Category Archives: AHRT

Is Fort Fisher Haunted by Ghosts?

Kala Ambrose, author of Ghosthunting North Carolina, felt the ghosts of both Union and Confederate soldiers who never left the battle when she visited Fort Fisher, one of the largest forts built of earth and sand.

Fort Fisher is located near the Cape Fear River and is one of the largest forts built in the South. The entrance to the fort is imposing, and the giant oaks surrounding the fort stand as guardians with deep, sorrowful stories to tell. The construction of the fort is interesting; rather than being built of brick and mortar, it was made with earth and sand in order to absorb the shock waves from explosions.Fort Fisher

The fort’s ramparts were built to be 32-feet high and were connected by underground passages and a telegraph system. More than 1,000 men worked to build the fort; upon its completion, 22 guns faced the ocean and another 25 guns covered the approach by land.

In 1864, Wilmington was the last major seaport to remain open during the Civil War to receive goods smuggled in from blockade-runners, the others having been blockaded or occupied by Federal forces. Norfolk, Virginia, fell in May of 1862, and the supply line in Wilmington was the last one standing to deliver necessities to Robert E. Lee’s men in Virginia and other troops farther inland. The only reason that the port of Wilmington was still open was due to the protection provided by Fort Fisher.

On Christmas Eve 1864, Union troops and ships attacked Fort Fisher and bombarded the fort through Christmas Day. The troops then retreated after two unsuccessful days of fighting. Union forces returned in January of 1865, when they bombed the fort from tactical areas both on land and by sea for almost three days. At the end of these three days, more than 3,300 Union soldiers attacked the fort. With these large numbers, they were able to take the fort by nightfall.

When Fort Fisher fell to Union troops, it was one of the final nails in the coffin of the Confederate army. They evacuated the area, and the port of Wilmington was no longer able to receive smuggled goods. With supplies cut off, the War Between the States soon ended.

After the battle was over, Union troops occupied Fort Fisher, using it to hold Confederate prisoners and to serve as a base of operations. On January 16, 1865, the fort’s main magazine mysteriously exploded, killing more than 200 Union soldiers and Confederate prisoners. Shortly after this time, ghost stories began to be reported.

One of the ghosts reported to haunt Fort Fisher is Confederate spy Rose O’Neal Greenhow, also known as Rebel Rose. Rose was considered to be one of the most important female spies of the Civil War. Born in Maryland to a slave-owning family, Rose grew up a socialite in Washington, D.C. Among her close friends were John Calhoun, James Buchanan, and Dolley Madison. Rose married Robert Greenhow, and they traveled to San Francisco during the gold rush, where Robert died in a tragic accident. Rose returned to Washington and was known for her social skills and her love affairs with prominent men. This led to the large amount of information she received regarding Union plans for the Civil War.

One of her greatest accomplishments as a spy was delivering a coded message to General Beauregard that enabled him to win the First Battle of Bull Run. She was eventually captured and imprisoned, along with her 8-year-old daughter. This backfired for the Union as a public relations campaign, as Rose became a martyr for the Confederate cause. Even while imprisoned, though, she managed to continue to run a spy ring, sneaking out messages in secret places, including tying notes inside the buns of other women’s hair.

In 1862, she stood trial for espionage and gave a passionate speech in which she asked the court questions such as this: “If Mr. Lincoln’s friends pass along such important informa- tion to her on such a frequent basis, shouldn’t they be looked into as well for espionage?” The Union judge, knowing that she was already being covered heavily in the press for her bravery and imprisonment with her young daughter, decided it would be best to release her with the decree that she must return to the South and never return to the North again. When she was released, she exited the prison draped in a Confederate flag.

At that point, she traveled to Europe to campaign for assistance to the Confederacy as a diplomatic emissary of Jefferson Davis. It was during this time that she wrote her book, My Imprisonment and the First Year of Abolition Rule at Washington, which was a bestseller. She also met with Queen Victoria and Napoleon III during her time in Europe.

During her return from Europe, Rose was aboard a blockade runner that ran aground off the coast of North Carolina near Fort Fisher during a fierce storm. The legend states that Rose asked to be placed in a rowboat so she could leave the ship and reach the shore before nearby Union ships captured the damaged blockade runner boat.

The rowboat carrying Rose overturned in the strong waves, and Rose drowned. She was reportedly carrying several thousand dollars worth of gold from the proceeds she earned by selling her book in Europe. The gold was sewn into her clothing, and the weight of it pulled her under in the stormy seas. It was also reported that she was carrying several bags with secret messages from Europe that would have benefited the Confederate Army.

Legend states that a soldier found her body washed up on shore and that he stole the gold from the bags sewn to her clothing. Rose was buried with full military honors in Oakdale Cemetery in Wilmington, North Carolina. The legend also reports that the thief who stole the gold from Rose’s body felt so guilty that he later returned the money to her estate.

Rose’s ghost is most often reported not at the cemetery but rather near the shore heading toward Fort Fisher. It appears that she is still trying to complete her mission and deliver the messages from Europe to the Confederate army.

During my time at Fort Fisher, I checked out the fiber-optic battle map, which uses sound effects and flashing lights to give a sense of what the battle felt like during this time. The flashes portray the charged energy experienced by Union and Confederate soldiers during this siege. While this portrayal brings home how intensely the fort was attacked, I had the most eerie feelings when walking alone around the fort. Certain areas were so still and empty. Yet, as I walked farther around the various sections of the fort, there were old sounds that began to rise from the building, including whispers coming from around corners, the sound of shuffling feet perhaps from imprisoned soldiers, and the sound of heavy boots pacing back and forth from a soldier on guard duty.

Fort Fisher was called back into action during World War II, when it was used as a training site for anti-aircraft artillerymen. As the war raged on, German U-boats were reported off the coast of North Carolina and were responsible for sinking several American ships. There is also a legend that German sailors from a submarine were caught near Fort Fisher on their way to plant dynamite and blow up the channel that allowed naval ships to move throughout the area near the port of Wilmington. The rough and ready battle feeling in this area still permeates the land. Many ghost sightings are reported of soldiers pacing around the fort at night, and shots are heard in the distance.

During my tour of the fort in broad daylight, I was surrounded by tourists and families exploring the area. Even with so many living people around, I could feel the ghosts of both Union and Confederate soldiers who never left the battle. I wanted to stay overnight at Fort Fisher, but that is not permitted. Should anyone be left there alone on a moonlit night, I believe that the ghosts of Fort Fisher would certainly pay a visit to anyone trespassing in their fort.

