Category Archives: AHRT

Garibaldi-Meucci Museum

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Is the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum haunted by the spirit of the rightful inventor of the telephone?

From Ghosthunting New York by L’Aura Hladik

Garibaldi-Meucci Museum
Garibaldi-Meucci Museum on Staten Island

Located on Staten Island, the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum houses historical displays and artwork and hosts Italian cultural classes. The museum also provides ghosthunters with paranormal activity to explore, but to fully understand it, we must get to know the two famous Italians for whom the museum is named. Guiseppi Garibaldi is known as the George Washington of Italy. He fought for the unification of the twenty Italian city-states. Sadly for him, his hometown of Niza ended up becoming Nice, France, when the final borders of Italy were determined. In addition to fighting in Italy and being exiled, Garibaldi fought in

South America in support of Brazil’s war against Spain. It was in Brazil that he met the love of his life, Anita. They married and had four children together. Later, Garibaldi fought for Uruguay when it was invaded by Argentina. In Uruguay he was given a red shirt to wear, and this became the uniform for his fellow soldiers. They were known as “the Red Shirts.” Eventually Garibaldi returned to Italy with his wife and children so that he could fight once more to unite Italy. The Catholic states’ army overwhelmed Garibaldi’s men, and he was condemned to death. His wife had died during the battle; therefore, he left his children with his mother and fled to America to escape execution.

Antonio Meucci was born in Florence, Italy, and attended Accademia di Bell’ Arte (the Academy of Fine Arts), where he studied chemical and mechanical engineering. He met his future wife, Ester Mochi, when she was a costume seamstress at a local opera company where he was working as a stage technician. They married in 1834, and in 1835, they moved with the opera company to Havana, Cuba. They stayed in Cuba for fifteen years before relocating to America in 1850. The home they rented, built ten years prior in 1840, eventually became the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum. Meucci was a prolific inventor. In fact, he had a prototype for an electromechanical telephone when Alexander Graham Bell was only two years old. Although Meucci couldn’t explain electricity— he was an inventor, not a scientist—he did discover that sound, encoded as electrical impulses, would travel over copper wires. In 1854, Meucci used his “teletrefono,” as he called it, in his Staten Island home. The device allowed his wife, who was ill and bedridden, to call from her bedroom to his workshop if she needed something. In 1860, Meucci didn’t have the $250 necessary to secure a patent for his device. However, his lab partner at the time, Alexander Graham Bell, did have the money. Bell also had a powerful businessman named Hubbard as his future father-in-law. The well-connected Hubbard called in a favor or two that allowed his future son-in-law to submit for a patent for a tweaked version of Meucci’s invention. Bell’s design didn’t work, yet he was allowed to correct and resubmit his application, and within three weeks the patent was granted. Even today, such a quick turnaround for a patent is unheard of.

Garibaldi-Meucci Museum
Inventor Antonio Meucci’s Tomb

Curiously, Meucci’s paperwork and designs disappeared from the patent office around the time Bell was submitting for the patent. Meucci spoke only broken English, which cost him dearly in the effort to protect his business interests. He was truly taken advantage of by Bell and other big names of the day. For years, Meucci contested ownership of the telephone patent. Sadly, he died in 1899, before his case against Bell could be heard by the Supreme Court. But in 2002, the U.S. House of Representatives finally acknowledged Meucci as the inventor of the telephone.

So how were Garibaldi and Meucci connected? Garibaldi arrived in New York shortly after the Meuccis had moved into their home on Staten Island in 1850. Meucci insisted that Garibaldi stay with him and his wife, and Garibaldi ended up living with the Meuccis for six months—although the plaque above the entrance says he lived there for four years, probably because he returned to Italy in 1854 to continue the fight for unification. The house was moved to its present location in 1907, and a pantheon structure was built over it to convert it to a temple paying homage to Garibaldi. The pantheon was removed in the early 1950s because it was deteriorating. When you enter the house today, you’re actually coming in the back door; the house was rotated when placed on the property so that the sign announcing Garibaldi as “Hero of Two Worlds” would face the street. Meucci and his wife both died in residence at this house and are buried on the property. It’s possible that the rightfully disgruntled energies of Meucci may account for the otherwise inexplicable banging noises sometimes heard there.

The staff at the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum experiences cold spots and banging noises
Garibaldi-Meucci Museum
Bonnie McCourt, publicity coordinator at the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum

I spoke with Bonnie McCourt, publicity coordinator at the museum, and she said that she has yet to experience anything paranormal there. Her boss, Nichole, the museum director, is relatively new to her post and has not encountered anything unusual there either. Nichole did say, however, that her predecessor had experienced cold spots and banging noises and was once pushed by an unseen hand as she ascended the stairs on her way to her second-floor office. Nichole suggested I speak with Amy Raiola, Founder and Lead Investigator for the Staten Island Paranormal Society. I did just that. Amy first investigated the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum in 2006. She told me that initially her team tracked a cold spot that moved throughout the museum. In fact, just after they entered the museum, it felt so cold that they decided to check the furnace. One woman on the team opted to run back to her car to retrieve her coat while the remaining team members inspected the furnace. By the time she got back into the museum with her coat, the place was hot—not just warmed up, but hot. Amy confirmed the furnace and heat were working properly. They realized that the cold spot moved around the museum, causing the furnace to run hotter than normal to compensate for the varying spots of extreme cold. Once the cold spot moved on, the space would revert back to being “extra toasty.” The team also obtained photos of orbs and various EVP recordings.

Investigation at the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum
Garibaldi-Meucci Museum
Antonio Meucci’s Death Mask

In 2007, Amy and her team played host to Chris Moon of Haunted Times magazine and his Ghost Hunter’s University. The investigation at the Garibaldi-Meucci Museum incorporated the “Spirit Com” communication device Moon developed based on Thomas Edison’s original designs and ideas. Amy said it sounded as if voices from “the great beyond” were communicating via the “Spirit Com,” but that no words were discernable. “It was very faint or garbled sounding,” Amy said. As the night wore on, several members of the team left the site to get something to eat. Amy and the remaining seven investigators continued their work. After a while, they called it quits and began packing up their equipment. Just as they had gotten everything packed and ready to be hauled to their cars, they heard a loud bang from upstairs in the library.Amy described it as the sound of a large television falling off its stand.

