Grenville Hotel

The Grenville Hotel & Restaurant
The plush Grenville Hotel at Bay Head, New Jersey, is a Grande Dame of local seaside hotels, dating back to 1890. It was built on Barnegat Island by Wycoff Applegate, who also built the Bay Head Yacht Club.

In 1922, the hotel was sold to Nellie Georgette who renamed it "The Georgette." In 1945, it was sold to the Grenville Corporation and became "The Grenville Arms." Later it was christened "The Grenville" after The Arms was destroyed in a fire.

Since 1956, the title has switched hands three times; the hotel now belongs to Harry and Renee Typaldos, owners since 2003. It's the kind of place that people like to return to every year for their summer vacation, right on the shore.

Most of the guests like to tan, splash around, and enjoy a week-long romp in the sun and sand. But others come away with stories of the hotel's more permanent guests, its spooks.

Now, the Typaldos say they've never seen anything supernatural occur in their hotel, but they do admit it's an old building with a lot of tradition and history, and have a generally laissez-faire attitude toward the whole ghost thingie.

But check with their employees, and the stories come gushing out. They've heard the sound of footsteps and moving furniture in empty rooms, and people walking down hallways when they're alone. The sense of presence while they work is also a well known phenomena at the hotel.

One popular report is of the sound of children, playing and laughing, in the lobby and the hallways, usually at night. One employee claimed to have seen the ghostly kids in the lobby.

Guests have verified what the staff has seen and heard, adding their own tales. Some visitors claimed to see apparitions of people dressed in dark nineteenth century outfits walking through their rooms or down the hall. Others have said that they've seen an impression form on their beds as if someone were laying there.

Lookin' for a little sun in the summer? Try a trip to the Grenville - you may be surprised at who you meet.

(Readers - sorry; we've been on a bit of a hiatus. This is our weekend blog, and spring has finally sprung. We promise to get back in the swing of things after fending off our spring fever - H&H)

U at Albany Haunts

University at Albany - Normal College Days
Hey, when your looking for ghosties, colleges are always a good place to start. Most have a long history and a tradition of both long-time employees who can't seem to leave their schools and students who have met a messy end. New York's University at Albany is no exception.

It dates back to 1844, and since has grown to a major research center with 18,000 students scattered over several city campuses, with a tradition of gently spooked buildings. Its alleged haunts include:

-- The Humanities Building mostly reports, via the evening work staff, eerie night noises - things dropping to the floor, slamming doors, bodiless footsteps and other assorted sounds. There are also unsubstantiated reports of a ghostly nun sighted in the hall.

-- Mahican Hall (located at the Indian Quad, how appropriate!) is said to be spooked by the apparition of girl that walks the corridors late at night. She's a relatively recent addition to Albany's lore, first being reported in the mid-nineties.

-- The Performing Arts Center features the shadow of an electrician who died in the building when some wires he was working on shorted. He's more of a presence than actual spook, and his sense has been reported by actors, especially during rehearsals.

-- Pierce Hall, part of downtown Albany's Alumni Quad, was built in 1935 as a women's dorm and basically unchanged since then, also hosts a specter girl that endlessly paces the building.

The U may not exactly be a hotbed of howling ghouls, but hey - get off campus and take a trip through Albany; you'll find a who's who of spookdom in the state capitol.

The Education Building sports the spirit of a workman who was buried alive in concrete in the basement, called the Dungeon; Sage College's Fine Arts Building is home to a collection of specters; and the Capitol Building tour includes the ghost of a custodian who died in a fire; there are several other tales of the unexplained floating all around the town.

Detractors may mockingly call the upstate city smAlbany (everyplace can't be the Big Apple), but it's big-time when it comes to spooky lore.

North Bend State Park

Tunnel 19 (Silver Run) photo from Outdoor Travels
North Bend State Park, in Ritchie County, West Virginia, is named for the horseshoe curve of the North Fork of the Hughes River. The park features fishing streams, a 305 acre lake, hiking trails, and critters galore. And it sports a trio of West Virginny wraiths.

The first is from an old wildcatter's tale. Back at the turn of the century, the parkland was still private property and the site of several oil wells. One of the rigs, pumping near the current Jug Handle Campground, blew up, ripping one of the roughnecks to bits. His brother workers gathered up his remains and buried the unfortunate soul - except for his head, which they never found.

A small dirt lane known as Park Road was serviced by a turn-of-the-century jitney driver, who rode the well workers to and from their jobs. One day he felt a bounce while driving his wagon, and looked back to see who was bumming a free ride. It was the bloody figure of a headless man, who we assume was looking for a lift back home. Good luck with that, although he must have made it to wherever he wanted to go, as he's not been seen since.

Then there's the sad saga of blind Ed Koons, who lived near what is now the park entrance. Not only was he sightless, but married to a true shrew, with the mother-in-law also sharing the crib. Aye carumba! Life was not very kind to Ed, and having had his fill, he tossed a rope over a tree, slipped his head in the noose and hung himself.

According to local legend, Ed Koon is still hanging around. To this day, people have reported seeing his body dangling from that tree, outlined by their headlights. Park pedestrians have claimed that they've seen his spook on the gravel path leading to the lodge, near the spot of his sad ending.

Teens parking near the park entrance - it's a local lover's lane - reported hearing pounding on their vehicles, and when they got out to see what was up, all they found were handprints on their car. Most suspect that the prints belong to Koon, probably frustrated that others have the kind of relationship with their girls that he never enjoyed in life (or maybe he's just being ornery, who knows?)

Today, the state park is known for its 72 miles of rail trails, a series of old railroad beds and tunnels that are now used for hiking and biking. It's Tunnel 19 (the Silver Run Tunnel), where Ritchie County's most popular ghost is said to roam.

First, a little cemetery lore. There's an old graveyard at the top of the hill by the tunnel entrance. It was the final stop for workers who lost their lives building the tunnel, and is supposed to be a very active paranormal spot. But that's not the headliner.

A "Lady In White" has been seen in the tunnel, going back to railroad days and continuing into the present. The tunnel itself has cold spots and is claimed to look illuminated inside without any light source. Her story, in brief:

A woman in a white gown had ridden the train to Silver Run to meet her fiancee and get married. She disappeared after leaving the train; no one had ever heard of her whereabouts since. None of the locals actually knew, or at least remembered, who she was, but vague recollections of a fatal fall from the train platform, jilted brides and foul play were roiled once again from the dusty past.

It was widely assumed that she was the alleged lady in white.

In the 1940's, the skeleton of a woman, still dressed in white shreds, was found stuffed in the chimney of a long deserted house on the outskirts of town, and that seemed to answer their questions. The remains were given a proper church burial, and after that, she seemed at peace and the lady in white faded into legend.

Or did she? Bikers going through the Silver Run tunnel occasionally report hearing a train whistle and seeing white orbs. And some locals say that on a half-moon night, sometimes the filmy figure of a lady in white can be seen gliding along the old railbed by the Silver Run tunnel...

Point Lookout Park

Point Lookout - Civil War POW Camp
image from Southern Maryland On Line
Point Lookout is a Maryland state park at the southern tip of St. Mary's County, resting on a peninsula formed by the confluence of Chesapeake Bay and the Potomac River. It began as part of St. Michael's Manor, one of three manors owned by Leonard Calvert, the first Governor of the Maryland colony. The site also features an old lighthouse; hence its name.

The peaceful park has a not-so-peaceful past. Native Americans raided its early settlers, the Redcoats and Colonials had several skirmishes there, and it was a hospital and huge POW camp during the Civil War.

It housed over 50,000 reb prisoners over the span of the war's duration, sometimes holding 20,000 prisoners at a time in a fifty acre tent city. There are large, mainly Civil War era grave sites, some of which are now underwater. It's also been the scene of many shipwrecks over the centuries.

