Jayne Mansfield’s Death:
A Satanic Curse?

© 2024 BY BOBETTE BRYAN

Blonde Bombshell Jayne Mansfield was a Marilyn Monroe knock-off, groomed for her sexy role by Twentieth Century Fox. Like her legendary rival, she too would rise to fame and die young. With her hit films Kiss Them for Me (1957), The Sheriff of Fractured Jaw (1958), and It Takes a Thief (1960) her popularity soared to phenomenal heights.

Born on April 19, 1933 in Mawr, Pennsylvania, a sleepy middle-class town, Vera Jayne Palmer was the daughter of Herbert and Velma Palmer. The family soon moved to Phillipsburg, New Jersey. One afternoon Herbert, 30-years-old, had a medical exam and received a clean bill of health. When the family was driving home afterward, he died from a heart attack, wrecking the car. Only three-years-old, the tragedy was traumatic for Jayne, and she carried the pain of that memory all of her life.

Her mother worked as a schoolteacher to support her and remarried in 1939. The family moved to Dallas, which is likely where Jayne picked up a bit of Southern Belle charm.

At an early age, she was star struck, wanting, more than anything, to become an actress. She became adept as a classical pianist and violinist. After high school, she attended the Southern Methodist University in Dallas, studying physics and acting.

She secretly married Paul Mansfield on May 6, 1950, in Fort Worth, Texas when she was 16. Jayne had her first child, Jayne Marie Mansfield, six months later. They settled in Austin where Jayne attended the University of Texas in 1951.

Paul was drafted into the Army in 1952 during the Korean war, and he served for two years. During that time, Jayne pushed ahead, appearing in local television shows, a stage production of “Death of a Salesman,” and won beauty contests.

Though motherhood had brought her some heavy-duty responsibilities, made all the worse with an Army husband thousands of miles away, she worked hard, paving a route to her dearest dream—to become a movie star.

Paul hoped she’d lose interest in acting, but unable to dissuade her, he finally agreed to a move to Los Angeles. They set off with their daughter when Jayne was 21-years-old.

Four months later, they separated.

Jayne didn’t look back. Between working a variety of odd jobs, including modeling, Jayne studied drama at UCLA. She landed her first part in The Female Jungle (1954), but no big break was in sight. Then, after seeing her in a production at the Pasadena Playhouse, a talent scout working for Warner Brothers signed her. Her film career started with small roles and only took off after she’d bleached her hair platinum blond. She became known for roles which centered around her sexy looks and flirty personality.

Though she played the role of a dumb blonde, she supposedly had an IQ of 163 and spoke five languages, but the public didn’t care about her brains–they were more interested in the size of her breasts, and she knew it.

Her big break came from a stage production, Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?, as she wore nothing but a towel. Afterward, she starred in The Girl Can’t Help It (1956) which cemented her voluptuous “dumb blonde” persona.

In May 1956, she signed a contract with 20th Century Fox and played a dramatic role in the John Steinbeck-based film, The Wayward Bus. She tried to get away from the “dumb blonde” image and establish herself as a serious actress, but it would be impossible to escape. Even after winning a Golden Globe for New Star of the Year in 1957, Jayne’s image as a blonde comic relief persisted. For a time, she was popular, playing mostly comic roles as a buxom blonde with an exaggerated and obvious appeal.

In 1957, she reprised her stage role in Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? The hit play made Mansfield a Broadway star, but it was far from the success she craved. Hollywood would always be her most cherished dream.

Jayne even purchased her Hollywood dream house, thanks to a large inheritance from her father. The lavish, 10,000 square foot mansion in Beverly Hills had once belonged to singer Rudy Vallee. She decorated it in pink shag and red leather, even added a heart-shaped pool and a fountain which bubbled with pink champagne. It became known as the “Pink Palace,” and was often referred to jokingly as, “Mediterranean Movie-Star Baroque.”

In January 1958, Jayne divorced Paul Mansfield and married Mr. Universe title holder and actor, Mickey Hargitay. It was love at first sight. The couple soon had two children and seemed happy, however, by the 1960s, Jayne experienced a painful lull in her career, which must have kept her awake at night.

She had small roles in independent and foreign films and on stage, but these performances fell short of a major part in a feature film. The world was changing, and the light of the 50s star dimmed as a radical cultural shift in the 60s was embraced. Sex appeal was no longer enough. Seemingly overnight, the voluptuous, ditzy character whom she played to perfection was no longer in vogue.

