Hosts of Freaky Ghosts - Wandering Ghosts

"Between 1942 and 1943, American folklorists Richard Beardsley and Rosalie Hankey completed a dedicated study of the 'Vanishing Hitchhiker', a type of paranormal entity encountered on the highways and byways across the United States. The duo assembled and analyzed the identifying traits of this urban legend from 79 separate written accounts. In two articles published by the Western States Folklore Society, Beardsley and Hankey identified four distinct incarnations of this phenomenon. It is fascinating reading and I highly recommend itheir work to my fellow folklore and parapsychology enthusiasts. 

I took to wondering what connection there might be between these phantom hitchhikers and 'Wandering Ghosts', rare supernatural entities that are not tied to a specific location, obect, or person,  if any.

Now to say Wandering Ghosts are completely untethered to anything is not entirely correct and merely putting that forth is not comprehensive on my part. These 'free-roaming' spirits are sometimes connected to the general locations of the roads they haunt, though there are certainly numerous claims and reports of spectres that can travel such distances as to make their 'point of origin' unclear. Furthermore, many such stories of these ghosts tie them to an event rather than a person, place, or physical thing.

I'm curious as to how I would go about learning more regarding this sort of entity without encountering one myself."

-Sebastian Pott, April 1950.

There are two [general] classes of Roaming Ghosts: Full-Roaming and Free-Roaming. 

Full-Roaming ghosts are capable of movement throughout a given area, whether that space is a single floor in a luxury hotel, everywhere within the fairgrounds of a local carnival, or along a given stretch of road. Free-Roaming ghosts are not bound by a single location. Some of them can move anywhere and everywhere, while others are treated as Free-Roaming but are actually Full-Roaming, it's just that the area they cover is so large as to make the designation of these beings as Full-Roaming not especially useful.

Then there are ones that defy these categories or at least make it difficult to figure out which one they belong to. Hitchhiker Ghosts and the rarer Hobo Ghosts are of this variety. For example, a Vanishing Hitchhiker that can and does appear anywhere along the length of the famous Route 66 (replaced in 1985 by the Interstate Highway System) is certainly not Full-Roaming the way that descriptor is normally used but it is bound to that particular road and can't leave it, so is it really Free-Roaming? Likewise, a Hobo Ghost that haunts the freight cars of a partiular train route might be attached to a given train, a long stretch of track, or the route itself and that can not only take them hundreds if not thousands of miles. 

There are some unusual and exceptional examples of Roaming Ghosts such as the Violet Night and the Red Rider. These two are distinctive enough that we will see them being dicussed in Pott's later writings. The reason I bring them up is to point out that while both are described as Free-Roaming, they might actually be closer to the Wandering Ghosts Prof. Pott is interested in here. 

Adam Dickstein

Ghostbusters Inc., International

Curious Case #2: Lantern Larry, The Spooksville Samaritan

"The Spooksville Triangle is the name given to the area where the states of Missouri, Kanasas, and Oklahoma meet. The region is roughly twenty-miles to a side, triangular as noted in the name, and the domain of more than a few wayward spirits if local legend is to be believed. 

I was on a bus heading to Tulsa, Oklahoma from Springfield, Missouri when we passed through 'Spooksville' at 10:00 pm local time. I has writing notes at the time, no great revelation there, when the bus slowed and stopped rather abruptly. I assumed we were already at Joplin, Missouri but it seemed we were no where in particular. Everyone lurched forward a bit but there were no injuries as a result. The busriver opened the door and hurried out, leaving his passengers, myself included, understandably perplexed. 

He returned with a pale, tired looking man maybe 25 years of age, decently dressed in a rural style with a well-made jacket that was perfect for the cold evening. In his right hand he carried an old railroad lantern, which was not lit at the time. He seemed thankful and a bit confused, searching his pockets slowly and deliberately. There was something both incredibly peculiar and painfully mundane about the fellow, though I am hard pressed even now to define what it was exactly. I stood from my seat, walked up to the front rather quickly and as if everything was alright. The man smiled warmly at me while the busdriver said, "Seems this fellow was out looking for someone...a neighbor you said? A mother with a missing child. He went looking down the road and got lost. I said I could take him to the next bus stop but...", before he could finish, the lost stranger piped in.

