Thirty miles outside of New York City, nestled in the Long Island town of Amityville, stands the house forever linked to the Amityville Horror phenomenon. On November 13, 1974, the estate was the scene of mass murder. It was the middle of the night, when 23-year-old Ronald DeFeo Jr. killed six of his relatives with a .35 caliber rifle while they were asleep: parents Louise and Ronald DeFeo Sr., siblings 18-year-old Dawn, 13-year-old Allison, 12-year-old Marc, and nine-year-old John Matthew.

Though he confessed to his deeds, DeFeo’s defense would later attempt to enter an insanity plea. DeFeo claimed he was guided by malevolent voices in his head and couldn’t control his behavior.  It was this claim, and the murders themselves, that spawned the notion that 112 Ocean Avenue itself was haunted — and that the DeFeo family as a whole were victims of the house. However, a look at DeFeo Jr.’s life provides an alternative reading of the events.

With an abusive father and passive mother, the boy’s troubled childhood led to substance abuse as an adult. He not only lashed out at his father but once even threatened him with a gun. The parents hoped letting him live at home and with a weekly stipend would help. DeFeo Jr. barely held a job.

On the day in question, DeFeo Jr. left work and went to a bar. He kept calling his home to no avail and complained to patrons about it. He eventually left, only to return at 6:30 a.m. — when he yelled, “You got to help me! I think my mother and father are shot!”

Authorities found all six family members dead in their beds, shot with a rifle at around 3:15 a.m., and positioned on their stomachs. There was no sign of struggle, nor that they were drugged. No local reports of gunshots were logged, with only the DeFeo dog barking away.

DeFeo Jr. changed his alibi several times, from claiming he was at the bar during the time of the murders to mob hitman Louis Falini killing his family while forcing DeFeo Jr. to watch. He eventually confessed that he gunned his own family down, and stood trial on Oct. 14, 1975.

Though attorney William Weber tried to enter an insanity plea, the prosecution argued DeFeo Jr. was a mere drug addict who was well aware of what he was doing that night. He was convicted on six counts of second-degree murder and sentenced to six concurrent sentences of 25 years to life.

But it wasn’t until after the Lutz family moved into the house in December of 1975 that the purported haunting of the Amityville Horror house allegedly set in. George and Kathy Lutz believed their purchase of the 4,000-square-foot house at $80,000 was a steal — but moved out 28 days later after terrifying incidents allegedly forced them to flee.

From green slime purportedly oozing from the walls and eyes peering into the house from outside to foul odors and Kathy allegedly levitating in bed, it was a rather disquieting month. George claimed he woke up at 3:15 a.m. each night — the exact time of death of the DeFeo family members.

Jay Anson’s 1977 book The Amityville Horror was based on these reported events and served as the foundation for the 1979 film of the same name, which was remade in 2005. The book became a bestseller, while the film grew into a classic — and legions of horror aficionados flocked to town.

The Lutz family claimed they experienced supernatural activity.  George Lutz had a history of dabbling in the occult, so they asked a priest came to bless the house. The priest allegedly heard a voice scream “Get out!”.  He told the Lutzes to never sleep in that particular room in the house.  Other paranormal activity they experienced: a nearby garage door opening and closing; an invisible spirit knocking a knife down in the kitchen; a pig-like creature with red eyes staring down at George and his son Daniel from a window; George waking up to wife Kathy levitating off their bed; sons Daniel and Christopher also levitating together in their beds.

Anson’s book used 45 hours of the family’s recorded interviews as a basis. And one of the three Lutz children, Christopher Quaratino, confirmed that the hauntings happened. However, he also said that the events were exaggerated by his stepfather, George Lutz. After telling their story, George and Kathy took a lie detector test to prove their innocence. They passed; but the couple was bogged down in legal and financial issues, which prompted skeptics to believe they had the motive to create a fantastical story to sell to the public.

The Lutz’s former lawyer William Weber — who fell out with them over money issues — came out in 1979, claiming the three of them came up with the horror story “over many bottles of wine.”   Son Daniel, who lives a quiet life in Queens, New York as a stonemason, claims the house ruined his life and that he continues to have nightmares to this day.

Murderer Ron, who’s still alive and serving six 25-year-life sentences at a New York correctional facility, claimed he heard voices urging him to kill his family. He has since changed his story multiple times.

Ultimately, the house remains just that — a house. It has changed hands for decades, with nothing but price fluctuations and a change in address serving as notable incidents. But even after the Amityville Horror house’s address changed, the public fascination never let up. To this day, countless people still yearn to get inside the Amityville Horror house just to get a taste of its supposed terrors.

In 1610, King Philip of Spain ordered the construction of three ships to be built in Acapulco. They were to be used for the harvesting of pearls along the Pacific coast of Mexico. These vessels, of a type named caravels, would be smaller and more maneuverable than the 200-ton galleons that had transported the first conquistadors from Cuba to Veracruz. The caravels would have a shallow draft, square sails, and 13 rows of oars on each side, which would allow them to navigate easily in shallow water, regardless of wind direction.

The ships were completed in 1612 and they immediately set sail under the command of captains Alvarez de Cordone, Pedro de Rosales, and Juan de Iturbe. Between them they had 40 experienced pearl divers who were slaves brought over from the Portuguese colony of Sierra Leone in West Africa.

It was no accident that the ships were heading north. Nearly 80 years earlier, Hernán Cortés had sailed up to the tip of Baja and found that Bahia de La Paz was loaded with oysters that produced perfectly shaped pearls. At the time, pearls were in great demand and were even more valuable than gold. But the Spanish were unable to establish a permanent settlement in La Paz because of the large numbers of hostile natives and a lack of fresh food and water.

