A NOTE TO GET STARTED WITH -
QUITE A FEW YEARS AGO NOW, THERE WAS AN HOUR-LONG TELEVISION SHOW, WEEKLY, ABOUT THE MYSTERIES THAT BREWED AND CONSUMED A SMALL ANTIQUE SHOP. THERE WAS A TRUNK, AND AN UNUSUAL (ENCHANTED) QUILT, AND IT SPECIFICALLY, WAS THE CATALYST OF SOME REALLY NEAT SPIRIT-INTENSIVE STORY-LINES. I DON'T REMEMBER MUCH ABOUT IT, OR WHO THE CAST MEMBERS WERE, BUT IT HAD SOME TRULY COMPELLING MOMENTS THAT KEPT ME GLUED TO THE SET. BUT OF COURSE, THE RULE IS, THAT WHATEVER I LIKE ON TELEVISION….. TYPICALLY SPELLS ITS EARLY DEMISE. I THINK IT WAS ABOUT TWENTY YEARS AHEAD OF ITS TIME. TODAY THERE ARE SOME SHOWS THAT WOULD MAKE WORTHY COMPANIONS, SHOULD SOME NETWORK EXECUTIVE BE FUMBLING THROUGH THE ARCHIVES…..AND FIND THE OLD PROPS AND MOUSE-NIBBLED SCRIPT.
ANTIQUE DEALERS GENERALLY, DON'T PARALLEL THEMSELVES WITH THOSE WHO DELVE INTO THE PARANORMAL. BUT IT'S KIND OF A GIVEN. YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE SOME OF THE HOUSES AND SITUATIONS GENERALLY, DEALERS FIND THEMSELVES, WHEN EMPLOYED TO DISPERSE AN OLD MULTI-GENERATIONAL ESTATE. THERE ARE MANY RELICS, ICONS, AND STRANGE POSSESSIONS, DEALERS ARE FACED WITH, AS A MATTER OF HANDLING SUCH ESTATES, THAT REQUIRE GREAT SENSITIVITY, AND COMPASSION. BUT EVERY NOW AND AGAIN, AN ANTIQUE COLLECTOR / DEALER, CAN RELATE STRANGE CIRCUMSTANCES, THAT NOT ONLY BORDER THE PARANORMAL, BUT ARE DEEP WITHIN ITS DOMAIN. AS A RESULT OF HAVING MANY UNIQUE EXPERIENCES, AND ADVENTURES, OVER A LIFETIME, MOST OF US JUST KEEP IT TO OURSELVES……AS JUST THE RIGORS AND TESTS OF REMAINING FAITHFUL TO THE PROFESSION. LIKE THE CALLOUSES ON THE FARMER'S HANDS. BUT IF THEY WERE PAID HANDSOMELY TO WRITE A BOOK OF THEIR STRANGE ENCOUNTERS, I BET IT WOULD MAKE A DANDY READ.
NOT JUST GHOST TALES THAT WOULD MAKE IT INTO A COFFEE TABLE BOOK. LIKE THE ONE THAT WOULD OPEN, WITH HAUNTING VISUALS OF ETHEREAL VAPORS, HIGHLIGHTING THE ALLEGED PARANORMAL. BUT INSTEAD, A CURIOUS COLLECTION OF INTERCONNECTED, BELIEVE-IT-OR-NOT STORIES, WITH COINCIDENCES, AND THE OFTEN UNEXPECTED INTERTWINING OF THE JOB AT HAND, WITH THEIR OWN LIVES. IT'S TRUE THAT MANY DEALERS JUST DON'T WORRY ABOUT SPIRITUAL CONNECTIONS, AND HANDLE JOBS STRICTLY DOWN THE CENTRE, WITHOUT ANY GREAT EXPENDITURE OF EMOTION. OTHERS HOWEVER, CAN'T RESIST SLEUTHING AND IMAGINING THE LIVES OF THOSE WHO OWNED THE OBJECTS BEING HANDLED….AND INEVITABLY SELLING THEM OFF FOR THE ESTATE. MORE THAN ONE DEALER, WILL CONFESS, TO FEELING A LITTLE UNEASY, BEING IN AN OLD HOUSE, HANDLING CHERISHED POSSESSIONS, AND LOOKING UP, WITH A START, TO SEE WHO ELSE IS IN THE ROOM. DO THEY FEEL AS IF THEY ARE BEING WATCHED? STUDIED? WHEN WE SEE AND READ ABOUT ANTIQUES, AND WATCH MODERN REALITY SHOWS, ABOUT PAWN SHOPS AND FOLKS BUYING UP STORAGE LOCKERS, ON A GAMBLE OF GETTING A BIG PAY-OFF, WE FIND EAGER FANS WISHING TO SHARE THE ADVENTURES UNFOLDING. THE GENUINE ANTIQUE DEALER STORIES, CAN BE A LOT MORE INVOLVED THAN WHAT YOU MIGHT SEE, AND WHILE IT CAN BE DULL AT TIMES, GENERALLY OUR IMMERSION INTO A SELLER'S DOMAIN, CAN PROVE VERY INTERESTING, AND A LITTLE UNSETTLING AT THE SAME TIME.
