Paranormal Misdiscoveries...

There is a ton of absolutely mind-boggling ghost hunting out there. And even more, there is an unending wealth of erroneous history, bad investigating, and sheer stupidity. Most of the time, I just breeze by these things and roll my eyes. But yesterday, after watching a half hour video by Discovery Paranormal, I just couldn't bite my tongue any harder. It was begging me to pick it apart... and shed some truth on the reality behind the "Lehigh Valley Train Crash of 1911".

The video starts off with a walk down railroad tracks to the site of the accident, which occurred on August 25, 1911 on a trestle near Manchester, New York, spanning the Canandaigua Outlet. Three passenger cars plunged off the bridge when a faulty steel rail broke apart under the train (which was traveling at excessive speed). According to Michael Angley, the narrator for the show, they also investigated the nearby roundhouse which was "the last place the passengers were before the crash." We'll get back to that major mistake later, but first let's get to the bridge investigation.

It's obvious from the terrible audio that he's using the same full spectrum HD camcorder I have (and didn't feel the need to bother with an external microphone). Heading down the tracks, he says that the train "went down in the ravine," which is a partial truth. Three of the 14 excursion cars went down; that is all. The team's psychic Tammy sensed "it's like fear... it's like 'oh my god, we're going down' kind of feeling... people were scared; I hear children crying and... crash." Really. At a train crash site? But then, Michael goes on: "...back then, those trains they had no safety devices; you know, it was 1911. We're talking about... you're going down 40 feet in a wood and metal coffin; essentially, you're dead."

The first railroad safety improvements (beginning with air brakes) were made in the 1870s. He makes 1911 rail travel sound downright rustic. But if you look at photos of the crashed cars, you will see that they were a far cry from the old wooden cars heated by wood stoves used in the 19th Century. Very little has changed with passenger car design since that time. Today, if you plunge 40 feet off a bridge in an Amtrak car, the only safety feature you can brag about is emergency exit windows. That doesn't help when you're already dead. Michael went on, "...they used that shop back there as the temporary morgue." Actually, the makeshift morgue was in the basement of a country furniture store in nearby Shortsville, just south of the crash site. But I digress.

After many more obvious revelations from the "psychic", the team headed down the ravine to the bottom where the crash happened. And they brought their trusty dowsing rods. Thanks to the wonders of high definition filming, you can watch as the hands of the dowser rock back and forth ever so slightly, causing the rods to cross over and over. And they don't even wait for a question sometimes! While busy talking to a ghostly little girl, the group fails to address an important point: this train carried a number of Civil War veterans and their families returning from Rochester. The brooches worn by unidentified women from the wreck may have been mourning jewelry bearing the initials of dead soldiers. You would think the psychic would have at least picked up on that much, or that someone had bothered to actually read all the newspaper stories about the accident.

But the ghosts were far too busy trying to rush the intrepid ghost seekers to the more important destination: the roundhouse to the west. Ah yes, the roundhouse; that place where passengers wait to board trains. Oh, that's a station... nevermind. For those of you who don't know, a roundhouse is where locomotives are stored and repaired. There is absolutely no reason any passenger would be wandering a roundhouse unless he or she was an employee of the railroad. Still, the team decided this was the most likely spot to look for ghosts (instead of the makeshift morgue, that actually would make any sense whatsoever).

"...if a crash happened here, the victims--or the passengers--would go back to the place that they knew the most, which is the round house [sic]." Inside the old locomotive warehouse (I mean "passenger waiting area/place they turned around trains"), they bring out recorders to capture really vague nonsensical "voices" and sounds. Michael says, "the historian said that the train was still, uh... that the platform was probably still here." Once again, roundhouses did NOT have station platforms. Oops. Just then, the psychic says the first thing that actually makes sense: "...there's a man here... he's really, um, getting people to work..." Finally, something that talks about what the building was really used for--locomotive repair.

The dowsing rods come out yet again and questions fly while the rods swing back and forth a lot. You can really see the hand movements better here (around 15 minutes into the video) when he's asking how many ghosts are inside the building. And the questions keep getting better. "It was a grand building at one time, wasn't it? It was round all the way around?" Both get a 'yes' from the rods. (A roundhouse is commonly a half circle or smaller, otherwise there'd be no place for locomotives to enter. Only a few full circle roundhouses were ever constructed.) There's just one minor problem with this place. The round house was built in 1916, five years after the accident.

