The Haunted-Places Report 08/25/2007
Rev. Ron Beach
Aug 25, 2007 21:30 PDT
THE HAUNTED PLACES REPORT
"Some things exist whether you believe in them or not!"
Founded by: Dennis William Hauck
Edited by: Ronald E. Beach
All information contained in this newsletter is copyrighted and may not
be used in any format without the express written permission of the
FROM THE EDITOR
Please visit our website at: Haunted-Places.com and let us know
your thoughts & comments. Anything you like to see added to the site?
All items should be emailed to us at: Webfirstname.lastname@example.org
We are in the process of updating the Haunted-Places website
with upcoming events for 2007/2008. Please email us with your upcoming
meetings, conferences, classes, or other events. Just email a short
description including dates, times, prices, & contact info to:
From Ed Okonowicz at: email@example.com
We have three new books available this year Annapolis GHOSTS:
History, Mystery, Legends and Lore, by our company, Myst and Lace
Publishers, Inc. Haunted Maryland, which I wrote for Stackpole Books
Frankincense and Myrrh: A Tale of Love, Magic and a Miracle or Two.
All three books have been published and available through
our web site order form, from Amzon.com and from some local and chain
bookstores and area gift shops.
Also, Kathleen Okonowicz has created a snow scene print of
the Ticking Tomb graveyard and another of Fort Delaware. Both are
available as part of her new Haunted Places collection.
I’ve provided some details about these new items below, but
it is best to check out our web site www.mystandlace.com for details on
the books, paintings, book signings and programs and events.
* * * * * *
From Scott Colborn at: firstname.lastname@example.org
Here's the info on the "Ghosts of Lincoln" (Nebraska) tours
this fall. Tickets go on sale at Bodhi Imports, 17th & Sumner, Wednesday
August 22nd, at 12 noon.
Tickets are $10 each, and you may purchase your ticket(s) over
the phone using your credit/debit card, or, you may stop by Bodhi
Imports and use your credit/debit card, check or cash. Your pre-paid
ticket is your reserved space on that date; sorry - we can't hold
tickets for you without pre-payment. The phone number for Bodhi Imports
is: 402-477-1645. You may purchase single tickets, or, blocks of tickets
in your name. You may also purchase your tickets through the mail by
making your check payable to:
"Buy Lincoln" magazine
Lincoln, NE. 68502.
When purchasing tickets through the mail, please enclose a
self-addressed stamped envelope so that we can send your ticket(s) to
you. Be advised that although we'll check our Post Office Box several
times a week, the longer you wait the greater the chance that we can't
fill your ticket request. The dates below are those that you may
purchase tickets for:
Tuesday, October 2nd.
Wednesday, October 3rd.
Tuesday, October 9th.
Tuesday, October 16th.
Wednesday, October 17th.
The bus will depart from and return to the Indian Village
Shopping Center, 13th & Arapahoe. (Private groups may use a departure
location of their choice). The bus will board beginning at 6:45 pm, and
the tour will begin promptly at 7 pm and return to the parking lot at
approximately 9 pm.
Although our Ghosts of Lincoln tour is family friendly, we ask
that you don't bring small children, babies and toddlers. No alcoholic
beverages are permitted on the tour.
We have private tours scheduled for October 10th and October
23rd - those people will work with me directly as per our phone
Should you wish to reserve the whole bus for your private group,
contact me immediately at 770-8604 or 477-8846. After ticket sales
begin Wednesday 8/22/07, it will be difficult for you to reserve an
entire bus out of the remaining dates.
Everyone is really excited and looking forward to the tours, and
seeing our old and new friends. A mostly new tour this year, with the
favorite stories of the past tours as well - it will be fun and spooky
(did I say fun?).
Join us in October and we will board a bus and drive by some of
the alleged haunted houses (and buildings) of Lincoln at night, as our
Ghosts of Lincoln tour Director tells stories about ghosts and what
people saw. Lots of new Ghost stories plus the best of the old, so even
if you've gone on our tours before, you will enjoy them again.