The investigators rushed to the foot of the stairs. Amy was about to go upstairs to inspect, but she refrained, thinking it was probably one of the other investigators who was hiding up there and would jump out to scare her. Another team member volunteered to go upstairs. When his foot landed on the third stair, they heard a woman’s voice emanating from the top of the staircase, just outside the door to Garibaldi’s room. The woman’s voice was loud enough to be heard by everyone, but she was mumbling, so her words were not clear. Amy and a couple other investigators ran to their equipment cases and grabbed what they could. Chris Moon, with his audio recorder, was the first one upstairs. Amy followed with her camcorder. Amy said her video camera was working perfectly as she went up the stairs. As she approached the library, one of the investigators called out, “Matilda, is that you?” (Amy informed me that, over the course of their research, they had discovered the name “Matilda” in the museum’s paperwork.) Chris Moon’s audio recorder captured the ghostly woman’s response: “Yes.” Right after that EVP, Amy’s camcorder displayed lines across its screen and then shut down; it has not functioned since.

The day I went to the Garibald-Meucci Museum was not the best time to attempt to record for EVPs, though I tried. The offices on the second floor were full of activity such as phone calls and a radio playing in the background. I heard a loud crash, but it was not a paranormal one; it was merely a stack of files on the edge of a counter falling to the floor. Amy invited me to investigate the museum with her team the next time they go there. I simply cannot refuse. I want to know if Meucci’s restless spirit is wandering there. Is he unaware of his posthumous recognition as the inventor of the telephone? Could the ghost of his wife be the mumbling woman at the top of stairs? Either way, Meucci should be proud . . . talk about a long-distance call!

Haunted Colville Covered Bridge

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Excerpts from Haunted Colville Covered Bridge
from Patti Starr’s book Ghosthunting Kentucky
Haunted Colville Covered Bridge
Haunted Colville Covered Bridge
Haunted Colville Covered Bridge

In the late 1700s covered bridges were being built in small towns all over Kentucky. At one point there were over four hundred of these magnificent wooden, covered passages that provided protection for travelers, wagons, cargo, and cattle as they crossed a river or creek. Of all these bridges, there are only thirteen left, and of the thirteen, only four are still open to vehicular traffic. Most of these covered bridges were lost to fire, burned by troops on both sides during the Civil War. Today, all the remaining covered bridges are listed with the National Registry of Historic Places. Stories are told about the bridges as stages for hanging a slave, or hacking off someone’s head, or losing control of a car and crashing into the water below. There are bridge stories about Civil War ambushes and unwanted babies tossed into the water. Such incidents are the source for many ghost stories.

Facts about the Haunted Colville Covered Bridge

It was built in 1877 by Jacob Bower, and it traverses over Hinkston Creek in Bourbon County. The bridge featured truss construction and a multiple king post style with a single 124-foot span. During this era the Kentucky wilderness was covered with an abundance of poplar trees, so the truss structure was built with poplar timbers. After many years, the bridge was in dire need of repairs and was restored by Louis Bower in 1913. His son, Stock, restored and raised the bridge to its present height in 1937. Sadly, the rough-hewn structure that served its community so well was dismantled in 1997 and had to be totally rebuilt. It didn’t open to traffic again until 2001.

Investigating the Haunted Colville Bridge
Haunted Colville Covered Bridge
Investigating Haunted Colville Covered Bridge

Once I had collected my information about this haunted location, Chuck and I drove to the Colville Bridge by the way of Paris Pike, one of the most scenic roadways in the Kentucky Bluegrass Region. This quiet route affords spectacular views of horse farms amidst the historic rock fences that line the road for twelve miles.

A blanket of shadows formed around us as we entered the blackness of night along the country road. We turned off onto a more primitive road, and shortly the headlights revealed a bright white-and-green covered bridge directly before us. We pulled off the road and stopped before entering the bridge. I grabbed my flash light and left the car to go stand in the middle of the bridge. It was a cool October evening with a slight breeze that carried the scent of the water below. There was no moon that night so the only light that brightened my path was the torch in my hand. Chuck called out from the car, “Hey, Patti, don’t go too far, I don’t want to lose sight of you.” I yelled back, “I’m okay, don’t worry about me!” and at that moment I felt a slight touch on my shoulder. I jerked around and flashed the light towards where I was standing. Nothing was there. Just about that time, a set of headlights came up behind me, and as I turned I could see that it was the rest of my investigation team. I had decided to invite Pete Eclov and Mary Beth to join us at the bridge. They were two of my newer ghosthunters and needed to get more experience in the field. I knew their expectations would run high, which, to me, seems to render better results on a ghost investigation. It sure did pay off because we started to get results as soon as we began gathering our data.

After we had discussed some of the bridge legends, which included the teenage couple who drowned under the bridge and Ms. Mitchell, we decided to turn on our EMF meters, recorders, and the Ovilus. While walking down the center of the bridge, our EMF meters started beeping, alerting us to a disturbance in the electromagnetic field. Even though the disruption only lasted for a couple of minutes, we were able to get responses to a few of our yes and no questions. The Ovilus, which indicates energy through reciting words, started to talk shortly after the meters registered. As I lifted the Ovilus up, it spouted out, “Car lights,” and we looked at each other in amazement, since one of the stories involved car lights coming up behind a parked car on the bridge. Then I asked if Ms. Mitchell could come through, and shortly after that question the Ovilus said, “Sarah Mitchell.” This name is not programmed into the vocabulary of the Ovilus, so you can understand our astonishment. Mary Beth said, “Are you here with us, Ms. Mitchell?” Pete decided to rewind his audio recorder to see if we got a response to the question. Sure enough, we heard a woman’s voice clearly answer “yes” to Mary Beth’s question.

