The mystery of the Witherell House

April 2019 Newsletter: Unraveling the Mystery of an Abandoned House “Cursed by Death”

The Witherell House has some surprising connections to Jeffrey Dahmer, the formation of the Wisconsin Territory, and a disturbing practice of divine healing from the Middle Ages.

Of all the things I’ve written about on Cult of Weird over the years, one of the most viewed posts is the story of an abandoned house I was caught trespassing in 20 years ago. The house captured my attention one fateful day in 1999, and continues to fascinate as I dig into its long history and hear about the experiences of others.

“Two story, Late Picturesque frame house with clapboard siding,” a historical property record states about the house. “Gable roof with bargeboards. Oddly shaped windows.”

The house isn’t famous or historically significant outside of Fond du Lac County, Wisconsin where it resides, but for decades passersby have been intrigued by its unusual architecture and the disturbing legend that has swallowed this once stately home.

It’s a legend that has drawn countless curious explorers to their demise. I mean, not that anyone has died in there recently, as far as I know, but many have been ticketed or arrested and charged with restitution for damaged property whether they broke something or not. Though no one has lived in the house for decades, the lawn is always mowed, the property is consistently maintained, and the house is heavily protected by fire alarms and (it is rumored) motion detectors.

It’s known as the Witherell House and according to local legend, a young mentally ill child killed her parents there.

While I have yet to uncover the origin of that story, I did find an old, yellowed letter hidden inside the house addressed to a Mr. James Witherell. The letter, handwritten in pencil, was an apology that Mr. Witherell’s wife and daughter would soon be discharged from the Fond du Lac sanitorium because it was closing. The sanitorium could have been the Catholic tuberculosis hospital that once stood just down the road from the Witherell property, or some other facility. But chances are it wasn’t referring to a mental institution.

Lyman Phillips house from the Illustrated Historical Atlas of Fond du Lac County, Wisconsin
From the Illustrated Historical Atlas of Fond du Lac County, Wisconsin, 1874

I first wrote about my personal experience with the Witherell House a few years ago hoping to learn more about it. Commenters soon helped shed light on the property’s recent history.

It seems the Witherell family were in fact the house’s final inhabitants, but there was no mental illness or murder.

“My grandfather, Archie Witherell bought the property during the depression – mid 1930’s, restoring the woodwork and upgrading heating/electrical,” one comment reads. “The surviving elderly brothers who owned it then had lived in the servant’s quarters – a portion of the house that was taken off – dragged out of the yard to rest near the site of an earlier frame house nearer the creek. Archie died of natural causes in 1967. Grandma Adelaide lived there with housekeepers until the year before she died, 1981. The property was expensive to maintain, and without Archie and Addie, was in need of other dreamers. There is nothing sinister about the grace of this lovely old home – no mad relatives or hauntings. It wasn’t the Witherell’s for long in the scheme of things, but very much appreciated.”

“I grew up in the last house on How 23 before county K,” another commenter said. “I was born in 1951. When I was a young girl our telephones were on party lines. Mrs. Witherall was totally blind and many times would fail to hang up the phone when she was finished talking. So, one of us had to go across the field and ask she or Mr. Witherall to hang up the phone. Nothing scary or haunted about it. As a teen, I was in the empty house once. There were old magazines and books and lots of dust.

“These are some pretty outrageous claims about this house all the way around,” the comment stated. “Mr. and Mrs. Witherall were very old, but not insane or possessed.”

Hwy K in front of the abandoned Witherell House
Bleak stretch of Hwy K in front of the Witherell House

Sometime after the Witherells’ passing, the house was bought by Dr. Kenneth Stormo, a clinical and forensic pathologist who served for the United States Army and numerous hospitals throughout his career, as well as holding the positions of Assistant Medical Examiner for Milwaukee County and Fond du Lac County Coroner. Stormo even worked on the Jeffrey Dahmer case when the killer’s ghoulish collection of body parts was uncovered in his Milwaukee apartment.

Shortly after his death in 2013, one of Dr. Stormo’s daughters, Lesley-Anne, took to a Facebook group dedicated to haunted places in Fond du Lac to lay rumors about the old house to rest.

