(Black Gang on Protected Cruiser SIX. Photo USN, imaged from a picture in the forward boiler room of ex-USS Olympia.)

The rain has been soaking the parched earth since last night. It is welcome, after the weeks of drought, but the gentle sound in the night made me think of all manner of things, you know what.
 
I was unsettled anyway, and up in the middle of the night. I gave up and stayed that way. Word from the North came electronically, saying that Raven has been misbehaving, and Potemkin Village notified me that additional steps were required to ensure the tranquility of the third floor. Apparently he has taken to rising in the night like a ghost, and whisking himself into the hallway to try the doors of the other residents.
 
This is understandably irritating to the residents, to hear the sounds of the phantom on the other side of the door attempting to gain entrance. I authorized the additional expense of having a live human bill us for service in the hours of darkness, when Raven feels the spirit move him.
 
He is so childlike and innocent when he is apprehended in his nocturnal roaming that no one is seriously angry. At least not yet. There are branches-and-sequels that stem from that, and action must be taken now to forestall them.
 
It is funny what is left when our consciousness burns away. “Thirty-days, hath September, the saying goes, The beginning of this month came with the great change for Big Mama and her Raven. If this does not work, we will have to move to the next level, and that will mean having to go up there and deal with it in person.
 
The alternatives suck.
 
Raven’s spirit is strong, even if his cognitive mind is not. His plight, and that increasingly of Big Mama forces me to confront the great bell curve of existence. In darkness and passion we begin, and in darkness, metaphoric or not, we go out.
 
Walking the main engineering spaces of ex-USS Olympia gave me the willies, big time. Thinking of the machinery alive, as Captain Harry is trying to re-imagine it, is way cool. He has a thing for steam engines, a real Steam Punk, totally authentic. Part of his passion must have come from the darkness in which that plant and magnificent steam handling equipment slumbered all those years.
 
Total darkness. Where anything might happen, and where there was no one to hear the murmurs of the past.
 
Decommissioned in 1922, the pistons and worm gears and gleaming brass were swabbed with grease and the living sailors clambered up the ladders, dogged the hatches and went ashore.
 
The years of darkness were not as actively as hostile as they were to all the other ships of her time. Of all the steel warships, onlyAurora in St. Petersburg and Mikasa in her concrete lagoon remain.
 
Captain Harry maintains that there are a dozens spirits that prowl Olympia’s decks. He sent me the MP3 files as proof. They are tantalizing recordings of the Captain and others speaking to empty air. Upon replaying the recordings, voices responding to questions, or making declarations can be heard. He sent me eight recordings:
 
1. Nurse Karen, laughing;
2. Nurse Karen saying: “He looks OK;”
3. An irritated spirit saying: “Get Out!”
4. Perhaps the same irascible soul declaring: “I ain’t talking to you!”
5. An Italian declaring his place of origin as “New York, Buffer;”
6-7. Richard Givens and Thomas Hook introducing themselves self in response to questions requesting their identity.
8. A disembodied voice says “Take pictures.”
 
I have listened to them all, again and again. The sounds are tinny, but real enough. They are “Class A,” for sure, and there are many more, some profane.

Captain Harry cheerfully has obliged on the picture-taking. When we walked into the forward boiler room, he routinely shined his flashlight into the gloom of the passageway leading to the after spaces to see what might be prowling there. He says he is followed when he is on the ship.
 
He believes, and I do not know what to think. The Electronic Voice Phenomenon, or EVP, contained on the electronic files is startling,
 
Is it proof positive that we walk daily through a cloud of spirits who speak in voices too faint or high-pitched to hear? Does some part of us remain when the flesh is gone to dust? I think of Raven on the prowl in the darkness, searching for something, jiggling door handles with an eerie sense of unfocused purpose.
 
I do not know. Once in my life I have heard the void call my name, plain as day. But that could have been hallucination. Many of us take the mysteries as the gospel. We believe all sorts of things. We believe in cable television, certainly, and a show has been running for five seasons that is as successful as any in the reality industry.
 
Reality.

The Ghost Hunters is the video incarnation of The Atlantic Paranormal Society, or TAPS for short. The show premiered in 2004 on the Syfy channel and features two formal Roto-Rooter technicians named Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson who investigate places that are reported to be haunted.
 
The success of the show, based on our willingness to believe, has enabled them to quit their day jobs, something to which both Captain Harry and I aspire. Loosely based on themes channeled by Ghost Busters, the duo leads a cast of players who have visited Alcatraz Prison and Fort Ticonderoga, among dozens of others. They are accused of fraud and bad science, but of course it is entertainment
 
Captain Harry has managed to get their attention. TAPS is going to come to Olympia to visit the spirits of the ship, and record their encounters for broadcast. In order to get Olympia ready, Saturday will be a volunteer day to trice up, paint and sweep down the old lady to get ready.
 
I am confident that they will find things of interest. Standing in that hauntingly empty coal bunker adjacent to where Richard Givens and Thomas Hook of the Block Gang toiled, I could feel the weight of the ship above. I could sense the inexorable conquering pressure of the river just beyond the fragile and thinning hull. I felt…something.
 
I don’t know what. The Ghost Hunters will provide an answer in an entertaining manner. If their presence helps save this historic ship, that is fantastic.
 
Captain Harry will continue to talk to the spirits, so long as this ship floats.
 
I do not have an answer to what might happen to the spirits when she is sunk. If you would like to contribute to her continued existence, you might want to call Captain Harry and see what you can do.
 
You can reach him at: 267-850-4485, or at Phillyriverrat57 at AOL.
 
We need to save Olympia, and all her ghosts.
 

(Breech of five-inch Naval rifle in ADM George Dewy’s at-sea cabin, ex-USS Olympia (C-6))

Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
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