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Another Ghost Story Posted on Oct 16, 2012 at 11:57 PM

When I graduated high school in 1956 there was an art teacher named Lloyd Samuelson, who also was the tennis coach. I didn’t take art or golf so I didn’t have him as a teacher but I knew him. While I was in the Navy from ’56 to ’60 - Lloyd (or ‘Sam’ as he liked to be called) bought the house next door to my folks and they became the best of friends. Sam had no family and said he enjoyed teaching, tennis, and painting, that was his life. In ’65 he asked Dad to be the executor of his estate and gave him a copy of his will leaving everything to him.


In spring of 1969 dad saw the cops pull up in front of Sam’s house and went out to investigate. The cops asked him if he had seen Sam as they had been asked to check the welfare. Dad told them he saw Sam the night before and that he had a key to let them in with. So they go in and find Sam dead on the kitchen floor of multiple gunshots. They call in detectives and the Coroner who asks Dad to help him since they are old friends and had done this many times. When the detectives are done Dad and the Coroner load Sam in the Coroner’s van and follows him down to the Funeral home and they do the autopsy right there which is the way the Coroner operated back then. Then Dad embalmed Sam and went home. I don’t know whether Sam was hit 2 or 3 times, but they found a 38 slug in the kitchen window frame. The hole is still there.


After my divorce in Dec ’76 I brought my kids to Colorado to start over and rented Sam’s house from my folks in Feb ’77. I met my 2nd wife Joann in Denver in Nov. ’78 and we married in May ’79 and moved her and her 2 youngest daughters in here with my son and 2 daughters. After a couple years we bought the house and did some remodeling in the kitchen; refinishing the cabinets, new floor tile, painting, etc. I spilled a half bucket of hot water on the floor next to the bar type counter separating the kitchen from the living room. Joann screamed, “There’s blood coming out from under the bar. I went around and sure enough there it was spreading out on the hardwood floor. Joann and I kept sopping up the blood as my son poured more hot water in the kitchen till the water cleared, and then we put fans out to dry it out while the girls washed the rags out. We were all so tired we went to bed after I promised to tell them the story in the morning, which I did with Mom and Dad’s help, even showing them the bullet hole in the window frame.


Joann and the girls said that they all felt a presence in the house on many occasions and I had too. To me it was like watching TV or sitting at the table and somebody would be caught by my peripheral vision as they passed by. The ladies seemed to get more and longer looks than I did. I think the folks thought we were all crazy but they didn’t say anything. We were all sitting on the front patio at the time having lunch when I went in to my office and got my ’56 HS year book and brought it out. I asked the kids to go to their rooms and opened the book up to the faculty section and asked Joann to see if she saw anyone familiar. About the fourth page she pointed to Sam’s picture and said “That’s him.” I then brought the kids out one by one and went through the same routine starting with a closed book. They each picked Sam’s picture out. My folks were astounded but I wasn’t surprised after my personal experiences. My kids then started telling her kids about our experiences in Pennsylvania. Time they got done with that my folks were totally convinced that we weren’t trying to fool them.


In 1990 the surviving daughter of the family that lived t doors down from us moved back into what is now her house. Her father had died a few years before and her mother had committed suicide several years before that. Her younger brother had killed himself in the early ‘70s. My dad told me several times that he thought it was the brother who was trying to score some pot that killed Sam. By this time the kids were all out of the house and Joann and I were grand-parents several times over. So one night we got some paintings of Sam’s and a self portrait he had done, and started talking to him, hoping he would hear us. After about a half hour Joann felt a presence and I had a flicker in my peripheral vision so we began talking about the boy down the street and how Dad and we both thought he was the one that shot Sam and that was why he was hanging around here hoping to see the case solved. Apparently we were right because we haven’t felt his presence since

Here's some ghost stories Posted on Oct 14, 2012 at 11:07 PM

My first wife and I rented a house in Feasterville Pa. in the 70's that was a couple hundred yrs. old and my car keys kept getting moved from the table by my LR chair to the fireplace mantle.

After a month or so of cleaning and fixing up the key moving stopped. I think it was because they finally figured someone was finally taking good care of the place and they were content.

I love rattling cages, especially theirs.

My wife and I walked into the living room of that house and we both saw a woman standing on the landing of the stairs. She was semi-transparent and dressed in1800's style clothing and just looking at us. I tried talking to her and she seemed to reply but neither of us could hear her, she seemed to understand me though. It seems she had lived here most of her life and probably died here. She admitted moving the keys by willing them to move to get our attention. She also was appreciative of us fixing up 'her house' and her 'appearance' to us was to thank us. The thing that struck me most was that although her image was clear enough to make out that she was an attractive woman, it was impossible to tell her age - at times she looked in her 30s,and others in her 50s, and at times anywhere in between. That was really intriguing and she wouldn't respond to my guesses. I guess dead women won't give away their age either. chuckle

Correction: We moved in there in 1968 not the 70's

I had a deaf friend who taught me to lip read when I was a kid. It was very difficult to read hers though, because of the fuzziness of her face and the way it kept changing ages. I tried to ask pointed questions to pin things down and I could definitely read the no's and most of the yeses. I couldn't get a time period when she lived there, just sometime after 1840. I was trying to go through the presidents to pin it down but she disappeared while doing this. Never saw her again. but saw what she could do. Wow !!!

In the summer of '69 we bought a house in Levittown, Pa. While we were waiting to settle on it , the realtor we were renting from asked if she could take over a room in this house to set up her office to operate. We agreed to let her use the dining room since she waived the rent for that month. Things went well for a week or so until she called me downstairs and asked if we had pushed everything on her desk onto the floor. I assured her we had not, because we had gone to bed very late and were sleeping in. I helped her pick things up, and the last thing I picked up was a set of plans for remodeling the house with some radical changes. I then told her about the ghost and suggested maybe she didn't like the planned changes.

A week later we made settlement and spent a few days cleaning and painting the new place We moved everything to our new house except for the garage, and gave here all the keys to the house, keeping the garage keys. When we returned 3 days later to clean out the garage, she was madder than a hornet, crying and the cops were there. As the story unfolded: a crew had put her realty sign in front, and begun tearing down part of the house the day before. When she opened up that morning her office was a shambles, furniture and file cabinets overturned with records and papers strewn everywhere . It was a real mess.

The cops said there was no sign of forcible entry, the demolished part was securely sealed off and the new locks she had installed were undamaged. One cop in questioning me asked if she might have got drunk and did it herself. I told him I didn't think so and told him about the ghost.. He laughed and said he thought that was a logical explanation because he had been through paranormal experiences. I'm glad the realtor knew I had been out of town the night before and it couldn't be me. Within a year the house was torn down and I never heard of her business or her name again