'Lantern Larry'

"Haven't find my money. I'm good for the ticket. I know I have it somewheres...". His voice was hoarse, no doubt from calling out in the night looking for his friend. I told him not to worry and paid for his ticket. "Gee, much obliged there mister. I'll pay you back I promise. Mister...?"

"Sebastian. Sebastian Pott. There is an empty seat next to be if you'd like."

"Well that is right kind of you Sebastian. Larry. Call me Larry."

We shook hands and walked down the isle to our seats. Within moments the bus started again and we were on our merry way. I offered Larry the window seat on the slim chance he might see the woman he was looking for or her child. He thanked me and looked, I am not sure how else to say this but, truly moved by the gesture.

We sat in silence for a while, him looking out the window and I reading my copy of Tobin's Spirit Guide. Suddenly the lights in the bus' interior flickered on and off for just a moment. This wasn't too unusual in this area I was later told. I noticed something very strange when it happened. Pitched into nearly complete darkness, I could barely see Larry but it was more than that...it was as if in the dark he was simply no longer there. At the same time, there was a glow from inside his lantern, a ball shaped flame of pinkish light. When the lights returned to normal, mere seconds later, the lantern was once again unlit. 

"May I...may I ask, if it's not to personal a question of course, where you obtained that fine lantern?", I managed to say, feeling an uneasiness I was not accustomed to. 

Larry nodded, his smile and demeanor unchanged. "I used to work for the railroad. Laid track, helped build the switches. Always keep the lantern handy." He looked out the window for a moment and then back to me. "You're a good man, Pott. Not everyone would pay a ticket for a stranger."

"I think everyone deserves a helping hand now and then. You are trying to help someone yourself and that's even more admirable. Paying for your ticket...it's just money. It's the least I could do." I put my book away in my shoulder bag and looked back at Larry once again. "I hope you find your neighbor and very much hope she finds her child."

"Thank you. Me too", he replied quietly and returned to staring out the window. 

I awoke suddenly to realize the bus had stopped and the busdriver was speaking. People were moving about and I quickly assessed that I had dozed off and we'd reached the next train stop along our route. I looked beside me to see Larry had already departed. I stood up, eager to stretch my legs and the busdriver came down the isle towards me. He asked where the fellow with the lantern had gone. 

"I beg your pardon? I just woke up. Did he not get off already?", I said while adjusting my glasses and my shirt.

"I didn't see him leave. I've been up front helping everyone getting off with luggage and such", said the driver while looking first at the seat Larry had occupied and then all around, as if there were many places to hide on a bus. 

Busdriver George Carter

Gateway Transportation Co.,

Missouri, 1950

The two of us checked all the seats and then walked back up to the front. I asked if I might step out as I'd spent so much time sitting and of couse the driver said yes but we only had 15 minutes before departing the station. I did so, asking the other remaining passengers if they had seen Larry but no one had. While staring out into the difference, trying to make sense of what had transpired, I reached into my pocket and found money I hadn't recalled putting there. I took the bills and coins out and counted them up. The exact price of the bus ticket I'd purchased for my missing lantern carrying friend.

Some days later I found myself speaking with some railworkers in Oklahoma who told me a story; a number of years ago - the exact number changing with each recollection of the tale - a railroad man by the name of Lawrence Schmidt was having an affair with a young widow who lived not far from him. When the woman's child went missing, a daughter in some versions and a son in others, Schmidt went looking for them both and was struck by a car. It seems he was walking to far into the roadway at night when the light from the lantern he carried when out. 

The 'Mother's Lantern', another urban legend connected to the Spooksville Triangle, may feature the same woman in Lantern Larry's story."

-Sebastian Pott, May 1950

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Hosts of Freaky Ghosts - Shadow People and Orbs of Light

"Light and shadow play on our perceptions in an almost primal, intrinsic way. We are wary, even fearful, of the dark and the unknown dangers it may hide. Likewise we bath in the warmth and the wonder of bright light. 