Single tickets @$10 each will be sold, as well as reservations
for blocks of seats for your family, office, private group, etc. Each
tour will last approximately 2 hours and is suitable for families and
single folks. Last year we sold out 7 tours, and there were three
private groups that each rented an entire bus for their night.
Please contact myself or Roger Yant (owner of "Buy Lincoln"
magazine) with any questions or comments.
Scott Colborn, 770-8604, 477-8846.
Roger Yant, 580-1402.
* * * * * *
From Salina at: email@example.com
We have a ghost hunting group in Niagara Region, and found your
organization. There is a lot of documented paranormal activity in our
area. with countless sightings. Niagara Falls and region is becoming
known as haunted destination, and we would like to promote that more.
Our website is:
Paranormal Evidence: To psy or not to psy?
Written by Brandy at: firstname.lastname@example.org
In recent years there has been a plethora of paranormal-themed
television shows. These shows provide technical "proof" of apparitions
often based upon thermal imagers, infrared cameras, and other such
devices. Yet, for some of these groups there is a lack of one element:
psy-sensitives. So, that brings investigators to the following
questions: What information processes should be used in investigation,
and which should be discounted? Do psy-sensitives add information to an
investigation or are they only subjectively guessing? Should
paranormalists rely solely on equipment-based responses to considered
This month's featured article shows the complexities that come
with answering these questions. A large group of SPIRITS members met at
the home of a three-person family. Each teammate brought an assortment
of equipment to be used, and the gathering also included a
psy-sensitive. As per the SPIRITS' protocol, members were encouraged to
record their personal experiences throughout the investigation.
In comparing the two techniques, the equipment used did yield
some results. The SPIRITS captured several orb images via digital
cameras, though most could be subject to explanation. Only one orb
showed any form of texture and depth, differentiating it from dust.
However, the orb image was captured outside and could be explained by
the presence of humidity or pollen.
The team also used the EMF meter to try to communicate with the
entity. We asked it to indicate a positive response to our questions by
creating a "spike" on the meter. While this technique has worked in the
past and has produced unusual behavior from the meter, the results were
questionable in this investigation. We received emphatic spikes to
several inquiries, especially concerning the minor who lived in the
home. Yet, when we attempted to repeat the questions for verification,
the meter provided no response. It was difficult to determine accuracy
to this technique without this verification.
It was the intuitives that proved to provide the most accuracy
on this night. Our primary sensitive was able to give a physical
description of the entity, as well as a purpose to his haunting of the
family. He was there to visit the homeowner’s child. The intuitive
added additional details, as she heard a strong "jah" or "jer" sound as
part of his name. Believing that the sound was the first syllable, the
sensitive was incorrect in naming him. However, we later gained
clarification to this information from the homeowner. Her brother, who
had often told her that he wanted to be there to see her son grow up,
was named Roger. The "jah"/”jer” sound was located not at the start of
his name, but centrally to it.
Additionally, member experience proved beneficial to this
investigation. Several members reported feeling the temperature in the
room drop, though this was not verified with thermometers. Two female
members also felt someone play with their hair during the investigation.
The homeowner did verify that her brother liked women and often flirted
Overall, the results remain mixed. For this investigation, it
would appear that the human element was stronger, yet both human and
equipment concurrently verify certain aspects of information given by
the entity. The SPIRITS of St. Petersburg plans to continue with its
current investigation style, though we would like to hear from other
teams regarding their experiences and opinions.
Ideas are welcome for posting at the SPIRITS of St. Petersburg
blog, located at MySpace.com:
This section is devoted to helping those looking for paranormal
groups near their home or seeking information about various hauntings.
If you can provide answers or help to any of these requests please feel
free to email the senders.
Questions or comments for this section can be emailed to:
Ediemail@example.com. Please be sure to include your email address
so our readers can respond to your request. Due to the vast number of
subscribers, we at The Haunted Places Report can not be held responsible
for the types or quality of answers and /or help you receive.