Cathedral Park in Portland Haunted by Stories of Ghostly Screams

Donna Stewart, author of Ghosthunting Oregon, researched the paranormal activity at Cathedral Park. Here is her report.

Today, Cathedral Park in north Portland provides a breathtaking view of the towering St. Johns Bridge, nature, and the east shore of the Willamette River. Families often picnic there on sunny afternoons, the occasional wedding is held beneath the statuesque bridge, and the smell of trees and wildflowers adds to the picture-perfect location. You could spend hours there, taking pictures and contemplating how little the scene has changed since the construction of the bridge in 1931. But times have changed, and most of the people who walked through Cathedral Park have faded into the past and are all but forgotten. All, perhaps, except for 15-year-old Thelma Taylor, who also thought the park was beautiful—until August 5, 1949. Since that date, the park has been haunted by stories of ghostly screams and shadowy figures.

Thelma was a sophomore at Roosevelt High School in Portland in the late 1940s. Thelma was not an unattractive girl but was teased in school for being skinny, among other things, and she did not have many friends. One can see Thelma sitting slightly away from the rest of her class at the end of the bottom row of her elementary school graduation picture, as if she did not belong with the rest of the children. That feeling of not quite fitting in followed Thelma throughout her short life, even as she grew into a beautiful young woman with dark hair and a brilliant, contagious smile.

Thelma was devoted to her family and did what she could to help them financially during her months away from school. In the summer of 1949, she took a job picking beans at a farm in nearby Hillsboro. She would rouse herself early in the morning and make her way to Cathedral Park, where a bus would stop to pick up those willing to spend the day working on the farm and then drop them back at the same spot late in the afternoon or early evening. But on August 5, Thelma never made it onto that bus.

There are many versions of what happened that morning, and it takes some time and research to separate truth from exaggeration. I have sifted through the myths and the ghost stories, and what follows is the truth as it appears in documents and legal records. But I must warn you that the facts are sometimes more frightening that the ghost stories. We can alter tales to fit our needs and situations, but the truth never changes.

Despite her best intentions, Thelma Taylor did not make it onto the bus that humid summer morning in 1949, and it departed without her because she was nowhere to be seen. She had been approached by a 22-year-old ex-convict named Morris Leland. To this day, no one knows what Leland said or did to entice Thelma into following him away from the bus stop to the banks of the Willamette River beneath the St. Johns Bridge; it is one of the few questions that Morris Leland did not answer in the months and years to come. We know that Leland made sexual advances toward Thelma and that she vehemently refused them. And here is where the fine line between fact and fiction gets muddied. . . .

Thelma was not raped. Morris Leland’s own words were, “I got scared because she was a good girl and would make trouble with the police.” The rape scenario is what most people read about on ghost hunter websites, but the fact is that it simply did not happen. And it is important to me that we allow Thelma to maintain that small bit of her dignity.

Leland held Thelma near the riverbank throughout the night, well hidden in an area of thick underbrush. But when morning came and Thelma could hear the workers switching cars on a nearby railroad track, her first instinct was to scream for help. It was then, to avoid detection and certain arrest, that Leland struck Thelma in the head repeatedly with a steel bar. And then, to make sure she could not possibly scream for help again, he stabbed her, silencing her forever on that bank nearly eight blocks from Cathedral Park.

Six days later, the Thursday, August 11, edition of the Reading Eagle, a Portland newspaper, reported that Morris Leland was arrested by Sergeant Vern Nicholson on suspicion of driving a stolen car and immediately blurted out a confession to the murder that police did not even suspect at the time.

The police knew that Thelma Taylor, a 15-year-old farm worker, had been reported missing the previous Saturday by her parents when she did not return home. But there had been no evidence, no hint that she could have met with such a horrible demise.

Morris Leland’s trial began on October 4, 1950, and he entered a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity. But after a 4-month trial, Leland was found guilty of the murder and, on February 7, 1951, was sentenced to death. Morris Leland was led to the gas chamber where his sentence was carried out in January 1953.

To those who know the story of Thelma Taylor, the Cathedral Park area is a place where innocence lived and died, where an evil man claimed a life and spent his last days of freedom.

I have visited Cathedral Park on many occasions. During the day it is a beautiful area, surrounded by trees, the sound of the Willamette River, children laughing, and couples walking their dogs. If you stop to ask people if they know of Thelma Taylor, most locals tell you yes, and even many visitors know her story. And it is easy to talk about during the daytime. But when darkness falls, the feeling in the park changes. Perhaps this is because I know about Thelma. Or, perhaps, the stories of spectral screams and ghostly shadows hold some truth to them.

Over the decades, many people have reported hearing a young girl’s voice calling, “Help! Somebody help me, please!” Cathedral Park is a hangout after dark for the younger genera- tion who want to party, have a few beers, and the like, so many of those stories must be questioned, if only because alcohol is involved. But it is not only inebriated young people who have reported the ghostly voices and apparitions that they say dart quickly around the place.

Many paranormal researchers say that the area surrounding Cathedral Park has been primed for a haunting, and the flowing water of the river and the limestone blocks used to build St. Johns Bridge all are associated with a “residual haunting.” Residual haunting is a new term made popular by paranormal television for an old parapsychological theory proposed in the 1970s called the Stone Tape theory. This theory speculates that inanimate materials, such as stone, can absorb energy from the living, much as a tape recorder absorbs the voice of the living, especially during episodes of high tension, anxiety, and fear. Once this energy is stored, it can also be released, resulting in the display, or replay, of the recorded events.

“We have to postulate that some very emotional scene has somehow become registered on the environment, almost like a sort of psychic video has been created,” late Scottish paranormal researcher Archie Roy was quoted as saying about Stone Tape theory in the 2011 book Ghosts by Malcolm Day. “Someone who comes along who is sensitive enough acts as a sort of psychic video player and will actually play that ‘tape’ and see the figures or perhaps even hear the voices.”

Leland threw the steel pipe and the knife into the river, hoping that the current would carry them far away; he wiped his fingerprints from Thelma’s lunch pail, gathered his cigarette butts, and buried Thelma in a shallow grave underneath a pile of driftwood on the riverbank.

Color photos of Cathedral Park courtesy of Bill Reynolds from Lake Oswego, Oregon (Cathedral Park Portland Oregon) [CC BY 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons.

Mission San Antonio de Valero, AKA The Alamo

Michael O. Varhola, author of Ghosthunting San Antonio, Austin, and Texas Hill Country,  takes us on a visit to Mission San Antonio de Valero, know to most of us as The Alamo.

