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Published: June 18th 2015
Whaley House
San Deigo, CAThis is long overdue, per usual.
I suppose I'm not getting any better about that, but if you've been following me at
https://leaveandexplore.wordpress.com/ you'll understand why.
I have finally made it over to Australia on my working holiday visa! While this is very exciting, I would like to back up several weeks to my departure from California. The goodbyes were extra difficult this time, but my mother planned a one-of-a-kind road trip to return me, my car and my personal belongings to the east coast. No, this was not your ordinary mother-daughter, dramedy-esque adventure where we took a wrong turn but ended up finding ourselves, blah blah blah *yawn*. We weren't clearing the skeletons out of our closets; we were searching closets for skeletons. Or ghosts, to be more precise.
Behold the brilliant, chilling tale of The Haunted Road Trip! Dun dun dun.....
We wasted no time dawning our ghost busters outfits. As soon as my mother arrived at the San Diego airport Sunday evening, we headed straight to The Whaley House in Oldtown, said to be one of the most haunted houses in America. Unfortunately, the ticket office had been closed for hours and the last
The Nat
Amarillo, Texas tour of the night was already underway. Guess I should have done better research. So we walked around the property ourselves, eavesdropping every so often on the tour guide's touts of weird sensations in one certain spot on the property named "The Vortex". Mom and I peeked in dark windows and held out our hands like a couple of lunatics hoping to feel the pulses and tingles the guide claimed many could sense under the eerie hanging tree. All in all, we found the visit rather disappointing, as did the passing people who hardly glanced at the historic house as they wandered from tacqueria to tequileria. We checked in to our hotel for the evening and slept nightmare-free through to morning.
The next two days were not quite as spine-tingling because the desert out West is not exactly riddled with spooky places to explore. Well, at least not the route we were taking aside from some possessed highways, of which we made sure to steer clear. We had a lovely visit with my mom's family in Albuquerque, but by Wednesday we were itching to get our scare on for real. Continuing east, we were excited to find an antique
store with a unique history in Amarillo, Texas. Originally an open-air, indoor swimming pool, "The Nat" was converted to a dance hall in the Roaring 20's. The ballroom hosted famous bands and singers for decades until recently, when it was restored and re-purposed as the antiques mall it is today
1. My mother and I are always up for a good thrift, so a building with as much of a story as the knick-knacks inside seemed like the perfect place to find some collectible treasures, as well as unearthly spirits. It was interesting to see how the in-ground pool had been covered by a wooden dance floor, and a stage that used to host the likes of Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, and Buddy Holly now hosted sewing mannequins and crooked dining tables. Mom found a stapler she liked and headed to the counter, but as I wandered through the various stalls a grandmotherly perfume caught my attention. I followed the aroma all the way to a small closet in the back corner of the building. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the fragrance vanished. I searched the area for candles or spray bottles that could've given off a scent and,
alas, I found a Glade plugin in the outlet of the adjoining stall. Upon further inspection (i.e. sticking my nose in the top and sniffing until I was light-headed), I discovered the new-age, tropical scent of the air freshener was nothing similar to the floral bouquet I had detected, but Mom had made her purchase and it was time to get back on the road.
That evening we had dinner with more family in Oklahoma and found a place to rest for the night outside the city. Up with the sun, we journeyed onward to the next mysterious location: Fort Smith, Arkansas. Now a national historic site, the remains of the outer walls from two U.S. military forts still stand next to the Arkansas River. The grounds near the visitor center also contain the barracks, courthouse, and gallows which are recognized most for their service under Issac Parker, aka "The Hanging Judge". In his 21 years of service, Parker sentenced 160 people to death, 79 of which he saw hanged
2. The gray sky and chilling breeze were the only things that gave this site an ominous vibe; I don't believe any ghosts still roam the gallows since they were
torn down and later reconstructed for educational purposes. A few hours down the road we stopped in the capitol city to take a tour of the infamously haunted "Empress of Little Rock". This beautiful Victorian house was once known as the Hornibrook mansion, belonging to one of the wealthiest families in all of Arkansas. But tragedy struck, and both Mr. and Mrs. Hornibrook died within a few years of the estate's completion. Since that time the property has had several different owners and uses until it's current owners purchased and converted it into a bed and breakfast in the 90's
3. Unfortunately, when we arrived for the daily afternoon tour, the hostess sharply informed us the tour guide had inexplicably gone home early for the day, and she promptly returned us to the porch, locking the door aggressively behind us. Disappointed and slightly bitter, we took a stroll through the nearby Mt. Holly Cemetery to regain some composure. I managed to stumble across a recognizable name among the tombstones; by the front entrance of the cemetery is the notable Hornibrook family plot.
