Category Archives: Halloweentime

Some Halloweentime Reading

Halloween is once again upon us, so here are a few spooky stories from the archives to get you in the spirit!

Ghosts in the desert? Past and paranormal meet in Old River Bed

Ghosts of Mercur Cemetery don’t reveal themselves easily

Spring Canyon Spooks: In search of the White Lady

‘There’s a body in there!’

Saltair’s spooky side shines in “Carnival of Souls”


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Ghosts of Mercur Cemetery don’t reveal themselves easily

“In recent years the cemetery has become a popular target for paranormal investigation groups, who document their findings in spine-tingling detail.  There’s the little girl who appreciates the dolls that visitors place on her grave.  There’s the Italian immigrant miner who enjoys a nice graveside conversation via EMF meter.  And let’s not forget the cold spots or the power drains on electronic devices.

Or the would-be voices discovered later on digital recordings, which state with horrific clarity things like ‘You don’t belong here.'”


Mercur Cemetery by day (image source unknown)

The following originally appeared in the October 28, 2010 edition of the Tooele Transcript Bulletin.

FULL MOON: CHECK. Midnight: check.  Spooky, century-old graveyard: check.  The inexplicable flickering of my LED flashlight: check.  It was the perfect recipe for a Halloween-time adventure.

Granted, the inexplicable flickering of my flashlight might have had less to do with otherworldly phenomena and more with the fact that I bought it at the gas station for $1.99.  But there’s no need to quibble over technicalities, because none of them mattered when the boys and I walked into the old Mercur cemetery and laid our eyes on those first moonlit graves.

Paranormal enthusiasts argue that places marked with high emotion or scarred by traumatic history act as spectral magnets.  They’re “hot spots”—areas of high paranormal activity.  In short, they’re haunted.  Many ghost towns naturally fit the bill—especially those built around mining.

Life in boom-and-bust mining towns was rife with anxiety.  Technology was primitive.  Miner safety was often an afterthought and fatal accidents were commonplace.  Even on the best days, the threat of cave-ins, injury, or an ill-timed blast always loomed.  If you didn’t meet your fate deep in earth’s bowels today, there’s always tomorrow.  And if your business doesn’t go broke when the mine plays out, it’ll probably be destroyed in a freak, town-wide fire.

If such ghost towns attract real haunts, Mercur should be a good candidate.    Its story began in 1870 when prospectors in the Oquirrh Mountains working southward from Ophir discovered gold in Manning Canyon.  Then called Lewiston, the town saw its first boom around 1873.  Its population grew to 1,500, but not for long.  The mines proved unreliable, and by 1880, a single soul called Lewiston home.

The town saw its second boom when a Bavarian prospector discovered mercury and named his claim Mercur.  The name stuck, even after the focus of mining shifted predominantly back to gold.  By 1898, nearly 6,000 people lived in Mercur.  The town prospered even after a 1902 fire claimed most of its buildings, only to be abandoned again in 1913.

Though limited operations continued in the mines until 1997, Mercur’s real R.I.P date was 1913.  Any remaining structures were razed in the 1980’s and a gate blocks entrance to the area that was once town proper.

All that’s left of the great mining town is its small cemetery, which closed in 1915.  It sits atop a steep hill and is accessible from the canyon road by a narrow trail that must have been a pall-bearer’s nightmare.  The graveyard is the resting place of some 100 souls.  Rock ovals with larger limestone slabs at their heads mark 40 or so graves.  The rest are completely unmarked.   Around 20 of the marked graves are individually enclosed by picket fences.  Of all the graves on the hill, only one bears an actual carved headstone.

SIDE NOTE: The grave is that of Annie C. Jones– born 189(7), died 1898.  Her headstone is mostly illegible.

Tales of paranormal encounters at the cemetery are ubiquitous online.  The stories range from humorous to terrifying.  In recent years the cemetery has become a popular target for paranormal investigation groups who document their findings in spine-tingling detail.  There’s the little girl who appreciates the dolls that visitors place on her grave.  There’s the Italian immigrant miner who enjoys a nice graveside conversation via EMF meter.  And let’s not forget the cold spots or the power drains on electronic devices.

