Peg Entwistle Takes on the Coveted Role of an Afterlife

"Actress Ends Life by Jumping Off Fifty-Foot Sign After Failure in the Movies"

At least that's how the New York Times insensitively, even cruelly, put it anyway. Yet perhaps Peg Entwistle just hadn't quite yet had the chance to achieve more lasting success in Hollywood. Of course we'll never know for sure, because on September 16, 1932, the despondent young (only 24 year old) woman walked, all alone, up into the lofty, sparsely wooded heights of Tinseltown, up to the now world-famous sign, that at the time read "Hollywoodland," paused in front of the first letter, the H, and then, after laboriously climbing some fifty feet upward (using a service ladder), took the fateful leap that sadly ended her corporeal existence.

Yet, oddly enough, when it comes to fame (though not necessarily fortune) Ms. Entwistle may now be much more well known (or legendary at least, in the realm of paranormal research) than many of her early 20th century entertainment industry contemporaries. In fact, prior to her last film appearance in Thirteen Women, a production that was so poorly received that it was soon  hastily re-edited by RKO Pictures (which caused Peg's role in the movie to be drastically cut and her contract terminated), she had actually achieved considerable success as a promising young stage actress.

The eerily titled "Thirteen Women" (1932)

Where most of her contemporaries are now only known to classic movie and theater buffs, in the many intervening decades since her sad demise, Peg Entwistle is reportedly still seen by a number of perhaps foolish, thrill-seeking trespassers to the now very much forbidden and sealed-off site, where it is believed that the unfortunate wraith still treads the doleful path she last took toward her final destination in life.

For unfortunately, by the Fall of 1932, in the wake of the poor reception of Thirteen Women, all the young starlet's previous accolades seemed to be of no avail if she could no longer even afford to pay her rent. So reluctantly, Peg was forced to take up residence with a close relative.

It's unclear how well that particular arrangement may have been tolerated by all parties involved, but what is known, is that one evening, saying that she was going to the store, the despondent young thespian left her uncle's home and headed out on foot, quietly plodding toward the ever beckoning Hollywoodland sign, that surely represented the sum total of all her once promising hopes and dreams.

It's at least quite conceivable then, that Peg may therefore now be sadly, even perhaps supernaturally, typecast - forever trapped in the tragic role of yet another leading "Lady in White" - that all too ubiquitous ghost story sobriquet bestowed upon many a frightfully pale female apparition that is commonly reported in numerous haunted locations the world over, and even all throughout recorded history.

In the case of this particular Lady in White, even when she's not actually seen in the spectral flesh, the distinctive scent of Ms. Entwistle's favorite, Gardenia scented perfume (which she was undoubtedly wearing on the night of her passing), is sometimes detected by visitors to nearby Griffith Park - which just happens to be a great place to get a much closer view of the now fully restored Hollywood sign.

Simply paying a visit to the park however, doesn't necessarily get one all that close to the world famous tourist attraction. Nor does it mean that spending leisure time at the popular public venue is an appropriate place to go ghost hunting. As a result, every now and then, thrill seekers and amateur ghost hunters alike attempt to sneak onto the premises after hours, hoping to get a glimpse of the fabled Lady in White.

One such frightful tale was once told of the melancholy shade that allegedly haunts the rugged slopes leading up to the site of Peg's suicide. As the story goes, a couple of greatly startled young eye-witnesses later described suddenly encountering the macabre manifestation of a solitary female figure who, eerily enough, stared back at them from the hollowed out orbits of a skeletal face. The rest of her semi-transparent form, they claimed, was clad in "flapper" era clothing that concealed all but her bony hands and perhaps the lower part of her legs.

Yet, if it really is the ghost of poor Peg Entwistle that is periodically witnessed still winding her dispirited way up to the very last - and perhaps all too successful - audition of her brief life, then what a shame that such a beautiful, once vibrant young woman might, quite possibly, be trapped in time and space up on that steep, dark hillside in otherwise golden, sunny southern California, so very far from the time-honored place of her birth.

We can only hope then, that if it is indeed Peg's spectral form that still haunts the location, that she will one day find the eternally restful sleep that she no doubt richly deserves.

"The darker the night, the brighter the stars,

the deeper the grief, the closer is God." ~Fyodor Dostoevsky

But then... maybe that's what the lovely young lady wanted all along. Maybe, out there, somewhere, in the multi-dimension defying Afterlife that we mere mortals have yet to fully comprehend, Peg is even now still locked in the well-rehearsed throes of faithfully "breaking a leg" in the only way she has ever knew how.

