American Ghost Stories: True Tales from All 50 States

INTRODUCTION

As far back as 60000 B.C.E., archeologists have discovered evidence of funeral rites performed by early humans. Sites have been found that show some of our earliest ancestors adorned their dead with flowers, antlers, and other items. While these actions may have served only as a measure of respect for the deceased or as catharsis for the living, it is certainly similar to later practices in which the items were explicitly placed for the dead person’s spirit to use in the next life.

We can often determine the actions of ancient humans by the archeological evidence, and we’ve become really good at figuring out when those things happened, but it’s a much more difficult thing to be certain of the why. The exact time when the concept of a spirit—or soul—emerged as something that survives the physical deaths of our bodies is difficult to pinpoint. However, our species’ need for answers and our uncanny ability to make them up or develop theories when they aren’t readily apparent likely started pretty early in the development of our big brains.

We can comfortably say that the belief in an afterlife—and subsequent manifestation of spirits of the dead in our mythologies and religions—dates back to animism and ancestor worship in pre-literate cultures. We know from oral tradition and early recorded history that many cultures developed some sort of belief in a supernatural force or beings beyond the physical world. The idea that a person’s essence is somehow tied to that supernatural power and can continue in another state (often in another realm) almost always walks in lockstep with such beliefs. Some cultures—the Egyptians, Assyrians, and Babylonians, for instance—believed that a being was made up of multiple elements, both physical and spiritual.

From here on out, I’m going to use the word spirit to describe this essence of a being that is separate from the body just to simplify things.

Some of the earliest writings about the afterlife are found in Egyptian hieroglyphs. We know that they believed a dead person went to another realm and that in that realm they could make use of various items, animals, and even other people who were buried with them. It would seem, based on the mummification rituals, that they believed the body and soul were linked. Certain funeral rites became necessary to ensure a smooth journey and continued existence in the afterlife. There is little to suggest that someone who had died could reach back and communicate with the living or exert any influence on this world.

Around 900 B.C.E., Greek mythology was really coming into its own. Between 800 and 700 B.C.E., Homer wrote The Illiad and The Odyssey, some of the most important books giving insight into Greek religious beliefs. It is clear that interactions between the living and the dead had become an accepted theme, but most myths concerning such things are pretty explicit in the idea of the being moving between worlds but, while perhaps having a different sort of physicality about them, not necessarily being two separate entities of body and soul.

The Greek philosopher, Plato (424–348 B.C.E.), was one of the first to state the belief that the spirit, or soul, was independent of the body and did not, therefore, depend on a body for its existence. The idea of an essence separate from the body suddenly gives the spirit a lot more freedom. By this time, we can recognize a belief in what we would call ghosts or apparitions because Plato addressed it directly. He believed that an apparition was a soul that was weighed down by impurities that it picked up while in the body.

While the ancient Greeks believed in ghosts, they did not seem to look upon them with fear. These spirits could plot and scheme within the confines of their existence, but they were generally looked upon as needing help to move on or, sometimes, as benevolent entities watching over their descendants. It’s a short step from impure soul to malevolent spirit, however, and fearful encounters were becoming an accepted possibility by the time Plutarch (46–120 C.E.), one of the most educated men of his time, affirmed his own belief in the supernatural and argued for the existence of ghosts.

Pliny the Younger (61–112 C.E.), a lawyer, author, and magistrate in Rome, also argued for the existence of ghosts in his letters:

What particularly inclines me to give credit to their existence is a story that I heard of Curtius Rufus. When he was in low circumstances, and unknown in the world, he attended the newly made governor of Africa into that province. One afternoon as he was walking in the public portico, he was extremely daunted with the figure of a woman that appeared to him of a size and beauty more than human. She told him she was the tutelar Genius that presided over Africa and was come to inform him of the future events of his life: that he should go back to Rome, where he should hold office, and return to that province invested with the proconsular dignity, and there should die. Every circumstance of this prophecy was actually accomplished.…

I think this could be interpreted as more of a supernatural seer of the land than as the ghost of a previously living person, but Pliny would go on to give us what is widely considered to be the first proper ghost story, and it happens to involve a haunted house. He wrote:

It happened that Athenodorus, the philosopher, came to Athens at this time, and reading the bill [of the house] ascertained the price. The extraordinary cheapness raised his suspicion; nevertheless, when he heard the whole story, he was so far from being discouraged that he was more strongly inclined to hire it, and, in short, actually did so.