I always tell people that I do not have proof that ghosts exist, but I’ve been known to get some pretty convincing evidence. I feel the evidence we collected that night at the bridge was a good indication that the Covered Colville Bridge is definitely haunted and worth the trip to investigate.

Beyond Delicious Coconut Kisses

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Beyond Delicious Coconut Kisses
By Mary Ann Winkowski, author of Beyond Delicious: The Ghost Whisperer’s Cookbook

The Story of Ted’s Beyond Delicious Coconut Kisses

Beyond Delicious Coconut Kisses
Beyond Delicious – The Ghost Whisperer’s Cookbook

When I’m visiting friends, they usually know better than to invite people over at the same time. You’d be amazed how many conversations come around to ghost stories, and from there it’s only a matter of time before it comes out about what I can do.  After that, there’s no more relaxing for me!  It’s like I’m back on the clock, answering questions and telling stories. Not to say it’s particularly hard for me to tell stories – I love to! – but when I’m expecting a night off, I like to have it.

That’s why it took me by surprise when my friend Sharon said she had invited her neighbor Carly over to visit with us. I was dumb folded when she also announced that Carly thought she had a ghost, which is why she wanted to stop by and visit.  The only thing that saved the afternoon was the big plate of cookies Carly arrived with!

Ted, my husband was with me and his eyes lit up when he saw that some of the cookies were macaroons. Ted’s a huge fan of coconut, especially coconut cookies, but since I am not, he really doesn’t get them much at home.  As Ted reached for his second, I noticed that the ghost who had come in with Carly – because yes, there was a man attached to her – was scowling a little.

“These are delicious!” Ted said. “The macaroons?” Carly replied. “Thank you!” That made the ghost scowl even deeper. “Those are not macaroons,” he mumbled. “Why does he always call them macaroons?” “Well, what do you call them?” I asked the ghost.  He told me they were Coconut kisses, not macaroons. I didn’t want to bicker about what the difference could possibly be, so I asked him who he was instead.

Turns out his name was also Ted, to which Carly responded, “Grouchy Uncle Ted?” “He didn’t introduce himself that way,” I said diplomatically. Carly had me ask him if he had a wife and what her name was, which confirmed that it was indeed Aunt Irene’s husband, grouchy Uncle Ted.  “He was always so particular about everything,” Carly explained. “He’d sit there and grouch about everything that wasn’t exactly the way he like it.”

“Actually, he’s complaining now,” I admitted, and explained to Carly what he’d said about the cookies.  “Oh, I know what he called them,” Carly said. “But everyone else on the planet calls them macaroons, so that’s what I call them now, too.”  “No!” Uncle Ted disagreed. “They are not macaroons! Macaroons have flour in them and these cookies do not.  Is she even making them right? They have to cool on a damp cloth before you try to take them out of the pan.” Uncle Ted – perhaps in an effort to prove how articular he really was – then asked me to copy down his recipe to make sure Carly was at least making them right.

I passed along the recipe and Carly nodded as she looked it over.  “Yes, that’s how they’re made. I don’t need this,” she said, handing the recipe back to me.  So I made the White Light for Uncle Ted. Thankfully, he saw Irene in it and crossed right over without another thought.

Ted’s Beyond Delicious Coconut Kisses Recipe

1 1/4 cup shredded coconut
1/3 cup sweetened condensed milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 egg white

Blend coconut, milk, and vanilla thoroughly. Beat egg white until stiff. Combine the two mixtures and drop by teaspoonfuls onto greased cookie sheets.  Bake in moderate over at 350 degree for 15-20 minutes. After baking, let cool for several minutes on a damp cloth before carefully lifting them from the pan with a spatula. Placing the pan on a folded damp cloth while removing the kisses helps to avoid breaking them.

For more recipes of the dearly departed check out Mary Ann Winkowski’s book Beyond Delicious: The Ghost Whisperer’s Cookbook

Redhawk Ranch

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Redhawk Ranch – Wimauma
A story about peaceful Redhawk Ranch by Dave Lapham
Redhawk Ranch
Redhawk Ranch

Chasing ghosts across the length and breadth of Florida had been a thrill so far. I’d met dozens of wonderful people and had many exciting experiences, but like any road trip, it could wear you down. And after many weeks and hundreds of miles, I was getting tired and was thinking of taking a break from my travels. That’s when I met Bud and Brenda Hoshaw of the Redhawk Ranch, five miles south of Wimauma. They invited me to their ranch and spiritual retreat center, and I quickly accepted. From the moment I passed through the gates, I felt at peace, completely relaxed. But the tranquility and serenity of the place belies its violent past. Indigenous people occupied the area around Tampa Bay and the southwest coast of Florida for thousands of years. There is strong evidence that some of them lived on what is now the Redhawk Ranch. Tocobaga and Calusa tribes made their homes along the stream that flows along the south side of the retreat center.

The Tocobaga and Calusa tribes made their homes on what is now the Redhawk Ranch

The Calusa were powerful and dominated the area from just south of Tampa Bay to Fort Myers and inland to Lake Okeechobee. Their original name, Calos, meant “Fierce People,” but they, as well as the Tocobaga to the north, were no match for the Spanish conquistadors who came into the area in the 1500s. Hernando de Soto, who landed in the Tampa Bay area in May, 1539, was especially brutal. De Soto’s troops raped, murdered, mutilated, and slaughtered innocents with abandon. They even had trained greyhounds that attacked on command. The Spanish fed the dogs human flesh. Smallpox, measles, and other diseases brought in by the Spanish further decimated the native peoples in the area. In time the land passed into the hands of white settlers, and the Indians were no more.

