Ghosthunting Texas. April Slaughter

Ghosthunting Texas - April Slaughter


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HAVE TRAVELED ALL OVER the United States visiting some of the country’s most famous “haunts.” I have seen and experienced some rather amazing things in the years since my fascination for the paranormal first began. Having the opportunity to travel with my mentors and friends to places I otherwise would never have been able to visit has truly changed my life. While the more well-known places are definitely fun, some of my most treasured memories have been created in places rarely talked about or known at all in paranormal circles.

      Sometimes, I come across a place that doesn’t have a reputation for being haunted at all, a place that speaks to me and sits quietly in the background as if it were waiting for me to discover it. I have found many of these places over the years; one in particular is the Bull Ring in the historic Fort Worth Stockyards, an area rich in history and perfectly primed for more than its fair share of ghost stories.

      Over the span of twenty-four years—from 1866 to 1890—more than four million head of cattle came through Fort Worth as drovers pushed their herds up the Chisholm Trail. The city quickly became known as “Cowtown” and was the last chance for the men to rest and gather their supplies before crossing the Red River into Indian Territory. A rough-and-tumble part of town just south of the courthouse became famously known as “Hell’s Half Acre,” as it had a reputation for attracting the more violent and lawless type of crowd.

      Business was good in the Stockyards, however, despite having suffered through drought and fires that resulted in large amounts of structural damage and the death of many livestock. Success continued through both World Wars, but eventually sales slowed as trucking replaced the railways as a primary means of shipping cattle to their destinations.

      The North Fort Worth Historical Society, established in 1976, sought to preserve the history of Cowtown by working to restore much of what was deteriorating in the city. That same year, the Fort Worth Stockyards National Historical District was also established. Most of what might have been lost has undergone restoration, making it one of the most popular tourist destinations in Texas today.

      One sunny spring afternoon, Allen and I were visiting the Stockyards to research a couple of other locations in the area. The streets were lined with cars, and there were so many people walking the sidewalks it was nearly impossible to get anywhere quickly. We had been in town for an hour or so when we stopped into the General Store to take a look around. I bought a few little things for my kids and asked the young man at the register if he knew where I could get a cup of coffee.

      “Just down the street, there is the Bull Ring. If you’re looking for a good cup of coffee, that would be the place to go,” he said.

      It took us only a couple of minutes to reach the entrance, and as we stepped inside Allen and I found ourselves instantly smitten with the place. A large wooden Dr. Pepper sign hung on the wall just behind the long beverage counter, and you’d be hard-pressed to find a section of the building that wasn’t covered in art or odd, antique trinkets.

      I stepped up to order our coffees, and as the lady behind the counter was preparing them I suddenly felt the urge to ask her something.

      “You wouldn’t happen to have any ghosts in this building, would you?”

      She paused for a brief moment and replied, “Actually, we do.”

      Honestly, I was half-joking when I asked and I certainly did not expect her to give me the answer she did.

      “Really?” I asked. “Would you mind telling me about them?”

      I handed her my business card and introduced myself. She told me her name was Charlene Lindstrom and that her parents, Mr. and Mrs. A.C. Cook, owned the building. They had purchased the property in 2000 and spent three years painstakingly restoring it, opening it to the public in 2003. For years the building had housed a small tailoring business run by an elderly Jewish couple, Mike and Jenny Bornstein, but now it served as a place to grab a soda or beer on-the-go, have an ice cream cone, or enjoy a nice glass of wine.

      “You’re probably going to think I am crazy, but I know there is a man that lives in this building,” she said. “Bill and I have heard him walking around up here when we were down in the basement.”

      Bill Mackey is a good friend of Charlene’s who helps manage the Bull Ring. As we were introduced, he began to tell Allen and me that he was a believer in paranormal phenomena and that he knew without a doubt that someone (maybe even several people) haunted the building. Like Charlene, Bill also acknowledged that he had witnessed the presence of a man in the building, as had several others over the years. As my husband and I were growing short on time, I didn’t yet have the opportunity to inquire further about the resident spirit. I assured both Charlene and Bill that I would return soon to discuss the ghost more with them when I had more time to sit down and hear their stories.

      “You have to see our basement before you go,” said Bill. “It used to be all boarded up, and I can tell you that it has a completely different atmosphere down there.”

      He escorted Allen and me down the stairwell at the rear of the building into the basement. It was as if we had stepped into an entirely different time. Artwork and old photographs were everywhere, and writing on the concrete wall read, “If you can’t pay, don’t play,”—reminiscent of a time when not being able to pay off your bets might have landed you in a very dangerous situation with your fellow gamblers.

      Several people were running about, preparing for a wedding reception being held in the building later that evening. We didn’t want to be in the way, so we took a few photographs and asked to set up a time when we could come back in.

      “You and your team should come out to investigate the Bull Ring sometime,” said Charlene. “We’d love to have you. No one else has ever been allowed in to do that before, and I’d be interested to see what y’all would come up with.”

      “We’d love that!” I said. “Let’s set it up.”

      As Allen and I left, we talked about how surprised we were to have found a potentially fantastic location completely by chance. The Bull Ring had not previously been anywhere on our list of places to visit for the book, but now we could hardly wait to get back and learn more—and all because I had to have a cup of coffee!

      In the days that followed our first visit to the Bull Ring, Charlene, Bill, and I kept in contact and I began to learn a lot more about the building. It was originally a tavern constructed in 1910 by William T. Cooper (aka “Buck”). In the decades since, it has served as everything from a bar, to gambling hall and speakeasy, a diner, a tailoring shop, and now as a place to grab a drink and enjoy an impressive collection of original art. A.C. Cook has spent years gathering over one thousand pieces by Texas artists who completed works between 1865 and 1965—many of them coveted by other art collectors.

      Before I knew it, Allen and I were in the Bull Ring with a small group of investigators listening to Bill has he began to tell us stories of strange occurrences he had experienced in his time employed there.

      “Charlene and I were in the basement one afternoon having a late lunch, and no one else was in the building,” he began. “Both she and I heard the distinct sound of heavy footsteps walking above us from one side of the building to the other, which is impossible if you look at where the counter sits. Whoever it was would have had to walk straight through it as if it weren’t even there.”

      “Just a few days ago, something else happened I can’t explain,” he continued. “Knowing this used to be a gambling hall, I took a deck of cards and I dealt out two hands on one of the basement tables. I laid the cards faced down, one hand right across from the other, and placed the deck neatly stacked in the middle of the table. I checked both hands and wrote down what they were just to see if they would change. The next morning when I came back, the cards were the same but the deck in the middle had been fanned out. No one else had been in the building since I left.”

      After hearing about all of the different experiences that seemed to center around the basement, we decided it would be best to set up most of our equipment there. Bill made sure all of the doors were locked so that we would not be interrupted. The lights went out, and the investigation


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