Sightings - Check In To The Stanley Hotel: Colorado, 1952

Episode Date: June 9, 2025

Journey to the historic and infamous Stanley Hotel, where one couple seeking healing finds themselves entangled in a chilling bargain with the spirits that still roam its halls. Because some hotels can't quite let go of their guests. Thanks RAYCON EVERYDAY EARBUDS for sponsoring this episode. Help Sightings out and check out ⁠buyraycon.com/sightings ⁠to get 15% off their awesome Everyday Earbuds! Sightings is a REVERB and QCODE Original. Find us on instagram @sightingspod Shout out to the amazing composer of this week's story music, Madison James Smith! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hi, I'm Tara Schmidt, a registered dietician and host of On Nutrition, a podcast for Mayo Clinic, where we dig into the latest nutrition trends and research to help you understand what's health and what's hype. There's a lot of wild stuff out there, so we'll be keeping it science-based, research-informed, and practical. Mayo Clinic's On Nutrition, new episodes every other week, wherever you get your podcasts. Some historic hotels are renowned for their healing properties, fresh mountain air, pristine views, and the promise of renewed health.

But what happens when the cure comes with strings attached, and the hotel decides its most favored guests should never have to leave? Because sometimes, the very place that saves your life might have other plans for how you spend it. Welcome to Sightings, the series that takes you inside the world's most mysterious supernatural events. Each episode brings you a thrilling story that puts you at the center of the action, followed by a discussion that dives into the accounts that inspire the story and our takes on them.

I'm McCloud. And I'm Brian. And for our second week of June Gloom, we're visiting the spooky hotel that inspired the story and our takes on them. I'm McCloud. And I'm Brian. And for our second week of June Gloom, we're visiting the spooky hotel that inspired Stephen King to write The Shining. So check in with us to the Stanley Hotel, whose ghostly history suggests the most luxurious accommodations might come at the highest price of all.

Find out how on this episode of Sightings. This episode is brought to you by Neon's new film, The Life of Chuck, which is already out. Brian, I'm gonna interrupt you again. You're interrupting me again. I'm just so stoked. So this film is based on a short story by Stephen King, who wrote The Shining, and also Doctor Sleep, which took place in The Stanley Hotel Which is the episode that we are doing. An insane coincidence. Fun fact Mike Flanagan the director

I actually know him. He gave me a small role in the film Doctor Sleep I'm one of the ghosts at the end if you want to check it out So I've got a special place in my heart for Stephen King and for Mike Flanagan especially but even if I didn't, I would be so thrilled to share this story with you because Mike is known for his horror offerings, but this one is just pure hope. And it was filled with wisdom that just like directly spoke to me and some of my anxieties that I'm experiencing. Brian, what did you love about this film?

So much, because it has so many different unique elements in it. It has a fantasy, and it has a haunted house story. Not to mention, the cast is bonkers. You know, we got Tom Hiddleston. Mark Hamill, Matthew Lillard, Chihuahua Telegiafor, Karen Gillan. Go watch this movie, because it is in theaters. Immediately after you finish our episode, go watch The Life of Chuck in select theaters now

and everywhere on June 13th. The Life of Chuck in select theaters now and everywhere on June 13th. I'm Clive Williamson, husband, father, retired investment banker, a routine man with a routine life for the most part. But what happened to me back in 52 in the mountains of Colorado? Well, there was nothing routine about that in the least. June 1st, I'll never forget it, was when my wife, Eleanor, and I first arrived at the Stanley Hotel. Maybe you've heard of the place. A palace in the heart of the mountains, sitting

like a grand old monarch overlooking the town of Estes Park below. Turns out it had quite the history, and as I soon found out, it also had a fair number of guests who were... well, not of the living persuasion, if you catch my drift. But I didn't go there because I wanted to waltz with ghosts or anything of the sort. No, I went there because my wife was dying. The doctors in Albany had done everything they could for her respiratory condition, but nothing seemed to help. So she'd waste away a little more each day, growing paler, frailer, until I could barely recognize

the vibrant woman I'd married. And each night as the coughing fit settled in, I prayed she'd simply make it through until morning. Then one of her physicians suggested the mountain air, specifically that in Estes Park, might do her some good. The whole concept seemed rather antiquated for my sensibilities, Victorian even, but at that point I was desperate enough to try anything. Money was no object for me, not after decades of careful investments and good fortune.

