Note to Directors and Writers: Gore does not Equal Horror

Nosferatu (Image: Wikimedia Commons)

What happened to the horror genera? While a growing trend for the last few decades, it’s now apparently firmly entrenched in the minds of directors and writers (and, unfortunately, many fans) that horror automatically means gratuitous violence and gore.

However, this is a sophomoric and lazy “cheap thrills” approach. “Slasher” films and books have nothing to do with the reality of ghosts and the paranormal. Instead, they rely on shock produced by violence and gore to elicit a reaction.

Starting roughly in the 1960s, the horror genera became less about the story and more about the violence and gore. With the violence and gore taking center stage, as audiences became accustomed to a certain level of violence and gore, the level kept increasing in order to still produce a “shock” reaction. We see the results in today’s “horror” films which attempt to outdo each other in body counts and means to inflict horrific death. Is this really a good situation?

What happened to the good old fashioned scary movie or book in which the horror was largely psychological? Remember the classic Universal movie monsters? Restricted from showing over-the-top violence and gore, the writers were forced to focus on the story. They didn’t have the lazy option of merely showing someone being sawed to pieces to illicit fear. Nosferatu didn’t even have sound, yet remains a deeply disturbing and scary depiction of vampirism.

One of the best horror films ever was the 1963 version of The Haunting.  Amazingly, there’s no crazed, paranormal psychopathic killer on the loose, slashing apart half-naked teens. Instead we’re treated to a highly realistic depiction of ghostly activity. Yes, one character dies at the end, crashing her car after being driven mad by the ghost. Yet we’re never sure if the ghost actually existed or existed only in the troubled young woman’s mind. This film is the stuff of psychological horror – real horror. For what greater horror is there than to be completely uncertain of the reality of one’s own mind?

Is it possible to leave the violence and gore behind to instead focus on the story? We certainly know it’s been done in the past.

The Christmas Tree Ghost Ship

The Rouse Simmons (Image: Chicago Christmas Ship)

The rats always desert a sinking ship.  The though kept repeating through the mind of sailor Hogan Hoganson as he watched rats fleeing the Rouse Simmons; dropping into the frigid water on that cold November day in 1912 as the ship sat tied to the wharf in Chicago.

The Rouse Simmons was the famous Chicago “Christmas Tree Ship.”  Every year at Christmas time, her captain, Herman Schuenemann, sailed across Lake Michigan to Manistique, Michigan, to pick up a load of Christmas trees.  Returning to Chicago, he’d tie-up near the Clark Street Bridge and sell the trees directly to residents of the Windy City.  Schuenemann also earned the moniker “Captain Santa” through his generously giving trees to needy families.

By the time the Rouse Simmons prepared for that faithful 1912 trip, she’d become fairly long in the tooth.  Built in 1868, she’d plied the Great Lakes lumber trade for around twenty years.  Following her lumber service, she changed hands several times until Herman Schuenemann acquired the ship in 1910 in a partnership with fellow captain Charles Nelson and businessman Mannes Bonner.

Schuenemann had the Rouse Simmons recaulked prior to his 1911 Christmas tree trip, but failed to do so before the 1912 sailing, possibly due to his financial situation in connection with debts owed.  Since the other passages had gone off without a hitch, Schuenemann likely expected no trouble.  Besides, even with a heavy cargo of 5,000 Christmas trees, the only real danger came if the tress got wet and froze.

Ominously, Schuenemann’s brother August had died during one of the Christmas tree runs in November 1898.  August had purchased 3,500 trees in Sturgeon Bay and was heading back to Chicago sailing the S. Thal with a crew of three when the ship was caught in a fierce storm off Glencoe, Illinois.  The S. Thal broke apart and went down with all hands.  Herman likely only missed the trip due to the birth of his twin daughters that October.

Despite the trepidation of some of the crew, including Captain Nelson, who told his sister before the voyage, “I know the Simmons isn’t safe, but I promised to go and I can’t go back on my word,” the ship reached port at Manistique without incident.  There the crew and dock hands began filling the ship with trees.

