Indiana-Man's Journal: Haunted Indiana 1: Haunted Bridge of Danville

The Haunted Bridge of Danville is a railroad bridge overlooking what is now called Twin Bridges Road. A steel girded bridge still spreads over Whitelick creek to the east but now dead ends just before connecting with Twin Bridges Road. The Concrete Railroad Trestle was built in the 1800s and the tale goes that while the trestle was being constructed an irish worker fell into a vat of hardening concrete only to be trapped therein. Since the tragedy there have been sightings of the worker's ghost stationed in the portals of the trestle waving a lantern back and forth.

My first trip to the Haunted Bridge of Danville was back in 1974. A friend of mine directed me out Highway 36 West from Indianapolis into the town where we turned South at the Baker Funeral Home went a couple of blocks and turned back west on Broadway which wound its way through the housing edition and then became a lonely dark road in the woods. ( In those days Twin Bridges road didn't extend up to Highway 36) After a short drive we came upon a steel girded bridge crossing Whitelick creek. After you cross the bridge the headlights of the car shone on the concrete embankments ascending upward on the Railroad Bridge above the road. In those days the area was heavily wooded and the scene gave off a better atmosphere than any horror movie. We pulled off the side of the road, and walked around the area. The word creepy didn't due justice to the proceedings.

Rick told me a legend about the Bridge. He told a tale that has circulated around the country about bridges similar to the bridge over Whitelick creek. He even began the tale with the familiar lead in, "This information remains on state police records". I was sucking it all up. He told how a young couple was parking on the bridge making out and the tires of their car was shot out. The young man opted to leave for help cautioning his girl friend to lock the doors. After he exited the car, the girl heard the intense sounds of a fight begin on the top of the car as it sound like jumping up and down on the roof. She was too terrified to look, and she began crying uncontrollably. The sounds coming from the roof soon lightened and just became an intermittant brushing sound. She cried herself to sleep and was awakened in the morning to the sound of a tapping on the car window. A State Policeman helped her from the car and tried to keep her from looking above the car, but she couldn't help herself and she saw her boyfriend hung from an overhead girder. His body had been ripped to shreds and the brushing sound she had fallen asleep to was his feet brushing back and forth across the car roof with every stir of the breeze. It would be some time before I would learn the true legend of the Railroad Bridge giving it the label of Haunted.

I couldn't wait to introduce the Haunted Bridge to some of my other friends. Tim Bush (many would know Tim as "Tree Boy" from channel 13) was my best friend and I repeated the story Rick had told me and we ventured out to Danville on a Spring night. It would be the first of three investigations culminating in terror.

Night 1. Tim and I arrived and parked my 68 Cutlass on the southeast side of the trestle. It was a cool night but comfortable. Tim and I explored the wooded area around the trestle first and then we took a trail leading up to the railroad we found an opening to the interior of the trestle and decided to go into the guts of the bridge itself. I would refer to the trestle's labyrinth from then on as catacombs. Tim and I took with us a baseball bat we had christened "the Frog Bat", our weapon of choice when adventuring. We crossed from one end of the trestle to the other, often stopping to walk out to the edge of a portal to peer down to the street below. Exploring the interior was similar to spelunking. Certain areas were void of any light, necessitating the flashlight we brought. The Spring thaw left a cool moisture in the catacombs. Condensation droplets would occasionaly splash from the ceiling. Had it been underground one could have imagined the beginnings of stalactites and stalagmites. After completing the journey to the other side, we ventured back and exited the way we entered. As we eased our way down the hill. A sound came out of the woods I can only describe as a roar. Tim and I both froze and took refuge behind trees. We stood quietly for a few minutes. After the pause, we resumed our descent. No further sounds. It was time to walk under the trestle and walk over the the girded bridge crossing Whitelick creek, but as soon as we steeped into the street under the trestle, the roar returned. Without consultation with one another, we ran to the car, fired the engine and drove off as fast as we could. Enough was enough for one night. After clearing the bridge over the creek and at a safer distance, Tim urged me to turn on the dome light. I complied. Tim held up the "Frog Bat". A fresh drop of blood was visible on the bat's surface. We were determined to go back but not that night.

Night 2: Our second excursion to the Haunted Bridge took place the following weekend and we arrived close to midnight. The night sky was illuminated by a bright full moon and there was a complete stillness when we parked the car. There were no sounds to be heard, no breeze and the atmosphere conveyed a feeling of dread. Both Tim and myself felt uneasy and we were convinced it was better to drive away and come back another time.

Night 3: Our experiences so far had been difficult to explain, so Tim and I chose to invite our friend Bryce Neeb to come with us on our third outing. Again we arrived late at night, but this time we felt no feeling of dread. Bryce was impressed with the location but was skeptical of our stories. Tim and I were feeling confident. We decided to show Bryce the catacombs of the trestle after we explored the steel girdered bridge over Whitelick Creek. We walked under the concrete trestle toward the bridge. No roars We walked three abreast on the Bridge. The sound of running water breaking across the rocks below could be heard as we ambled toward the other side of the bridge. I don't really believe in ghosts per se, but I do believe in the supernatural and to this day I believe we encountered a supernatural event. We had crossed about three quarters of the bridge when both Tim and I saw something crawling up from the bank at the corner of the bridge. (In retrospect, we concluded it could have been any kind of critter, but under the circumstances our imaginations allowed for it to be a supernatural threat.) We grabbed each other simultaneously, turned and began to run back toward the car. Not knowing what was going on, Bryce turned and ran also. When I turned, I twisted my ankle and had difficulty keeping pace with my friends. Halfway across the bridge something began to happen. The bridge began to shake, the steel girders swayed and a squawking sound (it sounded like a flock of mad birds screeching) could be heard overhead. I strained to catch up with my friends when I perceived what felt like the fingers of a hand run down my back. The ankle no longer slowed me as I sped up and caught Tim and Bryce as we reached the car. We sped away. Not one of us spoke on the way back to Indianapolis. When we arrived home and when Bryce tried to speak to what happened, Tim told him to shut up. We rarely spoke of the night again and I never returned until the mid 80s.

First Returns: I was visibly shaken when I first took Sterling Chuck Jones to see the Haunted Bridge. (I had drove my wife by the bridge one time a few years earlier to show it to her, but that was during the day.) The trip with Chuck was at night. Chuck was a fan of old horror movies like myself and he was very intrigued by the Bridges and the surroundings. We didn't stop and get out on that night but it gave me a chance to face my fears and find the ability to return. Chuck and I would return many times, tour the catacombs walk the bridge over Whitelick Creek and thoroughly explore the area. We made trips at night and during the day. We invited other friends. Stephen Kendall particularly enjoyed the Haunted Bridge. We took him on the night of his birthday. I think he would tell you it was one of his best birthdays ever.

Many years have passed since those days and a few years ago, a group of us including Chuck and Stephen went out to the Bridge to find it wasn't what it used to be. Construction has changed everything. Twin Bridges road now runs off Highway 36 leading south directly under the trestle. The bridge over Whitelick creek no longer connects to the road and a guard rail stands at the end of the bridge. Much of the woods has been cleared and the landscape differs. Quite frankly the atmosphere doesn't measure up to what it used to be. But there are still those who will attest that at the right time of night, if you look up into the openings of the trestle you might just see the figure of an irish worker swinging his lantern back and forth.