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Post by Siren on Oct 5, 2010 5:58:25 GMT -6
Nice one, Gams! It's crispy-cool this autumn morning, but that story definitely helped give me a chill!
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Post by Mini Mia on Oct 5, 2010 17:41:31 GMT -6
I've never been in a subway, and I doubt I ever will, but if I do happen to ride the subway, I'll do it with a chill up my spine.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 6, 2010 5:06:25 GMT -6
I'm late again.
Yesterday's Nightmare for me involved a visit with the Dental Dominatrix. Need I say more? No excuse why I didn't get around to posting last night, except perhaps I was so worn out and traumatized by the Dominatrix Experience that I went to bed early.
Much more fun was the drill...and I don't mean of the dental variety. I had fun digging around on the Internet to see what I could unearth for October 5th. Can you guess where we're going with this?
Yep. Midland, Michigan. (eye-roll)
"A day in Midland, Michigan is exactly like daytime anywhere else in the United States, but this is a city where the undeceased walk the residential streets in the dark hours. The phantoms of this city don’t leave anyone unalarmed. A number of locals declare there are no phantoms, but a stop in Midland, Michigan will make anyone believe."
BOLL. I'm not sure what the writer of this quote meant exactly. Is it the undead that alarmingly roam the town at night? Or are the current living, breathing residents of Midland insomniacs who take to the streets because they have nothing better to do?
Whichever is the case, Midland has a few local haunted hotspots...or perhaps that should be cold-spots. I'm not sure where the town is in this vast Mitten exactly, but I wouldn't want to be driving through at night, and decide to catch a movie.
Midland's movie theatre is haunted...toilets flush inexplicably, people are seen sitting in the seats and watching a movie that isn't being played after hours, weird noises are heard, and a bearded man in overalls roams the building, (flushing toilets and making weird noises apparently; maybe he had a terminal case of indigestion from bad movie popcorn).
Driving down one of Midland's roads at night, you'll see car lights coming toward you. Just when you think you'll collide with the oncoming vehicle, the lights will suddenly go out. This stretch of road has no side roads or driveways that might explain where the oncoming car might have turned. If you're brave enough to get out of your car to check the ditch to see if the car might have driven off the road, you'll find nothing. The vehicle just vanishes.
On that same road, near the place of the vanishing phantom car is Meijer Hill, the site of a gruesome murder that took place in the 1980s. A man killed his entire family at home. His 14 year son starved to death while chained to a basement wall; he did in his wife with a few hammer blows to the head, and left her to rot in the attic, and interred his daughter and infant son in the bathroom walls.
And of course there is the cemetery. Every respectable cemetery has a ghost or two. I wonder if ours does...you know, since I spend an inordinate amount of time there. Boll. In all that inordinate amount of time spent in our cemetery, I've only had one experience that kind of creeped me out enough to cause me to leave. But back to Midland...
I found a YouTube video that explains it all....sort of. Like the above quote I found on a different site, I'm not sure what this video is meant to be, exactly. Is it a group of kids just messing around with a camera, or is it an actual investigation by a modern-day, but younger version of Freddie, Velma, Scoobie Doo and the gang. Will they grow up to be future paranormal investigators, or the kind of people with nervous ticks who hang out in dark corners of bars who freak out when approached and start yelling gibberish things like "They're alive! Beware the balloons! They're alive, I tell you; they're alive!!!!" The Cool Mom? Or the irresponsible mom who drags her kids through haunted cemeteries at night?
Whatever it's meant to be - a serious paranormal investigation, or a tongue-in-cheek bit of sarcastic humor, the commentary is fun (though it's kind of long; it runs 8 minutes). Here's a look at the hauntings in Midland Cemetery:
Oh! I almost forgot! In case you're wondering..."Beginning October 5, cemetery personnel start their fall cleanup of the cemetery. Items remaining on plots will be collected and discarded."
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Post by stepper on Oct 6, 2010 20:04:57 GMT -6
Pin the tale on the donkey...another true story I found....
Generally, whether we admit it or not, we will find some people who are thoughtless and cruel. This is a story about cruel people, love of animals, and what happens when they get mixed up together. It's another old story, but unlike the first two I shared, this one is more than 100 years old. In the 1840s there was an elderly lady who lived on the outskirts of town. She lived outside of the city because she chose to do so. I think she liked the solitude, but whatever the reason she wasn't married and never had been so far as anyone knew. She had no family and if she was friendly with anyone at all, that part of the story didn't make through the intervening years. This is not to say she was mean or in anyway unlikable, and she was obviously capable of caring for living creatures. Well, caring for one. Her donkey. Maybe it was because she had no children or spouse, but she definitely cared for that donkey.
I have no idea where she got her money but she must have had some "put by" as they said in those days. She never went to the bank - although that may be simply because it was too far to go - but no one saw her work either. Yet she never seems to have been short of money in spite of the fact that the only thing she was known to do, was take her donkey down the road, over the normally quiet river via a make-shift bridge, and then, just past the bridge, she'd let the donkey loose in a field so it could graze in a good field. She didn't leave to do other things. She stayed there keeping watch over the donkey. Every day, up and down the road she went with her donkey, allowing it to graze for hours, then back over the bridge and up the road to her home.
One spring day a child playing hooky from school was passing time in the woods near the bridge when he fell from a tree landing on some rocks. He wasn't hurt badly, but he did get some nasty marks and indentations on his arm. When his father saw the marks, the boy panicked and rather than admit he'd skipped school, he lied and said the old ladies' donkey bit him when the lady wasn't looking. The father was angry and decided to take care of this problem right away. He got a couple of his neighbors and they waited for the lady and donkey in the woods right next to the bridge where the boy claimed to have been hurt. They waited some time - so long the father had cooled down. They didn't intend any harm, but wanted to ensure sure the donkey wasn't diseased. That’s what they told themselves. But they didn't bother to explain any of this to the lady. Instead, as she walked by, they all just jumped out of their hiding place and tried to grab the rope the lady used to lead the donkey on their walks. It should have been easy, but it wasn't. The lady had a lot more fight in her than they reckoned and they were faced with a real struggle. Unfortunately, the donkey was frightened by all the commotion. It hee-hawed once or twice and jumped around a bit, then lost it's footing on the bridge and fell in. A tug from the direction of the donkey was unexpected and the rope pulled free from her hand. Spring rains had the river under the bridge flowing fast. The swollen river carried the donkey off. A panicked scream escaped from her as she tried to follow, but the men who had caused the problem in the first place now refused to let her go to even try helping the donkey. Finally, all she could do was stare at the water where her donkey used to be. The men let her go and then walked off joking with each other about how silly this all was. Imagine, trying to follow a donkey into those waters. And did you hear it? HEE HAW HEE HAW! The sound of the men echoed in her ears - what mockery! If you've ever heard about a person "losing it", that would be the best description of what happened here. Beyond rage she picked up some near by rocks and began throwing them at these cruel men. With surprising force one of the rocks hit home - meaning it banged one of them in the back of the head drawing blood. Now the men were angry with the woman. They ran back, over powered the woman and threw her into the river too! She must have snagged a limb or something, but for whatever reason, she never surfaced. After the waters receded some children, teasing each other into bravery or foolishness, went searching for the woman's body but found nothing. Then they ventured to the old woman's homestead. As they approached they could smell smoke. Rounding the bend that would give them a view there was nothing to be seen. A fire had burnt the house and the donkey's little barn to the ground. Nothing was left but blackened ash.
Now you'd think at this point there would be some horrible retribution for the men responsible for these senseless crimes, but that's not part of the tale. There's no record of what happened to those men. There's no record even of who they were exactly. Maybe that was the revenge. The only thing remembered of the evil is that it existed, and the sad tale of the woman and her donkey is remembered and repeated. But it doesn't end here as you might expect.
The town became a city and expanded. The bridge is still there, although it's a bit more stable now than it was all those years ago. The river is down to a stream that only floods when there's a torrential down pour, and the grazing field is gone. It's houses now days. The only connection to that time is memory, and the bridge. People never forgot the tale and retold the story as generations past. No one stops at the bridge without getting an odd feeling - the hair stands up on the back of your neck - and no one walks across the bridge at night because the feeling is worse and it's hard to breathe - like you're drowning.
