They also like to say “If Pine Grove Cemetery isn’t haunted, then why do people experience so many weird things there?”

Okay, maybe they don’t say that second part, exactly. (Don’t dare question the first part, though!) But for years there have been reports of unusual goings on at this unassuming graveyard on the western edge of town.

The full history of the cemetery is available on the Pine Grove Cemetery Association’s website. In a nutshell: In 1858, a group of Ansonia residents got together to found their own cemetery, eventually choosing a hilly piece of ground that featured a small grove of pine trees—hence the name.

The first person to officially be buried here was a 6-year-old girl in 1858, and since then, hundreds of departed souls have been added. At one end of the cemetery is a 14-foot-tall monument—a bronze figure of an artillery man on a granite pedestal—that was dedicated to native sons who died in the line of service during the Civil War. Many of the prominent residents of Ansonia from the 19th century are buried here, including many members of the Farrel Family and Col. William Wooster, a notable Civil War veteran.

A variety of paranormal phenomena have been reported here, including hearing the sounds of children playing and rattling chains and moans as well as an overpowering smell of roses. Others have also reported hearing names whispered in their ears in addition to bizarre “warm spots.”

Three dark figures have also allegedly been spotted guarding the gates of the cemetery.

Interestingly, we weren’t able to find any particular legend or story associated with the cemetery to explain the alleged haunting. We did notice that the experiences we mention above seem to be the same ones passed around from website to website, and there doesn’t seem to be any definitive source as to where these reports originated. An unexplained unexplained event?

So where did it all start? We’ll keep looking into it, but if anyone out there knows, please feel free to pass it along to us, via the comments.

Connecticut Soul Seekers did an investigation back in 2009 and have posted their report here.

Our Damned Experience: We paid a quick visit to Pine Grove Cemetery on a quiet Sunday afternoon in October 2011.

We wandered around the cemetery, taking a few pictures and checking out the grounds. We were there for about an hour, but didn’t have any unusual experiences—no dark figures, no warm spots, no child noises, no disembodied voices. There were a few people coming in and out of the cemetery, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Of course, we went in the middle of the day, which traditionally is not the time for hauntings or ghostly experiences.

The cemetery is surrounded on four sides by a suburban neighborhood, which might explain some of the odd noises and voices that people have claimed to hear while visiting.

If You Go: Pine Grove Cemetery is located at 15 Church Street in Ansonia. It is open for visiting 365 days a year during daylight hours.

As we say about every cemetery—please remember that this is a place where loved ones have been laid to rest, so when you visit, we ask that you politely follow the cemetery’s rules and schedules, and be respectful to those interred there as well as any visitors, earthbound or otherwise.

Images by Ray Bendici

The Damned Story: One of the first major entertainment venues built in the Lower Naugatuck Valley, the Sterling Opera House has hosted vaudeville legends, internationally renowned figures and historical theatrical premieres. Now, some claim that facility now is home to multiple spirits who are still seeking their moment in the spotlight.

Opened on April 2, 1889, the building was designed with Italianate Victorian influences. The main 1,200-seat auditorium featured a giant proscenium arch, an orchestra pit and unobstructed views of the stage. When in ideal condition, the acoustics were said to be so good that even a whisper on stage could be heard in the back of the room.

The Sterling saw many of the biggest entertainers of the early 20th century upon its stage. Legendary actor Lionel Barrymore performed here, as did escape artist supreme Harry Houdini. Boxing champion John L. Sullivan did a turn as Simon Legree in a production of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, while Amelia Earhart addressed a local women’s club. Master comedian Red Skelton  yucked it up for the locals, and no doubt more than one foot was a-tappin’ when march king John Philip Sousa brought his star-spangled band to town. Famed auteur D.W. Griffith even allegedly premiered the seminal The Birth of a Nation here, among other films.

Despite its storied history, the Sterling Opera House primarily ceased functioning as an entertainment venue in 1945, and served as city hall and a police substation until the 1960s. It then was abandoned and fell into disrepair.

In 1968, the building was the first in Connecticut to be listed on the National Register of Historical Places. It is in the midst of renovation plans and fund-raising efforts with hopes of being opened once again as an entertainment venue. Some work has already been done, including new cupolas having been added in recent years.

Paranormal investigators here have claimed to recorded multiple EVPs, including the voices of children, as well as images depicting spirit mists and orbs. Shadow figures and other apparitions have been reported here, also. One picture taken purportedly shows the spirits of a woman in Victorian-era dress and a child. In addition, witnesses have claimed to see the hand prints of a child appear in various spots.

Unlike other haunted places, there doesn’t seem to be a particular tragic story associated with the opera house. Some believe that the alleged spirits here might be associated with Charles Sterling, the man for whom the structure is named and who died before it was completed, or his widow; other think that the spirit of a young boy is trapped here, eternally treading the floorboards.

In an episode that premiered in April 2011, SyFy’s “Ghost Hunters” investigated the opera house.

