Legends 2: Mexico's Undead Lovers

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Welcome to Lore Legends, a subset of lore episodes that explore the strange tales we whisper in the dark, even if they can't always be proven by the history books.

So if you're ready, let's begin.

Few forces are as powerful as true love.

In fairy tales, it's true love's kiss that will break the curse and rescue the princess.

Sometimes the love two people have for each other is too strong for one person to handle.

George and Pat Pittman had been married since Valentine's Day of 1959.

After more than 50 years together, Pat went into the hospital.

Her husband never left her side.

Just before she passed, George leaned in and whispered, Close your eyes.

I'm coming with you.

He died 21 hours later.

And even in death, love can be a force that propels us through the afterlife and keeps us tethered to the realm of the living.

During the time of Prohibition, a widowed Florida innkeeper fell in love with a man in a dangerous line of work.

He smuggled booze into the country on his boat.

The innkeeper would stand on the roof of the inn, holding a lantern to warn him if there was trouble waiting at the dock.

One night, as the rain poured from the sky and the thunder echoed in her ears, she raised her lantern high.

Federal agents had swarmed the dock.

But her beloved didn't see the lantern, nor the agents, until it was too late.

He was taken into custody, and she never saw him again.

Today, fishermen have reported seeing the ghost of the innkeeper waving her lantern back and forth on the roof of the Casablanca Inn in St.

Augustine.

Could she be warning them of the fate that had doomed her lover, or is she hopelessly trying to fix the mistake of the past?

Nobody knows, but what we do know is that across time and across oceans, love can be the most powerful force in existence.

For better or for worse.

I'm Aaron Manke,

and this is Lore Legends.

It's called Casa de los Condes de la Torre Cosillo y de la Cortina, or in English, the House of the Counts.

The stone mansion sits in the center of Mexico City and is considered by many as an ideal example of 18th century new Spanish Baroque architecture.

Its façade, made from a red, porous volcanic rock called tezontal, was built in 1781.

However, the surrounding streets is where the house's story truly begins.

Over one century earlier, in 1641, a different home occupied the spot where the House of the Counts would eventually stand.

and it was owned by a Spanish merchant named Juan Manuel de Solorenso.

Juan Manuel loved his wife, a beautiful woman named Mariana de Leguana, but he didn't trust her.

He suspected her of being unfaithful, despite his friends telling him that he had nothing to worry about.

They defended her honor, but Juan Manuel didn't believe them.

He was convinced that she was doing things behind his back.

And perhaps some of his insecurity came from the ocean-sized age gap between them.

He was over 50, while Mariana was only 19.

What happened next is up for debate, depending on who is telling the story.

But one thing is clear.

Juan Manuel was so desperate for the truth that he made a terrible deal to get it.

Some say that he made a pact with an evil wizard or a sorceress.

Others say that it could have been the devil himself.

Regardless, he signed away his soul in blood for answers.

Juan Manuel was told that the man in question would walk past his house at exactly 11 o'clock that night.

So he sat outside and waited.

And waited.

And sure enough, he spotted a man walking past his home late into the night.

He asked the stranger for the time.

The man replied that it was 11 o'clock on the dot.

Juan Manuel then said, happy is the man who knows the hour of his death, just before stabbing him.

As the stranger slipped away, his life seeping out onto the cobblestones beneath him, a burst of diabolical laughter rang out nearby.

The entity that had inked the deal with Juan Manuel stepped out of the shadows and told him a sinister truth.

The man he had killed was not the man who had been sleeping with his wife.

Mariana's true lover would reveal himself the following night in the same way.

And so Juan Manuel waited for yet another man to walk by his home at 11 p.m., and again and again.

And every time he stabbed the person to death before learning that the stranger had not, in fact, been the man he was looking for.

Soon his sins began to weigh so heavily on his conscience, he fled to the convent of San Francisco several blocks away, where he confessed to a priest about all he had done, all the men he had killed.

The priest instructed Juan Manuel to repent by traveling to the city's gallows and praying the Rosary for three nights in a row.

Juan Manuel did as he was told and rushed over.

And as he recited the rosary that first night, he heard a ghostly voice chanting, and Our Father and a Hail Mary for the soul of Don Juan Manuel.

He came back the second night and watched as a funeral procession went by.

Pointing at the coffin, he asked who was inside.

