PODCAST -- CRIME TRAVEL in TOLEDO, OHIO -- GHOST STORY (Ep 18)

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GHOST STORY

TRANSCRIBED:

Hello, and welcome to another episode of crime travel in Toledo, Ohio. I am Kelley Amstutz, your host tonight, also known as the genealogy investigator. I'm really excited to bring you guys another spooky story.

It's October. So let's go ahead and jump right in. It's really exciting. I cannot wait. This one is called change and ghost stories. A little background on the story. It was actually published in the news Herald on the 11th of February of 1897. It's a Thursday on February 11. And it made page three. So without further ado, here is changing ghost stories, I will kind of forewarn you that it is in proper English. So if it sounds like I'm struggling, I'm not it's just I'm trying to read it in the context that it's given. So all right, here we go. He had been died for a matter of 112 years. So naturally, the place looks strange to him. What he's now saw had never been a part of his physical existence. And why wonder if it were not best for him to go back to the graveyard and have a conference with some fresh corpses who would know all about these things, which had lost early fills him with doubts and misgivings. From the newly dead one, he could obtain information which might keep them out of trouble. But as he calculated upon it such actions it seemed to him would make him a laughingstock for all the fool ghosts in the neighborhood. They would just deride him as a J ghost, who did not know enough about the haunting business to sit at it without a guidebook or a timecard, or a letter of advice and credit, they would gather around and who in JIRA and shame him have to leave, for they couldn't shame him half to death, he having been dead for a good 112 years.

I wish he said to himself, that I have exerted myself a little to keep abreast of the times. Here, I find myself with the entire death waste wasted, just flying around in a comfortable grave in the daytime and spending the night time and disputing with a lot of old fossilized 16th century those concerning things of no interest whatsoever. I've allowed opportunity to pass and a lot of juniors who weren't even born much less dead when I have pushed me aside and I am just a piece of old furniture. If I were 1000 years old, or something like that, it would be better for I could lie and swear. And slash around retailing. Stale yarns like King Arthur or Caesar or Ahab are one of that lot and be interesting. But I don't know anything about the remote past or the adjacent present. I have fooled the way my co E's but I'm not going to remedy conditions or I'm sorry, I am going to remedy conditions. I'm going to go hunting around this town and get up a reputation and go back to them and assume my proper position is spiritual society.

Why just think of it said 113 years and have never seen anyone yet. Or never scared anyone yet never screeched at a schoolboy in a lonesome wood or groaned around in a deserted house or anything, you could see that he was ashamed of himself and that he was really determined to rectify his errors of omission. To be sure he was a bit nervous and dubious about it. Although perhaps it isn't correct to use that first adjective and description of a ghost. It's much of his nervous system is generally supposed to decompress compressing air or fog or something of that kind. He felt that it was a pretty serious undertaking for strange and pause ghosts to drift into strange towns with the avowed purpose of haunting it into a state of tear, but he was an insistent old spook and buckled down to business with determination.

So funny that we're listening to a story that's supposed to be told by a ghost. As I have always understood it, he remarked to himself the thing to begin with a demonstration in the matter of blowing out lights, I remember when I was alive that they used to talk of ghosts sneaking up behind one and blowing out the lamp and it always filled me with horror. It's a good trick. I wonder who invented it. i Hello, is here isn't a chance just ready for me. I'm a tombstone. The city was dark, it being after midnight, and all was very still. Suddenly, however, as he turned a corner he slammed square up against a window out through which a faint light streaked its way out a dark or sorry, at a desk set a man dozing over a book. It was a beautiful chance, the ghost quietly slipped inside. I mean, we can guess where this is going right?

There's going to be a festival of fear right here in about four seconds, he murmured softly to himself. Oh, I guess not. He thought. Just imagine how he will feel how his hair will raise how his flesh will crawl when I lean over his shoulder and blow that light out. Why it's almost scares me myself. He leaned over and blue. The light continued to burn steadily. The ghost is straighten up readily to give vent to a wild,demonizes, demonized laugh, as is the custom he believed for such ones made in provided. But he did not laugh. There was nothing to laugh at. The man continued to read on undisturbed in his doing fashion. That's funny. The visitor said to himself, haven't I got any lungs anymore or any strength of breath? Wow.

