Years ago, I was with a group of young men from my church. We were generally discouraged from telling ghost stories, talking about the devil, and engaging in anything that might involve “false spirits.” Which of course made us want to talk about all those things. So in a typical transgressive and conspiratorial fashion, we began swapping stories we had heard of ghosts, possessions, etc. The most memorable was told by a guy from Asheville, North Carolina, who said that there was a bridge near his hometown where a five-year-old had been murdered. A road passed under this bridge, and he promised that he had gone there with a group of friends, parked under that bridge, and, just as people said would happen, they had heard a child crying. We were all shaken—he had actually been there and heard it. He even got serious and said, “Wow, I feel kind of creepy and bad telling y’all that. Maybe we need to repent.” Yes, repent.

Gettysburg has a similar bridge with similar spine-tingling stories: the Sachs Covered Bridge. But the story of the crying child under a bridge . . . well, that turns out to be more common than I would have guessed back then.

Sachs Covered Bridge—also known as Sauck’s or Waterworks Bridge—spans Marsh Creek just southwest of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. The wooden span is often touted as one of the state’s most haunted places. Local guides tell of Confederate deserters or spies hanged from its rafters and of ghostly lanterns drifting between the lattice beams. Photographers capture wisps of fog and claim to see faces in the shadows. Before accepting the supernatural as fact, it is worth exploring the bridge’s documented history, its engineering, and why similar legends cling to other covered bridges across the United States.

Building a Civil‑War‑Era Crossing

When Adams County officials sought a reliable crossing over Marsh Creek in the mid‑1800s, they turned to local builder David Stoner. Stoner erected a 100‑foot, 15‑foot‑wide wooden bridge around 1854 using Ithiel Town’s lattice truss. This design pairs overlapping planks fastened with wooden pegs to create a diagonal lattice; because the planks are sawn rather than hewn, the structure is light yet strong. Town’s truss was patented in 1820 as an economical bridge that could be erected and repaired quickly. Sachs Bridge remains a rare surviving example of this 19th‑century engineering.

The bridge functioned as a rural crossing for farmers and travelers until the Civil War brought armies into the area. During the first day of the Battle of Gettysburg on 1 July 1863, the Union First and Third Corps marched over the bridge toward the front lines. Four days later, after heavy fighting and Pickett’s Charge, General Robert E. Lee’s defeated Army of Northern Virginia used the same crossing in its retreat. As soldiers moved, artillery wheels and wagons rattled across the wooden deck; wounded Confederates were sheltered nearby and some were buried along Marsh Creek. These wartime scenes created a dramatic backdrop that later storytellers would embellish.

Following the war, Sachs Bridge returned to agricultural use. The Pennsylvania Department of Highways christened it the state’s “most historic bridge” in 1938, acknowledging its Civil‑War associations and exemplary lattice design. In 1967 the county closed the crossing to vehicles and in 1980 it was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. A flash flood in 1996 tore the bridge from its abutments, but local officials and volunteers restored and rededicated it the following year. Today it remains open only to pedestrians, inviting visitors to experience both its craftsmanship and its battlefield connections.

Ghost Stories and the Myth of the Hangings

Sachs Bridge’s tranquil setting and wartime pedigree have made it fertile ground for ghost stories. Contemporary guides claim three Confederate soldiers—sometimes deserters, sometimes spies—were hanged from the rafters and their spirits still stalk the bridge at night. Ghost hunters report footsteps, cold spots, disembodied voices and floating lanterns, and the site frequently appears on lists of “most haunted” places in Gettysburg. The local magazine Celebrate Gettysburg notes that the bridge was used by both armies and repeats the legend that soldiers were hanged there, suggesting that it “might be Pennsylvania’s most haunted bridge”.

Lack of Historical Evidence

Despite its popularity, there is no historical evidence that any executions occurred at Sachs Bridge. Travel writer Kelleye Rodes (Past Lane Travels) notes that two competing tales—one about deserters, the other about spies—circulate, yet “there are no historical accounts of soldiers being hung there.” The folklorist Norman Houser, The Pennsylvania Rambler, investigated the story and found that reports of a triple hanging only appeared in the 1980s (then went on to report that he stood on the bridge, heard the clop-clop of an approaching horse, but saw nothing). Earlier histories and newspapers make no mention of such events. The hanging anecdote may have gained traction because the bridge’s lattice beams look suitable for a noose and because it lies near the battlefield where thousands died.

The persistence of the hanging myth shows how easily folklore can override fact. Sachs Bridge’s real wartime role—in ferrying troops and wounded across Marsh Creek—is dramatic enough. While visitors sometimes claim to capture “phantoms” in photographs, historians emphasize that the bridge has witnessed no documented executions, and that ghostly experiences may stem from expectations rather than evidence. Even The Pennsylvania Rambler wouldn’t quite say he had experienced a ghost, while also not denying he had heard a horse but seen nothing.

Preservation, Vandalism and Ghost Tourism

Sachs Bridge faces a more tangible challenge than spirits: vandalism and misuse. Because the structure is only open to foot traffic, it has become a late‑night gathering spot. In 2016, WITF (a public broadcaster) reported that vandals spray‑painted profanities on the wooden floor; local officials noted that such mischief and drug use have plagued the site for decades. Adams County commissioner Randy Phiel explained that “recent popularity of the spiritual (ghost) phenomena” has increased pressure on the bridge, especially after dark, and described efforts to deter vandalism by installing lights and cameras. These measures were funded through partnerships with the Gettysburg Municipal Authority and local utilities, reflecting community commitment to preserving the landmark. The need to protect Sachs Bridge from overzealous ghost hunters underscores how legend can endanger the very historic resources it celebrates.

