The Stanley Hotel, Estes Park, Colorado

In Estes Park, Colorado, stands the Stanley Hotel - a large, beautiful edifice that houses many of the tourists that pass through or come to stay in Estes Park. The hotel was built between 1906 and 1909 by Freelan Oscar Stanley (who, according to the hotel's promotional material, was suffering from consumption - that is, tuberculosis, when he arrived and was somehow miraculously healed by the surroundings...color me skeptical - also, along with his brother, he was a co-inventor of the early automobile known as the Stanley steamer), and was something of a luxury palace: a hydroelectric plant built up-mountain supplied electricity to the hotel (keep in mind that much of the US was not yet on the electrical grid at the time), and telephones (still something of a luxury item in 1909) were installed in each room. That said, it was a summer resort, closed int he winter, with the only heat coming from fireplaces on the first floor until a more extensive heating system was installed in the 1970s or 1980s, depending on which source you trust.

Like many such landmark buildings, the Stanley Hotel has a reputation as a haunted place.  And, like many an allegedly haunted hotel, the symptoms of the haunting are usually location-specific. So, to that end, I am going to structure this entry by location:

General Hauntings
Yeah, for all that I say about the localized nature of the claims, there are a few things that are reported throughout the hotel. This includes apparitions stealing guests belongings (the sources are unclear as to whether this is in one room or in multiple rooms, so I'm placing it in this section); figures, sometimes looking very much like living people, sometimes more shadowy or faded, appearing in guest rooms at night, and just standing there; some visitors have reported seeing people walking through the hallways, who then would hide and/or vanish (though this was reported by the TV crew of the show Ghost Hunters*, so take it with a table spoon of salt); people have also reported hearing children running and playing on the floor above wherever they are, only to find the area empty (again, though, this was reported by the crew of the same sensationalistic TV show); Allegedly, Stephen King saw two unattended children in the hotel during his short novel-inspiring stay in 1974 (though I suspect that this story was retrofitted into the hotel's legends to accommodate the events of the novel The Shining); and, finally, people report seeing a well-dressed man who looks like Freelan Stanley standing or walking at various places throughout the hotel, though he is reported to favor some specific locations (described below).

The Ball Room
One of the more persistent stories is that hotel staff, often specifically stated to be the kitchen staff, will hear a party occurring in the ball room, but find the room empty on investigation. At other times, staff and guests have reported hearing someone playing the ballroom's piano, again only to find the room empty, and the piano unattended, upon investigation. It has been claimed that the unseen pianist is the ghost of Flora Stanley, Freelan Stanley's wife, who apparently was quite the pianist in life. It should be noted that different stories hold that this music is heard not from the ball room but from the music room and the concert hall, so there is that.

The Music Room
As noted, the ghostly Mrs. Stanely has been said to play the piano in this room, as well. Again, Mr. Stanley is said to appear in this room. There is also a flag hanging on one wall that, allegedly, a face will mysteriously appear on from time to time (or the face is always there as part of the fabric...the sources are inconsistent on this one).

The Billiard Room
People report seeing Mr. Stanley (or, the more ambiguous "feeling his presence") in here, said to be one of his favorite rooms in life.

The Lobby
The Lobby is yet another place where people report seeing Mr. Stanley.

The Bar
Again, Mr. Stanley is said to be strolling through the bar on his way to the kitchen.

The Grand Staircase
While probably technically part of the lobby, the staircase is plenty impressive and deserves its own entry, if for no other reason than that I get to link to a photo. People have seen a woman in early 20th century clothing descending down the stairs, and she has been said to show up in photos even if she were not visible when the photo was taken.

Room 217
Probably the most famous room at the hotel due to the fact that this is where Stephen King was inspired to write The Shining while staying in this room at the mostly empty hotel in the days before it closed for an extended period. Other than a nightmare that shocked him awake, nothing spooky is said to have happened to MR. King here. However, legend holds that during a power outage in 1911, a maid named Elizabeth Wilson entered the room, sparking a gas explosion (gas was used for lighting in the building at the time, a common arrangement in the late 19th and early 20th centuries). The resulting explosion did considerable damage, and sent Ms. Wilson hurtling to the floor in the room below...but she survived and apparently lived a long life. However, guests have reported seeing a young woman in period clothing appearing in the room, and then walking through a wall where the door once was, and many have assumed that this is Elizabeth Wilson. People have also reported clothing being mysteriously folded, having suitcases unpacked and items mysteriously put away, doors opening and closing on their own, lights turning on and off, and an unseen force (assumed to be Ms. Wilson) getting into the bed to separate unmarried couples.

The Fourth Floor
The fourth floor is reputed to be the most haunted part of the building. Stories include hearing children rushing and playing through the halls, despite there being no children present (allegedly the children of wealthy visitors and their families would stay on the 4th floor - though some stories report that the hotel maids lived with their children on this floor); the ghost of two little girls are said to be seen on a pair of couches in the hallway on the 4th floor; apparitions seen walking in the halls and vanishing; noises have been said to come from the elevators even when the elevators are not operating; and several rooms specifically said to be haunted, including:

Room 401
This room is reputed to be haunted by an apparition of a man who appears and steals guest's belongings - mostly small objects such as jewelry, keys, and wallets. The closet doors are also said to unlock, objects (including furniture) are said to move, and the Ghost Hunters staff (who, again, are a bunch of sensationalist doofuses) claim that one of theirs stayed in the room and his water glass mysteriously cracked. People also report seeing the spirit of one Lord Dunraven, former owner of much of the land that is now Rocky Mountain National Park, in this room.

Room 407
People report Lord Dunraven's ghost standing in a corner of this room. Apparently just sort of standing there, hanging out...doing some sort of Lord Dunravenly thing. People outside of the hotel have reported seeing a face peering out the window from this room even when the room was empty. Also, the lights are said to turn on and off of their own accord.

Room 418
Allegedly the most haunted of the fourth floor rooms (I'm always really curious as to how people measure "most haunted" as allegedly most haunted places are usually somewhat less creepy and busy than the supposedly less haunted places nearby), staff report hearing noise (primarily of children playing) coming from the room despite it being empty. The apparition of a little boy is said to appear to guests. People have reported seeing an impression on the empty bed, as if an invisible person were lying on it.

Room 428
A shadowy figure in a cowboy hat has been said to appear and frighten people in this room. Frequently he startles them by appearing at the foot of the bed and watching them sleep...which is creepy even for a ghost. In addition, the furniture is said to routinely re-arrange itself.

The Tunnel

There is a tunnel cut into the granite beneath the hotel, connecting the staff entrance to the hotel proper. A good deal of what I have read describes this as a cave system, and suggests that it is as old as the hotel, but from what I can tell, it was constructed in the early 1980s. People have reported seeing a ghostly cat with glowing green eyes in the tunnel (how they would distinguish it from a normal cat is unclear), as well as smelling what appear to be baked goods, a phenomenon normally attributed to the ghost of a chef who worked at the hotel. 

The Concert Hall
A separate building, but on the hotel grounds, the concert hall is also said to be haunted. One ghost said to inhabit the hall is a former handyman by the name of Paul. He had his own room on the basement level. Paul is said to like to mess with flashlights (though I couldn't confirm whether this refers to a common parlor trick of making flashlights flicker as a form of poor-man's Ouija board, or something different), he is reported to have pushed or nudged a man working on the floors of the concert halls, he is said to be the voice on an EVP saying "get out" (one source suggests that this may be Paul trying to maintain curfews), and another one of the sources I used said that Paul "interacts with men" - though it is unclear as to what that means.

Another ghost often associated with the concert hall is that of a woman named Lucy. Who she was is unclear, though most sources report her as being a homeless woman - possibly a runaway. Children report interacting with her, and she is also said to mess with flashlights (again, not clear on what that means).