But something or someone wanted Native Americans back on the land. Bud and Brenda Hoshaw are Native Americans, Bud part Menominee and Brenda Cherokee and Cheyenne. The story of their acquisition of the 18.5 acres that is now the Redhawk Ranch is bizarre. About twelve years ago, Bud and Brenda lived in a beautiful log home about four miles away. This house on five acres was their dream home, and they were quite happy. Then one day Brenda was on her computer when an advertisement for an 18.5- acre tract nearby popped up. She thought it strange, because she had been researching other things, not real estate. She deleted the ad and went back to work. The ad popped up again, and over the next ten days every time she went on the computer to Google something, the advertisement came up.

Redhawk Ranch
Redhawk Ranch is available for camping, meditation, and Native American ceremonies.

Finally, Bud told her, “Let’s call the realtor. This obviously means something.” And so they did. Carl Weiss took them to the property on Route 579, which turned out to be hard to find, because the large “For Sale” sign had fallen over and couldn’t be seen from the road. The frontage was completely overgrown and there was no drive into the place, although two rotting gate posts stood several yards off the road. But as soon as they stopped and got out of the car, Brenda knew she had to have the property. Brenda is psychic, and the first thing she saw was an Indian by the old gate posts. He seemed to be a sentry or lookout. And as they walked the property, she felt and saw other entities, including a red hawk. In the northeast corner, she was almost overcome by the beauty and peace of the place. A bank in New York owned the property, and when Bud and Brenda discovered what the bank was asking, they were dismayed. They couldn’t afford it. But Brenda prayed about it and knew they were supposed to be there, so they made an offer—one third of the asking price. The bank accepted their offer without even a counter offer. Stranger still, they discovered later that another man had gone around the realtor and directly to the bank with a much better offer and was refused.

An evening of ghosthunting at Redhawk Ranch

On one recent occasion, Brenda invited several sensitive friends down for an evening of “ghosthunting.” Claire Castillo, Frank and Debbie Visicaro, Rick and Denise Incorvia, Cynthia Anderson, and Helen Bender all assembled with Bud and Brenda in their living room. They were asked to walk around the property without discussing their experiences and then write down whatever ever they saw, smelled, heard, or felt. After everyone was finished they would gather and tell the group what they had experienced. Three hours later, they all returned to the living room, excited by what they had encountered. To begin, several of them felt that the whole area had once been underwater, and as geological changes had occurred, it had become dry land. There was also some sense that a stream once existed next to the driveway. They also felt that the stream running along the south side of the property had once been much wider and deeper.

Debbie and Rick agreed that this area had once been a village. They both had a vision of a panicked group of women, children, and old men getting into two canoes on the stream in the southwest corner of the ranch and fleeing. They felt that the village was under attack by white men. Not far away, several members of the group sensed a burial ground. Farther upstream Brenda had a vision of an area where women gave birth. Possibly a hut of some kind once stood there. She said her knees went weak, and she had difficulty breathing. There was high energy all along the stream. Frank also had a vision of several Spanish swords lying on the ground near the northeast corner in the vicinity of Bud and Brenda’s Sacred Circle. He also saw what he thought was an angel, a wolf, and an owl, which he sensed were keeping them safe from deception. Near the creek he had the feeling that a child had drowned. Denise and Bud saw a chief that was made of wood, its head covered with brightly colored wooden feathers. And almost everyone saw wraith-like wolves, eagles, coyotes, dragonflies, and even a white horse, in addition to the ghosts of two young white girls. Cynthia said she sensed a brave showing off the horse in a camp right behind the house.

Redhawk Ranch
Carved owls stand watch over Red Hawk Ranch.

On this occasion and many times before and since, Cynthia, Debbie, and Brenda also met an old man, a chief, sitting in a rocking chair on Brenda’s porch. They smelled his pipe before they even saw him. He is a kindly person, and Brenda is comforted by his presence. The group stayed late into the evening, sharing with each other. And although they each had different experiences, they all agreed that, except for the area where the burial grounds were located, the whole ranch was filled with positive energy. On my visit, as usual, I saw nothing, but I was filled with peace and a sense of well-being. And I did have one experience. While walking into the Sacred Circle with Bud, the wind chimes hanging there began tinkling, which, Bud told me, almost always happened. Still, it made me smile. After we soaked up the good vibes in the circle for several minutes, Bud motioned to me, “Come on. I want to show you something else.”

And we walked out into a circle of trees in the center of the field which fronts the house. Bud produced a compass and handed it to me. When I stood exactly in the center of the ring of trees, the north arrow pointed north, but if I moved one step to the left, the needle swung left. If I stepped one pace to the right of center, it swung to the right. Very curious. Bud and Brenda have several mastiffs for security. They are sweet dogs, but Bud is careful to pen them when strangers are around, because they are very protective. On my visit, Bud was with me when I got out of my truck, so all they did was lick my hand and vie for attention. I love dogs, and we made friends quickly. When I drove away from the house and stopped across the field at the Sacred Circle for one last look, the dogs came bounding after me, crowding around and begging for attention.

When I finally walked back to my truck, opened the door, and started to step up, Butkus, their big male who doesn’t weigh much less than his namesake, sat on my foot and looked up at me with soulful eyes. He didn’t want me to leave. “I know, pal. I don’t want to leave either, but I’ve got to go.” With that he raised his rump and licked my hand goodbye. Driving away, I laughed out loud with happiness, totally revived and ready to get back on my haunted road trip. The Redhawk Ranch is a fantastic place, and when I finish with this book, I’m going back for a nice, long stay. I hope I can finally meet some of these friendly ghosts in person.

For more ghosthunting stories in Florida check out Dave Lapham’s book Ghosthunting Florida. 

Sleepy Hollow Southern Style

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Berry Hill Road – Sleepy Hollow Southern Style
A story by Michael Varhola

Certain it is, the place still continues under the sway of some witching power … The whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; stars shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other part of the country. – Washington Irving, ”The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”

Sleepy Hollow Southern Style
Ghosthunting Virginia

Berry Hill Road and the area through which it wends are creepy under the best of circumstances, and it is easy to see how someone visiting them in darkness might conclude they are haunted. In addition, the stretch of country road and the rural thoroughfares branching off it are also home to a number of other reputed paranormal phenomena.

