An eccentric groundskeeper is pushed to his breaking point… and beyond.
Baldwin's Orchard, 1890. Vernon Frost pictured on the far right.
Vernon Frost (birthdate unknown — November 13, 1891) was a Canadian sharecropper, murderer, and alleged paranormal entity known[to who?] as the "Lambton Ghoul".
Background
The details of Vernon Frost's life are unknown prior to 1858, when he was hired at an apple orchard in Lambton County, Ontario. According to the landowner's business records, Frost was "some thirty years, rough, [with] jaundiced eyes and crooked jaw", "illiterate and tactless". He nonetheless proved himself to be a diligent employee, tending to the land without complaint. On one occasion in 1860, Frost was struck in the head by a falling branch. Despite visible injury, Frost insisted on continuing his work, rather than seeking treatment. He was eventually rewarded for his efforts with the position of resident groundskeeper.[1]
Over time, Frost gained a reputation as a territorial eccentric. He took offense to all trespassers, but particularly young boys, who he described as "pests" and threatened with physical punishment. Questioned on this attitude, Frost reportedly stated, "No man ought to be born under thirty. I'd rather have shingles all my life than have a boy around for half a day."[2] This led to mockery from other farmers and an antagonistic relationship with local youth. Children painted over the windows of the groundskeeper's residence, loosed a skunk in his house, and filled Frost's bed with turtle eggs. Each prank provoked a spectacular outburst from Frost, but despite appeals to parents, the perpetrators went unpunished.[citation needed]
The penultimate incident took place in the autumn of 1891. Under cover of night, three children snuck onto the orchard, nailed the groundskeeper's doors and windows shut, and dropped a bag of wheat down his chimney, blocking the flue. According to delinquent Joyce Hall:
"Once Tyler got down from the roof, Ronald raised up a jack-o'lantern on a beanpole. He waved it round outside the window, and we all got to screeching and hollering, like we had the devil in us.
"Old Vernon jumped out of bed in a panic. He howled, 'Fire! Fire!' and beat on the door, trying to break out. He screamed bloody murder, but then he got all quiet. I realized he was trapped, 'cause we'd done the nails too tight, so I ran round front and pried them out. When the door opened, there was lots of smoke. It hurt my throat and I couldn't see. Then the old man jumped out! His eyes were yellow and red and he was screaming like a wildcat.
"I covered my face and cried for help, but the boys ran away. I thought Vernon might kill me, but soon as he realized I was a girl, he came to his senses. 'Young ladies are what boys might have been,' he croaked, 'so mind yourself, or you'll wind up like them.'"[2]
Murder
In the early morning of October 20, 1891, workers discovered the body of fourteen-year-old Ronald Tripp in the cold storage cellar under the barn. The ladder had been overturned, and the boy's arm was broken, as if from a fall; however, his throat had been crushed, indicating foul play.[3]
Suspicion immediately fell on the groundskeeper, but Vernon Frost denied all accusations from the county constable. He claimed that he spent the evening alone and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Unlike previous interactions with the law, Frost appeared calm and composed, rather than hysterical.
Absent leads, local authorities called upon Inspector Robert Ives of the Criminal Investigative Division.[4] Inspector Ives interviewed the victim's family and friends, learning of Tripp's history with the groundskeeper, then spoke with the other sharecroppers to ascertain Frost's character. Examining the scene, Ives noted that despite the boy's dramatic fall, the root cellar was neatly organized, and nothing besides the ladder was out of place.
With these clues in hand, Inspector Ives visited the groundskeeper again, and this time, he confessed. Vernon Frost was taken to the Lambton County Courthouse and Jail, where he insisted upon taking the stand:
Vernon Frost was an awful wreck of a man, wizened and gnarled like an old tree-root. His eyes were always bloodshot and his skin was ashy pale. When he spoke, it was with a hoarse, rasping voice, and he quivered mightily, as though every breath caused him pain.
