I’m not exactly a believer or ghost enthusiast. I’m unlikely to show up to a federally-sanctioned haunted house with my own set of EMF meters (against the Whaley House rules). I typically think people with ghost stories are lying.
I do like myself the scary movies, though. Children of the Corn? Yes. Rosemary’s Baby? Oh yeah. The Stuff? Definitely. So, when I found out that San Diego was home to The Most Haunted House in America, I was game.
What I didn’t realize is that it was Friday the 13th.
The Whaley House is just down the road from Old Town San Diego, nestled between tchotke shoppes and across from a popular Mexican restaurant with an outdoor P.A. system. “Woodhouse, party of 3.”
Like most of us, you’ll likely wander up to the front door of the Whaley House, where a docent in mauve period dress and a weary expression awaits you.
Go on, ask her. “What is this?” Or, maybe you’re the type that just tries to walk right in. Regardless, with a sigh, she’ll say in the most bored, over-it delivery you’ve ever heard, “This is the most haunted house in America. You need to buy tickets next door.”
Sold!
In the Museum Store, chockablock full of ghost kitsch and San Diego lore, a cashier was in a contentious conversation with a customer. She was not enthused. The customer stepped aside so I could purchase my ticket, while they continued their banter. She handed me my Whaley House Fact Sheet, and I was on my way. Ghost hunting in San Diego! Here I come!
Now for some background.
Thomas Whaley
Thomas and Anna Whaley built the brick house in 1856-57, a short walk from Old Town plaza. Mr. Whaley had ventured out to California during the 1849 Gold Rush, first settling in San Francisco, and running a general store on Montgomery. Arsonists and business losses prompted his move to San Diego.
When the house was built, the San Diego Herald called it the “finest house in Southern California.” It was a mansion, with a commercial first floor and a residential second floor. Mr. Whaley ran his General Store out of the front room.. Unfortunately, it seems that Mr. Whaley was never really able to afford it. Following the death of his toddler son and in debt, he ended up moving his family back to San Francisco.
While living in San Francisco, Mr. Whaley rented the house out to a revolving door of tenants: for use as a General Store, to the city of San Diego for use as a courthouse, to an acting troupe for use as a theatre.
The family returned to San Diego in 1868, not having fared any better in San Francisco. Mr. Whaley died in 1890. Anna survived him for another 23 years, holding festive parties and dances at the house that lasted late into the night.
Generations of Whaleys continued to live and die in the house for another 50 years or so, which brings us to…
Who Died and Made You a Ghost at the Whaley House
1852 — Before the house was built, “Yankee” Jim Robinson was hanged on a tree outback, after being found guilty of grand larceny.
1858 – Eighteen-month old Thomas Whaley Jr died of scarlet fever.
1868-69 – An actor in the theatre troupe accused his girlfriend of cheating on him. He chased her out of the theatre, down the stairs, and stabbed her near the back door.
1885 – After a marriage that lasted all of two weeks, 22-yr old daughter, Violet Whaley, shot herself in the chest, in the outhouse outback. Mr. Whaley carried her inside, and she died on the lounge in the parlor room.
1913 – Anna Whaley died in the Whaley House. She was 80.
1914 – Son Francis Whaley died in the Whaley House. He was 59, and sick with rheumatism.
The Ghosts
This is my favorite Whaley House Paranormal site. I appreciate the writer’s attention to detail.
Yankee Jim – Obviously. People hear his heavy footsteps in the house.
Thomas Whaley Jr – People hear a baby crying in the upstairs bedroom.
Thomas Whaley – He may not have died in the house, but he sure does like to spend time there. Mr. Whaley appears at the top of the stairs, wearing a black frock coat and top hat, although you might also catch him standing by the mantle in the dining room. Or, you might smell his cigar or hear his baritone laugh.
Anna Whaley – She’s the one playing music, singing, and drifting through the house in elegant gowns. Regis Philbin saw her materialize out of a wall. That last sentence is actually true.
The Ginger Child in the Kitchen – No one seems to know who this 9 yr old girl is, but she appears in life-like form. You might also hear her giggling or urging you to play with her with a tug on your hand.