Fox decided not to renew her contract in 1962.

She took drastic steps to counter the fall, playing her curves to the max. In 1963, she became the first actress to appear naked in the film, Promises, Promises. Mansfield’s bare breasts on the big screen shocked the nation. Behind the scenes, nude pinups of Jayne were published in Playboy, resulting in Hugh Hefner’s arrest in Chicago on obscenity charges. The film was banned in numerous cities, and hungry censors supposedly axed the original version.

Infamous for exposing her breasts, Jayne would have frequent “accidental” wardrobe ¬malfunctions, which bared her all to photographers on the street. On the “Tonight Show,” host Jack Parr introduced her as, “Here they are, Jayne Mansfield!”

There was nothing she wouldn’t do to gain attention under the spotlight she craved, perhaps needed.

By May 1963, Jayne’s five year marriage ended when she sought a divorce in Juarez, Mexico. The State of California declared the divorce invalid, and so the two reconciled in October, having a third child. But Jayne sued for the Juarez divorce to be declared legal and won, forcing a more favorable financial settlement on the heartbroken Hargitay.

Next she married Matt Cimber on September 24, 1964. They had a son, Antonio Cimber, on October 18, 1965. The marriage ended in divorce in 1966, which would be a terrible year for her as legal battles for the custody of her son ensued amid a troubling low-spot in her career.

turbulent love life was often the subject of tabloid fodder who claimed that Jayne cheated on all of her husbands, and they all cheated on her. At any rate, she soon had a new lover, Sam Brody, the lawyer who’d handled her latest divorce. He became her business manager. Brody was a married man, and his wife had filed divorce papers, siting his adultery with Miss Jayne Mansfield.

What Jayne saw in him, one can only wonder.

Even though he was the opposite from what Jayne found physically appealing, she settled into an uneasy relationship with Brody, but had second thoughts after he revealed his violent, jealous, controlling side. She was trying to ease out of the relationship, but Brody was becoming only more protective, using her pending custody suit to maneuver her deeper into a relationship.

What’s more, Brody was in debt—dangerously in debt—he owed $250,000 to Jimmy Hoffa. As Jayne was footing the bill via her roadside performances, it’s no wonder that the scoundrel desperately clung to her.

She continued bleaching her dark hair with peroxide and acting ditzy, transitioning from films to nightclub performances and dinner circuits around the country. Sometimes she didn’t make much, and at other times it was a financial boon as she earned as much as $35,000 a week in Los Vegas.

Her desperation coupled with her relentless obsession with publicity could have been the reason why she courted a friendship with Anton Levay.

She sought out the Satanic priest on a trip with Brody to a Francisco film festival. The couple arrived, uninvited, and after Jayne made a spectacle of herself, trying to usurp other celebrities and wearing a flashy, pink dress with no underwear, she and Brody were asked to leave.

After that first meeting, LeVay and Mansfield struck up a friendship, which took off full throttle.

Mansfield and LeVay continued an intense correspondence over the next year. It’s said that Mansfield asked LeVay to send her an incubus —a male demon who visits women in their sleep. Perhaps he delivered—no one knows.

Sometimes they dined at La Scala in Beverly Hills where German photographer, Walter Fischer, took the first photos of them. Photos were also taken at the Pink Palace with LeVay sporting his resplendent cape and devil horns while they played with her Ocelet and two Chihuahuas or chatted by the heart-shaped pool. Photos were even published of LeVay performing Satanic rituals with Jayne on a backdrop of tiger skin rugs.

LeVay was so at home at the Pink Palace that he worked out in the mansion’s gym, formerly the haunt of Mickey Hargitay.

Finding LeVay and Satanism “intriguing,” Jayne went so far as to pose at his Black Victorian home in the Richmond District of San Francisco where he kept a Nubian lion named Togare and a stuffed werewolf.

Wherever they were, the paparazzi were always on hand to document their activities. Fischer quickly found himself in their good graces and secured intimate access to their publicity-courting lifestyle. The paparazzo would send out press releases to accompany his shots.

One time, LeVay said: “She thinks it’s the greatest thing going. She is taking instructions. I made her a priestess and told her the concept of hell and paradise. I give her the usual information: working on ritual and how to cast spells. She likes to know about witches and love charms. She considers me a High Priest.”

