I met a ghost today. At least, that’s what I think happened.
Before I continue, it’s important to note that I’m a pretty firm skeptic where the supernatural is concerned. It’s not that I don’t believe it’s possible, it’s just that I believe there’s usually a logical, scientific reason behind most things that people credit to the other worldly.
Chillicothe hosted a ghost walk today. The $10 admission got you into five buildings where you don’t usually get to go behind the scenes. It was highly educational because the tour guides give the story of each building and of the town which is rich in history. They also told some ghost stories which were fun to hear.
I thoroughly enjoyed learning more about these buildings and took some mediocre pictures along the way. Grandpa Joe’s Candy Shop was once home to a brothel. The Majestic Theater is one of my favorite local places to see a performance but it was used during World War I to house and embalm the dead when the Spanish Influenza found its way to Camp Sherman. Horrifying things happened here.
I enjoyed each stop for different reasons but it was at the Crosskeys Tavern that I had an encounter that even my skeptical brain can’t explain away.
The building, which houses this Irish Pub, dates to the nineteenth century. The bar is spectacular and the public areas are quaint and fun. They call the resident ghost Harold and Harold is known to mess with the lights and electronics, to move things around and to simply be a little playful.
We toured the cellar which connects with a series of tunnels that run underground throughout the town. On the third floor, there’s a large room that was last remodeled in the seventies and is both horrifyingly tacky and oddly fun to see.
Our tour guide shared with us a story about something that had happened repeatedly throughout this day – a men’s room door that latches when pulled closed but that almost immediately opens without assistance. I was the lucky soul standing closest to the door and she asked me to see if it was closed.
So I pulled the door closed. Felt it latch in my hand. Gave it a little push with my other hand and it didn’t budget. As I started to pull my hand away from the knob, it was like someone tugged the door open from the inside.
It was the craziest thing.
And the incident was repeated for a few others in my group. Pull closed. Give it a few seconds. Door opens. Almost without fail.
So there’s my big ghost story. Maybe it’s a flaw in the knob. Maybe there’s another explanation. Who knows? But I like the idea that Harold was having a little fun with our group.
Some people believe that Harold was a gambler who lost his life, cheating in a poker game. Whoever he is, the staff there seem to think he’s friendly and fun.
Since 1973, the Goosetown Astonishers have been playing Dixieland music at Crosskeys. I saw them a couple of times in college but now I want to go hear them play, have a little dinner and maybe meet Harold again!
What do you think? Are ghosts real? Comment and tell me about your personal experiences!
1970s chic in the upstairs.
I’m bummed because I didn’t get a picture of the door in question. However, I loved the Babes sign and did manage to take a picture.
The fellow who hung wallpaper in the thirties signed his work.
Was Harold murdered in the alley outside because he cheated at poker in this tavern?