With renewed spirits, we ventured northeast to Memphis for our evening ghost tour in the Birthplace of Rock
'n Roll. Our two hour tour took us through the heart of the city, where our guide recounted local urban legends, second-hand unexplained phenomena and interesting historical facts. We saw the Orpheum Theater, the Lorraine Motel (where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated), and a dive bar featured in the movie Elizabethtown. This last stop was the best, not only because we actually got to go inside, but also because it is still very actively haunted. What once was a sundry store, later served as a front to the real money-maker: the brothel upstairs
4. Known for its
mischief and mayhem, Earnestine and Hazel's was eventually shut down and converted into the bar it still holds today. The stories from our guide were enough to give you goosebumps, but they paled next to the sensations experienced on the second floor of that building. Mom felt a cold gust down the left side of her face and arm about thirty seconds after the owner walked by her on the right; he had just come out of the office that the former owner committed suicide in only a year earlier after learning he had terminal cancer. Apparently the current owner had felt
Ghost Tour
Memphis, TN a similar chill when leaving the office alone a few nights prior and couldn't talk about the event without the hair on the back of his neck raising up again. The group was allowed to explore the second floor, including "the black room", aptly named for the dark paint that covered all four walls. Sadly, this room saw many violent acts, including the brutal beating and subsequent suicide of one of the girls. Entering this space, I immediately felt an oppressive weight on my chest, and my breathing became strained. I found myself rolling my shoulders, attempting to remove this unsettling feeling, but it wasn't until I was all the way downstairs in the bar again that I felt free from discomfort. Mom and I were both satisfied with our time in Memphis.
On Friday morning we breezed through Nashville and voted for an off-path pit stop in Elizabethtown, Ohio at the old Bethlehem Academy. The exact history of this beautiful mansion is hard to trace as every source seems to have different information, but the common thread seems to be that this house was originally a boarding school for girls. It eventually shut down in the 1950's and
Bethlehem Academy
Elizabethtown, KY the main building was moved to its present day location
5. During its lifetime, the house may or may not have also served as a convent, a hotel, a bed and breakfast, and a private residence. However, sites online claiming that it now hosts a restaurant are inaccurate, as we arrived to find the gate around the property locked and bearing a "No Trespassing" sign. No one answered the door at the cottage adjacent to the academy, despite the fact that there was a car parked in the driveway. After a bit more admiration of the magnificent establishment, we drove away, wondering what mysterious entities may have lingered inside.
Our original intention for the road trip was to check out Waverly Hills Sanatorium in Louisville, Kentucky. Not having a set schedule, we waited to book tickets so that we wouldn't feel rushed or lose our money should an emergency have popped up. But when we finally reached Louisville we were disappointed to learn that tours for that night had sold out. This, however, did not discourage us from doing a drive by, similar to our previous stop of the day. By sheer luck, the gate to the property was
wide open and we easily drove right up to the massive, brick fortress. This flustered the owner, who had seen us coming on her security cameras; the gate was to remain locked at all times, but had mistakenly been left open by a maintenance man. With some humble apologies and a little sweet talk we managed to secure ourselves two spots on the 10 o'clock paranormal tour. We returned that evening in the pitch black, only to be first in line outside the now securely-locked front gate. When the remainder of the group arrived we were escorted in, registered, and briefed on the evening's rules and routine. Established in 1910, Waverly Hills Sanatorium served as a tuberculosis clinic at the height of the deadly disease's outbreak. As the sick count quickly outgrew the capacity of the original hospital, a 5-story building was built in 1926 to accommodate ten times the number of patients
6. Our tour guide lead us through the looming cathedral of death, inspecting patient rooms, the morgue, and the 500-foot death tunnel, or "body chute", which was used to transport corpses discreetly down the hill to waiting hearses. The guide recounted haunting, true accounts of the illness and
death that ravaged the sanatorium. At the peak of the disease, the hospital averaged about 1 death per minute; popular legend claims there were over 63,000 deaths in the 55 years of operation. While these numbers have been disputed and more realistically level off around 6,000 total deaths, it is no surprise Waverly Hills has became a popular paranormal destination, for novices and experts alike. Our guide also brought us to the infamous Room 502, where a nurse hung herself from the light outside her door upon discovering she was pregnant with a married doctor's baby. One theory is that her suicide was actually a cover-up for a botched abortion, after the remains of a fetus were found in the sewer system. One by one members of our group entered the eerie room, which had suffered much vandalism over the 20 years between the clinic closing and its purchase by the current owners. For the second time this trip, I experienced an overwhelming pressure on my chest, preventing me from taking a full breath. According to our guide, guests often feel faint, dizzy, nauseous, and some have even vomited upon entering this room, especially women who have recently become pregnant.