WOULD YOU FIND IT AT ALL UNSETTLING, TO FIND THAT SOMEONE YOU ARE WORKING FOR, HAS BEEN COLLECTING THE HAIR FROM DECEASED FIGURES IN HISTORY? SO HOW WOULD YOU REACT, AS A FLEDGLING ANTIQUE DEALER, WHEN ASKED TO COME AND LOOK AT A COLLECTION OF SHRUNKEN HEADS? A PLETHORA OF MEDICAL SKELETONS, THAT ONCE BELONGED TO A DOCTOR? A COLLECTION OF MATERIALS, POSSESSIONS, THAT MAY HAVE BELONGED TO A MURDERER? I'VE KNOWN PEOPLE WHO SCAVENGED OLD WOODEN GRAVE MARKERS, SOME WHO HAVE PRYED BRASS CROSSES AND LETTERING OFF MEMORIALS? BELIEVE ME, THERE ARE A LOT OF TIMES ANTIQUE DEALERS HAVE TO SAY, "NO THANKS……I'M NOT INTO THAT KIND OF THING."
ANTIQUE HUNTING IS FASCINATING. BUT THERE IS NO LIMIT TO WHAT PEOPLE COLLECT, AND AS THIS IS FACT, IT'S PRETTY HARD TO BE A LIFETIME DEALER, AND NOT RUN INTO SEVERAL OF THESE STRANGE HOBBYISTS, AS A RESULT OF TAKING ON AN ESTATE ASSIGNMENT. YOU CAN HAVE A PERFECTLY NORMAL, AVERAGE, INTERESTING ESTATE CLEAR-OUT, AND FIND ONE COMPLETELY OUT OF PLACE ARTICLE, OR SMALL COLLECTION, THAT TAKES YOUR BREATH AWAY. NOT BECAUSE OF ANY GREAT VALUE, BUT BECAUSE OF THE BIZARRE NATURE OF THE PIECE OR PIECES.
AS AN EXAMPLE. A DEAR FRIEND OF MINE, DAVE BROWN, A CAREER OUTDOOR EDUCATION TEACHER, HISTORIAN, AND MAJOR CANADIAN BOOK COLLECTOR, PASSED AWAY, LEAVING OVER ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND BOOKS IN HIS SMALL HAMILTON BUNGALOW. I WROTE HIS BIOGRAPHY. AN HISTORIAN COLLEAGUE, WROTE A BOOK ABOUT HIS WORK IN THE OLD-PAPER AND DOCUMENT FIELD, AND MADE A SMALL MENTION OF DAVE'S PENCHANT FOR COLLECTING TOO MANY BOOKS. HE MADE A POINT OF ANNOUNCING TO READERS, THAT DAVE ALSO POSSESSED A LARGE AMOUNT OF PORNOGRAPHY AT THE TIME OF THIS DEATH. THERE WAS NO FOOTNOTE IN THE BOOK, TO EXPLAIN THIS, OTHER THAN TO ALLUDE, BY LACK OF EXPLANATION, THAT DAVE MUST HAVE BEEN SOMEWHAT ATTRACTED TO THIS STUFF…….YET I KNEW ABOUT IT, WHEN I WROTE HIS BIOGRAPHY. DAVE, A MAJOR BOOK BUYER AT AUCTION SALES, TOLD ME ABOUT ACQUIRING MANY SEALED BOXES OF BOOKS AT A HAMILTON AREA AUCTION, AND GETTING THEM HOME…..AND NEARLY FAINTING, WHEN HE FOUND FOUR OR FIVE BOXES HELD RACEY MAGAZINES. HE TRIED TO GIVE THEM AWAY TO A BOOK STORE, BUT THEY DIDN'T WANT THEM. BUT HE DID TELL ME ABOUT HAVING THEM, WHICH WOULD BE ODD, IF HE ACTUALLY POSSESSED THEM FOR PERSONAL GRATIFICATION. SO HERE IS THIS MAN, WITH AN UNBLEMISHED CAREER IN EDUCATION, GETTING BUSTED IN THE END, BECAUSE THE DISPERSAL OF HIS ESTATE REVEALED THIS UNFORTUNATE AUCTION JOB-LOT. THIS IS WHAT I MEAN ABOUT ANTIQUE DEALERS GETTING A LITTLE BIT MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR, WITH SOME ESTATE SITUATIONS.
