undistilled spirits: part 3 – nightcap

(If you’re a late arrival, you’ll want to get caught up on all the ghostly happenings in part 1 and part 2 of this trilogy.)

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i am not alone!

at least i felt as if i were not alone.

isn’t this the way a secondary character in a david heavener movie gets his/her head handed to him/her by the ghost-in-residence of the haunted house into which he/she is boldly (spelled: s-t-u-p-i-d-l-y) wandering?

what the hell am i doing here?

after two post-sunset trips that brought me face-to-whatever with several spirits trapped here in what used to be the stewart indian school, this is the first time that i’ve actually felt threatened. i had earlier felt like i didn’t need to toddle up the steps of the “small” girls dorm with loretta as she walked to the front door of the colonial-styled stone structure. but, i didn’t feel threatened; just not strongly compelled to go there.

is that a “message” given to me by my new spirit friends telling me it was not safe for me to be next to the “small” girls dorm?

is that owl that has been crying in the night sky every time i spook myself (like right now!) by thinking that somebody is behind me giving me a message?

but, standing next to and in the shadow of a real haunted house with my emotions seemingly punctuated by an owl soaring nearby and a definite feeling that i was in the midst of several spirits (or, maybe one really powerful one) that didn’t really care for me being there, i was beginning to realize that maybe i shouldn’t be up there by myself.

one more screech from the owl to compliment the above thought and that was the confirmation needed to get my feet moving back to the front of the house and down the stairs. i still, however, need to walk across the front porch, which now seemed ominous when it only was dark when i walked up here.

except for jumping off of the terrace and risking a broken appendage, walking across the porch was my only real option.

unless i just hung out for a while and hoped the eerie feeling that i was being crowded by people that i could not see subsided.

girding my grits for a big one, i walked with great intent through the crowd, around the corner of the house, across the porch and down the stairs where i no longer felt as if i were being crowded by a group of... something/s.

i casually (s.o.p. for me under any circumcision) sauntered over to the table and sat down with the others. mere seconds later, melba announced: “there’s a shadow person right over there behind that bush; next to the door!”

“right now?” loretta asked.

“yes. he’s over there right now!”

was this the somebody or something that i was just experiencing on the terrace?

that door is below the slope of the contour and leads to the old carriage house directly under the terrace.

might that be the exterior entrance to the basement where those shamans bound the evil spirit of the supervisor from earlier years?

was that him or one of his minions that melba just saw?

even though he is bound to the basement, can he project his image beyond the quasi-subterranean vault?

what the hell was i thinking going up there by myself?

# # # # #

we packed up gear and tossed out trash and this time we all drove over to an area between the infirmary and the athletic field (burial ground); melba, who isn’t all that comfortable with being out here after sunset, bade us goodnight and drove home as we began the last part of our investigation.

the first part of the last part of our investigation was at the infirmary, where an owl flew from the ground back in the shadows, surprising everyone, as we approached.

i hope we didn’t ruin his breakfast.

we did not stay long at the back of the building with the boys who sandie and loretta assure me think that i’m pretty groovy. but, i did tell them that i’d be back to see them soon and that i really looked forward to doing so.

it is just a suspicion that it was on this brief visit that the boys told loretta that i remind them of santa claus, although she has not told me this.

it was definitely on this visit as we came to the northeast corner of the building that loretta said, “there was a fire here... or they burned children here... or both; i smell smoke!”

i smelled... well, except for the poltergeist potpourri that sandie spayed on us for protection against hitchhiking ghosties, just dirt; maybe some weeds.

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i asked sandie what the poltergeist potpourri was, but she said it was not something that she made; a friend of hers made it and she didn’t know what was in it. when asked what was in hers she told me it was a proprietary poltergeist potpourri but did say that her's is an elixir of certain herbs and gems. i now have two apache tear given to me by sandie for protection, so i’m guessing gemstones may also be a part of the solution. not that i’m trying to deconstruct her recipe and cut in on the action; i want to know about everything that even slightly interests me... and so far, this ghost hunting-thing is, you might say, quite interesting, indeed!

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i have to admit that i was not completely paying attention to everything that everyone was doing and saying as i was in my own spirit-world, contemplating a new hobby, or more precisely: a new calling and my new buddies who seem to hang around the back of the building, but have not yet let me see them.

but, it just now occurs to me as i write that i have not yet asked the boys if they can show themselves to me, which could be a tall order as, according to what little i know about this stuff, it takes a huge amount of energy for a ghost to show itself to someone like myself who, unlike sandie, cannot see them in their unnatural state.

when we reached the front of the building, sandie began to walk up to the doorway of the infirmary and suddenly turned and said with a shudder, “ooh, she doesn’t want me up there!” – “she” being nurse ratched of the carson indian school of years gone by – and joined the rest of us at the foot of the walkway.

why am i being drawn to the front door of a place that sandie seems to treat as a spot of supreme evil? i don’t have the sense of being tricked (although in retrospectacles i suppose if i were being duped by a spirit, i probably would not perceive it negatively. what would don juan advise carlos castaneda to do?), i feel a sense of comfort in the draw to the front door.