Our Damned Experience: In June 2011, we were invited by Rich DiCarlo, chairman of the Derby Cultural Commission, to visit the Sterling Opera House. We met up with Rich, as well as Dan Rivera and Troy Leong of Above the Realm paranormal investigative team. Rich was kind enough to give us a full tour of the building, and provided a wealth of information regarding all the paranormal experiences that have supposedly happened at the opera house.

Although the renovations on the exterior of the building have been complete, the interior needs a lot of work, as you can see in the pictures below. Despite that, this building clearly must’ve been a wonderful performance venue in its heyday, an intimate space with absolutely terrific acoustics — even now, from the back of the upper balcony you can easily hear what’s being said on the stage. If a full restoration is able to be completed, the opera house will once again be one of the gems of the state.

In the meantime, the walls are peeling, the floors are dusty and the air is musty, especially when it’s warm. The building is structurally sound although there are spots where caution is necessary, especially around staircases, which can be steep. The windows are all new, so it’s not a drafty place, and when the place is locked up, there are no tresspassers, so it’s in generally decent shape for a place that’s been abandoned for a few decades.

We went up into the balcony and checked out the “haunted chair,” which is next to a pole in the middle level. One things the pictures don’t give you a sense of is what an intimate space the opera house is — the upper balcony area seems to go straight up!

We went backstage and into the dressing room area, where there are all sorts of remnants of the Sterling’s rich history, from the signatures of performers scrawled on walls (some over a century old) to tattered show posters. We also went down into the lower level, which at one time served as city hall and the police station — you do NOT want to be locked up in one of the jail cells down there now! We also went into the room that the Ghost Hunters speculated gave the people creeps because of the high windows.

Many of the experiences here are believed to revolve around an entity called “Andy,” whom Rich told us is the spirit of a young boy. Throughout the opera house, there are toys and balls for Andy to “play” with — in the back of the main hall, there are even a few balls set up on empty cardboard tubes for Andy to knock off. Rich shared a few other unusual episodes that he’s had in the building, from witnessing a hand print appear in the dust of a chair to seeing balls move around on their own.

During our visit, we didn’t see any balls moving of their own accord. Actually, our entire visit was pretty quiet, but still very cool.

Multiple investigators have recorded EVPs of what they believe is the voice of a young child — Dan played us one EVP that he recorded of what sounded like a young boy singing. Creepy! Above the Realm has done numerous investigations here and has gotten some interesting evidence.

If You Go: The Sterling Opera House is located in downtown Derby at 116 Elizabeth Street. It currently is not open to the public.

Save Our Sterling is an organization dedicated to preserving the history of the opera house’s legacy and is spearheading the building’s restoration.

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Emory Johnson Homestead

The Damned Story: In East Haddam, a few miles north of the fabled Goodspeed Opera House and near to the border of Moodus, is a 52-acre parcel of land that once was the village of Johnsonville. Once a thriving mill community, then a Victorian Era tourist attraction, it’s now an abandoned ghost town, stuck in limbo waiting for someone to either come and restore it or to put it out of its misery and knock it down.

Of course, Johnsonville didn’t start with intentions of becoming a deserted village. Originally founded in the early 19th century, Johnsonville was home to a number of twine mills, who used the Moodus River as a power source.

In the early 1960s, Raymond Schmitt, the somewhat eccentric owner of AGC Corporation, an aerospace equipment manufacturer, bought the property with unclear intentions. He seemed to want to make it a tourist attraction, but despite making an effort to, never really officially did so.

After Schmitt took possession of the property, he purchased other vintage buildings and had them moved to Johnsonville, including a Victorian stable and chapel, which hosted weddings. Schmitt didn’t formally run tours on the property, but he did open the property for visitors on a regular basis. He also allowed special events including charity benefits and weddings.

According to a November 2000 article in Business New Haven, he also had “an exceptional collection of antique horse-drawn carriages, which he displayed in the livery stable.”

More details of the property, according to the Business New Haven story:

One of the jewels is the Emory Johnson homestead. Built in 1846 by the son-in-law of one of the original owners of the mill, the four-bedroom house has three fireplaces, pillared porches, a formal garden and original Victorian-era details. In later years it served as a museum depicting décor and furnishings of the 1800s.

A small one-and-a-half story single-family dwelling was built in 1900. A two-story Colonial-style house was built in 1846. The remaining residence is a two-story dwelling built in 1800.

The office, overlooking the 15-acre Johnson Millpond, was built in 1899. The former location of the Neptune mill office, the building was once a post office. The Gilead Chapel, which seats approximately 75 worshippers, was built in 1876 and moved to the village from Waterford in the late 1960s.

No one knows the exact age of the one-room Hyde School, which was the original schoolhouse for the community of East Haddam. The Red House Restaurant was built in 1900 and has been renovated into a restaurant/banquet facility for 150-200 people. A clock and toy store, originally used as a meeting house, was built in the 1800s; Frank General Store was built in 1845 in Peru, Mass.

The Gilbert Livery Stable was reportedly built in Winsted in 1920. Its three levels contain oak stalls with unusual woodwork, including beadboard and raised panels. All of this is in a beautiful setting with views of the river, a millpond, island, waterfall and some man-made features such as a covered bridge, wooden dam, paddlewheel riverboat.

