5th Grade Memories: Looking Back on September 11

Today, the ninth anniversary of the World Trade Center attacks of September 11, 2001, is just like that very day: ordinary. We all got up and went to school or work, not giving any thought to what would soon unfold right before our eyes on national television. I was only ten years old at the time and in fifth grade, and looking back on it now, it is hard to believe just how long ago it was. That day has remained with me all this time, and my memories of the events of that day, and the days that followed will most likely stay with me forever.

We were only a week into school and sitting in home-room when the first plane struck. Naturally, no one was made aware of it until later in the morning, and as students, we were never made aware. The first time we sensed something was wrong was during our Art class with a teacher nobody liked, Mr. Maskaly. We had only been going to that class for a few days and we grew to hate it. The teacher was old and mean and never had any emotion. But something was not right with him that day. We walked into class and he was just sitting silently at his desk and then he stood up and announced to us that, “Today is going to be a sad day.” That was the only thing we heard about it while we remained in school until 3:20 P.M.

What we later found out, was that the teachers were told of the events but were instructed to not tell any of the students. Many parents also came in, wanting to take their kids out of school, and it was allowed, no questions asked. During the day, kids were randomly being pulled out, but as fifth graders we could not imagine why. We sat there, still going about our day.

When school ended, I walked to the parking lot with everyone else, expecting to get on the bus. It was then when we were confronted by a large mass of worried parents, who converged on the group of kids. I saw my mom and dad, the latter which I was expecting to be at work. My Aunt Marie was also supposed to be visiting that day, and I was looking forward to seeing her, but she was not there. My parents both looked saddened, so automatically I thought that something happened to my Aunt. I asked if she was alright, and they told me she was. They did not elaborate on anything else on the car ride home. When I got home, it was then when they explained to me what happened. I could not grasp what I had just been told.

The World Trade Center was hit by planes and it was not an accident, but intentional. What does that mean? I heard the words “terrorist attack” being thrown around on the television, but I did not know what that was. To be honest, I did not even know what a Muslim was until that day. All I saw were shots of the streets of New York, covered with debris and dust. The video of the plane striking was replayed over and over again. So this is what happened? I sat there, for the rest of the day, mesmerized by what was unfolding on television. I did not understand half of what was being said, but I watched it anyway.

Later in the evening, before sunset, we headed down to Union Beach which overlooks New York City. It was there where we saw a thick cloud of smoke, emanating from the sky line. I can even remember seeing it from my house, which is miles away from that location. There must have been hundreds of people there, looking out on the horizon, some crying, and some praying; everyone was distressed. A small memorial along the guard rails of the beach had already begun to form. There were candles all over the place.

It was this same place where my mom and Aunt came earlier in the day. The attacks happened before my Aunt left to see us, and she called my mom asking if she should still come, and of course, they decided the best place to be was with each other. So they went down to the beach, and even in the morning, a crowd was already forming.

My dad, who worked at WTC from 1979 to 2001, was let go when his company went out of business just months before the attack. He left work early to come be with my mom. She also worked there, from 1986 until 1990, before leaving after she was pregnant with me. My dad was there in 1993 for the first bombing, and he worked up on the 86th floor. Not knowing whether he survived that first attack, my mom was in a panic. These were the days before cell phones and the pay phones were jammed with people trying to call their loved ones. With me in her arms, at only two years old, she then got a phone call from a friend, saying she saw him pass in front of a television camera and was alive and well. He came home early in the morning, wearing a jacket stained with smoke and soot. The handkerchief he covered his nose with is located in a family photo album. He had to walk down 86 flights of stairs, in total darkness except for a small window at the end of every stair well. Had his company not went out of business, and he would have been at work, he would have most likely been killed in the attacks.

And so it was this same person who informed my mom of good news in 1993 to call in 2001 with the news of these attacks. “Julie, it’s the World Trade Center again!” she yelled into the phone at my mom, not able to express her feelings of what was happening any other way. My mom turned on the TV and saw one of the buildings up in smoke. She then ran downstairs to tell my grandma, who lived with us in a basement apartment at the time, when the second plane struck. My mom waited in the living room, and my grandma came out of the bedroom just in time to see the second plane hit. My mom just threw her arms up in the air.

At the same time, Jeff Huber was informed at his job in Woodbridge what had happened. He admits that he laughed when he heard the news of the first plane hitting, because he thought it was someone in a private plane trying to fly between the two towers, something that was stupidly allowed for many years. But when he heard a second plane hit, his reaction went from laughs to shock. For the first time, everyone realized it was no accident. The nation was under attack.

In the next few days after the attacks, I attended many vigils and services in my town of Hazlet and the neighboring Union Beach. It was simply amazing at how united we all were. Complete strangers were consoling one another, and those who worked or had dealings in the towers were telling stories of what used to be. The fifth graders of Beers Street Elementary School were allowed to talk about it as much as we wanted, to prevent it from building up in side of us. I remember being given paper in English class so we could draw pictures of what was going through our heads. We talked about it in class, we talked about it at lunch, and we talked about it after school.

