Maine Ghost Hunters' blog

We went into The Henryton by way of the train tracks today. The > walk was long, hot, and a wee bit sticky. On the way in we realized > we forgot to bring water. Wonderful. And on the way out we realized I (Kat) may have forgotten my iPhone on the roof of our car. Ugh!

Tony said it wouldn't be there when we got back but I thought there was a possibility there are still some good people in this world.When we got back to our car we found this. My iPhone wrapped in napkins which were weighted down with rocks so people wouldn't see it and want to steal it.

I don't know who you are but thank you. From the bottom of my heart... You did a really nice thing for a stranger and It's not unappreciated. Pay it forward starts today (again, of course).

 An iPhone entry.

photo.jpg

      

The Henryton Sanitarium in Marriottsville, Maryland.  What is there to say about the Henryton that can't already be "felt" the moment you step foot into any one of the dilapidated buildings?  The place is falling apart, it's true.  However, it's also being destroyed, piece by piece, by purposeful vandals and vagrants.  It's a sad sight to see, but in a different perspective, it is also a thing of beauty.  It's definitely Urban Exploration at its best, and as for the paranormal investigations?  This place is the cream-of-the-creepy-crop.

Tony and I arrived at the Henryton parking area where we met up with Jenny and PRRS team.  We entered the grounds and were immediately struck by the size of the location.  There were at least 3 buildings to explore, although Tony and I only managed to cover 2 of them during both sessions we had been on the grounds.   The first session took place in the day time, so we could get some daytime footage, and daytime photographs.  And, of course, there was the nighttime session, when we had planned on making best use of the grounds and really tapping into that spiritual energy that may, or may not, be present.  The main problem with the latter part of our plan was that, apparently, this is a hotspot for many-a-local-teen and young-adult in this area.  The Henryton is the go-to place for cheap thrills, and unfortunately, it's those people looking for a cheap thrill that are tearing the place apart.  Sad, but true.

I'm not sure what I should be saying about the Henryton, since we didn't spend a whole lot of time wandering the inside of the building.  I will say this with conviction, though; the next time I visit the Henryton, and I do hope to return there one day before it's vandalized to smithereens, I hope to spend more time wandering the place in the light, than in the dark.  In the dark, this compound took on a whole different persona.  In the light we could see where we were going, better.  We could get our bearings in the place, and really observe our surroundings, which was a plus because there are some "freaky looking areas" that are nothing more than a play on light.   I remember twice-seeing this one particular entrance of a room that Tony was in, and both times I scared the life out of myself when I approached it.  I laugh now, but I know if I were in there in the dark it'd have been all over.  I'd have piddled like a 3rd grader who couldn't "hold it" anymore!  :P   

The fact of the matter is, the Henryton hit me hard, and not on a scientific level.  I've been to places where the "vibe" was creepy and I felt watched, and verbalizing that was enough to help me feel better about the situation.  But the Henryton was different.  I couldn't seem to "see past" what I was feeling in this place, and I also didn't want to verbalize it because I was working overtime to make sure I came across as "professional", or, as professional as I could be without sounding like a kook.  I'm not a sensitive, I'm not "psychic", I don't have a keen 6th sense I'm totally in touch with...  I rather believe I have that kind of 6th sense that triggers the flight-or-fight mechanism I hear so much about.  Basically, if I'm feeling any sort of "vibe", then I figure I've stepped into something that's way over my head, and way over my ability to handle in a way I can process and understand.  My very limited and narrow view of my 6th sense goes like this: if I'm "feeling" something that's actually there, and I'm sure it's not my imagination, then it must be something pretty significant because I'm not "sensitive" in that way.    That's pretty much what I experienced at the Henryton Sanitarium.  The "feeling" I had, roughly %75 of the time I was wandering that place, was less than "positive" for me, and actually stood in the way of me being a good scientific investigator while on-scene, which is something I regret.  

I've tried, a few times, to lock down that 1 moment when it all started going bad for me, and the more I think about it, the more I'm brought back to the very start of when we entered the complex.   I had my video camera recording the whole group, from the parking area all the way down into the actual Henryton complex and it was working fine until we reached where the buildings were located.  We hadn't arrived at the entrance to the buildings yet, but where we were walking we could see directly parallel to us was one of the buildings that housed the little kids.   Little kids, I should scoff, they were babies.  They were toddlers and infants and they were diagnosed with TB and left to starve to death because, let's face it, they weren't going to survive this disease anyway, so why waste the food?  I had no idea that's what this building was used for until, almost a week later, but I remember right where my camera shut off and exactly what happened when it did.   I'll write, here and now, that I've been using this camera like it's permanently attached to my hand.  I love video recording, and I use it extremely frequently.  The 6.5 hour battery I had in it had just been fully charged and freshly placed into the camera.  I turned it on, walked down the road to get to the Henryton Complex, and when I reached that point in the road where we were in clear site of the buildings my camera went blank, my battery was sucked dry to the point that my camera wouldn't turn on "at all" (not even a little blinking light for a moment when I try to power it on).  When I replaced the battery with another freshly charged 6.5 hour battery the LCD display showed me a blue screen - something I had never seen before, and a message that I didn't have a clue what to make of.  This message on the screen was telling me there was a backup taking place, and led me to believe only 1 thing.  That the battery had gone dry so incredibly fast that the camera didn't have enough time to register the data I had filmed, and I couldn't get this camera out of "recovery" mode to save my own life.  It was stuck there for a good 5 minutes or so, "recovering" with this blue screen.  And to think, I didn't make much of the ordeal.  It was a pain in my rump, and I think that's all I was thinking about at the time.  I should have known...

