Courtesy of the Missouri Historical Society
The Lemp Mansion
It might surprise readers, but until last Wednesday, I had never gone on a tour of the Lemp Mansion. I had ducked inside on occasion during a thunderstorm when lightning struck too close. I had been treated to their famous chicken lunch one Sunday afternoon, as well as dinner one time several years ago. But I had never gotten the full Lemp Ghost Experience, hosted by famous psychic and Lemp expert Betsy Belanger. It seemed, as Halloween approached, that now was the time to change that.
At the Lemp Mansion on DeMenil Place—just a stone’s throw north of the Brewery on Cherokee Street—we settled into a bedroom filled with around 20 chairs on the second floor. The house was originally owned by the in-laws of William J. Lemp Sr., Jacob and Elizabeth Feickert, across the street from the Lemp Cave property. Jacob Feickert was a successful saloon owner, but most likely his son-in-law William helped pay for the house’s construction. William and his new wife, Julia, lived there with her parents and their children, and while it is a very large house, I still think it must have been crowded.
It was definitely crowded the night I was there; apparently there was some sort of corporate team-building event happening on the first floor and in the basement, so we were not able to tour those portions of the house. The ticket for the ghost tour with Belanger comes with one complementary drink from the bar, so I logically grabbed a Budweiser and sat down. The tour on Wednesday was completely full, and the room was very “cozy” when we all filled the chairs. (The free toasted ravioli bar was a nice added touch.)
Belanger introduced us to the Lemp Family, and I have to say, overall, I was very impressed with her knowledge of the brewery and the house. In particular, she correctly stated several facts that are not well known about the family and brewery’s history. For example, Belanger explained to us that the International Shoe Company did not buy the Lemp Brewery in one parcel; rather, as contemporary newspaper accounts at the time prove, the property was auctioned off in pieces.
We then saw Belanger demonstrate dowsing rods. I did a little research afterward about the science behind these ancient instruments, and they function mostly along the same lines as a Ouija Board. Google “Ideomotor phenomenon” if you want my opinion of dowsing rods. Billy Lemp, the son of William Lemp Sr., did move the dowsing rods, though. He's a ladies' man, according to Belanger, and likes to flirt. But he did not hit on any of the young women in the group.
After that little bit of fun, we all got up and proceeded to William Lemp Sr.’s bedroom, which was connected to his wife Julia’s bedroom by large pocket doors. Wealthy couples such as William and Julia would have separate bedrooms as a sign of their high social status. William’s bedroom was the site of his suicide, but the beer baron has passed over to the Other Side, Belanger explained.
William Lemp Sr. doesn't even haunt the house? But he was who I wanted to talk to the most. I need to know where his mother Justina Baum is buried in Germany, I thought to myself. What a letdown. Then, Belanger stopped, and reported that she felt somebody trying to contact her.
Ooh, is that Justina Baum trying to contact me? I wondered. But unfortunately, the spirit never followed up. We proceeded through another bedroom, and then, due to the size of our group, Belanger split us into two groups for the finale of our tour, when the ghosts of Charles Lemp and his dog Cerva would contact us in the attic. I waited in the second group to go up to the attic.
As Belanger led the second group up the stairs to the attic, we bumped into two drunk people from the party downstairs, who had wandered upstairs.
“You’re not supposed to be up. Sorry. We have tours up here,” Belanger firmly told the man and woman. I glared at them as I walked by, and at that moment, perhaps due to a Lemp ghost, had a premonition: Those two are going to screw everything up in about 15 minutes. But for the time being, we were treated to the story of the forgotten Lemp son, Zeke, who lived in the attic.
“This is where Zeke is and was. They would keep him up here for his own protection,” Belanger explained, and then turning to me, apropos to nothing, told me, “You remind me of my brother.”
Continuing, Belanger wove her tale of Zeke: “He hides on the staircase up to the roof. Listen for little taps. The more that you can relax, the more you will be rewarded.”
That is actually really good advice for life in general, I thought to myself.
Turning off all the lights, our group sat in the dark, as Belanger sought to bring us the ghost of the final Lemp occupant of the house, Charles and his dog, Cerva.
“Charles, will you let her come in? Come here, come on baby, that’s a good baby.”
Then, as we stood there, Belanger exclaimed, “See her? She looks like a little ball of grayness,” describing Charles’s dog Cerva, “and she’s moving toward me. She’s standing right in front of me. If you can see my fingers…”
Then the drunk people walked in with two of their friends.
“You cannot be up there, Belanger admonished. “We are having a private tour. Please go back downstairs.”
I groaned. Now the ghosts will never come out.
“That was just ignorant, sorry,” Belanger exhaled.
“Well, Cerva is not going to be coming back anymore tonight, which probably means Charles is gone,” Belanger explained, “And the people coming up has made him angry.”
I don’t blame him. Drunk people always seem to show up at the wrong time and ruin everything. Belanger then allowed us to look around the rest of the attic, and also told us that a month or so ago some drunk woman had left the water running in a bathtub, and the water had leaked down through the ceiling, ruining the historic plasterwork on the floors below. By then, the murder mystery people had left, and we could wander the first floor. It’s a nice house, with a very nice staff, and then I stepped out in the night of South St. Louis, looking at the steam pouring out of the smokestacks of the Lemps’ old competitors, Anheuser-Busch.
Two years ago, photographer Jason Gray and I were given complete access to the lagering cellars underneath the Lemp Brewery, and I remember thinking, If there was ever a time for ghosts to contact us, here was their chance. Sixty feet below the surface of the streets of St. Louis, deeper than Adam Lemp’s lagering cave, we spent hours in the pitch darkness of the malt house’s subcellars. I remember thinking to myself, OK, guys, if you want to contact me, now’s the time to do it.
Alas, none of the Lemps chose to reach out from the Other Side while I explored their old brewery. I had also learned through old newspaper articles that several workers died during the expansion of the malt kilns when a crane collapsed, dropping a steel beam on a group of men below. Surely their ghosts would contact Jason or me, perhaps still angry at the Lemps’ callous negligence? Again, we were disappointed, the only sound disturbing our subterranean work was the rushing of water when sump pumps turned on. Are there secrets still waiting to be revealed in the tunnels and caves under Cherokee Street? Only the ghosts know.
