Unseen Buenos Aires: Urban Legends- Lion Palace-

“It is a common misconception, at least in a great deal of cities, that in the oldest parts of town lay the highest, and deadliest, concentrations of ghosts. It is normally believed that archaic and dilapidated buildings serve as a melting pot for restless spirits. Although that is sometimes the case, and Buenos Aires falls true to that norm; quantity does not usually attest to quality.

If a ghost story, is in part, remembered not for the fact that it exist, but by the apparition and its level of hostility, then there is one particular district we must travel to in the Capital of Argentina.

 Our fascination for the morose, and macabre, makes us openly appreciate poltergeists and demons, far more than we do a friendly spirit like Casper. We like a good ghost story, but relish in a supernatural terror fest. Blood and gore sparkles our imagination and drives us into a devilish glee.

In Buenos Aires, that freak show, those horrible and damnable legends, are in abundance in what many call: ‘the cursed neighborhood of Belgrano.’ 

Situated to the west of the financial, and oldest part of the city, Belgrano is a lovely precinct particularly dedicated to the sole action, that nowadays has been tarnished, of living peacefully; of veering away from the hustle and bustle that go hand in hand with office hours, and serving as a place of rest. A tiny island of bliss, in a thunderstorm of turmoil. An oasis, that with the expansion of Buenos Aires’s wealth, is slowly being taken over.

This charming hamlet, despite its serene atmosphere, has a few skeletons buried under its not-so-sacred ground. 

For believers, and above all paranormal enthusiast, there exist, out of hundreds of legends, two extremely gory stories: the tale of ‘The Lions’s Palace’ and the fable of ‘The Abbey of Saint Benedict.’

First let us start with, what is nowadays referred to as,  the Devil’s house: ‘The Lions’s Palace.’

Erected from ill gotten money, and with the only real purpose to dazzle the rubes and rob them of any suspicion that the were being swindled, “The Lions’s Palace”- it was named in account of a duo of monolithic marble lion statues that guarded its doors- stood for, almost forty years, in the intersection of two mayor avenues in Belgrano: Luis M. Campos and Jose Hernandez.  

The stonework was a castle plucked out of a medieval tapestry. A gothic romantic structure that would have fitted well in some charming valley in Budapest. Standing on a hill, atop a small soil rampart, it featured, besides its two guardians, a large stone parapet erected against a long stone tower. Constructed in 1907, it served as a hideout for an Italian conman known as Ernesto Patrizio di Castiglione. 

Castiglione had a flair for the dramatic and was, in the neighborhood's undertone, associated with the dark arts. ‘The Warlock’, as some knew him, had an ill reputation for demonic rituals and Satanic practices. 

When he fell in love with an innocent girl by the name of Amalita Oromí, he did everything in his power to obtain his hearts attentions; he was even suspected of having drowned the young lady’s other suitor, on the day they would have both participated in a pistol duel for her favors. Unable to fight off his advances, Amalita relented and decided to wed the count on September 28th, 1907. She never reached the altar, but instead died of a strange sickness on the mourning of her weeding day. 

Amalita Oromí was buried in the hallowed grounds of the famous Cemetery of Recoleta. A week after her entombment, a white figure started haunting the gardens of ‘The Lions’s Palace.’ The locals colorfully titled the creature: ‘The White Zombie’. They were certain that the Count had conjured up a deal with the Devil, and revived his beloved bride. 

Soon after, the horror stories began: children and pets started vanishing, chants and ghostly voices road the winds  around the castle, and even the police feared to guard the block after nightfall.

After a series of kidnappings of local boys, who were never heard from again, an effort was made to alleviate the fear and Amalita’s grave was exhumed. The coffin, as it is a routine occurrence in such tales, was empty. Castiglione’s house was finally raided, and the Count himself placed under arrest for desecration and pension fraud. It was discovered that most, if not all, of his fortune was stolen from old retirees.

The Count disappeared on his way to jail that evening. He was placed under custody, handcuffed and loaded into a police wagon, but, when the vehicle arrived at the station, the fiend had faded into nothingness; never to be heard from again.

Years later the house was bought by one of the richest citizens in Argentina: Teofilo Lacroze, son of the rail magnate; Federico Lacroze. 

Teofilo’s family resided for less than a month in the castle, that had cost him a fortune. They left in terrified haste. Every entry, window, hole or gate, was walled-in as soon as they fled; sealing whatever ghoul lay inside into a makeshift coffin for evil. To this day, what the family witness in that place remains a mystery. 

By the 1940’s Teofilo had the castle demolished and the land beneath it razed, and salted. 

Weary travelers, the intersection, that once footed this monster, is still feared by its neighbors... The Count’s ‘White Zombie’ spotted, every so often, under an energy efficient bulb.

Excerpt: The Wraith of The Obelisk- L.J. Gomez.