Bowers Museum Ghost Stories Vol. I

It’s that time of year once again, when the phantoms are on the haunt and ghosts and ghouls take to the streets—if only door to door in search of candy. Indeed, Dia de Muertos and Halloween are almost upon our sleepy suburban sprawl, so in keeping with the spirits of those holidays it’s come time for the Bowers Museum to share its tales of the paranormal!

Like many other institutions which retain the memories of the once living, the Bowers museum is home to a great number of personal effects, the types of items which seem to generate ghost stories. Spooky stuff, but old halls and dolls aren’t by themselves causes for alarm, and they’re certainly not evidence of any supernatural happenings at the Bowers Museum. After all it’s not like the Bowers was built on an ancient burial ground and cursed for it. The building was constructed in the 1930s. And there’s no hard scientific evidence that ghosts exist. There’s no empirical proof. That knowledge is in the back of one’s mind though, when you’re in a museum after hours, very much by yourself and closing down galleries or setting up exhibitions. Museums can be quite frightening in the day’s twilight, when all the lights are off, and now that you’re thinking about it you don’t feel as alone as you ought to. You can talk to just about any Bowers employee and they’ll tell you they were once skeptics and they aren’t anymore, they’ve felt the paranormal firsthand. 

Fortunately the spirits at the Bowers seem to be mostly benign. The mildest encounters from the beyond are just unsettling feelings. Most are probably familiar with the disconcerting notion that one is being watched, but when by oneself in a museum it can be quite frightening. Take for example, a docent who was contemplating alone in First Californians in the mid-afternoon, when suddenly she could feel “there was someone else in there with [her].” She didn’t have much to say about the tale, or even what she did next, but the experience made her— clause for dramatic effect— very “uncomfortable”. But the caliber of fright increases from there. This next story is the tale of an assistant to the museum’s graphic designer; years ago she was hanging labels in the Vision of the Shaman exhibition after hours. It was a standard job, something she could do in her sleep.  But about halfway through her task she distinctly felt a chilling presence moving behind her, one which she described as “a feeling of blackness and heaviness.” Within seconds she had goosebumps up and down her arms, and her hair stood on end. Though the presence said nothing, she felt it was unhappy with her. It was time to leave, and she quickly gathered her things and did just that, finishing her job the next day.

From here these tales of the ethereal get a little more physical. There have been multiple cases of a very specific happening in the museum’s historic wing. The first person we’ve recorded this happening to was the first shift assistant security manager at the Bowers. He had arrived early in order to set up the Fluor Gallery for an event which would be taking place later on in the day. With nothing but the dawn’s lazy first light illuminating the way he passed through the wing when he suddenly he “felt [his] right shoulder brush up against something thick and smooth,” just as he heard a whooshing sound. Certain that he had bumped into a plant or some other out of place object he’d missed in the gray morning light he turned around, but there was no plant. There was nothing. Another employee shared an eerily similar story. Descending from the Fluor Gallery on the staircase in the old wing he too sensed something sweep over his right shoulder. Again when he looked to see who it might have been, no one was there. 

These last two accounts only scratch the surface of what’s been claimed to have happen in the old wing. Over the years the historic wing has acquired something of a reputation for being haunted, well apparently there’s good reason for the rumors. One solitary account from a housekeeper working late into the night near the Indonesian coffins and funerary tau-tau figures near the Kershaw Auditorium recalls the terrifying experience of witnessing a full-size floating apparition. The final story is of the Bowers Museum is of the man who entered the inventory for the museum store. He would often work late into the night in order to finish the cataloging, staying far past when everyone else had gone. It was when he was by himself that he would hear banging on the walls, echoing out from the old exhibits. I cannot confirm this next part because he left afterwards, but it’s been passed on to me that he even saw an apparition out in the admissions area. So next time you come to the Bowers bring a friend, or brave a solitary journey to the Fluor Gallery to appreciate the exhibited Plein Air works, or enter First Californiansto learn about the history of California, just keep in mind you may not be alone.