Everyone was completely obsessed with what happened, and worried if any more attacks were coming. Stories then were revealed of people we knew, losing parents or close friends in the attacks, and that was when it really hit home, days later. And so the days passed, and then the months, and the years. The attacks of September 11 were eventually put out of our minds. I will not say they were forgotten, because it would have been impossible, but we needed to move on in a sense, and get back to our lives which at the time, the biggest worry we had was what game we were going to play during recess.

It is now nine years later, and I try not to think about that day except for when it gets close to the anniversary. There will be countless specials on television today, and in the days ahead and behind. But none of them will come close to affecting me in the way my own memories have.

For our grandparents, they had the attacks on Pearl Harbor, our parents had the assassination of John F. Kennedy, and our generation has the September 11 attacks. I can only hope that we will never forget the events of that day, but not only the attack, but how we, as Americans, responded.

Let us never forget the brave firefighters, policemen, and EMT’s who rushed towards the burning buildings when everyone else was running away.They are heroes and deserve to be treated with absolute respect. Let us also never forget the thousands of innocent men and women who were killed that day, and everyone who lost a mother, father, brother, sister, or friend.

God bless you all, and God bless America.

Site News: Will Be Away Until 8/26

I will be away in Pennsylvania for the next week, visiting the Gettysburg battlefield, a tradition I have every year. I try to go close to the anniversary of the battle in early July, but my work schedule and not wanting to be in a place swamped with tourists prevented that this year.

Jeff Huber will be joining me, the co-creator of Franklin & Heard Paranormal. We will be conducting some paranormal research on the battlefield, including visiting a haunted bridge at 3 o’clock in the morning, the “witching hour”.

I am not sure if I will be able to write anything between now and August 26. Certainly if we find anything groundbreaking with the paranormal, I will post it here. But as for sports and movies, there will be no coverage for the next week.

I also believe that my trip to Pennsylvania will bring out the Rangers’ signing of Ilya Kovalchuk, since generally the Rangers have made big free agent splashes when I was in either Gettysburg or Lancaster over the last several years in July.

Aur revoir!

Another Informative and Worthwhile Trip to the Spy House

It seems the majestic lure of the Spy House in Port Monmouth keeps bringing me back time again, and I always bring different people when I go, hoping to give them an experience. We parked across the street and got out, and as we walked towards the main gate of the fence, we heard a lady ask, “Looking for ghosts?”

I turned around and responded, “Yes.” It turns out, she, along with her husband, are the owners of Jersey Joe’s, a restaurant across the street, which we used their lot for parking. The building itself had been there a hundred years, and turned into a well known eatery by her late father-in-law. The other lady that was with the couple was standing by the fence trying to take pictures, but for some reason, the camera was not working.

As we were trying to figure it out, and waiting for the easily triggered motion-sensor lights to turn on, they told us stories of what had happened to them earlier in the day.

That afternoon, a lady had walked into their restaurant with what she referred to as a “Ghost Box”. Unable to get technical, I described to them what it might have been, which is what Jeff had told me about months earlier. If you take a digital radio and remove a certain piece from the inside so that it constantly scans for stations, it creates white noise, which can then be used to talk voice-to-voice with spirits.

Upon this lady’s entrance with the box turned on, all of a sudden they heard a voice come on and say, “My place!’. The husband was startled because it sounded like his late father, who built Jersey Joe’s. Random voices then started talking, including one that could not have been a coincidence.

The word “cancer” was then yelled,which was strange because  a member of their family had just been recently diagnosed with cancer. Then later they heard, “Seven”, which is the number of their house.

It seems that the entire area, and not just the Spy House is haunted. I have never eaten at this restaurant, but I hear it’s good and will have to try it soon in the day time.

She also told us the story of “Abigail’s Window”, which is a window on the front of the Spy House where the spirit of a former resident, Abigail, can be seen sitting. There was also another tale which I never heard before, and that is of a little boy who plays in the surrounding yard, pulling on the hair of visitors, most often little kids.

What they also noted as being strange is the fact that the new owners of the Spy House spent the last year (and lots of money) fixing the place up only to have it closed to the public. This seems like what Jeff and I feel is the case, and that is someone getting hurt inside by a spirit of some kind.

The history of the house also extends far past spies and pirates, but to a more recent time. The house was used for rum-running during Prohibition, and when you see its proximity to the beach behind it, you will know why.

In getting to the pirate, there was something else heard from the ghost box, and they were the words “Captain Tom”. They were not of any significance to anybody there, but could that be the name of the pirate who used the house as a station in the early 1700′s?

This was just a quick little write-up, but I would like to return with more questions for some of the locals to see if we can get more information.

Greg Caggiano and Jeff Huber are the founders of Franklin and Heard Paranormal.

