By the 1930s, Goldfield’s boom was over and the population had dwindled. George Wingfield was living in Reno and dealing with the failure of his banks.
THE STABBING GHOST
He’s known as the Stabbing Ghost. He may be a ghostly actor who still plays the part of the villain, or maybe he is the ghost of a long-ago Goldfield man who stabbed his wife to death. Most likely, he is only someone who feels protective of the Goldfield Hotel. Whoever he is, the Stabbing Ghost has never hurt anyone. But this isn’t to say that he doesn’t frighten anyone he encounters—he does. Those who have seen him say the Stabbing Ghost is terrifying as he raises his hand and stabs away with his ghostly knife.
Unlike Elizabeth, the stabber is not associated with the earliest days of the hotel but is believed to have come to the premises decades later. Some who are sensitive to such ghostly activity usually see the stabbing ghost in what was once called the Gold Room (the dining room) of the hotel. I have been in the area he haunts numerous times and have yet to encounter this particular spirit (thank goodness).
The Goldfield Hotel during an investigation. Photo by Anne Leong.
Virginia Ridgway, Robert Allen and the author during a break in the Goldfield Hotel dining room. Photo by Bill Oberding.
That said, one evening I was in the dining room alone, and at the farthest corner of the room, I turned my recorder on. On playback later, I discovered that I had recorded an angry man’s voice. He wasn’t afraid to tell me just what he thought of ghost hunters in the vilest words imaginable.
Even though they might not have seen him, several ghost investigators say the Stabbing Ghost is to blame for the headaches and backaches they’ve experienced while in the hotel.
DEAD FAMOUS SÉANCE AT THE GOLDFIELD HOTEL
Ghosts are timeless; ghost hunters and the understanding of the paranormal are not. How we perceive the paranormal (hauntings, particularly) has changed. What was presented as credible evidence of the existence of ghosts a few years ago is scoffed at today. The appearance of orbs in early digital camera photographs is an example. Those who seek ghosts today are far less naïve than those in the early 1900s. As an example, I believe that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a brilliant man. He was also a believer in the paranormal who regularly attended séances. Yet he was duped by two young girls who convinced him that they had actually photographed tiny fairies. No one in the twenty-first century would believe this after looking at the girls’ so-called fairy photograph, which turned out to be a hoax. Also a new phenomenon since TV are the ghost-hunting teams, groups of people that go ghost hunting. Then there is the thing that so many ghost hunters joke about: a number of people actually see ghost hunting as a stepping stone, a way to become famous and to achieve stardom with their own TV show. Where the paranormal was once frightening to most people, TV has helped to move it more toward the mainstream.
Investigation of the paranormal, and this includes ghost hunting and TV shows, has changed significantly since that evening several years ago when I first met the Dead Famous crew at the Polo Lounge in Reno. The segment we were to do was on Frank Sinatra’s Cal Neva Lodge at Lake Tahoe. After doing two Thunderbird Lodge segments with this particular group, I knew that I would work with them whenever the opportunity presented itself. The show’s two stars, Chris Fleming and Gail Porter, were charming, unpretentious and easy to work with. When they called and asked if I wanted to take part in a segment at the Goldfield Hotel, I readily agreed.
The Goldfield Hotel stairs. Photo by Anne Leong.
And yes, I was told, I could invite a few ghost-hunting friends as well. Once again, Virginia Ridgway was waiting for us at the hotel. She had finished her interview and was ready to visit. While Gail and Chris did a preliminary investigation of the hotel, Virginia and I chatted about ghosts and history and waited for it to get dark. Chris was going to conduct a séance in which Virginia and several of our ghost-hunting friends would take part. As the skeptic parapsychologist, I was to sit on the sidelines with Gail and observe the action.
The location we chose for the séance was in the lobby at the foot of the stairs where George Wingfield’s ghost is most often spotted. As the last streak of daylight faded, Chris lit a candle in the center of the circle. The other sitters eagerly took their places in the circle; Gail and I sat on the stairs, and the cameramen maneuvered around the group.
