Wicked Salem by Sam Baltrusis covers 300-plus years of history and people in three categories: the Witches, the Murderers, and the Cursed. The book includes stories about Bridget Bishop, George Jacobs Sr., and Mary Estey; self-confessed Boston Strangler Albert DeSalvo, Giles Corey, and Captain White’s murderer, Richard Crowninshield; Rev. Cotton Mather, Sheriff George Corwin, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Harry Houdini. According to Baltrusis—a tour guide and paranormal researcher—each person profiled has a particular “haunt” in Salem.

Despite his scaredy-cat persona, Baltrusis tells intriguing stories filled with detailed information about actual people and places in Salem, intermingled with his personal and professional experiences. He interviews modern-day practicing witches, including Laurie Cabot the Official Witch of Salem and tour guide Thomas O’Brien Vallor. And in case readers get confused, Vallor adamantly explains: “The victims of the witch trials were definitely not witches.” The book also includes sidebars—most notably with Margo Burns, project manager of Records of the Salem Witch-Hunt, and Kelly Daniell, archivist for Peabody Historical Society—for historical perspective.

In many instances, Baltrusis judiciously uses the word “allegedly,” especially in reference to oft-repeated “quotes” from long-dead people. In retelling a ghost sighting at the Samuel Pickman House, he admits, “after doing exhaustive historical research, I found no real proof to suggest the story of the murder or the supposed demonic infestation at the house is true” (17). I’m curious why it’s included, even if it’s a hotspot of paranormal activity. Baltrusis said he “made a concerted effort to stick to the historical facts, even if it resulted in debunking an alleged encounter with the paranormal” (235).

Lingering Lore and Legends

Baltrusis claims Wicked Salem is about “correcting the misinformation associated with the witch trials hysteria of 1692. Over the past decade, I have noticed a shift toward untangling these historical inaccuracies, but we still have a long way to go” (240). Yet much of the book, Baltrusis admits, came from updated excerpts from his nine previous books and published articles. (That must be why 18 pages about the U.S.S. Salem’s haunted attraction in Quincy was included, though the ship had nothing to do with the city of Salem.) In addition, he conducted interviews, read paranormal books on Salem, and checked out related blogs and websites for this volume.

However, Baltrusis repeats myths that have been corrected ages ago by historians and genealogists. Here are just a few:

  • Joanna Chibbun “declared that [Sarah] Good, who was pregnant in 1692 and lost her unborn child in Ipswich, actually murdered the infant” (72). Good’s infant daughter was born 10 December 1691, before she was charged with witchcraft (see New England Historical & Genealogical Register 157:9, published 2003).
  • In 1981, David L. Greene sorted out the identities of accused witches Bridget Bishop and Sarah Bishop (The American Genealogist 57:129-131). Although acknowledging the confusion, Baltrusis writes: Bridget “lived in Salem Village (present-day Danvers) but owned property on the eastern side of Salem’s current Washington and Church streets … that she sometimes leased out to tenants” (26, 41). Sarah Bishop and her husband ran an unlicensed tavern in Salem Village while Bridget Bishop lived in Salem Town. That’s why, regarding her Salem Village accusers, Bridget explicitly said: “I never saw these persons before; nor I never was in this place [Salem Village] before.”
  • On Bridget Bishop’s hanging, one of Baltrusis’ interviewees claims: “They could have just put the noose around Bridget’s neck and killed her instantly. But they didn’t. The executioners actually positioned the noose so she would die a slow, horrible death. She was hanging in the gallows—convulsing and losing control of her bowels—in front of a crowd of people. They were publicly shaming her before they killed her” (28-30). That’s not exactly true. Yes, hordes of people attended such a public spectacle, believed to be for their own edification. While we don’t know if the victims were hanged using the gallows or a tree, a quick death only happened if the victim’s neck snapped as their bodies dropped. That rarely happened; it often took “up to 20 minutes for the victims to die” by strangulation, as Margo Burns explains (67). And, yes, after death, the spontaneous relaxation of muscles sometimes caused bodily fluids to seep out.
  • Howard Street Cemetery is not where Giles Corey was crushed to death (18, 104, 106). The obstinate Corey suffered the medieval torture of peine fort et dure at the now-demolished 1683 jail at the corner of Federal Street and Prison Lane (now St. Peter’s Street). Like many of the witch trial victims, we don’t know where Giles Corey’s broken body was buried. But it’s not at Howard Street Cemetery, where the first burial occurred in 1801. (American Ancestors Magazine 15.4:36-37, published 2014)

More Weight

Throughout Wicked Salem, Frank C. Grace’s photographs capture the essence of the city’s past, while Baltrusis offers educational and entertaining stories—without the profound weight of history.