There are Confederate spooks galore. One had its picture taken in 1970 during a seance in the lighthouse, casually leaning against the wall sporting a sash and sword. Another has been spotted running across the road from the old infirmary site, reliving his escape attempt.

Visitors report apparitions of gray-suited soldiers that suddenly appear in front of their vehicles and then disappear. Some have seen a southern soldier sitting in the back seat of their car, disappearing when they passed the Confederate cemetery near the park entrance.

Tourists have noted ghostly sightings throughout the park. One road apparently has a legion of troops marching on it; no one has ever seen them, but dogs will stop and growl, hackles up, quite often when by the lane. A general officer is said to haunt the fort proper; his faint voice is often heard and sometimes his shadowy figure has been seen. There are also the obligatory orb pictures.

One famous tale recounts an old lady trudging by the picnic area by the shore, looking lost. A bypasser saw her and asked if she needed any help; he thought she may have dropped something. She replied no, but did the man know where the Taylor Cemetery might be? He didn't.

The Good Samaritan mentioned his encounter to a park ranger in passing, and found out that the Taylor Family Cemetery (the Taylor's owned the property that the lighthouse was built on) had been near where the lady was seen, though it's exact location has been lost to the mists of time.

Some snooping found that one of the folks buried in the now gone graveyard was Elizabeth Taylor. Over the years, someone had stolen her headstone; the grave marker was later found in a local hotel by a Point Lookout ranger. It's thought by some that Elizabeth won't find her final rest until the stone is replaced over her remains. Others believe she's looking for the graves of her children.

But there's no question that the park's spook central is the Point Lookout Lighthouse. It was built in 1830 and expanded in 1883 to allow room for a second lightkeeper and the families. The lighthouse was manned and functioning until the Navy purchased it in 1965, and an automated light tower was placed offshore. Its final keeper left the structure in 1981.

It still stands, and is unlocked for the public occasionally by special request or for its annual open house. (The building is being rehabbed, so it may become more accessible in the near future.) Not surprisingly, much of the unexplained paranormal activity happened after the lighthouse was decommissioned by the Navy, although there were several tales passed on by the lighthouse tenders.

There are lots of reports of the usual ghostly phenomena. They include snoring in the kitchen, voices heard both inside and outside of the lighthouse, cold spots, pungent odors, footsteps, orbs, glimpses of ghostly forms, the sounds of happy singing coming from the stairwell and conversations being held in empty rooms.

Famed ghost hunter Dr. Hans Holzer checked out the place in the eighties. He and his team recorded 24 different voices in the building, both male and female, taped saying things like "Fire if they get too close to you," apparently by an old Union guard suspecting rebel skulduggery, and "Let us not take objection to what they are doing," which must have lessened some of the angst felt by the investigators poking into the realm of the undead.

One voice was believed to be that of Ann Davis, wife of the first keeper, who said "this is my home." Her spirit is said to have been seen standing at the top of the stairs in a white blouse and long blue skirt. And she's far from the only apparition to call the lighthouse home.

Beside Ms. Davis and the Confederate dandy, two transparent figures were sighted in the basement. The ghostly figure of a young man peeking into the lighthouse window has been spotted. The spirit of a silver-haired woman in a gray dress identified as "Rue" has been reported in the attic and on the grounds.

This final tale is the most eerie. A park ranger that lived in the lighthouse (its current use) heard pounding on his door during a severe storm. He opened the door and a man floated inside before disappearing. He shared his weird encounter with the other park rangers, and a little investigating began.

It didn't take long to figure out what happened. An 1878 newspaper article noted that a body had washed ashore after the steamer Express capsized. The crewman matched the ranger's description to a tee. He was Second Mate J. Heaney, who was buried on the beach near the spot where his body was discovered.

He's become a harbinger of sorts. Heaney is said to sometimes appear on the beach in a soaked uniform before a major storm hits the area.

Do the rangers buy into the spooked out stories? It's reported that they at least keep track of the park's strange sightings and reports, and conduct a ghost tour each October. After all, they're never exactly sure who - or what - they'll bump into at Point Lookout Park.

George Rogers Clark Park

Fort at George Rogers Clark Park
OK, first, let's not get lost. This isn't the national park in Indiana or the City park in Louisville, but a local park in Clark County, Ohio, by Springfield. Still, it's an impressive little area; they pack a lot of attractions into its 250 acres.

This is where the Shawnee village of Peckuwe (Piquia) and a small British stockade stood until Colonel George Rogers Clark drove the combined Shawnee, Delaware, Miami, and Wyandot tribes out of Clark County on August 8th, 1780.

The Battle of Peckuwe was the largest action of the American Revolution west of the Allegheny Mountains. Standing beside the local Miami, the other tribes had been pushed out of Pennsylvania by the white settlers and were trying to draw a line in the sand in Ohio.

Beside fishing, picnicking and other outdoor goodies, the park features the George Rogers Clark Memorial and the Davidson Interpretive Center, which gives a history of the battle and the era. The Hertzler Museum is there, too; more on that later. In 1980, a triangular fort and blockhouse, modeled after the larger one in the village, were built. There's a lotta Ohio history on display there.

Of course, shades of the big battle's participants have been reported; Indians, colonial soldiers, and even ol' George himself have been sighted roaming the fields. Hey, the spirit of frontiersman Dan'l Boone, a long time foe of the Shawnee and active in Ohio Valley campaigning against them, is supposed to be a ghostly park visitor.

The star spook attraction may or may not be the Hertzler House. Daniel Hertzler, whose land the park sits on, built the home in 1854 for his wife and ten children, and was killed there in 1867 by robbers looking for the banker's rumored cache of cash.

It's now a museum and supposed to be haunted by Hertzler, whose murderers were never captured. The legend is that a face can be seen peeking out the window from the road.

It's believed by conspiracy theorists that tour guides avoid talking about the lore for fear that people will stop visiting the park. Others say the guides avoid the topic because it's hogwash and they don't want blamed for noisy ghost hunters nebbing through the neighbor's windows at night in search of ectoplasm. Both sound plausible enough.

If you ever get to visit the park, there are exhibits aplenty to learn the Ohio Valley's colonial history. And if you're lucky, you may even get to see some of the folk who made that history at the same time.

Otesaga Hotel

Otesaga Hotel
Upstate New York's Otesaga Hotel in Cooperstown was built in 1911 on the southern shore of Otsego Lake, the noted "Glimmerglass" of native James Fenimore Cooper’s novels. Beside swimming and boating, its golf course is also quite popular.

Designed by architect Percy Griffin, the resort was named a "Historic Hotel of America" by the National Trust for Historic Preservation. The Otesaga is the ritzy - and pricey - hangout for local touristas.

And like any century-old hotel worth its oats, the paying guests aren't the only ones hanging out in the building. Otesaga is the Iroquois word for “A Place of Meetings,” and some believe the Otesaga is now the meeting place of the living and the dead.

Staff and guests have reported floating orbs, moving objects and strange voices over the years. Beds made up by the maids on the third floor are found mussed up later. Staff members hear their names being called when no one else is about.

The night watchman regularly reports people walking around the second and third floors when no one is up, and the sound of a music box playing. A guest told the desk clerk that a woman's spook in a dressing gown was floating around her room on the third floor. A spirit couple have been seen walking hand-in-hand down its hallways in turn-of-the-century outfits.

But the most widely known legend is of the spooky children who have been heard running up and down the third floor hallway, noisily playing, giggling and laughing.

From 1920 until 1954, the hotel was also a private academy, the Knox School for Girls. The school suffered through a whooping cough epidemic, and the little girls who succumbed are supposedly frozen in time at the Otesaga and enjoying their childhood to this day.

But not to worry; none of the many apparitions haunting the halls of the Otesaga have any known evil intents; they're considered Casper friendly by one and all.

If you want to find out just how cordial the spooks are, tune into to Syfy Channel's "Ghost Hunters" with The Atlantic Paranormal Society (TAPS). They did a show there that was broadcast during the summer where every investigator experienced an Otesaga paranormal moment.

