The Diakka

Andrew Jackson Davis
Source

As a paranormal investigator, I follow the creed that 'if you're a jerk in life, you're going to be a jerk in death.' More succinctly put, one's personality follows them in death. Dying doesn't automatically make you a good person, nor  does it necessarily give you a measurable uptick in wisdom.

Hudson Tuttle, a 19th century Spiritualist from Ohio, had this to say: "As the spirit enters the spirit world just as it leaves this [world], there must be an innumerable host of low, undeveloped, uneducated, or in other words, evil spirits."

While I don't agree that these spirits are 'evil,' I do agree that they often get that reputation. There are many locations where we investigate that have garnered a reputation of being home to a malevolent, or in some cases, demonic haunting. Sometimes these entities come across as malevolent and/or demonic, not because they actually ARE some type of evil non-human entity, but because they just aren't very nice. They may curse and growl at us, both through disembodied voice and through spirit boxes. They may tell us to leave, or even try to interactive physically through scratches or shoves.

Aside from the mean spirits of those who were mean in life, occasionally, you'll have a spirit that acts out in an improper way, much like a frustrated child throwing a temper tantrum. I believe that these spirits are desperately trying whatever works to communicate with us, and thus, they too fall under this category of low, undeveloped, and uneducated spirits. 

Andrew Jackson Davis, another 19th century Spiritualist known as the Poughkeepsie Seer, had a name for these entities. He called them 'Diakka,' and blamed them for the fraud and trickery often witnessed during seances. In modern times, could these Diakka still be practicing their trickery on paranormal investigators? We often get alleged communication with entities that just doesn't make sense, or have other experiences that just seem like someone is messing with us. 

These Spiritualists of the late 1800s/early 1900s believed that the Diakka resided on their own plane or sphere, much like being on probation and that the best way to avoid their influence is to live a pure life...since they liked to seek out those they felt were weak or had minds that most resembled their own. 

You can read Davis' book, The Diakka, for FREE via the Internet Archive! LINK HERE

The West Virginia Yayho

Paris Hammons c. 1920
b. 1856 d. 1926
Source: WV History on View

Sasquatch. Bigfoot. Wild Man. Hairy Man. Hearing any of these names generally evokes the same image of a tall, large, hairy bipedal humanoid type creature roaming the woods. Although here in the eastern United States, we tend to settle on the name of Bigfoot, the mountain people of West Virginia have historically had their own moniker for this classic cryptid.

If you've ever heard the term yahoo or yayho in reference to a Bigfoot-like creature in the Mountain State, you may have wondered where that name came from. The name most likely is inspired from the distinct howl that the creature makes, echoing over the valleys and sending shivers up the spines of those who hear it. And, one of the earliest witnesses of the yayho in West Virginia is a family known as the first family of traditional WV music!

The Hammons Family came to West Virginia just prior to the Civil War, with many of its members settling in Pocahontas and surrounding counties. And, since that time, the family has been synonymous  with West Virginia/Appalachian music. In the early 1970's, a local musician and WVU graduate student, Dwight Diller, befriended several of the elderly members of the Hammons clan and interviewed them. These interviews became the basis of a documentary two-disc LP and booklet project published by the Library of Congress with the help of Alan Jabbour and Carl Fleischhauer. 

Although the focus of the interviews skewed towards the family's musical genealogy,  plenty of other tales were also shared, including some of a supernatural bent. And, one of those stories involved encounters with a strange and mysterious beast in Pocahontas County!

Two of the Hammons brothers interviewed were Burl and Sherman, who shared a tale about their father Paris and a particular bear hunting expedition. Paris, Paris' father, and a man named Wilburn Baldwin were among those who set out one fall day for a multi-day bear hunt near the head of the Cherry River. They had planned to stay about 2-3 days, but decided to extend their trip another couple of days. The problem was that they had only brought enough food to last them enough for their original plan. So, one of the men volunteered to head into Hillsboro to pick up supplies. He was expected back the next evening, and made plans for the rest of the group to meet him at the designated time and place.

Cherry River
Source: Tim Kiser
Wikipedia

The time agreed upon came and went. It was already after dark and getting darker. Suddenly, the men heard hollering. The hollering came closer and closer, and at first the men thought their friend may be calling out. But, it was Uncle Pete who realized that the hollering was NOT coming from any man, but some sort of beast. Not long after, they did hear their buddy's voice and found that he had dropped all the supplies, including his gun, and had shimmied up a tree, claiming that something big was after him. This thing even tried jumping up at him from below the tree.  The next day tracks were found in the area that appeared like a man's footprints...but definitely not any normal man. 

This wasn't the only time the family would encounter evidence of this strange beast, which they described as huge and hairy and able to jump 25-30 feet. And, while history would remember the Hammons for their wonderful contributions to traditional Appalachian music, especially fiddling, I'll personally remember them for being early witnesses to the Bigfoot phenomena here in West Virginia. Interestingly, the area of Pocahontas County where the bear hunting incident occurred is still to this day one of the places with the most Bigfoot reports in West Virginia....

You can read about the encounter in the booklet, The Hammons Family: A Study of a West Virginia Family's Traditions, available for free download HERE.  

The Greenbrier Ghost: Mary Heaster's Testimony

Zona Heaster Shue
The Greenbrier Ghost

Since many already know the basic story of Zona Heaster Shue, the Greenbrier Ghost, I'll only give a brief introduction.  On January 23, 1897 the body of Zona Heaster Shue was found lying on the floor of the home she shared with her husband, Edward/Erasmus 'Trout' Shue. After a hasty medical examination and burial, and the odd behavior of Trout, the small WV community had its suspicions...especially Mary Heaster, Zona's mother. Mary prayed to God to show her what had really happened to her daughter. Zona's ghost came to her mother in a series of dreams, finally revealing that Trout had attacked her after she failed to cook meat for dinner. 