Perhaps this final opus is the eternal swan song of a talented young actress whom Hollywood was foolish enough to simply overlook. Although, it is said that three days after Peg's suicide, her uncle received a letter from a film studio, stating that she was being considered for a major role in an upcoming motion picture.

Even so, perhaps this last, oft-repeated command performance may very well be the starring role that she was always meant to play long term, and to the very hilt. Or, maybe it's just that, in the final, heart-rending moments of the downward spiral of her life, in the deeply depressive state she was obviously in, that that's just the way that she may have imagined that it all ought to come crashing to an anti-climactic end. And then, though the final curtain did so abruptly, so very harshly fall, this shrinking violet, this unsung talent of days gone by, did in fact rise again - if only in spectral form - to perhaps nightly, up to this very day, "go on with the show."

Whatever the case may in fact be, on a final note, even though amateur ghost hunting has definitely become all the rage in recent years, one would hope that no curious (or just plain foolhardy) interlopers will attempt to clandestinely scale the south slope of Mount Lee in hopes of encountering this particular, ill-fated Lady in White.

Because if it is indeed the pitiful phantom of Peg Entwistle that is periodically encountered out there in the dank, lonely stillness, way up in those wickedly deceptive and forbidding hills that have long beckoned literally millions of young, star-struck Hollywood hopefuls, then I for one tend to think that she at least deserves much better than to be the object of an endless stream of perhaps far too uncaring thrill seekers. Don't you?

Further Reading:
* The Ghosts of Old Hollywood

A Somewhat Inaccurate Title for a Book That is Only 13 (Spooky) Pages Anyway

Yikes! This book is all of THIRTEEN measly pages, which makes it more like a rather wordy pamphlet. Or maybe it's the eBook version of a terribly verbose promotional flyer? And yet... the last (roughly) two-thirds isn't even about what the (overly long) title clearly indicates. Yes, that's right; only the first part is about "the Most Haunted Graveyard in the U.S." The rest seems to just be unabashed filler.

Now, that's not to say that the reportedly "paranormal" (and arguably well documented) phenomena surrounding President Lincoln's Funeral Train isn't ALSO quite interesting, and more than worthy of inclusion in a book about haunted people and places in the always noteworthy and quite historical state of Maryland, but... "Lincoln's Funeral Train" isn't actually the title of the "book," now is it?

But, hey! The subtitle, "Dead, but Not Gone in Maryland" DOES seem to fit. In fact, it's very clever, and it really does fit the subject matter extremely well. So that right there certainly is a big plus. So then... why is that the subtitle and not the main title? Beats me!

And besides, the parts of the "book" that are NOT about the allegedly "most haunted graveyard in the US." were a lot more interesting (not to mention, slightly better in terms of writing style and overall clarity) for yours truly than the stuff about Maryland's Westminster Burial Grounds.

Because, of course, it's fun to read about some of Westminster's (the one in Maryland, not England, mind you) most famous, now deceased denizens (such as Edgar Allan Poe, and the not quite as renowned ghost of Lucia Watson Taylor), but then... the book just suddenly switches to "Waterfront Views and Haunted Rooms at the Riverside Country Inn." Swell! Actually, that's all very interesting, too. But again, the Riverside Country Inn isn't actually "the most haunted cemetery in the U.S.," is it? 'Cause an inn isn't exactly a cemetery. Is it?

Now, beyond the fact that a claim such as "most haunted in America" is, honestly... let's face it, kind of... oh, I don't know... highly subjective, then why give us a glorified run-on sentence like that for a title? Granted, the writing in author Sherri Granato's ever-so-brief little study of haunted Maryland isn't even close to as bad as the average self-published ghost story themed eBook, but it does contain more than its share of awkwardly worded sentences.

Oh, don't get me wrong. Most of the book is easy enough to decipher, and I would even say that's it's a rather fun little read (which is why I'm giving it a rather generous 3 out of 5 stars), but if you're a reader who happens to be used to well edited, thoroughly researched, reasonably lengthy books about paranormal phenomena, my friendly advice with this one is; don't expect too awful much.

Because, honestly, "Haunted America, the Most Haunted Graveyard in the U.S." really isn't a bad little book. It's just not overly detailed, and reads like the work of a writer who is perhaps a bit of a novice. Other than that, I'd still give it 3 out of 5 stars. And hey, that ain't ALL bad. Is it?

The Bigfeet Facts of Sasquatch Life

"Sasquatch man need Sasquatch woman. Sasquatch woman need Sasquatch man! No this, then... NO SASQUATCH BABIES! You stupid little humans not figure all this out yet? Duh. Why you think we live deep in woods, far away, hidden from all you stupid little humans? Duh."

