Chasing Ghosts: A Tour of Our Fascination with Spirits and the Supernatural

A MESSAGE FROM THIS SIDE OF THE VEIL

My first encounter with death happened at the age of ten when my grandmother passed away. In Judaism, bodies are buried within a few days and always in a simple pine box. Wealth, if achieved, does not follow one into the grave. I attended the funeral and listened to the prayers, wept alongside family, and watched the coffin get lowered into the ground. Generally speaking, it was the type of ceremony that’s done in all parts of the world—and has been for thousands of years. So it must be the correct way to do things, right? Yet since that day I’ve wondered, what if it’s not? Could humankind have been wrong all this time, leaving countless generations of spirits trapped and suffocating six feet underground?

There’s no proven way to know. Not unless, of course, you believe in ghosts. Belief in spirits and in the reasons they appear and disappear vary over time and in different cultures, but those beliefs have always existed. When I started writing this book, I claimed to have never seen a ghost—and firmly believed that was true. But in speaking with parapsychologists, paranormal investigators, ghost tour guides, Spiritualists, a modern-day psychopomp, cultural historians, a professor at the Rhine Education Center, and employees of haunted inns and taverns, I’m not so sure that I’ve never seen a ghost. Part of it certainly comes down to personal views but it also depends on one’s definition of seeing a ghost. We have a tendency to think that ghosts, apparitions, spirits, specters, and wraiths just appear in front us, like in the movies. A translucent thing that floats through dark, creepy hallways and cellars. But what if the deceased are projecting themselves into our minds while we’re awake and dreaming? What if we’re seeing ghosts a lot more often than we think and we just can’t acknowledge it?

These are just questions swirling in my mind, though other individuals are clearer on these points. For example, the hamlet of Lily Dale Assembly in New York, a small community just outside of Buffalo, has been home to mediums and Spiritualists since the late nineteenth century. Signs reading MEDIUM hang outside a majority of the homes. Posted inside the church are the Principles of Spiritualism, which include the tenets We never die and Spiritualism proves that we can talk with people in the spirit world. The nature of death and the existence of an afterlife aren’t mysteries; they’re truths. Quite appealing truths, considering how this view of death can offer such peace in life.

Twice a day visitors are invited to experience these beliefs at Inspiration Stump—an actual tree stump standing about three feet high with a roughly four-foot diameter that’s situated in a quiet corner of Leolyn Woods (not far from a pet cemetery). After the tree was struck by lightning in the late 1800s, it was leveled off and filled with concrete. Steps were added, allowing people to ascend to its top and feel the vortex of spiritual energy that has built up from the many mediums who’ve gathered there over the past century. Rows of wooden benches facing the stump fill with people ready to receive a reading from one of the local registered mediums, visiting mediums, or student mediums. For about an hour, these psychics take turns delivering messages as they come from Spirit.

Inspiration Stump in Lily Dale Assembly, New York, has been a pilgrimage destination for mediums across the country for more than one hundred years.

The people of Lily Dale aren’t the only ones who believe in ghosts. According to a 2019 survey by the data website YouGov, forty-five percent of Americans believe in ghosts. As I was writing this book, I learned some of them are my friends and coworkers. One of them—let’s call her Rebecca—has had many paranormal experiences and always gets a welcome or unwelcome feeling while house-hunting. The hair stands on the back of my neck, my friend told me. It’s my bar for getting a new home. At her most recent address in New York, she felt nothing and determined the house was a total blank slate. That is, until Rebecca’s three-year-old daughter asked her about the worker guy that comes here at night who stands at the foot of her bed and looks at me. Rebecca gave her daughter some sage advice: Just tell him to go away. He’s not welcome.

Another friend—let’s call him Phillip—told me about the time he was in college and wanted to grab some munchies from his fraternity house pantry after a late night. The only problem was the pantry was in a nineteenth-century fieldstone cellar, accessed by a creepy corridor and a concrete stairwell. No one liked going down to the pantry alone at night, Phillip said. There’s nothing more pathetic then a twenty-year-old man in the prime of his life afraid of the dark. Which is why I was incredibly relieved when I entered the cellar corridor to hear a few of the guys shuffling around and laughing. I couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, but I was happy as hell to have them there.

He headed toward the voices to say hello, but no one was there. The basement was completely empty. I immediately bolted up the stairwell back to the first floor, where I hoped to see people directly above where the pantry was located, Phillip explained. At least that would provide a logical explanation for what happened—but no one was there. A few years later, at an alumni event, Phillip began telling the story and someone else finished it for him, sharing the exact same experience in the same basement.

James, a pharmacist I met in the small town of Smithfield, Pennsylvania, also had stories. Ghosts weren’t known to hang around the Advil or antibiotics at his pharmacy, but they did congregate at a diner he previously owned down the street. Knives would fly off the counter, the strings on waitresses’ aprons would get pulled from behind, and once a doorbell kept ringing despite the fact that the building didn’t have one.

