What I really like about Sheila’s novel is that it allows the reader to meet real people from the Chatham–Kent area and, in this fashion, we learn, in a very painless manner, a bit about our local history. The unsettled border of the time (1840s) provide a dramatic backdrop against which to set the story of the two ill-fated lovers and there are some supernatural elements that add atmosphere to the drama.” It is really the age-old story of star-crossed lovers who are meant for one another but cannot find a way to be together and whose story ends in tragedy. She describes her story in this manner: “Most of all it is a fictional exploration of the story behind the ghost story of Mary Jacob and a theory on why she died and who actually killed her. It started out as a short story, then it became a sort of novella, and then it became a full-fledged novel of more than 300 pages. I had no idea Sheila would take the story to heart as she did, but after many years had passed, and perhaps feeling a bit bored because of COVID, she decided to elaborate on the story. This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. So one dark and stormy night, as lightning filled the sky and thunder roared (as I recall), we sat huddled around a beach fire and told Sheila and assorted friends the possible true story of Mary Jacobs. However, as I grew older, I began to wonder if anything my grandmother recounted about the story of Mary Jacobs and the surrounding circumstances had any elements of truth to it.Īs a sort of tribute to my grandmother, I began to research the story and what I found was that the basic story my grandmother told me was absolutely true and, in addition, there was much more.
As the calendar once again closed in upon the frightening/wonderful celebration of Halloween, the graphic details regarding Mary’s demise grew in description in my grandmother’s retelling.įor many years afterwards, I believed that story was just that – a story told to keep me off the River Road Dover on Halloween night. My grandmother (a wonderful storyteller) recounted to her eager grandson every year the tragic story of Mary Jacobs. It came to me via my grandmother, who was raised and lived her entire life in the close proximity of the Thames River, near where Mary Jacobs met her demise. It is usually shared near Halloween, mixed in with basic facts, conjecture and a certain amount of unsolved mystery.
Now the story of Mary Jacobs is a well-known murder/ghost story that, I confess, I have almost single-handedly made an oft-recounted legend.