This road does, in fact, have a widespread reputation for weirdness in the Danville area, as my wife, Diane, and I discovered while ghosthunting there the week between Christmas and New Year in 2007. We had gone in search of ghosts associated with the wreck of the Old 97, a train that had derailed in 1903, but nearly everyone we talked to dismissed it and directed us instead to Berry Hill Road.

It was an unseasonably bright, sunny, and warm afternoon as my wife and I headed east on Riverside Drive out of Danville, following the directions we had been given by various people. We had, in fact, spent part of the previous evening drinking martinis with Colie Walker, night manager for the restaurant at the hotel where we had stayed the night, and he had given us an earful about the place. His stories included accounts of ghostly little girls jumping rope near the willow tree under which their bodies were buried; a span dubbed “Satan’s Bridge” where the spectral form of a young man who supposedly hanged himself there has reportedly been seen; a stretch of highway in front of a witch’s house on which cars will roll uphill rather than down; and the slaughtered carcasses of animals hung from trees. It is also reputedly an active stomping ground for the Ku Klux Klan. In short, Sleepy Hollow, Southern style.

Just a few miles past the line for Pittsylvania County, we came to the intersection with Berry Hill Road and turned left. From where it begins at Riverside Drive, Berry Hill Road twists about seven-and-a-half-miles, generally heading southwest, until reaching the North Carolina state line, where its name changes to T. Clarence Stone Highway. In its relatively short stretch through Virginia, however, the road has a markedly distinct character, which became obvious to us almost immediately.

Near its start, a number of other roads lead off in either direction from Berry Hill Road: those to the north generally past older, modest, relatively small houses, and those to the south past larger, more affluent homes and farms. Soon after passing these, however, the road begins to run through dense woodland punctuated by miles-long stretches of devastated-looking blight, mostly on the south side of the road. Periodically, tucked back in the wood line, we could see abandoned, vegetation-choked farmsteads and rutted dirt roads (that probably don’t appear on any maps) twist away into the forest. Many were blocked by makeshift gates emblazoned with signs warning visitors away. To say that the area felt ominous and unwelcoming would be an understatement.

At the intersection with Oak Hill Road, we went north for awhile, and eventually came to a small country church, the first thing we had seen in several miles. We decided not to go any further at that point, and turned around. Approaching the intersection with Berry Hill Road again, we noticed at the side of the road the mangled carcass of a large animal, possibly a deer, with its exposed and bloody ribcage turned skyward.

Sleepy Hollow Southern Style
Rock with cross by the side of Berry Hill Road

We continued on Berry Hill Road, and soon after saw, at the left side of the road, a large rock painted with a white cross. Overhead, both in the air and perched on nearby utility poles and trees, an uncannily large number of vultures watched over the place and regarded us as we passed.

At the intersection with Stateline Bridge Road, just past a set of railroad tracks, we went south. We turned past a pickup truck stopped at the three-way stop that was turning onto Berry Hill Road, and I noticed the driver, a white guy with a mustache and baseball cap. As we moved down the road, I saw him make a U-turn and begin to follow us.

As we sped down the road, the creep in the pickup stayed behind us, and after about a mile we broke out of the wood line onto a low concrete span over a river. As we reached the other side of it, we passed a sign welcoming us to North Carolina, and the name of the road changed to Berry Hill Bridge Road. We went about another mile, until we reached an intersection near a farm where we could turn around, and as we did the pickup truck passed us and continued on its way.

Returning to the bridge from the other direction, I was stunned to see that it was completely covered with graffiti, something that while driving into the sun and keeping an eye on my rear-view mirror I had not noticed previously. Colie Walker had described “Satan’s Bridge” as being tagged (an urbanized term for “painted” that, when I explained it to my wife, both baffled and annoyed her). Its location corresponded exactly with the directions Walker had given us, and so it seemed we had found the cursed bridge.

Driving back across to the Virginia side, we went a few hundred yards to a spot where the road widened adequately for me to safely turn off and start to get my equipment ready for a walk back to the bridge. “I’m just going to wait in the car,” my wife said as I started to get out of the vehicle, repeating a mantra that for her was as automatic and unanalyzed as “bless you” would have been in response to a sneeze. The creep with the pickup was on the other side of the river and I would see if he was coming back, so I didn’t argue with her.

Heading toward the bridge along the left side of the road, I could see that the nearby woods were choked and tangled with heavy vine growth and had an almost quintessentially haunted look. I also had a growing sense of unease, and as I came nearer to the bridge I became increasingly aware of a sound like a howling wind, somewhere in the distance, that became more and more audible as I neared the span.

Walking out onto the sunlit bridge, I could hear a low, shrieking noise somewhere in the distance, like a wind ripping through the woods around me. Glancing at the wood line on either side of the river, I could see that it was perfectly still and could not feel so much as a light breeze. It sent a chill up my spine. It would have scared the hell out of me and made me feel like I was standing on the threshold to the netherworld if I’d been there at night, possibly alone, or under the influence.

I quickly walked to the far end of the bridge and, with the light at my back, got some photos. Most of the graffiti I passed seemed to be of the “X loves Y” and “Class of Z” variety, but there were a few pentagrams and devilish epithets mixed in with it. I also saw burnt-down candle stubs lying among the detritus of broken beer bottles on either side of the bridge. No one passed by during my time there, and I was completely alone as I looked down into the swirling ochre water of the Dan River and contemplated where the young man would have hanged himself if such an incident really had occurred here. The low, concrete bridge didn’t look like it would be very convenient for that purpose—and his dangling specter would not have been visible by anyone on or at either end of it—and I wondered if he might not have used one of the trees in the surrounding vine-choked forest. It would have been, in any event, a morose and dismal place to die.

