Watseka: America's Most Extraordinary Case of Possession and Exorcism

Welcome to Small Town Whispers. In Episode 1, you are going to get to know your host a little bit better and understand why she wants to keep the history of Watseka, IL and the story of the Watseka Wonder alive. 

The Roff family was one of the wealthiest in town in the late 1800s. However, money couldn't cure their daughter Mary, who was suffering from fits with strange and sometimes violent side effects. You'll never guess what's going to happen. This isn't your average ghost story. You just need to hear it for yourself. If you love a mystery from history with a paranormal twist, you are in the right place!

In addition to diving into the book and looking at the facts of the time period, we will also explore urban legends and folklore from Iroquois County Illinois and other small towns. If you have a story to share, please email Bethany Borden at bthny80@gmail.com or get in touch with us on our Buzzsprout website, Facebook page, or Instagram page. We look forward to hearing from you. 

Please also consider supporting the podcast by liking this episode, subscribing to the podcast, telling a friend about it, or even throwing us a small donation. We are thoroughly enjoying telling this creepy tale. 

Chapters

• 1:38 Welcome And Personal Ties
• 3:17 Discovering The 1977 Novel
• 4:26 Biking The Real Locations
• 6:16 Setting The Town’s Early History
• 7:50 Mary Roff’s Mysterious Illness
• 10:05 Dramatic Reading: Page 9 To 12
• 13:46 Reflections And Season Focus
• 15:22 Introducing Porchlight Whispers
• 16:12 The Legend Of Lanterns Lane
• 18:36 Family Lore And Early 1900s Sightings
• 20:06 How The Ghost Light Appears

Transcript

Bethany Borden: 0:11

Welcome to Small Town Whispers, where history, folklore, and the paranormal collide. I'm Bethany Yucuis Borden, and I lived in Watseka, Illinois from 1988 to 1999. For over a decade, I walked the same streets, saw the same houses, and even had friends connected to the story we're about to dive into. This isn't just history for me, it's personal. It was published in 1977, and while it's based on a true story, the author definitely took some creative liberties. The first time I picked it up, I was about 12, so 1992. I was at my Aunt Lesa's house Otterbein, Indiana, when I spotted it on her bookshelf. She told me it was a good read, but scary. My mom chimed in saying when she read it, it kept her up at night. Well, if they were both warning me not to read it, then of course I had to read it. By then I was already into scary stuff. R.L. Stein, Christopher Pike, Stephen King, John Saul. So when I got my hands on Watseka, I devoured all 310 pages in about three days. Could not put it down. What really hooked me though were the details. The houses, the streets, the way the book made the town itself feel alive. I actually hopped on my bike, helmet-free of course, and went hunting around town for them. The Roff house sat on the edge of town. Big brick with whispers about an elevator inside. And whispers about it being haunted. I'm pretty sure I pedaled past that one really fast. Then there was the Venom house, right across the street from the high school. One of my friends even lived there. Many years later, my mom gave me a hardback copy of the book with a note from her inside. Reading it as an adult, it was just as gripping as when I was a kid. This isn't just some old ghost story. It's a piece of history that still hangs over the town like a shadow. So let's dive in together. Here is the story of the Watseka Wonder. The book starts in the mid-1800s in the home of Asa Roff. He was a lawyer and real estate investor, and honestly, one of the big visionaries of the town. Back then, settlers were clustered around the bend of the Iroquois River, shipping hides and furs up to Chicago. They started calling the place Middleport. There was a hotel, three bars, and fittingly, the very first county building was a jail. Asa figured out early that if the railroad came through, the town could thrive. He was right, and it made him rich. Eventually the town was renamed Watseka after Princess Watchekee, a Pottawatomi woman whose name means daughter of the evening star. By the time our story begins, Asa's wife Anne is pregnant with her tenth child. Of the nine she'd already given birth to, only five were still living. A heartbreaking but common reality in those days. The children were Minerva, everyone called her "Nervie", who was 20, Mary at 17, Joseph at nine, Fenton at 8, and little Frank at 5. The family also had a live-in housekeeper named Loozie. She was from Africa, the only African woman in town, a free woman who was paid for her work. She cooked, cleaned, and cared for the kids. She wasn't just help, she was part of the family. The book's first scene drops us right into 17-year-old Mary's bedroom. Dr. Fowler is there, applying leeches to her temples and neck. He's desperate to cure her. Mary's been unconscious for three days, and he believes draining bad blood might succeed where everything else had failed. Suddenly, Mary stirs. She asks for water. The first thing she said in days. The doctor yanks the leeches off, careful to pull the one by her jugular without letting her see it, and then he bolts to get the family. And that is where I'm going to start reading to you. Straight from the book, starting on page 9, ending on page 12. Everyone stopped their activity and looked up as the doctor came into the room. Asa, Mrs. Roff? He gave a slight bow in her direction. Your Mary has regained consciousness. If you want to, come up and see her now. Both parents rose quickly and hurried up the back stairs. Nervie followed after them, and little Frank made up the tail end of the procession behind the African woman and the doctor. Mrs. Roff was the first one into the room. Mary, she said as she sat on the bed and brushed the girl's hair with her hand. Are you feeling better? Yes, Ma, much better. Thank you. She still had no strength in her voice. You want something to eat, child? Loozie's voice came from the circle of faces around the bed. I've got some broth simmering down there. No, thanks. You sure? I can have it up here in a jiffy. Mary shook her head. What did they do to my hands? We had to tie them to the bed slats. You would have hurt yourself if we didn't. But you were kind of out of your head, daughter. We didn't want you to hurt yourself. Did I? Did I do something crazy? Again? You just had another of your spells, her mother answered.