   As the daytime tour progressed, we went into the main building, and all the way through the reasonably accessible parts.  We toured the first floor level, and the basement level, and even located a really cool pipe tunnel.  Actually, the pipe tunnel was an area that made me nervous for some reason I couldn't put my finger on.  (When we eventually exited the building through the cafeteria and turned off all of our recording equipment, something or someone slammed one  of those pipes in that basement level tunnel, two very loud times, and we could hear it throughout the inside and outside of the building.  I thought it sounded pretty darned loud and purposeful.)  We had traveled through the first floor level and had taken loads of pictures and lots of video, and we were having a genuinely grand time when we came upon this particular part of a hallway that housed smaller rooms to my left side, but this one really large open area to my right.  The large open area had lots of windows all through it, so there was so much bright light coming through it was really inviting.  But that's not what enticed me into it.   As I was poking around in the hallway, Tony and Kate (the PRRS team photographer), were across the hall intrigued by something else.  I distinctly heard a shuffling in this larger room to my right.  The problem for me was that I couldn't see into the room.  The room was so large that it had at least 2 entrances, maybe 3, and it spanned a length of, probably 40 feet or more.  So there was a doorway, a large length of wall, another doorway, another large length of wall, and then another doorway.  When I heard the shuffling in that room I was between 2 doorways and couldn't see inside to identify what was making the shuffle.  When I finally made my way toward the doorway I had heard the shuffle again, right before I got to the doorway, but this time it didn't sound like it was inside the room.  It sounded like it was on the other side of the exterior wall - the wall with all the really big windows on it.  The windows were either gone/broken or they were screened in, so it was essentially like being on an extremely large porch.  Anyway, when I told Tony I wanted to be in this particular room later that night, he asked why.  My response was that I had heard scuffling but I wasn't sure if it was inside or if it was outside.   For all I know, it could have been "both". 

   

 At any rate, I snapped 5 pictures of this area and in 2 of the 5 photos it looks like I may have captured a shadow figure, we're not sure yet so we're still debunking it (Thanks to Kate's psuedo-bro, Josh). Check out the photo gallery I set up for this event. In the other 3 photos it looks like the shadow figure may have disappeared, or just isn't in the frame any more.  After really close inspection by Josh, it's very possible that the Shadow Figure could be nothing more than a black drawing on the wall the figure looks like it's leaning against.   Either way, that room was creepy and that whole place has a "vibe" to it I couldn't shake all day, all night, and until the following Tuesday.   I continued to have nightmares about aspects and intimacies of that hospital I didn't even know about, and the people inside it.

Henryton spoke to me on a level I wasn't anticipating.  I went there for a fun and intimate ghost hunt with paranormal professionals such as ourselves.  I was looking forward to capturing evidence and working the data, comparing techniques and learning of different methods for evidentiary standards.  Instead, I wound up spending most of my night feeling intensely watched, targeted, and on the verge of an emotional breakdown, the roots of which I could not identify nor could I understand.   What everyone else was finding, either "cool" or "interesting" I was finding "loss of hope", "despair" and genuine depression the likes of which I have never experienced before.   It hit me so hard I didn't know what to do with it, and so I tried my best to put my game face on and go with the flow.  When I saw all of the "kids" that were bombarding the place I had to admit, it brought me some sort of relief.  Not that we couldn't investigate, because [b]that[/b] aspect of our time at the Henryton really kind of got to me... I did, desperately, want to investigate this location, and I was willing to beat back any of these feelings I was having, to go into certain parts of certain areas of the complex (though, not at all, "all parts" of the complex).  No, the "relief" I felt when the kids arrived was the thought that "maybe it'll target someone else in this group" instead of searing it's staring, piercing vibe onto me.  Maybe one of these oblivious kids can absorb some of this intensity and I can shake it off and get down to business (or at least "get back to being me").  They're here for a totally different reason than I am, maybe the more of them there are the less of "this" I would feel.   It didn't exactly work out that way, and so we continued to investigate as best we could, and for the most part, up until one particular episode with Kate right before the police had arrived to clear the place out (our group had permission to be there so we stayed), I kept it all to myself.  

This "episode" with Kate happened at night when our group exited "the admin building" and was collected out in the main parking area, or walking area.  I'm still not sure there was enough space for parking at this complex, but that's neither here nor there, I suppose.  We were standing around outdoors in the dark and Kate asked me if I wanted to take a walk over to the main hospital building.  She wanted to get inside the front door we used earlier in the day, just to get some random "shots" of the interior while the rest of our group prepared for a ghost box session outside.  The truth of the matter was that I hadn't met Kate before, and she seemed somewhat brazen, and with her spunk and desire to capture as much of this  area as possible... I could relate.  I've been there before and so "yah" I was going to say I'd go.  Everyone else seemed busy, and no one else seemed the least bit unnerved - certainly not like I was feeling/sensing - and so I told myself to just " 'can' it, get in there and just do it."   I didn't say anything to her about feeling like I wanted to crawl out of my skin the closer we got to the building, heck no.  But as we approached, and she reached for the door handle, she stopped... right before she grabbed it.  She dropped her arm and said to me that she didn't think she wanted to go in.   I asked her why that was, and short of comparing notes regarding "6th sense in overload", we agreed that there was something more intense than we had realized was going to be here at this complex and turned around and walked back to the car... and sat there... pretty much in silence for quite a while.

   

During our daytime visit to the admin building I was left to straggle behind Tony and Dave (of the PRRS crew).   As I was walking through the lobby area of the Admin building I heard a scuffle on the floor, like someone was dragging their feet when they walked.  It was only 1 step, and I refused to look over to it because if there was something there, and I was the only one to see it, what good would that do the group, our research, and my desire to want to come back to this place in the dark later on that evening?  So I didn't turn my head, I just kept walking.  I took another step or two and distinctly heard another scuffle at floor level, and so I hustled down to where Tony and David could see me straight on.  If they could see me, then they could see if anything was behind me.   I remember David saying "I don't know about you guys but..." he didn't think there was anything in that building, but I disagreed.  I didn't want to say it straight away because I didn't want to come off like an arrogant know-it-all so I left it unsaid, but I was darned-straight going to make sure Tony was walking behind me the entire rest of the time I was in that building.  And a few minutes later I told him I heard something in the lobby area and I thought it was taunting me the second time it scuffled.