sandie set up the tripod and focused her video camera on the door and walked away from the general area. not knowing the protocol on investigations of paranormal activities, i wasn’t sure if it would be ok for me to walk up to the door and answer that page.

but, i sure wanted to: it was pulling on me like a rare earth magnet tugging on a chunk of iron!

still, i resisted as to not get in the shot and ruin sandie’s documentation of... whatever she was trying to document.

eventually, loretta began to walk to the door where she put her hands upon the door. that was all the permission i needed to get my butt up there, too.

again, loretta confirmed that a lot of pain and suffering had taken place here.

i didn’t feel that.

i felt like i liked standing up there.

l-r: monty and loretta "feeling-out" the doorway of the infirmary

as we stood there sandie noticed us and walked again toward the door. but, as soon as she reached the threshold, an unseen (to my eyes) force pushed her away.

throughout the evening, as we walked amongst the buildings and open areas of the schoolgrounds we encountered many pocket of cold air; the night was really quite pleasant, but there were times and places where temperature dropped dramatically; 8- to 10-degrees, maybe??

except now!

the doorway was hot; maybe as much as 5- or 9-degrees warmer than the ambient air temp.

cold spots and sudden drops in temperature have long been associated with paranormal experiences. but, i had never heard of warm spots.

the rest of the team came up to the doorway, sandie as far as nurse ratched would allow, and everyone agreed the doorway was definitely warmer than the air or building. both sandie and janet acknowledged that, occasionally, hot spots are also experienced in hauntings.

when everyone else left, i stayed in the doorway, trying to determine a source of the heat to dana scully a reason for the anomaly. but, the walls were the same temperature as the ambient temp as was the door and the pillars, which seemed to be the spot where the temperature fluctuated.

are we feeling the fire of which loretta spoke?

i walked in and out of the hotspot and the sensation continued. i even crossed over the bars on the right and left that are blocking off what used to be a porch and the temp dropped back down to the ambient temperature; at one point, i stood in-between the zones (worlds?) so the right half of my body was in the cooler air and the left was in the warmth; like standing in one of those arctic doorways they use in refrigerated and freezer plants.

but, the btu’s seemed to subside after a minute or so and when i mentioned that the hotspot seemed to be neutralizing, loretta rejoined me where we both laid our hands and cheeks against the door and rock wall.

loretta said she could her laughter inside. she was smiling and her voice indicted that as she said, “they’re having fun right now; they’re playing games and having fun; they are not sad right now!”

i attempted to get responses using the rods before, during and after the warm phenomenon, but got nothing.

but, i was getting a definite emotional response: i had a sense of wellbeing; of pleasure.

am i vibing on the kids inside who, according to what loretta’s been saying, seem to be enjoying time without sadistic-supervision?

l-r: sandie, monty, janet and loretta standing in the doorway of the infirmary

all too soon for my wishes, everyone was headed to the next part of the last part of our investigation: the junkyard man’s domain.

but, not because i dreaded going to see the crotchety old fart; he doesn’t give me any vibes whatsoever; i was comfortable just being there, sucking off of the kids’ energy.

when we reached the fenced-in shop yard, sandie started laughing at him. i really don’t know what any of the others’ sense was of him since i was trying to get with him through my rods. i guess he was too busy shouting at sandie to scream at me.

the last part of the last part of our investigation was in the burial ground, where i would use my newly acquired skills with the rods to talk with the little girl. but, when we got there, not only did sandie say all of the kids there were telling her that we needed to leave and they were told they could not talk to us, but she also said that she could not see or even feel the little girl.

it seemed to me that the rest of the group was simply happy to be out of there; myself, not getting a feeling of dread from this place, i was just bummed-out that the little girl wasn’t there and probably, according to sandie, would not be coming back.

when we got back to where the cars were parked, sandie announced that any spirits were not allowed to come home with us and must stay there on the former school grounds and, i assume, cast spells of protection by gesturing to each of us and herself, each time saying, “white bubble.”

“having one of those little boy ghosts come home with me couldn’t be too bad. could it?

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on the way back to drop me off, sandie kept telling me how compatible i am with the rods and repeated what she previously stated and what loretta also insisted throughout the evening about my mellowness affecting the spirits in a positive way.

over the next day or two sandie began sending me pics and evps (electronic voice phenomena) from our 4th of july ghost hunt.

this clip is of an evp. in the first half of the clip, the evp volume is not enhanced; in the second half, i have boosted the volume.

is the spirit replying to sandie saying that there are not hordes of them? is he saying that if we came back at another time there may be more?

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due to me posting pictures and brief accountings of my ghost hunting adventure in email and facebook, i began to get requests from friends who wanted me to take them along; one of them from eileen, who, i never realized until then, had psychic tendencies and has done a bit of ghosting in the past.

three nights later, eileen and i would visit my new friends.

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after hamachi, spicy shrimp and spicy tuna long rolls at kim lee's sushi, eileen and i made our way across town to the stewart indian school.

we first drove to the athletic field and walked toward the middle of the makeshift burial ground as i announced: “hi guys. i’m back. i brought my friend, eileen; we are not here to harm you; i want you to know that we respect you and are only here to honor you and your memory.”

as per usual, i got no reply from the kids. but, i’m still staying open to, hopefully, one day being able to hear them, or at least feel them trying to communicate with me.

that willingness for openness on my part was reinforced when eileen said, “i don’t think they like women; women did most of the punishing and torture!”

