by Eva Pohler
“Tanya and I can share a bed, if you change your mind,” Ellen said.
“I think you’re just looking for an excuse to sleep with her,” Sue said to Ellen with a chuckle. “I see the way you two look at one another.”
Ellen and Tanya busted out laughing.
“She’s on to us,” Tanya said.
Ellen swallowed down a few bites of scrambled egg before saying, “Well, I didn’t sleep much either. I stayed up late on my phone searching Tulsa’s property listings.”
“I did the same thing,” Sue said. “Did something in particular catch your eye?”
Ellen shrugged. “The houses I liked were pricier than I’d hoped. If we want something historical, we may have to pay an arm and a leg to get it. I couldn’t find the rock bottom prices you mentioned last night.”
Sue’s face beamed. “Well, I found something, but I need you to keep an open mind.”
Ellen drove the rental car while Sue gave her directions from the backseat. Ellen recognized the Brady Arts District, where they had gone on the haunted pub crawl the night before. Sue directed her just past Cain’s Ballroom to an abandoned building made of red brick, steel, and glass. To Ellen, it resembled a warehouse with its simplistic industrial design. The many windows along the front of it were the only hint of architectural detail, and they were either broken or covered in grime and dead vines. A six-foot chain-link fence surrounded the three or four acres of dead lawn.
Ellen pulled up to the curb. “You can’t be serious.”
Sue smirked. “Now you know how I felt when you showed me the Gold House for the first time.”
“But this isn’t even a house,” Tanya said.
“Just hear me out.” Sue leaned over the console between the front bucket seats. “This area has been heavily revitalized over the past decade. It reminds me of what happened in San Antonio with the Pearl Brewery and the Quarry area.”
“Go on,” Ellen prompted.
“In both places in San Antonio,” Sue continued, “warehouses were turned into urban loft apartments.”
“I’ve seen that done in other cities on HGTV,” Tanya said.
Sue nodded. “I think we could easily do that here and make a killing. And listen to this: the reason this place is still abandoned and now owned by the city of Tulsa and on the market for only ten thousand dollars is because it’s believed to be haunted.”
“Did you say ten thousand dollars?” Tanya asked.
“Yep. The land alone is worth a lot more than that,” Sue said. “It’s right on the edge of the arts district, so its property value will only go up as the area continues to develop.”
“But the highway is right there,” Ellen pointed out. “Will people want to live that close to all that noise?”
“Easy access to both downtown and OSU-Tulsa,” Sue replied. “Besides, I doubt you’d hear the traffic inside, once the windows are all fixed.”
“It is conveniently located,” Tanya agreed.
Ellen sucked in her lips. For her, it all came down to the story of the place. “Why do people think it’s haunted?”
Sue pointed toward the front windshield. “You see that big hole in the fence, to the left of the padlocked gate? According to one website, the city hasn’t repaired it yet because there hasn’t been a need. The vagrants never stay more than one night before running off. They say they hear voices coming from inside the walls.”
Ellen turned off the ignition and tucked the key in her purse. “Let’s have a look, then.”
They stepped out of the car and over the curb, crossing pea gravel until they came to the six-foot chain-link fence. A hole from the top pole to the ground gaped open. As Ellen pulled it back for Tanya and Sue, she wondered what other hands had done this very thing over the years. Whose DNA now mingled with hers on the metal fence?
From the fence to the building spanned at least thirty yards. Dry dirt and tufts of dead grass crunched beneath their feet. The property could use a good rain, Ellen thought, and, fortunately, if the gray clouds overhead were any indication, it just might get one later today.
The entrance to the building was overgrown with dead vines, weeds, and five large Texas Sage bushes that appeared to be thriving with their colorful purple blooms. Once the three friends made their way through the brush, they found three concrete steps leading up to a small concrete porch. No overhang covered it, and the enormous entry was boarded shut. Graffiti warning people to keep out or die was painted on the weathered boards, along with “Simol was here 6-5-77.”
“Now what?” Tanya asked.
“Let’s see if there’s another way to get in,” Ellen suggested.
She led her friends around the east side of the building, dodging more half-dead brush along the way. The sight of a face peering at her from the weeds halted her in her tracks. She screamed and clutched her chest.
Tanya and Sue grabbed her from behind.
“What?’ Sue cried.
When the face didn’t move, Ellen studied it. Then she let out a sigh of relief.
“There, in the weeds.” She pointed to the face. “I thought that was a real person, but it’s some kind of statue. What is that?”
“Is that the head of a clown?” Tanya asked, moving closer.
Ellen reached through the weeds and tapped it with her fingers before pulling at it.
“A creepy clown bust,” Ellen said, turning it over.
It was made of hollow plaster. The inside was full of dead bugs and cobwebs, and the outside had the painted face of a clown. The paint was chipped and dull, which was why it hadn’t registered as a clown at first to Ellen—though, if it had, it might have been even creepier, she thought.
“I wonder what it’s doing here?” Tanya said.
“Let’s keep going,” Sue prompted them.
Ellen carried the clown bust as they continued around the side of the building.
“Maybe we should contact a realtor to let us in,” Tanya said. “What if we get caught snooping around?”
