The NY Abandoned Hotel • Crazy people don’t have to explain anything.

My buddy Shawn and I pulled into a little town in upstate New York just before 11AM on January 16, 2015 — eager to explore the abandoned hotel on the top of the hill. The hotel is a massive 5 story structure that’s rotting away, just off of Main Street. This particular morning it was snowing and temperatures were dropping. We didn’t care, we were on a mission. We walked around the perimeter of the building and noticed that all of the fire escapes had been removed and every door, window and opening had been completely sealed. Or so we thought. We walked around one more time and noticed one section where the plywood had been removed. We crawled inside and found ourselves in a small room that led into the hotel kitchen. 

Jackpot!

Inside it looked like a giant movie set — something James Cameron would drool over. Even though this place had been closed for many years, it was amazing how much stuff was left behind. In the kitchen were stacks of dishes, coffee pots, cereal bowls, and a even a jacket hanging on a hook. Amazing place, trapped in time. And we had so much more to cover.

We made our way from the kitchen into the dining hall. Wow! The light coming through the windows was perfect and even though most of the tables and chairs were broken and scattered around, you could easily picture what the place looked like in its heyday, full of life and activity. It was very quiet in the hotel, and on this particular morning, you could hear a pin drop. It was only 12°, but we didn't notice, or maybe we didn't care.

From the dining room, we headed across the dark lobby into the hotel ballroom — an enormous room filled with more broken chairs and tables, as well as a stage at the far end. We snapped a bunch of pictures and then headed behind the stage where there was a bathroom and some offices. This area was ransacked, with paperwork scattered everywhere.

It was now 12PM and I had already taken 65 pictures.

That’s when we heard it: 

Zzzzzzziiit.  

Zzzzzzzziiit. 

It sounded far away at first so we ignored it. Then a few minutes later we heard it again. 

Zzzzzzziiit.

Zzzzzzzziiit. 

Shawn said it sounded like a 3-inch screw going into a piece of wood. Huh? What? Where? I peeked through a tiny, little hole and outside, about 10 feet away, was a large man with a cordless electric screwdriver. He was outside, removing the wooden boards blocking a door. Those screws were coming out.

Holy fucking shit.

What do we do now? Hide? Pray? Run? Where do we run to? Who do we pray to? Where do we hide? He was right outside, removing the fucking door. Surely, we’d have to run past him to get back to the kitchen. By the time I peeked through the hole again, he was gone. But wait a minute, we could still hear that sound.

Zzzzzzziiit.

Zzzzzzzziiit. 

Oh shit, he was now inside the hotel and he was boarding up the door he came in — trapping us inside with him. Holy mother fucking shit.

Like Michael Myers in Halloween, this big, scary man in a hoodie stepped slowly into view. I froze. He turned and looked right at me. He was pissed. Instinctively I said, “How you doing?” Well, Mr. Myers lost it. He went on a complete tirade, yelling at us about how we broke the law and how we were trespassing and how he could call the cops, have our asses thrown in jail or shoot us and bury us in the woods.

And no one would ever find us.

He demanded to know how we got in. We swore we came through an opening off of the kitchen that someone else had made. He already knew that, of course, because he saw our footprints in the snow. 

Dumbasses.

We quickly figured out that this caretaker-groundskeeper-psycho already sealed up the way we came in. Shit, shit, shit. In between threats of taking our cameras and throwing our asses in jail, we tried to engage him by asking him questions about the hotel. We were truly interested and hoped we could win him over so he wouldn't kill us. As he checked windows to make sure they were secure, I removed the memory card from my camera and put it in my front pocket. That motherfucker wasn't getting my pictures.

We continued to ask him questions as he wandered around the first floor. He fumed about all of the people he has caught vandalizing, stealing and of course, wackos like us taking pictures. Clearly, he was hoping when he caught us that we would be spray painting or destroying the place, so he could “toss our asses out the window.”

He was nuts, and the only exit was still boarded up. We had been following Charles Manson around for 2 hours now. In an angry voice, he said that we were wasting his time – time that he should have spent working. Mr. Bipolar was confusing us again. We apologized profusely and assumed he was going to just kick us out.

One of the creepiest things he said was that sometimes he comes into the hotel and just sits in a chair and waits — waits for trespassers to arrive ... or come out of hiding."Kids ain't got no fuckin' patience. They'll hide for a little while, but they always come out eventually.”

Creepy Ass Mo Fo.

He continued to lecture us, and we followed him like scared puppies back into the kitchen where he tried to call his boss on his flip phone. My iPhone was so cold that it wouldn't work. It displayed a thermometer icon and said, "Please try again later."