While I may wax poetic here, the two phenomona of Shadow People (sometimes called Shades) and Orbs (also known as Will O' Wisps, Corpse Lights, Ghost Lights, and many other names) are so common as to almost become mundane and tiresome. For every true encounter with a spectral apparition there are a dozen claims of Orbs caught on film and Shadow People in the dim light of evening. It is very rare to actually find these manifestions to be, well, manifestations in any meaningful way.

I will say that when they are encountered, they are usually a sign of something greater nearby or on the way. They may be viewed as the prologue to the real story, the introduction that becomes a Residual or Intelligent Haunting if you read on. 

I have heard from other investigators into the paranormal that they can be the story itself but those instances are few and far between."

-Sebastian Pott, January 1950.

About a month after writing the excerpt above, which he did in respond to a series of investigations of said phenomena that we're easily debunked, Pott would witness an unusual supernatural occurance that even we Ghostbusters have rarely encountered. 

Curious Case #14: Shadows and Lights of Old Vaudeville.

"Following a lovely breakfast meeting with some fellow parapsychology enthusiasts I'd corresponded with while at NYU, I took the opportunity to walk through a part of Chicago's downtown Loop. Many of the old theatres were renovating, switching over from live stage performances to showing movies. Alas, the days of vaudeville were winding down and the silver screen was going up.

Sebastian Pott, Age 28

February, 1950

I stopped for a moment at an alleyway between two theatres because I had sworn I'd seen something or someone enter the side entrance of the edifice but looking more closely I saw that there was no side entrance; no door there at all. I walked down the alley to make certain and sure enough, all I could see was a blank wall. A policeman saw me and asked what I was doing. I told him I thought I'd seen someone sneaking around back and he pointed out the only sneaky fellow in the alley was me. Fair point I noted. I showed him my identification and 'credentials' such as they were. 

"I see. So that's what they teach in the fancy schools back East these days, huh? Ghosthunting?", the officer said with mocking though not completely unfriendly tone. 

Officer Henry 'Hank' Clemens, Chicago, 1950.

"Not exactly Officer...Clemens. Ghosthunting is a hobby. I am looking to find employment as a teacher and researcher. I hope to return to New York and become a professor at my alma mater. Perhaps elsewhere as well." I smiled politely as I spoke and tried to maintain as casual a manner as possible. The policeman seemed to relax a bit.

"Well, alright. Just be careful lookin'...", before he could finish his thought we both heard a loud crash and a sharp crack from inside the theatre. It sounded like something heavy had fallen and broken in two. Officer Clemens spun around, adjusted his cap, and then run around to the front of the establishment. I ran right along with him and, luckily for me, he was too focused on what might lie ahead to bother telling me not to.

We entered the building with Clemens in the lead and immediate took stock of the place. Like so many other theatres I'd seen, this one was in the process of converting to the new medium of film.

There were only a few lights on, tools were scattered about, and a pile of wood and metal construction material. We heard the sound of footsteps and hurried to a staircase that led up to the balcony level. It was as if the workers departed mid-renovation. Suddenly realizing, or more likely acknowledging, that I was there,  Clemens told me to, "Stay close and keep your eyes open."

He walked up the stairs to the second floor and I followed suite. Upon reaching the top, we noted a pair of large wooden doors directly across from us. Entry to the balcony seats obviously. It was even darker up here with no windows to the outside and even fewer lights lit.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow move towards the other balcony doors on at the opposite end of the hallway. I was startled and the Officer clearly noticed. Both our pairs of eyes saw the far side balcony doors open and close of their own accord. The floor was eeriely quiet. 

"If this is some sort of prank Mister, you're going to be in big trouble", the policeman grunted at me. I assured him it wasn't, at least not by me. To his credit, Clemens moved towards those doors in ernest, grabbing the one door handle with one hand and raising his billy club with the other. I followed behind him, sweeping my gaze back and forth across our environment in case someone or something was hiding somewhere. Clemens shouted, "This is Officer Henry Clemens, Chicago PD. I'm coming in!"

