The Devil’s Coming To Get Me: The Haunting of Malvern Manor

Every so often, you sort of fall in love with a haunted location without really knowing why.

I adore Gettysburg and can’t wait to go back there later this year to support the Wounded Warrior Foundation, for example,  but being a Civil War buff, it’s easy to see why it holds such a special place in my heart. The Jamaica Inn in Cornwall, England, is a haunted pub (with amazing beers and food) set in the middle of Poldark country. Smugglers, pirates, English breakfasts, great beer, and ghosts: what’s not to like?

But then there are those places that I feel inexplicably drawn to. The kind of old, run-down places that are dirty, grimy, ramshackle, and falling apart at the seams. The old Tooele Valley Hospital (now Asylum 49) is one such place. Every Halloween without fail, I find myself jonesing to get back out there, spend some time with my family of Asylum 49 friends, and delve a little further into the haunting than I did the last time. It’s hard for me to imagine October going by without a trip to my favorite haunted hospital (and some of my favorite people in the world).

And now there’s a new addition to the list: Malvern Manor. After making the ten-hour drive from Colorado to Iowa, I spent four days investigating this former hotel-turned-residential care facility back in March, along with a team of friends and fellow paranormal investigators. We had some great experiences there, which formed the basis of my latest book, The Devil’s Coming To Get Me: The Haunting of Malvern Manor (now available in paperback and ebook form over at Amazon.com). When I left, I had the vague feeling that I would be back to Malvern Manor someday, but didn’t feel particularly compelled to do so in the short term. I have a pretty long bucket list of haunted locations, and only a limited number of vacation days to spend on them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then out of the blue, I got a phone call from my friend Dave Schrader, host of Darkness Radio, Coast To Coast AM, and countless other paranormal projects spread across all different forms of media (he also gractiously wrote the foreword to my book, The Haunting of Asylum 49). He was putting together a paranormal track for the upcoming Wizard World Comic Con in Des Moines, Iowa. Would I be interested in coming out there to speak on a panel or two? Dave had given me my start in paranormal radio, inviting me on several of his shows to talk about ghosts and hauntings, so it would have been churlish to say no. Besides, David Tennant, my favorite Doctor Who, was going to be there, and my wife would have killed me if I passed up the chance to get his autograph.

 

 

 

 

 

Flights were exorbitanly expensive, required at least one layover (a great chance for my baggage to get lost) and six to seven hours long. The drive would take ten hours, but I figured that at least I could haul some books along to sell and listen to some audio books along the way.

I started the long haul east on Friday morning at around 8:30, my original plan to be on the road by 6am scuppered by my chronic use of the snooze button on my alarm clock. By 3:30, I was making good speed and should have been set to reach Des Moines by about 7 o’clock that night. The great state of Nebraska’s transportation made sure I didn’t drive too fast. This wasn’t the Kessel Run, after all.

 

 

 

Something a bit odd happened when I was about two hours away from the Nebraska/Iowa border. For no reason that I can explain, I was suddenly overcome with the urge to go to Malvern Manor. While Malvern was vaguely on the way, it would also mean going out of my way at the same time. It had been a long-ass drive already. Far easier to just push on to Des Moines and spend the rest of the evening enjoying a hot bath and some room service.

As the miles rolled by, the compulsion grew stronger. Finally, I picked up my phone and called Josh Heard, film-maker,  purveyor of shit tickets, all-around nice guy, Kiefer Sutherland impersonator…oh yeah, and co-owner of Malvern Manor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey man, how’s the drive?” He’s either psychic or has caller ID. I’m not exactly sure which.

“Loooong. Are you at the Manor tonight? I’m in the neighborhood.”

“I can be. Do you want to swing by?”

I arranged to meet Josh and fellow Malvern Manor expert Sarah at the Manor as soon as I could get there. For some weird reason, going there just seemed like the right thing to do.

Malvern Manor looks distinctly less creepy on a warm summer’s evening than it had back in March, when we were also in the middle of a thunderstorm. I was glad to see the old girl again, a feeling which took me quite by surprise. I really couldn’t figure out why I seemed to have developed a sudden attachment to this dusty old place.

Catching up with Josh and Sarah was worth the trip alone. These guys know every nook and cranny of Malvern Manor, all of the ins and outs, and pretty much everything there is to know about its ghosts and haunted history. They spend countless hours there, giving tours, conducting investigations, and trying to figure out its mysteries. They had also made invaluable contributions to my book, and it felt great to give them their own personalized copies.

