Travel

What I Thought of Charleston, SC

Living so close to what is often referred to as Savannah’s twin city, we thought it was downright shameful that we had never spent a weekend in the other fine southern city. So we set out to do just that. On our way, we had to make a pit stop somewhere around SC-17, and I’m going to need you to brace yourself for this one. I preface this by saying I am a full-fledged southerner. For better or worse, more Cracker Queen than Belle. But even I have never seen the likes of this:

This is just priceless and I honestly think I should win some sort of award for capturing this image. This my friends, belongs on a cover of some magazine somewhere. One time, the great Dixie Carter (by way of playing Julia Sugarbaker on Designing Women) had to school a New York Times writer about how southerners don’t eat dirt for vitamins. But then you go in a gas station somewhere and see a pickled parts buffet and then kind of think “Well, damn. No wonder they think we don’t have indoor plumbing down here.”

Oh, I’m just getting warmed up here.

I’m not going to tell you that I saw some jackass get out of this monstrosity and purchase an assortment of pickled items. But I will tell you that after I saw all of the above three things happen in a VERY CLOSE time frame, I coined a new state motto. “South Carolina: Where People are Different.” Feel free to quote me extensively on that. Get the “i” in my name right, okay? It’s J-A-M-I-E Davis.

Alright, I realize we had less than a glamorous start on our Charleston adventure, but I promise you I wasn’t jaded.

Here’s the thing about Charleston. There’s great shopping, restaurants, park walking, and historic architecture. Kind of like Savannah, where we already live and enjoy the amenities daily? We had a nice walk around the Battery Park and waterfront areas.

We even went and checked out Folly Beach, which is a funky little beach town, but you know what I ultimately said? I told Bob that I was so sick of seeing so many people gathered around all these brown oceans we have here. He informed me that the Atlantic is brown because of river sediment, and some more science stuff that I guess makes sense but I don’t care because I just want the ocean to be blue. South Beach, Miami. These people know what an ocean should look like. The entire Caribbean Sea. Also very pleasing. I said, “If we can figure out how to turn the Savannah River green on St. Patrick’s Day, we can figure out how to make the Atlantic blue off Tybee.” Bob said we cannot just make the ocean blue because it will kill all the fish and all this other crap (which I don’t care about, because I don’t even like fish). I don’t want to turn the entire Atlantic Ocean blue, anyway. Just the parts where I visit. My point is, I don’t think anyone is even trying to make it prettier and that makes me just so sad. Why can’t I have a blue ocean where I live and places I occasionally visit? Life sucks.

But I digress. I don’t want to slam Charleston, and that’s not what I’m trying to do. We are always glad to go see somewhere new. I like bacon and cheddar cheese on my grits just as much as the next person. Usually, we like to take in the local art museum when we can. We did that over at the Gibbes and here is the best thing I have to say about that:

That light was pretty, though. They closed 1/3 of the museum but still extracted full price admission from us and that was disappointing. Of course we didn’t complain about it, what kind of people do you think we are? We would have been more than happy to pay obviously, I just don’t appreciate the poor customer service. You don’t have to try to pull one over on me at the art museum, okay? We can pay your admission. In case you haven’t heard, I have much bigger problems on my hands to contend with, namely changing the color of the Atlantic Ocean (but only where I live and occasionally visit).

What else? Here’s the difference between Charleston people and Savannah people. Georgia was a penal colony. Charleston was a place where the wealthy English first went to Barbados, and then came here. Where people leave signs like this outside their homes in the Battery Park area.

I’m just not the kind of person who gets all hot and bothered when a dog behaves like a dog. I guess in Charleston, the old blue bloods make even the dogs walk the line.

As always, we log our adventures inside our “Play” Journal, by Stealth Journals. “Play,” is an indexed book journal by Stealth Journals that should be used to record all of your good times.

March 8, 2014 0

Coming Soon: Hotel Waverly Hills Sanatorium

I’m with her. I want to be excited about this news, but a big part of me is just saddened by it. Charles Mattingly has confirmed (http://www.wdrb.com/story/24854652/waverly-hills-the-hotel)that the fourth floor will remain intact, so that is something at least. Still, you can’t blame them for being capitalists.

