Most seasoned investigators will tell you that to have a conversation with a ghost and capture its response on a recording device, you just need to sit and talk casually and try to draw out answers. If you have a team of social beings this can be a problem when reviewing evidence because the listener has to sit and replay all the conversations picked up during the course of the evening among the investigating team.
So again, one needs to learn to sit and be quiet. Ambient noises (footsteps of people walking around, bumps, random bits of conversation) can kill an E.V.P. session.
Older buildings (primarily houses) have an unnerving tendency to carry sound through the walls and floors in unusual ways.
Which brings us to Octagon Hall.
Every investigation can run the risk of being hit or miss. It seems that the more hyped up a location, the less likely evidence will be forthcoming. Of course, a lot of places these days seem to use the label of "haunted" as a marketing tool (see the previous entry "Selling You a Bill of Ghouls" for my thoughts on this phenomenon) more than anything else. A few blurbs on the paranormal television shows (which seem to be on all the time) and the location has been "labeled." This, in turn, attracts all kinds of amateur paranormal groups to line up and take their turn to try to find the holy grail of paranormal investigation: undeniable proof of the spirit world.
Most of these locations are historical in nature (such as The Waverly Hills Sanatorium in Louisville, KY) and they use money raised for preservation purposes, which is a noble and good cause. Octagon Hall in Franklin, KY is also one of these places.
Octagon Hall itself is a remarkable building. From the outside, it doesn't seem very large, but it's an optical illusion. On the inside are fifteen rooms with stairs that wind up and down and rooms that connect to one another and create a kind of "flow" to the house. From an architectural standpoint, octagon-shaped houses were cheaper to build, had more living space (since it's hard to build a house in a circle shape, the octagon shape was the best alternative), received more natural light and was easier to heat and to cool in the summer. Needless to say, they were a popular design in the 1850's (for all of the above reasons).
So what is special about this particular octagon-shaped house on the outskirts of a small Kentucky town? Why did it get the "label" of one of the most haunted places in America?
Typically, historical places, such as this house, have their roots in tragedy and trauma. In this case, the house was the home of Andrew Jackson Caldwell and his wife, Elizabeth. Caldwell began building his house in 1847 and finished in 1859. Caldwell himself was a Confederate sympathizer and harbored many wounded Confederate soldiers in the attic and in hidden passages beneath the stairs. One of the wounded Confederate soldiers was shot in the leg and hidden in the attic. While he was up there, he apparently removed his boot (which was putting pressure on his wound it seemed) and bled to death in the attic.
His is one of the spirits said to be seen roaming the grounds. But the real story of the house and its sad history belongs to Caldwell's seven-year-old daughter, Mary Elizabeth.
In our last two investigations (The Thomas House Hotel and the house at Shackleford Corner) we have heard the stories of children dying young and tragically. Consequently, theirs are the spirits that are said to be most active in these locations. Octagon Hall is no exception.
On an aside, in future rumination on this blog I will be examining the question of why the spirits of children seem to be more active in these types of places, but for now, back to our story.
Mary Elizabeth and her cousin were down in the winter kitchen of the house, which was in the basement (the summer kitchen being outside in a separate building as not to heat up the entire house in the warm summer months). They were poking at the fire when a spark or an ember popped up and ignited Mary's dress. She was horribly burned and died a few days later (most likely from infection caused by severe burns).
This is a photograph of the winter kitchen in the basement of Octagon Hall. The fireplace in the photo was the one that Mary was poking at. She burned in this very room (but she most likely died in her bedroom upstairs a few days later.)
Mary Elizabeth is buried behind Octagon Hall next to her mother and her infant brother (who died before turning one).
Elizabeth Caldwell (Mary's mother) is marked by the grave in the center. Mary and her brother are marked by the field stones on either side of her.
The stories of Mary haunting Octagon Hall are endless. There are reports of her singing, talking, moving things, etc. There are also reports of things moving around the fireplace where she was burned (primarily the arm holding the kettle tends to swing out on its own).
So, take a house with historical significance during a time of upheaval for the nation (the Civil War) add a few incidents of death in the house by soldiers (the Confederate bleeding to death in the attic, the house being used as a hospital) and top it off with the sudden and tragic death of a young girl (Mary Elizabeth) and countless reports of paranormal activity, and you have a perfect mix for an exciting night of supernatural wonder.
What happened? Our team went in, met the director (a super guy named Billy Byrd), got the layout of the place, and set up our command center in the dining room of the house. We decided where to put our cameras and equipment and settled in for the evening.
Because sound carries so well in these old houses, our initial E.V.P. breakout sessions (some in the basement, some on the first floor, some on the top floor) got a lot of crossover from the other teams (we generally were in pairs throughout the night).
Remember, you really only need the ability to sit still and be quiet.
It could have been we were there on an "off" night. It could have been that we just didn't connect with anything. We decided later in the evening to leave the house and go back in with just teams of two in the entire house.
In our modern houses in our modern society, we are used to the constant barrage of background noises: the hum of an air conditioner, the buzz of some lights, the drone of a television on somewhere in the house. In older houses, in a "lights out" environment, it is amazing how eerily quiet things are. It was the kind of stillness that would allow you to hear something if something was happening in the house: a random thump, a voice, a whisper, anything.
Now, as of the writing of this, admittedly we have not gone through all of our recorded evidence, and it's completely possibly that we caught voices on tapes. But the impression overall we got of the house was. . .not much.
So either the house is not haunted (which is probably unlikely considering the evidence presented by other paranormal groups) or we just weren't there on an "on" night.
Okay, so we never really expect sparks to shoot out of light sockets and doors to slam on their own and strange gusts of wind to blow through the room at dramatic pauses. Those are all Hollywood stereotypes of haunted houses. And any of the "ghost hunting" shows you watch are carefully edited to appear that everything happens instantaneously (voices "did you hear that?" visions "did you see that over there?" feelings "dude, I just felt a cold chill right here!").
Well, sadly, we didn't really get any of that at Octagon Hall. It was a fun night, and it's always good to go out with the idea that we are going to be that team to find that holy grail, especially at a place that has marketed itself as one of the most haunted places in America.
There's always the next investigation to look forward to.
If we could only master the art of staying quiet and being still.
