T's Travels

Atlanta, GA

I don’t like traveling without doing some research ahead of time—where am I going? What is there that is interesting to see? Where can I find local food? This time I was headed to a conference in Atlanta, GA, a place I have only previously seen from the airport. But I had had no time to read up on anything so I was flying blind. As we were getting close to landing, I asked my seatmate, who has lived in Atlanta for 26 years, where she would recommend I go to eat. She suggested The Varsity, “a landmark, a greasy spoon,” she said, “near your hotel.” Is that an endorsement or not? I couldn’t say.

I rode the shuttle with two women who were very excited to be in Atlanta. As we passed a restaurant, one said to the other, “Oh that’s Pitty Patty’s. Gloria told us about it, remember?” Then it hit me. Of course Atlanta would have references to Gone with the Wind! What she was referring to was Pittypat’s Porch, a restaurant specializing in Southern food since 1967. I was hoping to have a Southern meal before I left town at the end of the week; maybe I would go there. . . .

But not that first night. My hotel was right on the Georgia Tech campus and so I ended up at the Cypress Street Pint & Plate for dinner. It was hot and we ate on the patio. The sweet potato nachos sounded interesting, as did the smoked brisket mac and cheese (in cooler weather perhaps), but I wound up with the house-smoked brisket melt (cheddar, caramelized onions, pickles, mustard bbq). It came very large and already stabbed; the mustard bbq sauce was very different from the red sauces I usually see, and it went very well with the beef. What went very well with the meal was my Illusive Traveler Shandy—perfect on a hot day.

Day 2 brought a trip to the Georgia Aquarium, where I watched whale sharks being fed, and the Center for Civil and Human Rights, which focuses on the civil rights movement between 1954 and the late 1960s. Watching newscasts about Martin Luther King Jr’s assassination brought back many memories of 1968 for me. I asked the docent if they had anything about Daisy Myers and Levittown, but he said the focus was on what was happening in the South. So, with Charleston never far from our thoughts, we saw displays on the four little girls from the Birmingham church, the lunchcounter sit-ins, the March on Washington, and so much more.  

For dinner that evening someone suggested a restaurant just across the street from our hotel: The Spence. As a friend would say, what’s not to like? Unique appetizers? Got ‘em! Small plates? Yay! Varied enough menu that I considered going back for my final night? Absolutely! (and I still regret that didn’t happen!) Drinks? Why of course! The wines are listed as either “Tried and True” (meaning they serve it regularly) or “Leap of Faith” (they thought it might be good but can’t say for sure that you will like it). I started with a Pancho Villa cocktail, for which there are many many recipes online; this one had pisco, whiskey, and baked cherries. It was heavenly.

For food I ordered the house ricotta with local tomatoes, pea shoots, mint, and chili flakes (pictured above--it’s under “snacks” on the menu) and the Georgia shrimp with passion fruit, melon, fennel, radish & jalapeno lime vinaigrette “small plate.” Servings were perfectly portioned so we all went for dessert—in my case the old-fashioned semifreddo, with orange cake and bourbon anglaise (very light, very pleasant). Favorite meal from my visit by far.

The next two days were all meetings and conference food. Not complaining—learned a lot from speakers and colleagues. I never did get my Southern meal, but I did hear photographer Dan Winters speak and see some of his work; I recommend his new book, Road to Seeing. We were in the historic Academy of Medicine for Dan's talk--above our heads as we walked in was the chandelier featured in Gone with the Wind. I'll admit I'm not a big fan, but my sister and a friend are so I sent them a picture of it!

On my last evening, I vowed to get a little tourist-ing done. My hotel was not far from the Fox Theatre where I thought Gone with the Wind had premiered (turns out it was closed by then!). It is, however, a gorgeously restored theater and I wish I had been there on a day they give tours.

From the Fox, I walked a few blocks to The Varsity, that “greasy spoon” that had been recommended to me on the plane. The “world’s largest drive-in,” The Varsity has been in business since 1928 and Georgia Tech fans pack the place before games. I was there at about 7:30 on a weekday evening and the place was teeming with customers. I stopped at the gift shop for a t-shirt and a free paper hat like they wear behind the counter.

Just as I thought my tourist-ing was over and I headed back toward the hotel, I saw rising up in front of me a large Olympic-like torch, right in the middle of a parking lot next to the interstate. Seems it’s a local boondoggle, left over from the 1996 Olympics. Would have been cool to climb it, but these days it’s all closed up.