So when I called to make our reservation, I requested their finest accommodation, and the booking agent didn't hesitate. Room 217 was the presidential suite, having previously hosted Franklin Roosevelt himself. It was perfect, she assured me, offering both luxury and breathtaking views. What she failed to mention was what else that room might offer. But don't let me get ahead of myself. We planned to stay for six weeks, perhaps longer if Eleanor showed improvement. And as our driver navigated the winding road up to the hotel, I watched my wife press her pale face against the window, taking in the stately Georgian facade with childlike wonder.

Already her cheeks seemed to have a hint of color, and I allowed myself a moment of cautious optimism. The entrance to the Stanley was as grand as I'd expected. Wide wooden steps led to a spacious porch lined with rocking chairs, though as we approached the entrance I noticed something odd. One of the chairs, larger than the other, was gently rocking back and forth. A breeze, I assumed, though the air felt surprisingly still. The lobby was a marvel of dark wood and period furniture. A grand staircase swept up at one end and an antique Otis elevator stood at the other.

The original Stanley Steamer automobile sat prominently on display below a portrait of a gentleman with a pointed beard. F.O. Stanley himself, I presumed. The front desk clerk welcomed us warmly, but I noticed how his smile faltered slightly when I mentioned we'd be staying in room 217. But I convinced myself I was overthinking things and followed him as he led us up the stairs. When we finally entered the room, Eleanor gasped with delight. The suite was

enormous, elegantly decorated with floral wallpaper and plush furnishings. A massive four-poster bed dominated the room, and the bathroom featured a claw-footed tub large enough for two. But I was most impressed with the view. Our two large windows offered a panoramic vista of the mountains, and to be perfectly honest, it was stunning. panoramic vista of the mountains, and to be perfectly honest, it was stunning. Our first night passed uneventfully. Eleanor slept better than she had in months, while I remained awake somewhat longer, feeling the effects of the altitude. The thin mountain air seemed to play tricks on my senses, as several times I thought I heard footsteps in the hall outside our door, but when I listened more carefully, there was nothing.

By the end of our first week, there was more color in Eleanor's cheeks than I'd seen in months, and her cough, while still present, had lessened considerably. But while Eleanor got stronger, I felt in an odd decline. I started noticing things small at first, like items that moved when we were out of the room. My shirts would appear hung up in the wardrobe when I knew for certain they'd been in my suitcase. I'd go down for breakfast, and upon returning, I'd find the shirts packed back neatly into my suitcase, even though I'd requested no service. I neglected to tell Eleanor about any of this, of course. Her health was improving considerably, and I'd noted her appetite returning

with vigor. It was nothing short of a miracle. And soon, she had enough energy for us to explore the hotel grounds and the surrounding area. The days were glorious, I must say. But the nights... they were a different animal altogether. About two weeks into our stay, I was reading in bed with Eleanor asleep beside me. And it's the strangest thing. I heard the distinct sound of someone tidying the room. I looked up expecting to see one of the hotel staff, but the room was empty save my sleeping wife and me. Yet the sounds continued, the soft clink of Eleanor's hairbrush being set down on the vanity, the rustle of clothes being hung

in the wardrobe, the whisper of a cloth wiping dust from surfaces. I called out, asking if someone was there, but received no response. Yet the sounds continued for several more minutes before ultimately fading away. I might have dismissed all of this as altitude-induced paranoia if not for what happened the following night. I was awakened by the sensation of the mattress depressing between Eleanor and me, as if someone, or something, had climbed into bed with us. I reached out, expecting my hand to pass through empty air, but instead I felt something solid, yet intangible, almost like touching extremely cold gelatin. I recoiled instantly and sat up, fumbling for the lamp, but as light flooded the room,

I found nothing at all except an odd depression in the mattress that slowly faded away. Eleanor fortunately slept through the entire incident, and when I mentioned it to her over breakfast the next morning, she laughed softly and suggested that perhaps I needed some of her medication to help me sleep. The mountain air, she teased, seemed to be affecting me rather than healing me, and perhaps she was right. Certainly there had to be a logical explanation for these odd things I was experiencing and the altitude seemed the most likely culprit. But for every

negative effect it might have had on me, it seemed to have a positive one on Elinor. She was flourishing and I was reluctant to disrupt her recovery with my potentially imaginary concerns. But the incidents continued, and even intensified. One afternoon, while Eleanor was taking tea in the music room downstairs, I returned to our suite to retrieve her shawl. But as I entered, I noticed a large, pitch-black spot on the floor. I approached cautiously, fearing it might be a hole of some kind, but when I reached it, my foot met solid floor, and as I knelt down to touch the spot with my finger, a wave