When it grew towards evening, he ordered a couch to be prepared for him in the fore part of the house, and after calling for a light, together with his pen and tablets, he directed all his people to retire within. But that his mind might not, for want of employment, be open to the vain terrors of imaginary noises and apparitions, he applied himself to writing with all his faculties.

The first part of the night passed with usual silence. Then began the clanking of iron fetters; however, he neither lifted up his eyes nor laid down his pen, but closed his ears by concentrating his attention. The noise increased and advanced nearer till it seemed at the door and at last in the chamber. He looked round and saw the apparition exactly as it had been described to him: it stood before him, beckoning with the finger.

Athenodorus made a sign with his hand that it should wait a little and bent again to his writing, but the ghost rattling its chains over his head as he wrote, he looked round and saw it beckoning as before. Upon this he immediately took up his lamp and followed it. The ghost slowly stalked along as if encumbered with its chains; and having turned into the courtyard of the house, suddenly vanished. Athenodorus, being thus deserted, marked the spot with a handful of grass and leaves. The next day he went to the magistrates and advised them to order that spot to be dug up. There they found bones commingled and intertwined with chains; for the body had mouldered away by long lying in the ground, leaving them bare and corroded by the fetters. The bones were collected and buried at the public expense; and after the ghost was thus duly laid the house was haunted no more.

There are a couple of things I love about this story. First, it’s a very early account of a haunting, and it bears all the hallmarks of one. We have a ghost that is trapped in this world due to an improper burial. Clearly the tale of the ghost has been told before, Athenodorus is aware of it upon renting the home, but others were obviously scared away by the spirit and did not help. Upon following the ghost (after first telling the ghost to hold on a minute, which is the other thing I love and my favorite part of the story), Athenodorus is shown how to free the ghost of its earthly bonds. The remains are interned properly, the ghost is happy, and the haunting ceases.

The largest propagator of the idea of ghosts, though not intended, was probably the rise of the Christian religion. The dogmatic belief in a soul and an afterlife—and in particular of the soul as the most important and enduring part of oneself—established a doctrine of a spirit world. The religion grew from its roots among a small sect in the Middle East to become the globally dominant religion, spreading teachings of saints, angels, demons, eternal punishment or reward, and—

most significantly for this conversation—the idea of the individual soul in need of salvation and subject to damnation based, in large part, on one’s behavior while living on Earth. It’s very easy to see how that evolved into spirits stuck here, needing to complete some unfinished business before they can proceed to heaven. The Catholic belief in purgatory is, basically, a waiting room for ghosts.

Throughout the proceeding centuries, ghost stories became increasingly popular, but ghosts remained more troubled spirits in need of help rather than malevolent beings capable of harming the living. Most hauntings were the result of improper burials and were primarily viewed as lessons in respecting the dead. Not surprisingly, it would be the very real horrors of the Dark Ages that would go on to influence the literature and art of the Renaissance, infusing plots with revenge and murder among supernatural tales of witches, omens, and ghosts. Shakespearean tragedies such as Hamlet, MacBeth, and King Lear are prime examples.

Christianity had opened the door to not only the acceptance of a belief in things beyond that which is immediately in front of us, but a requirement of such a belief. Works like those of Shakespeare would inspire further exploration of these beliefs, and creative gothic fiction writers would exploit the frightening potential of the spirit world in grand fashion. When the modern spiritualism movement emerged in the mid-1800s, the idea of conversing with the dead in real time further thinned the veil between the realms of the living and the dead, and the whole haunted house, rattling chains, poltergeist, vengeful spirit thing was off and running full steam ahead.