So his plan is backfiring.

So he's now he's saying, well, here she goes.

What's he doing now? And one more time he leaned down and roofed at the light. It did not even shiver. The ghost stepped back into the middle of the room, put his hands into his pockets and stared at that white. While I'm blamed he said to himself, how would you think of that? I blew enough wind and that thing to extinguish a bonfire and it didn't even flicker. As he stood intently regarding the light. The man at the desk, Rose drowsily and with a yawn stepped out into the hallway. Strange as it may seem this rather relieved that goes for he wanted to investigate without the presence of inquiring and embarrassing witnesses. He had now forgiven that his purpose was too afraid. He gingerly near the mysterious lamb, and pulling in a long breath prepared to make the effort of his life or death as it work. Suddenly, while he was still in the knot of inhaling atmosphere, the light went out. The ghost hair rose He troubled from head to foot. What did that he trembled, tremendously asking himself then as a thought came to him. It was one of those full new ghosts I'll bet say you addressing space in the hope that some fellow specter would answer. I'm haunting this place. Go on away and attend your own business. We where are you? Who are you anyway? There was no answer. Oh, say politically insisted the ghosts talk up and tell the fellow what's the use of acting that way. How did you pull that out? I like to, but trying it and QUnit he thought that bit of flattery would tempt the rival spirit to respond. It didn't it. Then the full horror of it appeared to him. There was no other ghost there. He realized it. He was alone, utterly, hopelessly alone. Oh for the cheer of some other spectacle presents. His teeth chattered in a noiseless foggy manner his fingers troubled and his legs shook beneath him. And if he had known how or had had the material to break out into a sweat, he would have broken out into one of exceeding coldness. He thought of the man who had sat at the desk and wondered if he would never return. He seemed long gone. Oh for a glimpse of him sitting there dozing at his book. The light flashed up, the room was filled with His radiance and yet nobody had come in with the flames related. This was more terrifying than the extinguishment for while a fellow ghost might have blown the thing out, it was palpable that even a fellow ghost could not have relived it, which would have indicated without without any preliminary performance, which would have indicated what was what was going to happen. He knew all about those fluorescent lights.

But it doesn't sound right sorry, I'm sorry, fours first assessment lights, which goes carry around with them when they are haunting, sloppy country roads where some robber has been hanged, and he knew that none such had been present. He was speechless was fear. Oh, what that

Man, would that man never return. If for but a moment he could see him and feel that there was something human. Like he used to be in the room, his mind would have been easier.

He would never again go hunting respectable people that he swore to himself. It didn't pay. Then the door opened and the man came in the ghosts would have rushed to him and embraced him. But he was afraid to make himself too conspicuous for fear.

The man would drive him out into the night, as he had a perfect right to do of course, all you want to now is to sit down in the dark corner and shiver and wait for daylight, and he sat there and watched the man hungrily slave audibly worshipfully to hearing every moment he would go or fearing every moment he would go away again. Sorry, you know what's going on and I do apologize, but I'm the I'm reading it out of a paper and the paper is not super clear. So I'm trying to grasp what I can. Okay, so it continues throughout that night, strange things happened. Weird whistle sounded frightful alarms, and voices came for what looks like the ends of ropes, but which were speaking tubes, bells rang and the valorous fearless man talk to the wooden box and tucked in so he knew the box understood. Strange instruments of brass clicked and rattled when nobody was near that. And odd times and mysterious thing shot out a long line of white paper. And although every periodic war and wishes of the country vices the ghost grew more excited, and fearfully encroach slower, the man wasn't the least bit worried. Probably no ghosts ever spent such a night. At last the morning broke, and with the first gleam of daylight that tried that tired spook, who had courageously set out haunting made a rush for the door and went galloping down the street and towards the suburbs beyond what's the graveyard lay.