The psychic (and by now I use the term loosely) goes on to tell about sensing the passengers. "It's like they were anxious to see their relatives... and they were going on a trip and they couldn't wait to get there. They were almost there..." Thanks for that obvious report. "This is where they changed over, they got a little rest and something to eat..." (This town was NOT a stop for the speeding train in 1911.) Here they bring out "Pete's Ghost Box" to communicate with the spirits. Of course, when using a Ghost Box, you don't actually need to pay any attention to what words are coming out of it (as the team wisely shows us). Never mind that it sounds more like an Ovilus than a "Frank's Box" sweeping radio frequencies. In sure it's just coincidence and they really know what their equipment is called.

After reading off the list of the dead (and getting different answers from the dowsing rods; watch for the hand movements yet again), they announced they "found a bunch of spirits that have not moved on" at the roundhouse. Michael ends it with "Who knows when a train will ever come for them." If they're waiting in the roundhouse, my guess is probably never. And so ends a bafflingly unresearched investigation. Could it have been worse? Absolutely. But this is one video that makes me wonder why some people call themselves serious "paranormal investigators" who, as the website states, are "dedicated" to "collecting hard evidence of paranormal activity."

The Ghosts of Railroads Past...

In keeping with my last post, I've been thinking a lot more lately about how much I've enjoyed railroads over the years. They're still my favorite means of transportation, and it's quite sad seeing how rail travel has died out over the years. People might say that the automobile killed streetcars and passenger railroads, but that's not entirely true. They were still very popular when the transit systems were dismantled. It was mainly a change in public mindset brought on by billions of federal dollars spent to build national highways. In nearly every metropolitan city across the nation (and many small towns in between), it was possible just 60 years ago to get almost anywhere via interurban streetcars and trains.

Since the mid-1800s, railroads shaped and formed this land and our cities. The stories of Casey Jones and John Henry are forever remembered in their old folktales. And it's hard to travel anywhere without passing (or crossing over) an old railroad line, if you know where to look. Many of our towns sprang up from railroad lines snaking across the landscape. Sadly, many of them died out when the trains disappeared. In the Cuyahoga Valley alone, I can think of several towns that have disappeared off the map when the Cleveland Terminal & Valley Railway was sold and switched entirely to freight.

Slowly, I'm working on compiling together some of the thousands of old legends and myths associated with the railroads. Eventually, I'll be setting aside part of my website for them, but there's a lot to wade through before I get there. I find railroad ghost stories just as fascinating as the golden age of steam. Just in Ohio, there are dozens of ghosts associated with train wrecks and accidental deaths from the Ashtabula Train Disaster to the tragedy outside Republic, Ohio, or even the specter of Lincoln's Funeral Train. Even one of my first visits to a haunted place as a teenager was train related: the old depot in Galion, Ohio.

All of the hauntings I've heard have involved steam locomotives, oddly enough. I'm sure there are diesel engines behind hauntings out there somewhere, but I'm content to stick with steam. It's a dying technology; if we don't keep teaching generations about operating old steam engines, they'll become mystifying museum relics. Few people who are alive today can operate an old engine. They require skill and finesse you won't find in a simple diesel engine. Perhaps that's why when it comes to historic preservation, I think railroads are so important.

Interestingly enough, we owe much of the current railroad preservation efforts to two men: Lucius Beebe and Charles Clegg. They pioneered railroad pictorial books and started the California State Railroad Museum. Much of our history would be forgotten were it not for these two men. And what's even more interesting is they were a couple. Yes, railroad preservation owes a lot to two gay men. You can still see their private car the Virginia City (complete with its elegant interior that would make Liberace jealous) in California.

Don't Go Into the Light!

There's an old saying that there's always a light at the end of the tunnel. A pessimist generally twists this to say that "the light at the end of the tunnel is usually an oncoming train." And just last week, a band of ghost hunters found themselves face to face with such a calamity in North Carolina.

While investigating Bostian Bridge near Statesville--the site of a railroad disaster over a century ago--a real freight train barreled across the bridge, killing 29-year-old Chris Kaiser and injuring two others. The engineer noticed the group gathered on the last remaining stuccoed brick bridge in the region and blew his whistle while attempting to bring the train to a stop as quickly as possible. Kaiser pushed his girlfriend off the tracks before being struck and thrown into the ravine.

On August 27, 1891 Train No. 9 approached the bridge. Hugh K. Linster, the baggage master, was retiring from his work on the Richmond & Danville Railroad that day and asked a passenger for the time to check the accuracy of his new watch. It was 3:00 AM. At that very moment, the train jumped the tracks, careening into Third Creek far below and killing some 22 people and injuring 26. On the 50th anniversary of the wreck a stranded motorist looked on in horror as she witnessed a train plunge into the creek and erupt into a fiery inferno. Several people who found themselves on the tracks at the time of the accident on the day of that fateful disaster claim to have witnessed a uniformed railroad worker asking them the time.