   

This admin building came off as being "the place" I wanted to be when we first entered, but there was this 1 room that turned this whole building into a very uncomfortable place.   Some people in the group thought the "lab" was creepy, others thought the classroom had a vibe to it, but the moment Tony, Dave, and I first set foot into this very large, open room with curtains hanging from the ceiling I said to Tony "I don't know what this room is, but I don't like it".   It gave me the heebie-jeebies in a way I couldn't explain.  I was starting to overload at this point because when the girls from the other half of the group (4 of them) were coming into the building from backside, they wound up on the 2nd floor.  At one point there was an offer of "let's go up to the second floor" and I comically pictured myself anchored quite firmly to the front desk in the lobby refusing to budge from this location.  There was absolutely no way I was going to that second floor at that point in time, and I couldn't tell you why.  It just wasn't happening at that particular point in the day.   It may have happened later, and it may have happened earlier, but at that point in time, I wasn't going anywhere but "out" of this building.   Later on in the evening there were multiple reports  of various groups on that second floor seeing shadow people and seeing shadows jumping across the hall, and running from room to room just out of the shine of flashlights.  The thought doesn't scare me, it doesn't even freak me out... there was just something else there with me that I couldn't shake.  Dave and Jenny2, of PRRS, personally watched a shadow figure manifest itself along a wall, down to the floor, and up the wall on the other side of the hallway.  Dave had his night vision camera pointed at it while it was happening and reported that, for some reason, his camera did not record the event.

We left this admin building during our night time visit and we headed over to the old swimming pool.  When we were at the pool I just stood there for a second... staring at it, and Tony asked me if I wanted to go in it and take pictures.  I walked down the pool steps with Kate and we walked in that pool and it was the most energy sucking depressing feeling I had experienced all day.  It wasn't the depression that got to me, it was the fact that I felt I was supposed to be happy, and I wasn't. It was more than the fact that I wasn't, it was that I knew I never would be again, and no matter what happens from this point on, my happiness about this moment and this place - the swimming pool - and this action - swimming - will never hold the same feelings or happy memories that it used to when I was younger... when I loved swimming and couldn't wait to get back to the lake, or to the pool, or to the water.  Swimming is where childhood lives... and when I stood in that pool, no water in site, I had this strikingly depressing realization that death was the least of my depressing thoughts.  It was the destruction of all of those happy memories I never realized was the foundation of my life as I know it.   Something as precious as the eagerness to swim, I had no idea it meant so much to me until I stepped into that pool and felt the depression of knowing .... of feeling... "swimming... here... it's not about fun because it's hot out, it's about therapy because I'm dying".  

It was overwhelming and I couldn't tell anyone.   At this point I was starting to think there was far more going on here at Henryton  than just ghosts wandering the insides of the buildings.   I mean, I was really starting to wonder what the heck I was feeling with this "staring" sensation I couldn't get to go away, and the fact that all these kids were all around... and the chaos of the place...  Then, this one particular group of rowdy, loud, and obnoxious kids started toward us.  They were cussing and swearing, and being over-the-top as far as I was concerned... the whole atmosphere just got to me and I very-forwardly announced loud enough to make it clear I meant business "You planning on being that loud ALL night long, or what??"  Apparently it made an impression.  They turned out to be very decent kids wandering around in the darkness of an incredibly creepy place.  I think many of them may have felt they were over their heads, too, so they were - as today's youth put it - "frontin' " .  Say it rapper style if you have to, but that's what I think they were doing.  Being louder and badder than all the other groups that were there that night, and definitely keeping the "quiet time" down to a minimum... all the noise would have been a great distraction from really hearing and seeing the spirits.

Anyway, this one particular group I approached wound up talking to a couple of our team's members.  It turned out that one of the back buildings was a little kids building (as I mentioned above).  They didn't say what went on in there, only that there was a kid's area with a nursery and all that jazz.   They said that they had left toys up there before and when they returned to see if the kids played with the toys, they were knocked over and strewn across the room.   As they were explaining where it was they offered for us to go up there and I had a sense of panic.  I walked over to Tony and told him sort of passively, "nah, I really don't want to go up there..."   Apparently, Jenny and the crew went back to the Henryton the next day and Jenny had quite an emotional time in that building.  If she reacted that way, I can only imagine the blubbering idiot I'd have been that night.   

I remember sitting in the car and being relieved when Kate questioned herself about this complex, saying she wasn't sure if it was a sort of first-time-investigation overload she was experience, or what it was, and all I could tell her was that I think... here... at this place, tonight... it's something more than that, something far more than that.  And I didn't know anything about the complex so I couldn't tell her what it was, all I knew was that I'd been to a few pretty active places, and this place was so intense it was like being stared at by 100 people all at the same time.  I could almost feel heat on the back of my neck.  For 3 days later I felt like someone was staring at me so hard they were shooting hundreds of pins and needles at me.  It was so aggressive I just didn't know what to do with it.  I had this 1 recurring nightmare Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, and on Sunday I started to have these thoughts about the patients and their well being at this place.  I couldn't shake this thought "what if they didn't die of TB".  It wouldn't go away.  And there was this statement that kept coming to my mind, and I couldn't shake it "Personal offenses, Personal offenses".  They didn't die of TB, but of "Personal offenses" yet I had nothing to base it on.  I couldn't go anywhere with this thought.  I didn't research the location, I didn't look it up or anything.  I had this one website address with pictures of the place, and that was it.  I read that it was TB hospital, and saw a YouTube video about the grounds of the place, and it stated it was a TB hospital for the "black" population.  That's it.  Why I was having this nightmare, repeatedly, and why I kept thinking these thoughts about this term "personal offenses" I couldn't understand.

