by Ian Gibbs
If you are still interested in staying in the haunted room, it would be best not to try for an extra spooky night. Attempts to make a booking for Halloween will likely require you to be placed on a waiting list. It could be a few years before you have the chance to spend a haunted night with the two resident spirits—that is, those of William and Ernest.
The gracious and lovely Inn at Laurel Point now stands where Mr. Sehl and Mr. Pendray both had their ill-fated factories. The site was originally referred to as Deadman’s Point, so I can see why the name would be changed: I’m not sure the inn would get many guests if they’d called it Inn at Deadman’s Point. Please be assured: if you are staying there, you have nothing to fear. The vengeful spirits seem to have calmed down quite a bit. However, guests and staff have experienced dark shadows moving through the halls, wine glasses tipping over by themselves, and strange noises or sounds coming from empty rooms. While no one is overly anxious to discuss such things, you may notice them if you go there. While the ghosts have indeed settled down, they still remain.
My own experience over at the Inn at Laurel Point is quite typical. I knew nothing of its history or hauntings the first time I went there; I had been invited to a retirement event for a colleague. I remember being in a beautiful solarium at the back of the hotel. It struck me as very odd that the room seemed to be quite dim. Not only were the lights on, but also the sun was shining through the windows. I couldn’t shake the feeling of darkness—not in an evil sense, just in an absence-of-light sense. Since my first experience in the hotel, I have been back a number of times for different events and occasions. It really is an excellent hotel, but I always notice a feeling of darkness that seems to permeate all of the public spaces.
I returned to the hotel recently with a friend who is also sensitive to spiritual things. Ensuring that we were both open and protected, we walked through the hotel and tried to absorb what was going on around us. We both sensed, almost at the same moment, a wistfulness or lostness that seemed to be the primary energy moving around us. Could this be the displaced spirits who’d had their eternal home disturbed and destroyed? As we explored the building, we almost seemed to be drawing some energy to us. Perhaps it could sense that we were there to experience something and was drawn to that. I am not sure, but after a while we felt it would better if we left. There is a sadness to the land and the building that is hard to explain. It is unfortunate that what was set aside as a sacred place of rest and honour was so badly defiled by newcomers who didn’t know any better. Would this piece of land be quite so scarred if its original purpose had not been disrupted? In and around Victoria we come across this situation again and again. It may be why the spirits in Victoria are still so active and insist on being remembered and discovered even today.
THE BENT MAST
THE BENT MAST Restaurant & Lounge opened in 1995 in what was originally a private home. It seems like a strange spot for a house in modern-day James Bay, but the location makes more sense once you learn that it was one of the first houses to be constructed in the area. It was built in the 1870s and sits at the crossroads of Simcoe, Toronto, and Menzies Streets.
There have been multiple reports of strange goings-on at the Bent Mast. (Well, to be honest, around all of James Bay.) The first time I entered the building I sensed something—not just something but some things. The sensations are quite heavy throughout, but I didn’t really have a sense of what or why until I went upstairs to use the washroom. It definitely feels like there’s a woman up there. A cranky old woman—the kind who would brook no foolishness when she was alive and certainly resents anyone disturbing her space now. I did what I had to do and got out of there as quickly as I could. I could feel her frustrated eyes boring into me the whole time. Talk about disconcerting!
The servers have reported feeling like they’ve been pinched on the bum while the pub is empty. And no one likes going downstairs to change the beer kegs; one employee reported having the door close behind her when she was alone down there. The feeling in the basement is a male presence, and he’s not very nice.
One of the most amazing incidents happened soon after one of the previous owners of the pub died. A group of men were out on the front patio talking about him. He was a character who could polarize a crowd; some in the group thought he was great, while others hadn’t cared for him. One man spoke up with a negative opinion. When he finished his piece, he brought his beer mug up to his lips and just as he was about to take a sip, the mug suddenly shattered, covering the man with beer and broken glass. Apparently the former owner reciprocated that man’s distaste.
Some people have reported being shoved or pushed as they were going down the stairs from the upper level washrooms. A friend of mine, Mike, had been enjoying a good time with friends in the pub. He wasn’t drunk, but he’d had more than one beer. Mike said that as he came down the stairs, he was shoved hard. I asked him if he was sure that he hadn’t just tripped and he said no way. He had felt two very distinct, smallish hands on his back, and then felt them give him a good hard shove. Thankfully, he was able to grab the banister and catch himself from falling, but it unnerved him.
Activity in the kitchen can sometimes be an issue as well: knives go missing, things tip over, and sometimes dishes slide off the counters by themselves and smash on the floor. All of this contributes to the overall spooky, but fun, atmosphere of the Bent Mast.
