Haunted Camp Chesterfield: Indiana Settlement Makes an Interesting Vacation
Spiritualism is the practice of calling down spirits of the deceased by conducting seances, or channeling the spirits through a “medium.” The practice reached its zenith in the 1920’s, popularized and then later largely discredited by Harry Houdini. Today a lot of psychics claim to channel spirits, but there are only a couple of places left in the world where you can witness the “old fashioned” variety in practice every day. One of them is Camp Chesterfield.
My wife and I visited the camp in July of 1998. We made the five hour drive from St. Louis to Indianapolis, stopped for a bite to eat and get directions. After getting lost a couple of times in the maze of interstates outside of the big city we finally pulled up to the gate of the camp. Chesterfield is really more like a village of quaint, well-kept cottages nestled around a park, maybe 35 or 40 in all. There’s a wooded area (purported to be haunted by the spirit of a small child), on one side with the river nearby.
The town has a total of three hotels, all dating back to the turn of the century. One of them has no electricity or running water and neither has any air conditioning. Word is that they both have plenty of ghosts however. The third hotel had been set on fire by vandals and was under reconstruction. We decided to stay at the one with the deluxe accommodations and the price at the time was very reasonable: $24.00/ night.
Each one of the houses in the village has a plaque next to the front door that lists what the resident specializes in, the price, and the hours they are open for business. For example: Teresa: psychic, medium, clairvoyant. 9-5 Mon.-Thurs. Right near the gate is a museum and gift shop. Some of the paintings in the museum are done by the Fox sisters. The sisters would channel the spirits of the recently departed and they would magically appear on the canvas in the form of a fine colored dust. Their images would then seem to move around on the canvas from time to time. In the park you can walk down the Trail of Religions, visit the statue of Jesus who moves his hands, or relax in the Buddha or Gnome gardens. There is also a small cafeteria and book shop at the other end of the town.
After walking around the park foe awhile it was getting dark, so we decided to retire to our room for the night. The hotel seemed like something out of a different place and time. The bed was comfortable and the furniture all seemed antique, but well maintained. There might have been an occasional creak and moan from a wayward spirit or two, but we had a very restful night.
The next morning just happened to be a Sunday so we decided to check out the services at one of the chapels. The church looked like any one that you would find in any small town across the country. There were about 50 people, all dressed up in their Sunday finery attending. The first part of the service was very mainstream Christian, a little evangelical but mostly low key. Then things became a little strange. After about an hour all the lights were turned off. First the Holy Spirit was invited in followed shortly by all of the spirits of the dearly departed!
Most of what happened next was obviously staged: faint tinny voices coming through a horn, flashing lights and pieces of cloth floating in the air. It was quite a show. Then something happened that, to this day, I can’t really explain. But then that’s what its all about, isn’t it? One of the mediums got up on stage and asked us all to fill out cards with a question for anyone we knew who had recently passed away. The cards were collected and a blindfold was fastened securely around the medium’s face. (Yeah, she’s peeking underneath it.) My question was to my Grandfather who had recently passed away after staying at a nursing home for one night. He had told everyone that he wouldn’t be there tomorrow. It seemed that he had just decided to leave and I asked him why. My question was the third one that the psychic chose and it literally left her hand and landed on the floor. She looked down at it and said: “The answer will be known to you shortly.” “What kind of a silly answer is this?” I thought.
After answering a few more questions she asked everyone to sing some simple songs. Get everyone on the same page and the “energy” flowing. The first song (which was repeated a total of three times) was “You Are My Sunshine.” This had been my Grandparent’s song and my Grandfather had refused to listen to it in the years after his wife’s death. I guess if I believed in this sort of thing, that was his answer.
