Franklin Castle Hauntings: True Ghost Stories, Footsteps, Crying, and Real Paranormal Investigations in Ohio’s Most Haunted House Part 2
Tonight's Episode
By the late 20th century, Franklin Castle in Cleveland, Ohio no longer relied on rumor to feel haunted — it had witnesses. In this deeply personal and investigative episode of The Strange History Podcast, we explore the documented and firsthand ghost stories tied to Ohio’s most infamous haunted mansion. From unexplained footsteps pacing overhead in the middle of the night, to a mysterious woman standing in the third-floor tower window, to the chilling sound of a child crying in empty rooms — the accounts are subtle, consistent, and deeply unsettling. This episode includes: • Multiple resident testimonies from the 1960s through the early 2000s• Reports from structured paranormal investigations using EMF meters, EVP sessions, and temperature monitoring
• The recurring “Woman in Black” apparition seen in the tower room
• Cold spots on the main staircase documented by investigators
• Basement knocking incidents during renovation work
• Physical experiences of unseen contact
• National paranormal research involvement
• A personal true haunting story from host Amy about restoring an 1863 Victorian home with unexplained activity Unlike dramatic Hollywood hauntings, Franklin Castle produces something quieter — repeated moments across decades. Footsteps when no one is upstairs. Doors slamming with no cross breeze. Faucets turning on. Laundry moved. The feeling of being watched. Are these environmental anomalies, psychological suggestion, or something residual embedded in the structure itself? Franklin Castle does not scream. It lingers. If you’re fascinated by true ghost stories, haunted mansions, real paranormal investigations, subtle hauntings, historic homes with dark reputations, and personal supernatural experiences — this episode is for you. Do you have a true haunting story? Email us at [email protected]. Stay curious, Dear Listener
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Speaker 1: Dear listener. By the time Franklin Castle entered the late
Speaker 1: twentieth century, it no longer needed rumor to feel uneasy.
Speaker 1: It had witnesses, not one dramatic, cinematic event, not one
Speaker 1: infamous night of chaos. Instead, it accumulated moments, small ones,
Speaker 1: quiet ones, the kind that stay with people long after
Speaker 1: they leave. One of the most frequently told stories comes
Speaker 1: from a woman who lived in the house during the
Speaker 1: nineteen sixties. She described waking in the early hours of
Speaker 1: the morning to the sound of measured footsteps moving across
Speaker 1: the floor above her bedroom. The steps were deliberate, not hurried,
Speaker 1: not dragging, simply pacing. She assumed someone else in the
Speaker 1: house was awake. The next morning, she mentioned it casually
Speaker 1: at breakfast. No one had been upstairs. The house was
Speaker 1: fully occupied at the time, and everyone accounted for. She said.
Speaker 1: The footsteps continued on multiple nights, always after midnight, always overhead,
Speaker 1: always stopping abruptly. Decades later, another resident described something strikingly similar,
Speaker 1: footsteps on the upper floors when the house was otherwise empty.
Speaker 1: In one account, a caretaker doing renovation work in the
Speaker 1: nineteen nineties reported hearing movement above him while alone in
Speaker 1: the building, he called out, Assuming a colleague had arrived
Speaker 1: early silence, he climbed the staircase to check no one.
Speaker 1: The third floor tower room is the location most often
Speaker 1: tied to sightings. In the nineteen seventies, a neighbor across
Speaker 1: the street reportedly told a local journalist that she had
Speaker 1: seen a woman standing in the tower window on several
Speaker 1: occasions late at night. She assumed at first that it
Speaker 1: was simply an occupant enjoying the view, but on at
Speaker 1: least one occasion, she stated she watched the figure for
Speaker 1: several minutes and it never moved, no shift of posture,
Speaker 1: no step away from the glass, just a still dark outline.
Speaker 1: When she mentioned it to someone associated with the property,
Speaker 1: she was told no one had been using the third
Speaker 1: floor at night. Years later, during a tour arranged by
Speaker 1: a private owner, a small group gathered in the staircase hall.