With the growing popularity in becoming the next Jason Hawes or Zak Bagans, more people than ever are setting out in pursuit of real ghosts. This has also led to an increased number of accidents and arrests for adventurers and trespassers. Too many of these individuals fail to exercise a certain amount of common sense. As the North Carolina case shows, the most important rule is always have an escape plan. When we watch horror movies we always yell at the stupid teenager who runs upstairs and hides in a closet from her attacker. It's like shooting fish in a barrel! Entering a train tunnel or walking onto a bridge that is still in use is just as foolhardy. If you see a light coming down the tracks, never assume it's an ethereal one.

Now I don't discourage people from visiting allegedly haunted sites. In fact, I encourage people to form their own opinions of belief in ghosts and find out for themselves by visiting public places and businesses with rumors of paranormal activity. Seeing is believing, after all! However, what I mean by this is to stay at a haunted inn, take a nighttime ghost tour, or take a hike in a haunted park. Don't stand in the middle of railroad tracks or a haunted stretch of roadway. Odds are you might become the next ghostly tale... and none of us would like that form of experience.

The Forgotten Civil War Tragedy...

Without a doubt, Pennsylvania is known for Civil War casualties and tragedy. The 1860s saw many deaths of both Union and Confederate troops. Ghosts of dead soldiers are a common theme at war-related locales, yet there may be some undiscovered spirits from one of Pennsylvania's great Civil War tragedies waiting to be discovered. I do not speak of Gettysburg. I am referring to Shohola.

For those unfamiliar with the town, Shohola is a small village seated along the Delaware River along the Pennsylvania/New York border some 60 miles northwest of New York City. As its name (a Lenni Lanape Native American word meaning "place of peace") implies, it is a quiet, unassuming place. Only a metal sign in town hints at the great tragedy which occurred approximately a mile west of downtown resulting in the deaths of dozens of soldiers from both sides of the battle.

It happened on July 15, 1864. A train loaded with over 800 Confederate prisoners bound for the Elmira Prison departed Point Lookout, Maryland. 128 Union soldiers were scattered throughout the train, guarding the prisoners-of-war. Engine 171 fell behind schedule after a delay hunting down a few escaped Confederates and pulled into Port Jervis nearly four hours late.

This same afternoon, Engine 237 pulled down the Erie Railroad tracks laden with coal. The engineer and his 50 coal cars stopped at Lackawaxen to verify that the track ahead was clear. He asked the telegraph operator Douglas "Duff" Kent the status of the track. Though Kent had been warned that another special train was due, the tardiness of the locomotive coupled with Kent's known abuse of alcohol jumbled up messages. Engine 237 left Lackawaxen Station and rumbled through Shohola at 2:45 PM.

Just west of town, the Erie track follows a blind furve through the earth known as King and Fuller's Cut. It was here that the two locomotives met head on. There was only enough time for the engineer of the 237 to jump from the cab before collision. Both the engineer and fireman of the 171 were killed instantly when the wood from the tender leapt into the engine, crushing them to death. The fireman of the 237 met a similar fate, though the crushing logs did not kill him outright; he was pinned against the boiler where he slowly scalded to death, warning rescuers not to come close for fear the locomotive would explode. The first few passenger cars of the train loaded with soldiers telescoped into each other, each compressed to a depth of several feet. countless others were tossed like matchsticks and showered with wood splinters and shards of glass. The corpse of one Union guard sat perched on the reared-up tender still clutching his gun.

Officially, 17 Union soldiers died at the wreck or over the following week from their injuries. An estimated 80+ Confederate soldiers died in the wreck and a lucky five prisoners took the opportunity to flee, never to be found. The dead Confederates were buried in a 75-foot trench not far from the wreck while the Union dead were given proper burials. An investigation found the telegraph operator to blame. He was said to have remained ambivalent toward the accident after hearing the news in his drunken stooper and even attended a dance that very night. The angered townspeople sough vengance against him, but he fled for his life and was never seen or heard from again.

It took nearly 50 years for the Confederate victims to receive a proper burial. Between 60 and 72 bodies were disinterred from the mass grave and buried in Woodlawn National Cemetery in Elmira on June 11, 1911. No one knows for sure if all the victims were accounted for.

A new set of tracks exist today, winding through a stone-lined pass at the accident site along the Delaware River. Citizens of Shohola lay flowers at the wreck site each year in memory of the accident. Often in cases of such disastrous accidents, at least a few souls linger on at the site in quiet memory. If there were ever a place ripe for hauntings, it would be these woods outside of Shohola where nearly a hundred lives were lost almost 150 years ago.