Chris instructed everyone to join hands, and it was ACTION. Almost instantly, Chris appeared to be overcome by a spirit that spoke in a singsong voice. Could it be Howard Hughes? I remembered hearing something about Hughes having spent time here at the old Goldfield Hotel. And as I listened to this rather stilted monologue, I wondered if there was any truth to the story. Can’t be, I decided. Surely Hughes has better things to do in the great beyond than to come here to the Goldfield Hotel and admonish this assemblage, I told myself. Or does he? In life, he spent a great deal of time here in Central Nevada. He married Jean Peters in Tonopah and visited the Cottontail Ranch brothel near Lida Junction. And then there’s the story of Melvin Dummar, who claims to have given Hughes a ride on Highway 95. Just possibly, Hughes had broken away from the hereafter to come to the Goldfield Hotel and spend some time with us.
Howard Hughes or not, the spirit was gone as swiftly as he had come. The room was silent, and according to a friend who sat in the circle, Chris’s hand felt like electricity was surging through it. A few of the sitters seem to be drifting into a dreamlike state. Not so for one man who suddenly spoke in an angry formal voice. His inflection was completely different than his normal mile-a-minute style of speaking. Was this George Wingfield, we wondered?
He was angry and wanted to argue. Chris refused to do so. Instead. he spoke calmly, but firmly. The spirit continued to taunt him.
Virginia was overcome with emotion and began to weep. At that moment, some felt that she was channeling the ghost of Elizabeth.
The author during EVP session at the Goldfield Hotel. Photo by Bill Oberding.
“They’ve killed my child,” she wept softly. Chris comforted the spirit and urged both her and the strange man who spoke through my friend to go toward the light.
Later, one of the people taking part in the séance said she saw two blue lights lift from the circle and rise toward the ceiling when Chris urged the spirits onward.
A lot of this was never shown on television. As with all such shows, time constraints don’t allow for everything to be shown. Consequently, much of the séance was edited out. In my opinion, they took out some of the most interesting portions of that particular night at the Goldfield Hotel.
After the segment wrapped up, Virginia graciously permitted us to conduct another investigation of the hotel. We took photographs and recorded EVP, and as we walked down the fourth-floor hallway, we discovered a dead bird that had somehow got trapped in the building. As we stopped to ponder the bird’s unfortunate ending, the sound of laughter and music was coming from one of the rooms at the other end of the hallway.
A dead pigeon inside Goldfield Hotel. Photo by Sharon Leong.
There was certainly a party going on. We crept closer to the room; the sounds grew dimmer and ceased altogether. Perhaps we had encountered a different dimension, some sort of time warp or a ghostly party to which we weren’t invited. Some paranormal researchers have long believed that the Goldfield Hotel is one of seven portals to the other side—or to Hell, take your pick. This might explain how one moment we heard gaiety and laughter, and the next there was nothing but silence.
PANCAKE BREAKFAST AND DID YOU KNOW THIS PLACE IS HAUNTED?
This story could easily be put in the Goldfield section, but since it occurred after the Dead Famous séance and investigation, I have placed it here.
The people of Goldfield and Tonopah are proud of the place of their towns in Nevada’s history, and two big events celebrate this. Tonopah’s Jim Butler Days (on Memorial Day weekend) honor Jim Butler and his silver discovery that led to Nevada’s twentieth-century silver boom. It’s a fun-fi
lled weekend of arts and crafts, car shows, street dances and arm wrestling and other contests. Goldfield Days is Goldfield’s big event (in early August) that showcases the arts, crafts and history of the town. The people of both towns are friendly. This is especially true of the towns’ elected officials.
When news got out in Goldfield (and you know that was faster than the speeding bullet) that a British film company was in town shooting a TV show, some of those who held public office wanted to welcome the Brits. Only a couple of the crew members were actually her majesty’s subjects, but it didn’t matter. All of us who had worked on the TV shoot were invited to a pancake breakfast at the community center the morning after filming. Can you imagine the city officials of Las Vegas, New York or any large city rolling out the red carpet for a small film crew focused on ghosts? Neither can I. But this is Goldfield.
