One of the first tales we heard was about Freddy Hagland, a regular at William Kempe’s Saloon (now Firewood). Another patron, John “Johnny Jump-Up” Westmark, was infamous for starting bar fights mid-drink. One night, Westmark pulled out a gun and shot Freddy dead. Because Freddy was a known “union scab” (someone who crossed picket lines—a serious offense in a mining town), Westmark served only a one-year sentence. It’s said Freddy still haunts the place, forever unsettled by the injustice.
From there, we wound our way up the darker streets of Upper Main—fewer lights, less chatter, just a still quiet and a string of eerie tales that blurred the line between myth and memory.
Adding to the atmosphere, our guide shared stories from previous tour-takers: blurry white figures in photos, ghostly shapes darting past windows, shadows where no one stood.
I’m skeptic, so I chalked it all up to fantastic imaginations. But I can’t deny it makes the tour more interesting. And maybe... makes you wonder a bit?
One of my favorites was about a child ghost whose playful voice is said to echo through the Washington School House off Park Avenue. My takeaway? If you’re showering alone and hear a child’s voice that you can’t explain—just find another place to live.
Another haunting involves a ghost who leaves puddles of water in the confessional of St. Mary’s Old Town Chapel. He’s said to be the spirit of a miner who died in a tragic accident before fulfilling his dream of becoming a priest. Murder, injustice, and unfinished business—seems that’s the recipe for a classic ghost story.