Already troubled by the vision of fleeing rats, the loading of the trees proved the final straw for sailor Hoganson, who refused to sail on the return trip to Chicago.  As he put it:

“When [the captain] had filled the hold with Christmas trees, we were ordered to pile up a deck load.  The load grew and grew and still they had us pilling more and more trees on top…I protested to Captain Nelson, telling him that if we struck heavy weather, the boat would be too top-heavy to weather it.  But the captain seemed to think he knew more about it than a seaman, and ordered us to pile more trees on deck.”

Captain Schuenemann, center (Image: Chicago Christmas Ship)

Schuenemann’s desire to pack the ship with as many trees as possible was likely due to the fact the unpredictable winter weather discouraged other captains from sailing late in the season, while a major snow storm had covered the tree farms in Michigan and Wisconsin.  With the shortage of trees from other sources, Schuenemann possibly saw the potential to make extra profit and pay off his debts.

The Rouse Simmons set out for Chicago on November 21^st with Schuenemann, Nelson and nine other crewmen.  Despite the Great Lakes’ reputation for ferocious winter storms, the 1912 season on Lake Michigan had so far been relatively quiet with only one major storm.  Unfortunately for the men of the Rouse Simmons another major storm was brewing and they found themselves right in the middle of it.

During the night of the 22^nd, fierce winds and waves battered the ship.  Two men were sent on deck to check the lashings for the trees.  A giant wave washed both men overboard along with several trees and the ship’s small boat (her only life boat).

In desperation, Captain Schuenemann directed the dying schooner towards the safety of Bailey’s Harbor.  The storm worsened and continued to buffet the vessel.  The trees remaining on deck began to cake with ice, adding significant additional weight to the already overloaded ship.

The logs of the Kewaunee Life Saving Station record the crew spotting a ship matching the description of the Rouse Simmons at 2:50 pm on November 23^rd.  She was riding low in the water and flying a distress flag.  The station’s rescue boat was out on another mission, so Keeper Nelson Craite telephoned Keeper George E. Sogge at nearby Two Rivers Life Saving Station, alerting him about a vessel in distress.

Shortly after 3:00 pm, Two Rivers station launched their gas-powered rescue boat Tuscarora in an attempt to assist the ailing Rouse Simmons.  The poor visibility made the task almost impossible.  The rescue boat momentarily spotted the Rouse Simmons riding dangerous low in the water, but quickly lost sight of her in the rapidly deteriorating weather conditions.  After an unsuccessful two-hour search, the storm and coming darkness forced the Tuscarora to return to port.  The Rouse Simmons and her crew were never seen or heard from again, although hope remained that she might have found safe harbor to ride out the storm.

A few days later, all hope was lost as bits of the Rouse Simmons began to wash up on shore, including a note.  The note, found stuffed inside a bottle crocked with a small piece of pine cut from one of the Christmas trees, read:

“Friday…everybody goodbye.  I guess we are all through.  During the night the small boat washed overboard.  Leaking bad.  Invald and Steve lost too.  God help us.”

True to form that the Great Lakes never give up her dead, the body of Captain Schuenemann was never recovered.

In 1924, Captain Schuenemann’s wallet, still wrapped in protective oilskin, was discovered in the net of a fishing boat.  Then in 1971, a salvage diver discovered the remains of the Rouse Simmons, her hold still filled with Christmas trees, resting in 172 feet of water.

Yet, since shortly after her fateful final voyage, Great Lakes sailors have reported seeing the ghost of the Rouse Simmons.  She’s most often spotted on moonlit nights, her sails ripped to tatters and wildly flapping about as if blown by gale winds, as she and her phantom crew continue in desperation to reach safety.  Sailors claim one moment she is there and the next she has vanished…

[© 2010 All rights reserved.  This copyrighted material may not be reposted or reproduced in any form without permission.]

A Glass of Water and a Cursed Town

Hendry County Courthouse (Image: Author)

It all began with a misunderstanding over a request for a glass of water.  On June 3, 1926, Henry Patterson, a black laborer, knocked on the backdoor of a home in LaBelle seeking a glass of water to help combat the hot, sticky Florida summer.  The housewife, seeing a strange black man at the backdoor and fearing the worse, fled screaming in a panic through the front door.

