Showing posts with label Reagan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reagan. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

True Ghost Stories and One Ghost Photo

 Usually on Halloween I re-post my essay about Ronald Reagan's White House ghost story--originally posted in 2009--but to change tradition a little, I'm re-posting today part II of my original true ghost story trilogy, based on letters I received when I was working for Country Living magazine. I asked readers to share their supernatural tales and got over 100 letters.  (If you also have a paranormal experience to share, e-mail me at joanpgage@yahoo.com.) I'll tell more about what I learned from these letters in my next post. And if you want to re-read Reagan's tale of White House hauntings, here's the link: http://arollingcrone.blogspot.com/2009/10/reagans-white-house-ghost-story.html
  
When I was writing a regular column for Country Living Magazine in the 1980’s, I asked, in November of 1983, “Tell us about the ghosts in your country house…Write us a letter describing any experiences with live-in ghosts, poltergeists and things that go bump in the night.”

I received 101 letters from all over the country and, to my delight, only one sounded like it was from a nut (she had also been kidnapped by aliens), but the rest all seemed very reasonable, from people who included a psychiatrist, a police officer and a librarian (with a haunted library.} I thought these letters were beyond price—a treasure trove that would help me learn a great deal about ghosts and haunting and what they really are.

But along with these letters came complaints to the editors saying that our question was opening us up to the work of Satan, that we were in grave danger, that ghosts were just Satan’s demons preying on vulnerable people who had lost loved ones, and that these readers wanted their subscription to the magazine canceled at once.

This naturally rattled the editors, and they asked me to keep the eventual article short and up-beat and as inoffensive as possible to the religious right who thought even a discussion of ghosts was inherently evil.

I made notes on each ghost story. While I couldn’t detail in the magazine the scarier stories I received, at least the summary I did of the letters allowed me to learn what people experience when they encounter a “ghost”. I was struck by how many described feeling a sudden patch of cold air, and many described an odor—perfume or pipe tobacco or flowers. The presence of ghosts in fourteen cases played havoc with electrical appliances –lights, toasters and washing machines that would go on and off even when they were unplugged from the wall. Then there were the flying objects.

After reading all these letters, I came to the conclusion that what people perceive as ghosts are probably several different kinds of phenomena which they grouped under that one word. But I’ll tell you in my next post about that. Right now I’m going to give you the highlights of the letters.

The article that I ultimately wrote in Country Living began:

Imagine what you’d do if this happened to you:

You see the image of a Civil War soldier hanging from the rafters in your barn.

You climb the stairs only to find the way blocked by a wall and to feel someone pushing you down.

Periodically at midnight you hear a horse gallop up to your kitchen door, the locked door flies open, and a woman’s voice screams, “Oh, no!”

The antique blanket chest in your living room erupts with such knocking that you have to grab the television set on top to keep it from falling off.

You go to bed leaving a crossword puzzle unfinished and awake to find it has been completed in the characteristic left-handed script of assassinated president James Garfield, who once lived in your home."


I did not go into detail about the few letters that described truly evil spirits that seemed determined to harm someone in the family—those I’ll tell about in my next post—but for the most part, people felt comfortable with the supernatural beings in their house and 24 people believed they knew the real former identity of “their” ghost. Some who didn’t gave their live-in ghosts names.

Among the more than one hundred spirits mentioned, there were ten child ghosts, three Native American ghosts and four animal ghosts (two cats and two dogs) as well as haunted objects: a wicker wheelchair, a family portrait, an antique blanket chest, and a baby carriage.

Forty-one people out of 101 claimed they had actually seen their ghost —anything from vaporous shapes that would pass through a door to what seemed to be a flesh-and-blood person until it suddenly vanished. One reader saw her ghost in a mirror, two described ghosts complete except for having no face, and one reported only the top half of a man repeatedly seen crossing the dining room of her mother-in-law’s restaurant in Indiana.

In 22 cases, pets and small children reacted to the ghost first (like Ronald Reagan’s dog Rex in the Lincoln Bedroom), and children were much more likely to actually see the spirits while their parents saw nothing.

Four readers described being repeatedly pushed down a flight of stairs and two others started to fall down stairs, then were suddenly caught by an unseen hand that left a red handprint on their body. A woman who rented a house in East Kentucky wrote “My first trip downstairs after moving in was on my backside…tearing the muscles in my shoulder. Every time I was on the stairway, I had to hang onto the wall or I’d slip or stumble.’ After three weeks, she and her husband had their pastor come and command the evil spirits to leave, and they did.

