Tears At Proctor's Ledge

Last summer I went to Proctor’s Ledge for the first time. Many people visit it throughout the year. Generally, they crawl out of tour buses, take a few photos, maybe someone tells them the significance of the place, and then they ascend back into the bus onto their next Salem tour stop.

As a Salem Witch Trials descendant, I knew my visit would be different.

Photo by S.A. Sizemore © 2026

Like my moments of remembrance at the Witch Trial Memorial by Charter Street Cemetery, I knew visiting Proctor’s Ledge would be full of emotion. During this same visit to Salem, I did my customary pass around the witch trials memorial, touching each stone as I whispered, “Rest in peace.” A visitor, who was also stopping at each stone, told me what I was doing was very sweet. When I explained I was a descendant, she said that gave her chills.

On the morning of August 22^nd, I started out from my hotel on Essex Street and more or less followed the same route the accused would have taken from downtown Salem to Gallows Hill in 1692. During the witch trials, those who were to be executed started their journey at the prison on Jailhouse Lane (now St. Peter’s Street) then turning right onto Main Street, which is now Essex.

When I walked past The Witch House, one of the only structures associated with the witch trials that is still standing, I left the bustle of the downtown business district and entered into a residential part of Salem.

The next recognizable building was the Ropes Mansion, which many know as Allison’s house from the Hocus Pocus films. I personally am much more interested in its Revolutionary War history and the gorgeous garden out back.

Next to it is the most recent structure of the First Church in Salem. Its roots trace back to the original Puritan Meeting House which was erected in 1629 when my Ingersoll family arrived in the North Shore. The first meeting house’s location was further east at the intersection of what is now Washington and Essex Streets. The witch trials victims would have gone right past it as Reverend Nicholas Noyes stood out front looking disapprovingly at the cart of accused witches.

As I walked along the undulating brick sidewalks of Essex Street, I admired more beautiful homes. Most were two to three stories tall with chimneys sticking out from both sides of the roofs. Two blocks after the Salem Public Library, I reached the intersection at Boston Street and turned right into another business district.

I was getting close to Proctor’s Ledge, and that's when a bit of dread come over me. How would I feel when I got there? I really wasn’t sure. When I turned left onto Pope Street, the memorial wasn’t that far ahead, up the hill on the right-hand side. This was another residential area. I wondered about the folks who bought property here within the last couple of decades not realizing their homes were going to be smack dab in the middle of a historic site.

For a long time, it was presumed that those convicted of witchcraft had been executed at the top of the hill in what is now called Gallows Hill Park. In the 1920s historian Sidney Perley was the one who figured out that the execution site was actually at a rocky outcrop near the base of the hill. The City of Salem even purchased some land near there to protect the site. However, no one definitively confirmed Perley’s findings until 2016.

Photo by S.A. Sizemore © 2026

A beautiful memorial park was created by Martha Lyon Landscape Architecture’s team a year later in 2017. It was dedicated in time for the 325^th anniversary of the wrongful executions of Sarah Good, Elizabeth Howe, Susannah Martin, Rebecca Nurse, and Sarah Wildes on July 19^th. The retaining wall memorial, made from granite stones, is shaped in a crescent below the dark gray rocks of the ledge.

Photo by S.A. Sizemore © 2026

Several black locust trees grow between the cervices of the rocks. It is believed that the tree used for the executions was also a strong black locust tree. The young trees up there now might well be some of its descendants, since they are hard to get rid of. Interestingly enough, the black locust, with nasty spreading roots and prickly thorns on its branches, is toxic, including the bark.

As I reached Proctor’s Ledge, I found myself unable to cross over into the memorial itself. A line of granite pavers stretched parallel with the sidewalk, indicating you were about to enter another space if you crossed over it. I’m sure anyone else would have went right in without a second thought. But for me, it became an invisible barrier. Out of respect I needed to stay outside of that sacred space. My ancestors were not the victims of the witch trials. Mine were the ones who accused them.

I looked up at the leaf-filled trees and gray rocks and imagined what it would have been like to be one of the victims as they arrived at this execution site. That’s when the tears came and I couldn’t get them to stop. I stood there for about a half hour wiping them away in vain. No one passed by me on the sidewalk. Cars came and went up the hill. I just stood on the edge of the memorial and cried. The air was heavy there.

For the longest time, I couldn’t look at Bridget Bishop’s memorial stone. It felt as if she was there staring at me, and I couldn’t face her. I knew she wasn’t angry with me. She had been with me for years now as I researched her to be part of my books. But I just couldn’t look at her, knowing how horrible her time at Proctor’s Ledge must have been. She was the first to be executed and the only one to head to the gallows by herself.

Photo by S.A. Sizemore © 2026

Yes, we have blood ancestors. Those are the ones whose DNA you carry with you, the good and the bad. But we also have ancestors who call to us in other ways. We may not be directly related to them, but something about how they lived and the stories they teach us sets into our bones. Bridget is one of those ancestors for me.

My blood ancestors may have killed Bridget Bishop, but I hope she can continue to live on somehow through my storytelling. So much of what we know about her is based upon the worst moments of her life, tales that either weren’t real, or mistaken bits about someone else who bore the same married name as her. Now, we lock her in stone memorials and bring her flowers. But she was so much more than that.

At the time of her death, she was a mother, a wife, and a grandmother. She had a great wit and a feisty temperament, didn’t suffer fools lightly, and was a shrewd businesswoman. She endured hardships, survived an abusive husband, and, up until 1692, managed to evade multiple attempts to slander her. Bridget is the quiet ancestor who guides us through difficult times and reminds us we must get through it. It’s time we released her from the stone memorials we’ve placed her in and give her the breath of life she deserves.

Want to learn more about Bridget Bishop’s life? Check out my blog post, Can I Adopt Bridget Bishop as My Ancestor?

Whispers of the Pale Witch, the first book in the Beckett Coven series, comes out September 29^th, 2026 from Rowan Prose Publishing.