You couldn’t have dreamt up a more perfect night for what was about to occur on the shores of Lake Michigan. Snowflakes twirled across the overcast gloom, and the only sounds came from howling wind gusts and the clank of cables against the post office flagpole across the empty street. Lake Michigan lurked ominously in the great void beyond, like a beast in the shadows that could swallow you whole. It was in this cold ghost town setting that I would spend the night in the historic Karsten Hotel in Kewaunee, Wisconsin. Correction—the haunted historic Karsten Hotel.  That’s the story, anyway. The Karsten Hotel, also known as the Karsten Inn or the Kewaunee Inn, recently went up for auction. It has a history dating back to 1912, when this three-story brick building rose from the ashes of an old wooden structure that had burned down in a fire which, fortunately, claimed no lives. The building is named after William Karsten, who took ownership of the property shortly before the fire, and was responsible for its resurrection. The hotel enjoyed great success as well as numerous ownership and renovations over the years. Its long history is laid out best by its official website, so I’ll move on and get to the reason you’re here—ghosts!

Visitors to the Karsten Hotel have reported three different spirits. The first is of William Karsten himself, a robust fellow who cared for his business with pride. He passed away in his suite on the second floor, and he is said to haunt the two rooms which took its place. People have reported hearing his voice or feeling the presence of a kind host, and even smelling his cigar smoke despite the hotel having a no smoking policy. The second spirit is that of little Billy Karsten III—William Karsten’s grandson. The spirit of Billy, who passed away at a young age, is said to run around the halls and play with the children who stay at the hotel. The third and most active spirit is Agatha, a woman who lived at the hotel and worked there as a maid. Visitors reported seeing her figure standing in the room where she lived, room 310, as well as seeing her wandering the halls, still trying to clean the place up. She is also said to have had a rough life, having apparently been raped by a drunken neighbor on her family’s farm, which led to an understandable distaste for men. Her spirit is now known to play tricks on maintenance men or construction workers, making mischief by hiding their tools or turning them off while they are using them. She has also been seen in the lobby of the hotel, as well as the adjacent dining room.

I arrived on a quiet, gloomy, and cold Sunday afternoon. Since it was February and off-season, I wasn’t expecting to see many people, however, I also wasn’t expecting to feel like the only living soul for miles, either. When the man at the front desk told me I’d be staying in room 310, I lit up—Agatha’s room! Reportedly the most haunted room in the entire hotel, and I didn’t even have to ask for it! A few hours later, I would find out that I was to be the only guest that night. Furthermore, while a number is available to call if the need arises, there is no overnight shift at the front desk. On this night I would be the only person inside the entire building—spending it in the most haunted room, no less.

As I walked up the two flights of stairs to reach the third floor, it felt like I was stepping through a portal in time. Curtains adorned the first landing, and an old settee rested in a small sitting area for people to enjoy a cup of coffee and a chat. The third floor boasted another such sitting area, and I could imagine people in early 1900s attire gathering here and having lively conversations. 

When I first entered Agatha’s room, I could feel it right away. The dimensions, the décor, and the view all combined to immediately send a chill down my spine. I first noticed the stark wallpaper on the main wall behind the head of the bed. Even though it was patterned with flowers, it had an overall greenish hue. That wallpaper combined with the view of a brick wall outside the room made it feel claustrophobic despite its high ceiling. The next thing I noticed was the old doll sitting on a chair beside the bed. It gave me the creeps, but it also thrilled me to think that maybe it would attract some otherworldly attention. I imagined going to sleep with it facing one way, then waking up and seeing it looking right at me.

The room also featured a number of portraits and paintings. One of them was of little Billy, the spirit boy who plays in the halls. Next to his picture was a painting of a girl with an actual photo of a girl underneath. Above the TV set and facing the bed was the most intimidating portrait, that of a woman wearing an old dress and a serious expression. The identities of the girl in the painting, the girl in the photograph, and the woman above the TV were not documented anywhere that I could find, but my guess as to the woman’s identity is either William Karsten’s wife, or perhaps Agatha herself. On the other side of the room was a drawing of a boy and a large tricycle. It was inherently creepy and, given the setting, felt reminiscent of Danny from The Shining.

I set about doing my investigation. I am not a professional paranormal investigator, so my tools for the night were a digital voice recorder for some EVP (electronic voice phenomenon) sessions, my camera phone, another digital camera, and my own five senses. I let the audio recorder do its thing while I perused the room’s journal, reading previous visitors’ accounts of what they thought might have been visits from Agatha during the night. The toilet flushing itself. Knocks on the door. A misty figure crossing the room. A face staring from the corner. While I recorded I asked questions, starting out vague and then moving into more specific territory. “Is there anyone here with me? Agatha, I have heard that you were badly mistreated, which is terrible. Do you have anything you would like to say? Would you like to speak out about anything? Are you sick of people coming into your room and asking you questions all the time?” As I asked these questions, I heard creaking coming from the hallway. It sounded like the floorboards creaking, but more gently than they had when I walked across them. I opened the door and stood in the threshold, trying to figure out the source of the sound. I kept hearing it with regularity, but I could not determine where it was coming from. No matter where I moved, it sounded like it was coming from the same place relative to my ears, like a portrait whose eyes follow you wherever you go. I kept hearing it, so I chalked it up to a regular building sound. Later on, however, the sound stopped, and I never heard it again. I also found what looked like an old handle to a chest of some kind on the floor. I set it on the desk that was being used as a TV stand and asked if Agatha could let me know where it goes, or if she could please put it where it belongs. It never moved. I wonder if Agatha heard me ask the question and simply rolled her eyes and thought, “It goes in the trash, dummy!”

