Haunted tales

Growing up in South Troy I was lucky on Halloween because one of the most haunted places in the entire country was just a stone’s throw away. Or so we thought. The place was a cemetery out on Pinewoods Avenue in Brunswick. We’d heard it called Forest Hills and Forest Park but everyone knew somebody who heard from somebody else that it was named in Life Magazine as one of the Top 10 Haunted Places in America. Funny how no one could ever find the exact issue that proclamation was in or produce the magazine in question but that’s the beauty of folklore; heavy on hype, short on evidence.

Still, being a teenager in the late 70’s this rumor that we had, what some called, the “gateway to hell” a short walk away meant a group of us would have to make the trip over. School let out about 2:15 in the afternoon so a group of us agreed to meet up and start walking. Getting over to Spring Avenue, then Pawling and eventually to Pinewoods was a piece of cake for a dozen teens on foot. What we didn’t realize was how far out Pinewoods Avenue this cemetery actually was. Looking at a map today I measure it to be about 2.2 miles give or take a football field.

So out we walked with some of the less scrupulous lads in our midst drinking Genesee Cream Ale (the official beer of ghost hunters) along the way. By the time we reached the cemetery it was nearly dark which added to our already rising blood pressure. The gates, back then, were overgrown with weeds giving the cemetery a nice combination of menace and neglect. I thought, “If I were a ghost I’d definitely hang out here.”

We squeezed through an opening and ventured in expecting to encounter a demon or two. As old cemeteries go it certainly looked creepy and clearly some vandals had been there before us leaving their mark. It was sad what some trespassers had previously done. And if I’m being truthful that’s what we were too, trespassers in the first degree.

We stood and waited but the only ominous sounds we heard that night were my friends belching up their $1.89 six pack of Genny. The ghosts were a big fat no show and we soon learned the true terror was having to walk all the way home in the pitch dark.

Years later when I became a TV reporter I took a psychic back to the same cemetery on Halloween night to see if she could scare up some ghosts. I remember her telling me to let her know when the camera was rolling and right on cue it was “ghost central.” I think she saw everybody but Elvis floating around. I suspected she may have had one too many Genesee Cream Ales herself.

Not long after that visit I saw some nice people in Brunswick cleaned up the cemetery and suddenly it didn’t look haunted anymore. I suspect the nuisance of having kids go up there on a dare ended once the place got spruced up.

In recent years I find myself playing golf at the Troy Country Club which coincidentally sits right next door to this cemetery. And today in this very column I can confirm for you that when it comes to me trying to drive a golf ball straight, more often than not I do feel like I’m at the gates of hell. So perhaps Life Magazine was off by a few yards.

I’ve written about this cemetery before and I know the people in Brunswick cringe because they don’t want people reading this and going out there. Let me be clear when I tell you I was an idiot for visiting there in my teens and I can say without a doubt it is not haunted. It’s just a quiet place where the dead rest and deserve to be left alone.

Growing up in Troy I lived on a hill that led to St. Joseph’s cemetery and not a week went by when I didn’t walk through there with my grandfather. He’d always tell me, “It’s the living, not the dead; you need to watch out for.” He was right of course. Years later I got a job mowing lawns at St. Joe’s and I came to appreciate those older parts of the cemetery that sometimes need a little TLC. They’re not haunted, just forgotten. Often what appears “creepy” can be turned into “lovely” after two minutes with a weed eater.

So on this Halloween I bid you a friendly “Boo” and hope you find nothing but Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups and Kit Kat bars at the bottom of your pillow case, should you be going door to door later. My advice is stay clear of the cemeteries, be they haunted or not, and focus on the living.

Trust me when I tell you our time on Earth on this side of the grass is short enough and you’ll have plenty of opportunity to hang out at the cemetery when the music stops playing.