The first group to come doing a paranormal investigation here at the Grand Midway Hotel was the Pennsylvania Ghost Hunters Society. Nancy Coplin, the Cambria County chapter director, lead the investigation.

They began with this room, the large living room, looking for "Orbs". Using digital cameras for their research searching for ghosts, "orbs" are considered the photographed representations of spirits. As dust particles are often confused for orbs by enthusiasts the process requires taking several photos as well as the compared sequence of photographs. Here in this photo taken in the as-yet-unpainted large living room was the Pennsylvania Ghost Hunter's Society's first example of an actual orb discovered (top right corner).

(ghost researcher Rain Saintz with Damien Youth and orb)

Many of these potential orbs were photographed that first investigation. Since then lots of photographers have been happy to come away with a gallery of orb shots.

One thing that happened immediately to Nancy's crew that first day was their camera batteries drained. This happened almost instantly. This created a problem in that the flashbulb is an important tool in orb photography sessions.

"This was a fresh battery," one woman said! "Mine too," pointed out another! They had to stop and recharge their perfectly fresh batteries more than once. As spirits are believed to work or communicate in some ways through electrical currents and through electrical devices, no one was surprised.

In lots of later investigations here at the hotel this "instant battery drainage" had become a noted consistency during some other photography sessions as well.

As Nancy and her crew continued into the evening everyone else related to the building went outside, waited, and left the investigators alone for a few hours. Nancy turned out all the lights in the entire building and set up tape recorders and infrared cameras throughout. They covered several rooms, the halls, the bar and living room on the first floor, and the basment.

At one point Nancy and her crew came outside and wanted to know, "Who was the older gentleman inside?"

"What?"

"An older man was in the hallway with us, and apologized for his possibly getting in the way of our cameras," said one woman on Nancy's crew.

"There is no older man in the house," the hotel owners told Nancy and her all-female crew. "There was no one in the entire building but you and your crew. It's a private hotel. No one could be in there. We've all been outside here on the porch the entire time."

With this unusual new information all attention shifted to trying to discover if someone was actually in the building that no one knew about. No one was inside. Then the investigation shifted to combing through records of any older gentlemen who'd lived in the hotel more recently and have passed over. One man came to mind as a possibility. Then this first investigation concluded by recording the details of what this older man possibly said and listing the time and his physical description, etc.

(On a wild side note, there have been at least three sightings of a "man in the hall" since that first investigation.)

The word "Orb" became a real regular fun fixture here at the hotel. For their last name Damien Youth affectionately named all the potential ghost characters here associated within the hotel "Orb." So when something unusual happened, he'd joke, "There goes Agnes Orb again" or "Hear that? That was Martha Orb."

All the stories here in the hotel became those of the Orb family.

WINDBER- Dr. Wayne London, a Westmont native, thinks the spirit of this historic mining community's past is driving advances in medical science at its research institute.

"I believe places have energy and are alive," London said in a telephone interview from his office in Battleboro, Vt.

"Whether you agreed with the economics or not, a state-of-the-art way of mining coal was happening here in Windber," London said. "One hundred years later, state-of-the-art research is happening in Windber."

London does not think that is a coincidence. A Harvard-educated psychiatrist and former Dart-mouth University faculty member, London understands his ideas are "considered pretty far out."

The leader of Windber's medical complex does not know what to believe, but some of London's contentions have rung true, said F. Nicholas Jacobs, president of both Windber Medical Center and Windber Research Institute.

The spirit of Windber is fueled by its roots as a model for coal mining company towns, London said. Tunnels from Berwind-White Coal Mining Co. operations remain under parts of borough and surrounding countryside.

When London sensed some "bad energy" during a September 2001 tour of a hospital wing, Jacobs said he later found out it was built where severed limbs of Windber's injured miners and other medical waste were incinerated in the early days.

Ghost hunters say they have located apparitions in two former Winder hotels, so why not the hospital?But London's ideas go beyond the fabled poltergeists of troubled souls. "His whole theory is history repeats itself in ways that are not easily discernible," Jacobs said at the hospital at 600 Somerset Ave. "He said that area had unfinished energy that you had to deal with in a positive way."

Jacobs did not feel the negative energy, but the area of the hospital did have some morale problems. "These two departments were challenges," Jacobs said. "I had tried everything. I had brought in consultants, you name it. They were just not happy."

He did not tell London about the trouble before taking him through the wing.

"As soon as we stepped into the room, he stopped and took a breath," Jacobs recalled. "The hair on his arms went straight up."It was the negative energy, London said.

"He said, 'You have an issue,'" Jacobs said.

London suggested focusing the hospital's religious programs and clergy attention on the areas to heal the spirits.

"Places store trauma," London said, "It was still there."

At the time, London said he figured it must be trauma of Windber's miners emanating from the shafts below the surface, but Jacobs said the reality is even spookier.

