Ghosts of Goldfield and Tonopah Read online

  “I’m a ghost investigator, not an actor!” one of the investigators snapped.

  The director ignored her. We were working gratis. Other than the opportunity to go inside the old building, we were being paid nothing. After four attempts at the perfect entrance, the director was pleased, and we entered the darkened Goldfield Hotel. The place was creepy, dusty and dirty. There was a distinct feeling of something all around us. Others were aware and commented on it as well. Was it mass hysteria, the excitement of being in the old hotel or imaginations running full-speed ahead?

  As I walked to the corner of one of the downstairs rooms (which turned out to be Room 109, Elizabeth’s room), I felt unmistakable pressure on my head. A feeling of being compressed came over me. I moved from the corner and tried to take a photograph. But as they often do in such circumstances, the camera didn’t work.

  The TAPS van at the Goldfield Hotel. Photo by Bill Oberding.

  Meter readings were high in this area. Not only were the cameras failing, but our flashlights dimmed intermittently as well. My husband’s watch gave strange, sporadic readings on its barometer.

  It is said that animals are more sensitive than humans. For whatever reason, Ripley did not want to be in the Goldfield Hotel. She balked when she was taken upstairs with us, becoming more frightened with each step. On the third floor, she stopped at the doorway of a room and refused to enter. No amount of coaxing could persuade her to go in. Could this be one of the rooms where a suicide took place so long ago? Whatever it was, Ripley didn’t like it and wanted no part of this room.

  The dog was not being a canine prima donna, only cautious. Suddenly, one of the investigators was overcome with sorrow. For no apparent reason, she started sobbing uncontrollably, her very ample chest heaving with each sob. The director ordered the cameraman to catch the action on tape. He did—and it is something we still laugh about. The resulting scene is not one of her anguish and pain but rather of her rather large bust bobbing up and down. Ah, for the days of less slick television, when reality TV was still in its infancy.

  The author with Zak Bagans during filming of the Goldfield episode of Ghost Adventures. Photo by Bill Oberding.

  While I might doubt the story of the ghostly murdered prostitute Elizabeth and her child, I believe that there is something paranormal here.

  Shortly after this filming, Red Roberts purchased the Goldfield Hotel and has since permitted Ghost Adventures and TAPS Ghost Hunters to conduct investigations. In the Ghost Adventures episode, Zak Bagans had a brick thrown at him in the basement. The footage is compelling, some of the most startling evidence to come out of the Goldfield Hotel.

  SÉANCE IN ROOM 109

  The sun was shining brightly, and the temperature was a sweltering ninety-plus degrees when we gathered in a circle in Elizabeth’s room and prepared to conduct the séance.

  This was not the first séance to be conducted here at the hotel, and surely it won’t be the last. Getting in touch with the dead is not a new idea. Séances have been conducted since the early 1800s. While there may be nothing in the way of scientific evidence that can be gathered during a séance, we felt that it was one way to contact the spirit known as Elizabeth who is said to reside here in Room 109. And so we began. A chill swept through the room as we joined hands and called for Elizabeth.

  “Elizabeth had a secret,” the words tumbled through my mind. Out loud, I asked, “Does anyone know about Elizabeth’s secret?”

  The man sitting across from me nodded and said, “I believe that—”

  He stopped and touched his throat. “It felt like someone was grasping my throat,” he said.

  “She doesn’t want anyone to talk about her secret,” another person admonished us.

  But I know the secret, and I saw it as clearly as I saw the shadows flitting across the wall in this room, which is darker than any of the other rooms because its window opens onto another room rather than outside. “Dare I say aloud what I believe happened here in Room 109 so long ago?” I wondered. I chose to keep quiet.

  “My head hurts,” someone said. “It’s like she’s applying pressure to my temples.

  “Elizabeth, we mean you no harm.”

  By now, our eyes had adjusted to the room’s darkness. Someone screamed about movement in the open closet. It was a shadow that quickly vanished.

