Amy Investigates - The Haunting Tale of Dick Turpin

With Halloween just around the corner, ghosts and ghouls are getting ready for their annual airing. Yet, York is a city well-acquainted with the paranormal, and hauntings are not confined to a solitary night. This city's cellars are particularly partial to paranormal phenomena, with dank, dark spaces lending themselves to the imagination. Any sound, smell, or visual experience is not immune to supernatural spin, and by adding the merest hint of a rumor, preferably of some tragic demise, and those creaking pipes are suddenly the agonizing cries of the dearly departed.

Harry Martindale’s famous account of a ghostly procession of Roman soldiers passing through the cellar of the Treasurer’s House is a particular favorite of mine although not all of York’s spirits are content to dwell underground.

One such spirit who supposedly makes his presence felt is that of the infamous highwayman Dick Turpin. While his stay in York was cut short by the Tyburn, it didn’t stop the residents from claiming him as their own. And Mr Turpin happens to be a neighbor of mine; he resides in the graveyard at the end of my street. Visitors come to photograph his final resting place, while sightseeing buses include him in their whirlwind tour of the city. He also makes a guest appearance in my Porter Biggleswade series as a lonely pipe-player who haunts the graveyard. Well, it seems fitting, considering.

Dick Turpin’s Grave, York - Amy Flint (Amy Investigates)

Richard Turpin was born in 1705, in Hempstead, Essex, and trained to be a butcher like his father. These skills proved useful when he joined a deer poaching gang in his early twenties, and thus embarked on a life of crime. Burglary and murder were soon added to his CV, and he was forced to flee to Yorkshire after killing his accomplice during a botched robbery.

By 1737, he had adopted the alias John Palmer and was posing as a horse trader. An unfortunate incident with a gun and another man’s game cock resulted in a stay at the House of Correction at Beverley. Already suspected of theft and trade in stolen horses (which was a capital offence) Turpin was transferred to the prison in York. It is here he wrote to his brother-in-law for help, something he was later to regret. A former tutor recognised Turpin’s handwriting and exposed him. Turpin was found guilty of horse theft and condemned to death. He was thirty-four.

On 7th April 1739, Turpin was taken through York in an open cart. Crowds observed his macabre progress to the Knavesmire, where the gallows was waiting. Turpin was left hanging until late afternoon when he was cut down and taken to the Blue Boar in Castlegate. His burial in the graveyard of St George’s Church, Fishergate was briefly interrupted by body-snatchers who sold his remains for illegal medical dissection. Fortunately, the crime was discovered, and Turpin was reinterred.

While there is some doubt regarding the authenticity of the grave, belief in Turpin’s ghost is real enough. He is said to haunt a lonely stretch of river path in the former slum area of St George’s field. Once home to those living on the fringes of society, this quiet spot raises expectation of a ghostly encounter. If setting is key, it certainly suits Turpin, who veils himself among the trees, waiting for unsuspecting victims to fleece. Stagecoaches once kept him busy, but now he is reduced to challenging dog walkers, cyclists, and children on scooters, although I don’t fancy his chances with the latter. The area is also prone to flooding, which must be something of an inconvenience.

Lonely stretch of river rumoured to be haunted by Dick Turpin - Amy Flint (Amy Investigates)

Whilst it seems fitting that Turpin haunts this spot (an area once inhabited by criminals and the like – presumably, he feels at home), there is no record of him ever having been to St George’s Field. He was a prisoner during his stay in York, brought to the city in chains. While he may have received visitors during his incarceration, he certainly wasn’t at liberty to make house calls. Hence, it would seem more plausible for him to haunt York Castle where he was held, the Tyburn on the Knavesmire or even the graveyard he is asserted to be buried in. A ghostly procession would even be appropriate, materializing on the date he was taken from the prison to the gallows, a stone tape of the grim event imprinted on the fabric of the city.

I decided to track Dick Turpin’s final journey for Amy Investigates one Sunday afternoon. Time shy, I was obliged to do it during Storm Ciara, which certainly made for a dramatic experience. I was blown along his route from outside the former prison towards Castlegate. The streets of York are often bustling, so it was easy to imagine crowds lining the road as Turpin was taken over Ouse Bridge, along Ousegate, and up the incline to Micklegate Bar. Passing through the city’s wall, he progressed along Blossom Street towards The Mount. The Tyburn, which was pulled down in 1812, was waiting for him on the Knavesmire opposite Pulleyn Drive. A paved area and a plaque now mark the spot.

