I DO BELIEVE IN SPOOKS, I DO BELIEVE IN SPOOKS, I DO, I DO, I DO BELIEVE IN SPOOKS!

Not really, that's just one of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies, The Wizard Of Oz.

No, I'm not gay, I just remember watching that movie as a kid and being scared shitless.

I don't have the DVD, it's just one of the movies that I have to stop my channel surfing and watch the remainder of it whenever it and my remote cross paths.

The Cowardly Lion spoke those words as the witch hunting crew traveled through the Haunted Forest. The Tin Man assured everyone that they were safe and shucks he didn't believe in spooks anyhow. That's when a gang of lurking spooks picked him up and promptly kicked the shit out of him. The Lion started chanting his mantra in reaction to the Tin Man getting his ass canned because he said he didn't believe in spooks.

There is an entire industry devoted to the paranormal and fleecing the believers in the paranormal. Probably one of the most successful scammers in the business is a charlatan named John Edwards. His shows are filled with audiences who have become shills without even knowing it. Edwards has "greeters" roaming through the crowds before a taping digging out key information from the audience that will be later used by Edwards as he "communicates with the departed ones".

His shows are also heavily edited to eliminate the 90 percent stuff he gets wrong.

"The letter M keeps coming to mind, Mary?, Martha?, Mark?, Michael?, does that mean anything to you?". Of course it's a method of initiating a "cold reading" of a random member of the audience or he may be focusing in on a potential shill that one of his handlers had previously gleaned information from. Then it just goes from there with Edwards or any other fake psychic leading the shill to give them positive indicators when he is on the right track.

Sort of "your getting warmer, no colder, ok warmer, warmer, no colder, now warmer, warmer!, warmer!!, YOUR BURNING UP JOHN!, THATS IT!.

You nailed it John Edwards! How ever did you do that!?!?"

I didn't mean to go off on a tangent here about my disgust for fake psychics, which includes all who claim to be.

I guess it's a subject that goes hand in hand with my disbelief in ones spirit crossing back over once one has taken the dirt nap.

The subject came up in my mind as the hair on the back of my neck raised just a bit Saturday night after the Ghost Walk ended and I was tending to the props.

I was one of the prop men or "grip" as they are listed on the ending credits of a movie.

This was the first weekend of the 24th annual Ghost Walk the volunteers put on here at the Koreshan State Historic Site in Estero Florida.

The old settlement pathways are lined with over 400 hundred luminaries and there are 8 scenes in various buildings and stages throughout the park.

The scenes and buildings are illuminated with mostly real candles and lanterns and windows in some buildings are dimly lit with hidden battery powered flickering candles or lights.

When it's all set up it is very effective if not just a bit eerie.

It's not a ghost adventure at all, nor is it meant to be.

The history of the Koreshans and its progression and decline are portrayed chronologically as the audience is ushered from one scene to the next throughout the settlement.

I have put most of my efforts here at the park into learning all about he early 20th century machine shops and power house as this is my assigned place to work and serve as Docent for the winter.

Of course I am completely mesmerized by all the antique technology that surrounds me in the Industrial Area of the Unity settlement.

I am likewise fascinated with the rise and fall of this bizarre group of individuals that made up the Koreshan Unity.

Founded in the late 19th century by the late (and as of 2/2/2015 un-reincarnated) Dr. Cyrus Teed, or Master Koresh as his followers addressed him.

He was to be their Messiah and lead the world in the New Jerusalem that was to begin here in the swamps of Estero Florida.

Some would call this a cult, of all the studies I have done on cults this group certainly qualifies as a personality lead cult.

I don't call it that here in mixed company, it does not seem to be politically correct to do so officially.

The Unity flourished in the early years with new members giving over to Master Koresh all their earthly goods, separating their family's, men in one compound, women in another and their children given over to be raised by others in one large group.

Oh yeah they were also required to take an oath of celibacy.

Yeah nothing cult like there huh?

So the Unity members not getting jiggy with it anymore needed to find something to do with their hands so they worked and they worked hard. They produced and built and commenced commerce in the area and made money.

Then in 1908 The Messiah died so they put him in a tub and waited for Master Koresh to reincarnate, and they waited and waited and, well this is southwest Florida, not known for having weather that would lend to preserving a dead master. They were finally ordered to bury the now rotting master so they entombed him near the beach still expecting one day would be the Second Coming.

Then one day a hurricane blew through and the tomb door did not roll away. The whole damn thing blew away, out to sea and his body except for a few bits and pieces were never heard from again.

Over the next decades some of the more faithful remained but without procreation and without a walking talking Messiah to bring in new shills the Utopia gradually died out so the 4 remaining members donated the property to the State of Florida in the early 1960's.

Damn! Chasing rabbits here again,

I said all that to take you to one of the buildings I was in Saturday night, a building like all the other buildings in the settlement that would make a great place for a ghost to hang out.

This is one of the largest buildings here and it held the Seven Planetary Sisters who were the seven women that ran all the sects businesses.

There are two floors, three if you count the Copulla. That is where the guy whose job it was to watch over and serve the Planetary Sisters resided.

It's a tiny room, about half the size of my camper that sits atop the building.

Sparse and austere to be sure, but the view was stunning!

The miniature penthouse of The Planetary Court building has windows a plenty and a door on each side that opens up to two widow walks that had me lingering up there longer than necessary to turn out the battery lanterns.

This and the second floor are off limits to tour groups.

So there I was, looking down at the settlement at a view shared by the long departed watchdog of the Sisters, wondering how he felt with two floors of the fairer sex below him.

Two floors of women he could not have, only protect them and serve them.

Wondering if he even wanted to have any of them. Wondering if he ever did have any of them.

Wondering about all those long dead people who gave up possessions, freedom and even family to come here expecting a glorious new utopia only to watch their New Jerusalem devolve into a collection of structures being reclaimed by the Florida jungle.

I could spend hours here but I have many props to secure for the night so I turn to leave my tiny observatory of historical follies.

Just a few steps down from the doorway you pass through the attic of the Planetary Court and you make a left turn to head down more stairs that lead into one of the Planetary Sisters bedroom. Hmmmmm.

It's really dark in here now. I left my flashlight tuned off. Like the Tin Man I was temping any ghosts that may be lurking in the old building.

I'm still in the attic facing the doorway that leads to the sisters bedroom, the only way out for the fella that served the sisters. I stand still there in the darkness, the only light is the battery powered candle in the window of the sisters bedroom electronically flickering a dim yellow light through the doorway, my eyes adjusted to the dark I can see the way out.

I just can't see what's to my side in the pitch black attic.

Or what is behind me in the Copulla.

My assurance that has comforted me over the years that ghosts do not exist starts to evaporate as the tiny hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand.

The words of the Cowardly Lion start echoing in my mind.

I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks, I do!, I do!, I do believe in spooks!