In 1718, after Mission San Francisco de Solano in the Rio Grande Valley became unviable because so many of its resident Coahuiltecan Indians had left it, Father Antonio de San Buenaventura y Olivares relocated it to a spot near the headwaters of the San Antonio River. He had passed through the area a decade earlier and been impressed with its suitability for a religious community. He named the new mission in honor of Saint Anthony of Padua and San Antonio de Valero, the Spanish viceroy who had approved his plan.The Alamo

Location of the mission changed several times for the first few years until 1724, when the present site was chosen, and the foundation of its stone church was laid 20 years later, in 1744. It eventually included a walled compound containing the church, a convento where the clergymen lived, and a number of adobe buildings.

While the Alamo is almost synonymous with the battle that bears its name, it was by no means the first time the mission or its residents were exposed to violence or dangers. On June 30, 1745, for example, Apaches attacked the nearby civil town of San Fernando. One hundred mission converts from the Alamo sallied out and, reinforced by European arms and tactics, helped drive them off.

Mission San Antonio de Valero was the first of the local missions to be secularized and was taken over by Spanish authorities in 1793. They established the first hospital in Texas in it. Its central location and infrastructure also made it ideal for use as a barracks and, by 1803, a company of 100 heavily armed cavalrymen, along with their families, had moved into it. They remained there for 32 years, battling Indians, the military adventurers known as filibusters, and revolutionaries. When Mexico became independent of Spain in 1821, they shifted their allegiance to the new nation. And when they skirmished with Anglo-American revolutionaries near the town of Gonzales on October 2, 1835, the Texas Revolution began.

Texian forces counterattacked toward the end of that month and laid siege to San Antonio. Then, on December 5th, they attacked the town directly and, after fighting the Mexican troops toe-to-toe in brutal street fighting for five days, forced the military authorities to surrender. Thus it was that the Texians took control of the city. When General Antonio López de Santa Anna arrived at the head of a Mexican army on February 23, 1836, the Texians withdrew to the east bank of the San Antonio River and occupied the Alamo. Santa Anna raised the red flag of no quarter over San Fernando church, and a siege of the mission began.

On March 6th, Santa Anna launched his final attack on the Alamo and, after a fierce 90-minute battle, captured it and slew all 189 of its defenders, at a cost of about 600 killed and wounded among his own men. Commanders William Barret Travis, James Bowie, and David Crockett were among those who fell in battle. Santa Anna ordered all the bodies burned on at least two common pyres and left to smolder for days (although that of one defender, Tejano Gregorio Esparza, whose brother was one of the Mexican officers, received a proper burial).

AlamoSix weeks later, on April 21st, Texian forces led by Sam Houston defeated Santa Anna and the Mexican army in the Battle of San Jacinto, about 200 miles to the east. The following month, the Mexican garrison in San Antonio was ordered to destroy the Alamo and then withdraw. They did manage to tear down some of the outer walls, and their commander, Juan José Andrade, sent a detachment of men to blow up the church where the defenders had made their final stand. These men were reportedly prevented from doing so, however, by a party of what they identified as diablos. They were described by paranormal researcher Docia Schultz Williams in her book Spirits of San Antonio and South Texas as “six ghostly forms standing in a semicircle holding swords, not of steel but of fire, blocking their entry to the building.”

“They were terrified and fearful of the consequences if they should destroy the building, they reported back to their commander,” Williams continues. “It is said General Andrade went himself to the place and was also confronted by the same figures. And so it was that the building was left intact as the Mexican army marched out of San Antonio.”

Apparitions were reported again at the site in 1871—which at that point was being used as a police station—when the city tore down part of the surviving mission complex, a pair of rooms that had been located to either side of the main gate in the south wall. Guests at the Menger Hotel across the street were among those who claimed to see spectral soldiers marching along the perimeter of the old mission compound as if trying to defend it from further desecration.

Many people, too, have striven to protect the legacy of the Alamo. In the 1930s, as the centennial of the Battle of the Alamo approached, the entire complex was renovated, expanded, and converted into a parklike memorial, and a Centennial Museum was built behind the church (and currently serves as the gift shop for the site). Then, in 1968, the Daughters of the Republic of Texas opened a new museum in the convento, or “long barrack,” finally putting the oldest building on the mission grounds back into use.

The Alamo by night 
Copyright: By Danphotoman777 [CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons

 

The Haunted Soldiers of Fort Macon

The War of 1812 prompted the United States to build a long line of forts along the East Coast for national security. Built by the U.S. Army Corp of Engineers, Fort Macon was designed to protect Beaufort Harbor, a deepwater ocean port. The fort is five-sided, built of brick and stone, and quite striking. Twenty-six vaulted rooms called casements make up the substantial fort, with walls that are almost 5 feet thick.

The fort became active in 1834; at the beginning of the Civil War, the Confederacy of North Carolina wrestled the port away from Union soldiers. The fort was recovered by Union soldiers in 1862 and served as a federal prison for both civil and military prisoners from 1867 to 1876. Fort Macon was officially closed in 1903. The state of North Carolina purchased the fort from the federal government in 1923 and turned it into a state park. It was reactivated for a brief period during World War II as a coastal defense base.

Visually appealing, the fort and surrounding park lie on one of North Carolina’s most beautiful barrier islands. The park is fully restored and open to the public. Besides the fort, there are areas for fishing and swimming, nature trails to hike, a refreshment stand, and beautiful scenery on land and sea to enjoy, which makes the fort and the park one of the most visited parks in the state, reportedly receiving more than 1 million visitors each year.

In 1862, Union forces attacked the fort, and even though the Confederate soldiers were completely surrounded, they refused to surrender. The fort was besieged by heavy gunfire for 11 hours straight, and cannon fire struck the fort more than 500 times. By the next day, the fort was under such strain that the commander, Colonel White, was forced to surrender. While the fort had been able to easily withstand gunfire, cannons quickly penetrated the barriers.

Some reports state that Civil War ghosts haunt the fort, including Confederate soldiers who keep watch for approaching Union soldiers. Others state that the ghosts are former prisoners. Witnesses report seeing soldiers strolling outside the fort and items moving within several rooms inside the fort. There are also sounds of footsteps, gunfire, and men speaking in low voices.

The fort is beautiful in its own way, and the five-sided shape is intriguing. Exhibits and displays include the fort’s powder magazines, counterfire rooms with cannons, and furnace and bake ovens. Some quarters have been restored to show how soldiers and officers lived there.

