New discoveries of those who were exhumed for vampirism have continued to occur well into the present. Some are found by thorough research and leads coming from descendents of families who were convinced an evil was trying to wipe them out, and others are found by complete accident. In November 1990, three young boys were sliding down a privately owned sand and gravel pit in Griswold, Connecticut. The boys were having a wonderful time doing what young children do, having good clean fun; that is, until a few skulls rolled alongside one of them as he descended the embankment. The frightened boys dashed home to tell their parents, who in turn called the authorities.
The police arrived on the scene not knowing what to expect. It was speculated that the area could have been a burial site for a serial killer, but there were no such cases in the region to account for that theory. Upon examining the skulls, they realized that an archaeologist would be more of a logical choice to help identify their find. Connecticut State archaeologist Dr. Nicholas Bellantoni was called to the scene, and after some investigating, he found that the children had discovered an abandoned colonial cemetery literally falling out of the side of the eroding sandbank. The fieldstone markers had been buried over time or were nonexistent. But who was buried there?
With Dr. Bellantoni on hand and an invitation extended to forensic anthropologist Paul Sledzik, curator of the Anatomical Collections at the National Museum of Health and Medicine in Washington, D.C., excavations began in an attempt to remove and relocate the remains to another cemetery down the road. They found twenty-nine burials in all—fifteen sub-adults, six adult males and eight adult females—but there was one grave in particular that made everyone stop and stare in disbelief. Of the numbered burials, burial number 4 was the oddest. It had been lined on the sides and top with stone slabs. When they removed the slab, they found “JB-55” marked on the top of the coffin with brass tacks. This was concluded to be the possible initials and age of death of the deceased. When the lid of the coffin was opened, the stunned throng found that the skeleton’s skull and thigh bones had been arranged in a “skull and crossbones” manner on top of the ribcage, which had also been rearranged in order for the skull to fit in such a place. Oddly enough, Dr. Michael Bell, who because of his knowledge of vampire folklore was called in to examine the strange excavation, stated that the skeleton of “JB” was the best preserved in the burial lot. The skeleton was sent to Washington, D.C., for analysis.
Interred alongside of “JB” were two other similar burials with tacks nailed into their coffins that may have been related. One, “IB-45,” was concluded to be a female, and a child, “NB-13,” was buried alongside her. There were several other burials of young children in a cluster, suggesting that a disease, perhaps smallpox or measles, which were prevalent about the time of the burials, may have spread through the family. Research by Dr. Bellantoni showed that the cemetery belonged to the Walton family. Lawrence and Margaret Walton moved from Boston about 1690 and started a farm in what was then part of Preston. One of their five children, John, born in 1694, became a well-respected preacher of the Congregationalist Church. It was their second son, Nathan, and his wife, Jemima, who purchased a small plot of land from their neighbor in 1757 for use as a family burial ground. The Walton family lived on the homestead and used the burial ground well into the nineteenth century, until they decided to move westward to more fruitful farmlands. Then, according to Dr. Bellantoni, another unidentified family used the burial ground for a short period of time. This could be where JB and his family come into the picture, or they may have been related to the Waltons.
In “Biological and Biocultural Evidence for the New England Vampire Folk Belief” by Nicholas Bellantoni and Paul Sledzik, written in 1994 for the American Journal of Physical Anthropology, it was concluded, based on their research, that JB died of consumption or some form of pulmonary tuberculosis. Several years later, one of the family members became ill. They feared that JB might have been returning from the grave to feed on them. They attempted to burn the heart in typical New England fashion, but when they opened the grave, there was nothing left but a skeleton. They resorted to an alternative remedy of rearranging the skull and femur bones into a skull and crossbones pattern to put an end to the illness that was afflicting them. Dr. Bellantoni based his conclusion that an exorcism for vampirism was most likely performed on three pieces of evidence: the arrangement of the bones, the paleopathological evidence of tuberculosis or a chronic pulmonary infection producing the same physical appearance on the ribs of the skeleton and the historical accounts of the vampire folk belief and remedies that were practiced at about the same time in New England.
I had the honor and pleasure of speaking with Dr. Bellantoni about the findings at the Walton burial lot. He found it very intriguing to have actually come across such a rare find by accident. Dr. Bellantoni stated that JB-55 was, to his knowledge, the only physical evidence found thus far of the New England vampire scare.
The remains found in the Walton lot were buried in the Hopewell Cemetery, along the Patchaug River, in an unmarked area to keep vandals from digging up the graves in search of the alleged vampire.
We once again find a tie to Rhode Island in this particular case. The town of Griswold was originally set out in the North Society of Preston. Griswold, consisting of many Rhode Island emigrants, petitioned the state to be incorporated as a separate town in 1815. In October of that year, the Connecticut State Assembly granted that request, making Griswold an official town. Border disputes between Griswold, Preston and Voluntown continued, however, until 1872, when the final boundaries of the town were recognized. Many of the locals considered the Rhode Island settlers to be crude, uneducated and socially inept.
Hopewell Cemetery in Griswold, Connecticut, where the remains of the Walton burial lot were relocated in an undisclosed location.
It seems weird—almost surreal—in this day and age to have such evidence literally pop up in front of us, but New Englanders have a lot of eerie skeletons in their family closets and even more in their graveyards.