The Ghostess with the Mostess

The Ghostess with the Mostest

Suzanne Marsh

I must stop eating ‘Dagwood’ sandwiches, just before bed; I had a dream last night that was both fun and frightening. I dreamed about meeting a woman ghost; her ghostly antics took me to another plane. I tossed and turned until midnight. I thought I heard a voice, a sweet voice, it seemed to be coming from downstairs. I was staying at the Menger Hotel in San Antonio; it is adjacent to the Alamo. The usual night sounds were coming from the Alamo, then there was a woman’s scream. I got up I was in Room 206, right across the hall from 204, where Sallie White passed on. I was not prepared to come face to face with Sallie, carrying towels in her maid’s uniform. This promised to be a good ghostly hunting night.

After my encounter with Sallie, I went downstairs to the lobby. The desk clerk was gone, and suddenly, a beautiful red-haired lady appeared in a sultry blue silk dress. She had my attention. Her voice was lilting and sweet. She motioned me to sit down next to her on a small love seat. She silently offered me a cup of coffee and a pastry. I gratefully accepted both, it was one o’clock in the morning. She sat silently in a small, dainty chair and sipped her coffee. I was enjoying myself, and I asked her name. She said nothing, only continued to sip her coffee. I put my hand out to her, she took my hand, her hand was cold as ice; then a chill wind developed in the air. I decided I needed to go for a walk; the Menger was giving me the creeps.

I strode out the door of the Menger, gravitating toward the Alamo. I heard screams of terror and what I thought was long rifle fire. This was insane. The Battle of the Alamo took place in 1836, which was 2025 years ago. I heard a lone bugle playing El Deguello. I recognized the melody from watching John Wayne’s movie The Alamo. It was a haunting melody in 1836 as it is today. El Deguello signifies no quarter, no mercy; the men inside the Alamo understood that, yet they stayed and fought to the last man. I found myself wandering around the interior of the Alamo at one thirty in the morning. I could hear moans from men who were dying in the battle. I heard a woman crying softly inside the chapel; I thought it could be Susannah Dickinson. Her husband, Almeron, was the Captain of the Artillery. I thought I saw either William Barrett Travis or David Crockett standing near a cannon.

I had had enough of ghosts, so I returned to Menger, where in the lobby, waiting was the woman in blue. She smiled at me as I strode toward her. She, once again, motioned me to sit down. She smiled, I thought to myself: ‘Here we go again, she is no doubt a ghostly apparition. Now what do I do?’ I thought of calling an old friend of mine, who was an expert in Voodoo; perhaps she would have some idea why I was being haunted by all these ghosts.

The lady in blue scared me, she spoke so softly: “I should introduce myself, I am the Ghostess

with the Mostess.” I glared at her, unsure if I had heard her correctly. I reached out to touch her hand, only to discover it was ice-cold. There were so many things I wanted to ask her; her presence here at the Menger was the biggest question. I did not want to scare her; I simply wished to talk. She was gracious, every inch a young Victorian-era woman. I began to ask her what happened to her. She rose from the chair she was sitting in: “I witnessed the murder of Sallie White, the maid here at the hotel. She was such a lovely person; her husband killed her, you know. Her husband came to my room, and I refused to answer the door. He knocked and knocked, then he went back to his room, where he hid until the authorities found him.

My lady in blue smiled once again:

“You ask too many questions, sir.”

The truth was I was just being nosy until she disappeared in front of me. I hoped she would return and give me more information about herself.

The last evening of my stay at the Menger was thought-provoking; I had the pleasure of meeting former President Theodore Roosevelt. I strode into the Menger Bar at one o’clock in the morning. The bartender had vanished; for all I know, he could have a ghost. I often wondered what it would be like to meet someone of historical noteworthiness. I finally had that opportunity.

My eyes gazed around the room, stopping at a man wearing a uniform of the Rough Riders. He was sitting at a table having a drink. Smoke swirled, a strange type of smoke. The man smiled at me, giving my clothes the once-over. I wanted to ask him what he was staring at when three men dressed as cowboys entered the bar. One of the cowboys strode up to the table:

“Howdy, heard you were payin top buck for riders.” Roosevelt motioned him to have a seat. The first cowboy motioned the other two to join them. ‘This is very strange, I can see the cowboys and Lieutenant Colonel Theodore Roosevelt. What an honor!’ I thought. The men were rough and rowdy, and Roosevelt was in his element. He signed the three men up as members of the First Volunteer Cavalry, These men were trained in San Antonio, Texas, then sent to Cuba. They fought up San Juan Hill with Roosevelt leading the charge on Little Texas. Afterward, the cowboys had a few drinks and left. There sat Theodore Roosevelt at the table, smiling; he motioned me to come over:

“How would you like to go to Cuba, young man?”

“Yes, sir, but this is 2025, not 1898!” Roosevelt smiled his toothy grin, then noted:

“You can see me?”

“Yes, si,r I can.”