Jacobs contacted 82-year-old Fred Tantorno, who is a legend at that hospital. Tantorno's mother, Cecelia, died in the hospital six days after his birth there in February 23, 1921. Tantorno remained at the hospital for the first three years of his life while his father, Biaggio, returned to Italy and remarried.

"The nurses took care of me," Tantorno said in Church of the Brethren Home at 277 Hoffman Avenue in Paint Borough. The rest of his childhood was spent a couple blocks away from the hospital, where he got a job as soon as he was old enough. Tantorno spent his entire working career at the hospital and then served as a volunteer for almost 20 years. Jacobs figured if anybody knew about the history of the place, it was Tantorno.

What was under the foundation of that 1974-era hospital wing?

"He said it was the place where everything was incinerated," Jacobs said. Jacobs understood the implications. "Knowing the medical practice of the day, if you got something out of surgery, you burned it," Jacobs said.

Amputations were often required to save the lives of seriously injured miners. So it is likely that ashes of many severed limbs are part of the soil there.

But were the spirits of maimed workers calling for their traumas to be healed? Is that what was causing turnover and morale problems in the building that now covered their remains? Jacobs wasn't ready to totally buy into that. there have been no exorcisms performed between surgeries.

"I haven't brought in the priests," Jacobs said. "The problem just took care of itself."

London said Jacobs is too modest. He says Jacobs' positive energy is soothing the troubled spirits. "I think it is taking care of itself," London said. "If Nick has intent to heal the energy, that's 90 percent of the battle."

Windber's philosophy of treating mind, body and spirit is creating positive energies throughout the hospital, London said.

Alternative approaches like aroma therapy, music therapy, acupuncture and reiki may seem out of place in the same building as an internationally known cellular research institute, but that's what gives Windber its karma, London said.

"That's unique," he said. "Why are both of these kinds of approach growing in the same garden at the same time?"

His theory of the spirit of "place" explains the contradiction, he said, adding it is no accident that Jacobs, a former high school band director, is overseeing the phenomenon.

"Nick is like the conductor," London said. "He is doing a symphony."

It is hard to argue with that, Jacobs said, explaining that developments at Windber seem to take on lives of their own.

Much as people immigrated to Windber to mine the coal that drove the 20th century, researchers today are coming from all over the world to look for answers to disease.

"I can't explain what is going on out here," Jacobs said. "These are not my ideas, but the results are moving."

