Every marriage has a few arguments that will never be settled. Duke or Carolina. Eastern-style or Lexington-style barbecue. And in our house, there’s one more question that apparently requires a lifetime of debate: whose ghost light is better?
This rivalry runs deep, y’all. I grew up on the legend of the Maco Light, and Brandon grew up on the Vander Light. We’ve spent the better part of 25 years disagreeing over which one deserves the crown.
Truth be told, if it weren’t for Mama Clark, I’d have dismissed the Vander Light a long time ago. But she swears she’s seen it with her own two eyes, and after a quarter of a century married into this family, I’ve learned one thing: you can argue with Brandon all you want, but you’d best think twice before doubting his mama.
Besides, I’ve got a soft spot for a good North Carolina ghost story, especially one involving a railroad, a lantern, and a restless soul who never got the message that his shift was over. But is the story better than the legend of the Maco Light?
I’ll let y’all decide.
Vander is a little community in Cumberland County, just outside Fayetteville, near where I-95 meets Clinton Road. These days, you’d be hard-pressed to find any sign that a train station ever stood there. But the stories have survived, passed down by folks who know those roads better than I do.
Here’s how that story goes:
Archer Matthews & The Vander Light
Archer Matthews was the ticket master at the little railroad station in Vander. He knew every train that came through, and he knew their schedules by heart.
One rainy night, the last train was running late. The station was empty, and the rain drummed steady on the roof. Archer stepped out onto the platform with his lantern to watch for it.
He stood there a long while, staring down the dark tracks toward Stedman. There was no headlight and no whistle, only rain.
Then he heard it: a noise out on the rails, somewhere past the edge of his lantern light. It wasn’t the train. It was something else.
Archer held his lantern high and leaned out over the edge of the platform, squinting into the dark to see what was out there.
The boards were slick with rain. His foot went out from under him, and Archer pitched forward off the platform. His head struck the steel rail with a crack, and everything went black.
He lay there on the tracks, still and senseless, his lantern burning beside him in the rain.
He never heard the whistle.
The engineer saw the lantern first, a little glow sitting low on the tracks ahead. By the time he realized a man was lying beside it, it was too late. He threw on the brakes, and the wheels screamed and spat sparks into the dark. But trains don’t stop on a dime.
The train ran right over Archer Matthews.
They found him the next morning; they did not find his head.
Not long after, folks around Vander began seeing a light out on the tracks at night. It was a lantern glow, swinging low along the rails where Archer had fallen. It would drift toward you, then vanish, and then turn up again behind you.
To this day, they say Archer is still out there with his lantern, searching the dark for his head along the tracks.
The Truth About the Vander Light
The Maco Light had a real man behind it. Charles Baldwin was a railroad conductor who died after a train wreck near Maco in 1856, and Old Joe’s legend grew out of him.
But when I went looking for Archer Matthews, I came up empty-handed. I couldn’t find a single record of a railroad man by that name dying at Vander.
Even his name has a mind of its own. Depending on who’s telling it, he’s Archer, Arthur, or even Author. For the record, I’m sticking with Archer. It sounds a little more Scottish, and this is Cape Fear Highlander country, after all.
Nobody can agree on when it happened, either. Some put the accident in the 1800s. Others say the light has only been reported since the early 1930s.
But believers agree on where to look. Head out after dark to the ridge where Old Vander Road crosses the railroad tracks, and look east toward Stedman. Folks who’ve seen it say it shows up as two glowing balls of light, and one fades almost as soon as it appears.
Brandon is a firm believer anyway.
So I reckon there’s only one way to settle it. One of these nights, we’re going to drive out to Old Vander Road, park by the tracks, and look east toward Stedman. If Archer shows up, I’ll let y’all know.
Until then, I want to hear from you. Team Maco or Team Vander? Did you ever go looking for his lantern?
