Haunted Canada 4

by Joel A. Sutherland

  Confronted by such a ghastly image, it’s safe to say no one would be able to resist the urge to flee, but it’s best to take the stairs (even though barbed wire has been wrapped around the handrails in an attempt to keep people out). The elevators to the morgue occasionally travel up and down on their own, as if the spirits of all the bodies once kept there can’t stay put in the basement.

  What makes Charles Camsell Hospital such a magnet for paranormal activity? Although it was a place that helped many people get better over the years, there are also a few dark and troubling secrets etched into its history.

  Between the years of 1945 and 1967 it was an experimental hospital offering an occupational therapy program for Aboriginal patients. Shock treatment was administered without consent and there were isolation rooms where terrified patients were locked in the dark on their own. It is widely suspected that the staff not only abused the Aboriginal population, but also murdered some of the patients. If that’s not upsetting enough, it’s also rumoured that there’s an unmarked mass grave of Aboriginal children near what used to be the staff garden.

  It’s no surprise that stories of vengeful spirits at the Charles Camsell Hospital continue to surface. Most recently, a man who was contracted to clean part of the building one night with a few co-workers shared his story. The phones, left behind and not used in more than twenty years, rang repeatedly while they worked through the night. When the cleaners picked up the ringing phones, there was no dial tone — the lines were dead. In one of the rooms, the cleaners saw the outline of a small child suddenly form on a dust-covered chair. When they entered the basement — the old morgue — they all had trouble breathing, and a deep, bloody cut suddenly appeared on the back of a woman’s hand.

  Charles Camsell Hospital

  That was enough to send them running from the building. They jumped in their vehicle and sped away, leaving the Charles Camsell Hospital looming on the horizon behind them.

  But for as long as the hospital could be seen in their rear-view mirror, the team leader’s cell phone rang and rang and rang. When he finally mustered the courage to look at his phone’s screen, it read:

  1 missed call: The Charles Camsell Hospital

  DUEL TO THE DEATH

  St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador

  There was a time, not too long ago, that the honourable way for two gentlemen to settle a serious dispute was to stand back to back, walk ten paces, turn … and fire pistols at each other. Instead of firearms, others preferred to brandish steel. Regardless of the method, these so called “honourable” duels often ended in bloodshed, death and sometimes, historic hauntings.

  The last duel to be held on Canadian soil took place in St. John’s in 1873, but it wasn’t fatal for either duellist. Another St. John’s duel in 1826, however, did end in death — a death so unnecessary and tragic that the loser couldn’t bring himself to leave this plain.

  Sipping rum toddies and huddled around a blazing fireplace during a bitter Newfoundland night, the officers of the British army and Royal Veteran Company stationed at Fort Townshend passed their time by gambling at cards. Among those present were Captain Mark Rudkin and Ensign John Philpot, and as cold as it was outside, the tension between these two was heated. Not only were they adversaries in the card game of lansquenet being played, but they were also competing for the affections of the Irish daughter of a St. John’s businessman who lived in Quidi Vidi Village. This rivalry had already caused Philpot, the younger of the two men, to insult Rudkin at a public event, an occurrence for which he had later begrudgingly apologized. On the night of the card game, there was certainly no love lost between the two military men, and the presence of alcohol and gambling did nothing to decrease their contempt for one another.

  Philpot was on a losing streak, while fortune smiled upon Rudkin. The other men in the game folded their hands and gradually bowed out until only Philpot, still losing, and Rudkin, still winning, remained. Philpot was desperate to end on a winning note to recoup some of his losses, and the pot had grown to nearly three pounds, quite a large sum in those days. Rudkin dealt the final hand, and his own happened to be the winning one.

  It couldn’t be so. Philpot was sure of it. Rudkin, out of his dislike for Philpot, must have cheated. Philpot accused Rudkin of rigging the final hand and tried to grab the money. Rudkin scoffed, denied the charge, and made for the door with his winnings. Enraged, drunk and blinded by his hatred for Rudkin, Philpot threw a glass of water in his face.

