"Poltergeists are an interesting sort of haunting that I personally feel is largely misunderstood. Either that or my perception of them may be entirely incorrect and it is I who misunderstand these ghosts. Obviously further study is needed but perhaps I should write down my theories to compare against as we of the parapsychology community learn more about the phenomenon.
The term Poltergeist comes from the German words 'poltern', meaning to make noise or cause a disturbance, and 'geist', meaning ghost. What makes a haunting a Poltergeist rather than another classification? Generally speaking, most hauntings are tied to a location, a place. Less commonly an object. A Poltergeist is a haunting centered on a person. The ghost or ghosts in a Poltergeist situation are trying to interact with an individual and the world around that individual.
It occurs to me that Poltergeists may be trying to communicate; to send a message of some sort but without access to a traditional means of doing so. If I were a self-aware field of psychokinetic energy that was stuck following a person or only coalescing when they were present, I imagine I would be rather frustrated with the whole situation and feel the need to complain. I might be pushed to causing a ruckus, randomly throwing objects, banging pots, and moving furniture just to bring attention to my issue.
What then are Poltergeists trying to saying? Well, if my theory is correct, something of great importance. Perhaps to themselves or perhaps to the individual they are connected to. Poltergeist 'tantrums' could be a warning of danger, an insistence people vacate 'their home', or they may just be lonely and want the living to interact with them.
On more than one occasion I have heard the term Poltergeist mistranslated as 'playful ghost' but in some cases that may not be inaccurate after all."
-Sebastian Pott, December 1949.
It can sometimes be difficult to identify a Poltergeist case, discerning it as separate and distinct from some other sort of haunting. This is mainly because although Poltergeists are attached to people and not locations, how would the other people at that location know that? If a Poltergeist is haunting the owner of a dive bar on Manhattan's Lower East Side and it throws beer bottles across the room, turns the stereo system on and off, and messes with the lights, isn't everyone in the establishment being effected? Wouldn't it appear the bar is haunted and not the owner?
This was the situation Professor Pott was confronted with during his investigation of the Warner household in early December of 1949.
Adam Dickstein
Ghostbusters Inc., International
Curious Case #8: The Weirdness Around Wesley Wendell Warner
Detroit, Boston-Edison District, 1949
"I am somewhat unclear as to how I came to be standing here at the front door of a upper-class family's brick house in the Boston-Edison District of Detroit, Michigan.
To be more specific and perhaps less hyperbolic, I came here because the manager of my hotel informed me that a gentleman by name of Wesley Wendell Warner had left me a message in the form of a letter. The note was in a small engraved envelope, handwritten [with excellent penmanship], and it requested I visit their house and look into a series of very peculiar occurances that were making his family uncomfortable in their own home.
How did the he know I was at that hotel? Nevermind that, how was he at all aware of my existence? I'm not some famous writer on a book tour. I do not, to my knowledge, have any acquaintances in Detroit who would have recommended he speak to me. Very strange.
I had called ahead using the the phone number Mr. Warner had included with his letter and spoke to a member of the household staff. Later that same day I found myself standing at the
Warner's front door, waitng for someone to answer my ringing of the bell.
Leonard Williams, Age 55, 1949
The door opened to reveal a very well dressed Black man in his late 50s whose demeanor and bearing implied he was more than the butler but rather the 'House Manager'. I introduced myself and he immediately knew why I was there, politely requesting I accompany him to the family room.
He offered me tea, coffee, or hot cocoa. I chose the latter of course, as it was not something I expected him to say and it was late December in Michigan after all. I recognized his deep, baritone voice as the person I'd spoken to on the telephone that morning. His name, which was given only when asked, was Leonard.
The family room was well-appointed, tasteful, and decorated for the Christmas holiday. In a chair near sat a young man with a cocoa of his own, who placed his cup aside and stood as soon as Leonard and I entered. Leonard made the formal introductions; this was Wesley Wendell Warner.
Wesley Wendell Warner, Age 22, 1949
As Leonard stepped away to fetch my hot cocoa no doubt, I looked the fellow before me up and down while smiling warmly. He was a slim, almost reedy youth, looking to be no older than 18. At the same time, he sported a mustache and an aire that made me second guess his age. He could have very well been in his early 20s. He looked very ill-at-ease. His clothes seemed tailored for a slightly broader man. "Mr. Warner, I...", before I could continue he put up a hand.
"Wesley please. Wesley.", he gently corrected. "I can't thank you enough for coming. In fact, I am prepared to compensate you for your time, as...", he said, and now it was my turn to interrupt him.
"This is not my job Mr.W...Wesley. it might be research for a scientific paper or a book someday but that is a long way off. If you wish to cover my cab ride to and from yout home to my hotel I will graciously accept but money is not why I do this."