The body was exhumed, spurred largely on the fact that even the medical examiner admitted that Trout did not permit him to get close enough to Zona to do a thorough exam, but had noticed some bruising around her neck. A new exam revealed that Zona's neck had been broken and her windpipe crushed. Trout was charged with the murder and brought to trial that summer. The following is an excerpt of Mary's testimony, as published in the Greenbrier Independent on July 1, 1897: 

Mary Robinson Heaster
Zona's Mother

Mrs. Mary J. Heaster, Mother of Mrs. Shue, Sees Her Daughter in Visions

The following very remarkable testimony was given by Mrs. Heaster on the pending trial of E.S. Shue for the murder of his wife, her daughter, and led to the inquest and postmortem examination, which resulted in Shue's arrest and trial. It was brought out by counsel for the accused:

Question--I have heard that you had some dream or vision which led to this postmortem examination?

Answer--They saw enough theirselves [sic] without me telling them. It was no dream-she came back and told me that he was mad that she didn't have no meat cooked for supper. But she said she had plenty, and said that she had butter and apple-butter, apples and named over two or three kinds of jellies, pears and cherries and raspberry jelly, and she says I had plenty; and she says don't you think that he was mad and just took down all my nice things and packed them away and just ruined them. And she told me where I could look down back of Aunt Martha Jones', in the meadow, in a rocky place; that I could look in a cellar behind some loose plank and see. It was a square log house, and it was hewed up to the square, and she said for me to look right at the right-hand side of the door as you go in. Well, I saw the place just exactly as she told me, and I saw blood right there where she told me; and she told me something about that meat every night she came, just as she did the first night. She cames [sic] four times and four nights; but the second night she told me that her neck was squeezed off at the first joint and it was just as she told me.

Q--Now, Mrs. Heaster, this sad affair was very particularly impressed upon your mind, and there was not a moment during your waking hours that you did not dwell upon it?

A--No, sir; and there is not yet, either. 

Q--And was this not a dream founded upon your distressed condition of mind?

A--No, Sir. It was no dream, for I was as wide awake as I ever was.

Q--Then if not a dream or dreams, what do you call it?

A--I prayed to the Lord that she might come back and tell me what had happened; and I prayed that she might come herself and tell on him.

Q--Do you think that you actually saw her in flesh and blood?

A--Yes, sir, I do. I told them the very dress that she was killed in, and when she went to leave me she turned her head completely around and looked at me like she wanted me to know all about it. And the very next time she came back to me she told me all about it. The first time she came, she seemed that she did not want to tell me as much about it as she did afterwards. The last night she was there she told me that she did everything she could do, and I am satisfied that she did do all that, too.

Q--Now, Mrs. Heaster, don't you know that these visions, as you term them or describe them, were nothing more or less than four dreams founded upon your distress?

A--No, I don't know it. The Lord sent her to me to tell it. I was the only friend that she knew she could tell and and put any confidence in; I was the nearest one to her. He gave me a ring that he pretended she wanted me to have; but I don't know what dead woman he might have taken it off of. I wanted her own ring and he would not let me have it.

Q--Mrs. Heaster, are you positively sure that these are not four dreams?

A--Yes, sir. It was not a dream. I don't dream when I am wide awake, to be sure; and I know I saw her right there with me. 

Q--Are you not considerably superstitious?

A--No, sir, I'm not. I was never that way before and am not now.

Q--Do you believe the scriptures?

A--Yes, sir. I have no reason not to believe it.

Q--And do you believe the scriptures contain the words of God and his Son?

A--Yes, sir I do. Don't you believe it?

Q--Now, I would like if I could, to get you to say these were four dreams and not four visions or appearances of your daughter in flesh and blood.

A--I am not going to say that; for I am not going to lie.

Q--Then you insist that she actually appeared in flesh and blood to you upon four different occasions?

A--Yes, sir.

Q--Did she not have any other conversation with you other than upon the matter of her death?

A--Yes, sir, some other little things. Some things I have forgotten--just a few words. I just wanted the particulars about her death, and I got them.

Q--When she came, did you touch her?

A--Yes, sir. I got up on my elbows and reached out a little further, as I wanted to see if people came in their coffins, and I sat up and leaned on my elbows and there was a light in the house. It was not a lamp light. I wanted to see if there was a coffin, but there was not. She was just like she was when she left this world. It was just after I went to bed, and I wanted her to come and talk to me, and she did. This was before the inquest and I told my neighbors. They said she was exactly as I told them she was. 

Q--Have you ever seen the premises where your daughter lived?

A--No, sir, I had not; but I found them just exactly as she told me it was, and I never laid eyes on that house until since her death. She told me this before I knew anything of the buildings at all.

Q--How long was it after this when you had these interviews with your daughter until you did see buildings?

A--It was a month or more after the examination. It has been a little over a month since I saw her. 

The Former Morgue Bar and Lounge: Haunted New Orleans

November 2023

I think it may be safe to say that there are fewer places in New Orleans that AREN'T haunted than there are those that have reported some level of paranormal or unexplained activity. Seriously, there is no shortage of spooky happenings around the Crescent City, and the French Quarter is especially prone to tales of ghosts, goblins, and vampires. 

Although my interests in visiting New Orleans are mainly for the ghosts, there's no denying that this is a party city year-round, but especially during this time of year as we approach Mardi Gras. In fact, the only thing New Orleans may have more of than ghosts is bars. Bourbon and surrounding streets are filled with places to get a Hurricane, Hand Grenade, or one of many, many other beverages to drink on-site or take with you. And, to no one's surprise, most of these bars are believed to be haunted! Haunted pub tours take visitors to some of the best-known haunted bars, but there's one location that stuck out to me on our recent trip. 

Unfortunately, it has been closed for some time, and now sits vacant, but directly across from our hotel on St. Philip Street was the former Flanagan's...known before that as the Morgue Bar and Lounge. 

Located at 625 St. Philip Street, the old Morgue Bar and Lounge is part of a larger building, subdivided by address. From what I can gather, it was built in the 1840's by Jean (John) Gleises, a wagon-wheel maker born in France. It was while the Gleises family owned the home that perhaps its darkest times would befall the Creole townhouse. During the summer of 1853, a particularly nasty yellow fever epidemic hit the New Orleans area. Those who had the money to spend the warm summer months in a more hospital climate did so. However, 50,000 residents of New Orleans would have no means of escaping the city. In a span of only 3-4 weeks, 10,000 of them would die from the dreaded disease.

