Ghost stories

Part 3

by Michael Koykka

Ask any ghost hunter or researcher where the strangest stuff happens in Massachusetts, and you'll get the same answer -- John Stone's Inn, in Ashland.

The inn was built by John Stone, a wealthy landowner, in 1832. Rumor has it he murdered a man in cold blood over a poker match, then buried his body in the dirt cellar. Some say his spirit continues to haunt the restaurant, playing prankish jokes on the unsuspecting.

Robert Cahill quotes a waitress on another apparition, that of a little girl. "She is constantly being seen in the little alcove in the kitchen, looking out the window toward the railroad tracks. The people living in the house on the other side of the tracks report to us that they see her often, just staring out, as if in a daze. One of our chefs reported seeing her by the kitchen window several times when he came in first thing in the morning. A little girl with a sweet innocent face and curly brown hair, she would turn to him, smile and then disappear."

The current owner, Vernon Northover, takes these legends seriously, and so does the media. An A&E television program, The Unexplained, just finished shooting a segment on the inn. Northover was interviewed at length, along with several waitstaff, and psychic Raffaele Bibbo, who held seances there in 1984 and 1987. The spot has also peaked the interest of the folks at the History Channel. Not bad for a local watering hole.

Northover can recite a litany of spookiness that has continued unabated since his arrival. Some highlights include: the cleaning lady who saw a pack of cigarettes levitate in front of her; the pandemonium that occurred when staff attempted to remove a brick from the cellar -- food was thrown and plates came crashing to the floor (John Stone is known to still be possessive of his inn); the night manager who turned out all the lights when leaving, only to find them all turned back on when he left the building; and the chef who cut one piece of cake, turned around, and inexplicably saw four pieces of the same size arranged next to it.

Then there's the story of the James Montgomery Band, who were warming up when something invisible turned the knobs on the guitarist's amplifier, creating a horrible shrieking feedback.

The list of occurrences goes on. There's the little girl, bouncing a ball or looking out of windows, some involve violent poltergeist activity like splitting ashtrays or moving furniture.

One episode occurred while I was interviewing the owner -- we both heard footsteps outside the room, but when I checked it out there was nobody there. Whoever it was may have had time to come upstairs and back down again before I saw him, but why wouldn't he say anything to us?

Northover shrugs his shoulders. "There are so many things going on here, you can't ignore them all. If ghosts exist, I guess they're here."

All in all, I found some weird stuff, but no ghosts willing to sit for an interview. This seems typical of a ghost-hunter's lot -- they all seem to be showing up just as a ghost has left, picking up the pieces of the story and filling their notebooks. It's frustrating the way these things slip through their fingers just as they're reaching for them. It's a strange profession: not glamorous, not profitable, but very interesting indeed.

In my travels I experienced no terrifying ordeal, no epiphany. Still . . . there were those footsteps, and that ghostly laughter on the phone.

I for one am going to continue my search.

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