by Joe Nickell
Realizing they have no “scientific proof that ghosts exist,” the authors still try to have it both ways, insisting, “You must decide for yourself what you believe about ghosts” (4–5). But how can someone possibly decide when given only a phony choice? For one, we are presented “true” experiences of the supernatural, and for the other, the authors’ assurance that there is no other tenable position because the experiences simply “can't be explained.” This takes disingenuity to a new level. That it would bear the imprimatur of the University Press of Kentucky, which represents the state's scholarly institutions, is appalling. Will there be further such books, perhaps “true” experiences with angels or encounters with extraterrestrials?
MESSENGER SHOT
Because of my concerns, I talked by phone with the head of the press, Stephen Wrinn, who was defensive (to say the least) and decried what he suggested was my attempt at censorship. Of course it is not censorship to hold works to standards of science and scholarship as befits a university press. He did not like my use of the word ethics, and he stated that he did not intend to have, financially, another year like the previous one. He insisted I look at the book's manuscript, which he thought I would find acceptable after all, and I agreed to take a look.
I subsequently received from an editor a copy of the manuscript (although it was missing several pages). After reading it and seeing that it was as bad as I had feared, I wrote a seven-page critique, concluding, “Surely the Press can find a more suitable collection of ghost tales to publish—perhaps a statewide anthology of folktales, ballads, etc.—rather than try to patch and prop up the Browns’ unacceptable manuscript” (Nickell 2009).
But patch and prop they did—deleting a ghost hunter's term (“orbs”), for example, and making other cosmetic changes, as well as adding a foreword by a folklorist. (She mentions other collections of ghost tales, some published by UPKY, but acknowledges that “an important difference between the present volume and the books just mentioned is that the Browns tell stories from their own family and friends.”)
Meanwhile, I waited for the publisher to reply to my report. An editor said Wrinn was “very interested in reading it, but he's on vacation until after the fourth” (of July 2009). That is the last I heard (a long vacation indeed!). I've heard nothing about the book, nothing about one of mine I was discussing with the press at the time (it would have been my thirteenth with them, but it has now been published by Prometheus Books). And, although UPKY had just published my Real or Fake: Studies in Authentication, for the first such time they did not ask me to appear at the annual Kentucky Book Fair. Having provided other reader reports to UPKY in the past that were acknowledged and acted upon, the board's silence was perplexing. Given my past experiences, I have no reason to believe that my report was ever shown to the UPKY board, which must approve all books based on readers’ reports and the advice of staff. Did the board have access to all available and relevant information?
No doubt Spookiest Stories Ever will sell more than most of my books. Wrinn is correct in noting that popular books often make possible the publishing of scholarly ones (Nardini 2004), although when both are at their best (thorough, honest, and well documented on the one hand and interesting and readable on the other), there may not be so much difference after all. But if it takes a book cynically promoting ignorance and superstition to support one advocating science and reason, I will take a pass. My integrity is not for sale.
Despite the popular antics of inept “ghost hunters,” ghosts continue to remain elusive—as if they are only productions of the imagination rather than purportedly still-living entities of a supernatural realm. Nevertheless, actively ghost hunting since 1969, I have actually “caught” a few “ghosts.”
BACKGROUND
True, in most cases I have found plausible explanations for haunting phenomena. At Mackenzie House in Toronto (as related in chapter 37), mysterious footfalls had been heard on the stairs for much of a decade until, during 1972–1973, I investigated and discovered that the iron stairway in the adjacent building was regularly traversed by a late-night cleanup crew (Nickell 2001, 217). At various haunted inns, many apparitions have turned out to be due to the percipient experiencing a common “waking dream” (Nickell 2001, 290–92). And aboard a haunted ship, the mysterious blurring of a dead sailor's picture whenever it was photographed was caused by its nonglare glass softly reflecting the camera's flash (Nickell 2001, 187).
