Authors: Goldie Browning
The man with the Hard Rock tee shirt raised his hand. “I read somewhere that Eureka Springs is supposed to be so haunted because the springs that flow underneath the mountain create a lot of energy that attracts spirits.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that theory before,” Cheryl admitted. “Anyway, lots of people believed the waters were curative, so they settled here and in the 1870’s Eureka Springs was turned into a resort town. The Crescent Hotel was built in 1886 and became a five-star hotel that attracted wealthy people from all over the world. It was operated as a hotel until 1907, when it became an exclusive finishing school for wealthy young ladies. The school operated until the Depression and then everything fell apart. Eureka was just about boarded up. It was during that period that it became a cancer hospital…yep. The Crescent has gone through some tough times over the years.”
The man interrupted again. “The first time I came to the Crescent was in the late 1980’s and it was literally falling apart. It had nasty 70’s carpeting; the plaster was falling off the walls; it looked like something out of
The Shining
.”
“I remember that period,” said Cheryl. “We’re very grateful to the present owner who’s been refurbishing it for the past few years. It’s been a huge project. So. Are you guys ready to take a walk?” asked Cheryl, glancing around the room. “Uh huh, you are? Well, come on then!”
Cheryl turned left after exiting the Faculty Lounge and led the way down the hall. The group followed, huddling closely when she stopped and gestured toward a short hallway that split off to the right.
“Okay, over there are a couple of our most haunted rooms. The North Penthouse and Room 419. But I’m not going to talk about ‘em just yet. Okay? Time to go down,” said Cheryl and then headed down the stairs.
“She’s talking about our room,” whispered Emma.
“I know,” Zan replied. “Pretty cool, huh?
Emma nodded and continued trudging with the group down the winding staircase. A black cat lay on a bench in the stairwell; its orange eyes gazed disdainfully at the intrusion.
Their first stop was the third floor. Cheryl resumed her spiel.
“Now over here at the end of this hall is a square building called the annex. It connects to the main building on both the second and third floors. This is where the servants would stay during Victorian times—and later it became an asylum for cancer patients who had gone insane.”
Allen and Phoebe’s eyes widened as they stared at each other. Zan grinned and poked his brother in the ribs. “Guess you feel right at home, huh?”
Cheryl laughed and continued her story. “It’s been renovated into luxury Jacuzzi suites now. But right about in this area on the second floor, usually around 9:00 or 9:30 at night, you might see a nurse pushing an older gentleman in a wheelchair down the hall. Then they fade out and disappear—all right—let’s continue on.”
Emma rolled her eyes. Zan noticed her look and placed his finger over her lips. She suppressed a giggle as they continued walking.
Cheryl stopped near the elevator and resumed her speech. “Okay, on this floor is another nurse—not the same one—pushing a gurney. On the gurney is a body covered with a sheet. We’ve never been able to see who it is. She’s very noisy and the gurney wheels squeak. They’re coming up the hall toward the elevator, where they just disappear. It’s always around 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning. Now technically, these nurses are not really ghosts. It’s called
old energy
. It’s an imprint on time because the same thing replays over and over again, kind of like watching a movie on a VCR. Every time you rewind it, it never changes.
“Another ghost seen frequently is a girl about eighteen or nineteen in a long white dress, like a school uniform. Dozens of people have seen her climb over the third floor balcony and jump. The legend is that from 1907 until the Depression, when this was the Crescent College for Young Ladies, this girl got killed. People often see her out in the garden darting between the trees like she’s hunting for someone.
“One of two local legends is she had an affair and got pregnant, and to save her family honor she jumped from the third floor balcony and killed herself. The other story that floats around town is that she was having an affair with a male professor in the building, and to save his job and his tushy, he pitched her over.”
“Which one do you believe?” asked Phoebe.
“We don’t know which one is true, but most likely the first one, since nobody ever sees anyone but her. What we do know is that people will consistently see this girl fall from the third floor balcony. Now you don’t see her land. If you really do see someone fall and go splat, please call 9-1-1.”
“This is getting sillier by the minute,” Emma mumbled. She glanced around and noticed expressions of polite amusement on other people in the group.
They followed Cheryl on down the stairs, where she stopped halfway down the hall of the second floor. Moonbeam and Chief Whitefeather stayed in the back, oblivious to anything but each other.
“Okay, the first thing we’re gonna talk about is this room right here.” Cheryl pointed to Room 218. A man and woman carrying suitcases passed the tour crowd. “Are you guys needing to get by? Everybody, let them pass, please.”
“Thanks,” said the man. “Which one’s the haunted room?”
“They
all
are,” replied Cheryl. “But Room 218 is the most famous one. It’s probably rented. It’s the most asked-for room because of Michael. People think it’s their best shot at seeing a ghost.”
“Who’s Michael?” asked the talkative boy.
“Michael was an Irish stonemason who was brought here back in the olden days with a big crew to build the Crescent. They had finished the outside structure, but the inside was still just scaffolding. Michael supposedly fell to his death right there where Room 218 is now. Whether this story is true or not, we don’t know. But what we do know is there is someone who likes the attention and has taken up permanent residence in that room.”
“Whoa!” The little boy grinned at his grandmother.
“Michael is a poltergeist,” said Cheryl, smiling warmly at the buzz of excitement that swept through the group. “If you check your dictionary you’ll see that it literally means a noisy ghost. A poltergeist can move things. He turns off and on lights or the water in the bathroom. He has a habit of moving all your stuff around and putting his hands through the mirror while you’re applying your makeup or fixing your hair.”
“Oh, my goodness,” said the middle-aged woman. “That would scare me to death.”