The next morning I decided to take a little walk before our breakfast and meetings. This time I headed north, through business and residential neighborhoods that melted into one another, to the home of Margaret Mitchell, author of Gone with the Wind. Of course it was not open (after all, I was there at 8 a.m.) but I took a picture anyway. It looked out of place among the other, more modern buildings.

If I had had the time to research all this before coming to Atlanta, I might have planned better. I might have had that Southern food. I might have even rented a car to see this. But alas. However, some excellent food, a new t-shirt, a lot of great professional contacts, and more ideas to improve my research magazine than I can possibly accomplish . . . I really can’t ask for more than that.  

 

 

The Shoe House, York, PA

I can’t believe this but when I changed blogs I lost my original piece about the Shoe House in York, PA. Well, this will give me another chance to tell you how wonderful it is! I wanted to include it in my first book on small museums, but in its past incarnations the Shoe House never really qualified as such—it was more roadside America post-World War II architecture tourist attraction. Now, finally, it is what I have always believed it was meant to be.

Mary the Photographer and I haven’t been on the road much lately (not nearly enough!) so there hasn’t been much to write about. Today, though, we decided it was time to open the sunroof and head somewhere. When I found out that she—proud native of West York, PA—had never toured the Shoe House, I couldn’t believe it. I had to right that wrong. When I lived on the east side of York, I took every house guest I could to see it. If it wasn’t open, I just pulled the car up so they could look at it.

The Shoe House was built in 1948 by the Shoe Wizard, Mahlon Haines. Quite the entrepreneur, he owned a shoe company and used every opportunity to promote his business—cosmetic mirrors, fans, pencils—but his most ingenious idea was to build a shoe for people to stay in. Hence the Shoe House, a three-bedroom, two-bath architectural wonder, a honeymoon haven for lucky couples chosen by Haines.

Cosmetic mirrors (from author's collection)

I often toured the house in the 1990s and 2000s, as friends came to town and I said, “You have to see the Shoe House!” Tour guides and the accompanying stories changed as the house changed hands. At one point Haines’s own granddaughter owned it. Some of my favorite tours were done by Ruth Miller, who was passionate about York County history and feared that if she didn’t rescue it someone else would buy it and move it out of town.

Today the Shoe House is owned by Melanie and Jeff Schmuck. In addition to Beck’s ice cream, Melanie has added other goodies, all for sale in the heel, a cheerful spot with tables and photos of the Shoe through history. The tour starts in the wonderfully decorated living room and ends in the kitchen; I won’t give it all away, but visitors should take the time to look at the photographs on the walls, the artifacts on display (what makes it a "museum"). One shadow box contains a metal box, a pencil, and some cosmetic mirrors gifted to the Shoe House from a 90-some-year-old neighbor who said she watched the Shoe House being built! Photos include pictures of some of the first honeymooners in the Shoe.

The latest incarnation of the Shoe House is both popular and loved; when Mary and I visited, we were with a woman who was pleased to have recently found one of the Shoe Wizard’s metal boxes at a flea market. We had to wait for a tour to finish and there was another group right after us—on a weekday! It was a gorgeous day and we spent time talking with Melanie and walking around outside to take pictures. After our tour, we treated ourselves to a wonderful lunch at the Blue Heron, just down the road. (El Serrano is right nearby as well!) If you haven’t filled up on goodies, either one is an excellent choice. But you have to see the Shoe House!

Photo of kitchen by Mary Brenner

Allegheny Street Bed and Breakfast, Hollidaysburg, PA

Life can bring a lot of changes, both good and bad. Through it all we just keep on truckin’, looking for those moments that bring sun and light into our lives. (Philosophical start for a travel article, no? Well, I’ve been traveling a lot for business lately and the drive gives me time to think.)

On to something very pleasant. I had to go to Penn State Altoona for work and dear Husband joined me because he was invited to give an Earth Day talk to the students. As has happened a lot lately, it seems, the major chain hotels in town were full. I considered the Grand Hotel (so long ago it was a Sheraton, and then a Ramada—presently under renovations) but I also knew of the Iron Corbel Bed and Breakfast in nearby Hollidaysburg, and since I’m doing this book it was the right choice. I had never stayed at the Iron Corbel so, I thought, this would be my chance. As sometimes happens with these businesses, though, it has changed owners and name. I booked two nights at what is now the Allegheny Street Bed and Breakfast.

