It’s finally the picturesque fall season in Boston, and as a native New Yorker, I’m both well acquainted with the perfect fall weather and excited to experience my first true New England autumn. Of course, with the fall comes Halloween, and I was just as excited to engage in all the activities—both on and off campus—that Boston College has to offer.
As I was thinking about Halloween, I looked around campus and remembered one of my first assignments in my Folk Wisdom course: I was tasked with understanding a small snippet of BC culture here on campus, and engaging with a story, ritual, or unique aspect of BC life. In my research, I could not have predicted the rabbit hole I would fall down associated with BC’s fascination with the eerie, specifically with the mysterious O’Connell House of Upper Campus. Continuing the tradition just in time for the Halloween season, I wanted to explore the unexplained occurrences, campus myths, and how they’ve become a small but illuminating facet of BC culture.
To begin, one needs to understand the O’Connell House’s tumultuous, tragic history. Originally serving as an estate, O’Connell House was unnamed and known only by its address, and was spearheaded by the Liggett family, who purchased the property in 1916, until it was eventually donated back to the University by William O’Connell. The building had many faces before settling into its current role: It housed the Athletic Department, then Carroll School of Management, and was even at risk of being demolished in the 1970s before it was turned into the home of the Student Union, a role it fulfills today.
However, before ever being acquired by the University, O’Connell House was not filled with the same sense of youthful vigor and academia it has today. Instead, it was the site of several tragedies while occupied by the Liggetts. The first such event, simultaneously starting a domino chain of several to follow, was the murder of Mrs. Musa Liggett, the matriarch of the household, at the hands of an unidentified individual.
This story, retold by staff member Peter Daniels to The Heights in 1987, describes how, after being stabbed, Mrs. Liggett crawled up the grandiose stairs in the center of the house and into a bedroom—now room 207—where she would later pass away. The ghost of Musa Liggett was claimed to be spotted by O’Connell staff members who saw an apparition of a woman “bathed in a green light, sitting on the couch in the room” while entering room 207. A few days later, a painting hung in the lobby depicting the ill-fated room inexplicably began to deteriorate. The painting was described as appearing to be “marred by large patches of black that look as though they have been burned into the photo.” Experts could not reach a conclusion on what caused the damage, and it remains a mystery to the present day.
This would eventually lead to the inclusion of a professional investigation by proclaimed “demonologist” Lorraine Warren. She arrived on campus in 2004 with the hopes of uncovering the lore of O’Connell House as part of her inquiry into the storied history of ghosts throughout the United States. Upon entering the house, she noted the presence of former U.S. President John F. Kennedy’s spirit. Although seemingly an anachronism, it makes sense, as the famed politician had visited campus for a commencement speech in 1962.
Along with the former president, the spirits of “two people who died in the attic, along with those of a boy, a dog, two women, and a baby” were likewise identified by Warren. These observations ran consistent with the stories found in the letters and through word of mouth, but left much unexplained about why O’Connell seems to be a hub for such paranormal activity.
The stories continue on, and vary across multiple subjects. A story of a boy who drowned in the standing pool—which now serves as the solarium—back when the building functioned as the university’s Athletic House; and another of a “ghostly” black dog that The Heights reported to be barking near the attic staircase, even though no dog lived in the residence at the time.
A former O’Connell House resident, who prefers to remain anonymous, described how they had heard most of the stories about O’Connell that The Heights has covered: either in their own research, after moving into the residence as a graduate student, or through word of mouth upon their arrival. They acknowledged that because many BC students are unaware that graduate students and directors even live in the residence, the spookiness of this seemingly uninhabited building increases its intrigue amongst the student body. They also recounted how fellow students already living in O’Connell when they were just moving in began talking about O’Connell’s hauntings during one of their first group meetings, and recalled how the stories were a way to connect early on in their time together.
This is the crux of these stories: Despite how fantastical and spiritually inclined they might appear, how these stories continue to survive through the decades says a lot about the BC community. There is a spiritual element at play that is intimately intertwined with BC’s Jesuit Catholic mission, which, as exemplified by the students who attended Warren’s post-investigation lecture, seems more prone to engage with the more mystical elements of these stories. The closeness of BC students is another facet: Just as the residents of O’Connell passed down these stories, so do other students, which is aided by the connectivity and community culture cultivated by the university.
I can’t help but feel a little excited at the prospect of becoming yet another reporter continuing the traditions that I researched for my own paper, and carrying on this legacy of stories that live within the BC community. Although the stories are thoroughly entertaining—and have caused quite a few of my friends here to be scared of O’Connell House at night—they say more about the interconnected nature of this community than one might realize. So if you’re around on Halloween night, it might be worth it to stop into O’Connell to see if you can experience any of these events firsthand. Happy Halloween!
Castalia Litos
Neuroscience major addicted to coffee, mystery novels, and hockey.
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