Marshall's Thundering Herd...Of Spooks

Marshall University's Old Main
Marshall University is a public university in Huntington, West Virginia, with 13,435 students. It was founded in 1837 as Marshall Academy, back when Huntington was still part of Virginia, and named after John Marshall, the fourth Chief Justice of the United States. And yes, a school that old has to have some spooks on campus.

Alpha Chi Omega House: Alpha Chi Omega was founded in 1885 as a music sorority. It's house is located directly across from Corbly Hall on Fifth Avenue, and they share it with more than the sisterhood.

It's gently haunted by the ghost of little boy who died in a fire at the house. He's said to cause gusts of cool air (cold spots, as they're called in the paranormal biz), flickering basement lights that electricians have checked out and can't explain, and missing objects in the house. Hey, what would you expect from a pesky little brother fooling with his sisters?

Gullickson Hall: This is the classroom part of the Cam Henderson Center, the Thundering Herd's basketball arena. The women’s locker room is said to have a playful voyeur. Girls have had her hair pulled when no one was around and many feel the presence of someone watching them.

Harris Hall: Built in 1976, professors and students have heard children talking and walking through the building.

Hodges Hall: Ah, a tale of love gone bad. The most popular version of the HH tale is that a football player was dating several girls, telling each that she was his one and only. Well, the girls found out about each other, and one took it hard. She committed suicide by jumping out of the third story window. Legend has it that her soul lives on in the attic.

You won't find her there anymore, though. Hodges, built in 1937, was razed in 2007.

Jenkins Hall: Jenkins Hall was constructed in 1937 and named in honor of a Confederate calvary officer, General Albert Jenkins, who was a native of Cabell County. Until 1970 the building provided kindergarten through high school education and served as a lab for prospective teachers.

There have been reports of children laughing, and ghost hunter Tigger Conn caught a picture a few months ago of two young kids who were staring and laughing while looking out one of the windows in Jenkins.

Laidley Hall: This 1937 dorm provides upperclassman resident housing. The lore here is that every night at nine, coincidentally the start of dorm quiet hours, the fire alarm (or glass breaking, depends on who's talking) can be heard, joining noises like footsteps and banging radiators to raise a cacophony. Some say the spooks are raising a ruckus; others say an old building makes noise, quiet hours or not.

Memorial Student Center: The Memorial Student Center was completed in 1971. Its name commemorates the loss of the entire Marshall football team in the 1970 plane crash.

It hosts a ghost who walks down the stairs and goes out through the double doors of the front entrance in the student center.

Morrow Library: The James Morrow Library was once MU's main book center; it's the haunt of special collections like the Appalachian Research Center and scholarly academics now. The original bulding was erected in 1872-73, and it was dedicated as a library in 1931.

Morrow survived the 1937 flood (barely) but fell victim to digital technology and modern architecture, as its general stacks have been moved to the John Drinko Library, opened in 1998. But it still has its allure - and lore.

Its ghosts violate the first rule of libraries across the world - they won't be shushed. Students have heard loud arguments while no one was around, and seen books fall off the shelf for no apparent reason and no one around. A little quiet, please! Ghosts are supposed to be seen, not heard. And actually, they have been: white orbs have shown up on pictures taken by the building.

Old Main: The landmark Old Main, which now serves as the primary administrative building for the university, was built on land known as Maple Grove, once the home of the Mount Hebron Church. It's also served as an infirmary during World War II and a girls dormitory.

Old Main is actually a series of five buildings that have been joined together between the years 1868 and 1908 (the oldest dates back to 1830), ranks as the oldest structure on campus, and its spires have become the symbol of the university. It even looks spooky, with a gothic ambience, cobbled together in both Romanesque and Gothic styles.

The attic and the Yeager suites are said to be haunted by past spirits that have made Old Main their home after death, and eerie tales abound from each part of the old structure.

There have been several reports of basement spooks. One is of a man walking in and out of the girl's loo. Another is the shadow of an old handy man dressed in overalls who still dishes out directions and help, then disappears.

But its main claim to ghostly fame comes from the acting area of the old Auditorium. It starts with footsteps from the catwalks above the auditoriun, which can be plainly seen from the floor - but no one is on them.

It's most noted for its ghost of the stage. A large, well-dressed man has been seen sitting backstage during performances who quickly disappears when he attracts someone's eye.

The dapper shade is believed to be the ghost of a 1920's theater director who was wrongfully accused of embezzling money from the college and disappeared. Proof exonerating him wasn't found until the eighties, too late to do his his earthly incarnation any good, but his ethereal self could still enjoy the show.

One Room Schoolhouse: It was built in 1889, and is a museum now. During the 1937 flood some students were drowned and there are stories of kids singing and laughing inside the schoolhouse. They must have moved with the school; it was relocated in 1995.

Sigma Phi Epsilon House: The Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity House is located on Fifth Avenue. Its lore is that in the late 1960s or early 1970s, a woman named Gail and her twin sons died in a basement fire of the home. Reports of hearing sobbing and seeing blurred images are among things that are attributed to the ghosts. One brother said of Gail: "We don't mind having her here. We feel she takes care of the fraternity house." Hey, every frat needs its house mother.

Twin Towers East: The dorm was opened in 1969. In room 1218 of Twin Towers East, a student claims to have seen a young man sitting in his room, looking at him and his roommate. He pulled his blanket up over his head to make it go away, and it worked. When he looked again, the image had disappeared and the door was still locked. He later learned from friends that a student had committed suicide in that room; he assumed that's who his mysterious visitor was.

Hey, is it any wonder the school hosts Ghost Walks on campus?

(H&H took the tales posted here primarily from articles from the Marshall student newspaper, the Parthenon.)

Duquesne Demons

Old Main from Take A Virtual Hike
Duquesne was founded in 1878 as the Pittsburgh Catholic College and held classes above a bakery on Wylie Avenue in the Hill District. In 1885, they moved into their current campus on Boyd's Hill, now known as the Bluff. In 1911, they became the Duquesne University of the Holy Ghost. And like many Catholic colleges, they could use a good exorcism.

* Fisher Hall: Formerly the Fisher Scientific building, Duquesne took over the century old structure in the early nineties. The building was extensively renovated, but, per agreement with Chester Fisher, the second floor, consisting primarily of a cafeteria and museum, was left largely unchanged.

But several mysterious happenings led the staff to believe the floor was haunted. Doors would shut on their own. Papers would be blown around in a windowless office. Sounds of screaming could be heard from the museum hallway.

Then one morning when the manager tried to turn on the lights, a cold breath was felt on her wrist and a disembodied voice said “Leave it off”. The spirit later relented, allowing the switch to be flicked on after several tries. A week later, priests from the University blessed the cafeteria and its' workers, and so far, that's turned the trick.

And upstairs, where the building is connected to the main campus by a walkway, an elderly man will hold the door open for the crossing students. When they turn to thank him, he's gone.

* Old Main Administration Building: The basement of the Old Main was a major transfer point in the Underground Railroad. Most escaped slaves there were well on their way to freedom; others were captured there. Door and lights operate on their own in the basement. The sound of voices can be heard through the building's vents, and sometimes the sounds of rattling chains can be heard echoing through the Old Main's halls.

Old Main was the first campus building on the bluff, built in 1885, and the five story red brick landmark was the highest point on the Pittsburgh skyline for years. But that date would place it past the Underground Railroad's halcyon days. Maybe it was built on the bones of an older structure or perhaps its prominence attracted the tortured souls that passed through Boyd's Hill on their way to freedom.

* St. Ann's Learning Center: The center is a freshman residence hall built in 1964. The spirit of a boy with a temper problem allegedly haunts room #409. He scatters objects and belongings all over. Boys just wanna have fun.