Problems in Society Can Be Directly Traced Back to Youth Sports

When I was little, I always remember my grandma, and to a lesser extent my parents, saying something like, “Kids these days”, in a negative tone, showing their displeasure of the direction society is taking. Now at only nineteen years old, I hear myself saying the same thing sometimes. My two main jobs both include dealing with children. The first is a hockey and skating instructor, where I could be teaching kids anywhere from three to twelve years old. The second is my volunteer job, which is teaching CCD to seventh graders.

By studying their habits and personality, I find myself asking, just where is society headed? It’s not just little kids, but people my age and older as well. Brett Bodner, of From Warm-ups to Tuneups, and I were having this conversation just the other night. We can both agree that the old saying is correct, and we are all “going to hell in a handbasket”. But just where did this all begin? This me-first attitude, where people don’t give a damn about anyone but themselves, and will go out of their way to get what they want, even if it means putting others at risk. There are many factors, such as parenting (which I won’t dare tackle), movies and television, and outside influences. But the one factor that many ignore is youth sports. I was playing hockey, baseball and basketball when I was growing up, starting each one when I was around six years old. This would have put the year at about 1997, which was a few years after youth sports started entering a downhill spiral.

From that moment on, no one in my generation, or the generations to come, will know what it is like to lose in a competitive setting when growing up (middle and high school sports being the lone exceptions). This is because the adults and coaches go out of their way to ensure that no one is upset. Everyone must have fun, and to do that, we cannot have a loser. We must make sure games end in ties, and if they don’t, that no one’s feelings are hurt. This includes every team getting a trophy at the end of a season, regardless of record during the season.

Even when I was little I wondered, “Why should I try hard if I’m going to get a trophy no matter how good I do?” Of course we all try our hardest to win, but if we lose, big deal. We are still getting a trophy. It was not until I was in sixth grade that the local baseball league gave out a trophy for the first place team that was larger than all the others. This was a big deal at the time because it was unheard of. I stopped playing little league shortly after, so I do not know if that tradition continues to this day, but if I had to guess, I would say no. Some parent probably complained that their child suffered psychological damage because he was on the losing team, and actually had to witness the winning team lifting up a larger trophy.

Back in the old days was when youth sports were in their prime, my father grew up on Staten Island playing baseball, football, and stick-ball underneath an overpass on Hylan Boulevard well after the streetlights came on at night. For the leagues he was in, he recounted that the games were competitive, and trophies were given out to the winning team, and the winning team only.

“You either won or you lost,” he says, “There was nothing in between. The winner got the award, and the loser went home. No one cried, no one was traumatized. We were upset, naturally, but it just made us all the more pissed off and wanting to try even harder to win it next year.” This all directly feeds into the me-first mentality. Children grow up today getting rewarded regardless of if they fail or succeed. They don’t get to taste disappointment until they play middle and high school sports, and by that time, it is too late.

Even now as an instructor, we find ourselves trying to get games to end in ties, especially when the kids are young. After one time, when they faced us and we let them win, they started jumping around and yelling. Gloating is one thing that also did not happen “way back when”, or at least not to the extent it happens today. I turned to the other counselor and said, “Next time some losing will do them good.” He agreed, and the next day we beat them. Over the course of the four-day camp, we won twice, and they won twice. It may seem insignificant to an outsider, but I must declare their attitudes were much different by the end of the week. That’s the one thing I love about this job. I wanted it, obviously, because I love hockey and getting paid to play it is something of a dream job for me, since I’ll never make it to professional hockey. But the other reason I wanted it is to get a look at the psychology of children, to study their habits, and gauge their behaviors.

After one game that the children lost, one kid started to cry, and since it was near the end of camp, his mother was there. I thought to myself, “Oh, here we go.” But instead she jumped right on him, told him to stop crying and win next time. Hockey and crying, she said, are two things that just don’t go together. It was then I had a little moment of victory inside and felt that maybe all hope isn’t lost just yet.

But still, how many times do we see it when a parent intervenes and jumps down the throat of a coach, telling him how to do his job. When it comes to baseball, “How come my child is batting last?” Or hockey when, “How come my child isn’t getting as much playing time as John Smith’s child?” One of these days I want the coach to just respond, “Because your kid sucks!”

But no, we can’t say that. We can’t tell the parent that even though you signed your child up for a roller hockey team when obviously he has no interest, can’t skate well, and couldn’t hit the ocean if he was standing in a boat, that that is the reason why he is getting limited playing time. Why can’t we say that? Maybe cause we don’t want to hurt their poor little feelings, or even have lawsuit on our hands.

“You’re kidding Greg, really?”

Nope, just ask the president of the Greater Toronto Sports League, John Gardner, as well as four team coaches who were sued by parents of two children because they were cut after a tryout for the team and did not make it. The amount of money in the lawsuit was a hefty $25,000 each.

This was the reason given for the lawsuit: “Their direct actions have caused irreparable psychological damage to Daniel Longo’s self esteem as an impressionable teenager and demoralized Daniel as an athlete and team hockey player with his peers. The conduct by all defendants destroyed the dignity of my son, whom in good conscience gave his team nothing but his best efforts.” Maybe in your son’s “best efforts” he still sucked was not good enough to make the team.

