Reporters visit former hospital three nights before Halloween

The Carter Family of Repton gave The Evergreen Courant and The Monroe Journal a rare opportunity last Thursday night by granting both newspapers all-night access to the Old Carter Hospital just three nights before Halloween.

Mayor Terri Carter met Monroe Journal reporter Josh Dewberry and me at the former hospital around 10 p.m., just as temperatures began to drop into the forties and the wind began to howl creepily among the trees.

The hospital, which is owned by her father-in-law Bill Carter and is located on Burnt Corn Street in downtown Repton, was recently named one of the “Top 10 Spookiest Places in Conecuh County,” and Dewberry and I, both being in the Halloween mood, were anxious to get a taste of the hospital’s atmosphere at night.

Mayor Carter began the night by giving us a tour of the hospital’s grounds, which includes a number of outbuildings, one of which once served as living quarters for nurses who worked around the clock at the hospital.

Carter later gave us a detailed tour of the old hospital’s interior, which is an almost museum quality time capsule of mid-20th century medicine. Once the only hospital for a hundred miles in every direction, the hospital closed its doors in the 1950s and went virtually untouched for years. The same x-rays that were hanging up on the day the hospital closed remain hanging today, alongside vintage medical equipment that largely remains in working order.

Around 10:30 p.m., Carter left Dewberry and me in the hospital alone, and we passed the next few hours talking about the hospital and what it must have been like in its hey day. We sat in the dark in a pair of old cushioned chairs in the hospital’s main hallway, just across from the former operating and recovery rooms. It was so dark that if not for the faint glow of a distant streetlight outside and the occasional passing car, we wouldn’t have been able to see our hands in front of our faces.

Given the late night hour and the mood set by the impending Halloween holiday, it wasn’t long before our conversation turned to the hospital’s more morbid past. Being a hospital, there’s no telling how many people drew their last breath there, not to mention all of the pain and suffering the building had seen during its years of service.

Since our trip last Thursday more than a few people have asked me about how it went. Was it spooky? Did anything happen? Did you guys see a ghost?

The only answer that I can give is, well, not exactly.

Up to about 12:30 a.m., the night had been largely uneventful. Around that time, I unrolled my well-traveled sleeping bag, switched off my heavy-duty flashlight and turned in for the night. I set my wristwatch for 6 a.m., and my plan was to sleep in the hallway until that time and then drive home. As you might have imagined, things didn’t exactly go as planned.

A few minutes after I laid down, I fell sound asleep and would likely have remained so if not for a strange noise that woke me in the middle of the night. At 4:56 a.m., my eyes popped open, and I lied there in the pitch darkness as the sound of a creaking door filled the hallway. As unnerving as nails on a chalkboard, the noise seemed to go on forever. It was dark, but the sound seemed to be coming from the door that led down into the hospital’s basement.

Earlier that night, Carter told Dewberry and me that when the hospital was in use, the staff would often go down into the basement to take breaks.

Just as the creaking came to a stop, the hallway was filled with a loud bang, the sound of something heavy falling against the dark hardwood floor. When I laid down, I’d set my flashlight on end by my shoulder, and it had fallen over with a report that sounded out as loud as a rifle shot by my ear.

Had I unknowingly nudged it in my tossing and turning in the night and finally sent it over when I woke to the sound of the creaking door? I can’t say with any certainty, but as best as I could remember, I hadn’t moved a muscle after awakening to the sound of the creaking door.

All I know is that in that moment, if something had brushed my face (say, an icy hand or an errant sleeping bag strap), it would have taken all the will power I could muster not to bolt for the door.

Eventually, I felt around for the fallen flashlight, flipped it on and cast its bright beam all around. Everything was as it should be, expect for the door leading to the basement, which had been nearly closed earlier but now stood wide open.

I got back in my sleeping bag and somehow managed to go back to sleep only to wake almost an hour later at the sound of my beeping wristwatch. At that time, I rolled up my sleeping bag, headed for the truck and drove home in the chilly, pre-dawn darkness.

Only later did I really begin to think about what woke me at 4:56 a.m. What had caused the door to creak open? Had dropping temperatures inside and out caused the door to pop open as its wood frame contracted slightly in the night? What caused my flashlight to fall? Had I bumped it unknowingly in the darkness? Was it significant that the incident happened at 4:56 a.m., that is, at a time when the figures on my watch were in perfect numerical order?

Who knows? I am a very skeptical person by nature and am not given to believing absolutely in claims of the supernatural. Of course, it goes without saying that this is my attitude in the nice, normal daylight hours. For on that night, in the moments that that door creaked open in the darkness, I might have been inclined to sing a different tune.

In the end, special thanks to the Carter family and especially Mayor Carter, who granted both newspapers access to the old hospital in hopes that it will spur more interest in what is arguably the town’s most significant historic property. The building is opened for tours from time to time to benefit the Repton Restoration Society. Readers of The Courant are encouraged to keep your eye on the paper for announcements about such tours and to take advantage of them if you can. You won’t be disappointed.