When the Veil grows thin

'Tis the time of the season when "the Veil" grows thin and the reproaches, admonishments, or wise council of revenants from days long past are more readily discernible. So mind the whispers of the wind, the spectral watercolors that adorn a cloudy sky by day, and the signs and portents in the Rorschach gloom of the heavens by night. Lest ye miss the missive.

Ghosts of the Old American South

Map showing the distribution of the slave population of the southern states of the United States.
Compiled from the census of 1860 - Library of Congress

Well there ya go! I always knew Missouri was more or less part of the great American South - literally, or figuratively, notwithstanding. That darker gray patch running through the upper middle part of Missouri (on the map pictured above) is where Columbia is, and where I spent a total of 10 years of my life (after I spent the first 21 years of my life in Southwest Missouri). I even once lived in a building in Columbia that had been built from wood left over from an "old slave house," according to my former landlord.

He was nearly 90 years old at the time, while I was just a poor, twenty-something college student, working a third job for this particular elderly landlord. Between classes and my other two jobs (plus being a full time art student - and believe me, doing artwork after classes means you put in a LOT of man hours), I was obviously exhausted most of the time, but I was young, and I had to make ends meet, so I always just said "yes" when the old man called to ask if I was "available to do some work."

Unfortunately, I didn't even get a break on my rent for working for my landlord. The old man was too cheap for that. But then again, he'd been through the Great Depression and all that. And he was a pretty good guy otherwise. More than anything though, he was just plain cheap. At his age, he wasn't exactly what you'd call a big spender. So let's just say that I didn't get paid all that much.

So anyway, when I wasn't mowing his lawn for bargain basement prices, what my misery old landlord and I actually did when I put in hours with him, was to tool around to all the properties he owned, where I'd help him fix (or sometimes even shamelessly jury-rig) all sorts of broken down things at apartments he was leasing. 'Cause naturally, the old man didn't want to pay for a real repair man! All those do-it-yourself activities also apparently helped him to "stay active" at his age, too - so I guess there was at least some very definite method to his madness.

At any rate, sometimes, we would even have to go downstairs into the creepy basement area of the ancient building where I was myself living, to get supplies and whatnot. And once, after I'd been living in the building for a least a year or more, when we went down into that spooky old basement - where it always, always, always felt like we were being watched, and where it was often just a little too abnormally cold - I was surprised to see the old man reach up and run his ancient, gnarled hands (in an odd, almost loving fashion) along the dark, pitted, heavy beams up near the low basement ceiling.

We'd been down there in that scary old basement dozens and dozens of times before, of course, but on that particular day, the old man just happened to start reminiscing about days gone by. I didn't think all that much about it at the time, to be quite honest, 'cause... come on, that's just what you get when you spend time with most old folks. It did seem rather odd though, that he had suddenly decided to pay so much attention to an obviously very, very old piece of wood running up along the low hanging ceiling.

The building was so old, he told me, that the basement had even been converted into makeshift apartments for American soldiers, who'd just gotten married after returning home from WWII. I've always loved history, so that was all really, really interesting, of course. But what he said next really threw me for a loop. He said he even remembered when the old slave house, that had once stood out back near the parking lot, had been torn down. So the old slave house wood beam he was touching had actually been salvaged for the building I had been living in for a year or more....

That explained why then, that near the little parking area out back behind my apartment building, I could always sense the ghosts of former slaves milling about. There were at least three or maybe four of them on most occasions, and they seemed to always be working with old farm implements, out in a shadowy little, long neglected garden area within a semicircle of trees.

For whatever reason, at the time, I ended up telling this particular ghost story to a group of fellow students at school, and one particular African American classmate quite understandably got a little emotional. He asked me if the spirits I encountered were wearing chains, or if it looked as if they'd been beaten. Naturally, he even guessed that the ghosts of these particular former slaves must still be tormented and in terrible agony.

That, however, was never the feeling I got. Not whatsoever. There was in fact, a very peaceful, even very much at ease feeling about those particular spirits. But hey, don't get me wrong! I'm quite sure that there are plenty of former slave ghosts running around out there in the ether that came to a very sad end, and therefore still haunt our world. I just haven't yet encountered any particularly tortured former slave ghosts myself yet though - so I honestly, really cannot speak to that.