  When the séance concluded, one of the women rushed up to me. “I know what her secret is,” she announced gleefully. “She killed her own child. Yes! She gave birth here in this room but didn’t want the baby. It was a boy, you know. And she tossed him down the mineshaft in the basement. She was so ashamed of what she had done that it drove her crazy. They had to keep her chained up—oh, but not here in Room 109. She comes here because this is where she met her lover, the father of her child.”

  I nodded. She had seen the same thing I had seen. Were we right, or had our imaginations taken flight and somehow wandered down the same path?

  SUICIDE AND THE AROMA OF LILACS

  Faith, the ghost at Prescott Arizona’s Hassayampa Inn, who hanged herself when her husband went out to buy cigarettes and never returned, has a story similar to that of the ghostly young woman on the second floor of the Goldfield Hotel. Alone and abandoned, the Goldfield woman waited several days in the hotel before hanging herself in despair. Now she spends her time hoping for his return and wandering the second floor of the hotel. Forget howling and moaning—you will know she is near by the aroma of lilacs that always precedes her presence. This is not so unusual; ghosts often announce themselves through scent. The aroma of flowers, cigar smoke and apples are some common scents associated with ghostly activity.

  Virginia Ridgway and the author during an investigation of the Goldfield Hotel. Photo by Bill Oberding.

  This ghostly young woman likes to show how much she likes certain people by spritzing them with the heavy scent of lilacs. Hopefully those given this honor aren’t allergic, or this can be a most uncomfortable experience. Apparently she really liked sensitive Chris Fleming. During filming of a Dead Famous episode at the hotel, he was sprayed with so much of the ethereal perfume that his eyes watered. I have experienced other investigations at the hotel in which the aroma of lilacs was so strong that it permeated the air as if someone opened a bottle of perfume and sprayed all its contents into the air. The ghostly woman’s treatment of Chris was like that.

  If she dislikes someone, the ghostly young woman merely ignores him or her. When she isn’t dousing a favored person with perfume, the spirit likes to announce herself by a rush of cold air or a wispy touch on the back of the neck.

  HONEYMOONING TITANIC GHOSTS

  I had always thought of the ghosts of the Goldfield Hotel as early Nevadans, the men and women who lived, worked and died here in Central Nevada. When I first heard about the Titanic ghosts of the Goldfield, I was skeptical. But given that ghosts can, and do, go wherever they so choose, I had to ask myself, “Why not?”

  While I agree that there are some very negative and downright hateful ghosts in residence at the Goldfield Hotel, I realize they aren’t all negative. To those who would argue that there is nothing but negative spirits residing here at the hotel, I offer the Titanic ghosts.

  It was Good Friday, April 5, 1912, when the unsinkable Titanic left port on its maiden voyage. Nine days later, the ship hit an iceberg and sank in the Atlantic Ocean thousands of miles from the Goldfield Hotel. The disaster claimed 1,517 lives. Among those who perished was a honeymooning couple who haunt a room and the hallway of the hotel’s second floor—at least this is what several psychics who have visited the hotel claim. But why would this couple choose to haunt the Goldfield Hotel in the middle of the Nevada desert?

  During a séance, the ghostly young wife explained their reasons. The Goldfield Hotel was known worldwide for its elegance. She and her new husband came west to Nevada especially to spend a few nights at the new hotel before resuming their long journey that would eventually take them to Southampton, England, where th
ey would board the luxurious Titanic.

  The newlyweds have been seen on the second floor by several psychics. When spotted in the hallway, they are described as happily walking arm in arm. He is attired in an elegant black evening suit, and she wears a full-length sky blue and pink satin dress. When they are seen in that certain room, the happy couple is gazing out the window at something in the long-ago distance. Apparently they enjoyed their short stay at the Goldfield so much that they decided to come back and experience the honeymoon euphoria indefinitely. It has been said that love conquers all; perhaps in this young couple’s case, love has even conquered death.

  VOICE ON THE THIRD FLOOR

  It’s well known among those who investigate ghosts that they sometimes play tricks on those who are trying to gather evidence of their existence. This is especially true here at the Goldfield Hotel. The brick that was thrown at Zak Bagans and Nick Groff during filming of their documentary is an example. Another example is disembodied voices that seem to change locations.

