These ghost hunters bring their tape recorders

Far from a dark and stormy night in Jordan, Minn., it was bright, warm for fall and about 4 p.m.

Kathy Machowski and Linda Blaylock stood inside a small room within the Strait House, an 1800s home now part of the Minnesota State Parks system. They asked questions into the emptiness that they believe isn't empty at all.

"Can you tell me your name?" Pause. "Was this your bedroom?" Pause. "Would you like to say something?" Pause.

They heard no answers. But they believe their tape recorders did.

Machowski and Blaylock are ghost hunters, a term popularized by the Sci Fi channel series and preferable to "ghost busters," which gives the wrong impression, they say. The goal isn't to bust the ghost, but to discover its presence.

"They're people, too," said Machowski, a Jordan resident and the founder of Minnesota Beyond the Veil, a small group passionate about ghosts. They, and others like them, might get more attention near Halloween, but they're out there year-round.

Sometimes for hire, but more often for fun, the group seeks spirits in historic homes, public spaces and private residences.

Once, in an office basement, they say a woman sang them "Danny Boy." At a small museum, girls giggled in what used to be the servants' quarters. In a cemetery, a boy ran in front of them.

Voices from beyond

Their equipment is basic: Digital cameras to capture "orbs,"mists" or figures often invisible to the eye. Audio recorders to detect EVPs, or electronic voice phenomena, spirit voices easier to detect on playback. And EMF (electromagnetic field) meters, which are designed to blink and beep when a ghost is nearby -- though they react similarly when they are near a light switch or other electrical device.

More important than the gadgets, they say, is attitude.

"I watch that show on cable and can't believe it. They've got thousands of dollars of equipment. Why aren't they getting better EVPs?" Machowski said. "I'm using what I can afford, a $20 cassette tape recorder, and I'm getting much higher-quality stuff. I think it must be about the approach."

Machowski and Blaylock speak to a room -- and if it's haunted, the ghosts inside it -- in calm, casual voices. They tell the ghosts that they know they're there and offer help, advice or simply conversation.

When Machowski listened to her recorder and discovered that one ghost, a man with a gruff voice, had chided her, she returned to the house the next day to chide him back.

A dry run now and then

Not every house is haunted, of course. At some sites, after repeated trips, the group and others will remain empty-handed: no orbs, no EVPs, no mists.

But often rumors persist. And people living in spirit-free houses are still haunted -- by ghost-hunters themselves.

Olga Zoltai owns the Griggs Mansion in St. Paul, what one website calls "the city's, and perhaps Minnesota's, most notoriously haunted house." There's just one problem: It might not be.

Zoltai credits the rumors to Carl Weschcke, publisher of occult books and founder of Llewellyn Publishing, who lived and worked in the house in the 1960s.

"To live in a haunted house was good for business," Zoltai said. It's big and it's old, she said, and she does hear noises, but "there is always a logical reason."

Despite her repeated efforts to counter the rumors, she still has people call and stop by, hoping to investigate the house themselves.

Chanhassen Dinner Theatres in Chanhassen has attracted the sort of interest among ghost hunters.

In the 1980s, an actor said she felt a presence beside her onstage. Cast and crew brought in a psychic who found nothing, but more than 20 years later, the rumors persist.

Kris Howland, the theater's public relations director, receives so many e-mails from ghost-hunters that she has a file, titled "Ghost," that she sends in reply. Thanks for your interest and good luck in your pursuit, it says. But no. No more ghost-hunters.

"We just want to put this to rest," Howland said.

Unexpected finds

Machowski has found, over the years, that the places people say are haunted often aren't, and others you wouldn't expect to haunted indeed are.

Take the Strait House in Jordan, for example. The home originally stood in Lawrence, Minn. In part because the house was moved, Machowski wasn't sure she'd find anything there.

She says she was wrong. In her audio playback, she heard a man urging her to "repent" and other whispers. Photos showed mists and orbs.

Blaylock, a Shakopee resident who said she has psychic abilities, felt people's presence inside the house. After setting down her tape recorder, which was still running, she closed the door and went out on the lawn.

She was slowly stepping away from the house, taking photos, when she gasped. A ghost?

"No. A garter snake," she said, and then smiled: "Much worse."

Jenna Ross • 612-673-7168

Jenna Ross • jross@startribune.com