He smiled, said he understood and I believed him, and he offered me a seat as he sat back down himself. Leonard appeared suddenly and silently on my right and handed me my drink. I thanked him and turned my attention towards Wesley. Before being his tale, he asked Leonard to stay with us and of course the older man obliged.
Wesley spoke of a peculiarity with the house that had been going on since he was a child. Generally, the disturbances were mild and few when he himself was around. When he would leave the house the staff would report phantom footsteps, windows opening or closing by themselves, and hearing a child's laughter in the early morning, late afternoon, and/or early evening.
Once, when he and his parents were having a heated discussion about his college major, the lights flickered terribly, objects were flung about his bedroom by an unseen force, and a child crying or screaming could be heard, as if were outside the window.
I sat back in my chair and sipped my cocoa, which was Incidentally delicious, and nodded as I took in the details. I noticed several things, including something missing.
"Have you ever experienced anything while in this house Leonard?", I said nonchalantly.
"No sir. Not personally", Leonard began almost reluctantly. "Master Wesley and several members of our staff have confided in me however, reporting the sorts of phenomena Master Wesley has described."
"I see...", I said calmly, my thoughts trailing off to various possible causes even though I already had a hypothesis. I informed the two men that I had a few questions before I go about the house looking for the sort of signs that would help me narrow my down my theory as to what was really going on. They understood and agreed. Wesley even offered to show me some family history in the form of a record book the Warners had been keeping for generations. I was honored and let him know as such.
My questions and the information in that book told me far more than faint photos or sudden drops in temperature ever could. There was a pattern, a precedent, and a paranormal problem. After two hours going about my search for an answer, I called Wesley and Leonard back into the Family Room. The three of us stood there for an extended moment as I thought carefully about what I wanted to say. Clearly nervous and uncomfortable with the silence, Wesley blurted out a bit louder than I'm sure he intended, "Well? What's going on in this house?"
Calmy, casually, I said, "Wesley, your house is not haunted." Wesley audibly let out a sigh. "You are".
Wesley stared at me, his eyesas large as saucers. He went pale and shivered slightly. Leonard made a mildly sour face and raised an eyebrow at me. "W-what do you mean? What does that m-mean?", Wesley stammered.
"You have a Poltergeist. A Poltergeist haunts a person, not a location. It is connected to you. It gets upset when you aren't around. It becomes unsettled when your parents are cross with you. It has not appeared in Leonard's presence because it likes Leonard or, more specifically, feels safe when he is here. Furthermore, it is possible the original source of this ghost is your Great-Uncle Bernard, who died of cholera before the age of 10. Sometime later your Great-Grandfather Eric was born. The two never met. Bernard was an only child, hence why the ghost acts quite childish." As I finished I could see realization forming on the faces of my two companions.
"I...I had an imaginary friend as child. I...could...this have been the...poler...polter...the ghost?", Wesley wondered outloud.
"It is possible. From the conversations, questions, and observations I've made, you're parents, who are on a trip to Switzerland I understood, do not approve of many of your life choices. They don't appear to have been around very often throughout your life. Please understand, that's a observed fact, not a judgement. Leonard on the other hand has been with you for all 22 years that you've been on this Earth. You, like your Poltergeist, feel safer when he is with you and that feeling carries over to the ghost."
Wesley looked at Leonard who looked down, then away, than back at me with a tear at the corner of left eye. I simply smiled at him. I turned to Wesley, "Stand up to your parents. Tell them what you really think and how you feel. If you are honest and give it everything you have, even if they do not change their minds, you will feel better. You will feel like an adult. Once that happens, I think you will find your Poltergeist no longer a bother. It will move on, just as you need to do."
For a second I thought Wesley might faint, or burst into tears, or going running from the room. He did none of those things. He teared up, oh absolutely, but then stood straighter, puffed out his chest, and shoot my hand vigorously. He thanked me profusely, saying a said what no one - himself included - would say to him but which he needed to hear. He looked to Leonard and smiling he patted the older man on the shoulder. Everyone, included me I'm not ashamed to say, chuckled while more tears fell.
When I readied my departure, Wesley handed me an envelope that I tried to refuse. He in turn refused to take it back and so I conceded. As I sat in the back of the taxi that took me back to my hotel, I opened the envelope to far more than two cab rides. With no one to argue with, I accepted the gift.
Looking back on these moments, I have to wonder...did I overstep. I am not a family counselor or a psychologist. Seriously Sebastian! Who do you think you are? Still, if I have a talent it seems to be careful observation and making deductions based on what I've observed. I don't like what I said or how I said it necessarily but I do feel it needed to be said.
I wish Wesley and all of them well.
On to the next case."
--Sebastian Pott, December 1949
AD
Barking Alien
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