“I am the youngest of Dr. Stormo’s eight children,” she wrote. “I have five sisters and two brothers, and all eight of us grew up playing in and around ‘the farm’ (as we have always called it).”

She went on to describe the joy she and her siblings experienced growing up in and around the house:

The inside of the house used to be beautiful: the smooth, elegant wooden spindles that lined the staircase leading upstairs that also outlined the stairwell that divides the second floor in half; the gigantic, private rooms that screamed with character whether because of the intricately framed window panes or the “secret cubbies” (not very secret because there are very evident doors indicating their presence) where my sister and I would sneak into and read by flashlight. The dining area – at the front of the house, which actually used to be the main entrance and once entertained a full front porch wrapping from one corner of the house to the other – had great built-in china hutches in the corners and I would dust them religiously because I knew “special things” were going to be stored there; the gigantic living area off the kitchen was also beautiful and, for the longest time, had old curtains hanging from the rods and there was an old cradle that I would play with; upstairs, the built-in bookshelves that lined one half of the common area were stacked with old books, outdated copies of National Geographic, some medical anthologies, financial analytics, and some nature reference manuals. The kitchen always had a familiar musty smell and was fun to explore the contents of the cupboards and drawers because I always found something old and interesting. My next older sister and I would often move from room to room with buckets of Mr. Clean and wash the floors until they gleamed; we would talk about how we would arrange the rooms when we moved into the house together.

But that joy eventually faded as rumors that the house was haunted began to circulate.

As I grew up I noticed that a lot of times when we would get to the farm my dad was less-than thrilled,” Lesley-Anne wrote. “Eventually I realized that those days, instead of pulling out the tractor first, we took a tour of the perimeter of the house and then he dug around for large panes of thick vinyl windows, plywood, a hammer and some nails. He would ‘board’ up (with expensive vinyl) the windows that had been shattered or the doors that had been torn from their hinges. At some point I realized that he was trying to keep people who didn’t belong in our sacred space out. And at some point I realized that the uninvited people that still welcomed themselves into this space that clearly wasn’t intended for them were actually disrupting the enjoyment that my dad, especially, experienced there. He installed an alarm system which resulted in him receiving a higher volume of middle-of-the-night calls and trips out to the farm to meet the cops and the trespassers, but he still had to board up the windows and doors that the trespassers had violated before getting caught. And, while he never shared this information, I can probably count how many dollars of restitution he received from the trespassers. My breaking point came when I went to the farm with my dad the day after a break-in and someone/some group had destroyed the beautiful spindles on the staircase and stairwell. The spindles were chopped, broken and torn from the fixture, and the beautiful handrails were broken into pieces and used as firewood in the bedroom that was immediately off the kitchen and dining area. There, in the middle of the bedroom floor, underneath the area where the carpet had been rolled back, was a HOLE the size of a fire pit. There was a burn hole the size of a fire pit in the middle of a room in this sacred space I knew as ‘the farm’ and the beautiful spindles I loved to study had been destroyed, and the alphabetical system by which I had arranged the books and magazines had been disrupted.

Abandoned house in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin

In recent decades, however, it seems visitors have had somewhat more unusual experiences with the Witherell House, helping earn its haunted reputation.

“Today I had my senior pictures taken by it,” one commenter wrote in 2017, “and there was a shot of me in front of the house where you can see some figure in the left window.”

Another wrote that when he was 14, he and a friend were walking on the road by the house. There was a candle burning in every window, they heard screaming, and saw a large shadow pass by the front window. When he returned home and told his mom about it, she warned him to stay away from that house and said it was “cursed with death.”

The house is old, beautiful and eerie, and certainly has a way of capturing one’s imagination. Some have speculated that an evil presence may exist within it’s crumbling walls that the owner of the property is trying to protect people from. Or that the memories of the tragedy that happened there are too horrible to bear, so the house was closed up like a time capsule.

What really happened in the Witherell House?

Probably nothing, of course.

“If you have read the entirety of my notes, and you are still curious as to whether there is any paranormal activity on/in these premises or house,” Lesley-Anne concluded when she shared her story, “take it from one who spent her childhood there that there is NOTHING haunted. There aren’t ghosts or goblins or floating figures. The ‘apparitions’ some claim to see haunting the upstairs windows are contraptions that one of my family members gleefully created last summer while I was there; if I remember correctly they are made of an old rug, some hangers, a Halloween pumpkin decoration, some other random objects that trespassers have brought inside with them.”