The Creepy Mirror
Finally, in the basement of the concert hall, there is a haunted object. Typically referred to as the "Creepy Mirror." Stories of people taking selfies in the mirror only to have a second person show up in the image, someone not present when the photo was taken, abound. So, all in all, the Stanley Park hotel has an abundance of ghost stories for you. Which, considering that it was, apparently, the inspiration of one of the best known horror novels ever, seems appropriate.

* Just for the record, in case I seem like I am overly dismissive of the people from Ghost Hunters - they have a long history of transparently editing video and making highly dubious claims for the sake of ratings. If they were generally just viewed as being goofy entertainment, then this wouldn't bother me, but they tend to portray themselves, and be portrayed by their fans, as serious researchers, when these guys wouldn't know actual honest research if it crawled out of a dark allegedly haunted swamp and bit them. They annoy me intensely. 

Commentary: Although now known primarily as the hotel that inspired Stephen King to write The Shining, the Stanley Park Hotel has a long history tied in to the development of health resorts (which promised all manner of essentially magical healing) in Colorado during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

One of the things that really struck me in researching this entry is the degree to which it is so typical of the haunted hotel archetype. Rather than a single over-arching haunting, there are numerous room-specific hauntings, with each of them exhibiting it's own trends and flavor. Given the Steven-King derived fame of this hotel, I have to wonder whether it fits this mold so well because the pattern set at this hotel has been exported to others, or if people felt the need to make this hotel's stories fit an archteypical structure in order to fit Stephen King's model into something more familiar.

Even most of the specific haunting elements are almost prototypical - the phantom parties in the ballroom are commonly reported in haunted hotels. The late Mrs. Stanley playing the piano is a different touch, not entirely unique (I can think of several other similar claims at other places, including hotels) but it is not the standard hotel haunting, unlike the phantom party.

In going through the various alleged hauntings that I listed above, I tried to steer clear of stuff that seems to have been purely from the novel The Shining. You see, the paranormal waters have been muddied by two facts: 1) The Shining was conceived here after Steven King had a nightmare, and as a result many of the sources take elements from the novel and place them in the hotel, despite the fact that those elements are purely products of Stephen King's imagination; 2) the hostel has discovered that it can cash in on it's haunted reputation (in fact, the allegedly most haunted of the rooms, up on the fourth floor, have to be booked by a specific section of the hotel's website, and haunted tours regularly occur and are a fair money maker for the hotel), meaning that there is a lot of impetus to keep the stories rolling. As a result, it is difficult, and possibly impossible, to tell what people have experienced, what people have claimed to have experienced, what is people muddling fiction with fact, and what is just pure marketing.

Sources: The Bloggess, Wikipedia, Allstays, Haunted Places in America, Spooky Mountain News, Legends of America, TV News, Hotel Website, CSICOP, Amy's Crypt, My Haunted Library, Rocky Mountain Paranormal, TripSavvy.com,

Manchac Swamp, Louisiana

Manchac Swamp, in Lousiana, is home to two separate supernatrual stories. The first is that the swamp is home to the rougarou (apparently a local dialect version of Loup Garou, which is the American South version of the werewolf). This beast is said to haunt the swamp, looking for victims to tear apart.

But, the actual ghost story comes courtesy of the legend of an alleged Voodoo priestess named either Julie White or Julie Brown. She lived in a small town in or near the swamp in the early 20th century, and apparently liked frightening her neighbors for fun.  Amonf her activities was her frequent statement that "one day I'm gonna' die, and I'm takin' alll of you WITH ME!" I like to think that this was followed by her rubbing her hands and cackling. She was also known to routinely predict disasters, including the destruction of neighboring towns, only to have her predictions come true in short order. The neighbors took to calling her "the oracle."

Well, in 1915, she died, and a hurricane struck New Orleans, destroying (some sources say burying) her town...taking it all with her.

Since then, people entering the swamp have reported hearing her singing her song (if it is Julie Brown, I hope that song is "Homecoming Queen's Got a Gun"), and often hearing a woman's voice scream eerily, echoing thoughout the swamp. It is said that those who have entered the swamp to test the spirit routinely leave as terrified believers in the paranormal.

Commentary: I looked this story up on multiple websites, but each of them had the same story, sometimes almost word-for-word, so I linked to only the most relevant sources below. This lack of variation (and lack of detail) is a bit irritating. But this is often a frustration in seeking out ghost stories.  I also was disappointed that details of the werewolf story were typically light, though I didn't persue that as much as I might have, since I am more interested in ghosts than monsters.

This story is the source of local tourism, with Cajun Pride tours taking people to the cabin where the alleged priestess once lived, as well as the cemetary where she is supposedly buried. While I am skeptical of the story and the motives behind it being spread, I am nonetheless glad that I heard it. It may be a by-the-numbers voodoo story, but it is still fun.


Sources: Roadtrippers.com, iO9, Abondoned! blog,

Calico Ghost Town

The town of Calico, now abandoned (sort-of), is a ghost town in more ways than one.

Portions of the old abandoned town of Calico have been re-built and are now a regional historic park in San Bernardino County.  The setting, in the Calico Hills in the California portion of the Mojave Desert, seems eerie and otherwordly at the best of times.  And, naturally, the old town is said to be haunted.

Among the ghosts of Calico are Lucy Lane, who was born in Bismark - which overlooked Calico - and married John Robert Lane when she was 18.  The Lane's ran the general store, but left Calico when it was in decline in the late 19th century, only to return again in 1916, and take up residence in several different buildings throughout the remained of her long life (she lived to the age of 93).  Her spectre is said to have been spotted walking between the last house in which she lived (now a museum dedicated to the Lanes) and the store that she and her husband ran, wearing a black lace dress (which, naturally, many people hold is the dress in which she was buried).  Also, her rocking chair in that final house is said to often start rocking on its own.  Also, people working in the store have reported seeing movement out of the corner of their eyes, as well as hearing odd sounds, all of which is naturally credited to Lucy.

The Lane Museum, Lucy Lane's final home

The school house, which occupies the highest spot in town, is said to be another hot spot for spectral activity.  Some visitors have reported seeing a small, moving ball of red light (sometimes said to emit a beam of white light from within it) within the school house; and numerous visitors claim to have seen both female adults (thought to be school teachers) as well as children, all in late 19th-century clothes, through the windows of the school.  One very common sighting is that of a girl, aged 11 or 12, who is primarily seen by children and teenagers, appears in the window and seems to be aware of passers-by, though she vanishes mysteriously.

Calico schoolhouse, and the bridge crossing the gully to it

One story holds that two British tourists visited the schoolhouse, where they interacted with a costumed staff member who was playing the part of a school teacher.  They had their picture taken with her, but, upon having the film developed, discovered that she did not appear in the photos.  Follow up inquiries found that there had been no costumed staff members at the school on that day.

At the old hotel, people report feeling unseen hands grabbing, pulling, and (in one case) punching them.

Hank's Hotel, where you can get groped or assaulted by a ghost

The mines were dangerous, if sometimes rewarding, places to work, and so it is no surprise that many men met their ends there.  It is, perhaps, even less of a surprise that many people believe these tunnels and shafts to be haunted by the spirits of the past workers.

Looking out from one of the old mine tunnels

While intriguing, and rather creepy (having been in one of the tunnels, myself), I must admit that I am a bit disappointed by what is said about the mine tunnels.  It's vague, non-specific stuff about weird uneasy feelings and cold spots (which, really, is not uncommon underground).  In the midst of these much more wonderful stories about apparitions and strange phenomenon, can't help but be something of a letdown.

Other ghosts said to haunt Calico include the apparition of "Tumbleweed" Harris, the last marshal of Calico (whose tombstone int he cemetery is pictured above); Dorsey the mail-carrying dog (subject of a Kenny Rogers song), whose specter has been reported at the Calico cemetery; a ghost named Esmeralda who is said to haunt the old theater (now a mineral shop); and a mysterious woman in white who wanders the outskirts of town.  And, of course, there are numerous claims of feeling as if one is being watched, people just glimpsed out of the corner of one's eyes, weird smoke-like mists, and the now-ubiquitous claims of "shadow people."  All in all, Calico is rich in ghostly as well as historic lore.