From Steven at: SEELACfirstname.lastname@example.org
Below is the true account of what happened to my family and me
when we rented a haunted house. The experience changed my life and that
of my children. Here's my story.
Union, Missouri Haunting
Do you believe in ghosts? I use to be like many of you. I was
a true skeptic. A true disbeliever. That was I until three years ago.
Now I do believe. I wish I didn’t. It would be easier for me to sleep
at night. Even now, three years later, I am still woke up in the night
by the memory of the screaming man, the child in pain, and the dark
ghostly image that turned my world upside down and changed my beliefs
forever. I do believe in ghosts.
It was in May 2001. I needed desperately to find a place for
myself and three children to live. Our lease was up at the apartment
where we had lived for two years. I was a single father, and I was
about to find my children and myself homeless. Like many, I had
answered just about every ad in the newspaper for rentals. One evening
I received a call from this woman telling me about this house. She said
it was a rather large old house that was in very good shape. She
invited me to an open house which was to be held that coming Sunday.
Sunday rolled around. You can’t imagine the surprise when my daughter
and I rolled up in front of this large old white house. We walked in.
The smell of cookies baking hit us immediately upon entering through the
front door. To our surprise we were standing in a living room with
cherubs surrounding the top of the walls all the way around the room.
All of the original woodwork was intact and a large wooden pole ran to
the ceiling causing a divider, which would later, find out separated the
living room from the family room. The house had two floors. Three
bedrooms. A large family kitchen with a mudroom that lead to the back
door. The upstairs bedrooms had a breezeway that could be accessed from
either room. The basement had an old butchers shower and a fruit cellar.
It was more house than we ever imagined for the price and immediately
made up our minds that we had to have it. Anyone who has lived in an
apartment for two years with three children would understand our
desperation. We had to have this house. We spoke with the landlady and
she gave us an application to fill out. There were many people there
looking at the house so we knew we would have to compete to be its
tenants. I handed my application to the landlady. “You understand the
responsibility that comes with living in an old house such as this?” she
asked. “Oh, yes I understand. It’s beautiful.” I quickly replied not
really understanding to what I was agreeing to. “Well then I will get
back to you.” she quickly retorted and was off to peddle her wares to
another of the visiting house hunters. She was a strange old lady and
the way she showed the house wasn’t in a real estate type manner. She
showed the house as if she were showing a museum. We had felt like we
were on one of the house tours often given each year for charity.
A week went by. The phone rang one evening. It was the strange
landlady overly excited to tell me that she had selected myself, my
daughter and two sons to live in the old house. I was to meet her that
following day at a restaurant not far from my work to settle all of the
paperwork and payment. I thought this was a little strange and I was a
little disappointed because I couldn’t wait to see the house that would
now become our home. The papers were signed just has planned on the
following day. And we were all set to move in at the end of that week
which was Memorial weekend.
It seemed like years before Friday came that week, but we were
finally here. Moving day. The move was your normal move and before we
knew it all of our belongings were hidden safely inside the old white
house. I was removing the last few items from the moving truck when a
car slowed way down almost stopping in front of our new home. The
passenger said from the window of the slow moving car, “ Hope you get
along okay here,” and then sped up and drove away. “What do you think of
that dad,” my daughter slightly puzzled asked. “Friendly neighbors I
suppose,” I replied as I shut the sliding door to the truck.
The first night in the house went by without much fanfare.
Maybe because we were so tired from the move or maybe because the house
wanted to draw us in a little closer before beginning its series of
attacks and assaults upon myself and my family. The next morning started
like most any other day. Except I did notice one strange thing about the
house. Each of the houses interior doors had an old-fashioned hook and
eye latch, but not on the inside of each rooms doors to keep someone
out. The latches were on the outside of the rooms doors as if to keep
something in. “What is it dad?” my youngest son asked from behind. “Oh
nothing.” I replied and went about the business of unpacking our things.