Like many locals in the small town of Smithfield, Pennsylvania, ghosts have been known to spend time at the diner.

The most vivid experience I had was on a holiday. We had closed early, James explained. I went to close the register at, like, one thirty in the afternoon. I was doing the register, and there was a lady in white. I mean, the chills, oh my God! Ghostly looking. I just got so many chills. Middle of the afternoon! She was coming right through the archway into the kitchen. Most of the activity took place in that area. I still get chills thinking about it. It was so real.

These are just ordinary people who’ve experienced something extraordinary. Given the YouGov survey, I have to think there are millions of stories like these. It’s no wonder so many television shows have tapped into the paranormal. It seems there are enough ghosts to feed dozens of programs for multiple seasons. While some are purely escapist entertainment, others strive to balance enjoyment with the presentation of information. When I spoke with the executive producer of Ghost Adventures, Michael Yudin, he was quick to stress the importance of that balance.

We do the history, we do interviews with people, then [the team will] stay [at the haunted site] for forty-eight hours by themselves overnight and film. We cover the whole thing. And we call out what’s bullshit if we don’t think it’s real. We’re just trying to represent what we see as the fact. You make your own decisions.

After more than two hundred episodes filmed at allegedly haunted locations across America and witnessing the evidence that the show’s host, Zak Bagans, and his crew have produced, Yudin is convinced something is going on. I have definitely gone from not believing in ghosts to unquestionably believing in the unexplained, he says.

In this book, we’ll go on a journey to explore the different relationships the living have had with the dead, from ancient myths to the beliefs of the Victorian Spiritualists to the ghost stories that have shaped our modern conception of the supernatural world. We’ll also explore the human effort to capture evidence of the spirit world throughout the ages using period-specific technology. We’ll visit famous haunted sites and investigate possible explanations for various paranormal events, from parapsychological to more traditional scientific views. By the end, it will be up to you to decide if the theories presented confirm your beliefs one way or the other—or leave you pondering the possibilities of what might await us all.

"I believe there are few speculative delusions more universally received than this, that those things we call spectres, ghosts, and apparitions, are really the departed souls of those persons who they are said to represent. We see, or pretend to see, our very Friends and Relations actually clothed with their old Bodies, tho’ we know those bodies to be embowelled, separated, and rotting in the grave; as certainly as the head and quarters of a man executed for treason are drying in the sun upon the gates of the city: we see them dressed up in the very clothes which we have cut to pieces and given away, some to one body, some to another, or applied to this or that use; so that we can give an account of every rag of them: we hear them speaking with the same voice and sound, tho’ the organ which formed their former speech we are sure is perished and gone. These similitudes of things fix it upon our thoughts, that it must be the same; that the souls of our late friends are actually come to revisit us; which is to me, I confess, the most incongruous and unlikeliest thing in the World."

—Daniel Defoe, from The Secrets of the Invisible World Disclosed, 1729

Of all the beliefs that have surrounded death throughout the world, it’s safe to say that no one has ever perceived it to be a good thing. But if you’re a ghost, death has its perks. Play your cards right and you can become immortal right here on earth. It doesn’t matter if people believe in you as long as you have a great story for the living to latch onto. Across time and cultures, stories about the dead have endured like no others, laying the foundation for our modern conception of ghosts.

But before we get to the ancient myths and legends that shaped us, let’s begin with a classic ghost story from 1693 that perfectly illustrates the impact of the dead upon the living.

Lady Beresford and the Ghost of Lord Tyrone

Orphaned as a child, John Le Poer, Second Earl of Tyrone, grew up in Ireland with a fellow orphan, Nichola Sophia Hamilton, under the guardianship of a Deist.¹ The two were discussing Deism and Christianity one day and found themselves leaning toward the latter as the correct religion. They agreed that the first to die would come back and report to the other which belief system got the afterlife right.

As they entered adulthood, they went their separate ways. John grew up to be Lord Tyrone and Nichola married Lord Tristram Beresford, becoming Lady Beresford. One morning she joined her husband at breakfast, as usual, but on this occasion she looked pale and wore a black ribbon around her wrist. When Lord Beresford inquired about her strange manner, Lady Beresford said the equivalent of don’t ask and informed him that he’d never see her again without the band adorning her wrist. I never in my life denied you a request, but about this I must entreat you to forgive my silence, and never to urge me again on the subject, she told him.

A childhood pact sealed the fate of Lady Beresford, a seventeenth-century woman who died under circumstances foretold by the ghost of her friend.

Lady Beresford’s behavior grew more bizarre when she repeatedly asked her servant if the mail had arrived. When Lord Tristram inquired about her anxiousness, she explained that she was expecting a letter informing her of the death of her childhood companion, Lord Tyrone.