Sleepy Hollow Southern Style
Berry Hill Road

My need and desire to stay at the bridge sated, I trotted back toward the car and we resumed our exploration of the area. Turning back onto Berry Hill Road and continuing southwest on it, we soon reached the point where it crossed the North Carolina state line. Almost immediately afterward, we heard a shrieking exactly like that of a jet engine, pulled over to the side of the road, and looked up, expecting to see an aircraft passing overhead and the noise to fade. There was nothing above us, however, and the noise remained steady for awhile longer before fading away.

We could see that the land across the road was fenced off and make out a small cluster of pipes and utility infrastructure. While we could not see anything that could have been making the great noise we heard, and while no signs offered an explanation for them or the fenced-off area from which they emanated, it seemed pretty obvious that we had stumbled onto some sort of industrial test facility—and that it had accounted for the distant noises I had heard at Satan’s Bridge (a later perusal of maps and satellite imagery, however, did not reveal anything of that nature in that particular area). This new mystery being far beyond our purview, and with the sinister aspect of the neighborhood starting to weigh on us, we decided to leave it unexamined.

Heading back up Berry Hill Road toward where we had started, we made a few more exploratory stops before reaching the highway. We never did see the willow tree Walker had told us about, and we weren’t sure of the exact location to try putting our car in neutral to see whether it would roll uphill. We saw so many dilapidated antebellum houses that we could not be certain which one was reputed to be the lair of the witch. But a couple of hours on Berry Hill Road were enough to convince us that there is probably a good reason for its reputation in the local area – and that we did not want to be lingering on it after dark.

For more ghostly stories in Virginia check out Michael Varhola’s book Ghosthunting Virginia 

AHRT at Victory of Light Expo

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Victory of Light Expo & Giveaway

Americas Haunted Road Trip will soon be headed for Victory of Light Expo, Cincinnati’s premier body, mind and spirit event – and with Thanksgiving just around the corner we are celebrating with a GIVEAWAY for all our fans. Scroll down for easy entry information.

Victory of Light Expo
AHRT Crew ready for Victory of Light

Since its inception in 1992, Victory of Light, has established itself as one of the largest and longest-running metaphysical conventions for the general public in the country.

Americas Haunted Road Trip will be joining over 250 vendors. We will bring our entire collection of haunted road trip guide books including our latest addition Ghosthunting Oregon.

About Ghosthunting Oregon:  Our latest book takes readers along a guided tour of some of the Beaver State’s most haunted historic locations.  Author Donna Stewart invites you to accompany her as she explores each site, investigating eerie rooms and dark corners.

About the author: Donna Stewart is a noted paranormal researcher, radio host, writer, and founder of the nonprofit Southern Oregon Project Hope.  With a lifelong interest in the paranormal, she has devoted more than 30 years to research, mentoring new investigators, and confounding the highly regarded paranormal research team Paranormal Studies and Investigations (PSI) of Oregon.  She also hosts the long-running BlogTalkRadio Show PSI-FI Radio.

Come and visit us at booth # 622. Meet some of our authors, take advantage of incredible deals and enter our raffle for a chance to win one of our many awesome prices.

Book signing schedule at Victory of Light Expo:

John Kachuba        Saturday 10:00 a.m. – 2:00 p.m.
Garett Merk             Saturday 02:00 p.m. – 4:00 p.m.
Jeff Morris                Saturday 02:00 p.m. – 4:00 p.m.

Garett Merk              Sunday noon – 2:00 p.m.
Jeff Morris                 Sunday noon – 2:00 p.m.

So join us November 22 & 23 at the Sharonville Convention Center for the 2014 Victory of Light Expo.

Practical Information:

Victory of Light Expo is held Saturday November 22nd through Sunday November 23rd daily from 10:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. at the Sharonville Convention Center. For more information check out the Victory of Light Expo website.

Giveaway

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Ghost Whisperer’s Cookbook

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From the Ghost Whisperer’s Cookbook a recipe for Deviled Eggs

In her book Beyond Delicious, The Ghost Whisperer’s Cookbook, Mary Ann Winkowski shares more than 100 recipes from the “Dearly Departed.” 

Mary Ann Winkowski has been communicating with earthbound spirits for most of her life. Through the years she has received countless recipes from spirits of greats cooks who have passed on.

The story behind the recipe from the Ghost Whisperer’s Cookbook
By Mary Ann Winkowski

One recipe I am proud of is my deviled eggs. Whenever I have a party to go to and we’re asked to bring something, I always take my deviled eggs, and they’re always a hit. I don’t say this to brag; I say it because I guess you could say I have a thing for deviled eggs. As my own recipe is my favorite, I’m always curious to try other people’s to see how they stack up. Such was the case when I cleared the home of Eugene and Vera, a first-generation immigrant couple from Poland.

The Ghost Whisperer's Cookbook
Beyond Delicious – The Ghost Whisperer’s Cookbook

After I was done, they insisted on taking me and Ted out to eat at what they called a “very special place.”  It was just a little Polish restaurant, but I’m sure to them an authentic taste of the old country was quite special indeed.  The menu was very Polish. Ted was all over the duck-blood soup and I was very curious about the deviled eggs. Ted loved the soup, but the eggs were just okay. The ghost who showed up with the food didn’t think much of either of them.

“That soup’s not sick enough!” she yelled out. She was a heavy woman wearing a hairnet under her babushka – very Polish and, I had no doubt, once a chef at the restaurant. I tried to ignore her so we could finish our meal.

“How are the eggs?” Vera wondered. “They’re okay,” I said. “But I think I still like mine better.” Well, the ghost in the babushka exploded! “If you had my deviled eggs you’d like them!” she hollered. “Those aren’t good deviled eggs! I tried to tell them!”

“I’m sorry, Vera and Eugene,” I said, leaning in to them. “But there’s actually a earthbound spirit here with us now, and she’s kind of upset.” “Oh!” Vera gasped. “What about?”

“Deviled eggs!”

