PRELUDE TO GHOSTS

  

Do you believe in ghosts?

There seems to be two distinct camps divided on the subject - -  those people who never had a paranormal experience are likely to be skeptics or disbelievers. Those who have encountered some semblance of other-worldly entities are most often positively convinced that ghosts existence.

The subject of ghostly hauntings is murky, tricky, and tainted. Many incidents are founded on little more than hearsay, rumor, legend, exaggeration,  over-active imaginations, and fabrications.

I would have most likely been among the skeptics if I hadn't had several very real experiences. I can't confirm the existence of generic ghosts, but I very definitely believe in evil spirits, demons, and other entities of ill-intent.

The true story that I want to tell is about a haunted "magic" eight ball that I had as a child. The horrifying things connected with it were witnessed by both of my parents - who instantly became staunch believers of the supernatural. Since it's a long story, I'm going to save it for my next blog post.
(I initially posted it several ago, but feel that it's time to rehash it again)

How to enter the portal of paranormal activity? I can only provide an answer from personal experience - -

Intense concentration.

If you purposely clear your mind of all clutter and concentrate solely on the deepest realms of darkness, evil will eventually accept the invitation.

I absolutely do not condone this unholy indulgence, and strongly caution that this practice will inevitably yield dangerously negative results.

I am certainly no expert on this subject. I'm only relying on experiences of people that I've known, my own experiences, and pure common sense.

Demons and evil spirits are extremely clever and can dupe the uninitiated into destructive realms.

I believe that intense concentration was the beginning of the haunted eight ball ordeal - but I'll save that for another post.

Right now, I'm remembering an incident in my wayward youth in Southern California. It's not ghostly, but definitely weird.

There was a (brief) time when I was a quasi - hippie with Maharishi intent. I wore clothes and sandals from India and made (half-hearted) attempts to adopt East Indian culture.

Eventually I delved into transcendental meditation. I read several books about the subject and began practicing the methods.

The main prerequisite to this meditation was to completely clear the mind and concentrate intensely on one mental visual - - such as a single rose suspended in a black void. While concentrating on a phantom image, mentally reciting a mantra is employed.

This unconventional ritual supposedly generates relaxation and keen sense of perception.

It is virtually an impossibility to have a blank mind, but I faithfully practiced this meditative anomaly every night. Completely alone in a darkened room.

I did this for about a week, with no positive results.

I tried to increase my power of concentration and erase any thoughts from my mind.

One night, while in deep abstract meditation, a strange (uninvited) power came over my entire body and I was paralyzed. I couldn't move, and it was as if a dark overpowering force was taking over my mind and body.

I suddenly shouted "Satan, leave me!" I jumped up, turned a light on, and never meditated again.

Demons? Over-active imagination? Whatever. The energy was definitely negative.

At that time in my life a guru advised me to give up my worldly possessions and abstain from sex.

I had few worldly possessions.

I abstained from sex for about two hours.

I've had several ghostly encounters in a cemetery when I lived in the Missouri Ozarks.

An old Polaroid photo that I took at Maple Park Cemetery. The grave of a woman named Melissa who died at age 24 in the 1880s. There were always fresh flowers on her grave.

I was very familiar with the Maple Park Cemetery in Springfield, MO, and that's where several creepy incidents occurred. The oldest graves are located at the front of the cemetery and the newer ones are way in the back. 

In the brisk autumn weather, I was completely mesmerized by this cemetery. It was filled with gorgeous old trees that turned stunning colors in October.
Having been raised in seasonless Southern California, I was amazed at how a real seasonal autumn could be. I would spend countless hours trekking through the cemetery, collecting autumn leaves and savoring the intoxicating atmosphere.

There are several graves of Civil War soldiers located near some ancient trees. Sitting nearby during an autumnal twilight, I distinctly heard mournful moaning voices seemingly coming from the low-hanging tree branches above the graves. The moans were tainted with the cold, desperate, other-worldly sound of dying.

It wasn't my imagination. And the cemetery was deserted.

I said aloud "you're safe now - rest in eternal peace."

The moans eventually dwindled, then stopped. For some strange reason I wasn't really frightened by the incident. I was more fascinated.

The old gazebo at Maple Park Cemetery.