He died last Tuesday at four o’clock, she claimed.

At that moment, a letter sealed in black wax did in fact arrive and stated precisely what Lady Beresford had anticipated. Though she mourned her old friend, her sorrow was not without joy. Just as she knew of Lord Tyrone’s death in advance of the announcement, she also suddenly knew she was pregnant with a boy. This premonition, too, came to pass, and the Beresfords soon welcomed a son, Marcus, to the family.

The three lived happily for about seven years until Sir Tristram passed away. Nichola vowed never to remarry, but eventually she fell for the charms of a younger man and wed once again. She bore him several more children, but he treated her poorly and left her miserable. Moments of happiness were few and far between, but when her forty-eighth birthday arrived, Nichola believed the event was cause for a grand celebration. As friends and family gathered to join in her merriment, a clergyman cheerfully informed the birthday Lady that he had been going through old church records and discovered she was actually a year younger. A mere forty-seven. The revelation did not have the pleasing effect intended.

You have signed my death warrant, Lady Beresford explained, immediately turning the good vibes into unexpected doom and gloom. The party was over. She summoned Marcus and her married daughter, Lady Riverton, to join her in her chambers.

I have not much longer to live, and must entreat you to leave me at once, Lady Beresford announced to everyone else. I have something of importance to settle before I die.

Sounding a bit like a drama queen, she told her children about her childhood pact with Lord Tyrone and explained that he had lived up to his end of the bargain. One night, while she was still married to Lord Beresford, Lord Tyrone appeared beside her bed. Startled, she asked what he was doing in her bedroom in the middle of the night while her husband slept next to them. Lord Tyrone said he’d been permitted to return to her and inform her that Christianity is the true and only religion. Good news, but of course, not so good when delivered by a dead friend. He had other news he’d been allowed to share as well: Lady Beresford would give birth to a boy, her husband would die several years after, she’d end up with a deadbeat and bear him several children, and tragically, she’d die at age forty-seven. Lord Tyrone also predicted that his heiress would marry Marcus, although the ghost had no children before his own death. Still, his predictions had proven correct so far, indicating that her death was imminent.

Before Lord Tyrone vanished from the bedroom and headed back to the afterlife, Lady Beresford made him leave a sign that he’d truly been there. Something that, by morning, would prove to her that the whole thing wasn’t some crazy dream. The ghost twisted the curtains of the bed’s canopy through an iron loop, claiming no mortal arm could have done that.

True, but sleeping we are often possessed of far greater strength than waking, she responded, demanding better proof. Lord Tyrone obliged and this time wrote a note in her pocketbook. His handwriting, he believed, would offer the assurance she needed. Lady Beresford was not impressed.

When awake, I cannot imitate your handwriting, but asleep it is possible that I might, she countered. Lady Beresford’s confidence in her somnambulant abilities may have seemed unreasonable to Lord Tyrone, but who can blame her for expecting a better show from a visiting ghost that demonstrated physical and verbal powers?

Finally, the two decided a hint of violence would be the best way to properly mark the occasion. He touched my wrist with a hand as cold as marble and, in a moment, the sinews were shrunk up, and every nerve with them, she explained to Marcus and Lady Riverton.

Let no mortal eye while you live behold that wrist, the ghost told her. To see it would be sacrilege. With those final words, he was gone.

An hour after telling her story, as Lady Beresford lay resigned in her bed, she joined Lord Tyrone in the afterlife. Her children shared a moment of grief matched only by their curiosity. Carefully they removed the black ribbon from their deceased mother’s wrist. The flesh beneath appeared shriveled and withered—exactly as she had described.

Years later, Marcus married Lady Catherine, who happened to be the niece of Lord Tyrone. She’d inherited his entire fortune, just as his ghost predicted.

This story was passed down through the Beresford family and spread in newspapers and books, with details shifting as they tend to do over time. Though stories from centuries ago, like Lady Beresford’s, get twisted and distorted through oral retellings and variations in written form, the essence remains. This is especially true of ancient tales. Pliny the Younger of ancient Rome recorded one of the first ghost stories in 100 AD, which has many of the classic elements we still associate with spirits today.

Pliny the Younger’s Tale of Athenodorus

First-century Roman philosopher Pliny the Younger spoke of a large house in Athens reputed to be haunted by the ghost of a gangly old man with a long beard and disheveled hair. His wrists and ankles were shackled and chained together, creating a ruckus every night as he haunted the home. The inhabitants were terrorized, and eventually the house was deserted and put up for sale.

Like a character in a horror movie, the Stoic philosopher Athenodorus couldn’t resist a bargain on a haunted house.