While this was creepy, it was nothing compared to the hair-raising sensations of the 4th floor: the hall of the shadow people. We were escorted down the moonlit corridor and instructed to turn off all our lights to allow our eyes to adjust to the dark. Asking for volunteers, our guide let us venture, one at a time, down the hall to stand in the middle of two open doorways. Few were brave enough to try, but I mustered up the courage on the second offer. The guide had me walk about 20 feet away from the safety of the group, but I swear it was the longest walk of my life. Heart pounding in my chest, I finally turned to face the group and the guide began to describe the shadow people she could see moving around me. I tried to remain calm, focus on my breathing, and tell myself that ghosts aren't real. And then out of the corner of my eye, I witnessed a large shadow pass in front of the doorway to my left. I gasped as I turned to look at an empty room; no human, no animal, just the moonlight pouring through the screen-less
Silent Hill
Centralia, PA window onto a barren cement floor. It must have been a bird or bat, something flying past the moon and my mind playing tricks on me. I returned my gaze to the group as the guide continued to remark on her sightings, including "something big, very big, right behind you". Ready to pee my pants, I was finally summoned back towards the cluster of huddled bodies, but just before I reached the group, a gentle but firm pressure grazed the right side of my head; I recoiled and nearly jumped into my mother's arms. I turned to see the cause of the sensation but found there was nothing in the hall behind me. Thoroughly freaked out, we were released back into the night, guaranteed to have a sleepless night ahead.
The following day our journey continued to the northeast, to the quaint, industrial town of Mansfield, Ohio. Our next haunt was Ohio State Reformatory, a boys penitentiary turned prison and set of the popular 90's film
Shawshank Redemption7. Unfortunately, we could not stay for the overnight experience as we still had many miles to cover before the weekend was over. So we settled for a daytime, self-guided tour through the old warden's quarters, the chapel, the library, and the world's largest free-standing steel cell block. While it was impossible to hunt for spirits as tourists crawled through every open space in the expansive structure, mom and I managed to appreciate the beautiful architecture, take some stunning photos, and learn a little history along the way. After spending hours inside the cold, stone walls of the reformatory, it felt nice to return to the car and drive off into the warm, spring air.
Sunday, our final day, was reserved mostly for covering the remaining distance from Pennsylvania to eastern Massachusetts. No mother-daughter haunted road trip would be complete without one final spook and, thus, we searched for the remote ghost-town of Centralia, Pennsylvania. Known as the real life Silent Hill, this once industrious town has long been abandoned following an inextinguishable mine fire in 1962. The town was evacuated 1984 and eventually condemned in 1992, as fires continued to rage beneath the surface, leaking toxic levels of carbon monoxide up through cracks in the ground. The town now houses less than 10 residents (older locals who refused to leave) and consists solely of a cracked stretch of pavement, the remains of PA Route 61
8. Popularly referred to as "The Graffiti Highway", the road serves as a place for the local kids to ride dirt bikes and practice their tagging skills. Basically it's just a bunch of poorly drawn penises. Crooked, orange penises...real creative stuff. Anyway, the broken pavement no longer billows with smoke as it did in the pictures I found online. The ground doesn't even feel particularly warm, any warmer than the glaring sun had made it, at least. While it wasn't quite the scene from hell we were imagining, we still took a nice long walk through the surrounding woods and enjoyed the view from the top of the hill. Reflecting on the memories of this one-of-a-kind trip, my mother and I solemnly drove the last few hours back home. Alright, I'll admit it, there were a few emotional moments and some tears. Can you blame us?
That's it for now folks! Thank you for reading my rambles and if you would like any more info on any of the above mentioned haunts, check out the links below. Cheers 😊
1
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/tx-amarillonat.html 2
http://www.nps.gov/fosm/index.htm 3
http://theempress.com/the-inn/history/ 4
http://earnestineandhazelsjukejoint.com/about/the-bar 5
http://hauntin.gs/listing/bethlehem-academy/ 6
http://www.therealwaverlyhills.com/ 7
http://www.mrps.org/ 8
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centralia,_Pennsylvania
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Virginia Kelly
non-member comment
Bethlehem Academy
Why did you leave out the ghost we both heard at Bethlehem Academy? You may be inviting trouble, they don't like to be forgotten...