OLD HOUSES, OLD GHOSTS AND THE VOYEURS LOOKING THROUGH THOSE SPIRALS OF THE CENTURIES
I BEGAN MY ANTIQUE HUNTING DAYS, LEARNING FROM ABANDONED HOMESTEADS, AND FINDING OUT, I WASN'T ALONE
IN THE DAYS LEADING UP TO THE DEMOLITION, OF A GRAND VICTORIAN BRICK HOUSE, ON TORRANCE AVENUE, JUST ABOVE THE LAKESHORE, IN BURLINGTON, MY CHILDHOOD CHUM, RAY GREEN AND I, SNUCK THROUGH A BOARDED-UP FRONT ENTRANCE, TO SEE WHAT WAS LEFT INSIDE. THE ELEGANT THREE STORY HOME, ON THE HILLSIDE, ABOVE RAMBLE CREEK, WAS BEING REMOVED, IN ORDER TO CONSTRUCT A TWELVE STORY APARTMENT BUILDING, THEY WERE CALLING "THE FUTURE TORRANCE TERRACE." MOST OF US WOULD HAVE PREFERRED IF THE OLD HOUSE COULD HAVE REMAINED ON THAT CHESTNUT-LINED, BEAUTIFUL HILLSIDE, LOOMING ABOVE LAKE ONTARIO…..AND ITS MORNING FOG AND FOG-HORNS, ALWAYS RESONATING SO EERILY ACROSS THE WATER.
THE REASON I DRAW BACK TO THIS STORY, OF THE BURLINGTON HOUSE, SO FREQUENTLY, WHEN I WRITE ABOUT THE SPARK OF INSPIRATION THAT STARTED ME DOWN THIS ANTIQUING ROAD, IS BECAUSE OF THE SPIRITUAL CONNECTION I MADE THEN…..AND HAVE CONTINUED TO MAKE EVER SINCE……WITH THESE PLACES OF ORIGIN. THE PLACES WHERE THESE ANTIQUE TABLES, BUFFETS, FLAT-TO-THE-WALLS, ARMOIRES, AND VICTORIAN ARMCHAIRS WERE FOUND. WHERE THEY TENDED THE LIFE ACTIVITIES OF THE FORMER RESIDENTS. POTENTIALLY HUNDREDS OF THEM, FROM THE TIME THE HOUSE WAS BUILT, AND FIRST OCCUPIED BY THE LIVING. THE FURNISHINGS THAT MADE AN EMPTY HOUSE, A STATEMENT OF OCCUPATION; A REFLECTION OF PERSONAL VALUES AND INTERESTS. A HOME BY ALL DEFINITION. A STATEMENT OF HERITAGE AND LEGACY. HEIRLOOM PIECES REMINDING OF EARLIER TIMES, AND DEARLY DEPARTED FAMILY MEMBERS, WHO ONCE SAT AT TABLE-SIDE AND DINED….OR LODGED AFTER WORK, BY THE WINDOW, LOOKING OVER THE RAVINE, SMOKING A PIPE, AND WAXING POETIC ABOUT ROBBIE BURNS, AND THE ADDRESS TO THE HAGGIS. ALL THAT WAS THEN,…. I WANTED TO KNOW NOW. I JUST DIDN'T HAVE ANYONE ELSE TO ASK, EXCEPT THE SPIRITS, AS THEY WERE THAT DAY, GUARDING OVER THIS RESIDENCE TO THE END.