Gettysburg College

Gettysburg College Campus from Wikipedia
Founded as Pennsylvania College in 1832, Gettysburg College in Adams County was a sister institution to the Lutheran Theological Seminary.

During the Battle of Gettysburg, the school's Pennsylvania Hall was used by both sides as a field hospital and communications outpost as the tides of the battle ebbed and flowed.

The school even had its' own troops, the 26th Pennsylvania Emergency Militia Regiment. They actually got into combat with light casualties, although over 100 of the students were taken prisoner. No wonder their team nickname is the Bullets.

It became Gettysburg College in 1921. President Dwight David Eisenhower was heavily involved with the institution and even had an office there that still bears his name. Some of the spooky occurrences on campus have been shown on the Travel Channel, the History Channel, and NBC's Unsolved Mysteries.

-- Brua Hall: This is the home of the Performing Arts department and Kline Theatre, once the college Chapel. It's haunted by the spook of an older Civil War officer called the General.

He's been seen in the catwalks and backstage, and enjoys playing pranks with the props and costumes. He also likes watching the performances, and has his own center stage seat that depresses when he sits in it and pops back up when he leaves. The student actors make sure it's always empty, just in case the General wants to catch the show.

-- Glatfelter Hall: The legend goes that a young couple climbed the bell tower of Glatfelter in a suicide pact. The girl jumped, but the guy changed his mind. Her spook has since been seen on the bell tower, but only by males. It seems she's trying to lure a fellow to jump for her, to replace her cowardly beau and join her ever after in the afterlife. The 1887 structure is the computer science center now, so GC techies, beware if you hear her siren call.

-- Pennsylvania Hall (Old Dorm): Built in 1837, this is the oldest building on campus. It was used as a command post and hospital during the Battle of Gettysburg, and it's said that the spook of a guard - the Lone Sentinel - can still be seen in the building's cupola (although some tales say there are three guards marching around the outpost; they even disagree as to Blue or Gray). It was also used as a hospital.

The Old Dorm's most famous story, as related by Mark Nesbitt in Ghosts of Gettysburg, involves two administrators on the elevator. Passing the intended stop, it went down to the basement, where the doors opened to an operating Civil War hospital.

The women were terrified watching the doctors at work, performing meatball surgery on their patients - and watching the growing pile of amputated limbs stacked up in the corner. The scene was completely silent, but when one of the blood soaked doctors approached them, they hit every button on the elevator and escaped.

The spook doc probably thought they were a couple of nurses coming to help him, but they weren't about to stick around to find out, just in case he was looking for a ticket out of the OR. The women found a guard and went back downstairs, suspecting a student prank, but the basement was empty except for some boxes when they arrived. It's never been experienced again, but if it happened once...

-- Red House: This off campus apartment house is generally occupied by women attending GC. It's said that the grave of a Civil War era girl is in the backyard, and she haunts the house. You can tell she's around when you smell her lilac perfume in the home or when she pulls one of her poltergeist tricks like moving things around or breaking dishes.

-- 60 Chambersburg Street: The building has been standing since 1863, but the section in question was added later. It is reported that the off-campus apartment is haunted by a make-yourself-at-home ghost named Chuck. He whistles around the apartment for hours on end, and turns electronic appliances on and off. Once, it's alleged, he even rewound the VCR to watch a scene he liked again. It's also reported that once Chuck lifted a woman's hair off her shoulder and made it stand straight out on the other side of her head.

-- Stevens Hall: There's one very well know ghost, the Blue Boy, haunting this Hall, which opened in 1868. The story goes that a young ward fled from the brutal Homestead orphanage and was given shelter by a couple of girls in their dorm room one icy winter night at what was then Pennsylvania College Prep School.

The house mother knocked on the door, and the girls hid the boy outside on a window ledge because he would surely be returned to the orphanage if found. The weather was bitter, and the house mother stayed and chatted for an hour. She finally left, but when the girls went to get the child, he was gone. He had wandered off and left nothing behind but footprints in the snow.

We don't know exactly what happened to the poor lad, but ever since girls staying in that room have been visited by his spook. It has frozen blue lips. He's also been seen peering into Steven's windows, faced pressed against the pane.

As for his window, it's known to fly open whenever there's a winter storm - even when it's locked. Once a girl saw him, shook her head in disbelief at the sight, and when she focused again, he was gone. But the words "Help Me" were written in reverse on the icy pane. This is another tale made famous by Mark Nesbitt in Ghosts of Gettysburg.

There's a lady ghost that's been spotted roaming the halls of Stevens, but we don't have her story. There are also tales of whispers coming from the attic, voices of children, and the spirit of a young girl that looks at herself in the dorm mirrors. You can see her reflection, but not her. The hall was a girl's prep school from 1911 - 1935, and that's where these spirits are thought to come from.

-- Stine Lake: OK, nothing spooky here, just a bit of GC lore. Before the Musselman Library was built, the quad outside of its' present location would flood whenever it rained and turn into a gooey, muddy bog.

The quad picked up the nickname Stine Lake (No, we don't know why. If you do, give us a yell), and it's still called that today, much to the consternation of frosh and visitors looking for a campus pond. In actuality, the quad's been high and dry since the late 1970s when the drainage was unclogged and updated. It's also the center for many campus April Fool pranks and the College's Springfest.

-- Theta Chi House: The urban legend here is that a previous owner of the house hung himself in the basement. If you're unfortunate enough to see his ghost hanging, you or someone close to you will run into bad luck. The fraternity must have run out of luck - the Theta Chi's are no longer on campus. Maybe everyone was in the basement at a kegger and the ghost appeared, cursing them to the next life.

Fort Dix Demons

Walson Army Hospital - Fort Dix
Located in central New Jersey, Fort Dix is named for Major General John Adams Dix, a veteran of the War of 1812 and the Civil War.

It has been training soldiers since its founding in 1917, including H&H back in his Army days. In fact, more than three million men and women have passed through its gates since it was established as one of the original sixteen Army training camps built for World War I.

Today, the camp is a major training and mobilization center for the Army Reserve and National Guard after barely evading closure. Fort Dix also lies almost entirely within the Barrens of New Jersey, and we all know what that means.

There have been, as paranormal starters, many reported sightings of the Jersey Devil by soldiers during World War II, with a resurgence in the 1990s. Well, hey, that's to be expected; the Barrens is its hangout and the Devil is Jersey's unofficial state monster.

But Building 5418 at Fort Dix, the Walson Hospital in its heyday, is spook Central. The structure is a clinic now with its top five floors shuttered, but once hosted a psychiatric ward and its basement was the fort's morgue, a deadly duo of apparition generators.

Walson is without question the most active spot on the installation. Accounts of floating orbs, the opening and closing of doors and windows, lights going on and off, unexplained drops in temperature, sense of presence, furniture getting tossed around, electronics going haywire - pretty much the gamut of spectral trickery.

The top of the spectral food chain includes the sightings of orbs and ghostly visitors. The former morgue and psychiatric ward are usually where the eerie stories originate.

Most of the poltergeist-type activity happens on the seventh floor, the psych ward. That's also where the orbs appear, along with all the other ghostly going-ons.

The OB floor is another place where the dead don't rest. At one point, it's successful delivery rate was said to be just 60%, an embarrassment to even third world countries, and eventually Fort Dix's deliveries were handled by an off-base hospital.

There are regular stories of babies crying. It's also home to an eternal orderly. The OB floor is always said to be always freshly mopped. There is a mop and bucket propped in a corner that remain from its working days, and the floor seems wet, with foot prints across it, but the mop and bucket are bone dry - and have been for years.

The morgue is where the ghosties hang out. It's reported that you can feel and see the spirits in the basement, and that if you sit in the old gurney, ghostly hands will push you towards the body cooler. Brrrr! Another story involves the sounds of a grown man crying. People believe that a spirit watches the base at night through the morgue windows.