SPIRITS IN THE HOUSE - CAN YOU BLAME THEM FOR DISLIKING CHANGE FOISTED UPON THEM?
SOMETIMES THERE'S A CLASH BETWEEN THE ANTIQUE COLLECTOR AND THE PLACE OF RESIDENCE, AND THOSE MYSTERIES WITHIN
THE FIRST RESIDENCE WITH MY NEW BRIDE, SUZANNE, IN THE EARLY 1980'S, WAS IN AN A SMALL, ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT IN A MUCH LARGER VICTORIAN-ERA HOUSE. IT WAS ONLY A BLOCK AWAY FROM BRACEBRIDGE'S MAIN STREET. IT WAS, TO USE SUZANNE'S WORD, AN "ADORABLE" VINTAGE ENHANCED (WITH LOTS OF WOODWORK), GROUND-FLOOR UNIT, WITH A LITTLE PORCH AND A NICE BACKYARD. WHEN WE FIRST BEGAN DATING, THE APARTMENT WAS DECORATED WITH A MODEST NUMBER OF FURNISHINGS, A MINOR AND TASTEFUL COLLECTION OF HEIRLOOM DECORATIONS, AND THE BUILT-IN SHELVES, IN THE KITCHEN-DININGROOM, HAD A FEW TRINKETS BUT NOT MUCH ELSE. IF SHE READS THIS, I WILL BE LIVING ON OUR PORCH HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW, BECAUSE HER RECOLLECTION IS MUCH DIFFERENT. IN HER MIND, SHE HAD THE PERFECT AMOUNT OF EVERYTHING, RIGHT DOWN TO THE DISH TOWELS AND TEA COZY. WHAT I SAW AS A SPARTAN DOMAIN, WAS ACTUALLY PERFECTLY PROPORTIONAL TO HER DEMANDS OF THE RESIDENCE. SHE WAS A ROOKIE TEACHER, AND IT TOOK THREE MINUTES TO WALK FROM OUR DOOR, THROUGH THE FRONT ENTRANCE OF BRACEBRIDGE AND MUSKOKA LAKES SECONDARY SCHOOL.
I JUST NOW, WITH A NEAT LITTLE SHOULDER BLOCK, STOPPED SUZANNE FROM LOOKING AT THE SCREEN, AS SHE OCCASIONALLY DOES, TO CHECK HOW MANY TIMES I'VE USED HER NAME IN A BLOG. TO DISTRACT HER, I ASKED IF SHE RECALLED, IF THERE WERE ANY STRANGE OCCURRENCES IN THAT FIRST YEAR OF OCCUPANCY…….OTHER THAN MY RAPPING AT THE DOOR. "THERE WERE THE WIND CHIMES," SHE ANSWERED. "I'D HEAR THEM IN THE NIGHT, AFTER GOING TO BED, OR SOMETIMES THEY'D WAKE ME UP. THERE WERE NO WIND CHIMES IN, OR NEAR MY APARTMENT, AND I COULD NEVER FIND THE SOURCE."