I took my recorder out into the halls and wandered around. The old wood underneath the carpeting creaked with every step. All the guest rooms were open, and since I was the only visitor tonight, I peeked into each room and held my recorder inside, just in case. The other rooms looked much different. Many of them had hardwood floors instead of the carpeting in room 310, and the décor was much more up to date. It was clear that the hotel’s owners wanted to keep Agatha’s room as old fashioned as possible to preserve its spirit, literally and figuratively.

My evening was broken up by dinner at a corner diner down the street, which was about forty-five minutes away from closing down for the night. It was only 6:15PM, but it might as well have been midnight with how little activity existed in the streets of Kewaunee. When I returned to the hotel, which stood even more intimidating against the darkness of Lake Michigan behind it, the front desk attendant was already gone for the night. I was actually locked out and had to use my room key to open and relock the front doors. (I don’t blame the guy, because I hadn’t told him I was going to be leaving for a bit.) But it was official—the place was all mine. Well, maybe.

I wandered around the lobby, examining the historical artifacts and photographs that were set up on tables. I sat on some of the old furniture, camera at the ready in case one of the spirits decided to join me. I walked around the old piano and bass that sat in a corner, wondering if the keys would depress themselves and play me a tune.

After a while I went back up to my room and began a new EVP session. I roamed the empty halls, which remained lit, hoping to catch a glimpse of an apparition, or hear someone call out my name. As I entered a room on the corner of the third floor hallway, I heard a little something that sounded unnatural. It struck my ears as something that was not part of the collection of sounds I’d been hearing so far—floorboards creaking, wind rushing against the outside walls, the bubbling water of the fish tank in the lobby. I dare say it sounded like a voice had said something quietly just as I approached the door to that room. I also caught it on my recorder. It is clear that it is a separate sound from the ones I made while walking, which were well defined and prominent. This sound was softer and had a different texture. Unfortunately, I can’t clearly make out what it was, or determine if it even was a voice, based on what’s on the recorder. It happened fast, and if I hazard a guess, it almost sounded like someone quickly saying “open the door.” That said, I can’t rule out the possibility of my brain trying to make sense of something indecipherable, so I can’t claim that it is evidence of a haunting. I consider it an anomaly and something that I simply can’t explain.

Just a few minutes after that, I headed down the hallway on the other side of the third floor. The hotel is laid out in such a way that the two hallways on each floor are on either side of the stairwell, adjoined by each floor’s sitting area. At the end of this hallway was a couch, so I decided to sit down and ask a few more questions. I didn’t hear anything at the time, but upon listening to the recording, there was a faint melody at one point, barely audible. It sounded like two or three notes being played on a piano. Perhaps the piano from the lobby played itself after all, or notes from the past, embedded in the walls of this old building, seeped into the present for one brief moment. I went back to my room to hang out for a while. I read through more of the journal, occasionally looking around the room, hoping to catch Agatha watching me. I mentioned out loud that if she were to appear, I might be startled at first, but I explained that it would only be because I do not fully understand her plane of existence. Even though I wanted to stay up well into the wee hours of the morning, at 1:30AM I finally found myself succumbing to the power of sleepiness. I set my recorder on the TV to let it record the events of the night, if any events besides my snoring were to take place. I admit, even though I went to this place specifically to see a ghost, the thought that I could potentially open my eyes and see the eyes of someone I didn’t know looking back at me in the night made me a little anxious. But I did my best to embrace it, comforted by the fact that I was the visitor here, not Agatha or any other entity who may reside in the hotel. Eventually I fell asleep and awoke in the daylight without incident.

When I listened to the overnight recording, I did hear a few sounds of note. Early on there was a faint light tapping, like footsteps on a padded surface. Shortly after was another faint three-note melody, but it sounded different from the one recorded earlier. At two different times in the recording, separated by about four hours, there were three taps in close succession, the first one starting far from the recording device, the second one sounding closer, and the third one sounding like it was right next to the recorder. Also heard at a different moment was a faint creaking, but it is hard to tell for sure if that is truly what it was. Another incident of note was what sounded like a door slamming out in the hall late in the recording, but it occurred at such a time (around 6:00AM) that it could have been caused by the morning staff, although no creaking of the floorboards to announce the presence of another living human was heard before or after the slam. Based on these recordings, I can’t at the moment say they are evidence of a haunting, but rather, anomalies that I can’t yet explain. With an old building, especially one that is constantly being hit by the lakeshore wind, it can be difficult to tell which sounds are natural and which sounds are supernatural.

That morning, I enjoyed a free continental breakfast as the only patron in the large dining room, and I packed up and checked out without any other occurrences. I want to visit again and conduct more investigations, perhaps focusing more on the second floor or trying to set up a game of checkers out in the hall and see if Billy wants to join. The thought crossed my mind that I perhaps needed to act more like a jerk in order to get a rise out of Agatha, but I really don’t want to be disrespectful to any of these spirits if they truly are spending the afterlife in this building. They are not purported to be dangerous or nasty spirits—they’re just regular, good people, so I don’t want to act cruel to them.

Although I didn’t actually see any ghosts, I heard enough sounds to make me wonder, and given the building’s history and appearance, I have no trouble believing that it could be haunted. Even without the ghosts, it was a unique experience and an absolute pleasure having the entire building to myself. It is a beautiful place, and it is worth checking out for the quaint and old fashioned ambiance, regardless of whether or not you find yourself face-to-face with one of its former inhabitants in the middle of the night.