The first incident happened in the living room. I was hanging a
large picture of two angels. My daughter thought that this would
compliment the cherubs that surrounded the room. I hung the picture and
turned to walk away. Crash. I turned to see that the picture had fallen
to the floor. I hung the picture once again. Turned away. Crash. The
picture on the floor. I hung it once again. This time when I turned and
started walking away I felt a rush of air and something hit the back of
my ankles. “What the hell…” I turned to see the picture lying at my
feet. More determined than ever I hung the picture again. This stately
loudly, “Stay there dammit.” I had to laugh because I was alone. Who did
I think I was talking to? The kids were playing on the front porch.
“Dad come and see this,” my daughters voice rang through the
front door. I stepped out onto the porch. “Sit down and watch this.,”
she said excitedly. “Watch what?” No sooner than the words came out of
my mouth my daughter pointed to an n old man walking down the sidewalk
toward our house. But when he reached our property line he quickly
crossed the street and continued his walk on the opposite sidewalk.
“They don’t like walking in front of our house dad. Isn’t that weird?”
my daughter still breathless with excitement stated. And right she was.
I sat on that porch for a good three hours watching our neighbors cross
the street away from our house on their walks. A couple of times I
motioned as if to say hello and they just dropped their heads and
continued on their way, but this time a little faster. “Maybe they are
uncomfortable with new neighbors?” I rationalized trying to make sense
out of the senseless. We went inside for dinner and the rest of the
night went normally without incident.
Sunday. The kids came home from church excited because we had
set aside the whole day to work on our yard. This was a big deal for us
because the only outside our apartment that we could call ours had been
a front balcony. We mowed the grass. Cleaned out the leaves from under
the porch and in the front yard. Strangely enough the trees seemed to be
shedding there as if it were fall. Strange tree behavior I thought and
made a mental note to mention it to the landlady when I talked with her
next. I asked my youngest son to go inside and bring out the garden hose
that was in the basement so we could clean off the walkways and was down
the weathered white of the house. A few moments passed when I heard him
screaming from inside the house. I ran in frantically to find him. He
was standing in the middle of the kitchen shaking. Standing in a puddle
urine. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Looking at me with the scared
eyes of a child, “Something chased me up the basement steps.” “What
chased you?” I asked already thinking the over active imagination of a
little boy was at play here. “ I don’t know daddy, but it was big.” Me
and my other two children checked the basement, but found nothing except
for the garden hose that had been dropped on the scared run. “Let’s get
you cleaned up.” Of course there was teasing from my other two children
about the proverbial basement monster. “Better watch out when you go
into the basement because…” The glare of my eye finished my middle boys
sentence. The rest of Sunday and Monday went without anymore incident.
We were so happy those first few days in the house. My daughter was
making plans about gardens, decorating, and my boys thought it would be
easy to just walk to their baseball games because the park was just
right over there. A normal time which didn’t last for long.
Monday came. The last week of school for my kids and a long
week of work for me. Each day we would leave the house. Each night we
would come home to find every light in the house turned on. And each
night I would blame the children for turning on every light in the house
before leaving that morning. On Friday my daughter and I sent the boys
to the car while we purposely toured the house looking for any forgotten
light. All lights off. That night we returned home to again find every
light burning. I walked into the house that night a little shaken. I had
no logical reason for all of the lights being on other than that there
was someone in our house. I searched the house in a panic, but found
nothing or no one. “Daddy, its cold in here.” my daughter stated from
the living room. What was she talking about? Sweat was pouring down my
back and across my brow. I stepped into the living room. \The
temperature dropped what seemed a good thirty degrees. And that was the
first time I felt its presence. I can’t describe it to anymore than an
electrical current running through my body that brought tears to my eyes
and bumps to my arms. It passed quickly. I remember thinking, “What the
hell was that?” “Daddy it’s getting warm in here.” And sure enough the
temperature was rising as I watched the thermostat climb. That night my
children slept with me. What little sleep I got.
Sunday night. We were sitting in the living room talking. The
kids had their backs to the living room, which I am still thankful for.
