ROSE HALL GREAT HOUSE – MONTEGO BAY, JAMAICA BY SABA IGBE
and a well-kept golf course, the Georgian-style mansion is a tranquil place, with an extraordinary view of the water. A few cats laze around the grounds, watching visitors come and go. Today it might seem peaceful, but at one point the struc- ture was in ruins – crumbling and decaying for approximately 130 years, left to rot, and harbour- ing a particularly sinister past. The drive up the slope to the majestic house is
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a short one. Nobles, servants, slaves and celebri- ties such as Johnny Cash have all walked in and out of Rose Hall since the structure was built in the 1700s. Cash spent so much time here that he even donated a grandfather clock. But the most notorious person to ever occupy these grounds was undoubtedly Annie Palmer, allegedly a noto- rious widow who’s become known as the White Witch of Rose Hall. While the entire Rose Hall brand is promoted internationally as a huge resort property that includes hotels, spas, golf courses (there’s even one called White Witch) and country clubs, the great house is still known in the area mainly as a haunted attraction. Beyond the ticket entrance is the stately resi-
dence itself, with limestone stairs that lead to the house’s actual entryway. Originally commis- sioned by planter George Ash in 1750 and named after his wife Rose, the three-floor calendar house incurred significant damage during slave uprisings of the 1830s. Only the foundation
erched on a hill, a few miles from Mon- tego Bay, Jamaica, the Rose Hall Great House is a short distance from the seashore. Surrounded by gardens, ponds
remains in the East Wing now; the boards were never restored because the wood was far too fragile. Still, though the wing’s original rooms for guests, music and billiards might be gone, Rose Hall has retained its 18th- and 19th-century op- ulence. After a multi-million dollar restoration in the 1960s, the structure stands among the 46 re- maining great houses in Jamaica, serving as a reminder of the country’s plantation past, of which a few wealthy planters and thousands of slaves toiled in the sugar cane fields. Rose Hall isn’t an exhibition per se, but the
whole house is a museum. After purchasing a ticket, you meet up with a tour guide who leads you through Annie’s Pub – where you can stop for a quick Witch’s Brew, a concoction of rum and fruit juice – on your way to the dungeon. Modern restrooms on either end of the dim chamber dis- tract from the general eerie feeling of the dun- geon that once imprisoned the plantation’s disobedient slaves, but an assortment of letters in a display case provide some spooky stories about previous visitors’ ghostly encounters. Many of the messages include photos of Annie sight- ings, mostly in the authentic Chippendale mirror that hangs in the upstairs sitting room. Other guests are certain they’ve seen a man’s head on one of the beds. Once you’re led through the rest of the house,
the bright, open, airy rooms and grand staircases are a surprising answer to the dim dungeon. As you make your way across the expansive ball- room’s creaky floorboards, under- neath the original French gold chandelier,
the tour guide recites the tale of Rose Hall’s ori- gins. After the first owner George Ash died, his widow Rose remarried at least two more times. Her last husband John Palmer worked to com- plete Rose Hall between 1770 and 1780, ending up with a great house that soared above a 6600- acre plantation with 2000 slaves. Upon their deaths, the home was passed on to Rose’s nephew, John Rose Palmer. In 1820, John mar- ried the young Annie Mae Patterson. Born in 1802, Annie became the last mistress of the house, and a legendary feared figure in Jamaican lore. She moved to Haiti when she was just ten years old. After her parents contracted yellow fever and died, she was adopted by a voodoo priestess, who is said to have schooled her in the secrets of black magic. Her first husband was poisoned in the Gentle-
man’s Room. She ordered her slaves to dump the body by the seashore, and then the returning slaves themselves were killed. The 4’11” woman was rumoured to have stabbed husband number two in the Toile Room where, between 1905 and 1965, recurring blood stains were said to have been found on the walls. Another husband was killed in the Crewel Room with the help of one of her numerous lovers, Takoo, a freed slave. She blamed his death on yellow fever – a disease so common that nobody was likely to be suspicious. According to legend, in 1831, Takoo eventually killed Annie in her bedroom, and her slaves burned all of her belongings. As a result, no por- trait of her remains. There is, however, a picture in the Reception Hall of a lady in red surrounded by children that some believe could have been Annie – though she never had children. Some say that the head and eyes of the lady follow you as you walk by. Of all the rooms in Rose Hall, it is the guest room that is the safest, the guide as- sures, as nobody was killed there. Another scary tale comes nearly 100 years after Annie’s death, in 1905, when the British government sold the house to the Henderson family. Soon after they moved in, their maid fell to her death from a balcony. Convinced that Annie’s ghost had actually pushed her
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