The Haunted Librarian

Postcard from Waverly Hills Sanatorium

Coming Soon: Hotel Waverly Hills Sanatorium

Charlie and Tina Mattingly, current owners of the infamous Waverly Hills Sanatorium, located at 4400 Paralee Lane, Louisville, Kentucky, announced plans to open a 4-star, 120-room hotel catering to the paranormal connoisseur. But would I book a room?

First, a little history:

Major Thomas H. Hays purchased the property in 1883. He built a modest schoolhouse and hired Miss Lizzie Lee Harris to educate his children. Miss Harris christened the schoolhouse “Waverley School” because of her fondness for Sir Walter Scott’s Waverley novels. Major Hays renamed the entire estate Waverley Hills. When the Board of Tuberculosis purchased the land, they kept the name but changed the spelling to “Waverly.”

Tuberculosis (TB) was known as “The White Plague.” It ran rampant in the early 1900s and prompted the opening of a sanatorium. In its heyday, the 2-story Waverley Hills accommodated…

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March 7, 2014 0

Lingering Spirits at The Ellis Hotel in Atlanta, Georgia?

The Ellis Hotel on Peachtree Street in Atlanta, Georgia is a luxury boutique hotel. There is nothing creepy inside, nothing whatsoever that would give a guest any inclination of what happened here on December 7, 1946. In fact, the commemorative plaque is actually hidden away behind a Marta entrance on the side of the hotel. A place where few people would happen upon it, in my opinion.

Winecoff Plaque — ***Winecoff Fire Plaque in Front of The Ellis Hotel***

In The Winecoff Fire: The Untold Story of America’s Deadliest Hotel Fire, Sam Heys and Allen B. Goodwin call the hotel Atlanta’s Titanic. The Winecoff was built in 1913 and had been boasted about as being fireproof (even though it lacked fire alarms, sprinklers, and fire escapes), just as the Titanic was said to be unsinkable. But on December 7, 1946, a mysterious fire broke out on the fifth floor and claimed 119 lives. Technically, the building was fireproof. The people inside the building, however, of course were not.

Within days of the tragedy, building and fire codes were changed all over the country to prevent something like this from ever happening again. So many things went wrong. In addition to the failures mentioned above, the Winecoff only had one central staircase (which essentially turned into a chimney during the fire). The Atlanta Fire Department only had ladders that reached to the eighth floor (of a fifteen story building).

To date, this is the worst hotel fire in North America.

Before visiting, I thought a place that had seen such tragedy would surely have some lingering effects. I felt nothing here. For the first time in a long time (on a ghost hunt that failed to produce evidence of the other side), I was glad. I told myself that these fire victims were not trapped here re-living that horrible night over and over again. They were finally able to escape the Winecoff. I gave them an internal cheer and paused to reflect upon all of our fleeting lives.

Remembering Chicago

Last May I took a trip for the first time to see Chicago. I previously posted about the art museums, but I was looking back through my journal and having a grand time reflecting on the trip. We took the “L” everywhere, and I was amazed by how close the train came to people’s backyards. Once the train stopped, and if the windows would have opened, I would have been able to reach out and grab food off some guy’s grill (if I was rude like that).

The first afternoon we just meandered around and got our bearings. Wound up walking through Millenium Park and checking out our reflections in Cloud Gate (or what I had previously been calling The Bean). See below shot, it is a sort of Where’s Waldo version of Jamie and Bob in the reflection from Cloud Gate. Anish Kapoor’s sculpture was inspired by liquid mercury and is one of the largest in the world.

Cloud Gate - Chicago — ***Cloud Gate – Chicago***

We also enjoyed watching the changing images on Crown Fountain (or what I had previously been calling Face Fountain). The images displayed are of 1,000 Chicago residents.