  This was a similar case of trickery. It was somewhere between spring and summer, before the weather warmed up enough to really enjoy a ghost investigation. That mattered little. We were bundled up and ready to go. There were ten of us, so we split into two groups and began our quest on the second and third floors.

  Those of us on the third floor split up and went to different sections of the hall. It was so dark in there; even with a flashlight to guide us, it would have been easy to get turned around and lost. As we walked along, we recorded and asked the usual questions. Minutes passed, and eventually we all came back together as a group—all but one person, that is.

  We could hear her at the end of the hall chatting away. Apparently, she was recording EVP. When she stopped talking, we called out to her, “Is that you, Geri?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” she replied.

  “Stay there, we’re coming.”

  “Okay,” she chuckled.

  We turned and walked toward the end of the hall and Geri. When we got there, she was nowhere to be seen.

  “Very funny!” someone in our group said.

  At that moment, the sound of footsteps on the stairs echoed through the hallway, and there was Geri, coming up from the second floor.

  “How did you get down and back so fast?” we asked.

  “I was at the car,” Geri replied.

  “We just heard you a minute ago here in this room.”

  “Not me, you didn’t. I’ve been in the car trying to find that new set of batteries,” Geri said calmly.

  WHO FRIGHTENED VIRGINIA?

  As its caretaker for the past forty years, Virginia Ridgway has been in the Goldfield Hotel hundreds of times. A psychic, Virginia has communicated with the old hotel’s ghosts and conducted séances in the building. She was never afraid of the hotel or any of its resident ghosts—until one February night.

  It was the dead of winter. The hotel was so cold that icicles hung from walls in the basement. Before they got their big break that would propel them to instant paranormal stardom, the Ghost Adventures team (Zak Bagans, Nick Groff and Aaron Goodwin) had come to town to conduct a two-night investigation of the hotel. Virginia, having guested in their award-winning documentary, was naturally in attendance. Bundled up against the cold in coats, mittens and boots, she spoke softly to the spirits while the shivering participants recorded EVP and took photos. The night was progressing well until about midnight. Up on the fourth floor, Zak had decided we should conduct an experiment in which everyone would record EVP at the same time.

  For the group recording session, Virginia and I chose a room at the end of the long hallway. While Zak and the guys did their signature provoking of the spirits, Virginia stood watching silently in the doorway. She has never approved of provoking and doesn’t mind telling anyone so. Suddenly she tensed up. “Look! Do you see that?” she asked, pointing to the dark hallway. I looked, rubbed my eyes and stared. I saw what appeared to be two blobs of darkness slowly rolling toward us.

  I turned to Virginia and saw the fear on her face. Stepping behind me, she whispered, “They want me.”

  I had sensed this as well, hence my lack of trepidation. But clearly Virginia was afraid. In all the years I have known this spunky lady, I had never seen her so shaken. Later, we discussed it at length. Both of us instinctively realized whatever or whoever it was wanted Virginia. As we talked this incident over, we decided that the ghosts who reside in the hotel may have been upset at Virginia because of the provoking style of ghost hunting that went on during that investigation. Virginia has since explained to the spirits that she had no part in the incidents and did not encourage or want any provoking to go on in the hotel and that she would never permit it to happen again.

  What is provoking, you ask? Provoking is the old my-dad’s-strongerthan-your-dad routine; it’s taunting or challenging the unknown so that an investigation will yield results such as credible EVP or photographs. Most people now believe provoking is wrong, and the practice has been all but abandoned. Besides that, you never know who or what might take up your challenge, and that could bring disastrous results.

  SPARKLES

  A friend who has investigated the Goldfield Hotel numerous times told me the following:

  Have you ever noticed that there’s more energy on the right side of building? When you’re facing away from the highway…I felt that right away. I asked someone else, and she agreed with me. In the basement I was told that there were sparkles all around me; I didn’t see them. Anyway, that basement is creepy! There’s something there. I did see something. I’m not sure which floor we were on; it may have been the fourth. We were in the room that had three dead pigeons lined up, and I was talking with Aaron [Ghost Adventure’s Aaron Goodwin]. He’s a nice guy. I walked out of the room and was standing there by myself when I saw this ghost in the hallway.