LATER? 

I'll be dead, later.

He tried calling again and eventually got his boss’s voicemail and with his back to us, he yelled into the phone. He said that he had found two “critters” exploring the hotel and wanted to know “what to do with them.” After he hung up, he said it would be up to the old man to decide our fate. Since he called him “the old man” I asked if they were related. He said, “no, I just call the cocksucker that." He had a way with words. He went on to tell us about how much the old man farts and burps and never leaves his fucking house, while he, on the other hand, was in the hotel choking and breathing in mold and asbestos. He told us a heartwarming story about when he locked his boss in the bathroom and blew a fart in his "fucking face." He was totally trashing this guy and it was impossible not to laugh. He enjoyed having an audience, too. He was funny and we were laughing at all the right moments. Welcome to the Twilight Zone. 

As we wandered back to the lobby, Shawn asked him what year the hotel closed. He started shuffling through papers and receipts that were scattered around. He pointed to one that was dated 2004. A few minutes later he grabbed a hotel brochure and put it down on the front desk. “There! There’s a souvenir for ya!”, he said, as if he had been searching for hours.

How nice.

And aha! He wasn’t going to kill us, after all. I mean, he was offering us a souvenir. We're all friends now!

Suddenly it was like at the end of The Wizard Of Oz when you realized the mean old wizard is just — a man. His entire demeanor changed. The evil drained right out of him and he said, “Well, I might as well give you a tour of the place.” 

Whaaa, whaaaaaa, whaaaaaat?

That’s when Shawn offered him a hug. 

Grumpy's reaction was priceless: a "touch-me-and-you're-a-dead-motherfucker" kind of look.

Suddenly, it was like waiting for Disney World to open and we were the first two kids in line. I put the memory card back into my camera (for the third time) and we followed Norman Bates up the stairs to the second floor of the hotel.

We hit every room, every bathroom, every closet, every inch of that amazing hotel. That poor, historic building was totally trashed, but it was still full of furniture and even some belongings. There were beds, nightstands, TVs, phones, shower curtains, blankets, sheets, pillows, you name it. 

Some rooms looked horrendous and others looked as if someone had just been sleeping in them. Some closets had clothes hanging in them. The wallpaper and carpeting in each room was outrageous and very dated. Even though the place closed in 2004, the décor was still totally 70’s.

Marcia Brady would have loved it.

"Look in every toilet and you’ll see that someone has taken a shit!” He was right. And maybe that's why he decided to piss out the fucking window.

True story. Crazy people don’t have to explain anything.

While Shawn and I went from room to room, taking pictures – Freddy Krueger gave us the director’s commentary.

It was 3PM now. 

He called his boss again and this time he got through: “I had ‘em boxed in ... I had ‘em scared and I fucking boarded up the God damn way they got in. Then I came in the back door and I fucking boarded that door up so they couldn’t get away. You know me … I lock ‘em in so I God damn got ‘em … I left the gun in the fucking truck though … “

The more he talked, the louder he got: “I found two fuckers in here and I had to shoot ‘em and they ran. I got fucking blood all over the God damn place. I gotta do something to get the fucking blood out of here. And I need to find a fucking spot to bury them. Gonna drag ‘em up there to that pit up on top the hill!”

Wait a minute! Was this his routine? Is this what he does every time he catches someone —he scares the living shit out of them and then offers them a tour? Can it be?? Then again, maybe there was no boss and he was just pretending to be on the phone with someone. If that was the case — then we were fucked. 

He hung up with his boss who said he was on his way. We had no idea if it was true. We continued exploring the rest of the hotel. The top floor was tiny with merely two bedrooms and access to the elevator shaft. From the back room and the highest part of the hotel Hannibal Lecter started yelling out the window. Turns out his boss was real and he was now outside. Our fearless leader screamed and yelled at him while he tossed lamps - and anything else he could grab - out the window. We were on the 5th floor.

He was in rare form:“I’m up on top of the world mother fucker! I still got my boys here. I won’t let ‘em leave. Deciding whether I should shoot them or not.” There he goes again. He was a regular drama queen, without the wig and lipstick.

After yelling about farting and what he had for breakfast, he went on to say, “I forgot to buy you that damn butt plug I saw on-fucking-line. I was gonna buy you that for Christmas. Super size one too. Jam that thing right up your fucking ass. Had a strap on it. Strap it right around the fucking front of you. Make sure it didn’t blow out. Hey you fucking limp dicked bitch. NO, I HAVEN'T BEEN FUCKING DRINKING YET, I'M GONNA DRINK WHEN I GET HOME! My ears are getting cold while you sit in your warm truck … fucker!”

