(1894, Salem) The Ghastly Attic of the Hargrove Sisters: Erased From All Official Records | HO

Salem, Massachusetts, a town forever linked to tales of mystery and the supernatural, is no stranger to dark history. Yet among its many secrets, one stands out for its chilling detail and the thoroughness with which it was erased from official memory: the case of the Hargrove sisters and the attic that should not have existed.

The winter of 1894 was colder than usual in Salem, but the true chill came not from the weather, but from events unfolding at the Hard Grove estate—a grand Victorian mansion on the town’s outskirts. Owned by the unmarried sisters Eleanor and Margaret Hargrove, the estate was once a symbol of respectability and wealth, its halls filled with the echoes of family legacy. By spring, the name Hargrove was spoken only in whispers, if at all.

Sisters of Salem: Wealth, Charity, and Isolation

Eleanor and Margaret Hargrove, both in their thirties, were the daughters of Thaddius Hargrove, a textile magnate who left them a fortune and a place in Salem’s upper crust. Known for their charitable donations and impeccable manners, the sisters were respected, if somewhat peculiar. Few in town claimed to know them intimately.

What makes this story remarkable is not just the nature of what transpired, but the systematic effort to erase it from public record. Only fragmented documentation survives—personal letters, diaries, and rare newspaper clippings preserved by the Essex County Historical Society.

The Attic That Shouldn’t Exist

One detail appears consistently in the scattered accounts: the attic of the Hargrove mansion. According to architectural plans filed in 1871, the attic shouldn’t have existed at all.

Dr. James Sullivan, a physician with a practice on Essex Street, noted in his journals an unusual increase in house calls to the Hargrove estate starting December 1893. Sullivan described Margaret’s “nervous disposition” and her obsession with noises from the upper floor. He prescribed tonics, attributing her condition to “female hysteria,” a common diagnosis of the time. Curiously, by February 1894, Sullivan’s visits ended abruptly. When asked about the sisters, he deflected or invoked patient confidentiality. Sources suggest he refused to return after February 23rd.

The estate itself was imposing: three stories, a northeastern turret, wraparound porch, and three acres of land. Census records show the household included a cook, maid, and groundskeeper, all of whom would later give conflicting accounts of the events.

The First Signs of Disturbance

On April 7th, 1894, Eleanor Hargrove arrived at the Salem Police Station in a state of severe agitation. Officer William Brody’s surviving report states Eleanor requested help for her sister Margaret, claiming she was “no longer herself.” Police found the mansion’s front door ajar and the house eerily silent. Eleanor sat in the parlor, staring blankly, unable to guide them further.

Margaret was found in the master bedroom, perfectly composed, arranging her hair as if for a social event. She dismissed Eleanor’s concerns as “flights of fancy.” Officers found no evidence of crime and left. As they departed, Eleanor whispered, “She won’t let you see the attic. She never does.”

Secrecy and Strange Events

The following week saw deliveries of lumber and building materials to the estate. A carpenter was hired for “routine maintenance,” and the groundskeeper was ordered to deny all visitors. On April 22nd, smoke rose from the chimney—unusual for the season. A neighbor, Mrs. Catherine Lloyd, described the odor as “acrid, something I dare not name.”

By the end of April, the sisters resumed their usual public activities. Yet those who saw them noted they seemed “more alike than ever.”

Reverend Thomas Blackwood, concerned for the sisters’ well-being, recorded a confession from Eleanor in his journal on May 3rd. Details are missing, but Blackwood advised her to seek help beyond spiritual guidance, expressing grave concerns about the house’s influence.

Attempts by Blackwood and the town doctor to visit the estate were rebuffed. Margaret assured them both sisters were healthy, but as they left, Blackwood heard “distant weeping” from the upper floors. Margaret explained, “The wind plays strange tricks in old houses.”

Storms, Apparitions, and the Attic

Heavy rains came in early May. On May 7th, during a thunderstorm, neighbors heard cries from the estate. Albert Preston, a nearby farmer, saw a figure in white at an attic window—a window not shown in the house’s plans.

Preston’s attempt to visit was blocked by the groundskeeper, citing illness. Police and the new health inspector visited on May 9th. Margaret explained away the cries as a banging shutter, and the figure as a curtain. The inspector found nothing unusual on the second floor and was denied access to the attic due to a “damaged ladder.” He noted both sisters became visibly anxious at the mention of the attic, and Margaret’s grip on Eleanor’s arm was so tight she winced.

Officer Brody later confided seeing scratch marks on the parlor door—consistent with fingernails, as if someone had tried to claw their way out.