Such physical illusions are common, but they also tend to have a psychological component. Belief in ghosts caused the superstitious folk who lived at Mackenzie House to assume they heard ghostly activity. They did not stop to consider how nonphysical entities could produce manifestly physical effects. I, on the other hand, thought there might indeed have been a source for the sounds—reported by multiple earwitnesses—and I investigated by looking for the most obvious potential sources.
The effects of memory can also play a role in enhancing a reported occurrence. The fallibility of memory is demonstrated in several studies. For example, Wiseman and Morris (1995) compared paranormal believers with disbelievers by showing them videotapes featuring pseudopsychic trickery. The believers tended to recall less contradictory information than the skeptics.
The power of suggestion is a potent force in reported hauntings. One person may excitedly influence another (or the latter may acquiesce to preserve domestic tranquility), resulting in what the French term folie à deux—the folly of two! Important also is what psychologists term contagion: the spreading of an idea, action, or the like from person to person. Thus, as a house, inn, or other place becomes thought of as “haunted,” more and more ghostly encounters are reported. At Kentucky's Liberty Hall mansion, for example, spooky phenomena flourished during the tenure of a manager who found the “ghost” good for business but waned under the more professional direction of a subsequent curator (Nickell 1995, 49). Research by Lange et al. (1996) shows that when people are “alert” to the paranormal (i.e., given to expect paranormal events), they tend to notice those conditions that would confirm their expectations. Also, suggestion effects were more frequently associated with groups of paranormal percipients than with individual ones, indicating that groups are more susceptible to the effects of contagion. “Seeing is believing,” goes the old saying, but it may also be said that sometimes “believing is seeing.”
FLICKERING LIGHTS
And then there are hoaxes. At a reputedly haunted restaurant in Georgia, various strange phenomena were reported, including lights that flickered on and off in the barroom. The bartender, whom I interviewed, was initially convinced it was the work of a spirit entity. Parapsychologists who had earlier “investigated” the site using electromagnetic field meters failed to un cover the young worker who admitted that she would sneak up to the doorway, reach for the light switch, then dart away, giggling silently. Similar pranks, minor accidents and glitches, as well as misperceptions coupled with contagion, could easily account for the phenomena reported at the restaurant.
Perception—actually misperception—can transform a hoaxed occurrence into a seemingly supernatural one. A young lady told me of an incident at her apartment in which a light was turned on and off. When I suggested she might be the victim of a prankster and related the case of the Georgia barroom lights, she at first told me she had actually seen the light switch move. On further thought, however, she withdrew that “memory” and concluded that her boyfriend was responsible. He had wanted to spend the night, she said, her tone warming as she recalled the situation, and probably faked the phenomenon so she would be frightened—just as young men used to take their sweethearts to horror features at drive-in movies to induce “snuggling.”
As related in “Haunted Inns,” chapter 45 of Real-Life X-Files (Nickell 2001, 296), I once caught such a “ghost” in action, namely a hotel desk clerk who was unaware I was looking in his direction as chandelier lights flickered mysteriously. There, as at many other places, ghosts were apparently thought to b
e good for business (see figure 42.1).
POLTERGEIST ANTICS
As we saw in the previous chapter, such antics are the explanation for almost an entire class of physical hauntings, known as poltergeist cases. Typically, small objects are hurled through the air by unseen forces, furniture is overturned, or other disturbances occur—usually by a juvenile trickster determined to plague credulous adults (e.g., Randi, 1985). However, where such cases are properly investigated by magicians and detectives, using such tactics as installing hidden cameras, using or threatening the use of lie detectors, or dusting objects with tracer powders, they usually turn out to be the pranks of children, teenagers, or immature adults.