While touring Fort Macon, I didn’t experience any paranormal activity. It was a gorgeous day when we visited the area, and everyone there was enjoying the beautiful weather. Some of the techniques used in ghosthunting include checking for increased solar activity, which has been reported by many paranormal researchers to cause an increase in paranormal activity, as spirits need an energy source in order to appear. When the sun has a solar storm or is releasing solar flares, radioactive particles enter the Earth’s atmosphere, which charges the geomagnetic fields. Ghosts can then access this energy, which allows them to be more active on the earth plane. Moon phases have also been studied, and certain phases, including the full moon cycle, often produce more ghost sightings and paranormal activity.

During my visit, the geomagnetic field was quiet, and solar storms were low. I was also there during a low lunar cycle. I didn’t detect any paranormal activity to note other than the usual energy imprints I pick up any time I’m near a battlefield. This doesn’t mean that the fort is not haunted; it just means that I didn’t encounter any activity during my visit. As with any paranormal investigations, it often takes time and repeated visits to a location under the right conditions to find proof of ghostly activity. Locals and visitors continue to report ghostly experiences while visiting, and I hope to return again to investigate further.

Want more spooky stories of Ghoshunting in North Carolina? Check out Kala Ambrose’s book Ghosthunting North Carolina.

 

Spotlight On: Greenfield Village and Henry Ford Museum

Helen Pattskyn, author of Ghosthunting Michigan, tells us about the supposedly paranormal activity happening at Greenfield Village and the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan.

If people like Lynn from Main Street Antiques and Pat from the Battle Alley Arcade are right, then the more pieces of old furniture or old building materials you have around, the greater your chances are of having ghosts—assuming you believe in ghosts. Many of the other people I’ve spoken to in the course of writing this book have also said they have noticed how paranormal activity seemed to increase when they brought antiques into their businesses. So it stands to reason that a place like Dearborn’s Greenfield Village and Henry Ford Museum, which is nothing but antiques and old homes, would be teeming with paranormal activity. And according to a lot of people, it is.

Greenfield Village and the Henry Ford Museum is a legacy left to us by the museum’s namesake, automotive giant Henry Ford. Ford’s passion for preserving American history and culture led him to amass, preserve, and exhibit more than 90 acres’ worth of historically significant Americana, including large exhibits like Thomas Edison’s laboratory and the Wright Brothers’ bicycle shop, in addition to several historic homes, including the Firestone Farm, which was originally constructed in 1828 in Columbiana, Ohio. Other permanent exhibits include John F. Kennedy’s presidential limousine, the chair Abraham Lincoln was assassinated in, and the bus made famous by Rosa Parks. The folks who run Greenfield Village are more interested in traditional history than in paranormal activity, but several places around the village are reputed to be haunted, including the Firestone Farm, the Dagget Farm, William Ford Barn, and the Wright Brothers’ home—at least according to former employees of the Village.

On the Firestone Farm, it is said that one can hear Sally Firestone walking around upstairs. Her bedroom is said to be particularly active; sometimes she can even be seen peering out the window.

Former employees have reported they would find the drapes pulled back and furniture out of place in the room. Equine specters are said to stamp their hooves in the William Ford Barn; in the Wright Brothers’ family home, people claim to have seen Katherine Wright, the famous pair’s younger sister. At the Dagget Farm, some people have claimed to catch a whiff of pipe smoke, particularly in the autumn months. Most of the Village’s supposedly paranormal activity happens at night, and management tends to be closed-mouthed about it. But if you ask around discreetly, you might be able to get some of the employees to tell you a ghost story or two.

More information on Greenfield Village and the Henry Ford Museum is available  here.

Photo Credits
The Wright House: By Andrew Balet [CC BY-SA 3.0], from Wikimedia Commons
The Thomas Edison Laboratoy: By Swampyank [GFDL or CC BY-SA 3.0], from Wikimedia Commons

 

Westminster Hall and Burying Ground the Final Resting Place of Edgar Allan Poe

More than one thousand souls, many of them luminaries from Baltimore’s storied past, lie buried within the brick walls of Westminster Burying Ground, and there is reason to think that the spirits of many of them haunt its grounds. For most people, however, the place is significant as the final resting place of writer Edgar Allan Poe—who, to his innumerable  other distinctions, can add being buried three times and having his final resting place marked at two different spots in the eighteenth-century graveyard.

When it was established in 1786 by a prominent local Presbyterian congregation, the burying ground lay to the west of the Baltimore city limits and was located there due to fears of contagion that were not completely unfounded.

“Four of the city’s earliest mayors, including the first, James Calhoun, are buried here, as are a number of generals of the American Revolution and the War of 1812, eighty lesser officers, and more than two hundred other veterans,” a pamphlet published by the Westminster Preservation Trust says. “Hollins, Gilmore, Stricker, Ramsay, Stirling, McDonogh, Calhoun, Bentalou, Sterrett . . . all share the distinction of having Baltimore streets named in their honor.”

A church was not originally built on the site and was not added until six decades after the first bodies were laid to rest there, both to meet the needs of the growing congregation and to help protect and maintain the burial ground. Completed in 1852, Westminster Presbyterian Church was a Gothic Revival structure that had a number of interesting architectural characteristics that make it exceptional if not unique.

Foremost among these is that the church was constructed on brick piers over many of the tombs, giving the impression that they are located in underground catacombs. Numerous large family sepulchers and individual grave markers, many of them crumbling, darkened with age, and ivy-covered, fill the walled  yard surrounding the building as well, creating a compact and somewhat confined little necropolis. While “Gothic Revival” will undoubtedly spring to mind for a small proportion of visitors, “Gothic Novel” will resonate for many more, and those are by no means the most interesting or eerie attributes of the place.

When Edgar Allan Poe died in 1849 at the age of just forty— under mysterious and somewhat suspicious circumstances that are disputed to this day—he was buried in an unmarked grave in the Poe family plot near the back of the Westminster Burying Ground. Today, a gravestone near a number of other Poe  graves—including that of his grandfather, General David Poe Sr. and his brother, Henry Leonard Poe—bears his name and is thought by many to be where he was buried prior to being relocated to the ground beneath the more impressive marker near the front of the graveyard.

“That is not his original burial place. He was actually moved twice,” Luann Marshall, tour director for the site, explained to me. Poe’s fame and the affection admirers of his work felt for him grew posthumously, and when these sentiments were matched with sufficient funds, a large monument to him was purchased. It was too large, however, to fit on the plot in which he was buried, and the author had to be disinterred and was reburied elsewhere in the family plot in April 1875.