Clemens threw the door open, practically leaped in and looked around. I eased in behind him, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. The room was completely dark, not a single light on in the vast theatre. Then, as if on cue for a dramatic reveal, a glow came from the stage below.  Clemens and I exchanged glances and moved slowly, in unison, towards the edge of the balcony. Looking down below, we saw what even now I find it difficult to fully describe. Not because of its visual complexity or a lack of detail but because describing what I saw has nothing to do with how it felt to be there viewing it. 

Three spheres of light hovered between two and a half and four and a half feet off the stage. This illuminated the curtain behind them, upon which the shadows of three or perhaps four Human-like figures appeared. At first I thought they might be people standing behind said curtain but the way the shadows fell, their size and movements, they were not quite right for that. I caught Clemens staring, mouth a gape, wisps of steam coming from his dropped jaw in the unnaturally cold air of the locale. Perhaps noticing me noticing him, he closed his mouth and looked over to me with a look on his face that said, 'What am I looking at?".

As the three orbs grew a little brighter, the shadows became darker, and it was even more obvious these were not 'people' in the strictest sense. All in silhouette, I notice one shade wore a cowboy hat, another was a child most likely, and the last, well that third one was the least Human looking. They moved about only slightly and slowly but seemed to turn to each other, bend down, and then 'look' forward towards the audience seats.

Were these Residual or Intelligent beings? I decided to test a theory I was developing. I stood straight up and started to clap my hands. Clemens almost jumped out of his skin. He turned to bark at me no doubt but instead scratched his head, put away his nightstick and joined me. As the two of use stood applauding the 'actors' below, the ghostly balls of light flashed erratically while the shadow people seemed to bow. This lasted a good few minutes before the spheres faded away, dropping the theatre into total darkness. A few electric lights flickered on a moment later and the orbs and shadows were both completely gone. 

After a few minutes, Clemens and I departed the balcony and, based on his suggestion, made a perusal of the rest of the theatre just in case there were any other disturbances. There were not. In the end, Clemens confided in me that he would not have believed it if he hadn't seen it himself and even then, he wasn't quite certain what he'd witnessed. I told him that truthfully, I wasn't completely sure myself. He nodded, patted me on the shoulder, and told me I was "a good egg after all', and wished me good luck. He then turned and walked away, his posture and gait a little less self-assured then before. I watched him go for some time before go on my own merry way."

-Sebastian Pott, February 1950.

Encountering Shadow People and Orbs in the way Pott describes here is extremely uncommon. As he stated above, some hauntings may include fleeting shadows or ghostly lights but both together without any other entity being present is exceptional. What does it mean when it happens? The jury is still out on that.

Adam Dickstein,

Ghostbusters Inc., International 

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Hosts of Freaky Ghosts - Poltergeists

"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 eyes 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 his 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 run screaming from the room. He did none of those things. He teared up, oh absolutely, but then stood straighter, puffed out his chest, and shook my hand vigorously. He thanked me profusely, telling me I had 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, including 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 taxi that took me back to my hotel, I opened the envelope to find far more than the price of 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

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This story features the first instance of a very mysterious happenstance that will come up again in the Professor’s writings; how did Wesley Wendell Warner learn of Prof. Pott and how did the young man know where he was staying? 

Hmm...

Hosts of Freaky Ghosts - Intelligent Hauntings

"'Intelligent Hauntings' is the term given for a category so broad as to render the words descriptive only in the weakest sense. 

I would say my neighbor's dog Rusty is a very Intelligent canine but that is not the same as calling Albert Einstein very Intelligent, now is it?

In point of fact,  I would go so far as to suggest an alternative, more appropriate name for the phenomenon; Interactive Hauntings. The key factor is not intelligence you see but an awareness of the living."

Prof. Sebastian Pott, October 1949.

Not every paranormal claim Prof. Pott responded to and investigated bore fruit. Some were pranks or hoaxes, some were honest misunderstandings easily debunked, and some simply didn't yield enough conclusive evidence. 

Pott's 'Curious Cases' are differentiated from his other explorations in that something came out of them; he had a personal experience backed up by physical, audio, photographic, or some other form of corroborating evidence.