There may not be spirits, but the house is a gateway into the fascinating lives of its occupants. If there was a stigma attached to the house before it fell into disrepair into the 1980s, it could be due to the strange life of its original builder.

Maybe the house isn’t cursed, but Colonel Elihu Phillips seems to have been.

The Witherell House is private property

The Seventh Son

On a plat map, the Witherell House is located in section 7 of Empire, a rural Fond Du Lac County township that has been home to numerous prominent Wisconsin residents, including territorial governors, senators, congressmen, physicians, and businessmen.

“The topography of the town was such as gave to men and boys a broad vision,” W. A. Titus wrote in 1923, “an outlook over the extensive prairies to the westward that seemed world-wide to the restricted view of the early dwellers in the wilderness.”

They built their farms on or below the Niagara Escarpment, a significant geological feature known locally as “The Ledge.” The ancient rock ridge is called the “backbone” of North America, stretching 1,000 miles across the Great Lake region. The glacier that carved out much of Wisconsin’s dramatic scenery during the last ice age was split in half by the escarpment. It was revered by early Native Americans, who used it for sacred ceremonies and burials. When the first settlers arrived, they discovered the Ledge was a great place to build lime kilns for producing the white lime powder used in mortar, plaster, and paint. Also, the layered stone was perfect for building churches, barn and farmhouse foundations, and other constructions.

Empire’s first land owner was James Duane Doty, who was pivotal in the formation of Wisconsin as a separate territory and the selection of Madison as the state capital. In 1838, Doty purchased the land where the Witherell House stands today, and built the first frame house in the county. He served as a congressional delegate for Wisconsin Territory from 1838-1841. President John Tyler then appointed him as the territory’s second governor, serving from 1841 to 1844. Nathaniel P. Tallmadge, Doty’s neighbor a few miles down the road and a devout Spiritualist who donated his land for a cemetery after spirits taught his daughter to play the piano, proceeded him as the territory’s third governor.

This was the perfect place for a wealthy, influential man like Elihu Phillips to make his home.

Final resting place of spiritualist Nathaniel Tallmadge and his family in Reinzi Cemetery
Final resting place of spiritualist Nathaniel Tallmadge and his family in Reinzi Cemetery

Elihu L. Phillips was born in Manlius, New York, in 1800. While he was successful in both business and public service, his private life was marked with sadness and loss.

“Elihu was the seventh son,” an 1889 biography states, “and many were the children brought to him to be cured of king’s-evil, etc., much to his disgust.”

The “king’s evil,” or scrofula, is a form of tuberculosis that causes swollen lymph nodes and oozing lesions on the neck. Until around the 18th century, European monarchs believed they had the divine gift of healing, and a royal touch was the only way to cure this malady. The king or queen would stroke the neck of the sick, then present them with a gold coin that depicted the archangel Michael slaying a dragon.

Scrofula eventually clears up on its own, so the royal touch appeared to work.

The seventh male child born to a family, without any daughters in between, was also believed to have healing powers. Like the royal touch, people stricken with the king’s evil and other illnesses would come from far and wide to be healed by a seventh son. In France, a seventh son was called a “Marcou.” He would be branded with a fleur-de-lis, and healed the sick by breathing on the infected areas, or by the patient touching his fleur-de-lis. In Ireland, a ceremony was held when a seventh son was born wherein the mother would place a silver coin, salt, hair, or other object in the infant’s hand. Whichever object she chose, that would be used by the child later in life to heal. He would rub it, and then the patient would hold it to the infected area.

These practices were still alive in early 19th century America, and it seems Elihu’s childhood was scarred by an endless procession of the sick and dying.

A child with scrofula, also known as King's Evil
A child with scrofula, also known as King’s Evil

Elihu married Harriet Tousley in 1825, but he buried his bride just six months later when she was consumed by tuberculosis. He married again a few years later in 1828, this time to a Maryland woman named Eleanor Jones. They soon had two sons—both who died in infancy—followed by a daughter, Ellen, who was described as an invalid.