Emily Thompson: 7:02

Oh no! Did I hurt somebody? Again? Ma, I don't remember. It was just like last time, wasn't it?

Bethany Borden: 7:14

The mother's hand went out to smooth her hair. No, don't you fuss. It's all over and you're my little girl again. The important thing is that you're well. That's right, Mary. Ma's right. The important thing is that you're well again. Nervi was standing close to the bed and dried Mary's tears with a handkerchief.

Emily Thompson: 7:33

Pa!

Bethany Borden: 7:34

What did I do? Her eyes were pleading. I didn't hurt one of the boys, did I? He shook his head. You just rest now. We'll talk about it later. Anyway, it's over and you've come back to normal. Mary's eyes went to each face in turn. Lucy! Did I hurt you? Did I do something to you? The black woman shook her head. It was Tessie! Frank blurted out in his baby voice. You hurt my Tessie! The cat? Ma, did I hurt the cat? Did I? She was an old tabby anyway, Mrs. Roth answered soothingly. It doesn't matter, none.

Emily Thompson: 8:14

What did I do to Tessie?

Bethany Borden: 8:16

I love that cat. You chopped off her head, shouted Frank. That's what you did. And when Ma tried to take Tessie away from you, you pushed Ma on the ground and then you the boy gasped for more breath and continued. Then you licked the blood that was coming out of Tessie. That's what you did. You hurt Tessie, and Pa had to put Tessie in a box and we had a funeral. He began to cry. You killed Tessie! You killed my cat. Nervi grabbed the boy and let him continue to cry in her full skirt. Tears streamed down Mary's face. She struggled to reach out, but her hands were held down. Ma, you know how much I love Tessie. She looked at her father. Pa, didn't I love Tessie? Didn't I? Of course you did. You just weren't yourself, but it's alright. It's all right. We'll get another tabby cat. Mrs. Parker's cat is about to have kittens. I'm sure she'll give us one of them. Mary began to sob deep, body wrenching noises. Mrs. Roth looked worriedly at Dr. Fowler. She'll be all right, he said. It's the shock of the deed. She'll feel better once she's had a little nourishment. Mary, Lucy said above the noise of the sobbing, honey, do you want something to eat now? You ain't had a bite of anything for three days. Shall I fetch some of that broth? Mary shook her head and looked at her mother. Untie my hands. Mrs. Roth looked at the doctor. He shook his head. Not just yet, Mrs. Roth said. The doctor thinks it's better if you don't exert yourself too much. Ma untie my hands, please. This time her father answered. Mary, the doctor thinks it would be better if we waited a while. After all, he is the doctor. The sobbing stopped abruptly. Mary's eyes were suddenly clear and dry. She glared at Dr. Fowler.

Emily Thompson: 10:19

I asked you to untie my hands.

Bethany Borden: 10:23

The doctor stepped toward the bed. Not just yet, Mary, dear, he said. Mary took a deep breath. The sound of the air entering and filling her lungs could be heard all over the room. Her eyes grew cold and then glittered even though there was no direct light in the room. Didn't you hear me? she said in a low voice. A deep voice. Didn't you hear me? Her voice deepened as it got louder.

Emily Thompson: 10:52

I said untie my hands.

Bethany Borden: 10:56

Mary! Her mother exclaimed.

Emily Thompson: 11:00

That man is a fool. A fool and an idiot. Now just a moment, Mr. Roth started.