of ice cold swept over me, and I felt myself growing dizzy. I left the room quickly, and when I returned later that afternoon, the spot was gone. That night, I was awakened by the sound of children playing in the hallway. It was nearly three in the morning, and their laughter and running footsteps echoed as if they were right next to me. And after twenty minutes of the racket, I finally got up, put on my robe, and went to the door, intending to speak to them or to their parents. But when I opened the door, the hallway was empty and silent. I even walked the length of the corridor, looking for any open doors, but there was nothing.

The next day, I approached the front desk and discreetly inquired about families staying on our floor. The clerk checked the register and informed me that there were, fact no children staying at the hotel at all. But I knew I'd heard children. It was unmistakable. Rattled I retreated to the hotel's bar where I ordered a whiskey despite the early hour. But as I sat nursing my drink, worried that the altitude was causing some kind of mental deterioration, I couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched. And though I scanned the room and realized I was alone, that feeling persisted.

Then, gradually, I became aware of a figure reflected in the large mirror behind the bar. A distinguished looking gentleman with a pointed beard, wearing a dark suit of a distinctly old-fashioned cut. I turned to see who this person was, but there was no one standing where the reflection indicated, yet when I looked back at the mirror, there he was, watching me with an expression of mild curiosity. As I stared, he nodded slightly as if acknowledging me, then turned and walked toward the end of the bar before simply vanishing. Shaken, I got up to leave, but as I was stumbling towards the stairwell, I noticed a framed photograph on the wall. A photo of the very man I'd just seen reflected in the mirror. It was F.O. Stanley, the builder of this hotel.

A man who'd been dead for more than 10 years. And as I stared at the photo, dumbfounded, I realized that all the strange occurrences I'd experienced weren't figments of my imagination or effects of altitude. No, the Stanley Hotel was haunted, and its spirits seemed to have become very aware of me. The next afternoon, while Eleanor was taking her daily constitutional on the hotel grounds, I encountered a peculiar man in the lobby who introduced himself as Dr. Martin Wells.

Apparently, he'd noticed my newfound habit of glancing over my shoulder at empty spaces and wondered if I'd encountered any unusual happenings here at the hotel. Naturally, I was reluctant to talk, but he sat a hand on my shoulder and claimed he was a professor of parapsychology who'd come to the Stanley specifically for its reputation. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who'd encountered strange things here. Over coffee in the dining room, he explained the hotel's history, how F.O. Stanley and his wife, Flora, had built this palace after F.O.'s tuberculosis had been cured by the mountain air, not unlike what was happening with Eleanor.

And while the Stanleys had died years ago, many believed they'd never truly left. Which was a fact I knew all too well. But it was Wells's story about room 217, my very suite, that truly chilled me. During a power outage in 1911, he explained, the head housekeeper, Elizabeth Wilson, had entered our room with a lit candle, unaware of a gas leak. The resulting explosion had blown her through the floor into the dining room below, and while she survived with only broken ankles, she continued working at the hotel until passing away in her sleep. But her spirit, he said, remained particularly active in room 217, tidying up and unpacking

belongings just as I'd experienced. When I asked why Elinor seemed unaffected by the strange happenings, he suggested that those in poor health often became receptive to different energies than those in good health. The very forces benefiting Elinor, therefore, might be the ones targeting me. And he further theorized that Elizabeth Wilson, ever the dedicated housekeeper, might be trying to make Eleanor comfortable while seeing me as an intruder. I returned to our room that night deeply troubled by this new information, and as I watched Eleanor sleep peacefully, I made a decision that, in retrospect, was quite foolish. I decided that, to put an end to this once and for all, I would confront the ghosts head-on.

The next morning, when Eleanor was enjoying morning tea, I remained in our room and spoke aloud to the empty space, addressing Elizabeth Wilson directly. I told her that while I appreciated her apparent concern for my wife, I would not tolerate being terrorized in my own accommodations. As I spoke, the room grew noticeably colder, and though I felt a presence gathering around me, I stood my ground. When I finished, the cold dissipated at once,

and I felt satisfied that I'd made a positive impact. That, unfortunately, was my first mistake. Later that night, the paranormal activity escalated dramatically. Eleanor and I had just returned from dinner when the lights began flickering violently. The antique telephone rang continuously despite being unplugged, and the temperature in the room plummeted so rapidly that our breath fogged the air. Eleanor was now finally witnessing what I'd been experiencing, and she was terrified. She clung to me as we retreated to the bathroom, but the phenomenon followed us.