Mansfield said in the same press release: “It is very interesting. I know the real basis of his church. I think he is a genius and I regard him as an interesting person. I am a Catholic and would not believe in his church. I am not a member of the black circle.”

She downplayed it all.

Most saw the two as an unlikely pair, but that’s far from the truth. They were very much alike, both wanting a prime spotlight, indulgence, and sexual freedom. Both were absolute publicity hounds.

Jayne was rumored to be one of LeVay’s many lovers, but no one knows if that’s true either. It’s more likely that her interest in him amounted to publicity. The Church of Satan had been making headlines and appearing on prestigious magazine covers and that would have appealed to Jayne. LeVay was also something of a dashing figure in all of his darkness and had become notorious in a short time. Even those who disliked him respected his showman ability.

And Jane wanted publicity at any cost—the cost would be high indeed.

Through LeVay she found a titillating new look on life: Satanism’s pursuit of pleasure and success could bolster her career and recharge her declining celebrity.

Likewise, LeVay, a notorious publicity hound, might have been looking for more recognition for his church , which an association with a Hollywood celebrity could deliver. Or was he genuinely enamored with Jayne?

Whether the rumors about a romance between them were true or not, the news infuriated Brody, who managed to get on the wrong side of “the evilest man in the world.”

On a visit to LeVay’s Black House, Brody was rude, mocking LeVay’s house of Satanic obscurities, even fingering priceless objects and laughing at them. He’s said to have even dared to light a skull candle in LeVay’s ritual chamber. This was considered an egregious act, and had LeVay steaming beneath his horns.

Over the next few weeks, the two clashed many times.

Jayne had sought LeVay’s help in securing the custody of her son Tony during her divorce from Cimber–some claim that when they first met, she had asked LeVay to put a curse on her ex-husband. Ultimately, she won the case but may have lost a greater battle.

Both Sam and LeVay vied for the credit of this victory, entering a zealous battle for her devotion. The jealous Brody forcibly interrupted a phone call between Mansfield and LeVay, calling LeVay a “charlatan.” This was supposedly when LeVay put a curse on Brody.

“My power exceeds anything you can imagine, and now you’re going to feel it. Sam Brody, I pronounce that you will be dead within one year,” thundered LeVay.

Afterward, Sam was involved in six serious road accidents before the fatal seventh—quite a string of bad luck for mere coincidence.

Bad luck would find Jayne too. She and Brody were involved in two car accidents, and even darker clouds loomed on the horizon.

LeVay later said that the “curse” was supposed to protect Jayne from the violent and abusive Brody. He said he’d warned Jayne to stay away from Brody, fearing that she might be affected by the curse. But Jayne either didn’t put much stock in the curse, was too stubborn to listen, or LeVay lied and had never warned her.

In November, 1966, Jayne’s six-year-old son Zoltan accompanied her to Jungleland in Thousand Oaks, California, where she was to appear for a publicity shoot. Zoltan was mauled by a “tame” lion named Sammy at the theme park. The lion had bit into the boy’s head, causing severe trauma. He underwent three brain operations, one of which lasted six hours, and he developed meningitis. No one thought the boy would survive.

Jayne was beside herself. She begged LeVay to use black magic to save her little boy’s life. LeVay wasted no time. He headed straight for a mountaintop to perform a Satanic incantation.

A few hours later, doctors said Zoltan was doing well and would pull through.

The period leading up to Jayne’s death was nothing short of peculiar, and it seemed like a curse was on her as well.

While she and Brody were in Japan, a collection of her prized jewelry was stolen from her hotel room. In England, she was accused of skipping out on a hotel bill. As a result, she was publicly humiliated, and her show was canceled. She was charged with income tax evasion in Venezuela, robbed in Las Vegas, and attacked by a Carnival mob in Rio de Janeiro, who stripped her naked.

Everything was going wrong in her life.

By the summer of 67, Brody and Jayne firmly believed a curse was in effect so they invited LeVay to the Pink Palace where he was treated like an honored guest. It’s said that Brody ate crow and apologized profusely. Afterward, all seemed well. LeVay and Jayne even did more photo shoots together on June 11, 18 days before her death, with her wearing a mini dress and gogo boots. The trio then went to the La Scala restaurant for dinner, and the couple politely asked LeVay to remove the curse.