 The creepiest thing at the cemetery happened to me one dreary October afternoon on the day before Halloween. It was a very dark, chilly, damp  day. I was wandering aimlessly around - gathering autumn leaves and savoring the sinister misty atmosphere.

I eventually wound up in the far side of the cemetery, where the newer graves are. Seemingly out of nowhere, I discovered the grave of a young man who was born on my birthday - December 13th. The same year. He was 26 when he died.

As I was reading the headstone inscription I felt an icy chill and got an incredibly strange feeling as if I was not alone. I looked to my left and saw a very tall, murky dark thing next to me. It wasn't a person. It was more like an ominous cloudy shroud.
This wasn't my fanciful imagination.
It was really there.

I instinctively ran through the graveyard back to my car and took off as fast as I could.

I never went back to that part of the cemetery. In retrospect - many years later - I regret not returning and taking a photo of the grave.

I have much more to say, but this post is getting too long. 

I'm debating whether I should rehash my post about the haunted eight ball. It's my worst haunted experience.

I don't want to be boring.

Wait a minute - - - me boring??

Completely impossible!

Jon

HOLLYWOOD HAUNTS

Few places are filled with more haunts than Hollywood. And few places offer a more perfect backdrop for perpetuating tales of the supernatural: a stardusted Neverland steeped in glamor, fame and fortune, broken dreams, sex, scandals, murder, and suicide.

If all the purported Hollywood hauntings are to be believed, then the entire place is brimming with spirits and ghosts. Unfortunately, the vast majority of these stories have little substance and are generated by rumor, legends, imagination, and pure hokum. It's a deliciously intriguing subject, nevertheless.

I was raised in Southern California but didn't really hit the Hollywood scene until I was in my late teens. At that time I had an insatiable appetite for ghost stories and things macabre and spent a lot of time exploring the dark side of Tinsel Town. I visited just about every place that was rumored to be haunted or had a sinister history.

I saw the shabby apartment on Harold Way where the definitive Dracula Bela Lugosi died, as a penniless drug addict. I found the house in Laurel Canyon where Ramon Novarro, screen star of the silent era, was brutally murdered in 1968 on Halloween night (or, more aptly, the night before Halloween morning). 

 
I visited Falcon Lair, the last home of 1920's heartthrob Rudolph Valentino, which is reportedly haunted. At the time that I went there, the home was owned by heiress Doris Duke (who died there in 1993).

Falcon Lair, the haunted home of

silent screen star Rudolph Valentino

When I was in my early twenties I lived for a brief time in a Beverly Hills home that was very near Cielo Drive, where actress Sharon Tate was murdered. Ironically, the Valentino estate Falcon Lair was also near the Tate mansion (which was rented by Tate and her husband Roman Polanski and has since been torn down) - -  and the horse stables were located on Cielo Drive. A friend took me to see the stables and we were told by a caretaker that it is haunted by one of Rudolph Valentino's horses - - the phantom stallion roams the grounds after dark.

I was familiar with the haunted Chancellor Apartments on Cherokee (just off of Hollywood Boulevard) because an acquaintance of mine lived there. The Chancellor was the last known residence of Elizabeth Short, better known as the Black Dahlia, whose savage murder in 1947 still remains (officially) unsolved.

The famous Hollywood sign on nearby Mount Lee has long been haunted by a "mysterious" lady in white. The  original Hollywoodland sign was erected in 1923 as a real estate advertisement. Fledgling actress Peg Entwistle committed suicide by jumping off the sign in 1932. The full story can be read in my post entitled Suicide Sign

https://lonewolfconcerto.blogspot.com/2022/07/suicide-sign.html

The places on (or around) Hollywood Boulevard that are supposedly haunted are far too numerous to mention. Among the most well-known are the Knickerbocker Hotel, the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, the Pantages Theater, the Vogue Theater, and Grauman's Chinese Theater. 

The Vogue Theater had originally been the site of an elementary school. In 1901 the school burned down. Twenty-five children and one teacher were killed. The spirits of children have reportedly haunted the theater ever since. The Vogue Theater is also haunted by the ghost of a German man named Fritz, who was the projectionist for forty years. He died of a heart attack in the projection room in the 1980's.

The Vogue Theater at 6675 Hollywood Blvd.

first opened in 1935 and still exists today.