This particular case is interesting to me for two reasons. The first is that it shows a pattern in the Professor’s encounters that he himself would not become aware of for sometime. Second, the entity described here has since been encountered and captured by Ghostbusters Cleveland. As such, I have asked Erica Crawford, the lead Ghostbuster on that case, to add her own observations. 

I want to start by thanking Adam and Dr. Stantz for letting me participate in this project. Also a heartfelt thanks to my fellow Ghostbusters here in Cleveland for having my back all those times I've done something crazy. So, like all the time. 

Our call to come out to the Ohio State Reformatory/Penitentiary back in 2020 was my first time on a big assignment and I'll never forget it. Adam says I was the 'lead' on this one but I wasn't at first. It just ended up that way. Before I tell you how it all went down, here are the notes from Professor Pott on the subject...

Curious Case #3: The Innocent Monster of The Ohio State Reformatory

"Just a week or so before my birthday, I was contacted by an army aquaintence now working as a prison guard at the Ohio State Reformatory in Mansfield. I remembered him well, a handsome and strapping young man when I'd met him, tough as nails and jolly as ol' Saint Nicholas himself. His voice on our call was odd to me; he sounded noticably shaken. Unaware that I was already traveling about investigating paranormal occurances, he asked how soon I could come visit the Reformatory. He'd already cleared things with his superiors. I was in Northern Pennsylvania at the time, so I had no trouble getting to him in short order.

On a cold, rainy October morning I got out of a taxi and saw what I assumed was the medieval keep of some knight sworn to defend his king from a well armed rival nation. The Reformatory...it was a fortress; impressive, ever-present, and terrible. I was met out front by my wartime colleague and he immediately introduced me to another guard and the facility's chief physican, Dr. Watson Herscheal Walker. Dr. Walker is an African-American man and a prominent surgeon who, I would later learn, broke a very fortified color barrier to attain his position and to my understanding those incarcerated there were better for it. 

The three men explained to my that the facility, which had originally focused on young, first time offenders and minimum security risks, was slowly but surely changing into a maximum security operation filled with considerably less savory individuals. The transition had not always gone smoothly, with the two very different populations having difficulty getting along, shall we say. The Reformatory was already known for the presence of the supernatural; fleeting shadow people, phantom smells such as burning wood and hair (attributed to a fire in the 1930), and object vibrating or shaking by themselves.

That is not why I was asked to come take a look. My army friend and his fellow guard were making their rounds in the early morning hours two days prior, when they come upon what they thought was an inmate in a cell that was supposed to be unoccupied. As they came closer, a vaguely human spectre with his back to the guards shouted or loudly moaned...something...then turned to see the two men. Frozen in fear and confusion for an instant, the two men then reflexively reached for their clubs but the entity through open the cell door with such speed and force that the second guard suffered an injury to his right arm. My friend yelled at the creature to halt and it did not. Instead it 'ran' into him, shouldering him backward and slamming him hard against the far wall. The entity then departed, floating down the corridor faster than either of the guards could run. 

Dr. Walker confirmed their injuries, neither of which was all that severe, but was concerned about their mental health; he initially believed they hadn't had enough sleep, enough food, or they'd been drinking. He was also to determine none of those conditions to be the case. Later that same evening, as Walker was departing for home, he saw the being as well. It moaned at him in what he took to be a pleading manner. The Doctor found himself so frightened he couldn't respond. The phantom became angry, violently shaking its head and moaning louder. Guards heard the sound and came running but the entity flew down an adjacent hallway and passed through the wall at the other end. 

After chatting with the men for another short while I set up my various tools-of-the-trade as it were and looked over the areas where the spirit had manifested. It had shown up twice, very early and very late in the day, essentially as dawn and twilight. After a few unsuccessful hours, I decided to depart for lunch, took care of organizing notes from earlier outings, and returned later that evening as the Sun's weak rays, barely able to penetrate the sky's thick gray clouds, gave up on trying to light the world, at least until the next morning. As bright gray turned to a dark purple gray I made my way through the appropriate checkpoints and finally into that area where the entity had first been encountered. Sure enough, there it was, floating just inches above a cott and looking miserable.

