# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The Damned Story: When she was alive, Hannah Cranna was known as "The Wicked Witch of Monroe," a reputation that continues to follow her over 150 years after her death.

Unlike other supposed witches, the story of Hannah Hovey -- who apparently picked up the nickname Hannah Cranna while she was still alive -- doesn't culminate at the end of a hangman's noose or in ashes around a stake. She lived a fairly comfortable life on her property near Cutler's Farm Road in Monroe, dying of natural causes at the age of 77. (Hmm ... isn't 7 supposed to be a magical number? Just sayin'.) But obviously, her life wasn't exactly ordinary, or she wouldn't have be known to this day for allegedly dabbling in the black arts.

According to most accounts, her reputation as a witch didn't begin until the demise of her husband, the good Capt. Joseph Hovey, an event with which Hannah was rumored to have somehow been involved. The tale goes that one night, Capt. Hovey went out for a simple walk and somehow toppled over a cliff, resulting in his untimely demise. Not believing that Capt. Hovey could've been the victim of an unfortunate accident, whispers started that Hannah had somehow bewitched him, causing him to become so dazed and confused he inadvertently fell to his death.

Hannah -- whose shrewish behavior apparently hadn't exactly endeared her to others while Capt. Hovey was alive -- became even more loathesome after she became a widow. She often insisted that her neighbors give her free food and firewood, and if they didn't immediately comply, she relied on her witchy reputation to threaten them. When one local farmer's wife allegedly tried to deny her a fresh-baked pie, Hannah "cursed" her, so the story goes, and the poor woman was never able to bake again.

Another story tells of how after catching a man fishing for trout in a brook on her property without her permission, Hannah laid a curse on him and he never caught another fish. Over the years, other such incidents demonstrating her otherworldly prowess supposedly occurred, solidifying her infamy with -- and power over -- the locals. From her house on Craig Hill (allegedly guarded by snakes), she helped those who venerated her and poured down misery on those who crossed her.

Ultimately, it was her demise -- and the odd events surrounding her burial -- that truly cemented her legend.

It seems that Hannah kept a rooster named "Old Boreas," which some suspected was her " familiar." Shortly after the cock crowed its last, Hannah told a neighbor that her end was also near. "My coffin must be carried by hand to the graveyard," she instructed. "And I must not be buried before sundown."

Hannah Cranna died the next day.

As it was a snowing heavily, the locals decided that rather than follow her instructions, it would be easier to pull her casket across the snow on a sled. But as the procession started toward the cemetery, the coffin came off the sled and slid all the way back to her front door. They tried again, but met with more trouble. Rather than further incur the supernatural wrath of Hannah, they decided to just carry her to the graveyard. After much struggling, they eventually got the old witch into her grave, just after sunset. Happy to finally be rid of her, they returned to Hannah's home, only to discover it completely engulfed in flames.

Obviously, that only served to burn Hannah Cranna, "The Wicked Witch of Monroe," into their minds forever.

Like with any good legend, there are stories that still revolve around her today, the most popular of which is that from time to time, the spectre of a mysterious woman will suddenly appear in the middle of Spring Hill Road, causing an unfortunate driver to swerve, lose control of his car -- and eventually his life -- as he crashes into the gravestone of Hannah Cranna.

Of course, Hannah's gravestone is up on the hill overlooking the road and would require a spectacular aerial crash that would put Evel Knievel to shame, but why let that get in the way of a good urban legend, right?

As you might expect, David Phillips recounts the tale of Hannah Cranna in more detail in his Legendary Connecticut.

Our Damned Experience: We visited Gregory's Four Corners Burial Ground on a rainy Sunday morning in September 2009.

As with the Old Leather Man, Hannah's grave was ridiculously easy to find -- right on the hillside in the front of the cemetery, overlooking the road and bright white. (If this is the original stone, it's in amazing condition for being 150 years old!) Interestingly, it's actually marked "HANNAH CRANNA" as opposed to Hannah Hovey -- an early proponent for women's rights? From the stories recorded about her, it seems as though she was a strong-willed woman who was not to be trifled with, and apparently that went for her husband as well.

As with many older cemeteries, the burial ground is not a very big parcel of land, and the majority of stones appear to be in their original condition -- inscriptions worn, stones faded or toppled.