“well,” i reasoned, “weren’t most school teachers back then female? stands to reason that women were the ones responsible for them being here.”

as we walked deeper into the sparse patches of sagebrush, i called out, “hey, little girl? are you here? i’m not here to hurt you, i want you to know that i respect you and i’m only here to talk with you; you do not need to be afraid of me.” then, turning around in a 270° rotation, i announced: “none of you have anything to fear from us! i know when i was here the other night you told sandie that you were to fear us and not talk to us. but, we are not here to harm you; we are only here to be your friends!”

walking to the spot where sandie and i had previously encountered the little girl, i held up my rods in front of me and asked: “are you here, little girl?”

my rods instantly indicated that she was.

the patch where the little girl has been hiding is really quite perfect for a small child in which to hide: there is a small hole in the center that is just big enough for a kid.

i talked calmly and consolingly to the little girl as i surreptitiously encircled the patch in an effort to confirm that the hole is where she is hiding and not on the other side without giving her concern that i may be trying to threaten her.

as i walked passed the little girl on the right, eileen pointed to the area behind the old backstop and told me that there were several teenage boys back in there; the same place where sandie said she saw a few boys around the age of 10; the same place that had previously drawn my attention.

again, i tried to comfort those kids and tell them that we were not there to be a concern; yada x 3.

i got positive responses from them with my rods.

i turned around and said, “we’re going to leave for a while. but, we will come back later.”

as i walked passed the little girl, this time from the other side, i told her how special little girls are to me and by using my rods continued to determine that the hole in the sagebrush patch is definitely where she likes to hide.

“a woman did all this.” eileen proclaimed, “killed them and buried them here!”

brings a whole new meaning to “femme fatale”!

we walked away from the killing field and i led eileen to the infirmary.

as we approached the back of the infirmary, i announced, “hey, guys, i’m here! i told you i’d come back.” i held up my rods and asked, “are you here?”

they were.

i asked several questions of them confirming what sandie said that, at that time, the boy on my right was 7 and the one on my left was 6 and they like me because i’m nice.

“i think they’re brothers.” eileen offered.

“are you guys brothers?”

they are.

"are you guys brothers?" yes!

when we pushed on, i invited them to come with us if they’d like, but told them they’d have to come back to the infirmary when we leave to go home.

as we walked away from the back of the building, eileen issued another validating statement, this time for something that loretta said on my last visit, “i smell smoke. there was a fire and some of the kids were killed!”

i took eileen to the front of the building where, this time there was no sensation of heat from the front and i got no response at all from my rods while we were there.

could that heat that we felt in the doorway have something to do with the fire of which loretta and now eileen have spoken?

leaving the infirmary, we walked passed what used to be classrooms (which now appear to be offices) i took eileen passed the administration building – where the thin veilers are trying to capture video of a shadow person – and up to the front of the supervisor’s home.

as we approached i didn’t necessarily feel any sense of foreboding, but i was in no hurry to hang out on the terrace.

before continuing my guided tour of the school, i remembered that i had a pen in my pocket and eileen and i walked over to the state historical marker at the front of the entrance to put my name on the log in the geocache that i previously found on the night of the 4th.

we again walked passed the front of the supervisor’s home to the “small” girls dorm, where this time i had no problem walking up to the front door where loretta said she felt a lot of pain, torture and rape.

heading back toward the car, we walked passed the tree that had drawn my attention so strongly the other night; where sandie said somebody was hanging out.

according to the rods, he was there again (still?); according to eileen, he was a teenage boy; probably waiting for a girl (girlfriend?).

walking out to the south, we passed the steps where the other night sat the cigarette smoking man, where the rods responded when i asked if he were still there.

before going to the car, we began to walk toward the athletic field to fulfill my promise to do the mcarthur-thing. but, before we got very far, eileen made a sharp turn to the left and said, “she doesn’t want me here! you go on and say goodbye; i’ll wait for you at the car.”

i continued in and announced my return as i approached the little girl’s hiding place.

i briefly spoke with her and told her that she had no reason to be afraid of anybody or anything. before i left, i asked the boys behind the backstop to keep an eye on her, “she’s just a little girl and needs you guys to look after her!”

i bade my young spirit friends goodnight, got in the car with eileen and we left the school.