In 1994, Schmitt got into a disagreement with the town of East Haddam and shut down the attraction, putting the property up for sale. Schmitt died in 1998, and his estate started selling off many of the antiques and other pieces of the property, including some of the buildings. At one point the property was listed for $3 million, not a bad price for 60-plus acres of scenic Connecticut countryside. With the market down as it is, it may be even more inexpensive at this point.

Some suggest that the ghost of Schmitt roams the grounds of Johnsonville, content to spend eternity in a place for which he had so much affection. We haven’t heard of any other specific ghost stories here, but like any long-abandoned settlement, there’s an undeniable creepiness inherent to the place.

Our Damned Experience: We took a trip to East Haddam in April 2011, which included a ride down Johnsonville Road and through the abandoned village.

As you can see, we stopped and took photos of the buildings that were still there, including the chapel and Johnson House. The village is in okay condition — some of the places could use a little paint and care, but it’s not like the walls are collapsing and the ceilings are caved in.

Like any good “abandoned” area, it was very quiet — although the funny thing is that just on all sides of Johnsonville is normal suburbia, with plenty of modest homes containing average American families. Kids ride bikes down the street, men tend to their lawns, minivans are parked in driveways … Johnsonville is like a weird dead spot in an otherwise regular Connecticut neighborhood.

We didn’t see or experience anything unusual, although it would’ve been great to hang around and take more pictures. Next time!

If You Go: The remains of Johnsonville can be found on Johnsonville Road in East Haddam, just off of Route 149 near the Moodus end of town. No trespassing signs are posted throughout the property, although there’s nothing to stop you from driving along Johnsonville Road.

Image by Ray Bendici

The Damned Story: Originally built as a facility to treat children with tuberculosis, Seaside Sanatorium has had a long history serving as a medical facility. Overlooking Long Island Sound, it has also been a home for the elderly, a medical hospital and a facility to treat the mentally handicapped.

Opened in the early 1930s, the building itself was designed by the renowned architect Cass Gilbert, who also designed the U.S. Supreme Court in Washington as well as the famed Woolworth Building in New York City and the landmark Union Station in New Haven. Its first young inhabitants were sent there as a remedy for their affliction as it was thought the fresh air and sunshine would be beneficial. In 1958, the building took on a new purpose for three years, treating elderly folk, then became a home for the mentally challenged. Unfortunately, in the early 1970s it came to light that some patients were being violently abused by some of the staff; in the mid 1990s, patients were turning up dead a at a higher rate than normal.

With many unanswered allegations and after decades of service, Seaside Sanatorium was closed in 1996; it has passed through the hands of a few developers, getting hung up in various protracted legal battle. Currently, the property — a prime parcel of beachfront — remains abandoned, although there are slow-moving plans to knock down the buildings and replace them with condos.

The New England Paranormal Video Research Group investigated this place in 2007, thinking that with Seaside’s long, dark and sometimes tragic history — and spooky, abandoned vibe — it might be a good target for paranormal investigation. They were able to capture a few EVPs [Electronic Voice Phenomena] and a few spirit orb photographs. The group’s resident sensitive also experienced some strong sensations.

Our Damned Experience: Cameras in hand (as always) we visited Seaside Sanatorium on an overcast day in late April 2011. We parked outside the main entrance with all the other people who were enjoying the grounds — it must’ve been “Bring Your Dog to Seaside Day” — and walked onto the property.

Image by Kate Geruntho Frank

The buildings are all boarded up, but it’s easy to see that when they were open and functioning, that the whole place must’ve been very appealing. Unlike many other state institutions, time and effort was clearly put into the aesthetic qualities of building design — it’s reminiscent of a classic New England private school.

We wandered around the buildings — as you can see in the photo gallery, the exteriors have been allowed to rot and the interiors are pretty much trashed at this point; it appears that some equipment was even left behind. We didn’t notice or see anything unusual or weird, although Kate says she felt some odd vibes. Like any abandoned place, there’s a certain level of inherent creepiness, to be sure. (Especially the abandoned playground equipment!)

Unlike many other visitors, we didn’t encounter any security guards on the grounds, but then again, we never tried to get into any of the buildings — even with all our tetanus shots up-to-date, we were content with sticking our camera lenses through the broken windows and snapping away. The place looks like it’s ready to come down fairly easily.

Still, even without going inside — which we do NOT recommend or condone — it’s still well worth a visit.

If You Go: Seaside Sanatorium is located just off of Shore Road in Waterford (down the street from Harkness Memorial State Park), on a scenic stretch of Connecticut coastline. The grounds are open to the public, but the buildings are absolutely off limits.

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All images by Ray Bendici

The Damned Story: Dr. Harvey Cushing was the acclaimed “Father of Modern Neurosurgery,” an 1891 Yale graduate and brilliant physician. In addition to pioneering critical surgical techniques, such as using X-rays to diagnose brain tumors and monitoring blood pressure during operations, he also created one of the most unique medical teaching tools ever assembled, featuring the donated brains of hundreds of his patients. This collection is now on permanent display at the Cushing Center at Yale’s Whitney Medical Library.

