Ghost Hunting at the Old Tooele Hospital - Part One

Zack and the gang from “Ghost Adventures” (Travel Channel) hit the Old Tooele Hospital last May. Their experiences were not quite the same as mine in July 2010. While they were provoking “demonic” spirits in the name of ratings. My friend was playing with a ball with a young spirit under a table. I was in the triage room communicating via automatic writing with a young boy named Paul. No scratching or demonic messages for us. Unique and exhilarating interactions with two young spirits were our encounters at the “Asylum.”

This hub will concentrate on the automatic writing session we experienced in the triage room. The events of the evening were too vast for one hub. In all of my “ghost hunting” adventures; the Tooele Hospital offered the longest engagements, interactions, and revelations I had ever experienced. I have never duplicated a night of such extreme communication before or since.

If you are going to exploit an area, provoke, and cast out demons – good luck to you. It is dangerous and highly unadvisable. If your quest is to learn, try out your latest gadgets, and have a lot of downtime and get a bit of excitement – ghost hunting may be your thing.

As when visiting anyone’s home, be respectful of the surroundings, introduce yourself, be friendly, and hope for that one golden egg – an EVP, digital apparition, audible sounds, or movement. They are brief and intermittent. In most cases, you will be swap stories, walk and bump in the dark, and experience times of extreme boredom.

It is the thrill of the chase, the excitement of the unknown; the hope that you will connect that drives most ghost hunters. The big hits seldom come. Patience and diligence will keep you in the game.

The Old Tooele Hospital is a mystery in itself. Twenty minutes from Salt Lake City, the small building is currently being used as a Halloween haunted house attraction from September – November. Half of the building is still utilized as an adult living center. Nicknamed “Asylum 49”; the building was never a house to the mentally deficient, the criminally insane or any other exploitive monikers used to invent a horrific site for ghost hunting.

As a member of a small group of ghost hunting enthusiasts (no ties to any of the established ghost hunting groups in the area) we were hosted by “API” and “TIPA”; two of the largest ghost hunting groups in Utah. We were given a brief tour of the facility including the triage room, temporary morgue, conference room, pre-natal room, and the four-bed “hospital.” This small facility would be capable of attending to 20-25 patients at a time.

In the lobby, API and TIPA were set up with four monitors, staff and equipment to make our visit comfortable and informative. After the initial tour, we were allowed to explore on our own. This is a setting that I truly appreciate. I have been on ghost hunts that were under the total control of the “ghost hunting group in charge.” With the freedom to roam the dark halls and rooms, illuminated only by our flashlights, the excitement of the quest began to build.

My small group divided into two. I was accompanied by a friend, another ghost hunter and the ground’s security guard. “Bob” had worked at the facility when it was fully operational and continued to walk the halls after it closed. “Bob” had no belief in the paranormal. He stated that he had seen some “strange” things, but nothing to convince him that there was anything “haunted” in the hospital.

After lying down in each of the beds, sitting in on an interesting flashlight “question and answer” session in the temporary morgue, and sequestering myself in a closet with the door locked; I found nothing of interest.

It wasn’t until we went into the triage room that I experienced the “Holy Grail” of ghost hunting. I was armed with my flashlight, pendulum, note pad and pen. Others carried cameras and EMF detectors, and an array of “ghost catching” paraphernalia. I prefer to go “old school” as opposed to technical gadgetry.

Lying on the bed, I had the urge to get out my notebook. I sat up and during a conversation with “Bob,” my hand began to move. When I conduct an automatic reading, I vocally recant the letters and words as my penmanship is horrific in the light, in the dark with my non-dominant hand, reading the messages can be impossible. The session was tape recorded.

My friend stood over me as I began to write. The glow from her flashlight made it easier to see what the scrawlings and scratchings were “saying.” First, a primitive picture of a Christmas tree with a few presents appeared. “Bob” sat back and began chatting about anything but ghost hunting. My hand picked up speed and I could barely turn the pages as they filled.

“Bob, do you know anything about a patient named Paul?” I asked.

Bob sat and shook his head in the negative. The word Paul was clearly written across the page. My friend continued to ask questions and my hand moved swiftly across the pages. Paul liked candy, he loved Christmas, he liked “Bob.” At this Bob stood up and watched us intently.

This is a condensed transcript of our conversation with Paul:

“What happened to you Paul?”

“I died.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine.”

“Do you know when you died?”

“December 26^th, 1975.”

“Where were you?”

“At the school ground riding my new Christmas bike?”

“What happened?”

“A car.”

“Did a car hit you?”

Nothing on the paper...

“What do you do here?”

“I like Bob. He is nice.”

(At this the security guard began asking questions.)

“If you are from Tooele, what street did you live on?”

“364 Oak.”

“What school did you go to?”

“Harrison.”

Bob looked up at us. I’ve lived here my whole life. I know that street and the school. He said this was the most tremendous thing that had happened in all of the ghost hunting expeditions he had to attend. He asked Paul about different stores in Tooele in the ‘70’s and confirmed each.

“I like wax lips, wax bottles with root beer, and candy cigarettes. I like crayons, I like Bob.”

Bob asked, “Would you like a coloring book and crayons?”

“Yes.”

Bob looked up at us and said, “first thing tomorrow, I’m going to buy the kids a coloring book.”

“I like purple.”

Outside the building a siren roared past. I felt extremely cold, my hand wouldn’t move, and I felt momentarily paralyzed. I have NEVER had a physical reaction while ghost hunting. I generally am somewhat bored and love to debunk. This experience was a once-in-a-lifetime thrill.

The pen dropped from my hand and the book fell to the floor. Whether Paul was frightened by the siren, or he was just tired from answering all the questions; our session came to a close. Afterwards, we were drained. “Bob” was the most animated. He went into the hall with the book and began showing the other hunters in the halls. I gave “Bob” the book as it was really a conversation between him and Paul.

We researched Paul on the internet, but were unable to find any records of patients before 1990 at the hospital. We found his home on “Google Maps” and the school. Because we did not capture an EVP or any fluctuation in the EMF readings, not did we capture anything on the cameras; we had to chalk this evidence up to circumstantial. There was no way I could prove that my subconscious had not provided the information.

I can state that I had never been to the hospital before this venture. I had never been to Tooele before that night and I had never met “Bob.” If I were to base the automatic writing session scientifically – I would discount it. There was no audible or visual back up. Automatic writing is still considered to be unreliable and is not easily authenticated. Had there been one picture with mist, a fluctuation on an EMF reader or an EVP; I could state emphatically that I was the conduit between a boy and his friend.

I personally believe that I connected with Paul. “Bob” the security guard bought crayons and a coloring book and left them in the conference room. This small group has no way to validate the existence of a patient named Paul, who died the day after Christmas in 1975. But, isn’t that what ghost hunting is? Some speculation, some doubt, and a lot of hope that you may have made a connection.