“People would come in to pay their respects and would search for his gravesite but couldn’t find it, even after his fans went to all the trouble to put the monument on his grave,” Marshall told me. “So, in November of 1875, they purchased the plot just inside the cemetery gates from the family that owned it and moved him there so that people would be able to see him as they went by.” This monument, which cost six hundred dollars at the time, was paid for by Baltimore schoolchildren collecting “pennies for Poe,” and today it is customary for visitors to leave one cent coins on the white stone marker. Another interesting fact associated with this monument is that the inset bronze medallion bearing Poe’s likeness is a replacement for a marble original, which was stolen and eventually turned up in a flea market in Charleston, West Virginia, and was subsequently donated to the Poe House in Baltimore, where it is periodically on display.

A much smaller gravestone—bearing the image of a raven, which has become both the symbol of Poe and the city of his death—now marks the second spot where he was buried. One can only imagine that Poe would probably have profoundly  appreciated not just the fame his work eventually enjoyed but also the morbid details, so reminiscent of scenes from his own stories, associated with the disposition of his remains.

In the decades following the reburial of the churchyard’s most famous celebrity, the Westminster Presbyterian Church struggled to remain viable and, by the centennial of the new marker had, sadly, dwindled to almost nothing. In 1977, it was turned over to the Westminster Preservation Trust, a private, nonprofit group established under the leadership of the University of Maryland School of Law, and its days as a house of worship came to an end.

Today, the place is known as Westminster Hall, which has been fully restored by the trust and is now used for secular purposes that include tours of the “catacombs” and graveyard.

The most visited spots in the graveyard are, of course, the ones dedicated to Poe, which have virtually risen to the status  of pilgrimage sites. Associated observances include an annual birthday celebration at the hall hosted by the nearby Edgar Allan Poe House and Museum each January on the weekend closest to his birthday (an event that, in 2009, observed the two hundredth anniversary of the author’s birth). And, every year on January 19 since 1949, a mysterious individual has come to Poe’s grave, left three roses and a half-filled bottle of Martell cognac—believed to have been the author’s favorite drink—and made a toast to him (there is evidence that the original toaster died in 1998 and that the role was subsequently bestowed upon a successor). The roses are generally believed to represent Poe; his wife, Virginia; and his mother-in-law, Maria Clemm—all three of whom are buried in the churchyard. The toaster has sometimes also left notes, many of them cryptic and, in recent years, sometimes even controversial (e.g., an apparent dig at the French in 2004).

I visited Westminster Hall and Burying Ground for the first time in May 2009 with a dozen members of the Inspired Ghost Tracking paranormal group. The first thing that struck me upon entering the graveyard that damp, drizzly Saturday evening was how reminiscent it was of some of the above-ground cemeteries I had visited in Europe, notably Père Lachaise in Paris. True, it was not nearly as large as the Old World burial grounds of that ilk that I had visited (although it was, overall, much better maintained).

But the dark, moldering stone sepulchers and markers, all jammed together into a tiny, mazelike microcosm, created a minuscule world of the dead within a city of the living which, it seemed to me, could not help but be haunted.

We were not, suffice it to say, disappointed. Almost immediately upon arriving at Westminster Hall, Inspired Ghost Tracking group-organizer, Margaret Ehrlich, and two of her friends, Ross and Amy Twigg, heard organ music coming from the former church, which is the home of  a fully restored 1882 pipe organ. Upon revealing this, however, to Luann Marshall, the Westminster Hall representative overseeing our tour, they learned that the building was completely locked up and that no one was in it! This particular phenomena is, it turns out, one that is regularly reported at the site.

Over the next couple of hours, we collectively experienced a number of other phenomena of an apparently paranormal nature while exploring the site. These included detection of the presence of spirits by some of the sensitives in the group, the capturing of several very profound orbs by several members of the group, and one of Margaret’s assistants, Maria Blume, becoming overwhelmed by the spiritual energy in the catacombs and having to leave them.

I myself took a picture of one member, Wendy Super, and was stunned to see a large, substantial green orb appear in the image beside her! When I somewhat excitedly told her about this, she very calmly explained that she is a Reiki master who specializes in helping earthbound spirits cross over to the afterlife and that it is common for them to gravitate to her as someone who is able to help them.

A number of other members of the group reported similar experiences. “I kept feeling activity in that area; that is why we asked Ross to come over as well,” said Brenda, an Inspired Ghost Tracking member, of a particular section of the tombs beneath the former church and the photographs she and some of the others took there. “It looks like Ross and I were having an orb meeting.”

Luann Marshall, who has worked at the site for nearly three decades, told me a number of other incidents people have experienced at it over the years. She herself has on more than one occasion suddenly felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up and experienced a feeling akin to panic while in the covered crypt and dispelled it merely by stepping outside. And, she said,  during the filming of some footage at the site, the cameraman told her that he had felt someone touch him on the shoulder and whisper in his ear, “Go away!” There was, of course, no one visible around him, and he was understandably shaken by the experience.

We also learned a number of nonparanormal facts about the place that contributed to the macabre aura that surrounds it. One of the strangest involves the local water table, which rises dramatically during heavy rain. Historically, this would cause interred bodies—which in the past were frequently buried just two or three feet below ground—to rise to the surface and sometimes be carried by the flowing waters through the streets and into the nearby residential and commercial areas of the city.

This problem was addressed by placing heavy stone slabs on the ground over areas where bodies were buried. It could not remediate the situation in a crypt beneath the main part of the “catacombs,” however, where until even a few years ago the rising waters would lift a coffin that has since finally disintegrated.

On one occasion during a tour of the place, Luann Marshall told me, the floating casket kept banging against the walls of the crypt, much to the horrified delight of the middle school students witnessing it. Talk about a scene straight out of a Poe story! And just an hour before we had been irritated that it was raining at all, and now some of us were disappointed that it was not a significant enough downpour to create any similarly ghoulish effects.

The lack of such melodrama did not dampen our enthusiasm, however. Westminster Hall and its graveyard are, in short, incredibly fertile ground for paranormal investigators, history buffs, and fans of horror literature alike, and are much more accessible than many sites of similar age and significance.

Their atmosphere and history alone are enough to ensure a fruitful and enjoyable visit, and it is hard to envision a group  of ghosthunters who would not find the experience incredibly worthwhile. But it is an open question whether any spirits they encounter would include that of Poe or merely those of prominent Baltimoreans whose fame has been eclipsed by that of the city’s most renowned poet.

More haunted tales connected to Edgar Allen Poe are found in Ghosthunting Maryland by Michael Varhola.

Several Rooms at the Oxford Hotel Reported Haunted

Kailyn Lamb, author of Ghosthunting Colorado investigated reports about paranormal activities going on at the Oxford Hotel. Here is what she found out.

