Ghosts

GHOSTS

Standing alone in the hallway of the “most haunted house in America,” I’m about five minutes away from a freaky experience. The Whaley House is a nineteenth-century Greek-revival mansion that once served as a family home and the courthouse for Old Town, San Diego. It’s been well preserved as a historical site and is a popular point of interest for tourists. Before I began exploring the house, I spoke with a ghost believer outside who said she had a terrifying encounter with former owner Thomas Whaley inside. Dead since 1890, Whaley still roams the property, according to local lore. “There is definitely a presence in that house,” she said. “All the sudden, I was freezing cold. I was so scared; I remember closing my eyes and then I knew he was there. I just knew he was going to pass right through me. I was so scared that I couldn’t move, even though I knew something was about to happen. And then something went through my hair. I felt it touch my hair. You would never believe how it felt. It was pure death.”

“There is definitely a presence in that house,” she said again. “The family is there. I think they are attached to the house. You feel a presence. They don’t seem to ever leave.”

Great story. Extra credit for the dramatic delivery. Good thing I don’t believe in ghosts, or I wouldn’t go near this house.

The Whaley home is clean and in excellent condition for its age. It’s far from the old, dusty, cobweb-draped haunted-house cliché. The ambiance is more Monticello than Amityville, more Brady Bunch than Addams Family. But I’m about to get a lesson in human vulnerability to context and suggestion. I may be a hardcore skeptic, but I’m still human, and the last thing I should have done is listen to a creepy ghost story from some jittery paranormal fan just before entering the “most haunted house in America” all by myself. Something happened to me that day, and I’m sure it had a lot to do with that lady tickling my amygdala (brain’s fear center) beforehand. I’ll spare you the suspense; I didn’t see any ghosts. Mr. Whaley didn’t make me cold, touch my hair, or pass through me. And, no, I didn’t find any reasons to reconsider my position on the existence of ghosts. But I did feel a presence.

The haunted brain. It is a slow day at the Whaley House. Only a few other visitors are downstairs, and upstairs I’m all alone . Or am I? In one of the well-preserved bedrooms, I can see old clothes, books, a quill pen, a hairbrush on the dresser, and so on. The presentation is excellent. It looks as if the Whaley couple might round the corner at any moment and tuck themselves into bed. But it was at the children’s room where things got weird.

A small doll sits in an old rocking chair. The soulless little demon stares through me with her little, dead, black doll eyes. Forget the house, this damn doll alone could inspire a dozen Stephen King novels. Then, as if on cue, a brief flash of bright light startles me. I spin around immediately, but nothing is there. I’m stumped at first, but then I realize it was probably the Sun’s reflection off the window of a passing car outside. Good thing I came up with that possible explanation, or it would have bugged me for the rest of the day. Yes, I admit it; my heart rate is up a bit and I’m extra perky now, thanks to a tiny dose of adrenaline. Continuing on, my mind remains slightly haunted. Staring down a long hallway, I imagine the Whaley family that lived here in the 1800s. I “see” children playing and parents talking, arguing, just living. Then I think about the fact that they are all dead. Okay, I’m really getting my money’s worth now. I see dead people—but only in my head. Are they really here? Could there be a family of ghosts drifting around me? Maybe, but I doubt it, because here at the Whaley House, it’s just like every other “haunted” place: no good evidence for the claims.

Every sincere story of a ghost encounter likely can be explained as misinterpreted sights and sounds or the weird feelings people have when standard human imagination and irrational fear give them a poke. Billions of my fellow humans may say they know ghosts are real, but not one of them can prove it. Most ghost believers probably don’t realize that they are not so different from skeptics when they feel a creepy vibe, sense a presence, or are startled by an unexpected sight or sound. I experienced all of those things within the space of fifteen minutes—despite the fact that I never thought for a second that ghosts are real.

You may be wondering how many people believe in ghosts. The answer? A lot. A Harris Poll study found that 42 percent of American adults think ghosts are real.16 The percentage of children who believe is probably much higher. According to a Gallup poll, 37 percent of American adults believe that houses can be haunted by ghosts 17 and twenty percent of US adults say they have visited or lived in a haunted house.18

I think the most important thing for ghost believers to keep in mind is that the best “evidence” we have for ghosts comes in the form of eyewitness accounts. I won’t list the reasons for not trusting eyewitness accounts here. Instead, just consider that many of these reports are about things people heard or saw that they interpreted to be a ghost. Remember the woman I spoke with before entering the Whaley House? She never told me that she saw Thomas Whaley or heard his voice. She said she “felt his presence” and “knew it was him.” Doesn’t that sound like nothing more than imagination run amok? I’m not judging her harshly for having experienced it. This sort of thing is so common that it seems to be a normal human reaction in certain circumstances. After all, nothing more than a flash of reflected light and a creepy doll briefly spooked me once.

In order to be good skeptics who are not easily fooled into believing in things that don’t exist, we have to resist applying answers when we don’t really have answers. For example, a classic haunted-house experience might involve someone lying in bed and hearing creepy sounds coming from down the hall or from another room. Maybe it’s a creak in the wooden floor or the rattle of something that sounds like chains. No doubt, millions of ghost stories have come from such sounds. Never mind that houses, especially old ones, can generate many sounds for many reasons. One mouse scurrying around inside a wall or one drafty room can do it. But guess what? An unidentified sound is an unidentified sound. A good skeptic does not pretend to know something she or he does not. The same rule applies with visual experiences. If someone sees a mysterious shadow, a moving wisp of fog, or an unexpected flash of light as I did, “ghost” is not a justified answer to explain it without a lot more evidence to back it up. Many friends and strangers have shared their ghost stories with me, and I would estimate that at least 90 percent of them involve unknown sights or sounds that they interpreted to be a ghost. They readily admitted to me that they did not see a distinct humanoid with clearly visible facial features standing or hovering before them and speaking about the hardships of being a ghost, haunting homes, or whatever. Most reported ghost encounters in real life are nothing like A Christmas Carol, in which one clearly sees and carries on conversations with spirits. They are almost always nothing more than unknown phenomena unjustly defined as ghosts.

I probably should add that I am not antighost. I’m just proreality. As a source of fictional fun and cheap thrills, I have no problem with ghost stories. Within reason, I think it’s great to exploit our insecurities and fears about death for a good emotional jolt now and then. Scary stories are near and dear to my heart. I love taking my son to Monsterpalooza, for example. This annual horror-movie and monster-makeup festival in Burbank, California, is a blast. Ghosts are fun. Monsters are cool. I just think we all ought to know the differences between fantasy, reality, and the unknown. One can be a skeptic and a ghost fan, too. Nothing wrong with that. Fear is a terrible, unwanted thing that we avoid at all costs—except when we seek it out. Roller coasters, horror movies, and scary novels frighten us in ways we love. It’s even okay to be afraid of the occasional shadow or mysterious bump in the night. That stuff can keep us on our toes and remind us that we are alive and want to stay that way. Just make sure to always do your best to distinguish between truth and fiction, between the known and the unknown.