Squire's Castle, or what's left of it.

Some would have others believe that Willoughby Hills is patron the ghost of a woman who, with a less than amicable relationship towards the countryside, tragically met her end at what must have been a magnificent home. I'd say they've got a ghost alright, the ghost of a former architechtural gem of the early 1900's.

The woman I speak of is Louisa Squire, wife to Feargus B. Squire. These were the owners of the previously magnificent gateskeeper's house, Squire Castle. Legend has it that Louisa hated to be away from the city and therefore never joined her daughter and husband on their outings to the place. However, once, when she was feeling particularly guilty about it she indulged her husband's wishes and attempted to stomach a stay at the castle. One night, she was stumbling around Feargus's trophy room and became so scared, possibly of the decapitated and preserved animal heads lining the walls, that she frantically tried to run. Louisa ended up tripping, or slipping and somehow managed to break her neck in the process. It's said that she now haunts the very grounds that she once loathed.

Feargus was so distraught over the death of his beloved that he lost all motivation for finishing the manse he had planned and with a heavy heart, moved back to the city with his daughter, Irma, abandoning his treasured retreat and everything in it.

Slightly more credible, however, is the documentation that Mrs. Squire never stayed in the castle at all and died at their mansion on Wickliffe's Millionaire's Row of more natural causes; a stroke. Feargus later took to traveling Europe and sold the gatehouse. The Metroparks acquired the castle in 1925, and well, you can see what happened after that. Everything was stripped from the house down to the very walls themselves. There's been some speculation as to whether or not that process was expedited through the looting of vandals, but as I understand, a good deal of it is on display in a museum, though the name escapes me.

Feargus was an entrepeneur who hooked up with Frank Rockefeller as vice president of Standard Oil. He made his way to the states from England as a boy and worked his way up the ranks until he practically owned all he could survey, so to speak. Oil was massive money, and money most definitely talks. If you look closely in the photo to your right, you can faintly make out what appears to be the ghost of a photographer picking Feargus's nose.

Originally the tract of land that houses Squire's Castle was to be named "River Farm Estate." It was thought only to be 525 acres, a fresh look at the maps indicate that he was actually the owner of over 800 acres. There were plans to build an immense country home but, for whatever reason, Feargus lost interest. Kind of odd considering he was rumored to have a deep love of the place and the solitude it brought.

Louisa, according to those that knew her personally, did in fact hate the place with a passion. I can imagine being the spoiled wife of a millionaire oil tycoon would accustom one to more amenities than the bush has to offer. Their daughter, Irma, loved the place, however, and accompanied Feargus there often. Pretty much everything there is to know about the weirdly reclusive life of this immensely wealthy family was learned when Shelley Pearsall, a historical interpreter, decided to weave the clues and newspaper reports together. Pearsall also participates in reinactments at the castle during festivals.

In my personal experience there, I had the sneaking suspicion that I was not alone on many an occasion. In fact, I was greeted by what appeared to be a zombie with a flourescent pink mohawk as I entered the central archway. I was plagued with visions that appeared to be young boys frolicking on the forest trail. I even came face to face with the most hideous thing I've ever laid eyes upon: An otherworldy (or at least other-decade-ly) visitor in a powder blue cardigan, wearing sand blasted...MOM JEANS.

Also, just as a warning, the room to the right of the entrance archway, pictured to your right, is completely infested with mud daubers. Incredibly nasy wasps, to anybody who's not familiar with that name. Those things hurt like nothing on this planet if you're stung by them, and there had to be at least thirty nests in there. I don't even want to think what being stung by about a hundred of them would feel like. You can't help but hear them, even before you walk in. I would NOT advise pissing them off or you're going to have a hell of a lot more than a ghost to worry about.

Needless to say, it's kind of hard to have the place to yourself, and the proof is everywhere. On the walls, on the floors, in the fireplace, on the freaking ceiling (how in the hell did they get up there in the first place?). Graffiti, everywhere, whether meticulously carved into the sandstone or written in permanent marker, it seems that every moron who's visited this place felt it absolutely necessary to warn future generations of their presence. While I intend to avoid anyone named JuJu or Alyssa and I do thank them for saving me the five minutes it would have taken me to find out exactly to what extent their idiocy reached: This is why we can't have nice things.

It goes without saying, but there are always those who will be too stupid to listen: Don't. Fuck. Shit. Up. I'm trying to keep these pages somewhat free of profanity (believe me, that's an arduous task), but I don't know how else to say it and convey my exact meaning.

All in all, Squire's Castle wasn't a complete bust. I don't see any possibility of it fulfilling the claims to be haunted, but it's a beautiful structure, I'd like to go back some day and check out the hiking trails behind the house.

For future reference, I had one hell of a time finding accurate directions for this place. It is as follows: I90 East from Cleveland, take the exit towards OH Route 91/Willoughby Hills, turn LEFT on Route 91/SOM Center Road, Turn LEFT on Charden Road (the Charden sign's a little hard to see for the trees in summer). Follow down Charden Road and turn right on River Road. Follow River Road until you see the sign for Squire's Castle. It's clearly marked and on the right side of the road. You can't miss it.