We didn't see any unusual figures standing in the road, nor any spectral mists or apparations -- not even so much as an orb. Then again, we haven't crossed Hannah, so maybe she has no business with us. Yet.

If You Go: Gregory's Four Corners Burial Ground is located on Spring Hill Road in Trumbull, right on the border with Monroe. It is near the junction of routes 111 and 25. As mentioned, Hannah Cranna's white gravestone is right at the front of the cemetery, very close to the street.

It is open to the public, but like with any cemetery, we always suggest you be respectful during your visit. There's no formal entrance or parking area, the road is a bit busy, so be careful where you leave your vehicle.
View Larger Map

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The Damned Story: When she was alive, Hannah Cranna was known as "The Wicked Witch of Monroe," a reputation that continues to follow her over 150 years after her death. Unlike other supposed witches, the story of Hannah Hovey -- who apparently picked up the nickname Hannah Cranna while she was still alive -- doesn't culminate at the end of a hangman's noose or in ashes around a stake.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Like most people accused of witchcraft, Hanna Cranna had a difficult temperament. Some might call her a shrew.

She demanded favors of her neighbors in Monroe, Conn., while giving little in return. When bad things happened to neighbors who refused her a favor, townspeople gossiped that Hanna Cranna had practiced her witchcraft on them.

So why wasn't Hanna Cranna brought to trial for witchcraft?

Witchcraft Trials

Hannah Cranna lived when Puritans doubted that accused witches should be brought to trial. Historians credit the Salem witch trials - and the growth and spread of New England towns.

Immediately after the Salem witch trials of 1692-3, New Englanders viewed them as a shocking case of government run amok -- and an embarrassment. After the 20 alleged witches were executed in Salem, Mass., no one was indicted, convicted or executed for witchcraft in New England.

The Salem witch trials happened in part because of the Puritan practice of ' mutual watch.' The ideal city on a hill required vigilance by pastors and by laypeople to prevent one sinner from infecting the whole community. So parishioners kept an eye on the moral behavior of their neighbors.

Snooping on the neighbors was easy in early Puritan towns. They consisted of 150 people crowded into small houses around a common, and townspeople interacted with each other constantly.

But by the early 19 th century, New Englanders multiplied and moved away from the town centers. The practice of mutual watch, possible in a town of 150, was impossible in a town of 1,000.

Monroe had over a thousand inhabitants during the lifetime of Hanna Cranna.

Hannah Cranna

Hannah was born in 1783 and married Capt. Joseph Hovey, probably much older than she. They had no children.

No whisperings of witchcraft followed her until her husband died suspiciously. He went out for a walk one night and fell over a cliff in an area he knew well.

The townspeople of Monroe thought Hannah had cast a spell that confused Joseph Hovey enough to wander into an abyss. From then on she carried the nickname Hannah Cranna.

She never remarried, but lived alone with her chickens on her property - supposedly guarded by snakes. She wore black widow's weeds and got along well with some of her neighbors. With others, not so much.

Her husband's death left her in poverty, and Hanna Cranna was not above using her reputation for witchcraft to extort food and firewood from her neighbors.

The Legends

Legends grew up around her witchcraft. A neighbor, renowned for her baking skills, made a number of pies. Hannah Cranna came by as they cooled and asked for one. The neighbor gave her the smallest. She asked for a larger pie, but the neighbor refused. Hannah Cranna then put a spell on her and the neighbor's pies were never as good as they had been.

According to another tale, a young man trespassed on her property to fish for trout in her brook. She caught him, cursed him, and he never caught another fish.

In a third tale, two men driving an ox-cart full of hay stopped in front of her house to mock her. Hanna Cranna bewitched the oxen and the cart, the oxen stopped moving and the wheels fell off the cart.

One day in 1859, Hannah Cranna's pet rooster Old Boreas died. Some suspected Old Boreas was her 'familiar' - an animal guide who helps witches with their magic.

Hannah Cranna told a neighbor she would die soon. She said she wanted her coffin carried to her grave by hand, not by cart. And, she said, she must not be buried before sundown.

Hannah Cranna did die soon, and her neighbors ignored her instructions. They carried her over the snowy ground by sled until her coffin slid off. They tried again, and her coffin slid off again. Finally they gave up and carried her to her grave by hand. By then, the sun had set.

The funeral party returned to Hannah Cranna's home, only to find it engulfed by flame. That pretty much sealed the legend of Hannah Cranna, Witch.