That’s right — it’s a brain museum.

Okay, let’s get it out of the way: The brains of Hans Delbruck, scientist and saint, are not here, although many of the 400+ specimens here could be called “Abby Normal” — the reason they were a patient of Dr. Cushing’s in the first place was because there was some sort of abnormality. Ever the diligent researcher, Cushing stayed in contact with those he successfully operated on and was able to convince many to give their gray matter to science when they were done with it so the long-term effects of brain surgery could be studied. He also kept many of the tumors and other masses he removed from patients for observation, placing them in leaded glass jars as he did with the donated brains, all of which was meticulously cataloged and labeled.

Cushing also had glass-plate photographs made of his patients, another groundbreaking practice in the development of neurosurgery.

For years, Cushing’s collection was studied by medical students and aspiring neurosurgeons. After Cushing’s death in 1939, the collection was donated to the Yale Medical School, where it was stored in a sub-basement for decades. In the mid-1990s, a medical student — who, with other students, had been sneaking in to “commune” with the brains and Cushing’s spirit — went to the medical school and asked to do his thesis on the collection.

Rediscovered, it was decided that the entire collection, still in its original jars and with the patient photographs, should be displayed. Careful restoration was undertaken, although it turned out that the original specimen jars were ideal (the leaded glass will never get cloudy), so they only needed to be cleaned. (The original “Cushing Tumor Registry” labels are also in place, some of which have notes added by Cushing himself.) Five years and $1.5 million later, the Cushing Center officially opened to the public in June 2010.

For the record, Cushing was a true Renaissance man — in addition to being a teaching and practicing surgeon, he was a talented artist, who deftly sketched surgical procedures and anatomical figures. He served during World War I and also was an exceptional writer, authoring medical texts and even scoring the 1926 Pulitzer Prize for a biography he penned on Sir William Osler, one of the fathers of modern medicine. (Yeah, what have you done today?)

In addition to the brains and other specimens, some of Dr. Cushing’s personal items are on display including a lab coat, family photos and journals. There’s also a small conference room in the center.

Our Damned Experience: We got to visit the Cushing Center in January 2011, and were duly impressed. As you might expect, it is located on the lower level of the library, because where else would put a brain museum but in the basement?

Considering it’s essentially a room full of brains in glass jars, which might be creepy for some people, the space, designed by Turner Brooks, is hauntingly beautiful. The majority of the specimens ring the center in dramatically lit glass cases, making photography particularly challenging. (Yeah, it’s all the glass display cases, reflections and lighting that hampered my pictures, which you can see in the gallery below — not the glaring lack of photography skills!) Speaking of images, the photographs of Cushing’s patients are particularly compelling; according to the center”s curator, Terry Dagradi, there are thousands of glass-plate negatives, only a fraction of which have been developed to date.

Also interesting are the hundreds of vintage medical texts, tools and paraphernalia collected by the good doctor. Apparently, if he were alive today, Cushing might be a candidate for an episode of “Hoarders.”

Make sure to take time to open all the drawers that start at the bottom of the entrance ramp — they are a treasure trove, stocked with books, drawings and all sorts of odd goodies, from random bones and specimen slides to test tubes and acupuncture needles to medical diagrams sketched by Cushing himself.

The Cushing Center is not a particularly big place, so although there’s all sort of neat things to see, don’t plan on making a day of it.

And no, we did not observe any zombies hanging around looking for a well-aged snack. Nor is there a sign that says, “After 5 p.m. slip brains through slot in door.”

If You Go: The Cushing Center is located in the Whitney Medical Library of Yale Medical School at 333 Cedar Street in New Haven. It is open free of charge to the public, although visitors must check in at the Circulation Desk to get a Yale Proximity ID card and access to the collection. Check the website for specific hours and holiday closures.

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All images by Ray Bendici -- click to enlarge

The Damned Story: In the heart of Bridgeport stands an abandoned 13-acre building complex that includes the Poli Palace, the Majestic Theater and the Savoy Hotel, each of which were once glorious edifices and now are empty and crumbling structures, home to rats, vagrants and … ghosts?

The Loew’s Poli Theater was built by theater impresario Sylvester Poli as a vaudeville house, and opened for business on Sept. 4, 1922. Designed by Thomas W. Lamb in the Beaux Arts style, it featured vaulted ceilings, gilded hand-carved moldings, seating for over 3,600 and a giant Hall theater organ. When it was erected, it was the largest theater in the state of Connecticut and hosted a string of renowned entertainers, including Mae West in 1927. Eventually renamed the Loew’s Palace Theater, it hosted live shows, concerts and events for decades before it officially closed in 1975 (after a brief stint as an adult movie house), and has been shuttered for almost 40 years. It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1979, along with the Majestic Theater.

The Majestic Theater, which has seating for 2,200, was also designed by Lamb, although it’s slightly smaller and bit less ornate. Still, it’s an impressive structure, very much in the style of the 1920s — lots of gold and red, crystal chandeliers, gilded moldings, high arching ceilings and detailed craftsmanship. It also opened in 1922 and served as a movie theater for years. It was closed in 1971.