Legends being what they are, there's always some fool who feels the need to challenge the legend and the fear that goes with it. Today those who live near the bridge say that if you park next to the bridge at night with your lights off, the woman's spirit gets angry because she thinks you are there waiting like the men who killed her donkey. They say the first thing you hear is hooves; then if you don't leave after the hooves rocks are thrown at your car from all directions. A couple boys challenged the legend not so long ago. They'll tell you what happened, but only on a clear day - and never when it's dark. They were just passing by the bridge one night when one suggested that they park next to "donkey lady bridge". They had been parked a long time - 15 or 20 minutes - when one looked at the other and saw his eyes opened wide and face pale. "Look. Look at the mirror on your side." As the first boy turned he saw that the mirror was moving! Something was tilting the mirror up, down, left, right. Both were stiff with fear until finally the mirror stopped moving. It was what happened next that really scared them.
Something landed on the trunk of the car. Loud and hard. Something so heavy the whole car bobbed up and down from the shock. That was enough for both boys - they started the engine and sped away. Not far down the road was a well lit parking lot and they pulled in, grateful for the light. What they saw still haunts them, even today. They found two great dents in the trunk, as if the donkey had crashed his hooves in warning that it was time to leave. Sitting there in the light they grew angry at the damage and reasoned that someone had played a trick on them - this couldn't be. So, they drove back to the bridge, this time stopping right in the middle. No place for tricksters to hide this time! The moon was out full on a cloudless warm evening. It wasn't what you'd call dark at all. The moon reflected enough light you could see clearly for several yards in all directions. There was no one around, nothing to be seen. Silence filled their ears. Then rocks started coming at them from all directions. It would have taken dozens and dozens of people to throw so many all at once! Clank clank clank the rocks impacted on the car. Their fear returning with even greater force than before, the boys sped off again.
The car was repaired but as proof, the one who owned it kept the trunk with the two hoof prints clearly visible in the metal. Neither has tried this again - once was enough.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 6, 2010 23:07:06 GMT -6
Great story, Stepper. I should tell that one to my boss - she used to have a pet donkey. There are many tales about Smokey (one of my favorites being the time he got out of the pasture one morning, and my boss had to chase him down the two-lane highway.....wearing her pajamas). Today's haunting left me chasing ghosts. On October 6, 1889 the Moulin Rouge opened in Paris. The Moulin Rouge looks have varied slightly since its opening in 1889, but the distinctive windmill front (Moulin Rouge means "red mill" in English) has remained the same. The elaborate theatre and dance hall has remained one of the most popular Parisian destinations for over one hundred years. During the early years, the dance hall became a center of vice. Sex, drugs, decadence - it was all commonplace at the Moulin Rouge. It was where the can-can was first danced...with the dancers not wearing anything under their skirts. The modern-day strip-tease was first seen at the Moulin Rouge. Any vice; any fetish - it could be found behind that giant windmill out front. Harold Zigler was the owner back in those days of vice, and it is said he took in several homeless girls, became a kind of father-figure to them, and made them a part of his show...and then turned a blind eye; whatever they did off stage was their business not his. Public outcry of what went on in the Moulin Rouge caused it to be shut down for thirteen years, from 1900 to 1913. With all that went on there, it wouldn't be such a stretch of the imagination to think a ghost or two from those days and nights of debauchery might still have clung on to that period of the Moulin Rouge's history. Her name is Satine. Her existence is documented extensively in a diary written by Lili Deneuve, one of Zidler's girls. During the thirteen year closure, Deneuve, homeless once again, took up residence in the abandoned Moulin Rouge. But she wasn't the building's only inhabitant. Sometimes Lili's diary entries referred to Satine in the present tense, as if they had conversations and interactions with one another. Other times she wrote she only heard whisperings following her through the halls, and the faint sound of music playing late into the evenings, or the shadow of a figure rushing past the old dressing rooms. Another former dancer entering the closed building, claimed she was confronted by Satine standing before her with skin so pale, long brilliant red hair, and eyes as deep blue as the ocean. The dancer screamed, turned in fright and ran. When she looked back, there was nothing but an empty hall where Satine stood only seconds before. Others have seen a woman staring out a window, lost in thought. When she discovers she's being watching, she drifts back from the window and disappears into the shadows beyond. The only other written documentation of Satine was written by a German officer, Erich Harold Lutz. In 1943, during the Nazi occupation of Paris, the Moulin Rouge was seized as strategic post. German soldiers were sent to inspect creaking floorboards and the image of a woman lurking through the structure. The German occupation of Moulin Rouge didn't last long. "It was a matter of security", the officer wrote, "Apparently there is a presence here that is not intimidated by the strength of the German armies." Shortly after, Satine's ghost disappeared from the hallows of the Moulin Rouge also. It's not known why she left....or even why she was there. There is no record of her anywhere in the Moulin Rouge's history, except that of Deneuve's diary. There is no record of Harold Zigler either. Speculation says that because of the seemy nature the early days of the Moulin Rouge, all written traces of this period would have been erased. Publicly, none of these events ever happened. And in actuality, they didn't. Does any of this story sound familiar? It didn't to me...you all know what kind of pop cultural hole I live in. It's only when I went to drill deeper into the lives of Satine and Deneuve, did I have one of those slap-my-head 'duh' moments. The story of Satine's ghost is completely made up. Satine is Nicole Kidman's character in the movie "Moulin Rouge!"; Zigler is from the same movie. Catherine Deneuve was a glamourous, legendary French actress who published two autobiographies, "In My Own Shadow" and "The Private Diaries of Catherine Deneuve". "Lili" was a character she played in a movie. I'm sure there are other movie references in the story too. I didn't realize it was a made-up story at first. There is nothing on the website's page at all to indicate it's completely fictional....except at the very bottom, I where saw "Nazi officer Erich Harold Lutz....from Hogan's Heroes (1965-1971)". I clicked went to the site's main page and found: "This site is dedicated to the actors, actresses and creators of the Dark Shadows TV Series (1965-1972). It has been created to bring to life the haunted houses from television and the movies by comparing, creating and matching parallels with true accounts of the paranormal. As such, some descriptions may only partially resemble those “cases,” especially in times where those accounts very vaguely resembled true supernatural accounts. Often, extremely fantastic plot lines have been re-written as to how they might likely have in the real world. Some locations, additionally, have been created for the sole purpose of this site because of popularity, accountability or likelihood of being haunted.And so...no actual ghosts for today, (although the Moulin Rouge's description in the late 1880's is accurate). But if you want to have some fun reading a couple of fictional ghost stories about your favorite television shows or movies, check out the site's "Case Files". They've got a tale for everything from "The Mertz Apartment House" to "Clampet Castle". www.codelphia.com/aesgaard41/tvhaunts.html
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Post by stepper on Oct 8, 2010 21:08:15 GMT -6
I remember rushing home from school to watch Dark Shadows! Good story there Phalon, even if it turns out to be all hooey.
There was a guy in an office that sometimes had to work with my office. His name was Orville. Orville had spent 30 years on active duty and retired at the highest enlisted grade - Chief Master Sergeant. Then he worked another 20 years in civil service finally deciding it was time to retire to his farm and relax. Orville was due to retire from civil service on a Friday. Thursday night before his retirement, an elderly neighbor lady called him. She had mules. He had donkeys. For what ever reason, one of her mules didn't like one of his donkeys and the mule had knocked down a fence. Orville went out to help chase the mule back onto it's own property. Figuring he was about 18 when he enlisted, plus 30 years active duty and 20 years civil service, old Orville was about 68. People who are 68 shouldn't go out at 11PM chasing mules through cactus laden fields. It's not good for their heart, and really wasn't good for his. Orville retired permanently that night. They sent a Med-Evac helicopter for him, but he was DOA. I know - it's not scary at all; it's just sad. Then again, a sudden emergency could happen to any of us and a reminder is a bit scary. Especially when you already know you aren't indestructable.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 8, 2010 22:01:27 GMT -6
Playing a little catch-up here...
Yesterday marked the anniversary of one of the most mysterious famous deaths in history. On October 7, 1849 author Edgar Allan Poe died in a Baltimore hospital, after being found on the streets in a state of delirium, wearing tattered clothing and a straw hat - clothing that was not his own.
While in the hospital, Poe was never coherent enough to explain what happened. The days before his death, and the events that took place after, still much remain a mystery.