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on the following day, sandie told me that she felt that i brought one of the spirits home with me and told me what i needed to do to make it leave, which amounted to little more than, “split!”

one interesting thing that occurred after our last outing was, only one of the several digital pictures that eileen took “came out”. according to sandie and what i have heard on ghost hunting tv show, this is not all too uncommon.

another interesting development, in addition to all of the messages that i’ve been receiving that i should pursue being a ghost hunter, my creativity has been incredibly strong.

in regards to the above statement: please, refer to disclaimer 3 in part 1 of this trilogy.

i may have taken creative license in my telling of this story. but, let me assure you: aside from poetic-/wordplay-/humoristic-creativity, have not found it necessary to embellish this story whatsoever!

undistilled spirits: part 2 - shaken, not stirred

(if you missed part one of undistilled spirits, you can catch up on it right here)

in 1981 i applied for a job as a singing telegram deliverer. during the interview/audition i pretty much knew that i had the gig. as i was getting off the freeway coming home after the interview, a commercial for lone star beer ran on kroq that i had never before heard: doorbell rings; door opens; voice #1: “i have a singing telegram!”...

not only did i get the job, business increased during the time that i was the company singer for live lyrics telegram company.

on september 22, 2002 i was stopping by koh to catch up on some dubbing that i’d put off to leave the station in time on the previous friday to go emcee the miss street vibrations contest (i just cannot bring myself to call it a pageant). as i was driving passed rei i thought, “you need to buy a gps! you’ve wanted one for years; the prices are better than they were when darryl got his and they are much better; you just got a big check for the camel races and you’re about to get a bigger check for street vibes; just do!

so, i’d decided when i wrapped up the 45-minutes of dubbing i was going to go buy a gps-receiver.

as i was walking out of the station to leave and make the short drive over to rei to pick out my new gps, jeremy dunn was just getting off the air and walking out. he mentioned to me that he’d been out to fallon on the previous day. “what were you doing out in fallon?”, i asked. “geocaching.”, jeremy replied. “what the hell’s geocaching?” 20-seconds into his description and i knew that i was going to be a geocacher.

but wait… there’s more!

on the following day i attended a press conference in washoe county district attorney dick gammick’s office.

first, before i go any further, you need to understand that i think of a gps as being just a very sophisticated map.

so, i walk into dick’s lobby and in the middle of it is a fiberglass or resin casting of a life-sized big horn sheep (our state animal) decoupaged in nevada topographic maps.

i almost screamed out loud, “all right! i’m going to be a geocacher, damn it!”

some signs are not as strong and could be interpreted as coincidence, like when i met robin: mere moments after meeting i learned that she had just returned from seeing david bowie in quebec for the kickoff of his sound and vision tour. i said, “i heard a rumor about his guitarist on this tour...” interrupting me, robin chirped excitedly, “it’s adrian belew and i rode in an elevator with him!” it was enough for me to know!

there have been many other such symbolic messages over the years, several of which are related to adrian, too.

there have been a number in the past week sending me down a path which i never expected to walk: that of a ghost hunter.

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my second walk down this path began in sandie’s car as we drove down to the former carson indian school. having learned it best to overdress, i was once again sporting long pants, but never put on the flannel shirt that i used three nights earlier. in addition to the protection from possible weather-weirdities, i also had my new talisman – a piece of tumbled/polished apache tear – and my new dowsing rods. this time, however, there would be several other members of the thin veil investigators joining our hunt.

arriving around sunset, a little earlier than we did on our previous visit and before the rest of her team was expected to arrive, sandie and i returned directly to the burial ground.

the last time when we got here, i had a feeling of pressure on my solar plexus complimented by a feeling of anxiousness. but, i’m willing to believe, in fact, i am certain they were psychosomatic manifestations.

this time, i felt none of that. instead, i had a sense of comfort and wellbeing.

sandie, on the other hand, said some boys were telling her to get away; they were warned not to talk to her.

they were scared!

we walked on, assuring them that we respect them and were only there to visit with and honor them and not there to hurt them. but, that didn’t seem to make any difference.

i asked sandie if the little girl was here. no, she replied. but, she wasn’t all that surprised since the girl’s energy was so weak. but, we walked to where she had been hiding on our previous outing.

we did, sandie said, pass by a couple of boys presumably the two boys that may or may not have walked with us the other evening. only hearing sandie’s side of the conversation, they were telling her that “somebody” told them they need to be wary of her and not to talk to her.

sandie made – what i could tell was – a vain attempt at convincing them of the contrary as we walked on to where we first met our little girl.

“that’s where she was right there, isn’t it?”, i asked sandie. “yes, right in the middle. but, she’s not there tonight.” then, almost stepping on her previous sentence, “nope. there she is!”

this was great news... i think.

ever since i first “met” the little girl, i have felt an attraction for her; perhaps because i just have a soft spot for little girls; perhaps because of my sorrow due to the torturous death she surely suffered; perhaps both.

except for a slight draw to the little girl's hiding place (possibly psychosomatic), i could only trust sandie. but, since this all feels like a calling to me, i have found it quite easy to trust in the things that sandie has told me that i am not (yet) able to see.

feeling a little more comfortable speaking to “no one”, i made a couple of awkward attempts at talking with the little girl. after over 30-years of talking to no one in radio studios, i find it slightly humorous that i’ve yet to be able to create the imagery in my mind to allow myself to speak comfortably with the spirits that i have met.

sandie, on the other hand, has no problem talking with spirits. but, she can see them, which seems to scare some of them.

which the little girl confirmed by telling sandie that she, too, was warned not to talk with her.

again, sandie tried to dissuade all of them from believing what they were told; we respect them and were not there to endanger them, but to honor them.

“we’re not going to get anywhere here right now”, sandie announced.

i was broken hearted. i really wanted to hang out with the little girl and she told us to split. here i thought i was going to be the inspiration to get her to open up; maybe show herself to me. well, it’s not the first time that i’ve been shined-on by a girl.

during this, my attention was being drawn toward the area behind the framework of the old backstop and told sandie of that attraction.

