Summerwind, a sprawling Wisconsin manor perched near a quiet lake, carries a long history of sorrow, superstition, and spectral rumor. The tale begins in 1916 when Robert P. Lamont, a man who would later rise to a federal role, moved his family into the immense residence. They stayed for about fifteen years, despite the steady murmur of the staff that the place was haunted. It wasn’t until Lamont himself glimpsed a ghost wandering the hall that fear hardened into certainty. The sight left a chill that settled in the house, and after that night the Lamonts departed, taking only a portion of their belongings while two bullet holes in the cellar door stood as stubborn witnesses to the nocturnal encounter.
Shots Fired
In the mid-1930s, Lamont and his wife were in the kitchen when the cellar door swung open to reveal the shadowy silhouette of a man. Assuming an intruder, Lamont raised his pistol and fired twice. The figure slipped behind the still-closed door, and a subsequent inspection of the basement yielded no one. The family fled the premises in a rush, leaving behind most of their belongings and a lingering unease. The two bullet holes in the cellar door remained, a stark reminder of the night a visitor from the unknown crossed into Summerwind. Citation: Vilas County History Archive.
Frightfully Annoying
The house changed hands many times over the next thirty-five years, but it wasn’t until the 1970s that rumors hardened into a living legend. The Hinshaw family moved in, and what followed were sightings of apparitions drifting through empty rooms and muffled voices that stopped the moment anyone entered. One window would open and close by itself with such persistence that Arnold Hinshaw eventually nailed it shut. Appliances behaved badly on occasion, breaking down only to mend themselves right before a repairman arrived. The atmosphere grew tense as the family endured a string of unsettling happenings that seemed to defy ordinary explanations. Citation: Vilas County Archives.
The Organ
The paranormal events began to take their toll on the Hinshaw household, especially on Arnold. He stayed up late, playing somber melodies on an old organ as if coaxing the house to reveal its memories. His mood darkened; his wife and children grew fearful, and eventually they fled. Some observers wondered whether renovations had stirred something buried within the walls. Construction crews who agreed to work there faced a wave of resistance from the house’s reputation; many refused, while those who persisted found their tools disappearing as if pulled away by unseen hands. Then, during a remodel, a crawlspace in a bedroom closet yielded part of a corpse with stringy black hair, its identity never established. The discovery added a chilling layer to Summerwind’s lore. Citation: Vilas County Historical Society.
Little Remains
Lamont’s chapter gave way to new ownership, and in 1986 the property was sold to a group of investors. Two years later, a lightning strike felled much of the mansion, leaving behind a skeleton of its former grandeur. Do the lingering ghosts still haunt what remains? Only the current owners may know for sure. For visitors, the site remains a trespass zone, a fact sometimes acknowledged with a wary smile—the dead, after all, are not bound by such rules. The legend endures through whispered recollections and the hush that falls when people consider what Summerwind still keeps behind its weathered walls. Citation: Vilas County Records.