The last straw in that complex was when the cops dismissed everyone but 2 groups.  Our group had permission to be there, and they let another group stay.  Other than that, everyone else pretty much cleared out.  Our group decided to back inside the main hospital building into the area we called "the cafeteria".  Now, I've heard that PRRS learned that this room was not used as the cafeteria, but I still haven't heard what it was actually used for, so I'll call it the cafeteria for now.  We were all in the cafeteria, looking around, hunting down pictures and working the audio and video when, at one point, Kate announced she wanted to walk to the part of the cafeteria where it turned into a hallway.  This hallway connected the cafeteria to the rest of the main building.  She asked me if I wanted to go with her to this hallway, so I said "yes", of course.  We don't want anyone walking off on their own, and I don't want to be the woosy who says "no" so, "yah, I'll go".  So we started walking toward this hallway and the closer we got, the more stressed I became.  I can't say why, because it was like something out of a bad movie.  I just don't know what my problem was that night.   We approached the hallway, and right as the hallway began to actually "become" the  hallway, where the wideness of the cafeteria was going to suddenly disappear and we were about to step into this hallway, I panicked, inexplicably and without reasonably justification.  I never ever do this, but I suddenly grabbed her arm -  and I never, ever do that.  I'm not, in the least, a "touchy feely" kind of person.   This panic was so sudden it was unreal.  I let go of her arm just as suddenly and tried to look composed (hope I pulled it off!) and calmly said something like "I thought you wanted to go TO the hallway?"  She clarified, she wanted to go INTO the hallway.  Big difference.  So I tried to play it off, probably miserably, and apologize for the confusion, but there was no way I was going down into that hallway.  And offered to call Tony over to escort Kate into the hallway.  I stood there for a couple of seconds and then walked away from that hallway.  It was too intense for some reason.

Thank the lord for the reveal the very next Tuesday and the next Thursday because I thought I was losing my mind.  I had so many regrets about being unable to do what I was so eager and excited to do, which was investigate a reportedly haunted environment such as the Henryton Sanitarium!   If it wasn't for that reveal on the place I'm not sure where I'd be right now, in terms of re-evaluating my abilities as a paranormal investigator.  

Some things that are pertinent to my personal experiences that were discussed at the reveal:

 1. During the live radio show that was being recorded while we did the investigation there were a few "sensitives" listening in and chatting in a shared chat channel, along with 2 PRRS moderators.  At some point in the night, one of the psychic/sensitives became so distraught over the negative presence we were in the midst of, that she had to leave the room because she was feeling physically ill.  

2.  The children were toddlers, babies, infants, and newborns.  They were diagnosed with TB and were left to starve to death because they weren't going to survive treatment anyway, so what was the point of feeding them?

3.  The adults were sometimes starved to death after they reached a clear point of no return.

4.  I had caught a photo of what I thought was a nurse with a medical mask on, but didn't tell anyone.  The first question I was asked during the reveal was "did anyone catch the nurse in the laundry room?"  I almost fell out of my chair.  That's where I caught my picture of what I thought was a nurse.

5.  Multiple sensitives in the channel announced there was a nurse there protecting the patients that remained (and the visitors, she ushers us out of the building).  My recurring nightmare was of a nurse standing between me and incredibly skinny patients - clearly dying. She looked "wild" and was sending me a message, "if you want them, you need to come through me", but the message wasn't for me.  It was for someone else.  She was nice to me.

6. The nurse was the person sending me the sentence "Personal offenses, personal offenses".  I couldn't get it out of my head.

7.  There was a big dark, ugly secret about Henryton that I had no knowledge of.  There was a Dr. there who was so incredibly genius that, apparently, he transformed from "genius" to "maniacal" and started doing unauthorized experiments on the patients, to the point he was misdiagnosing these people on purpose so he could experiment on them.  He killed many patients, and many of those murdered weren't killed in the most painless ways possible.   

8.  He's known as "The Butcher" and the sensitives involved with this case have categorized this spirit energy along the lines of being almost "demonic" in characteristic.

9.  There are at least 3 other doctors there involved with The Butcher, and only 1 has a slight voice of reason and goodness.

10.  There are many patients still staring out the windows, often.  They don't know they're dead, and they didn't think that death was   something they'd face at Henryton.  They just didn't know.

11.  Many of the unauthorized experiments were conducted on the poor and those without family or support because their deaths wouldn't be questioned.

12.  There are reports of unmarked graves off to the sides of the hospital grounds, in and around the general outlying areas, and shortly into the woods; most likely of the patients without family who died here.

13.  There is at least 1 mother persistently crying for her newborn child.

This case was so intense I know I didn't write the half of it here.  It was an investigation that followed me home and "stuck" for days.  I just thank everyone for that incredibly complete "reveal" they did on the Henryton.  Without it, I don't know how I would have filled in the blanks I had about the place, and my experience. Be sure to check out my possible apparition/shadow figure.  We still aren't sure if that's what it is, but at first glance it looks like a person standing with arms folded, so feel free to comment.

Location: Grove Cemetery, Pleasant Hill Road

City:  Brunswick/Freeport

On Monday October 6, 2008 MaineGhostHunters Tony and Kat took a drive to a location neither had previously been to before, for a short investigation with a primary purpose of using our Ghost Box for the first time.  This is what Kat has to say about the day's events.

The drive to this particular location was somewhat unplanned. I knew about this cemetery because I had been by it before, but I hadn't actually gone inside it or anything, so while I knew it was there, it was still virgin ground for us as investigators.  Our reason for being out that day, at this cemetery in particular, was to test out our new ghost box.  Tony had modified the Radio Shack am/fm model 20-125 a while back and we hadn't gotten around to using it yet so we wanted to take it to a location away from our house where spirit activity might be prevalent.