When I was a child and we visited my grandparents in Altoona, the name “Hollidaysburg” sounded like a fun place to me but it was never a destination, just somewhere to pass through on the way to the Meadows in Duncansville for frozen custard. For this article, of course I read up on the history. According to the National Register of Historic Places, “Hollidaysburg evolved from a tavern stop along the Huntingdon, Cambria, Indiana Turnpike. Completion of the Main Line of the PA Canal in 1832 and the Allegheny Portage Railroad two years later set off a burst of development that lasted through the early 20th century.” By 1892 the town was well enough developed to get this comment in a Blair County history: “Hollidaysburg is a pretty and healthful town, with well shaded streets, and would make a very desirable summer resort.” Over 100 years later it’s still very pretty and a nice place to walk around to look at old homes.

And that’s where the Allegheny Street Bed and Breakfast comes in. Innkeepers Richard and Jyoti (he’s from Pennsylvania, she’s from India) welcomed us into their home, a large yellow Second Empire–style house built in the mid-1850s and at one point owned by the prominent McLanahan family. We stayed in a front room on the second floor (see the Dorothy Day room on the website), spacious, quiet, and comfortable. (I peeked into the other rooms—also very large!) I can see why businesspeople often stay there—it would be a good place to get some work done or unwind. The large public rooms on the first floor would be perfect for family reunions or other group gatherings.

Reviewers have raved about the breakfasts and with good reason. We came downstairs to a beautifully set table and at each place a bowl of fresh fruit--blackberries, strawberries, blueberries on a nest of honeydew—quite welcome considering how spring just refuses to arrive. French-pressed coffee for me on the side. This was followed by bowls of heavenly steel-cut oatmeal. You might not think of oatmeal as ever being “heavenly” but this was made with milk and just a little brown sugar, cooked long and slow (we know this from talking to Jyoti), and it was truly the best I’ve ever had (in fact, I had it the next morning as well!). On the side was a small platter of meats and cheeses. Cold cereals and yogurts were also available. After our oatmeal, Richard was ready to make us eggs but we were already quite happily full.

My second morning I had a long talk with Jyoti about—among other things—the history of the house, Hong Kong (where they had lived for many years), and the beautiful little town of Hollidaysburg where they have now settled. As I was leaving, she packed a container of fresh fruit for my trip home (loved it!). Jyoti and Richard are the perfect sort of innkeepers; they give just the right amount of attention for a guest. And they make sure you never leave hungry!

Above: Photo of dining room after my breakfast

Blue Heron, York, PA

My father often pronounced, “Thomas Wolfe was right. You can’t go home again!” It must have been a family saying because I’ve heard my aunt say it many times as well.

You may not be able to go “home” again. But you can find those places that are familiar, that feel somewhat like home. When Husb and I married, we moved to York County, PA, and—Philly girl that I was—I felt as though I’d gone off the edge of the earth. I was sad, I was lost. That Pennsylvania Dutch cooking just didn’t answer my yearnings. And then in one evening (I mean this), one meal, I started to find my way back “home.”

I don’t remember the occasion but we chose the Blue Moon in West York for dinner one night. I walked into the old rowhouse on West Market Street and knew I was home. Wooden floors, high ceiling, narrow room. That might not sound too attractive but to this ex-Philadelphian it was heaven. And the food was even better. French but not fancy. So good we went there any time we wanted good food. It became our anniversary tradition to sit at one of the tables in the windows, drink good wine, and order any one of our favorites (the duck in black-cherry sauce was particularly memorable . . . and, oh, the side potatoes!).

The Blue Moon closed right before we moved away (although it is now open again in a new incarnation). We tried to get a table for the last night but those reservations were gone in a flash. We moved here to Harrisburg and while we have enjoyed our new experiences, and even developed new favorites, we still talk about our nights at the Blue Moon.

This past August friends Suzanne and Mark (she a York County native and our original landlady when we moved!) came to the mountain to visit. Suzanne has long loved everything French and through the course of our conversation let us know that David (co-owner of the Blue Moon) now has the Blue Heron on the east end of York. I considered telling Joe not to bother heating up the grill, we were headed south, now! But more rational heads prevailed and we agreed to come to York another time.