“oh. there are a couple of teenage boys over there.”, she confirmed. then, “there’s a few of them in there. would you like to talk with us?” sandie asked the boys.

“ok!”, she replied. “we’ll leave for now and come back later. whoever told you that we are here to harm you is wrong; we only want to talk with you.”

but, we left the athletic field and walked over to the infirmary.

as we rounded the south side of the small building, sandie began announcing our presence, assuring the spirits that we were just there to talk with them.

i suddenly i remembered my new rods.

“how do i do this?”, i asked sandie.

“you just hold them level and ask a question.”

“is there anybody here who would like to talk with us?” i asked with slightly less feebleness than on our previous trip.

the rods that were barely moving due to the light breeze suddenly crossed like they were magnetized.

“they’re here!”, sandie said with a smile. “i can see two boys hanging off the ends of your rods.”

really?

learning the rods

now, i’m getting excited! those rods did move quite deliberately and there did seem to be a bit of resistance to them as they held, or moved, that was not there when sandie first gave them to me and before i asked the question.

“they like you, monty; they think you’re a brother - you being part native - they see you as a brother in blood; in your ancestry, especially with the utes being descended from the anasazi.”

this was the moment the psychic hook was set!

might this be another message leading to a path onto which i should walk?

some of the most spiritual moments of my life have been, what i would call, related to the ancients.

several years ago, while i was in monument valley along the arizona/utah border, after stopping for a picnic lunch along the scenic dirt road (on which, by the way, i was assured the little celica would not be able to travel), i wandered off a few hundred yards into the desert. as i did i walked into a sense of being with the gods; of standing in god’s own hand. it is an emotion for that i fail to find descriptive words. but, it could be the most profound moment of my life!

despite being reeled-in like a cooperative trout swimming willingly into the dip net and waiting to be lifted in the creel, l still found it difficult to talk with the kids who sandie assured me liked me.

i soon started to realize what it was that i found most uncomfortable about talking to no one: it wasn’t talking to no one; it was knowing what to ask and how to form the question in order to get a response.

we hung out for a while before telling the kids that we’d be back later; we needed to head up to the superintendent’s home, where we would wait for other members of the thin veil investigators to arrive.

dusk was still a while off, but the spirits – good and evil – were, according to sandie, beginning to become active.

“this is going to be a good night!”, sandie proclaimed.

her words would be proven true.

# # # # #

the thin veil investigators are made up of area psychics and sensitives who have an interest – whether they like it or not – in ghost hunting. the team have documented several carson and virginia cities hauntings.

we parked in front of the church and walked over to a picnic table in front of the superintendent’s home, of which its placement i find highly ironic. but, i find a lot of the history from this place to be filled with sad irony.

the spirit of one of the former school superintendents who was personally responsible for much of the torture and many of the murders has been bound to the basement of the stone home by several shamans from various nations, which now houses the nevada indian commission in another example of irony associated with this campus in general and this building in particular.

sandie does not like the superintendent’s home whatsoever!

she says a lot of bad energy is inside its walls!

she says it is not to be messed with!

so, there i sat, seeing if i could get a response from my rods as darkness began to fall, literally within spitting distance of a real honest-to-badness haunted house at a picnic table at which we will later have a late night picnic.

i’m ghost hunting now!

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the first of the veilers to make the party was sandie’s daughter, shantell and shantell’s boyfriend, robbie.

the next arrivals would be a surprise that somehow really didn’t feel all that surprising: i first met loretta reed while i was working at koh. later, loretta would occasionally drop into kptl. i had no recollection of ever hearing loretta saying anything about having any psychic tendencies. but, it didn’t surprise me in the least when she and her daughter, carli, walked up to our table.

just like when i was standing in dick gammick’s office looking at that topo-sheep, loretta’s presence – somehow – seemed like another message that i am to follow the mysterious and quite possibly frightening and dangerous path of a ghost hunter, only slightly more frightening than geocaching... or being in gammick’s office for that matter.

i wrote the previous sentence while a ridiculous ghost hunting show on a&e is on in the background. i easily find my encounters at the stewart indian school to be believable, but have a hard time taking these idiots seriously as they taunt ghosts in an old prison until they get themselves so nerved-up that they scream like little girls from creeping themselves out and run out of the room.

despite the ludicrous nature of this show, i still am going to pursue this trip.