Rumor and hysteria spread like wildfire.  Several men of the town worked themselves into a fever pitch.  Before he even knew what was happening, Henry Patterson was dead, the victim of multiple gunshot wounds.

The sheriff rounded up about a dozen men believed responsible for Patterson’s death.  Not surprisingly for a small town in the 1920s south, evidence during the trial proved contradictory and confusing.  As a result, the judge ruled it was impossible to fix blame and dismissed the case.  No one was ever convicted for the senseless murder of Henry Patterson.

Following the trial, the rain dried up.  With little rain already, farmers looked forlornly towards the sky.  It rained in the counties near LaBelle, but not in or around the town itself, save for a few teasing drops – barely enough to even wet the dust.

Thunder boomed and rolled ominously on the horizon, but this wasn’t unusual for a Florida summer.  Suddenly, the town was jarred by a sharp crack and the sound of a massive explosion.  Residents felt the ground itself rumble.  The smell of ozone filled the air.  Rushing outside, townsfolk discovered a stray lightning bolt had stuck the courthouse clock tower, smashing and setting fire to the clock works.  The lightning strike caused the clock bell to sound and its vibrations lingered as the storm clouds quickly dissipated.

The town fathers said it was simply a freak of nature and quickly ordered the clock repaired.  But then the same thing happened again – and again.  The tower and the clock works were inspected and a lightning rod system installed.  Nothing seemed to help.  The clock was repaired only to be struck by lightning again.

Quiet whisperings began to circulate that Henry Patterson was having his revenge on LaBelle.  Cooler heads dismissed such suggestions as utter nonsense.  Events soon caused even the skeptics to question their off-hand dismissal of an otherworldly explanation.

As the town prepared to celebrate Independence Day on July 4, 1929, storm clouds again formed over LaBelle.  A massive bolt flashed from the clouds with a deafening roar.  It smashed into the clock tower with enough force to break off a large stone which smashed through the courthouse roof.  Venturing inside, residents discovered the stone had crashed into the courtroom where Patterson’s trail was held, nearly crushing the judge’s bench.

Coincidence or not, the town fathers decided to take no more chances.  The clock was dismantled, its works and massive hands stored in the courthouse basement.

Years passed; old residents left or died off, new people arrived.  Over time, people became so used to seeing the clock face without hands, many believed it’d never had any to begin with.  Some outsiders seeing the handless clock even assumed LaBelle was so laid back, the town didn’t bother to keep time.  The old clock bell was removed and given to a local Baptist church.  For years, the clock tower sat as a mute reminder of LaBelle’s shame.

As the years passed, the few remaining old-timers noticed the lightning strikes had stopped.  Hesitatingly, talk began of getting the old clock running once again.  New works were installed and the hands placed back on the clock face.  Finally, at 3 pm on Saturday, February 22, 1975, the clock was started.  It ran perfectly.  It continues to run to this day without incident.  Apparently, Henry Patterson satisfied his revenge.

The Boiler Room Ghost

In the early part of the 20^th century, the coal-fired boilers of the old county courthouse were replaced with new oil-fired boilers.  While the new boilers eliminated the back-breaking task of shoveling tons of coal, they did require a worker to light them by hand every morning.  For years, the boilers operated without a problem, except for that fateful Wednesday morning in 1942.

On that chilly morning, the janitor arrived for work and set about his chores just as he’d done for the previous five years.  Everything seemed perfectly normal as he walked into the boiler room.  He probably anticipated the comforting warmth the furnace would soon send through the cold, dank building.  All sense of normalcy vanished in an instant as he reached out to light the boiler at 7:10 am.  With a thunderous boom, the boiler backfired, belching flames and engulfing the helpless janitor in a deadly inferno.

A city disposal truck driver was passing the courthouse when he saw the flash and heard the explosion.  Jumping from his truck, he ran to the boiler room door where he found the janitor caught in the doorway with his clothes on fire.  The driver dragged the janitor from the building and began tearing off his burning clothing.  At the same time, a woman dashed from her apartment across the street with a blanket to help smother the flames.