You would think that with an accusation like that, the two children were personally targeted and let go because the coaches didn’t like their last name, but 70 kids tried out for a team that only required 17 skaters. So that means 53 children left broken-hearted. Maybe they should join the party and sue too. Perhaps the worst (or best, depending on how you’re looking at it) example of babying our young athletes comes from my friend Jeff Huber, who just recently went to his 13-year old niece’s T-ball game. When it was over and he went down to the field, he asked her who won. She responded that she did not know. He asked her how could that be possible, and asked if she was paying attention. Her response was, “We don’t keep score.” Jeff was taken aback by this sentence. Don’t keep score? Then what the hell are you even playing the game for?

She then went on to say that each game ends in a tie, and no runs and any stats are counted. He told her from now on to keep score in her head, so he can at least get some satisfaction that someone cares about the integrity of the game. The reason why this all ties into one’s upbringing, is because if a child is used to everything going his or her way and getting rewarded no matter how bad they are in a particular area, they will expect these rewards to carry over into the real world, when adulthood rears its ugly head.

But the reason why this does not carry over, is because 95% of the generation is the same way, so if everyone is me-first, where does the caring for other people come in? It doesn’t. There used to be a time when you could trust people, regardless of how much you knew them. That time is over, simply because people just do not care. When was the last time someone held a door open for you? And if you held a door open for someone else, when was the last time they said “Thank You”? I consider myself a good person, and hold the door open for people if they are close by. If they choose to not acknowledge me, I will say, “You’re welcome” anyway. Just try that next time, it always gets them to look at you.

So to all parents out there, next time you play a board game with your young child, don’t simply let them win, make them actually try to beat you. To coaches, let inter-squad games end with a winner and a loser, and to those who have children on a competitive team and they lose, don’t sue the coach, get right on their backs and tell them to stop crying, and to win it next year. We all love to win. Whether its sports in gym class, or the championship game of the highest level league you’ve ever played in, those that love sports love to win. But sometimes a little bit of losing will go a long way in helping a young player learn. This includes giving out a trophy to only the winning team, and nothing to the losing team except a handshake and a, “Well, you tried. Go get ‘em next time.” It is better that they get used to losing as a child on a ball-field than in the real world as adults, when reality will make them feel like they got hit by a truck.

Jeff Huber on the Plight of our Homeless Army Veterans

A homeless Vietnam veteran from the 1970's.

[Editor's note by Greg Caggiano] Jeff had been telling me about this for the last few weeks and I finally had to tell him to email it over to me so I could post it on the site. Jeff had a chance to help out our homeless army veterans last year, an action that has no doubt remained with him.

Jeff tells me he wrote this entire piece in the car on the way home, on whatever scraps of paper he could find. He has never spruced it up because he wanted to keep it exactly how it was when he wrote it. He also conveyed to me the horrors of their conditions, and how items we take for granted are items that these men do not have.

We don’t realize that if we want to check the score of a game, or see where our favorite team is in the standings, we just turn on a TV or go on the computer. Jeff mentions there was a soldier asking him how his favorite football team was doing, noting that he has no way to check that. I don’t think we realize how lucky we really are. That these men risked their lives for us, so that we may be sitting at the computer right now reading this article.

Saturday, January 9, 2010, started out as a typical day for me in Pennsylvania.  I awoke at 5:40 am even thought there was no work today.  Not long after, my cell phone rang and it was a friend of mine who had returned from Iraq less than two months ago.  He asked if I would be interested in helping him and his family out in Harrisburg.  What started out as a normal day would not end up like one.  I was on a mission that would change my way of thinking forever.

My friends did not talk too much about the reason for going to Harrisburg.  When we arrived at the gates of the Harrisburg Military Installation, the home of the 28^th Infantry Division, I knew that we were about to embark on something very significant. I was soon informed on our reason for being there.  This was the first time I had ever heard of Operation Stand Down.

This was the fourth year of the Operation, and this year more volunteers participated than any other year in its existence.  With one hundred shirts to be doled out to volunteers, that supply had been quickly depleted. To solve this problem, shirts from previous years were distributed to those donating their time and services.   Operation Stand Down is a way to help out homeless veterans in the United States.  The gymnasium of the Installation was divided into sections in order to give the veterans whatever they needed.  A kitchen on the far end of the hall provided three meals a day for the veterans as well as snacks throughout the day.

Volunteers served up the food and even delivered it to the tables for them.   On the opposite end of the hall was the clothing area.  What I believed to be donated clothing was piled neatly in different sections.  Along with the clothing and jackets were pairs of waterproof and warm boots.  Bags were also distributed with contained the usual toiletries that we take for granted.  One veteran was so happy that he received a small thermos, that he showed to me a number of times.   Located around the edge of the room were different services awarded to the men, some that I did not recognize, but I am sure that they did.

Among these were: environmental services, social work services, benefits counseling, mental heath services, dental services, medication education, and SARRTP.  A barber was even on duty to pride haircuts to the men.   My friends and I, as well as the others, performed a variety of tasks.  These included the cleaning of tables, cooking of the food, the serving of the food, the washing of dishes upon the completion of meals.

