Sunday Favorites: The Ghost of Braden Castle

BRADENTON – It was no surprise to locals that rumors of a haunting were linked to Braden Castle. The dilapidated structure had a history. A major battle had taken place there during the third Seminole War. Inhabitants were confined for their safety and helpless to prevent the natives from capturing 14 slaves. They could only listen to their screams diminished into the darkness. Years later, after the castle had set uninhabited, an unknown apparition would terrorize trespassers.

Dr. Joseph Addison Braden, physician and native Virginian, came from Tallahassee to the Manatee River in the early 1840s. By 1850, he acquired approximately 900 acres of land and built and steam-operated sugar and grist mill. That same year, he built a castle that was constructed with the sweat of slave labor. Located on the west of where the Braden River meets the Manatee, the structure was a solid two-story home built of local materials.  A mixture was concocted out of lime, sand, crushed shells and water – what is now known as tabby.  In February 1856, Seminoles unsuccessfully attacked the castle. Later abandoned, it was destroyed by a woods fire in 1903.

After the structure was deserted, nature began to reclaim the property. Surrounded by cabbage swamp, the structure quickly became over-grown and dilapidated. However, campers on their way to get supplies utilized the impressive, yet eerie, landmark sporadically.

Andrew Curtis Pope was one of thirteen offspring born of Andrew Jackson Pope and Melinda Cason Pope who settled in Mill Creek. He and his best friend, Seth Stevens, drove as far as they could go before the brush got too thick. They then took a homemade, log barge down the river to get supplies from King Wigglns’ Dock. On the way back upriver, they would have to camp because the entire run took two days to complete. The property near the Braden Castle was their preferred site.

Ghost stories had circulated about the property being haunted. On several occasions, campers could vaguely hear strange sounds emanating from the castle’s thick walls. The unnerving calls and circulating footsteps ran off even the bravest of young men. 

On one particular evening, A.C. and Seth were camping after bringing supplies up the river with the help of an African-American worker named John Bulford.  As the three men sat by the fireside, they started to discuss the ghost. Every one of them was thought to be the strongest in the area, masculine cow hunters, or crackers, which had no fear. According to an interview with A.C.’s son that was conducted in the 1980s, the account went something like this.

”You believe in the Ghost of Braden Castle?“ Seth asked.

”No I don’t, but I’ve heard some awful stories,“ A.C. said.

”One of these days I’m going to go up to that castle and find out,“ Seth said bravely.

”Oh yeah? Well what’s wrong with tonight?“ asked A.C.

”What am I going to do when you leave?“ asked John.

The two friends gave John the option to stay or to investigate with them. Scared to go, but afraid of being alone in the event of something happening John decided to tag along. He collected some log splinters, which he planned to light as torches when they entered the dark building.

With torches ablaze the trio began exploring the mysterious abandoned structure. Old furniture cast long shadows into the dimly lit rooms. After they explored downstairs, they decided to climb up an old stepladder to the upper story. As soon as A.C.’s feet hit the ladder they began to hear noises. John begged the others not to continue their crazy search, but they couldn’t be swayed to abandon their investigation, they told John to get in the middle, so he’d be in the least amount of danger.

As soon as they approached the top they heard footsteps. John’s eyes were as big as fists. He began to turn white with fear and his eyes rolled back into his head. He looked as if he would faint and lose his footing on the rickety ladder. At the top f the ladder, A.C. shined his light into the upper level, every time he’d shine the light on a different area footsteps would recede into the darkness.

”We’re goin’ to have to go up there I reckon,“ A.C. said.

”Oh no suh, no suh,“ pleaded John.

A.C. and Seth said they had to continue on. While on the upper level, the noise would return when they shined their torches into a new room, they’d hear the footsteps again.  Room by room they looked for the ghost. The hair was standing up on their necks as they approached the last four and John was so close to the other two, he was stepping on their heals. He was sure if he lagged behind, the ghost would jump out of darkness, grab him and pull him into the unknown.

Finally a strange sound began emanating from the last room, something was breathing heavily. They slowly entered the dark room. Something was in the corner, but their eyes strained to make out the mysterious shape in the darkness. When they shined the light in that direction, yellow eyes lit up in the corner. They continued on a little further – finally able to perceive the fierce creature that had been tormenting campers for over half a decade. It was the biggest old Billy goat the men had ever seen. Relieved they were finally able to exhale and have a good laugh.

A man by the name of Will Vanderipe, who always let his goats run free, owned the great creature. It apparently had been utilizing the castle as a den at night. When A.C. would tell the tale years after the bone-chilling account took place, he’d laugh and laugh at the listener’s reaction to the finale.

Today all that remains of the sturdy castle are a few crumbled walls. The Camping Tourists of American purchased the ruins in 1924 and has been protected ever since.