Or the would-be voices discovered later on digital recordings, which state with horrific clarity things like “You don’t belong here.”

I read the stories with interest, but my skepticism was firm.  It’s not that I don’t believe in ghosts—I just don’t see why they’d be hanging out at cemeteries.  Why exactly would a dead miner haunt a place he had little or no connection with in life?  Wouldn’t his afterlife be better spent scaring the tar out of witless teenagers along the canyon road, or stealing campers’ left socks?

Craig Campbell, founder of Salt City Paranormal, shares my skepticism.  Campbell and crew conducted their own investigation of the cemetery several years back with inconclusive results.

“There are just too many variables in that environment,” he told me.  “You’ve got the wind, other interference— it’s just too easy to get a false positive.”

Campbell says he looks at each investigation as a court room case.  Until he finds solid evidence, he’s not convinced.  Solid evidence, as Campbell defines it, would be a documented phenomenon that he is unable to recreate himself.  But the lack of solid evidence of the supernatural at Mercur Cemetery doesn’t mean nothing’s afoot there.

“It’s definitely a hot spot,” Campbell ceded.

In his book, Talking to Yourself in the Dark, Wasatch Paranormal founder Tom Carr recalls leaving the cemetery after a particularly disturbing visit:

“No more than an hour into the investigation, we found ourselves heading back down the hill to our cars.  I would have to say this was the first time in a long time that I was that scared.”

I’m glad I didn’t read that chapter until after our own trip.  The storm clouds parted almost full moon illuminated the picket fenced graves.  I only needed my flashlight to examine the sole carved headstone.

“1898—that’s forever ago, Dad,” pondered 9 year old Bridger.  “Wow,” echoed his 7 year old brother, Weston.  They scampered from plot to plot looking for another legible headstone.  I paused to collect my thoughts.

No voices, cold spots or other disturbances— only a solemn calm, punctuated at times by a slight unease.  Maybe the ghosts had taken the night off.  If so, I wasn’t complaining.  Perhaps they weren’t ghosts at all, but echoes of consciousness—or reflections of our own.

Were we welcome there?  Were we imposing?  Craig Campbell or Tom Carr might have asked out loud.  I didn’t, just in case.

When my flashlight finally died, we hiked back to the car and drove up the canyon to the gate.  Mercur was back there, once upon a time.  When we arrived home I emptied my pockets, habitually clicking my flashlight’s power button as I put it away.  It was only after I was half asleep that I realized it was working just fine.


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Everything you always wanted to know about jack o’ lanterns but were too busy to Google

Best. Jack O' Lantern. Ever.

Who doesn’t love a nice jack o’ lantern?

These modified pumpkins were a big deal in my family when I was a kid.  Once we had them carved, we’d set them on the fireplace mantle and light candle’s inside them.  Then we’d turn out the lights and sing every Halloween song we knew.  I’ll never forget those spooky nights.

Now that I have kids of my own, Meadow and I always take the time to carve pumpkins to their requested specs.  Boo’s this year was a painfully intricate scene from How to Train Your Dragon.  West and Coulter had regular scary faces– but Coulter requested his have a mustache, because mustaches are just plain cool (remind me to tell you his comment about my 5 o-clock shadow sometime).  Miss Ella’s pumpkin was Coraline.  Deedle’s was Nacho Libre.

What is it about pumpkins and candles, darkened rooms and spooky songs that delight us so?  Where did the jack o’lantern come from?  Check out the links below: History of the Jack O’ Lantern video: All About the Pumpkin Jack O’ Lanterns

(Hat tip to Hailey for the pumpkin chef pic above)

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Posted by on October 28, 2010 in Halloweentime, History


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The case of the Fairfield shooter, or, Who owes John Carson a wall patch job

Exhibits A and B

When I promised Monday to write some more on Camp Floyd/Fairfield’s colorful history, I had forgotten is that I had already touched on my favorite story in an earlier post.  That’s ok– it’s still a cold case.