The weather being inclement, I wasn’t surprised to find myself quite alone. Yet, as I stepped onto the paved area the wind suddenly dropped and the sun came out. I took a picture to capture this most extraordinary moment. A great calm descended, as if the tortured spirits of those condemned were taking a breath and in doing so allowed me to collect mine. The moment was extraordinary, and one I’ll never forget. I lingered briefly before retracing my steps back to where Turpin’s body was laid out at the Blue Boar. The rain had started afresh along with the wind.

The site of York’s Tyburn where Dick Turpin was executed - Amy Flint (Amy Investigates)

I continued down to the river in the hope of catching a glimpse of Turpin, but it was not to be. Perhaps he is a fair-weather spirit who favors sunny days rather than stormy, or maybe he doesn’t haunt the city after all. Either way Turpin was little more than a thug and a murderer, a far cry from the handsome, amiable rogue legend has created. Gladys Jones sums him up well in Shadows in the Mist. ‘He was a rotten musician and a second-rate horse thief; people were strung up for less. He should have stayed in Essex.’

Read more in my book:

(‘Shadows in the Mist’ - https://www.lulu.com/en/gb/shop/amy-flint/shadows-in-the-mist/ebook/product-zwg556.html).

Who Haunts The Shambles York?

Shambles York

The Shambles in York attracts many visitors. Other cities claim streets with the same name (such as Manchester and Worcester), although I biasedly believe ours is the best! This ancient, cobbled lane is a museum, if you will, where tourists can step back in time. It’s easy to see why Anna and I want to film ‘Anna and Amy Investigate’ here

Shambles York Is Haunted

It’s not unreasonable to assume the Shambles York is haunted when considering it's long, unbroken history. Visitors may hope to see a spectral butcher or two still trying to sell their wares, or perhaps get an unexpected whiff of rotting meat as they dodge other tourists along the lane, but accounts of paranormal activity are surprisingly few. A well-dressed man wearing a bowler hat haunted the Shambles up until the 1940s when, for reasons unknown, he retired from such sport. More recently, an incident was caught on camera in the York Shambles Tavern when boxes and glasses fell off a shelf with some force. Anna and I would love to investigate there!

York Shambles and Apparitions

I heard an account of another apparition while indulging in a glass of vino at the Golden Fleece one day. This pub is across the road from the Shambles. An elderly chap struck up conversation and asked what I did for a living. I was awarded a wry smile when I told him I write about ghosts.

‘Appen you’ll know about our Margaret then,’ he said.

‘Our Margaret’ turned out to be Margaret Clitherow. This former Shambles resident married a wealthy butcher in 1571 before converting to Roman Catholicism three years later. The authorities little cared who she married, but they did take issue with her newfound faith. Margaret’s refusal to attend Protestant services saw her imprisoned for periods of time. She was arrested for the last time when they heard she was hosting Mass above the shop on the Shambles. Margaret refused to plead for fear of implicating friends and family in a trial and was executed in 1586. She was beatified in 1929 and canonized in 1970.

Bar Convent in York claims to have Margaret’s hand, but her body has never been found. The man told me she haunts the Shambles, searching for her earthly remains for he had encountered the spectre one morning while out buying a paper.

His determination to believe it was Margaret Clitherow inspired me to include her in my Porter Biggleswade series. Porter Biggleswade is a paranormal investigator who lives on the Shambles. She often sees Margaret’s ghostly form sidling up to unsuspecting visitors, wanting to know if they’ve seen her body. Well, there’s nothing wrong with a little artistic license. Perhaps Anna will be able to verify the man’s account when we film there.

Shambles York Ghosts are not well documented

I find it interesting so few ghosts are documented from the Shambles, yet the Golden Fleece is apparently brimming with them. With over five hundred years in the bag, this former coaching inn has had plenty of time to acquire spectres. Talk of figures disappearing through walls, rattling keys, disembodied footsteps, and people being touched are but a few of the things said to plague this ancient hostelry.

Haunted Shambles York

Specifics include a ghostly figure alleged to be that of Lady Alice Peckett (wife of a former Lord Mayor of York,) who roams the corridors in the early hours. A Canadian Airman who fell from an upper window also makes his presence felt along with ‘One Eyed Jack’, bearing his 16th century red coat and pistol. Roman soldiers aren’t exclusive to the Treasurer’s House cellar it turns out, for their ghostly forms prowl the pub’s basement. They are presumably walking the original ground level of Romano-British York, rather than showing a preference to haunt dark, dank places.