I WASN'T IN THAT DIMLY LIT HOUSE MORE THAN A COUPLE OF MINUTES, WHEN IT BECAME CLEAR TO MY IMPRESSIONABLE SELF, RAY AND I WEREN'T ALONE. WE MAY HAVE THOUGHT WE HAD AN UNLIMITED RUN OF THE HOUSE, ON ALL LEVELS, BUT THIS WASN'T THE CASE FOR ME. I BECAME STRANGELY REVERENT, UNUSUAL FOR A KID, AND ALTHOUGH THIS ESSENCE OF PAST LIVES WASN'T DEMANDING WE LEAVE THE BUILDING, THERE WAS AN INTRUSIVE AURA OF GUARDIANSHIP. I'M NOT AT ALL SURE WHETHER THE SPIRITS WITHIN, WERE CONCERNED RAY AND I MIGHT GET HURT INSIDE, WITH ALL THE HOLES IN THE FLOOR AND WALLS, AND HANGING PORTIONS OF CEILING PLASTER. OR, IF THEY JUST WANTED TO SPEND THE LAST DAYS IN THE OLD RESIDENCE, WITHOUT OUR MUCKING ABOUT THE PREMISES. I WASN'T SCARED, AND WITH THE STYLE OF HOUSE IT WAS, IT MOST CERTAINLY APPEARED HAUNTED AND "A PLACE" YOU WOULDN'T WANT TO HANG AROUND IN, TO SEE IF IT WAS…….OCCUPIED BY UNKNOWN AND POTENTIALLY MALEVOLENT ENTITIES. THIS WAS DIFFERENT. IT BECAME MORE INVITING AND FRIENDLY, THE DEEPER INTO THE SANCTUARY WE PENETRATED. I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN KEENLY SENSITIVE TO THINGS LIKE THIS, AND AS FAR AS GHOSTS GO, I'VE SEEN AND EXPERIENCED MY FAIR SHARE. THE HOUSE WAS MOST DEFINITELY HAUNTED BUT IT WASN'T SUCH THAT WE WERE FRIGHTENED BY WHAT WE FELT AND WITNESSED.
ONE COMMON REALITY HAS STUCK WITH ME, IN THE ANTIQUE PROFESSION, THROUGH MOST OF MY LIFE THUS FAR. ON THAT DAY, POKING ABOUT THE SOON TO BE DEMOLISHED HOUSE ON THE HILL, I FELT A COMPELLING FASCINATION ABOUT BEING ITS WITNESS…….THE ONE TO EXPERIENCE ITS LIFE AND TIMES, WHEN ALL OTHERS WERE DISCONNECTED BY THE REALITY "NO ONE LIVED THERE ANY MORE." JUST BECAUSE IT WAS A CONDEMNED BUILDING, DIDN'T MEAN ANYTHING TO ME….OTHER THAN IT WAS THE REASON FOR ITS IMMEDIATE ALLURE. I WANTED TO SEE IT BEFORE "IT WAS NO MORE!" I DIDN'T SEE GHOSTS IN THAT HOUSE. I DIDN'T WITNESS SWIRLING VAPORS, OR WATCH ANY SHADOW WALKING FROM BARREN ROOM TO ROOM. THERE WERE NO THREATENING VOICES, NO MOANING, CRYING OR ANYTHING THAT WOULD SUGGEST, RAY AND I WERE TRULY VISITING A HAUNTED HOUSE. I SUPPOSE FOR RAY, IT WAS KIND OF A LET-DOWN. I COULDN'T TELL HIM WHAT I WAS EXPERIENCING, BECAUSE HE WOULD HAVE GONE TO SCHOOL THE NEXT DAY, AND TOLD EVERYONE IN CLASS THAT "TED WAS A SCARED BY AN OLD EMPTY HOUSE."
WELL THE EMPTY PART, ISN'T QUITE TRUE. THERE HAD BEEN LOTS OF THINGS LEFT BEHIND. BEAUTIFUL OLD LIGHTING FIXTURES AND SHELVES; SOME BUILT-IN CUPBOARDS AND A FIREPLACE IF MEMORY SERVES. THERE WERE SOME OLD CHAIRS AND DRINKING GLASSES ON AN ASKEW TABLE, PLATES AND CUTLERY ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER, AND GLASS DOOR KNOBS LAYING ON THE FLOOR. I CONFESS TO HAVING STUFFED SOME RELICS IN MY POCKET AS KEEPSAKES OF OUR VISIT. NOTHING OF VALUE. I JUST NEEDED SOMETHING TO REMIND ME OF OUR AFTERNOON ADVENTURE, IN THE HOUSE THAT WAS SOON TO BE GONE.
