ARIZONA - Navajo County Court House

Article © James Hicks
Photo © Ritchie D

HOLBROOK, AZ - Believe it or not, there was a time—not so long ago—when a drive down our nation's highways took us through the small towns of America, where we could actually meet people and deal with them as individuals. In those days you could stop at a gas station, where a guy wearing coveralls would not only pump your gas for you, but would also wash your windshield and check your oil and your tire pressure. You could eat a fairly decent meal at a diner where the food was grown locally and cooked up by an old granny using her favorite family recipes (or not). But we've traded that all away for the sake of convenience. Instead, we blaze across soulless Interstate highways that make a beeline from one big city to another. We gas up at convenience stores staffed by people wearing company uniforms, who are too busy to inconvenience you by making small talk. And we eat at fast food joints where you can get a burger that tastes exactly the same as one served two blocks from your house... as well it should, because the food comes from the same place and is prepared the same way.

But there are still reminders of those earlier days. Route 66 is gone now, but the ghost of the Mother Road still remains. It lies scattered here and there across America, ready for anyone with a spirit of adventure and nostalgia.

Holbrook, Arizona is one place where the spirit of old Route 66 is alive and well. It is the site of one of the few remaining Wigwam Village motels, whose teepee-shaped cottages have become an American icon. That alone makes the town worth visiting, but I have something else in mind. As you know, to qualify for this blog a place usually has to be haunted... and the Wigwam Village (to the best of my knowledge) isn't.

So for this story, we need to go back further in time. Before Route 66. To a time when our main form of transportation had four legs and ate hay. Back when Holbrook was a rough frontier town known as a place "too tough for women and churches."

Holbrook was founded in 1881 and soon became known as a hotbed of lawlessness. It was a cesspool of gamblers, rustlers, cowboys, and drifters. Train robbery, stagecoach robbery, cattle rustling, and murder were a common pastime. And even when the law came to town, it took awhile for the place to become relatively respectable.

But gradually it did. By 1895, it was respectable enough to become the county seat. And that's where our story begins.

The Navajo County Court House was built in 1898 and was used until 1976. The county jail was located in the basement, and it should be noted that no one ever escaped from it during the entire 78 years it was in service. It also should be noted that in spite of all the lawlessness in the town's history, only one man was ever (legally) hung in Navajo County.

In 1899, a man by the name of George Smiley was sentenced to hang for the murder of a railroad employee. In accordance with Arizona law, the sheriff sent out invitations to the hanging to certain public officials. Unfortunately, while the law required the invitations to be sent, it gave no guidelines as to how they should be written. So the sheriff was on his own when he wrote up the invitation to Smiley's execution. It read:

Holbrook, Arizona, 11/28 1899.

Mr. _______________

You are hereby cordially invited to attend the hanging of one

George Smiley, Murderer.

His soul will swing into eternity on December 8, 1899, at 3 o'clock p.m., sharp.

Latest improved methods in the art of scientific strangulation will be employed and everything possible will be done to make the surroundings cheerful and the execution a success.

F.J. WATTRON
Sheriff of Navajo County.

Apparently, the pointless and useless notion of "political correctness" is not a new thing. Because when a reporter got his hands on the invitation, he wired it to the Associated Press and then all hell broke loose. The story appeared in papers all across the nation and was even printed in several European countries. Apparently it was okay to give someone a long necktie, but it wasn't okay to be happy that a murderer was getting his just desserts. So President McKinley chewed out the governor, and then the governor reamed the sheriff and issued a 30-day stay of execution.

In the meantime, the sheriff issued new invitations:

Revised Statutes of Arizona, Penal Code, Title X, Section 1849, Page 807, makes it obligatory on sheriff to issue invitations to executions, form (unfortunately) not prescribed.

Holbrook, Arizona

Jan. 7, 1900.

With feelings of profound sorrow and regret, I hereby invite you to attend and witness the private, decent and humane execution of a human being; name, George Smiley, crime, murder.

The said George Smiley will be executed on Jan. 8, 1900, at 2 o’clock p.m.