He had lived in Baltimore years before, but had only been passing through by train, just days before his death, on his way to New York to meet his beloved mother-in-law. His plan was to bring her back to Richmond, Virginia, to meet his childhood sweetheart who he had just asked to marry. His first wife had died of tuberculosis years prior.
He never reached Richmond. Four days after arriving in Baltimore, Poe was found barely conscious, laying in a gutter. He was rushed to a hospital where he spent his short remaining time, trembling and crying. He once screamed the name "Reynolds!". Who Reynolds is remains a mystery. At 5am on October 7th, he died.
Popular consensus is that his death was caused by alcohol, though this has been disputed by many who knew him. Poe had been known to abuse alcohol and opium during a period after his wife's death, but reportedly had no incidents of substance abuse for quite some time before his own death. It's thought the alcohol rumor was started, and perpetuated by an acquaintance of Poe's who was involved with the temperance movement, and used Poe for an example to further his cause.
Other theories suggest his psychotic state was caused by brain lesions, tuberculosis, epilepsy, diabetes and even rabies. The rabies theory seems to have quite some merit, though it has not been proved.
Then there is the "cooping" theory. Some believe that he may have been drugged and murdered. This is the theory given in the vast majority of Poe biographies. The day Poe was found on the street was election day in Baltimore. He was found near a bar that was also a place where voting took place. "Baltimore elections then, were notorious for corruption and violence. Political gangs were willing to go to great extremes to ensure the success of their candidates. Election ballots were stolen, judges were bribed and potential voters for the opposition intimidated." Innocent bystanders were taken to a holding room called a "coop" where they were plied with liquor, beaten, and forced to go in and out of polls, voting over and over again. Their clothes were changed so they wouldn't be easily recognized as already having voted. Poe’s weak heart would never have withstood such abuse. The flaw in the cooping theory is that Poe was pretty well-known and would have probably been recognized.
Poe was buried after a small funeral at the back of Westminster Hall and Burying Ground. Due to a accident involving the train carrying his headstone, for years his grave only had a marker engraved with "No. 80". In 1875, his remains were moved to a new grave with a monument, but it has been questioned whether the correct corpse was moved. Whoever was moved, now lies next to Poe's wife, Virginia, and his mother-in-law.
To add more to the mystery, there is the Poe Toaster. This mysterious man in black for more than fifty years has left a half bottle of cognac and three red roses on Poe's grave on January 19th, Poe's birthday. This continued without fail every year from 1949 to 2009. This past January is the first year the Poe Toaster has failed to make his yearly toast.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 8, 2010 22:11:43 GMT -6
What a sad story, Stepper! I missed you when you posted, partly because I was drilling Poe, and partly because....
When you're a teenager you know you're not indestructable...but you don't believe it, usually until something tragic happens that brings it home with a hard slap.
LX came home from going to the movies with friends. She walked in the door bawling, causing my heart to leap from my chest and into my throat wondering what happened to my baby. It wasn't my baby, but someone else's who had their life cut short tonight. A car accident - two cars, eight people - and LX's friend was thrown from the one of the vehicles and instantly killed. Others remain in the hospital, their conditions unknown. In a world of cell-phones, and texting, this has spread through the teenage community at the speed of light.
As the mother of a teenager who is about to take driver's training; a teenager who has friends who recently got their licenses, this is both incredibly sad and scary. I can not even begin to fathom what that child's parents are going through.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 8, 2010 23:07:49 GMT -6
Continuing on with the catch-up....
Late one night When we were all in bed, Old mother O'Leary Left the lantern in the shed, And when the cow kicked it over, She winked her eye and said, There'll be a hot time In the old town tonight!!!
It's not known whether Mrs. O'Leary's cow kicked over the lantern, but it is for certain that The Great Chicago Fire started in the vicinity of the O'Leary home on October 8, 1871.
Reports from the local newspaper, The Chicago Tribune, said there had been no rain for at least three weeks. It was an incredibly dry season that year; less than three inches of rain fell between July and October. Many of Chicago's buildings were constructed of wood, and were in poor condition, even by standards of the time.
From the O'Leary home, on the west side of Chicago, the blaze swept through the city. Workers in the water tower and pumping station, battled endlessly, fighting the inferno. When it became apparent the fire could not be controlled, the Chicago Water Tower was evacuated.....
...except for one brave soul, who when all hope was lost, continued to man the pumps as the raging fire crept closer to the tower. When the tower became encircled in flames, it was too late for him to escape. Rather than perish in the fire and be burned alive, he made his way up to the upper level of the tower. He took one last look at the once great city, now a fiery ruin, and decided to hang himself out of desperation.
The fire finally abated on October 10th. It left in its destructive wake, over 300 dead and more than 100,000 people without homes. In an ironic twist, the only thing that survived in the area was the gothic limestone water tower, looming 154 feet above the blackened city.
The Chicago Water Tower still stands today....and is haunted by the ghost of the man who perished there during the fire. A dark, shadowy figure can be seen through the tower's upstairs windows. If you look closely, you'll see it's a man hanging by his neck. Go up to help him, and there will be no one there.
Since that horribly fateful October 8th, Chicago's Water Tower has come to represent the persistence of the city, and perhaps also the persistence of the souls of those who lost their lives in the Great Fire of 1871.
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Post by stepper on Oct 9, 2010 19:12:10 GMT -6
I have two stories to tell you here...and I'll try not getting overly wordy with either. I had, past tense, a brother. I won't pretend to understand a mother's attachment to a baby, but this one was named Jeffery. He was born 11 November 1949, died 2 December 1949. 22 days. That's all he lived. Yet, his short life impacted my mother in ways I never fully comprehended. Cutting to the chase, mom always said the most difficult thing she had to do, ever, was chose a casket for Jeff. My parents didn't have much spare cash so to save on the cost of a cemetery plot, Jeffery was interred on top of the casket in the gravesite of my grandfather. I also have two older brothers who are twins. They went swimming at a local lake. A few hours after they left mom got a call from the hospital. The lady on the phone identified herself and asked "Are you the lady who USED to have two sons who went swimming at Piney Point earlier today?" The emphasis on "used" is mine, but that's the word mom focused on. Convinced that one of the twins was dead she called my father and they went to the hospital expecting bad news. When they got there, it turned out that one of them had jumped off the diving board intending to reach the bottom - and he made it. Problem was he was going down feet first and he found a spike down there - it went up through his foot. Someone called the hospital and they called her. Several years later when I was in high school, I was walking out of class and for reasons that I never found out one of the kids in the class turned and hit me right above the eye. Since we had just gotten our class rings it put a nasty little cut over my eye. We'll leave what I did to the guy for another story - but not wanting to upset mom - I had the school nurse call dad. (The cut was deep enough I had to have stiches to close it up.) Dad took me to the doctor's office where I got stiched up, then took me to his house. I called mom at work and told what happened - fully expecting all kinds of sympathy - but all she did was ask me a question. "Are you dead?" "Uh, no." " Okay, see ya tonight." Let the wind outta that sail in a hurry! That evening there was a special on TV showing how cartoons are made. They were using Bambi scenes and they showed Thumper stamping his foot. And mom cried. Needless to say this got my attention. I was sitting there with stitches feeling sorry for myself and the only thing that upset her was a cartoon bunny stamping it's foot? This was too much to take! That's when I got all the stories about Jeff, the twins, things that happened before I was old enough to remember, and the first time I heard her say picking out the casket was the hardest thing she'd ever done. There were variations - like we were all strictly forbidden to die before her - but you could tell the pain of loosing a baby never really left her. Years later I purchased a plot in Overlook Cemetery - the one next to where my father was buried. When mom died she was buried in one of the plots. Then one of my brothers had an idea. We all pitched in and had Jeff disinterred from over my grandfather in one cemetery, and reinterred next to mom. I think she would have liked that. You said Neither can I my friend. Neither can I. But I do understand this: It's called love - I recognize it because I was fortunate enough to see it in action with my mom. Just like you do for LX and BP.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 9, 2010 22:16:56 GMT -6
That's both a very sad and very sweet story, Stepper. It had me in tears by the time I finished reading. Thank you for sharing it, and for your kind thoughts also.
It's late, I'm tired, and I've got to work tomorrow (I switched my days this weekend). Though I'm here now, today's creepy will have to wait until tomorrow. You know what they say....here today, goon tomorrow.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Oct 9, 2010 23:16:17 GMT -6
After having caught up from my very long work week and having read about Madam P's recent trouble. I don't have the heart to post some frivolous thing about something that happened today however long ago.
