Ok, it's a tie. But when St. Patrick's day comes along, it always seems like my favorite too.
Anyhow, every Halloween I'm plagued with the problem of what to do for this wonderful holiday. There's nothing better than scaring the shit out of yourself and others, and there's nothing more fun than exploring the unknown. All of this together can make for a great Halloween.
With this said, I hate put-on haunted houses unless I'm doing the scaring. I've worked in several in the past, and that's a blast; I'd suggest it to anyone. But when the tables are turned, it's not as much fun. The reason those places are scary is that you know there's someone waiting at every unexpected turn to jump out and give you a heart attack. That's all well and fine, but add in a few strobe lights, and a prison bar maze, and I'm laying on the floor having an epileptic fit. That's just not fun anymore.
So I need something new to scare the crap out of myself. And I think I've discovered it. I started looking up real haunted house legends, you know- Screaming Mimi, Crybaby Bridge, The Headless Motorcycle Man, Holcomb Road, that kind of stuff. My original plan was to get a group together, like old times, watch some scary movies and head out to explore the legends.
While I was doing my research though, I discovered something much, much more fun. There's something called "Urban Exploration", and it sounds like a blast. Not just for Halloween, either, but as a hobby. (And I have been on the lookout for a good hobby...) You just find an abandoned building and, well, explore it. The exciting sounding ones happen to be old tuberculosis hospitals, insane asylums, prisons, old amusement parks. etc. That stuff is everywhere. Eventually it's all going to get torn down, but while it's still standing, why not check it out??
Obviously it's dangerous, and slightly illegal. But that's what makes it exciting. So one night this weekend, I'm going to be taking some people to an undisclosed location, telling its infamous ghost stories on the way, and really scaring the shit out of myself. How much more fun can Halloween get. If that rocks, well, I'll just keep on doing it throughout the year.
Some of the more interesting places I'd like to visit (in Ohio) include:
Squire's Castle Squire's Castle: Squire's Castle sits alone in the Chagrin Reservation section of the Cleveland Metroparks. it was built as a caretaker's house for a luxury mansion. The "castle" was built by Feargus b. Squire, an extremely wealthy man who was one of the founders of the Standard Oil Company. In the 1890's, Squire purchased 525 acres of land outside of Cleveland, planning to build a summer estate for his family. Evidently, Mrs. Squire didn't care for the country or the summer cottage and was left alone in the city while her husband and daughter left for the country. Mr. Squire was busy drawing up the plans for his magnificent castle and, against his wife's wishes, he began spending more and more time on the isolated estate. Mrs. Squire worried constantly about being away from the city, and the loneliness of being forced to spend every summer at the cottage. In all of her worry and agitation, she developed insomnia and began walking about the house at night, carrying a small, red lantern to light her way. One fateful night, Mrs. Squire wandered into the trophy room of the house, a place that she usually avoided. No one really knows what happened, but it's been surmised that Mrs. Squire became frightened of something in the room, or perhaps even the mounted animals peering at her in the dim light. Regardless, she began screaming in terror over something and in her haste, she tripped and broke her neck. She was discovered dead a short time later. Squire was distraught and blamed himself for his wife's death. He abandoned the plans for the house and went back to the city, never returning to the cottage again. People who knew of his plans to build the grand summer home started calling the cottage "Squire's Castle". In 1922, Squire sold the property. The legends say that Mrs. Squire still roams the summer cottage where her life was tragically cut short. People who pass by the castle at night can sometimes hear the screams of Mrs. Squire, or catch a glimpse of her red lantern as the ghost walks past the windows of the house.
Moonville Tunnel
Moonville Tunnel: In the southeastern Ohio town of Lake Hope sits the MOONVILLE TUNNEL. This long forgotten railroad tunnel is one of the only remaining remnants of a small mining town that thrived for a short time. The town of Moonville was born in the late 1850's when the Marietta and Cincinnati railroad was built to transport the coal and iron out of the Ohio mines. Many accidents supposedly happened in the tunnel, so naturally, many legends have made their way into the local folklore. The most well-known story is that someone who worked for the railroad, possibly an engineer or a brakeman was crushed under the wheels of a train. It's been said that he was a conductor murdered by a vengeful engineer who asked him to inspect underneath the train and then started it up. One source even said that he was trying to get the train to stop because Moonville was in the grip of a plague and was running low on supplies. A newspaper article from the McArthur Democrat on March 31, 1859 featured this Moonville story; "A brakeman on the Marietta & Cincinnati Railroad fell from the cars near Cincinnati Furnace, on last Tuesday March 29, 1859 and was fatally injured, when the wheels passing over and grinding to a shapeless mass the greater part of one of his legs. He was taken on the train to Hamden and Doctors Wolf and Rannells sent for to perform amputation, but the prostration of the vital energies was too great to attempt it. The man is probably dead. The accident resulted from a too free use of liquor."