Crown Fountain - Chicago — ***Crown Fountain – Chicago***

We even made it to Chinatown twice. Once for first dinner at 5:00 (where I ate an eggroll the size of my head and watched a lovely scene of two employees snapping a whole table full of fresh peas in the back of the restaurant between waiting on us), and then the following night we made it back for second dinner at 8:00. After first dinner, we found ourselves in some sort of general store where we procured a tea that has probably not been actually approved for sale (based on the reactions I got when I tried to take a picture of the shelves), along with some foot detox pads. Now, I can’t prove it. But all I know is that the day after we used those foot pads I had a terrible migraine in the middle of the Art Institute.

To be fair, I had worked myself up into a whirlwind tizzy of excitement over in the contemporary section. By the time we worked our way over to the Arms and Armor exhibit I was losing my vision. We sought refuge in the café and I wolfed down a cheese plate. We took a break and returned after dinner. The museum was open until 8:00 and there is something really magical about being in an art museum at night. We had a much better time after the crowds had thinned out.

I loved exploring on foot and taking in all of the Art Deco Architecture. We even went on a walking tour, but it was not Bob’s thing. At one point, he abandoned me to go to a McDonald’s and buy a coffee. Maybe we got on the wrong tour. He thought we were going to be learning about the massive steel skyscrapers. Come to think of it, so did I.

We took the water taxi from the Field Museum to Navy Pier. This was a great view of the city! We concluded that the best thing about Navy Pier was the fantastic hot dog we procured that came on a poppy seed bun and contained a pepper, tomato, onion, and a pickle spear. What a marvelous creation. Another thing we learned about ourselves was that we are New York pizza people. Sorry, Chicago. You just did it a little too much for our taste.

After our visit to the Museum of Contemporary Art we found ourselves wondering through The Drake. We were adopted by the bellman, and taken up the elevator to see some show piece rooms. He said to us: “And this, this is the Princess Di Suite. All of the windows look out to face Lake Michigan. Can’t you just hear Christopher Walken’s Sailing?” It was truly a precious moment when the bellman made that comment. Let me tell you something else. Princess Di had quite a view from this room. Lake Michigan looks just like the ocean.

I saw a corpse of a rat under the “L” in Greek town. He was just lying in the middle of the street, big as a Yorkie.

While strolling through the North River Galleries, a gallery girl kept asking me “Are you trying to build your collection?”

“No,” I answered. “I’m just educating myself.”

“So you can start a collection,” she insisted, nodding her head vigorously and winking at Bob.

I sighed and gave in to her. “Yeah alright, tell me about the Dali illustrations.”

As always, you can find our travels indexed inside our “Play” Journal, by Stealth Journals. A sample page is pictured below:

February 27, 2014 0

A Night at The Myrtles Plantation

Last month, Bob and I had the chance to investigate The Myrtles Plantation on a private overnight stay (this was complete chance, as it was a Sunday night just after the New Year’s holiday). We were booked in the General Bradford Suite for the night, and had the run of the upstairs as well for the entire night. I was surprised to see that the entire house was covered in Haint Blue paint!

The first thing we did after we checked into the room was take the Mel Meter out for a walk around to see if we could get any hits or changes in temperature. Right off the bat, Bob watched the Mel Meter jump to a 6.8 when he held the device against the door leading into our room off the front porch. When we completed our circle of the property, we checked the meter against the door once more. No changes occurred. Also during our walk around the property, my phone went from 60% to completely shutting down. When we got back to the room, I was able to plug the phone in and power it back up. It was immediately at 61% power!

Porch views – day and night shots:

The stay included a tour of the house, and some of the ghost stories are told during this tour. I have read a lot of criticism about these stories, but I am going to reserve comment on all of that for now. I will share our personal experiences for what they are worth.

We spent some time investigating the upper floor, in particular, this creepy blue doll room that I was drawn to. But nothing happened. Not one blip on a meter, not one strange noise, not even a weird feeling to speak of.

Bob speculated that maybe these highfalutin aristocratic ghosts might not be impressed with my requests to “turn on the flashlight.” He makes an interesting point. Asylums and prisons seemed to be filled to the ceiling with entities anxious to make contact. But here, well, we were in someone else’s home. Maybe there were different rules. We cooled it with the ghost hunter schtick and returned to the General Bradford Suite.

Besides sleeping in a real life haunted mansion, all alone, without a living soul in sight and no snacks to speak of, the night passed uneventfully, or so I thought. Bob would report otherwise.