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GHOST TALES BEDEVIL REGION by Tom Lavis The Tribune-Democrat People are a little skeptical when they read stories about buildings that have old world charm and a history of haunting's. Such is the case when The Tribune-Democrat reported about three local investors who want to turn a Windber landmark into a bed and breakfast. The late Galen Ohler was a well-known Somerset County storyteller who enthralled people with tales of the supernatural, said his sister, Fey Wentworth of Meyersdale. The two compiled a book titles "Ghost Stories of Somerset County and Beyond." The publication contains about a dozen stories of fascinating occurrences that deal with the unexplained. "Galen grew up in an era when there were no televisions and people would gather at night to trade stories as entertainment," Wentworth, 57, said in a telephone interview from her Meyersdale home. "But Galen insisted that the stories he told were all based on fact or came from people he knew." Many of Mr. Ohler's favorite stories came from friends of the family who wished to remain anonymous in the book. "Galen knew many of the people and felt the stories were true," his sister said. He told of a tale that occurred in the fall of 1941, when Americans were worried about the war waging in Europe. Although many hoped President Roosevelt would keep America out of the conflict, others felt he would soon send troops into combat. Those thoughts troubled railroad employee Edward Leazier as he worked his post as a night watchman near Glade City, just outside of Meyersdale. Leazier was assigned to a watch box at one end of the long Western Maryland Railroad bridge that spanned a valley cut by Flaugherty Creek. His job was to make sure no one sabotaged the bridge. In the valley under the bridge was Glade City Road and a second railroad, the Baltimore and Ohio, as well as the creek. Many agreed the span might be a key target for the enemy. Each night, Leazier would walk from one end of the bridge to the other, inspecting it and looking for signs of trouble. He used a railroad lantern to signal oncoming trains it was safe to pass. One bright, moonlit night as he started to cross the bridge, Leazier saw mist form in the valley and take the shape of a huge battleship. The ship filled the entire valley and became s o clear he could see details of its deck and superstructure. Leazier said he was not frightened, but engulfed by a strange fascination. He had no idea how long he stared at the ship, but some time later something drew his attention and he looked back toward his watch box. There stood what looked like an American sailor in full uniform. As Leazier watched, the sailor sank into the ground to his waist, rose again to full height, smiled at him, then vanished. Leazier turned back to the ship, but it was gone. The sound of an oncoming train reminded him of his duties. He quickly went to his post and signaled the train through. As Leazier later told the story to friends and neighbors, he was convinced the apparition was a sign the country would enter the war and much of it would be a sea battle. He thought the sailor's actions meant the United States would be hit hard and almost go down in the beginning but we would rise later and win the war. On December 7, 1941, when word of the Pearl Harbor bombing reached Meyersdale, Leazier felt he had seen the first part of his prophecy come true. "we've been hit hard," he told neighbors. "We're down now, but we're going to come back and win this war." History proved him right. ON A GHOST HUNT GROUP PLANS TO SCOUR WINDBER FOR SPIRITS by Patrick Buchnowski The Tribune-Democrat WINDBER -They usually come out at night. Misty apparitions lingering in an aging house or whispers from a dark basement. To most, the events are dismissed as common noises made by settling houses or the invitation of someone's wild imagination. To Nancy Coplin, they are stark and real: Disembodied souls or spirit energy of the dead. "Everybody has energy and when people die the energy doesn't die, it's transformed. People have souls," said Coplin, director of Cambria County Chapter of Pennsylvania Ghost Hunters Society. The ghost hunters received clearance from Windber Borough council to scour the borough building, former train station and a museum in search of spooks and specters. Council approved the written request without discussion, to placate the poltergeist pursuers. there is no cost to the borough and no date has been set. But the ghosts hunters expect something to appear when they move in. "We found that most historical buildings are indeed haunted," Coplin said in a telephone interview. "The spirits are there, but we don't know why." Coplin tracked ghost sightings and balls of energy known as orbs for two years before starting the local ghost hunters chapter last year. the band of intrepid ghost hunters comes armed with a load of gizmos: Infrared video cameras, digital cameras, tape recorders, electromagnetic field detectors and other equipment. Coplin said she has videotaped energy of the souls of the dead haunting old buildings and recorded the anguished whispers of Civil War soldiers killed in the Battle of Gettysburg. Windber Borough, a coal mining community founded in 1897, has been the scene of several sightings, she said. Glowing balls of light were filmed inside the historic Arcadia Theater in September and, during the summer of 1999, a University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown student working at Windber Coal Heritage Center reportedly saw an apparition, Coplin said. The sighting was confirmed by center Director Christopher Barkley, who said a student intern was working late one night when a greenish apparition appeared. "She was working on the second floor in a corner office when a form of a miner appeared in front of the door and then she heard footsteps," Barkley said in a telephone interview. "What scared her was there was nobody in the building but her." Barkley said Coplin and her crew visited the borough in the past to document sightings. Barkley calls himself a skeptic, but admits ghosts stories in Windber and strange sightings of green ectoplasm are not unusual. "There are people in Mine 40 who swear miners still go to work in the morning," he said. Coplin said she has photographed glowing balls of light in Mine 40, which was one of Berwind Coal Co.'s most productive mining sites in the early 1900s. Borough Mayor Benjamin Bonitz scoffs at such talk. Ghosts in Windber? Puh-leeze. "I've lived in Windber my whole life and I've never seen anything," Bonitz said in a telephone interview. "It's an exercise in futility." The ghost hunters do not rid homes of ghosts or use Ouija boards or stage seances. But with the help of modern technology, they snatch a glimpse of life after death, Coplin said. The organization, which has six chapters in Pennsylvania, travels to historical settings to document sightings. In Gettysburg, the group audio taped what they believe are voices of dead soldiers. "We got responses like 'help me' and 'I'm not dead,'" Coplin said. She attributes the voices to the earthbound souls of those with unfinished business or soldiers who have not yet realized they are dead. Such claims are not without skeptics. William Peterson, director of the religious studies department at Penn State University, explains ghost sightings as a cultural phenomenon rather than a supernatural one. "Deep in the history of human traditions is the belief in life after death," Peterson said in a telephone interview from State College. "It's very inviting to say these people are coming back, which relates to the whole idea of ghosts," he said. "But it's more related to your own experience rather than some subjective phenomenon." Peterson likens wraith hunters to those spying for UFOs, a field that offers little credible research as evidence of their existence. "We don't have a paranormal experience department at Penn State," he said. "That should tell you something." Coplin has dealt with skeptics. She is not out to prove them wrong but to document what she uncovers for each person to decide. She has taken courses with International Ghost Hunters Society. The Cambria County chapter now has 18 members, she said. Coplin has worked with Rick Fisher, founder of the state Ghost Hunters Society, who often lectures on the paranormal and has appeared on a television documentary discussing the ghosts of Gettysburg. Fisher, she said, is scheduled to appear May 16 on the Travel Channel in a segment called "Supernatural Destinations." When finished in Windber, the group will work in Johnstown. At the request of a business owner, whom Coplin declined to name, the ghost hunters will investigate repeated sightings of a young boy dressed in turn-of-the-century attire who reportedly haunts the building. The apparition has appeared so frequently the staff has named him Jeffrey, Coplin said. This type of challenge keeps the ghost hunters active. they believe the area's rich history is fertile ground for clues to the ghost of the past. "Death is just a step into the next life," she said. "We want to prove there is life after death."