#combined with the fact that he had once begged content creators not to cover the game it paints a picture

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 4: Dinner at the Afterglow (Transcript) - 20th April 2015

tw: cults, ghosts

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

The San Juan Islands are a cluster of small, wooded islands off the coast of Washington state, just across the water from Vancouver Island. The western most of those small plots of land is San Juan Island itself, which has a population of less than 7000 residents, and has the welcoming feel of a small, quiet town. Seriously, this place is quiet. The most exciting thing most people can think about of their home there is that one of the residents is Lisa Moretti, a retired female WWF wrestler. But on the northern tip of the island, just beyond Roche Harbour and the resort there, is a road that leads into the woods. What is hidden in those trees, away from the prying eyes of tourists and residents alike, is something so unusual, something so out of the ordinary and bizarre, that it practically begs for a visit. Travelling down the long dirt road that runs into the heart of the forest, like a withered artery, will bring you to an iron archway mounted on stone pillars. The words “Afterglow Vista” are woven into the metalwork. Beyond that, deeper into the woods, is a series of stone stairs that lead up a small hill, and it’s the thing on top of that hill that immediately catches the eye of every visitor, without question. It’s an open-air rotunda, a ring of tall, stone pillars, standing on a flat, circular limestone base. They’re connected at the top by thick, Maltese archways, but nothing covers the rotunda itself – its interior is completely exposed and visible. What’s inside? A large, round, stone table, surrounded by six limestone chairs. Odd, but not creepy, until you realise the purpose this monument serves. It’s a tomb. Resting inside each of the chairs is the cremated remains of a human being. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

In the late 19th century, San Juan Island became known for its lime deposits. Then, as now, lime was an essential ingredient in important products such as steel, fertilizer and cement, and the lime industry of San Juan Island provided much of the community’s jobs and revenue. In 1886, a man named John S. McMillin purchased controlling interest in the major lime deposits there, and eventually developed the industry there to be the largest supplier of lime on the West Coast. In the process, he built the 20-room Hotel de Haro at Roche Harbour, and then, a company town that surrounded it. In addition to the lime factory itself, he also built the barrel-works, warehouse, docks, ships, offices, a church, a general store and even barns. He even built houses for the workers, with the single men living in large bunkhouses, and the families being given small cottages that had been build into neat rows. All the structures belonged to McMillin, but his army of employees, over 800 of them at the peak of the business, gave them life. McMillin had a vision, for everyone living in one, big community. The town was self-sufficient with its own water, power, and telephone systems, and he paid his workers in company scrip, company currency that was only good there, in town, at the local company store. Of course, workers could still draw their salary in US currency whenever they wished, but the scrip was used in the store all the way up to 1956. That wasn’t all McMillin built though; he was far from done.

John S. McMillin was an unusual man. He was born in 1855, and attended Depauw University in Indiana, back when it was still called Asbury College. There he joined the Sigma Chi fraternity, and helped guide that young organisation to form a grand council, an executive committee at the national level. As a result, he was elected the very first Sigma Chi grand consul. In addition to his fraternity connections, McMillin was a Freemason, reaching the rank of 32nd degree out of the possible 33. He was prominent in business and politics, and even counted Teddy Roosevelt as a friend, who frequently visited and stayed at the hotel. McMillin had four children, and nearly the entire family considered themselves devout Methodists. Only one child, they say, left the family faith, and in doing so he might very well have locked himself out of the McMillin story forever. You see, all those worlds of interest, as different from each other as they all were, co-existed inside the mind of John McMillin. So when the time came to plan an eternal resting place for he and his family, each element had influence on those designs. The result – you might have guessed – was the eerie stone edifice located deep in the forest.

The structure really is a thing to behold. Once you’ve listened to me talk about it, you’ll want to visit some websites to see the true beauty of what McMillin built. When it was first constructed, the forest around it was far less thickly wooded than it is today, and visitors could see Afterglow Beach off to the north-west, perhaps giving the structure its name. It was designed to be a Tholos, a circular Mycenaean temple. It was crafted from local limestone and cement, but what’s really fascinating is the large number of secret messages and hidden meanings that were built into the structure, some relating to the Knight’s Templar, and others reflecting McMillin’s values as a Methodist. For example, approaching the mausoleum requires travelling up three separate sets of stairs, each set having its own meaning. There are three steps in the first flight of stairs, and they’re said to represent the three ages of man; the second set contained five steps, representing the five senses; and the third set contains seven steps, which stand for the seven liberal arts and sciences. Around the table are seven pillars that hold up the arches. Oddly though, one of the seven pillars is broken, the western-most one, but it was done intentionally. Only a small portion can be seen on the base, and protruding from the archway above, and this break was said to be a reminder that death never lets us finish our work. There’s room around the table for seven chairs, but the spot that should hold the seventh, the closest to the broken pillar, in fact, is missing. Some say that it was never there to begin with, and that it’s meant to represent the son who walked away from McMillin’s Methodist faith. Depending on who you are, if eternity is a gathering at a table, not finding a seat with your family would be a ruthless punishment indeed. These are all fantastic architectural details, but what’s missing from every photo of the mausoleum is the long list of reported sightings, all of which started some time in the mid 1950s.  