Because the memory of what was to happen still haunts my dreams to this
day. I was getting ready to take a trip the following morning to
Indianapolis for work. We were discussing the plans that had been made
for the children’s stay at Grandma’s. I noticed it first out of the
corner of my eye. A quick glance. Something moving, standing at the
kitchen doorway that led into the family room. Not something some one. I
looked toward it again. It was a dark figure of a man even though there
was full light. He was solid in form except there was a moving, churning
of what appeared to be dark gray, black smoke or mist that made up his
form. I looked down because I was sure I wasn’t seeing this. My eyes
were playing tricks on me. I was sure that when I looked up again that
it would be gone. One or two good rationalizations and we could go on
with our lives without incident. A few moments passed. I looked up
again. He was still there. And he began to move. He moved into the
family room pausing in the center of the room his form still a mass of
churning turning blackness. He stood there for what seemed an eternity,
but in actuality it was only a few moments and then he melted into the
air. Gone. I remember the thoughts that were racing through my head. “
I have two choices. We could run out of the house screaming into the
night like those crazies you always see in the movies. You know the ones
that are always based on fact. Or, the other choice, we cold get up
quietly leave the house and figure all of this out.” My hand was shaking
uncontrollably. “ That’s what we’ll do. We will go quietly, orderly, as
if nothing was wrong. “I stood up shakily. And in my nicest, calmest
daddy voice I said, “Let’s go get a soda and see grandma. “My youngest
instantly excited at the prospect of a soda before bed and the older two
looking at me as if I lost my mind. “Come on guys it will be fun.”
Thank God my car keys were on the coffee table in front of us. We moved
orderly out the front door. I turned to lock the door when a loud
painful scream of a man came up from inside the house. A man voice
screaming in pain. So loud that it could be heard through out the
neighborhood and the neighbors dogs began to bark. To hell with orderly.
“Get in the car!” I screamed at my children. We were on a dead run now.
The drive to my Mom’s house is still a blur to this day. I was in a
panic and I knew that we had to get away from the old white house. I do
remember as we were driving away my youngest son very scared now saying,
“Daddy the basement monster is standing in the upstairs window.” I
looked back and sure enough the black form was there standing in the
window watching us leave.
That night we stayed at my parents’ house. Early the next day,
I gathered my things and left for my business trip. I had a whole week
of rationalizations by the time I returned home to get my kids. Where
else were we to go? I had put everything I had saved and then some into
the move. We had to go back to the big old white house. What else were
we to do? Besides, after a week of talking myself out of the events of
that night I was ready to return. So on Friday night we returned to the
house. The weekend went by without incident and very little sleep. I was
taking another extended weekend to make up to my kids for my week away.
On Saturday we explored the big shed at the back of the yard and in it
we found all of these different peoples personal belongings. My parents
convinced me that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to call the
strange old landlady and ask her some straight forward questions about
the house. The most awkward phone call of my life and the strangest.
Once I was able to reach her I asked in my most normal of voices and my
most careful choice of words if she had known of any of the previous
tenants mentioning perhaps a ghost. Well of course she said at first not
that she could remember. Then there was this one tenant. A girl. Who
claimed that her dead father came to visit her, but the old woman always
thought she was crazy. Some of the stuff in the shed that girl had left
behind, but she couldn’t get her to come pick it up. The other stuff in
the shed belonged to this guy that had lived there and had left in the
middle of the night leaving behind his things. But, no she had never
heard of anyone talking about the house being haunted. I asked here how
long ago did these people live there? And she said, “Not much more than
a year honey, why do you ask?” The phone call wasn’t of much help. And
it didn’t calm my fears much, but what else could I do?
The rest of the long weekend came and went. I actually had convinced
myself that it was just a one-time ordeal because nothing was happening
now. That was until Monday night. I was on the phone with my mom. The
kids were off playing in my bedroom, which was also located on the first
floor. While talking to my Mom, I heard the doors rattle. Not the
outside doors, but the inside doors of the house. I listened. They
rattled again. I yelled at the kids to quit playing games. I told my Mom
that everything was okay just the kids playing tricks. The rattled
again, this time harder. So, I scolded the children this time louder to
behave and stop playing tricks. At this time they rattled louder, but
before I could scold my daughters scared voice cut me off. “Daddy, I’m
in here reading and my brothers are asleep.” Now I will try to recreate
what happens next to the best of memory. Some of it I remember clearly.