Today, Hanna Cranna lies beneath a gravestone in Gregory's Four Corners Burial Ground on Spring Hill Road in Trumbull, Conn., right next to Monroe.

According to modern legend, a spectral figure sometimes appears in the graveyard and causes passing cars to crash.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Hannah Cranna, the Connecticut Witch Who Didn't Stand Trial - New England Historical Society

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Like most people accused of witchcraft, Hanna Cranna had a difficult temperament. Some might call her a shrew. She demanded favors of her neighbors in Monroe, Conn., while giving little in return. When bad things happened to neighbors who refused her a favor, townspeople gossiped that Hanna Cranna had practiced her witchcraft on them.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
It feels like fall is coming. It's windy and cool today, and the apple trees in my neighborhood are dropping their fruit onto the sidewalks and the paths. This weather puts me in the mood for a witch story.

After her husband of many years died, Hannah Hovey acquired the reputation for being a witch. Maybe it was because her husband, Captain Joseph Hovey, died under mysterious circumstances, being found at the bottom of a cliff with his neck broken. Maybe it was because after his death Hannah lived alone with no companion except a rooster named Old Boreas, who had the uncanny habit of crowing only at midnight. Or maybe it was just because Hannah was an irascible, demanding, cranky old woman who easily matched the stereotypical image of a witch.

Hannah used her reputation to her advantage, asking for favors and demanding food from her neighbors in Monroe, Connecticut. "If you know what's good for you, you'll give me that pie," she would threaten a farm wife who had just completed her baking. "No," she would say to a neighbor boy, "you can't fish in the stream that runs through my yard. I don't care if it is common property!"

The people of Monroe gave her the nickname "Hannah Cranna", which they thought suited her witchy personality. The educated people in town laughed at the thought of a witch living among them. After all, this was the 19th century, not the 1600s! But others whispered that the stories were true. That farm wife who refused to give Hannah a pie? She never successfully baked anything again. And the boy who fished in Hannah's stream never caught a trout again for the rest of his life.

It was also said that Hannah Cranna would help out people in need - if offered the right price. A desperate farmer once came to her house on Cragley Hill and begged for her aid. There had been a drought for weeks, and his crops were dying. Hannah agreed to bring rain, but only if he pledged his soul to her. Without hesitation the desperate farmer threw himself onto her floor and gave his soul into her aged hands. It rained that very night, and the farmer's harvest was rich and bountiful.

In early January of 1860, Old Boreas crowed his last midnight crow. Hannah wept at the loss of her beloved companion, and told her neighbors that his passing meant she would soon die too.

"When I die," she said, "this is how I must be buried. My coffin must be carried by hand to the graveyard, and I must be buried after sunset. Otherwise, evil and trouble will come to this town!"

Hannah died a few days later, and a heavy snowstorm covered Connecticut. The townspeople thought it would be easiest to transport Hannah to the graveyard by sled, so they hitched two big horses to a sled and strapped her coffin to it. As the funeral procession set off the straps ripped, and Hannah's coffin slid all the way back to her house.

Perhaps this was just a coincidence. Still ignoring her dying wish, the townspeople strapped her coffin to the sled again, this time with huge iron chains. Several men climbed on top to ensure the coffin didn't budge. The procession once again set off, but the coffin shook so violently that the men were thrown to the ground, and the chains started to burst.

Admitting defeat, and realizing Hannah was just as demanding dead as alive, the men lifted the coffin onto their shoulders and trudged through the snow to the cemetery. Because of all the delays Hannah's second dying wish was followed, and she was buried just after sunset.

As the mourners returned from the cemetery they noticed a fiery glow lighting up Cragley Hill. It was Hannah's house, which had mysteriously burst into flames. The fire burned for several days. When it finally died down the cellar hole had the reputation of being haunted. Strange moans and noises were heard there, and perhaps can still be heard there today.

Hannah Hovey was a real person, who lived from 1793 to 1860. I'm not sure how much of this legend is true, but it's a great story. It's nice to read a witch story where the witch gets everything she wants!

I think it is implied that Old Boreas is her familiar, or perhaps an aspect of her own soul externalized in an animal form. The death of this animal naturally foretells her own death, an ancient motif in myth and folklore.