HELMCKEN HOUSE
HELMCKEN HOUSE WAS the home of Dr. John Sebastian Helmcken, Victoria’s first and, for a long time, only doctor. The original house, which was added onto twice, was built in 1852 when Fort Victoria was still a tiny settlement of approximately three hundred people and the good doctor was twenty-six years old. Born in 1824 in the impoverished Whitechapel district of London, England, John Sebastian Helmcken worked his way through medical school by doing apprenticeships as a chemist and eventually gaining permission to become a medical pupil. He arrived in Victoria in 1850, an employee of the Hudson’s Bay Company. He was well loved and well respected in the community; he fit right into the Fort’s rough-and-ready lifestyle. By 1856, he had become the Speaker of the House in the British Columbia Legislature. In 1870, he was part of the three-man delegation sent to Ottawa to negotiate British Columbia’s entry into Canada.
Obviously Dr. Helmcken was no ordinary country doctor. He married the daughter of the governor of BC in 1852, and cemented himself as a permanent part of the community to which he was determined to contribute. He and his wife, Cecilia, had seven children, of whom only four survived to adulthood. Sadly, the lovely Cecilia, to whom John was devoted, died of pneumonia at the age of thirty. They were only together for twelve years. People said that when Cecilia died the light went out of John’s eyes. Even though he lived to the age of ninety-six, he was never quite the same again, and he never remarried. In 1920, Dr. Helmcken died in the house he’d built for his wife and family. His daughter Dolly, who lived with him in his final years, also died in the house. It’s believed that Dolly and Dr. Helmcken still inhabit the house, along with a few of the other children, who never had a chance to grow to adulthood, that Dr. Helmcken and Cecilia had.
Dr. Helmcken seems to take up residence in the master bedroom. While touring the house some visitors have seen a hand come around the door, then push it closed. Other people have smelled pipe smoke in the house, though no one has smoked inside it for many years.
On the Ghostly Walks tours I lead, we go into the backyard. As they walk past the back steps, some people are intimidated when they see a stern-faced lady standing on the stoop. This figure is assumed to be Cecilia, but it may also be Dolly. There are some who choose not to go in the backyard at all, as the spiritual energy is quite palpable. This could be because the three children who died in infancy were buried in the backyard, as would have been the custom of the day.
Andrea Bailey, founder of Unearthing Shadows Paranormal, graciously shared her own experiences of Helmcken House with me. When I asked her about the house, she told me:<
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I’ve had a few stories there. Once I was sitting there [at the front of the house] after work, where I had met a friend. We were just talking, and I don’t know why, but I kept looking into one window that had a curtain on it. There was no reflection and no one inside. Then I saw a head just above the curtains, and a shadow behind that walked from left to right and seemed to be a female. I asked the security guard, who confirmed no one was inside. Unless someone walked right in front of us, which they didn’t, there is no way the figure could have been an outside reflection either because it was coming from inside the home.
The other experience happened one evening when I was with two friends and we were walking back to my car. We stopped in the area, talking about the previous experiences we had at Helmcken House. I kept seeing a hefty, middle-aged woman, peering through a window in the room that’s set up as the living room. Then I got really tired and felt like I was experiencing a panic attack. I felt like I wanted to get out of there. Then, before I said anything, the other person started saying he was feeling the same as me. We felt like someone was watching us, and they were angry we were there. I also kept getting flashes of a pissed-off woman in my mind. So we left. A security guard came by so we asked him if anyone was inside the house and he said no, there was no way anyone could be inside. He just did a walk through and locked it up a bit before we were there. I haven’t been inside since I was a kid and I really don’t even remember being inside, so weeks later when the museum opened the house up to the public, I walked in and was drawn to a picture in the living room. It was of the woman I physically saw and mentally saw. After this, others were contacting me about similar situations they were experiencing there.
When there are children on the Ghostly Walks tours, they will frequently notice something that a lot of the adults do not. The guide generally stands with their back to the house so the group has a clear view of the house. Often children will begin waving up at the window or playing hide and seek. When asked what they’re doing, they respond with a chilling statement: “I’m waving at the girl in the window. She keeps waving at me.”
Dolly was the spinster daughter who never left. She looked after her father until his death and eventually followed him to the grave, also dying in the house. Visitors to the house will often smell the strong smell of perfume, a scent known to have been favoured by Dolly. Dolly has even been known to give tours of the house, unbeknownst to the human visitors. One woman even went so far as to thank the security guard on duty and compliment the period-dressed woman who had shown her group around upstairs. The guard then had the uncomfortable job of letting the visitor know that there were no guides working that day. When the woman insisted, even describing the dress the woman had been wearing, the guard recognized it as a dress that hangs up in one of the sealed-off upstairs rooms.
A compelling story told by one of the actors in the Christmas re-enactment play, which is held annually in Helmcken House, is another reason to suspect Dolly is the strongest entity in the house. The group had hired all of their actors for the Christmas play, which was to depict the Helmcken family gathered at Christmas to celebrate the holiday together in a Victorian way. The actor who played Dolly had to be able to play the piano. Dolly was famous for her piano playing, and the actress was meant to play “Silent Night” at the end of the play. Unfortunately, the woman cast as Dolly fudged her piano ability in her audition, but she assured everyone involved she could play the song without any problem. In reality, the woman had no idea how to play the piano.
