Speaker 1: The eighteen eighty nine White Gate In and Cottage, Asheville,
North Carolina. She's known affectionately as Missus B to the
current owners and guest of the eighteen eighty nine White
Gate Inn in Cottage, an elegant bed and breakfast in
downtown Asheville, North Carolina. This nurturing ghost of a bygone
era still walks the halls of her former home, turning
off lights, closing doors, and ensuring that everyone is tucked
in for a peaceful night's sleep. For me, it is
very real, says owner Frank, referring to the presence of
a ghost in the house. He and Ralph Coffee bought
the White Gate Inn in nineteen ninety nine and set
about turning the bed and breakfast into an oasis for travelers.
Their landscaped gardens are a bonnet's dream, with hundreds of
varieties of rare plants, a coed pond and a rouse
prize greenhouse filled to overflowing with more than fifteen hundred
orchids and tropical plants indoors, the pair created a sense
of relaxed luxury that starts each day with a three
coarse candlelit breakfast. Perhaps it is their commitment to comfort
that entice the former owner to stay on. But whatever
the reason, Frank and Ralph run A spirited in the
previous owners briefly mentioned that there might be more to
the White Gate property then one might list on a
realis or sell sheet. It didn't take long for Frank
to tune into the presence of more than one spirit. Initially,
I was running the end by myself, and in the
early days we didn't have a lot of business, so
a lot of nights the rooms would be empty, explains Frank.
But I would hear footsteps, doors closing, the push button
lights going on and off. I couldn't grasp what was
going on at first, and in other parts of the
house I felt sure I was being watched. A lot
of energy runs through the central hallway, and it was
there that Frank had a physical encounter with one of
the End's entities. I felt hands rubbing my shoulder and
it felt so good. I turned round to thank Ralph
for the lovely massage, but there is no one there.
On another occasion, as Frank was closing up the inn
for the evening, he heard a female voice say, I'm
right here. What concern Frank is that he felt distinctly
uncomfortable in certain parts of the house, whereas other areas
had more soothing. Phil I knew he had more than
one entity because the different sensations for Ralph. The eery,
unnerving feelings were strongest in the basement storage area. I
would walk down the stairs and my stomach would get
nauseous and my eyes would tear up. He says. He
forced himself to descend the stairs because that's where they
kept the can goods and extra refrigerators, but it was
never a pleasant experience. The main house held a calm energy,
but on the third floor, Frank felt something constantly watching him,
and not in a good way. The range and intensity
of the sensations prompted Frank to call the local paranormal
investigative team to allow for a blind study. He did
not share his experiences with the team, and he was
pleased when their findings of extreme energy and certain spots
of the house corroborated with his own experiences. They recorded
lots of whispers, the clicking sound of the lights being
turned on and off, and identified some energy hotspots, says Frank.
That's our documentation was started soon after a paranormal team
from Duke University arrived with five students to investigate the end.
It too, was a blind study, and the students included
both skeptics and sensitives. They walked around the inn without
any knowledge of the history of the building, and later
looked at ten photographs of different people. When asked if
any of the people in the pictures could be connected
to the energy felt in the house, four of the
five students pointed to the former owner, Missus Marine Bridgett
Missus B. The house dates back to eighteen eighty nine,
when it was built as a private residence. In nineteen
twenty eight, a nurse named Marine Bridget bought the building and,
along with her sister, Margaret del Rosso, another nurse, turned
it into a home for people with tuberculosis. Marine continued
her work until nineteen fifty five, when a heart attack
left her weakened and unable to take patience. She died
in the home in nineteen seventy three. While running the home,
Missus B, as she came to be known, made a
habit of walking the halls at night to close doorsternal
flights and check in on her patients, so that explained
the late night ramblings and nurturing energy. Frank even had
a chat with Missus B to ask her to keep
the nocturnal noises to a minimum. I explained to Marina
that we want her to live here as long as
she wants, but at night she needs to be quiet
so our guests can sleep. It appears she listened because
there is so much less activity now. Frank notes she
is a lot more active when the house is empty.
But what of the other not so friendly entities. Frank
brought a shaman to perform a clearing ceremony. The woman
stated that there were a lot of active spirits in
the house, and that in addition to Missus B, she
picked up on a began and general inact to spirit
called Colonel. The shaman also told Frank that Marine often
protected him from some unfriendly entities, including the one and
the basement. She is apparently happy that I'm here to
take care of the house, says Frank. The Shamaic clear
out seems to have done the trick, because the basement
is now just a storage area without the NaSTA, the
nauseating energy and most of the other random negative sensations
are also gone. That leaves Missus B. Aside from the
assistance in tidying up, closing drawers, shutting doors, some guests
have seen her sitting in the garden now and then
we have pictures of marine supplied by her granddaughter, who
still lives in the Asheville, says Frank. So when a
guest recently inquired about an elderly woman with gray hair
pulled up, Frank brought out a picture of Missus B.
The guests confirmed that Missus B was the person enjoying
a moment of mourning serenity in the garden. Ralph is
the skeptic of the pair. Frank laughs. He says, to me,
sure you had a shaman come in and do it clearing,
but all she cleared was your wallet. However, even Ralph
ammends that there is something odd about the inn, and
though it might not qualify as a ghost, because after all,
we have to believe in ghosts for that to happen,
there is something. So if you happen to be traveling
through the splendid valleys of North Carolina's mountains, stop by
the eighteen eighty nine like it in for an idyllic rest,
but a not so idle ghost