But it seemed to me that what the veterans most wanted to do was talk.  I had long conversations with people known only to me as Tom, John and one man who did not tell me his name.  Tom was originally from New Jersey, so as you can imagine, him and I had a lot to talk about.  John mostly wanted to talk football. Being so long without a television, he was very interested in learning how his teams were doing.  Although not a Dallas Cowboys fan, I was more than happy to talk with him.

Other veterans were sitting around talking to each other like they were old friends.  They played cards, checkers, chess and other board games with each other or with the many volunteers in attendance.   By 8:00 pm it was time for us to leave.  The veterans stayed there for overnight.  A big screen television was rolled in so the could watch the football games.  Cots were already being set up, and each man was given a sleeping bag, blanket and pillow for what would finally be a good night’s sleep.

What amazed me the most was to see how cheerful these men were.  It was also surprising to see that a few of homeless men were younger than I am.  I guess I was expecting to see much older men. I don’t know the exact number of homeless veterans, and did not feel the need to research this.  One is too many.

These people fought and even risked their lives for the country, and now they are living on the streets, cold and hungry.  This is how they are repaid for their services?  They are not looking for handouts, they are just in search of the dignity they once had.  One of the most important things that I came to  realize that day is that the things we take for granted, are very important to them.

All Are Invited to Attend Sunday’s Proprietary House Re-enactment

Tomorrow, Sunday, June 13 at 1pm, the Proprietary House in Perth Amboy will be reenacting the 1776 arrest of Royal Governor William Franklin by Colonel Nathaniel Heard under orders from the Provincial Congress of New Jersey.

On the outset of revolution, Franklin was the last remaining governor of any colony who remained loyal to King George III.The congress felt it was time that he be replaced. Since January of that year, he had been placed under house arrest with strict orders to not conduct any private business. But after it was found out that he was secretly trying to sign a peace treaty between East Jersey and England, to get Jersey out of the war, the congress ordered his full arrest.

Governor William Franklin

The congress first ordered Heard to arrest him earlier in the week, but to do so respectfully. Franklin in turn, slammed the door in his face and said he would not be taken by someone he did not respect and was not equal in rank. Heard then reported back to the congress what happened, and they ordered him to use any means necessary.

One of the only known sketches of Nathaniel Heard.

Heard returned to the house on June 19 with sixty soldiers, and dragged the governor out of the house and arrested him. Many townspeople of Perth Amboy were still loyal to him, and he was much respected, even with people in the army who arrested him.

I will be taking part in the re-enactment as a soldier in Heard’s brigade. This is a picture of me after I tried the uniform on. The beard I have has since been turned into mutton chops, as I am trying to be in character as much as possible. I am only hoping the heat won’t be too bad, because I don’t care what anyone says about wool, it is still hot!

My equipment includes the following, and an 1850 Pennsylvania Long Rifle, that is not pictured. The age of the rifle is inaccurate, but it will serve just as well as a flintlock tomorrow.

Jeff Huber, who has given his opinion several times in articles on this site is also taking part as a townsperson.

Kurt Epps, who has played Franklin for several years will be continuing his role.  Here is a video of Kurt from last September as he portrays the governor.

The re-enactment begins at 1pm and is fun for people of all ages. If you have never been to the house, the address is as follows:

The Proprietary House

149 Kearney Avenue

Perth Amboy, NJ 08861

The event is free, however, any donations will be accepted for the upkeep and restoration of the house. Parking is also limited, so please arrive a few minutes early as generally a lot of people show up. Some years we have even had to do two shows to accommodate the large crowds.Please check out this site’s page for the house for more information.

We hope to see you there!

“Pro reg ex patria!” (“For King and Country!”)

Proprietary House: The Third Investigation

Date: May 26, 2010

Location: Proprietary House, Perth Amboy, NJ

Investigators: Jeff Huber, Greg Caggiano, Brett Bodner, Andrew Rodriguez

Report:

This was our first trip back to the house for an investigation since Jeff and I founded Franklin and Heard Paranormal, named after the two famous people associated with the house. It also happened to be the most active night there I have personally experienced, and Jeff said it was high up on his list as well. For Brett and Andrew, it was their first time.

It was mentioned several times to them to not get too excited, because there is always the chance that you will see absolutely nothing, which occurred the last time Jeff and I were there. For the first hour of our three hour venture, there really was not much going on.

Jeff was giving another tour upstairs to two curious onlookers who were passing by the house as we were entering. On top of that, his niece and her friend were also there. With so many people in the house to start off, most noises we heard could be dismissed easily, except for a few.

While sitting in the tea room, famous for blue beams of light that randomly glow outward from the walls, and also the sight of a British soldier who walks through a wall, because of a supposed tunnel that used to be located there during the revolution, we heard noises on a tape recorder that Brett brought along. These noises, which sounded mostly like a thud, followed by shuffling, could not have been causes by the three of us, because we made sure to sit perfectly still.