Speaker 1: One visitor, standing near the base of the stairs, suddenly
Speaker 1: went quiet. She was staring upward toward the landing. When
Speaker 1: asked what she saw, she described a woman in dark
Speaker 1: clothing standing at the top of the steps, hands folded,
Speaker 1: head slightly tilted. No one else in the group saw her,
Speaker 1: but the visitor insisted the figure remained for several seconds
Speaker 1: before dissolving into shadow. The description matched older accounts almost exactly.
Speaker 1: Then there are the sounds. Not dramatic crashes, not violent disturbances, crying, soft,
Speaker 1: distant crying. In the late nineteen nineties, during an overnight
Speaker 1: stay documented by a local paranormal group, two investigators were
Speaker 1: seated in separate rooms on the second floor around one
Speaker 1: forty am. Both reported hearing what sounded like a child
Speaker 1: sobbing somewhere above them. The sound was faint but distinct,
Speaker 1: a rise and fall, not mechanical, not rhythmic. They met
Speaker 1: in the hallway moments later, each asking the other if
Speaker 1: they had heard it. Their audio recorders captured a faint
Speaker 1: tonal fluctuation around the same time, though nothing definitively identifiable.
Speaker 1: They searched the upper floor, no source was found. In
Speaker 1: another account from a former resident, a woman described standing
Speaker 1: alone in the kitchen area when she heard what she
Speaker 1: believed was a baby crying in one of the upstairs bedrooms.
Speaker 1: Concerned that someone had brought a child into the house
Speaker 1: without her knowledge, she climbed the stairs immediately. The rooms
Speaker 1: were empty, the crying stopped. The moment she reached the landing.
Speaker 1: She did not describe fear. She described confusion. Cold spots
Speaker 1: are not uncommon in old stone houses, but at Franklin Castle,
Speaker 1: certain locations come up repeatedly. The midlanding of the main
Speaker 1: staircase is one of them. Now a word about a
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Speaker 2: Now back to the staircase.
Speaker 1: A man who participated in a structured investigation in the
Speaker 1: early two thousands later recounted that as he ascended the
Speaker 1: stairs with a handheld thermometer, he felt a sudden drop
Speaker 1: in temperature across his face and chest. He checked the
Speaker 1: ice the reading had dipped several degrees within seconds. He
Speaker 1: remained there for nearly a minute. The temperature stabilized. When
Speaker 1: he stepped down two stairs, it rose again. He repeated
Speaker 1: the motion twice. The fluctuation occurred in the same narrow stretch.
Speaker 1: He did not claim proof of a ghost, He simply
Speaker 1: documented the moment. Other visitors have described something more physical,
Speaker 1: the sensation of brushing against someone while alone on the staircase.
Speaker 1: One woman touring the property during a brief public event
Speaker 1: later said she felt what she described as a solid
Speaker 1: shoulder press passed her midway up the steps. She instinctively
Speaker 1: moved aside. There was no one behind her. In the basement,
Speaker 1: stories take on a different tone. The stone corridors below
Speaker 1: the house are narrow, with low lighting and uneven acoustics.
Speaker 1: A contractor working in the basement during renovation reportedly described
Speaker 1: hearing three distinct knocks on the wall behind him while
Speaker 1: installing wiring. He assumed someone upstairs with signaling. He responded verbally,
Speaker 1: no reply. When he climbed to the main floor, the
Speaker 1: building was empty. Three knocks clear enough that he stopped working.
Speaker 1: Perhaps the most consistent detail across accounts is the sensation
Speaker 1: of being watched. Visitors describe entering the third floor rooms
Speaker 1: and immediately feeling as though they are not alone. One
Speaker 1: overnight guest said she refused to remain in the tower
Speaker 1: room after midnight because the feeling intensified when she turned
Speaker 1: her back toward the doorway. Not panic, not terror awareness.