The Savoy Hotel was in between the two theaters and offered 109 rooms on five floors. Like the Poli and Majestic, they don’t build ‘em like that any more — 10-foot ceilings, cement floors and plaster walls. The bathrooms, some of which were shared between guest rooms, featured pedestal sinks and claw-foot tubs. At one time, the rooms only were $1.50 each!

There has been talk of renovating both theaters, but like many other plans of Bridgeport revitalization, it all has seemingly fallen by the wayside, especially in the current economic environment.

So what happened at these places that make people think they could be haunted? Maybe the oldest haunting “excuse” in the book — the buildings could actually be built on an ancient Indian burial ground! When the buildings were first built, native American artifacts were found, and since the Golden Hill Paugussets had a settlement nearby, it’s been speculated that the construction may have disturbed old graves.

Others speculate it could be gangster Dutch Schultz, who bootlegged alcohol in Bridgeport during Prohibition, and possibly did other “work” out of the Savoy hotel: Two people were murdered in the second-floor lobby during that time. Crossed gangsters seeking revenge?

Over the decades, the abandoned buildings have also seen their fair share of other crimes and unfortunate events, any of which could leave behind “negative energies.”

In addition to many orb photos taken here, eyewitnesses claimed to have seen shadow figures moving around the theater. Numerous EVPs have also been recorded here.

Our Damned Experience: With our friend Bridgeport police sergeant James Myers of 826 Paranormal and his partner Martin Vincze of the East Coast Paranormal Police, we visited the Poli, Majestic and Savoy in August 2010.

Let’s just say this right up front: Even though scheduling conflicts required us to visit during the day, this is still one of the creepiest places we’ve ever been to, haunted or not. Each of these buildings were obviously architectural gems in their heyday, and now that they have been allowed to fall into ruin, a sense of sadness and loss sort of permeates throughout.

We started off in the Poli, which Jim refers to as, “My baby.” As a Bridgeport police officers, he and Martin have been in this building many, many times, searching for vagrants or trespassers, and know their way around well, which is important considering that even in the middle of the day, the place is very dark and dangerous — there are a few lights that the police have set up, but many of these have been vandalized, especially on the upper floors, which are almost in complete darkness.

Broken glass and plaster is strewn all around, and many walls feature exposed wires and pipes. Curtains hang in tatters, rugs are filthy, moldings are shattered and more than once, Jim and Martin caution to not step in certain places so no one falls through the floor. The air is thick with dust, which swirls around in the flashlight’s beam like snow in a flurry. Despite all the decay, the former opulence is clearly apparent at every turn.

We went through the enormous lobby and then up to the second floor — there was lots of garbage and other signs that trespassers frequent the place. We explored the impressive upper lobby and side wings, as well as the main hall. If the place wasn’t creepy enough already, on the main stage was a single old-style baby carriage.

Again, it was pretty dark everywhere — we were only able to get good, clear images when we placed the camera down and took extended exposure pictures or when we used a flash. Jim used his point-and-shoot camera to try and capture orb images; we had a conventional SLR and weren’t able to capture any orbs. We also didn’t see or hear anything paranormal here.

Jim and Martin both talked about previous experiences in the building — in addition to the multiple orb photos he’s taken here, Jim has repeatedly seen “dark shadows” move down staircases and through walls and has heard odd noises, including the muffled hum of a crowd.

We went back down past the stage (careful not to step on it as it would’ve given way with our weight) by the (Rosemary’s?) baby carriage, then through the backstage area and dressing rooms before going over to the adjoining Majestic Theater.

The Majestic wasn’t nearly as impressive as the Poli, either in terms of former grandeur or current creepiness. We crossed the creaky stage behind the fire curtain at our own peril, went around the curtain (which Jim and Martin estimate cost over $1 million, and is clearly a work of art) and then head out into the audience area. The seats are gone, and in their place are staging and props from the nearby Downtown Cabaret Theatre. Between the main hall and the lobby is an enormous original Tiffany window, but it is boarded up for its own protection.

We ascended up into the projection room where the original projectors are still sitting — they’re rusted and defaced, but it’s crazy that someone left what probably was at one point expensive equipment behind. Then again, after seeing the inside of these buildings, it’s amazing that these once-lavish places were left to simply rot.

From the top floor of the Majestic, we crossed the roof and went into the Savoy Hotel. More of the same in that seemingly every room and hallway was in complete shambles — peeling paint, shattered windows, missing doors and tons of pigeon crap. (Side note: Nothing will make you jump out of your skin like a pigeon flapping out of a darkened window in an abandoned hallway.)

We carefully went through rooms and the various floors, moving from shadowy corners and halls into brighter light. The place really looked like it could be the set for a horror movie — we almost expected to see the twins from The Shining around every corner. Finding the “Sick Children” room and a wall with the hand prints of young children did nothing to dispel this, even if they look like they were added more recently.

Martin pointed out the room where on another visit, while doing EVP work, he asked any spirits there to announce their presence. When they played back the audio, he says you can clearly hear the voice of a young girl saying, “Hellooo!” to their request. (Goosebumps, right?)

