Haunted Canada 9 Read online

  On another occasion, a customer was using one of the stalls when she heard the door open and the sound of footsteps entering the bathroom. As the footsteps approached her stall, the temperature dropped incredibly fast.

  “It’s cold in here,” the woman said, but there was no response. The customer exited the stall and was shocked to find the rest of the bathroom was completely empty.

  It’s believed that the ghost that haunts the basement and women’s bathroom of Hopkins Dining Parlour is Minnie Hopkins, wife of Edward Nicholas Hopkins. In 1882 Edward was among the first settlers who migrated west, and after travelling by train and oxen-drawn wagon, he landed in Moose Jaw and became a pillar of the community. He was elected to Parliament in 1923, oversaw the building of schools and churches, developed new trade and agricultural practices, and was responsible for creating the Moose Jaw Wild Animal Park. Edward and Minnie married in 1889 and in 1905 built the home that would one day become Hopkins Dining Parlour and a Municipal Heritage Property. They had three children, but one of them, Earle, drowned in the Moose Jaw River just two years after the family had moved into their new home. Years later, Minnie’s funeral was held in what is now the restaurant’s downstairs dining room — another one of her present-day haunts.

  A dining room at Hopkins Dining Parlour

  One night, after the last customer had left the restaurant, Brenda and a couple of servers completed their closing duties and turned out the lights. But the darkness was broken by a brightly burning candle, situated on a table in the middle of the dining room, that hadn’t been lit a moment earlier. Before any of the staff members could ask who had lit it, all the lights turned back on by themselves, and one of the servers saw Minnie standing beside the candle. The server screamed as loud as she could and ran from the restaurant; the others followed close behind.

  Another night, after the restaurant had closed, a server prepared tables for the following day, laying out cutlery, glasses and napkins on each table. She walked to the stairs but was stopped by an inexplicable sight. Much of the cutlery that she had just laid out moments before had been placed on the stairs in the shape of a cross. The next day, the server invited a friend who claimed to be a psychic to join her at work to see if she would be able to explain what had happened. They passed over the spot on the stairs where the cutlery had been laid out, and from there the friend saw the ghost of an old woman sitting alone at a table in the dining area. The ghost wore a white dress and had a long scar across her face. The friend was so upset that she couldn’t remain in the restaurant a moment longer.

  Many staff members have seen another spirit walk through the main floor before disappearing from sight. One night a cleaning woman was at the top of the stairs when she saw the man pass by on the main floor. Believing him to be her boss, she said, “Hi, Rick. I’m up here vacuuming.” The man stopped and looked up at her, and it was at that moment that she realized he wasn’t who she had thought. He was wearing old-fashioned clothing, and before he said or did anything else, he vanished.

  Even children have been spooked by the restaurant’s spectres. Brenda once found a two-year-old boy staring and pointing at a corner shouting, “Ghost, ghost,” over and over again. When Brenda asked the boy’s father what his son was talking about, the shocked father replied, “I don’t know. He doesn’t talk.” Ghost was the boy’s first word.

  Owner Gladys Pierce’s four-year-old granddaughter was seated at a table alone in the dining room one afternoon when Brenda observed that the little girl was shivering as if she was sitting in a freezer. Brenda asked what was wrong.

  The girl said, “A ghost just went by.”

  Brenda asked, “Like Casper?”

  The girl, dead serious, said, “No, a lady ghost.”

  You might think that, given Hopkins Dining Parlour’s reputation as one of the most haunted locations in Moose Jaw, customers might opt to dine elsewhere, but not so. Not only is it a very busy restaurant, but curiosity seekers regularly visit in the hopes of encountering something unusual, something they can’t explain. Some come for the history, more come for the delicious food, and others come to dine with the dead.

  ONE FINAL SONG

  Winnipeg, Manitoba

  Jay Robbins dreamed of becoming a famous rock star. His brother, Alan, had the same aspiration and faithfully practised guitar whenever his schedule allowed. But Jay decided to try a different route to musical stardom. Shortly after he and his family moved into an old house beside St. James Anglican Church and Cemetery, Jay was overcome with the urge to learn how to play the electric organ. He purchased one with money saved from his part-time job and set it up in the basement.

  The house, the family soon learned, was full of history. And some of that history lived on long after its original inhabitants had passed away. The house had been the home of one of the first Anglican priests to serve the area, possibly the Reverend William Henry Taylor. Built in 1853, St. James is the oldest wooden church in Manitoba and is still open today.

  The Robbinses appreciated that their home had played such a vital part in their community’s early development, and their first days living there were happy and peaceful. That soon changed.

  St. James Anglican Church and Cemetery

  One evening Alan was in the second floor bedroom he and Jay shared, a pencil in hand and a blank pad of paper on the desk in front of him. Jay had gone down to the basement by himself to practise his organ and Mrs. Robbins was on the main floor in the kitchen preparing dinner. Some of Alan’s new classmates had told him about something cool that he should try at home alone. They called it “automatic writing,” and the process was simple enough. It involved holding a pen or pencil above a piece of paper, clearing your mind, and then waiting for a spirit to write a message with your hand. It sounded fun, exciting, maybe even a little dangerous. Alan was hopeful that he’d be able to channel a spirit and receive a message from beyond, something he could take to school the next day to show his friends.

