Ghostly Encounters
October 26th, 2008
Leslie Rule and I have done at least three interviews about her ghostly books -- and another one has just hit the shelves -- GHOST IN THE MIRROR: REAL CASES OF SPIRIT ENCOUNTERS. It is very timely -- I just spent the weekend at the Heathman Hotel in two different haunted rooms. I brought the book with me to read when I wasn't working on my own book. I'm writing a novel in which there's a short section where my main character encounters ghosts while staying at the elegant Heathman Hotel. I asked for -- and received Room 703. "Now you know this room is reportedly haunted," my 'personal concierge Conley' greets me. She tells me I should talk to the night auditor, which I do, at midnight.
But first I get settled in, reflecting on the story that Leslie Rule wrote about in WHEN THE GHOST SCREAMS.
The 02 and 03 rooms are to the right when you get out of the elevator. The story goes that a line cook at the first Heathman Hotel, which used to be across the street on Broadway in Portland, was promised a promotion to chef at this Heathman when it opened in 1928. He didn't get the job, and he leaped from the roof in 1929, past all the 02 and 03 rooms into the courtyard. And they are all haunted. The auditor has seen orbs in the rooms, and apparitions.
The day Leslie and I did our interview for WHEN THE GHOST SCREAMS, several years ago, I had interviewed three other authors. Their recordings were perfect. Only Leslie's -- recorded in 702 -- had a high-pitched electronic sound through the entire interview. AP Radio let me use it because even though it was nearly inaudible, the quality of recording lent credence to a ghostly presence.
I am writing and rewriting my own chapters, when all of a sudden the smell of freshly brewed coffee appears, right where I sit, tantilizing me with the rich aroma -- I am at the desk, looking out at the mural in the courtyard. I have water and Diet Coke. There is no coffee. I go open my door and take a deep breath in the hallway -- nothing. The coffee aroma stays strong for a moment at the desk, then suddenly vanishes.
At midnight, I talk to the night auditor, and he tells me of probably a dozen rooms where apparitions have been seen, partying sounds heard, and things disappearing and reappearing. "Move to 510," he says. Saturday morning, Conley calls and says I've requested the move to 510, so off we go. Actually it was more like the auditor suggested it, and I thought that sounded cool.
As I leave 703, I feel sad, as if I'm leaving a friend.
I settle into 510, and pile all my papers and books on the golden and black stuffed chair next to me, and I type away, right next to the chair. I feel that I must move my things off that chair, and I leave the chair empty. Except that it's not. I get this exquisite sadness that pours over me from that direction. The auditor tells me some guests in 510 have seen a woman from the 1930's or 1940's in the chair, weeping.
I keep writing, taking notes with my favorite pen -- a uniball gel impact -- and I must say that I am someone who doesn't lose things. If I misplace items -- IF I do -- it's seconds later that it pops to mind where I put these things. So I set the pen down, and go into the bathroom for a moment. When I come back, I cannot find my pen. It is not on the desk. It is not on the floor. I move the laptop -- not there. Not under either chair. I go back into the bathroom -- not there. Not under the bed, nor in the closet. I pull apart my luggage and purse. Not there. My black journal -- propped at the foot of the stuffed chair -- seems to wiggle a bit. I pick it up, unzip it, and lift some pages. There is the pen.
There are more stories from my Heathman adventure, which I will disclose in time. When I Googled "Leslie Rule Diana Jordan" to figure out which book the Heathman story was in, I discovered that Leslie had written about a ghost story I told in an earlier blog for her book GHOSTS AMONG US. That's a spooky one, too.
Leslie, like her mom, best-selling crime writer Ann Rule, is sweet and warm -- and courageous. You should just read the tales Leslie tells in GHOST IN THE MIRROR -- all true.
Leslie Rule and I have done at least three interviews about her ghostly books -- and another one has just hit the shelves -- GHOST IN THE MIRROR: REAL CASES OF SPIRIT ENCOUNTERS. It is very timely -- I just spent the weekend at the Heathman Hotel in two different haunted rooms. I brought the book with me to read when I wasn't working on my own book. I'm writing a novel in which there's a short section where my main character encounters ghosts while staying at the elegant Heathman Hotel. I asked for -- and received Room 703. "Now you know this room is reportedly haunted," my 'personal concierge Conley' greets me. She tells me I should talk to the night auditor, which I do, at midnight.
But first I get settled in, reflecting on the story that Leslie Rule wrote about in WHEN THE GHOST SCREAMS.
The 02 and 03 rooms are to the right when you get out of the elevator. The story goes that a line cook at the first Heathman Hotel, which used to be across the street on Broadway in Portland, was promised a promotion to chef at this Heathman when it opened in 1928. He didn't get the job, and he leaped from the roof in 1929, past all the 02 and 03 rooms into the courtyard. And they are all haunted. The auditor has seen orbs in the rooms, and apparitions.
The day Leslie and I did our interview for WHEN THE GHOST SCREAMS, several years ago, I had interviewed three other authors. Their recordings were perfect. Only Leslie's -- recorded in 702 -- had a high-pitched electronic sound through the entire interview. AP Radio let me use it because even though it was nearly inaudible, the quality of recording lent credence to a ghostly presence.
I am writing and rewriting my own chapters, when all of a sudden the smell of freshly brewed coffee appears, right where I sit, tantilizing me with the rich aroma -- I am at the desk, looking out at the mural in the courtyard. I have water and Diet Coke. There is no coffee. I go open my door and take a deep breath in the hallway -- nothing. The coffee aroma stays strong for a moment at the desk, then suddenly vanishes.
At midnight, I talk to the night auditor, and he tells me of probably a dozen rooms where apparitions have been seen, partying sounds heard, and things disappearing and reappearing. "Move to 510," he says. Saturday morning, Conley calls and says I've requested the move to 510, so off we go. Actually it was more like the auditor suggested it, and I thought that sounded cool.
As I leave 703, I feel sad, as if I'm leaving a friend.
I settle into 510, and pile all my papers and books on the golden and black stuffed chair next to me, and I type away, right next to the chair. I feel that I must move my things off that chair, and I leave the chair empty. Except that it's not. I get this exquisite sadness that pours over me from that direction. The auditor tells me some guests in 510 have seen a woman from the 1930's or 1940's in the chair, weeping.
I keep writing, taking notes with my favorite pen -- a uniball gel impact -- and I must say that I am someone who doesn't lose things. If I misplace items -- IF I do -- it's seconds later that it pops to mind where I put these things. So I set the pen down, and go into the bathroom for a moment. When I come back, I cannot find my pen. It is not on the desk. It is not on the floor. I move the laptop -- not there. Not under either chair. I go back into the bathroom -- not there. Not under the bed, nor in the closet. I pull apart my luggage and purse. Not there. My black journal -- propped at the foot of the stuffed chair -- seems to wiggle a bit. I pick it up, unzip it, and lift some pages. There is the pen.
There are more stories from my Heathman adventure, which I will disclose in time. When I Googled "Leslie Rule Diana Jordan" to figure out which book the Heathman story was in, I discovered that Leslie had written about a ghost story I told in an earlier blog for her book GHOSTS AMONG US. That's a spooky one, too.
Leslie, like her mom, best-selling crime writer Ann Rule, is sweet and warm -- and courageous. You should just read the tales Leslie tells in GHOST IN THE MIRROR -- all true.
Labels: Ann Rule, GHOST IN THE MIRROR, GHOSTS AMONG US, Heathman Hotel, Leslie Rule, WHEN THE GHOST SCREAMS
posted by Diana Page Jordan @ 10:02 PM
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