Out. Of. Control.

Hilarious.

The best part? I was videotaping. The look on Shawn's face was priceless. It was a range of emotions from amusement and excitement to terror and just plain old "what the fuck?”

So, the "boss" was real, but he never came in the building. It was pretty clear that we were not in trouble ... at all.  How did we manage that? As the three of us headed downstairs, Captain Cuckoo gathered up various things that he had set aside to take with him.

Hmmm. He worries about kids stealing, eh?

By this time, we were practically family, so I asked, "how about a tour of the basement?" That’s where we headed next. We were warned to be careful as the floor was sinking in various spots.

The basement was made up of several sections, all very dark and some were pitch black. There was the spa, the hair salon, the boiler room, the laundry room and access to underneath the ballroom. Yep, we followed him there too. He showed us every pipe, gadget, fixture and tub. There was a huge piece of debris blocking the hair salon, so he picked it up and moved it out of the way so we could take some good pictures. Thanks, Bigfoot!

After the basement tour, it was time to go back upstairs. It was now 4:45PM. It was getting dark outside and getting even darker inside the hotel. My iPhone was working again. Yay! It was 9° in the Hotel Adler. We were shivering as Jack Nicholson made his way back into the kitchen. We followed, both of us wondering why we weren't leaving yet. He didn't seem to want this day to end. He had made some friends. In the kitchen he found a large contraption he said was a dough maker – used to make dinner rolls. It was pretty impressive and he really seemed to know his shit. Then again, what do we know about making bread? After doing some research, it turns out he was right.

There was a funny moment when Shawn shined his flashlight on a pitcher in the kitchen sink. He yelled, “looks like someone took a piss here!”  Sam Kinison yelled, “They probably fucking did!” Meanwhile, I was the one who had taken a piss! When those two were on the other side of the kitchen I relieved myself in a beer pitcher. I certainly wasn't going to ask for permission to whip it out and take a leak. I've seen Deliverance.

We made our way back behind the dining room and then across the lobby and into what used to be the hotel synagogue, where our exit door was sealed tight. It was sooooo dark in there now. Wow. What an experience we were having, and it was almost over. It was like the end of the Poseidon Adventure when they were cutting through the hole in the bottom of the ship. 

We were almost free. 

I didn't want it to end.

Using that cordless screwdriver again, Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor removed the wood that was across the door and out we stepped. The sun was quickly going down. He put the items that he was taking into his truck which was already full of junk. He suddenly yelled, "I'm a packer —but I'm not a fudge packer!" 

Classy guy. 

He sealed up the door to the hotel as we stood behind him and watched. We weren’t quite sure how to say goodbye to someone who had held us hostage and threatened to kill us, and then took us on a 6-hour tour and made us laugh our asses off. 

Plus, that motherfucker wouldn't stop talking! Any thoughts of inviting him with us to dinner quickly disappeared. We had definitely had enough of him and needed to get the hell out of Dodge.

As he shook Shawn's hand, he introduced himself as Mark. Shawn introduced himself as Bill. I introduced myself as Jim. Inside I was laughing hysterically since Shawn and I had been calling each other by our real names all day.

Guess we're all nuts.

We both thanked "Mark" for showing us around such an amazing place. I think he realized how much we appreciated the experience and knew we would never forget it. In return he thanked us and said that he really isn’t around people much and is in fact, kind of lonely. It was very touching and sad. Spending the day with us was clearly the highlight of his week, if not year. It’s definitely an experience that Shawn and I will never forget, as well.

I just hope we don't find out that our new BFF actually died 10 years ago … or never existed.

WARNING: PLEASE NOTE THAT TRESPASSING IS ILLEGAL AND I DO NOT RECOMMEND IT. THOSE WHO DISREGARD THIS ADVICE RUN THE RISK OF BEING ARRESTED AND CHARGED. THIS BLOG IS ONLY ONE PERSONS EXPERIENCE. YOURS MAY BE DIFFERENT.

The Blairstown Cottage • Over the river and through the woods.

On July 8, 2014, I was doing a little exploring in Blairstown, NJ and found a small cottage in the woods. It was truly in the middle of nowhere, with no signs of life and a barely passable driveway. I actually drove by the entrance and almost missed it. Something told me to turn around and see if there was anything interesting back there. There was. You couldn't even see the house from the main road but it was definitely worth the short trek into the woods. 