The Morge, Lima TB Hospital
Lima Tuberculosis Hospital: The Lima District Tuberculosis Hospital, opened April 5, 1911; a 24 bed facility. It was one of the earliest hospitals in the state to treat tuberculosis. The hospital launched a 50 year battle against the disease. The hospital was enlarged in 1927-28, when the number of Tubercular patients increased, almost $900,000 was appropriated by Allen, Auglaize, Mercer, Van Wert, and Shelby Counties. At this time patients were required three to five years hospitalization treatment. It was remodeled in 1957, providing room for 138 patients, with the latest physical facilities and equipment to care and cure the sick. By 1961, the hospital was a joint venture of the five counties since the hospital district was formed. Approximately 5000 patients have recieved treatment.[1960] The number of patients entering the hospital is constant, but with modern methods and medicines the time of stay has been cut in half. As late as 1962, people who worked with the public, serving food, were required to obtain a TB test at the Board of Healtheach year. Between January, 1914 and May 1917, surveying 140 people, 18 died of tuberculosis. It ranked with pneumonia as the leading cause of death among this group. The hospital's name was changed in January 1960, to the Ottawa Valley Hospital. With the decline of tubercular patients, non-tubercular patients were admitted. Modern chemotherapy rapidly reduced the number of tuberculosis patients and the need for long term care. In 1970, the Ohio Department of Health designated two regional TB hospitals as eligible for State subsidy. Lima Tuberculosis Hospital was forced to close with the loss of these funds.
Think anyone's watching??
Roseville Prison: The prison at Roseville is one of two satellite prisons which once belonged to the Ohio Penitentary in Columbus; the other is located near Junction City. The town of Roseville, like Junction City, is in Perry County, but Roseville's prison stands just across the county line, in Muskingum County. Good behavior inmates might be sent from Columbus to either of these reduced security pens to work the ovens and make bricks which were then used in state building projects.
Millfield's Smoke Stack
Millfield Coal Mine Disaster Site: On a rural road in Millfield stand the ruins of the worst mine disaster in the history of the state of Ohio. The Sunday Creek Coal Company, which also ran the mines at San Toy, operated mines all over the Hocking Hills region. The Millfield site, in Athens County, was the hub of hundreds of shafts. On November 5, 1930, gases in the mine were ignited by a spark between a trolley car and its railing. The ensuing explosion killed eighty-two people, including the company's top executives, who were there to inspect the new safety equipment. Nine hours later, nineteen miners were discovered alive three miles from the main shaft. The disaster had the effect of pressuring Ohio's lawmakers to improve mine safety regulations in 1931. As a monument to those killed, the site was left as-is, and a historical marker was erected there. It consists of a clearing, two hollowed-out buildings without roofs, and the towering smokestack. Also nearby are wooden planks and other rubble left over from the blast.
Ghosts?? The Haydenville Tunnel: This tunnel runs for nearly a mile beneath a wooded ridge in southeastern Ohio, between a sealed-off mine and a long-demolished manufacturing plant. Its recesses have remained dark and forgotten for decades, and despite the fact that it's still a thriving (sort of) Hocking County town, in a very real sense this derelict corridor through the earth is all that remains of what Haydenville was really all about.
Mudville Mansion: off limits?
Mudhouse Mansion: Mudhouse Mansion is both abandoned and haunted, which makes it pretty damn cool in my book.According to all reports, a woman named Jeannie Mast is the primary owner of Mudhouse Mansion. I've also heard that she lives on Lake Road nearby.Yes, Jeannie Mast watches her property. I know the stereotypical "crazy lady" property owner is usually just another part of the legend, but in this case it's true. Jeannie seems to have free time on her hands to match the chip on her shoulder about people sneaking into her ruin of a building. You're welcome to go ahead and try to get permission to go into Mudhouse Mansion...but this is one haunted house you won't be visiting legally.