Instead I'll just say, my heart goes out to the family of the teenager and giant hugs to the youngin Madam P.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 10, 2010 7:19:04 GMT -6
You know I appreciate your kinds words, and will pass along the hugs to LX, Scrappeletta. The accident was tragic to the whole community here...
Frivolous stories have their place. Without them, and all the other things that seem trivial in a world where there are bigger and more important things to worry about, tragedy could quite possibly appear as if that's all that's left....and that is the most scary thing of all.
So with that, on to yesterday's not-so-scary-after-all frivolous story....
On October 9, 1940, the Germans launched a heavy nighttime air raid on London. The dome of St. Paul's Cathedral took a direct hit from a Nazi bomb .
The bomb-hit during WWII was not the first time the cathedral had been damaged. In fact, the cathedral that stands today is the fifth church dedicated to Saint Paul, standing the same site as the previous five. The first Church of St. Paul’s was wooden, and built in the 6th century. Various fates have befallen each of the five buildings, including its destruction by the Vikings in the 7th century, being struck by lightning during the rein of Queen Elizabeth I, destruction from the Great Fire of London in 1666, and damage during World War I.
After WWI, Saint Paul’s underwent renovation work, and one of the chapels, known as All Souls Chapel, was rededicated as a memorial to Lord Kitchener, an army general in the late 1800s – quite a ruthless guy, actually. During the renovation, part of a wall was excavated to reveal a hidden door that opened to a narrow, winding staircase. At the top of the stairs is a secret room in the main body of Saint Paul’s Cathedral that nobody had known existed, or for what purposed it was used.
Nobody, that is, except The Whistler… In Kitchener’s Chapel is a marble effigy of the ruthless general. It is said that if you gaze at his cold, stone memorial, a sudden chill will pass over you….letting you know The Whistler is about to start his low, melancholy tune.
The Whistler is the ghost of an old clergyman – an ethereal figure with flowing locks of grey hair to match his long flowing robes. His barely audible, mournful whistling grows steadily louder as he glides across the chapel, to melt sway into the wall at the exact spot were the old, winding staircase still stands hidden behind the walls. Everyone who has seen him confirms he always follows the same path, vanishing into the same section of the wall…
What’s he doing up there in that secret hidden room? Nobody knows except perhaps General Kitchener’s effigy…..and he’s not saying a word.
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Post by stepper on Oct 10, 2010 11:03:54 GMT -6
Oh cool! Hidden stairways and forgotten rooms! Exciting and creepy at the same time! Why did they wall off that area? What was it used for? Why does the apparition go the same direction and disappear at the same spot? So many questions!
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Post by stepper on Oct 10, 2010 11:20:01 GMT -6
This is The Legend of the Headless Yankee Cannoneer of Sabine Pass - derived mostly from research by W. T. Block. Credit where it's due. Mr. Block was reluctant to publish his research. Not because anyone would doubt him - mostly because of the resemblance to The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, but after all his research, he decided to tell the story anyway. Really, he was trying to keep the story from being lost to posterity for all time.
First off, a little history. The Battle of Sabine Pass occurred during the civil war. Texas was a confererately controlled state during the war. In 1863 the Union was trying to complete a naval blockade of the South and, knowing that Maximilian had taken power in Mexico, that Maximilian was friendly with the French, and the French were sympathetic with the Confederates, sent an overwhelming force to blockage the Sabine Pass and cut off aid from that direction. (It is often sited as the most one sided Confederate victory during the entire war.)
At the Sabine Pass State Park there is a state historical marker which shows the names of thirty Union sailors and soldiers who were killed in the battle on Sept. 8, 1863. Another 22 men, who were liberated slaves, were also killed during that battle but their names were not recorded on Navy muster rolls. On that date, an armada of 19 Union ships and 5,000 soldiers sought to run past the Confederate batteries but they were sorely defeated by only 47 cannoneers and six "pop guns" inside the fort. History records that at least two ships were lost and 200 persons died that day.
The next day it was quite hot as Confederate soldiers buried the dead in a mass grave at Mesquite Point. It was a difficult and sickening chore because the dead men were so badly scalded that the flesh fell from the bones. (Few things smell as bad as burnt scalded flesh.) The most visible and unusual victim was the starboard gunner of the enemy gunboat Clifton whose body had no head. One of the prisoners reported that a large cannonball came bouncing down the deck, hit the gunner in the neck, decapitating him. His head then fell overboard.
The name of the headless gunner is known to be inscribed on the state marker, but it has never been possible to identify him by name or to determine who was assigned to starboard gunnery duty on the Clifton during the battle. So we know his name, but not which one of the names is him. Lt. John Dana, the signal officer, wrote a history of the battle, which was published in the Dec. 1973 issue of Civil War Times Illustrated, as follows: "Executive Officer Robert Rhodes fell mortally wounded.... Several more of the crew were hit when a cannonball struck the muzzle of one of the Clifton's guns and bowled them over... Ensign William Weld was only able to fire his damaged weapon by exploding the primer with an axe. The hapless starboard gunner was decapitated by another shot....." For many years before he died in Beaumont about 1928, former Confederate Lt. Joseph Chasteen was known as Sabine Pass' "walking history book." He published this account of the battle in the 'Confederate Veterans' column of Galveston Daily News on Sept. 3, 1899, as follows: "Soon after the battle, two of the Davis Guards from the fort were walking along the beach, searching for whatever they might find, when the body of a Negro man came drifting by. One of them remarked, "There goes another dead man."
"The other paused and said, "We'll see if he is a dead man or not!" He caught him by the heel, and when the head went under the water, the 'body' began kicking quite lively. They brought him up to the fort, and when the soldiers searched to see what was under his coat, they found the head of the Clifton's starboard gunner." Since all of the bodies had been buried the previous day, a soldier walked over to the edge of the channel, and threw the severed head back into the water.
In March, 1864, the Confederate steamer Clifton, by then converted into a blockade runner, grounded on a Texas mudflat with 600 bales of cotton aboard. The crew then set the steamer ablaze until it burned to the waterline. Its smokestack remained visible until June, 1957 when Hurricane Audrey washed the remaining wreckage away.
During Reconstruction days, some of Sabine Pass' old veterans relayed that the ghost of the headless Yankee gunner came ashore during each full moon, searching for his head and wailing a mournful call. Since it had no vocal chords, the ghost could only emit a grunt or some other discordant sound. Decades ago, when I used to camp out on the Sea Rim beach, I remember hearing strange banshee wails or grunts, emanating from the neighboring marsh. Many years ago, I asked an oldtimer at Sabine Pass if he knew about the Yankee apparition, and he said he hadn't heard that story told since World War I days. Old Joe Marty, an early Sabine Pass pioneer, used to tell that tale before he died around 1920, and it was told to me by Uncle Austin Sweeney, also deceased, who was a Sabine Pass watermelon grower for fifty years. While it's still possible the headless Yankee may still be prowling the beaches there on moonlit nights, it seems he disappeared with his ship and ended his nocturnal wanderings when the wreckage of the Clifton disappeared in 1957.
Sleep peacefully - this ghost is gone. Unless you were pretending that ghosts weren't real. Sorry. They are.
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Post by katina2nd on Oct 11, 2010 20:52:12 GMT -6
So sorry to hear about LX's friend Gams, can really only support Scrappy and Stepper's words.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 11, 2010 23:02:23 GMT -6
Thanks, Katina; I'm sure LX would appreciate the thoughts.
One last thing before I go to bed tonight...I'm running quite behind schedule, both in going to sleep, and keeping up here.
Oooo, I think we need to be sitting around a campfire, or in an old, creaky, deserted house, with shutters slamming open and shut in the wind. Or at least have some scary music playing.
I'm behind with the stories, and should have just skipped yesterday's and started fresh with today's. The drill for October 10th didn't produce much of a story. Actually the off-shore drilling I did on the Borgias when I got side-tracked was more interesting, so I'll combine them both.
Lucrezia Alesandra Romanov died on October 10 1502.
Or did she?