That time was this past weekend. On our way, we drove through Foggy Hollow past our old house and the rental we started out in, reminisced about living in the woods (oh, wait, we still live in the woods), paused at our dogs’ graves by the creek. Even though we’ve moved, and we’re very happy here, that place still feels like home, too.

The Blue Heron (remember, this is supposed to be about a restaurant) resides in what had been a pizza place, a brick building that sits among banks and garages and other local businesses on East Market Street. But the blue glow of lights under the restaurant’s awnings beckoned. We walked into an interior completely unlike the rowhouse on West Market Street or the pizza place this building used to be; with soft colors and white tablecloths, it’s a space transformed.  

Menu? For me there was no anticipation. I had read the menu on-line and knew there would be no duck (but I let Husb read the menu and find out). The waiter listed the specials, which included two fishes, a seafood combination, and lamb chops. Ding! I knew what Husb was getting. I thought about swordfish or mahi-mahi, but instead ordered the seafood (crabcake, scallops, shrimp, grilled). Suzanne had boeuf bourguignon (she makes a pretty good one herself) and Mark joined Husb in selecting lamb chops. Although I was thinking of the potatoes from Blue Moon days, we had rice and vegetable sides with each meal (except Suzanne’s, of course). Normally we would have started with a salad (would the dressing be the same?) but we had indulged in appetizers before going to the restaurant.

I took a picture of my tower of seafood (that’s an onion ring circling the crabcake at the bottom and a sundried tomato on top). There’s no better way to prepare scallops than grilled, but it was all delicious. Joe and Mark loved their lamb (and so did I the next day when I had Joe’s leftover chop for lunch). I reminded Suzanne that when we took them to the Blue Moon (their first time, so many years ago), she had also had boeuf bourguignon—obviously a keeper. With a nice bottle of wine to share and much conversation, it was a perfect evening.

Did we have enough room for dessert? If Husb doesn’t get chocolate mousse, the meal is not complete. But he couldn’t decide between that and a slice of a mango/coconut/pineapple creation (I should have taken a picture) and so he ordered both, the latter to go. Suzanne and I had crème caramel, Mark the crème brulee. Great way to end a meal.

And as I said, the next day I had Husb’s last lamb chop. He ate the carry-home dessert. We were both home.

Hotels of the Past (#34)

While my Irish sister Carol was visiting recently, we spent our first week walking around DC—the White House, the monuments, neighborhoods.  The second week of her visit, however, was the first week of the Government Shutdown so we had to find alternate entertainment. Friends of hers had visited Alexandria, VA, and recommended it. So on an unusually hot October day we hopped on the DC metro and left the District!

When we arrived in Alexandria, we decided to forego the free trolley that cruises up and down King Street (the main street) and walk through Old Town to the riverfront instead. That was a great way to see the little shops and restaurants. I was expecting total upscale but King Street had everything from funky to high end. It would be very easy to spend a day (and money) going from shop to shop.

We also passed a few hotels. The Hotel Monaco (a Kimpton Hotel) is built on the site of the Marshall House, a Civil War era establishment. I peeked into the hotel lobby because it looked unusual (what is now known as a "boutique hotel") but it was the plaque on the wall outside that really made me pause. (Of course I researched it when I got home and found its Wikipedia entry.)

 

When we finally got to the visitors' center—close to the river—we picked up brochures on walking tours. Some of the attractions and historical sites have an admission fee, but the visitors' center has a one-price-for-everything ticket that is cheaper than paying separately. (You don’t even have to visit everything to make it a bargain!)  I only had one place in mind, though, so we didn’t take that deal.

But before we took any tour, it was time for lunch. Yes, had to have vegetarian options. Also had to have cold cold drinks because it was hot. Carol chose Red Rocks Neapolitan Bistro with its $10 lunch menu. She had a lovely grilled vegetable panini (roasted zucchini and eggplant with goat cheese “served on fresh flatbread daily and accompanied by a side of mixed greens”) and I had the meatball panini just to see what it was (“homemade meatballs, aged provolone, roasted red peppers”). It was here Carol introduced me to Magners Irish Cider . Husb and I often drink Woodchuck at home, so I am familiar with hard cider. What I didn’t know, and Carol pointed out, is that Magners is supposed to be served over ice. It says so on the can. (American servers, please take note!)