We asked several questions into the recorder, hoping to catch words in return, but several times we were met with just noises.

When the tour and Jeff’s niece and friend left, it was now the four of us alone in the house. With everything very quiet, we made our way upstairs.

There is a certain window in the dining room that if you look through the glass, you will feel drunk and unbalanced, because a man that died in that very corner was a drunk when he was alive. Without knowing this, Andrew experienced it while standing near the window.

For the next two hours, we would call names, including a few, “God save King George!” and were met with silence. It seemed as soon as we were about to call it a night, that the craziest moments I have ever experienced in a house happened.

With the four of us standing in the foyer, between the dining room and another room used for conferences, we heard a loud thud in the dining room, which was where we placed the tape recorder minutes before. But when we went to listen to it, no noise could be heard. The dining room was now freezing at this point, which is funny because the foyer was muggy and hot.

After that event, Brett and Andrew’s flashlights began to go haywire, flickering on and off randomly, this being after Brett just put two new batteries in his right before we left. We then made our way back into the foyer, and challenged the ghost of a little boy to show himself.

This boy, who always appears in blue, and is named Alex, was supposedly thrown out of a window and killed there in the 1800′s, but no one has ever confirmed that. Whether or not that is how he died, it is sure that he did in fact die in the house.

So anyway, we promised the little boy that we would play around with him, because we know he is a prankster. He often likes to ride the elevator, and play around with visitors. When I called out to the little boy, in the doorway of a room adjacent to the foyer, I saw a small shadow peer out from behind the wall, as if he was seeing who was there. Within ten seconds, we were all hit with chills.

We walked to where I saw the shadow, and Brett pulled a battery out of his flashlight, promising to roll it to the boy so he could play with us and roll it back. It was then when Brett dropped the battery, and just as he was bending over to pick it up, he felt a little tug on the side of his shirt. Clearly startled, he jumped around and looked at us, and none of us were within five feet of him. He told us what happened, that it was like a “playful” tug.

After the rolling the battery around on the floor, it was to no avail, or so it seemed. After a few good rolls, it would stop dead in the same spot of the floor twice, and one spot in the same area, it just continued on, hitting the wall.

When we walked over to that area, I flicked on the light switch, and the bulb blew out. We were going to remain in darkness.

All of us headed down the hallway to take a look up the stairs. Because of how the winding staircase was built, you can see right up to the fifth floor. I yelled, “Is there anyone up there?” and within five seconds, shadows started moving like crazy on the walls by the stairs, and once again, all of us felt chills down our spines. My left arm then went numb, and I had a headache that didn’t go away for hours. Jeff would feel the same.

We then went into the conference room where Jeff told us more stories about the house. After about twenty minutes, Brett, Andrew, and I went back to the dining room. As we were setting up the tape recorder, all of us stopped and looked at each other at the same time. Eerily, we all said exactly the same word: “Tobacco!”

Clear as day we smelt pipe tobacco where we were standing, not even faint, but a distinct odor, causing Andrew to cough. It smelled like after you have a pipe going and you put it out, the smell that is left over on the burnt remains. After about thirty seconds it disappeared, but reappeared two more times in the next few minutes.

The dining room was now back to a normal temperature, and the presence we felt for the previous twenty minutes was gone.

Our night was over.

Greg Caggiano and Jeff Huber are the founders of Franklin and Heard Paranormal.

Return to Spy House Confirms Sighting from Previous Visit

Jeff and I returned to the Spy House for the second time in less than a week, mainly because we got something on camera that was unexplainable. If you look at this picture closely, you will notice something in the bottom, right window, next to the door. Before I explain what I think it is, look for yourself and make a decision, because the power of suggestion can make people see things that they would not normally see. Please click on photo to enlarge.

Now that you have seen for yourself, I will explain what we think it is. It caught my eye the first time I reviewed it on the computer, and after maximizing the size and zooming in as best as I could, I can say, almost without a doubt, that it looks like a head half in shadows. If you look closely at the left side of the head, the side in shadow, you can see something protruding outward, like a nose. Because this is seen sticking out of the shadow, that means that whatever it is, is not a flat object.

Here is a closer look at it, after zooming in and cutting it out of the original photo. It’s gets blurry, but it is still noticeable.

When we returning to the house last night, our goal was to take pictures of every window individually, because again, we saw shadows moving by them on the side that is not adjacent to the road. We did not really notice anything, but after Jeff takes a closer look at them, we may find something.

But to confirm this head in the window, I took a shot of the house last night, from almost the exact same spot. It was as close to where I was originally that I could get. Notice how the same light is in the window, but this time, there is no object.

Whatever the object is, it’s not a permanent fixture, and since no one is allowed in the house (not even workers at this point) no one could have possibly moved anything around to make that object visible to the camera lens. We are not quick to call something a paranormal sighting, because so many things can contribute to playing around with the mind.

But this object is clearly visible, and as of right now, all things considered, we still do not have an explanation for it.