I especially loved the fascinating history of the Knickerbocker Hotel, but by the time I lived in Hollywood it was no longer a hotel. It had been converted into a home for senior citizens in 1970. I liked to walk past it - especially late at night - and reflect on all the things that had occurred there.

Ill-fated actress Frances Farmer lived at the Knickerbocker, when - in 1943 - she was arrested, dragged half-naked through the lobby, and eventually placed in an insane asylum (at the request of her vindictive mother).  In 1948, silent film director D.W.Griffith died in the lobby of the Knickerbocker. Strangely enough, actor William Frawley (Fred Mertz of I Love Lucy fame) collapsed from a fatal heart attack on the sidewalk near the Knickerbocker in 1966.

The Knickerbocker Hotel on Ivar, near the corner of

Ivar and Hollywood Boulevard was built in 1925.

This photo looks exactly as I remember it.

Even more gruesome was the suicide of Hollywood costume designer Irene Gibbons (simply known as "Irene"). In 1961, while staying on one of the top floors, she cut her wrists and leaped out the window. Her body landed on an awning and wasn't found until the next day. In the 1930's Harry Houdini's widow Bess used to hold seances on the roof of the Knickerbocker on Halloween night.

The old Hollywood Memorial Park Cemetery, final resting place of the stars, is reportedly haunted by numerous movie star ghosts - including that of Rudolph Valentino and Clifton Webb. It is located directly behind Paramount Studios (on Melrose) and has recently and inexplicably been renamed the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Tacky. Very tacky. 

On several occasions I had sneaked into the cemetery after-hours for romantic trysts (I was young and adventurous). One Halloween, I and several friends went there at midnight in search of famous ghosts. It was a very creepy experience but no spirits cared to manifest themselves.

Hollywood Memorial Park Cemetery,

now known as the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

A creepy place after dark.

The Roosevelt Hotel at 7000 Hollywood Boulevard (newly renovated) harbors the ghosts of two former residents - - Marilyn Monroe and Montgomery Clift. Marilyn supposedly appears in a lobby mirror, and Monty haunts his old room (which is # 928). Also the Blossom Ballroom has several "unexplained" cold spots. This old ballroom was the site of the very first Academy Awards ceremony in 1929.

I've heard rumors that John Belushi's ghost has haunted bungalow #3 at the Chateau Marmont on Sunset Boulevard ever since his death there in 1982. The spirit of Howard Hughes supposedly lingers at the  Hollywood Boulevard Pantages Theater. Hughes didn't die there, but he purchased the building in 1949.

The Hollywood Wax Museum, still located on 6767 Hollywood Boulevard, is a gathering place for restless spirits. A reporter for the National Enquirer once spent the night in there alone and was terrified, claiming that he'd never go back.

There's also a lesser-known Hollywood Boulevard ghost  that still lingers on the famous corner of Hollywood and Vine. There was a bus stop on the northwest corner of this intersection in the 1920's that was frequented by actor Lon Chaney. He would go there every morning to catch a bus to the studios when he was looking for work. His ghost is still seen late at night where the bus stop used to be.

Speaking of ghostly places, the infamous Suicide Bridge is probably the creepiest place of all. Although it's located in Pasadena, not Hollywood, it is worth a mention. Originally called the Colorado Street Bridge, it was built in 1913. One of the workers accidentally fell from the bridge and landed head-first in wet cement. His body is still entombed in the cement, under the bridge.

Suicide Bridge in Pasadena

(the Colorado Street Bridge, built in 1913)

Site of over 100 suicides and ghosts galore

Since the bridge first opened, it has reportedly been the site of over 100 suicides. Attempts to make the bridge "suicide-proof" have been futile. It remains a notorious jumping off point to this day. Spirits abound at the Suicide Bridge, and I can personally attest to the fact that it's an incredibly spooky place to visit at night. There's a strong sense of restless ghosts.

This post is getting lengthy and I haven't even scratched the surface of Hollywood haunts. Tinseltown has had a long surplus of ghosts - - many of whom are more popular than the undead residents.

copyright 2019

 Note: 
I originally posted this four years ago, but figured it's a good rehash for the Halloween season.  Jon

 

PRELUDE TO GHOSTS

  

Do you believe in ghosts?