All I know is that the ghosts I sensed out there in the parking area of the old apartment building I used to live in in Columbia, Missouri, way, way back when I was in college, seemed to be pretty quiet, tranquil folks. I even remember distinctly, quite often, when I was getting out of my car, getting the feeling (with the Second Sight I've had since as long as I can remember), that someone or other that I couldn't see with my own naked eyes (usually an older couple, and a younger man that seemed to be a son), would politely pause what they were doing to sort of greet me.

It didn't happen every single day, of course, because I was often in a hurry, or tired from school or work, but I sometimes got the distinct mental image of someone smiling broadly as they paused to rest their rake (or some other type of farm implement) under their arm, just to be polite. I'd even go so far as to say that they were downright friendly. Because honestly, I could go out to that clearing under that shelter of trees (an area that always seemed to be particularly dark, cool, and oddly peaceful, no matter what time of day or season it happened to be) and although I did not feel that I was alone, I always felt a sense of peace.

Although, to be quite honest, I've always suspected that, more than anything else, my encounters with those particular spirit folks had a great deal more to do with how I personally may have come off to them in particular. Meaning that, they could sense my good intentions and were cool and kind with me in return. And I still believe that to this very day, in fact.

Because really and truly, when it comes to the paranormal realm, quite often, you get what you give. And isn't that pretty much the way Life with still "living" people is on this plane of existence - before our earthly bodies inevitably decay and die?

A Very Mixed Bag of Paranormal Tricks & Treats - Poorly Edited, If Edited At All

If only I could say with all honesty that Amazing Paranormal Encounters, by Rick Kueber, Annette Munnich, Michael Lynch, William Lester, and a slew of other 'authors,' was a pleasant literary experience.  Sure, this collection of assorted ghost stories and paranormal themed rumblings is at times arguably compelling.  Scary, even.  But well written?  Not exactly.  And certainly, taken as a comprehensive whole, not near as much as it could have been.

What actually did make me awfully fearful while reading the book, was that this glorified mishmash of otherwise spine tingling tales would actually come off as ill conceived, prematurely published, and exceptionally poorly edited to the vast majority of knowledgeable readers.  But don't get me wrong.  A few of the individuals who allowed their work to be stitched into this pell-mell patchwork Frankenstein's monster of a book actually appear to be relatively good writers.  Sadly however, few of the rest come off as much more than passably competent in their craft in any sort of appreciable way.  Even more frightening is the fact that a few of the most disjointed and poorly edited chapters were written by folks who apparently have PhDs!

And if THAT doesn't scare ya, surely nothing will.

Yes, folks, Amazing Paranormal Encounters appears to have just plain not been edited all that well.  In fact, it doesn't appear to have been edited at all.  But then, these days all sorts of things get hastily and really quite expeditiously "ePublished," don't they?  These days, almost anybody who has the time and the patience to bang away long enough on a garden variety keyboard is a big name 'author.'  Well, not really, but you get the picture.  But hopefully you won't have to buy the book to actually find out for yourself.  Like I unfortunately did.

Mind you, this is coming from a guy who also is sitting in front of his very own keyboard; a guy who also possesses the power to be an almighty 'author' type person too.  Yes, I can articulate, therefore I truly am a writer.  The question is, am I a good one?  Well, the answer to that question is highly subjective, is it not?  At least in my own defense, I'm a guy who actually does believe in the old saying, that "everyone has at least one good book in them."  Of course!  Why not?  But... and this BUT really does deserve both ellipsis AND the strongly indicated obligatory pause, EVERYONE... and I mean EVERYONE, could use a decent EDITOR every now and then, you know.

Heck!  I'll bet even a grade A, choice select, prime cut author like Stephen King has somebody or other who helps him review his manuscripts after he's finished banging away on his very own writing instrument of choice.  You know, someone competent and trustworthy to help him to get all the details just right, BEFORE his latest book goes flying like a bat out of otherwise scholarly hell towards the hot and heavy presses that, in these days of electronic publishing, feed greedy and overanxious book sellers and consumers alike with appalling regularity.

But nowadays we all live in this crazy new wild, wild west type ePublishing world, don't we?  Oh yes we do!  Got a bunch of paranormal themed essays you can slap together and launch slapdash into the Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble stratosphere?  Well you're in luck, baby!  What?  No time to edit it?  And you've got nobody (with an actual background in genuine publishing, that is) to so much as give the book a good, thorough read through before the freshly delivered newborn can even utter its first earthbound scream?  No problem!  Here it is, folks!  And it only costs $3 bucks odd!  So even if your brain gets tangled up in mangled up knots trying to sort those poorly worded sentences out, at least your precious pocket book isn't going to be a whole heck of a lot lighter!

Yeah....  Right....