Water poured from the faucets, and that black spot I'd seen earlier expanded across the floor like spilled ink. We fled to the lobby, too frightened to return to our room. I wanted to leave immediately, to pack our things and never look back. But Eleanor, despite her fear, was reluctant. The mountaineer, or perhaps the hotel itself, had worked miracles for her health. So we reached a compromise. We requested a different room for the remainder of our planned visit, and the manager was surprisingly accommodating, offering us a suite on the third floor without even asking

what was the matter. Our new accommodations were peaceful at first, but I soon realized we hadn't escaped the Stanley's supernatural residence. They had simply followed us. The activity was subtler now. Whispers just at the edge of hearing. The sense of being watched. Objects that weren't quite where we'd left them.

But I began to notice something else as well. Eleanor was changing. Yes, she was healthier, but she'd spend the hours in the music room listening intently though no one was playing. Other times I'd find her having tea alone in our room, speaking softly to someone I couldn't see. Someone named Flora, who I of course knew to be F.O. Stanley's long dead wife. Dr. Wells, who had become something of a confidant,

suggested that the hotel might have designs on us, or more specifically, on Eleanor. Sometimes, he said, the entities of a place desired permanent companions, and the thought that this hotel might be somehow consuming my wife was unbearable. I even began to wonder if the improvement in her health was merely bait in a trap. Then came the incident that confirmed all of my worst fears. I woke to the unmistakable smell of gas. Eleanor slept peacefully beside me, seemingly unaffected, but I immediately recognized the danger.

I tried to wake her, but she wouldn't stir, not from natural sleep, I realized, but something deeper. As I struggled to lift her, I saw a figure standing at the foot of our bed. The man I knew for certain was F.O. Stanley himself, and behind him stood who I presumed to be Flora Stanley as well as Elizabeth Wilson the ghostly maid who'd been Tormenting me in room 217 They watched impassively as I fought to save my unconscious wife and as the gas grew stronger I began to feel light-headed so with the last of my strength. I confronted the spirits directly I told Stanley that I understood now the hotel had saved Eleanor just as the mountaineer had once saved him. I recognized the connection, the symmetry.

But I would not allow my wife to become another permanent resident of this hotel. So, just as my consciousness was beginning to slip, I proposed a compromise. We would return to the Stanley every summer. We'd acknowledge its power, its healing properties, and we'd become regular guests, bringing life and energy to its halls. But in return, we must be allowed to leave, to live the rest of our days as we choose. And I believe I saw Stanley nod approvingly, just before I slipped away into a perfect dark. I woke the next morning with Eleanor beside me, and no evidence of any gas leak at all, but I convinced Eleanor that it was time to leave, and though she was afraid her condition might deteriorate, I assured her we would return.

And return we did. I guess you could say it's become our routine. The staff knows us by now, and always offers us room 217, though we always politely decline. And to be perfectly honest, the stays have been pleasant. And best of all, Eleanor's health has never declined. But even now, years later, I sometimes still find myself walking its halls at night, nodding to guests I'm not sure are living or dead. And sometimes, I'll catch F.O. Stanley's reflection in a mirror, and he nods back as if to remind me that our agreement still stands. Because the Stanley Hotel, you see, never truly lets go of anyone. It simply learns to share. Sightings will be back just after this.

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That's buyraycon.com slash sightings. Don't forget the sightings, ladies and gentlemen. The June is gloomy. It continues. The clouds are overcast and the ghosts are hungry. Oh, they are in this case, aren't they? They certainly are. That's like the whole deal with this hotel, right?

Lot of ghosts, lot of history, and in this case, a lot of fame because this hotel was the inspiration for The Shining by Stephen King. And I gotta say for me, this story was kind of personal in a way that I got to revisit the Stanley Hotel because I had a cameo in Dr. Sleep, the sequel to The Shining. Amazing. What was it like on set? It was amazing. The soundstage that the set was built on was so detailed.