1960's

This overwhelming amount of death required increased space for the bodies, and homes throughout the French Quarter and beyond were opened up as makeshift morgues. That was the fate of the Gleises residence. Not only were the bodies of yellow fever victims stored here, but those dying from other causes as well. Unfortunately, Jean wouldn't live to see the end of the year either, and died on September 4, 1853. 

After his death, there are conflicting stories about just who the building was willed to...either his wife, or a daughter living in France. Either way, the property went through a handful of different owners with apparently nothing significant enough going on to really be recorded. It wasn't until the 1920's that the Ruffino family acquired the property. The Ruffino's were an Italian family who started up a bakery and ran a restaurant out of the location. The Ruffino's owned the property up through the 1960's.

Banking off of the spooky history of its use as a morgue (sometimes said to be the first or one of the first desegregated in the city), a witty entrepreneur opened up the Morgue Bar and Lounge, featuring a signature cocktail called Embalming Fluid. During its operation as the Morgue (and later Flanagan's), this bar became known as one of the city's haunted hot spots---a great place for spirits and spirits. Bathroom lights were known to completely dim into pitch darkness, and toilets overflowed for no reason. Workers were troubled by a refrigerator that always seem to break...but in reality, the plug was being pulled from the outlet by unseen hands. 

The website, Haunted Hovel, has an interesting explanation for some of the activity. Not only is the building haunted by the many, many poor souls whose bodies were stored here before burial...but also by the 'mortician's daughter.' I'm not entirely sure there ever was an actual mortician associated with the building, as it was only used as a temporary storage space for dead bodies, but the stories go that this young woman had a nasty habit of stealing jewelry from the deceased! After her own death, perhaps as punishment for her misdeeds, she's stuck at the location, where she is still up to her old tricks. Women will often report jewelry or other small items going missing after a trip to the bar's restroom. 

I'd love to see this place open and fully functional on our next trip down south, and I'd love to see a return to the morgue-themed bar---a macabre, but historical tribute to the building's long-ago past. 

Sources and Further Reading:

Ghost City Tours: The Haunted French Quarter Morgue

The Haunted Hovel: Haunted Places in Louisiana 

Vieux Carre Digital Survey

Ruffino Family

Old New Orleans, by Stanley Arthur

Dolph Griggs: An FCI Fright Bite!

Lancaster Eagle-Gazette
22 June 1959

Back when SRI members, Brian and Kaysee, joined WVPI for a joint investigation of the Fairfield County Infirmary, they caught a name come over the spirit box loud and clear: Dolph. Dolph isn't exactly a popular name these days, and barring the possibility that they tuned in briefly to a podcast featuring Simpson's side characters, I think it's possible to say that they made contact with a former inmate: Dolph Griggs.

On June 20, 1959, the local rescue squad was dispatched to the Fairfield County Infirmary. There, they found 72 year old Dolph with a 2.5 inch cut across his throat. Dolph was either unable or unwilling to tell anyone what had happened, so first aid was administered and he was taken to the hospital for further treatment. Luckily, the wounds were not serious, and Dolph was released a few days later.

Lancaster Eagle-Gazette
06 June 1959

There never was a public explanation for what happened to Dolph; we can only speculate. It's possible it was just an accident---perhaps he cut himself shaving. It's also possible he was attacked, as inmate-on-inmate wasn't unheard of. However, I think Dolph may have tried to end his own life.

Dolph was originally from the area, but for several years had been living with his wife, Veatress, near Houston, Texas. She was ill for about two years before passing away in Houston hospital. The Lancaster newspapers ran her obituary on June 6, 1959. It stated that she was being brought home to Fairfield County for burial. 

Lancaster Eagle-Gazette
2 April 1962

Two weeks later, Dolph is in the county Infirmary and being taken to the hospital for a mysterious wound. I think that Dolph, accompanying his wife home, found himself either too ill to return to Texas, or with no reason to go back, but nowhere else to go, either.

Death would finally come for Dolph. He died on April 1, 1962 at the Fairfield County Infirmary. His body was interred next to his wife's at Maple Grove Cemetery in Baltimore, OH. What's sad is that there is a tombstone marking the couple's graves....but there was no one around to make sure the dates of death were ever filled out. 

Find-a-Grave
by Ann Lodder

In Defense of Supt. Hummel: A Fairfield County Infirmary Story

So today's blog might be a little...controversial...but that's never stopped me before in the pursuit of the truth! And while the title of this post is 'In Defense Of,' I offer you what historical documentation I've found, give my opinion, but encourage you to look at the facts and come to your own conclusion. 

There are several stories that are told to every visitor investigating the Fairfield County Infirmary in Lancaster, Ohio. One of those stories is of a certain Superintendent by the name of Hummel, who was a cruel and abusive overseer of the institution. A shocking claim is that people going past the infirmary would see Hummel out in the farm, beating inmates without mercy. They reasoned, 'if he's doing that out in the open where the public could see, what the heck is he doing behind closed doors to those poor, unfortunate souls?' Further stories tale of gross neglect in addition to the abuse, and many believe that Hummel was outed from his position of Superintendent when the citizens of Fairfield County finally had had enough and requested a formal investigation. 

To back up these claims, an incident is cited where an abused inmate had finally had enough, and brutally attacked Hummel out in the fields one day, nearly ending his life. And despite being gone from the institution for so many years, the ghost of Hummel has returned. His name has popped up on spirit boxes, and affirmative responses have been given when communicating with spirits about their thoughts on this cruel superintendent. Even our group has had a definite feeling that there was some darker, more oppressive force on site, possibly hindering the communication with other spirits. But how much of it is true?

Henry Matthew Hummel  was born on November 10, 1873 to parents Louis and Sophie, in Lancaster County, where he would live out his entire life. Hummel was a devout Lutheran, and was a member of several civic organizations. He married his wife, Minnie Watts, on  September 4, 1899 and the couple had five children together. As their children began to get older and leave home, Hummel and his wife started exploring new opportunities. They took the Civil Servants test (kind of like the test government workers today take) and both passed with high scores. As a result, Henry was appointed to the position of Superintendent of the Fairfield County Infirmary in 1917, with Minnie joining him as Matron. 