Her story is murky. Although she is supposedly one of history’s most famous vampiresses, the two-minute drill produced nearly nothing – she is mentioned on only one site, under the heading Most Famous Vampires, along with the likes of Vlad Tepes, and the Countess Elizabeth Bathory – both real historical people. Lucrezia Romanov’s history on this site is poorly written, full of inconsistencies and erroneous “facts” that would have most likely never been recorded (such as “a loss of 7 pints of blood” – would someone in the 1500s really count the pints of blood missing in a decomposing body?). It’s as if her life as written on this site is a composite of multiple women, lumped together under one name. Most notably are the similarities between her and Lucrezia Borgia, who came up when I drilled the name “Lucrezia”. Borgia is a pretty scary lady in her own right, coming from one of the period’s most scandalous families, with a history of incest and legendary murders.
Lucrezia Romanov was the illegitimate daughter of Pope Alexander II. Lucrezia Borgia was the illegitimate daughter and mistress of Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia, who later became Pope Alexander VI.
Lucrezia Romanov was prone to violent fits of uncontrollable anger, often inflicting pain on both herself and her maidservants. She is said to have had an association with Cesare Borgia, and a hand in killing his brother, Giovani Sfarov.
Lucrezia Borgia and her brother, Cesare were a violent twosome. One recorded incident of their exploits involves standing on a balcony of the Vatican, shooting criminals in the streets with crossbows. Lucrezia is well-known for having murdered a number of rivals by poison dropped into their drinks from a ring with a hidden compartment.
Romanov slid away to live in seclusion in Romania, where she lived with her husband and four children until her husband died violently. He was found decapitated, nearly drained of blood, and missing a few vital organs. Her children disappeared, and the story of the vampire Lucrezia was born.
She was remarried five years later, but it lasted for less than a year. The body of her Baron husband was discovered just as the first – decomposing, headless, drained of blood (7 pints of it, apparently), and without his heart or liver. Lucrezia disappeared, and after a hunt for her produced nothing, she was declared dead on October 10th, 1502.
Borgia’s bad luck with men was just as bad as Romanov’s. She was married at 13, but her father annulled the marriage after two years for political reasons. Another marriage soon after also proved to be politically fruitless, and Cesare had her husband brutally murdered. Lucrenzia suffered the backlash – her first husband, disgraced by the annulment, started rumors about her incestuous involvement with her fathers and brothers. The gossip spread, and without her family’s knowledge, Lucrezia retreated to a convent.
Once her father discovered her whereabouts, he tried to lure her back to Rome, but Lucrezia had an affair with his messenger. When she was pronounced a virgin to finalize the annulment of her first marriage, she was already pregnant with the messenger’s child. The body of the messenger, and her maidservant who arranged secrecy for the affair, ended up floating in the Tiber. Soon after, Lucrezia’s favorite brother, Giovani, was also found dead in the Tiber, with the blame laid on Cesare.
With her next husband, she married into the powerful d’Este family, who took her under their wing. From there, she established one of the most famous courts of the Renaissance, a gathering place for poets, artists, and musicians. Her charitable acts and kindness endeared her to the populace, and at the time of her death in June, 1519, she had become known as the beloved Duchess of Ferrara.
Though both Lucrezias were dead, they both did not stay dead. Lucrezia Romanov resurfaces about two hundred years later in France. This is where Romanov’s story really gets ridiculous. Proof of her existence is supposedly given by Mozart, who played a concert for and her husband du jour, Prince Aleksandr Ivanovich Baryatinski. In the 1800s, an oil painting of her was done by the famous Antoine Louis (who was famous for animal sculptures, and not oil paintings of dead ladies). During her marriage to the prince, she had an illegitimate child – a daughter Dravinia. She finally dies again, when she either had an epileptic fit, or flung herself from a balcony, suffering loneliness with the death of her husband and Dravinia.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 13, 2010 7:30:04 GMT -6
On October 11, 1793, the death toll from Philadelphia's yellow fever epidemic reached 100.
In 1793, Philadelphia was America's largest city with a population of approximately 55,000. It was our budding nation's capitol, and had the busiest port.
The summer of '93 was hot and dry. The levels of streams and wells dropped, and the water turned stagnant, providing an excellent breeding ground for insects. By July, the city's inhabitants began noticing an extraordinary number of flies and mosquitoes that swarmed around the dock area.
July also brought thousands of refugees to Philadelphia's docks, who are escaping political turmoil in the Caribbean Islands. The combination of the influx of mosquitoes and refugees were the perfect ingredients for an unprecedented health disaster to hit the city.
The Caribbean refuges brought Yellow Fever, and the mosquitoes were the vehicle to spread the disease. The first fatalities appeared in July and the numbers grew steadily. A severe fever is accompanied by the victim's skin turning a ghastly yellow, and he starts to vomit black clots of blood. Now in a complete stupor, death soon follows.
The public services were so strained by caring for the victims, the government collapsed. President Washington and his Cabinet, members of Congress, and a good portion of the general population fled the city.
The disease subsided and finally disappeared with the arrival of cold weather in November, but not before leaving 5,000 people dead.
The city's dead were buried in mass graves in what was then known as Southeast Square. It was not the site's first mass burial. Starting in 1706 and continuing for nearly nine decades, Southeast Square was used as a mass burial ground, many of the dead simply wrapped in canvas without coffins or ceremony.
Before the Yellow Fever epidemic, over 2,000 Revolutionary War soldiers were buried there, and during the British occupation of the city in 1777, prisoners of the Walnut Street Jail were starved and beaten to death before being dumped in unmarked mass graves on the grounds. When the colonists retook the city and the jail, many British guards joined their former prisoners in those graves.
In 1825, the burial grounds became a public park, and was renamed Washington Square. The sheer number of bodies in this relatively small area, and the violent means of their deaths makes the place a natural setting for the ghosts of unsettled souls to roam.
Don't think so? While lovers stroll under the moonlight and the homeless vie for benches to sleep on in all the other parks in Philadelphia, although Washington Square never closes, it remains deserted every night.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 13, 2010 22:56:51 GMT -6
“Take each day of your sentence, one day at a time. Don't think how far you have to go, but how far you've come." ~ Warden Johnston
Alcatraz became a federal prison, on October 12, 1933
The energy of many of those who came to Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary, “The Rock”, or Hellcatraz, as it was called by many of the inmates, never left. Long before it was a prison, the island was known to the Native Americans as a place containing evil spirits, and it is still a place where unexplainable events continue to happen. Though its corridors are now deserted, they are far from quiet. The island’s ghosts date back even further than the years it was a federal prison.
Alcatraz (or La Isla de los Alcatraces, “The Island of the Pelicans” - the name the Spanish gave it) was originally a fortress built by the Army Corps of Engineers in 1854 to be used as a defensive position against unfriendly ships entering the Golden Gate. The island fortress had a wharf, wooden shops, storehouses, barracks and offices. Even then, life on The Rock was hard. Construction was grueling for the laborers who carved out roadways and other features as the fortress slowly took place, and it was not without human sacrifice - a rock landslide buried an excavation crew digging a road.
The island’s first prisoners were incarcerated in 1859; they were eleven anonymous soldiers who committed crimes not recorded in any army file. Alcatraz was now a fully operational fortress and prison. In 1861, Alcatraz was designated as the official military prison for the entire Department of the Pacific. Life for the prisoners was grim. Men slept on stone floors; there was no running water, heat, and little in the way of sanitation. Disease was rampant.
The prison was officially named the United States Disciplinary Barracks in 1911, and housed both U.S. Army and German seamen who became prisoners of war. On October 12, 1933, the facility was turned over to the Federal Bureau of Prisons, and Alcatraz became an escape-proof, maximum security prison for only the most hardened criminals. Steel and reinforced concrete, cold water, winds, and isolation made Alcatraz one of America’s most inescapable prisons, though attempts were made to flee the deprivation, rules, and intolerable routines of a life in confinement.