It found a taker in Athenodorus, a Stoic philosopher who read about the property’s unpleasantness but was too intrigued with getting a good deal to be bothered by getting a fright. After moving in, he did what Greek philosophers do and started writing. During his first night in the house, as the evening progressed, a meddlesome clinking and clanking of chains interrupted his flow. Athenodorus looked up from his work and saw the resident specter appear before him. The ghost beckoned him, went outside to the courtyard with the philosopher following, and then disappeared into the earth. Athenodorus marked the spot with leaves and returned the next morning to dig up the ground. He found a skeleton, with bones bound in chains. The remains were given a proper burial, and from that day forward the house was free of all disturbances.

Even back then everyone liked a good ghost story, but for Athenodorus it might have served an additional purpose. His actions laudably demonstrate the Stoic virtue of mastering the emotions, explains Dr. Leo Ruickbie, a member of the governing council of London’s Society for Psychical Research, referencing Athenodorus’s cool demeanor in the face of a fright. The ghost had a function, too. His postmortem mission on earth is to correct the omission of funerary rites, underlining their importance—more important than bringing his murderer to book, for example. Therefore the story serves to glorify Athenodorus and enforce social customs.

Shamans: The First Ghost Messengers

The notion of using ghosts to enforce social customs is hardly unique to Athenodorus. Shamans across cultures have used spirits for the same purpose. These leaders were the ones who would visit the gods or the worlds of the dead and bring back information to solve problems, like how to stop angering deities to ensure bountiful harvests. Ghosts, in other words, had the answers people needed. For example, aboriginal Canadians in Ontario and Manitoba, along with Native Americans near the northern border, received their messages from spirits from within a cylindrical tent. A shaman would step inside after sundown and conduct a shaking tent ceremony, involving singing and drumming to summon the ghosts. When the tent started to shake, it signified the presence of a spirit and the shaman would emerge with cures, hunting tips, or other highly sought knowledge.

In some cultures, if people didn’t listen to the messages delivered from the beyond, shamans would use a variety of wondrous tricks to convince followers of their power, such as sleight-of-hand magic and ventriloquism. As some of these shamans grew older, their ghostly or godly advice may have accrued a less-than-stellar track record, forcing them into more nefarious methods of keeping people in line.

A tribe in the Orinoco Basin of South America had shamans that would make life very uncomfortable if, say, you didn’t give up your house or chickens when requested.

You might wake up in the middle of the night and discover that your bed had coral snakes in it, explains historian and performer Harley Newman. And if that didn’t convince you that you needed to give the shaman what he wanted, then you could be walking through the jungle one day and be clubbed from behind. While the victim was unconscious the shaman would stuff packets of herbs in their orifices, then pierce the tongue with a snake’s fangs. The victim’s tongue would swell up and prevent speech. Over the next few days the organs would start to dissolve from the inside out until death mercifully ended the punishment.

If you had gone along with what the shaman wanted, you probably would have been in debt to him and become part of the crew who’d stalk people in the jungle and do whatever the shaman wanted, Newman adds.

In many cultures shamans were also busy helping ghosts. Part of their role was to act as a psychopomp—a person who escorts the newly deceased to the land of the dead. Dying is a whole new experience, and the dead often find themselves thrust into it without preparation or acceptance, particularly in the case of a life cut unexpectedly short. Without the guidance of a psychopomp, discarnate souls could get lost and wander aimlessly. And if these ghosts are suffering, they might cause grief for the living, too. Certain shamanic beliefs tell us spirits can cause fear, depression, nausea, bruises, insomnia, nightmares, and self-destructive behavior. Ancient psychopomps helped these souls escape the earthly plane so they could get on with their next life and let the living live in peace. Ghosts with unfinished business on earth could get information from shamans that might bring comfort and put them at ease. Others might have just needed help getting over guilt, grudges, or confusion.

Shamans offer nothing less than counseling for the dead, says David Kowalewski, PhD, who has studied with indigenous shamans on multiple continents and authored the book Death Walkers. Psychopomp work, in short, effects the changes needed by the soul to get past its earthbound state and resume its journey of evolving to greater wisdom and power.

As a modern-day psychopomp, Kowalewski is keeping the shamanic service alive. Through clairvoyance, telepathy to the non-earthly realm, aid from helping spirits, and entering altered states of consciousness in order to take a soul-flight into a different dimension from the physical, outside of space-time, namely into non-ordinary reality, as he puts it, psychopomps of the past and present have gathered information to help discarnate souls in need.

This general struggle to move on to the Other Side shows up across ancient civilizations in various forms. After all, as long as people have existed, there has been death and ideas about what that means.

By healing the dead, the psychopomp heals the living from their grief. The shaman helps survivors achieve closure, so that they themselves can move on to their own next adventure. This, in turn, has positive health effects. One might say, then, that the shaman brings the living back to life.

—David Kowalewski, PhD, author of Death Walkers, in 2015

The Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead

Tim