We didn’t hear any voices, even when we went through the hotel’s second-floor lobby where the aforementioned murders occurred. Nor did we see or photograph anything unusual during our entire visit. Still, a pretty cool place to visit under the right circumstances.

Again, a big thanks to Jim and Martin of 826 Paranormal and ECPP for taking us out with them.

If You Go: The Poli, Majestic and Savoy complex is located at 1325 Main Street in Bridgeport. It is boarded up and off limits to the public, with no trespassing allowed.

Of course, that hasn’t stopped vandals, vagrants and amateur ghost hunters from breaking in. Just be aware that if you do try to visit without any sort of official permission, you are doing so illegally and will be arrested if caught on the property.

In the past, 826 Paranormal has offered tours of the complex, although there are no current plans to do so.

Notes about photos: As mentioned earlier, most of the complex is shuttered, so it’s very dark and shadowy, even in the middle of the day. I took lots of images either with a flash or by an extended exposure, so it looks like the place is much brighter than it really is. Most times, when I looked through the viewfinder, it was pitch black, so that explains why Jim and Martin often look a little surprised in pictures — we are all in the dark and then POP! my flash goes off. (There are more pics in the second gallery.)

You can also see these pics with captions on our Damned Connecticut Facebook page.

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The Damned Story

The study of puppetry at UConn was initiated by Frank W. Ballard, who joined the school’s faculty in 1956 and began what would become a world-renowned fine arts puppetry program in 1965. Together with a group of the program’s alumni, Ballard founded the National Institute of Puppetry in 1987, which soon after took his name.

In 1996, the museum facility officially opened, originally displaying dozens of puppets created by Ballard and others. The collection has since grown to include puppets from around the world as well as historically important creations, some of which are centuries old. Essentially every kind of puppet imaginable is on display, including marionettes, shadow figures and hand, rod and finger puppets. In addition to changing exhibitions, the museum regularly offers workshops, tours, lectures, forums and other programs.

Sadly, Frank Ballard died in June 2010 due to complications of Parkinson’s Disease. The museum continues on under the direction of Dr. John Bell, an accomplished puppeteer and theater historian.

Our Damned Experience: We visited the Ballard Museum of Puppetry on a quiet Sunday afternoon in August 2010. Since we were the only visitors at the time, we were able to see the entire place without any restriction.

The two students who greeted us upon our arrival were very friendly and politely offered us the choice of either a guided tour or the opportunity to wander the museum on our own and then ask any questions. Since we had two (somewhat impatient) kids with us, we opted for the latter, and went through the exhibits, which basically were dozens of vintage puppets and marionettes. The museum has two main wings, neither of which that are all that large — you can go through the entire place in an hour or two, including seeing some of the classic videos and DVDs that are available to watch.

For the record, this is not a place full of warm and fuzzy Muppet-like creations or characters that a child might currently see on TV. On view are one-of-kind, older wooden puppets important to the evolution of puppetry; however, many of these characters that entertained children decades ago now look like things that escaped some sort of Tim Burton retro creepfest. Just sayin’. Seriously, it’s fine to visit the place during the light of day with other people in the building, but if you have an overactive imagination (like we do), you would not want to have to spend the night there, that’s all.

Anyway, the museum is a loving tribute to Frank Ballard, his legacy and the art of puppetry.

We should mention that the museum is in a weird, seemingly abandoned area of UConn that is not exactly part of the main Storrs campus. It’s on the Depot Campus a mile or so west of the main campus, located on Route 44 — some of the buildings around it are actually empty and overgrown by vines and bushes.

If You Go: The Ballard Institute & Museum of Puppetry is located at 6 Bourn Place on the Depot Campus of the University of Connecticut. During the school year, the museum is usually open Friday to Sunday, noon to 5, except for holidays.

As mentioned, the museum is not a big place, so don’t plan on making a day of it. Still, a quirky little odd place (bordering on creepy because of the sheer number of antique puppets and marionettes) and well worth a visit.

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Although the abandoned 18-acre park is now in disrepair, there was a time in the 60s and 70s when the attraction drew 40,000 visitors per year — picture a Wally World for the religious faithful, without a Tilt-a-Whirl. After receiving a message from his god in the 1950s, local attorney John Greco singlehandedly created the park as an homage to the Holy Land in Israel, fashioning miniature versions of Bethlehem and Jerusalem from chicken wire, plywood, fiberglass and plaster as well as adding dioramas of other key biblical locales. By the time he was done, he had created over 200 unique structures.

Holy Land USA officially closed in 1984. (“Sorry kids, Holy Land is closed. The messiah out front should have told you.”) The park, left by Greco in his will to an order of nuns (the Religious Teachers Fillipini), is now closed to the public, but the curious — and vandals — still make pilgrimages. Most of the displays and exhibits are either crumbling or in complete ruins, but there’s something about the slow decline of the place which makes it compelling.

In April 2008, the old iconic neon cross was taken down and replaced with a shorter, more durable one, although it doesn’t light up quite like the old one. I guess you could say the spirit has gone out of the place.