Failure to confirm to these rules and routine resulted in an inmate being transferred to “D” Block, where men could leave 4x8 foot cells only once in seven days for a brief ten-minute shower. Robert Kennedy, Attorney General at the time, officially closed the doors of Alcatraz on March 21, 1963. From 1963 until 1969, the prison remained closed. Today it is maintained by the Golden Gate National Recreation Area where almost a million people per year visit. Visitors, psychic investigators, paranormal researchers, even a CBS news team investigating parts of Alcatraz all report ghostly phenomenon on the island. This is nothing new to the former guards of the prison, and the rangers who work there now. For years they had experienced unexplainable crashing sounds, cell doors mysteriously closing, unearthly screams, and intense feelings of being watched. The voices of tortured souls driven mad since its inception as a prison reverberate throughout the corridors. Emotions seemed to drip from every corner. Stories of sobbing and moaning, horrible smells, cold spots, and the "thing" with glowing eyes have been repeated over and over. Groups of phantom prisoners and soldiers appeared, and then vanish. Even seasoned guards dropped to the ground thinking prisoners had weapons after hearing phantom cannon shots, gun shots, and screams. “D” Block, solitary confinement, is the most haunted area on Alcatraz. Some rangers refuse to go there alone. It is intensely cold in certain cells, far colder than normal---especially cell 14-D. Cells 9-14 were called "The Hole," because they contained no windows, and only one light which was manned by the guards. The darkness made it seem like a hole in the ground. There is a frightening remnant energy lingering in this subterranean portion of the prison. The “thing” with the glowing eyes resides in “D” Block. In the mid-40s, an inmate was locked in "The Hole". Within seconds, he began screaming that someone with glowing eyes was in there with him. The guards ignored the convict’s screams that he was being attacked, and his pleas for help.
The man continued to scream throughout the night, until suddenly, he was silent. When the guards turned on the light the next day, the man was dead with an expression of terror frozen on his face, and strangulation marks around his throat. The autopsy revealed that the strangulation was not self-inflicted. Was the thing that strangled him the evil spirit of a former inmate? To add to the mystery, the day after his death, a routine lineup of the convicts found one too many people. At the end of the line, stood the recently deceased inmate. As everyone – guards and inmates alike - looked stunned, the ghostly figure vanished.
It seems some of the convicts at Alcatraz served their life sentences and were never released…..even in death.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 14, 2010 6:24:31 GMT -6
Shoot, I went to bed last night thinking I was all caught up in here. Looking at the calendar this morning, I discover today is the 14th, and not the 13th like I thought. Where'd the day go yesterday? I hate when that happens.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 14, 2010 21:26:24 GMT -6
It's been pretty dead in here lately. HA! That was a joke; get it? (eye-roll)
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are….”
Geminiano Montanari was an Italian astronomer, and proponent of the experimental approach to science. He died October 13, 1687.
As an astronomy teacher at the observatory of Panzano, one of his duties was to compile an astrological almanac. He did just that – but wrote it as a hoax, by deliberately filling it with random thoughts and ideas to prove that predictions made by chance were just as likely to be fulfilled as those made by astrology.
He is best known though, for recording that the second brightest star, named Algol, in the constellation of Perseus varied in brightness – or winked. Others before Montanari observed its winking light, but perhaps they were too frightened have their name associated with the Demon Star for eternity.
What’s so Halloweeny about a star? Are the night skies of October not filled with strange creatures that fill our imaginations and test our nerves?
Algol was named by Arabian sky watchers; is a shortened from of ‘al ras al ghul” which means demon’s head. Other ancient cultures had different names for it – Blinking Demon, Satan's Head, Spectre's Head, and the Mischief-maker. Chinese called it Tseih She, the Piled-up Corpses. Early astrologers claimed it was the most violent and dangerous star in the heavens.
The constellation Perseus the Hero rises in the eastern sky. It’s easily recognized as a “J” or fishhook shape just above the northeastern horizon. Just below Perseus and to the east appears what is most frightening to the ancients. This area of the constellation represents the disembodied head of Medusa, the gorgon that Perseus slew. Algol the Demon Star is Medusa’s eye, which “winks” as if Medusa herself is opening and closing her eye. Actually, Algol is an eclipsing binary star system. A smaller, dim star passes in front of Algol every 3.5 days, blocking its light for a short period. It blinks for about 8 hours as the dimmer star of the pair passes between the brighter Algol and the earth.
I dunno though….
You’re sitting outside at night, watching the stars in the October sky, when suddenly you feel a stone cold chill pass over you. You feel rooted to your spot, unable to move. Look away quickly! It just might be Medusa’s gaze you’re looking into.
And for goodness sake, whatever you do, don’t wish upon it!
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Post by Phalon on Oct 14, 2010 22:11:47 GMT -6
On October 14, 1975 begins the trial of Ronald DeFeo Jr., charged with killing his parents and four siblings in their Amityville, New York home.
A little over a year earlier, Ronald “Butch” DeFeo Jr. went to a local bar during the evening, and announced his parents had been shot inside their home. Several of the patrons accompanied DeFeo back to his house, and one of them immediately called police after seeing the bodies of Ronald DeFeo Sr., his wife Louise, and their children Dawn, Allison, Marc, and John. They had all been shot while sleeping.
Initially, DeFeo Jr. claimed the killings were a mob hit, but the following day, he confessed to committing the murders himself.
One aspect of the case that the investigators couldn't figure out was how all six victims appeared to have died in their sleep. There was no signs of a struggle with any of them, and none of the neighbors heard any gunshots, despite the fact that the rifle didn’t have a silencer.
DeFeo pleaded insanity, but he was eventually found guilty of six counts of second-degree murder and sentenced to six consecutive sentences of 25 years to life in prison. Throughout the years, DeFeo gave conflicting accounts of what happened that night, claiming his sister, Dawn, and two other accomplices were involved in the murders.
George Lutz purchased the DeFeo house and moved in with his wife and three children in December, 1975. They stayed only 28 days before fleeing in terror of the spirits of the murdered family and other paranormal phenomena.
Lutz has been accused of concocting the story of the haunting to gain publicity and money, but maintained he is telling the truth. In 1977, Jay Anson published a novel titled The Amityville Horror. The book became a best-seller and inspired a 1979 movie of the same name, as well as a 2005 remake.
George Lutz maintained that events in the book were "mostly true" and denied any dishonesty on his part. He and his wife, Kathy, took a lie detector tests relating to their experiences at the house, which they both passed. They both maintained the truth of the haunting until the day they died (Kathy in 2004, and George in 2006). Even after their deaths, the controversy of the story still continues. The forthcoming docudrama "Shattered Hopes: The True Story of the Amityville Murders" narrated by Ed Asner is scheduled to be released soon.
The original movie scared the hell out of me, (I never saw the remake, and can't remember reading the book). Is it a true story? I dunno. The part I find really unbelievable is that they stayed for 28 days! I hear "Get out!!!", and I'm listening. I don't need to be told twice.
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Post by stepper on Oct 15, 2010 17:59:19 GMT -6
The Menger Hotel. The Menger Hotel is Registered as a National Historic Hotel, and perhaps one of the best for a supernatural encounter. Wikipedia says 'The hotel also holds the unofficial title of "The Most Haunted Hotel in Texas.'" There's so much to say about the Menger Hotel that a book was published and it doesn't cover everything. Only the best known, documented, and reliable information made it to print. In way of background, the book is in two parts. The first part deals with notable persons who stayed at the Menger. The Menger isn't a run down hotel. It is one of the better known and for many years was one of the nicest Hotels in downtown San Antonio. In fact, less than 30 years after the famous battle, it went up very close to the Alamo which is as downtown San Antonio as you can get.
San Antonio has for many years been Texas' number one tourist attraction and the Menger Hotel has always been worthy to play host to some of San Antonio's most colorful and notable visitors.
The book I mentioned has seven chapters worth of infomation dealing with the guests and staff who never checked out.
The Menger is the oldest Hotel west of the Mississippi that has been in continual operation. Starting as a modest boarding house run by a cooper, ownership of the Hotel changed sparingly. The book has a chapter devoted to "historic and interesting trivialities" and one given to "notable guests". Another chapter contains Hotel recipes and some of the historic menus that are pretty hard to believe for such seemingly primitive times. Scattered through the pages are stories of how the bakery chef became the founder of Richter Bakery and Buttercrust Bread and how hunters would exchange venison or even bear for lodging. {Buttercrust is the main bread company in South Texas.}
Resident guests included Richard King, founder of the King Ranch, Pola Negri, silent film star, Gutzon Borglum, the sculptor who designed and started Mount Rushmore and Adina De Zavala, the woman responsible for saving the Alamo. {The King ranch is huge - larger than Rhode Island.}
Borglum, the sculptor actually carved statues in the courtyard of the hotel and at one time the pool area contained tropical flora and fauna that included alligators.