Dolly, the Whaley Family Dog – A fox terrier races down the hallways, brushing up against visitors and sometimes licking at their ankles.
The Lady in the Courtroom – She sits in the courtroom, and doesn’t want to talk to you.
Back in the Whaley House, the first stop on the tour is the General Store, just inside and to your left. A docent dressed in period costume is there to answer your questions and feed you ghost stories.
It was going so well in the dark General Store. Next door, the courtroom was slightly chilly and echoey, as I think courtrooms tend to be. I diligently read my Whaley House Fact Sheet all “oh, huh”s and “well, isn’t that interesting.”
It kind of fell apart when I walked into the dining room. Now, I’m not saying I saw anything. I’m saying that the Whaley House keeps this room dark. Purposefully. One dim sconce and the glowing paned windows facing into the Vermeer-esque kitchen are the only light sources. Yes, it feels manipulative, but that also doesn’t keep it from feeling spooky. (Are you seeing these photos? How creepy does this house look, all on it’s own? It doesn’t need help.)
At first, I shuffled through the gloomy, downcast room with my eyes averted, thinking mostly, “Screw you, House.” When a chatty couple walked in behind me, I walked back in all, “Hey, friendly people! Just taking a few photos, don’t mind me! Aren’t haunted houses just so interesting.”
They unfortunately were very chatty, and not at all interested in keeping the tour moving. The next stop was the second floor. I fumbled with my camera and took a lot of photos of the kitchen, read over my fact sheet for a second time, waiting for people to catch up with me. I mean, I’m in a haunted house, and I’m not dumb. You never, ever go up any stairs alone.
But, there I was, walking up the stairs alone. Stiff upper lip and all that. Show this spooky house who’s boss. At the top of the stairs, another docent sat straight ahead of me, in the front row of the makeshift theatre, reading a book. I walked into the theatre, thinking she’d spring to once she saw me. Nope.
That young, blonde docent with the Lenscrafters, black frames just kept on reading her book.
It dawned on me that The Whaley House was playing “haunted house,” except they were going for the subtle, halfway-to-totally-psychotic kind of haunted house (like Eastern State Penitentiary, where the actor-ghosts pretend to be shy and won’t look you in the eye, but start quietly purring as you approach) rather than the BOO! kind of haunted house.
I toured the rest of the second floor, still waiting for someone to come up the stairs, so we could all laugh laugh laugh about the docent pretending to be a ghost. No luck. By the way, the bedrooms don’t need special lighting to be creepy, the stuffed, antique dolls do that all on their own. My stiff upper lip back in place, I marched back into that theatre, damned if I wasn’t going to leave this stupid house without seeing every inch of it.
I walked past the docent, to the back of the theater so I could see the stage more clearly – lots of swagged red velvet curtains and actually quite pretty.
And that’s when she slowly and deliberately put her bookmark into the fold of her book.
I high-tailed it out of there and down the stairs. I was not going to stick around to see what happened when she stopped reading her book, that’s for sure.
Behind me, the docent came tearing through the second floor like an extra on the Thriller set – arms akimbo and stiff, heavy limbs lurching to and fro.
Yeah.
So, that was it for me and the Whaley House.
I continued to hear her loud, racing footsteps overhead as I made my way through the front door, trying to look totally chill and normal, stopping to briefly smile at the bored docent guarding the gates.
She smiled and thanked me for visiting the Most Haunted House in America.
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Postscript: The Whaley House Museum seems to bring out the actors for spooooky holidays like Friday the 13th and Halloween. So, if that’s your thing, go ahead and shake hands with Yankee Jim. If not, go on any other day of the year.
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The Whaley House Museum
2482 San Diego Avenue, San Diego, CA
Hours: 10am to 9:30pm, daily in the Summer
Admission: Before 5pm, $6/adult, $5/Ages 65+, $4/Ages 3-12. After 5pm, $10/adult and $4/Ages 3-12.
How to Get There: It’s just a few blocks from Old Town San Diego Transportation Center, a transit hub for many bus lines and the Blue Trolley Line. The city offers large, free public parking lots in conjunction with Old Town State Park.