Five readers described ghosts who showed concern for their children, covering up babies with blankets, putting toys in the crib, sitting by a bedside and rubbing a feverish brow. Lucy Ensworth, a 12-year-old girl who died in 1863 in Kansas, haunts her Victorian home (she’s buried in the small cemetery on the property).

Lucy has been known to tuck in the baby and to close all the attic windows—propped open with sawed off broomsticks—during a sudden downpour, but she also has emptied a glass of water on a napping adult, smashed dishes all over the kitchen floor, pulled the pegs out of a gun rack before the eyes of its owner, kept the four-year-old granddaughter awake by walking around and rapping on the walls, “just the sort of things a bored, restless pre-teen would do,” according to the woman who wrote the letter.

Ten people said their ghosts make small objects disappear and then reappear in the strangest places—like a flyswatter stuffed into a radio. People described watching flying teapots, mugs, candle snuffers and crystal vases that leaped off a table, rocking chairs that rock by themselves, a wicker wheelchair and a baby carriage that move their position every day. One told about a fork that rose from the table and pricked the cheek of a visitor who scoffed at hearing the house was haunted.

Ten readers told about being repeatedly startled out of sleep by a deafening crash; sometimes to find a scene of chaos, but more often to find nothing broken. (One woman and her daughter would leap out of bed at hearing the din and meet in the hall every night, while her husband slept quietly, never hearing a thing.)

A California woman woke up and found her bed shaking from side to side, while she could see that the prisms on the chandelier weren’t moving. Three people described having their bed shaken, and not by an earthquake.

I have lots more ghost stories from the letters which I’ll tell you about in my next post—including the scary ones that resemble the “Amityville Horror”, but I’ll stop now.

The photo above was sent in by a woman from New Jersey who wrote:
“While vacationing in sunny California this summer (1983) my husband and I came across an interesting small town in Northern California called Los Alamos. [She actually wrote "Los Alimos" but I couldn't find a town of that name.] …We came across this Victorian house...I snapped a photo. We certainly were surprised when we got our pictures developed. The image of a girl dressed in clothing not of this era was clearly visible…. I would really like to find out more about the history of the house.”

To her it looks like a girl in old-fashioned clothes—to me it looks more like the Grim Reaper. What do you think? And have you had any encounters with the other world?

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Gate Crashers at the White House




How Did the Salahis Do It?

From the very beginning, I’ve been following with fascination the story of how Michaele and Tareq Salahi managed to crash the Obamas’ first state dinner last Tuesday night for the Prime Minister of India.

I’m intrigued by how they managed this coup, because I know how thorough is the vetting of guests for White Houses State dinners —at least during the Reagan era and the Clinton era, when my husband Nick and I were privileged to attend state dinners for prime minister Brian Mulroney of Canada in March 1986 and for the President of Greece, Constantine Stephanopoulos, in May 1996. (That's us with the Reagans, above.)

The invitation, topped with a gold-eagle presidential seal, arrived more than a month before the event. Out of the envelope, addressed in calligraphy, came the invitation itself and a small card with a yellow imprint of the White House and the words ”Please present this card with identification at the East Entrance, the White House. Not transferable.”

Another card advised: ”Please respond at your earliest convenience giving date of birth and Social Security number.” This, of course, was so they could do a background check to rule out any dangerous or undesirable guests.

On the day of the Reagan event, we, in formal dress, rode in a limousine to the East Gate. (We were almost late because neither one of us could tie Nick’s bow tie—The concierge at the Madison Hotel provided a pre-tied bow tied just in time.)

A long line of limousines waited at the East Gate. As we inched forward, security men and women checked our photo identification against their lists of guests who had been cleared.

An early article on the Salahis reported that their limousine was turned away at this point (after holding up the line for a long time) and that the couple then drove to another gate where they eventually managed to convince someone to let them walk in, trailed by a cameraman and a make-up person.

I can hardly believe this is true. Surely the cameraman and the make-up person were not allowed inside the White House gates! But clearly the Salahis were—presumably thanks to some clever fast -talking on their part. I've read that they are now marketing to the press their first interview about their scam and hoping to get “well into six figures” for it.