But, all was not well for Superintendent Hummel. Despite the fact that the local paper was constantly running articles on him for his outstanding management of the county farm, and his work with bringing community charity into the infirmary, there were those who disliked him. 

Lancaster Eagle-Gazette
25 November 1918

On November 20, 1918, Hummel received a letter from two members of the County Commission, President Ben Friesner and Mr. E.B. McCullough (the third member, Amos Hoffer was against the complaints) stating that Mr. Hummel will be removed from his post, effective at 9 a.m. on November 25th. The letter listed three reasons: 1. In the summer of 1918 inmate George Smith was noted to have maggots in his foot. 2. In the summer of 1918 inmate John Switzer died without proper care. 3. The farm lost too many calves last season. The letter listed the temporary superintendent as George Bierly, a young man from the community involved in the grocery business.

Obviously, Hummel filed an injunction right away, and the court agreed. Hummel claimed that not only were these allegations vague, but that he was not given proper time to defend himself against them. He maintained that he had never been neglectful of his duties in any way and that the two commissioners had been opposed to his appointment from the start, and had actively been conspiring to have him removed ever since. Oddly enough, both Friesner and McCullough admitted that they had never actually seen anything supporting these claims, but that they were admitted by Hummel himself in his reports, and that they had heard complaints (again, Hoffer maintained that he had never heard any complaints). 

As part of the investigation, a special commission was sent unannounced to the infirmary for a surprise inspection. This delegation was greeted warmly and welcomed into the facility. They noted that neither Hummel or his wife ran off to coach inmates or to hide any evidence of wrong-doing. Instead, they were given full access to the building to roam un-chaperoned, interviewing as many inmates as they wished. The group noted that every inmate they talked to LOVED the Hummels, and claimed that they had always treated them with the utmost attention and dignity. They said they were the kindest and most hard-working, even suggesting the county hire a nurse to alleviate some of the burden on Mrs. Hummel, who did her job without complaint at all hours of the day and night. 

Two little old ladies said they'd leave if Hummel was forced to leave, despite not having anywhere else to go. Another elderly woman said that the man with maggots in his feet was crazy, and that he would rip off his bandages faster than they could be put on, cursing and swearing the whole time.  Everyone interviewed was quite agitated at the idea of losing their beloved overseers. 

The board decided to petition in favor of Hummel, finding no evidence of neglect. At the same time, the taxpayers of the county were also signing a petition to keep Hummel at the infirmary. Playing Devil's Advocate, it is possible that someone on the board gave Hummel a head's up about the surprise inspection. It's possible that the worst of the worst inmates were somehow silenced, or that a biased group just chose to focus on the positive. Whatever the scenario, the court was unable to substantiate any reason to fire Hummel, and he remained at his post until his death. 

Henry Hummel passed away at his residence at the Fairfield County Infirmary on February 20, 1927 after a five month illness. He had served the institution faithfully for ten years. Immediately upon his death, his son, Lloyd, was named interim superintendent, with Minnie as Matron, until a replacement could be found. He was buried in the mausoleum at nearby Forest Rose Cemetery. 

So where do these stories about Hummel being a horrible, abusive overseer come from? I think they stem from a combination of two things: 1. The brutal attack of Hummel by an inmate, and 2. Charges filed against ANOTHER superintendent! 

Lancaster Eagle-Gazette
30 July 1924

The Attack

On July 29th, 1924, Hummel and one of the infirmary inmates were entering the hay field across the street. All of a sudden, the inmate rushed towards Hummel, and whacked him over the head with a three foot iron bar, used to stack hay. This first blow broke Hummel's hat and stunned him, allowing the inmate to get in a second blow, causing a large laceration. Frenzied by the sight of the blood, the inmate just kept going, while Hummel, now fighting for his life, began to grapple with the man. Hummel was able to grab a wrench out the man's pocket, and hit him with it, causing the man to stop and take off running. By this time, others had seen what was going on and grabbed the crazed man. An article in the Lancaster Eagle-Gazette stated that they nearly beat the man to death, but Hummel intervened. Both were taken to the infirmary and given medical treatment, and both thankfully survived the encounter. Although the name of the inmate wasn't given, he was said to be a 36 year old man who had been at the infirmary for the last 16 years. Days prior to the attack, other inmates claimed that the man was walking around muttering, "I'm bloodthirsty. I'll kill somebody!" An interesting side not to this story is that obviously the public was upset that something like this could happen, and it brought up the discussion of whether or not 'insane' inmates should be housed with what was mostly an elderly and infirm population at the county infirmary. What we see after this event is an increase in inmates from the infirmary being brought up on lunacy charges and transferred to the state asylum in Athens.

Now, I never met Hummel. I can't say whether he was generally a likable guy or not (although newspapers paint him to be). What I can say is that I'm sure the job of superintendent wasn't an easy one. Maybe he was a little too strict in his effort to keep things running smoothly and keep everyone in line. And, whenever you have a person in authority, you're going to have those who oppose that authority, no matter what the disposition of the authority figure is. So yeah, maybe the guy was just crazy, or maybe he just had a beef with Superintendent Hummel over a real grievance, intended or not. Either way, I don't think anyone could compare Hummel with Superintendent Braden. 

In early Fall of 1851, a scathing story came out in the local Lancaster papers, calling for the removal of Superintendent Joseph Braden. It seems as if the town was divided in a bitter dispute, which sounded like it was mostly political in nature. The main issue was over how much Braden was being paid by the county, but a further charge was that Braden was an extremely cruel overseer.

Corporal punishment had been abolished at the county infirmary only that past January. When Braden started this job, it was perfectly legal, and even acceptable to use canes and wagon whips to beat unruly inmates into submission. However, Braden was accused of not only carrying on this tradition after it had been abolished, but carrying it out with an intense cruelty that went above and beyond what was necessary for order and punishment. Some came to Braden's defense and claimed that he was doing what he was told to do in his position as Superintendent, but the public testified that these beatings would occur out in broad daylight, and many were witness to the inhumane treatment of inmates. 