Commentary: Calico was founded in 1881 by a group of miners who headed into the local mountains looking for silver. Within two years, the town had grown to house around 1,200 residents, had 500 mines, and the usual accompaniments of a successful old west town (justice of the peace, post office, hotels,restaurants, numerous brothels, etc.). Before long, Colemanite borate (an ore of Boron that can be purified, and can itself be used for the manufacture of glasses, medicines, cosmetics, as well as for numerous industrial processes). The town swelled to 3,500 people, with settlers from both Europe and Asia joining the American settlers. However, the Silver Purchase Act of 1890 had the effect of reducing the price of silver. As the decade wore on, Calico's silver mines became less economically viable, and the town began to depopulate. By 1898, the post office shut down, followed by the school, and the town was pretty much abandoned by 1900.

 In 1915, an attempt was made to recover unclaimed silver from the old mines, using cyanidation (a metallurgical process for the extraction ore using the chemical properties for cyanide). While this did result in the brief resurgence of silver mining, it did not cause Calico to boom again. In 1951, Walter Knott, of Knott's Berry Farm, bought Calico and began restoring many of the buildings. While the purchase of historic buildings by the wealthy is hardly unusual, this was a unique turn in two ways: 1) Walter Knott had, as a young man, been a local homesteader and helped to build the cyanidation facilities, and 2) he turned it into a historic park with restored buildings, repaired or re-built based on old plans and photographs, and donated it to the County of San Bernardino in 1966.

 So, that is the history, but what is one to make of the ghost stories? Certainly, people may well have had strange experiences here, but a few things should be kept in mind when evaluating these tales of dread. As is the case with California's missions, western ghost towns are among the few signs of antiquity on California's relatively young European-historic landscape. As such, they tend to attract tales of ghosts, as they are among the few places/objects that most Californians will encounter that seem old and semi-mysterious.

 Another part of the equation is that tourism is both important to the local economy, and increasingly harder to come by. Calico is located off of the appropriately named Ghost Town Road just off of Interstate 15, one of the major thoroughfares between southern California and Las Vegas. The region was once an important stopping-off point for travelers on Route 66, but as the Interstate Freeway system has become more efficient (and cars more comfortable), sight-seeing road trips have taken a backseat to those travelling to get to a particular destination. As a result, the old reliable stopping places along the way have had to step up the razzle-dazzle in order to get travelers to pause for a bit and check things out.  In this context, it shouldn't surprise us to see a historic park playing up local ghost stories in order to bring in more travelers - and indeed, when I visited in October, of 2012, the entire place was done up with, frankly, very tacky prop skeletons and ghosts in order to advertise the various "haunted" events.

All of which makes it difficult to tease out what people have actually experienced from the hype.  Still, without the hype, I'd likely not have been made aware of the stories, so there is that for which one might be grateful.

The sign pointing to the ghost town, photographed after sunset

Sources:  Legends of America, Paranormal California, Calico Ghost Walk

The Ghost of Marco Polo's Wife

After Polo returned from Asia to Italy, he was imprisoned, due to his involvement in a war then occurring between Venice and Genoa.  However, there are rumors that persist to this day, nearly 700 years after his death, that Marco Polo was imprisoned for reasons other than involvement in the war.  According to these rumors, he was imprisoned on the orders of the church, because he had married a non-Christian, the daughter of Kubla Kahn, Hao Dong.

According to these stories, Hao Dong came back to Italy with Marco Polo, but found the people to be unaccepting of her due to differences in appearance, religion, and language.  She became increasingly alienated from all but those closest to her, and became an effective shut-in.  Her only solace was Marco himself, and singing - she is said to have had a beautiful singing voice.

When Marco was arrested, his sister went to Hao Dong and told her that Marco had been executed.  In despair, Hao Dong lit her clothing on fire, and then jumped out of the house's window, into one of the Venetian canals, drowning herself.

It is said that people traveling along the canals at night can hear her singing, as if she was not ready to forgive the treachery of her sister-in-law or let go of her husband even centuries after his own death.

Commentary:  I was delighted to discover this ghost story.  Marco Polo was, by any standard, one of history's great adventurers.  His travels to China are, quite literally, the stuff of legend.  It is open to debate how many of the more fantastic elements of his writings were due to his claims, and how many were due to a writer to whom Marco Polo dictated his narrative.  This writer, Rusticcello, was a writer of romances (generally adventure stories) popular at the court, and it is concievable that, even if Polo had said everything accurately, it might have been embellished.  It is also possible that Polo did the embellishing, and Rusticcello took faithful dictation.  We'll likely never know.

However, even the more mundane elements of Marco Polo's books are sufficient to show that this was a man who lived a life the likes of which most of us would only ever dream of.  He travelled the world during a time when it was rare to travel far from your home town.  He spent time in the court of China during a time when most Europeans were only vaguely aware that this place called "China" even existed.  And then he returned to Europe to tell his story.

Given that there is a good deal of confusion regarding how much of Marco Polo's story is true vs. hullabaloo, it is only fitting that a ghost story would be associated with him that is likely far more myth than fact.

The historical record indicates that Marco Polo married a woman named Donata Badoer as his first and only wife, with whom he had three daughters.  There seems to be little more than rumor to suggest that he was married to Hao Dong, indicating that it probably did not occur.  Still, medieval record-keeping being what it was...

It should also be noted that the majority of references to this story are found on the websites for walking tours, suggesting that it may be of a more recent vintage than it's proponents would like to think, and that it may be more a product of tourism than paranormal activity.  Also, the claim that Hao Dong had lit herself on fire seems more consistent with a 1960s/70s view of Asia (when footage from the Vietnam War showed protestors setting themselves alight) than the expedient suicide of a heartbroken 14th century woman (also, if you wanted to burn yourself to death, why would you then jump into water?  Seems like there could be more about the story said here, but I have yet to see anything of the sort). 

Anyway, there seems to be some parallels between this story and two of my other favorites: La Llarona, and Paganini's Phantom Violin.  On the whole, it's a good story.


Sources:  Discovery.com, HowStuffWorks.com, Stuff You Missed in History Class Podcast

Isla de las Munecas

On Teshuilo Lake in the Xochimilco canals in Mexico's Federal District, there is a strange little island, now known as Isla de las Munecas (Island of the Dolls).  It was once the home of a very eccentric hermit, and it is his decidedly odd legacy that the island is covered with dolls, many of them hanging from tree branches. 

Don Julian Santana left his family and home (which, as far as I can tell was a nice home where he had a wife and child) and decided to go to live on a small island in the canal district of Xochimilco.  Stories vary as to how he became convinced that the ghost of a young girl haunted his island - some say that one of a trio of girls drowned here in the 1930s, others say that he witnessed a girl drowning but was unable to save her, and some simply say that he had become convinced without reason that a girl had drowned there - but regardless, he was convinced that he shared the island with the ghost of a little girl who he felt must be appeased.

In order to appease the spirit of the girl, and some stories say to protect himself from her, Don Julian began to collect dolls that he found floating in the river (it was near towns, and so finding garbage of various sorts in the river was not uncommon), and would sometimes take them from garbage dumps in the towns that he would occasionally visit.  He would hang these dolls from the trees, creating a strange, and rather creepy, landmark.  He would also collect other toys, placing them around the island, but dolls remained the most prominent.

After a time, people began to bring him dolls in payment for the vegetables that he grew in his garden, and he would also generate income by selling these, as well as giving tours of the island for a fee.

The ultimate fate of Don Julian is not clear.  While it is generally agreed that he died, likely by drowning, there are many conflicting dates for this event.  Most stories agree, though, that he drowned at the same spot in which he was convinced that the girl had drowned.

