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.