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As the sun sets on the beautiful Boone, NC, campus of Appalachian State University the red brick of East Hall assumes a quiet, enigmatic demeanor. This historic dormitory, built in 1952, has been home to countless students over the decades and carries a rich tapestry of memories within its walls. The building's most notable feature, its U-shaped construction, holds three floors in two wings, and five in its oldest wing, built against a steep hillside.
However, East Hall isn't just known for its visual appeal or historical significance; it's also cloaked in a blanket of enduring mystery. The dormitory has a reputation that transcends its tangible features, an air of the supernatural that's whispered in hushed tones across the campus.
The dorm has long been the subject of many captivating tales, lending it an aura of the mystic, the unexplained, and the downright eerie. As night falls, the whispers grow louder, and the hall's silent, shadowy corners seem to speak a thousand words.
For decades, students and faculty have traded stories of inexplicable occurrences and eerie feelings within its storied corridors. The whispers aren't just about phantom noises or fleeting shadows - they speak of a more personal interaction with the unseen. But before we delve into the specifics, it's important to acknowledge that these accounts are part of the hall's rich lore, shaped as much by the power of suggestion and fascination with the unknown as by actual events.
We'll explore some of the ghost stories and rumors that have swirled around East Hall for years, contributing to its reputation as a dwelling of the uncanny.
A Heritage of Hauntings and Unearthly Incidents at East Hall
East Hall carries a wealth of eerie tales. Perhaps the most potent of these tales begins at the heart of this older section, on the lowest level, a floor often referred to as 'the basement'. According to local lore, in the dim light of a basement restroom, a young woman was discovered one frosty morning, her life tragically ended by her own hand. The reasons for her despair were never definitively established, making the incident all the more chilling.
This somber event, which is unverified and could be simply legend, was merely the prologue to a series of peculiar phenomena that have painted East Hall as a center for spectral activity. Students recount episodes of whispering voices echoing in otherwise deserted hallways and ethereal balls of light floating mysteriously in dorm rooms during the dead of night.
The old wing appears to be the epicenter of these strange happenings. One resident claimed to have been pushed over by an unseen force on his way to the bathroom, whilst hearing an inexplicable voice murmur, "My dorm". This startling encounter marked one of the more tangible interactions between the spectral and the living in East Hall.
Further adding to the uncanny reputation of the building is the pronounced supernatural presence in the basement. Residents have reported abrupt cold spots, inexplicable sensations of being observed, and sightings of a distinctive, human-sized blue mist that often reappears in the room adjacent to the bathroom where the tragic incident occurred. This spectral mist, witnessed moving through walls and always returning to the scene of the tragedy, is accompanied by a palpable sense of anger and malevolence.
Moreover, a seemingly disproportionate number of student mental health issues have been associated with East Hall, a fact that has not gone unnoticed by campus mental health services. The phrase "Going East," indicating a student's psychological distress, was born from this eerie correlation, further cementing East Hall's reputation as a hotspot of abnormal incidents and unsettling aura.
Incorporating whispered voices, phantom pushes, and a spectral blue mist, the tales of East Hall are a rich tapestry of eerie incidents, reported encounters, and lingering presences. These chilling narratives have contributed significantly to East Hall's transformation from a common student dormitory to the enigmatic 'Dorm of Doom', a place of fascination, and for some, trepidation.
Cami Maher's Investigation
In response to our call for East Hall ghostly encounters, we received a fascinating treasure trove of tales from Cami Maher, who had lived in the dormitory beginning in 1998, and conducted in-depth research about the haunting phenomena for a paper she wrote. Cami's sources spanned a broad spectrum, from her older brother Corey Maher, an earlier resident of the dorm, to Michele Wisdahl, the then Resident Director, Bob Hutton, a former inhabitant and current teacher, and Michael “Doc” Geressy, an ex-resident who had spent four years compiling stories of eerie occurrences.
Cami Maher's personal encounters and her exhaustive research echo the strange experiences that have been a recurring theme at East Hall, making her findings a significant piece in this captivating puzzle. Just like other residents mentioned in this article, her brother too experienced the chilling touch in the basement bathroom, a notorious hotspot for paranormal activity.
Her accounts also include tales of unexplainable noises, doors slamming shut and people being trapped in rooms for no apparent reason. These unnerving narratives strikingly mirror those of the myriad students, housekeepers, and even prominent figures such as author Orson Scott Card, who all claimed to have been touched by the supernatural presence within the dorm, and wrote about it in his book Lost Boys. Through Cami's lens, we witness an enthralling interplay of individual experiences and shared narratives, further solidifying East Hall's enigmatic reputation.
Then there's room B18, purportedly at the apex of a pentagram created by five mountains around Boone. Some have called this the "Center of Energy," a site where numerous séances have taken place. The room was rife with reports of peculiar sounds, sightings, unexplained cold drafts, and shifting furniture. For years, the rumors of a self-playing piano added an extra layer of mystery.
The subfloor area was another hotbed of paranormal activities with multiple reports of lights and radios spontaneously turning on and off, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the vacant corridor, inducing an oppressive sense of dread. Intriguingly, the housekeeper, Cricket Carroll, found that the nearby closet door would only open if she asked a confident "Mrs. Brown" for access.