  He sat still for thirty minutes, his hand holding a freshly sharpened pencil above a notepad, willing something to happen … but nothing did. Not so much as a single scratch was written on the paper. Disappointed that his experiment had failed, Alan put away the paper and pencil.

  But his experiment wasn’t the failure he thought it had been.

  All the way down in the basement, a commotion broke out. It sounded like his mother and brother were yelling at each other. Alan went down to investigate. He passed through the empty kitchen, and the sounds of the fight in the basement intensified. He also heard organ music, both beautiful and complex. It couldn’t be Jay playing; he wasn’t nearly skilled enough yet to be playing at such a masterful level. But if not Jay, then who?

  When Alan got to the bottom of the stairs, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Jay playing the organ, and it sounded like he’d been playing it all his life. He stared straight ahead, his eyes wide, as if his mind was elsewhere. His back was straight and his mother was pulling on his shoulders as hard as she could. But she couldn’t budge him or wake him from his musical trance.

  “Stop playing!” she shouted right into his ear. “Stand up!”

  Jay continued to play, neither stopping nor standing, as if he couldn’t hear his mother. She and Alan were forced to stand by helplessly, too scared and concerned to be able to appreciate the beauty of the song Jay was playing.

  Finally he reached the end of the song. After playing the last note, he lifted his fingers off the keys and sat as still as a statue. The glazed look in his eyes lifted and he seemed to return to his normal self. He looked at his brother and mother in confusion, and Mrs. Robbins broke the silence by telling her sons that dinner was ready.

  The three of them went upstairs and ate in near silence. They hardly spoke at all through the meal, and not a word was said about what had happened in the basement.

  Although he kept it to himself, Alan was certain he knew what had happened. He had summoned a spirit while trying his hand at automat
ic writing, although not in the way he had intended. Instead of enticing a spirit to write him a message, he’d opened a link between our world and the spirit world, allowing a ghost to possess his brother. Had it been the spirit of one of the priests who used to live in the house, perhaps the Reverend William Henry Taylor? That seemed to Alan to be the most likely explanation.

  Regardless of who had slipped into his brother’s body and used it to play one final song from beyond the grave, Alan never dabbled in anything remotely paranormal again. He had learned first-hand how powerful, unpredictable and terrifying the spirit realm can be.

  PHANTOM OF THE OPERA HOUSE

  Prince Albert, Saskatchewan

  Ruth Gillingham was alone in the Prince Albert Arts Centre, an old building with an imposing bell tower and a blood-red roof, as the witching hour approached. It was well past the end of her regular workday, but as the centre’s program supervisor, that was occasionally part of her job. The arts centre was hosting a display of valuable gems and a staff member needed to be in the building at all hours in order to safeguard the precious stones. The doors were locked and the next staff member was due to relieve her at midnight.

  Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

  Someone had walked across the floor directly above Ruth’s head. She was on the main floor in the office when she heard the footsteps clear as day. She guessed that a group of kids had hidden upstairs after closing time and were trying to spend the night inside, unaware that Ruth was still there.

  The old wooden stairs creaked and groaned loudly as Ruth went upstairs. She searched the studio, the large space that originally served as Prince Albert’s first and only opera house. All she found was some furniture and a bunch of looms covered in white sheets. No one was in the building with her. The sounds she’d heard must have been in her imagination. She went back downstairs to the office and turned her attention to her work once again.

  Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

  Minutes later there it was again, the unmistakable sound of footsteps from above. This time Ruth was certain her imagination wasn’t to blame. Perhaps whoever was up there had hidden when they’d heard her approaching. Ruth knew she needed to brave the second floor again, but this time she wanted to make sure the intruder didn’t have another opportunity to hide, so she snuck up the back staircase. She still didn’t see a soul.

  But what if the kids — it must be kids, Ruth continued to suspect — were hiding among the looms? It was a creepy, shiver-inducing image: children hiding under the white sheets throughout the room. Instead of checking every single loom, Ruth jangled her keys loudly and said, “Well, obviously there’s no one here. Might as well lock up and go home.” She then turned off the lights and went back downstairs. She sat in the darkened office facing the creaky staircase. And listened. And waited.

  She didn’t wait long.

  Creak, creak, creak.

  Excitement coursed through Ruth’s veins. It had actually worked! Her little ruse had tricked the kids. They were coming downstairs.

  Creak, creak, creak.

  Ruth couldn’t see the culprits yet but they were getting closer. Soon they’d descend far enough and she’d catch her first glimpse of them.

  Creak, creak, creak.

  The stairs continued to creak, the sound coming closer and closer to Ruth, but no one materialized. Her excitement dissolved and turned into confusion. A sinking feeling came over her.

  And then — creak, creak, creak — the phantom footsteps reached the bottom floor. Yet there was still no one there. The sound of the footsteps could have only been created by a ghost. Ruth leapt out of her chair, grabbed her purse and keys, and fled the building. Unwilling to go back inside that night, she waited outside by the front door for the next staff member to arrive.