I would NOT want to be the person who let them in. According to yesterday’s New York Post, “The red-faced agency had its internal office of professional responsibility launch a probe into how the Salahis got in. The office has been reviewing video-surveillance footage and interviewing every agent on duty at the White House state dinner for Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, sources said.

“The startlingly botched security has the potential to force out Sullivan as chief of the Secret Service, said a law-enforcement source with connections to Washington.”

When Nick and I went to the Reagan and Clinton dinners, they took place in the State Dining Room. The Reagans invited only 116 guests, compared to the 400 invited to the Obama state dinner. The Obama dinner last week was held in a tent on the South Lawn. But first the guests and the Salahis had to go into the White House, be announced, and –as the front-page photos showed on Saturday —they pressed the flesh with the President in the receiving line in the Blue Room.

At the Reagan and Clinton state dinners, we had to go through several check points before actually sitting down to dinner.

A military aide welcomed us at the door of the White House. We then walked through the ground floor corridor past the portraits of former First Ladies and another aide announced each person’s name (and title) to the press corps waiting the next room behind ropes. (Back in 1986, unaccompanied women were provided with an escort-- a military officer wearing his dress uniform.) After walking past the crowd of reporters, television crews and cameras, we climbed a staircase and were greeted by social aides who gave us our table-assignment cards.

Then we walked beneath the crystal chandeliers of the great Entrance Hall while the U.S. Marine Orchestra serenaded us. We entered the East Room where we were once again announced by name and title. There we drank and chatted until the President and First Lady and the guests of honor arrived and formed a reception line.

Social aides herded us in their direction, husbands first. The ambassador in charge of protocol stood at the head of the line, whispering each person’s name into the President’s ear. At the moment you are greeted by the president, a White House photographer takes your photograph, which is mailed to you sometime after the event —with the President’s good wishes scrawled on it. The White House photograph of the Salahis being greeted by Obama was quietly released to the press on Saturday, along with a statement from the director of the Secret Service, Mark Sullivan, saying that his agency was “deeply concerned and embarrassed” by the events.

In the photo Michaele, wearing a long red and gold sari, clutches Obama’s hand in both of hers while her husband beams.

At the Reagan and Clinton dinners, after passing through the reception line, the crowd filed into the State Dining Room, where round tables awaited with gold candlesticks, gold vermeil flatware and vermeil bowls filled with flowers. At the Obama dinner, the guests were directed out to tables under the tent on the South Lawn.

At this point, the Salahis reportedly slipped away. They knew there were no place cards with their names on the tables. (How they managed to get out without making themselves conspicuous is a good question.)

(The dinner which the Salahis did not taste was vegetarian except for an optional shrimp dish, because the Indian Prime Minister is a Sikh – meaning he doesn’t eat meat or drink alcohol. Was alcohol served at all at this state dinner? And how was that arranged without upsetting the observant Hindus and Muslims there?)

At the state dinners we attended, after toasts by the president and guest of honor, everyone moved to the another room for demitasse and after-dinner liqueurs, and then to the East Room where musical entertainment takes place. Then there was dancing, led off by the President and First Lady.

Eventually we’ll learn how the Salahis pulled off this trick that left the Secret Service in shambles and embarrassed the Obamas and their staff at their first State Dinner. Ronald Kessler, author of “In the President’s Secret Service” said that threats against the president have increased 400 per cent since he took office.

Luckily for everyone but the Secret Service, the Salahis did not intend to harm the president —they just wanted to get Mrs. Salahi on “The Real Housewives of Washington D.C.” And I’ll bet she does get on that show… if she manages to stay out of jail.

But for now I suggest that the lesson we’ve learned is that a good-looking blonde in a gorgeous red dress (or sari) can talk her way in just about anywhere.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Dukakis At Eleni's Memorial, Lia Greece






Michael Dukakis, who ran for the presidency of the United States in 1988 and was the longest-serving governor in Massachusetts history, arrived in the small northern Greek village of Lia last week on Aug. 24, causing great excitement throughout the country, and especially in Lia, where the village had been spruced up, pot holes filled, foliage pruned, and a heliport repaved to receive Dukakis' entourage, (although the man himself chose to drive up the vertiginous mountain roads so he could see the countryside on the way.)