Commentary:  This is an odd story.  While there is definitely a ghost story element - the drowned girl's spirit being the impetus for Don Julian to collect the dolls and other toys and display them in the very weird fashion in which he did so - the thing that grabs our attention about this story is the weird-ass collection and display of the dolls themselves rather than the ghost story portion. 

And it is weird and creepy.  Isla de las Munecas has attracted many a photographer (and some great photos can be found here and here), and it is easy to see why.  The strange display of dolls hanging from trees, buildings, clothesline, etc. makes for a deeply surreal experience, and while I have never taken LSD, I wonder if I need to after having seen those photos. 

The island has become something of a tourist attraction in its own right, and now boasts a bar where one can do shots while pondering the nuttiness of Don Julian.  It's been a while since I was last in Mexico, but this does make me kind of want to take a trip there.  Perhaps, in a couple of years when life has stabilized a bit, I will be able to head on down there and take in the strangeness of this place.

Special Video Bonus:


La Isla de las Muñecas (with english subtitles) from Garupa Filmes on Vimeo.




Sources:  I09, Atlas Obscura, Boing-Boing, How Stuff Works, Michael Demeng's Blog

The Blue Lady of the Moss Beach Distillery

In 1927, a restaraunt called "Frank's Place", named for it's owner Frank Torres, opened in Moss Beach, California. By all accounts a glamorous place with great food, a wonderful atmosphere, and a steady supply of prohibition-era liquor, Frank's Place attracted the hoi polloi of the Bay Area.

One of the regulars, a young woman, found herself attracted to the piano player, who returned her affections. It wasn't long before the two were making time to see each other. As one might expect, the young woman's husband did not take this situation well. One night, as the pianist and the young woman were walking on the beach together, they were attacked. Nobody ever reported quite what happened, and the management's connections to local law enforcement kept the story from being looked into, but what is known is that the pianist was injured, but returned to play the piano the next night, the husband vanished and was never heard from again, and the young woman was dead from knife wounds, the blue dress that she had been wearing now soaked in her blood.

Since that time, numerous strange events have been associated with the locale, now known as the Moss Beach Distillery. The young woman is said to be routinely sighted, usually wearing a cut, torn, and bloody blue dress, but occasionally said to be seen looking healthy and with her dress intact. In the women's restroom, people have reported hearing laughter and a woman speaking when nobody was present. Guests sometimes report seeing the face of the woman appear in a mirror, also in the women's restroom. Throughout the establishment, lamps are said to swing or otherwise move on their own, it has been claimed that objects have been seen levitating, and furniture has been reported to move. Women have reported losing ear rings only to have them to be found stashed together in various parts of the building. Phones have rung, but when answered nobody was on the other line. People report having been touched by an unseen force, sometimes lightly, sometimes more forcefully, and often playfully. And rooms have been locked from the inside without anybody within them who could have locked them.


Commentary: Shortly after I graduated from UC Santa Cruz in 1998, I obtained a car and began routinely driving up Highway 1 to San Francisco - the long-way to get there, but the most scenic route. On these trips, I passed through Moss Beach and always saw the signs for the distillery, several of which advertised the presence of the Blue Lady. Naturally, I was curious, but being as how I was always making the trip on my own, and I have never been particularly comfortable eating at a nice resturaunt by myself, I never did stop in to see what was up.

I never did forget the place, though, and have been intending to look into the ghost story for some time. Two years back, my girlfriend ended up looking into it for me, rather accidentally. I had been working on a very stressful project for several months, being out of town for ten days, home for four, and then out again for another ten. My client was hostile, the working conditions were physically tough, and the job itself was extremely boring*. She felt that I needed to relax, and thought that I would enjoy going up to the distillery for a nice dinner out and a bit of time in an allegedly haunted building. We ended up not going because, after having driven five hours to get home, I didn't want to drive another four-hour round trip to go to dinner. After we had decided not to go, Kay told me that she had gathered some information about the place from people who had lived in the area, and that these folks all claimed that the distillery made the story up in order to attract more customers, especially tourists driving up California's portion of the Pacific Coast Highway (AKA Highway 1).

I didn't know how true this was. While there was no doubt that the distillery was playing up the "haunted house" angle to draw customers, it is also not uncommon for an establishment to do this with existing ghost legends. So, the fact that the distillery was going out of its way to make people think that it was haunted did not necessarilly mean that there wasn't an existing ghost story prior to the current advertising campaign.

Since then, I have found out a bit more. When a group of people from the show Ghost Hunters arrived to do an episode, they found speakersm trick mirrors, and lamps with motors that were made to move seemingly on their own. Considering that the Ghost Hunters folks have been known to engage in their trickery and showmanship to make their television show more exciting (and to make mundane evenings look like exciting "ghost investigations"), I was rather surprised that they, of all people, were the ones uncovering this (I also have wondered if the distillery management might have had something to do with the stuff beign uncovered as part of a publicity stunt, but I really have no idea). Still, there you go.

So, was there truly a legend of the Blue Lady, prior to the distillery getting into gadgetry and showmanship? Perhaps, I don't know. However, there can be little doubt that they have done a good deal to provide the experiences via technology that people were wanting through supernatural activity.

Alot of people, I have noticed, are bitter about this sort of thing, viewing the distillery owners as frauds. I don't agree. I view this as being something akin to telling a story around a camp fire, but on a grand scale. If someone experienced these weird haunting symptoms and decided to look into it, the trickery would eventually come out. Speakers, trick mirrors, and motors all have tell-tale elements that would eventually be revealed to a real investigator. People coming to the distillery were either coming for a good meal, or a good scare, and the distillery clearly treated this as entertainment and not a serious matter to be dealt with. I have a hard time seeing this as being anything but a good business person providing some fun to people who desire to play out a ghost story.





*I've noted before that I am a professional archaeologist. Basically, when someone is doing environmental review to get permits or government money, they hire me to help keep them in compliance with federal and state historic preservation laws. In this particular case, we were dealing with hundreds of historic-era archaeological sites that consisted entirely of broken glass and early 20th-century cans. It was amazingly boring. Oh, and the tempuratures were usually well over 100 degrees fahrenheit before noon.

Sources: Wikipedia, Wikipedia, again, Moss Beach Distillery Website, Mindreader.com

Wolfe House/Andleberry Estate, Clovis, CA

Edited 1-15-2011: Photos Added



Now known alternately as the Wolfe House, Andleberry Estate, and the Clovis Sanitarium, this large, imposing house sits on Clovis Avenue in the city of Clovis, near Fresno, California. Built in the first half of the 20th century, the house is said to have served as a private home for two different owners, an insane asylum, and a convalescent hospital before finally closing. It was bought by Todd Wolfe, who decided to use the creepy old building as a Halloween "Haunted House" attraction. He created a new name and implied fictional history for the house, and i became "Andleberry Estate" founded in 1871.

Local lore, and Wolfe's own stories, hold that he got a real haunted house and not just a Halloween attraction.



Talking to locals indicates that this place was rumored to be haunted before it was even abandoned. After it was abandoned, stories about mysterious lights being seen in the windows, screams heard coming from the house, and just general creepy feelings when passing the house began to proliferate. One of my coworkers has even said that, during the 90s, his father would tell him ghost stories about the house every time that they drove past it. Local legend holds that it was used as a sanitarium, that it housed over 100 people at a time in bad conditions, and that there were thousands of deaths at the house. It is also claimed that, when used as a convalescent hospital, it was known for neglect and mistreatment of patients. Needless to say, rumors abound that the doctors working in the sanitarium would use patients as experimental subjects, causing them misery.