Haunted Covered Bridges Beyond Gettysburg

Emily’s Bridge (Stowe, Vermont)

The Gold Brook Covered Bridge near Stowe, Vermont—commonly called Emily’s Bridge—offers a cautionary tale about fabricated hauntings. According to local lore, a young woman named Emily either hanged herself or died in a carriage accident on the bridge while awaiting an absent lover. Ghost tours describe scratches on cars and the sound of her screams. Yet historians have shown that no such incident ever occurred. A blogger for Obscure Vermont discovered that the story was invented by Nancy Wolfe Stead and her friend Hazel Carlson in the early 1970s to scare teenagers at a nearby swimming hole. The fabricated tale gained notoriety when a Stowe tour company added it to their route, and there were no ghost stories attached to the bridge before 1970. A 2025 travel article notes that the two women later admitted making up the story; it nonetheless drew so many ghost hunters that town officials banned night parking near the bridge. Emily’s Bridge illustrates how quickly folklore can be created and commercialized, even when local residents subsequently reveal the hoax.

Crybaby Bridges Across the U.S.

Many American communities possess a so‑called Crybaby Bridge—a span where legend says a mother threw her baby to its death or where a school bus crashed, and where motorists now hear phantom cries. My friend’s bridge near Asheville is apparently one of these. (I guess we probably didn’t need to repent.) In Monmouth, Illinois, locals tell of a bus full of children plunging off a bridge or an unwed mother tossing her infant into the creek. Historian Jeff Rankin notes that there is no evidence that either event occurred. Paranormal teams have investigated but found no hauntings, and Rankin points out that the earliest tragedies at the site involve a mill dam accident in 1898 unrelated to a bridge. Folklorist Jesse Glass argues that Crybaby Bridges constitute “fakelore”—hoaxes propagated via the Internet; he found nearly identical stories of murdered children in multiple states with no historical basis. The pattern mirrors Sachs Bridge: an emotionally charged tale grafted onto a historic structure to create a thrilling ghost story.

Van Sant’s “Cry Baby” Bridge (New Hope, Pennsylvania)

Other parts of Pennsylvania have their own similarly haunted bridges. Near New Hope in Bucks County stands Van Sant’s Covered Bridge, another crossing saddled with a macabre legend. Visitors call it the Cry Baby Bridge and say a mother threw her baby into the water before leaping to her own death, or that a farmhand hanged himself after being scorned. The Mercer Museum notes that, despite the tales, there is only one documented fatality associated with the bridge—a 1918 accident in which a trailer collapsed the bridge floor and killed a man. No historical records support the ghost stories; yet, like Sachs and Emily’s bridges, the legend persists, demonstrating how easily myths flourish when a covered bridge provides a picturesque setting.

Patterns of Myth‑Making

Why do covered bridges attract ghost stories? Several factors contribute:

1. Architecture and atmosphere: Covered bridges are dark, enclosed structures that frame the road like a tunnel. Their lattice beams and wooden floors creak underfoot, encouraging eerie interpretations. The environment is conducive to stories of hanging and entrapment.
2. Association with tragedy: When a bridge is near battlefields or sites of real hardship, people may conflate unrelated events. Sachs Bridge’s proximity to Civil War graves and wartime suffering makes hangings seem plausible. Documentary proof of burials near Sachs Bridge exists. Similarly, Emily’s Bridge sits near a steep ravine where accidents could happen, and crybaby bridges often span remote streams where drownings have occurred.
3. Tourism and commercialization: Ghost stories boost visitor interest. In the case of Emily’s Bridge, a tour company adopted the tale to attract customers, and in Gettysburg the thriving ghost‑tour industry amplifies every rumor. The resulting influx can strain the historic resource, as seen at Sachs Bridge where ghost hunters and pranksters contribute to vandalism.
4. Folkloric replication: Once a bridge becomes known as haunted, similar stories appear elsewhere. Crybaby Bridges share nearly identical motifs across states. The Sachs Bridge hangings story did not surface until the 1980s—well after a wave of interest in hauntings swept the country following films like The Exorcist. Folklore spreads quickly when it appeals to shared fears and desires.

Conclusion

Sachs Covered Bridge is a rare survivor from the mid‑19th century, combining the elegant economy of the Town lattice truss with a storied role in the Battle of Gettysburg. Its history involves soldiers crossing into battle, wounded men sheltering on its banks, and floodwaters tearing it from its piers—not hanged deserters. While ghost stories make for entertaining night‑time walks, researchers have found no evidence for executions at the bridge.

Similar legends at Emily’s Bridge and across numerous Crybaby Bridges demonstrate how easily fabricated tales can seem ancient when repeated for decades. Recognizing myth as myth does not diminish the enchantment of these structures; instead, it encourages visitors to appreciate them as engineering achievements and historical witnesses deserving respect and preservation. As the Adams County commissioner noted, protecting Sachs Bridge from vandalism is essential “to ensure this iconic and historic county landmark is protected and preserved for future generations.” By valuing fact over fakelore, we can enjoy the mystery without harming the legacy of these remarkable bridges.

Of course, we can’t rule out all possibilities. After all, I’ve got my own photo of someone peering out of the Jennie Wade House, The Pennsylvania Rambler heard a disembodied horse, and dozens if not hundreds of people a year swear something converses with them in the attic of the Farnsworth House. So who knows? Visit the bridge, take a few photos, study your images to see if you captured anything. Just don’t vandalize anything.