In the 1830s Elihu served as a colonel in the New York State Militia. He was later elected Sheriff of Onondaga County, and then to the New York State Assembly.

But tragedy struck again when Eleanor died in 1838.

Elihu seemed to cope by keeping his head in his work. He and his brother Lyman, along with several partners, took contracts to build 60 miles of railroad from Niagara Falls to the head of Lake Ontario for the Great Western Railway.

By 1852, however, the brothers were ready for a change. Lyman had contracted a fever that caused him to lose an arm (must have been one hell of a fever), and he could no longer live the active lifestyle he was used to. Elihu, solely responsible for the care of his invalid daughter Ellen, thought she could benefit from a change of scenery.

Elihu and Lyman sold their shares of the railroad contracts to their partners and moved to Wisconsin, where they bought property in the town of Empire. The 1889 book Portrait and Biographical Album of Fond Du Lac County, Wisconsin says Elihu bought James Doty’s farm, and Lyman purchased nearby property from Colonel Henry Conklin. Elihu built a new house on the property—the same house that still stands there today with the odd windows—in 1853.

It seems Elihu left Doty’s original home, the first frame house in the county, intact, as Lesley-Anne notes there was an “earlier frame house near the creek” when she was growing up.

Lyman built a nearly identical house the following year. The two houses were so near each other, and so similar in architecture, that it seems one is often mistaken for the other in historical records. But while Elihu’s house still stands over 160 years later, Lyman’s was completely destroyed by fire in 1876.

In its place, a Catholic Congregation called The Sisters of St. Agnes eventually built a sanitarium where they cared for tuberculosis patients. They believed the fresh air and natural spring water flowing from the Ledge had healing benefits. The hospital was converted into the St. Mary’s Springs Academy boarding school for girls in 1909.

St. Mary's Springs in 1901
St. Mary’s Springs sanitarium c.1901

Elihu thought the move to Wisconsin would be good for Ellen, but she died just two years later—the day after her 22nd birthday. Elihu continued to live in the house until 1865. Then a state senator, he sold the farm to congressman Owen A. Wells and moved into the city where he founded the Fond du Lac Savings Bank. When his tenure as bank president ended, Elihu once again left the city behind. He bought farmland in the nearby community of Lamartine where he lived out the rest of his years alone.

“Being very deaf he lived quite a secluded life,” Elihu’s biography reads, “but always retained the same old-school gentlemanly manners and erect bearing, which were so characteristic of him.”

The Seventh Son, a man believed to have been born with the divine power of healing, seems to have lived a long life marked by death. While he lost all those he cared for throughout his life, he himself lived to be 84 years old.

Elihu L. Phillips died on January 10, 1884.

Maybe the monumental loss he endured left a residual stain on the beautiful home he built, the persistent stigma of a death curse. Or maybe, as local lore suggests, something more sinister happened in the following years to cement the reputation that haunts the house today. But it seems more likely that the blacked-out windows, the peeling paint, and the unsettling aura of an abandoned space have been stirring imaginations for decades.

History of the haunted Witherell House in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin

Have you had an experience with the Witherell House?
Please share it here or in the comments below.

Weird News

A selection of the strangest and most fascinating headlines in science, history, archaeology, travel, and more from last month:

April Observances

April 1 – Thomas Edison claimed he would end world hunger with a machine that produced food from air, water, and “common earth”
April 7 – National Beer Day (I’m celebrating with the Unipiper)
April 14 – El Paso’s infamous “Four Dead in Five Seconds” gunfight happened in 1881
April 15 – Titanic sank 107 years ago (What happened to Titanic’s dead?)
April 17 – National Bat Appreciation Day
April 19 – Scientist Albert Hofmann’s first LSD trip, forever commemorated as “Bicycle Day”
April 30 – Walpurgisnacht: Halfway to Halloween

From the Cult of Weird Community

Share your oddities and weird adventures by tagging your photos #cultofweird

Send questions, photos of your favorite oddities, or share share your strange or unexplained experiences to be included in the next newsletter. Use the contact form or email


Vulgar statue of Archbishop Konrad von Hochstade on the Cologne City Hall

This vulgar sculpture on the side of the Cologne City Hall, dating from around 1410, is the base upon which a larger sculpture of Konrad von Hochstade stands. Hochstade was the archbishop of Cologne from 1238-1261, and it seems people didn’t like him very much.