Burying a witch is often problematic in folktales. Usually the witch's coffin is unnaturally heavy (perhaps because of all their accumulated sin), or must be sealed with chains to prevent the Devil from stealing the body. Hannah's story comes from a later period when witches were not viewed quite so sinisterly, but her funeral still poses problems for her neighbors.

I got this story from David E. Philips book Legendary Connecticut, but you can also read about Hannah Cranna at the Monroe Historical Society page. Damned Connecticut has a nice piece about Hannah as well, including info about a possible ghost seen lurking around her grave in Gregory's Four Corners Burial Ground.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Hannah Cranna, or the Witch's Funeral: A Story From Connecticut

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
It feels like fall is coming. It's windy and cool today, and the apple trees in my neighborhood are dropping their fruit onto the sidewalks and the paths. This weather puts me in the mood for a witch story. After her husband of many years died, Hannah Hovey acquired the reputation for being a witch.

# data[].attributes.body
See how the locals react to the Legend.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The Monroe Historical Society

Will be sponsoring their annual meet Hannah Cranna on October 26 at 1:00 at the Beardsley Homestead. Hanna will tell her stories. Children will make a little pie with the help of one of Hannah's neighbors the pie lady as well as several other activities. For registration please call Deborah Heim at 203-268-1072 or email debpothier@aol.com. Children must be accompanied by an adult. Tours of the Eliot Beardsley Homestead will be part of this event. The cost per child will be $5.00

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Will be sponsoring their annual meet Hannah Cranna on October 26 at 1:00 at the Beardsley Homestead. Hanna will tell her stories. Children will make a little pie with the help of one of Hannah's neighbors the pie lady as well as several other activities.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
When discussing witches, Salem, Mass., may come to mind but in Connecticut at least nine people were hanged for "familiarity with the devil" by 1663, almost 30 years before Salem's hysteria. The first person here to be put to death for being a witch was Alse Young, who was hanged in Windsor in 1647; in all, 35 people were tried with 29 convicted. Consequently, the specter of witchcraft was very real in 1783, when Hannah Hovey-who would become known as "Hannah Cranna, the Wicked Witch of Monroe"-was born.

Very little is known about Hannah's early life-and even much of her later years-other than she lived in the Stepney area of Monroe. However, it's the secondhand stories of her alleged deeds that fanned her legend.

She married Captain Joseph Hovey, and they lived on Cragley Hill, close to present-day Cutler's Farm Road. Nearby was a large rock with a cut that looked like a cloven footprint, a sign to some that Hannah was in league with Satan. When her husband died unexpectedly, some said that Hannah had a hand in it-the story goes that during his evening walk, Captain Hovey somehow became disoriented and fell off a cliff. Not believing that the captain could have been the victim of such an odd accident, the neighbors whispered that he had been bewitched by Hannah.

After being widowed she picked up the nickname Hannah Cranna. Aside from rhyming, "Cranna" is Scottish for "rocky or lofty place"-maybe a nod to the Satan-stamped rock?

Hannah never remarried, dressing in widow's black with a long skirt that flapped in the breeze. It's easy to see how an eccentric woman in dark clothes who resided alone in the forest could easily be "transformed" into a witch. It didn't help that she was not above using her bad reputation to intimidate others. Supposedly, her house was guarded by an army of snakes, the birds on her property were invulnerable to hunters and her witch's familiar (a supernatural creature assistant) was a rooster named Old Boreas that only crowed at midnight.

Many tales sprung up about Hannah's "powers," most likely exaggerations of mundane events. One featured a trout-filled stream that ran through her property that she forbade anyone to fish. When one daring man landed a forbidden prize, Hannah appeared and cried, "Curses upon you and your fishing!" Now in real life, the cranky old lady probably chased the trespasser away, but in the lore of Hannah Cranna, after incuring the witch's wrath, the angler never caught another fish!

Another anecdote involves two men who stopped their cart in front of her home. Seeing Hannah, they jokingly asked for a magical display. "Before you pass yonder tree, your wish shall be granted," she replied. The men laughed but when they went to leave, their oxen would not move and the wheels came off their wagon-cursed by the witch! No doubt many mocked Hannah, and all it would take is one case of "misfortune" to befall a detractor for such a story to blossom.

It appears as though a few locals grew tired of her antics and formally accused her of witchcraft. She was arraigned on charges of consorting with the Devil, although the case never went to trial. Unlike earlier times, more enlightened heads prevailed.