I addressed it, "Spirit, I am Sebastian Pott. I am not a guard nor an inmate but merely a curious observer. Is there anything I can do for you?"

The creature looked puzzled initially but then it came to the bars and wrapped its hands around them as if they could hold such a being; as if it were confined like any other prisoner. It moaned, a haunting and disturbing whimper really. As described by Dr. Walker, it shook its head from side-to-side repeatedly. I asked if it was injured or sick. No response. Frightened? Nothing. 

I finished with, "What did you do if I might ask?" This was, it turns out, the wrong question. The entity howled, clearly enraged, and came through the bars and flew right at me. It lifted me up by my jacket lapels, a good three feets off the floor, and moaned loudly, it's maw only inches from my face. I suddenly realized I was in pain. I'd been forced against the wall before I was lifted, hard enough to have hurt my right shoulder blade. Thankfully, the spectre dropped me and took out down the hall light a shot, moaning and screeching all the way. 

I, along with at least four prison guards, tried to give chase, as ridiculous a notion as that is. Over the next two hours I caught a glimpse of the ghost three more times, though never I could never get closer than fifty or sixty feet before it darted through a door or a wall. I was about to get one somewhat decent photo of it however. 

Later on, I sat with Dr. Walker and my old army buddy and told them what I had seen and experienced in great detail. I had a feeling about the entity based on nothing more than my own intuition. It was the spirit of a former prisoner, that much was certain, but one that may have been wrongly convicted. It seemed to be moaning its plight, asking for help, perhaps even calling out for justice. We three men sat there with this idea for some time before I departed."

-Sebastian Pott, October 1949

"The Ohio State Penitentiary (formerly Reformatory) was shut down in 1990 after decades of severe conditions such as overcrowding, aging equipment and structural integrity, and a history of inmate abuse, riots, and extreme violence in general. Following inmate lawsuits against the state of Ohio in the 1970s and 1980s, the facility was decommissioned. 

In 2020, practically ten years to the day after the Ohio State Penitentiary closed, members of the The Mansfield Reformatory Historical Society contacted the Ghostbusters (Ghostbusters Cleveland) claiming their attempts to convert the site into a museum where being thwarted by a 'violent, Human-like figure in an old, striped prisoner uniform'. We went in to investigate with Charles Moore in the lead and three other employees including myself. After an hour of looking around the facility, Moore and I found traces of Ectoplasm and damage to some doors leading to the East Cell Block section.

PKE readings suddenly went off the charts and as Moore placed his Ectogoggles down over his eyes, a glowing green Class IV-V entity came through a door and struck Charley square in the chest. He was thrown off his feet, flew backward about fifteen feet or so, and landed hard on his back covered in a thin layer of slime. I immediately radioed the rest of the team to come to our position, then changed the plan to have one of the other come around to head off the escaping spook. I checked that Moore was OK, waited a bit for our people to get in position, and then I ran forward and into the corridor the entity had fled to. I saw it, called out for my teammate and they let a Proton Stream fly that hit the thing in the lower torso area. I followed up, zapping it with a Capture Stream from behind. It wasn't a easy catch. It was pulling and pushing and trying as hard as it could to get away, all the while moaning and screeching. Finally Charles and our remaining team member came up from my rear, spread out a little, and fired capture streams of their own.

Designated as a Flexible, Full-Torso, Repeating Phantom or

a Class IV or V Full-Roaming Fog by Ghostbusters Cleveland

For reasons I couldn't even tell you, I looked at the thing's face and saw...sorrow? Exhaustion? Whatever it was, I yelled out, "It's going to be OK, we're trying to help!". With that it looked right at me, hell through me, and stopped struggling. Slam, bam, one in the can as Moore dropped a Ghost Trap, activated it, and caught the phantom. Initially everyone cheered but then they all looked at me and asked why I'd said what I'd said. Well, I didn't really know but felt there was more to this ghost than just random violence. As it turned out, I was right. 

Using modern research methods and coordinating with the Ghostbusters home office, we found out that this entity was most likely the spirit of someone wrongly accused of a crime, jailed, and later died at the Reformatory. It is also possible it was a psychic...oh man...gestalt? Yes! A gestalt of thoughts and emotions from many such individuals.