So, while some of the shops on the Shambles maybe haunted, accounts are sadly lacking. Perhaps proprietors feel uncomfortable advertising the fact for fear of scaring people away, or they’re so used to the antics of their ghostly squatters they simply accept it as part of Shambles living. Whatever the reason I would be interested in hearing from anyone who has experienced paranormal activity along the cobbles. And, you never know, ‘Anna and Amy Investigate’ may expose a few secrets too!

The Ghostly Children of Bedern, York

Anna and I recently went to film an episode of Anna and Amy Investigate around Bedern, York. The lanes are now framed by modern housing, but it wasn’t always so salubrious. Bedern is Anglo Saxon for ‘house of prayer’ and was home from the 13th century to the medieval Vicars Choral of York Minster. The hall, chapel and gatehouse are all that survive of the college.

Dare to venture from Goodramgate, and you’ll find the gateway to the formerly enclosed religious precinct, with its chapel bowing gently onto the cobbled lane. Proceed a little further and Bedern Hall is quietly waiting for you in all its restored glory.

The hall was once used as the Vicar’s Choral refectory before being converted into housing in the 17th century. With the religious community now gone, Bedern slipped seamlessly from sacred to slum. Crime and prostitution became synonymous with the area, and those with a delicate disposition or sense of self-preservation, thought it best to avoid. This sorry reputation persisted until it was finally regenerated in the late 20th century.

You may assume ghostly vicars drew Anna and I to this once colorful area. The Vicars Choral busied the lanes for centuries - it’s not unreasonable to expect the odd spectre in robes unsettling the good folk of York. Disembodied chanting, or religious forms hurrying towards the minster wouldn’t be out of place at Bedern and yet they are oddly absent.

Ghostly Children

In fact, it was a tale of ghostly children rumored to haunt the ancient cobbles that prompted our visit. We cut through Andrews gate to reach Bedern Hall, which was saved from ruination some thirty years ago. Tucked away in a sea of red brick, the hall is a striking symbol of York’s medieval past, and the place of the alleged atrocity.

The Ghastly George Pimm - Fact or Fallacy?

George Pimm is the villain of the tale - a parish beadle who ran York Industrial Ragged School in the mid-19th century. He is said to have ill-treated the children in this orphanage workhouse, and many died of starvation or disease as a result. Pimm received an allowance from the church for each child he took in, so any deaths resulted in loss of income. Now, a villain wouldn’t stand for that! Pimm hid the dead in and around the school, apparently concealing up to 13 children in the eight years that the school was open.

Pimm started to complain of being plagued by ghostly wailing – I doubt the stench of death helped. Drink failed to drown out the screams and Pimm’s paranoia worsened. The church was finally alerted; of course, it didn’t take them long to make their grim discovery. A grislier version has Pimm losing control and murdering the remaining children in his ‘care’. The school was closed and Pimm admitted to York Lunatic Asylum. Tortured by the screams of desperate children, he hung himself four months later.

The souls of those desperate ghostly children are said to linger in Bedern, tugging on clothing as people wander the lanes. Some have even heard youngsters playing when no children are to be seen. It certainly perturbs those using the lanes at night. Paranormal activity was thought to have faded over time but it made a resurgence when the area was regenerated. Did the building work awaken the children?

Anna and I filmed close to Bedern Hall, yet Anna felt nothing. No little hand strayed her way in need of affection. I asked her to ‘touch’ the building in the hope she may pick up on any residual energy - she didn’t feel any negativity connected with the place.

I was surprised by Anna’s reaction, or lack of, to Bedern, considering the intensity of the rumor. It prompted me to trawl the internet in the hope of learning more. My search did turn up evidence of a York Industrial Ragged school, which opened in 1848, but this was on College Street by York Minster, not Bedern. Apparently, it was the successor of a Sunday school, which opened in Bedern the year before.

This Ragged school was governed by a Board of Trustees and Acting Committee and managed by a Master and Matron rather than a one-man band like the rumor suggests. The school was relocated to the old workhouse on Marygate in 1850, after outgrowing the property on College Street. Marygate is nowhere near Bedern but is interestingly the site of Anna’s ‘Woman in White’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0ANvg--kfY). If George Pimm had an eight-year involvement with the Ragged school, childish ghosts would surely be haunting Marygate not Bedern.

The Bedern National School was built in 1872, and could accommodate up to 570 pupils, so this doesn’t fit with the rumor either. George Pimm is said to have committed suicide four months after his admission to York Lunatic Asylum, but I couldn’t find his name on York’s Death Register.

So, is there really any truth to the story, or is it simply the product of a vivid imagination that has grown in the telling? An Angels of Mons moment, if you will. Anna’s failure to connect with the alleged activity suggests it doesn’t hold up to scrutiny reinforced by my challenging of the facts!