Singleton claimed that the ghost of a vagabond traveler still walks the roads

George Buster Singleton 

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Ghost of vagabond haunts roadway, woods” was originally published in the Oct. 28, 1993 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

For someone who grew out of the Great Depression, all you have to do is to look around a bit to see that times have changed.

Once in a great while long ago, we might see a loner or a wayward traveler hitching a ride on our interstate highways, seeking out the distant places that call from the faraway horizons. But there was a time when these people who were exposed to this wanderlust fever traveled on foot everywhere they went.

Many communities, especially in the South would be visited by a wayward vagabond on a yearly basis. These would most always show up in a given area around a certain time of the year; the fall months of the year seemed to be an appropriate time.

Some of these wayward travelers would try and make friends with the local folk, seeking out a square meal here and there, and sometimes doing a little work for the favor of being fed. But once in a great while, there would be one who passed through the area in total mystery. No one ever knew from where he came, or where he might be going.

The area that I grew up in had one of these mystery travelers. As a small boy, I would stand beside the country road that ran near our home and watch this mystery man appear as though from almost nowhere. He would then vanish away into the evening shadows.

Roughly a mile from our house was a large creek. Here, the vagabond stranger would always camp for the night. The area along the large creek was a thick, secluded area where almost no one ever went except an occasional hunter or fisherman. But always, after a visit of the mystery stranger, you could stand atop the tall wooden bridge that spanned the creek and smell burning wood from his evening fire.

Always, during the closing days of October, this mystery stranger, who always was dressed in black, would appear during the evening hours along the dirt road. His appearance, almost always within the same hours of the evening, was to cover a period of 15 to 16 years.

The very few who had happened to witness the mystery traveler’s campsite, stated that he would be seen sitting with his back against a tall oak tree, facing a small open fire that burned directly in front of him. There, he would sit with his legs crossed with the tall dark hat that he always wore pulled down over his eyes. Then, in the early hours of the morning, he would be seen coming out of the deep woods and onto the dirt road, heading in a northwestwardly direction.

This vagabond stranger was never seen on a return journey from the direction in which he had gone. Many speculated that he must have traveled in a giant circle, one that covered many miles, a circle that took a whole year of walking for him to complete. But, no one knew for sure; they could only guess.

Then, that late October came when the vagabond wanderer, failed to appear on the dirt road that led to the northwest. Word traveled through the community, asking if anyone had seen the mystery stranger. But he had not been seen.

There were those who speculated that he had settled down and had discontinued his roaming. There also were rumors floating around that said that he had been killed somewhere in the state of Mississippi. The true facts of his whereabouts were really never known.

A couple of days ago, I returned to the area along the old road where the stranger had walked on his journeys to a destination never known. The old road is now covered with asphalt; the ancient wooden bridge across the large creek has been replaced with a modern concrete one. Up the creek aways, the large oak tree still stands where the wayward wanderer used to build his fire and camp for the night. Many of the local folk who used to farm the area have since moved; only a family or two yet remain in the old community where farming was the main source for survival.

A friend of mine that I grew up with has returned to the area to spend his retirement years on the old family farm. As we talked about our early childhood years, and the good times of the past, he suggested that we visit the area where the vagabond wanderer used to camp, there by the large creek. He also stated that he had something that was very unusual to show me.

As we parked our vehicle beside the road near where the old wooden bridge had once stood, the smell of burning wood filled the morning air. We made our way through the heavy timber to the creek bank to where the large oak tree yet stood. To my amazement, ashes of a recent small open fire could be seen. And there at the base of the old oak tree was the tell tale sign of someone having sat down in the white sands of the creek bank with their legs crossed and with their back to the tree.

My friend stated that these signs had been commonplace here for the past few years during the latter days of each October. He also stated that a tall stranger, dressed in black, had been seen walking out of the thick woods, and onto the asphalt road during the hours of early sunrise. As he turned to the northwest, after entering the road, he would take a few steps up the road and then vanish from view.

What had caused the ghost of the wayward vagabond to return to his campsite here on the creek bank after all these years? Was the spirit of the wandering stranger seeking from the past something that yet remained at the base of the large old oak?

Or perhaps it was seeking again the peace and solitude that continued to linger there on the sandy bank of the flowing creek.

(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from 1964 to 1987. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)