At any rate, Amazing Paranormal Encounters really should be a good book for anyone who loves true paranormal accounts, but this particular 'author' type person really cannot see how it ever would or should be at the top of anyone's reading list.  Sure, the content isn't bad, as true paranormal fare goes, but some of the essays/chapters are so poorly written, that you may find yourself pausing an awful lot to mentally self edit while reading.  Which really isn't fun, let me tell ya.  One might even say that far too numerous grammar and punctuation errors in this book tend to break aesthetic distance so often, and to such an annoying degree, that the otherwise spooky nature of many of the stories pretty much ends up falling through the cracks in the floorboards of all those oft cited haunted houses.

Bottom line; even though I might be able to recommend this book to anyone who likes to read true paranormal tales, I really don't think anyone (or any English majors who actually know their stuff anyway) would give the book high marks.  In fact, I'd say that most practiced readers and other assorted intellect types worth their salt, who know how to break their thoughts up into carefully worded sentences (highfalutin PhD or no) would find this book to be downright tedious and even needlessly painful to read at times.  And the scariest thing of all, I truly fear to tell, is that a good, thorough editing of the text would have added at least a star and a half to my final, mostly generous, three star rating.  Maybe even two!  And that surely is scary indeed.

A Suitably Scary & Wonderfully Well Written Treasure Trove of Australian Paranormal Tales

Available at Amazon.com

If you find true paranormal accounts to be as truly captivating as yours truly, then John Pinkney's HAUNTED: The Ghosts That Share Our World is more than well worth a read.  At more than 350 pages (at least 100 or more more than a whole lot of other ghost story collections out there - most of which will also most likely cost you a great deal more than Mr. Pinkney's ghostly collection), the book isn't just an excellent value; it's a real steal.

What's more, the author is a seasoned screenwriter and journalist who puts it all down for posterity with impeccable skill and clarity, and this particular book really shows it.  Odds are, however, that you'll scarcely even pay John Pinkney much mind while sinking your very eye teeth into this well crafted volume of scary good stories.  And that's as it should be, of course.  Because thankfully, Mr. Pinkney doesn't impose himself all that much on his meticulously researched subject matter, the way a lot of authors in this genre tend to do, but rather, he sticks to the spooky facts, just as they've been set down throughout Australia's colorful (though often overlooked and highly underrated) history.

Which brings me to the other thing that I found so absolutely absorbing and frighteningly fascinating while reading Mr. Pinkney's collection of creepy tales from way down under.  Australia!  That's right, it's a true pleasure to dive into the captivating culture and hair raising history of the fantastic phantoms that have long haunted that most intriguing of southern hemispheric corners of the British Commonwealth.  So even though North American readers may need to pause every now and then, and look up a few of the more definitively Oceanic-centric terms and nomenclature, believe me, it's more than well worth the time and effort.  'Cause Australia is just so doggone interesting, of course!  And come on, rich Australian history + ghost stories!  Who could possibly ask for more?

Make no mistake, this is a very well written and researched ghost story compendium, and Mr. Pinkney really should be highly commended for his studious and very objective treatment of this wonderfully intriguing subject matter.  If, however, there is any shortcoming at all in this particular collection, I'd actually have to say that it may be that the book is... believe it or not, just a bit too long!  And yet, I mentioned above that one of this book's strongest points is its considerable length....  Well, the flip side of that, unfortunately, is that after a while, all those marvelously scary details start to get just a bit overwhelming.  Oh, here's another haunted mansion!  Yet another roadside wraith!  Oh dear!  How to keep them all straight?

Don't get me wrong though.  Despite its almost encyclopedic length, this is a GREAT BOOK, and I absolutely cannot help but highly recommend it to just about anyone.  But, if I'd had my druthers (and I can hardly believe I'm even suggesting this, given the fact that I have, in the past, chided other authors in this particular genre for publishing far too many true paranormal themed books that were much too short, and therefore could have easily been combined into a single volume), but I really would have liked to have seen all this material broken up into at least two smaller collections.  Oddly enough, it seems to me that that kind of editorial brevity would have actually helped this book out a great deal.

But who's complaining?  Not me!  I thoroughly enjoyed John Pinkney's 'Haunted,' and am now eager to read more works by this relatively unsung Australian author.  To be sure, HAUNTED: The Ghosts That Share Our World is more than suitably chilling throughout.  But more to the point, all the cases are fact based, and most have primarily occurred in and around Australia.  What's more, the author really knocks this one out of the old ball park.  And then some.  And I'd say that that's a whole lot of good stuff for just one collection of good old fashioned ghost stories, wouldn't you?