Nevada City Hotel

"It's haunted, you know," That's Mobley. We were having a regular conversation, and mentioned we were taking a drive to Nevada City. He caught us by surprise with what he had to say about the hotel.

"What are you talking about?" we both replied.

"It's haunted, the Nevada City hotel." We heard him, but shook our heads. It was a nice story but..."It is," he insisted, "It's the most haunted place west of the Mississippi."  Mobley sounded serious. We weren't looking for ghosts, only a trip away for a few days, toward the mountains, to see what it is like over there.

Well he warned us, wished us well. We got our clothes together for our few days trip and drove off. We were living in Sausalito, across the bay from San Francisco and decided to take a trip up to Gold Country. On the map Nevada City looked like a good location. It would be our destination. We were telling Mobley our plans when he mentioned the haunted hotel.

We packed what we needed for a few days and took off. We were still talking about  mobley.  We weren't seeking a ghostly adventure, just a weekend change away from the routine. We drove directly east. A few hours later we were in Nevada City. We had spent enough time driving and were ready to find a place for the night. We drove up and down the mainstreet and the best looking place to stay was clearly the grand Nevada City Hotel in the center of town.  Normal looking, an older hotel.

"Let's check it out," I said. We parked our car and did. It was a fine old place, kept up well. The girl showed us a room that was clean and simple. The price was right. We took the room that was on the street side, second floor. Nothing unusual about the hotel. We'd dismissed what Mobley said about the hotel being haunted.

We laid down and rested a few hours from our drive, then that evening went out to a place across the street for an early dinner and what turned out to be late drinking.

The town was simple and quiet, festive enough for us. While we sat at a table and drank beers we discussed our day, our plans. which were still open. We'd decided to see how we felt in the morning. We weren't on a schedule and it didn't matter if we were exploring the Gold Country for one day or three. The weekend was coming up and we would take it as it happens. No plans, no matter. M. was off work until Monday, so we had five days if we wanted.

There weren't a great number of tourists or locals around, though there were enough to keep us out until eleven or so when we returned to our room. We laid down for the night and settled in. It seemed a little warm and stuffy. I opened the window, an old fashioned pull up type. Hard to do the metal release and pull it up, but I managed, and got the window open.

Through the night we were both restless. We had side by side single beds and a double bed. We tried the double, one of us changed to the single, then later we changed again...and again. We heard banging noises from the water pipes throughout the night. Not a lot, but enough so sleeping was on and off again, but the night passed.

First thing in the morning it seemed stuffy. We saw the window that was so hard for me to open, was now closed. When we returned to Sausalito M. mentioned the window to her boss, Don Campbell. He said ghosts always close the windows.

We took our showers and got dressed. I called the front desk asked about breakfast, was told they only had coffee but there was a fine breakfast place across then street. They had pancakes on the menu and M. had the foresight to bring her diet pancake syrup. It was in the hotel room, so she went back to get it. I waited at our table by the window sipping coffee, she ran across the street. In a few minutes she was back, excited, with a story.

"I just saw a ghost."

"What are you talking about. Sit down."

She was out of breath and began telling me. The waitress came over and warmed our coffees.

"I went to the room and had trouble opening the door, I think I opened the lock okay, but I couldn't get the door open, and kept fiddling with it, but it finally opened." She looked perplexed about that. "I went in and straight to my suitcase, I knew where the syrup was, so that was no problem and I picked it up and started back. The door locked easily when I left. So I was going to the stairs, just a few feet away. You know where it is."

I nodded, "Sure ... the stairs.'  She breathed heavily. "Have some coffee. Slow down." She brushed me off and wanted to keep going.

"So as I got to the stairs, there was this old man and he just got there and started down. He was really old and had a big wide-brimmed hat." She made a motion to show me how wide the brim was on the hat he wore. "He started down and I was afraid to go running down along side him. He was real old and I didn't want to started him because I was going fast and he was so slow. Then a voice in my head said, 'Go. Go.' like something was telling me not to go down along side of him on the stairs. 'Go. Go.' So I crossed the hall, I knew there was a stairway on the other side, so I crossed over to the other side and wet down on that side. It was really weird, I don't know why, but it was creepy. He was a ghost. I know he was."

I scrunched up my face as I listened and saw her anxiety. We signaled the waitress to come over, got fill-ups on the coffee and we ordered breakfast. We both had pancakes and she kept telling me about the old man at the top of the stairway.  Enough mystery for us, we were ready to check out and move on. After breakfast we walked across to the hotel.  I went over to the desk to pay our bill, she went up to our room to get our things ready to go.

The same girl worked the desk. Other customers standing there paid then went on their way. I stepped up to handle our bill. As I paid and she shuffled papers I casually asked  her what she knew about the hotel being haunted. She looked up into my eyes, judged it was okay to talk and spoke in a quiet voice when she told me she hadn't seen anything, but she hears about it. "There is a woman and a young girl that walk the hall on the second floor." She indicated overhead, and followed he hallway along the building. "And there's a soldier back there," she turned her head and looked back "in room twenty-three who sits on the bed and puts his boots on." I listened and marveled. Room twenty-three she said. I didn't have to write that down. I'd remembered.  I don't want to rent that room.

"Then there is an old man who walks down this stairs," again she pointed.

That's the one. "What's he look like?"

"Just an old man ... real old...wears a big brim hat. Old fashion hat."

"Are there any other old men staying in the hotel?"

"Old Mr...." She said the name of the man. "He lives here. but he don't wear a hat.
I nodded. Okay. No hat. I'd seen the old man she was talking about.

"That's all."

"That's enough," I said. "My wife saw the old man coming down the stairs." M. was there with our bags and heard us talking.

"I saw him, I got to the stairs the same time he did and was going to walk down by him and a voice in my head said 'Go, Go,' and I walked around and came down this other stairway."

The girl at the desk nodded. She'd heard similar stories. She hung the room keys she'd received from the other couple and from us...hung them on pegs in on the wall. I took the small overnight bag from M. We said goodbye and left through the old glass double doors and headed for our car.