Built in the mid to late 1800’s, this house has been owned by the same bloodline since the rock foundation was first placed by slaves owned by the Browns. The 8 acres that the house was built on, bought from the Williams family (freed African Americans who moved to Culpeper, VA around 1840 to escape the harsh ways of the southern states), is said to have once been the site of indigenous Native Americans (Tribe unknown). Many people claim the house was built on or close to the site of a Native American burial ground, but no records are shown to back up the stories. However, local records do indicate an African American slave cemetery on the property although the actual location is not known.
The house was originially a 2 story farmhouse built by slaves belonging to the Browns with 2 rooms downstairs, 2 rooms upstairs, and a cellar which was occupied by the house slaves. Although the Browns were not known to mistreat their slaves, disobedience was met with strict consequences. Stories of whippings and starvation were known to have occurred. As many as 8 slaves, along with their children, were said to have worked for the Browns. Most of the slaves are said to have worked the land and care for the cows, horses, and chickens. One story told is of a fire that destroyed the slave quarters along with part of the horse’s barn (the site that many say was the actual site of the Native American burial ground). It is noted in the “Town of Culpeper’s Historical Records” that 3 adult slaves and 2 of the slave’s children were severely burned and died as a result of the fire. Another slave died the day after the fire from what some have said was a brutal beating from the landowner who in a drunken rage blamed the slaves for the fire and proceeded to hit the slave over and over with an axe. There is no official record of the cause of death of this slave.
In the early 1900’s the Brown’s had their servants (slaves who by law were free but had nowhere else to live) build an addition onto the farmhouse. Two rooms were built onto the main level of the house along with a porch. During construction, one of the servants fell from the roof of the porch onto a pile of scrap lumber and was impaled by a piece of the lumber. The servant died within 3 months from severe infection. In the 1960’s, another porch was removed and 2 additional rooms were added to the farmhouse. At this time the Brown’s youngest granddaughters had married into the Clatterbuck family and were now the owners of the property. Over the years 2 of the Brown descendents died in the farmhouse. Mr. Brown’s daughter and granddaughter, both reaching over 65 years of age.
After the death of Mr. Brown’s granddaughter, the house sat vacant for 3 years. The new owner of the property, still a part of the Brown and Clatterbuck bloodline, began to remodel and give the home much needed repairs. This is when most of the paranormal experiences began.
The new owner began cleaning out the house and found a couple of items he thought he would keep at his home. The same night he took the items to his house strange events occurred. After going to bed, he heard noises coming from the downstairs. He knew that everyone in the house had already gone to bed on the second floor level. When he went downstairs to investigate he thought he heard laughter coming from his kitchen. He found no one in the kitchen. When he returned upstairs he heard the laughter again. He returned to the kitchen, this time with a pistol. Again he found no one. When he turned to leave the kitchen, the light in the kitchen went out and he heard the laughter again as if someone were standing beside him. He immediately moved to the light switch and noticed it had been flipped to the off position. I can personally testify that the light switches in his house are older switches which require pressure to turn on and off and once in that position they will not move. When he turned the switch back to the on position the first thing that caught his attention was the items he had brought home from the Brown-Clatterbuck homestead. The following day he returned the items.
My personal experiences.
Before moving to Charlottesville I lived in the house for about a year or more. I remember the first night that I stayed there like it was yesterday. It had been 3 years to the day that my grandmother had died. Cancer had taken her. She was a great woman and anyone who knew her would tell you that. Her name was Fannie Estelle Brown Clatterbuck. Yes, this was my grandmother’s house. No one had lived in the house since she had passed away. There was no electricity in the house the first night that I was there. I had decided to go ahead and stay that night so I’d be there in the morning when the power company came to turn on the power. At this time, only one room was livable. The living room; one of the first rooms built in the house and directly over the cellar where the slave quarters are located. I had only seen the slave quarters in the cellar once. There is a door in the living room that you have to open that has narrow steps leading down into the darkness. We weren’t allowed to go down there when I was a kid, but I remember either a plumber or electrician having to go down there for something one time and when he went out to his truck for a something I snuck down there. There were 2 rooms underneath divided by a wall made of rocks about halfway up that met bars made out of wood that resembled a jail cell. The walls and floor had no covering, only dirt. There were no windows which made it frightfully dark. One room had a mound of dirt about 3 feet high that stretched the length of one wall. The other room only had one thing in it. A post in the center of the room that had shackles attached at the top. It was a whipping post. I could only imagine the slaves locked in the one room watching their father or brother or son being shackled to the post while being whipped. That was my first time in the cellar. Anyway, back to my first night alone in the house. It was around 11:30pm and I was strumming on my acoustic guitar. I sat the guitar down and sat back to smoke one more cigarette before going to sleep. Suddenly, the door knob that led to what was known as the dining room began to rattle along with the door moving like somebody really wanted to get in. My first thought, other than WTF, was that some homeless person must have taken up residence in the house while it was vacant. I grabbed my lantern and flashlight and bolted towards the door and flung it open. No one was there. There was no way that somebody could have run away before I got to the door. A couple of weeks passed and we had started to fix the house up. The living room was still the only livable room but at least I now had electricity. I had the room set up like a living room but had a mattress that at night I’d put in the middle of the room and sleep on. In the morning I’d lift it up on the side and lean it against the wall. One night, around 12:30am or so, I was lying on the mattress watching a movie and heard scratching coming from the floor beside the mattress. “Mice” I said. Then I remembered there were no ceilings in the cellar, just the main level floor joists and floor. This meant there was no way it could have been a mouse. Another time we had fixed up the entire main level and I had just hooked up the gas stove in the kitchen. I remember waking up freezing, it was February and the door that led outside from my bedroom had come open. Then I was overwhelmed by the smell of propane. The pilot light had gone out on the stove and propane had consumed the house. Here’s the kicker. That door that had opened in my bedroom had been nailed shut for years. We never removed the nails or opened the door while working on the house. Somebody or something opened that door and I’m grateful they or it did. If that door hadn’t of opened to vent the house out I probably wouldn’t be here now!
During my time there many unexplained things happened. Voices calling my name when no one was around, doors opening and/or closing, items moved around, and if you’re a smoker keep an eye on your cigarettes.
-Jason Butler
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