So, the ships led by Captain Cordone passed La Paz but traded for pearls at other coastal villages along the coast of Baja. However, at one village things went awry. When Cordone promised to trade a basket of clothing for a basket of pearls, the native chief was surprised to find his basket filled with worm-eaten cloth. The chief had expected clothing like that worn by the officers. The angered chief shot Cordone in the chest with an arrow. While he wasn’t killed, the captain was forced to return to Acapulco for medical treatment. He ordered his two fellow captains to sail their ships further up the Sea of Cortez.

At present-day Mulege, the men hit the jackpot. A big storm had washed thousands of oysters up onto the beach and men quickly filled their baskets. But upon their departure, Captain Rosales’s caravel struck a reef and began to take on water. Captain Iturbe brought his ship alongside the sinking vessel and moved its cargo and crew into his own.

Now Iturbe had a decision to make: return to Acapulco early or continue north and load up with even more pearls? He chose the latter. For a week he sailed farther north until his ship entered a large estuary. Gradually the route narrowed and then opened up into what he described as a great “inland sea.” This would have been the ancient Lake Cahuilla, today’s much smaller Salton Sea. The captain sailed along the eastern edge of the inland sea and continued up the Colorado River nearly 100 miles to the site of modern day Blythe (where Interstate 10 crosses the Colorado).

It was here that Iturbe decided to turn around. He sailed back down the river and across the great inland sea. But in the weeks since their arrival the water level had fallen tremendously. A miles-long continuous ring of sand bars blocked their exit. They were trapped and Iturbe and his men circled around the inland sea for three days until their ship ran aground. The crew gathered as much of their cargo as they could carry and then they abandoned the ship.

Most of them survived the long and miserable walk back to the Spanish settlement of Guaymas, and a few months later they were transported back to Acapulco on a Spanish galleon. However, their ship and the majority of its cargo of pearls were to remain forever stuck on the edge of the great inland sea, covered by sand dunes.

Throughout the years, particularly during the Gold Rush years, numerous sightings were made of the rotting remains of a ship out in the barren Colorado Desert region, but no one has recovered any of the buried cargo.

In June of 2009, the San Diego Reader published a story entitled “Stay Away from Pinto Canyon.” The story was about a trek 2 friends made to a remote canyon in order to photograph petroglyphs — prehistoric rock paintings. The petroglyphs were not what they expected. There were no wooly mammoths or saber-toothed cats. Instead they found a crude collection of stick figures, next to what looked like a large sailing vessel with square sails and oars protruding from it.

The article and the pictures intrigued an exhibit designer from The Maritime Museum who then secured permission from the federal government to view the petroglyphs personally. He concluded that there was no definitive proof, but they could be representing the failed Spanish expedition–and any one of the three doomed ships.

So it’s just as likely that the petroglyph represents Juan de Iturbe’s doomed pearl ship, which ran aground just six miles from Pinto Canyon. Most of the people who’ve seen the remains of Iturbe’s ship were riding in off-road vehicles, and one of them, Imperial Valley resident Ed Barff, provided a precise location. He says the caravel lies three hundred feet southeast of the eastern-most edge of the Superstition Mountains. Much of that area is designated for off-road vehicle use. But the ship’s remains are located in a section reserved as a bombing range under the jurisdiction of Naval Air Facility El Centro.

Does anyone else wonder why the federal government always seems to be in the picture whenever lost treasure is being hunted?

During the autumn of 1864 it was clear the Confederacy was losing the Civil War. Some of the Southern leaders hoping to save what was left of the Confederate Treasury decided to move some of it from Richmond, Virginia to North Carolina. They summoned Captain JW Duchase to Richmond and gave him specific orders–orders he was only to open upon arrival in Greensboro, North Carolina. When Duchase left Richmond, the train on which he traveled carried several boxcars with soldiers and arms, a cannon and 2 flatcars filled with thousands of iron cooking pots–each filled to the brim with gold coins, their lids tightly fastened with wire.

Upon arrival in Greensboro, Duchase read his orders. He was instructed to bury the pots along the train track, 100 paces out, and to plot the burial places as nearly as possible. Following his orders, Duchase’s men buried the pots in groups of three, over 16 miles from McLeansville to a town called Company Shops (now known as Burlington).

His mission completed, Duchase and his men were to take the train back to Richmond, not only to report on the locations of the buried iron pots, but also to help defend Richmond from the advancing Union forces. But the returning train was derailed by Union saboteurs. Most of Duchase’s company was captured–only he and a Lieutenant escaped– but in the escape, he lost the only written plot map. Weeks later he was captured and sent to prison, where he remained until after the war.

Duchase then traveled to Mexico, where he built a successful life, and never returned to the U.S. His personal journals, which contained specific details of buried pots where given to P.H. Black. Black was from Greensboro, NC, and met with Duchase in Mexico, returning to the United States with his journals. When Black died in the 1930s, Duchase’s journals were missing from his possessions.

In the late 1880’s, the town of Burlington was growing rapidly. Farmers responded to the growing demand for food by turning thousands of acres of land along the railroad tracks to farmland. In the spring of 1910, a farmer was plowing next to the railroad tracks and broke his plow on something buried in the soil. He hit an old rusted pot, with the lid wired shut and filled with gold coins. Two more were found later, totaling three pots of $20 gold pieces, for this very lucky man.

The legend never says if he found more pots on his property. However, in the mid 1990’s a treasure hunter claims to have found 12 pots in four different locations. Still, if there were thousands of pots, and the number claimed to have been found is less than 20, that means there could be hundreds of pots of gold, just waiting to be found…in the 16 mile stretch from McLeansville to Burlington…100 paces from the railroad tracks.