the sudden, I heard this shriek, so I came running out to see what had happened. The little girl had this look on her face, like she was totally terrified. I didn’t see anyone—or anything—so I asked her what was wrong. She told me that a big ball of light had flown out of one corner of the room and came right at her. And she was really frightened,” he emphasized. “This was before the ‘Ghost Bar’ sign was up, and she was way too young to know the history of the place—and way too young to make up something like that. She was okay after that, but I’ve never seen a little kid so scared.”
The bartender went on to tell me about another incident that happened about a month after that wedding reception, this time with a little boy who came upstairs with his mother. “He was right about the same age, too, I think. I didn’t pay too much attention to them; they were just looking around. Then all of the sudden, I see this little boy dart out of that room and into the other room. I probably still wouldn’t have thought too much of it, except I overheard him telling his mother, ‘Mommy, Mommy, there it goes!’ A few seconds later the mother came over to me and said that she was so sorry, but her son kept insisting he was being chased around by a ball of light.”
The third incident involved an adult, a guy who had been sitting at the bar having a drink. “He was about my age,” said the bartender, which would probably have made his customer somewhere in his mid-20s. “And he was talking on his cell phone, making plans to meet up with his buddies somewhere downtown. I turned away to take care of another customer. The next thing I knew this guy had jumped up out of his seat and was standing way over there, looking really freaked out. I asked him if he was okay, and he insisted that, yeah, he was fine. ‘Are you sure?’ I asked a second time. He looked pretty shaken up and I thought—I don’t know, maybe he’d seen a mouse or something. This is an old building. ‘No, I’m good, bro,’ he told me. But he didn’t sit back down. Instead, he told me he was ready to cash out.”
The bartender said that as his customer was settling up his tab, he’d finally calmed down enough to admit that he’d seen the silhouette of a man standing behind him in the mirror behind the bar—but when he turned around, nobody was there.
Before I left, he took me over to one of the two side rooms—the one opposite the bar—and told me that that room was the one where people have complained about feeling “negative energy.”
“Especially women,” he told me. “Ladies come up here and they’re just not comfortable in this room.”
We talked for a few more minutes about paranormal phenomena in general, and I took a few more photographs before leaving the mansion.
Just a few blocks down from the Whitney is the Majestic Theatre, which is more than just a theater, I discovered when I popped in for a quick visit. I found both a café and a bowling alley—sadly, I didn’t find any credible ghost stories. Still, the stage of the Majestic Theatre is the last place where Harry Houdini played before he died, and it’s well worth checking out if you’re in the area.
CHAPTER 2
Marlow’s Chill & Grill
BROWNSTOWN
WHEN YOU MENTION THE DOWNRIVER AREA, most Detroiters think of the Gibraltar Trade Center, Flat Rock Speedway, Trenton Scarecrow Festival, or Cruisin’ Downriver, an antique car event that rivals the northern suburb’s Woodward Dream Cruise. Crusin’ Downriver, which draws thousands of spectators each summer, stretches through Lincoln Park, Wyandotte, Southgate, and Riverview.
Most people don’t think about ghosts when you mention the downriver area, especially if you happen to be talking about the township of Brownstown. But that’s exactly where I ended up one Monday afternoon in late November, on the trail of a promising lead I found on the Motor City Ghost Hunters’ website. I took my husband along for the ride, telling him it would make for a fun date. We hadn’t been out to eat in a while, and even though a sports bar wouldn’t normally be our first choice for a date night, we both love a good burger. He was a little dubious at first, not because he knew I was going on another one of my “ghosthunting adventures,” but because, unlike me, he is simply not a very adventurous soul. The idea of a 45-minute trek downriver for a burger wasn’t exactly the highlight of his day. He came anyway.
Marlow’s is located on a rural stretch of Telegraph Road, just a short way down from the Oak Ridge Cemetery, which rumor has it is also haunted. According to an urban legend, the ghosts of a little boy and a tall man can be spotted in the cemetery between the hours of 9 p.m. and 3 a.m.—however, it is worth noting that like most cemeteries, Oak Ridge is closed after dark, and trespassers will be prosecuted. Visiting the cemetery during the day is perfectly legal, of course.
Other specters are said to roam the streets of the nearly 200-year-old town. Rumors abound of “strange apparitions” that supposedly wander the streets of the Tele Valley mobile home park and of a “ghostly man” who has allegedly been seen roaming the woods in Dawnshire Park near the Civic Center. Again, I don’t recommend visiting either location after dark, but it’s perfectly legal to walk around the Civic Center during the day. Just remember, you can’t believe everything you read on the Internet, especially when it comes to ghostly hauntings. I learned that when I visited Calumet and Eagle Harbor earlier in the year.
It was early evening when my husband and I arrived in Brownstown. We found ourselves before a large, beige brick-and-wood paneled building bearing a sign that read MARLOW’S CHILL & GRILL. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting the drive to be worth it; Marlow’s does not look like a hundred-year-old haunted tavern, even if it does have a rather colorful history. The building has served many functions, under many different owners, over the last century. In addition to being the home of numerous pubs and taverns, the building at one time housed a brothel in the upstairs apartment, and at another point in history, it served as a station house for the Brownstown mounted police. When we got there, the parking lot was mostly empty. For a moment I wondered if the place was open. As usual, I hadn’t called ahead.
We parked anyway and headed up to the door to discover that yes, they were open, just not very busy yet. (At this point, my husband really wanted to know what I’d dragged him into!) Inside, Marlow’s was everything you would expect from a friendly blue-collar neighborhood sports bar. Several televisions hung over the bar, sports memorabilia dotted the walls, and there was even a dance floor. In addition to bar seating, we found booths along one wall and had a seat. We didn’t have long to wait before a friendly server came over to greet us with a smile and a couple of menus. Our server’s name was Ashley. As we were talking, I learned that she had worked at Marlow’s for awhile. But before asking about the bar’s resident specters, I decided what I really wanted was dinner. Ashley took our orders and put them into the kitchen. When she returned to check on us, I told her the real reason for my visit.
“This place is totally freaky!” she exclaimed. It took no prompting at all to get Ashley to tell me about some of the things she and other staff members had experienced at the bar. “We think one of the ghosts is a waitress who was murdered at the bar. The story I heard was that it was a customer who killed her. She was sitting on one of the bar stools, and he came up behind her and slit her throat.”
No one has ever been able to dig up enough hard evidence to prove that someone was really murdered on the property, but it seems to be a widely held belief. Ashley told me that sometimes glasses fall off the shelves for no apparent reason, usually by the ice maker. “One night, I was standing right there,” she went on, pointing over to the bar. “I think I’d been here for a couple of months, so I guess it was maybe last August. Anyway, I swear, I felt someone touching my face, like this,” she demonstrated, sliding one finger down the side of her face, from her hairline