I FELT SORRY FOR INANIMATE OBJECTS. I WANTED TO RESCUE THEM ALL. THE CHAIRS, THE BROKEN TABLE, ALL THE CHANDELIER FIXTURES, THE MANTLE, AND ALL THE LITTLE PIECES OF THIS HOMESTEAD'S HERITAGE, SCATTERED ABOUT THE BUILDING. I WAS A KID. WHAT THE HECK DID I KNOW ABOUT HISTORY AND THE HERITAGE OF THIS BUILDING OR ANY BUILDING? BUT THEN MANY PEOPLE, INCLUDING MY GRANDMOTHER, HAVE TOLD ME OFTEN, THAT I HAVE AN OLD SOUL. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT IT MEANT THEN, AND I'VE HAD MY DOUBTS ABOUT IT EVER SINCE. I THINK WHAT THEY MEANT, WAS THAT MY SOUL HAS BEEN OUT AND ABOUT IN OTHER LIVES….AND IS PARTICULARLY REACTIONARY TO SITUATIONS LIKE ABANDONED HOUSES AND BUILDINGS, WHERE OTHER OLD SOULS MAY BE HUDDLED IN ESSENCE. AS I KNEW THE HOUSE WAS OCCUPIED BY SOMETHING, NOTHING WAS OF A FRIGHTENING, OR UNSETTLING NATURE. BELIEVE ME, I COULD STARTLE EASILY, AND YET THE AURA OF THE BUILDING WAS ONE OF KINDNESS AND WELCOME, MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE. IT'S WHAT I REMEMBER MOST OF THAT EARLY-LIFE BREAK AND ENTER. I HAD TO SEE THE INSIDE OF THE HOUSE. I WAS DRAWN TO IT, JUST AS I HAVE BEEN TO MANY OTHER ABANDONED, SOON TO BE TORN-DOWN HOUSES……AS IF, I HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO BE ITS STORY TELLER…..A BIOGRAPHER OF SORTS.
I AM ALWAYS INTERESTED IN THE HISTORY OF THE PLACES, ANTIQUES HAVE COME FROM
When I ponder, now and again, how I began in the antique trade, there's no question it was this attracting-aura of antique pieces. It certainly wasn't because of the money. My entry into the house on Torrance, would have been in the early 1960's. I didn't make my first dollar in the antique trade until the late 1970's. But I was hooked on vintage articles long before this, and I know it had something to do with the vibes I was getting, routinely, being in their vicinity. I'm exactly the same today. If I was to admit (as I have before), that I look for antiques that "speak to me," I would be telling a career truth, that has never once let me down…..as far as being happy with a purchase from the moment of discovery, and my period of ownership; to the moment when I have to pack-it-in someone else's vehicle for transport to another home. I can say goodbye to these special pieces, contently so, if I sense they are going to an appreciative owner. There's no way of writing this, so that it doesn't read as if I believe in ghosts. I do. You can read all about my relationships with the paranormal, on my Muskoka and Algoqnuin Ghost blog (that is in serious need of an update), by clicking-on hauntedmuskoka.blogspot.ca/ . Now this doesn't mean to suggest I buy old sealer jars, books, vintage clothing, old sports equipment, kitchen gadgets, bowls and tables, because the ghosts tell me to do so! Every dealer, whether they believe in the paranormal or not, will look upon some incredible finds, out on the hustings, that were of a providential nature……such as, "I can't believe I dreamt of finding a pine jam cupboard, and now here it is," having come upon one at an estate sale, or auction. Or, in a distant antique shop, or at an antique show, "My God, it's a painting my grandmother did of my grandfather!" This happens more than you would believe. Similar situations that are well beyond what I consider mere coincidence. Strange encounters between the past and present, and this is what has always attracted me to the inner sanctum of antiques and collectibles. Rather than write books about this, which would read more as fiction, than not, with most reading them scoffing anyway, most of us just take all the magic, enchantments, coincidences, curious liaisons, and providential activity in stride, as being part of the antique profession. I am not alone, when I write about these haunting feelings, being in old houses and buildings, as if they are occupied still, by the spirits left behind by the spent mortal coils. I could gather some interesting stories from dealers, for example, who have spent lots of time settling estates, in a wide array of dwelling places all over the country, who have had a little extra help, or antagonism, from a spiritual interloper, happy or discontent and the dispersal of possessions. Voices, taps on the shoulder from no one in particular, raps on the door, moaning, crying, and mischief. All part of the antique hunting experience. Just not grand enough, in scale, to tempt Hollywood to make a movie about it all!