The hospital isn't the only place that's home to shadows. There's a couple of places near base housing units that have eerie reports, too.

Kennedy Court residents on Pemberton Road have reported glowing red eyes that peer at them from the nearby woods at night, and a trail that no wildlife or even sound crosses. Garden Terrace neighbors on Cedar Street tell of a teenage boy, dressed in jeans, a jacket, and red cap who can be spotted walking down the street...and then disappears right before your eyes.

But time may be running out for you to get in on the spectral fun at the hospital. The Army doesn't allow tours, and Walson, as we understand, is slated to be demolished with all its bad ju-ju. But last report, it still stands and lights still flicker, even without electricity...

Fort Meigs

Fort Meigs photo from Grave Addictions
Fort Meigs is located in Perrysburg, Ohio, now a suburb of 17,000 souls outside of Toledo in Wood County.

The fort was built along the Maumee River by Brigadier General William Henry Harrison in 1813, who named it for the Governor of Ohio, Return Jonathan Meigs. The garrison was home for over 2,000 troops, made up of U.S. regulars and militiamen from Ohio, Kentucky, Pennsylvania, and Virginia.

It was constructed to halt the advance of the redcoats after their victory at Detroit and protect northwest Ohio and Indiana during the War of 1812. Fort Meigs is the largest log fort ever built in America, covering ten acres with seven blockhouses and five gun emplacements.

British and Canadian troops, along with Native Americans under the command of Tecumseh, attacked the fort twice, in May of 1813 and again in July. The Americans repulsed both of the onslaughts, and the British retreated from the area for good after September's Battle of Lake Erie turned the tide of war against them.

Having defeated the British, Harrison transferred all but 100 men from Fort Meigs and dismantled the fort. The site was preserved by the Hayes family who purchased the land to use as cattle pasture. In 1840, William Henry Harrison returned to the site to hold a rally during his successful run for the Presidency.

In 1908 the Grand Army of the Republic, an organization of Civil War veterans, held a reunion in Toledo,. To commemorate their arrival and to honor the memory of the soldiers who served at Fort Meigs, a monument was erected on the site.

The fort was reconstructed by the Ohio Historical Society starting in 1965 and was opened in 1974, recreating the stockade as it was during 1813. It's now a 65 acre park.

There are four unmarked cemeteries in the vicinity of the fort. The first is located near the Pennsylvania monument in front of the fort. The second is on the western side of the fort where a weeping willow tree is planted. The third is located on the eastern side of the outside wall.

These are military plots, the western one called Kentucky Hill to commemorate the fallen soldiers of that state who died in Dudley's Massacre, and another dedicated to the Pennsylvania soldiers that died during the battles.

One hundred and fifty to three hundred soldiers stationed at Fort Meigs are entombed below its palisades, along with the Pennsylvania and Kentucky Militias. To this day historians still don't know the exact number of soldiers buried at the site, but it could well be over five hundred bodies.

A fourth grave site is an Indian burial ground near the river. The use of the location well predates the War of 1812, and there are prehistoric Indian mounds on the grounds.

Visitors, volunteers, and reenactors have seen the apparitions of both American soldiers and Native American warriors. Many have seen what they thought was a re-enactor in full dress who would appear and just as quickly vanish before their eyes.

A number of unexplained occurrences center on the eastern end of the fort, including phantom sentries and the ghostly visage of a small girl peering out the second story window of Blockhouse #3.

Strange auras, cold spots, lights turning on and off, the sound of muskets and cannons firing, and the music of drums and fifes have also been reported. Others have heard footsteps, seen orbs of blue light, and translucent human forms while staying at the fort overnight.

The fort has so many ghost stories that it hosts a Ghost Walk during the last two weeks of October, known as the Garrison Ghost Walk.

if you want to know more, the Fort's paranormal history is mentioned in Ghosthunting Ohio by John B. Kachuba and Haunted Ohio V: 200 years of Ghosts by Chris Woodyard.

Carlisle Barracks

The Carlisle barracks started out as a temporary encampment for Colonel John Stanwix's British troops in 1757. It was fought over in the Civil War, lost out to West Point for the honor of becoming the nation's military academy, shared some facilities with the Carlisle Indian School, and now hosts the Army's War College.

It's got quite a few tales associated with it from the past, from military encounters to the children of the Indian school. Here's its haunted history:

Ashburn Guest House: The spooks reported here are Charlie, a young Confederate soldier, and a Native American girl. The basement is said to be especially filled with spirits. It served as a morgue in its' past.

Bandstand: It's said that you can still hear the Carlisle Indian School band performing there on some summer evenings.

Coren Apartments: Once the teacher's housing for the Carlisle Indian School and now officer apartments, two ghosts are reported from here. One is the spirit of Lucy Pretty Eagle, a young Indian girl who was the first child to die at the school. Some people dispute that, and believe the ghost is that of an unnamed Indian girl who was a live-in maid for the teachers. Whichever tale you accept, Lucy has been reportedly seen on the grounds and in the cemetery.

The other spook is of Civil War era Brigadier General Philip St. George Cooke. His daughter married reb raider Jeb Stuart while he was assigned to Carlisle before the war, while he was still a Union officer. Stuart flipped sides and actually helped torch Carlisle the day before the Gettysburg battle. It's said that Cooke's ghost keeps tearing Stuart's portrait off the wall and shattering it. He still holds a grudge after all these years.

Flower Road Houses: The spirit of a lady in a green gown walks in and out of the houses. She may be the same woman seen in the Letort View Community Center.

Hessian Powder Magazine: Built in 1777 by Hessian POWs, the building is now a museum of military artifacts. But in its day, it served as not only a powder magazine, but guardhouse and later as a detention cell for Native Americans that didn't toe the line at Carlisle Indian School. It's said to also be haunted by the spirits of the Hessian prisoners that built it.

Letort View Community Center: The ghosts alleged to be roaming the Center are those of Jim Thorpe, a lady in a ball gown - maybe she's the Flower Road spook - and a farmer, along with several Native American spirits from the Indian School. The basement is alleged to be filled with ghosts.

They call it Purgatory because of all the spirits it hosts that are trapped between the here and the hereafter. In fact, one visitor claimed to see a lady spook down there, wielding a bloody butcher's knife!

Old Gym: The spirits reported here are those of Jim Thorpe, a young Native American boy, and a basketball team (well, where else would they haunt?)

Washington Hall Guest House: It's said that people have been awakened in the middle of the night by babies crying while sleeping in the Guest House.

Fort McHenry

Fort McHenry from City Data
Hey, we might as well keep the fort tour going and move on to one of America's most revered forts, Baltimore's Fort McHenry.

At Fort McHenry the fledgling American forces held out against the British forces in 1814 and helped saved the new young nation after the fall of Washington during the War of 1812.

During the battle, Francis Scott Key famously wrote our National Anthem, "The Star-Spangled Banner." The banner would be hard to miss. Sewn by Mary Young Pickersgill and her daughter, it measured a whopping 40'x 32'!

And there's an eerie aside to the anthem - its melody was lifted from a British drinking song entitled "To Anacreon in Heaven." But yah, there are some real spooks roaming Fort McHenry, too.

During its existence, the fort dungeons held POWs and other assorted military neer-do-wells. National Park rangers working at the Fort report hearing bodiless footsteps, windows being opened and closed, floating furniture, unnatural auras, and doors slamming. They've allegedly seen lights turned back on after they've turned them off.

An oft-reported spook is that of a black soldier, dressed in 19th century military gear and marching back-and-forth, rifle on shoulder, on a fort footpath. His sighting lasts a few seconds before he disappears into the Maryland mists.

There have also been tales of an evil entity that haunts the inner halls of Fort McHenry.

But a couple of the Fort McHenry shadows have names and stories.

One of the apparitions that's known is that of Lieutenant Levi Claggett, who was killed, along with several of his men, by a direct hit on his post, Gun Bastion #3, during the fight. Since then, there have been numerous sightings of Claggett's ghost.