You are expected to deport yourself in a respectful manner, and any "flippant" or "unseemly" language or conduct on your part will not be allowed. Conduct, on anyone’s part, bordering on ribaldry and tending to mar the solemnity of the occasion will not be tolerated.

F.J. Wattron,
Sheriff of Navajo County

No sarcasm there. Nope. Not at all.

So political correctness won the day. Those who had nothing to do with the execution had themselves a really nice, warm and fuzzy feeling of empathetic compassion when George Smiley swung into eternity on January 8, 1900.

But it seems that even acknowledging his status as a human being did not bring peace to George Smiley, because there are those who say that his spirit haunts the court house. There have been reports of people seeing Smiley's ghost wandering throughout the building and pacing up and down the stairs. There are also reports of strange noises being heard, doors opening and closing on their own, and objects being moved by unseen hands.

And apparently Smiley isn't alone. The spirit of a woman has been seen gazing outside the windows of the old building on several occasions. She has been given the name Mary, and is said to be the spirit of a woman who died inside the old jail.

Ghosts or not, the Navajo County Court House is worth a visit. Today it houses the chamber of commerce and the historical society, and should be the first stop made by visitors to the area. It houses a museum with many displays featuring the rich history of the area, and tours of the old jail are available. Special events are held throughout the year, including Native American dancers who perform on weekday evenings in the summer months.

VISITOR'S INFO:

The Navajo County Court House is easy to find in Holbrook. It should definitely be the first stop for visitors—be sure to pick up information about the other attractions in the area, such as Painted Desert and the Petrified Forest National Monument. There are enough things to do in the area to fill a weekend or even an entire week, so allow yourself plenty of time!

Hours of operation are 8:00 AM to 5:00 PM, or even later during the summer months.

ADDRESS:	100 E. Arizona Ave
	Holbrook, AZ 86025
PHONE:	928-524-6558
WEBSITE:	None
GPS:	N 34'54.165"
	W 110'09.416"

THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY:

Well in spite of what I said earlier, it's been awhile between posts. This time it was a combination of real life, and not being able to get it touch with people willing to be interviewed.

I made several attempts to interview people and spoke to several volunteers at the old court house, each of whom referred me to someone else. Not that they weren't willing to talk about it, it's just that they believed that someone else would be more knowledgeable. In the end, I was referred to a person who is only in the court house one day a week, and that's where real life gets in the way—it seems that I'm always busy on that day.

Eventually I will get in touch with this person, and at that time I will post an update, but for now I felt that it was important to go ahead and write the article and post it.

ALASKA - The Red Onion Saloon

Article © James Hicks
Photo © Vincent Ko

SKAGWAY, AK - Anyone looking for haunted places or unusual attractions in the Land of the Midnight Sun would do well to turn their attention to the Red Onion Saloon in Skagway, AK--it has both! The historic saloon boasts not only a brothel museum in the very rooms where soiled doves such as the Oregon Mare (so named for her tendency to whinny like a horse when she was... um... entertaining her clients, which I think is just wrong) and the notorious Klondike Kate, but also at least one resident ghost.

The Klondike Gold Rush sent thousands of men and women on a perilous journey to the gold fields of Alaska. Loaded down with over a ton of supplies and equipment, these adventurous souls risked life and limb as they trekked through the frozen Alaska wilderness, hoping to strike it rich. Today, tourism is the new Alaska gold, and modern-day adventurers hoping to hit paranormal paydirt will be happy to learn that finding it is as easy as stepping off a boat.

The Red Onion Saloon is a well-known landmark in the Alaskan town of Skagway, once a staging area for miners on their way to the gold fields. It was built in 1897, the year gold was discovered in the Klondike, and opened for business in 1898. It remained open long after the miners threw down their picks and shovels and headed back to someplace where hiking to the next town was not a survival situation.

Prospectors were creatures of the flesh just like we are, and the Red Onion was there to provide essential services. A saloon on the first floor served liquor, and the ladies on the second floor served customers who had a hankering for... something else.