Military men were quite fond of the Menger and famous guests included Phil Sheridan, Wm. Sherman, Robert E. Lee, John Pershing, George Patton, Leonard Wood, Jimmy Doolittle, Tommy Thompson and William Simpson.
One lowly enlisted man stationed at Ft. Sam Houston in the 1950s deserves mentioning. His name was Shearn Moody Jr. and he found that soldiers who owned property in San Antonio could live "off-post." He told his company commander that he wanted to live at the Menger Hotel and the Captain patiently explained to him that he'd have to own the hotel if he wanted to live there. Specialist 4th Class Moody patiently explained to the Captain that that was the case.
Civilian notables included Oscar Wilde, O. Henry, Sidney Lanier and Frances Parkinson Keyes. Carry (also spelled Carrie) Nation visited the Menger and of course Col. Theodore Roosevelt recruited his "Rough Riders" from his HQ in the Menger Bar.
Presidents included Ulysses S. Grant, Benjamin Harrison, "Teddy" Roosevelt, "Woody" Wilson and "Dwighty" Eisenhower.
What's the point of all this? The Menger isn't a slum, run down, creaky, or in any way what you'd expect to be ghost central. But it is. The ghost tours in San Antonio all involve a visit to the Menger. As a normal, active hotel. One of the basic funcions is house keeping. Occasionally, one or another of the lucky(?) guests receive services from Sallie White. Sallie, a chambermaid, readies rooms for guests which includes ensuring the beds are neatly made with no wrinkles in the sheets or bedding. Sallie is very concientious about her duties. Some hotel guests have been awaken by having their beds being smoothed out with them still in it. Perturbed by being awakened this way the guest would sit up to protest only to find the room is "empty." Well, they didn't see anyone, but they swear they felt the someone making the bed. Seems that death hasn't deterred Sallie all that much. One night, as the story goes, she stayed overnight at the hotel after an argument with her husband. She may well have stayed at the hotel with another man. The next day, her husband threatened to kill her. She was later attacked by that same husband in March of 1876 and died two days later. According to the hotel ledger, the hotel paid the funeral cost of $32.
There's very interesting lady who is often seen in the area where main lobby was originally located. She is wearing an outdated blue dress and small, metal glasses. She simply sits there working on her knitting bothering no one. One day, in full view of co-workers and guests, one of the members of the hotel staff asked if they could help her, or get her anything in particular. She replied with a firm and rude "No" and disappeared - right there in front of everyone. She's been seen several times since and she always answers in the same manner - “no”, then she simply disappears. It is unknown who this lady may be, but her spirit is definitely attracted to the area that she is seen in.
Some of the ghosts are seen without being heard, but one of the disturbing ghosts is heard quite clearly. There's a persistent woman who has a quavering voice and she keeps asking for room service. Her repeated and demanding calls come from an unoccupied part of the hotel - from a room that has been closed for years. Again, these are stories not from one individual but from many people occurring over many years.
And there's the polite ghost. Hotel guests were walking down a hallway and stopped to chat for a few minutes before entering their separate rooms. Engrossed in their conversation they didn't realize they were blocking the hallway until a gentleman behind them said "Pardon me." Both of the guests stepped aside for the man, who didn't pass them. The hallway was empty.
A quick Google check for "menger hotel haunted" yielded 3,550 hits. I'll close with one more person with repeated sitings. Theodore Roosevelt is said to haunt the bar where he recruited his 'rough riders'.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 15, 2010 22:43:13 GMT -6
Cool story, Stepper. I love those old historical buildings that have a past still lingering in the present....in this case, in the ghostly form of former guests.
Here's another story about a historical building. Here we go from the Most Haunted Hotel in Texas to the Most Haunted Lighthouse in America.
It was the year 1874, and on October 15th, the new St Augustine Lighthouse was completed.
Long before the “new” St. Augustine Lighthouse was built, light has been used to guide ships in to Anastasia Island, near St. Augustine, Florida for centuries. The earliest structure was built of wood in the 1500s, and stood approximately 40 feet in height, equipped with an oil lamp and flags used as its beacon. The building caught fire when Sir Francis Drake launched an attack in the area in 1586, and it quickly burnt to the ground. It was replaced by various other lighthouses, until St. Augustine Lighthouse was completed in 1874, towering 165 feet above sea level.
All respectable lighthouses have a ghost or two, and St. Augustine Lighthouse has more than its fair share. It is said to be the most haunted lighthouse in the nation.
During the days that pirating ships sailed the seas, thirteen pirates were captured and executed at one of the various lighthouses that stood on the current St. Augustine Lighthouse site. Their bodies are buried behind the tower, where the keeper’s house now stands. Rumors say that during the house’s construction, many of the pirates bones were unearthed and simply thrown aside. Could this disrespect for the dead be the reason these seafaring souls are not at rest, and wander the grounds?
A hanging was reputed to have taken place there in the 1930s by either a sailor passing through, or a victim of the stock market crash so despondent over his financial loss that he decided to take his own life. There is no official documentation of the death of the man, but many have witnessed seeing a shadowy figure through the window that seems to be hanging from the rafters. Deaths that have been documented that occurred in the lighthouse are those of John Carrera from an unknown cause, Joseph Andreu who fell from the tower, William Harn of tuberculosis, and the wife of one of the keepers. Perhaps it is one of these deceased who still continues to smoke a cigar….the unmistakable, yet unexplainable scent of cigar smoke lingers in the air. Others, although they didn’t die in the lighthouse, threatened never to leave. The original lighthouse owner had the light taken away from him by eminent domain. Still distraught over losing his lighthouse, some say his spirit still walks the tower every night. A tragic accident occurred in 1873, when Hezekiah Pittee, the man overseeing additional construction, moved his family from Maine to be with him. A tram was built in order to transport supplies to the station to aid in the construction. The Pittee children – all five of them - loved to ride the tram up and down over the ocean to the tower. One horrible day, the tram’s car derailed, and five children - four of the Pittees and the daughter of a worker – plunged into the water. Nearby workers were able to save a boy and a girl, but three, including the girl of the worker, drowned. Their small footprints are left in the sand; children’s laughter is often heard in the tower, and a young girl wearing the same blue dress she drowned in, is seen playing as she did in happier times.
There are many tales of the ghosts of St. Augustine Lighthouse. But even in the spirit world, the lighthouse serves its attended purpose. Its light is a symbol of hope for those who lost their life at sea – it’s a beacon that shines to guide spirits to the grounds, serving as a portal to bring home those whose souls would otherwise drift endless waters aimlessly for eternity.
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Post by stepper on Oct 16, 2010 17:30:12 GMT -6
Nifty! Lighthouses are interesting and fun, but they are also 'out there' - on the edges of society as it were. It took a special person to run a lighthouse. It's a solitary existence and not for the faint of heart. It reminds me of The Fog with Adrienne Barbeau and scream queen Jamie Lee Curtis!
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Post by stepper on Oct 16, 2010 19:24:07 GMT -6
We all get a bit of a chill with a good ghost story, but ghosts aren't the only thing that will go bump in the night. Unlike other ghost activities, cold spots and shadowy things in dark halls are not a normal a ingredient in Poltergeist cases. They're usually more active, especially when dealing with people, than ghosts that merely appear and vanish. Some poltergeists can be destructive, very destructive, and even dangerous.
One of the best-researched cases is from England in the 1970's. A single divorced parent and her four children moved into a three-bedroom home in North London. It was late in August when things started getting dicey. Both her 11 year old daughter and 10 year old son were having trouble staying awake during the day. That happens when you don't sleep at night. See, at night, they'd try to sleep but their beds would shake and move waking them up. That'd keep me from sleeping too. If that wasn't enough, the kids also claimed that the furniture moved and they heard loud rapping noises in the wall.
Mom didn't believe what the children said - until SHE witnessed something strange. She saw a heavy dresser move about a foot and a half. On its own. Not sure what just happened she moved it back into place. This didn't work. "Something" didn't like what she had done. As soon as she let go of the dresser it returned to its out-of-place position. But this time, after it moved on its own again, she couldn't get it to go back. Even though she had just moved it this time it wouldn't budge - like it was nailed to the floor. Something more than resisted her attempts to move the dresser - "it" wouldn't let her move the dresser at all!
