Ghost Story

The Glen Tavern Inn

CHECKING OUT A HISTORIC SANTA PAULA HOTEL TO SEE IF SPIRITS HAVE CHECKED IN.

By Anthony Head

It's 8:30 pm. A slim grin of a moon hangs in the clear sky above, while in the distance a train slowly click-clacks through the shadows of the Heritage Valley, occasionally blowing a lonely whistle. In the darkening Santa Paula night I approach the Glen Tavern Inn, wondering what the next few hours would reveal to me.

Most communities have rich histories of hauntings and unexplained phenomena. Innocent stories are stoked-- goosebump by goosebump-- into ghostly legends by parents or older siblings to entertain young children. But a number of ghost enthusiasts have branded the handsome Tudor-style hotel before me as one of the most haunted sites in Southern California. Built in 1911, The Glen Tavern Inn has a wonderfully checkered past complete with gambling parlors, brothels, even a speakeasy. But for nearly a century, guests have reported more mystifying and unearthly happenings within.

I don't consider events not easily explained by science to be evidence of the paranormal; likewise, not everything claimed as supernatural should be dismissed as just flummery. Which is why I sit alone in the second floor hallway awaiting Ventura Haunts, a ghost-hunter's organization that invited me to witness their investigation of The Glen Tavern Inn. With the de rigueur floral-print carpeting and pockmarked walls, the place isn't rundown so much as it has simply been allowed to grow old politely. A man in room 211 comes out and asks if I'm okay. After he closes the door I overhear him remarking about "the weirdo in the hallway." I make a note that the walls are thin.

Still alone at 9 p.m., I try to come up with a play on words about how, apparently, ghost hunters are as "late" as their subjects (get it?) when noise erupts from room 214. The door opens and a woman asks my name then excitedly ushers me inside. It's a coven-like atmosphere, with the room illuminated only by a flashlight in the corner. Huddled mostly on the floor, the group has apparently made contact with the spirit of a 5-year-old girl named Melissa.

My eyes adjust to the dark and here's what I observe: A woman sitting on the floor asks Melissa about her past. Standing in the middle of the room, another woman holds a pair of thin, L-shaped pieces of metal, called dowsing rods. When Melissa answers a yes-or-no question in the affirmative, the rods swing around and cross. An unseen person is calling out temperature changes, while a man videotapes the proceedings.

Melissa is asked to kick a rubber ball to demonstrate that she's there. Nothing happens. She's encouraged to tap on the windows. Nothing. And when someone else takes the dowsing rods the activity grinds to a halt. Then the woman who let me into the room says Melissa is still around, and in fact, she's in her back. The woman appears to be in quite a bit of discomfort and says she feels chills going through her. (I feel nothing out of the ordinary, but then again, a disembodied spirit isn't in my back.) A sudden temperature drop in the woman is announced just as two gauges on the floor begin beeping and flashing. After a few minutes, the activity stops and the group determines that Melissa has left.

When the lights come on, I see about I see about a dozen people and can put names to voices. Debi Wilson calls herself a "sensitive," though most people use the term "psychic." She asked most of the questions. Marie Knights originally let me in and then felt the sensation of being walked though. Corinna Renteria was armed with a temperature gun, making it easy for her to pinpont cold spots. I also see the pair of electromagnetic meters on the floor, which apparently had detected spirit energy. The group is quite excited about their findings.

When discussing paranormal activity, opinions vary greatly-- from dismissive to skeptical to open-minded to firm believer. Ventura Haunts invites all kinds to join, as long as they're sincere and inquisitive. I ask if there are any non-believers present.

"I've never seen anything, but I want to believe," says Gerry Lindsuing, who was filming the events. "I've got this camera and other equipment that I use to look for proof. I do think there's something out there."

For Marie, the debate is over about such phenomena. "I've seen and felt things that I can't explain, but my experiences have proven to me that we are living amongst spirits," she says. "Most people who join us, though, haven't actually had the proof they're looking for. But they've had little bits and pieces that lead them to think there's something else there."

This is Chris Lowe's first investigation and he builds on that though. "I'm not here to make science and religion clash. I think I can put together what I feel spiritually and what I feel could happen scientifically."

I feel the group is diligent about accepting "normal" reasons for unexplained activity. For example, some temperature changes tonight were attributed to doors being opened. But they had checked the room beforehand for electromagnetic fileds, leaving the electromagnetic meters' activity unexplained. For some, this is a passion; for others, it's a hobby. For all, it seems, it's a social event. Shortly after the Melissa episode, sodas and chips are shared along with stories of other haunted places in the area.

At 10:45 p.m., we regroup in the lobby with innkeeper Susan Pardo. She confirms that the ghost of a child is often seen on the second floor. She also tells us about Calvin, a crooked card dealer who was reportedly shot to death on the third floor, and who still haunts the inn. When she shows us around the dining room, the group begins taking pictures like it's a red-carpet spectacle. Bright flashes go off everywhere in an attempt to find orbs.

A great debate over orbs rages in the paranormal community. Some believe that the glowing balls of light that show up on digital photographs are spirit energies, while others dismiss them as inadequate pixelation or flash reflections of dust particles. When Gladys Wyzorowski takes a photo in the darkened restaurant space, it clearly shows an orb against heavy non-reflective drapery behind me. It's right there on her digital camera, but I can't say what it is.

When the group divides up to try and make contact with Calvin, the child, or a female specter who walks the lobby in a white gown, I stay on the ground floor to witness table-tipping: Three members lay their finger tips on a table and attempt to summon a spirit to move it. After 20 minutes, there has been no bridging of the worlds, so I wander up to the damaged third floor around midnight. (The inn suffered a fire a few months ago and, while still open for business, is undergoing renovation.) Encountering nothing, I sit again in the second-floor hallway waiting for Meliisa to kick a child's ball that's been left there for her. I hear voices in the empty hallway (but it's that guy in room 211, still smirking).

People who've seen ghost-hunting television shows might think that without all the jump-cuts, lighting effects and ambient background music that a real ghost hunt would be undramatic, but I find the night to be exciting. The anticipation is quite riveting while waiting for something--- anything--- to happen. Unfortunately, nothing does.

Inside the "Houdini Room," members gather to contact the late illusionist. Although there is no documentation that Houdini ever stayed at the inn, room 223 is dedicated to his memory. Mariann Inman holds the dowsing rods as Debi asks the questions. The rods cross and diverge often in Mariann's hands, although the spirit never identifies itself. But when I take the rods and hear the questions, I observe that my natural body movements cause them to swing. (This unconscious psychological reaction, I later discover, is called ideomotor action.) When I concentrate I find that I can keep the rods perfectly still. Chris takes the rods and is also cautious not to move them himself--- and indeed they are motionless. I ask him why he thinks that is. He looks troubled then responds that maybe he wasn't open enough in his mind to allow a spirit to "speak" through him. Debi and Mariann echo this sentiment.

Just then, a dark, devilish laugh rings out. While it startles some in the group, I suspect Mr. Fun in room 211 is still up to his games. It's now about 3 a.m. and I decide it's time to take my leave. Had something paramormal been proven to me during this investigation, it would surely open my universe to even greater mysteries. For now, however, I am unconvinced.

The Glen Tavern Inn remains for me solely a quaint hotel, but I still keep an open mind, which is what I think the ghosts would want. As I clicked on the radio to keep me awake during the drive home, the song playing was The Police's "We Are Spirits In The Material World" from the album Ghost In The Machine.That's a true story.

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