Now, I'm a firm believer that spirits don't stick solely with their physical bodies once they pass one from this life, but I also believe that we, as people, know our loved ones visit graves from time to time to pay homage to those people who may have affected our lives in some way or another.   If we know they they're probably going to be visiting where we're buried, and we know we can't make contact with them at other "normal" locations they'd be at, like in their homes or in their cars, or what have you, then what other place would make sense to try and make contact?   At least at a graveyard they're more likely to be wanting to make contact, why else would they go to a place to visit someone who's been deceased for however-long?  People go to burial grounds for a few reasons; to make peace, to show respect, to pay homage, to grieve, and sometimes, to receive some sort of sign from the other side. 

So anyway, we made our way into the cemetery, and I have to tell you, it was really not at all a creepy place.  The cemetery is wide open, bright and airy, and there's even a couple of new glossy stone benches to sit on.   There are some fantastic monuments to be seen in this cemetery, and the overall area is pretty expansive.   There are old burials as well as new ones throughout the grounds, so you really get a strong mix of time-periods, and in some cases you get a strong sense of family because there's quite a few generations of similar names and heritage lines buried in close proximity to each other.

When we started our ghost box session we decided to ask for the older generation to step forward.   We had never really done this before so we weren't entirely sure what we should be doing or how we should be going about it.  After we asked the older generation to communicate with us it seemed we were getting "possible" responses from the box, but being realists we also admitted that those sounds and words coming from box could be just as much "random" as "purposeful", so we let them go.  We considered our ghost box session up to this point to be uneventful and unsuccessful. 

It was after this failed attempt at making contact with the older, wiser, crowd that we asked them to step back and we appealed to the lesser number of deceased population in the cemetery (at least we hoped that was the case).  We asked the younger crowd to step forward, anyone under the age of 20 was invited to make contact with us.  Here's how it went:

GB:  Five  (5)

Tony: It just said 5?
Kat: 5? Under the age of 20?

Tony: can you tell us what your name is? your first name?

GB:  TIMMY

Kat: Timmy, did you hear that?

GB: Matt
Kat: Matt?

Tony: Judy

Kat: [Heard it]

GB: 3 of them

Kat: It just said 3 of'em, and then ... then it just said Three of'em.

One of the more significant events we experienced while at this cemetery and while using this ghost box is that we continued asking questions about the kids, and learned that "Timmy" (as  heard in the above session) was 14/15 years old when he died and no matter where we looked we couldn't find a "Timmy" anywhere on the grounds.  We chalked this up to a sort of failure, and a learning experience for future sessions, letting this be a reminder that we need to be careful of what we really are hearing and what we're really not hearing.  

From our perception, the box was giving us directions on where to walk.  "Middle", "back up", "look", etc... by the time we were finished we were standing among a family plot area with a large number of "Curtis" headstones.  It was a strange experience and from a skeptical point of view, I suppose it could have been one that started with a subconscious noticing of the headstones as we walked into the cemetery.  It's a stretch, but I suppose it's almost as reasonable as thinking a radio could throw out random words and lead us to a cluster of "Curtis" headstones.    At this point, I didn't know what to think.

During another section of this ghost box session Tony had told me, a couple of times, that he kept hearing the word "Frank".   He was sure we should be paying attention to this name but it wasn't enough to find A Frank, he needed a last name to put the "questionable" nature of this "random shot in the dark" possibility, to rest.  Here's how this portion of the session went down.

Looking for Frank

Tony:  Ok, I'm gonna ask again.  Can you tell me the first name

GB: Say What
Kat: Say What?
GB: I'll Keep talking

Tony:  Can you give me the first name of the spirit I am looking for?

GB: [not clear in this recorded audio session]

Tony: did that say Frank?
Kat: Did it say Frank?  Again?

GB: Frank
Tony: You need to make it very clear

GB: Daniel

Tony: Danielle
Kat: Okay. Whe- Daniel? or Danielle?
Tony: Danielle

Tony:  Can you tell me the last name now?

Kat: 3 of'em?

Tony: You need to say the last name very clear.

GB: Byrom
Kat: -
Tony: Byrom

Kat: Oh my god, I'm gonna start to freak out if that was - that was sooo. What was the name?
Tony: Maybe it was Isaac we heard instead of Frank

[we're walking toward the Byrom headstone, looking at all names of headstones that are in the immediate vicinity. we meet up on the left side-edge of the Byrom headstone just as Tony finishes saying "maybe it was isaac we heard instead of Frank"]

Kat: That's Frank Byrom
Tony: Oh my god.  1957, and his wife Mary, we heard Mary over there.



I find that particular sound file to be a little challenging, but the information is there, and hopefully you can understand what's being said in it.   We weren't planning on doing anything with the audio file, in terms of the ghost box session, so we didn't record for the purposes of replaying the session later.  We were mainly recording for EVP's and admittedly, some of the lower toned sounds and words spoken from the radio are a little difficult to hear.

At one point during our time in the cemetery Tony decided he needed to hunt down a name the ghost box had said.  Since I had already gone on a solo jaunt through the grounds I decided to let him take this one himself, which left me standing alone with the ghost box in my hand.  In a laissez faire sort of way I asked the ghost box to say my name, and this is what transpired.

"Can you say my name?"

Kat: Can you say my name? My name's Kathy, can you say it?
GB: Kat

Kat: Thank you...tha-that's....that made-that's great
GB: And Michael

Kat: What? What did - wh- ...



I have a brother named Michael.   As you might be able to tell, I was a little thrown aback by the fact that my brother's name was said.  In fact, when I heard it, I was genuinely speechless, and like I've said before, that rarely ever happens. 