I mean, the grand staircase, it was all functional, all usable. You could walk upstairs, go to room 217. It was a beautiful, beautiful set and a surreal experience. Oh man, now I wanna watch that movie all over again. But we are here to dive into our story, the one that you just brought to life for us. And right off the top, I want to say

that I invented the two characters that you read, even though they were inspired by stories associated with the Stanley Hotel's history. But the actual haunting elements in the story, they're based on real experiences that have happened inside the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado. Wild. So like the people in the mirrors, they're based on real experiences that have happened inside the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado. Wild.

So like the people in the mirrors and stuff, that's? Absolutely, that's all true. Ah, okay, okay. Well, before we go into the history and whatever facts are available, can we get a bit more on like the setting of what this actual place is from? I've been on a set, but you're from Colorado.

Have you ever seen the actual Stanley Hotel? I have seen it. I have been inside it. It is pretty cool. It's been completely redone and renovated in the 90s. I think they completely gussied it up. Thank goodness. But apparently people still have weird encounters there.

But my own experience, and Essence Park is beautiful. It's in the mountains about an hour and a half northwest of Denver. This hotel just sits on a hill overlooking the entire town, and it's big and white with a bright red roof. It's just very striking. You can't miss it. When you're inside, it feels like you're stepping back in time a little bit, with the wood adorned walls and the grand chandeliers,

and the Stanley steamamer in the corner. And is that, is it actually like the same company, like the guy who made the Stanley Steamer's made this hotel as well? That's right. So let's do a little history lesson, I guess. Okay. There's a lot, more than most stories, I feel like we have a lot to kind of cover on this one because I couldn't cram it all into the story. Of course. You know. So, F.O. Stanley was the guy who built this hotel. He is also the guy who invented the Stanley Steamer, which in 1899 was the best-selling car in America. So, this guy made an absolute

fortune. But then in 1903, he was diagnosed with tuberculosis and given six months to live. In our story, I kind of echoed that with what was happening to the wife. But in Stanley's case, they told him, if you want to have any shot at survival, go west, go to Estes Park, maybe it'll help. So he went, he fell in love with it. Miraculously, he got better. Oh, wow.

And he decided to come back every summer thereafter, until 1909 when he opened the hotel. Wow. How long did it take him to build this honking massive mansion? I do not know how long it took to build. I do know that it took half a million dollars back then, which at the time was a lot of money because he built basically the most modern hotel west of the Mississippi, if not in the country.

It had electricity. It had a hydraulic elevator, which is still in use today, had running water, telephones, all that stuff. But ironically, it had no heat, which meant that it was a summer only destination. Since it catered to the wealthy, it was the kind of place where a lot of people would come for the entire summer and stay at the Stanley,

kind of like the character that you read did as well. And so how or when did all of this luxury and relaxation and joy in the mountains start turning dark? Weird stuff started happening pretty early on, including a few disasters that kind of set the scene for this being a place where there have been some negative energy, negative stories, I guess. In our story, there was a gas leak. There was.

And it was that real? That was real. That was the very first major disaster at the hotel, so to speak. So June 25th, 1911, a thunderstorm cut power to the resort. Gas lamps were lit as backups throughout the entire hotel. And apparently there was a leak in room 217, which is the room that our characters stayed in. And the chambermaid, Elizabeth Warren,

entered the room with a lit candle, unaware that there was a gas leak. It obviously exploded. Miraculously, she survived. Holy cow. Was anybody killed? No one was killed apparently during that. Wow. But as we found out in the story, Elizabeth Warren went on to continue working at the hotel,

was apparently known for being very fastidious and making sure everyone's rooms were clean and things like that. And when she passed away, eventually, she's said to have stuck around. So she's ghost number one, who's very much associated with room 217. Wow. Then there's F.O. Stanley himself. Reminder, he built the hotel in 1909. He didn't die until 1940 though.

Oh, wow. That mountain air really did work wonders for his tuberculosis. It worked wonders for him, yeah. So his wife died in 1939, he died in 1940, and he's said to have also stuck around. His presence is often sensed in the bar and in the billiard room. And as we mentioned earlier,

his reflection has been seen in a mirror in the hotel. Flora though, his wife, you can tell when she's around apparently because the room starts to smell like roses wherever she is. And then also a lot of people report hearing music coming from the music room and think that it's her playing the piano when no one is actually in the room. So that's kind of cool as well.

