Halloween edition: Ghouls abound, some more real than others

Go into Guv’s Place in Houlton these days, and you will see lots of creatures with skeletal hands, many of them entangled in — or hanging from — spider-like webbing and holding outdated, creepy weapons.
Some heads also dangle from the ceiling, hung up by things such as their tounges or lips.
This is the seasonal contribution of bartender Jess Thompson.
Her love of putting up Halloween characters began when the kids came along — they’re now about 18 years old.
So that makes her a veteran, credentials that are enhanced by the five-year-anniversary of the startup of Guv’s, and its fourth Halloween party. This also has served as an anniversary party, and most every year the haunted offerings grow more extreme.
“This year I didn’t go as all out, with the bridge being closed,” she said of the span across the St. Croix River at Stillwater. “Still, people keep on bringing me things to put up.”
In the past, a lot to them have gone to also fill a big tent in parking lot, but this year the goblins have taken a break from that extra source of fright, since the patron level had temporarily dropped off. Thompson had purchased “trees” with creeping branches, and they were put inside the tent, prompting many people to take pictures with them as a backdrop.
Still this year, that doesn’t mean that characters such as “Uncle Charlie,” who is almost six feet tall, don’t hang out inside the bar.
What is Thompson’s scary style of choice? (Aside from dangling body parts).
“My favorite are creepy clowns. I find them amusing,” she said. They reside mostly in the corners of the bar, and are joined on the northwest end by a poor soul on a gurney who is being electrocuted.
Some of her co-workers have said they’re a little freaked by the clowns — as well as Death looming over an entryway to a back room — when closing up under dim lighting at night. “People tell me that they’re creeped out. They’ve said they have glowing eyes. I find that all a little funny,” she said about the fear inspired by those blinking windows to the soul.
Do Thompson’s co-workers tease her? “Oh yeah. Oh yeah. All the time,” she said.
And does she feel a bit guilty? “Nope,” she said without remorse. “But every year they give me crap.”
So she continues to add more things each Halloween.
No such pretense is needed at Season’s Tavern in North Hudson, or at some entertainment haunts along the main drag in downtown Hudson, such as the new tenants of the basement of the old Opera House, or various places high and low in the Dibbo Hotel.
Maybe it’s the history of this being a more rough-and-tumble area when a 1800s outpost town, but workers insist they have seen ghosts, or at least things such as plates or silverware moving about because of them.
At Season’s, the ghost is known to most longtime workers. It hangs out in one of the northern, back corners of the lower-level and is said to have a plaid lumberjack shirt, and be accompanied by a just as dead dog. Part of the theory about why this soul is so restless is that there’s a cave-like maze off the south end that led to his death in pioneer days.
To get there, you have to go through the kitchen, which is where he plays an occasional practical joke on staff members and makes things tip of shelves.
There should be a proviso here to diners. It’s very unlikely that you’ll have your meal disrupted by the ghost since he only comes out right before closing.
I guess last call even applies to the undead.

 

 

Share the Post:

Related Posts

A hodgepodge listing of everything that’s truly different but maybe baked porage follows, and we’re not talking about a connect-the-dots or puzzle-pieces contest or one on Trump’s foreign policy, haha, rather what I saw and what will be seen around town in recent times. Mostly, one of each. Think you have the world’s, or more likely local church’s, best grilled cheese sandwich, (coming from the land of, specifically, well curded and curdled milk and honey?) Fry it to the test on Saturday. No this is not an autumn chili cookoff, or char the best burger, or even a poker run...
Music in the trees? It conjures up images of a poet wearing millenniums-ago robe and sandals while playing a lute and propped onto the fourth fork of a bigger-than-usual apple tree and doing a balancing act on his ass while he sings a soliloquy or a soffit. Maybe taking a bite in-between verses, to match what listeners chomped on if they hauled it in down long nature paths, making for dinner and a show with duos and trios, and one huge and elaborate band. Well didn’t quite get that lute-ist. Or a bassist so high on life and so-forth stoned...
Questions everywhere? These days, how do you dismiss an ad or a politician, or whoever or whatever pops up and occupies your computer screen, or mailbox, electronic or otherwise? And did that answer in the form of a package or letter or even air waves — coming from a pol or a pool? — ever actually arrive, like all those ads and flyers? Maybe it never will? And surely not written with a quill. As one friend just reminded me, it all starts with one problem leading into another set of problems. Or, like a volcano boiling and brewing and...
Hey today they threw it all back to you, as it is election day, and with it the last Badger gasp — if least if they’re our candidates — (is that the throaty noise they make?), with a soar-throated, campaign-trail rasp made by an audio-version plethora of last-minute flyers that fill our boxes with hopes to grasp, so we can check their boxes when we go to the polls and pick a (partial) winner to move on to full November midterms. Less then the Trump-triumphed manhandling our mailboxes got however, in the last election of this type. Those worn, creaking...
Scroll to Top