The saloon had ten dolls behind the bar, each representing one of the girls upstairs. When a miner was in the mood to make a love connection, he'd point to one of the dolls, which would then be placed on it's back (a unique--if not exactly delicate--way to indicate that the girl was busy). The customer would then climb the ladder to meet up with his new temporary girlfriend, who would then drop the payment (usually five dollars for fifteen minutes) down a copper tube leading directly to the cash register. When their relationship ended and the customer returned downstairs, the doll was placed upright again to indicate that she was available.

Times have changed since then. You can still buy a beer (and food) in the saloon on the first floor, and there are still ladies dressed in revealing costumes, but these "madams" no longer provide the services they used to. Today they are hostesses and tour guides, whose purpose is to see that you have a good time... but not too good, if you catch my drift.

The madams provide tours of several of the rooms upstairs, which have been converted into a brothel museum. Many artifacts from the period are on display here, including a silver muslin dress found hidden under the floorboards (where many of the working girls hid their valuables) when the building was renovated. Thankfully, modern visitors can use the staircase to reach the museum instead of climbing a ladder, but the price is the same--five bucks for fifteen minutes (for the tour, that is).

Liz Lavoie, Operations Manager of the Red Onion, is very knowledgeable about the history and hauntings of the old cathouse, and filled me in on some of the details. Lots of folks know about "Lydia" (she is even mentioned on the Red Onion's website), who has been known to gently push male employees and visitors when they leave the brothel museum. But recently a psychic medium paid a visit and told them about a second spirit "living" in the saloon--"'Holly' was very friendly," Lavoie said, adding that she was "apparently a very slight woman and she wears emerald green. She was never a madam or a prostitute, but she was a runner for the ladies upstairs."

Other reports of celestial goings-on include people hearing footsteps upstairs when no one was there--in one case, it is said that the police were called by a spooked employee, but they found nothing when they investigated. People also tell of smelling strong perfume upstairs and feeling cold spots. One green-thumbed ghost is particularly helpful--employees watering the plants will sometimes find that it has already been done, and on occasion the figure of a woman can be seen in one of the upstairs rooms, watering plants that don't exist.

Lavoie says that visitors will sometimes bring in photographs taken in the saloon that appear to be anomalous. She also related a story about a man who called in to a paranormal talk show while on a tour of the Red Onion, and in the background was the voice of a woman who twice demanded to know, "Who are you?" [NOTE: If anyone out there knows what radio show this was, and can provide an audio clip of this call, the folks at the Red Onion would love to hear from you.]

Asked abour her own personal experiences, Lavoie said that she had not actually seen anything, but added, "There's kind of like a presence, and not in any particular space or spot, but the feeling--the distinct feeling--of not being alone."

"I would definitely say there's something there."

VISITOR'S INFO:

While Skagway is no longer a lawless frontier town, it's still pretty isolated. Getting there is an adventure in and of itself. The town has an airport for small planes, and those who are really adventurous can drive there, but
the best way is by boat. You can go by ferry, or you can do it in style--book a cruise for you and your sweetie. The Red Onion has several different tours available for different cruise lines, and it sure beats camping out on the deck. Check with your travel agent for details.

Alaska winters being what they are, the Red Onion is a seasonal operation. It typically opens for business in early April and closes sometime in mid-October.

ADDRESS:	205 Broadway
	Skagway, AK 99840
PHONE:	907-983-2414
WEBSITE:	http://www.redonion1898.com
GPS:	N 59'27.662"
	W -135'18.443"

THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY:

This was another one of those where I started researching a different location and found nothing. So although I resigned myself to writing about another non-haunted location picked at random, blessed Neptune must've been smiling upon me that day, because the place I chose was the Red Onion, which is haunted.

It took some time to get this post done. I did as much research as humanly possible, and then decided to call the place up to ask a few questions and fill in some gaps. So I called to speak to the owner, Jan Wrentmore. She is apparently a very busy lady, so it took a few calls to catch her when she was there... and she politely referred me to the same person I had been bothering the past several days to reach her. Note to self: talk to the person who answers the phone first. They're usually the ones who know what is going on, anyway.