LeVay’s response is unknown, but when Jayne and Brody drove home along Sunset Strip afterward, Brody crashed into a tree, so apparently the curse remained active.

On June 22, 1967, Brody was on his way to pick up Jayne from a charity lunch when his vehicle was struck by another car. The car was badly damaged and Brody was hospitalized with a broken leg and cracked ribs. Despite his injuries, Brody still intended to accompany Jayne to Biloxi, Mississippi on a tour of “southern supper clubs” a week later, a decision that would be fatal.

Ten days before her death, Jayne appeared on the Joey Bishop Show and read the Robert Herrick poem, “To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time.” Ironically, the poem is about early death.

This would be her final television appearance.

Jayne performed two shows at Gus Steven’s Supper Club in Biloxi, Mississippi on June 29, 1967. After the night’s final show, she returned to her hotel room and packed her bags for a noon television appearance on a talk show in New Orleans. Her pink luggage was tucked into the trunk of a gray, 1966 Buick Electra 225, which belonged to Steven’s wife.

Jayne, her three children, four tan Chihuahuas, Brody, and 19-year-old Ronald Harrison, an employee of the club, left around 12:45 AM. Harrison drove west on Route 90 while the children slept in the front seat beside him. Jayne and Sam were in the back.

About 45 minutes into the journey, they stopped at a service station so that Jayne could call Hargitay. He told her he was flying to New Orleans later that day “to see the children and be together.” Through the call, he overheard the snide remarks of the jealous Brody.

Thank God for that call as something important happened here. Jayne and Brody took the children from the front seat and put them in the back seat. Jayne sat in the front seat between Ronald and Sam, a beloved Chihuahua on her lap. Three of her children, Zoltan, six, Mickey Junior, eight, and three-year-old Mariska were sound asleep in the backseat.

The party may or may not have stopped at the twenty-four-hour White Kitchen restaurant—now defunct—in Louisiana’s St. Tammany Parish. No employees of the restaurant recalled seeing the car or the occupants. But they may have pulled in so that Jayne and Brody could switch seats for whatever reason. Now Jayne was on the passenger side with Brody in the middle.

Returning to US 90, they passed a bridge over a waterway called the Rigolets, the Buick traveling at 60-80 MPH. According to a witness, the Buick shot by like a “streak of lightning.”

The narrow, winding road, known as the Old Spanish Trail, was shiny and slick from a light rain that had fallen earlier, but now the weather was clear and dry. Just ahead, there was a semi from the Johnson Motor Freight Company. Another vehicle was coming toward them in the left lane, a mosquito-spraying truck. The truck wasn’t spraying insecticide at the time, but its light flashed red. As a result, the semi driver downshifted and was driving 35 MPH or less.

For whatever reason, Ronald never saw the slow moving truck in front of him, he never hit the brakes or attempted to swerve away from the vehicle.

Around 2:25 AM, the Buick ploughed into the semi, sliding under the back of the trailer with a tremendous impact. In one grisly sweep, the roof of the Electra was peeled off like a sardine can, the shriek of metal cutting through the darkness.

The horrific impact shuddered through Richard Rambo, the semi driver, who was uninjured but shaken. He floored the brakes, then jumped down from his cab to investigate.

The smell of oil and blood hung heavy in the air. Glass crunched beneath his boots. He heard a child crying.

On the driver’s side, he saw the bloody bodies of two dead men who’d been crushed into the dashboard on impact. Blood dripped from the front passenger side door, forming long, crimson rivulets. Gazing through what remained of the Electra’s windshield, he saw the battered body of a woman in blood-soaked clothes.

On the pavement, his wide eyes landed on what he thought was her severed head, but it was just Jayne’s wig, which had been ejected from the car on impact.

He found the crying child, three-year-old Miriska, whose head was jammed between the door and backseat. He carefully freed her and placed her on the side of the road. Then he retrieved Mickey and Zoltan. Next, he dragged Jayne out of the car and placed her on the roadside, afraid the crushed Buick would catch on fire.

Jayne, who was obviously dead, wore a blue dress, blue stockings, and blue boots, all of which were saturated with blood and torn to shreds.

He returned for the men, but they were so embedded in the dashboard that he couldn’t extract them.