  Rudkin, to his credit, kept his cool and tried to diffuse the situation, but Philpot wouldn’t let it go and continued to goad the captain. With the other officers playing witness and his honour and reputation at stake, Rudkin challenged Philpot to a duel. Philpot agreed without reservation.

  Early the next morning, March 30, the two men met a mile outside of town near Brine’s Tavern at Robinson’s Hill. Rudkin had once again cooled down and offered to call off the duel. Philpot, however, was still fuming and insisted that Rudkin must have cheated. He refused the captain’s offer.

  With loaded pistols, they stood back to back, walked apart ten paces and turned. Philpot fired first. Luckily for Rudkin the shot just grazed his collar. Now, with time on his side and the perfect opportunity to shoot Philpot, Rudkin took the higher road. He raised his pistol above his head and fired his shot into the air. The duel had ended without bloodshed.

  Anyone else in Philpot’s position would consider himself fortunate to still be breathing, but Philpot saw it as a second opportunity to rid the world of Rudkin. He insisted that a second round take place despite the fact that such an act wasn’t customary. (Traditionally, if the opponents of a duel survived the first round, both would retain their honour and the dispute was considered to be resolved.) With no other option, Rudkin had to accept the challenge. But this time he did not purposely fire his shot wide. His bullet found a home in Philpot’s chest, buried deep in his right lung. The ensign flew backwards and died not long after he hit the ground, a victim of his own stupidity and stubbornness. He was buried, coincidentally, on April Fool’s Day.

  Rudkin was charged with murder and a short trial followed. Public sympathy was initially on Philpot’s side, but it quickly shifted to Rudkin’s as the full story — with Rudkin’s many attempts to save the young ensign — came to light. On April 17, Rudkin was carried from the courthouse on the shoulders of his friends and supporters after being found not guilty, but disturbing reports began to surface from Robinson’s Hill, the location of the duel.

  Rudkin’s horse had become skittish as he rode to the duel on that chilly March morning, as if the animal could sense the tragedy that lay ahead. Others have reported the same odd behaviour from their horses near the spot where Philpot’s blood soaked the ground. Some have come face to face with Philpot’s ghost and noticed a bloody hole on the chest of his military uniform. It’s been said that he wanders the streets at night near the place where he died, still angry and eternally longing for a rematch. After all, he was not only “cheated” in his pursuit of love, the card game and the duel, but when Rudkin was found to be innocent of murder, Philpot was cheated out of his posthumous justice as well. Some grudges carry on beyond the grave.

  THE MOB PRINCESS

  Fort Saskatchewan, Alberta

  Many male convicts were hanged years ago at the North West Mounted Police outpost in Fort Saskatchewan, but only one woman. In 1923 Florence Lassandro, a woman dubbed the “Mob Princess,” was executed for a crime she may or may not have committed. She was only twenty-two years old.

  In fact Florence was the only woman ever to be hanged in the province of Alberta. She was born Florence Costanzo in Italy and moved to the Canadian province with her family when she was a young girl. At fifteen years of age, she was still a young girl when she married Charles Lassandro.

  Charles worked for a businessman named Emilio Picariello who, among other things, owned an ice cream company and the Alberta Hotel. But his legitimate businesses were merely a fr
ont for a successful bootlegging operation he had started. Emilio made a lot of money sneaking booze from Alberta, where it could be purchased legally, into the state of Montana during the early part of the nineteenth century.

  Charles introduced his wife to the mob boss Emilio, which set her down a dark path. Florence earned the name Mob Princess by working her way up within Emilio’s criminal organization and performing smuggling runs herself. It’s possible Florence, who never seemed too fond of her husband, was actually in love with Emilio’s son, Steve, who was also a player in his father’s bootlegging business.

  In 1921 Steve Picariello was shot by Alberta Provincial Police Constable Steve Lawson during a high-speed chase. Wounded, Steve Picariello managed to escape to British Columbia. Upon hearing that his son had been shot, and believing him dead, Emilio teamed up with Florence and tracked down Constable Lawson. They confronted him in front of his house. An argument broke out and Lawson was fatally shot in the back. The horrific scene played out before the mortified eyes of Lawson’s nine-year-old daughter, Pearl.