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Abandoned Witherell House in Fond du Lac, WI

What is the Story Behind this Mysterious Abandoned House in Fond du Lac?

What happened inside this abandoned house in Fond du Lac to give it such a sinister and bizarre reputation? The Witherell House has a long and mysterious history.

On County Highway K, outside of Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, is an eerie old house set back from the road. Though not much is known about the property, its unusual architecture and local legends have made it a point of interest for what may be decades of restless teenagers.

Which is exactly how my fate became entwined with this cursed place.


I was 18 years old. It was 1999, and I was living with friends in a backwoods town about an hour north of Milwaukee in the heart of Deliverance country. As can be expected when you live in the sphincter of the great Dairy State, we were horrendously bored and desperate for adventure. We were sharing stories about haunted locations, as the night before we had been creeping around the woods near Rienzi Cemetery in search of witch graves and gates to Hell.

A friend from nearby Fond du Lac shared a story he had heard about an abandoned house in the area. According to local legend, a girl had murdered both her parents there. And he knew the location of the house. As a matter of fact, it was just down the road from Rienzi.

How could I possibly resist?

So a group of us jumped in the car and headed off into the wild unknown, completely unaware of the misfortune that would soon befall us.

Fond du Lac abandoned house

Today, the trees and bushes have been trimmed back, and a neighborhood of modern houses sprouted up beside the house. 16 years ago, though, the property was isolated, ominous, overgrown and barely visible from the road. White paint was peeling off to reveal the gray, weathered clapboard beneath. Most of the windows were broken, gaping black voids. A sun room in the back had collapsed inward.

The door in the back was padlocked shut. A large NO TRESPASSING sign should have been enough to deter us at that point…but the house seemed completely neglected. It was falling in on itself. How would anyone notice, or possibly even care, if we went in and looked around?

Well, it turns out someone cares very much.

Someone in our group pushed the door open, probably breaking the latch off the rotting door frame, and we crept inside. I didn’t expect to find anything, but of course I was hoping for anything to substantiate the legend…you know, 100-year-old blood stains, human remains, etc. The first thing I remember seeing was a mattress on the bare wood floor of the living room, in front of a large fireplace. On the mattress was a Ouija board and some burned candles.

There were cans of paint and other supplies covered in layers of dust in the kitchen. I found a few receipts laying around on the counter, the most recent dated 1987. Whoever was attempting to fix the place up seemed to have given up a long time ago.

Musty books were piled on the floor of an upstairs room. I examined a few of them, which appeared to be pathology texts with obscure symptoms and disorders underlined throughout.

The fieldstone basement was extremely dark, so we didn’t go too far down there. I remember noticing a few pieces of rusted metal, perhaps a water heater and furnace, resting just beyond the light that shone down the narrow staircase.

The Letter

Abandoned and haunted Witherell House in Fond du Lac, WI

Back upstairs, along the side of the wall in which the fireplace had been built, I found a single square cupboard door. It opened downward to function as a writing surface for a secretary desk-style compartment in the wall. It was empty, but I noticed an ornate wooden handle at the back. I tugged on it, and realized the whole desk was just loosely set into the wall. I carefully slid it out…to reveal a letter that had been hidden behind it.

The paper was stiff and yellowed, handwritten in pencil. It was addressed to a Mr. J. Witherell, an apology from the Fond du Lac sanatorium that, since the facility was closing, his wife and daughter would have to be discharged. Was this evidence that some unspeakable tragedy may have actually happened there? If the letter was real, how had it never been found before?

Excited by actual, physical evidence to support some semblance of the story I was there to find, I slipped the letter into my back pocket and started toward the door. Just as I was about the exit the house, a Fond du Lac County sheriff rounded the corner from the front of the house and was approaching the door. I quickly alerted the others, but there would be no escape. Through the large front windows, we could see firetrucks and squad cars lined up out on the road.

While most of us were exploring, two members of our group had apparently been throwing around wood and other junk they found laying around. In the process, they managed to knock a fire detector off the ceiling, which triggered an automated alarm at the fire department.

