Bi-Weekly Newsletter

​I am going to follow up with two interesting stories that connect with the 'unusual' or 'unexplained' in Easton. The first is shared by Jim Carlino, who with his partner Peter, witnessed uncommon events and sensations during their stewardship of Unity Close; the second one, shared by both David and Fred Ames, is about a premonition experienced before the aviator Freddie Ames’ death in 1932. The story about Freddie Ames was mentioned to me initially by David and Fred followed up with a detailed memory. 
During their stewardship of Unity Close, Jim Carlino and his partner Peter, were given a photo of the gardens from sometime in the '30's- they guessed. It was the Urn Garden where there were four cherry trees. The photo showed a shadow of a man with one hand on his hip, and close by, the shadow of two dogs. Some time later, they were given additional photos from the same approximate time, with a clear picture of one of the gardeners standing in the same manner, but in a different location, and another with Mrs. Parker and her two small dogs, positioned similarly as in the shadow photo. A coincidence? Jim was also certain that Sarah Ames' spirit was in the house. Sometimes they would feel as if someone walked by them briskly; they didn't see anyone, but the sensation was there. Other times they noticed a shadow going up or down the main staircase. This was usually at dusk and they sensed she was always happy.

​Parker House/Unity Close, North Easton. Painting by Bill McEntee.


The second story, in the words of Fred Ames, May 2023:
"Sunday, November 6th, 1932, the last day of his life, Freddie Ames, 27, had breakfast with his mother at the Ritz Carlton Hotel. Edith Cryder Ames, the widow of Lothrop Ames, lived in a suite of rooms at the hotel. Freddie lived at Stone House Hill in North Easton and had a Back Bay apartment in town. He planned to fly his plane down to North Easton later that day with college friend and flyer, Oliver Sproul, along with Oliver’s friend Frances Burnett, also a licensed pilot. Freddie had a small airport on his estate, “Ames Country Club of the Air”, on what are now athletic fields for Stonehill College. Not only was he an experienced pilot with a cross-country flight under his belt, but Freddie was also known on both sides of the Atlantic as an ocean racer. Besides his passengers he took along his small dog “Salud”, a Mexican chow, and a case of champagne.

​A week before, on that Sunday, my father David, then twenty years old and a sophomore at Harvard, went looking for Freddie at Stone House Hill. Although seven years younger than his first cousin, they were good friends who shared a love of blue water sailing and carousing.
As my father told me, while walking by the garage, a terrifying feeling of dread overwhelmed him. Something terrible was going to happen. In a panic he fled from the estate and drove to the telephone exchange on Main Street. Those were the days of operators sitting at switchboards with jacks and switches. He asked them to call the police. The chief came shortly. Given my father’s agitated state the chief decided the best thing to do was to drive my father back to Langwater, his parents’ house. Dad said the chief obviously thought he was just a crazy college kid and didn’t take him seriously. But what rational evidence did my father have? Supernatural sensations were not admissible.
At the time of his death Freddie was married, settled in his childhood home in North Easton, and the father of a two-year daughter, Sally, who herself would become a noted ocean racer. He was outgrowing his life as a playboy adventurer and was on the cusp of a serious career in the new field of commercial aviation. Besides his airfield in North Easton, he had an air travel services company, Skyways, Inc., at the East Boston Airfield.
In the late morning Freddie’s private plane took off with Frank and Frances on board and headed south to Stone House Hill. The plane crashed about halfway there in Randolph and all on board were killed. Being an experienced pilot Freddie had the presence of mind to turn off the ignition to prevent a fire on impact. Unfortunately, it was the impact that did them in.

My father got the call that afternoon at Langwater from the Easton chief of police to come and identify Freddie’s body. The plane crashed nose-first and Freddie’s face smashed into the instrument panel, and he was unrecognizable. Not much was said in the cruiser on that trip to Randolph. My father was able to identify the body of his friend and cousin by the shape of an ear. ​

Image of plane carved into Freddie Ames’ gravestone in the Village Cemetery, North Easton.


The question I should have asked my father was, did he tell Freddie about his premonition? Would it have made any difference? That’s a good question. Why was it my father who had the premonition? Was he chosen? I know that sounds a bit silly, but one has to wonder." 


As Jim Carlion wrote, "It would seem Ames properties have lots of ghosts or connection to the supernatural!"
 
Thank you all so much for sharing your stories! (Any mistakes are mine alone.)


Anne Wooster Drury
[email protected]
​