Other parts are still to this day a blur. Just has soon as I heard my
daughter the temperature in the house dropped a good thirty degrees.
Instantly. With it that electrical charged feeling running through my
body. Along with its energy a horrible stench that I can’t goes beyond
description. And then the screaming started softly at first, but
building in momentum. I screamed through the phone at my mother to come
help we were getting out. The whole house at this time began to shake
and come alive. From the above I could hear something large coming down
the stairs. Boom. Boom! BOOM! The screaming of the man over and over.
The screaming of my daughter, “Daddy what is happening!” And the thought
that one of my two bedroom doors connected to the stairs. BOOM! BOOM! It
was coming down those stairs! I had to get to my children! The whole
house was alive with noise. The floor beneath me was shaking as I made
my way to opposite bedroom door. I felt something behind me and I knew I
didn’t want to turnaround to see it. BOOM! SCREAMING! A new scream mixed
into the mans scream this one of a child. BOOM! SCREAMS! BOOM! I make it
to my bedroom door. It won’t open. By this time I am screaming myself.
Throwing myself against the door. It won’t open. Throwing myself against
the door again and again…it finally slams open. My daughter is in shock
by this point. I instruct my middle son to grab his brother and run out
the front door and head for the car. BOOM! BOOM! SCREAMS! My daughter
won’t move. I finally slap her to bring her to life. She responds and I
grab her and head for the door as I hear the other bedroom door slam
open behind us. I was on our trail and I new I couldn’t let it reach us.
The whole house still shaking and alive with noise and something big on
our heels. We reach the front door and out onto the porch. I slam the
front door behind us. We get to the car noise still coming from the
house. I drive away and park at the top of the street where I can look
into the house and wait for my parents to arrive. While there my
children and I see it searching through the house. Searching! Searching
for us! It’s blackness moving from room to room methodically.
That was our last night in the house. My children never
returned. I returned to get a few of our things when needed and everyone
I brought into that house with me would witness something happen. A
scream. Whispers. Pounding from the floor above. It was not selective
anymore at who it let hear its fury. About a year ago, someone I know
saw a police car race up to that house one night and saw a family
running out of its front door in their night clothes. I remember what
the old lady said to me as I turned over the key. Standing there, the
whole side of my arm and torso still bruised from throwing myself
against that bedroom door. “Some people are meant to live in an old
house like that. And some people aren’t. I never thought you were the
old house type.” And I guess she was right.
About a month after moving out of the old house a friend sent
me a web site address that she wanted me desperately to see, “ Put John
T. Crowe, Union, Missouri into your search engine.” I did. The face of a
man came onto my screen. The same face that showed up in a picture my
brother took in the fruit cellar one afternoon while I was packing for
the move. he man was famous. The land itself famous, with a history
dating back to the civil war. Go there. See for yourself. As for the
house. The old lady turned it into a dog kennel this past fall. I guess
she ran out of people that could live in an old white house like that
You see I do believe in ghosts. I still drive past that house
every once in awhile and when I get enough nerve I look up at the
upstairs window and it there. Watching. Waiting. Angry. Sometimes its
screams still wake me from my sleep. Its infectious scream creeping into
my dreams turning them into nightmares. I still don’t sleep very well.
In my dreams I see a faceless man standing in that basement washing away
blood from his naked blood covered body. Grunting. Panting. Breathing.
The breathing you’d hear when you were alone with it in a room. The
breathing you would hear when you knew it was there. Heavy.
Labored.Breathing. Yes, I do believe in ghosts. I do believe in ghosts.
And maybe you should too?