But why do people believe in ghosts? What is it that causes us to create these stories of gods, spirits, and mythical places of paradise or suffering? Are the reports of hauntings and ghost sightings simply optical illusions, hallucinations? If not, why is definitive evidence so hard to come by?

Certainly, a large part of the belief in ghosts is simply the hope that there is more to our existence than our time walking the earth in our meat suits. We want to continue to exist, of course. And since we don’t know what happens to our consciousness, which seems to us to be separate from our physical self in some way, we theorize possibilities that give us hope and reduce our stress about our mortality. It’s also comforting to think that our loved ones continue to exist and that we can call on them for assistance and that they can exert a supernatural influence on our lives. Of course, that logically suggests that spirits can exert a negative influence as well as a positive one.

Belief in ghosts—or at least the stories about ghosts—serves a moral purpose as well. Ghosts often haunt to right a wrong that was committed against them. In this way, ghosts are seeking justice from beyond the grave and demand such from individuals or societies. Ghost stories are as morally influential in this way as Bible stories.

While there are certainly those who believe wholeheartedly in the existence of ghosts and in our ability to communicate with them, the rise of spiritualism also led

to the emergence of any number of charlatans preying on those beliefs. There are also those who attempt to obtain the elusive, conclusive evidence for or against the existence of ghosts; the staggering amount of paranormal ghost hunting television shows is evidence of the public’s interest in this subject. Storytellers, playwrights, novelists, and moviemakers have used the ghost story to entertain millions, and we get a weird thrill out of being scared that psychologists attribute to several reasons, including increases in adrenaline and epinephrine in our bodies.

Polls continue to show that roughly 50 percent of Americans claim to believe in ghosts. This percentage generally holds up across the globe with 30 to 50 percent of individuals admitting such beliefs. Still more believe in a less-well-defined idea of the paranormal or supernatural. Many toe an agnostic line on the subject, while others are firmly skeptical (these are often the most vigorous investigators in their efforts to debunk paranormal evidence).

In the following pages, I will introduce you to a number of ghost stories and haunted locations. Where it applies, I will share my personal experiences. Some of the stories and places will be familiar, some only peripherally so, and others I hope you will be learning about for the first time. I tried to cover many of the most common tropes of the American ghost story, selecting one tale from each of the 50 states. I also tried to provide an interesting variety of histories, locations, time periods, and types of hauntings.

I’ve learned a few things as I’ve researched the stories, and I hope you will too. To date, I have been primarily a writer of fiction, so this is all a bit new for me. I hope I’ve done a good job for you. It has certainly piqued an interest in me, and I hope to continue expanding my knowledge on the subject of hauntings and paranormal activity and share them with you in future works.

Thank you for joining me on this trip. And, as always, I want to extend a very special and heartfelt thank you to those who have previously supported me and my work, the Faithful Few. And I welcome the rest of you to the family.

Peace out!

The Bird Cage Theater—Tombstone, Arizona

It’s been over 25 years since I’ve been to Tombstone, Arizona, but it remains one of my favorite trips. I’m a big history geek, and I’ve always been particularly interested in the Old West. Tombstone, often referred to as The Town Too Tough to Die, may be the most famous of the Old West ghost towns. It is home to the O.K. Corral, where the famous shoot-out between the legendary lawmen Earp family—along with their friend, Doc Holliday—and the Clanton–McLaury gang occurred.

Tombstone isn’t really a ghost town; approximately 1,600 people still live there. The residents are dedicated to maintaining the historic character of the town, and most are involved directly in the tourism trade that brought the town back to life.