Whatever the true story was behind Braden, and despite his supporters, he did end up leaving the position over this controversy. You can't keep a man like Braden down, however. The following year, an article appeared in the newspaper that discussed a young, tall, bearded Captain Braden on picket with the 30th Indiana, "sporting his sword as vigorously as he once did the birchen rod."

Superintendent Hummel and Superintendent Braden seem to have very similar stories, that ended in very different ways. Both seemingly were doing their best in a difficult position, hindered by politics. Both had plenty of supporters, but also enough detractors to make one wonder what was really going on. Admittedly, in the early days of the infirmary, corporal punishment WAS the norm, a tragic realization for a location already filled with sorrow and death. I do, though, think that for the sake of narrative, the stories of Hummel and Braden were intertwined to create one entity that speaks of the symbolic nature of the tragedy that is the Fairfield County Infirmary. 

Additional Sources/Citations Coming Soon!

Fright Bite: The Meat Eater of the Fairfield County Infirmary

It's been awhile since I did a Fright Bite feature, which simply means that I don't have a ton of information on a topic...but I wanted to share it for posterity anyway! The term 'fright bite' also seems to fit rather well with today's story for another reason.

Okay, so hearing a growl on an investigation is pretty common. Whether it's a disembodied sound, or a sound captured solely on our digital recorders, a growling noise is something that many of us have dealt with. But what could be the cause of such a scary sound?

Ruling out growling bellies from team members (another common occurrence on paranormal investigations!), and ruling out living, breathing animals that may be on site, we ask ourselves, "why would a ghost growl at me?" 

Many tend to associate a growling noise with something negative, because honestly, a growl is not a welcoming, happy greeting. It's primal, a warning of impending danger, an angry sound of displeasure, that some will interpret as even being 'demonic.' It's definitely a noise we tend to pick up more often in places where suffering was widespread, especially prisons mental institutions. Those in an altered mental state, whether in life or continuing into death, might not be able to communicate any other way. And...that kind of seems like it might explain the growler of Fairfield County Infirmary. Further, there is actual historical documentation of a rather growly patient!

According to Infirmary Records compiled and published by the Fairfield Chapter of the Ohio Genealogical Society, there was a man named C.H. Jenery who was admitted to the infirmary under the care of Dr. J.M. Broyles. Dr. Broyes kept a journal of patient notes between 1855 and 1886. These notes are actually very sparse, but there is an interesting entry for Mr. Jenery.

It seems that Mr. Jenery was often referred to as "Mr. Nucence" (I'm guessing Nuisance?) "because he always growls on the account of not getting 5 lbs of beef at one meal, and says he cannot live unless he gets the above amount stated." The notes go on to further state that "we could not allow the amount, then he was discharged" on August 27, 1886. 

It's not noted whether or not Mr. Jenery was just a hungry, hungry boy or if he had some legitimate reason for wanting so much meat in one sitting. Did he think he was a werewolf? Did he suffer from low iron or Prader-Willi Syndrome? Maybe he was just really dedicated to a keto lifestyle. Whatever the case, if you find yourself investigating the Fairfield County Infirmary and hear a menacing growl, don't panic. Just tell Mr. Jenery that you hear him and understand him...and will try to bring him a burger next time. 

The Abandoned Child Bride of FCI

Lancaster Eagle-Gazette
13 June 1927

There are so many sad stories that have emerged from the Fairfield County Infirmary. For years, this imposing building was a place where the unwanted were dumped. Anyone who was too ill, too poor, too mentally impeded to take care of themselves could find themselves trapped in this institution with no way out...other than death.

One of the more pitiful cases that is often talked about is that of a 'child bride.' Married at 15 years of age, this young woman soon found herself pregnant. What should have been a joyous occasion, turned tragic when the baby was either stillborn or passed shortly after birth. The exact timeline isn't made clear, but the inconsolable young woman was abandoned by her husband and left to spend out the rest of her days at the Fairfield County Infirmary. 

This story was used as a tear-jerker/human interest piece in the December 23, 1927 edition of the Lancaster Eagle-Gazette, which annually ran a plea for the public to donate to the county infirmary and children's home. What this particular article fails to include is that this couple was reunited...SIX MONTHS EARLIER. It wasn't, however, a happy reunion.

Lancaster Eagle-Gazette
23 December, 1927

According to several articles printed in the Lancaster Eagle-Gazette in June of 1927, an elderly man named Charles Trotter showed up at the infirmary. Charles, now 76 years old, had spent his life traveling the world in search of his fortune. Never having found it, he wound up visiting the Lancaster area (where it all began) and was admitted, broke and broken, to the Fairfield County Infirmary. He was surprised to find there a patient named Bertha Trotter, now 73. Bertha was the wife he had abandoned 56 years ago. 

Charles claimed that he had been told she had died, and that was why he never came back for her. The matron of the infirmary, Mrs. Henry Hummel, asked Bertha if she was happy to see Charles after all these years. Her reply was perfect. Despite the fact that the chief complaint for her being left at the infirmary was that she could not longer 'talk very plain,' she plainly and boldly answered: "No; he left me when I needed him the most, he need not have returned." 

Unfortunately, I couldn't find any additional information on the Trotter family. I assume that both lived out the rest of their lives, together but separate, in the old Fairfield County Infirmary, but I have yet to find any confirmation as to when either actually passed. I hope, however, that their shared time at the infirmary was one of vindication for Bertha. 

Seven Foot Tall Shadow Man at Fairfield County Infirmary

Fairfield County Infirmary
'Dungeon' Area

Hey, hey, it's time for another installment of my deep-dive into the haunted history of the Fairfield County Infirmary, located in Lancaster, Ohio! Since SRI will be returning their soon, I wanted to delve into some of the reported paranormal activity and just see what type of historical documentation I could find that may help back up those claims. 

There's really no 'dead' (pun intended) area of the old infirmary; activity takes places on all four floors, and everything from full-body apparitions to phantom voices has been witnessed. Shadow people are extremely common, popping in and out of doorways and blocking the light at the end of long corridors. But, there's a shadow being at FCI that's a little out of the ordinary. In the attic of the old county home, there has been reported a dark, towering figure standing at least SEVEN FEET TALL! 