That is cool. I mean, like, I'm starting to get this kind of image of the ghosts here that runs kind of counter to the pop culture around it where the attachments to this hotel are not actually tragic ones, but ones of devotion. Whether it's the maid, it seems like despite the traumatic event, that's maybe not what kept her around. She cared deeply about this place. Stanley, it seems, cared deeply about this place and love this place. So if anything, I'm actually starting to get a vibe for like more friendly, benevolent

ghosts, which I would not have expected. I wonder if part of that's because of all the lore that's risen up because of Shining. Not to say that there aren't other ghosts in the hotel though, because there are. Most are tied to various rooms in particular. There are children who have been heard running in halls when there's no children around. There is a ghost who's said to haunt the concert hall. The central stairwell in the lobby

is called the Vortex, apparently, because there's been so many sightings of weird things and photographs and people feeling cold spots there. It just is the place that seems to be kind of a nexus of weird stuff happening in the hotel. My favorite though might be the ghost of a pastry chef who apparently makes the tunnels underneath the hotel

smell like pastries. See again, like delightful. Like we got smells like roses, smells like pastries. This place has gotten a bad rap. It has and I think we all have Stephen King to thank for that. Which I'm not complaining, because an incredible story. So let's head back to the 1970s now,

I guess 20 years after our story took place. The Stanley has kind of faded from its former glory a little bit, but it kind of got a new lease on life when Stephen King stayed there. So he and his wife, who lived in Boulder, Colorado at the time, went to the Stanley to kind of get away and give him a chance to kind of reboot and think creatively, I guess. And whatever happened in there, it gave him the inspiration for The Shining.

Wow. I know that Stephen King doesn't love the film adaptation, but I'm getting images of Jack Nicholson pounding at his keyboard, fighting Ryder's block. And I'm not surprised because I guess a lot of creepy stuff kind of happened when they were there. They didn't see any ghosts per se, but number one, they were the only guests at the hotel. That in and of itself is terrifying. My imagination is gonna run rampant

without any other stimulus. Absolutely. So there are stories of them eating in the dining room and all the other tables have chairs already put up. The hotel was getting ready to close for the season the next day. So they were the very last guests of the season. Also, coincidentally, his room was room 217. And they didn't see any ghosts, like I said,

but he did have a dream the night that he stayed there, that his three-year-old kid was running through the corridors, looking back over his shoulder screaming, probably because the hotel was creepy when it was empty. Yeah. You know? And King, he woke up with a fright, basically. He got up, lit a cigarette apparently, looked out over the Rockies,

and said by the time his cigarette was done, he had the bones of The Shining were already like set in place in his mind. Wow. So that's kind of neat. And like you said, though, King was not very Wow. So that's kind of neat. And like you said though, King was not very pleased that Kubrick's version of the movie

was not filmed at the Stanley. They use this lodge in Oregon instead. It was called the Timberline Lodge, I think. Oh, interesting. Which has a very different kind of feel to it than that. Sure. So when Stephen King made

his own mini-series back in 1996, based on his book, he stipulated like, you must film this in the Stanley and they did. So there is a version of it that kind of takes place at the actual Stanley Hotel. So I wonder then if these ghosts stories are real or just kind of snowballing from people's the feelings they got from Stephen King's book and the movies that have followed. There are a lot of reports predating The Shining itself that suggests that there are presences inside the hotel. And actually, kind of like we mentioned in the last episode about the Sallie House, there's a ton of people who've gone to that hotel and recorded EVP phenomenon,

which is electronic voice phenomenon, which are like you just turn your recorder on, pointed an empty space, and you hear weird voices or things like that. Are there any theories for what could be causing that, whether supernatural or scientific? Well, I think there's probably as many theories as there are number of encounters that you've seen out there. Sure, sure.

There's a few things that kind of stood out to me when I was doing my research though about this. Number one, as I mentioned before, there were tunnels underneath the hotel. Part of those are like a cave system, actually. Oh, interesting. Yeah, and speaking of interesting, this cave system apparently has a high concentration of quartz, which some say captures paranormal energy. Interesting. So my countertops are just like a magnet for possession.

Oh, goodness. Yes. I suppose so. So that's one explanation. You made my day with that countertops comment. Everyone's house is haunted now. Another thing that I saw that kind of rang as resonant for me was the idea that a lot of these quote-unquote sightings can be attributed to like electromagnetic field interference in some weird way, especially with stuff that people are capturing on their cameras or on their, especially with the electronic voice phenomena, picking up weird sounds and things like that. Because this is an old hotel, it has a lot of the oldest modern electrical equipment west of the Mississippi. One thing that apparently can cause a lot of interference are old elevators.