The janitor was rushed to the county hospital with massive burns over his entire body.  He stubbornly clung to life for several hours, but finally succumbed to his injuries and died at 2:15 in the afternoon.

The janitor’s spirit apparently remains in the basement of the old courthouse, desperately seeking water to extinguish the flames and repeatedly reliving the final agonizing moments of his mortal life.  Many people over the years have reported clouds of smoke, clanking, moaning, and agonizing screams of pain in the basement near the location where the boiler once stood.

A particularly chilling tale of the janitor’s ghost involves a facilities foreman who worked at the old courthouse (now a museum) a number of years ago.  As the story goes, the man was hired shortly after moving to town and scoffed when told stories of the janitor’s apparition by his coworkers.  To prove his mettle and fearlessness, the man often volunteered to work alone in the building – staying late and arriving early.  Of course, he surely didn’t mind the overtime he collected as well.

All this changed one morning.  The man arrived early and set about preparing the building for the day.  Working near the old boiler room, he became aware of a muffled sound nearby.  He ignored it at first, but it became louder.  As the sound increase, he finally found it impossible to ignore and looked towards the location of the sound.  He was startled to see a white mist.  It dawned on the man that the sound was similar to approaching footsteps.  He also noticed the temperature in the room felt as if it was rapidly increasing.

As the man watched in now frightened disbelief, the mist solidified into the smoldering figure of the long-dead janitor.  The apparition screamed and slowly sank to the floor.  It glowed as if on fire and convulsed in apparent excruciating pain while its arms flailed seeming to search in vain for a water bucket to extinguish the phantom flames.  Finally, the body turned to a pile of ashes and with one last horrifying groan, disappeared.  The time was 7:10 am.  The man let out a blood curdling scream heard three blocks away, ran from the courthouse, packed his bags, and was never seen in town again.

Yet, to this day, the staff maintains that the old janitor continues to haunt the basement and most avoid ever going down there alone.

[© 2010 All rights reserved.  This copyrighted material may not be reposted or reproduced in any form without permission.]

The Tanker Ghost

KC-10 - U.S. Air Force Photo

The KC-10 tanker is a magnificent aircraft.  Based on the McDonnell Douglas DC-10 airliner, the KC-10 represented a great step forward in U.S. Air Force air-refueling capability over the 1950s era KC-135 tanker at the time of its introduction in the 1980s.  The KC-10 carries more fuel and more cargo than the KC-135.  Additionally, the KC-10 is itself air-refuelable, greatly extending its mission range over the KC-135.  Between 1981 and 1987, the U.S. Air Force took delivery of sixty KC-10s.  Fifty nine aircraft remain in service.  One aircraft, tail number 82-0190, was destroyed in a ground fire with the loss of one life.

On September 17, 1987, KC-10 82-0190 landed at Barksdale AFB in Louisiana.  The crew taxied-in and parked the aircraft without incident.  About an hour after the crew departed, three maintenance ground crew members were working on the aircraft.  According to the mishap report, one airman was in the cockpit, one was in the left main gear well and the other was in the boom operator’s station at the rear of the aircraft.  Unbeknownst to the ground crew, a leak had caused fuel vapors to accumulate in the center avionics bay, which is a small compartment filled with electronic equipment underneath the main floor amidships in the aircraft.  Somehow, perhaps from a spark due to electrical arching, the fuel vapors ignited, and with 63,000 pounds of jet fuel in the tanks, resulted in a massive fire.  Miraculously, two of the ground crew escaped the inferno, but one perished in the explosion and fire.

Once the mishap investigation concluded, the Air Force dutifully salvaged what parts it could from the burned-out hulk of 82-0190.  These parts went back into the KC-10 supply inventory and were used on other airframes as needed.  At this point, the official Air Force story concludes.  However, as a few in the KC-10 community know, by firsthand experience, this was not the end of the story.

