South of Detroit along the Detroit River is the small town of Ecorse. Ecorse had its heyday during prohibition. It was the perfect location for smuggling alcohol from Canada. The distance is approximately a mile across the river with a small island in between. Several houses along the river front in the area had tunnels that ran from their basements to the river’s edge. My Aunt moved into one of these houses, unbeknownst to her. She was over the moon when she found the large old house at such an affordable price. She soon realized why. The house had an ominous feel pretty much everywhere, not just in a few spots. Within the first few days of moving in, the nightmares started. She dreamt that her, my mother and their brother were standing in front of the fireplace holding hands saying the Lord’s Prayer. Spirits and what she described as demons, started flying out of the fireplace as they prayed. A few days later she would be woken by the sound of the dumb waiter running up and down. The dumb waiter ran from the 3rd floor to the basement but, all of the access doors has been sealed shut. They tried to open the doors but were only able to open the access door in the kitchen. The pulleys had been disconnected and she could never see the carrier. Noone slept through the night in that house. My cousin would wake up screaming in the middle of the night saying the lady woke her up. My Aunt often saw a man standing at the foot of her bed when she was woken by my cousin’s screams. A few times she saw the same man standing in her son’s room at night.
My Aunt was deathly afraid of basements and would not go in one after dark, period. She swears she was awakened one night by her husband calling her name. She walked through the house in the dark, which she would never do. She eventually went into the basement. There was a section of the brick wall in the basement that was wood. There she saw her husband nailed to the wall with an axe in his forehead and, tarot cards spread out in a circle at his feet. She woke up and realized that it had been a dream although it was so realistic she thought she was awake. She now admits she’s living in a haunted house.
She contacted the landlord, Shirley, who was the daughter of the original owners. She told her about the experiences and Shirley wasn’t surprised, but she did ask what the man at the foot of the bed looked like. Shirley paid a visit and brought a photo album with her. She told my aunt the story of the house. Her father began bootleggin when he was young. He made enough money to buy the house and had built the tunnel in the basement to the water. He was so successful at smuggling alcohol from Canada that he turned the house into a speakeasy in the basement. His business grew and eventually they were gambling as well. It wasn’t long before the 3rd floor attic had been finished to accommodate prostitution. Shirley recalled a story about the house getting raided one night and a patron that was extremely drunk was shoved in the dumbwaiter so the police wouldn’t find him. Her parents met when her mother began doing psychic readings at the house. Her father built an addition on the back of the house that was a room with an adjoining bathroom that had its own private entrance. He built it for his bride to have her own private area to do psychic readings. Shirley asked my aunt to look through the photos. My aunt felt the blood drain from her head when she saw the picture of the man at the foot of her bed. Shirley confirmed that it was her father. She didn’t hold my aunt to the lease and told her she could move at any time. It did take a few months for her to find another house.
There was always something unexplainable happening in that house. I personally experienced doors shutting on their own, the dumbwaiter moving, toilets flushing and the sound of water running. It wasn’t unusual for lights to flicker or the windchime collection that hung above the banister in the living room to all chime when there was no one there to touch them or even stir the air to make a breeze as they walked past. It is definitely a house that no one in my family will ever forget. I have since moved away and don’t know if the house is still standing or occupied. Looking back as a adult I often wonder if the experiences my aunt had were for her protection. Her husband was an alcoholic and they soon divorced. A bootlegger watched over her as she slept and his wife the Tarot Reader took her to the depth of her greatest fear to show her that no matter how her husband cried that he was a victim, there was nothing she could do to save him. His problem was in his own head like the axe, and he was nailed to the wall, by the passage to the alcohol. Tarot cards represented the future and formed a border between them. Her going to the basement in the dark representing the walk she would make through her fears, showing her that she had the strength to succeed. And of course, saying the Lord’s Prayer with your siblings expelling spirits and demons from your home, you, assures you that your family is there supporting you.