“He’s just playing,” replied Cheryl. “Okay, now we’re not gonna go back up to the fourth floor again, but I want to talk to you about a particular room up there. Room 419. That’s Theodora’s room.”
Allen’s eyes lit up. Emma stared at him with a warning look. He sighed loudly and appeared resigned. She had to smother a laugh.
“Is Theodora a ghost?” asked the boy.
“Oh, yes. She’s our sweet little grandmother,” replied Cheryl. “We found her literally by accident. One of our guys was up on a ladder one day doing some stenciling work in the room. He heard this little old lady’s voice say
‘I really like what you’re doing to my room’
. He turned around to say thanks and nobody was there. So he went back to work. Then she said it again and this time he saw her.
“She’s an elderly lady about five feet tall. He asked her who she was and she said
‘I’m Theodora. I’m one of Dr. Baker’s patients’
. Which means she had cancer. The next day we asked the hotel staff about her and they said they talked to her all the time, but they never told anybody because they didn’t want to scare her off. They tell everybody about Michael, on the other hand, ‘cause he’s ornery and he loves the attention.”
“Have you seen her yourself?” asked Allen in a serious voice, locking eyes with Emma.
“Oh, yeah. Many times. She’s a little bitty thing wearing a long black dress with a white crocheted collar. She looks frail, but she’s not quite as helpless as she seems. She’s notorious for standing right outside her door rummaging through her purse like she can’t find her keys. People from surrounding rooms will ask her if she needs help and she’ll say
‘No thanks. I do this all the time’
and then disappears. Freaks ‘em out when she does that.”
“I’ve noticed a door right next to 419 that seems to have its own staircase,” said Zan. “Is that some sort of penthouse?”
“Um hm,” said Cheryl. “That’s the North Penthouse—directly above 419. It was Dr. Baker’s private residence—I’ll tell you all about him when we get to the basement. He used to keep machine guns hanging on the walls. That room is very, very active.”
Goose bumps rose on Emma’s arms. She thought about the little door in the wall in the parlor and shivered. Zan squeezed her shoulder and she felt better.
“What were the machine guns for?” asked the boy.
“We’ll get to that in a little while,” said Cheryl. “All right. Is everybody ready to go to the basement? Before we do, I just want to tell you a couple of rules. One of them is no running. The other one is no poking anybody on the back. By the time you get to the basement, this tour gets pretty intense, so I don’t want anybody getting hurt if they panic. Okay? Let’s go.”
The noise of a dozen people descending the ancient stairs echoed throughout the building. Hotel guests waited patiently for the group to pass. Emma laughed to herself when she compared their polite reverence to a funeral procession.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Phoebe held tight to Allen’s hand, practically dragging him down the stairs. “I can just feel the vibrations of all the spirits who still walk these halls.”
Emma laughed at Phoebe’s exuberance. Her earlier anger had dissipated, caught up by the adventurous spirit generated by the tour. Intellectually she knew the stories were hogwash, but she was still having fun. She felt like a twelve year old at a pajama party listening to ghost stories.
“Emma—psst! Over there.” Zan poked Emma on the arm. She glanced up just in time to see Moonbeam and the Chief break away from the group and head back upstairs.
“Well,” exclaimed Emma. “I guess some people just can’t wait for the tour to get over.”
“I know how they feel.” Zan nuzzled her ear. “Don’t forget. I’m gonna hold you to your promise, you know.”
“Zan, there are other people trying to get down the steps too,” Emma scolded and pulled him forward. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten. Just don’t
you
get all worn out from running up and down these stairs.”
When they reached the basement, Cheryl motioned for them to sit on the steps while she stood and talked. Emma smiled when she felt her husband pull her into his lap as he settled himself on the stairs. The whole group—minus the two who had sneaked off—made themselves as comfortable as possible.
“Okay, is everybody here?” Cheryl scanned the group. “Did we lose some people?”
“I don’t think they’ll be back,” said Allen, raising and lowering his eyebrows.
“All right, whatever.” Cheryl smiled with understanding. “On this level everything changes. Once we go through that door we’ll go back through the laundry room and to the maintenance department. You’ll be going into an area you would never get to see unless you were on this tour. It’s gonna look different. It’s gonna feel different. The walls are a little bit closer. The ceilings are a little bit lower. You’re going to see the stone structure that was put in place in 1886 that actually holds the hotel up as a grid work. It kind of looks like the dungeon of a castle. It makes great special effects for us, but it tends to make your imagination run away with you. So don’t run and trip over your own feet or I guarantee everybody is gonna laugh at you.”
The calico suddenly appeared and began rubbing against Allen’s pant leg. He jumped in fright. Laughter rippled throughout the basement.
“He’d better not get himself locked up down here or we’ll have another ghost kitty, like Morris.”
“Who’s Morris?” asked the boy.
“Morris was the Crescent’s marmalade tabby for over twenty years. Everybody referred to him as
The Manager
. He’s buried in the back of the hotel near the patio. There’s also a picture of him in the lobby.”
Emma turned toward Zan and buried her face in his chest to hide her mirth. Ghost cats. What would they come up with next? She straightened her face and continued to listen.
“Now there are only three years of history we deal with on this level which makes up a big percentage of the entities at the Crescent—1937 through 1940. In 1937 Eureka was flat broke. The only industry they had here was tourism and during the Depression not many people could afford to go vacationing.
“There was a man who drove into town one day in a purple Cord convertible. He was only five foot five. He had on his trademark outfit, which was a white suit and a lavender shirt with an art deco tie. Everything about him was very colorful and flamboyant. He was throwing cash around like it was water. Now when a town is broke, the mayor and everybody rolls out the red carpet for somebody like him. They’re thinking
‘Oh thank God. He’s going to save the town.’
”
“Was this Dr. Baker?” asked Phoebe.