After lunch we headed toward my destination: Gadsby’s Tavern Museum, which encompasses two buildings that were a tavern and the City Tavern and Hotel (the latter is still a restaurant). Gadsby’s, “America’s five-star hotel of the 18th century,” was the “center of political, business, and social life in early Alexandria,” according to their website. That means it was a place where “everybody knows [their] names”—presidents George Washington, John Adams, James Madison, and more. Thomas Jefferson’s inaugural ball was held there in a beautiful ballroom. Just like hotels of today, the building has been used as a meeting house, a performance space, and of course for overnight accommodations.

Anyone who attended elementary school in the Northeast has toured Colonial-era buildings, most of them homes. We’re all familiar with the narrow stairs and the fireplace in each room and the wooden floors. This was my first opportunity, though, to see a real tavern with meals on the first floor and bedrooms up above.

The 21st-century Gadsby’s is a wonderful piece of history lovingly cared for. Our tour guide was both informed and amusing (he’ll tell you the ghost story if you ask [every tavern has one]). The commercial ice well--so important for anyone interested in a cold drink!--has just been restored. And, as it used to be, rooms are available for rent by the public for events (although not for overnight stays).

I wanted to stay longer than our tour, just to look around and picture the history—think about the people who had walked those same floors—but we had dinner reservations in the District and so had to head on back to the Metro. On the way, I picked up a cool pair of Halloween earrings in a jewelry shop and Carol bought a little souvenir for someone back home. And as I walked past the restaurants, I made mental notes on places to eat so that I could lure Husb to come along to Alexandria. One day is a nice visit but it's not enough.

Photo of Magners Cider from their website. Photo of Gadsby's Tavern from their website.

Hotels of the Past (#33)

I love when I stumble onto new information by accident. I was looking for something totally unrelated and came across this postcard for sale on eBay:

To Penn Staters, the Autoport is a well-known State College landmark often used in location descriptions ("Is it before or after the Autoport?").  According to the eBay listing, this picture is from the 1940s. Of course then I had to look up the Autoport itself. You can find its history--as the first motel in Pennsylvania--here.

Hotels of the Past (#31)

Yesterday I headed south for a book reading and signing by Marion Winik for her latest release, Highs in the Low Fifties, at the Holy Hound Taproom in downtown York, PA. Husb and I lived in York County for many years so I figured I wouldn’t have any problem finding the address 57 W. Market Street. Right downtown. Been there many, many times.

 

And yet I found myself going around the block again and again, thinking, “Where the hell is it?” Downtown has changed a bit—most significantly George Street is now two-way the whole way. But that wasn’t it. It was that I was thinking it would be one of the little storefronts and it is actually in one of my favorite buildings in York--an old hotel!

 

When we lived there in the 1990s–2000s a lot of discussion in the newspaper revolved around what to do with the old National Hotel on the corner of Market and Beaver streets. And it was the same debate that always comes with one of these old hotels. Tear it down? Preserve it? Modify it for 21-century tastes?

 

Obviously someone saw potential in the building and for the past year the first floor has been home to the Holy Hound Taproom. Gorgeous room, 30 beers on tap, bar food menu, some live music, plenty of events—if only I lived closer! The place was busy the entire time I was there; in addition to the book crowd, plenty of regulars came and went. The Baltimore band 27 Lights played between Marion’s readings.

 

Of course I came home and started researching the building. Like so many old hotels I’ve found, this one has a few links to celebrities and a long life of changing owners and names. This description comes from John Gibson’s History of York County, Pennsylvania (Chicago: F. A. Battey Publishing Co., 1886):

 

“The National House, corner of Market and Beaver Streets, was built by Z. Durkee, and long known as the White Hall. It is the largest hotel in York. Some of its early proprietors were John Welsh, Daniel Ahl, Daniel Miller, Hodges, Rhinehart, Maish, and Mrs. West. It was called ‘the Tremont House’ for a time by one of its proprietors, who came from Tremont, Schuylkill County. When it was purchased by Frederick Stallman, its present owner, the name which it now bears was given it. The great English novelist, Charles Dickens, stopped at this hotel in 1841, and said that he was here served with the best piece of road beef while on his visit to America. During the Revolutionary war, and many years later, peter Dinkle kept a store on this site. He was an ardent patriot, and furnished supplies to the army.”