Similar to reports of appearances by Don Repo’s apparent ghost on L-1011 aircraft which received parts salvaged from Eastern Airlines flight 401 after it crashed in the Everglades in 1972, KC-10 air and ground crew began experiencing strange incidents on aircraft which had received parts from 82-0190.  A couple people claim to have encountered an apparition of the deceased airman.  However, the most common report is the smell of the aftershave worn by the airman.  Those who knew the airman in life claim he enjoyed using liberal amounts of aftershave.  These people insist the scent they’ve encountered is the same smell they associated with the airman when he was alive – yet they smelled it after his death and while working alone.

I’ve personally spoken with several of these witnesses during candid conversations in which they had no reason to lie.  I’m confident that at the very least they believe they have encountered the airman’s ghost.  Interestingly, scent is one of the most often reported signs associated with paranormal activity – the other being sound.

Is the Air Force KC-10 fleet haunted?  Perhaps, but considering it maintains the best safety record of all aircraft in the Air Force inventory, not many people find reason to complain about the airman’s ghost watching over the remaining airframes.

[© 2010 All rights reserved.  This copyrighted material may not be reposted or reproduced in any form without permission.]

“Ghost Magnet”

Have you met anyone (or even perhaps it’s you) who seems to be a “ghost magnet?”  This isn’t necessarily someone who’s “sensitive” or “psychic,” but someone who seems somehow “tuned in” to paranormal activity.  It’s as if the paranormal often finds them, not the other way around.  In almost every case, it’s not the person loudly proclaiming he or she is “seeing ghosts” everywhere.  Instead, it’s usually the person who’s quiet and introspective – you never know about this person’s brush with the supernatural until he or she feels comfortable enough to confide in you about their “experiences.”

I met one such person several years ago while attending college in the northwest.  This person, “Mary,” had already experienced more paranormal activity than most people experience in a lifetime.  As often seems to be the case among those who have a strong connection to the paranormal, Mary’s mother and grandmother were also “sensitive” to the paranormal.

Mary’s ancestors were early settlers to the area.  Consequently, the family maintained a small cemetery just outside of town.  During high school, Mary and a guy-friend decided to visit the cemetery at night, taking along an Ouija Board.  As they soon learned the hard way, Ouija Boards are not something to play around with.  Mary and her friend sat on the grass and began attempting to “communicate” with “spirits” using the Ouija Board.

They soon became aware of a “presence” coming towards them.  Mary felt whatever it was had malevolent intent.  She ushered her friend back into their car.  At this point, Mary wanted to leave, but her friend insisted they continue their “experiment.”  This time, the friend seemed to go into some sort of trance, which obviously frightened Mary a great deal – particularly since she again “felt” the entity moving towards them.

She finally succeeded in snapping her friend out of his “trace.”  They both knew it was time to cease “playing with” the Ouija Board and leave the cemetery immediately.  Once they’d gotten away, Mary quizzed her friend about what happened.  He reported feeling as if an angry old man with a limp was coming towards them.

Curiosity forced Mary to return to the cemetery the next day.  Investigating in the direction from which she’d felt the presence coming from the night before, she found the headstone of a lone male set off from the other family plots.  Unfortunately, none of her relatives recalled the man, who’d died many years earlier.

On another occasion, Mary reported visiting a local history museum housed in a historic home.  She viewed the displays on the first floor without incident.  However, as she climbed the stairs to the second floor, Mary began feeling a heaviness, which she likened to walking into a tarp blocking the stairs.  She described it as so completely overpowering, she was unable to reach the top of the staircase.  Both her mother and grandmother experienced similar powerful “negative” feelings about the second floor.  Supposedly, a psychic visited the location afterwards and claimed “feeling” the presence on the second floor of a male who strongly hated women.

In the metro area where our college was located, a major interstate passed right next to one of the city’s largest cemeteries.  One time while driving down this freeway alone, Mary felt something suddenly enter her backseat as she passed the cemetery.  Mary was convinced something or someone was now in the backseat of her car.  She said she was so scared with its overwhelming presence she could not bring herself to look in the rearview mirror as she felt positive she’d see whatever it was looking back at her.  As she neared her home, she could no longer stand feeling its presence.  Mary slammed on her brakes then yelled at the top of her lungs, “Get out of my car!”  She said she felt it immediately disappear from her car.  She made it home without further incident, but never did look in the back seat until the next day.

