Mr. Sanchez lives in a home just across the street, and opens the fort to the public every day at dawn, making sure to also lock it up at dusk every evening.
He took a quick look around as we discussed our excitement in visiting the ruins. Both Allen and I walked around the guardhouse and peered into the small barred windows and locked door.
“This building used to be open to the public, but it has since been locked up,” explained Michael. “But sometimes if you look in through the doorway and let your eyes adjust, you can see a big owl roosting up near the roof. It’s kind of neat to have him in there, making the fort his home.”
I stood in the doorway and tried to focus my vision, but there wasn’t a lot of light and I did not get to see the fort’s resident feathered friend.
I went on to mention that I was interested in profiling Fort Phantom for a paranormal book project, and Michael told us that several investigative groups had made it out in recent months to try and capture activity. Michael has been the caretaker of the fort for over twenty years and has met a lot of curious people interested in learning more about the history of the ruins.
“Throughout all of the years you’ve spent out here at the fort, have you ever personally experienced anything paranormal?” I asked.
“I was so proud of this one experience,” he said. “About a year ago, I walked out of my house when I heard troops calling cadence down in the valley behind the powder magazine. I went in to grab my wife so that she could hear it. When she came out, we didn’t hear anything except the sound of cars passing by. When a car passes, that’s really all that you hear. She wanted to go back in the house, but I told her to stay and listen. After the cars were gone, my wife heard the voices off in the distance too. I wish I would have written down the date somewhere so that I could go out at the same time a year later to see if I would hear it again. I never did.”
Allen mentioned the possibility of residual energy still present in the area.
“What else would there have really been to do out here but practice their marches?” he said.
Michael told us we were welcome to walk the property and spend as much time there as we needed before he left to return home. We had a very pleasant time discussing the fort with him and the possibility that maybe some of the soldiers who once lived here may still visit from time to time. I could tell he was extremely proud of how long he had been at the fort to oversee the ruins, and that he hoped to be there for many more years to come.
Just north of the guardhouse sits an old cistern. Just beyond that is a cannon, which stands alone in an area just before where the officer’s quarters once stood. The old stone chimneys and what remains of the foundations are really impressive, and inspired me to imagine what the structures looked like when they were new. I could picture the soldiers as they moved from one area of the fort to another, with a positive liveliness and purpose. I felt a sense of reverence as Allen and I explored and photographed each crumbled structure.
As we made our way to the commissary building, which is still largely intact, I honestly felt as though someone else was following closely behind us. I turned around several times wondering if there were other early morning visitors trailing along, only to find that we were still alone. We had the entire place to ourselves, and we spent a great deal of time just soaking in the environment around us.
There is an old wagon sitting among a patch of small trees and cactus that adds a bit of charm to the frontier atmosphere. Not much sits between the old commissary and the hospital complex due south of it. We took our time to walk across the property, all the while removing small sticker burrs from around our feet.
Allen and I discussed what it must have been like, literally stuck out in the middle of nowhere. The isolation from others surely must have had some impact on the soldiers who were stationed at the fort. What would these men have done to occupy their time? Fort Phantom Hill was a solitary and quiet pleasure for us to visit. As my husband and I wandered through the buildings and the brush, we held a silent hope that we too would hear the sound of the soldier’s cadence carried solemnly on the wind.
Fort Phantom Hill grounds (April Slaughter)
Spotlight on Ghosts: Hell’s Gates
A small piece of land in northwest Texas near the Lubbock Cemetery has earned a reputation over the past three decades for being an area rife with paranormal activity—resulting from years of reported accidental deaths, suicides, murder, and even Satanic worship.
A wooded area littered with bike and hiking trails, the area has become known as Hell’s Gates. Over recent years, it has attracted many people interested in practicing occult rituals. The occurrence of séances and various other attempts at contacting the dead have led many to believe that paranormal activity has been called to Hell’s Gates rather than originating here.
Locals and ghosthunters alike have dozens of stories they are more than willing to share with anyone interesting in hearing them. Legend has it that a young woman was once hanged from the train trestle that runs through the property, and that she can be heard crying in the night. Some believe they have captured her apparition in photographs during their investigation of Hell’s Gates, often looking as though she were hanging from a rope or simply floating in mid-air just below the trestle. While there is no official record of her existence or death here, her alleged presence continues to attract the curious.
Psychics have often reported the impression of something dark and sinister lurking about the area, angry and defiant, not at all welcoming of nighttime visitors and investigators looking to capture evidence of its existence. Equipment failure is fairly common due to odd battery drainages and rare malfunctions that are often associated with paranormal activity.
The area’s atmosphere is said to change almost instantly from calm and serene in the daylight to uncomfortable and frightening at night. While many are attracted to Hell’s Gates when the sun goes down, not many attempt stick around to see the sun come up.
CHAPTER 4
Lonesome Dove Inn
ARCHER CITY
Lonesome Dove Inn exterior (Lance Brooks)
ARCHER CITY WAS BORN IN APRIL 1881 when a dentist named C.B. Hutto relocated from South Carolina to Texas, built himself a log cabin, and began building a town. The town is named after Branch T. Archer, who was Secretary of War in the Republic of Texas and who actively fought for Texas’ independence from Mexico. The population never boomed in Archer City, as it did in other Texas towns, and it has remained a small community.
In 1927, Archer Hospital was erected on the site now occupied by the Lonesome Dove Inn. Dr. T.C. McCurdy built the hospital to accommodate up to fourteen patients, and he remained in practice there until it was sold to Dr. Ted Alexander and his wife in 1944. Dr. Harold Smitson eventually purchased the hospital in the late 1940s and set up his practice until 1957, when the hospital closed.
In 1978, Jay and Patsy O’Neal purchased the old hospital building and converted it into a private residence. A fireplace replaced the emergency entrance, and additional renovations were completed when it was once again sold in 1985 to Bertie Kinsey.
Immediately recognizable, the beautiful Lonesome Dove Inn sits in a quiet residential area of Archer City. A wooden sign posted in the front yard bears the name of the inn with quaint lanterns, reminiscent of Old West ways. A short sidewalk leads visitors to the entrance, where majestic white columns stand on either side of the door, proudly bearing a Texas lone star symbol etched in the glass.
Mary Slack Webb and Ceil Slack Cleveland have owned the home since 1998 and have opened their doors to anyone interested in experiencing a little Old West charm. Named after the Pulitzer prize-winning novel Lonesome Dove by Archer City native Larry McMurtry, it is beautifully decorated