  I’ve heard about Tex, [but] this wasn’t him. This was a young man about sixteen to eighteen, not any older than twenty. He was a working guy with dark wavy hair, and he was wearing coveralls. I didn’t know if it was my imagination or not. I looked down and looked back up, and he was still there. His eyes were black and blank. He had this really white skin like a dead person. You know, when the blood stops perfusing [and] the skin gets this grayish color…I’m a nurse; I’ve seen dead people. He was dead. I turned and ran and bumped into my friend.

  She took one look at me and said, “Let’s get out of here.” I asked her why she said that.

  “I’ve never seen you look like that,” she said.

  I guess it must have shown on my face how frightened I was. Later I was sitting there in the hallway. I closed my eyes and was being very still and very quiet. I felt like something was trying to get into my body. A force or whatever…I’ve never had that happen to me. I heard a lady scream. It was an otherworldly scream. In some ways I’m frightened to go back in there. I get chills just talking about it.

  WATCHER IN THE BASEMENT

  Another friend who has investigated numerous locations throughout the country reported feelings of apprehension and of being watched while in the basement of the Goldfield Hotel. She said, “It’s like a maze down there. The time we were investigating there, I got so turned around. I just couldn’t shake this feeling of uneasiness and like someone was watching me. I know people say it’s the fourth floor, but I think most of the activity is there in the basement. Something probably happened down there a long time ago.”

  I had my own experience in the basement with a long-haired man who wore a black leather jacket and jeans. I didn’t know everyone in the group that night and only noticed him because he was standing too close to me, invading my personal space, actually. I looked at a friend who was there with me, as if to ask, “What is this guy’s problem?”

  When I turned back toward him, the man was gone.

  “Did you see that?” I asked my friend.

  “What?” she asked.

  “The man who was standing right next to me,” I repl
ied.

  “There was no one by you.”

  “I saw him!”

  “Well, I didn’t,” she laughed.

  WHO SHOT CURLY FENNEL?

  I believe that Curly Fennel is one of the ghosts in residence at the Goldfield Hotel. After researching his death in the building, I think he haunts the hotel not necessarily because he died there but because his death occurred under strange circumstances. Perhaps he badly wants to tell his side of what happened on that long-ago morning of July 9, 1925.

  The sun wasn’t yet up when the clock jangled Mr. and Mrs. James “Curly” P. Fennell awake. In another part of the country, the second day of the Scopes trial was underway. Schoolteacher John Scopes stood accused of teaching evolution. Defending him was one of the most famous attorneys of his time, Clarence Darrow. The prosecution was headed by the no less famous William Jennings Bryan. The Scopes case had captured national attention, and newspaper writers and radio newscasters made sure the public was well informed about the goings-on at the Rhea County Courthouse in Dayton, Tennessee. But here in Goldfield, Nevada, James Fennel had another trial on his mind.

  He was under subpoena to give testimony in a $30,000 Sparks bank robbery, and there was no way out of it. He eased up on one elbow. What was the hurry? They had Boyle dead to rights in the Sparks jail. There were too many witnesses, the fool; still, $30,000 might make a man do a lot of things he wouldn’t ordinarily do.

  Fennel looked at his jacket. He didn’t have anywhere near that amount of money. But he had his own grubstake. And he was all set to start his own business here in Goldfield with the $1,700 cashier’s check in his pocket.

  If he could change anything, he wouldn’t have been such a Good Samaritan. He certainly wouldn’t have given Boyle a ride across the desert into Beatty. If only the foolish Boyle hadn’t spilled the beans to him. Now he was caught right in the middle of it, and that was an uncomfortable spot to be in. He had already given a statement to the police; they knew that he would give his testimony when he arrived back in Sparks. With all the eyewitnesses, he couldn’t understand why they needed him anyway.