I turned back to the ghost and suggested she give me her recipe so I could have real deviled eggs later, when I got home – it would be the only way to make a fair comparison. But she wasn’t having it. She crossed her arms and shook her head and refused to give up her personal recipe.

“You know, my husband, Ted, his mother was from Poland,” I said. “Can’t you give me the recipe for him, so he can see what real Polish deviled eggs taste like?”
That got her. She mumbled a bit more and pretended to be cutting a hard bargain, but she finally gave me the recipe.  Thing is, the recipe is so odd, I had her repeat it three times.  I can’t say I like them better than my own deviled eggs – but I think I’m biased and I doubt anyone else’s will ever compare – but I can say this is the most unusual recipe for deviled eggs I’ve ever seen. And besides the recipe itself, she was also insistent that you only use goose or duck eggs to make them!

Deviled Eggs recipe from the Ghost Whisperer’s Cookbook

6 hard-cooked eggs
1 tablespoon chopped chives
3 tablespoons butter, divided
2-3 tablespoons sour cream
Salt and pepper to taste
Breadcrumbs

Using a very sharp knife, cut  the eggs lengthwise through the shells, taking care not to crush shells. Scoop out the egg yolks, chop fine, and mix with the chopped chives, 1 tablespoon butter, sour cream, and seasoning.  Return mixture to shells, cover with breadcrumbs, and fry quickly with remaining butter, open sides down.

Serve at once as a side dish. The same deviled-egg mixture may also be spooned into scallop shells.  In that case, brown the butter, and breadcrumbs and pour over the eggs.  Then place in hot oven for a few minutes to heat through.  Duck or goose eggs are excellent for this dish.

For more recipes from the Dearly Departed check out Beyond Delicious – The Ghost Whisperer’s Cookbook

Haunted Dakota

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Haunted Dakota
Haunted Dakota

The Dakota is a famous apartment building where the rich and famous reside. The facade of the Dakota is a blend of German Gothic, French Renaissance, and English Victorian architectural styles.

It was the perfect backdrop of Roman Polanski’s 1968 thriller Rosemary’s Baby. Only the outside shots were filmed on location.  No filming is allowed inside as the Dakota has a strict policy protecting tenants’ privacy.

Haunted Dakota

However, no privacy policy is strong enough to keep the ghosts of the Dakota from appearing to tenants and their visitors.  Paula Santangelo was quoted in a New York Times article about her encounter: “In 1982, I was waiting for a friend in an apartment on the 10th floor. As I waited in the foyer, a little girl dressed in period clothing suddenly appeared, smiled at me and disappeared into an adjoining room, which was later pointed out to be a closet. Obviously an experience I will never forget!”

Over the years the little girl ghost has appeared to people in the building at various times. Usually people describe her as wearing a yellow taffeta dress and say that she stops bouncing her red ball long enough to tearfully say, “Today is my birthday.”  Supposedly, seeing this sad little ghost is a bad omen, usually foreshadowing the impending death of the witness.

The ghost of the building’s original owner and builder, Edward Clark, shows up occasionally. One time he reportedly shook his toupee violently at workmen in the basement of the building. Another time, he appeared ever so briefly to an electrician working in the basement. Later, when the electrician saw a picture of Edward Clark, he realized he had seen Clark’s ghost.

John and Yoko Ono Lennon move into haunted Dakota
Haunted Dakota
Strawberry Fields in Central Park

In 1975, John and Yoko Ono Lennon moved into the Dakota, purchasing an apartment formerly owned by actor Robert Ryan. Ryan’s wife Jessie, had died in the apartment, but was not about to relinquish her stay just because she was dead.

The Lennon’s knew early on that their apartment was haunted, and in 1979, they called in a psychic to conduct a seance. Mrs. Ryan came through and politely informed John and Yoko that she was not leaving the apartment.  John was open to spirituality and otherworldly topics, so he was comfortable coexisting with the spirit of Mrs. Ryan.

The most shocking and devastating event in the Dakota’s history happened on December 8th, 1980, when Mark David Chapman gunned down John Lennon. The debate rages on as to whether or not John Lennon haunts the Dakota.

In 1983, Joe Harrow, a musician, and Amanda Moores, a writer, both saw the ghost of John Lennon standing at the entrance of the Dakota. Over the years people have reported seeing John’s ghost around the Strawberry Fields memorial to John, located in Central Park.

Surely the most reliable and believable sighting of John Lennon’s ghost comes from his wife Yoko. She saw him seated at his piano in their apartment. He looked at her and said, “Don’t be afraid, I am still with you.”

Poltergeist activity at the Dakota includes elevators that start and stop for no apparent reason, and lights that turn themselves on or off. Trash bags have levitated, and several small fires have mysteriously started.

If you want to know more about the haunted Dakota

For more details about the haunted Dakota, Strawberry Fields and ghosts in Central Park read Ghosthunting New York by L’Aura Hladik, one of America’s most respected paranormal investigator.

Haunted Blount-Bridgers House

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Southern Hospitality Extends into the Afterlife at the haunted Blount-Bridgers House in Tarboro

Tarboro was established in 1760 along the Tar River and is located in what is described as the Inner Banks area of North Carolina. Originally it was referred to as Tawboro, taw being a Native American word referring to “the river of health.”

My favorite part of Tarboro is the historic area, which is a 45-block district with more than 300 residential homes, historic churches, and many nineteenth-century buildings still stand­ing and in use. Tarboro also has a 15-acre park with war memori­als and a town common.

I visited Tarboro in 2010, as the town celebrated its 250th anniversary. The celebration included a variety of events based on the town’s history. Driving around the Tarboro historic com­mons, one senses how ripe it must be for ghostly activity. In 1863, 800 Union soldiers engaged in a five-day attack on Green­ville, Tarboro, and Rocky Mount, destroying steamboats and supplies in Tarboro. As we’ve already seen in these investiga­tions, the Civil War made its mark across North Carolina, and many ghosts remain to tell the tale.

Where is the Haunted Blount-Bridgers House?