Dukakis' maternal grandparents came from Vrisohori, another small and, until recently, isolated village not far from Lia. Although Mike and Kitty have visited Greece many times, they had never visited Northern Greece and his grandparents' village. The couple, along with Kitty's sister Ginnie and Ginnie's husband, Al, used the Grand Serai Hotel in Ioannnina as a base. After a lavish dinner hosted by the Mayor of Ioannina, they left the next day to see Vrisohori where Sen. Dukakis, with tears in his eyes, lauded the village which had produced his mother Euterpe, who became one of the the first Greek-American women to earn a college degree. (The small village also produced the father of film director John Cassavetes.)

The next day, Monday, Aug. 24, the Dukakis group arrived in Lia to attend a memorial service for Eleni Gatzoyiannis, my mother-in-law and the mother of my husband Nicholas Gage

Eleni Gatzoyiannis was executed by a firing squad of Communist guerrillas in Aug. 1948-- her body left in a ravine along with 12 other murdered civilians. Before that day, she was imprisoned, crowded along with 31 other prisoners into the tiny basement of her own house--which had been taken over as guerrilla headquarters.

When the guerrillas, who occupied the village in the last months of the Greek Civil War, started collecting children to take them behind the Iron Curtain, Eleni began to plan a nighttime escape for her own children. (In the end 28,000 children were kidnapped in the pedomasoma.) The escape succeeded after two abortive tries--but on the third try, she was forced to stay behind, to provide two women from her household to harvest wheat for the guerrillas. She chose herself and her 15-year-old daughter Glykeria, and said goodbye to her nine-year-old son, Nicholas and three older daughters. After her children disappeared, Eleni was questioned, tortured,imprisoned and ultimately executed on Aug. 28, 1948.

Nick's book about his mother, «Eleni», has told her story around the world in 34 languages. It was followed by the film Eleni. Her sacrifice to gain freedom for her children was cited on national television by President Ronald Reagan.

Last week, 61 years after Eleni’s execution, Michael and Kitty Dukakis attended a memorial service in her honor in Aghios Demetrios Church, where she worshipped, and where her remains were placed in the ossuary after her body was recovered from the ravine where she fell.

Also at the church last week were survivors and descendents of the 12 other civilians who died that day. After the service, mourners were given the traditional kollyva to eat--a sweet combination of boiled wheat, pomegranate seeds, almonds, sugar and raisins-- to symbolize the resurrection and immortality of the soul.

From the church, Mike and Kitty Dukakis came up the mountain to see Eleni's house as it is now--rebuilt from ruins in 2002 by our daughter and Eleni's granddaughter, author Eleni Gage. (She spent a year in the village restoring the house and writing a travel memoir "North of Ithaka" about the experience.) The house has been decorated to look just as it did before the Civil War. On the mantle is a photograph of Eleni Gatzoyiannis and her husband Christos--who was working as a produce seller in Worcester when war broke out in 1939, preventing him from returniing to Greece for the next decade.

Nick then showed the Dukakises his grandfather's house, lower on the mountain, and the path that the children took when they escaped down through the minefields at night, until they reached the Nationalist soldiers on the other side. They were sent to a refugee camp where they lived until their father was able to bring them to the United States a year later.

Finally, the villagers of Lia gathered with Mike and Kitty Dukakis in the village Inn for a celebratory meal, including the traditional local pita pies. There were tears as well as smiles as Mike and Kitty greeted and hugged the villagers, old and young, who had lost loved ones and grandparents on that day in 1948.

Nick welcomed the visitors, saying in part «I’m very moved that Mike and Kitty Dukakis have come here to remember the fate of Eleni and to recall how she suffered and from whom.»

In turn Gov. Dukakis, also speaking in Greek, said «Having read several times the powerful work of Nicholas Gage about his mother, we are are very moved to come to Lia and see the places of her martyrdom.»

This celebration of her legacy--the legacy of a simple Greek peasant woman who died to save her children--was something that Eleni Gatzoyiannis, murdered at 41, could never have imagined happening 61 years after her death. Hundreds gathered in her village as she was honored by the only Greek-American to run for the presidency of the United States--the country she longed to see, but never did. (After Nick's father Christos died in 1985, Nick brought his mother's bones to Worcester, MA to be buried next to her husband, in Hope Cemetery)

It was an honor that Eleni Gatzoyiannis could not have imagined when she was alive --but the spirit of Eleni has often been felt in the village over the years since her death, as people from around the world have made the pilgrimage to see where she lived and died.

I think she knew.