The driver of the mosquito truck, city employee James T. McLelland, was surveying the scene as well and went to the children’s aid. He flagged down a passing motorist who took the children to Charity Hospital in New Orleans. Mickey had a broken arm and a leg. They all had abrasions and lacerations, but by some miracle, they survived.

Had they been in the front seat, they would be dead too. Perhaps some force had intervened on their behalf that night.

The accident scene was only 15 minutes from downtown New Orleans, and so the police arrived quickly. Jayne and the two men were declared dead on the scene. The police also found two dead Chihuahuas and two dogs who were still alive, which were taken to an animal shelter.

The bodies were put in white bags, and then hauled to the white-tiled morgue in New Orleans. Mansfield’s death certificate confirms that she suffered a “crushed skull with avulsion of cranium and brain,” an injury more akin to a scalping than total decapitation. At 34-years-old, Jane had died instantly when the top of the car was sliced through.

If the accident was the result of a curse, then it had gone awry. LeVay had not only killed his rival but had also unwittingly killed the woman who’d captivated him.

News of the tragedy shocked the nation. They’d incorrectly attributed the cause of the accident to a fog created by the mosquito truck spraying the insecticide and obscuring Ronnie’s vision. The real cause was Ronald’s reckless driving. Here’s the written report from Major M. Reuther, the supervisor of the New Orleans Police Department.

“If there had been a fogging machine on the highway, there would have been someone flagging traffic before and after the operation, and these people would not of been killed….my personal opinion is that the fogging machine had nothing to do with the accident.”

News articles also incorrectly stated that Jayne had been decapitated. The death photos released after the accident, showing the wig, added to the rumor mill.

After the autopsy, Jayne’s body was taken to the Bultman Mortuary on St. Charles Avenue. Then she was shipped, via Delta Airlines, to New York for a funeral, and then back in her home state, Pen Argyl, Pennsylvania. On July 3, she was laid to rest at Fairview Cemetery. Her heart-shaped tombstone bears a tender inscription by Mickey Hargitay: “We live to love you more each day.”

During a memorial service held in her honor at the Church of Satan, 30 people reported that a series of amber-colored bulbs suddenly flared up without explanation but never shattered. LeVay said that it happened because, “Jayne wanted to let us know she was still with us.”

LeVay later said the “curse” was supposed to protect Jayne from Brody, who was violent and abusive. Again he claimed that he’d warned Jayne to stay away from Brody, fearing that she might be affected by the curse. He found Jayne at fault, saying she was “a victim of her own frivolity.”

Some claim, however, that LeVay wasn’t powerful enough to successfully issue such a curse. Others though he was quick to cash in on Jayne’s death for publicity—such as LeVayLaVey.

We’ll never know the truth and can only speculate. We do know, however that two years later, Avon Books published LeVay’s Satanic Bible.

As for Jayne, her story wasn’t over yet.

Soon after her death, strange stories arose that her home was haunted.

Many claimed her restless spirit walked the halls of the Pink Palace, and it seemed the curse was still in full effect there. Others who were personally connected to Jayne or who later lived in her mansion had odd, supernatural happenings or suffered terrible tragedy.

Mickey Hargitay, Jayne’s second husband, had a bad accident just after driving out of the gates of the Pink Palace.

Matteo Ottaviano, Jayne’s third husband, was plagued with an assortment of troubles, which ruined his life. His father had a heart attack, legal issues closed his nightclub, and his best friend was killed.

Victor Huston, Jayne’s road manager, was a frequent visitor at the Pink Palace. On July 29, 1967, he did an interview with reporter Ben Williams from KPIX-TV at Levay’s church. When asked why he believed there was a curse, Huston, clearly troubled, said they went to Canada and “everything went wrong.” They were always late and “Jayne cut her thumb.” Then there was Zoltan’s mauling—the boy wasn’t expected “to survive the night.”

He said his mother was taken to the hospital with a heart condition and was “very, very ill” so he was unable to go to Biloxi with Jayne. If he had, he would’ve been in the car that fateful night, right beside Jayne.

He said, “That’s why I’m here now. I figured my life was saved, but for how long? I wanna know how far this curse goes, as far as my life is concerned. So I made a special trip up here to see Anton to ask him about this curse.”

LeVay was also interviewed and said: “I don’t feel there was a curse on Miss Mansfield, as such, but there certainly was a curse on Mr. Brody.” LeVay ends the interview by confirming that this curse is: “All over.”