Granted, I’m not the intended audience of Baltrusis’ works. I’m skeptical about the existence of ghosts and paranormal phenomena. I’m disturbed by the continual misappropriation of the Salem witch trials with Halloween, Haunted Happenings, and horror thrills. And I have a penchant for being a mythbuster when it comes to innocent people accused of witchery.

Only a handful of books published on the Salem witch hunts have become standard textbooks in classrooms and popular among the reading public. These influential books, published between 1974 and 2002, are “exemplary histories that have greatly augmented the world’s knowledge of witch hunting in 17th-century America,” according to Tony Fels, associate professor of history at the University of San Francisco. However, in looking for underlying causes of the witch hunts, Fels claims these writers lost sight of the real victims—the accused witches.

Switching Sides: How a Generation of Historians Lost Sympathy for the Victims of the Salem Witch Hunt is not a history book, Fels explains. Its purpose is to describe author biases and how they chose data to emphasize their storylines, while justifying myriad causes of the accusers.

Literally the study of historical writing, “historiography” emphasizes not the events of the past and their causes—the standard subject matter of the discipline of history—but rather how historians construct their narratives and explanations of these events. —Tony Fels

As counterpoint, Fels begins with Marion L. Starkey’s The Devil in Massachusetts: A Modern Enquiry into the Salem Witch Trials (1949). In spite of its Freudian analysis and out-of-fashion sexism, Starkey highlights the heroism of the men and women who were martyred for their religious beliefs or for standing up for truth. (She tells a good story, but for me, Starkey relies too much on Charles W. Upham’s 1867 History of Salem Witchcraft with its caricatures and imaginations disguised as truth.)

Fels interweaves many other witch-hunt books into his narrative, but centers on the themes of socioeconomic imbalances, village factionalism, social solidarity, deviant behavior, gender oppression, and racial politics as found in these four scholarly works:

As students of the 1960s and 1970s, Fels claims these “New Left” authors are attracted to the marginality and psychological factors of the afflicted accusers, who they see as the rebels of 1692. The accusers’ motives stem from their own victimization, or from the dead cows and sickly children the accused witches leave behind.

Switching Sides emphasizes that accused witches were innocent targets of injustice in an out-of-balance world. If we read all four books together, we understand multifaceted reasons behind the witch hunts—but skirt around what Fels believes are the underlying causes, of Puritanism and communal scapegoating. By reviewing these classic texts, Fels also incorporates newer research to update the Salem story.

Well worth reading, especially if you’re familiar with the books mentioned.

Switching Sides: How a Generation of Historians Lost Sympathy for the Victims of the Salem Witch Hunt by Tony Fels (2018)

For more about Tony Fels, go to https://www.tonyfels.com/.

Jean M. Roberts recently published Weave a Web of Witchcraft, the story of Hugh and Mary Parsons of Springfield, Massachusetts, who were tried for witchcraft in 1651. Below, we discuss the writer’s craft, the research involved, and how the community reacted to charges against this married couple. 

WitchesMassBay: Why did you decide to write the story about Hugh and Mary Parsons?

Jeanie Roberts: The road to this book was long and twisty! Several years ago, I was doing genealogy research on an ancestor, William Sanderson, who lived in Watertown, Massachusetts. At the time I thought his father might be a man by the name of Edward Sanderson. While digging for information I uncovered a nasty skeleton in the proverbial closet. Edward Sanderson had raped Ruth, the eight-year-old daughter of Hugh Parsons, also of Watertown. This Hugh has been, over the years, confused with the Hugh Parsons accused of witchcraft in Springfield. I remember thinking, “Wow, how could this poor man have had such a wretched life?” And I thought it would make a great book. Only after I began to seriously research Hugh and his wife Mary Parsons did I realize that there were two separate men, but by then I was hooked on the witchcraft story.

WitchesMassBay: How do you as an author put yourself into a 17th-century mindset to tell their story?