Since the house was bought by Wolfe, more stories have come out. People who have stayed in the house overnight on Wolfe's invitation (usually members of various ghost hunting groups, though national television shows have also filmed here) report hearing loud banging noises throughout the night, drafts of cold air moving through the house, the sounds of footsteps in rooms where nobody is present, having clothing tugged on by unseen forces, and hearing conversations taking place in empty rooms. Some who have stayed in the house report that doorknobs can be heard turning on doors which no longer have knobs, that clanging noises can be heard, that doors open and objects move of their own accord, and that tape recorders pick up ghostly voices that seem to interact with the conversations of the living also recorded on tape. The basement is cold, even in Fresno County's very hot summers*. Lights have been seen moving in the basement. Many of Wolfe's guests report feelings of dread, emotional (and in one case even physical) pressure, and general unease. Some visitors have even reported bringing a guest home with them - a male presence that is manifest as the smell of cigar smoke and low voices and laughing, a presence that the people had to return to the house to be rid of.



Three particular rooms are said to be the most haunted. In one, called Mary's room, if a chair is moved it is said that the chair will move back. Another, called the Red Room, is said to be the site of numerous ghostly sounds, all of them related to a busy hospital ward. The third, called George's room, is said to be special, but none of the web sites that I have found tell you anything specific about it.

The house is easily accessible, though it is on private property and therefore shouldn't be approached without the owner's permission. If the stories that I have heard from friends and coworkers are any indication, it is now firmly ensconced in the folklore of the Fresno area.




*Okay, I just have to say that this is not all that weird, and the people who comment on it are generally from outside of the San Joaquin Valley area. As someone who, for professional reasons, spends alot of time in holes in the ground, I can say with some authority that the sub-surface of the San Joaquin Valley is typically cooler than the surface during the summers. In fact, there's a popular Fresno attraction - the Underground Gardens - which was constructed for this very reason.


Commentary: Someone on another entry thanked me for my "investigation." While I appreciated the thanks (it's fun, but not always easy, to put these entries together), I have to admit that I am not an investigator. How can you tell that I am not an investigator? Easy, I have not gone down to the Fresno County Assessor's Office to look up the ownership history of this parcel of land, nor have I gone to the local historical society for information on the medical history of Clovis. Of course, neither have most of the self-proclaimed investigators, which is how you know that you should take their conclusions with a heaping spoonful of salt. Doing this sort of background research is a long, often tough, and typically tedious process. I don't do it because I have a job, a partner, and other hobbies, but it's okay in my case because I don't call myself an investigator, I'm just a guy who tells the stories and doesn't claim any special knowledge. If you are going to call yourself an investigator and claim some sort of objective backing for your claims, then you have a responsibility to do this sort of basic background research. Unfortunately, most self-styled paranormal investigators don't, opting instead to swallow urban legends regarding the history of a property in place of doing basic research.

One thing that became very clear as I began to do Internet research on this house is that there is very little about it online that has not been directly influenced by the current owner, Todd Wolfe. As I read what accounts I could find, I have to admit that I began to develop a very real admiration for Mr. Wolfe - this guy is smart, a good showman, and likely a clever business man. Sounds like a really cool guy, and I'd love to meet him. However, when you start learning about his operation, it puts most of what is readily available about this house into doubt.

According to most reports, Wolfe works with the various ghost hunter groups in order to try to piece together the history of the house. The history that has been developed by these folks indicates that the house was built in the 1920s by an Italian immigrant who was in a competition with his brothers regarding who could build the most impressive house. From there it was sold to a family who lived in it until they sold it to a couple who developed it into a sanitarium. The sanitarium is said to have been a horrific place, with thousands of deaths over its functioning years. From there, it became a convalescent hospital, which was rife with troubles from neglect and mistreatment of patients.

Now, don't misunderstand me. For all that I know, this history could be absolutely true. the problem is that it has been put together by people who are looking for a reason to think that this place is haunted, and as a result it is likely that the people cobbling it together selected the more sensationalist information that they received without necessarily scrutinizing it for accuracy. This is pretty common in the paranormal investigator circles, where distorted death figures, local folklore, and urban legend are often accepted without the investigators doing even the most basic of research at the local Assessor's office, county courthouse, library, or historical society - all of which have documents that could confirm or discredit many of the claims. The ghost hunters understandably want to find ghosts, and in my experience tend only to be willing to go so far in trying to vest the information that they gather, so only the easiest to dismiss tends to get dropped, and even widely disproven information gets propagated (). Todd Wolfe has used this land as a haunted house attraction, has offered tours for a fee, and has made public his intention to develop the property into a "haunted hotel" to lure paranormal tourism to Clovis.

So, in the end, it's possible that the history of the property available on line is accurate, at least in the broad strokes, but it was put together by individuals with a definite interest in finding the place to be as sensationalistic and spooky as possible. That the "insane asylum" angle gets played up more than the time that the house was used as, well, a house is no surprise then. Nor is it a surprise that Mr. Wolfe apparently puts his gifts as a showman to work when allowing various ghost hunter groups to take night time tours of the house. One account by a member of a group invited by Wolfe describes the evening in detail. While the author of the account seemed ready to take everything at face value, a few things should be noted:

1. The Assistant. Mr. Wolfe provided an assistant to stay with the tour group. On the whole, this is pretty normal, for liability reasons if nothing else. However, the author of the essay says that the assistant was there in case "anyone was injured or had an emergency." B-movie fans may remember this sort of ploy from the opening of The Screaming Skull. Start the creepy evening off with something that is made to sound ominous and scary. A good way to set the psychology of the tour group, and the term for this sort of thing is "ballyhoo." It's cool, it's fun, it sets the scene.

2. The News Media. In this case Wolfe had arranged for the ghost hunters to meet and be interviewed by members of the press. The result, as the writer of the piece notes, is that everyone felt special. Of course, underlying that is that everyone felt special because they were there to find ghosts, which adds pressure to them to find said ghosts. It gets publicity for the house, and gives the people intending to investigate a push to reach a particular conclusion.

On other occasions, the people brought their own television shows (such as the cable show Ghost Hunters) and had their own reasons for acting to the cameras.

3. Placement of props/creepy atmosphere. Halloween haunted house props were left up in some rooms, taken down in others, preventing anyone from getting used to them. The basic effect of this is likely to be that they remain a little disorienting, and one isn't sure what to make of a room that does have them or a room that doesn't have them - which room is special?

4. Verification of the Real. At the end of the tour, Mr, Wolfe allowed members of the group to go into a room where records pertaining to the house were kept. While these records had little to do with the house's alleged hauntings, they did allow the members of the groups to get a feeling of the antiquity of the house, and for the stories related to the house to seem grounded in reality.

Yeah, no pressure at all from the props.

Okay, biasing or not, the props are pretty damn cool.

Read the entry to see how effective this was. While the author was certainly inclined to see ghosts from the get-go, he began to interpret everything as ghosts: drafts (not uncommon in old houses, even with windows and doors shut) were thought to be not only ghosts but specifically the ghost of a child, all strange sounds (even those that one would expect in an old house) were interpreted as supernatural, and every light-reflecting mote of dust (likely the actual cause of these particular "orbs") was interpreted as a spirit photo.

Mr. Wolfe is, to his credit, very open about his ongoing business interest in the house, and is not trying to hide it while the mythology is being spread. He may not admit to the showmanship, but he doesn't appear to be trying to hide that either. This allows those of us who want to look past the hype to see that there's something more at work than a simple quest for the truth. There is business to be done here. Hell, the description of the "most haunted" rooms (George's Room, Mary's Room, and the Red Room) are even geared towards renting these out as rooms when the hotel is operating.

Is there something truly spooky happening here? I don't know. Certainly some of the stories pre-date the use of this place as a haunted business. But there is reason to be doubtful of the accuracy of the reports coming out of this place. Is this a cool place that deserves some attention from ghost story collectors and enthusiasts? Oh, it most definitely is. If and when Wolfe opens his hotel, I intend to book a room for a night.

Oh, and there's a YouTube channel dedicated to this place. check it out.