In a sort of Dickensian twist, the mourner spoke the name of Juan Manuel.

The visions had terrified him, almost enough for him to give up entirely, but he pressed on, vowing to complete the priest's instructions.

He returned on the third and final night to pray the Rosary and hopefully be rid of the horrible curse he had brought upon himself.

The following morning, Juan Manuel's body was found swinging from the gallows.

Rumors started to swirl around the cause of his death.

Had the souls of the men he had murdered slipped the noose around his neck, or had he been dragged there by a flock of winged angels forcing him to atone for his crimes?

In the end, the reason didn't matter.

But if you want to find out, you can always ask him yourself.

It's said that he can be seen to this day in front of the house of the counts, asking passerbyers for the time.

Just be careful after dark.

If you answer with the time of 11 p.m., he will respond: Happy is the man who knows the hour of his death, before vanishing into the night.

About five hours north of the house of the counts is the city of Guanajuato, known for its narrow twisting streets and alleyways.

And one of those alleyways is named the Alley of the Kiss.

Photographers flock to this place for its unique aesthetic, with homes painted in bright reds and oranges and adorned with decorative lattice work.

It measures just over two feet wide and is so narrow that the balconies on either side of the street nearly touch overhead.

And it is this architectural cork that sets the stage for one of the city's most famous and tragic stories.

Carmen's father had originally come from Spain.

The family was quite wealthy and lived on the Alley of the Kiss, thanks to her father's important job at the nearby Valencia silver mine.

Though it had been told for generations, the actual time period of this story remains unknown.

The mine was briefly active in the mid-1500s and silver wasn't discovered there until 1750.

Mining resumed in earnest in 1774 and the Valencia mine has been operational ever since.

From the late 1700s to the early 1800s, around 30% of the world's silver came out of the Valencia mine.

Much of it had been extracted by enslaved indigenous people, the kind of people that Carmen's father might have watched over.

But he loved her very much.

She was his only daughter and she didn't want for anything.

However, he also had plans for her future, plans that she was expected to follow no matter what.

He wanted her to marry a rich man, to be taken care of.

But Carmen, she wanted love and she found that love in Luis.

The stories vary on how they met.

Some say that Luis saw Carmen out on her balcony one night gazing up at the moon, while others claim that they first spied each other in church.

But no matter how it's told, the tale always ends the same way, with with the two star-crossed companions falling deeply in love with one another in secret.

Carmen knew that her father would never approve of Luis.

He was a poor miner, not the rich suitor that her father had wanted for her.

Luis could never provide her with the life her father felt she deserved.

And so the two would meet at a nearby Catholic church where they could talk far from the prying eyes and prying ears of her family.

But as with most secrets, theirs eventually was pushed out into the light.

The two had been spotted within the church together, Carmen drinking holy water from Luis's hands.

When her father found out what his daughter had been up to, he locked her away in their house there on the alley of the kiss.

He told her that she would soon be married to a rich old Spaniard of his choosing.

Her time with Luis was over.

But Carmen had an ally, her lady-in-waiting, Doña Brejita, who felt for the poor girl and her broken heart.

Doña Brejita sent Luis a message explaining what had happened, and Luis, determined to be reunited with his one true love, came up with a way to be together.

He managed to scrape together enough money to rent the apartment across the street from Carmen's bedroom.

At night, Carmen would venture out onto her balcony and meet him.

The couple spoke deep into the night, kissing and touching without anyone ever being the wiser.

But Carmen's father knew.

He overheard hushed voices coming from his daughter's room one night and opened her door only to find them together.

Doña Brigita tried to get to her first to protect her, but Carmen's father was too fast.

He entered her bedroom with red in his eyes and murder in his heart.

Some say that he plunged a dagger through Carmen's heart, while others say that he bludgeoned her to death with a piece of wood.

It happened so fast that Luis was still holding her hand from across the alley when she died.

His fate also varies with each telling of the story.

In some versions, he fell to the street below while trying to protect Carmen.

Other variations claim that he escaped from her father but couldn't imagine a life without her.

Distraught and despondent, he jumped to his death from the mineshaft in the Valencia silver mine where he worked.

However, most agree that it was Carmen's father who took Luis's life that night when he shoved him off the balcony.

And though their lives ended that night, their story did not.

Despite her father's best efforts, Luis and Carmen remained together in death.