My first strange experience was being awakened around 5:00 a.m. to the sound of clothing rustling near the bed (specifically – rustling skirts), followed by heavy boot steps approaching the room to the door via the front porch. I then heard what sounded like about four wild cats just losing their minds, howling like they were facing death itself out there, while at the same time maintaining a constant run away from whatever was on the porch. By this time I was realizing just how cold the room was. It was down to around 55 degrees but the heat was still running. The front parlor was down to the mid-sixties. The heat was just fine at 72 degrees when we arrived and the time we went to bed. People hear weird stuff when they think they are awake, but really dreaming. Old wooden houses get cold and old heaters break. But why in my almost 33 years on this planet can I not recall a dream where I have had auditory hallucinations? Do I only hallucinate while sleeping in haunted mansions, or was something really going on FOR REAL? Who can say. The mind is a powerful thing (especially mine – I just inserted that to check and see if you are still reading this post, Bob).

Seeing that I was awake also, (and freezing), Bob let me in on what happened to him earlier during the night while I was sleeping peacefully. Bob drifted off around 11:30 p.m. and was awakened by a howling wind. He heard the large shutters banging against the house. He felt the room get noticeably colder by the second, so he reached over to the bedside table and switched the Mel Meter on. He watched the temperature drop 6 degrees right before his eyes. He eventually fell back to sleep, but left the meter on. When he next awoke, he looked at the meter and saw that there had been a 6.8 spike some time in the night. RIGHT BY HIS HEAD.

I noticed a large and very fresh scratch on his head (the right side, closest to the table where the meter was kept) and asked him about it. Neither one of us could figure out how he could make a scratch like that in his sleep. I guess it’s possible I did it somehow, although usually my nails are kept proper ghost hunter style (read: bitten to the quick).

An entry from my journal on the morning of our departure: “When I woke up this morning, I felt really sad. All these places we’ve gone to, I’ve never really felt my own death, but it was very much on my mind this morning, and I was concerned about losing Bob. Wonder if I was being an empath to one of the widows – Mary Catherine or Sara Woodruff? We’re both feeling better as we get further and further away from The Myrtles.”

February 9, 2014 0

Rolling Hills Asylum

In East Bethany, New York, there is a former poor farm by the name of Rolling Hills Asylum. This is the place that started it all as far as the inspiration for Haunted Asylums, Prisons, and Sanatoriums. I thought I would share some of my old photos here.

Shadow hallway:

The morgue:

For more about our adventures at Rolling Hills Asylum, please visit: http://listverse.com/2014/01/26/10-creepy-ghost-hunt-venues/

February 2, 2014 0

Inside Fort Pulaski

I took this photo while walking through Fort Pulaski last Saturday. I love it.

February 2, 2014 0

10 Creepy Ghost Hunt Venues

January 28, 2014 0

Weird Oatland Island

In Beth Dolgner’s Georgia Sprits and Specters, Oatland Island in Savannah, Georgia is mentioned as a haunted hospital. Today, the facility functions as a wildlife center, and there are no current public ghost hunts advertised.

The main building (pictured below) dates from 1927 when it was used as a retirement home for The Brotherhood of Railroad Conductors.

In the 1940s, there was a syphilis crisis and the building was occupied by those suffering from the disease. The patients included children. Ms. Dolgner’s chapter also mentions Oatland being a “development laboratory” for the government agency that preceded the CDC. Shannon Scott created a fantastic film, an excerpt of which can be viewed on his site: http://shannonscotttours.webs.com/apps/videos/videos/show/16961191

Bob and I began our own personal Oatland exploration by exploring the grounds behind the main building.

View from the dock:

I thought I stepped into a scene of the old TV series Lost, when I stumbled upon this boat:

There is a mysterious building in front of the main building that is off-limits (which means I was dying to access it).

Bob was trying to teach me how to use my new camera, and captured some of Oatland’s current residents.

More mysterious buildings out back:

Further Reading
http://www.n-georgia.com/savannah-oatland-island-wildlife-center.html

January 19, 2014 2

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