There seems to be two distinct camps divided on the subject: those people who never had a paranormal experience are likely to be skeptics or disbelievers. Those who have encountered some semblance of other-worldly entities are most often positively convinced that ghosts existence.

The subject of ghosts and hauntings is murky, tricky, and tainted. Many incidents are founded on little more than hearsay, rumor, legend, exaggeration,  over-active imaginations, and fabrications.

I would have most likely been among the skeptics if I hadn't had several very real experiences. I can't confirm the existence of generic ghosts, but I very definitely believe in evil spirits, demons, and other entities of ill-intent.

The true story that I want to tell is about a haunted "magic" eight ball that I had as a child. The horrifying things connected with it were witnessed by both of my parents - who instantly became staunch believers of the supernatural. Since it's a long story, I'm going to save it for my next blog post.
(I initially posted it about two years ago, but feel that it's time to rehash it again)

There are many strange but non-ghostly occurrences that happened in my family through the years. I could easily name several dozen, but I'll just mention a few.
Merely coincidence, or something more sinister?
I don't profess to know.

There's an incident that my maternal grandmother told, concerning her eldest sister Katalin. It happened long ago in 1906. Kate (as she was called) was visiting a close friend who planned to be married in two months. Kate was admiring her friend's beautiful white wedding dress.

"I hope that someday I'll wear a white dress like this," Kate said.

Her friend became very somber with a supposed premonition.

"Kate," she said, " I have a strong feeling that you'll be wearing a white dress before I do."

A week later, Kate - at age eighteen - was murdered. 
She was buried in her white Easter dress.
(I've written about Kate's murder in a previous post)

When my mother was ten years old, her grandfather (my great-grandfather John Gordon) was killed by a car as he attempted to walk across a busy street. The accident happened at one o'clock in the afternoon.
On that day my Mom and her mother (my grandmother, the daughter of John Gordon) were home in the kitchen washing dishes.

At exactly one o'clock, a large porcelain platter - which was sitting on a nearby table - flew off the table entirely by itself and smashed to the ground.

"It's an omen," my grandmother said. "Something bad has happened."

Several other members of the family had witnessed this incident and swore it was true.

When I was sixteen years old, my maternal grandmother had a strange and disturbing dream. She dreamed that her dead husband (my grandfather) was desperately calling her name and trying to pull her through a hole in a fence.

Shortly after having this dream, my grandmother suddenly died.
Coincidence? I don't know, but I'll never forget it.

I just suddenly realized that all three of the previous incidents involved my maternal grandmother. Strange.

So what about ghosts?
I've had my own experiences.

I've had several ghostly encounters during various times in my life. When I lived in the Missouri Ozarks, I use to frequent several old cemeteries.

An old Polaroid photo that I took at Maple Park Cemetery. The grave of a woman named Melissa who died at age 24 in the 1880s. There were always fresh flowers on her grave.

 

I was very familiar with the Maple Park Cemetery in Springfield, MO, and that's where several creepy incidents occurred. The oldest graves are located at the front of the cemetery and the newer ones are way in the back. 

In the brisk autumn weather, I was completely mesmerized by this cemetery. It was filled with gorgeous old trees that turned stunning colors in October.
Having been raised in seasonless Southern California, I was amazed at how a real seasonal autumn could be. I would spend countess hours trekking through the cemetery, collecting autumn leaves and savoring the intoxicating atmosphere.

There are several graves of Civil War soldiers located near some ancient trees. Sitting nearby during an autumnal twilight, I distinctly heard mournful moaning voices seemingly coming from the low-hanging tree branches above the graves. The moans were tainted with the cold, desperate, other-worldly sound of dying.

It wasn't my imagination. And the cemetery was deserted.

I said aloud "you're safe now - rest in eternal peace."

The moans eventually dwindled, then stopped. For some strange reason I wasn't really frightened by the incident. I was more fascinated.

The old gazebo at Maple Park Cemetery.

 

The creepiest thing at the cemetery happened to me one dreary October afternoon on the day before Halloween. It was a very dark, chilly, damp  day. I was wandering aimlessly around - gathering autumn leaves and savoring the sinister misty atmosphere.

I eventually wound up in the far side of the cemetery, where the newer graves are. Seemingly out of nowhere, I discovered the grave of a young man, near my age, who was born on my birthday - December 13th.