After the "Frank" & "and Michael" incidents happened, our time there was quite limited - by choice.   We were getting pretty anxious to head out of the grounds and to put this box away for another time.  A time when we could really come to terms with what did, or what did not happen there in that cemetery on this day.   Did we really hear what we thought we did?  Did the ghost box send us to the "Curtis" memorials?  Did it tell us to look for "Frank... Byrom". Afterall, when it said the name "Byrom" I was certain it was saying the name "Byron".  Byron is n't a common name, but it is a name.  And while I was trying to bring some sort of order to all that was running through my mind about how we could justify that what we thought was happening, wasn't happening at all, I had to be honest and admit that "Byrom" is extremely   close to the name "Byron", especially when you hear it on a radio, outdoors, and have never heard the name "Byrom" before.  You're far more likely to translate a word you haven't heard before, into a word you are more comfortable with hearing.  Hence, the reason "Byrom" was heard (or even said) as "Byron". 

We were discussing all of this, and much more, as we made our way back to the car and came upon a large family monument with the name "James" Small on it.  The man had lived into his 80's or 90's and had a grandson who was also named "James" who had lived only to the age of 14 or 15  (we didn't actually take note of the months of birth/death, so we aren't sure if he was 14 or 15 when he died).  And on the younger James' small square individual grave marker was written ... "JIMMY", which brought us back to the very start of our ghost box session when we reached a boy by the name of "Timmy".   On our way out of the cemetery we had heard the name "James" a couple of times, which is the name of a dear and close relative of ours, so we weren't sure what to do with the information.   In this very same sequence we had heard the words "Oh - Seven".  Young Jimmy Small lived to the year of 1907 and died a young boy under the age of 20. 

Our final conversation with the ghost box ended like this:

Leaving the Cemetery

Tony:  This is where you need to stay, this is where you were buried after you died.

GB:   We're Buried?  or You're Buried?

Kathy:  ?What?

Tony:   We're Buried?

Kathy:  Oh my gawd Tony... I'm sorry but yes, you are, you're buried.  

GB:  Moved On?

Kathy:  Moved On?  Did it just say "Moved On"?

GB :  (faintly) Make it stop.

Kathy:  Make it stop?

GB:  Save(d) Us.

Tony:  This is graveyard, this is where people are buried when they've died.  

GB: (faintly male voice) SO cold

Kathy:  So Cold?  Did you hear that?

Tony:  Uh huhh.  You need to move on, you shouldn't stay here if you don't like it here.

GB:  (Female voice) We need your HELP                                                   

Recovering from an all nighter at the monstrous Fort Knox in Prospect, Maine. What a fantastic night we spent with some awesome folks and new friends. If you haven't been to Fort Knox we highly recommend the drive. You could easily spend a whole day just poking around the place, inside and out. There are plenty of picnic areas, a gift shop, and a super tall obsevatory look-out building perched on top of the new bridge. There's plenty to do and lots to experience, and if you're lucky you might just encounter a friendly spirit with a watchful and protective eye. When MGH (Maine Ghost Hunters) investigated the Fort this weekend we felt nothing negative or evil to speak of. If anything at all, we'd have to say any presences at Fort Knox were nothing less than "officers and gentlemen"... Overall it was a wonderful experience and we look forward to reviewing our evidence.

For more, visit our forum at www.maineghosthunters.net .

photo.jpg

Location:  Spider Gates Cemetery
City:  Leicester, Massachusetts

 

This was one of those investigations that reminds me of how awesome it is to be a member of Maine Ghost Hunters. On this particular investigation day, I have to tell ya, "I'm lovin' life".  We left Maine somewhere around 8:00 in the morning and made a leisurely commute to the great state of Massachusetts where the much-rumored-about "8th gate to hell" resides. Tucked in the back woods of a somewhat remote area, surrounded by brush, trees, and fields of farmland lay the prize; Spider Gates Cemetery.

Spider Gates Cemetery is one of those graveyards who's reputation precedes it.  It's sad, really, when I think about it, because at the root of all the stories lay the relative of someone who's ears these rumors may meet.  It's my perception that people forget that they're talking about someone's mother, father, brother, uncle, cousin, or otherwise, when they tell these stories of evil that take place within cemeteries such as Spider Gates.  I'll tell ya, when made the trip to the Friend's Meetinghouse Cemetery in Leicester, Massachusetts I was wholly preparing myself for a downright menacing experience.  I had heard of ooze emerging from the ground, apparitions of small children, a "hanging tree" which sometimes reveals the reason it bares the name, satanic rituals and cults, and the manifestations those satanic rituals produce.

What I found when we finally arrived at the entrance to Spider Gates Cemetery was a beautiful, serene atmosphere who's grounds are impeccably neat, clean, and obviously cared for by people who are wholly vested in honoring those interred persons at rest here.  I can't tell you how wonderful the area looked and felt.  It was simply breathtaking.  It makes me want to give a scowling look of disapproval to people who pass such awful rumors about this location.   The grounds are absolutely stunning.  The stone wall that encompasses the outer perimeter of the cemetery has been neatly hand made by stacking rock upon rock, stone upon stone, and each one appears to be laid in place and held there by gravity and the weight of those stones above.  There is no cement holding this wall together.  It is meticulously maintained and rarely did we observe a stone out of place.  

The headstones aren't nearly as ornate as those stones in Puritan based cemeteries I've written about in the past, but they do depict a burial period that transcends the past couple of centuries.  The rumor that this burial ground is no longer used is a flat out lie.  We observed that a person was buried here as recently as this past year, 2008.  The headstones themselves may be simple, lacking much more than simple epitaphs, names, and dates of birth and death, but their simplicity exudes a certain level of beauty that is entirely communal. It's as though the message you receive in this place is that these people lived as a community and they rest in peace, for eternity, as a community.  We have been to a few cemeteries in the past, and none have felt as warm and inviting as Spider Gates.