The house itself was small and at first I wasn't really sure if it was occupied or not. Logic told me it had to be abandoned, based on the surroundings.  I cautiously drove up to the house and parked my car near the garage. There were no other cars around which reassured me that the place was probably vacant. A peek inside confirmed it. The poor house was trashed, but still filled with personal belongings. Not only was there still furniture inside but there were also photographs, books, knick knacks and paperwork. Tons of paperwork.

Even though there was a sadness to this place, I was excited to go from room to room and see what I could find. I explored the entire first and second floor with my camera in one hand and my flashlight in the other. I was even in the crawl space over the dining room. God, it was dark up there. I would have gone in the basement but when I opened the door I was confronted with several cave crickets that were waiting to pounce on my head. The sight and sound of them scurrying around was too much. No thanks!!

I also found a real gem: a very large, dusty, old journal. It was like something out of a Harry Potter movie. The contents of the book seemed to be related to paint or color formulas. I didn't really understand it, but it was an awesome, old book. I took it home with me with the intention of going back at another time to get more stuff. I knew it wouldn't be long before this house and its contents would be gone forever ... or trashed beyond saving.

So, what happened to the owners of this place, I wondered? Why was their stuff left behind? Dolls on the floor in one bedroom, paint supplies in another. Upstairs, in what would have been the master bedroom, I found a filing cabinet full of paperwork and a framed diploma on the floor.

My second visit was the following month, on August 30th. It was a Saturday morning and I arrived very early — 7:30AM. I was alone, but I'm used to being alone. Once again, I navigated the overgrown driveway, about a quarter of a mile into the woods, to arrive at the little abandoned cottage. I parked parallel to the garage, again — facing the way out.

The surrounding forest was so quiet, so still. Every now and then I could hear the faint sound of a leaf tumbling off a tree, softly hitting the ground. There were no bird sounds, no nearby traffic sounds — nothing.  It was so early and so quiet that it made me uncomfortable. The world had not woken up yet. I paced around outside the house, trying to get in some sort of comfort zone. My pacing made noise.

I spent a few minutes trying to get comfortable by taking a selfie near the garage. I used the window sill of my car as a tripod. The garage doors and roof were in bad shape. The garage itself was full of car tires, suitcases, garbage, furniture and an old boat. Next to the garage was a small storage trailer. Its contents were spilling out on to the ground. 

Just behind the garage was a discarded stuffed animal. I wondered who's it was.

Were the owners of the house in the middle of packing up when they decided to just abandoned the place? I had forgotten about the name on the diploma, so I still didn't have any information on the place. 

After a few minutes I made my way over to the cottage and took some exterior shots. The view from my vantage point was the side and back of the house. The real front of the house faced the woods. I doubted the original owners ever used their front door.

I walked closer to the house. The windows looked so dark from the outside. If anyone was in there looking out, I never would have seen them. I looked up at the tiny attic window above the dining room and thought, "how did I ever have the balls to go in there?" For the first time on one of my explorations, I really felt alone and isolated. What am I doing here alone? What if? What if? I was starting to freak myself out. I was oddly uncomfortable. I noticed the back door was closed and remembered that I had purposely left it open when I was there a few weeks earlier. Obviously, I am not the only one that knows about this place, yet I still wondered who closed the back door.

As I walked past the dining room windows I could see clear through the small living room and into one of the back bedrooms. Everything was in silhouette but I could see that the Asian dolls that had been scattered on the bedroom floor on my last visit — were now neatly placed on the window sill. 

How creepy ... and cool!

And creepy. 

I would have to get a picture when I get inside!

After a few more exterior shots I got up the nerve to go in the back door. There was a chalkboard on the wall in the utility room that "visitors" had written on. The earliest date was 3/1/12, which made me wonder if the house had been abandoned for only 2 years.

I didn't waste any time, and went over to a drawer full of yearbooks and loose family photos. I started to shuffle through them. Because the house is surrounded by woods, the room I was in seemed extremely dark. The curtains were all closed, so that didn't help. I used my flashlight to get a better look at the photos that I was rummaging through. I also snapped a few pics from where I was standing, and used a flash. That is when I heard a rumbling sound coming from above. It's a sound I've heard before ... and assumed it was a bird or squirrel in the attic ... or something on the roof. After all, there was no second floor in that section of the house. I also thought I heard a noise just outside the window. Probably a deer walking by.