WIth the help of a local judge and minister, we took the entity out of our Containment Grid, released it into an open field, while exhonorating it and giving last rites (non-denominational)  The entity changed from its previous appearance into a bright white light before dissipating before our eyes. 

Felt good but man, this job is nuts."

Erica Crawford, Ghostbusters Cleveland.

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Barking Alien

The film 'The Shawshank Redemption' was film at the Ohio State Reformatory. 

There is a real organization called The Mansfield Reformatory Preservation Society, which purchased the site from the State of Ohio for $1. It is now owned by the City of Mansfield. 

Easter Eggs from Hosts of Freaky Ghosts - Certified Genius or Authentic Wacko?

'Sebastian Pott's' is an anagram of 'Tobin's' and 'Spate's'.

Pott's birthplace of Amityville, NY is a reference to The Amityville Horror (1979)

Pott's mother being Wendy and an 'aspiring novelist' are references to The Shining (1980)

Sebastian's Uncle Jack's final visit eludes to the plot of Rosemary's Baby (1968)

Sebastian's assistant and friend Nancy Strode is a homage to two of the great 'Final Girls'; Nancy Thompson from A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) and Laurie Strode from Halloween (1978).

Meretown was inspired by the Twilight Zone TV Series episode A Stop at Willoughby (1960).

Hosts of Freaky Ghosts - Residual Hauntings

"By far the most common type of spiritual manifestation is the 'Residual Haunting', a sort of psychic recording of people and events from the past that have been branded into a specific location. 

Usually a Residual Haunting consists of an individual apparition performing a simple, mundane action such as walking up or down a staircase, strolling through a garden, or dancing in a ballroom. The action is repeated with the same 'people', on specific days, at the same time of day, and it is uneffected by the presence of any observers or changes to the location over time.

My very first in-person investigation, which I completed just yesterday evening, was of this type. Hopefully this is just the first of many curious cases."

-Sebastian Pott, September 1949

Prof. Pott wrote this in the first of his practically innumerable notebooks and re-wrote it a year later so he could designate it 'Curious Case #1', the beginning of over 100 such investigations collectively referred to as 'The Curious Cases'. 

As noted by Prof. Pott, Residual Hauntings are the most common PKE event and the Ghostbusters respond to dozens of them that can often be removed, if requested, without the use of Proton Packs and Neutrona Wands. A well placed Ghost Trap is usually all you need. The majority of the spectral entities involved are Class I to III and their Intensities tended to be Shades/Shadows or Vapors. 

The potential range of possible images and sounds that can and have been associated with a Residual Haunting are so numerous it is impossible to list them all here (or anywhere for that matter). It is the rarer, less common expressions of the phenomenon that stand out and catch the attention of paranormal investigators like the Ghostbusters and Professor Pott. 

For example:

Curious Case #1: The Meticulous Maid of the Hotel Bethlehem

"I was invited by a former college classmate to come visit him in Pennsylvania. The invitation was to accompany him in investigating the many strange claims and ghost sightings at the Hotel Bethlehem in the city of the same name. I accepted. I had heard more than a few stories about the hotel's numerous departed occupants who, for whatever reason, had still not checked out. 

The Hotel Bethlehem,

Bethlehem, PA,

Photo from the late 1930s.

After a lovely dinner and some catching up, my companion and I attempted to obtain evidence of the hotel's multiple spirits by setting in place a number of different evidence gathering methods on the floors where the majority of sightings had been made. These included:

Fingerprint powder and graphite sprinkled about to reveal all too Human means of opening and closing doors and windows. A similar approach using fine grain sand would show footprints. 

An old refurbished dictaphone was used to try and record any abnormal sounds.

Each of us carried a thermometer to accurately gage the temperature, confirming hot and cold spots as real and not just our own perceptions. 

Finally, I had my Uncle Jack's old camera, a contraption that he himself had modified to snap more quickly than what is standardly available. It also uses film with a remarkable sensitivity to light that allows for surprisingly sharp images in dark conditions. 