The Manor had been rented for the night by a group of ladies, who had made the rather questionable decision of heading to the closest bar for a stiff drink or two before getting to grips with the place. They kindly obliged us by taking a photograph on the front step. If ever a book was the product of many people’s time and expertise, it was this one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a few hours of chatting, I headed to Des Moines and made it by 11 o’clock that night. After a shower, I slept like the dead. I had a blast at the convention the next day. For the first time in my life, I got to try fried alligator (not bad!) It was good to finally meet some online friends in person, and also to make some new ones. Dave moderated the panel on two of Iowa’s most haunted places, Malvern Manor and the Villisca Ax Murder House, like a rock star, and a good time was had by all.

I was booked into the hotel for a second night, planning to get some sleep and then hit the road early on Sunday morning. All that went out of the window when Sarah mentioned that the group who had supposed to be renting the Manor that evening had canceled; she and her friends had the place all to themselves. I jumped at the chance to go back for another night, even if it meant basically throwing away the cost of a hotel room.

This is also a little weird. I’m 45 years old this August. Gone are the days when I could spend 30-plus hours on my feet during a paranormal investigation. I’m middle-aged, cranky, and like my creature comforts. There was going to be a long drive ahead of me the following morning, and I knew that for safety’s sake, I would have to spend chunks of it sleeping in parking lots if I wanted to make it home alive.

Despite all that, it was never in question. I really wanted to go back.

According to the investigators who had been there for a few hours before we arrived, things had been crazy active earlier that night, with bouts of intense paranormal activity going on in the nursing wing. We headed there first, and got some unusual sounds in the darkened hallway. Sarah felt something touch her on the foot. Yet it looked as though we had gotten to the party a little too late.

Things were quiet. I spent a little time wandering through the abandoned rooms and corridors, reacquainting myself with the ghosts I had learned about. Hank, the cranky old man who hates women touching his clothes; the Captain, one of the original owners of Malvern Manor, who isn’t too happy with Josh and his ghost tours; Grace, the lady who suffered from multiple personality disorder and had at least 13 different documented personalities; Inez, the young girl who was found hanging in a closet by her younger brother; and Suzie, a middle-aged lady with the mental age of a child.

I found all of their stories to be deeply  fascinating. Every room has its own story, and every story is that of a human life, each one full of the emotional highs and lows that characterize the grand drama in which we all play a part. One of the reasons I am so fond of Josh, Sarah, and the other flesh and blood regulars at Malvern Manor is because of how protective they are of these people, none of whom they have ever met in person. There is a fundamental respect for those who once lived, laughed, and cried in this place, and I feel very privileged that they allowed me to try and tell some of those stories, sharing their own perspectives and experiences as I wrote the book. It really was a great honor.

Sarah, Luis, and I found ourselves sitting up in the attic a little after midnight, working by candle-light and trying to make contact with the spirits there. Unfortunately for us, they weren’t inclined to come out and interact that night. Perhaps the well had already run dry earlier that evening.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luis had to get up early for work and wisely decided to call it a night. Sarah and I went outside to take a look at the moon rising over the Manor and to talk a little about our theories concerning the haunting.  “I think this place calls to those people who its wants to be a part of its story,” she said, “and maybe those who can help to tell it.”

That was certainly food for thought. Whether it was true or not, I really rather liked the idea. The stories of Malvern Manor should not be allowed to simply fade away and die. It has such a rich history, and each group of visitors that come to call are adding their own chapter to a decades-long narrative that is still unfolding as we speak. Staring at the crooked old building by the light of the rising moon, I felt a deep contentment that is a rarity in the hustle and bustle of my busy everyday life: the feeling of being in absolutely the right place at the right time. Whether it was self-delusion or not, I couldn’t shake the conviction that I was going to be researching and telling the stories of Malvern manor for a long time to come…

…and I was damned lucky to be permitted to do so.

We hung on in there until four o’clock in the morning, when I finally caved in and had to hit the road. I took one last photo of the building, circling the block in my truck to give it a once-over. I half-expected to see a face staring back at me from one of the windows, but they were all pitch black, utterly deserted. Braver than me by far, Sarah was spending the night alone asleep in there (the woman has no sense of fear).

I turned onto the town’s deserted main street, keeping one eye on Malvern Manor in the rearview mirror. I actually had to fight the urge to turn back and take one more walk around, something which never almost never happened to me at the end of an investigation — I usually just wanted to get some sleep.

For the entire drive back, I couldn’t stop thinking about the Manor and its mysteries. After diligently taking safety naps, I made it home in good time. Sarah sent me a message, letting me know that roughly an hour after I had left, she was woken by the sound of something moving around in the kitchen.

The story most definitely wasn’t over yet.