  Another Prince Albert Arts Centre employee named John once heard the same ghostly footsteps that had terrified Ruth. It was 9:30 p.m. and he and a colleague were in a meeting room on the second floor. The building was hot and stuffy, so they’d propped open the door to keep it as cool as possible. John and his colleague heard the loud thumping sound of footsteps walking toward them, and then the open door slammed shut without warning. John and his colleague looked at each other and immediately said, “I knew that was going to happen!” They’d both had a premonition of the event a moment before it had happened.

  Completed in 1893, the arts centre has been used for many purposes over the years. It originally served as Prince Albert’s Town Hall and Opera House, the Prince Albert Public Library was situated upstairs for more than twenty-five years in the early 1900s, and the basement once served as a magistrates’ court, complete with jail cells. It’s little wonder the Prince Albert Arts Centre is known to be one of the most haunted buildings in Saskatchewan. Faces peer out through the windows when the building is empty, lights turn on and off on their own, and eerie music drifts out of the opera house when no one is inside. And Ruth has had plenty more encounters she can’t explain.

  Prince Albert Arts Centre

  One night she was working late in the basement with her dog, Boots, for company. Suddenly Boots sensed that someone was in the building with them. He stood in the doorway and began barking frantically at something in the hall. Ruth tried to move past him, but the dog wouldn’t be budged. She had to step over Boots to leave the room. The hallway was unnaturally cold, but Ruth had no idea what Boots saw that spooked him so much. The hall was empty.

  Ruth didn’t share her paranormal experiences in the building with many people. One day, when she mentioned how Boots had behaved in the basement, another staff member said it was probably the ghosts that had freaked out the dog.

  “What do you mean?” Ruth asked, playing dumb.

  “Oh, come now!” the woman said. “You’ve worked here for years. Don’t tell me you don’t know about the ghosts!” The woman, who had only worked in the building a short time, told Ruth that there were two lost souls trapped within it: a young woman and a middle-aged man.

  Whether they’re spirits who have a connection to the town hall, the opera, the jail, the library or even the arts centre is impossible to say. But however long they have been there, and whatever it is they want, the sound of their footsteps walking through an otherwise empty building is enough to scare anyone who hears them — even those with a colleague or a dog for company.

  HISTORY COMES ALIVE

  Tofield, Alberta

  It was the middle of the night and all was silent and dark. A security guard patrolled the grounds of the Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Village, a living history museum located fifty kilometres east of Edmonton. During the day, costumed interpreters portrayed the lives of pioneers in the historic buildings that had been painstakingly restored. But at night, the village more closely resembled a ghost town.

  As the guard made his rounds, he heard a chilling sound coming from within the Hawreliak house — the cries of a frantic baby. Shadows moved behind the curtains of the first floor windows, but no one else was in the village. Was there a thief in the house? If someone had broken in, why had they brought a baby?

  The guard had a bad feeling. Cautiously, he entered the house and stood in the front foyer for a moment to gather his courage. The baby’s cries grew louder and more intense as he walked down the hall, poking his head into each room as he passed. When he peered into one of the rooms near the rear of the house, he saw a woman in old-fashioned clothing rocking an antique cradle. The guard couldn’t see into the cradle, but he knew the baby’s cries were coming from within it. As he approached the woman, she turned and quickly left. He followed her into the next room and immediately wished he hadn’t. The woman was gone and the room she’d entered had no other exit.

  The baby continued to cry. The guard returned to the adjoining room and saw that the cradle was still rocking, but now on its own. He crept toward it and stole a look inside. It was empty. He reached out a trembling hand, but before he laid a finger on it, the cradle came to a sudden stop. The unsee
n baby also stopped crying, as if the mother and child were afraid of the guard, unaware of how terrified he was of them.

  Many people have had similar experiences in the Hawreliak house, and the most popular theory is that the ghostly mother who haunts the building is Vaselina Hawreliak. Her house was purchased and moved to the Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Village after her death in 1967. Vaselina had nine children, in whom she instilled high moral values. She was busy and hard-working, and had no patience for foul language, a fact one of the costumed interpreters of the Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Village would soon find out.

  Josh Greschner portrayed the town’s British constable in the summer of 2014, and it wasn’t long before he heard the ghostly rumours about the Hawreliak house. Countless employees had heard footsteps and a baby’s cries, seen doors open and close on their own and chairs skitter across the floor. Some had even caught sight of the mother. Curiosity consumed Josh, so he asked a security guard, Amin, to let him explore the village after nightfall. He wanted to see if it was really as haunted as everyone said.

  The Hawreliak family, November 1928. In the front row, left to right, are Vaselina, Mike and Pearl. In the back row, left to right, are Ann, Kate, Nancy, Nick, Rose, Andy and Lena.

  “It is,” Amin said. “There’s noises in all of the buildings. Pots and pans rattling. Footsteps.”

  Amin went on to share something that gave him the creeps about the Hawreliak house. “I drive past at night, doing inspections. And one time I saw lights from candles in the windows.”