By some accounts, this super tall shadowy being can grow to 8 or 9 feet, but generally he's clocked in at around 7 feet. Now, humans are notoriously bad at estimating size, but there does seem to be a very consistent flow of people witnessing a shadow that is at least much taller than the average person. Let's take a look at some possible explanations for this phenomenon.

Firstly, though, let's get some background on the area. The fourth floor attic space has been used for quite a few things over the years. Before a proper orphanage could be built in the latter part of the 1800's, one whole side was dedicated to housing the children of the poor farm. In later years, the attic was where transients could 'rent' a space to stay by working the fields. More disturbingly, though, is the fact that the attic was where the 'dungeon' was located. The dungeon was an area where the most incorrigible 'inmates' were chained to the wall for an indeterminate time. If the 'jail cells' on the lower floor didn't straighten you out after 24 hours, you were sent to the attic for punishment. There's also a small section of the attic now called the 'Chicken Coop,' denoted by a space with a chicken wire door, that the most mentally ill patients were said to have been kept. 

With that sort of history, it's easy to see how this area could gain a haunted reputation. SRI has personally had some interesting activity recorded in the attic, including having a REM pod's batteries removed and thrown on the floor in the orphanage area. And while we did see several shadowy 'things,' we unfortunately didn't experience the 7 foot tall Shadow Man. So what could cause an entity of this size to haunt the Fairfield County Infirmary? Here are a few theories:

1. The IR Shadow

Before we even consider the idea that there's a 7 foot tall shadow being, we have to rule out the idea of natural causes. Are witnesses just seeing the shadow of a living person that looks larger due to the placement of the light source? Are they seeing the shadow of some inanimate object that just appears human-like under the right circumstances? Or, are they experiencing an IR shadow witnessed through the lens of their camera? An IR shadow is simply a shadow where the light source is an infrared light. It is not visible with the naked eye, but will show up on your camera in pictures/video. And, like a regular shadow, depending on the angle and placement of the light source, can cause the subject to appear taller than it actually is. 

2. Ghost of a Really Tall Dude

If we are dealing with an actual paranormal entity, specifically a deceased human entity, is it possible that there could be a ghost who was actually 7+ feet tall in life? As stated earlier, humans are notoriously bad at estimating height, especially when only catching a fleeting glimpse. Still, with the average male only being around 5'6'' to 5'7'' in 1900, you wouldn't think that so many people would be overestimating by so much. However, I was able to find an interesting article about Benjamin "Toppy" Parot, who lived at the county infirmary, and unfortunately died there as well. Toppy was cited as being over 6 feet, 4 inches tall in his stocking feet. It was said that his casket was among the largest ever furnished by the county home. 

Lancaster Eagle-Gazette
30 January 1915

Source: Find-a-Grave

3. Ghost of a Not-So-Tall Dude

While Toppy Parot was considered rather tall for his time, there are plenty of other 'inmates' of the infirmary who passed away, some of which who would inevitably make that transition after spending a significant amount of time in the attic...or who actually did die in that space. One gentleman who attempted to take his life in that space was Seward Wagner. Wagner climbed out a skylight and jumped off the room, injuring himself. He passed shortly after. But why would Wagner, or any other potential ghost show up so tall? I found an interesting explanation given by Patience, one of the tour guides at FCI. Patience explains that the attic area isn't exactly on one consistent floor level, especially around the cupola area. What if the shadow person only LOOKS like its taller...but is in fact, 'standing' on flooring that is 18 inches taller than surrounding areas?

Lancaster Eagle-Gazette
11 February 1950

Lancaster Eagle-Gazette
17 February 1950

4. Ghost/Energy Manifesting in a Way We Don't Understand

One last thing to consider is that perhaps we're just dealing with a matter of our understanding of OUR physical world doesn't quite mesh up with the physics of 'their' world. Perhaps a human entity can choose how it manifests, and this particular being chooses to manifest in a way that appears intimidating and large. Maybe it's more symbolic; maybe there is no actual 'ghost,' but something more elemental, or even a collection of energy that represents a large, angry, oppressive entity. It's these types of questions that keep me in this field, always trying to find another piece of the puzzle. As Spectral Research and Investigations return to the Fairfield County Infirmary this month, we'll be working to answer these questions and inevitably, uncovering additional questions to ponder as well.  Stay spooky, ya'll...and keep an eye out for more FCI articles being posted on Theresa's Haunted History!

Tragedy at Fairfield County Infirmary: Jane's Story

Welcome to another post in my deep dive series into the history and hauntings of Lancaster Ohio's Fairfield County Infirmary (FCI)! FCI has been investigated numerous times since being purchased by current owner, Adam Kimmell in 2020 and being turned into a premier paranormal investigation attraction. Countless teams have gathered data and had experiences, adding to the lore that already existed, much of which comes to us from former employees/visitors to the building when it served as county offices.

One resident ghost that gets a lot of attention is an elderly woman named Jane Householder. There have been various apparitions of an elderly woman seen, sometimes with a gray bun, other times with dark, curly hair, but almost always wearing a white dress. She's seen mainly in the second floor area, but has also been reported in the attic. On occasion, people have claimed to have seen this woman enveloped in flames.

Whether or not people are seeing and communicating with the same entity or not, the majority of these experiences are attributed to Jane and her tragic demise at the Fairfield County Infirmary in the 1920's. Depending on who you ask, the details change slightly, but the basic story goes that Jane, an elderly woman living in the county home, died when her dress caught fire. In some versions of the story, Jane is reported as having been rebelling because the staff told her to stay in her room. Angry at being told what to do, she went to light the stove (or a match) and an accelerant of some type on her dress caused it to quickly catch fire. In other versions, she had lit the stove to stay warm. Occasionally, the story is told as happening on the fourth floor (but as you'll see below, it probably didn't). 

A newspaper article from the Lancaster Daily Gazette, dated March 22, 1929 clears up some of the details of what happened. Here's the article transcribed in its entirety (source: Ancestry.com Newspaper Archives):

AGED WOMAN DIES OF BURNS AT COUNTY HOME

Literally cooked alive when her clothing caught fire from a gas stove, Miss Jane Householder, 73 year old inmate of the Fairfield County Infirmary since March 11, 1891, was burned so badly about 4 p.m. Thursday that she died at 1 o clock this morning.