WHEN WE BECAME ENGAGED, AND WE DECIDED TO KEEP HER APARTMENT, AND THAT I WOULD VACATE MINE, THE MOVE BEGAN SLOWLY, TO HAUL MY ANTIQUES AND JUNK, THE TWO BLOCKS FROM ONE RESIDENCE TO THE OTHER. I'D BEEN A PARTNER IN AN ANTIQUE AND GIFT BUSINESS, CALLED "OLD MILL ANTIQUES," WITH MY PARENTS, MERLE AND ED, IN THE FORMER HOME OF DR. PETER MCGIBBON, OPPOSITE THE MAPLE LINED MEMORIAL PARK. WE HAD STARED THE BUSINESS BACK IN THE WINTER OF 1977-78, AND BY THE EARLY 1980'S, MY PARENTS HAD MOVED-ON TO PARRY SOUND, WHERE ED WORKED AT NORTHLAND LUMBER…..AND MERLE CAME TO WORK THERE AS WELL. I WAS WORKING AS NEWS EDITOR OF THE HERALD-GAZETTE, ALSO ABOUT A FOUR MINUTE WALK FROM EITHER RESIDENCE…..HERS OR MINE. WE DIVIDED UP THE ANTIQUES, AND I GOT MOST OF WHAT WAS LEFT, AND THEY WERE SHIPPED OVER TO SUZANNE'S APARTMENT IN THE BACK OF MY CHEVY CHEVETTE. WHAT A LITTLE WORKHORSE.
SUZANNE WENT FROM SENSIBLE PROPORTION, TO RESIDING WITH AN ANTIQUE HOARDER. I HATE THAT WORD, BUT WHEN I SAY IT, IN JEST, SHE JUST NODS IN AGREEMENT….."YES YOU ARE." NOW HERE'S WHY OUR COMING TOGETHER WAS DISHARMONIOUS TO THE PLACE WHERE WE DWELLED.
Not long after I began cluttering her apartment with pine cupboards, side-boards, Boston rockers, harvest tables and books…..oh so many books, the atmosphere changed in the house. While I liked the full book shelves in the kitchen, and the positioning of mid-1800's pine cupboards against the woodwork of the doors frames, the spirit-kind didn't share my Martha Stewart plans for the place. When we'd head to bed, it wouldn't be long before there was the gentle, but unmistakable tinkling of the glass wind chimes. They'd continue for a long time, until we'd get up to investigate, and there would be a typical silence in the apartment. We might then get to about three or four in the morning, before hearing them again. We think now, whatever was creating the sound, and if it was paranormal in character, the purpose was to disturb our sleep, to draw attention to the rights and privileges of previous residents…..possibly the original builders of this fine brick home.
We actually started to ignore the wind chimes, and it was wonderful to be able to sleep through the night. When we'd get up in the morning, there would be cupboard doors open, books pulled askew from the pine shelf in the kitchen, the bathroom door would be hanging open, and assorted lights would be on. When I did get up, one evening, at about 2 a.m. the door of the small apartment fridge was open, and its light on; the bathroom door was wide open, and the inside light was on. So I shut the fridge door, switched-off the bathroom light, and re-secured the bathroom door, making sure it was latched properly. In the morning, Suzanne asked me why I left the bathroom light on, and the door hanging open, and lectured me about checking the fridge door when I'm finished pulling items out. I guaranteed her, I had gotten up in the night, and found the same things that she discovered at daybreak. It wasn't a seven day a week haunting but it could be as much as five days, when we could honestly report something weird had happened in the night. It was always in the late evening. Suzanne also heard someone call out her name, from thin air, and this was also at a period just before she went to bed. As well, in the middle of dinner preparation, the spirit-kind would click off the burner…..possibly being the ghost of a really good household cook, in the past, sensing my young bride was about to burn dinner.
It must be understood, during this period, I was still hauling interesting antiques and vintage decorations, crocks and china, home almost every weekend, especially if there happened to be a regional auction,….. a church flea market or yard sales in the vicinity. I think the movie "Beetlejuice," made sense in our circumstance. The resident spirits, ghosts etc., (nothing harmful or in any way malevolent) did not appreciate change as we were imposing it, upon this historic dwelling. They may in fact have been very interested, in an ethereal way, of getting us to move, and take our junk with us. (It was my treasure, Suzanne's nightmare). The more antique items I brought into the tiny apartment, the greater the late night intrusions. The wind chimes seemed to get louder but I guess there was more stuff, for the sound to bounce off, on the way to our attention in the bedroom. It was obvious by the increasing number of shifting items, in the house, open doors and pulled-out drawers, that there was a growing frustration of the dearly departed and the antiquing folks downstairs. Suzanne is not to blame for this. The haunting she experienced was almost nostalgic and interesting, until it got kind of whacky when I cluttered the joint.