We were able to take a walk around the grounds and check out the different rumored sites of interest.  For instance, the "altar" location in the center of the cemetery.  It is said that Satanic Rituals may be performed here on a regular basis by visiting Satanists, which is why the area appears to be cordoned off in some purposeful way.  That "purposeful way" , according to rumor, is supposedly designed by the Satanists. The more historically accurate version of this "altar" area is that it's almost certainly the footprint of the original Friends Meeting House foundation.  I was overtaken with the sheer beauty of the trees that grace the center of this beautiful cemetery and was somewhat affronted by the notion that anyone could consider this place to be any level of "evil".

We ventured toward one of the back walls of the cemetery where we noticed some upright-standing granite blocks averaging a height of roughly 3 to 4 feet tall.  TonyL thought this area could have been considered the "altar" area, or an "altar" area as well, but we were at a loss for an ultimate conclusion as for what this was more likely used for.  We took notes of "the hanging tree", and the "note" we took was that the limb used for the hanging is quite a distance off the ground.  The breadth of the tree would make it very unlikely that anyone who hung themselves from it "shimmied" their way to the limb.  Basically speaking, you'd have to really, really, want to hang yourself from this particular tree in order to get the job done, because the effort you'd have to go through to actually do it, is quite an involved process.  I'm not saying a young boy didn't hang himself from this tree, I'm just saying he had to be exceptionally tall, incredibly talented at climbing the, virtually, un-climbable - or both.  We didn't see any apparitions of ghostly children while visiting Spider Gates, but we did hear sounds that sounded like eerie children for a brief second.  Turned out to be high pitched birding vocals.  I'll admit, it took me by surprise for a brief second, but once the sounds were identified as birds, and were repeated often throughout the rest of our time on the Quaker grounds, all was fine.

The apparitions we had read about that appear in this area were basically a little girl, a little boy, and a slightly pre-teen or early teen boy.  There's an awful story, that dates a few decades back, of a 6 year old boy from a nearby boy's home that was beaten to death by one of the older teen-boy's from the home.  His body was dragged through the woods and stuffed into a culvert.  The story is heartbreaking and the location of the culvert, which we found, intensified the grisly nature of the crime, start to finish.   The culvert was so small in its initial opening that it's hard to imagine the condition the boy's body was in if he was, indeed, stuffed into this culvert as we saw it.   As TJ explained, the culvert's initial opening is small, but it "opens up" when you look farther inside.  It's a dark hole under a less-than-busy dirt road.  I'm doubting many people, if any at all, traveled this route on a regular basis.  

We took notice of the beautiful Kettle Brook, at a few different points, as well as the gloomy and buggy swamp areas that lay beyond the burial ground.  It's important to note that there are 2 swampy areas, only 1 of which claims the paranormal activity.  Spider Gates Cemetery, itself, is not the location much of the paranormal activity in this area is reported.  It's at the bottom of the hill near the swampy area that is a brief walk past the Spider Gates Cemetery.  

Now, as for the term "the 8th gate to hell" or Spider Gates Cemetery contains "8 gates to hell", both are preposterous accusations.  The cemetery itself has only 1 official entrance and that entrance is enclosed by 3 gates, each of which contain a wrought iron decoration in the center which resemble what many have compared to "the sun's rays" or "a spider web".    It is a fact that at least one of the gates is a reproduction since the original was stolen, and it is also a fact that that 1 gate does not "equal" 8.  I have read many variations of the "8 gates", my favorite tall-tale version being the one where "the close you get to the 8th, and last gate..." the more apt you are to pass out.  And that people have not only passed out when approaching the 8th gate, but there are people who have suffered heart attacks upon reaching the 8th gate, and there has also been the occasional death-upon-reaching-the-8th-gate.  The short of it is, it's all pretty insulting to the community of Quakers this place exists to serve, and to those community members buried within.  I was a little warmed by the notion that the official position of the Quakers, concerning these rumors about their cemetery, is that they find it all very humorous.  

All-in-All the trip to Spider Gates was definitely a wonderful experience.  On the way out of the cemetery, as we were wrapping things up and approaching our car, 6 more people in 3 different and unrelated cars, were making their way to parking their various vehicles so they could get a good look, and personally experience Spider Gates for themselves.  We were even fortunate enough to meet people who had heard of us from our internet site.  What a treat that was!  If you're out there and you're reading this, thanks for complimenting our site!  We were tickled pink, to say the least!  Join our forum, let's chat!

Location:  Eastern Cemetery

City:         Portland, Maine

Here's a little something involving our last unofficial investigation-visit to the Eastern Cemetery.  It's sometimes good to go to a place we want to investigate, just to check things out first so we can really get our plan of action laid out when presenting it to the team as a group.   TonyL and I (KatM) went to the Eastern Cemetery on an overcast day in mid-August to scope out the area and see what we're up against when we do our actual investigation in the near future.  We want the planning of this investigation date to take the general public, the weather, and the overall environment into consideration.   The location isn't exactly secluded.  As a matter of fact, if I had to categorize it, I'd place it as being in one of the worst investigation locations possible.  The area is very public, very visible from all outer edges.  By daytime standards it appears as though there are many streetlights surrounding every side of the cemetery.  I'm not sure how we'll be able to debunk based on the environmental factors associated with the area so, if nothing else, this will be a super learning experience.  I'm really looking forward to it and I think the the guys are totally down with it, too.

The cemetery itself was opened in 1666 and it set on Portland's East Side.  There is also a cemetery on the West Side of Portland, which I'll get to in a little while.  I put together a great little video spiff with TonyL offering a brief documentary on the cemetery which I hope to post on our youtube channel pretty soon.  Just by walking through the East Side cemetery you can soak in a certain appreciation for the history of the people and the places they came from and lived in.  Most lived in Portland, which is, of course, why they're buried at the "ESC" but there are many who have been involved in critical moments of America's history.  There are Revolutionary War veterans buried here, soldiers involved in the War of 1812 (America's Second Revolutionary War, a pivotal point in the careers of James Madison and Andrew Jackson, and probably the most critically important battles ever fought to secure the independence of the United State of America.) and many seamen and their widowed wives.  The children of the East Side Cemetery may well bear the most intimately discouraging stories of "life and times" in Portland during this chapter in "Maine's" history.