Like many western towns, Tombstone sprung into existence after silver was found in the area in 1877. Within a decade, the town had swelled to as many as 20,000 residents and boasted more than 100 saloons; a ton of restaurants, churches, schools, and newspapers; and one of Arizona’s original public swimming pools. It also had a large Chinese population and a huge red-light district to service the miners and cowboys who frequented the town. While the focus is often on the rough-and-tumble stories of gunfights and debauchery, Tombstone was really quite a sophisticated town. It had a lot of wealth and all the modern conveniences of the time: telephones, utility companies, horse tracks, and even a baseball team.

Tombstone still has 1,600 full-time residents, and the townspeople maintain the Old West look of their home in order to bring in tourist dollars.

Still, the town has not been without its violence and tragedies. If it had been, it likely wouldn’t have been included in this book. To begin with, the Old West era was simply one where law and order were often determined by the quickest and most accurate shot and where sickness and disease, even those we find basically innocuous now, could decimate populations. Tombstone experienced significant fires in the late nineteenth century, but the town was rebuilt after each instance. Mining ebbed and flowed, and the town’s economic well-being and significance rose and fell with it.

By the end of World War II, the town was little more than a sleepy burg in the Arizona desert, but interest in the Old West grew significantly during the 1950s and ’60s, boosted by romanticized depictions in books, on television, and in the Western movies being churned out of Hollywood. The town’s fortunes would rise again on the back of the tourism trade. Tombstone was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1961.

Visiting the town today, one can expect to see people dressed in period garb, reenacting the Old West days. Many of Tombstone’s original boardwalks and false fronts remain, having gotten facelifts in recent decades. Many of the original buildings still stand, including several churches, the town hall and courthouse, and saloons and hotels such as the Crystal Palace and the Silver Nugget Bed & Breakfast. You can walk in the steps of the Earps down to the O.K. Corral and learn about the 30-second shoot-out that turned it into, arguably, the most famous place in the West. You can see the graves of the men who died in that fight at the Boot Hill Cemetery, just up a small rise to the northwest of town.

Given Tombstone’s history, it’s no surprise that many spirits wander the town. You may hear bootheels or jangling spurs on the wooden boardwalks. That could

be the ghost of Marshal Fred White, the first marshal of Tombstone, who was accidentally shot and killed by one of the leaders of the Cowboy gang. Perhaps he is still patrolling the dusty streets. Some claim that the spirit of Virgil Earp can be seen crossing the street where he was ambushed, shot, and crippled; the spirit never makes it across the street. Reports have been made of a woman in white who many believe was a brothel madam who was hanged. The spirits of the slain combatants of the O.K. Corral shoot-out are often seen with their guns drawn. Many spirits are said to roam among the grave markers of Boot Hill; the cemetery is the final resting place of housewives, prostitutes, outlaws, prospectors, and lawmen, though many seem not to be resting at all.

One of the oldest and most authentic buildings in Tombstone is the Bird Cage Theatre. It also has the reputation of being the most haunted place in town, with as many as 31 ghosts residing there.

The Bird Cage was far more than just a theater. It offered gambling, drinking, and ladies of the evening. It was named the Bird Cage for the 14 small, crib-style rooms that were suspended above the casino and dance floor. These cages were where prostitutes could entertain their clients. Men with some silver or gambling winnings could buy a bottle of whiskey and a lady for the night. Almost as soon as the theater opened, it earned a reputation as the wildest, wickedest night spot between Basin Street and the Barnaby Coast. The theater operated 24 hours a day, 365 days a year for most of the 1880s and hosted the West’s most famous poker game, which ran continuously for over eight years. Legend has it that 26 people were killed within the walls, and over 140 bullet holes are inside the building.

Like many of the more famous places in this book, Tombstone—and the Bird Cage in particular—has been investigated by professional, well-known ghost hunters as well as by amateurs. Visitors have heard a woman’s voice singing, laughter, noises from the balcony boxes, and people talking. It sounds very much as if the spirits that linger there are still enjoying the various activities that the theater offered. Even the sounds of dice being thrown and cards being shuffled, along with glasses clinking, have been heard. Perhaps the longest poker game in history has not quite finished yet.