# # # # #

as loretta and i were beginning to get reacquainted, janet, the next arriving member of tvi was bringing her sizable toolbox filled with cameras, devices and every-other-thing one might find necessary in a hunt.

i wonder what color box i should get for my devices?

the final member of our party was our hostess, kath'leen a member of the washo tribe (which established the “stewart community” on certain parts of the former school and uses a few of the buildings, as well), who knows a lot of the history of the school and, whether she is aware of it or not, by virtue of being native, is a constant reminder of all the indigenous children who were brought here; some never to leave.

and now that the entire team has assembled, it was time to begin our investigation.

part of the team: robbie, shantell, loretta, monty and carli

our party, sans kath'leen whom i would later learn is not all that comfortable being at stewart at night and won’t even go near the burial ground after sunset would stay at the picnic table in front of the supervisor’s home and set up our snacks while the rest of us set up equipment and began meeting more and new spirits.

as we walked south passed what used to be called the “small” girls dorm where, as we caught up on the past couple of years, loretta expressed a feeling of foreboding, it would not be her last sense of discomfort associated with this building, which is now being used as state offices as are about half of the old building on the grounds that have been deemed safe enough for state workers; the school was closed in 1980 by the feds due to earthquake and asbestos safety issues.

as we entered a courtyard delimited by “big” girls dorms and scattered with many trees, janet began to fasten a game camera to one of the trees using a couple of bungee cords. janet told me she had the camera set to shoot continuously, but it can be set to be triggered by motion.

as we all began to wander about the area, i was drawn to a particular tree that had been struck by lightning, as have many of the trees around here; lightning strikes are rather obvious once you’ve seen one.

i mentioned this to sandie who quite casually said, “oh yes. there’s a boy right there! hi.”, and talked with him for a while as i fumbled with my rods and tried to form questions that i might ask.

“there’s a man sitting on the steps over there.” sandie said with a chuckle to hear voice. “he’s smoking a cigarette!”

doesn’t he know those things’ll kill ya?

the cigarette smoking man

i did not ask if he was white. but, i’m guessing that most of the workers were probably local white men employed by the school to maintain the building and grounds and maybe get a little paiutey-pooty as one of the perks.

is that why he has been here all these years? is it his sentence? is it his choice?

sandie continued to talk lightheartedly (maybe he’s not an evil cat. but, why is he here?) with the smoker as we continued to walk south between the dorm where the smoker sat, presumably, filling the fresh air with noxious smoke, and one of the classroom buildings. i instinctively held my breath as i passed, but did tell him we’d be back later.

once passed the classrooms we went directly to the infirmary; a building that gives everyone in our group “the willies”, while i feel compelled to be here.

are the kids pulling me here?

as we begin to cross what used to be grass and now mostly weeds, ants and goat heads the mood of the group definitely changed from “we’re here to have fun!” to “this shit is gettin’ serious!”

perhaps i was vibing a little off of that dread projected by the others, but i was still being pulled to the back of the structure like ulysses being drawn by sirens and wanting to hear their treacherous song at the risk of insanity.

announcing our presence as we rounded the back corner of the building, i held out the rods and said, “hey, guys. i told you i’d be back in a while. are you here?”

with a definite pull both rods crossed at the midpoint and held there like they were magnets.

orbs on the ends of my rods

standing next to me and surely sensing my discomfort in not knowing what to ask or how to ask it, loretta started feeding me questions telling me that they really like me.

to be honest, i don’t really remember all of the questions we asked. but, at some point, the kids stopped responding to my questions. loretta said, “i think they’re just playing around with you, monty.”

“are you guys just horsing around with me?”, i asked.

the rod in my left hand, which was being held slightly above the other began to spin completely in circles while the right rod spun until it hit the other rod before i separated my hands enough to allow it to spin. too bad the video cam wasn't rolling on me for this shot!

loretta and i instantly broke out into shocked, nervous laughter!

“you guys are funny!”

a couple of moments later, robbie came over to show us an orb

that he caught in his digital camera

that he took while shooting the old furnace flue at the same moment, loretta, the kids and i were all laughing it up,

that looked like an upside-down smiley face.

"smiley face" orb above the haunted infirmary

loretta, who deals with angelic spirits, kept telling me how comforting i am to the boys and how much they like me. later that night as sandie drove me home, loretta called her on her cell and said, “i hope monty isn’t offended by this, but the little boys told me one of the reasons they like him so much is that he reminds them of santa claus.”

mind? are you kidding me? i’ve got two little indian boy ghosts who think i’m the bees’ knees! how many people can claim that? this i intend to use to my advantage to help me get to know my new friends.

after a few more minutes, telling the kids we’d be back later that night, we rounded the side of the building where emotions of dread were again being expressed by the others in the group.

our walk back to rejoin kath'leen in front of the superintendent’s home brought us passed the old administration building, where the shadow people are supposed to frequent and once again passed the “small” girls dorm. loretta went straight up to the front door of the building, while i stayed back on the walk feeling, for the first time, something that told me not to go there; nothing specific; i just felt as if i should not be up there.

loretta laid her hand upon the door and proclaimed that a lot of bad things took place inside those walls: pain, punishment and rape.

the “small” girls dorm!

perhaps why i stayed on the walk

eventually, we all gathered around the table and enjoyed veggies and dip and chips and cookies and lemonade and talked about our stroll around the school.

after a few minutes, i excused myself to walk across the street so i could hide in the sagebrush and i noticed several sets of headlights way up on mcclellen peak. i thought to myself, “what’s going on? the last time there were that many cars up there at night was the rally in...”

that’s when the first firework soared into the sky. being a good 3 or 4 miles from ground zero, i wrapped up my business and made my way back to the superintendent’s home, taking the scenic route.

as i reached the front stairs of the building with the evil spirit bound to its basement, i felt as if i should explore the old building. climbing the 5 or 9 steps for the first time i walked straight to the door and placed my hand upon the door.