Anyone paying close attention to the posting dates will notice that there is a huge gap between this post and the last. Life got in the way. Earlier this summer, I quit my nice cushy desk job to move back to my hometown. And before I could really get things going, the folks we were staying with lost their nice cushy home. So we ended up perma-camping at a campground in a city park (I planned to do a little of that this summer, but not like that).

So then there was this big rush to find employment and housing, which doesn't leave much room for blogging. Now I live in an apartment and move pianos and floor safes upstairs for a living.

But if you're wondering if you'll have to wait another couple of months before seeing another post here, the answer is, "HELL NO!" I'm already working on the next two.

ALABAMA - Dismals Canyon

Article © James Hicks
Photo © Melinda Shelton

PHIL CAMPBELL, AL - It's okay to name a town after a person, but using the person's full name is just wrong. But there it is in all it's glory, Phil Campbell, AL.

But I'm not here to write about the town, or about the 2005 Phil Campbell convention (attended by 22 people from across the country who shared the same name as the town), which in and of itself was cool in a seriously lame kinda way. Nope... I'm here to write about one of Alabama's best kept secrets. A place that lies just outside the village with the unfortunate name. A place whose name on a coolness scale from one to ten would rank a fifteen. A place called Dismals Canyon.

Dismals Canyon is an 85-acre, privately-owned park—or "Natural Conservatory" as they like to call it—that offers a glimpse of of what Appalachia was like before the region was settled. The forest is pristine, the waters are clear, and there are very few signs of Homo sapiens modifying the natural world to his own liking. In fact, Dismals Canyon is much the same as it was when a certain Spaniard stepped off a boat and thought he was in India.

I'll have to admit that I was more than a little leery when I learned that the place is privately owned. Usually in our culture that means that on any given day the place would be jam-packed with monster RVs driven by goofball yuppie tourists who think that getting back to nature means getting a rock stuck in your flip-flop.

But like the Native Americans who inhabited the canyon for millennia, Dismals Canyon's owners are wise enough to see the value of keeping it pristine. Sure, they'd make more money by filling in the canyon, paving it over, and building a strip mall (or strip club), but instead they've chosen to be good stewards of the land and keep it in its natural state.

The human history of the canyon is a long one. Artifacts from Paleo-indians—the earliest known Americans—have been found dating back ten thousand years. Later inhabitants were the Pueblos, the Cherokees and of course, the white settlers.

Very little was done by the Europeans to exploit the resources of the canyon. Maybe the isolation of the region protected it. That would make sense, as the canyon was used as a hideout for bandits and outlaws, most notable of them being Aaron Burr after he shot and killed Alexander Hamilton—y'know, that guy on the $10 bill.

But the history and the scenery weren't what inspired me to write about Dismals Canyon in the first place. As you know, I write about places that are mysterious and odd. And the thing that earns Dismals Canyon a place in the Weirdness Hall of Fame are the Dismalites. At night, the canyon walls are aglow with thousands of tiny blue lights.

Are they ghost lights? Unfortunately not. Fireflies? Nope, but you're getting warmer. The Dismalites are glow worms, the larval stage of Orfelia fultoni, more commonly known as the fungus gnat (the Dismals Canyon website says that they are Arachnocampa luminosa, but it was recently found that they are a seperate, but related species... oh, the things you learn when researching an article).

The Dismalites spin a web, kinda like a spider. At night, other insects are attracted to the light from the glowing worms, get stuck in the web, and get eaten. What this means for the Dismalites is that they get lots of yummy bugs to eat. What it means to you and me is that we get lots of pretty lights to look at.

For a modest fee, guided night tours are held on Fridays and Saturdays to view the Dismalites, and it is said that at night it's hard to tell where the Dismalite-covered canyon walls end, and the starry sky begins.

Recreational activities are designed to have a minimal impact on the environment—visitors can hike along the canyon floor and swim in a natural pool, but there's not a laser light show or putt-putt golf course to be found. If you feel like staying the night, there are cabins and primitive campsites available, but the goofball yuppie tourists will have to find somewhere else to camp out in their monster RVs. Because at Dismals Canyon, it's all about getting back to nature.