Special Videos:

Because I love my readers, here's some special videos. I love how the first video uses music in an attempt to make the most boring or silly of images seem scary.







Sources: Ghost Map, AP Investigations, Internet, Internet, The Illustrious Internet, Internet

Robert the Doll and the Artist House, Key West, Florida

The story of Robert the doll is confusing in no small part because there are many different tellings, all of them with mutually exclusive details. So, I have no doubt that there will be those who say that I have some of the details wrong, but I make no claim otherwise. It seems that everyone has some of the details wrong.

So, here it goes...

The story begins in the late 1890s, when the Otto family moved into a large house in Key West, Florida. The Ottos had a young son named Robert Eugene Otto. Among the large cast of servants serving the Otto household was a Jamaican woman who served as either the nurse or the nanny for young Robert. This woman fell afoul of Mrs. Otto, the reason why is unclear. Some say that it was inappropriate behavior with family members, others that the woman was caught engaged in a Voodoo ritual, but regardless, the woman was soon sent away from the home.

At some point before the Jamaican woman left, accounts differ on whether this was before or after she fell out with Mrs. Otto, she gave young Robert a gift of a doll (some versions claim that the doll contained a crystal made to hold the soul of the woman's deceased son). The doll, dressed in a sailors outfit and clutching a small stuffed lion of its own, soon became a favorite toy of the child's. Accounts differ on whether or not the boy went by his middle name before he received the doll, but it is clear that after he received the doll, which he named Robert, young Robert Eugene began simply going by the name 'Gene'. He is said to have taken the doll with him to all places, whether at play, at dinner, in bed, or on a trip away from the house. The two were inseparable, and the boy seemed very happy with the doll (It should be noted that some versions of the story reference Robert Eugene having had a sister who died around this point in time).




But, gradually, things began to change. People in the House began to hear Gene playing with the doll, only to have his voice change to a harsh and insistent tone when it was the "doll's voice", which was usually followed by Gene's own voice becoming pleading or frightened. Whenever anyone went to see what Gene was up to, they would find him in a room, cowering in a corner or against a wall, while Robert sat in a chair, on a ledge, or otherwise elevated and facing Gene. Around this time, many of Gene's other toys began to be damaged or mutilated, as if vandalized by a truculent Robert.

Still, Gene wouldn't allow himself to be separated from Robert.

Shortly thereafter, matters got worse. Rooms that nobody had been in were found trashed, clothes were shredded, other objects smashed, and each time Gene insisted that these had been the actions of Robert. Gene would wake up screaming in the night, and his parents would enter the room to see Gene in bed, furniture knocked over, and Gene insisting the "Robert did it!" It is said that the doll would sometimes emit a high-pitched giggle when others were around. And it is sometimes claimed that members of the household would see Robert move out of the corner of their eyes.

Eventually, the family had had enough. Mr. and Mrs. Otto put Robert in a box and placed him in the attic. There are two different versions of what happened after that. In one version, Robert was forgotten, and life went on in a bit more normal of a fashion. Gene left, established a reputation for himself as an artist, got married, and returned to the house after his parents death. At this point, he and his wife found Robert in the attic, and brought the doll downstairs as part of the decoration for their new home. In this version of the story, Robert was put into the Turret Room, which Gene was using as a studio.

In the other version of the story, Robert was not silent in the attic, but made a good deal of noise and created chaos until he was brought down. He was given back to Gene, who continued to live in the house, even after his parent's death, becoming an adult but retaining his attachment to and fear of the childhood toy. Gene maintained the Turret Room as a childhood bedroom, complete with children's decorations and toys, and had a place of honor, either on a special chair or the window sill, for Robert. Robert continued to mutilate other toys, and apparently to bully Gene, even as Gene became an adult. Gene eventually married (gender relations were, apparently, very different in the first half of the 20th century), but the marriage soon turned sour due to Gene's insistence on the doll accompanying him at all times, even being given a chair by the couple's bed at night. However, being the first half of the last century, having a spouse in a weird codependent relationship with a bullying toy was not grounds for divorce. Or so I am told.

Regardless, Gene and his wife Anne were living in the house as an adult, and Robert was present in the home during this time. The story holds that, during this period, children began to rush past the house, for fear of being spotted by or seeing Robert in the house's windows. It is claimed that neighbors would report seeing Robert change position in the window or even move from window-to-window within the house, and that visitors to the lower floors of the house could hear Robert walking in the upper floors of the house.

Gene died in the early 70s, and Anne, who had always loathed the doll, had it put in a box in the attic. The house was abandoned for a time. It was re-occupied a few years later by a couple who had a 10-year old daughter. On looking through the house, they found Robert in a box in an attic, and he soon became one of their daughter's toys. Again, a child found pleasure in playing with Robert for a time, but before long the girl began to wake up screaming in the night, claiming that Robert had moved around the room. She claimed to have been attacked by the doll, and more than thirty years later still claims that hse was physically assaulted by the doll, and believes that the doll wanted to kill her*.

The doll was once again put in the attic, and many stories hold that the doll could be heard walking at night.

Eventually, the doll was moved to the Fort East Martello Museum. It is now brought to the Key West Museum of Art and History (formerly known as the Old Post Office and Customs House) each year around Halloween. It has also featured at the paranormal convention TAPScon. People who have viewed the doll claim that the stuffed lion that it holds mysteriously changes the hand it is held in, and that to mock the doll or take its photograph without its permission will bring trouble. The trouble may include simple bad luck, or may involve being tormented by a small creature - about the size of the doll- that is only ever glimpsed out of the corner of the eye. Permission to photograph may be obtained by asking the doll, and if it moves its head to the side, permission has been granted. The museum has letters from people asking Robert to life the curse, suggesting that not enough people know when to leave a freaky-ass doll alone.

The Otto house itself is said to have been tainted by the doll. Now known as the Artist House, a bed and breakfast, it serves visitors to Key West. Even without Robert present, mischief occurs, noises are heard, and people are made to feel uneasy. Local legend holds that you can still see Robert's face peering out the window of the Turret Room. Stories have also been told that the ghosts of both Gene and Anne have been spotted, and even interacted with, at the Artist House. This means that we have not only a haunted object, but a haunted house.



*I honestly never thought I'd have a reason to write "the doll wanted to kill her". Hobbies take you to some strange places.


Commentary: There are oh, so many things that make the story of Robert the Doll a wonderful gift to ghost story enthusiasts. First and foremost, it's a damn creepy story. It's scary, unnerving, and makes you think about the nightmare potential of the local toy store. It's a good story to tell when sitting around a fire at night, or on a late-night walk with friends. It is everything that an effective ghost story should be.

It is also much more.

Okay, first off, even if you don't believe in the supernatural, even if you don't buy that the doll was haunted or possessed, you still have the story of a child who was disturbed enough that his imaginary friend became an imaginary bully and tormentor. This story includes both the typical bullying behavior from the doll alter-ego, and includes the destruction of property and potentially other violent acts perpetrated by the child against himself. This is the stuff of horror without any supernatural elements. Add to that the fact that, in at least one version of the story, the child never quite grows up, becoming something of a cross between a child and a man, and clinging to a toy that is both a comfort and a curse. Stephen King could have had a field day with this one*. And, really, how could this reading of the situation not be there, what with the doll even being named after the boy?

If you do believe in the supernatural, then you have a situation where either something initially sweet became corrupted and evil, or where something malevolent arrived in the guise of an innocent toy and showed it's evil intent only after worming its way into a child's life.

Either way, it's the stuff of nightmares.

And then you have all of the weird layers of subtext that appear in different versions of the story. For example, it's difficult not to see variations of the story in which Gene refuses to give up the doll even as he grows into adulthood as stories about the anxiety of growing up and leaving childhood behind, as well as the realization that childhood wasn't as ideal as people tend to think it was.