National Park rangers at the fort have reported the indistinct figure of a man walking where Claggett was killed. A photo was allegedly taken near his battery placement that shows the faint outline of a man invisible to the eye when the photo was snapped. One fort docent claimed to see a man floating above ground level.

Some spookologists surmise that Claggett's appearance is a residual haunting, kind of a never-ending movie of his fort life. He was killed so suddenly that his spirit is stuck in the eternal rut of his barrack's routine.

One other ghostie is identified by name.

Private John Drew, a 28 year-old trooper, was on guard duty, but the next morning, when his relief arrived, he was sound asleep. Drew was taken straight to the guard-house, but along the way he managed to slip a rifle he found leaning against the wall into his cell. Later, he stuck the muzzle into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

He may have thought that he was going to be shot for dereliction of duty anyway and decided to save the Army the trouble. Some speculate that because Drew shirked his responsibility in life, he has been condemned to stand eternal guard duty at Fort McHenry.

It's been said that people have seen the shadowy figure of Drew along the fort parapets, keeping an eagle eye on the fort as he should have done 125 years before.

Fort McHenry has been featured on the TV show "Haunted History," has its own Ghost Tour, and is in just about every book written about paranormal Baltimore. So if you like your history haunted...

Fort Ticonderoga

Fort Ticonderoga from the National Park Service
Hey, since we've been visiting old forts of late, we thought we'd continue the tour and take a jaunt to New York's Lake Champlain North Country and Fort Ticonderoga.

It was first know as Fort Carillon, when the French manned it between 1755 and 1759 during the Seven Years War. The fort was there to protect the lake's water route and a small trading post. It was surrounded by 20 foot high walls, and the fort, with its outliers and grounds, covered over 450 acres.

Carillon held off one Brit attack in 1758, but a year later, the redcoats overwhelmed it. And so began its first spook tale, that of Black Watch Major Duncan Campbell, who died during the first attempt to take the bastion, and the Inverawe Curse.

He was in his family's ancestral digs of Inverawe when he inadvertently hid the murderer of a clansman, his cousin Donald. Donald appeared to him from the astral plane shortly thereafter, chided him, and told Duncan "Farewell, farewell, until we meet at Ticonderoga." "Ticonderoga," the Major mused, "now where could that be?" He had never heard of the place.

Campbell found out soon enough, when a French cannonball sent him to join Donald in the afterlife. He's still buried in Union Cemetery; his family, recalling his perfidy, never reclaimed his body. Some locals and relatives with short memories gather on the anniversary of his death at his otherwise forgotten tombstone.

The fort would switch hands several times during the Revolution, but it wasn't until the British surrendered at Yorktown that the Americans could claim it once and for all. But with the war over, its military value plummeted.

The land became the property of the state of New York in 1785. William Pell bought the rundown fort and its grounds in 1820. He built "The Pavilion" by the lake to serve as a summer home, and then switched it over to become the Fort Ticonderoga Hotel in 1840 when the area became a nexus for canals, railroad lines - and tourists.

A couple of generations later, Stephen and Sarah Pell began restoration of the fort in 1909, opening it to the public with much hoopla; President Taft even showed for the festivities. Today, much of the fort has been restored, and is open as a museum and rental facility.

The Pavilion is said to be haunted by the ghost of Sarah Pell, who lived there in the 1920s and 1930s. She's been spotted gazing out of the window overlooking the King’s Garden.

The fort museum cleaning staff find that their collection pieces have been moved to different places, despite being in locked glass display cases. Red glowing orbs have been seen floating throughout several of the fort's rooms. Some claim that they've heard disembodied hoof beats, footfalls, and French voices, and seen misty silhouettes in the windows.

Several sightings of a red coated figure in one of the upper windows of the south barracks have been reported. The gate house staff have heard women crying outside the window when nobody is there.

Others have seen the ghost of a woman roaming the fort and the lake area. That would be the shadow of Nancy Coates, a local gal who was one of General Mad Anthony Wayne's main squeezes.

Convinced by catty Ticonderoga wagging tongues that Wayne had left her for another woman, Coates threw herself into Lake Champlain and drowned; her lifeless body to this day has been allegedly spotted floating in the water. She's been reported running along the footpaths near the fort by the entrance gate, too, waiting for Wayne to return to her arms, often sobbing.

Wayne’s ghost has supposedly been eyed in the fort's dining room, sitting by a fireplace, smoking a pipe and drinking from a pewter mug.

And hey, we haven't even mentioned Champ, America's version of Nessie, said to live in Lake Champlain's water since Native American days.

Anyway, you can read up on the fort's phantoms in the pages of Nancy Roberts "America's Most Haunted Places" and Michael Norman and Beth Scott's "Haunted Heritage." Ghost Hunters ran an episode about it. Paranormal investigators visiting the site outnumber its spirits.

The locals push its haunted history, too - it's a spooked out Halloween House, and they also offer summer Ghost tours.

Antsy In Antes

Image from Mr. Boonie
Antes Fort was once a colonial outpost in Lycoming County, near Williamsport. William Penn's agents had bought the land from Andaste Tribal Chief King Wi-daagh.

Wi-daagh eventually came to realize that for the few trinkets he received in exchange, he had been swindled by the Englishmen. His spirit has since been seen roaming the Nippenose Valley, a sacred site to the Andastes, as an eerie form of eternal protest.

A stone column from the Pennsylvania State Capitol was placed to honor King Wi-daagh along the banks of Antes Creek in 1900, commemorating the treaty. Visitors report a ghostly mist coming off the waters of Wi-daugh's Spring, especially during the fall; some say its natural, some say it's Wi-daagh forming the mist.

In another dirty deed done to the Native Americans, Colonel John Henry Antes, who commanded the fort in the late 1700s and became the town's namesake, gave the local Indians some blankets that had covered smallpox victims.

The early biological warfare trick worked and decimated the Indians. They swore never-ending revenge, and it's said that the homes in Ante's Fort have been haunted by the dead Indian's spooks ever since.

(These tales were used with permission by HistoricWilliamsport.com, and are from "Spooky Lycoming County" by Lou Hunsinger Jr.)

Harpers Ferry Phantoms

John Brown's Fort photograph by Joy Schoenberger
Harpers Ferry is a well-known town of 300 souls located in Jefferson County, West Virginia. It's situated at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers where the states of Maryland, Virginia and West Virginia meet.

It's famous for John Brown's raid, and indeed has a spook or two left over from that day, but its haunted history begins, well, at its beginning.

In 1750, town namesake Robert Harper was given a grant for 125 acres at the present location of the town. In 1761, he established a ferry across the Potomac, making the town a starting point for settlers moving into the Shenandoah Valley and westward bound.

He and his bride, Rachel, began building the Harper House, today the oldest surviving structure in Harpers Ferry and operated by the National Park Service.

Now ol' Bob made quite a haul ferrying folk back and forth, but he had a problem figuring out where he could safely stash his gold. He went to a tried and true method to safeguard his wealth - Harper instructed Rachel to bury all of their gold and not breath a word about its location.

Harper wasn't in great health, and passed over to the other side. Rachel met with a sudden, accidental death while completing work on the House, and guess what: no one knew where the Harper fortune was.

Starting in the 1800s, it was claimed that the Harper House was haunted. Hey, it still has that rep today. Visitors report that they've seen an old woman dressed in 18th century finery staring from an upper-floor window, fixated on the old Harper Garden. It's said to be Rachel, still watching over the family strongbox through the decades.

In 1798, soldiers were stationed just above Harpers Ferry, positioned there during a cold war tiff with the French. As it never developed into a shooting war, the bored troopers would parade nightly through the town, led by a fife and drum corp.

Still, many of them died there, victims of a cholera epidemic, and are buried at nearby Camp Hill. And if you listen closely, it's said that one can hear them parading down the street to this day, marching to the music of fifes and drums.