The aged woman had recently been ill with a cold and Miss Mae McCall, the institution nurse, was treating her in her room. About 3:30 o clock the nurse cautioned her to remain in room, believing the aged woman should not expose herself to possibilities of contracting a more severe illness.

Accident Unwitnessed

But she did not obey the nurse and came down to the room where the women spend their afternoons chatting. No one was in the room at the time and it is not known just how her clothing caught fire from the stove but ashes, found in the stove later by Supt. Zeph Musser, indicated she had burned something in it.

Her screams attracted the nurse and another employee, Mrs. McClurg. When they got to her the victim of the tragedy had run into an adjoining room and was standing at a hydrant enveloped in a sheet of flame and trying to extinguish the fire.

The two attendants threw rugs around the woman's body, smothering the flames and then dashed water over her. However by that time her clothing had been practically burned off. Her body was almost entirely charred.

Blamed Self

As they carried her to her room, she moaned, "Oh! If I had only done what the nurses told me to." Dr. Clifford B. Snider was summoned to the institution and did about all humanely possible for her, but she had been so hopelessly burned that medical science could do little to save her life, except possibly prolong it. 

Records at the county home classified the aged inmate as somewhat feeble-minded. 

Sup.t Musser went to Bremen today in an effort to learn the whereabouts of even a distant relative, although it is believed she had no living relatives. 

"I cannot blame anyone for the accident," Sup.t Musser said this morning, "for it was just one of those unavoidable tragedies."

Musser explained that other inmates were nearly all on an upper floor at the time of the accident preparing for the supper hour and for this reason and because she had failed to obey the nurse, accounted for her being alone when her clothing was ignited.

Stove Examined

The superintendent said he had examined the stove and turned the gas on full, but failed to find anyplace where the flames come out of the stove when the gas was burning high.

It is believed that the woman thought it was not quite warm enough in the room and attempted to increase the heat by burning something in the stove.

The body was taken to the Johnson-Orr Funeral Home and prepared for burial.

Funeral services will be conducted Saturday afternoon at 1:30 o clock at the county home with Rev. A. Orr officiating. Internment will be made in the institution cemetery by Johnson and Orr. 

Jane Catherine Askins Householder was born in Fairfield County on June 2, 1856 to Gustavus Askins and Margaret Hill Askins. Her father was killed in battle during the Civil War, leaving her mother to raise five children alone, with minimal help from grandparents living nearby. Jane (who may have gone by Catherine during her childhood) married a man named Andrew Householder on February 26, 1876, at just 19 years old. While 19 was an acceptable marriage age for a woman during that time...her husband was actually 30 years her senior, and already had several children of his own, including one who was a year older than Jane herself. Andrew passed away in December of 1890, and shortly after, the now-widowed Jane was sent to the Fairfield County Infirmary to be cared for. She was only in her mid-30's. (Info from Ancestry.com census records and Find-a-Grave)

Although the newspaper article states that she was somewhat feeble-minded at the time of her death, chances are, Jane was a perfectly 'normal' woman when she was brought to FCI.  She may, however, been considered a little slow. While going back over old census records, Jane apparently was sent to school early on, but she's often listed on census reports as not being able to read or write. Either way, one thing remained the same: She was a WOMAN, whose husband and her father were  both deceased, and she had no other relatives willing or able to support her. Not only did she live out the rest of her mortal life at the infirmary, she was buried in the on-site cemetery. No wonder she feels like she must spend the rest of her eternity at this place. 

 Taking a step back, as I said before, Jane (or a similar apparition) has been reported in the attic, and this, combined with the idea that there is fire damage visible on that floor has led many to believe that this tragic death happened on the fourth floor. While the newspaper article makes it clear it did NOT, there was an earlier fire that did do damage to this area.

On Tuesday, May 19th, 1925 fire broke out in the Fairfield County Infirmary. Frank Engle of a neighboring farm was the first to notice flames coming from the kitchen chimney at the north end of the building around 4 pm. He ran to alert the staff, and attendant, Miss Bertha Fisher, sounded the fire alarm. At the same time, Paul Hummel, the son of the superintendent, was arriving home from high school. He ran in and grabbed a fire hose from the second floor. A car full of young men traveling by saw the commotion and stopped to help. 

Assistant Chief Ed Rockey, along with firemen Cave and Craft were first on the scene with a pumper truck. Chemical tanks were brought up to the fourth floor, and were able to effectively stop the spread of the fire, which was lucky because the only water to the infirmary came from the wells out back, fed by the spring which runs under the property. Although filled the day before, they had a tendency to run dry. A second alarm was called in, and more firemen, carrying more hoses and filling up the pumper truck at a local creek arrived to help out. Thanks to low winds and an enormous volunteer effort, all 58 residents escaped with their lives. Despite flames leaping 25 feet in the air through the roof around the cupola, the fire was brought under control about 5:30pm, yet not before extensive damage was done. The attic had been gutted, and the fire broken through the floor to the level below. In total, about $3000 worth of damage was done. Below is a clipping from the Lancaster Eagle-Gazette, dated 20 May 1925:

The Haunted History of the Fairfield County Infirmary

In mid-January, the Spectral Research and Investigation team will once again head to Lancaster, Ohio to investigate the Fairfield County Infirmary. Although this is the second trip for most of us, and a third trip for some, we're really looking forward to once again visiting this magnificent old building filled with the haunted memories of its unfortunate past. Although historical research was conducted for previous investigations, as part of my newly appointed role of Lead Historian for SRI, I wanted to take a deep, DEEP dive into some of the stories that make up the lore of FCI. I'll be sharing those throughout the next few days, but first, a brief overview...

