Deborah Cuyle. - Haunted Snohomish.

Published by Haunted America

A Division of The History Press

Charleston, SC

www.historypress.net

Copyright 2016 by Deborah Cuyle

All rights reserved

Cover image: The Oxford Saloon, one of the most notoriously haunted buildings on First Street in Snohomish, is said to house eighteen or more ghosts! Authors collection.

First published 2016

e-book edition 2016

ISBN 978.1.43965.764.5

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016939311

print edition ISBN 978.1.46713.697.6

Notice: The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author or The History Press. The author and The History Press disclaim all liability in connection with the use of this book.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

PREFACE

This book project is for my love of Snohomish, the town that has become my home for almost two decades and hopefully more decades to come. I love all the lore and legends, ghosts and spirits stories that people have told me over the years. It is fun to walk the streets today, the same streets Snohomish pioneers once walked, and think of how it was back in the old days. The stories here have been told to me by localssome embellished over the years in order to make them more fascinating, I am sure, and some of the names in the stories have been changed to protect the innocent (or guilty?)all told out of fun for the love of history, hauntings and lore. The book is not intended to be a nonfiction project, and with research, sometimes there are conflicting dates and facts in historic records. Please take it for what it is, a book full of ghostly tales and interesting history of the small river town located north of Seattle and all of its wonderful historic buildings that house century-old spirits. Enjoy!

This book is dedicated to everyone who loves Snohomish as much as I do and to all the people out there who are curious about the afterlife. Being a NDE (near death experience) survivor, I am probably a little more open-minded than most people. That tends to happen to us survivors. Perhaps someday science can actually prove what really happens to us after we die, the eternal mystery, but until then, it is all just speculation. Religion and science may someday agree, and maybe not. I see both sides of the debate. There are too many unexplained things that happen to each of us to not entertain the idea of ghosts and the spirit world. I read somewhere that God or spirits do give us signs when we ask for them, but we as humans are too busy or close-minded to see them for what they are or acknowledge them when they happen.

While my mom struggled with terminal cancer, we made a pact that after she passed, if she disagreed on something she would make me smell cigarette smoke (which she knew I hated), and if she agreed, then it would be Jovan Musk perfume (which I also hated; my mother had a funny sense of humor.)

After my mom died, often times I would smell one or the other odors when asking for her advice, and I do not allow smoking in my house nor do they even sell that perfume anymore as far as I know. A few days after she died, I begged her to give me a sign that she was okay. After giving up on the probability of a sign, one afternoon I came home and was extremely depressed about losing her and decided to just sit on my deck in the sun. A white butterfly soon came and landed by me. Something made me stare at it for a while. It didnt move or even desire to fly away. After what must have been ten minutes, I quietly asked, Mom, is that you? It hung around for some time. It would not leave even when I tried to shoo it away with my hand or a letter. For about a week, that butterfly just hung out on the deck with me until even my son wasnt surprised by its presence anymore. He said, Remember, Mom, Grandma said that once she died she wanted to be free. Maybe being a butterfly makes her free from the cancer. That made me smile. The next day, the butterfly was gone, never to reappear. I think it was her saying goodbye and letting us know that she was okay.

I also dedicate this book to my incredible son, Dane Brown, who has always been my best friend and cohort in a passion for writing; to my wonderful Middy, who never complains when I am writing nonstop, even though a yummy dinner and cold cocktail are always waiting for me to share with him; and, last but not least, to my incredible and loving mom, Roxine, who always believed that I could do whatever I set my mind out to do.

As for personal ghost evidence, I have a story. On a recent trip to Hawaii, I took part in a tour bus drive, and one of the stops was at the Palapala Hoomau Church on Maui. I wasnt really listening to the guide, as the historic church had beautiful horses by the parking lot that were begging for a petting or two. I took many photos of them and the old church. Although we were not allowed to go inside the building, I quickly took a snapshot of the interior as I walked by a window. We casually strolled the grounds for a bit, and then everyone piled back on the bus. When I was scrolling through the pictures on my camera, I noticed a strange apparition that appeared to be sitting in a church pew. As I zoomed in on the image, it looked like a male figure wearing a dark T-shirt over a long-sleeved thermal top and jeans.

The tour guide was telling a story about how the famous Charles Lindbergh (the first man to fly across the Atlantic Ocean) moved to Kipahulu in 1968. After being diagnosed with terminal cancer, he decided to forgo treatment and lived out his final days here, never wanting to leave Hawaii. He was buried there in 1974. When I got back to the hotel, I was interested in learning more about Lindbergh, so I did some research. It was very interesting to note that in a large number of photographs of Lindbergh in his glory years, he wore long white gloves that reached to his elbows. Is this the ghost of Charles Lindbergh? That photograph always makes me wonder. It could be a trick of light, but the coincidence is just too much to ignore.

Some things have to be believed to be seen.

Ralph Hodgson

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My gratitude goes out to Christen Thompson, Ryan Finn and all the other wonderful people who work for Arcadia Publishing and The History Press. Without their kindness, knowledge and extreme patience, many books would never get to print! I also want to thank the numerous hardworking volunteers, especially Chris Gee, at the Snohomish Historical Society. They spend countless hours documenting newspaper clippings, photographs, maps and a million other things so that the history of Snohomish is well preserved for future generations to enjoy. Nate Cushman at the Snohomish Library and David Dilgard at the Everett Public Library/Northwest Room should also be mentioned, as their names come up in almost every conversation about local history. Their passion for and knowledge of Snohomish is remarkable. Bill Betten of Snohomish should also be commended for his continuous efforts to maintain local Snohomish history and protect its future. All the people at Historic Downtown Snohomish also work very hard to protect and preserve our beautiful city. And a big thank-you goes to all the many open-minded neighbors and locals who told me their ghost stories in order for me to share them with you. (Some names of people and places have been changed to protect their identities. I hope readers will respect peoples privacy and not disrupt anything or trespass on their property in their search for ghosts.)