The next spirit to roam the area is that of Jenny, a famed apparition among West Virginia's railroaders. In the 1830s, Jenny, who lived near the tracks, brushed too close to the hearth in her house, and caught her dress afire.

Panicked, she ran into the night to try to put out the fire, but in her blind rush, Jenny dashed right in front of an oncoming train. The engine snuffed out the fire; it also snuffed out Jenny.

Her ghost still haunts the old Armory Yards. Sometimes in the night, one can hear train whistles blow and the screech of brakes pressing against the tracks. Engineers swear that they saw a flaming figure and felt a bump when they reached her, but when they check, no one's there. It's just Jenny, reliving her past.

Now we get to John Brown. Some tales say that he still spooks the area with his black dog, walking down the street. In fact, he even agreed to be photographed by people that believed he was a reenactor. But when they developed the film, his image was gone.

But maybe the best known phantom is one of the slaves who accompanied him on the raid, Dangerfield Newby. He was killed by the locals when a shot struck him in the neck. His body was mutilated, and then left in an alley for the pigs to feast upon.

To this day that lane bears the name of "Hog Alley." And he's still in town. It's claimed that a middle-aged black man with a slouch hat and a jagged scar across his throat still walks the streets of Harper Ferry; it's thought to be the shadow of Newby.

The Civil War was quite traumatic for Harpers Ferry (it was part of Virginia until the war's end), which was captured and recaptured eight times between 1861 and 1865.

Because of the town's strategic location on the railroad and at the northern end of the Shenandoah Valley, both Union and Confederate troops moved through the burg frequently, and the battle of Harpers Ferry was fought from September 13-15, 1862, a prelude to Antietam.

And that's how St. Peter's Catholic Church got to join the list of haunted locales in Harpers Ferry. St Peters was the only church in Harpers Ferry to survive the Civil War in one piece (it was said that the pastor would raise a British Union Jack over the holy house during combat to indicate neutrality; he's probably lucky both sides didn't use it for target practice), and often served as a hospital.

One of the soldiers being treated there was said to have muttered "Thank God, I'm saved," as the docs looked him over. He was wrong, at least in the corporal sense; he died. Now people report that some nights they will see a golden aura glow near the church doors and hear a weak voice whispering, "Thank God I'm saved."

The other apparitions aren't war-related; no one seems to know what their cause may be. One is the vision of a priest, so realistic that church visitors speak to him. The padre walks from the rectory without a word, and then passes through the walls of the church.

Another eerie occurrence is the sound of a baby crying, which can be heard on the front steps. Again, there's no historical reference for this event.

While not exactly ghostly, it's been reported that one can catch sight of an orange glow in the night skies from Maryland Heights. That scene is said to be a replay of the final act of a hungry troop of young Civil War soldiers. They were unable to light a fire to cook their evening meal, and decided to prime the flames with an artillery shell, blowing themselves and their chow to high heaven.

Another area to keep a paranormal eye on is the "Haunted Cottage," a home that John Wilkes Booth rented in 1859 when he attended John Brown's hanging. It's on its way to becoming a ghost museum, and so far has just been the object of electronic glitches, often a sign of spooky activity - or bad wiring.

(The stories are taken in the main from "A Ghostly Tour of Harpers Ferry" by Shirley Dougherty and are part of Harper Ferry's ghost tour.)

Sagamore Hotel

Sagamore Hotel
In upstate New York, past Albany and hard on the Vermont border in the Adirondack Mountains, lies Bolton Landing. One of its' major draws is the Sagamore Hotel, located on a Lake George island and an elegant lodge that opened in 1883 and was restored in 1930 and 1985. And it hosts more than its paying guests.

If you're in the restaurant, keep an eye peeled for a couple that are dressed in nineteenth period outfits and stroll the eatery's lounge after coming down from the second floor.

They're supposed to be the shadows of a pair of original hotel regulars, circa 1880. Their behavior is a bit on the odd - and violent - side.

They argue, and the man throws the lady to the floor. She responds by grabbing at him before the pair fade into the carpet. Guess the honeymoon was over for that couple.

The dining area has also been frequented by the apparition of a tall woman with flowing blond hair, dressed in a white gown. She once visited the kitchen, said a few unintelligible words to the cook, and then walked through him before disappearing. Needless to say, the chef quit on the spot.

And she's not the only lady in white (unless the dining room ghost works the whole hotel.) There's another mysterious lady in white who enters the rooms, accompanied by chills. It's said that she rouses sleeping guests by peering into their faces and blowing her cold breath on their shut eyelids. Not too surprisingly, many guest have reported spending sleepless nights and the sense of being watched

You have to be vigilant on the elevator, too. There are tales of a chubby gent with an old-timey walrus mustache, dressed in a fine three-piece brown suit, sporting a gold watch fob, who's been known to take an eerie ride or two up and down the floors. It's said that he can be felt with not-so-subtle nudges before he materializes behind you - and when he leaves the car, he takes three steps and vanishes into thin air. The staff nicknamed him "Walter."

But all the spooks aren't relics of the good ol' days. There's the tale of a mischievous youth that dates back to the 1950's.

The imp was a ball boy on the golf course; he'd retrieve lost Titleists and sold them back to the pro. One day, a ball bounded over a roadway abutting the course, and the tyke sprinted after it. Unfortunately, he didn't look both ways, and was dispatched to the other side by a speeding car.

His spook now haunts the golf course and toys with the golfers. He steals golf balls hit into the rough, and can be heard laughing maniacally while players trudge through the rough in search of their wayward shots. When they finally give up, he returns the balls to them by tossing it at the hacker from behind a tree. Not much different from modern-day caddies, is he?

So if you hanker to play a Donald Ross golf course with a spook ball boy or spend a couple of nights in nineteenth century splendor with an unexpected guest or two, the Sagamore Hotel is the spot for you.

(Don't confuse this Sagamore with the old, also haunted Sagamore Hotel that was located in Pennsylvania's Armstrong county; it burned down in 2005)

Antietam

Antietam print by Thure de Thulstrup
The Rebs and Yankee forces clashed at Antietam Creek, near Sharpsburg, Maryland, on September 17, 1862. The Gray had just thumped the Blue at Manassas, and were launching their first invasion of the North. If successful, the Confederacy might have won the war.

It instead became the bloodiest single day of conflict in American history, with 23,100 men wounded, missing, or dead after twelve hours of savage combat. Six generals died during the battle. The bloodbath ended up a draw, but strategically was a Union win, as the massive toll in men blunted the Confederate march on the North.

And like at Gettysburg, the imprint of the dead still remains.

The sunken road ("Bloody Lane") was one of the brutal actions played out that day. When the curtain closed on this battle, there were about 5,500 casualties. And some haven't left. Witnesses report hearing ghostly gunfire and the smelling spectral smoke and gunpowder. A visitor reportedly saw several men in Confederate uniforms walking down the road. He assumed they were re-enactors when they suddenly vanished before his eyes.

The most famous story of Antietam happened here. Schoolboys from Baltimore on a field trip heard strange noises that sounded like voices singing the noel "Deck the Halls" in a language they couldn't quite understand. But they could make out the "Fa-la-la-la-la".

The Union Irish Brigade had staged a charge there, and as they attacked the Confederate positions, they shouted their battle cry of Faugh-a-Balaugh ("Clear the Way"). It would sound like "Fah-ah-bah-lah." Was that the carol the kids heard?

General George McClellan used Phillip Pry's House as his headquarters during the battle. General Israel B. Richardson died there. The house, owned by the National Park Service and used for storage, isn’t open to visitors.

A woman saw a ghost of a female dressed in period clothing walk down the staircase, and workers saw the same apparition standing in an upper window in the room where Richardson died (a room, that due to construction work at the time, had no floor!). It’s thought that she’s the spook of his wife, Frances, who nursed him during his final hours.