And as we know, the Stanley has one of the oldest, you know, oldest elevators in the country. Right. So that's kind of a cool little factoid there. One more thing that I think is kind of compelling is the idea that maybe because of such an old building, there are just old building stuff that can contribute to people seeing things that aren't there. For instance, if there's mold or fungal buildups or things like that, carbon monoxide building up in rooms that aren't well ventilated could cause hallucinations or people seeing things that aren't

necessarily there. I guess that could apply to any old building, but it has been thrown out as an attributing factor for the Stanley. Okay. Let me just say, like, I'm not saying that the Stanley is moldy and gross and carbon monoxide filled now. It's very nice. Go visit if you haven't. But that's there too. So I buy it. So I suppose with the like old elevators and interference, it's sort of like you have enough people taking pictures. That means there's enough pictures that have some sort of interference.

That means one or two of those pictures, the interference is gonna kind of look like a ghost maybe. Like kind of like seeing shapes in clouds. Valid. I think that's one way of potentially looking at it. That said though, I think you kind of hit the nail on the head when you talked about the Stanley just being a place where people want to stay and not having that kind of negativity surrounding it. So I think if there are actually ghosts at the Stanley Hotel, that's where I would like to imagine that they are filling that space of kind of wistful remembrance almost, you know?

Yeah, they just don't want to leave it. Like, this is the place where I got my tuberculosis cured exactly exactly and that to me sits much better than This place has happens to be a nexus for all this negative ghost spiritual energy or something like that Yeah, yeah, which I mean like and then I get that sort of like it's a really cool story and I think it's maybe why this has had such legs over the years, but the idea that it's not just a bland chaos, evil, hunger.

It's a deeper, more human emotion of like, we want you to continue to take care of this place. We want you to stay here so badly that maybe we will haunt you and scare you and threaten you. But at least, and now I'm more just referring to our story and the stories of The Shining, but I think that's a really cool, compelling notion of actually the haunting coming out like an intense love for a place. You managed to summarize all of these conversations so well and kind of wrap it up in such a poignant way and I really appreciate that.

Because I think that just got me thinking about how different this story is than the last one we did about the Sally House. Which was a little bit much more aggressive, a lot more frightening, I would say. In this one, I think it has that very different vibe, very different energy, but still captures that June gloom feel that we were going for. Absolutely. With this one. I think that's all the time we have for today,

but listeners, we'd love to hear any experiences you might have had at the Stanley Hotel. I'm sure some of you have been there. I hope some of you have been there. Oh, I hope some of you have been there. Please absolutely let us know about that. Find us on Instagram at SightingsPod, or you can send us a comment on Spotify. We love reading those.

Or hop on Apple if that's your preferred podcasting service of choice and leave us a review. We do read those and we're gonna start reading a few of our favorites on the show in the future. Well, that sounds like a lot of fun. I'm looking forward to that down the road. But short term, where are we heading next week, Brian? We are continuing our June Gloom theme of the month and doing another chilling, haunting

story. But this one is going to be a little bit different than anything we've done on Sightings before, because we're going to be collaborating with another show to produce this really awesome story for the episode. Oh, that's right. That's happening next week. Excellent. Oh man, Genevieve is the host of My Victorian Nightmare. She has an amazing voice, an amazing sense of humor, an amazing kind of emotional connection to these creepy stories from the Victorian era. I'm really excited to share this episode with you guys. So next week we are going to be helping back in time

with Genevieve to explore a haunted house in England. And it is going to be cool and different and really spooky. So I hope you're excited for that next week. In the meantime, go check out Genevieve's show right now, My Victorian Nightmare. You can find it on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, wherever you listen to podcasts. But we hope to see you back same time, same place next week for this really special episode of Sightings. Sightings is hosted by McLeod, Anders and Brian Sigley. Produced by Brian Sigley, Chase

Kinzer and McLeod, Anders. Written by Brian Sigley. Story music by Madison James Smith. Series music by Mitch Bain. Mixing and mastering by Pat Kickleiter of Sundial Media. Artwork by Nuno Cernados. For a list of this episode's sources, check out our website at sightingspodcast.com. Sightings is presented by Reverb and Q-Code. If you like the show, be sure to subscribe

on your favorite podcast platform so you're first to hear new episodes every week. And if you know other Supernatural fans, tell them about us. We'd really appreciate it.