Hannah lived quietly until late 1859, when Old Boreas died and the legend makers went into overdrive.

Some believed that the end of her familiar was a sign to Hannah that her own demise was 'nigh. Supposedly, after a heavy snow, a neighbor found the nearly 80-year-old woman looking haggard. "The spirits have called and it won't be but a short time before I will be in the great beyond," Hannah said, according to popular accounts. "I have a wish to make that must be carried out. I am not to be buried until after sundown and there must be ample bearers to carry my coffin from the house to the grave. Obey my wishes if you would avoid trouble and vexation." She died the next day.

With the snow deep, it was too difficult to honor Hannah's dying wishes. Her coffin was loaded on a sleigh and it started off for the graveyard but after a short distance, it fell off. Spooked, the neighbors put it back on the sled and a few brave souls sat atop it. They set out again but soon the sleigh began to inexplicably shake, throwing everyone off.

That was enough. Rather than incur the full wrath of the witch, the coffin was carried to the cemetery. The sun had already set, so it was quickly buried. The neighbors then returned to Hannah's house only to find it engulfed in flames-a fiery exclamation point to a fun story, although it all seems unlikely.

So what really happened? A Connecticut winter could cause the death of an elderly woman and since her headstone-a replica of "witch" ( above) still stands in Gregory's Four Corners Burial Ground-lists 1859-60 for her death, she probably died alone over the winter and was not discovered until spring, when she would've been buried.

However, some say that Hannah Hovey's story isn't over yet. It is told that on certain misty nights, the specter of an old crone will suddenly appear in the middle of Spring Hill Road, which will cause a driver to lose control of his car-and life-as he crashes into the gravestone of Hannah Cranna.

(This article was originally published on a different platform. Some formatting changes may have occurred.)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The CT Files: Hannah Cranna, 'The Wicked Witch of Monroe'

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
When discussing witches, Salem, Mass., may come to mind but in Connecticut at least nine people were hanged for "familiarity with the devil" by 1663, almost 30 years before Salem's hysteria. The first person here to be put to death for being a witch was Alse Young, who was hanged in Windsor in 1647; in all, 35 people were tried with 29 convicted.

# data[].attributes.body
Article from Monroe Courier

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Every town has that one story. The tale told in hushed whispers on the playground. The mysterious figure blamed for inexplicable accidents.

Monroe has the story of Hannah Cranna.

Legend has it that more than 150 years ago Hannah Hovey, also known as Hannah Cranna was a witch and that she somehow caused her husband's death.

Hannah's husband Captain. Joseph Hovey died while taking a walk one night that ended with him toppling off a cliff. After his death, locals blamed Hannah for his gruesome end, claiming she had bewitched him and caused him to be in a daze that resulted in his death.

After her husband's death, the town turned against Hannah and stories cropped up about how she placed curses on those who she felt wronged her.

One account claims that after a woman refused to give Hannah a pie, that she cursed the woman so she could never bake again. Another story alleges that she cursed a man who was trespassing on her property after she caught him fishing in her brook. Legend has it the man never caught another fish.

However, it might be the story of her death that local children are most likely to whisper about. Hannah's rooster, Old Boreas, was believed to be her witch's familiar - a spirit or demon that did her bidding - and that the morning her rooster died she told a neighbor that she too would die soon. It is said that Hannah told her neighbor that her coffin had to be carried to the graveyard by pallbearers and that her body was not to be buried before sun down. Within a day of giving her burial instructions, Hannah died.

Initially locals chose to ignore Hannah's burial instructions due to the snowy weather. Her coffin was placed on a sled to be dragged to the cemetery. However each time they tried to leave, the coffin would slide off the sled and land at Hannah's front door. Eventually the locals gave up and carried the coffin to the cemetery and buried her just after sunset.

After the burial, Hannah's home had burst into flames - which some took as a confirmation of her witchery.

The story goes that on dreary days along Spring Hill Road, a woman will suddenly appear in the middle of the street, not far from her gravestone.

Have a happy and hopefully witch-free Halloween.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Every town has that one story. The tale told in hushed whispers on the playground. The mysterious figure blamed for inexplicable accidents. Monroe has the story of Hannah Cranna. Legend has it that more than 150 years ago Hannah Hovey, also known as Hannah Cranna was a witch and that she somehow caused her husband's death.