Mr. Wilcox relates this portion of the story: “Upon examining his delirious sister when they arrived home, he found the ring. In great anger he removed it and threw it into the creek. Thinking she had lost it, Alice begged everyone who came into her sickroom to find the ring — her most cherished possession. Sensing her distress, a cousin went to Georgetown and bought a ring. When he pressed it into her hand, she threw it on the floor and insisted that they find her ring.”
Alice died prior to her mother’s return from the mountains, and was buried temporarily in the yard. When her mother returned, Alice’s body was moved to the family plot at All-Saints Episcopal Church on the river opposite Pawley’s Island. Among the imposing stones raised in memory of the other Flaggs, a flat marble slab, upon which is engraved the single word, “Alice,” marks her grave. The conjecture of an older resident, “Perhaps she was so beloved that is all that was needed,” fails to dissipate an observer’s feeling of sadness. Often a vase of flowers appears on her grave. The donors are unknown. Young people often walk around the site 13 times backward, lie on the grave and, as they say, “talk to her spirit.” It is said that if a young girl sets her ring on the grave and runs round the grave nine times with her eyes closed, she will find, upon opening them, that her ring has disappeared.
Still searching for her ring, Alice visits her old room in the Hermitage. The Wilcox’s say that there is an undeniable feeling of her presence, more real than a visual appearance and far more impressive. They even left Alice’s room untouched, appearing as it did the night she passed away. At one time visitors were allowed to tour the house and spend some time in Alice’s room.
A few years ago the Hermitage property was sold and the house moved down the street. It is now a private residence.
Some people still say Alice returns on moonlit nights when the shadows of the restless moss, the eerie cry of the whippoorwill, and the distant roar of the ocean put the expectant one in the mood. At such times the beauteous Alice becomes real to even the most skeptical beholder.
The fact that ghosts haunt particular places could be in some way linked to a strong emotion or attachment to some item, such as Alice of the Hermitage, who is still looking for her engagement ring. Many spirits are so attached to personal items and familiar surroundings that they refuse to cross over to the other side. Instead, they remain in their homes.
A few years ago I resided in a grand century-old home that was still inhabited by the previous owners. They had never crossed over to the other side. Two family members had been seen on numerous occasions in the house, sitting on the front veranda and standing at the head of the stairs. I still remember the first night I spent here. I slept on the second floor of the building in the room to the right of the hall in the front part of the house.
That very night I had a dream — or was it a dream? I recall watching a procession of people carrying a casket along the second floor hall and down the central staircase. One thing that stood out in this image was a man following behind, who was dragging his leg. That was it. I awoke to brilliant rays of light beaming in my bedroom window. Was it just a dream? No.
Over morning coffee I shared this unusual dream. My friend replied, “The brother of the deceased was known to have a bad leg.”
What I had witnessed truly happened years before I was even born. Everything in my dream was as it had occurred. Somehow I had connected with the past.
A part of my childhood feels finally fulfilled to have travelled to these many diverse locations with the specific intention to feel, see, hear, smell, or otherwise experience the spirit activity to be found there. The hauntings have in no way been sensationalized and in many cases the accounts have actually been condensed. What we have here are personal reports of experiences that are often quite difficult to articulate.
I trust this book will speak to you if you have had childhood experiences that were unexplained by ordinary life, and if you believe but have had no chance to experience. One must believe the many folks who have shared their experiences with humour and candour. They have also opened their doors and their hearts to me; for that I am extremely grateful. For them, and many who will visit them, the spirit world does indeed exist in their surroundings every day.
Terry Boyle
Burk’s Falls
February 2012
The Swastika Hotel
~ Bala (now the Bala Bay Inn) ~
The year is 1910 and it is dinnertime. Women dressed in long gowns with Gibson hairdos and gentlemen in black evening suits are escorted to the dining room. The tables are set; the service is simple, but elegant and tasteful. Outside, the sun is glistening on the waters of Lake Muskoka. Welcome to the Swastika Hotel in Bala, Ontario.
This elaborate hotel, built on land deeded to the owner on the condition that alcohol would never be sold on the property, is haunted today. Did a spirit refuse to leave? Perhaps it’s about the broken promise concerning the sale of alcohol; perhaps it’s about attachment to a grand hotel, too much to leave behind. Whatever the reasons, the Bala Bay Inn, as it is known today, remains one of the most intriguing haunted sites in Ontario.
The story of the inn begins in 1882 when Ephraim Browning Sutton and his wife Rose set sail from England after three of their children died as a result of unsanitary government vaccination programs. Upon landing, Ephraim said to his wife, “If only Clara could have seen this.”
The general store E.B. Sutton built on land purchased from the temperance-minded Thomas Burgess.
Swastika Hotel, 1921
Clara had died in her tenth year from vaccination complications. Two younger children died in the same way.
Mr. Sutton was born in Leeds, England, in 1854. He worked in the office of a publishing firm, Rivington and Sons. Involvement in the literary world was familiar to the family, since his cousin was the well-known poet, Robert Browning. Sometime later Sutton entered railway life, in the service of the Midland and Great Western Railways, until he moved to Canada. At the age of 18, Sutton married his second cousin, Rose Anne Grey, who was ten years his senior, and had one daughter from an earlier marriage.
In 1882 they chose to settle on the west side of Lake Muskoka. At the time the district appeared to be quite hostile to settlers arriving from England. There was bush to clear, harsh winters, and if that wasn’t enough, there were blackflies and mosquitoes. Nevertheless, the Suttons, pioneers at heart, cleared their own land in Medora Township, known today as Bannockburn.
The Suttons had two objectives in mind for their 50-acre property. Their first aim was to clear the land to farm and support themselves; their second aim was to develop a summer resort, a magnificent two-storey wooden structure with a sit-out verandah and a gable that overlooked Lake Muskoka. They hoped that such a structure and setting would attract American tourists. The name Camp Sutton was, in fact, given to the establishment by U.S. Civil War veterans who left the Solid Comfort Club of Beaumaris in search of better fishing.
It wasn’t long before Canadian newspapers became aware of E.B. Sutton. He was never afraid to voice his opinions, and on September 15, 1890, was reported to have lectured his neighbours on their small-minded tendency to resist new ideas in Muskoka. “It is a notable fact that whenever a notion is put forward of great and lasting utility to the public, it is confronted with an array of opposition,” he said. For three