nothing!

i looked inside the windows.

nothing except offices and things you would expect in such a setting.

i reached the south side of the house and continued around the porch, which becomes more of a terrace as the hillside drops steeply below on this side of the house. i continued to walk around the terrace to where a narrow walkway looked like it continued around the backside of the house.

it was at that precise moment that i realized that i was standing on the porch and in the shadow of a real haunted house.

i don’t know if i suddenly got sucked-up by my own imagination, of which i have a little, or if there was something or things up there with me. but, i kept feeling as if there was somebody standing behind me, looking over my shoulder. i turned around, expecting to see a face staring back at me like in the movies, but there was nothing.

nothing, because it was now standing behind me and must have turned with me.

rotating around again more rapidly this time, i still did not see what was on the terrace with me. but, i could sure feel it.

or feel something.

i turned again and realized that my revolutions were being punctuated by a scream coming from the area near the “small” girls dorm.

is that one of the girls?

after a few turns to see nothing there, i realized what i was hearing was a screech owl flying about the area. but, why had it chosen those exact moments to announce itself?

i am not alone!

part three continues here

undistilled spirits

disclaimer 1: the thin veil investigators know what the hell they are doing; monty wolf has not a clue what the hell he is doing. therefore, do not endeavor to reenact, recreate or otherwise attempt to come face-to-whatever with any spirit, unless of course you know what the hell you’re doing!

disclaimer 2: since we all agree that i do not know what the hell i am doing, i may unintentionally pass along inaccurate or misinformation. i’m learning fast, but there is so much that you don’t know, when everything you know is wrong. nod to the firesign theatre - phil, pete, dave and phil; there will be more, dear friends. see?

disclaimer 3: being a storyteller, i occasionally am prone to minor-exaggerations. but, i am not hotdogging you on any of the things of which i have written in this telling.

# # # # #

i’m a member of an online dating community, of which i am not honorary mayor.

through said community i came to meet sandie la nae, a psychic and ghost hunter.

like most of us, i assume (so, you know what that makes me) that i have “felt” something or somebody at one time or another with me in an empty room and just shaken it off, or got a sudden chill and turned up the heat, or watched one of the myriad ghost hunting tv shows, which brought up some kind of personal reaction: “hell, i’d do that!”; “are you out of your mind?”; “that is so bullshit!”; “this scares the hell out of me!”

i did think that if i ever had the chance to go on a ghost hunt i would do it, but never thought of it as something that might really capture more than just a small corner of my substantial imagination.

well, it’s like i’ve always known/said: things happen for a reason!

sandie has been reinforcing that by showing me how people meet other people who have met other people so those people have the opportunity to meet other people.

so, it came as no surprise, but with much excitement, that i would go on my first ghost hunt.

i previously have had a few paranormal experiences. about one of which i have already blogged, something that happened at jim britton’s pad way back in the 70s that was rather interesting and i did a thing with the amazing kreskin one morning while i was getting ready for work when he was on the regis and kathy lee show. this was back in the 80s when i lived in freeport, maine and we were getting the show live: regis picked a card at random and hid it from view in his pocket; kreskin picked an audient and asked the audient to call out the first card that came to mind; i thought, “i wonder how many people go for the obvious ‘ace of spades?’”; kreskin said, “stop! you were thinking of the ace of spades! clear your mind and give me the name of the first card that comes to mind.”; i thought, “queen of clubs”; the audient said, “queen of clubs”; regis had the queen of clubs!

i also had in interesting experience with, what i can only describe as, an invisible ball of energy in a room that is allegedly one of the most haunted rooms in one of the most haunted buildings in the silver state: the goldfield hotel. on that trip, i stayed in the haunted mizpah hotel in tonopah without anything to report, except it is a crime that this property is now just sitting there, abandoned and beginning a sad decline into a ruin!

i even attended a few minutes of a ghost hunting conference in virginia city, where i interviewed several ghost hunters for a series of ghost stories for koh, which would become some of my favorite material at a station where i was encouraged to use my storytelling creativity.

but, i’ve never been presented with something that has made me say: “holy mudhead, mackerel!”

# # # # #

stewart indian school was one of the boarding schools the feds whipped up as another means of carving a new life out of the american indian.

actor, and semi-reoccurring character ‘one-who-waits’ from my all-time-favorite tv show – northern exposure, floyd red crow westerman was quite vocal about how he was taken away from his family and the life he knew to get a new name, new language and a new set of torturous memories.

listen to this short npr story (including red crow’s comments and a bite from a song in which he displayed a voice quite similar to gordon lightfoot) about the affects of indian boarding school on some students:

as with any institution of power and authority, and the general consensus being that all injuns is savages, there was a lot of abuse, rape, torture and even death in a mandated effort to make them better americans.

i’ve heard stories of fingers being removed as a form of punishment for not using english, healthy children boarded with terminally ill children and really sick kids not being fed or medicated since, well... they’re going to die anyway... as sadistic means of adjusting the natural attrition rate.

built of native stone in colonial style, the compound offers a foreboding appearance without one knowing anything about the school’s infamous history. some of the older admin buildings are being used by the state prison system and some by the department of public safety; i find both quite ironic. but, about half of the buildings are boarded-up.