As the oldest hotel in Denver, the Oxford Hotel’s history is rooted in luxury. Built in 1891 during the peak of the silver rush, the hotel was fitted with gas heating and an elevator and even had its own power plant to enable these luxuries.

The building was designed by Frank E. Edbrooke, who, coincidentally, designed the Brown Palace, Denver’s second oldest hotel and the Oxford’s prime competition for the most haunted hotel in Denver. The hotel is five stories high and contains several reputedly haunted locations.

One of the first haunted locations presents a little bit of a novelty. Located off the main lobby and down some stairs on a lower floor is a women’s restroom, but when the hotel was originally built, this area was the barbershop. Some of the activity here is fairly “typical,” such as doors locking by themselves and faucets turning on of their own accord. What makes this restroom a little more unique is that the ghost who resides there is apparently a peeping tom who has frightened several women trying to use the facilities. Undoubtedly, this puts the hotel in a slight predicament, as there are not many women who would appreciate a desk clerk telling them that the person startling them in the bathroom is a ghost or a figment of their imagination.

The next room that sees ghostly activity is the Cruise Room. It now houses Denver’s first post-Prohibition bar, which opened the day after passage of the 21st Amendment, which ended Prohibition in December 1933.

As far as paranormal activity goes, it is reputed to be haunted by the ghost of an old man who comes to the bar to order a beer. Bartenders and patrons alike have witnessed the man drink his beer and continuously mutter about getting presents to children. When the man leaves and the bartender goes to pick up his empty glass, however, he always finds it full again. He is supposedly the ghost of a mailman who was going to deliver Christmas presents to children in Central City in the early 1900s, but he never arrived, and people assumed he had stolen the gifts. His partially frozen and decomposed body, however, was found in Central City with the presents still with him near the end of winter.

One of the more mystifying and scary areas of the Oxford Hotel is its attic. It used to be a hot spot for ghost tours but now the hotel uses it for storage, and customers are no longer allowed into it. Some say it is one of the more eerie of the haunted locations in the building, and it has been the subject of paranormal investigations in which people claim to have recorded voices. Some employees will not go up into the attic alone because of the creepy vibes they get there. There have also been reports of objects stored there moving by themselves and the distinct sounds of footsteps behind people when it is obvious no one else is there.

The last of the haunted locations in the Oxford Hotel is room 320. About half of the stories about it say that a woman named Florence Richardson was staying in the hotel with her husband one night in 1898 when she decided to kill him and then turn the gun on herself.

Guest have reported waking up to an apparition of a male figure at the foot of the bed yelling about corrupting his wife. Reportedly this has caused several of the men to leave the room, and in turn the hotel, immediately. Other accounts report the bathroom light turning on and off very quickly and feeling a depression in the bed next to the guest as if someone were lying down.

Room 320 has been called the Murder Room and is one of the most requested in the hotel. Like the attic, it has also had many paranormal investigators visit it.

The hotel currently no longer advertises itself as a haunted hotel and has stopped giving haunted tours, although CBS did rate it as one of the top haunted tours in 2012. The hotel may no longer present itself as a haunted getaway, but customers still flock to room 320 and the rest of the site, hoping to catch a glimpse of past lodgers who never left.

Does the Legendary Ghost of Enos Kay Haunts Timmons Bridge?

Ghosthunting Ohio, On the Road Again by John Kabucha

John B. Kachuba, author of Ghosthunting Ohio, Ghosthunting Ohio On the Road Againand Ghosthunting Illinois, shares with us the story of Enos Kay whose ghost is believe to haunt Timmons Bridge to this day.

Back in the nineteenth century a young man named Enos Kay lived along Egypt Pike in Ross County. Enos was an honest, hard-working young man who had become the envy of the county since he won the affections of Alvira, the local beauty.

It took several years of scrimping and saving for Enos to get together enough money for a wedding worthy of his beloved Alvira. But at last he had the money, and soon wedding arrangements were under way. The wedding clothes were being fashioned, and everything was going well for the young couple until the fateful day in 1869 when they decided to attend a church picnic.

A mysterious stranger, a man none of the churchgoers had ever seen, showed up at the church picnic that day. It was even unclear what the man called himself; some of the picnickers thought his name was Smith, while others thought it was Johnston, or maybe Brown. One thing they all agreed upon was that the man clearly had eyes for the beautiful Alvira. Throughout the day, the stranger did his best to woo the girl while meek and hapless Enos simply stood by and watched.

It wasn’t long before rumors began to circulate that Alvira had been seen walking hand in hand with the handsome stranger, rumors that Enos simply dismissed as idle chatter. How could the love of his life, the woman who had promised her love to him, be with another man? Impossible. But when Enos heard a few days later that the man had climbed through Alvira’s bedroom window at night and proposed to her, and that she had accepted and run off with the man, he was stunned.

Enos immediately ran to his fiancée’s house, where he discovered, much to his grief, that Alvira had, indeed, jilted him and was gone forever. Enos let out a heart-breaking cry and swore that he would forever haunt happy lovers until Judgment Day. Then, he walked out to Timmons Bridge, the local lovers’ lane, and hanged himself from the rafters.

Not long after Enos’s body was committed to the ground came the frightening stories of lovers being terrorized at the bridge by some unseen force. Couples reported an invisible force attacking their buggies, shaking them violently, and spooking the horses. Some couples said that the malevolent force ripped open the tops of the buggies, revealing the demonic face of Enos Kay peering down at them.

Encounters with the ghost of Enos Kay are reported to this day. Apparently, he will not bother lone motorists passing over the bridge, or a parked couple who are arguing instead of kissing. True to his oath, the ghost claws and scratches at the parked cars of those couples who are expressing their ardor. Some of these “couples interruptus” recall seeing the ghost’s devilish grin through the steamed car windows. The moral here might be, Get a room!

Spirit of Buffalo Bill Haunts Lookout Mountain

Kailyn Lamb, author of Ghosthunting Colorado, shares with us the story behind Buffalo Bill and his last resting place.

Buffalo Bill and his famous Wild West show brought a dying breed of frontiersmen back into the limelight. William Frederick “Buffalo Bill” Cody had already garnered a certain amount of fame before pulling this show together and, although it has been nearly 100 years since his death in 1917, controversy still surrounds his burial site on Lookout Mountain in Golden, Colorado. Many argue that he wanted to be buried in Cody, Wyoming, and so his restless spirit may wander this Colorado mountain near his grave.