So it's quite comical what's going on here.

Oh, little later, the day shifted came, or the day shift came on duty and the police alarm office. The man from the night told his relief, he wished he would have the incandescent lamp mended.

So that sound of the story and I thought it was really funny, because obviously, we know that it wasn't actually a haunting, it's just that the world had changed. And this ghost still stuck in 113 years before. So he was so looking for the candles and just things that were a little, a little less progressive, the phone, of course, and stuff like that. So I thought that this was really funny. And I was really excited to share this one with you guys.

So that was our first story tonight. I hope you guys enjoyed that one. I wanted it to be a little bit spooky. So my keywords. Tonight we're hauntings.

And I do have one more for you guys. And I'm really, really excited about.

So this one is from 1874. This is going to be our second story.

It's from the 13th of March 1874. It was originally published in the Somerset press in Somerset, Ohio. And it was on page one.

It was under the title miscellany. And the title of this one is called because you're gonna love this one farm for sale. So you can only imagine what's going on here. Like I said, it's spooky season. So this one there's a little heading on here and this is from the hearse and home. So I don't know if that was a magazine back in 1874. Or like what that actually originated. I tried to do a little research on it and I really wasn't able to successfully find anything so I thought that was kind of interesting. If anybody else wants to check that out. It's from hearth and home from 1874. Please be sure to comments and reach out because all the extra information is awesome. I love adding that. So this one starts out a sweet home place and I turned to look again, an old farm cottage among the trees the hazy hush of summer afternoon overall, the golden sunlight drifting through the leaves, resting and gleaming pitches or patches on the grass and blossoming clover, toss the shadows hither and thither a sweet voice bird shirt and the maple by the gate as we pass and the pale lips of locusts blossoms peered forth from leafy nest, and the distance springing green waves in tiny billows like the peaceful flow of tiny sees in the dancing footsteps of a little stream left the gleaming wine across the low green meadow. A beautiful home farm.

So then in parentheses it says farm for sale. Yes, these were the words in Bruff chocolatiers above the gate, farm for sale. Why sell the farm have hands grown tired of flour and sickle and the whole hearts wearied with oft returning seed time and harvest has Ambien Easter Apple of discord in the midst of your sweet content, whispers of riches and honors and splendors jarred in upon the heart music have visions of yellow gold and the world's proud shows shadowed with their delusive wings, the simple hopes the everyday happiness, which blesses at the little farm. Why sell the farm, having dance, dancing feet that made the music straight up into life, and one by one passed at the little gates to come no more as of old has, even though baby the last Starling twin the womanhood upon her brow and taking the blessing of her love and presence to adorn and sanctify another home, passing like the rest of the past, leaning on another arm, fearing the blessing yet leaving the old house so very desolate, with only the haunting memory, pacing up and down through the lovely aisles of the heart. Why sell the farm? Ah, is there a grave his death cut down deep through the blossoming side, plowing up a grave so deep, so chill so dark that from its shadow, your heart can be lifted, never more? Has she the dearest, most blessed? Even the whole mother laying down to rest? Has the plate gone out from those gentle eyes the light of that soul, the embodiment of love and peace and faith and patience hasn't passed on to the awaiting glory. Is it thy desolation? Oh, doth that has compelled the farm for sale? Ah, how many farms for sale? And with what longings will hearts that go on from these farm homes. crowd was returned back from the summit of many years to look upon the dead face of the old time. Joyous wondering at the strange happiness of the farm child wondering that never more sky so blue, never sunshine so gorgeous, never so full of music as before that farm for sale. How will tired feet pause mid the dust civilise highways, aching to press the whispering grass beneath the locusts and hands hard with counting gold pine to pool again the violets down by the valley spring. How will heads girdle by thorns and care rest again in dreams on the soft moss swept so often by child curls and the long ago, and hearts weary hearts and longing souls will pause in the great world strife to catch again, the far off laughter of those waters in the metals and the singing of the bird Ling's in the maples. And how will eyes grow tear dimmed in this far seen as a vision sweeps by revealing above the little gate, farm for sale.