He testified that on the night of October 19, while he was working late in the cellar, one of the bushels tipped over and rained apples from the floor above. Vernon set about tidying up the mess. When he was done, another bushel came tumbling down, followed by a peal of laughter. Young Ronald Tripp looked over the ledge, chortled, and spat upon Frost's face. Furious, the groundskeeper took up the ladder and hit the boy with the far end.
"I did not mean to kill that pest," Frost said. "I wanted to give him with a pat with it, but I struck low, and he was hurt."
"Did you try to save Master Tripp?" the prosecutor asked. "Did you call for help?"
"No sir. The boy was like a big rat with his neck broke. There was nothing for it, so I finished my work and went to bed."
This produced angry murmurs from the gallery. The judge called for order, and the defendant's counsel took his turn. "Mr. Frost," said he, "Weren't you a boy once?"
"No!" Vernon roared. His wheezy voice turned harsh and he beat at the stand, as though in a frenzy. "The Good Lord fixed me to be born at twenty-five, and I got over that, right quick!"
Thus, the defense argued that the accused was mad. His strange habits and ill temper were attributed to light-headedness. Though the jury found Vernon Frost guilty of murder, the judge ordered him to be locked up in the Asylum for the Insane at Toronto for no less than ten years. Upon hearing the verdict, Frost said, "I hope there are no boys there, else I will have to escape."[2]
Execution
News of the sentencing was met with public outrage. Tripp's parents complained about the court's leniency, arguing that Frost had acted out of malice and deserved a harsher punishment. Scorned for working with a murderer, the sharecroppers at Baldwin's Orchard began spreading rumors about Frost's history, variously describing him as an alcoholic, a warlock, and a Roman Catholic. To date, none of these claims have been verified.
On the evening of Friday, November 13, vigilantes overpowered the lone guard on duty and took Vernon Frost from his jail cell. They marched him through the streets, promising public retribution, then brought him to Baldwin's Orchard and hung him from an apple tree. The drop dislocated his neck, but Frost did not die; he struggled for thirty minutes before the branch gave way. When the rope went slack, he continued to twitch and sputter. The crowd pelted Frost with heavy stones, dragged the still-writhing body into a shallow trench, and buried him.
The following Monday, Joyce Hall ran into town, crying murder. She claimed to have snuck out after dark and visited Baldwin's Orchard with Tyler Ottway. Distraught over the death of his friend, Ottway stomped on Frost's grave, cursed the man's memory, and vowed to burn the orchard down.
At that point, "the dirt gave way, hands sprung out and Vernon slithered up from the earth, all broke and twisted. His head was sideways and his face was stove in like a pumpkin. Tyler screamed and tried to flee but the old ghoul clawed him down and throttled the life out of him, yowling all the while. I was frozen to the spot. I couldn't move. Then I heard something snap. Tyler stopped wailing. The dead thing looked at me, and I ran."
When the constable searched the orchard, all he found was the empty trench and a set of drag marks leading off into a drainage ditch. In their official statement, authorities suggested that Hall had been "rendered hysterical" by the sight of an animal attack, and that both bodies were likely carried away by a mountain lion.[5]
Aftermath
In subsequent years, Baldwin's Orchard fell on hard times. The crops were ravaged by fire blight, the trees were damaged by harsh weather, and the business suffered from staffing shortages. Sharecroppers claimed to have heard screams after dark, and reported an odd shape lurching back and forth along the fence line. Younger men refused to work the land, citing fear for their safety. When the orchard finally closed in autumn 1894, the owner told the bank it was "due to frost".[1]
Left unmaintained, the site became overgrown, attracting white-tailed deer and wild turkey. Nevertheless, hunting is forbidden on the basis of dangerous terrain[6] and the presence of large predators. In 1972, five-year-old Charles Barrowman was chased off the property line by a frenzied animal. Searching the orchard, county wildlife specialists found abundant carrion, giving rise to the theory that the forest was home to a mountain lion.[7] This beast was never found. Today, signs posted around the perimeter warn all trespassers of the potential for death by misadventure.[8]
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