Buffalo Bill was born in Le Claire, Iowa, on February 26, 1846. He went by many names during his lifetime. His family called him Will; his friends, Billy. During his military career he went by Bill, and he was fondly known as the Colonel in the Wild West show. As a child in Iowa, he played with the American Indians from the area until his family moved to Kansas when he was 8. His father died of scarlet fever when he was 11, and Bill began taking on jobs to support his family, working as a messenger, cattle herder, and wagon train driver at one time or another. As a wagon driver, he crossed the Great Plains on multiple occasions.

Some accounts say that Bill ran away at 13 to join the gold rush in Colorado and also became a fur trapper. By the age of 14, in 1860, he was riding for the Pony Express in Julesburg, Colorado. The Pony Express was a mail service formed during the gold rush, the same year Bill joined, that used horsemen to carry mail from Missouri to California. It was a dangerous job and several riders were killed by Indians. Two years after joining the Pony Express, Bill joined the Seventh Kansas Cavalry and fought for two years in the Civil War on the side of the Union. He returned to the West when he was 18 and spent some time scouting for the Army, where he earned the nickname Buffalo Bill.

Upon his return, Bill learned that most of his family had died from illness, and he took care of his remaining sisters thereafter. By the age of 21 he was the chief buffalo hunter and scout for the Kansas Pacific Railroad, feeding more than 1,200 workers with his kills. As his reputation began to grow, so did the rumors of his adventures. Some accounts say that he killed about 11 buffalo per day, or around 4,000 in a year (Bill himself said the number was 4,280). Others noted that he participated in several Indian expeditions but was never harmed. Congress awarded him the Medal of Honor for acts of bravery after helping to defeat the Cheyenne at Summit Springs, Colorado, in 1869.

The same year he was awarded the medal, Buffalo Bill became the subject of dime novels written by Ned Buntline, and legends about him often came from these stories. Taking advantage of his newfound fame, Bill created the Wild West show at the age of 27. At this time, he was married with a son and daughter, and his son died from scarlet fever in 1876. Shortly after his son’s death, Bill was called to fight the Cheyenne in Nebraska and killed the tribe’s chief, Yellow Hand, during the fight. This very real battle caused a boom in attendance at his Wild West show.

Despite his numerous battles with the Indians, Bill was friends with many of them, and to them he was Pahaska, which means “long hair.” Some, such as his friend Sitting Bull, were part of the Wild West show, and when Sitting Bull left the show years later, Bill gave him one of the ponies that could perform tricks. Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show had staged battles with the Indians, stagecoaches, horses, and even a few buffalo. While some say that the large numbers of buffalo killed by Bill helped lead to their near extinction, he helped to revive their population through his show, protecting his herd and breeding them to bring their numbers back up.

Annie Oakley later became part of the show, and Bill became known as an advocate for women’s rights—female performers like her received pay comparable to that of their male counterparts. As the show gained fame, it would even tour parts of Europe, and Queen Victoria of England was reportedly a big fan of it, with the Wild West performing during her Golden Jubilee in 1887.

Once the show had become successful, Bill built a home for his family in Cedar Mountain, Wyoming, a city subsequently named Cody after him. The Wild West show continued running for 30 years, but, near the end of his life, Bill was nonetheless running out of money. While staying with his sister in Denver, Bill made a deal with the devil to keep the show running: He took a loan from his friend, Harry Tammen, who was the co-owner of The Denver Post. Unfortunately, taking the money came with a price, as Tammen now owned the rights to the show and to the name Buffalo Bill. Tammen’s version of the show, Sells Floto Circus, was a mere shadow of Bill’s popular one, which caused him to lose more money. Bill reportedly demanded that Tammen forgive the debt and give him back the show or else Bill would shoot him. There is no record of whether this is true, but allegedly Bill’s debt was forgiven. Many, however, claim the stress of this episode hastened his death. He died in his sister’s home on January 10, 1917.

Colorado’s legislature passed a resolution that his body would sit in the capitol’s rotunda until January 14 for viewing, and it is estimated that some 25,000 people came to see it. He would not be buried until June 3, 1917, however, nearly six months after his funeral, and another 20,000 made their way up the mountain to see his grave. “In Memoriam. Colonel William Frederick Cody. ‘Buffalo Bill.’ Noted scout, and Indian Fighter. Born February 26, 1856, Scott County, Iowa. Died January 10, 1917, Denver, Colorado,” his gravestone reads. Below that it says “At rest here by his request.”

This is where the controversy comes in, and many people question whether he truly wanted to be buried in Colorado. Shortly after announcing Bill’s death, his sister also stated that he had requested to be buried on Lookout Mountain, a choice that was affirmed by his wife and by the priest who performed last rites for him. This sparked outrage in both Cody, Wyoming, and in North Platte, Nebraska. While North Platte had less of a claim, many people thought Bill would like to be buried there, as it was the site of his first Wild West show. Many residents of Cody, on the other hand, had more of a basis for their fury, and some of them said they had heard Bill himself say multiple times that he would like to be buried in their city. They also said that Bill had written a letter stating his wishes to his sister in 1902 and again, several years later, in his will. Goldie Griffen, a performer in the Wild West show and friend of Bill’s, later recorded audio in 1972, four years before she died, saying Bill wished to be buried on Lookout Mountain.

Colorado’s fear that residents of Cody would steal Bill’s body were high enough that members of the National Guard were  present during his open-casket viewing and subsequently at his grave. Later, when Bill’s wife died in 1921, she was buried next to him, and their bodies were covered with a layer of concrete, forever making Lookout Mountain their final resting place. The state’s fears may have been justified, as there was a $10,000 reward for the body of Buffalo Bill. Some argue that the reason for the change in location was the cost of shipping the body to Wyoming and, because his sister paid the funeral costs, some argue that she had a right to choose his burial site. Others still argue that Tammen bribed Bill’s sister into choosing Lookout Mountain.

Both Wyoming and Nebraska have since honored Bill in their own way. The citizens of Cody commissioned a bronze statue that was put on display in 1924, and in 1928 they opened the Cody Memorial Museum. North Platte held a two-day reenactment of the famous Battle of Summit Springs in June 1917, and later that year the town voted to create Cody Park on land that included the area where the first Wild West show had been held.

In 1921, Colorado built the Buffalo Bill Memorial Museum in Golden, near his gravesite. People have reported seeing Bill in the gift shop of the museum and seeing things flying off the shelves or moving. A less reported story relates to the death of a tourist visiting the museum. Allegedly, this woman fell and died, and her ghost can be seen on the mountainside. However, just as people in Cody claim that Bill should have been buried there, they likewise say their museum could be haunted by him as well, and some have reported feeling a presence in the building and museum artifacts coming off the walls. One has to wonder if both places can be haunted by the same man, or if these competing claims simply emanate from urban legends borne from the controversy over Buffalo Bill’s final resting place.