For some great pictures of Holy Land during its hey day during the 1950s and ’60s, check out roadtripmemories.com.

Our Damned Experience: We finally made the pilgrimage to Holy Land USA in April 2009, and after getting permission to visit from the nuns of the order who currently own the property, made one of Kate’s dreams not involving corn come true by being able to roam about freely and take as many pictures as we like. And being photo freaks, we snapped away to our hearts’ content — see the gallery below. (That’s Steve in the 2nd to last one standing atop the hill.)

As we expected, Holy Land is in a state of great disrepairMany of the faded structures are either crumbling or have been destroyed by vandals, creating an almost literal post-apocalyptic feel, what with the religious overtones and all. Broken mortar, splintered beams, smashed walls and exposed chicken wire litter the site — along with a lot of actual litter. Seeing that the site was a bit of a disjointed shamble to start with, the ensuing deterioration hasn’t helped any.

Despite how decrepit it is now, however, it’s hard to not be impressed at the fevered effort Greco must have expended bringing his religious vision to life. Many of the small-scale buildings and shrines are randomly grouped together, and it’s clear he gave a lot of attention to detail. With how many structures there are and how much of the hillside it encompasses, it’s sort of amazing and weird at the same time to consider that it was all the work of one person.

At the top of the hill to north are three crosses representing Cavalry Hill, while a short distance to the south and looming over all of Holy Land is the aforementioned brand new shiny cross. It’s not as big as the old one, and a bit harder to see from various points down in the valley (such as Route 8 or I-84), but it’s still impressive in its own right. The view of the surrounding area while standing under the cross is quite nice, also.

As you might think, it’s sad to see such a wonderfully weird place as Holy Land USA in its current state of ruin — without a doubt, it must’ve been quite a sight in its heyday.

If You Go: Holy Land is on Slocum Road in Waterbury. It’s not open to the public, but if you get permission from the nuns (and please do — Steve just went up and knocked on the door and politely asked if we could go in and take pictures, so there’s no need to willingly trespass), you can park near the entrance and walk around the entrance gate.

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The original facility was built in 1904 on 100 scenic acres along the Thames River on a site that apparently was an ancient Native American village. (Sound familiar?) Christened as the Norwich State Hospital for the Insane, it originally was comprised of two buildings for patients and a cottage for doctors. Over the decades, more building were added and the property was expanded; at its peak, the campus was over 470 acres and included over 30 buildings, many of which were connected by underground tunnels. The hospital’s population started with a few dozen declared by the courts to be “criminally insane,” but steadily grew to the point that at various times there were hundreds of patients (murderers, drug addicts, violent offenders, etc.) being “treated” here throughout most of the 20th century.

The first documented misfortune was a patient who hanged himself in 1914, but many more unfortunate deaths would follow. A hot water heater explosion in 1919 killed two employees; another employee was killed trying to cross the road; a nurse killed herself at her home; multiple patients died during their sentences or while undergoing treatment. Many more died shortly after release following a “successful” stay, usually in tragic or violent manners.

One of the most notorious buildings was Salmon Hall, which was the maximum-security facility and where some of the most dangerous residents were kept. One of the hospital’s original buildings, it essentially became a prison with bars over the windows, steel doors and cell-like rooms. It was witness to many severe incarcerations and unpleasant events until it was shut down in 1971.

If the population at Norwich State Hospital wasn’t troubled enough already, over the years there were numerous published reports and investigations into cruelties inflicted by the staff, including beatings, starvings, sexual abuses, overly harsh restraints, prolonged confinements and even the occasional patient being packed in ice! Not exactly an environment conducive for wellness.

Norwich State Hospital was officially closed as a treatment facility in 1996 and its remaining patients were transferred to other facilities around the state. Since then, the gorgeous grounds and former stately buildings have sat vacant as the state of Connecticut and the town of Preston have struggled to resolve what is to become of the property. Because of its desirable location on the Thames right across from Mohegan Sun, numerous developers have been interested in it, but despite proposals for everything from a movie studio to a residential and commercial complex, no actual deal has come to fruition. Apparently, the cost to clean up the property is a fairly significant stumbling block to eventual development.

As you might imagine, because of the numerous horrors and untimely deaths, many believe the property to be haunted. It seems an especially fertile spirit-hunting ground as essentially every kind of paranormal experience has been allegedly witnessed here, from reports of ghostly shapes and disembodied voices to foreboding feelings and EVPs. Oh, and plenty of spirit orbs and other unexplained mists/shapes have been recorded, also.

Among the numerous paranormal groups that have investigated the property, the Ghost Hunters visited there in May 2010, and recorded a few interesting experiences, including allegedly seeing various odd shadows, hearing multiple creepy noises and encountering objects that randomly moved. You can watch the episode on their website.

Last time we checked, after buying the site from the state for $1 — yes, you read that correctly — the town of Preston was attempting to find the funding necessary to start demolishing the buildings and cleaning up the grounds. Currently, the town seems to be leaning toward not developing the land and making it open space for everyone to enjoy.

For a well-researched and detailed history of Norwich State Hospital, check out Donald Carter’s Connecticut’s Seaside Ghosts.