But clearly the curse was working overtime and was still claiming lives.

Shortly after the interview, Victor Huston died suddenly.

Linda Mudrick, Jayne’s maid for many years, was also involved in a terrible car accident but survived, but it would get worse and much of the horror involved the Pink Palace, which was suddenly haunted.

Jane’s son Miklos, who’d been injured in the accident, started chatting with someone when he was alone in his bedroom. Mudrick, questioned him about it, and he said he was talking to his mother. Alarmed, Mudrick believed that Jayne was communicating with the boy.

Another time, Miklos and a friend were playing on a toy electric car at the Pink Palace. Their giggles filled the room until the little girl leaned back and somehow got her long hair entangled around an axle. The hair at the back of her head was ripped out at the roots.

But the terror was far from over.

At the Pink Palace, water pipes burst, ruining valuable furniture. The plumbers who came to repair the damage were frightened by moving objects and left. A painter said that when he was working in Jayne’s old room, he felt like someone was watching him. Many times, he felt an icy touch on his shoulder.

Eerie moans were often reported, and servants refused to stay on. New employees were hired, but often left after only a few days in the house.

Even Linda Mudrick quit, stating, “I never want to go in that house again.”

Many came to believe that Jayne was still around, angry over the fighting that was going on over her estate. Her spirit, they said, wanted to insure that her children received their inheritance.

The legal matters were resolved when Ottaviano, Jayne’s third husband, sold the Pink Palace. He and his attorney supposedly locked out the children and Jayne’s parents, and then sold the place.

A bank president and his family moved in. They hadn’t been there a week when the banker’s son found a pink Honda motorcycle in the garage—a gift to Jayne from the late actor Nick Adams during a brief affair. Excited, the boy dusted it off, fired it up, and took it for an exhilarating spin around the estate. Then he decided to try it on the road. Just as he was roaring out of the gates and onto Sunset Boulevard, he was struck by an oncoming car and killed.

The banker and his family moved out the same day.

Another occupant of the house also claimed to experience strange phenomena that reeks of demonic oppression. Her personality changed, and she developed an obsessive urge to bleach her hair blonde. She found some of Jayne’s clothes in storage and began to wear them. Her next move was to seek plastic surgery for a breast enlargement. She was becoming Jayne, or at least trying to be, even spending thousands on any Jayne memorabilia she could get her hands on. Concerned relatives and friends questioned her about this sudden change, but she offered no explanation for her strange behavior.

Fortunately, for her sake, she didn’t occupy the house long and escaped the oppressive influence.

One night she heard a woman’s disembodied voice urging her to “get out!” Aware of the tragedy that had befallen previous tenants, terror ripped through her soul. She packed her belongings and fled the Pink Palace.

Beatle Ringo Starr, who’d been a close friend of Jayne’s, became the next owner of the mansion. Although Ringo used the house primarily for parties, he occasionally lived there. He wanted the pink exterior gone and had it painted white. Soon though, the house again turned as pink as flamingo feathers.

Skeptics laughed it off, saying that pink was hard to cover. Others chucked it up to Jayne’s presence and the curse.

Ringo consulted chemists and paint experts for advice. Afterward, the mansion was painted again, using a sealer and two coats of paint this time, but it turned pink yet again. Experts were bewildered. Eventually, though, the house was successfully painted white and remained white.

Singer Englebert Humperdinck, who’d once had a romantic relationship with Jayne, purchased the house, sight-unseen, in 1977. In an interview, he said there were “spirits in that house,” and “Jayne was ever present.”

He and Jayne had had dinner two weeks before she died, and they discussed a certain type of perfume she wore. He said, “That perfume was ever present in the palace.” Sometimes when he and his wife were in bed, “someone would come and sit on the bed—you’d feel the mattress go down, and then you’d get the smell of the perfume.”

The ghostly activity also scared his kids especially when candelabras on the mantel jumped up and then smashed on the floor.

As a result, he had the house blessed by a Catholic priest, and in a 1980 interview, he said the house was no longer haunted, but he admitted to a few terrifying moments.

In 2002, Humperdinck sold the house to developers who had it demolished in November. Since then, there have been no further reports of Jayne’s ghost, and it seems that memories of the haunting have faded away, but the vivacious actress will never be forgotten.