“Let’s just see if it’s worth our time first,” Ellen said. “Oh, look!”
Around the corner on the east side of the building was what could only be described as a hobo camp. The double wooden doors on the side swung open, and through them Ellen could see old mattresses, one cot, cardboard boxes, discarded clothing, and a bunch of trash.
“What a dump,” Sue said.
“I’m going to be sick.” Tanya covered her mouth and nose from the stench.
“Wait here, then.” Ellen walked through the open doors. “I’m going to have a look around.”
“What if someone’s in there?” Sue called from behind. “I can’t let you go alone. At least I have a gun.”
“I don’t want to be left out here by myself,” Tanya cried, as she followed.
“Hello?” Ellen said. “Anyone here? We’re friends, not foes.”
“That’s so lame,” Sue whispered. “Why would anyone say that? And who would believe that a foe would say he’s a foe?”
Tanya giggled. “This is crazy, guys. What are we doing?”
“Come on,” Ellen said again as she stepped from the room into a hallway.
“Oh, lord, the smell’s getting worse,” Sue complained.
Ellen pushed the heavy door on the right until it opened. Four commodes without stalls lined the back wall. A broken sink was mounted to another. She closed the door because the stench was overwhelming.
Sue pushed the heavy door on the left to reveal more commodes with moldy pink curtains hanging over the front windows.
“Let’s keep going,” Ellen said as she led them further down the hall.
The ten-foot hallway ended with a wooden door that was slightly ajar. When Ellen pulled on it, it creaked in the otherwise silent building, causing her heart to pick up speed. When she bravely stepped through, she was surprised to find an enormous room with high ceilings, at least thirty feet high, with glass skylights overhead. The skylights, along with the high windows at the
front of the building, let in a tremendous amount of natural light, even on a cloudy day. It streaked throughout the room, illuminating risers along the perimeter, as if for a choir or for stadium-style seating. A few blankets lay curled up on the risers where transients must have once slept. The wooden floorboards beneath them were heavily scratched and worn, but they didn’t look rotten. Ellen was already imagining them sanded down and stained to perfection.
Behind them, from the smaller rooms they had just entered, were stairs leading to two other floors and catwalks on each level spanning the depth of the building. Some of the doors above them contained more graffiti. Trash lay everywhere, but the stench in here wasn’t as strong. Fresh air came in through the broken windows and made the room less stifling.
But as Ellen looked around at the room, she began to feel the same suffocating feeling she’d experienced when she had walked by the Brady Theater. Was it all in her head? Was she coming down with something? Or, were the two experiences somehow related?
“I need to get out of here,” Tanya said. “My chest feels tight.”
“Mine, too,” Sue said. “Like last night.”
“At the theater,” Ellen said.
Sue nodded. “Exactly.”
“This is too bizarre,” Tanya whispered.
“Let’s see if there’s a way out on the other side.” Ellen crossed the twenty or so yards to an arched doorway that led into another large room with the same dimensions as the last. This room also had risers, only the floor was littered with dry hay, and there were wooden stalls and the remnants of wooden fencing, for keeping animals.
“Was this a barn?” Sue asked.
“It smells like one,” Tanya said, covering her mouth and nose with her hand.
More trash littered the floor along one side of the room, and at the end of it were stairs leading up to the second and third floors with a catwalk across each level from the front to the back of the building. The building was symmetrical: three floors on either side of two enormous rooms in the middle.
“Should we go upstairs and look around?” Ellen asked.
“Maybe we should wait for the realtor,” Tanya said. “I don’t want to die here.”
“I think Tanya’s right,” Sue said. “But I would definitely be in favor of coming back later tonight for a séance.”
“No way,” Tanya said. “That’s probably when the hobos come back.”
“But the website said they don’t stay,” Sue said.
“And everything online is the gospel truth,” Tanya challenged.
Ellen sighed. “Let’s contact a realtor and go from there.”
She led them through the west end of the building. It had a similar hallway as the east wing, leading to similar bathrooms, but the furthest room, though shaped like the first one they had entered, looked like it had once been a bowling alley. Old, grimy bowling pins were scattered in the far corners, and there were four wooden lanes with gutters on each side.
“What a strange building,” Sue said. “I’m anxious to learn more about its history.”
As Ellen pushed, to no avail, on the big wooden doors, she thought Sue whispered something.
“What?” Ellen asked.
“I didn’t say anything,” Sue said.
“I heard something, too,” Tanya said. “Let’s get out of here.”
But the wooden doors wouldn’t budge.
“We’re going to have to go back the way we came in,” Ellen said.
As they crossed the room, the sound of whispering came again. This time, it was clear to Ellen, and she dropped the clown bust in mortal fear. It broke into pieces at her feet.
Don’t ignore us.
Tanya must have heard it, too, because she took off running through the rooms to the east exit.
Ellen froze and met Sue’s frightened eyes. They stood there, still as statues. Was someone else in the building with them? And if so, was that someone alive or dead?
Then Sue surprised Ellen by saying, “We don’t want to ignore you. Tell us who you are.”