Jeanie Roberts: I fell in love with history as a young woman. Most of the books I read are nonfiction history books. When I began doing genealogy, I was surprised, happily, to find that I have dozens of Puritan ancestors. I was also somewhat shocked to find that among my ancestors were accused witch Mary Bradbury and many accusers. Naturally, I had to read everything I could about the Salem witch trials. My most recent read was The Witches: Suspicion, Betrayal, and Hysteria in 1692 by Stacy Schiff, which I highly recommend.

For me, genealogy is not just about names and dates, it’s about who these people were, what were they like, how did they live, what did they believe. So, I began reading everything I could about them. Even before I decided to write this book, I was reading resource books. One of my favorites is Albion’s Seed by David Hackett Fisher. I even bought a book on how they constructed their houses. One of my favorite reads is 17th century probate files, including wills and their inventories. I love to see what they owned, how their houses were furnished, what small creature comforts they possessed. Other books that I found extremely insightful were Goodwives: Image and Reality in the Lives of Women in Northern New England, 1650-1750 by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich and Governing the Tongue by Jane Kamensky.

My husband indulges me in my research and a few years ago we went on a research vacation through Massachusetts and New Hampshire, looking at first-period houses to get a better idea of what they were like. We even toured the Macy-Colby House in Amesbury, where my ancestor Anthony Colby lived.

When I laid out the outline for the book, I was determined to give a fairly accurate representation of life in the Massachusetts Bay Colony. From making soap to butchering a pig to putting supper on the table, I hope I have captured the essence of life in Springfield and that the reader feels immersed in the world of Hugh and Mary.

WitchesMassBay: Do you think of the Parsons’ witchcraft accusations as an isolated incident—or similar to earlier cases in Massachusetts Bay and the Connecticut colonies? 

Jeanie Roberts: The accusation against Hugh came shortly after a Wethersfield, Connecticut, couple—John and Joan Carrington—were accused of witchcraft. Was this the impetus for his accusers? I think that these people really believed that the devil lurked behind every tree and that witches were very real. Mary Beth Norton raises this point in her excellent book, In the Devil’s Snare.

These people were also very contentious and quick to take each other to court. I believe that jealousy, resentment, and grudges had much to do with the accusations. Hugh was not a poor man. Economically, he was probably in the middle of the pack. He had a brickmaking skill that was in demand. He seems to have taken advantage of his monopoly and maybe charged more than others liked. It may be that his accusers were seeking revenge. Anne Rinaldi makes this point in her fictionalized story of the Salem witch trials, A Break with Charity.

In 1656, a second Mary Parsons—married to Joseph Parsons of Northampton (relationship to Hugh unknown)—was also the victim of witchcraft gossip. Her husband sued for slander and won. However, her accuser later made a formal charge against Mary in 1674 and she was taken to Boston for trial. Thankfully, she was acquitted. It is suggested that economic jealousy played a part in that case.

WitchesMassBay: Why do you think the Springfield community supported and corroborated the witchcraft claims against the Parsons, knowing that it could lead to their deaths? 

Jeanie Roberts: This is a good question. I think psychologists and psychiatrists would love to have the answer. I believe that mob mentality plays a huge role in all the trials that involved multiple accusers. It’s easier to convince yourself that you bear little responsibility for their deaths if burden is spread among many.

I think it’s interesting that accusations against Hugh began in the depths of winter when there was less to occupy the hands and minds of his neighbors. They had more time to stew about past grievances and recall slights and odd statements.

WitchesMassBay: With a husband and a wife accused as witches, were they treated differently by their neighbors and the courts based on their gender?

Jeanie Roberts: Augh. I don’t want to give the plot away for those who don’t know the whole tale. I’ll try to skirt around the story. Hugh, once accused, was placed under house arrest at the home of the town constable. The depositions in his case were dragged out over several months. From their testimony, it would seem that they were not frightened of him even after the testimony began. The constable’s wife asked him to help her with a task down in the cellar. Clearly, she did not fear him. Were they giving him the benefit of the doubt? It’s hard to tell.

Mary was on the receiving end of her friends and neighbors’ sympathy until she went off the rails, so to speak. She was dealt with rather rapidly after that. That’s all I can say without spoiling the plot!

In Jeanie’s book, Weave a Web of Witchcraft, you’ll even find testimony by my ancestor, Griffith Jones, and his curious story about disappearing knives.