Typical experiences of hauntings such as cold spots, the feeling of being watched, and an occasional poke or tug on a piece of clothing are regularly reported. Some of the more interesting visual manifestations include a $100 poker chip appearing on the gaming table. The never-before-seen chip was locked in a safe by the owner but had vanished by the time experts came to examine it.

When a life-sized statue of famous gunfighter/lawman Wyatt Earp was placed in one of the balcony boxes, staff members would find the prop’s hat in the middle of the floor below each morning. When a historian was consulted, he revealed that they had placed the statue in a box that was regularly reserved by the Clantons, the same men that Earp had been in a shoot-out with at the O.K. Corral. Once the statue was relocated, the hat remained on the statue’s head.

In its heyday, the Bird Cage Theatre in Tombstone was where cowboys and miners went to catch a show, but it also served as a brothel.

One of the ghosts who makes regular appearances at the Bird Cage is a male stagehand who moves across the stage with a clipboard. This seems to be a residual haunting of the man going about his duties, as he doesn’t interact with, or even seem to be aware of, the living people in the room. Other ghosts include a woman in 1880s clothing who has been seen going into the wine cellar before disappearing and a depressed and confused man who seems to be spending his afterlife in search of his wife.

The Bird Cage is one of the locations in this book that I have had a personal experience at. Way back in the 1990s, before the gray was in my beard and when, in fact, I could hardly grow a beard, I visited Tombstone. Walking the streets and visiting Boot Hill, I certainly felt as though I had stepped back in time, but I had no sense of anything supernatural. However, when I entered the theater, I definitely felt as though other people were with me.

Now, I don’t claim to have any special senses that let me see, feel, or communicate with ghosts. In fact, despite my interest in them, I tend to be quite skeptical. I think that all of us have probably experienced this feeling at one time or another, and not just in a supernatural way. It was much like walking into a house without knowing for certain that anyone is there but feeling as if it’s occupied, or maybe more like feeling a disturbance or energy when someone comes into a room behind you. Even though you didn’t hear or see them enter, you know you’re not alone. And in my experience at the Bird Cage, it felt not like a single person had invaded my space but as if I had walked into a crowded room.

As I made my way through the theater, I could smell cigar smoke and the sharp odor of whiskey—both of which I am intimately familiar with. At first, I assumed

that the odors were purposely manufactured to add to the ambiance, but when I asked a member of the staff about it, I was told that no fake smells were being produced and that many other visitors had experienced the same thing.

Could those feelings and those smells have been just my imagination getting the best of me? It’s possible, I suppose. My research since then reveals that, as the staff member told me, I was not alone in these experiences; the odors of cigar smoke and whiskey are often reported.

Although I didn’t see any ghosts or hear any weird, unexplained noises, I am anxious to go back to Tombstone and see whether, armed with additional knowledge of the town and its legends, I can change that. Maybe I’ll come across poor Marshal Fred White, whose accidental shooting occurred in the street right in front of the Bird Cage, or perhaps Billy Clanton, one of Wyatt Earp’s bitter enemies, will manifest at the corral where he was gunned down. If nothing else, I can enjoy a drink in the saloon and maybe run into that woman who, all those years ago, entertained me with tales of the debauchery that took place in the town and, especially, in the theater. She was incredibly informative and one heck of an actress who stayed in character during the whole of our conversation as one of the prostitutes who entertained clients so many decades ago.

At least, I think she was an actress.

Pavla Blanca (Manuela)—Tularosa Basin, New Mexico

The Tularosa Basin of New Mexico is a peculiar place. It is here, in the White Sands National Monument, that archaeologists have explored the layers of geological time beneath the gypsum dunes, discovering sets of footprints showing that people walked these lands as far back as 23,000 years ago, thousands of years earlier than scientists believed the first humans populated North America. The oldest of these tracks show that human ancestors walked among the Ice Age mammals while the continent was largely frozen tundra.