 

A few years before Dickens, President Martin van Buren also stayed at the National House, but this writer must have thought that wasn’t worth mentioning.

 

It looks like the Holy Hound is well established in downtown York. I hope other people thinking about what to do with old hotels take note.

 

Photo from the Holy Hound Taproom website

Hotels of the Past (#30)

I'm not the only one fascinated by the old hotel . . . Historic Hotels of the Rockies is an organization of 16 Western hotels built before 1940, all now open for guests. I could just go from the Sacajawea Hotel in Three Forks, MT,  to the Historic Plains Hotel in Cheyenne, WY, to the Castle Marne in Denver and on to the Hotel Alex Johnson in Rapid City, SD, and on and on. . .

Hotels of the Past (#29)

Of course this postcard caught my eye on Cardcow.com--the 12 gables (on each side!), the ornate entryway, and best of all the writer's message. This is the Hotel Terrace (now there's a poorly thought-out name: "I'd like the Hotel Terrace, please, operator." Says the operator, "The terrace at what hotel, sir?" Real Abbott and Costello potential there ...)

I would like to know what Ralph did that requires begging his cousins' forgiveness but I doubt a postcard from Scranton did the trick.

Seriously, this is an impressive late-19th-century hotel, so confident in its reputation that it didn't need to mention its amenities on the back. According to David Crosby's Scranton (Arcadia Publishing, 2011), the hotel burned down in 1984 and is now a parking lot for Lackawanna College.

Jean Bonnet Tavern, Bedford, PA

I’ve been reading about Gettysburg and ghosts this week, which happens to be the 150th anniversary of that battle. That research actually led me back in time to pre–Revolutionary War days and another place that’s said to be haunted—the Jean Bonnet Tavern in Bedford. If you’ve traveled the turnpike in the western half of the state, you have passed right by the Jean Bonnet.

Built in 1762 (as they like to say “we were here before the turnpike!”), over its life the building has been a French fort, a trading post, a private home, and most often a “public house,” that is, a tavern, as it is today. Fortunately, the owners respect that history and didn’t “modernize” it. The dining room still has low ceilings, large beams, stone walls, and a big fireplace. The bed-and-breakfast rooms upstairs still have their old wooden doors and hand-hewn floors. The entire building feels very genuine.

We have often stopped at the Jean Bonnet for a meal, but the last time I was there, Husb and I had dinner before spending the night. We sat out on the deck and ordered from a long list of Pennsylvania beers on draft. For dinner he had the turkey club croissant (“generous stack of thinly sliced smoked turkey, topped with bacon and swiss cheese, served warm on a flaky croissant roll”); I had the broiled Tavern crab cake sandwich (“A house specialty loaded with jumbo lump and claw meat, broiled to perfection”). For dessert we split the oatmeal pie (“A delicious, mild flavored dessert that will exceed your expectations”—think oatmeal chess pie).

After dinner we checked into our room, Room 1, which had a four-poster canopy bed and a private bath (one update I don’t want to live without!). Since our room faced the turnpike, we sat out on our porch and relaxed while the traffic went by. Then we went to the second-floor tavern for a nightcap.

When I booked us at the Jean Bonnet, I didn’t know about the “haunted” part. But when I started to read the guestbook that belonged to our room, it made me a little . . . uh . . . uneasy. Most entries were just about the experience: Shawn proposed to his girlfriend and is now “the luckiest guy in the world.” Aww. Others said, “We passed by this place for years,” or “we come here every anniversary.” But there was one common theme: “We didn’t see any ghosts.” Someone mentioned that “the two little girls” didn’t wake the guest up to play. After reading that I spent a good part of the night waiting for any spectres-in-residence, but none appeared to me either. (I was not sorry--even the ghosts in Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol scared me. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d seen one!)

Breakfast was in the dining room, which they served earlier than usual to accommodate our schedule. We were the only guests so we had a private meal and a great chat with our waitress.

On our way out I peeked into the other guest rooms—a single across from ours and two two-room suites on the other side of the building. I will most certainly be back to the Jean Bonnet. If I spend the night I’d like to try one of the two-room suites. Of course, according to hauntedhouses.com, that’s where the ghosts appear (everywhere but Room 1). Hmm, I may have to rethink that . . .

 

Photo of tavern from www.jeanbonnettavern.com