I have been a mortal interloper in hundreds of old, half-fallen and abandoned houses. I have never entered a single one, with the idea of removing anything of value. I did so as a child, because I didn't think of it then as either dishonest or stealing. I assumed it was going to be collapsed upon itself, and hauled away to a dumpsite. So who would miss a glass door knob and some old forks and a dish. I'd go to these surviving homes, where I was digging for old bottles near by. I was an old glass collector, in my first ten years as an antique hunter. Every one of these old homesteads had a unique biography, related to the family who had built and resided there, often from the 1860's to 1890's, and onward. Some of the farmhouses were much newer but still pathetic and lonely, having been long since abandoned, to rot back into the countryside from where they originally arose, built by capable hands, as warm and safe future shelters. Some of these dilapidated dwellings had a sad aura within, that could be a little unsettling, if there were other contributing circumstances; such as the time of day, and the mood established by the prevailing light and weather. An old house entered on a bright January day, even if it had a sad presence to it, was more friendly than a similar farmstead shelter, late in the afternoon, on a stormy day in November. There were all kinds of situations that would prevail upon the senses, as to whether the abode was a happy former residence, or one that had to shelter against ongoing heartbreak and tragedy. The pieces of furniture and odds and sods, were part of that sensory feeling, and to remove just one pieces, was to transport that same aura somewhere else. This can be good and unfortunate, as these stories go, because some folks have acquired "haunted" articles…….like cradles and rocking chairs, that move on their own, without any requirement of human propulsion.
I always pay attention to the vibes given off by significant antique pieces, whether a child's rocking horse, a primitive pine cradle, a bed, a cupboard, or any piece that seems in any way extraordinary, beyond its obvious construction and patina. For me, it all goes back to my early exploration of that Burlington house. I sensed, on that day, a final gathering of those left-behind spirits, of all the folks who once dwelled on that ground, in that building, and under that roof……who had shared, in some ways, the highlights and lowlights of life and times; special events, momentous occasions, and celebrations. So it would have been profoundly insensitive of me, to have felt nothing…….upon entering, and standing quietly in the last moments of the house on the hill. By the time I was walking home from school, the next day, the house had bend pummeled into a pile of wood and brick. I can't say with any assurance that I shed a tear, at its loss, but I know it pricked my own sense of commonplace, that something life altering had just happened. I may not have expected, that the wrecking ball, against that beautiful house, consuming everything that had been left inside, had destined me to become an antique protector and steward; a sort of moral curator, for the rest of my life. It was indeed that profound. I just didn't know it then. Yet when I write these columns and blogs, for many publications and purposes, it always comes back as a hazy vision, of once, a sort of architectural ghost, reminding me of my own beginning, as an antique obsessive. To believe in ghosts, is natural for me. To sense that some antique pieces carry spirit hitch-hikers, is precisely what catches my attention in the first place. I want them. All of them. But you know, for all the enhanced pieces I've acquired, it's never meant we've purposely haunted our house or shop. That's what Hollywood might present, but this isn't a story for the silver screen. Ghosts don't scare me. I've been talking to dead people since childhood. Feel free to archive back to some of my previous blogs, on the ghost site, regarding haunted pieces we've owned…..and adored.
I became involved in the antique trade because I like the aura and actuality of history. Whether it is a First Nations collection of artifacts, found in Muskoka, Civil War histories, antique photographs, paintings or folk art, I appreciate their reflection of the past……and even if it is my downfall as an antique dealer……some things just can not be evaluated in dollars alone. There's so much more. Even for a career wordsmith, it's still hard to put these feelings in print, such that you will understand why antique dealers have to work "outside the box," on this kind of thing……and trust their instincts……such that if a piece or circumstance plays upon the heartstrings……how wise it is, then, to listen to the beautiful music and respond accordingly.
It's been a pleasure as usual, being in your kind company. I hope I haven't unsettled you with all this discussion of spirits and ghosts. I just happen to be one of those folks, who can't get along in life, without their good company……as nebulous and weird, as this revelation may prevail upon the acutely sensitive collectors, and readers out there. Please come back for a visit any time. Wasn't that a nice day for the middle of January. Or should we be worried about global warming, and all the negatives thusly attached? Trees budding early is a disaster.
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