Ellen could barely hear over the hammering of her heart against her ribs and in her head, but she held her breath and waited with Sue in silence. Sue took out her cell phone—why, Ellen wasn’t sure—but then she whispered, “That’s weird. My phone’s dead.”
Ellen pulled hers from her pocket and handed it to Sue. “Use mine. Are you going to try to make a recording, or what?”
“I wanted to, but your phone is dead, too.”
“That can’t be. Give it here.”
Sue was right. Ellen’s battery was dead.
After a few minutes, they heard Tanya calling out to them, so they floundered through the building until they were outside of it again, where Tanya was waiting for them in the rain.
Chapter Six: An Official Tour
Tuesday afternoon, Ellen drove her friends back to the strange abandoned building, which was now surrounded by a large field of mud left behind by the rain. The building looked sad today, and Ellen felt as though it was calling out to her for help.
HELP TULSA.
Another vehicle was already parked along the curb.
Tanya unbuckled her seatbelt. “Do you think that’s the realtor?”
“Who else would it be?” Sue asked.
“What was her name again?” Ellen turned off the ignition and tucked the key in her purse.
“Gayle something or other,” Tanya said.
“Gayle Boring,” Sue said. “Hopefully she doesn’t live up to her name.”
The woman standing outside of the vehicle wore a blue pantsuit and a silver barrette in her red hair. She was thin and short, even shorter than Sue, with freckles on her pale, severe face. Ellen thought she was probably in her late twenties.
“It’s a blessing to meet you,” Gayle Boring said to each of them as she shook their hands.
“Likewise,” Sue said.
“What can you tell us about this place?” Tanya asked. “And do you know if anyone was ever murdered here?”
“Someone was murdered here,” Gayle said.
Tanya’s face paled. “Then that’s a deal breaker for me.”
“Oh, come on Tanya,” Ellen said. “Let’s at least give it a chance.”
“I don’t know.” Tanya picked at the cuff of her sleeve.
“Well, since we’re here, why don’t I tell you what I know about this place?” Gayle suggested.
“That’s a good idea,” Ellen said, not wanting to give up on the property just yet.
“It was built in 1915,” Gayle said. “It was originally a social club with a roller rink, a ballroom, a bowling alley, and a dinner club, but in 1921, the owner sold it to a man who turned it into an illegal gambling hall and a speakeasy.”
Ellen frowned. She’d been hoping for a more honorable history than this.
The realtor continued. “Then in the thirties, the building was sold to the St. Vincent de Paul Society and turned into a rehabilitation home for alcoholic men.”
“A rehabilitation center?” Tanya asked.
“We seem to be drawn to them,” Sue mumbled.
“That’s when the murder took place,” Gayle said.
“What happened?” Sue asked.
“A nurse murdered a patient in his sleep,” Gayle replied. “Then the nurse killed himself. No one was ever able to find out why.”
Ellen, Sue, and Tanya exchanged worried glances. Ellen knew that Tanya would not be comfortable moving forward with a building with that kind of history, but Ellen felt a connection to it in the same way she had felt one with the Gold House.
“Don’t assume he was evil,” Ellen said to Tanya. “Maybe they were lovers who would rather die than live a life together that most people didn’t approve of back then.”
Tanya continued to pick at her sleeve but said nothing.
“And even if he was evil,” Sue said, “we can do a sage smudge stick ceremony to get rid of him.”
The realtor lifted her brows. “Are you ladies g
host busters or something?”
Ellen laughed. “No, not at all.”
“Not busters,” Sue said. “Healers. We’re ghost healers, but we don’t want to work with anyone evil.”
“I bet my mother’s psychic would be willing to help you,” Gayle offered.
“That’s good to know,” Sue said. “Thank you. We’ll let you know if we’re interested.”
“What happened to the St. Vincent de Paul’s home for men?” Ellen asked. “How long did it operate, and why did it close down?”
“In 1945, after the murder and the scandal surrounding it, the St. Vincent de Paul Society sold the building to a circus,” Gayle said. “The circus operated in the building and the grounds from 1945 to the late 1960’s, when it went out of business. That’s when the city of Tulsa took possession of it.”
“A circus?” Sue smiled. “How fun.”
“Why didn’t the city ever do anything with it?” Ellen asked.
“Asbestos,” Gayle explained. “The city was planning to turn it into a storage facility, but when it was found to contain asbestos, they abandoned the project.”
“But why? Why not remove the asbestos?” Tanya asked.
“For a building this large, it would cost at least fifty thousand dollars, and the city doesn’t want to invest that kind of money in it,” Gayle said. “In fact, funds are being raised for demolition. Because of the asbestos, it has to be done a certain way. So, if it doesn’t sell before the funds are raised, this historical building will be lost to us forever.”
The idea of such an interesting historical building being wiped from the face of the earth was disturbing to Ellen. It made her want to save the building and to solve the mystery of the ghosts even that much more.
“Can we take a look inside?” Sue asked.
Gayle smiled. “Of course. Follow me.”
She led them to a set of double doors made of chain-linked fencing and unlocked the padlock before swinging them open.
When they reached the entrance to the hobo camp, the red-headed realtor frowned. “These doors aren’t secure. I’m so sorry about that. I’ll let the city know.”