There was a moment of panic, then we decided to go outside and face the firing squad. I wasn’t keen on the idea of a theft charge, so I left the letter on the mantle of the fireplace before stepping outside.

As we were explaining ourselves to the officers, an older woman (the owner or caretaker of the property) walked around the house, surveying the damage. She claimed she lived nearby, and had heard the sound of smashing glass from her home. She said something to the effect that she had been there the day prior and that all the windows were intact. As a result, not only did we all get fined for trespassing, we were assessed restitution for property damage totaling $1,500 each.

We were told that trespassers were pulled out of that house frequently. But why is a dilapidated house that’s been vacant for decades so heavily protected? Why is the grass mowed and the property regularly maintained?

The historical Witherell House in Fond du Lac

History of the Witherell House

I’ve come across several recent references to the house, suggesting rumors still persist. Its reputation for being wired with motion detectors and other security measures is well known.

In a 2014 episode of Real Ghost Stories Online (listen below), hosts Tony & Jenny Brueski briefly discuss the house. They theorize that maybe the owner is trying to protect people from a dangerous presence inside.

I’ve often thought that, if something tragic did in fact happen there, maybe the family couldn’t bear to let the memory wither away with the house. I felt differently in 1999, though. I was angry and highly suspicious. Someone was trying to cover up a violent and brutal crime from their family’s past, and the letter to J. Witherell was the evidence that would justify the outrageous fines I couldn’t possibly afford to pay.

Until recently, I had never found any factual information on the house. I was searching for a record of a sanatorium in Fond du Lac the other day when I stumbled upon a searchable database on the Wisconsin Historical Society website. Much to my disbelief, Fond du Lac’s most mysterious (and arguably most feared) abandoned house had a history. According to the historical record, it is an 1873 Queen Anne known as the Witherell House. This is the first reference I’ve found to the name on the letter, giving credence to its authenticity.

From the description of the property:

Two story, Late Picturesque frame house with clapboard siding. Gable roof with bargeboards. Oddly shaped windows. Pictured in 1874 Atlas of Fond du Lac County.

Phillips, the former sheriff of Onondaga County, New York and a state representative, arrived in Fond du Lac County in 1852 with his brother Lyman Phillips. Primarily a farmer, Phillips was also elected to the state Senate in 1860, and provost marshal of the Fond du Lac district in 1863-1864. Elihu was also the founder and first president of the Fond du Lac Savings Bank.

The Lyman Phillips (Elihu’s brother) house was very similar in design and appeared on Bogert & Haight’s 1862 Map of Fond du Lac County Wisconsin. This residence, however, was destroyed by fire in 1876.

Historical photo of the abandoned Witherell house on Hwy K in Fond du Lac

Historical photo of the abandoned Witherell house in Fond du Lac

Historical photo of the abandoned Witherell house in Fond du Lac

As you can see in the photos above, the house was in much better condition when it was the subject of a historical survey in 1974.

Searching for the Fond du Lac Sanatorium

A vintage postcard of St. Mary's Springs sanitarium in Fond du Lac
Postcard from St. Mary’s Springs Sanitarium c.1901

I have yet to find a record of a facility specifically called the Fond du Lac Sanatorium. Just down the road from the Witherell House, however, is St. Mary’s Springs Catholic high school. It was built in 1901 by the Sisters of Saint Agnes to serve as a sanitarium, but it closed in 1909 to become a girl’s boarding school.

Is that what the letter was referring to?

What happened in the house after J. Witherell’s sick wife and daughter returned home?

It’s worth noting that St. Mary’s Springs, the Witherell House, and Rienzi Cemetery are all on Hwy K within just a few minutes of each other. At the back of the cemetery is a single monument and four small cornerstones possibly marking the perimeter of a mass grave. This is the infamous Witch Circle, rumored to be the final resting place of nuns from St. Mary’s Springs who were excommunicated for practicing witchcraft and getting pregnant.

Real Ghost Stories Online: Abandoned Haunted House?

Have you had an experience with the Witherell House, or have some insight into its real history?
Please share it in the comments below.

PART TWO: Unraveling the mystery of the Witherell House