My own interesting personal experience connected with Mary happened while visiting her parent’s house one evening.  Walking into a bathroom, just as I was about to flip on the light switch, I felt a cat brush against my leg.  Knowing there were no cats in the house, I searched in vain for what I might have brushed against, but found nothing.  When I mentioned the incident to Mary, she told me their cat had died a few months prior.  Had I encountered a “ghost” cat?  If so, at least it seemed to like me since I didn’t get clawed.

Can I verify any of these incidents?  Certainly not.  However, they do make for interesting – and if nothing else, amusing – anecdotes.

So, who’s your “ghost magnet?”

[© 2010 All rights reserved.  This copyrighted material may not be reposted or reproduced in any form without permission.]

Poltergeists in History

Although the word poltergeist, from the German for “noisy ghost,” entered the English lexicon relatively recently, dating back to the mid-1800s, what we’d now call poltergeist activity is found in much older historical records.  Take for example the following account recorded by the Welsh scholar Giraldus Cambrensis in his Itinerarium Kambriae from around 1191:

In this part of Pembrokeshire it has happened in our own times that foul spirits have held intercourse with men, not indeed so as to be seen, but so as to make themselves sensibly manifest.  For in the home, first of a certain Stephen Wiriet, and later in that of William Not, they rendered their presence known by the throwing of lumps of dirt (jactu sordium) and of other things meant to deride rather than to do bodily injury.  In William’s house, as both the host himself and his guests had repeatedly to deplore, they made rents and holes in garments both of linen and cloth, and against this mischief no amount of watchfulness, no locks or bolts, afforded the least protection.  But what was stranger still, in Stephen’s house the spirit used to talk with men, and when people bandied words with it, as many did in mockery, it taxed them with all the things they had ever done in their lives which they were least willing should be known or spoken about.

By the early 20^th century, researchers made the connection that poltergeist activity often centered on a particular person, now referred to as the poltergeist agent.  The poltergeist agent was, and is, generally a teenager, often female, and almost always under serious emotional distress.  Consequently, it seems likely poltergeist activity doesn’t have anything to do with “ghosts,” but instead involves some sort of psychic activity, normally with the poltergeist agent completely unaware he or she is manifesting such energy.

In the case noted above, while we don’t know much more about the specifics, Giraldus provided a compelling clue the events involved poltergeist activity.  He noted with surprise that in hauntings of this sort the use of holy water, even holy water from the font on Holy Saturday, had no effect on the activity.  In fact, priests arriving to perform sacramental rites often became the first ones pelted by dirt.  Strong indications records of poltergeist activity exist far back in human history.

Refecence: Rev. Herbert Thurston, S.J.  Ghosts and Poltergeists.  Fort Collins, CO: Roman Catholic Books, 1988. (Reprint of work originally published in 1953.)

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Got Ghosts (Stories)?

Hooded Monk

It was a dark and stormy night . . .

I love a good ghost story, especially when you’re not quite sure where fact and fiction divide – or even if there is any fiction . . .

Ghost stories rank among the oldest oral traditions of folklore.  They remain some of the most popular tales to this day.  Perhaps it’s because they touch, in an “entertaining” way, the great metaphysical questions of life and death and “the meaning of it all.”

To help preserve these oral traditions, I’m starting a project to collect, and hopefully eventually publish in some form, a few of these ghostly takes of folklore.

I need your help, please.

First, I’m looking for stories from my local area of Lakeland-Bartow-Plant City – essentially Eastern Hillsborough and Polk Counties.  I’ve heard a few, but I’m sure there’s more out there.

Second, I’m also tracking down stories from military posts, bases, and stations.  I know people have encountered strange things over the years, especially at older sites, but even newer ones as well (such as the ghost of the old woman at the Laughlin Clinic who some believe is a former patient from the time the clinic was the in-patient base hospital).

Know any stories of know someone who does?  Want to help?  If so, please contact me via email.  Thanks for your assistance!

[© 2010 All rights reserved.  This copyrighted material may not be reposted or reproduced in any form without permission.]