It's believed that any couple who kisses on the third step below the balcony in their alleyway will get seven years of happiness in return.

And any couples who refuse will incur seven years of bad luck.

Today, the Alley of the Kiss is one of the most popular destinations in Guanajuato, and the balcony, the setting for this tragic Shakespearean tale, has become something of a character in and of itself.

Couples who visit there like to leave behind padlocks, or love locks, with their initials emblazoned across them, tokens of their affection to commemorate the unbroken love between two young people from very different worlds.

The northern Mexico city of Chihuahua is home to nearly 1 million people.

It's known for its historic colonial architecture, as well as being Pancho Villa's base of operations during the Mexican Revolution.

Near the center of the city, just a quick walk down the street from the majestic 18th century Metropolitan Cathedral, sits an unassuming bridal shop named La Papulaire.

But La Papuaire doesn't only sell wedding dresses.

Women and girls also come to purchase dresses for other major life events as well, such as their Quincianeras.

And when they enter the shop, one of the first things they see is a mannequin standing in the window.

It first appeared there on March 25th of 1930, wearing a beautiful gown from an upcoming collection.

However, there was something about the mannequin that set people on edge.

Rumors and chatter started floating around town.

People felt that it was far too realistic and detailed, down to the cracks in the skin around the nails and the visible veins in its legs.

Its eyes were also cause for concern.

They were dark and wide, almost too human.

Shoppers said that they felt like they were being watched while they were in there.

Over the years, that sensation has grown and evolved.

Witnesses have claimed that they've seen the mannequin blinking at them, as well as smiling, breathing, and even sweating under the hot summer sun.

And on religious holidays, she's been known to have shed a tear or two.

Some visitors have even captured these phenomena on video.

Of course, wherever one group claims to have witnessed a miracle, there are others ready to bring them back down to Earth.

Skeptics have chalked up the mannequin's appearance to its origins as an expensive Parisian creation brought to Mexico City, one that was made with real hair and eyelashes.

One theory, however, prevails above them all, but it's not for the faint of heart.

It dates back to the early days of the shop when its owner, Pascuela Esparza, was getting ready for her daughter Chonita's wedding.

It was the day of the event and Chonita was dressed in a beautiful white gown, presumably made by her mother.

Sadly, Chonita's day of joy and happiness was cut short when she died suddenly before her nuptials.

The most popular version of the story claims that she was bitten by a black widow spider or a poisonous scorpion, a creature that might have been lurking inside her bridal crown as it was placed upon her head.

Another telling suggests that Chonita was murdered by her fiancé or by a jealous ex-lover who refused to let her marry someone else.

And in one incarnation of the legend, Chonita was betrothed to a taxi driver.

In that version, either her mother didn't approve of the match or forbade Chonita from marrying him, or the groom's mother was so unaccepting of their relationship that she killed her own son.

In any case, the wedding was called off and Shonita, devastated by the loss of her love, threw herself off a cliff.

And it is this particular retelling that has led to another rumor about the mannequin, that when a certain taxi passes the shop, she disappears from the window.

Those who have seen Shonita, either in pictures or in person, have said that the mannequin looked just like her, and those discussions of resemblance turned into macabre whispers about the figure's true origins.

They believe that the hyper-realistic display in the shop window was none other than Chonita herself.

The story of the mother unable to live without her daughter swirled around Chihuahua, and the more people spread it around, the more it took on a life of its own.

The mannequin was given a new nickname, La Pasqualita.

Locals believe La Pasqualita came to life at night and turned the lights in the bridal shop on and off.

But a few legends claim that she didn't do this on her own, that she was being controlled by a French magician who had fallen in love with her after seeing her in the window.

Even today, people claim that he appears at night to bring her to life so that she can dance with him in the street.

There is also the idea that La Pasculita held the spirit of a saint and could grant miracles.

Throughout the last nine decades, visitors have brought offerings to her, such as flowers and candies, in hopes of fixing the problems in their own lives.

And this may be connected to the Catholic belief in incorruptibles, saints whose bodies miraculously never decay, such as Saint Catherine La Barie.

She died in 1876 and resides on display in a glass coffin in a Paris chapel.

Whatever the reason may be, many who come to La Papulaire buy the dress that La Pascualita wears, believing it will bring good luck and happiness to their marriage.

Pascuala Esparza passed away in 1967, but subsequent owners refused to remove the beloved mannequin from the window.

