The Mansions Hotel, Louie's and The Sutro Baths: A Ghost Story.

More than ten years ago, my sister's husband, Bill, caught a virus which shot straight to his heart.  Within days he fell into congestive heart failure and was forced to stay in a San Francisco hospital where they kept him alive to wait for a heart transplant.  He endured this for nearly 18 months before some stranger had been beaten in the street until brain-dead--and  that night, my brother-in-law got his new heart.

My two sisters, Carol, Sandy and Carol's son, Billy and I flew to San Francisco. 
We'd been there many times before for visits and near-death nightmares, so we were well aware of the short-term apartments the hospital provided for families.  However, this one time, they were full.  As the hospital knew Bill and his family very well, they rallied and found a place called the Mansions.  There were others on the list, but the Mansions were first, so we took our chances.

Not knowing what to expect, we were all fascinated as we pulled to its curb: The Mansions Hotel was a three-story, sprawling, turn of the century home, complete with stained glass, gingerbread trim, domed rooftops and beautiful grounds.  I got out of the car, ran up the three sets of front steps to the lobby to see if there were any vacancies.  I opened the door and was shocked by the blood-red carpet, velvet drapes with gold-fringe and tie-backs.  Giant ferns in gilded pots, statues holding other plants and peacock feathers.  There were mirrors everywhere and candles, chandeliers and urns. 

At the front desk stood a man dressed in a dark jacket with a brilliant Macaw parrot on his shoulder.  I managed to ask if there were any vacancies and he said that one room had just become available on the third floor with two standard beds and a private bath (other guests had to share one on each floor).  I told him that would be great, and as he made busy, I looked to my right.  On the wall was a framed picture and article with Sylvia Brown (a famous psychic), attesting to her time spent at the Mansions, and that "Yes, it's indeed haunted."

I ran out, excited beyond words, and told my family that we could stay there.  "And guess what?" I said, "it's haunted!"  My sisters looked at each other and started laughing; Carol's son (about 17 at the time) was not thrilled.  Not wanting to show it, he went along, and all four of us were book to stay in a room called The Sutro Room.

Of course, before we were shown to our room we checked out the place, read everything we could find on the walls about who had lived there, who haunted the place and actual testimonials from previous guests.
It seems a family lived in the mansions with two sister who literally hated each other.  After years of arguing and family squabbles, the father cut the house in half.  There were two entrances, two dining areas, two staircases, etc.  Apparently, those who "walked the house" were one of the sisters, a gentleman and one of the housemaids, if I remember correctly.

The room itself couldn't have been more beautiful and quaint.  Two small windows overlooked the old fashioned fire escape near the window seat.  The two small beds were about four feet apart, piled with fluffed, flowery quilts and pillows.

Our bathroom had a gorgeous domed ceiling, black and white tile floor and an old fashioned claw foot tub with a circular shower curtain.  On the wall hung a huge diagram of The Sutro Baths that used to be "thee" place to relax if you were anybody back in the day.

So, sufficiently scared, we spent time in our room, taking pictures, making fun of Billy who sat in the window the whole time.  We all left the bathroom door open when we had to "go" because we noticed that the hanging mirror would swing just ever so.  It being a very old house, and us on the top floor, we ppfftt it off with a giggle.

Being very late in the afternoon, we went out to dinner and had a great time celebrating Bill's new heart.  We returned to the Mansions to find it very quiet and creepy, to say the least; all the guests seemed to have gone to bed.  Back in our room, we still found that the mirror swayed a bit without any of us going in there and no audible movement in the house.  But again, it was, after all, San Francisco; the place probably swayed all the time.

We spent a couple hours talking, snapping more pictures and finally went to bed about 3am.  Sandy and I took the bed beside the bathroom, Sandy near the wall.  Carol and Billy were beside us, Billy to the wall.  Teasing and giggling we finally fell quiet.  I turned on my side facing Sandy when I felt a hand tuck my covers under my ribs.
I immediately turned to give Carol hell for scaring me only to find her facing away from me, her bed four feet out of reach.

I felt no fear at all--no sense of harm, so I said nothing.  At breakfast I told everyone what happened, and Carol, always a joker, swore she fell immediately to sleep and had not touched me.  Breakfast got real quiet after that.

We went to the hospital to check on Bill: he was conscious but drugged and needed rest.  So we went to do a little sight seeing.  Around lunch, we all agreed we couldn't eat in San Francisco without trying some seafood.  We drove and drove all over the hills wanting to find a place out of the crowds.  After a long while we saw, way down at the bottom on a cliff was a place called Louie's.  Right out of a movie, right?  It was the same inside: having been there for 50 years, it was old time classy with red booths and giant windows overlooking the ocean. 

We sat at our booth, started looking at the menus and noticed a historical flyer-book: The History of The Sutro Baths.  Out our window, on the rocky beach below lay the ruins of the famous Sutro Baths--the reality of what was left of the diagram on our hotel room wall. 

We told our waitress about our experience.  She was pretty freaked out and told us that Louie's was also haunted" the ghost rattled glasses and tipped barstools over, always after closing.  And there had been reports of a Lady in a blue evening dress who walked the beach below at night.

Pretty wild, huh?  We told everyone about our experiences, but few believed us or had some explanation.  But when I developed my film, there were half-moon star bursts over the mirror in the bathroom at every angle.  No other pictures revealed anything out of the ordinary.  Still, I know a kind hand tucked me in that night.  I was wide awake and felt it as definite as a gentle handshake.  No one will ever make me believe otherwise.

The Mansions doesn't exist anymore.  It was purchased and turned into condos.  Sad, huh?  I bet you can find its history online, though.  I'm glad we stayed there.  It was a haunted step back in time, and I won't ever forget it.
Sleep tight . . .