What drives me nuts about this story is that I can’t seem to dig up the details on it.  The only account of this event comes from this wall plaque at Fairfield’s [possibly haunted] Stagecoach Inn:

The plaque

My thoughts when I read this plaque:

1. When did this take place?
2. Who was Guest A?
3. Who was Guest B?
4. Did Guest B need to change his britches after the shot passed 2 feet over his head?  And,
5. Did he beat up Guest A in the morning?

Crazy, I know.  Heaven forbid somebody make a passing mention in a journal somewhere.  Well I’m certainly not losing sleep over this, but how cool would it be to know little stuff like this?

The Utah State Parks Service made the plaque based on information provided by the descendants of John Carson, who built the inn in 1858.  According to Parks Service staff at Camp Floyd, there was no registry kept at the inn, and the story of the shooting was passed down through oral tradition.  Gotta love that!

Guest A (the shooter's) room

Guest B (the almost victim's) room

Fortunately the evidence is there.  One bullet hole in one wall, a matching hole through the other, and pellet marks on both.  We know the inn was frequented by the legendary Porter Rockwell, but just for fun I think we can rule him out:

First, it’s doubtful that an ace gunslinger like Porter would have accidentally discharged a shotgun.  Second, if he had been Guest A, Porter would have profusely apologized to Guest B, bought him a new pair of britches, given him free drinks for life at one of his saloons, and patched the walls himself.  That would have made it into a newspaper somewhere.

Could Porter have been Guest B?  Well, as far as we know, Guest A made it out of the inn alive.  Just sayin’.

So it looks like I’m out of luck on this one.  At least for another 20 years or so until somebody’s great great great great grandkid finds a journal in an attic.

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Posted by on October 27, 2010 in Ghost Towns, Halloweentime, History


Is Fairfield’s Stagecoach Inn really haunted? See for yourself

The haunted(?) Stagecoach Inn at Camp Floyd (photo by Clint Thomsen)

When it comes to places you’d think might be haunted, the Stagecoach Inn in Fairfield, Utah doesn’t immediately come to mind.  No ghastly crime took place within its creaky walls.  No ghoulish legend lurks in its past.

The old inn’s claims to fame are its age– it was built 152 years ago– and its roster of colorful guests.  Among the notable characters that frequented the inn were General Albert Sydney Johnston and Orrin Porter Rockewell.  Beginning in 1860, the inn served as a stop along the Pony Express route.  So while the Stagecoach boasts no tales of death or torture,  its past is storied just enough to give it some haunted cred.  Utah State Parks staffers and Fairfield residents reservedly acknowledge strange occurrences in the old place.  Rumors of otherworldly phenomenon at the inn even prompted a paranormal investigation a few years ago.

More on this and some of the inn’s lore Wednesday.  For now, though, why not set a few hours aside on October 29 to participate in Camp Floyd’s  annual public ghost hunt?  Click here to read more about Camp Floyd, then here for info on the ghost hunt.

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Posted by on October 25, 2010 in Halloweentime, History


Ring in the spooky – it’s Halloweentime!

Image source unknown

Some people bristle when I tell them my favorite holiday is Halloween, but I have my reasons.

In theory, there’s no doubt that Christmas is the King of all Holidays.  It’s all encompassing, magical– verdant with lore and deep cultural undercurrents. In practice, though, Christmas is often, sadly, a big ball of stress.

I think of Halloween as Christmas-lite.  That’s not to equate the macabre with the sacred– I’m speaking in practical terms.  It’s all the fun without the steep expectations, much of the magic but with much less stress.

Plus, how often does civilized society get to dress its kids up as vampires and skeletons and send them into the streets to beg for candy?

So in honor of this enchanted holiday, I’ll be dedicating most of my posts for the rest of the month to the eerie, the mysterious, and the spooky.  From now until November, consider this blog your online Halloweentime fix!


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