Jeff will be trying in the next few weeks to make an effort to actually get us in the house to investigate. That will be easier said than done, considering all the stories we have heard about why the house closed down, such as people getting pushed down the stairs and seriously injured.

What is even more eerie, though, is the fact that there are no signs for the house, and no official website. For a house that is famous for it’s hauntings and has been covered by establishments such as Weird New Jersey, it is so strange that the people in charge are acting like they do not want anyone to know it exists.

If we were to get in, though, it would definitely be worth our while. After doing some research on the house, we have learned that a pirate who used this as a station in the early 1700′s used to store the dead bodies of all the people he killed in the basement. It may be because of that why such an evil and cold presence can be felt when standing on the property.

We got the feeling the first time, and we got it again last night; a ghost being in the house is one thing, but it becomes entirely more personal when you realize that the ghost knew we were there, and he wanted us to go away.

We are going to stick to short, twenty minutes bursts when investigating the house, especially after I found out that spirits can latch onto a person, and follow you home. After which they leave whenever they see fit. Most of the times it is not for long, but there have been instances where priests had to be called in to do an exorcism of the house.

There is something enigmatic about this house, that will inevitably call upon our return there again in the next few days. Because of this sighting of what we think is a head, I want more pictures of that window from every angle possible, to see if that object appears again. If it does not, then we will confirm it as a sighting with 100% confidence. Currently, I am at about 95% sure.

Greg Caggiano and Jeff Huber are the founders of FRANKLIN AND HEARD PARANORMAL. Please visit their website here.

Twenty Minutes at the Spy House was More Than Enough

“I’ve seen enough!” is what Jeff Huber yelled to me after we both saw the shadow of a floating head in one of the upstairs windows of the old Spy House in Port Monmouth, New Jersey, last night. We had only stayed twenty minutes, and although we had not gone inside, we wanted to get out of there.

The Spy House is one of the more legendary attractions in New Jersey, known for it’s ghosts and paranormal activity. But it has since been acquired by new ownership, and renamed “Bayshore Waterfront Park”. It’s lame, I know. Want to know what’s worse? How about when it re-opens, the people working inside are not allowed to mention ghosts. Along with no mention of the entities who have made the place their eternal home, there also will be no mention of spies in any tour given from now on. Jeff had always heard stories of people getting hurt at the house, but now we realized, someone must have gotten seriously injured.

With a house that has so much potential money to make, and notoriety to earn, there would be no other reason to not mention ghosts, unless you were trying to keep something quiet. Jeff told me of instances where people had been pushed down the stairs, and even smacked around. Some cases leading to severe injury. There are so many spirits at the house, dating back to when it was used as a station by a pirate, who psychic Jane Doherty claimed still resides there. There are also countless figures from the America Revolution, as it was used to spy on British ships sailing through Raritan Bay.

So there we were. It was such a spur of the moment thing. He called, we went, and we left in a hurry! The perimeter was surprisingly not fenced in, so we got pretty close to the house, but not within an arm’s length. We snapped shots of every inch of the house, especially aiming for the windows, hoping we would catch something.

At three separate occasions, Jeff noticed a shadow walking by a top window (pictured middle, below).

It was when he turned away to go to another area did I see the same shadow move too. This was the side of the house not facing the road, so it was not a reflection of any passing cars, but an actual shadow. Ten minutes later, however, we would both see something that made us want to get out of there as fast as we could. We were standing in the back of the house, and at the exact same time, we both looked to each other and said, “Something does not want us here.” In those exact words.

Orbs or just dust on the lens?

Jeff is as close to a veteran as one can get with dealing with this kind of activity, and he says he felt something that he never felt before. It was like an evil emanating from the house. Something indeed did not want us there. So were turned and went around to the side to take some final pictures, when we saw the shocker of a lifetime.

In the window (middle floor, all the way to the left, on another section of the house) we saw the shadow of a head looking right at us. It is not in the picture below, because that was taken at a different time by me, but Jeff has it on his camera, and we are hoping to get it uploaded soon. However, when looking at the view box on his camera after the shot, the shape of the head looks more like a square, which was really strange.

We will be returning there in the next few days, as we feel that short twenty-minute bursts would be better than one visit of a few hours. Our cameras will be rolling again, hoping that we can capture more of the spirit world. Until then, I have added a paranormal category to this site’s side-bar, because a lot more of these will be on there way in the next few weeks.

As a side note, after getting home and reviewing the pictures, I noticed something strange in the photo. It caught my eye immediately. Because the power of suggestion is really strong, and could sway someone into thinking they see something that is not really there, I will not point it out. But do you see anything strange in this photo?

Proprietary House Paranormal Investigation, November ’09

It has been months since I got a chance to go on a private paranormal investigation of the Proprietary House in Perth Amboy, New Jersey, but since I have another chance to go tonight, I figured I would post this here on the site, hopefully being able to do another one tomorrow, should we see anything spooky there again.