As I said before, Dismals Canyon is privately owned. That means there are admission fees (with deep discounts for scouts, which I think is awesome). And while I still worry that future owners may not have the same respect for the environment as the present owners do, I feel that so far the area has had better protection than it would if it were a state or national park. It shows that free Americans are perfectly capable of protecting the environment without getting The Man involved.

VISITOR'S INFO:

Dismals Canyon has an outstanding website with all the information you'll need to plan a visit. Check it out for hours of operation, admission fees, and anything else you're looking for.

ADDRESS:	901 Hwy 8
	Phil Campbell, AL 35581
PHONE:	(205) 993-4559
WEBSITE:	http://www.dismalscanyon.com/
GPS:	N 34'19.500"
	W 87'46.860"

THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY:

My number one rule for Strange Destinations is that it should focus on lesser-known locations. Everyone knows about the hauntings of the Queen Mary, the eccentric and rambling Winchester House, and the freaky weirdness of the Oregon Vortex. Those places have been done to death, and even though I'd love to visit them, my main purpose here is to turn people on to places they've never heard of.

So I hit the web and chose fifty places—one in each state—completely at random. My plan was (and is) to research them, write them up, and pass the stories on to you, my valued readers. I knew it would be a challenge because I was starting out with nothing. Most of the stories I've chosen have nothing but a few words about the alleged hauntings (all of the places I chose are supposed to be haunted, but more on that later), the name of thelocation, and maybe an address.

This was the very first story I worked on. Originally, I was going to write about a place called "Morgan Church" in Selma, AL, but after FOUR HOURS of research, I couldn't find one single reference to it anywhere on the web. So eventually—stubbornly—I came to the conclusion that there is no such place, or if there is, then it's called something else.

So then comes Plan B, which is to choose another place at random. A place that is not supposed to be haunted, but would still be cool to visit. I'm a ghost hunter, so naturally I like to write about ghosts and hauntings. But in the interest of keeping things diverse—and just because a place isn't haunted doesn't mean it's not cool—I decided that the alternate location should be non-paranormal in nature... at least as far as my initial research showed.

So I hit the web again. This time I came up with a place that not only had a cool name, but also was home to mysterious ghost lights! Well, I solved the mystery of the lights in the ten seconds it took to do a Google search, but I instantly fell in love with the place and just had to write about it.

About this blog

In a world of branded, pre-packaged entertainment, I want to show you something real. None of the places you will read about in Strange Destinations were conceived in a boardroom with psychologists onhand to pinpoint the exact amount of fun a human being must be having in order to spend the maximum amount of their hard-earned cash. They are not some gaudy, two-dimensional facade duct-taped to the front of a profit generating machine. They are places with history and substance.

Yes, many of these places are businesses who by their very nature exist to make money. And I encourage you to patronize and support those businesses if you wish. They are oddball in some way, and that's what makes them interesting and worthwhile to visit. And in most cases, their weirdness has nothing to do with their intended purpose. But they are what they are.

Most of these places are said to be haunted. Whether or not you believe that is up to you. I'm not here to convince you of anything--you have your own opinions, just as I have mine. I tend to focus on the haunted stuff because that's what interests me. I am a ghost hunter, after all.

I'm not interested in re-hashing what other people have done. I want to show you places you've never heard about before. So what I'm doing is picking fifty haunted places at random--one in each state of the US--to research and write about. If for some reason I'm unable to write about a location, I will cover an interesting non-haunted place in that state.

Locations will appear in more-or-less alphabetical order by state (loctions in some states may be easier to track down than others, so posts about some states may appear out of order). And when I work through them all, I'll cycle through the states again.

Unlike my books, posts appearing in Strange Destinations aren't based on firsthand experience. They are based on internet and library research, usually combined with telephone and e-mail interviews. Though I hope to eventually travel throughout the US in search of places to write about, I'm not quite there yet.

But don't let that stop you from visiting these places. Because that's the whole point of this blog--turning you on to places that you can actually go to. That's why it's called Strange Destinations.