Bordering the amazing and precious archaeological site is the White Sands Missile Range. The sparse, arid landscape was thought to be an ideal location for the U.S. Army to test munitions and was one of the primary locations for the testing of nuclear weapons during the Manhattan Project. The range is still an active military testing facility today.

In this unique environment, among the echoing footsteps of the past and the present-day marching of combat boots, another set of feet traverses the sands. These feet leave no delicate footprints for future explorers to discover. These feet float above the shifting dunes as the spirit they belong to searches eternally for her lost lover.

Robert had visited the White Sands National Monument on more than one occasion. He had hiked two of the established trails with friends but had returned on his own in the fall of 2013. An avid hiker, Robert was looking forward to the most challenging of the trails, the Alkali Flat Trail, which, despite its name, requires adventurers to traverse multiple dunes as it skirts the final remnants of Lake Otero.

About halfway through the five-mile hike, as the sun was beginning to ease its way toward the horizon, a strong wind kicked up, and Robert became disoriented among the blowing sands and shifting dunes. He had trouble locating the trail markers and soon realized that he was no longer on the route.

He didn’t panic. Hikers are forewarned that no shade or water can be found along the trail, so Robert was prepared with bottled water and a compass. He found an area that was mostly sheltered from the wind and decided to wait it out. However, the winds persisted, and soon, the sky was turning shades of red and purple.

Robert had anticipated a few inconveniences but was not equipped for an overnight stay in the desert. The hike was only supposed to have taken him three hours. His cell phone had zero bars, and he had no food and no real protection from the elements. Knowing that nighttime temperatures could drop to 40 degrees Fahrenheit or lower, Robert decided to attempt to make his way back to the trailhead.

An hour passed, and the light was fading quickly. Robert had a flashlight, but it was little help in the blowing sands. He had wandered farther off the trail than he realized, and while his compass could keep him walking in a fairly straight line, he was unsure whether the eastwardly direction that he was tracking was the correct way back to civilization.

Gypsum sand dunes cover the expanse of White Sands National Monument in New Mexico’s Tularosa Basin.

Robert was growing concerned. He was not yet in a panic but could feel the fear rising up from his gut. He was getting chilly, and the light jacket he had in his pack was little help. He began to think about his girlfriend, who was meant to have accompanied him on this day trip but had to cancel at the last minute. For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder whether he would ever see her again.

Robert crested a dune, the blowing grains of sand biting at his exposed skin, causing his eyes to water. He channeled the thought of seeing his girlfriend again as motivation. Was it the sand and tears that accounted for what he saw atop another dune in the distance?

Too far away to be positive, Robert saw what appeared to be a woman. She wore a white dress that billowed and waved around her body. He walked toward her, but when he reached the summit of the dune that he had seen her on, no one was to be found. Ahead of him, atop yet another dune, he again saw the woman. Was this the infamous spirit of the White Sands, the woman in white, Pavla Blanca? Or were his mind, his fear, and the swirling gypsum sands deceiving him?

He chose to follow the apparition.

As the light of the day continued to fade, Robert chased the woman in white across the dunes. With the wind still blowing, the air cooling rapidly, and Robert becoming increasingly concerned that he was going to be stuck in the desert overnight, he trudged on through the sand. Just as he topped yet another dune, wondering if the Lady in White would be there waiting for him again, his flashlight beam fell on the red post and the black diamond of the trail marker.

Robert made his way slowly and cautiously back toward the trailhead. He looked back toward the expanse of desert several times as he made his way along the trail, but it was too dark to see beyond the beam of his flashlight. Whether Pavla Blanca continued to watch over him, he could not say. To this day, when he tells the story of the woman, many say it is just another occurrence of someone seeing what they wanted to see. As in other instances of recounting the appearance of the legendary ghost, skeptics claim that it was simply an illusion caused by the blowing sands and the waning light, but Robert chooses to thank the woman in white for saving him, regardless of what the truth may ultimately be.

Stories regarding spectral women wafting through the world in white dresses are among the most common of supernatural tales. Not only does every region in the United States seem to have a similar story, it is an