At the time, we had three stray cats, all from the neighborhood, that we had rescued during those several years of occupancy. There was Fester, Tommy, and Animal. Animal was my cat, and it had been rescued in front of The Herald-Gazette office, down the road, when a jerk and his jerk-friend tossed the kitten out of a moving car. I saw it happen, but in the time it took to pull the injured cat off the road, I'd missed the car's license plate. Animal had a few scrapes and bruises but survived. In the former McGibbon House, a rather haunted abode itself, I have a photograph of Animal peering up at a corner of the room, where many mysterious events and noises had come from, during my years at that house. The photograph revealed a strange white mist, hanging in the doorway, and the cat looking up at it, sitting in the doorway. I shot most of a roll of 24 exposures on my news camera. I had my photographic technician, at the time, do many different prints of the clearest image, to determine if there was anything wrong with the negative; and he checked out my camera lens to see if it could have been a light flare, that caused the white image. Everything checked out, and with Animal's help, I may have been able to get my first ghost shot as a journalist. I will have much more on the McGibbon house in a future blog. Point is, Animal was always very animated when the wind chimes would sound, and we'd see her looking up at the wall, in the vicinity where it was loudest. The other cats would just cuddle on the chair, but Animal would follow activity around the apartment, much as a cat would wait and watch for a mouse to appear. Animal knew there was something extra in this apartment.
One evening, shortly after going to bed, Animal had jumped up on the bed to snuggle into my legs. I remember feeling those last numbing thoughts before actual slumber, and then feeling cat claws in my leg. Animal had bolted. The wind chimes were louder than I'd heard them before. I sat up, Suzanne told me to go back to sleep (as it was just a normal night of haunting), and I could see around the corner that a kitchen light was now on. I swung my legs out over the bed, saw the bleeding cat scratch on my shin, and then…..just then, I could smell something burning. I yelled at Suzanne to get out of bed, because something was on fire in the building. I ran into the living room, and the smell was intense. I banged on the adjoining door to the main part of the house, where the owners lived, and found him working the door handle from the other side. We met face to face, with a lot of anxiety etched onto our midnight faces. "There's a fire downstairs," he shouted, as more smoke poured into our apartment. "I've called the fire department…..you've got to get out."
So, here are two antique-burdened tenants, with three cats, held in our arms…..still in our pajamas, trying to make a quick exit…..but not leaving our family keepsakes behind. We got the cats out of the house, and took them to the car at the end of the apartment. I would move that too, after going back in for a couple more items. So here we are, on a winter's eve, standing in the snow, with an antique walking-wheel (for spinning wool) in our hands, and some family photographs we just couldn't leave behind. There's a good outcome to the story. A part of the gas furnace had failed and caught fire. If it hadn't been discovered at that time, so quickly, it might have been a much more dire situation. We had to stay in the car for a couple of hours, but short of it being a little cool in the house, after the fire department had to ventilate the structure, (and the furnace was now on the blink), it was nice to be safe and sound.
In retrospect, and I can't speak about the landlord's awakening, in the emergency, whether the result of smoke or the sound of wind-chimes, but I can validate that long before the permeating aroma of smoke, I was awaked by a frightened cat, and very loud windchimes, to go with the intrusive kitchen light, that came on by itself. The spirit clan of that old house, may have wanted us to move out, and take the clutter, but it certainly didn't want us to perish in a fire. The wind chimes seemed less intrusive for the rest of our residency there, but the doors still opened in the night, and the lights would switch on and off by themselves. We agreed to stop bringing more stuff into the house, and that seemed to evoke a sort-of truce.
There had been deaths in the house previously, one that was rumored to have been an act of suicide. We don't know, for sure, and we didn't believe it necessary to do an in-depth investigation. What we did know however, was that the paranormal occurrences increased three-fold, from the time I moved in with Suzanne, to the moment we recognized there was no room left to hang even a small painting. The former occupants of the house, just didn't like the change we were generating in the little apartment. I can affect people that way. Now it's always potential, that we may have also, inadvertently, brought in a hitch-hiker spirit, on one of the many antique pieces, moved into the apartment. I never felt this, but it is also true, we found one immediately after moving to another abode, just down the hillside. It wouldn't be the first time we inadvertently brought in some patina of the spirit-kind, on an antique we couldn't live without. We were the owners of this early 1900's two story home. And it had a ghost, or more, and two tragic deaths within, during its structural history. Believe me, we found them, but even then, the house had a kindness within, that was a perfect place to start our family. I would live there again if opportunity prevailed.
More on the stranger side of antique hunting and collecting, in the next blog.
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