Haunted Blount-Bridgers House
Haunted Blount-Bridgers House

In the historic district is the haunted Blount-Bridgers House, a Fed­eral-style plantation home built in 1808 by Thomas Blount. Blount built the plantation, originally called the Grove, on 296 acres of land. Throughout the years, the house seemed to wel­come and favor military men. Thomas Blount lived in the home from 1808 to 1812, Col. Louis Dicken Wilson lived there from 1831 to 1847, and Col. John Bridgers lived in the home from 1850 to 1880.

During the American Revolution, many of the locals fought valiantly in the war, including Thomas Blount, who became a prisoner of war in England. He was eventually freed and returned to North Carolina to help create one of the largest shipping companies in the late eighteenth century and later served in the U.S. House of Representatives. Colonel Wilson served in the North Carolina Senate and fought in the Mexican-American War, and Colonel Bridgers is best known for his service as a commandant in the Civil War, where he served at Fort Macon.

The Blount-Bridgers House served as a public library and a dance studio before it was turned into a museum in 1979. It fea­tures a nice collection of nineteenth-century furniture along with the art collection of Tarboro-born Hobson Pittman. The home is welcoming with wraparound porches, which I love; I could spend an afternoon here just relaxing and chatting on the porch. While taking the tour of the haunted Blount-Bridgers House, we were guided to two areas of the home where a female ghost has been seen and felt by visitors and staff. Many presume the ghost to be Jackie Blount, and she is most often seen in the parlor and the art room displaying Hobson Pittman’s art. Apparently a lady of good taste and breeding, she has a love and appreciation of art and likes to show her Southern hospitality by greeting guests who visit her home.

Haunted Blount-Bridgers House
Inside Haunted Blount-Bridgers House

During my research and conversations with local residents, I learned that the ghost, Jackie (Mary Jacqueline Sumner Blount), was the wife of Thomas Blount and part of the Sumner fam­ily connected to the Mordecai House in Raleigh. I write more about the Mordecai House in the Central Carolina section of this book, as it is also haunted. This led me to wonder: Do ghosts visit all of their family homes and haunts, much as they used to travel back then between their winter and summer homes? Could the ghosts of the Blount-Bridgers House also be haunting the Mordecai House? Did Jackie still spend time between the two cities, coming and going according to social occasions in spirit, and was John Bridgers enjoying the Blount-Bridgers home in the afterlife while also spending time checking on his troops at Fort Macon, which is also haunted?

Most likely, we’ll never know for sure, though it is interesting to ponder. I also find it fascinating that the more I travel and inves­tigate throughout the state, the more connections I find between haunted areas, historic sites, and family trees. Some people leave such an impression by their lives that their presence continues to be felt in every location where they lived, fought, and loved.

While visiting Tarboro, I also learned about the gravesite of Civil War Gen. William Dorsey Pender, who is buried in Cal­vary Churchyard in Tarboro. He was fatally wounded during the Battle of Gettysburg. Many locals say that his ghost is still around today and has been seen in both the church graveyard and in the town commons area. He’s reported to be cordial and a true Southern gentleman. What I found most romantic about his story is that the letters that the general wrote to his wife were collected and published almost 100 years after his death in a book titled, The General to His Lady: The Civil War Letters of William Dorsey Pender to Fanny Pender.

When I travel to towns, I generally get a feeling about the area and how it’s doing economically, emotionally, and otherwise. My feeling about Tarboro is that it’s on its way up, and about to experience a renaissance and period of new growth and expansion. History in the making is occurring in Tarboro, and the local ghosts couldn’t be more pleased.

For more information on the haunted Blount-Bridgers House click HERE. Want more spooky stories of Ghoshunting in North Carolina? Check out Kala Ambrose’s book Ghosthunting North Carolina.

Haunted Cincinnati Zoo Story

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Haunted Cincinnati Zoo Story

There is a haunted Cincinnati Zoo story out there and the ghost that haunts this location is that of a lion. That’s right – a ghost lion walks the paths at the zoo and will often watch passersby from the safety of the thick foliage that lines many of  the paths.

Haunted Cincinnati Zoo Story
Haunted Cincinnati Zoo

Witnesses claim to have been walking alone down a remote path and heard what sounded like the footfalls of a large lion behind them. Sometimes these witnesses have become so terrified that they broke into a run, hearing the sounds of the lion’s footsteps keeping up with their every step.  When they feel that the lion is about to strike, they turn to face their attacker only to see that there is nothing following them.

Other times, witnesses will see the glowing eyes of a lion looking out at them from the brush down a dark, out-of-the-way path.  These witnesses slowly walk the other way, hoping the lion doesn’t follow them.

Some History

The Cincinnati Zoo was the second one built in the Western Hemisphere, after the zoo in Philadelphia, and it contains the Western Hemisphere’s oldest standing zoo building, today’s reptile house.  From the time the zoo was built in 1875 until the present day, many animals lived and died there. This zoo also housed the world’s last passenger pigeon the world’s last Carolina Parakeet.  After these animals died at the zoo, they were considered extinct.

Visiting and checking out the Haunted Cincinnati Zoo Story

The zoo is open to the public, of course, but it charges an admission fee, whether you’re there to see the animals or to research the ghost stories. The zoo closes at six p.m. during the spring and summer and at five p.m. during fall and winter.  If you want the added spookiness of being there at night, come to the annual Festival of Lights, which is held every November and December. At this event, the zoo is open until nine p.m. and so the place is open well past dark.  The zoo also holds an event on weekends in October called “Hallzooween” where the zoo is decorated for the Halloween season.  This event is only open until five p.m., however, so you will have to leave the park before dark.

If you hope to find the ghost lion, linger on the more remote paths that weave through thick foliage. If you see the lion, it’s all right to get scared. After all, this is a zoo, and it is entirely possible that the lion may not disappear before it attacks.

For more spooky stories such as the haunted Cincinnati Zoo story check out Jeff & Michael Morris’ book Cincinnati Haunted Handbook.