For a complete listing of this year’s upcoming events please visit our
* * * * * *
West Virginia Penitentiary
818 Jefferson Ave.
6 -10 PM
Learn how to use actual Ghost Hunting gear, ghost hunting
protocol, how to take the best paranormal pictures possible, and a brief
history of “Spirit Photography”. This classroom is on site at the
prison! You will learn the ancient art of Dowsing and how to use it in
an investigation. (80% of people actually have this ability). Learn
paranormal terms and meanings and then explore the prison in a small
group setting. 2-hour class followed by a 2-hour private investigation
of the infamous WV Pen.
Class Instructor: Sherri Brake-Recco, owner of Haunted Heartland
Fee: $50 per person. Age limited to 18 or over To reserve online:
http://www.wvpentours.com/main.php or by phone at 304- 845-6200
All Night Ghost Hunt
818 Jefferson Ave.
8 PM - 6 AM
At 8 pm, enter the gates of what was once one of the bloodiest
prisons in America for an hour-long guided tour of the facility. At 9 pm
begin your paranormal experience and share your stories at midnight
during pizza and a movie. Continue exploring for mystical spirits until
6am under the direction of a qualified paranormal investigator or on
Fee: $50.00 per person
For more info visit: http://www.wvpentours.com/main.php or call
Ghostly History Tour
8PM - 9PM
Join a "Victorian Era grave digger", in the dusk of the
evening, as he leads you on a lantern lit walk thru one of the area's
oldest cemeteries. As darkness covers the cemetery you'll visit the
graves of some of Hope Cemetery's most well known "residents" and learn
- Learn why there are two civil war memorial statues in the cemetery.
- Visit the grave of a man hung for his attempt to free slaves.
- See the final resting place of a well-loved ex-slave turned basket
- What is the story behind Goldie and her mysteriously changing flowers?
- You'll be told about Victorian Burial Customs.
- Learn how to recognize the gravesite of a Civil War veteran.
- See beautiful headstones, and mausoleums as darkness sets in.
- Listen to ghostly tales, funeral folklore and odd burial customs.
- Learn about Salem's early pioneers and their struggles.
- Learn about the Symbolism on tombstones.
- Learn the origins of common superstitions.
The tour will start at the cemetery office on S. Lincoln Ave.
This is a one-hour walking tour; be sure to wear comfortable shoes and
dress for the weather.
Tickets are $10 per person. Tour will be held rain or shine. No
refunds will be given. For more info or to purchase tickets visit:
Beginning Ghost Hunting Class
Salem Community Center
1098 N. Ellsworth Ave.
7:00 - 8:30 PM
Over 80% of Americans believe in ghosts. Are you one of them?
Do you have an interest in the paranormal and would like to learn more?
Than this class is a "must" attend. This class was developed for those
with little or no ghost hunting experience. It is a pre-requisite for
our Advanced Ghost Hunting Class that will be offered at a future date.
In this class you will learn:
- Paranormal Vocabulary
- The Signs of a Haunting
- The Use of Ghost Hunting Equipment
- How to Photograph Ghosts
- How to Record Ghostly Voices (EVP)
- Famous Haunts in Ohio
- Investigation Protocol
- Use of the lunar cycle
- Tips on Conducting an Investigation
- Much More...
This class is approximately one and half hours long. It will
consist of book work, lecturing, hands on use of equipment, slide show,
and samples of EVP taken from suspected haunted locations. You are
welcome to bring your own equipment for instruction on its use. You are
also encouraged to bring your photos and EVPs for group discussion.
Class participants will receive a workbook and a certificate of
The Class Instructor is Paranormal Investigator Ron Beach. Ron
has been featured on several radio programs and in various newspapers
and magazines. He has 20+ years experience in the field of paranormal
investigations, having investigated haunted sites throughout the United
States and Europe. He has founded 3 different investigative groups and
served on the board directors on several others. Ron is currently
Webmaster of Haunted-Places.com and editor of the Haunted-Places Report.
Fee: $20 per person. No refunds will be given.
Refreshments will be included