The specter of the supernatural was not confined to these places alone. Dorm rooms across East Hall have their share of inexplicable incidents. Furniture moving on its own accord, a self-tuning violin, and lamps turning on and off are just the tip of the iceberg. Students have reported hearing a woman and a baby crying from room 103. A psychic who investigated the room suggested that it was the site of a brutal crime, but the claim remains unverified. Room 125, a confirmed suicide site, proved too terrifying for two international students who reported unsettling phenomena. A radiator glowed very hot and burned their curtains as their bed lurched across the floor, in their direction. Elsewhere, residents have reported their names being whispered, and their belongings mysteriously rearranged. The eeriness extends to room 354, where housekeepers reported a levitating bed, and the third floor, where housekeeper Lorraine McGuire reported sighting the apparition of a girl who allegedly hung herself. Students over the years have reported seeing a floating ghost in a dress in that same location.
Cami's overnight ghost hunt did yield some perplexing results—voice recordings, unexplained cold spells, and phantom footsteps. However, she candidly stated that this lone night of investigation did not make her a believer in ghosts.
Foothills Digest salutes the hard work of Cami Maher, whose documentation has kept these stories from disappearing from history, and raises many questions about the nature of the building.
Michael Renegar's Investigation
Another Appstate student found himself fascinated by East Hall and its hauntings. With a keen interest in the paranormal, Renegar not only experienced the haunting presence at East Hall but made a determined effort to uncover the truth behind it.
One night in the fall of 1989, while working as a night assistant in East Hall, Renegar encountered a terrified girl in the lobby. Her claim of seeing a 'creepy guy' on the stairs piqued his curiosity and concern. As he approached the stairwell, he spotted a man with sandy blond hair ascending the stairs. Despite Renegar's close pursuit, the figure disappeared by the time he reached the first floor, a mysterious vanishing act that stayed with him for years to come.
The encounter prompted Renegar to dig deeper into East Hall's history. He was particularly interested in tracing the identity of the man he saw on the stairs, a search that eventually led him to the story of Lacey Dean Everitte.
Everitte, as Renegar found out, was a conscientious young man from Greensboro who had joined App State in 1977. Chosen as a senator in the Student Government Association, Everitte was known for his quiet demeanor and his eagerness to contribute and learn. However, his time at the university was tragically cut short when he was found dead in East Hall, room 125, on September 29, 1977, the victim of an apparent suicide. It was only when Michael obtained a yearbook photo of Everitte that the shocking realization dawned on him. He, immediately recognized the man he had seen on the staircase all those years ago.
Renegar's discovery has added a new layer to the myth of the "Dorm of Doom." It connects the mysterious ghostly encounters experienced by many in East Hall to the poignant story of a young man, remembered by his peers for his ambition and quiet demeanor.
The reported hauntings and the tragic tale of Dean Everitte have intertwined to become part of the folklore of Appalachian State University. They have contributed to the enigmatic allure of East Hall, with Renegar's research ensuring that Everitte's story, much like the stories of the dorm's spectral inhabitants, is passed down to each new generation.
While East Hall continues to stir curiosity and unease, the memory of Dean Everitte endures, not as the ghost many claim to have seen, but as a young man who had so much to give but whose life was cut tragically short.
Embracing the Unusual and Shaping the Campus Culture
East Hall's mysterious and captivating reputation has ingrained itself so deeply into the university's fabric that it even influenced an annual Halloween tradition known as the "Dorm of Doom" event. Starting in 1985, the event transformed East Hall into a Halloween attraction, drawing students and local residents alike for an evening of fun and fright. People would bring their children, turning a normal college dormitory into a communal celebration of the spooky season.
As stories of East Hall's resident specter became more popular, the event drew larger crowds year after year, with the Office of Sustainability taking over its organization from the 90s until 2017. Though the event was canceled due to an overwhelming turnout, its legacy is a testament to how the tales of East Hall became a unique part of Appalachian State University's identity.
Leila Jackson, the communications specialist for the Office of Sustainability, reflected on the event, stating that it was designed to bring awareness to their office's location and the ghost stories were just part of the fun. Despite the rumors and speculations, she emphasized that no hard evidence of paranormal activity had been found.
These tales, however, whether based on fact or fueled by active imaginations, became a part of the university's unique culture. They added an element of mystery and intrigue to the otherwise ordinary student life and created a shared narrative that continues to engage the campus community.
Though the stories surrounding East Hall may seem chilling, they have become an indelible part of the university's lore. They have not only contributed to shaping the school's distinctive culture but also ensure that the legacy of Dean Everitte and others is kept alive, connecting past generations of students with the present ones in a most unexpected way. As the sun sets on the future of East Hall, it seems that its mysterious allure and legacy of spectral tales may fade into the shadows along with the structure itself. Currently serving as temporary offices, the grand old building is on the brink of being demolished by 2025. Yet, as we stand on the precipice of its possible end, we are reminded of the hall's unshakable significance in Appalachian State University's identity. More than just a physical structure, East Hall has played an integral role in shaping the campus culture, its enigmatic past breathing life into the shared narratives and traditions that span generations. With its impending demolition, we can't help but wonder what will become of the resident spirits said to haunt its storied corridors. Will they simply dissipate, or will they find new corners of the campus to echo their tales? Whatever their fate, East Hall's eerie legacy will continue to reverberate within the heart of Appalachian State University, ensuring that its specters, real or imagined, will linger on, long after its bricks and mortar have been laid to rest.
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The Appalachian. Dorm of Doom Still Terrifies Students.
Maher, C. (2002). Ghost Lore of East Hall.