The breakfast was to be served at the community center, an old church, complete with a beautiful stained-glass window, that seats about one hundred. There weren’t one hundred of us, however; just a couple banquet tables, and we were set to be served our pancake breakfast of pancakes, syrup and coffee. After introductions all around, we were given an informal talk on the town, its history and not-to-be-missed sights. Then it was our turn to share the details of the previous night’s ghost hunt at the Goldfield Hotel. Had we run into the ghost of George Wingfield or Elizabeth?
Details shared and breakfast over with, a couple of us stayed behind to help with the cleanup. That is when one of the women who’d helped with the meal asked if we were psychic enough to realize the community center was haunted. Did we sense a spirit? She explained that this was a nice spirit, nothing like the mean ones who resided down at the hotel, and she asked if we could tell her more particulars. We tried but didn’t sense anything, good or bad.
Years later, I remembered the incident when Virginia and I did a small ghost conference at the community center. The lectures were concluded when a middle-aged woman walked in. She told us she was passing through on her way to Las Vegas when she noticed people coming and going, so she stopped. She’d always wanted to see the inside of the building. As Virginia showed her around, she told us that she was a psychic and that she loved Goldfield.
“Do you feel the building is haunted?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” she smiled. “There are two ghosts here. I believe they are sisters, although they could be mother and daughter.”
Name, dates and other details eluded her. But not to worry, these spirits are friendly and won’t bother anyone.
IS THERE A CHILD ON THE THIRD FLOOR?
On an unseasonably warm spring night, twelve ghost hunters were geared up and ready to investigate the third floor. Aside from the heat and the dust, nothing remarkable was happening. Then one of the women jumped. “Did you feel that?” she asked the group.
All cameras and meters swung her way. None of the others had felt a thing.
“Something brushed my arm. I think it’s a little boy,” she insisted.
“There is supposed to be a child’s ghost on this floor,” someone whispered.
“Oh my goodness, it is a little boy,” a woman said. One by one, the group began to feel the presence of a child. Someone rolled a ball across the hallway, saying, “Let’s see if the ghost will roll it back.”
The ball didn’t move, yet everyone was feeling the presence of a ghostly child. The ball moved a centimeter.
“Didya see that? Didya see that?” someone yelled. Then a man held up his EMF meter, one of those with the big red light on the end of it. He wanted to use his meter to play the old “blink once for yes, twice for no” game with the ghost. This investigation quickly disintegrated into a question-andanswer session using an EMF meter.
The Goldfield Hotel Lobby. Photo by Sharon Leong.
“Are you a boy? Blink the red light once for yes and twice for no.”
The meter blinked once.
“Are you happy?”
The meter blinked twice.
“Can we help you?”
The meter blinked a dozen times.
“That means no, you can’t. Now get the hell outta here,” someone joked.
Undeterred, the group members continued asking questions. Having heard the tale of evil ghostly midgets that roam this floor, I doubted that the investigators were communicating with a child. Thinking this could easily turn negative, I wanted no part of it, so, leaving them to their “ghostly interview,” I went downstairs to the lobby.
It was hot and I was thirsty. I dug in the ice chest and pulled out a can of diet cola. As I gulped the soda, something brushed against the back of my leg, much the way a cat might do.
“Okay, who’s the jokester?” I asked, whirling around to discover that I was all alone in the lobby. Not a ghostly kid and probably not George Wingfield, the stabbing ghost or Elizabeth—so who?
“I know you’re not a child,” I said to whoever, or whatever, it might have been. If I had to guess, I would have said it was a cat. That’s exactly what it felt like, a cat brushing itself against me. I made a note to myself that I would have to remember to check and see if there are any reports of ghostly felines walking the halls of the Goldfield Hotel.
Later that night, I asked Virginia about any ghost cats, and she said, “In 1979, Shirley Porter found a dead cat under the stairs.”