Our Damned Experience: We visited Norwich State Hospital in April 2010, or should I say we attempted to visit. We drove on to the grounds, got out of our car and started taking pictures but within five minutes, two security guards appeared. As you might expect, they explained to us in no uncertain terms that trespassing is not allowed, and we were very politely asked to leave.

However, as the friendly guards told us — and honestly, the security team couldn’t have been nicer considering we were trespassing — there was nothing preventing us from taking pictures from the road or from the commuter lot next door, as we did and you can see in the gallery below.

As you can tell from the images, the place is in complete disrepair. Dilapidated buildings are shuttered and nothing resembling maintenance has been done in ages. Overall, very creepy.

We didn’t experience anything unusual, but then again, we weren’t there long enough to have anything happen.

If You Go: The remaining buildings of the former Norwich State Hospital are at the junction of routes 2 and 12 in Preston, right on the banks of the Thames River directly across from Mohegan Sun Resort Casino.

Absolutely NO trespassing is allowed; the grounds are under constant surveillance and are actively guarded by a private security company hired by the town, and they will immediately escort you from the property as soon as you set foot there.

Unfortunately, you can’t get in there anymore by faking crazy and being interred (a la Nellie Bly), which is probably not a bad thing.

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The Damned Story

As with many truly ancient sites, it’s not exactly clear who originally built Gungywamp or for what exactly it was created. The complex — which is divided into north and south sections — has many fascinating features, including a double circle of stones, standing stones and multiple stone chambers. At least one chamber is constructed so that during the vernal and autumnal equinoxes, sunlight streams in through an opening in the wall and illuminates a “hidden” subchamber. There are also stone mounds, cairns, walls, petroglyphs and a rock ledge called “The Cliff of Tears” where visitors have been known to experience sudden bouts of inexplicable sadness or depression.

A few people who have visited the site seem to think that it may have been originally built by ancient Celts who came to Groton in hopes of establishing a new colony; others think that the mounds and chambers may even be some interdimensional portals. Not a shred of evidence supporting either wild claim has ever been unearthed at any point during the many excavations of the site.

Evidence has been discovered suggesting that the site was first used by Native Americans for centuries, and then later by colonial settlers. The stone foundations of colonial dwellings still stand in a few spots. All in all, a treasure trove of damned history.

As you might expect, Gungywamp has been the focus of multiple professional archaeological explorations, which has unearthed a lot of information as well as everything from arrowheads and pottery fragments to coins and animal bones. One of the stone circles appears to have been a mill for extracting tannins, which would’ve been used in turning animal hides into leather. Some of the standing stones seem to be along astronomical line and could have been a calendar of sorts. The exact purposes of the chambers are unclear, but if the site was initially a sacred complex, then it’s possible the chambers used in various rituals. Later, they were used by settlers as root cellars, among other things.

Investigators have also discovered that the area around “The Cliff of Tears” has a very strong electromagnetic field, which would explain the many odd feelings and reactions by those who come in contact with it.

Stone Structures of Northeastern United States has an excellent in-depth investigation of Gungywamp, including images, detailed maps and more.

Our Damned Experience: We finally got to visit Gungywamp in March 2010 as part of a tour organized by Atlas Obscura, who was celebrating their worldwide “Obscura Day.” Even better, it was on the vernal equinox, so we were able to witness firsthand the setting sun shining through a shaft in the calendar chamber and on the side wall, as you can see in this picture we snapped — one of a bunch we took that day. (See the full gallery at the bottom of the page.)

Just to the right of this image is the “hidden” subchamber, and a little after this picture was taken, the light reached that chamber. (Unfortunately, we weren’t able to get a picture of that because there were a few different research groups there trying to record the moment, none of whom that seemed all that eager to share with the others.) In the gallery, there’s a picture of the shaft from the topside.

Our tour was happily guided by Bill Dopirak, a member of The Gungywamp Society, who clearly has spent a lot of time at the site, researching and excavating various areas of it. He took us around to the many chambers and other structures, and shared what he knew about the site. Interestingly, it seemed like he originally started investigating here hoping to find evidence of the Celts or something unusual, but all their research and study seems to keep pointing to the same, not-surprising idea — that various parts of the site were created originally by ancient Native Americans, and over the centuries, was taken over by colonists, who shaped the structures to their own, more mundane uses.

Despite that, many of the stone structures are impressive in their own right. The alignment of the stone circles along celestial events, and places like the calendar chamber, which were constructed with an eye to special days of the year, just illustrate the fact that the native people who lived here a few thousand years ago were a lot more intelligent and capable than most want to give them credit for.

A few other things of note to look for in the gallery:

• The one stone formation that looks like the profile of a Native American.
• The row of standing stones — no one seems to have an idea of exactly what they were for. Astronomical timepiece, or a place to hold sheep while they were sheared?
• The close-up of one of the standing stones in which a petroglyph of a bird is apparently carved.

Anyway, it was a damned interesting afternoon.

If You Go: Gungywamp is on private property in Groton, not too far from Route 12. The Gungywamp Society offers guided tours of the site from time to time.

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