Maryland church may not withstand 'Blair Witch' fans

The rickety old chapel, vacant for nearly 20 years, has withstood more than a century of rain, wind and snow in the rugged foothills of South Mountain, just outside the tiny Frederick County, Md., town of Burkittsville.

Built in 1870 by freed slaves, and closed in 1984, the chapel was the site of countless weddings, funerals and celebrations in the small African-American community that thrived in the area. But now, largely because of lingering fan hysteria from the popular 1999 horror movie "The Blair Witch Project," Ceres Bethel AME Church may be beyond salvation.

A Frederick County historic-preservation group recently made a last-ditch plea to potential donors to save the two-room, wood-frame church, which has become a magnet for fans of the film. Along with late-night partyers and thrill-seekers, movie devotees have splashed the interior with graffiti, repeatedly torn protective plywood off the doors and windows, and littered the inside with beer cans, candles and even a Ouija board.

"Every six months, I put up new plywood, and every six months they come back again," said the Rev. Richard Dyson, who oversees the church. "We've been worried that someone will set fire to the place."

Once comfortably isolated in rural southwestern Frederick County, Burkittsville in 1999 became a tourist destination overnight, at least for fans of "The Blair Witch Project." They poured into the town to see the place where the pseudo-documentary was set. Most of the movie actually was filmed in neighboring Montgomery County.

Perhaps no single place in Burkittsville has suffered more unwanted attention than Ceres Bethel, which is deep in the woods outside town, far from public view, but close enough for those seeking signs of the fictional Blair Witch.

The fact that it is a church adds a certain twisted cachet for those seeking to summon spirits and witches. Convinced that the church was used by Satan worshippers after the film came out, Dyson in 1999 held a nighttime ceremony to expel lingering evil spirits. He found a Ouija board, he said, and drug paraphernalia.

Carrying flashlights and anointed with oil to protect them from evil spirits, congregants gathered in the main sanctuary and in the basement kitchen area to cleanse the church, Dyson said.

Not long afterward, Dyson applied to the Maryland environmental trust for grants to restore the church. The money didn't come through.

Dyson and other members of Mount Zion AME Church in nearby Knoxville have tried to maintain the building. But with dwindling membership — the chapel closed in 1984 — and few resources, the Mount Zion congregation has had to let Ceres Bethel fend for itself.

A piano and organ, both damaged by vandals and weather, remain in the church. Graffiti stain inside and outside walls. The altar, intact as recently as a few years ago, has been smashed, and a hole has opened up in the northeast corner of the roof, letting in damaging light and weather. Many of the 15 rows of pews have been overturned, and some have been smashed. Beer cans and cigarette butts litter the floor.

Since it was vacated, the church has attracted people looking for an isolated and somewhat creepy setting to create mischief. But after the movie brought droves of fans to Burkittsville, the church constantly was being used, and abused, by late-night carousers.

The nonprofit Frederick County Landmarks Foundation listed the church last month as one of seven "most endangered sites," a list the group compiles each year to draw attention to prized historical buildings in severe disrepair. "It's an important part of Burkittsville's history, and it's important to keep around," said Connie Stapleton, who compiled the list this year.

The Blair Witch, purely a product of the filmmakers' imaginations, has wreaked havoc on Burkittsville, emotionally if not physically.

The town's welcome signs — particularly prized by Blair Witch fans because the movie features several shots of them — were torn down repeatedly. The town since has purchased metal signs, permanently affixed to metal posts.

"It kind of disrupted the whole town," said Phil Stanley, a retired college administrator who lives in Burkittsville, population 174. "It was like a little oasis out here."