture. She never arrives at her destination. All that is left of her is grief.

Plainly this is a cautionary tale put out by the London Rubber Company.”