One of the more interesting aspects of the old Eastern Cemetery would be the folks who lived into their 70's and 80's, who are buried here. The headstones of mothers, fathers, brothers, religious leaders, lawyers, and sea captains. People of these times seemed to take pride, not only in their community, but also in the roles they played occupationally speaking. A woman who passed on from this life was not just known as "Jane", she was remembered and revered for what she offered as a wife, mother, and sister; and how her presence in the community affected those around her presently, as well as those future generations not yet born.  By reading some of these headstones a person can really get the sense that people appreciated people back then. Tombstones aren't nearly as poetic these days as they were back then, and a short walk through a place like the Eastern Cemetery can be a great reminder that we're all of the same place; in life and in death.

 

Before we entered the grounds of the Eastern Cemetery we took a brief outdoor walking tour of the perimeter of the Historic North School. I'm still collecting historical information about this location, particularly regarding its role in the community during times of Portland's prospering seaport days, the "great fire of 1866", and the height of immigration influx and transition.  All are key factors in the constant changing of Portland's identity, and can be seen in some small form, or other, in the writings on the various tombstones as well as the size, location, and original intentions for the building of certain public establishments, such as the North School.

The North School has a reputation of being haunted, intimate knowledge to those residents of the North School Apartments that now grace its interior.   Although I've been told the North School was involved in the Great Portland Fire of 1866, I cannot substantiate the claim due to the building's establishment date of 1867.  The Great Fire swept through the city of Portland at a destructive rate but, by official counts, had a very insignificant death toll of less than 10 Mainers.  Most of the city saw some type of fire-related destruction, and the entire city was involved in the reconstruction that followed.  

The architecture of the old North School vaguely resembles the beautiful Kirkbride Architecture that came to grace many of the larger (and later considered "haunted") medical institutions such as sanatoriums, mental institutes, and tuberculosis hospitals.  The clock tower that graces the upper portion of the front of the North School is a particularly stunning apex in Portland's historical setting.  The fact of whether or not the clock tower is actually still functional, escapes me.  The building itself is such a prominent presence near the Eastern Cemetery that a person can almost not consider one without the other.

Now, back to the Eastern Cemetery. Since our visit to the cemetery, at this time, was geared more toward gathering information about the location, and less about data and evidence collection, we found we had more time to peruse on a deeper level. We enjoyed spending more time reading headstones and learning about people and their relation to others buried nearby. We had time to explore the various headstone shapes, sizes, and grades of stone, which were all very fascinating. The sheer size of some of the stones was incredible. TonyL stands over 6 feet tall and some of these headstones reached the height of his chest! The black slate beauty of these stone slabs, and the care put into the design of the art engraved and the scripts etched within each exhibited a clear adoration of the dead by those they left behind.Portland was a special, and dare I say "intimate" community back in those good 'ole days.

Check out some of these headstone art pieces. Most of the headstones seem to be graced with art that denotes their religious beliefs are of a more Puritan nature, but that's a clearly superficial speculation on my part.  It would make sense that the initial residents of the region would have been of a more rigid and traditional religious sect such as Puritans and Puritanism, as the Puritans were a pretty dominant force in the more clearly established regions of Massachusetts, such as Boston. In fact, if I'm not mistaken the Puritans were not only very well established within the more metropolitan areas of Massachusetts, they were also of the "ruling class", dare I speak that aloud. America is a democracy, indeed, but in the late 1600's the colonies were still under the rule of the King of England. Being righteous, pius, loyal to God and King meant reaping benefits the working class rarely experienced. Needless to say, if Puritanism was the dominant religion of the day, it was a long time in the coming before the social, religious, and political elite would let go of that power and control; regardless of how far they were from Boston. And, historically speaking, Maine wasn't released from Massachusetts for, at least, another 150+ years.  So, long story-short, a lot of the beautiful graveyard art seen on some of these slate headstones are indicative of Puritan-istic religious principles and beliefs.

Hey everyone, I wanted to drop a quick note to fill y'all in on our new forum. You can find it by clicking on our "forum" button on our website, or by going to www.maineghosthunters.net. We're pretty excited about it because it looks quite a bit better than the older forum, and it seems a heck of a lot more user friendly. You can upload an avatar and personal picture, and link to files on places like Flickr and Photobucket. So it's an all around super deal! We hope you'll join us there, if not just to stop in and say "hi". :) Thanks! maineghosthunters

Lucerne Inn - Holden, Maine

Has anyone had any personal experiences with the Lucerne Inn in Holden, Maine?  There's a fascinating story of Infidelity, Murder and Suicide here, and of course, long term haunting.  One of the things that makes this place so special is the historically famous guest list, including Lincoln's vice president, and one time former Maine Governor, Hannibal Hamlin, as well as Civil War General, Ulysses S. Grant.

The rumor of "why" the Lucerne Inn is haunted goes back to a caretaker named "Nathan".  It would appear as though Nathan walked in on his wife and a guest of the Inn - catching them in a "compromising" position.   He took the news pretty badly and one thing led to another, leaving his wife and the guest murdered, and their blood on Sam's hands.  The story continues that after Nathan committed the heinous murders of his 2 victims in room 8 of the Lucerne Inn, he took himself into room 5 and committed suicide.

Lucerne Inn - Bedroom

The haunting of the Lucerne Inn has been figured, for the most part, to be "intelligent".  The building is quite old, having been built in 1812 and opened for business in 1814.  It's location is what made it a Maine landmark back in those days because it was one of the only places long-haul travelers could stop for room, food, and spirits (no pun intended) between Bangor and cities "down east" like Machias and Ellsworth.