In one of the rooms (let’s call it room 12), there seems to be a residual haunting that replays itself every day at 11 P.M., very inconvenient if you’re not a night owl. First, precisely at eleven, a door opens and slams shut, very loudly. Then what sounds like feet being wiped on a doormat can be heard. Next there is silence, followed by the sound of running feet—and it sounds like it’s coming right into room 12. Then the door of the room rattles, and the knob actually shakes, followed by crashing lamps, vases, pictures. In room 12, it sounds as if someone is ransacking the room above. Then more running feet, bounding up the stairs, followed by the sound of the door of the room above room 12 opening and slamming shut again. After a moment of silence, the furniture upstairs begins to move around, scraping, bumping, thumping, smashing against the walls and the floor. The vibrations can be felt in room 12. After an hour, it finally stops. Now, if you can, you’re free to go to sleep. Nothing will happen again until 11 P.M. tomorrow. If you’re a morning person and like to go to bed early, perhaps you shouldn’t stay in this room. On the other hand, if you’re not there for the nightlife, why are you in Miami?
CHAPTER 7
The Colony Hotel & Cabaña Club
DELRAY BEACH
THE COLONY HOTEL AND CABAÑA CLUB is not the Biltmore, but it is a really spectacular hotel. The three of us—Joanne, Sue, and I—had spent most of the previous day and evening exploring the Biltmore and talking to people there. We were tired, but the following morning we got an early start and drove the fifty miles north to Delray Beach, just above Boca Raton.
Delray Beach, with a population of only sixty thousand, is on the fringe of the greater Miami metropolitan area and is slower paced and less frenetic than Miami. One of only two hundred hotels nationwide that are members of The National Trust for Historic Preservation, the Colony Hotel fits right in with the more casual and old-Florida ambiance of the town.
Like the Biltmore, the Colony, sister hotel to the Colony in Kennebunkport, Maine, was built in 1926 by father and son, Charles and George Bowden, to cater to the hordes of well-to-do Northerners who flocked to Florida during the 1920s to escape the cold, snowy winters and bask in the sunshine and leisurely Florida lifestyle.
Remodeled several years ago, the architecture retains its 1920s character with pine floors, a wood-burning marble-and-coral fireplace in the lobby, ceiling fans, wood shutters, and rattan furniture. At the same time, it is one of the most environmentally progressive hotels in the country. Aerosol spray products and toxic cleaning materials have been eliminated from the seventy guest rooms. The management recycles wherever possible in guest rooms and administrative spaces and uses biodegradable and recycled products throughout. Dozens of live plants keep the air fresh and natural in interior areas.
For many years the hotel was closed during summer months, when the entire staff moved to its sister hotel in Kennebunkport. Furniture was covered with sheets. All but a few lights and all other nonessential electricity were turned off. Cobwebs and dust collected in corners, windowsills, furniture, and floors. A caretaker was left behind to perform minimal maintenance on the grounds, cutting grass, watering plants, and providing some security. But in summer, even with a caretaker around, the Colony looked mostly abandoned, forlorn, and even ghostly.
Perhaps because the hotel was closed much of the year and for so many years, rumors of strange happenings grew about the place, tales of mysterious lights, sightings of apparitions, unexplained sounds emanating from the building. Maybe they were true or maybe they were just the imaginings of strollers passing by in the dark. In any case, the Colony developed a reputation for being haunted.
One summer evening during the off-season, a couple was walking down the street past the empty hotel and saw, or thought they saw, movement inside. The figures they saw seemed to be running back and forth in the darkened building. They thought perhaps kids had broken into the place and were robbing or ransacking it. This was in the days before cell phones, so they crossed the street to a gas station and called the police, who quickly responded.
Several squad cars arrived, and officers walked around the exterior to check for signs of a break-in. There were none, so they contacted the caretaker to get permission to enter. Inside, a quick check revealed that all the doors were locked and the alarm system was functioning properly. It had not been tampered with. One officer was standing in the lobby when suddenly the elevator started rumbling as if it were moving. Then it stopped and chimed, the usual signal indicating that it had arrived at the desired floor. The doors opened, but no one came out. The officer stood there watching, dumbstruck. Now quite nervous, he radioed his partner, who joined him in the lobby. Together they finished their investigation and left, the caretaker locking up and resetting the alarm behind them. They had found nothing out of order.
During the same period passersby began reporting orbs, or balls of light, flying erratically in front of second-story windows. These orbs became quite common for several months, and many people reported seeing them. Then, as suddenly as they had begun appearing, they disappeared. None have been reported since 1989.
In 1999 the hotel began staying open year-round, and the stories of paranormal activity have persisted. Guests have reported strange lights and dark figures moving through the hotel, and some have heard music coming from the darkened and empty dining room. The music can be heard only on moonless nights and early in the morning, before 3 A.M. And some have heard female voices coming from the dining room, when no one was there.
One staff member reported that on several occasions he has heard noises from the empty kitchen: pots clanging, utensils being dropped, an occasional plate shattering on the floor. He said that, each time, he went in to see what was going on, half expecting to find a mess. What he found was a kitchen in perfect order, pots hanging and dishes stacked where they should be.
Justina Broughton, Charles Bowden’s granddaughter, has reported hearing animated discussions coming from the office and the kitchen. When she was a child during the off-season, she would often accompany her father into the closed hotel and run through the halls and empty rooms. She recalls that she often caught fleeting glimpses of something or someone out of the corner of her eye and thought nothing of it at the time. And more than once she saw an older, well-dressed man reflected in the glass cover of a painting. She had the odd sensation that he was her grandfather, and well he may have been. In any case, her experiences were always benign, even pleasant.
We were welcomed by a friendly staff. Although most of the people we talked to were a bit reluctant to discuss the paranormal activity there, they allowed us to roam around and take a look for ourselves.
As we walked around, Joanne was able to confirm many of the stories we had heard from others or read about. She saw dark, fleeting figures in the dining room and hallways and heard the clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, as well as music and muffled voices in the dining room. She didn’t find anything peculiar about the elevator but did sense activity on the second floor. Mostly, she confirmed what we already knew. We couldn’t stay very late, so we were not able to experience anything that might be taking place in the wee hours, but I have no doubt of their veracity.
As we left the Colony, I promised Sue I’d bring her back for a long weekend. It seemed a wonderful, romantic place for a getaway.
CHAPTER 8
Riddle House
WEST PALM BEACH
WHEN