The best way to describe the Fairfield County Infirmary is as a place for the unwanted. After the state of Ohio decided that each county should have a centralized home for its poor and indigent, county poor farms or 'infirmaries' were set up, taking these poor, unfortunate souls out of private homes and into a group setting. Before 1828 when the Fairfield County Infirmary was built, 'overseers of the poor' set up those less fortunate in private homes, awarding a 'contract' of sorts to the lowest bidder. The caretaker offered space and their supposed 'love and care' for a small stipend to cover the pauper's food, medical care, and other necessities. As you can imagine, there was probably plenty of room for abuse of the system. 

Unfortunately, the solution was not perfect. The original infirmary building was quickly found to be too small, so additions were made in the 1840's, and again right after the Civil War. During those years of expansion, a multitude of outbuildings were constructed and the property boundaries were extended to accommodate a pretty self-sufficient county farm. But, as beautiful as the brick building appeared, and as productive as the farm seemed, things inside weren't great by any means, especially in the early days.

Throughout much of the infirmary's history, it truly was a place where the unwanted could be unceremoniously dumped for a variety of reasons. If you could not take care of yourself for any reason, whether it be due to poverty, sickness/injury, old age, mental illness and/or deficiency, being widowed, or simply being a transient coming through town with little to nothing in your pockets, you could easily find yourself taken to the infirmary and remaining there for the rest of your life (and possibly beyond).

Although attempts were made at some segregation (women and men had separate wings and up until a separate orphanage was built in 1886 children were kept on the fourth floor) the sick, the crippled, the mentally ill, everyone...was just housed together. Those who could work were forced to do so, either out on the farm or taking care of domestic tasks around the home, including caring for the more severe patients, or inmates, as they were all called, regardless of status. Children were born to mothers staying there, many of whom were not of sound mind to consent. Many of those children were either taken away and given up for adoption, but many others would never know life outside the infirmary walls. 

Beginning at the turn of the century, and as more and more social programs began to help those less fortunate, improvements did seem to be happening. Those who were suffering from extreme mental illness were petitioned to be transferred to the asylum at Athens. Civic groups raised money for Christmas gifts, ice cream socials became the norm, and groups would come in and sing and/or play music for the 'inmates.' But, even those improvements could not take away from the suffering and tragedy...and death. 

Reports of abusive and/or negligent superintendents, ranging from nearly the beginning of the institution's operation (more on that in another blog!) are told, as well as probable inmate-on-inmate abuse. Death was a common occurrence, especially since most of the inmates were elderly and/or infirm, but reports of fatal accidents, suicide, and even violence were not unheard of. 

The Fairfield County Infirmary was in operation until 1985, when the remaining patients were finally put into nursing care facilities or placed with foster families. The following year, the county took over the building as headquarters for its various health department offices, renamed it the Clarence E. Miller Building,  and made some structural changes to meet fire codes. The most notable of these is the enclosure of several staircases, giving the building some interesting architectural features! It was during the building's tenure as the health department offices that its haunted reputation began. Workers began noticing strange sounds, like footsteps and voices coming from unoccupied areas of the buildings. Objects would be moved around. Phones from empty offices would ring into other offices. Apparitions were even seen...

By 2011, it was pretty apparent that the old building needed some major upgrades, and by 2013, the county health department had moved out. With the old farm area across the road being sold decades before to a local university, the much smaller property with a dilapidated brick structure sat vacant for some time, looking for a buyer. The site was considered by a local real estate investment firm as potential apartments, but that fell through, especially after it was discovered that the on-site cemetery far exceeded its distinguished boundaries, and that there were probably bodies buried across the entirety of the property. For one season, Habitat for Humanity ran a haunted house attraction, but when it came up on the auction block, Adam Kimmel was the lucky bidder. There's an interesting story that Kimmel was told there was another investor vying for the property and was tempted to put in quite a high bid. However, a ghostly little child from the property told him that there were no other bidders, and thus, he won the FCI with a low-ball offer. It is now ran as a year-round mecca for paranormal researchers and ghost hunters, by Kimmel and his partner, who own several more properties around the midwest for the same purpose. 

With literally hundreds of investigation teams pouring into Fairfield since 2020, the activity experienced does tend to fluctuate a bit, but there are some hauntings that are told as canon. In addition to the general activity of footsteps and disembodied voices, there have been reports of apparitions of a doctor figure, and several of an older woman wearing white. Children are heard laughing and running in an area now set up as the boys' playroom. Shadow figures are a constant, with shadowy beings darting in and out of rooms down dark halls, and even a seven foot tall shadow seen in the attic area. People have been scratched or bruised, and some have felt extremely ill, especially after visiting the morgue area. A little ghost girl named Susie is often reported, as is a male ghost who calls himself Willie. Some believe the apparition of the woman (or ONE of the female apparitions) is none other than Jane Householder, an elderly lady who burned to death in the 1920's. 

From my own personal research, I've also noticed that many investigative teams have had great success with the Estes Method of communication, where the 'sitter' is listening to a spirit box, while other investigators ask questions, hoping for a response. The sitter cannot hear what the other investigators are asking, hopefully eliminating some of the audio pareidolia of looking for answers that 'fit.' Through this method, not only have they received intelligent responses, but will often get the names of owners and staff at FCI, along with their own names and names of fellow investigators on site. 

The most active areas of the old infirmary tend to be the attic, which was used both as an orphanage and as a 'dungeon,' where the most incorrigible inmates were kept, the third floor 'women's cell,' where those committing minor offenses were held for up to 24 hours, and the morgue/autopsy area. However, there doesn't seem to be any location within the four floors that isn't active, a fact that is attributed to both the amount of tragedy and death that took place there, a spring that runs directly under the building, giving an unending supply of energy, and an odd fact about the cemetery out back that may contribute to those buried there being unable to rest in peace.  We'll explore some of these topics and stories in further blogs, which I'll link to below as they are published. Also, if you're interested in the investigative side of Fairfield County Infirmary, please check out the YouTube playlist I compiled, highlighting some of teams that have filmed here. 

Fairfield County Infirmary YouTube Playlist

Fairfield County Infirmary Collection

 An FCI Christmas Story

The Story of Jane Householder

Seven Foot Tall Shadow Man

Body Snatching at FCI

A Defense of Superintendent Hummel

An (Un)Happy Reunion at FCI

The Growling Man of Fairfield County Infirmary

The Fairfield County Infirmary Cemetery