The mausoleum was built with no dome on top, although that had originally been the plan, but it was expensive, amounting to about 40% of the total budget, and so it was scrapped near the end to save cash. Even still, visitors on rainy days have frequently reported that they feel no rain on them while inside the ring of the stone pillars. Some people have spoken of cold spots near the table, while others have heard voices, even when no one else is around. Those daring enough to actually sit on one of the chairs, keeping in mind that they are tiny little tombs containing the remains of the McMillin family, said that they felt very uneasy doing so, and more than one person has reported the sensation of hands pushing them off. A frequent account is the sight of strange lights at night, including blue lights that seem to hover above the chairs. Some visitors have also reported seeing the members of the McMillin family themselves on nights of the full moon, seated around the table while and laughing and talking.

The mausoleum isn’t the only place with unusual activity though. Originally, John McMillin built the family home right beside the Hotel de Haro, and his long-term secretary, Ada Beane, had a cottage on the other side of the hotel. Later, the Roche Hotel was built around the old hotel, and the other buildings were combined into the structure. Beane’s cottage, for example, became the current dining room and hotel gift shop. That dining room/restaurant has been the focus of quite a bit of unusual activity. The resort’s restaurant manager reported that, on more than one occasion, he has closed up shop, turned off the lights, and headed for the door, only to look back over his shoulder, and seen that a candle on one of the tables has reignited. When he walked back in and blew it out, all of the kitchen hood fans turned on at once. Other appliances have been known to turn on as well. Employees over the years have reported stoves, blenders and toasters turning themselves on and off. The storeroom door has been known to open and close by itself. Furniture in the back room has even been found rearranged in the morning with no explanation. The gift shop, located in another part of that old cottage, has also been home to some unusual activity. One former employee once watched as several glass shelves cracked and shattered, one by one, all without anyone touching them. In the hotel itself, there are rumours of ghosts. The second floor is reported to be haunted by what has been described as a middle-aged woman wearing a long dress. Employees have told the owners that they frequently hear the sound of rustling clothing in rooms where no one else should be. Is it the ghost woman’s dress they hear?

It’s funny how the people who live around us have a way of making an impression on us. We feel them when they’re here, like the gravitational pull of another planet, but sometimes we even feel them when they’re gone. They leave memories behind when they go, treasured gifts, belongings, or perhaps a worn spot on a favourite piece of furniture. Ghosts are a concept almost as old as time. The people we love are here for a while, and then they’re gone, and humans have always struggled to understand what happens to them after death. Maybe ghost stories are a way for us to grapple with our own loneliness and loss. Perhaps they’re our way of bolstering ourselves against our own impending death. We must go somewhere, right? Are we ready? Will we be forgotten? John McMillin believed with all his heart that his life needed to be remembered, and that his body, and those of his family, deserved a resting place equal  to their position in life. The Afterglow Vista stands as proof of one man’s faith in something beyond the veil.

And that light over the limestone seats that sometimes people report to have seen since the 50s? Well, it turns out there just might be an explanation, depending on what you’re willing to believe, of course. Remember how the building that houses the hotel’s gift shop and dining room used to be the home of Ada Beane, McMillin’s long-time secretary? Well, along with being a key figure in the day to day business of the company, she also helped as a governess to the McMillin children, and she was practically part of the family. So when Miss Beane died, prior to McMillin, it was obviously an emotional loss. Rumours persist to this day that her death was suicide, but official records list nothing more than natural causes. Regardless, the family lost someone dear when she passed away. After her death, her body was cremated and placed in a mason jar, and that jar somehow made it onto the mantle in the office of Paul McMillin, John’s youngest son. It wasn’t until the mid-1950s that the resort manager learnt from Paul, still alive and working for the company, that she was there, and that’s when they moved her. Where did they take her remains? Why, to join the others, of course. Her ashes were added the copper urn in one of the seats around the stone table in the mausoleum, putting her back where she belonged: among friends as dear to her as family. But Miss Beane might not have been too pleased about that decision. Perhaps, after looking over the family and estate for all those years, being moved to the cold, dark tomb didn’t settle well with her. It was only after the move that people began to see lights and hear voices. At the same time, the pranks and the unusual activities started up inside the hotel. Coincidence, or the actions of an upset woman who would rather spend her eternity away from the tourists and cold rain of the Afterglow Vista? Can you blame her?

Lore is a biweekly podcast and was produced by me, Aaron Mahnke. You can find a transcript of the show, as well as links to the source material at lorepodcast.com. The music in this episode was written by Kai Engel – be sure to check him out on soundcloud. If you enjoy scary stories, I happen to write them. You can find a full list of my supernatural thrillers, available in paperback and ebook format, at aaronmahnke.com/novels. And lastly, help the show grow by visiting ITunes today to leave a rating and review, and tell your friends. The show is on Twitter and Facebook, twitter.com/lorepodcast and facebook.com/lorepodcast. Thanks for listening.