Sounds of phantom footsteps that have been heard pacing on the staircase. A National Park Service worker claimed to see a blue lantern make its way down the old road, which now is in the middle of a field.

Another hot spot is the Rohrback (now called Burnside) Bridge where General Ambrose Burnside paid a bloody wage to cross. Many of his fallen soldiers were quickly buried in unmarked graves near the bridge because of the deadly accurate fire of the Georgia troops defending the span. Witnesses have seen blue balls of light wafting through the night mists and reported the rat-a-tat of a phantom drum beating out cadence before fading away.

Reb General Longstreet used the Piper House as his headquarters and its barn was used as a field hospital. There were so many troopers to treat that three soldiers actually died under the piano in the parlor.

People have heard mysterious sounds and have seen ghostly forms that appear and vanish, representing both armies. Strangely, the area of the house with the most tales is a section that was added on well after the battle, circa 1900. Guests tell of hearing muffled voices and odd sounds in a bedroom, and report a misty apparition which appears in a bathroom doorway.

Some think that the new wing of the house was built over the top of graves of those who died in the battle, disturbing the soldiers from their eternal rest and causing the hauntings.

Saint Paul Episcopal Church was used as a Confederate field hospital after the battle. Visitors have claimed they heard the screams of the dying and injured coming from inside of the building, and have seen lights flickering in its tower. Legend has it that the floorboards in the house are still stained with blood that can't be removed.

A pair of park rangers were doing their nightly rounds and were spooked by a blue translucent figure in the open doorway of Otto House, which was used as a hospital after the battle. The ghostly figure looked like a Southern belle in a hoop skirt standing in doorway of the house, gazing toward town.

The rangers flew away from the ghostly lady, and retold the story to their coworkers. They had identical tales. It seems as if the ghostly Southern belle has been a frequent visitor.

This house stands on a knoll along the Burnside Bridge Road and it overlooks the Sherrick Farm House, which also is home to reported spooky apparitions.

The Landon House, used as a field hospital during the fight, is best known in Civil War circles for hosting the Sabers and Roses Ball prior to the Battle of Antietam, a bit of civilized activity before the inhumanity began. It's known for ghostly barking from its cellar and the sighting of a Union ghost in the nearby woods.

But it was spooked out before the battle. Prior to the Civil War, the Landon House was the Shirley Academy for Women. A ghostly woman in white is rumored to occasionally look in on second-floor rooms. Local lore states that she’s looking for children to tuck in at night.

We'll close with a tale of a ghoul of the human variety who got his come-uppance from the other side. When the battle was raging, the Confederate Army didn't have time to bury their dead; they hired locals to see to the last detail.

One innkeeper, passed down in legend as a Mr. Wise, took the job to provide a proper burial for fifty soldiers. But instead of burying them, Wise dropped the dead soldiers into an abandoned well, some landing head down or upside down, hardly a fitting farewell for guys who had just made the ultimate sacrifice.

Wise received a shock when one of the dead appeared to him, said to be the shadow of Sergeant Jim Tabbs of Virginia. Tabbs told off Wise about the disrespect of the corpses, and a scared half-to-death Wise repositioned the bodies in the well. He was quickly found out by the authorities, and under their steely stare, buried all fifty in the ground.

The grounds have been operated by the National Park Service since 1890, and the park proper consists of the battlefield, a visitors’ center, a national military cemetery and the Pry House Field Hospital Museum.

And many of its combatants.

Poe: Gone In Body, But Not In Spirit...

Edgar Allen Poe image from Wikipedia
-- Baltimore Streets: There have been sightings reported of a ghost of a man dressed in black that wanders the streets of the old section of Baltimore, thought to be Poe, still haunting the byways he roamed when he was alive.

-- Fort Monroe: Poe enlisted in the Army in 1827, under the name Edgar A. Perry, and was stationed at Fort Monroe in Hampton, Virginia as an artilleryman. He ended his tour by finding a replacement to serve out the remaining time. Poe did receive an appointment to West Point; he was drummed out.

People claim to have seen his ghost writing away at a desk; he penned some minor poetry collections while on base.

-- Poe’s Grave: He's buried at the Old Western Burial Ground. Westminster Hall was built over the part of the cemetery, so some of the boneyard is now a catacomb

People have claimed to have seen Poe’s ghost by his grave and in the catacombs. There are cold spots, sounds of footsteps, disembodied whisperings and some visitors have felt the touch of unseen hands in the catacombs.

The biggest mystery is the Man In Black who left a tribute of cognac and roses for Poe on the evening of January 19th, the author's birthday. The ritual, which began in 1949 and been repeated without fail ever since, came to a halt this year. That may be a greater puzzle than the ghost.

-- The Old Stone House Edgar Allen Poe Museum: Located in Richmond, Virginia, the Poe showcase is spread over several buildings, each featuring displays from various stages of his life.

The most famous spook in the museum is "The Shadow," a dark and indistinguishable figure, which has been captured on photographs. Many people speculate that the manifestation is Poe, returning to a place that is familiar to him.

-- Washington College Hospital: The Baltimore hospital where he died in 1849, it's been said that Poe's ghost has been seen roaming its hallways.

-- Eutaw House: There are a myriad of eerie tales concerning the old Centre County, Pennsylvania, Inn. One is that Poe stopped by, fell in love with a local girl, and was spurned. A spook that physically resembles him has been spotted there, although the local lore seems to associate the apparition with a ghost family haunting its halls. Still, it is right by Poe Valley, and a desk has the initials EAP carved in it, so hey...

-- Edgar Allen Poe House and Museum: The house where Poe lived with his grandmother, Maria Poe, and cousin, Virginia Clemm (who he eventually married), is on North Amity Street in Baltimore.

People have reported mysterious cold spots, eerie lights flitting from floor to floor, doors and windows that open and shut by themselves, heard spectral voices, felt unseen hands touch them, and have seen the specter of a heavyset, gray haired woman dressed in nineteenth century clothing, thought to be grandma. Oddly, there have been no alleged sightings of Poe there.

The R&R Station

The R&R Station
Westmoreland County's The R&R Station is a popular restaurant, bar, and B&B located on West Main Street in downtown Mt. Pleasant. It was built in 1883, when the town was a layover for passengers of the B&O and Pennsy RR lines. It still is the preferred residence for some permanent guests - at last count, it hosted 15 different ghosts.

The first floor boasts of the spirits of a little boy, a little girl, and a milkman. The second floor lays claim to a Victorian lady, two former owners, one of whom is supposed to be John Polonosky, who owned the building a century ago when it was the East End Hotel, the Groper, and the Top Hat Man (Robert) and Sarah.

On the third floor, we have the Mob Boss, the Snitch, the Insane Daughter, and two children playing in the hallway. It's also where infamous Room 15 is, the alleged portal that various spirits use to travel between planes. In addition, there have been sightings reported from the lower level of the R&R, where the bar is located.

The ghostly group collectively has kicked, pinched, and torn the sheets from unsuspecting customers. People in the building have heard bouncing balls upstairs, footsteps when the building was empty, seen objects disappear just to reappear later, and flying pots and pans.

The owners thought they were losing their minds amidst all this eerie activity, and contacted the Paranormal Researchers Organization, which assured them their sanity was fine. PRO captured orb photographs and recorded voices, and said they couldn't explain the things going on at the R & R rationally.

The Pittsburgh Paranormal Society took a look, too. They snapped some photos that they claim are of Polonsky.

Now that they know that their establishment is haunted, the relieved owners have sent tapes to movie producers resulting in a docudrama/DVD "The Haunted R&R Station," sponsored nights with psychics and PRO, gotten reams of newspaper coverage, and offer dinner followed by a ghost tour. In fact, their web site contains a lengthy list of links to its spooked-out history.

Who said a six pack or three of spooks is bad for business?