Ghostly Stories from the Brooklyn Inn

L’Aura Hladik, author of Ghosthunting New York brings us a ghostly story from the Brooklyn Inn. Do you think it is haunted?

L’Aura Hladik

The Brooklyn Inn  is a tasteful and cozy bar nestled on the corner of Hoyt and Bergen Streets in Brooklyn. The building dates back to the late nineteenth century. In 1957, its owners received a Certificate of Occupancy for a bar and restaurant on the first floor along with one apartment on each of the two upper floors. When the bar changed ownership again in May 2007, rumors spread on various blogs that the Brooklyn Inn would soon close down or, worse, become a bistro. Jason Furlani, manager of the Brooklyn Inn, set the record straight in a blog response, and thankfully this bar, a place of refuge for many loyal patrons, is still in operation. In 2008, the building was seen on the CW Network show Gossip Girl in an episode  which appeared to mirror the events surrounding the change of ownership in 2007.

This is a bar, plain and simple. The former kitchen, as small as it was, has been removed to make space for a couple of tables and chairs for those who like to sit and enjoy their drinks when there is no room at the bar. I visited the Brooklyn Inn in 2009 and met with Kevin Bohl, one of the bartenders, whom I have known since my high school days. Kevin works at the Brooklyn Inn three nights a week.

Bartender Brooklyn Inn
Bartender at the Brooklyn Inn

One spring night in 2008, when Kevin had been pouring drinks at the Brooklyn Inn for three years, Kevin encountered a spirit of the paranormal kind. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary as Kevin worked his shift. “It was around 11 p.m. and the bar was packed,” he said.  I should note that, at this time, the space just beyond the bar was still a kitchen. Kevin always kept a keen eye on that area while tending bar, as patrons sometimes got a little too comfortable, eased their way around the corner of the bar, and ended up blocking the kitchen door. On this night in 2008, Kevin noticed a silhouetted figure standing in the kitchen just beyond the doorway. He did a double-take, trying to focus on who or what he was seeing. It appeared to be a man approximately five feet ten inches tall, wearing a long coat and a fedora hat. Kevin rushed about seven feet to the end of the bar to ask the gentleman to move to the front of the bar, but by the time he reached the spot, the man was gone. “I was dumbfounded. I was so cognizant of that space and the need to keep it clear. Yet I couldn’t find the guy I just saw. Like I said, the bar was packed; I thought someone had to have seen him,” Kevin explained. Of course, upon surveying the patrons in that immediate area, Kevin found that none of them had seen the “Fedora Man.”

About a year later, one of the other bartenders, Tom Vaught, witnessed this same silhouetted figure in the same doorway. Tom  said the figure appeared to be leaning against the doorframe and staring out towards the bar. Just as with Kevin, once Tom reached the doorway to ask the gentleman to step away, he was gone. At first, Kevin told no one what he had seen. He was both shocked and somewhat relieved when Tom confided in him about having seen Fedora Man. They compared notes and arrived at the conclusion that they both had seen the same thing.

The Brooklyn Inn

During my visit to the Brooklyn Inn, I took several pictures of the doorway area from both sides. Although I did not capture any apparition on my digital camera, I did notice the unsettling coolness of the air at the doorway as compared to other areas of the former kitchen and the bar. I looked behind the bar near this doorway to see if there was a refrigerator or ice machine that would account for the cooler temperature, but I saw neither.

A couple of my photos do have some orbs in them, and as much as I would love to definitively call them paranormal  manifestations, I simply cannot. The ban on smoking in New York City bars has reduced the number of false positives inherent in ghost photography. However, at this site there is a dust factor to consider: because the main entrance door is opened and closed so frequently, airborne particulates are bound to appear in digital pictures.

I met with Lauren Macaulay, a bartender employed at the Brooklyn Inn for over nine years. She pointed out the gorgeous hand-carved woodwork which was imported from Germany and dates back to 1870. Lauren showed me how the panels on the lower half of the wall can be removed, revealing old wallpaper behind the wooden façade. I asked Lauren if she has ever seen Fedora Man, and she said, “No.” She added that on several occasions she has felt uncomfortable, as if she were being observed by some ghostly presence. This feeling had come over her on occasions when the bar was busy and also when it was quiet.

Kevin confirmed that he had experienced a similar feeling, but only after hours. He described how he would close the bar at 4 a.m., then curl up in the corner with a book and a beer, hoping to unwind a bit before heading home. Instead, he would be overcome with an unnerving feeling. Rather than relaxing and winding down from his shift, he became anxious. The feeling would become unbearable, and he would lock up and leave for the night.

I inspected the basement of the Brooklyn Inn and did not capture any EVP or temperature differences indicative of paranormal activity. Usually I do not like basements, but this one did not bother me. I felt more “energy” in the bar area and in the former kitchen area. I carefully reviewed all my audio recordings of my interviews to determine if any other voices chimed in with answers or thoughts. Since there was so much background noise (the bar had been open for business while I was there), I used software to visually review the recordings to document  the voice paths for Kevin, Lauren, and me, as well as the overall background noise.

Lauren mentioned one other strange thing that had happened while she was tending bar. On a slow night with very few customers, she noticed at the far end of the bar a full glass of Guinness sitting on the bar and a woman’s sweater on the bar stool. At first she thought nothing of it, figuring the other bartender on duty had served a customer who might now be in the ladies’ room. A while later, the glass was still full and the sweater was still on the bar stool, so Lauren asked the other bartender what happened to that patron. The other bartender thought Lauren was the one who had served up the stout. By closing time, the drink and the sweater were still there. No one ever came to claim the sweater, and the bartender poured the beer down the drain. “It still bugs me to this day,” Lauren said. “How did that beer get to the bar? Why was the sweater there? The place wasn’t crowded at all. I can account for each person there, but not that one.” At this point in our conversation, Lauren showed me her arms. Merely retelling the experience had brought out goosebumps.

Could Fedora Man be the inspector who certified the building for occupancy back in 1957? That would explain his hat and coat and his need to inspect the place. It is also interesting that he has appeared both before and after the renovation of the kitchen area. I suggest you visit the Brooklyn Inn, belly up to the bar—toward the end by the former kitchen—and have yourself a drink. Better yet, order two drinks in case the owner of the sweater returns and wants her Guinness.