  Emilio and Florence were both convicted of the murder, although Florence proclaimed until her last day that she was innocent and that it was Emilio who had shot Constable Lawson. Despite the fact that there was no conclusive proof of who shot the constable, the jury found both Emilio and Florence guilty of the crime. The Mob Princess was hanged on May 2, 1923, at the Fort Saskatchewan jail before a small group of witnesses hand-picked by the hangman.

  But did she truly leave her life behind, or was hers a story steeped too heavily in crime, bloodshed and unrequited love to ever leave this world?

  The Fort Saskatchewan Museum & Historic Site now sits on the land where Florence was hanged. It’s a picturesque historic village with eight heritage buildings (including the warden’s house and a portion of the jail) decorated with period furniture. Visitors walking the grounds get a sense of what life was like in the bygone era, and schoolchildren enjoy field trips to the Museum & Historic Site throughout the year. But if you stay past sundown, you might experience a “bygone” event you wish you could forget.

  There have been many reports of lights turning on and off, objects moving on their own and faces seen in windows. A clairvoyant and medium visited the grounds and picked up on many unexplained cold spots, thick atmospheres and spiritual energy in the buildings. One woman who used to work at the museum suddenly quit because of the ghost haunting the area.

  Even Curator Kris Nygren, who calls herself a skeptic, has to admit that those who have seen eerie things on the property are “believable” people and reliable sources. And Darlene Briere is perhaps the most believable and reliable of all. Darlene conducts research for the museum and volunteers for special events and programs. One Halloween Darlene was involved with Fright Night, a special children’s sleepover on the grounds. While taking a late-night walk between the blacksmith’s shop and the jail, she saw an odd mist take shape in the moonlit woods and snapped a couple of pictures. When Darlene examined one of the photos, she saw the clear image of a young woman’s face within the fog. It was, she strongly believes, the face of Florence.

  Florence Lessandro’s mug shots

  Later that night, while making sure all the young guests were safe in their beds, she entered an empty building and saw a curtain moving, as if a person was hiding behind it. Suddenly, the curtain fell to the floor in a heap. Darlene lifted the curtain with trembling fingers and there, for the briefest of moments, she saw the face again.

  If you dare to visit the location of the Mob Princess’s execution, so could you.

  THE MAN IN GREY

  Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

  Upon entering the Delta Bessborough Hotel in downtown Saskatoon, you might want to keep your eyes on your feet. There’s a large crack in the marble floor of the main lobby. You wouldn’t want to trip on the spot where a man fell to his death many years ago.

  The Bessborough — or “Bess” as it’s affectionately called — was completed in 1932 but didn’t open to the public for three years due to the economic hardships of the Great Depression. Designed to resemble a Bavarian fortress, it’s well known for its imposing facade and castle-like appearance. It’s also well known for the crack in the floor and the ghost of the man who might have created it with his head.

  There’s no shortage of people who have seen an elderly gentleman walking through the banquet level late at night. The reports are always the same: he’s tall, slender and well dressed in a grey suit and fedora, a popular fashion during the 1930s. “The Man in Grey,” as he’s called, is always pleasant, smiles at passersby and will occasionally offer a quiet hello, but is otherwise silent. When guests mention the oddly attired but nice old man they passed in the hall, employees of the Bess chuckle and inform the guests that they’ve just been greeted by a ghost.

  That’s perhaps the most striking thing about The Man in Grey. Guests and employees alike are amazed by how lifelike he appears, unlike other ghosts who are transparent or bear the injuries that claimed their lives.

  One question lingers in the air like smoke from a snuffed candle: Did The Man in Grey crack the marble floor? Bess employees seem to think so. They share a story about an employee — a nice old man from the 1930s who dressed impeccably — who was sent upstairs late one night to deal with noise complaints. There was a party in one of the rooms that was disturbing the other guests on the same floor. The employee knocked on the door and kindly asked if the revellers could keep the noise down. The men answered his request with an insane action rather than words. Two men picked up the employee and threw him over the balcony. He fell seven storeys to his death, cracking his skull and the floor below. Current-day Bess employees think the ghost belongs to this kind and unfortunate man who was simply doing his job.