Speaker 1: Former owners have spoken carefully about their experiences. One late
Speaker 1: twentieth century resident acknowledged publicly that doors occasionally closed on
Speaker 1: their own and lights sometimes activated unexpectedly. She attributed some
Speaker 1: events to wiring issues and airflow, but admitted there were
Speaker 1: moments could not easily explain. She described standing in an
Speaker 1: upstairs hallway one evening and hearing footsteps approach from behind her.
Speaker 1: She turned, expecting to see a family member. The hallway
Speaker 1: was empty. The footsteps continued past her, then stopped. She
Speaker 1: did not scream. She left the hallway. National paranormal investigators
Speaker 1: who later visited the castle approached it methodically. E MF
Speaker 1: readings were taken in multiple rooms. Baseline measurements were recorded.
Speaker 1: Digital voice recorders were placed during question and answer sessions.
Speaker 1: In one session, an investigator asked aloud, is anyone here
Speaker 1: with us? On playback? A faint sound resembling a whispered
Speaker 1: yes appeared between the words skeptics here, static believers here response.
Speaker 1: But what matters most is not the recording itself. It
Speaker 1: is that similar sessions across years have produced similar ambiguous results.
Speaker 1: Franklin Castle does not produce spectacle. It produces moments. A
Speaker 1: figure at a window, footsteps when alone crying in empty rooms,
Speaker 1: cold air, and specific places, a shoulder that isn't there,
Speaker 1: And perhaps that is why the stories endure. They are
Speaker 1: not grand enough to be dismissed outright. They are not
Speaker 1: violent enough to be exaggerated beyond recognition. They sit in
Speaker 1: that uncomfortable middle space, detailed enough to be retold, subtle
Speaker 1: enough to remain believable. Franklin Castle stands today with its
Speaker 1: reputation intact, not because of one catastrophic event, but because
Speaker 1: of repetition, different decades, different witnesses, different owners, similar experiences.
Speaker 1: Whether those experiences belong to the architecture, the mind, or
Speaker 1: something we do not yet understand. The house has done
Speaker 1: something rare. It has made people hesitate, It has made
Speaker 1: them look over their shoulder, It has made them lower
Speaker 1: their voices on the staircase and sometimes, dear listener. That
Speaker 1: is how a haunting is not in screams, but in
Speaker 1: the quiet certainty that you were not alone. I myself
Speaker 1: have a ghost story, a story of a house that
Speaker 1: my husband and I purchased as our dream home. It
Speaker 1: was an eleven room Victorian Colonial that needed a complete renovation.
Speaker 1: It had been built in eighteen sixty three, still had
Speaker 1: gas lines in the walls from the old gas lighting,
Speaker 1: the old knob and tube wiring, and if I had
Speaker 1: to count, thirteen to fourteen layers of wallpaper under the
Speaker 1: painted walls, and to our horror, many coats of paint
Speaker 1: layered over mahogany woodwork all throughout the house. We purchased
Speaker 1: it as a young married couple, three small kids, and
Speaker 1: a dream of restoring this house to its original beauty.
Speaker 1: Our haunting was not dramatic. It reminds me of this one. Actually.
Speaker 1: I would be home alone in my office, kids had
Speaker 1: gone off to school, husband to work, and I would
Speaker 1: hear a thud upstairs, like someone had fallen on the floor.
Speaker 1: The first three times I had rushed upstairs to see
Speaker 1: if something had fallen. Of course I found nothing. It
Speaker 1: got to the point where I made sure everything was
Speaker 1: picked up off the floor above me, so when it
Speaker 1: did happen again, I could clearly see what had fallen.
Speaker 1: I continued to find nothing. I started to ignore it.