For instance, consider a case that occurred in the summer of 1957 in Hartsville, Missouri. A nine-year-old girl was the focus of poltergeist attacks that included a flying comb, spilled water buckets, shaking laundry baskets, and other odd events. The girl told reporters she was terrified by the happenings, but a magician who visited the house to investigate concluded otherwise: he actually observed a can opener fall from its place of concealment under the girl's arm (Christopher 1970, 145). In another case, events centered around a thirteen-year-old girl whose fingerprints were discovered on a dish she claimed the poltergeist had tossed out of a window. On Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World program, a revealing bit of footage showed a little girl slipping from bed to break an object, then scampering back under the covers. And a Tulsa, Oklahoma, poltergeist case was solved when tracer powder dusted on certain objects in the house were subsequently discovered on the hands of the plagued couple's twelve-year-old adopted daughter (Nickell 1995, 85–88). Simply having a talk with the mischief maker proved successful in ending many poltergeist outbreaks, whether it took the form of a police grilling or sympathetic counseling.
Such was a case I investigated with Robert A. Baker (1921–2005), a professor of psychology at the University of Kentucky and author of numerous books. While I was completing doctoral work at the university, he and I teamed up to examine a number of paranormal cases, and in 1992 we published our investigative manual Missing Pieces: How to Investigate Ghosts, UFOs, Psychics, and Other Mysteries.
Dr. Baker and I were called to an Indiana farmhouse that was experiencing a spate of haunting activity. The yard contained religious statues that may have been placed for their presumable protective value. The main percipient was the young wife and mother. Due to the various noises and prankish antics that she perceived, mostly upstairs where her children slept, she seemed at her wit's end. Afraid for her children, she made them sleep downstairs on sofas and day beds.
We listened to her story, went through the house, and talked to each family member separately. One little boy, being rather pointedly quizzed by the sage Dr. Baker, suddenly blurted out, “You aren't going to tell on me, are you?” No, the understanding psychologist replied, while insisting that we must nevertheless have an end to the “haunting” activity. We kept in touch with the family for a while, and apparently the little ghost had heeded Hamlet's imploring, “Rest, rest, perturbed spirit” (Hamlet, act 1, scene 5).
THE SHIFTING PICTURES
Another supposedly haunted place is the Golden Lamb Inn in Lebanon, Ohio, whose sign proclaims it is “the oldest Inn still operating as a hotel in Ohio.” Serving travelers since 1803, it has hosted ten presidents, including John Quincy Adams, as well as notables Henry Clay, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Mark Twain. In 1842, Charles Dickens refused to stay there when he learned it was “a temperance hotel,” one that did not serve alcohol (Woodyard 2000, 22, 24).
The inn is allegedly haunted by the ghost of Sarah Stubbs, a little girl whose family once managed the hotel. “Sarah” is blamed for most of the ghostly hijinks that are reported at the Golden Lamb. There is even a museum room containing a couple of pieces of children's furniture once owned by her, along with additional period furniture, pictures, and other artifacts. The first such “Sarah's Room” was located on the fourth floor next to the stairs. Unfortunately, guests either blocked the stair traffic as they viewed the display or else missed their footing when they glanced at it on their way downstairs. As a consequence, the exhibits were moved to a room across the hall. Reportedly, that was when the “haunting” began (Woodyard 2000).
According to a display card at the room, “Housekeepers mentioned that pictures on the wall in Sarah's Room were sometimes crooked after being straightened the day before” (figure 42.2). Not surprisingly, the claim is elaborated in the Ghost Hunter's Guide to Haunted Ohio (Woodyard 2000, 25). I wondered about the phenomenon as I prepared to check into the hotel on February 7, 2002.
I had just given a lecture on the paranormal at the University of Cincinnati, sponsored by UC Skeptics, and had just had dinner, so it was rather late. Local skeptics Robert Sexton and Liz Upchurch were helping me check into the original Sarah's Room (room number 2, renamed the Harriet Beecher Stowe Room).
As I brought up the subject of haunting, the night clerk told us a secret: sometimes, she confided, because she found the housekeeping staff so superstitious and credulous, she would slip upstairs at night and “turn the pictures” in Sarah's Room just to “mess with” their minds.