  Colin Tranborg, founder of Paranormal Saskatchewan, saw The Man in Grey late one evening and has also heard a compelling first-hand account from a group of ghost hunters. They snuck into a storage closet on the hotel’s top floor and saw a man staring at them from outside through a window. Terrified, they wondered how he wasn’t falling to his death — there was simply no way to explain it. Unless he’d already fallen to his death back in the 1930s.

  The Delta Bessborough Hotel

  There are other ghosts staying at the Bess. Guests have reported running into a disturbed woman in one of the upper floors’ hallways. She screams bloody murder when approached and then suddenly disappears. And the spirits of two small children are thought to live in one of the stairwells, playing together for all eternity.

  But there’s no doubt The Man in Grey is the Bess’s most famous ghost, perhaps because he’s such a happy soul. People seem more inclined to speak about him than the other spirits. After all, if you came face to face with a ghost in the dead of night, wouldn’t you rather be greeted with a “hello” than a ghastly shriek?

  THE SHOW MUST GO ON AND ON AND ON

  Dawson City, Yukon

  The Yukon Territory is a mysterious and wild land. During the weeks before and after the winter solstice, the capital city, Whitehorse, has only five and a half hours of sunlight per day. It’s the promised land for things that go bump in the night, giving ghosts with an aversion to daylight free reign to roam the pitch-black streets for more than eighteen hours a day. And the Klondike Gold Rush of the late nineteenth century left a string of abandoned outposts — many still perfectly preserved today — that are ghost towns in more than name alone.

  Dawson City, with a population of about one thousand, is far from a ghost town, but it’s also a far cry from the forty thousand people who lived there in 1898. The gold rush kicked off in 1896 when three men found gold in Bonanza Creek. Within two years Dawson City was filled with miners looking to stake their claim and entrepreneurs hoping to cash in on the population boom. But the Yukon was a dangerous land, and mining was dangerous work. Many people lost their lives during the gold rush, often in brutal fashion, and it was common to bury the corpses in unmarked graves. It’s belie
ved that an undercurrent of supernatural energy hums through the city’s bones to this day on account of the bloodshed and tragedies that occurred during the gold rush, and one ghost takes centre stage in Dawson City. It’s a ghost that appears to be aflame. A ghost of one of the city’s most famous previous residents.

  But the ghost doesn’t belong to popular writers Pierre Berton or Jack London, both of whom once called Dawson City home. Nor is it the ghost of any of the Dawson City Nuggets, a hockey team that travelled to our nation’s capital in 1905 by ship, train and dogsled to lose the most lopsided series in Stanley Cup history to the Ottawa Silver Seven. The flaming ghost is that of Kathleen Rockwell, better known as Klondike Kate.

  As a young girl, Kate was a free spirit and a tomboy, more comfortable playing with boys than girls and frustrated by the lack of opportunities for women in the late 1800s. Her temper was as fiery as her bright red hair, and her rebellious nature kept her from settling in one spot for long. She was expelled from school before trying, unsuccessfully, to break into show business in New York City. In 1899, hearing of the gold rush and envisioning the influx of miners to Dawson City desperate for entertainment, she travelled to the Yukon. However, Kate was refused entry by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, who were trying to control the number of people rushing into the territory.

  Never one to be intimidated by authority nor hindered by rules, Kate is reputed to have disguised herself as a boy and hidden upon a boat that had gained clearance to travel from Alaska to the Yukon.

  Not long after arriving in Dawson City, Kate joined the Savoy Theatrical Company and began performing in daily shows at the Palace Grand Theatre. Her notoriety and fame sparked as quickly as a match, thanks in large part to her signature “flame dance.” She spun many yards of red chiffon around her body to create the illusion that she was on fire in the middle of the stage, and it wasn’t long before everyone knew Klondike Kate. Other nicknames followed, such as the Darling of Dawson. And, thanks in no small part to her, Dawson City became known as the Paris of the North.