I decided to ignore all of the audible distractions. I mean, the condition of that house did not indicate that anyone in their right mind would be living there. I gathered up a handful of photos and headed out to my car. I knew I would be making several trips. I put them in the trunk and then went back to the house to get more stuff. This time I went around to the front door, which was open— just like last time. Getting to the front door was the hard part, due to an uprooted tree and the thickness of the woods. With a little effort, I made it. I stood there, in the front door of the house and took several shots of the living room. Behind the front door was an old piano. I leaned on the door frame to keep my camera steady and aimed my camera towards the stairs. It was not the brightest room and my camera was having trouble focusing. I got frustrated and set it to manual and took another shot.

Then a noise broke the silence: Thhhhhhhhhump! 

It came from upstairs. 

I completely froze. 

My brain was quickly trying to figure out what was happening. What the hell was that loud noise? It was not a noise I had ever heard before. It was like a sound from a movie — a sound they added later ... to scare the crap out of you.

Then it happened again: Thhhhhhhhump! 

I kept my eyes focused on the living room stairs, expecting to see someone or something coming down. 

Again: Thhhhhhhhhhump! 

It was getting louder. It sounded like someone with a wooden leg, but with a metallic noise mixed in. It was as if they were dragging their leg and then stomping but they weren't doing it to scare me ... they were doing it because they had to.

What the fuck is that?

After the forth Thhhhhhhhhhhhhhump! I turned around, walked out — and casually headed to my car. I think I was in shock. It was the longest walk I've ever taken and it was only about 30 feet. The hardest part was passing the living room windows, then the dining room windows — wondering if someone was now at the bottom of the stairs watching me. I was asking myself why I waited for the forth Thhhhhhhhump!  Why didn't I leave sooner? 

Why wasn't I fucking running? 

Am I about to get shot in the back? 

It was absolutely terrifying.

As soon as I was close enough, I used my remote to unlock the car. I got in, started it up and drove through the woods to the main road. The entire time I was looking in my rearview mirror to see if anyone was chasing me. No one was. The forest was so thick that when I looked to the left, I could not even see the cottage.

I don't know what I heard that morning, but it was very loud and was definitely coming from inside the house ... upstairs. It was not a vulture or a raccoon or a squirrel. The sound had a heaviness to it, like a person. I heard no animal sounds — no grunting, no breathing, no flapping. And there was no sense of urgency. Whatever it was, it did not seem to be intentionally coming after me or even know that I was there. Was it a squatter that woke up? Maybe, when I put those items in my car, I woke them up when I closed the trunk? 

God, it wasn't even 8:15 in the morning and I had already had the living shit scared out of me.

Later, when I looked at my pictures, I noticed a pristine toothbrush and a disposable razor in one of the medicine cabinets. In another shot, was a seemingly brand new roll of toilet paper. It's quite possible that someone was using this place to crash and I had almost come face to face with them.

As far as the name on the diploma that I found — I had to do a little research. The owners of the property were John and Alma M. John died in 1978 at age 72 and Alma died in 1984 at age 81. Jack and Jed were their sons. Jack died in 1993 at the age of 61 and Jed died at age 76 in August of 2014. In other words, Jed had just passed away. According to Google, Jed and his wife Rosemary lived in West Caldwell, NJ. Jack may have lived at the family farm, in Blairstown. 

So, how long was the house abandoned? Was it two years as suggested by the chalkboard writing or was it really more like 21 years ... since Jack passed away? The mystery continues. And according to Jed's obituary, Jed was affililiated with a multi generation family Printing Ink business. 

That explains the book I found. Hopefully there aren't any ghosts out there that are angry that I took it.  

But wait, there's more. 

After I told everyone I've ever met about this experience, a woman I used to work with sent me the following note:

My crazy (not kidding) brother is hiding in abandoned houses in the woods there, I suspect. I also suspect he has a gun. I'm serious ... He doesn't care if there's a bed to sleep in, and if the house is well hidden that would be perfect, in his mind. I moved to get away from him. He lived for years in the very cold Black Forest in Germany in the attic of an abandoned house. No bed, no electric, no running water. He showered in the rain. He was arrested when a hiker discovered his pot farm in the woods and he spent 2 years in prison there. When the police came for him he stood on the door to the attic so they couldn't open it.

To be continued ...

Google Earth view • Garage visible in the center of this photo

The Waretown House

When I came out of this house there was a man walking by. He asked me what I was doing. I told him I wanted to document this house cause eventually it would crumble or get torn down. He got very sad and told me he hadn't been inside for at least 40 years. 

He said the family had died off and the house became abandoned. I asked him if he knew that there was still some furniture and stuff in there. He shook his head and walked off saying, "I ain't going in there ... ".