Increasing Isolation and Unusual Purchases

Rumors spread through Salem. Some said Eleanor suffered the same nervous condition as their mother, who died in a Boston asylum. Others spoke of strange deliveries—medical supplies, sedatives, and even plaster of Paris, enough for a full body cast. Margaret claimed these were for a cousin injured in Connecticut, but no such accident or cousin existed.

Eleanor stopped appearing in public. Margaret explained her absence as illness. The maid, Gertrude Hathaway, was forbidden from entering Eleanor’s room. Meals were left at the door; Margaret personally delivered tea and medication each night.

The Fire and Its Aftermath

On June 2nd, a fire broke out in the servants’ quarters, bringing the fire brigade to the property. Volunteer firefighter Thomas Collins reported seeing a pale face at the highest window. Margaret denied anyone was there, but her reaction was described as “afraid, then angry.”

Activity increased on the third floor. Furniture was moved, hammering was heard. Margaret claimed repairs were underway.

On June 5th, Reverend Blackwood visited at Margaret’s request, supposedly to comfort Eleanor. He never spoke publicly about what he saw, but missing pages from his journal later revealed a chilling account: Margaret led him to the attic, unlocked the door, and revealed Eleanor—her appearance altered, hair cut short, whispering, “She’s trying to become me.”

Margaret explained Eleanor needed seclusion for “dangerous tendencies.” When Blackwood threatened to report her, Margaret coldly replied that by the time he returned, Eleanor would be “taking tea in the parlor, perfectly composed.” Blackwood left, intending to consult town officials, but when he returned with police, Eleanor was indeed in the parlor, apparently well.

Disappearance and Erasure

On June 15th, Margaret announced she and Eleanor would travel to Europe for Eleanor’s health. Yet ship manifests show no record of their departure. Instead, a trunk found in a Boston hotel years later contained dresses with “EH” embroidered, train tickets to Montreal under a false name, and other personal effects.

The estate remained occupied. Lights burned at night, smoke rose from the chimneys, but visitors were refused. Strange sounds were heard from the upper floors—pacing, voices, and handwriting practice on mirrors.

In September 1895, a lightning storm struck the estate, causing a fire that engulfed the attic. Margaret was found in the garden, soaked and in shock. Asked about her sister, she laughed, “Eleanor is where she has always been.” The fire brigade discovered a hidden attic room, not on the plans, containing evidence of long-term habitation, two sets of women’s clothing, and a notebook filled with handwriting exercises: “I am Margaret Hargrove.”

Most disturbing were the scratch marks, broken mirror, and a message carved into the wall: “She is becoming me.”

The Attic’s Horrors Revealed

Dr. Pierce examined remains found in the attic, noting restraint, physical anomalies, and evidence of prolonged confinement. In private correspondence, he described “deliberate alterations” to the body, suggesting psychological and physical transformation.

Within days, Margaret sold the property and left Salem, supposedly for England. No record of her arrival exists.

The town demolished the ruins, built a park, and erased all official references to the Hargrove sisters. Police reports and newspaper archives were altered or destroyed. Only personal papers, diaries, and letters remain to tell the story.

Legacy of Erasure and Unease

Artifacts connected to the case have repeatedly vanished from archives. In 1953, workers installing a water line in the park found a box containing human hair and fingernail clippings arranged to spell “help” and “Eleanor.” These items disappeared from the historical society’s collection.

A diary found in 1970 by a woman renovating a nearby house contained a single entry: “I hear her practicing my voice at night. She stands before my mirror, wearing my clothes, speaking as I speak.” The diary, too, vanished from university archives.

In 2007, a grave marker in Maine was found bearing the name Margaret Eleanor Smith, with the inscription, “She found herself at last,” and initials “eh, 1861–1920.” The purchaser matched no known description, except for “odd eyes, one brown, one blue”—a detail noted in Dr. Pierce’s medical notes.

What Really Happened?

Some historians link the case to esoteric practices brought from England, involving identity transference and psychological manipulation. A manuscript titled “Transformations of the Self” describes methods eerily similar to those suggested by the Hargrove evidence.

Others propose that Eleanor suffered from mental illness, and Margaret’s actions, though cruel, were misguided attempts at treatment. A psychological assessment in 1962 suggested a severe personality disorder, possibly a pathological need to assume her sister’s identity.

The most disturbing theory, advanced by Reverend Blackwood, is that Margaret perfected a method of literal identity theft—erasing Eleanor and becoming her.

A Mystery That Refuses to Die

Today, the park stands where the Hargrove mansion once loomed. No marker commemorates its history. Residents report that nothing grows where the attic would have been, and on stormy nights, some claim to hear a woman’s voice calling, “Eleanor,” from the empty air.

The Hargrove case remains Salem’s most thoroughly erased mystery—a story not just of what was recorded, but of what was deliberately forgotten. It stands as a reminder that history is shaped not only by what we remember, but by what we choose to forget.