As I was reading the headstone inscription I felt an icy chill and got an incredibly strange feeling as if I was not alone. I looked to my left and saw a very tall, murky dark thing next to me. It wasn't a person. It was more like an ominous cloudy shroud.
This wasn't my fanciful imagination.
It was really there.

I instinctively ran through the graveyard back to my car and took off as fast as I could.

I never went back to that part of the cemetery. In retrospect - many years later - I regret not returning and taking a photo of the grave.

GHOSTS OF THE FOREST

Do I believe in ghosts?
Well, let's just say that several firsthand experiences have inspired me to be a believer when I otherwise wouldn't have been one.

Many initially unexplainable things are eventually dispelled with logical resolutions. Some things are the result of over-active imaginations or illusions. I, for one, do believe in evil spirits and negative forces. Demons. The Dark Side.

Do I scare easily?
Not any more. It takes a helluva lot to scare me. I've been through far too much. In time, eternal fear turns into exasperated anger and loses its potency. 

Long ago I was a timid wimp, afraid of my own shadow. I spent the first half of my life being terrified of my father and his relentless rage. I eventually learned to deal with the endless pile of negative shit that is dumped on us from cradle to grave. It's called survival.

But I'm off track, as usual - - wandering from ghosts to anger. Where was I?

Ghosts. In the forest. 
When I first moved out here in the wilderness, I was admittedly slightly intimidated. Especially at night. Being alone in a midnight forest gives new meaning to  isolation and darkness. There were all kinds of strange noises, inhuman sounds. And the absolute darkness was unnerving. I locked the doors. My imagination went into overdrive.

Eventually I got used to it and almost began to like it. I now go outside at night with hardly a negative thought. I pay little attention to the howling coyotes or wolves or dogs - - or all the other strange noises of the forest. I'm cautious - I'm not a fool - - but I'm not scared.

When night falls.....

A few nights ago it was warm and unusually quiet. I'm doing some house chores at around 1:30 a.m. and happen to go outside to empty a bucket of water. I turn on the back porch light.

My back yard is right on the edge of the forest. It's a moonless night. I suddenly see a pair of eyes glowing yellow-gold in the nearby thicket. It moves slowly across the sightless length of the woods and disappears. I stand there, looking in the direction of the vanishing point. Nothing.

What was it? Coyote? Wolf? Werewolf?? 
Naw, couldn't be werewolf. No full moon. Just as I'm about to go inside, I see something else in the forest - - in the opposite direction of the aforementioned glowing eyes. It's a light. An orb. Round, glowing. It disappears. Just when I'm convinced it was only my acute imagination, I see it again: moving among the trees.

Now I'm spooked. What is it? A flashlight? If so, who would possibly be out in a forest in the middle of nowhere at nearly 2:00 a.m.? A blood-drenched escapee from a mental hospital, desperately looking for shelter.......

I hurry inside, lock the door, turn out all the lights. Grab my cell phone. Who am I gonna call - Ghostbusters?
 My kitchen window is oversized and curtainless. I sit by it, looking out at blackness until my eyes slowly adjust. I see the orb light again, and then another, and another. They're drifting among the trees - - some low to the ground, others higher up. They vanish, then reappear.

Are they ghost lights? Will O' the Wisp? Ignis Fatuus? Feux follets? My intuition tells me they're fireflies. I'm certainly familiar with lightning bugs (which are supposedly fireflies) but they emit a soft, yellowish glow. These forest orbs are large, blueish in color, and bright. Perfectly round.

I become so mesmerized by the lights that I eventually go outside, walk to the edge of the forest, and watch for at least fifteen minutes. It's an enchanting display of post-midnight magic: lazy round lights, drifting on a sea of nothingness, blinking in blue iridescence.

I anxiously wait to see them again the next night, but it's cooler and there are fewer lights.
Tonight, as I write this, it's very cold and there are no forest lights at all.

No ghosts. No escapee maniacs. My uneducated guess is fireflies. Or, perhaps, Will O' the Wisp.
Whatever they are, I'll look forward to seeing more of them on the next warm night.

This picture of Will O' the Wisp, which I lifted from the Internet, is exactly what they looked like.

 Note: I removed my most recent blog post Family Photo Album. I might re-post it in the future.