In November of 2009, my history professor at the time, and good friend now, Jeff Huber, invited myself along with two others to do some investigating in the house that famed psychic Jane Doherty called the second most haunted place in New Jersey, behind only the Spy House in Port Monmouth. There is so much colonial history in this state, which triggered Mark Moran and Mark Sceurman to create the magazine Weird New Jersey, which has developed a cult-like following.

Getting back to the Proprietary House, it is older that America itself, as it was built in 1762 to serve as the mansion for the Royal Governor of New Jersey, who at the time, was William Franklin, son of the famous rebel Benjamin. It was when times got turbulent when the nation was on the brink of revolution did tempers flare between Franklin and his peers.

He got into an argument with his father, who was so annoyed at William’s reluctance to join the colonist’s side, that he stormed out of the house, never to see his son again. He was a loyalist, and would not allow himself to join the side of the rebelling Americans. It was here when the Continental, or some say, Provincial Congress, sent a Colonel named Nathaniel Heard to arrest Franklin. The first time they tried, they were told to use caution, and when they knocked on the door, Franklin slammed it in their faces. They returned to the Congress and were advised to use any means necessary to bring him in. So they approached the house with at least fifty armed soldiers and dragged him outside, where he was arrested.

Ever since that time, the house has manifested many different spirits, as after it was the Governor’s Mansion, it served as a hotel for a brief time, as well as an orphanage and Civil War hospital for officers after the battle of Gettysburg. There are at least four confirmed spirits who make regular appearances, including that of Franklin, a little boy in blue who likes to play around with visitors, an old one-armed man who used to roll his own cigarettes, and a lady in a white dress who stands by the window, presumably the apparition of Mrs. Franklin, though unconfirmed. One of the funniest stories I have heard about this house is the number of times the police have came, asking the people in charge to remove the manikins from in front of the window, because they are distracting to the drivers. You guessed it, there are no manikins in the windows. The police have also responded to several alarms sounded in the house, which they assumed to be burglars. However, when they arrived, they determined that the house was never broken in to, and everything was left undeserved.

So on November 6, 2009, myself along with Jeff Huber (who is currently working on a book about Heard), John Hemenway, and Dan Wright, went into the Proprietary House with cameras rolling. We shot a little more than an hour of footage, and although it may sound cliche, we got nothing on film. Everything that we saw and heard happened when the cameras were off or turned away. Some of the noises we heard are audible on film, though. During our two hours spent there, we encountered four distinct instances of paranormal activity. Below is my report on what happened:

1. We went into the main dining room where most of the activity had been reported. In order to try and provoke the spirit, I shouted “Continental Congress”, since it was that governing body that ordered Franklin’s arrest. It was met with two distinct knocks. We yelled it a second time and the same thing occurred. We kept trying but we would hear it no more.

2. There is a door in the room right next to the dining room that ghosts like to play around with. Dan closed it and made sure it was latched. When we returned about twenty minutes later, the door was opened halfway. Keep in mind that this door was latched, and the four of us remained together at all times, to ensure that anything we found was genuine.

3. This next one is something that only I saw. There were two rooms connected to one another by a doorway. I was standing in the hallway looking in and I turned my head and saw someone walking to the next room. I then turn to John and said, “Jeff just walked into the next room.” But then Jeff came out of the other room and said, “No, I’m right here.” There was no way he could have walked into the next room, and everyone else was behind me. We later found out that the area I saw someone walking is where the lady in white often is seen, but I did not know that prior.

4. This last one is something that literally made John jump three feet out of his shoes. I was standing looking into a mirror. The mirror has a reflection of the window in it. I swear I saw a shadow walk in front of the mirror but John had walked near me at the exact same time so I dismissed it. But then I told everyone to be perfectly still, and for him to walk in front of the mirror again. He did and there was no shadow this time, meaning I really did see something. But when John walked towards me like I told him to, he stopped, turned around, looked into the mirror and we saw the shadow of a man walk clear across the front of the mirror. That part we would have had on film, had John not jumped right in front of the lens out of fright (I could kill him for that!).

Jeff also reported to us that while he was waiting in the parking lot for us to arrive, a light on the upstairs floor turned on by itself. There was no one in the house at that point. Dan also claims to have seen the figure of someone crouching near a doorway when he was separated from the three of us. Lastly, we all saw a chandelier shaking, but we are reluctant to claim that that was paranormal, and not just a draft.

Other than that, there was the occasional cold spot and chill of the spine. One got me really good, just went we saw the shadow pass in front of the mirror which is kinda strange because it would have been reflecting the window on the wall behind me. John also happened to smell the scent of mustard when he was in the room that used to be the kitchen.

We all went in with the mentality that the house is not haunted, even though I believed in ghosts prior. We were all annoyed that nothing conclusive came up on film, as well as the hundreds of pictures we took in the two hours we were there. When we return tonight, we will not have a video camera with us, just regular cameras. We will try to take as many pictures as we can, hoping that something will show up on one that we did not see with our own eyes.

Side note: This house was featured on an episode of the Sci-Fi series “Ghost Hunters”. After a thorough examination, they could not debunk the place, and confirmed it as haunted.