The neighbors became aware of the strange happenings when the entire family, so scared they didn't bother dressing, went in search of help still in their PJ's. The neighbors called the police who made a thorough search. While inside the home, one of the officers reported strange knocking sounds with no evident source. He might have let this slide if it wasn't for the fact that he also saw a chair move some distance. Since the family was not inside the house, and in fact he was the only person in the room, the moving chair got his attention. He left, but included these observations in his report.
I don't understand why, but next the mother contacted a newspaper to request assistance. The paper sent over a couple of people, a reporter and a photographer, on the strength of the police report. The guests spent several hours in the home with nothing to show or report. Believing this to be a hoax, they left. Well, they tried to. Before they reached their car a scream from mom brought them back inside where they saw Lego's floating and moving around. Convinced that something strange was happening, the photographer had the presence of mind to take a picture. He was rewarded with a Lego to the face, but he had his picture. Or so he thought. When it was developed the negative had nothing but a blanked out spot in the area of the picture which would have revealed the flying Lego's.
After another reporter from the same newspaper investigated the home and reported on the story, he suggested the family contact a professional psychic research group. This group agreed and sent an investigator who moved in with the family. For three days nothing happened, but on the forth day when reporters from the newspaper were also in the home, the strange happenings started up again and this time it was becoming more violent. A chair was thrown on its side, toys started levitating, doors opened and closed by themselves, and the Lego's flew across the room with frightening speed. Then "it" became malicious. Equipment brought to monitor the house and happenings all malfunctioned. There were electrical "disturbances" and power fluctuations. Tapes that had been used to record the situation before and during the disturbance were damaged and those that weren't broken were erased. Even stranger, inside the cameras and other recording equipment metal parts inexplicably warped and failed.
In spite of poltergeist activities to the contrary, the combined efforts of the newspaper and investigative personnel resulted in usable pictures of the children in the process of being lifted up off their beds and hovering there - and of objects moving without visible assistance.
Then it got worse. The wall knocking now included floor knocking - and it was loud. At the same time there was a marked increase in the movement of furniture and other objects. Then "it" seemed to focus its hate on two of the daughters with direct attacks that became physical. (I assure you, if "I" had a daughter and "something" attacked her, it would be someone else determining what happened because the girls and I and the cats would be G-O-N-E! For whatever reason, this family stayed.) One girl was "regularly" tossed around in her room - and strangled. During the process of being strangled she would speak with different voices. The voices identified themselves but only one of the voices, which identified itself as "Bill", could be verified. Bill claimed to have at one time lived in and died in the home. Yep. That happened. But it's the only name or occurrence that could be proven. (Note here that there is photographic proof of what happened, there are witnesses, a poor strangled little girl is saying things that she could in no way have known on her own, and speaks in multiple voices. One of the names and occurrences has been verified, and the drift of most articles from this point on is that it was "only" one thing emanating from the girl that was verifiable, not ALL things, and they then implied this lack of perfection was sufficient cause to doubt the entirety of the story.) ‘Bill’ had once lived and died in the house, but no member of the family had knowledge of that fact.
Doctors and Psychiatrists examined the daughter and felt she "might" have been 'able' to fake Bill's deep voice using what is called "false or second" vocal chords in the same way some actors effect voice modulation changes. This is something that requires extensive voice training and most of those who can do this at all are not able to do it for hours on end the way it happened to the daughter.
Now, to be honest, this same daughter was caught bending spoons and other objects with her hands on several occasions. But in her defense, psychiatrists believed she was trying to take her mind off the frightening experiences by ‘playing’ with the reporters and investigators. She may have just plain been tired of all the attention.
Despite the daughters mistake in faking the spoon bending thing, it’s impossible to say that nothing strange happened in that home or too those people. Impartial photos, statements from officials and reports, and the evidence, still stand unchallenged making this case one of the best examples of paranormal influence in a normal family’s life.
Check for yourself. Look up the Enfield or Harper Poltergeist.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 17, 2010 6:48:48 GMT -6
I'm fascinated by lighthouses and their history...and I love that we live in a town with a lighthouse, though small in comparison to most. It sits out on a pier; the keeper's house sits on a bluff and is now an annex of maritime museum. Check out this absolutely gorgeous award winning photo taken in October a couple of years ago - it'll definitely give you an idea of why lighthouses populate the entire coast of Lake Michigan! blog.mlive.com/phoblographer/2008/11/kalamazoo_gazette_sweeps_ap_ph.htmlI would have already beaten you out the door, Stepper. Just as I mentioned in the Amityville post, I don't need to be told...or experience something like that twice. The first time something happened would be enough for me to pack my stuff, grab my family, and high-tail it outta there. As completely ridiculous as it sounds - even as I'm typing it - we once turned down our dream house based soley on a feeling and dream I had. Before LX was born, we were in the market for a bigger house, and this one was everything we wanted - a completely refurbished Tudor on a corner lot with lots of space, in a great neighborhood. Hubs and the realtor were ooooing and aaahing as we walked through, but I had a weird agitated feeling the entire time, and couldn't wait to get out of there. I felt like I couldn't breathe even though the house had lots of airy, wide open space because it was completely empty; the previous owners had already moved out. That night I had a terrifying dream about the house that of all places, was set in the house's garage. Perhaps the strangest thing of all was, when I told Hubs about it - a guy with a "don't believe it 'til I see it myself" attitude toward anything "unnatural" - he didn't bat an eye but agreed he felt something was weird with the house too, but didn't say anything because he thought I would think he was crazy. Most times it's the other way around!
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Post by Phalon on Oct 17, 2010 7:23:15 GMT -6
Whew! We've made it past the halfway point in one piece! Shall we have a recap of what we've survived so far, up until the 15th?
We started off with my worst date ever, aptly titled "Night of the Living Dead"; everyone agreed Nazis were more frightening. Then Scrappy and I took a trip to another dimension and ended up in the Twilight Zone. The following day, the Ewalds took a trip up sh!t's creek without a paddle....or a boat, for that matter. The Mole People inhabit New York's subway; ghosts inhabit the Midland Cemetery. The Moulin Rouge had a ghost named Satine, who bears a striking resemblance to Nicole Kidman. Edgar Allan Poe went stark Raven mad, and died in the streets of Baltimore. One brave soul hangs in Chicago's Water Tower, and St. Paul's Cathedral's Stairway to Heaven actually leads to a hidden room. The Lucrezias - Romanov and Borgia; Yellow Fever hits Philadelphia leaving Washington Square deserted at night; the prisoners of Alcatraz serve life sentences....and then some. Medusa's a star! (I wonder if she's got an agent?) A house in Amityville screams "GET OUT!!!", while the St. Augustine Lighthouse welcomes lost souls.
This month's guest appearances brought to you by Stepper and Katina were the ghost children of the train tracks; Mickey Mouse, Annette, and the ever-so-scary Brittney, a lady and her donkey, the headless gunner of Sabine Pass, and the guests of the Menger Hotel, who checked in but never left.
Yesterday's guest is running a little late; it seems she's lost her head, and is having some trouble finding it.
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Post by stepper on Oct 17, 2010 12:07:52 GMT -6
Half a month gone already? So, it's almost Halloween? Neat-o!
Just to ask, Halloween is Sunday this year. Anyone live in area where Trick-or-Treating is rescheduled for Saturday?
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Oct 17, 2010 18:17:35 GMT -6
Sorry for my absence folks........my contribution for the day:
1483 Tomas de Torquemada appointed inquisitor-general of Spain.......and omg......what a halloweeny type fact did I pick. Some fascinating facts about Mr. Torquemada:
Tomás de Torquemada, O.P. (1420 – September 16, 1498) was a fifteenth century Spanish Dominican friar, first Inquisitor General of Spain, and confessor to Isabella I of Castile. He was famously described by the Spanish chronicler Sebastián de Olmedo as "The hammer of heretics, the light of Spain, the saviour of his country, the honour of his order". He is known for his zealous campaign against the crypto-Jews and crypto-Muslims of Spain. He was one of the chief supporters of the Alhambra Decree, which expelled the Jews from Spain in 1492. The number of autos-de-fé during Torquemada's tenure as Inquisitor General have been hotly debated over the years. Today, there is a general consensus that about 2000 people were burned by the Spanish Inquisition in the whole of Spain between 1480 and 1530[1], while Torquemada was Grand Inquisitor from 1483 until his death in 1498.
Scary dude.......
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