Reminds me of the Gingerbread House...makes you wonder which witch is watching...
Sidwell House: Avondale is a little town located just west of Zanesville on Route 22, at the intersection with 93. There are no other roads in this town, which contains only a handful of residents. The largest and nicest home in Avondale stands on 22 just a few feet from the intersection and has been abandoned for roughly thirty years. This is the Sidwell House--one of Muskingum County's best-known and scariest haunted houses. Here's one story: Back in the late 40s/early 50s a family of about 6 lived in the home--four children, a mother, and a drunken father. The father, who was also very abusive, came in late one night very drunk. He climbed the stairs to the bedroom and began fighting with his young wife, and stormed away. The next morning she arose from bed to find him gone. She searched the upstairs, but he was nowhere to be found. Descending the stairs she looked everywhere and finally found him stitting in a chair in the living room with his bottle. She began to cook breakfast. Arising from his chair he grabbed the shotgun from the closet, went to the kitchen, and found his wife standing in front of the stove. He raised the shotgun and repeatedly shot her from the back of her head to the back of her knees. He then quietly walked up the stairs to his childrens bedrooms and shot all four of his young children in their beds, then proceeded to shoot himself hours later. This is the story I had heard from my grandma for as long as I can remember. She said you could find it on every radio station and newspaper cover for a hundred miles.
The most interesting place I found on my online hunt was "The Ridges". On its opening in 1874, it was known as "Athens Lunatic Asylum" and then "Athens Asylum for the Insane", in 1911.
Its last patients left its halls in 1993, the closing trickling down from Reagan's "deinstitutionalization" era, which shifted the burden of the country's asylums to a state level. Homeless levels shot up all over the country as asylums closed their doors, and put their patients out on the streets. The Ridges ultimately is now owned by Ohio University, which has renovated all but one of its buildings, the tuberculosis ward.
One of the most interesting stories of The Ridges is a story of a mysterious stain. Here's the story- I got it from Ohio University's own
website. (UPDATE 8/18/07: The webpage no longer exists. Apparently the university longer finds this peice of strange history useful. But here is the story that the page had available, verbatim...)
The stain traces back to the late 1970s when the hospital donned the name Athens Mental Health and Retardation Center. The floor in question was formerly a contagious ward to house seriously infected patients, but at the time of the incident was abandoned. On the first of December 1978, a female patient from an open ward disappeared. It was policy that patients in an open ward could leave the grounds by signing in and out. However, patients must follow a curfew of 8 p.m. in the summer and 6 p.m. in the winter. After realizing the woman's absence after curfew, the hospital conducted an intensive 3- day search of the building and grounds and a week of follow- up searches. The woman was missing.
After six weeks, on January 12, 1979, a maintenance man found the woman's body in the abandoned ward. Dr. Robert Butts, Athens County Coroner, said the woman appeared to have been dead for "four to five weeks." An autopsy was performed in Columbus. The Hospital "Death Roster" attributes the 54- year-old woman's cause of death to heart failure and records her date of death as 1-11-79.
Hospital staff believe that the woman wandered into the abandoned ward at a rare time when it was unlocked. Dwelling alone on this floor for some time and being of secretive nature, she hid from those searching. Upon inspecting the ward and not finding the woman, the entrance door to the ward was locked from the outside. As days passed with no hope of exit, the woman began to lose hope and prepared to
die. She took off all of her clothes and folded them neatly on the window sill, and laid down, arms crossed, on the cement floor beneath the tall windows. There the woman died. It is reasoned that the stain, the imprint of the woman's body, was created due to the chemical reaction with her body composition and the
direct sunlight that shown in the windows in the weeks that followed.
Here is a closer picture of the stain:
Sounds interesting, eh? It sounds like any visitor can see the stain, although I'm not sure how public the area really is.
Anyhow, thus has been the basis of my new hobby. Halloween or not, I've caught the exploration bug. Screw it. Everything is owned by somebody anymore, so what are we to do but a little B&E?
