The Ann Hendershot Mystery, Part 1
By Christian Crouch, Assistant Curator
A strange family. Torture. Mistaken identity. A mystery that’s never been solved. These are some usual ingredients in ghost tales. However, a story from Lynchburg’s past contains all these elements and was pulled straight from the pages of history.
As Halloween creeps around the corner, here’s a story to send shivers down the spine of even the least superstitious reader.
The year was 1829. The dresses were large and the top hats were tall and in Lynchburg, things were beginning to look up. The town was fairly wealthy, if slightly unsophisticated, due to the thriving tobacco industry; citizens were also marveling at the construction of the Clay Street Reservoir, which was completed in July. With the promise of running water and plenty of money to line their pockets, the people of Lynchburg assumed they were living in the most exciting times heretofore seen.
Corner of Main and 10th Streets in Lynchburg, circa 1890, Lynchburg Museum System
Then, the Barnes family arrived.
It is unclear exactly when the Barnes showed up, but it’s obvious they made quite the impression. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and their two children were described by others as “a fine-looking family” and the citizens were continually amazed on “how they do walk amongst us with such a city air!” Despite their apparent sophistication and establishment of a storefront on the corner of 6th and Main, the Barnes’ began to unsettle their neighbors. For example, the family was often seen to “pose in front of the store as a kind of advertisement” attempting to display the good-hearted nature of the family in a wholly artificial way.
But nothing unnerved Lynchburg residents more than the Barnes’ 11-year-old indentured servant. Her name was Eliza Ann Hendershot. Called “Ann” in most local accounts, residents noted she had “a timid expression of countenance, as if she thought some one [sic] was coming up behind to strike her,” and she often looked “overworked and underfed.” Possibly, their uneasiness was heightened as Ann was not often seen in public. This poor girl seemed to offer a sinister glimpse underneath the Barnes family’s façade. Guests also rarely spotted Ann when visiting the Barnes household. When seen, she appeared particularly attached to Mrs. Barnes. This lady of the house was somewhat infamous in town for her views on enslaved African Americans, somehow managing to be even more racist than most views in the early 1800’s. She would take any opportunity to tell friends and acquaintances how “her white servant...could do more work in a day than a negro could do in a week,” and she took every pain to display her “disgust for the negroes.” Despite these uncomely traits, Mrs. Barnes remained generally admired amongst the townsfolk for her fashionable and social flair.
Main Street in Lynchburg 1886, Lynchburg Museum System
But Ann really became a point of interest to the neighbors when she disappeared for several days. She was not seen until one morning when Mrs. Labby, a woman who lived across the street, happened to look out of her window into the Barnes household and noticed movement in the Barnes’ attic. Mrs. Labby decided do a little neighborly snooping from the comfort of her own home and was horrified by what she saw. Mrs. Barnes had tied Ann to a bedpost and was beating her repeatedly. Ann could only let out a small cry as Mrs. Barnes concluded her torture by pouring a container of hot coals over the exhausted girl.
Mrs. Labby immediately sent for her husband, a Mr. Pleasants Labby, at one of the factories in town who in turn sent for the police. The police, accompanied by the Labby’s, approached the Barnes household and told Mr. Barnes they had seen suspicious activity involving Mrs. Barnes and Ann Hendershot. Mr. Barnes attempted to dissuade the men from entering, but eventually he conceded and let the men into his house. They shortly found Ann, still tied to the post, with bruises and burn marks covering her body. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes were promptly arrested and sent off to jail to await a hearing. Ann was given to a “Mr. Jones” and an array of physicians and doctors to treat her wounds.
We know very little about what happened next to the Barnes family. A New York newspaper, titled The Corrector, tells us that they were incarcerated but were able to post bail shortly after their internment. After their release, Mr. Barnes wrote a letter to The Corrector, based out of Sag-Harbor, New York, which may have been a previous residence for the Barnes. In his editorial he attempted to blame the events on an African American enslaved woman he had rented from a local plantation:
“We had a black woman to work for us by whom the abuse was committed, without our knowledge, and not being able to prove this fact, I was forced to jail and have been most shamefully treated. The black woman...as soon as the abuse was discovered run [sic] off, which ought to be sufficient proof of her guilt; but this evidence is winked at.”
Excerpt from “The Collector” newspaper, Sag Harbor NY, October 24, 1829
The newspaper issued a correction after some badgering from the Lynchburg Virginian paper, stating the African-American woman did not actually run away. She simply ran next door and pleaded with the neighboring family to help her, as she knew she was going to be framed for the crime. The woman was never prosecuted as Ann emphatically defended her innocence and repeatedly stated the crimes against her were committed by Mrs. Barnes alone. This framing attempt was the last Lynchburg heard of the Barnes family.
You might hope this is the end of Ann Hendershot’s story and that she was brought into a loving family and lived happily ever after. Unfortunately, her story is only halfway through. Her trials would continue with a discovery from another New York newspaper – an ad for a missing Susan Allen.
To be continued in Part 2…