Unraveling Rose Red: Piecing together the puzzle of history and “coincidence” in Rose Red.

Hotel Bremen, like Pinafore Lodge, was a very popular resort destination in the late 19th century and early 20th century. It resided on the cool, calm waters of Lake Chincopee in northern New Jersey.

After the last of the local Indians were driven from the area by white industry - primarily ice, cut in large blocks during winter and shipped around the area for storage in ice houses - the beautiful lake was prime for spring, summer, and fall retreats for middle and upper class travelers from around the country.

While one might suggest the brutality of the way the indigenous Indians were driven away could be enough to curse the entire area, their treatment was not entirely without justification. The local Indians sided with the British in the American War of Independence, as part of a confederation led by the Mohawk. They met their fate at the hands of New Jersey militia, and the rest who remained on the lake for several more decades were derided and finally shoved out of the way by the relentless forward momentum of industry. Between the ice businesses, the numerous iron mine operations on the lake’s surrounding mountains, and the growing tourism, there was very little undisrupted land left for the Indians to live on. Eventually their tribe dwindled and was absorbed into the larger Lenni Lenape nation, and descendants are rare. They are all but extinct. (Continue reading…)

I woke up missing Nick terribly for some reason, sometimes it hits me like that. Out of nowhere I’ll need him, even when I’ve grown accustomed to his absence. But I think of our life together and how well we’d do…will do…as husband and wife. It fills me with a sense of longing and nostalgia so profound I hope none of you ever have to experience it. It can be living hell.

It wasn’t always idyllic when he was around. He has his moods, as do I. But that’s what love’s about, true partnership even when the road is bumpy. Trusting someone to love you regardless of what you look like in the morning. Knowing someone will take care of you when you get sick, even push your wheelchair and wipe your chin if you need it…clean you, embrace you, hold your hand at the end when all that’s left is love.

I will not be denied these things with Nick. I simply will not.

Somehow I will solve this. Somehow, I will find a way to him. Losing him is not an option.

I hope you will help me as I explore my options. Please share your thoughts in comments or the guestbook. You’ll find several researched articles already posted in the archive, and photos of my Rose Suite in the gallery - those are good places to begin!

Last week I proposed the idea for this post to Steven Rimbauer, and while he was naturally hesitant at first, he soon adopted his usual laissez-faire stance. That is to say when it comes to stories, he tends to let the storyteller have his or her way…and sometimes ends up butting in and telling the story himself!

There’s no chance of that happening here, since this is my blog. But after he agreed to let me talk about this “taboo” subject, he drew up notes of everything he remembered from his and Joyce’s private conversations over the course of their relationship. I’d say that’s participation in the story. And as it gives interesting insight into Joyce’s fascination with Ellen Rimbauer, and indeed her relationship with Steve, I thought it worth presenting to you for your consideration.

It must be noted that everything I am about to divulge has been approved for publication here by Steve. Even the most intimate details. Otherwise, I wouldn’t write them—his friendship is too precious to me to sacrifice over a good tale.

Warning: this post contains adult content, or at least adult references. (Continue reading…)

Unraveling Rose Red: Piecing together the puzzle of history and “coincidence” in Rose Red.

Pinafore Lodge was constructed in 1876 on the slope of Mount Pinafore in Pennsylvania—called “Pinafore” for its curious shape and landscape, creating an apron-like appearance when covered in snow. Its builder and original owner, a wealthy Swiss emigrant by the name of Marti Lautens, saw the potential of the location for a mountainside resort—recognized, even before the advent of the popularity of skiing—that Americans would flock to the mountains for their natural beauty, restorative properties and amusement opportunities. He was correct.

For 60 years Pinafore Lodge reigned as the queen of Pennsylvania mountain retreats. Initially the wealthy came for the socializing, enjoying each other’s company in the enormous structure’s two ballrooms, four dining rooms, five recreation rooms (where various events and activities were held, typically gender-disparate in interest, but occasional lectures by famous physicians, writers and artists were attended by members of both sexes), two libraries, a cavernous gentleman’s club, two billiards rooms, a lavish theatre, a large gymnasium, a thoroughly-equipped beauty salon and many other attractions and amenities. After skiing became popular approximately a century ago, the lodge offered a range of slopes to satisfy skiers of all levels, and this brought further influxes of guests. In 1905 a sprawling addition of guest rooms was added to the original lodge complex, and their advertising boasted the Pinafore Lodge as “the largest and grandest resort in the country”. While I have been unable to substantiate those claims, Pinafore Lodge was clearly among the top of the tops for resort destinations at that time. (Continue reading…)

Sophia Dorothea was a slave ship built in the shipyard on the Deptford Strand in Greenwich, England, in the year 1725. Her purpose was simple: abduct African men, women, and children; shackle them by the hands, ankles, and neck in a small berth resembling a coffin, and leave them there to agonize over the torture of sea travel without fresh air or fresh water, possessing no sanitation, and barely enough food. She carried these abducted Africans, soon to be slaves, to the Indies – where those who survived the journey would mostly settle in Jamaica to do the immensely dangerous job of refining sugar cane into sugar.

Sophia Dorothea (named after the wife of the King in reign when the ship was constructed, George I) was a highly successful ship. She was built fast and sturdy enough to withstand the weather one comes to expect of that route of voyage. For three decades she ferried slaves back and forth, then was sold to another owner. He did some minimal repairs and sailed her again for the same task. By the end of the 18th century the Sophia Dorothea continued in service. When docked it reeked of death, human waste, and blood so badly that it would choke passers by.