The two of us than chose places to position ourselves, moving a bit now and then for a different angle. After a few hours we would go to other floors and repeat the process. It was quite humorous explaining what we were doing to the odd maid or bellhop when they would see our gear and strange behaviour. That said, they seemed well away of the supernatural claims attached to their place of employment and were more than happy to let us go about our experiment so long as we did not disturb other guests. 

The night was largely uneventful. We could very little in the way of sounds, only a few minor cold spots, and there wasn't so much as a ball of light to seen. We eventually gathered all our equipment back up and returned to our rooms, a bit disappointment but well aware this was quite common with these sort of ventures. I suddenly remembered that I'd left an extra roll of film hidden on one of the floors and left my room to retrieve it.

Upon returning to our floor, I saw what I thought to be a lovely young woman coming down the hallway towards me and, for some reason I can not explain, I stopped in my tracks and waited for her to get closer. She was pushing a handkeeping cart or trolley as they are sometimes known. She stopped about 10 feet from me and looked me right in the eye, though I there seemed to be no sense of recognition. She was, overall, faded in my view; a transparent image lacking solidity and color. I realized she was not of this world. Her features, which looked pretty from a distance, would be best described as...unclear. They lacked the sort of details one would use to identify an individual. 

She appeared to sniff, pad here eyes with a handkerchief as if she'd been crying, put on a brave face (such as it was) and proceeded to the door of the room to her left (my right). The maid pantomined opening the door and, though it remained closed, walked right through it. I managed to snap a picture almost out of reflex or instinct, not aware I had done so until much later. I caught my breath, which had all but left me, and ran to the door myself. I tried to open it but it was locked, so I knocked hard and repeatedly. Nothing. 

I immediately roused my partner and got down to the front desk as fast as I could. I'm sure I sounded the fool if not purely mad but the clerk took it in stride. They called over to a Manager and I asked him if anyone was occupying that room. He indicated that there wasn't. I then shared what I'd seen and was confronted with a number of looks ranging from confusion to face of someone trying to remember the words to an old song. Just then an elderly woman approached me and introduced herself as a long time patron of the hotel. She informed me that I had seen one of rarer spirits of the ediface, one that shows up only once in a long while. 

My companion and I sat down with this veteran of the Hotel Bethlehem, I ordered us all a round of tea, and she explained that she herself had seen the same housekeeping apparition only twice in as many years as she'd been frequenting the establishment. The maid only appears on Friday evenings in September, only if there is no rain or snow or great heat, on the particular floor in question, at exactly 3 am. The woman said that if I had opened that door, I would find the room spotless; the bed perfectly made to near military standards, every nook and cranny dusted and swept, and every chair, pillow, and even the objects on the desk or in the cabinets would be neat, clean, and organized. A place for everything and everything in its place. This is simply what the spirit does; she appears, walks down the hall, stops to wipe her tears, and then enters the room at the end of the corridor and thoroughly cleans it. 

My follow up research confirmed everything the elder dame has said. As far as the identity of the ghost, it is impossible to say. Clearly an employee from the past but there were no records of a member of the housekeeping staff dying at the hotel. Even more peculiar, he clothing seemed most modern; it was similar to the uniform currently worn by the staff instead of resembling the fashion of whatever period she died in.  

I plan on returning and requesting that room. Perhaps I will see her again and be able to fill in the holes in our knowledge of the Meticulous Maid."

-Sebastian Pott, originally written September 1949 and later rewritten and amended in the Autumn of 1951.

In Ghostbusters terms, this is more of a local color/background occurance that reinforces the haunted nature of the location without having to start an exploration of the place by shooting positron streams through a historic landmark. That said, it could lead to something more. Perhaps the Meticulous Maid is connected to one of the more well-known ghosts or her appearance is a sign of a larger paranormal event on the horizon. 

Adam Dickstein

Ghostbusters Inc., International

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Barking Alien

The Hotel Bethlehem in Bethlehem, PA is a real place and yes, it is claimed to be haunted. Take a look at this guide to some of the friendly spirits that can supposedly be found at the establishment.