Variations of the story focus on the woman who made the doll and gave it to Gene, making a good deal of her origins on the Caribbean islands. It is often claimed that she was proficient with Voodoo, and that she was dismissed from the household after being caught in the act of a Voodoo ritual. Versions of the story that focus on this "Voodoo angle" come in two flavors, both of them interesting: 1) those that play up the "dark menace" of Voodoo, and these are typically steeped in a more subtle version of the racism of the early 20th century - focusing on the alien and exotic nature of the woman and her religion; and 2) those that focus on the power imbalance between the servant and Mrs. Otto and indicate that the firing of the servant was more a case of racial prejudice and religious intolerance. The former are "old fashioned" in the sense that they reflect the residues of attitudes towards rae and religion left over from a bygone era, the latter are more modern variations.

And, of course, Robert the Doll has become a tourist attraction in Key West, so it is little surprise that the story has been spread and celebrated by local business.



*And if he does, please pay royalties to Matthew "Sluggo" Armstrong.**

**Yeah, it's a lame joke, but whatchya' gonna' do?


Video Special:








Sources: Wikipedia, Squidoo, Haunted America Tours, Robertthedoll.org, The Artist House website, Suite 101, The Illustrious Internet, Paranormal News Central

Mary King's Close, Edinburgh, Scotland

A "close" is a narrow street, usually surrounded by high buildings. Mary King's Close, in Scotland, was one such street, surrounded by tenement houses, and once the main shopping street in the city of Edinburgh. The street is said to be named after Mary King, who owned a stall selling items such as lace goods, but this story is probably apocryphal. Being a medieval street, sanitation was poor, with the contents of night soil buckets and bedpans being emptied into the street in the mornings, and being a narrow street, quarters were tight. Although the bubonic plague was the most virulent disease to spread through this region, it's a fair bet that diseases such as cholera and dysentery claimed more than a few lives.

Photo from offbeattravel.com

It is said that in the mid-17th century, when the bubonic plague was laying waste to Edinburgh, Mary King's Close was sealed up in order to stop the plague-ridden from getting out. The story goes that, after a year, the close was re-opened and over 600 bodies pulled out, cut up by the local butchers, and disposed of in a mass grave (but see the commentary below).

In the 19th century, a new City Chambers was constructed in this area, using lower levels of the original buildings as foundations. The result was that Mary King's Close literally went underground, buried beneath the new buildings, but still accessible. The close, as well as other connected closes, was were shut off from the public and not accessible for much of the 20th century, but was re-opened again early this century. Now, guided tours are available, and both ghost story enthusiasts and history buffs go both to see a place that is both creepy, and a well-preserved example of a 17th century street.

Mary King's Close has since gained a reputation for being one of the most haunted places in Scotland. People report seeing shadowy figures, strange smells, and noises with no apparent source. Other sightings include the apparitions of people walking through the close and, interestingly, headless animals.

One particular spirit said to haunt the close is that of a 10-year old girl named Annie. She is said to inhabit one room within a house on the close, and those visiting the room report feeling her presence, hearing her voice, or in some cases even seeing her. Visitors often leave toys and candies in the room as offerings to Annie.

Photo from alltopmovies.net

Rumor holds that the ceilings in some of the rooms are made of the ash remains of plague victims - this sounds like B.S. to me, but I will look into it to see if I can find any confirming evidence. Until such time as I can find any information, I would assume that this isn't true.

One family is said to have had a larger amount of trouble than others with the ghosts of the close, and that is the Colthearts, who lived in the Close during the 17th century.

Legend holds that the Colthearts, having decided that the tales of hauntings were nonsense, moved in to the Close and set up their home. Mr. Coltheart was a legal advisor, and the location provided some benefits for him. One night, while reading to her husband (who was sick - raise your hand if you think that it might have had something to do with the raw sewage in the streets), Mrs. Coltheart looked up to see the disembodies head of a scraggly-haired old man staring at her. Mrs. Coltheart fainted, in the manner of all good 17th century middle-close stereotypes.

Some days later, Mr. Coltheart saw it as well, although there is no word as to whether or not he fainted. And after that, Mr. Coltheart was awakened by the spectral head at night. After waking up his wife (no doubt while saying that 17th century equivalent of "dude, check it out!"), he lit a candle and began to pray. This didn't do much good, because not only did the head not vanish, but a second one, this of a child, appeared, as did a disembodied arm (because the heads really needed a hand*). After a time, the various body parts vanished, accompanied by a load groaning noise.

Some years later, one of Mr. Coltheart's clients is said to have awoken to the sight of Mr. Coltheart, shrouded in mist, hovering above the client's bed. The next morning he headed to the Coltheart's house only to discover that Mr. Coltheart had died during the night.





*Thank you, I'll be here all week, tip your waitresses!


Commentary: This is a near-perfect ghost story. A buried street, ghosts from pestilence, and a city so afraid of plague that it sealed some of its own inhabitants away and let them die slowly and painfully (add to this that it is often mentioned that the doomed were primarily Catholics). The street is haunted, and the spirit of an innocent child is trapped in the dark amongst more sinister spirits.

When you hear a ghost story so perfect, you have reason to suspect that there is something more going on than simply a scary story. To get at that, we have to get into the actual history of Mary King's Close.

The common story holds that Mary Kings Close was especially hard hit by plague, and that it was bricked off, trapping the inhabitants inside and letting them die horribly, in order to stop the spread of the plague. The truth is that the close was never bricked up, and there is no verifiable information that indicates that it was any harder hit by the plague than any other part of Edinburgh. It died, slowly, as the economic and social realities of Edinburgh changed during the 18th and 19th centuries. Some limited access and use was still allowed as late as the early 20th century.

The close went underground quite literally in the first half of the 19th century, when city government buildings were constructed over it, using the lower levels of the local buildings as foundations. This resulted both in making the place rather eerie, and in effectively removing is from view as a normal street. It is likely that the stories of the haunting of the close began, or at least became particularly popular, around this time. The inclusion of details regarding the bricking up of people and the poor treatment of their remains may come from the class system, and corresponding class animosity, that was prominent in 19th century Europe.

Since the end of the 20th century, the close has become a tourist attraction, with much of the focus of the advertising campaign on the ghost stories. Although much is made about the historical and archaeological research done on the area, this seems to come second to the money-making power of supernatural tourism.

I would provide a bit more discussion of my own, but I think that The BS Historian pretty much hits the nail on the head:

So I think what we have here is an interesting survival of a piece of folklore – the original ghost story was an emotionally powerful way of retelling the old myth that the mysterious mostly-abandoned Close was a) the result of the authorities’ disdain for common people and b) haunted as a result. And the MKC attraction perpetuates it despite the fact that their tours were designed specifically to debunk the myths of the Close, and even cites that research to enhance the “truthiness” of the story. As a money-making (though not for profit) company, it’s easy to see why they would retain such a great piece of marketing. Sex may sell, but so do ghosts! Even my misinformed tour guide later made noises to the effect that the Annie story’s veracity didn’t really matter – it was just an exemplar for the sort of short, brutish, poverty and disease-ridden lives that a majority of people in Edinburgh/Scotland’s history have suffered. And a way to raise money (see also here) for ill young children at an Edinburgh hospital. Needless to say, it also maintains the attraction of the place to a wider range of visitor types and therefore helps keep the funds coming in. Periodic ghost “sightings” and other press and media work must help keep heads above water too. But do these ends justify the means? Does misrepresenting facts of history and of science justify the money it brings in? Are we content to prostitute unique pieces of built and cultural heritage in order to help keep them going? I suspect the answer is “yes”, but we don’t all have to like it, and we should try for better.

Sources: Wikipedia, Edinburghdarkside.com, Stuck On Scotland, the B.S. Historian, Wisegeek.com, Edinburgh.org.uk, Offbeattravel.com

Andersonville Prison, Georgia

Andersonville Prison (A.K.A. Camp Sumter), near Americus Georgia, is often brought up as an example of the brutal conditions of Civil-War era military prisons. The prison was really little more than wood and cloth temporary structures surrounded by a stockade wall, patrolled by armed guards who were generally willing to kill anyone who passed the "deadline" - a line that created a buffer between the prisoner's area and the prison's walls.