For each and every Wonder of the World an equal and most nefarious Evil of the World stands opposite. [...] Of these, none is more terrible to behold than the Sophia Dorothea, docked yesterday for a fortnight leave for crew and allowance of provision stocking. One needs not stand at dockside to know the Sophia Dorothea is in port, the smell of her gags the strongest men even at distance. It is such that merely to experience the smell once will ever churn one’s bile at the mere mention of her name. Surely no more potent a charm can be cast in favor of William Wilberforce’s yearly bill to abolish the trade of slaves. (H.L. Hubry, London Evening Post, 1791)

(Continue reading…)

Construction on Kinkarney Castle began in 1483, but due to a number of setbacks–of both mysterious and mundane origins–hindered the completion of the castle until 1546 (coincidentally, I believe, the exact lifespan of famous Christian reformist Martin Luther). By this time the original owners (surname Lyons), who had drafted the plans and funded the initial work, had died. Records of these events are spotty at best, but suggest that the deaths occurred at different times but under strikingly similar and violent circumstances.

Some feel the Lyons brought such ends and the subsequent dark history of the castle upon themselves by insisting the original castle be constructed atop a “faerie mound,” one of the many unexplainable mounds that dot the Irish countryside, said to be inhabited by powerful supernatural spirits. Most believe that to disturb or deface a mound is to ask for trouble–sometimes, serious trouble–it is not unlike the “building atop burial ground” superstition common in America today. (Interestingly enough, there is evidence supporting a theory that Rose Red was built atop an Amerindian burial site.) One can only speculate as to the reason(s) the Lyons insisted that their home be built atop a faerie mound, but historians and folklorists feel that there must have been a desire to harness some kind of supernatural power, on part of one or both. Perhaps it was simply a blatant disregard–or outright disdain–for the beliefs of the local peoples. Whatever prompted them to make this decision, many postulate that it sealed their fates. (Continue reading…)

A local bridal magazine, Seattle Bride, did an interview with me in October of 2004. It’s all about Nick and my wedding (which is still hanging in the balance!) and quite a bit about Nick as well. I thought that you might find it interesting to get a better idea of our life together and our plans for the future.

The Ever Wedding
by Priscilla Baines for Seattle Bride, October 2004

Editor’s Note: It’s not often we profile a wedding steeped in tragedy. But when noted author Allison O’Sullivan agreed to talk to us about her on-hold nuptials with fiancé Nick Hardaway, who went missing in Rose Red in 2001, we simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity. We hope that you take away from this interview not a sense of sadness or wistfulness, but the infectious hope and optimism with which Allison still approaches her wedding.

October of 2001 was the month Ally O’Sullivan was to become Ally Hardaway, or for those who prefer formality, Mrs. Nicolas Hardaway. But in May of 2001 her husband-to-be vanished into thin air in famed haunted house Rose Red, which used to reside in the heart of downtown Seattle.

The house itself was a wedding present from John Rimbauer to his young wife Ellen Rimbauer, and one would think the romantic gesture would fill the place with love. But instead, unknown forces Ally continues to relentlessly study twisted it into a psychic black hole, devouring any who crossed its path. And on that now infamous Memorial Day weekend, 4 of the party of 9 who set out to explore the mansion met an unpleasant, if rather unresolved fate.

Ally now lives in a condo on the site of what once was the Rimbauer estate. Determined to somehow solve the mystery of her fiancé’s disappearance, she prefers to think of her wedding as pending, rather than called off. Specially for our October issue, she spoke to us about her life, her love, and her “ever” wedding. (Continue reading…)

It’s true. I did disappear for six years.

But it’s not quite what you think.

You may recall there was some drama back in the spring of 2002 when I went “missing” and my friend Jenn posted the story of my disappearance to my old journal. Unfortunately, because I’ve lost some of those pages, I can only remember bits and pieces of what she said. But based on what I do recall I’ll reconstruct the scene and explain why I am in fact not gone, as is probably obvious from the fact that you’re reading this!

I met Steve Rimbauer for dinner one evening, which is not an unusual occurrence. I’ve seen Steve quite regularly in the years since the Rose Red expedition. I’ll catch you up on that in another post another time. But suffice to say Steve and I having a night out was becoming par for the course, after the initial awkward period when I moved into the condo. What wasn’t par was the massive argument we had about my continued residence in the TechStar complex and my tireless search for Nick…

Steve is understandably terrified of Rose Red, more than he even was as a child, and refuses to come near the property. Even to this day he hasn’t visited me here, and that was what sparked the confrontation between us that night. You may remember I was experiencing some really odd phenomena, particularly with my computer, that I felt related to Joyce…or Joyce’s spirit. As time passed and I got more and more caught up in trying to find what little may have been left of Rose Red and bring it back to life, I grew more desperate. I guess you could say I was a little like Joyce by the time I had dinner with Steve that night.

And I would have stopped at nothing to achieve my goal. Ultimately to find Nick, but at the time I felt the only way to do that was to bring through anyone and anything I could, to rouse the very essence of Rose Red. I knew, and still know in my heart of hearts, that Nick is here to help the spirits Rose Red claimed. And believe me. Just because the house is gone doesn’t mean Rose Red is gone.
(Continue reading…)