Once again, I had confirmed the value of on-site investigating over armchair debunking. I had caught another ghost, this time at the very beginning of a stay. I have to admit, I slept especially well that night.
The poltergeist—German for a noisy (poltern) spirit (geist)—is said to be responsible for certain types of ghostly disturbances, usually of a mischievous nature, for which there is no apparent cause. Once attributed to the devil, today's paranormal believers often link the phenomenon to repressed hostilities of the pubescent child that somehow manifest themselves as psychokinetic energy (Roll 1972)—hardly a scientific theory. Skeptics have a simpler explanation.
OUTBREAKS
In the typical poltergeist outbreak, small objects are hurled through the air by unseen forces, furniture is overturned, or other disturbances occur—usually just what could be accomplished by a juvenile trickster determined to plague credulous adults. Unfortunately, in many instances the adults prohibit knowledgeable investigators from becoming involved (e.g., Randi 1985; Kurtz 1986–1987). This can help make the case seem “unexplainable.”
The “poltergeists’” motives are varied. One young Alabama boy, who was responsible for several mysterious fires, wished to cause his parents to return to their previous home because he missed his former playmates. In one schoolhouse outbreak, the children involved admitted that the gullibility of their teacher as well as townsfolk had been tempting, and they delighted in all the excitement their pranks had produced. Still another poltergeist, perpetrated by an eleven-year-old girl, was merely looking for attention. However, her comment is revealing of eyewitness misperception. “I didn't throw all those things,” she stated. “People just imagined some of them” (Christopher, 1970, 142–63).
Not all ghostly mischief is caused by children, however. For example, it was a young maid in the employ of an elderly widow who played poltergeist in Stockton, Surrey, in 1772. She later confessed to a clergyman that she was the “unseen agency” that had tossed objects, dislodged rows of plates (by using a fine wire), and instigated other disturbances. Nor was it children who produced the Atlanta House of Blood hoax in 1987. When the suburban home was reported to spurt blood “like a sprinkler,” police took samples and made photographs. The photos reveal (by blood-pattern analysis) that the blood had not sprung from the floors and walls as claimed by the residents (a neglected elderly black couple) but rather that it had been squirted onto surfaces, giving the lie to the claims (see Nickell 1995, 92–97).
THE NEWBURY DEMON
An instructive historical poltergeist case I investigated is found in the writings of the American Puritan Increase Mather (1663–1728).
In his An Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences (1684), Mather gives an account of a house in Newbury, Massachusetts, “lately troubled with a Daemon
” (quoted in Quinn et al. 1938).1 The events, which began on December 3, 1679, and continued until at least early February of the following year, are catalogued in considerable detail over several pages. For example, Mather says that at the home of William Morse,
people were sometimes Barricado'd out of doors, when as yet there was nobody to do it: and a Chest was removed from place to place, no hand touching it. Their keys being tied together, one was taken from the rest, & the remaining two would fly about making a loud noise by knocking against each other. But the greatest part of this Devils feats were his mischievous ones, wherein indeed he was sometimes Antick enough too, and therein the chief sufferers were, the Man and his Wife, and his Grand-Son. The Man especially had his share in these Diabolical Molestations. For one while they could not eat their Suppers quietly, but had the Ashes on the Hearth before their eyes thrown into their Victuals; yea, and upon their heads and Clothes, insomuch that they were forced up into their Chamber, and yet they had no rest there; for one of the Man's Shoes being left below, ’twas filled with Ashes and Coals, and thrown up after them. (Quinn et al. 1938)
The boy, Abel Powell, slept with his grandparents in their bed. Frequently one or all would be pricked as they lay in the dark. On searching, on one occasion they found an awl and on another “found in the Bed a Bodkin, a knitting Needle, and two sticks picked at both ends” (Quinn et al. 1938, 40, 41).
At other times sticks, stones, and bricks were thrown through an open window; the grandfather's inkhorn was “taken away” while he was writing; and objects were frequently thrown at him or his wife.