Bethany Borden: 11:07

And you are a fool and an idiot for calling him. Mrs. Roth looked pleadingly from her daughter to her husband. She doesn't know what she's saying, she apologized. She didn't mean to be Mary's face became twisted. Her eyes glowed. She contorted her body, pulling at the ropes that held her down. The bed creaked with the sudden movement. I said to untie Mary's hands! Her body rose up halfway from the bed, her eyes shut tight in the effort to free herself. Get the goddamn things off me! There was a creaking sound. Then the sound of splintering wood. Mary sat up in bed, triumph written across her face. Her hands were free. From each wrist dangled the length of thick rope. From each rope hung a piece of wood that had been broken from the shattered bed slats underneath. No, she said slowly and in her normal voice, looking at the startled faces around her.

Emily Thompson: 12:11

Now I have some of that broth.

Bethany Borden: 12:20

Okay, who is still with me? Did you see that coming? I know my 12-year-old self didn't. I am so excited to finally be sharing this story with so many people. I hope you love it as much as I do. Make sure you subscribe so you can keep coming back for more. This season, our journey centers on Watsika and the incredible story that unfolded there more than a century ago. But Watsika isn't the only town with shadows. Every place has its whispers. Maybe you've had your own brush with the paranormal, something you saw, heard, or felt that still clings to you even now. I want you to share those stories. So each week we can gather here under the porch light, swapping tales that remind us we're not alone in our mysteries. These stories bind us to each other, to the past, and to the places we call home. While I wait for your submissions, I'll share one of Watseika's own legends, a story carried not on paper, but by word of mouth, handed down across generations.

Chris Borden: 13:51

Tonight we listen not to the pages from a book, but to the people who have felt the unexplained and found the courage to share it. Welcome to Porchlight Whispers.

Bethany Borden: 14:06

Lanterns Lane is one of those classic small town legends that refuses to fade. In Watseka, Illinois, it's been passed down from generation to generation like a spooky family heirloom. I first heard about it as a kid in the 1990s, sitting around my grandparents' house on Cherry Street at Christmas. My mom and her siblings, Watseka High School students back in the late 60s and early 70s, swore by the tale. I always assumed it started with their generation. But I was wrong. Not long ago, I asked one of my old English teachers if she had ever gone out to Lantern's Lane. She said she'd been there a few times herself and hadn't seen much, but her grandmother remembered witnessing the mysterious light all the way back in the early 1900s. That blew my mind. I suddenly realized this wasn't just a teen hangout story. This legend had roots. Her dad always brushed it off as swamp gas, and over the years there were experts who came in to investigate. But of course, like any good legend, they left with more questions than answers. Most versions of the story go something like this: You drive out to Lantern's Lane, park, turn off your engine, and wait. Before long, a flickering orange or yellow light appears in the distance, as if someone is walking toward you carrying a lantern. It sways. It drifts. Sometimes it comes straight for you, and sometimes it moves like it's searching for something or someone. People say they can't make out a figure, just the light. Now, full honesty. Many of these eyewitnesses were also under the influence of Boone's Farm, Strawberry Hill, or whatever liquid courage they could find. So, you know, take that into consideration. Once one of us cousins finally got a driver's license, we made our own Christmas night pilgrimage. I remember the cold, the silence, and the adrenaline. I do not remember a mysterious lantern approaching our car, but I do remember how terrified we let ourselves become. That was half the fun. My sister, on the other hand, claims that earlier in life, she absolutely saw that light with one of her friends, and she still sticks to that story. As for the legend behind the light, some say a farmer or a couple were lost in a storm and drowned, and the light is someone still searching for help. I even found an old Facebook comment talking about a blizzard, a husband who went off to feed the animals and never returned, a wife who found a body that was headless in the barn, and maybe she's out there still searching for the head. You have to love how folklore evolves. Kids still go out there today. In fact, on a recent trip back home, my husband and I decided to drive out and investigate for ourselves. We parked in the right lane, shut the car off, and waited. The night was pitch black, quiet. And then I looked in my rear view mirror and saw headlights coming towards us from behind us. We nearly jumped out of our skin. Turns out it was just another car turning in behind us, but we scrambled to start the engine and get off the road before we became the ghosts of Lanterns Lane. No lantern sighting that night, but our hearts definitely gotta work out. And before I go, there's also the legend of the stone mailbox with no back. Supposedly, if you reach inside, you feel nothing. Just an endless dark. If anyone has that story, I want to hear it immediately. So now I'm turning the porch light over to you. Have you ever seen the lantern's lane light? Have you touched the mailbox? Or does your town have its own haunted road, ghost light, or eerie local legend? Send in your story. I want to hear it, share it, and keep these whispers alive. Until next time.

Chris Borden: 18:22

That was this week's edition of Porchlight Whispers. Do you have an experience of your own to tell?

Bethany Borden: 18:38

And with that, the porchlight dims, but the whispers stay with us. Join us again next time when another voice steps into the light.