In But You Can’t Leave, Shirley, Porter tells of finding what she assumed to be the bones of a dog under the stairs. She also describes the sudden illness and death of one of her cats. Could this explain a ghostly cat? If there isn’t a cat from the hereafter on the premises, there is something else that makes itself known by brushing up against people.
WHO’S STOMPING?
Ghosts are especially popular at Halloween, especially with the news media, which waits all year long to spring haunted houses and ghosts on the news-watching public. In their quest, they’re always in search of some exciting venue, the creepier the better.
A few years ago, I was asked to accompany a local television crew and a team of paranormal investigators to the Goldfield Hotel, where we were to tape a Halloween special. As the sun burned overhead, we explored the hotel, took photographs and made our plan of attack. At dusk, we headed to the diner. Do you doubt that we talked ghosts, specifically those who reside in the Goldfield hotel?
Of special interest was the who and the why of the hotel’s hauntings. While we agreed that Room 109 is haunted, we questioned the story of Elizabeth chained to the radiator. Then too, we wondered if the ghostly George Wingfield is still roaming the premises. The so-called portal or vortex? Opinions were evenly divided.
Then dinner was over. It was dark, and we were in the mood for ghost hunting. One of the crew members was apprehensive. It was her first ghost investigation, but she’d heard plenty of stories. So there we were, six of us on the fourth floor. All was quiet as we crept in and out of the rooms along the darkened hallway. We spoke in whispers as we introduced ourselves and coaxed the hotel’s unseen residents to speak to us: “Say anything; just let us know that you’re here. We mean you no disrespect.” Our EVP session was abruptly ended by loud banging; someone was stomping heavily up the stairs.
“Hello?” the journalist called. “Do you mind? We are taping up here.”
No answer. Who would be so rude as to disturb our taping? More importantly, how had he or she gotten past Virginia Ridgway, who was patiently waiting for us on the sofa in the lobby downstairs? Anyone who knows anything about the hotel knows how sound carries throughout the building; if this person didn’t, he or she was about to find out.
We crept over to the staircase and shined our flashlights on the stairs. No one was there. Enthused about EVP, the journalist told his soundman and cameraman to play the tape back so we could hear the banging again. Perhaps there would be some EVP along with the banging.
They carefully rewound the tapes. We all listened in stunned silence. Except for our whispered comments, there was nothing. None of the stomping and bang
ing we had heard was on the tapes at playback. When Virginia was asked about it later, she said that she hadn’t heard any loud banging or stomping, and certainly no person had gotten past her at the sofa—no living person, that is.
THE SCARIEST PLACES ON EARTH INVESTIGATION
In 2001, before television ghosts and ghost shows became en vogue, I was contacted by the producers of the television show Scariest Places on Earth. They wanted to know what I thought was the scariest, most haunted building in the state of Nevada. There was no question in my mind; it had to be the Goldfield Hotel. I agreed to be involved with an all-night investigation, and within the week, my husband and I were headed to Goldfield.
Virginia Ridgway was contacted, and thankfully she agreed to be to take part in the filming. Once there, we met up with the feisty Virginia and our team members and discovered that the show had also brought along a psychic, two ghost town enthusiasts and their dog Ripley, an adorable black lab. The theory that animals are sensitive to ghosts would be tested tonight.
We stood outside, talking about the hotel, ghosts and how anxious we were to get inside. For our troubles, we were permitted a cursory look inside the building. After a few photographs, we were told that we would have to wait until it was dark to go back inside. And so we waited…and waited…
Finally, the sun was setting, and the light was right. The director decided we could at last enter the hotel. But something wasn’t right, so we started in again. She was not satisfied this time either, however.
“Cut!” she yelled.
We gathered on the steps once more. On the director’s command, we all entered. This was not a good entrance either. It had been a long, hot day, and we were eager to get back into the hotel. Feelings were tense. No one was happy at having to do “the scene” over and over.
Ghosts of Goldfield and Tonopah Page 5
