A subsequent entry dated June 14th describes another "special preparation" and records favorable comments from diners. It also notes that the condition and habits of the subject affected the preparation process, without providing a complete procedure.
Over the next three years, similar entries would appear in Margaret's ledger, always coinciding with guests who were later reported missing. The pattern was consistent.
Businessmen traveling alone, carrying cash with no local connections. They would arrive, stay for two or three nights, and then supposedly depart early in the morning when no witnesses were present. The sisters' operation continued without raising suspicion, protected by their reputation as respectable spinsters and their family's long-standing, if complicated, position in the community. Their neighbor to the east, Widow Harrison, later recalled, "Those girls were so quiet, so proper, always nodded politely when passing on the street, kept that house immaculate. You could see the windows shining from across the river.
Never would have thought they had it in them," though there was something about Ruth's eyes that never seemed right to me, too calculating for a woman so young. Another neighbor, Franklin Meyers, whose property adjoined the Blackwood House to the north, told Professor Whitaker, "Sometimes at night I'd hear noises coming from their place, not like a party or guests talking, more like furniture being moved, heavy things being dragged, and once or twice I could swear I heard a sort of mechanical sound, like a pulley or winch operating, always late at night, well after decent folks were asleep. I mentioned it to Sheriff Harlow once, but he said the ladies probably just suffered from insomnia and were rearranging their furniture. Meyers added a detail he had previously withheld.
There was one night, must have been the summer of 95, when I was out late, checking on my livestock during a thunderstorm. Saw lights in the Blackwood basement windows, which was unusual at that hour. Lightning flashed and I caught a glimpse of something through the window that I've tried to forget ever since. It looked like the youngest sister, Ruth, working at some kind of table. She had her back to the window, but I could see she was wearing something like a butcher's apron, all stained dark.
There was something on the table in front of her, something large. The lightning stopped, and I couldn't see clearly anymore. Told myself it was just the storm playing tricks on my eyes. Never mentioned it to anyone until now."
The Blackwood sisters maintained strict roles within their business. Margaret, the eldest, handled all financial matters and guest registration. Eleanor managed the housekeeping and linens, and Ruth, the youngest, maintained complete control over the kitchen and dining room. This division of labor allowed each sister to control her domain with minimal oversight from the others, an arrangement that would later prove significant when authorities attempted to determine individual culpability. Sarah Jenkins, who briefly worked as a maid at the Blackwood House in 1894, provided a rare glimpse into the daily operations.
In an interview conducted in 1955, the elderly Jenkins recalled, "Miss Margaret was always at the desk, watching who came and went. She had a way of sizing up the gentlemen as they arrived, looking at their clothes, their luggage, their hands. Some she would greet warmly, others more coolly. The ones she was particularly nice to were always the ones who left early and weren't seen again."
Jenkins continued, "Miss Eleanor was in charge of the rooms, very particular about the linens. They had to be perfectly white. Sometimes I'd find stains on sheets or towels, and she'd take them from me immediately, saying she would handle them personally, never let me near the washing when certain items needed cleaning." Jenkins also described the peculiar system Eleanor had developed for keeping track of linens. She had this book where she recorded every item, how many times it had been washed, when it had been purchased, when it needed to be replaced. If a sheet or tablecloth had been used for what she called special service, it was marked with a small red thread in the hem.
Those items were always washed separately, and Miss Eleanor handled them herself. Most revealing were Jenkins's observations about Ruth Blackwood. Miss Ruth was strangest of all, wouldn't allow anyone in her kitchen while she was preparing meals. The dishes she served looked and smelled wonderful, but there was something off about some of them. A sweetness that didn't belong, or a texture that wasn't quite right.
When guests complimented her cooking, she would watch them eating with this intense look. Not pleased exactly, more hungry. Ruth's culinary skills were apparently remarkable. A rare surviving letter from a guest who departed safely, dated August 1894, mentions, "The meals alone are worth the price of lodging." Ms. Ruth's roast was unlike any I have tasted, tender beyond imagining, with a flavor both familiar and exotic.
When I inquired about her technique, she smiled and said only that proper preparation is everything, and that patience yields rewards in the kitchen, as in life. I have dined in the finest establishments in New York and Philadelphia, yet find myself craving the dishes served at the Blackwood table. Jenkins left the Blackwood house after only three months of employment. I told Miss Margaret I was needed at home to care for my ailing mother, she explained. The truth was the place made my skin crawl, especially the basement.
I was forbidden to go down there, but once I needed to fetch preserves, and Miss Ruth was out. The shelves were full of jars, but they didn't contain what you'd expect. I didn't look closely, didn't want to, but what I glimpsed didn't look like any fruit or vegetable I'd ever seen. I left the next day and never went back. As 1896 approached, the pattern of disappearances accelerated.
Between January and September of that year, four men vanished after staying at the Blackwood House. Local merchants began to notice unusual purchasing patterns that went beyond what they had observed in previous years. Ruth Blackwood's special order placed with Harper's Ferry Apothecary in July 1896 was particularly telling.