Like most prisons of its day, the camp was plagued by poor sanitation, crowding, and violence both among the prisoners and between the prisoners and guards. One notable group was "Mosby's Raiders", a group of prisoners led by Mosby Collins who would terrorize and take advantage of the other prisoners. Eventually, the warden allowed the prisoners to put several of the "raiders" on trial and execute them.

Up to 13,000 prisoners died during the prison's operation. The prison population could equal 20,000 prisoners at any one time. In 1864, with Union soldiers pushing their way into Georgia, most of the prisoners were vacated from Andersonville and moved to other locations. A group of approximately 1,500 prisoners was left behind, guarded by a skeleton crew of Confederate soldiers. The prison was closed down in 1865 due to the end of the war.

In the century and a half since the closing of the prison, numerous frightening stories have been told about the place. Phantom soldiers have been said to appear and vanish. Overnight campers, taking part in civil war reenactments, have reported developing a strange sickness during the course of the night and feeling an overwhelming malevolence that compelled them to leave. Other visitors have reported being physically pushed by unseen forces; hearing the sounds of screams, marching, and gunshots; seeing figures faintly during fog, accompanied by sounds of screaming and moaning; Hearing voices calling for specific individuals known to have been at the prison; and being overwhelmed by a strong charnel-house smell.

One noteworthy apparition is that of Captain Wirz - the designer and warden of the prison, who was put on trial for war crimes after the end of the war. He was summarily executed.

One popular story holds that a soldier in era-uniform has been seen walking down the road near the prison, visible by the light of the lantern he carries. When the Hometown Tales guys began to speak with people about this story, they quickly found the likely origin of this particular story. One of their contacts, a Civil War re-enacter, was walking along the road during an event-related camping trip. When a truck passed by, the driver appears to have caught a glimpse of the uniformed man and nearly crashed, but took off again without finding out what was really going on.


Commentary: The Civil War occupies a unique place in the American mind. Although inter-state antagonism is not unusual, most people within the nation will identify themselves primarily as citizens of the United States, and secondarily as Georgians, Floridans, Californians, Hoosiers (residents of Indiana), etc. Although this story was different during the late 18th and early 19th century, this hierarchy of identities has long been typical of the people of the U.S.A.

As such, the Civil War represents a breakdown of the perceived natural order. And it is a festering psychic scar on the American consciousness, one that has come to represent different things to different people. To most of us, it represents the final death knell of slavery within the U.S. To a small, but vocal, group, it represents the tyranny of industrial progressives over God-fearing rural people. Of course, neither mythologized view is quite correct, but that doesn't stop them from maintaining popularity.

The Civil war is also significant in the American mind in that it is one of only two wars in which a significant number of people died on U.S. soil, the other being the Revolutionary war (smaller conflicts resulted in deaths on a smaller scale, or a large number of deaths but over a larger period of time - such as wars against Native American groups), and of these two, the Civil war was by far the bloodier. As a result, sites associated with the Civil War take on great significance even amongst those who do not subscribe to supernatural beliefs.

To those who do subscribe to such beliefs these locations are hallowed and haunted ground. Stories of civil war ghosts run the gamut from rather prosaic stories about seeing a single individual in uniform appearing and vanishing to stories about battles being re-enacted by spectral armies. Although Gettysburg is the best known example, others are in ready supply throughout the south, mid-west, and on the east coast.

That Andersonville should have weird events attributed to it is not surprising. Aside from being significant in terms of its ties to the Civil War, it is also a place that witnessed considerable misery and cruelty. Even those who do not believe in ghosts may feel themselves creeped out by such places.


...and another video treat from you, from the rather groovy fella's at

Hometown Tales:



...and another one from another source...



Sources: Hometown Tales, Internet, Internet, National Park Service

The Lemp Mansion, St. Louis, Missouri

From the mid-19th through the early 20th centuries, the Lemp family ruled a fortune built on the brewing and sale of lager beers. At one time, Lemp beers were among the most popular in the United States. However, the family also has a history of tragedy. One of the Lemp heirs, Frederick Lemp, died while in his early 20s, while preparing to take on the family business. Three generations of Lemp patriarchs committed suicide, and one may either have driven his wife to suicide or possibly murdered her (following a long history of his infidelity and abuse) years before he took his own life. In addition to this, the Lemp family had a history of mental illness ranging from depression to severe obsessive-compulsive disorder. There are also rumors that one of the Lemp men fathered an illegitimate child who had Downs syndrome and kept him locked in the attic, but this appears to be folklore rather than fact.

William Lemp sr., the second patriarch of the Lemp family, purchased what would become the Lemp Mansion in 1876 in order to house his family. Tunnels were built to link the mansion to the caves underneath the Lemp brewery (the caves, as places with your-round stable temperatures, were initially used in part of the brewing process, and later used for entertaining guests in a surreal environment). The brewery remained strong until the early 20th century, when disinterest among family members led to a decline, and the final blow came with the establishment of prohibition.

The mansion transitioned from family home to offices and back to home for Charles Lemp, one of the last two of the Lemp line, who lived in the home alone, save for a few servants, and appeared to have developed numerous odd phobias and anxiety problems during his later years.

After Charles Lemp's death, the mansion became a boarding house. The house's rather macabre history, coupled with stories of strange and ghostly happenings, resulted in the boarding house rarely being completely full, and it's eventually financial losses. Today the mansion is a hotel and restaurant, and stories of ghostly occurrence continue.

During renovations to turn the place into a hotel and restaurant, it is claimed that workers reported hearing voices, feelings of being watched, and missing tools. Reportedly, several workers refused to return to the job site. The staff and patrons of the Lemp Mansion report footsteps without an apparent source, doors and cabinets opening and closing on their own, voices speaking, screams, laughter, and witnessing objects moving (sometimes violently) on their own. The apparition of a woman who may be the wronged (and possibly murdered) wife of William Lemp Jr. has been reported. And, of course, William Lemp Jr. himself, always the philanderer, has been reported to appear in the women's restroom.

In 1980, Life Magazine declared the Lemp Mansion to be one of the most haunted houses in the United States. The mansion was also featured on MTV's short-lived series Fear. The management has been vocal about the mansion's reputation as a haunted house, and this has, by their own admission, been very good for business.


Commentary: As has been noted twice before, having a resident ghost can be good business for an establishment that banks on atmosphere, such as a restaurant or hotel. And the Lemp Mansion has embraced this fact, making the ghost stories just as much of a part of its marketing campaign as it's food and rooms.

So, what of the stories, is there anything to them, or are they simply a mix of hysteria and hopefulness on the part of curiosity seekers?

It's hard to say. On the one hand, the house itself, being a large, imposing structure, was bound to attract stories whether anybody experienced anything or not - anyone familiar with the nature of folklore in urban settings would expect that. In addition, the media presence of the house, as demonstrated by its listing in Life , on MTV, and the numerous websites and newspaper stories about it, give plenty of fodder to the imaginations of those wishing or expecting to encounter a ghost. So, there are plenty of explanations for why visitors of the past few decades might come away with tales.

What is more interesting to me, but what I have had little luck in tracking down, is the prevalence of ghost stories relating to the place before it's current incarnation. While many books, magazines, and websites repeat the stories regarding boarding house tenants reporting strange happenings and renovation crews becoming freaked out, I have had little luck finding primary sources with the same information dating to before the mansion's time as a well-promoted place of business. If such information can be found, then THAT would be of great interest to anyone trying to figure out what, if anything, is actually going on in the house.


...and, hey, another video treat for all y'all


Sources: Prairie Ghosts, Karen Stollznow, Internet, Restaurant Home Page, Internet