Speaker 1: It wasn't creating too much of a fuss, so I
Speaker 1: figured whatever it had been was like me. It just
Speaker 1: wanted to be in the house, but be left alone. Then,
Speaker 1: the more tangible things started to happen. The water in
Speaker 1: the kitchen would turn itself on full blast. My husband
Speaker 1: changed the fawcet, washers, etc. It continued. It even happened
Speaker 1: on Christmas Eve with a house full of people. The
Speaker 1: entire family was sitting in the dining room around the table.
Speaker 1: Someone said to my husband, tell your uncle about your ghost,
Speaker 1: and as if on cue, the sink faucet, which we
Speaker 1: could see from the dining room, turned on full blast.
Speaker 1: Could it have been old plumbing, maybe, but we don't
Speaker 1: think so. Then the door between the kitchen and the
Speaker 1: front hallway would slam shut on occasion, no windows open
Speaker 1: for cross ventilation, no doors open, just me home alone.
Speaker 1: Everything closed up and it would slam, not swing shut slowly. Actually,
Speaker 1: I think that would have scared me more. This was
Speaker 1: a very loud, deliberate slam. Another thing that would happen
Speaker 1: would happen in our laundry room, which was off the kitchen.
Speaker 1: You would be putting laundry in or taking it out,
Speaker 1: and you would feel like someone touched your hip. I
Speaker 1: thought it was just me. I never mentioned it. Then
Speaker 1: one day my daughter, she was about eleven or twelve
Speaker 1: at the time, came to me and said, Mom, someone
Speaker 1: keeps touching me in the laundry room. I asked her
Speaker 1: where was she being touched, and she pointed to her hip.
Speaker 1: The defining moment for me was when I had been
Speaker 1: doing laundry. The kids were upstairs in their rooms, my
Speaker 1: husband in his office. I was giving my youngest a bath,
Speaker 1: and all of a sudden I heard the washing masie
Speaker 1: go off balance because I had a big, heavy quilt
Speaker 1: in it and it had apparently decided to stick to
Speaker 1: one side of the machine. I called out to my
Speaker 1: husband to ask if he could go down to fix it.
Speaker 1: He quickly came into the bathroom and said, you go,
Speaker 1: I'll finish up here. By the time I got downstairs
Speaker 1: and into the laundry room, there stood the washing machine open,
Speaker 1: the blanket out of the machine, and sitting on the dryer.
Speaker 1: I then realized three things. This was real. It was
Speaker 1: likely a woman, and she still felt ownership over that
Speaker 1: kitchen and laundry room. We never felt threatened. The house
Speaker 1: was just never quiet, and until you live in a
Speaker 1: house that has unseen occupants, it's hard to understand what
Speaker 1: that means. But when you have house guests from another lifetime,
Speaker 1: the house has a certain energy, noise, and personality that
Speaker 1: is undeniable. We moved eventually halfway through a bathroom renovation.
Speaker 1: The mortgage bubble that popped had us upside down in
Speaker 1: a mortgage after a refinance, went into a rental for
Speaker 1: a year before finding the house we bought next. From
Speaker 1: the moment we moved into the rental, it was as
Speaker 1: if life exhaled and got quiet again. Life felt lighter again.
Speaker 1: You don't realize the oppression till you're out of it.
Speaker 1: When searching for a new house, we had a rule.
Speaker 1: Nothing old. This house was built in the sixties. It's quiet.
Speaker 1: I often wonder if the people who have lived in
Speaker 1: that house after us had the same house guest we did.
Speaker 1: I had thanked the stars. Our house guest did not
Speaker 1: move with us, because you know it can happen. They say.
Speaker 1: I do have fond memories of that house. It was beautiful,
Speaker 1: it was majestic. It had all the charm of an
Speaker 1: old New England Victorian home. But it came with too
Speaker 1: much baggage and I am a minimalist. Thanks for listening.
Speaker 1: Do you have a true haunting story you want us
Speaker 1: to tell? Email us at Strange History Pod. At gmail
Speaker 1: dot com. Don't forget to subscribe for more strange history,
Speaker 1: Stay curious, dear listeners,
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