As opening night drew nearer, the rehearsal for the final scene revealed her secret to everyone. It was clear to all that there was no way this actor was going to be able to perform the song at the end of the play. Not only that, but there was no time to cast anyone else. They production team sent her to private and intensive music lessons to learn how to play that one song and only that one song. The actor tried, but she could not train her hands to play the song that quickly. Even at the final dress rehearsal, she was still butchering the song beyond belief. The cast decided they would just have to sing very, very loudly—sort of the opposite of “Silent Night”—and the actor would do the best she could. Everyone hoped the singing would cover up the terrible playing.
The night the play opened, everything went perfectly. The other actors were feeling a bit anxious as it came closer to the time when this poor woman would have to humiliate herself by playing a favourite and familiar Christmas song extremely poorly. The scene arrived, and the actor sat at the piano. She lifted her hands over the keys and began to play a beautiful, nuanced, and perfect version of “Silent Night.” Thankfully the play featured excellent actors so their shock was well concealed, but no one could believe their ears. When the play was over and the audience had left, everyone gathered around the actor and asked her what had happened. She said she couldn’t explain it, but it was as if someone else had taken over her hands and done the playing. It was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to her. The best part? This strange phenomenon reoccurred every night the play ran, but only during the actual performance. If the actor attempted to play the song at any other time, it sounded just as awful as it always did. But in front of an audience, there to relive the Helmcken family Christmas, it peeled off as beautifully and professionally as if done by a concert pianist. Apparently Dolly was not going to let her lovely family Christmas be remembered as anything other than perfect.
The house is open during the summer for tours and I would encourage you to go. Located beside the Royal British Columbia Museum in Thunderbird Park, it’s a piece of local history as well as a wonderfully haunted building.
DOWNTOWN
THE EMPRESS
THE GRANDEST OF Victoria’s hotels is part of a national legacy of travel and tourism, a jewel of the Inner Harbour, and stuffed to the rafters with ghosts.
Seen within her walls are a construction worker in a hurry, a bellhop who never retired, a devout maid attending to her duties, a lost little old lady, and even Francis Mawson Rattenbury, the architect who designed the place and whose ghost still lingers, hoping to achieve the adulation he feels he so richly deserves.
The Empress was constructed between 1904 and 1908 as part of a chain of hotels built and maintained by the Canadian Pacific Railway to encourage tourism across Canada. Indeed, her sister hotels include the Banff Springs Hotel, the Château Frontenac in Old Quebec City, and the Royal York in Toronto. The Empress has never really known a time of completion as the first of two wings was added on to the hotel in 1909, only a year after it officially opened. The second wing was added in 1928, and the building seems to be under near-constant renovation.
The hotel has played host to many famous people, including movie stars and royalty. In 1919, Prince Edward danced in the Crystal Ballroom. King George and Queen Elizabeth dined there in 1939. For a city that at the time consisted of only thirty thousand people, this was a big deal. Celebrities of the day were also frequent visitors, and still are—but not as often under their own names. As well countless wealthy tourists looking to enjoy Victoria’s views and amenities have frequented, and continue to visit, the hotel.
The Empress came close to being torn down in 1965 when the general consensus among Victorians was that the hotel had lost its lustre. Some felt it would have been better if a new and more functional hotel was put in its place. Given the architectural legacy left over from that era, the new hotel would probably have been vaguely prisonesque—concrete with tiny skinny windows—in the neo-Brutalist fashion of many of the 1960s’ buildings. Thankfully public outcry saved the grand hotel. Rather than being torn down, yet another renovation occurred, this one to the cost of 4 million dollars—the equivalent of more than 30 million today.
One of the first ghosts to not only haunt the hotel but also be created in it was that of chambermaid Lizzie McGrath. Lizzie was a woman in her middle to later years who had worked in some of the finest hotels in Ireland. When she saw the 1908 advertisement for this new hotel
in Canada she felt like she needed to become a part of it. Little did she know how much of a permanent fixture she would become.
The advertisement calling for staff at the Empress Hotel said they were looking for the best of the best: the finest cooks, the finest maids, the finest hotel staff anywhere. Canadian Pacific needed to advertise for staff because back in 1908, there weren’t enough experienced hotel staff in Victoria to meet CPR’s demanding standards. The staff were recruited and eventually arrived from all over the Commonwealth to work in what was imagined to be the most magnificent hotel. Lizzie packed her bags and headed for a ship that took her over to Canada from Ireland.
After arriving in Montreal she boarded the train and headed out to British Columbia. Eventually arriving in Vancouver many days later, she boarded another ship, which took her to the Inner Harbour, where she would have had her first glance at the Empress. She was brought on as staff and given a room on the sixth floor of the hotel.
When the hotel first opened, it was quite common for the staff to live in the hotel. The sixth floor was assigned to the live-in staff. By all accounts, Lizzie was quite happy in her job: she enjoyed being in the grand hotel and working in the tea room, she loved living in Victoria, and she loved being able to look out her window on the sixth floor toward the Inner Harbour. Lizzie felt at peace. She knew leaving Ireland had been the right decision.