the technicians came in to find the lights above the second stage had been moved around overnight, that instead of pointing at the stage, they were pointing at the ceiling. Not only was the building locked up and empty overnight, but theater lights are big, heavy pieces of equipment. They’re also pretty high up off the floor. It takes special equipment and usually a couple of people working together to move them; it certainly couldn’t have been the job of a lone prankster.
Finally, Lesley pointed out a door off to the left, behind the seating area, telling me that there have been a number of sightings of an apparition in the doorway. I decided that it would make a good picture for the book—but the brand-new batteries that I had just put in my camera that morning were dead … proof? Who knows, but I had been saying ever since staying overnight at the Blue Pelican (see Chapter 28) that I would love to experience something a little more “concrete” for myself. Maybe the ghosts of the Baldwin Theatre decided to come out of hiding to grant my wish.
CHAPTER 5
Bone Head’s BBQ
WILLIS
I WAS SITTING AROUND with some friends the week after Easter talking about the book I was writing. Everybody knew about the project, knew my deadline was fast approaching, and was excited to hear how it was going. They weren’t saying “no” if I happened to offer up a couple of ghost stories, either. One of them even had a ghost story for me.
“We were at Bone Head’s BBQ a few months ago,” my friend Jayne told me. “And my son swore he saw a guy standing by the foot of the stairs leading up to the second floor. When I looked up, I didn’t see anything, but when he told our waitress about it, she said it was probably one of the ghosts.”
I’ve known Jayne long enough to consider her reliable, even if I’ve never met her teenage son. “So where is this place?” I asked.
She grinned. “Ypsilanti, I think. I can’t remember which road—you can probably find it online.”
When I got home, I did a quick Internet search and found out that Bone Head’s BBQ is actually in Willis, a tiny community that’s little more than a dot on the map, just south of Ypsilanti Charter Township. I mapped out my route, packed my gear and an overnight bag, and headed westward on I-94 once again. Willis is actually within easy driving distance of metro-Detroit, but I like to be prepared and was planning a couple of other stops along the way.
I timed my arrival at Bone Head’s for lunch because I love BBQ-style food, but I nearly missed my destination and had to turn around. The restaurant did not look like much from the outside, and the town around it consisted of little more than railroad tracks, a post office, and a few streets of older-looking homes. But sometimes the best food is served up in the most out-of-the-way places.
The exterior of the old wood-sided building may have been unimpressive, but as soon as I walked in the door, I knew that I’d come to exactly the right place, both for lunch and ghost stories. The décor was reminiscent of an old general store, the atmosphere was relaxed, and the smells coming from the kitchen were enough to convince me I wouldn’t be disappointed. I was greeted by a friendly server and told her that while I was definitely staying for lunch, that wasn’t the real reason for my visit. I was writing a book about haunted places and wondered if there might be somebody there who could talk to me about ghosts.
She hesitated a moment before suggesting I should maybe check out their website.
Of course, I would definitely do that when I got back home. “But what I’m really hoping to get are some more personal stories,” I went on. “Anything you’ve experienced, or maybe something one of your co-workers or customers have told you.”
Over the course of my travels, I’ve learned that sometimes I’ve had to ask more than once. If someone says “no,” or “not interested,” I’ve backed off—some businesses really do not want a “haunted reputation.” But sometimes people have hesitated either because they weren’t sure what I was really asking them for, or because they didn’t want to come off as sounding crazy. Sometimes just talking to folks for a few minutes was the best way to get them to open up.
This was one of those times. My waitress looked over at a woman who was walking through the dining room and asked her if she had a few minutes to talk to someone writing a book.
The second woman introduced herself as Niki LaChance, one of the owners. Niki said she had a few minutes, but she was really in the middle of getting ready for lunch, so she couldn’t talk too long.
“That would be fantastic,” I assured her. Before becoming a full-time writer, I was a full-time waitress, so I completely understood the restaurant business and that sometimes a few minutes is all someone has to spare.
Niki refilled her iced tea and showed me over to a table, telling me that she and her husband, Jim, had bought the business about three years ago. “We opened up on Friday the thirteenth,” she said.
“That sounds auspicious,” I joked.
She laughed too. “It was. Actually, I like to say we came here by fate,” she added. The business had been struggling before they bought it, but Niki and Jim managed to turn Bone Head’s into a thriving, friendly neighborhood restaurant. “We’re definitely a ‘destination location,’” she added, when I mentioned almost missing the place. “There isn’t much else around here.”
Numerous spirits have been spotted by guests on the steps leading upstairs at Bone Head’s BBQ.
Niki told me that the village of Willis was named after Willis Potter, one of the area’s original landowners. “He came here around 1825.”
She took me over to the staircase—the same staircase where my friend’s son said he’d seen a ghost—leading up to the second floor to show me some of the old photos hanging on the wall.
“Originally, the building was a stagecoach stop,” Niki told me.
She told me that it was built in 1865 and had been the home of many different businesses over the course of the last century and a half. “It was a granary, a butcher shop, an ice house, a post office, a boarding house, and even a general store.” Then she went on to tell me that the staircase is one of the most active areas in the restaurant. Maybe that was why I had the chills as we stood on the stairs talking—or was it because I’d already heard about a ghost hanging around the stairwell?
“One of the waitresses told me once that she was standing at the base of the stairs and felt someone touching her hair,” said Niki. “She turned around expecting it to be one of the cooks messing with her—but no one was there.
“The building was completely restored back in the 1980s,” Niki went on, emphasizing that it was restored, not renovated. The former owners wanted to recapture the feel of the original building. “They brought in antiques and fixtures from all over the state,” she said, pointing out stained glass windows from an old church up north and a huge, old apothecary’s cabinet on the far wall filled with antiques.
As she continued telling me about the restaurant’s ghosts, it sounded as if more than just antiques were brought into the building when it was restored, however. Besides the man that my friend’s son had seen around