So this one was kind of just poetic. And I just thought it was really cool. Something that I just kind of wanted to share with you guys.

Just because it's just kind of it's interesting as an English major myself and sharing these stories with my kids to just kind of see how writing has changed. And to be able to verbalize that with you guys, I think is really neat too. So

I just wanted to kind of have a little fun tonight and share some some fun stuff there.

I was kind of doing a little research lately. Just to kind of bring it back. I'm going to be doing some updating for the new year and kind of just not rebranding, but just kind of changing our content up a little bit. Just because I love the true crime stories. But I kind of want to segue back into the genealogy aspect as well. Because that is where my passion projects lie. So I was working with some of my own genealogy and just trying to kind of find just some truths to some family lore that, you know, I have within my own family I'm sure everybody does. That's the interesting part of you know, what, what everybody's heritage is, and I was kind of thinking about

Oh, what kind of occupations my ancestors had? So my question for you guys this week to think about for the next two weeks until we meet again, is, have you ever thought about or looked at or sought out the occupations that your ancestors had? You know, tonight we're talking about, obviously a ghosts that the world had changed 113 years later. And we're talking about a farm house that's for sale and asking the questions like, why is it for sale? What happened that made this house for sale?

So it just kind of made me think I mean, with the farmhouse, you think that there's farmers and, and so forth. So have you looked at your ancestors, occupations, and if you have comments, let let everybody know, like what they did. My ancestors, they did all kinds of different occupations. My great grandfather was a shoemaker, his father came here from Romania, and he worked in a factory, you know, he came here for work, obviously.

There's just a lot of different occupations that are out there. So it's really, really interesting to kind of see what our ancestors were doing and how that influence where they lived at, and how that influence where they brought their families up. Or if they moved, why they moved, you know, how their occupations played a part into that role. So I'm gonna leave you guys with that. I just thought it was really interesting, digging into your ancestors, occupations, it really can be a great way to uncover even more stories about their lives.

There's always so much to learn. But when you kind of dig into it, and you see if your ancestors are farmers, you can see you know, what kind of land that they had and how much land they had and where they deeded land. And there's so many other questions that come with that. And ancestors, occupation, to provide even more information about lifestyles, what products they use type of environments that they lived within, it can just give you an extra flavor and details about your family history. Understanding their professions can help you better understand social and economic statuses, what conditions they might have faced with in that occupation, how their skill sets fit into the communities that they lived in, or they worked in or they raised in, and what kind of conditions or industries were in where they lived and settled on, like I kind of talked about a little bit ago, learning more about their occupations can help you discover more about the records that you can look back at into.

And you can even try to relate that to their employers, which is really interesting, especially when you're going a little bit further back. Because sometimes there's these companies that were well known companies that kind of took a shift, and maybe they had new management, but you can still dig out little pieces of the information on that. So I think that's really, really interesting. My challenge for you guys is to take a moment this week or next week, pick out one or two of your ancestors and dig into their occupations. And if you're not sure how to do that, please reach out because I'm more than happy to help. But I just think it's kind of interesting. And it'll kind of segue into our next podcast episode.

Because I have a great True Crime episode for you guys coming up, which I'm really excited about. It was really hard not to just go into it tonight, but I'm not. I'm staying the course. But it will relate back to that and an occupation that we might not expect and the gruesome truth behind it.

So I'm just gonna give you that tidbit. Again, thank you guys so much for listening. I think I reached like 1000 downloads, which is awesome for me. I'm growing organically. So thank you so much for the support. Thank you for listening. Please, if you have ideas, if you have something I haven't covered that you're really interested in, send it my way because I'm more than happy to dig into it and research and bring it to our podcast episode. And as usual.

I appreciate the support. I appreciate you. And we'll meet again in two weeks. So Happy Halloween

Transcribed by https://otter.ai

The End…

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