# # # # #

july 1, 2010

we arrived at the stewart indian school scant moments before sunset.

throwing me into the deep end of the spiritual pool, sandie took me directly to the athletic field, where in the days before the field was leveled, several kids who were either intentional or unintentional victims of murder at the hands of administrators and/or teachers were buried in random, unmarked graves.

on the drive to the school, i regretted taking sandie’s advice to wear long pants and bring a coat. when we got out of the car, the wind picked up and the temperature plummeted and i was happy to be wearing the additional clothing.

sandie quickly announced that the spirits were active.

really?

ok. well, i’m not tuned into this stuff, so i’ll go with it; i’m here for experience.

walking into the field, my attention was drawn to a cluster of sagebrush for no real reason. right after that, sandie started talking to a little girl she said was hiding in the bushes where i had been attracted.

hmmm!?!?

she talked with the little girl for a while, learning that she thinks she is 5-years-old and she was scared to come out and talk or walk with us. but, she did tell us that there were a couple of boys there that wanted to follow.

i made a couple of awkward attempts at speaking with them, but really wasn’t expecting a result and we both took pictures in the general direction of the little girl’s hiding place, but sandie said she held little hope of getting anything since the little girl’s energy was not strong enough to render an image.

my picture of "the burial ground"

from there we walked passed a group of shops where sandie was laughing at a spirit she calls “the junkyard man”, whom she said was yelling at us to get away.

i didn’t hear him nor did i feel any sort of attraction toward (or distraction against) him or the shop. since she was laughing at him, i believe him to not be an evil spirit, just a crotchety old curmudgeon (i’m consulting with the department of the redundancy department on that previous statement).

the junkyard man's domain

from there we walked over to one of the boys dorm areas; a quad, where we took a few pictures and hung out with an owl (great horned?) for a while.

"hoo dat?"

our next stop that night would be the old infirmary.

a year ago when they were out here, sandie and other members of the thin veil investigators were observing the area and a tree limb fell quite near them.

sandie says there is a spirit she encounters at the infirmary that is a kind of nurse ratched and joseph mengele mixed together with a perverse bit of pol pot. it hurts me to think about what might have taken place in this small building; i’ll leave it to your imagination; mine is just too vivid.

nurse ratched was there, according to sandie. but, so were several children who were just curious about us. i would learn more about some of them in a couple of nights.

the rear of the infirmary

sandie, again, invited the young’uns to join us in our adventure, but none of them followed as far as i know.

our next and final stop of the night was across from the old admin building, which is now a small museum, where sandie and her friends from the thin veil say there are several “shadow people”.

sandie set up a video camera and we stepped back a few yards to talk while the tape rolled for a special project. eventually, we gave up due to the wind and cold and split. as we left the grounds, the wind abated and i presume the temperature increased as well.

admin building

it would not be the last visit i would make it to the school this week.

# # # # #

on the next day, sandie started sending me pictures from the previous night, several of which had orbs in them. she would also return photos that i took that would also exhibit orbs.

this is the same image as seen a couple of frames above. it has been lightened and the orbs have been circled.

look closely at the previous picture without adjustments and you will see the orbs.

there seems to be a lot of controversy over orbs between those who are believers in spirits and those who say they are nothing more than just dust particles.

well, i will tell you that the sprinklers were running all over the place and the wind was blowing like crazy. so, i personally find it hard to believe that the images in the pictures are dust particles.

in one picture in particular, there are several orbs that appear to be hovering at various positions while one is definitely in movement. i remind you that the wind was blowing. let’s assume for a minute that the orbs are no more than just particles of dust. then why are all of the particles in all of the pictures from that night seemingly static except that one?

the moving (bottom left)

the moving orb

the picture that i took in the athletic field, which i have been calling “the burial ground”, shows nothing unusual: no orbs; no unexplained anomalies. the picture that sandie took has something in it that she says is the little girl’s flickering image as she tries to make herself visible to us.

the little girl hiding in the bushes

admittedly, the image is rather abstract and inconclusive. but, sandie did tell me that the little girl probably didn’t have enough energy to give any visual indication she was there. so, with that in mind (and i’m trying to keep an open one), i can allow myself to believe that if there are spirits here in this world, that anomalous image could be the flickering spirit of a little girl caught in mid-pulse.

the same picture i took of the admin building seen above with highlights

so, now my curiosity is piqued!

# # # # #

a couple of days later, i visited sandie at her store, where she gave me an apache tear that she blessed to protect me while i’m on the hunt and keep ghosts from following me home and a pair of dowsing rods with which i will be able to communicate with the spirits.

my old friend and prospecting partner, charlie, had a few sets of rods tuned for precious metals. i one time had him hide a silver dime while we were out on the infamous 40-mile desert while i did something else. when i returned, i was able to find the dime in fewer than 5-minutes.

so, equipped with my talisman, rods and just enough knowledge to be dangerous, i was quite excited for my next ghost hunting adventure, this time with a squad of experienced ghost hunters and psychics.

all these dance partners and i don’t even know how to ghost dance!

part two continues here