Last Stand for Pittsburg’s Spooky House

In Pittsburg, about 20 miles from where U.S. Route 3 ends and Canada begins, a dilapidated home appears just over the horizon, set back from the road, and exposed.  

Over the years, its front door has been boarded up with plywood, and many windows are broken or glassless. The center is heavily sagging, thanks to a dormer that now pierces the roof. 

Thin wooden supports seem unable to shoulder the roof’s weight. It appears on the verge of collapse. 

A yellow rope attempts to block off the property from unwanted visitors. Still,
the lawn around the house seems to be maintained.

Over time, the house has earned several nicknames: “the creepy house,” “the spooky house,” and even “monster house.” 

Despite its eerie appearance, it has a long history of admirers. Fans across New England often stop by this stately and solitary home to photograph it, gawk at it and romanticize about its glory days.

The home contains fond memories for Joe Maccini. He owns the dilapidated house. 

His mother, Evangeline “Eve” (Merrill) Maccini, and other members of his family grew up there. Maccini, who lives in Woodsville some 90 miles away, spent time there as a kid.

“I can remember going up there with my folks. It was not nice up there,” says Maccini, referring to the North Country’s harsh winters.  

There used to be a barn to the left of the house but no other structures on the property, he says.

“There were always people living in it when I was growing up. My grandfather rented it,” Maccini says.

As for the heavy sagging in the roof, Maccini says it’s likely due to those dormers. 

“I’ve got pictures of that house before it had the dormer on it. When they put the dormer on, it put a lot of weight out on the front,” he says. “So that was the end of that. It was already a landmark. It just sat out there by itself, looked kind of ragged. People that grew up in that area have told me a lot about it.”

‘Monster House’

Lou and Allie Fish of Nashua commissioned Pittsburg artist Marti Eisele to create this painting so they would a keepsake of the house once it finally falls. Painting by Marti Eisele

Jerry LoFaro of Henniker, an illustrator, photographer and author, found the house while researching his book, “Abandoned Vehicles of New Hampshire: Rust in Peace.”

“I was struck by its appearance, and it reminded me of the house in the animated movie ‘Monster House,’ ” he says, though he hasn’t made the journey north to photograph it yet.

“As a photographer, I really enjoy chronicling things in decay, and that house is a great subject for sure. Aside from sagging dramatically, the unusual dormers over the gaping porch add creepiness because it looks like a face,” LoFaro says. 

LoFaro is also an administrator for the “Forgotten New Hampshire” Facebook page. To mitigate the onslaught of photos from contributors proud to show off their discovery, he’ll space out posts to avoid spooky house burnout. 

LoFaro also makes sure contributors follow posted “no trespassing signs.”

“We encourage people to be respectful of property, and just because a place appears abandoned doesn’t mean that it is,” LoFaro says.

Gilford photographer Chris Agurkis first documented the house in 2016, when he began practicing astrophotography – taking pictures of celestial objects in the night sky. 

Agurkis used the backdrop of the Pittsburg house for practice. He illuminated its front using “light painting” – gathering as much available light as possible. In his photo, the home, set back on a hill, appears alive under a blanket of stars.

To Agurkis, the remote environment added to its allure.

“It was still exciting to shoot this house in the middle of the night, while hearing coyotes howling nearby,” Agurkis writes.

Agurkis is awestruck by the home’s resilience.

“It’s hard to believe this image was taken nine years ago, and although the condition of the house continues to deteriorate, it remains standing today,” says Agurkis.

To fans like Lou and Allie Fish of Nashua, the house has a romantic allure that’s tinged with sadness.  

Lou says Allie first brought him up to see the house because “it had a special place in (her family’s) hearts. Though none of us have ever stepped foot inside, we still love it almost like it was our own,” Fish writes.

Both history buffs, Lou and Allie look at the house through a fairy tale lens.

“We find old, abandoned houses to be very romantic. We envision the lives that once lived there, the memories that were made, and the changes that the old houses must have undergone.  And we can’t help but wonder what happened that someone walked out, locked the door behind them and never went back. What was that like?” says Fish.  

Fish expects other admirers have the same questions.

“People have gotten to know the house for years — its lines, its character, its essence. What led the house to be abandoned? And then when you see something begin to deteriorate over time, you start to wonder how much longer you’ll be able to visit your ‘old friend.’ It’s become a landmark,” says Fish. 

The couple often wonders what it was like when it was full of life.

“(Allie) envisions sitting out on the front porch at twilight overlooking the landscape – the lake, the untouched mountains and forests – the sounds of loons calling to each other from the nearby lakes, and the occasional moose or deer walking by. It must’ve been so peaceful to live there and call the old house home,” says Fish. 

Fish says the home’s “creepy” label is unfair.

“We get really sad when we hear people refer to it this way. We both view it as part of Pittsburg’s history that is fading away. It makes us feel nostalgic for a time gone by that will never come again,” Fish says. 

Haunted? ‘Hell no’

Lou Fish of Nashua has photographed the house on Route 3 in Pittsburg often over the years, and recently posted a series of photos for the “Forgotten New Hampshire” Facebook page that shows the house’s steady deterioration. Photo by Lou Fish

Maccini still enjoys visiting the property on the way to his cabin. He lets the grass grow out during the summer so that pollinators like birds and bees can do their job. Then he mows the grass every fall.

He says it was last inhabited about 15 years ago. Once he stopped renting the home, maintaining it became more difficult. 

“When it was in good shape, I kept trying to fix it. They broke into it time after time and just destroyed the inside. They stole anything that was any good. It’s in terrible shape,” he says. 

He decided just to let the house go, but has trouble keeping trespassers out. 

“I bought quite a lot of lumber over the years to put over the windows, and they just rip it right off. There’s hardly any windows left in the house. They broke them all,” he says. 

Maccini is well aware of the home’s unsavory notoriety.

“You got no idea. I get calls; people want to buy it about once a month,” Maccini says. 

When asked whether he thought the house was haunted, he replied, “hell no.”

“As far as a haunted house, that’s what everybody says it is. You can’t tell people anything different, because they’re not gonna believe you anyway,” Maccini says. 

Maccini simply keeps the house because he recognizes its significance.

“They call it the creepy house. They call it the haunted house. There’s a guy that grew up across the street down there on Merrill Road. He says ‘We used to break into that about two, three times a summer.’ ”

Though Maccini doesn’t have any plans to rebuild, he continues to post No Trespassing signs on the property.

“I keep the signs up because I don’t want somebody to get hurt,” says Maccini.

He’s thankful that the Pittsburg Police Department and the Department of Fish and Game are keeping an eye out for intruders.

Time waits for no house

Fans know the former home isn’t going to last forever. Recent photos on Facebook have noted its steady decline. 

Lou Fish recently commissioned their friend, Pittsburg artist Marti Eisele, to paint the house so they could have something to remember it by.

“We wanted a way to remember the house when it inevitably ceased to be. And we thought that the fact that the photo was at twilight sort of symbolized when we got to know it. She agreed, and now, the painting sits in our dining room so that we can be reminded of it,” Fish says. 

These days, online conversations speculate as to whether it will make it through another brutal winter in the North Country. LoFaro also wonders if its days are numbered.

“How can it possibly survive another winter? With no visible effort apparent to restore the house, it’s only a matter of time before nature will prevail. All I know is that when it does, everyone will be posting about it,” LoFaro says.

LoFaro says buildings like this can help people wonder about what used to be.

“As with many dilapidated homes and buildings, it gives one pause to reflect on its history and who occupied it over the years, and even romanticize its existence. And like The Old Man of The Mountain, it’s a constant reminder that nothing will last forever,” LoFaro says.