She is as much a part of the store as the walls and the windows around her.

But the real question is, if La Pasqualita is really a real human body, what has kept her looking so young and vibrant after all these years?

Especially since the summer temperatures in Chihuahua can climb into the 90s, even famously preserved corpses such as Lennon and Mao have degraded over time despite being watched over in carefully controlled environments for decades.

Is she really the well-preserved daughter of the store's original owner or just a detailed dummy?

Well, don't expect to get a close enough look to find out.

Customers are not permitted to approach her, and when it's time to change her dress, it's done behind a privacy curtain.

An encounter, according to one employee, that is more than a little frightening.

Every time I go near Pascualita, she says, my hands break out in a sweat.

Her hands are very realistic, and she even has varicose veins on her legs.

I believe...

she's a real person.

And honestly, it's easy to believe.

From her expressive eyes to the creases in her hands, La Pasqualita seems like she could walk herself down the aisle at any moment.

And yet her fate is to simply stand behind the glass and watch as bride after bride lives the happily of her life that she never could.

Love is a powerful force.

To many, it functions like magic beyond the understanding of us mere mortals.

No wonder so many ancient mythologies contain stories of gods who deliver that sought-after prize through supernatural methods.

True love, the sort we read about in fairy tales, is elusive, precious, and dangerous.

It can't be forced or manufactured, and we have as much hope of controlling it as we do the wind blowing through the trees.

Within the world of romance, Anything seems possible.

But not all love is the romantic kind.

One of the strongest bonds imaginable is the one between a mother and her children.

And one of Mexico's most famous ghost stories is all about how that bond was broken.

How that love went horribly wrong.

The legend of La Lorona, the weeping woman who drowned her children for the love of a man and haunts the riverbank searching for them, is well known throughout the country.

La Urona is said to appear at night wearing a white dress, weeping for the babies she lost, and the stories told about her are often used to keep children from straying from home at night.

Kids are warned that if they play near the river, La Yorona will snatch them up to replace her own.

And if you do manage to escape her clutches, she will leave behind a bloody handprint on your shirt that will never come out.

A terrifying notion and a reminder of the indelible mark that love often leaves on our soul.

Folklore always hides a lot of truths within fiction.

And after our journey today, it's safe to say that one of those truths is that love can last a lifetime.

Sadly, this episode won't.

But before we wrap things up, I have one final story of heartbreak to share with you.

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In the early 1900s, Mexicans immigrated to the United States to work in factories.

They planned to start new lives for themselves and their families, and many settled in northwest Indiana in the city of Gary.

They took with them their clothing, their food, precious family heirlooms, and the traditions that they had collected over generations, including stories of myths and ghosts.

These tales eventually took hold in Indiana and merged with other local legends, and one specific area became home to a familiar figure in Mexican lore, La Irona.

Near the little Calumet River, in a once thriving Mexican neighborhood known as the Cudahi, there was a Mexican factory worker who had fallen in love with her white boss.

She became pregnant with his child, but he refused to acknowledge their relationship.

And as with all legends passed down from mother to daughter, father to son, some details were changed or expanded upon.

Some versions hold that the woman had multiple children from her late husband, another Mexican factory worker who had died in an accident in the steel mills.

Overcome with grief, she killed them all.

Another explanation for the weeping woman of Cudahi borrowed the widow story from before, but instead of her killing the children herself, they were lost in a car accident in the 1930s.

It's said that she died of heartbreak, having been driven insane by her loss, and continues to haunt the river, crying for her her dead children.

But every telling of the story of La Urona of Little Calumet ends with a woman in a white dress, blood on her hands, haunting Klein Avenue in Gary, Indiana.

The ghostly specter has been described as short and thin with dark skin, sometimes with long pointed fingernails.

She appears only at night and disappears when approached.

And she screams.

Witnesses have reported hearing howling wails coming from the woman in white, gesturing wildly as she grieves over the loss of her children.

All of the stories heard today share one thing in common: they are lasting evidence of how those who came before us dealt with immense loss.

From murdered lovers to children taken far too soon, the stories whispered in darkened rooms aren't just meant to scare us, they're told to remind us of what we have, and that it can be taken from us in the blink of an eye.

This episode of Lore was produced by me, Aaron Mankey, with writing by Harry Marks and research by Cassandra De Alba.

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