Does Your House Give You the Creeps?

Google never fails to surprise me.  Seemingly innocuous searches yield the most curious results.  This morning’s internet wanderings produced a YouTube video about paranormal activity in a house not a stone’s throw from mine.

Burritt’s Rapids was founded by United Empire Loyalists in 1793 and is one of the oldest communities on the Rideau Canal system.  Age of a community, the number of generations that have passed through each house,  the harshness of pioneer life, early deaths, and the fact most people died in the comfort of their own homes, up the likelihood that there will be energy left behind. But we are in our paranormal infancy compared to other countries around the world that celebrate a much longer history of human settlement.

My house is not as old as some in the area, having been built as a Anglican Manse in the late 19th century.  We took more than two months to make an offer on the property, as we’d never lived in the country before, never had to deal with well, septic and other rural peculiarities.  We wanted to really understand what we were getting ourselves into.  The irony is that our house actually looked like a haunted/abandoned house for some time.  The septic system was failing and so we let the front yard go to pot, knowing that it would require complete excavation in the not-so-distant future.  As a result, we were spared the intrusive visits of itinerant salesmen and those of a certain religious ilk.  Creepiness has its benefits.

I distinctly remember going through the house with a home inspector.  My first impression remains engraved on my imagination.  The basement, including an old coal room and crawlspaces, was filled with thousands of mummified spiders, coated in white dust and suspended from the ceiling.  While I’m not squeamish by nature, I did let the inspector do the deep digging into the darkest corners.  I also made him check the old stone cistern for dead bodies.  Really, I did.

Years later I am familiar with virtually every square inch of living, storage and outdoor space and I found nothing physical or spiritual that raised goosebumps.  Sadly, I’ve also failed to find anything that resembles lost pirate booty, hidden tunnels or other curiosities that adventurous homeowners dream of.  I’ve also had the pleasure of hosting members of the family that owned my house from about 1919 to 1976.  Their energy is positive so I can understand why the overall energy of the house is clear, too.

But I’ve heard others in the village talk about strange creaks, footfalls, and the unexpected movement of their objects.

This all got me thinking about the pros and cons of living in a “haunted” house and the potentially trickiness at re-sale time.  Does paranormal activity stigmatize the house in the eyes of the purchasers?  What are homeowners legally required to disclose when listing a house?  What are the potentially legal ramifications for non-disclosure?  The answer to all of these questions is: it depends on where you live.

Julie Kinnear, a Toronto realtor, offers a general definition for property stigma:

A stigmatized property is a property that buyers or tenants avoid for reasons unrelated to its physical condition or features. These usually include a murder or a suicide that took place inside the property, often accompanied by a belief that the house may be haunted — which is, of course, a very controversial concept.

These stigmas, she says, fall into several categories.

1. Public stigma

• known to a wide range of the population
• must always be disclosed in almost all jurisdictions
• examples: Amityville Horror house, home of the Menendez brothers
• biggest turn-offs: unwanted attention, bad reputations, psychological effects

2. Criminal stigma:

• ongoing commission of a crime that took place within the property
• full disclosure required by most jurisdictions
• examples: a chop shop, drug den, or brothel
• Biggest turn-offs: bad reputation, unexpected visits – for example, uninformed drug addicts may come to your house expecting to purchase illegal drugs

3. Murder/suicide stigma

• murder/suicide took place inside the property
• realtors required to disclose the information by most jurisdictions
• biggest turn-offs: psychological effects, fear of possible paranormal phenomena

4. Debt stigma:

• applies if former homeowners were indebted
• particularly pronounced if the collection agency uses aggressive tactics
• biggest turn-offs: danger of being harassed by debt collectors, who are not aware that a debtor has moved out already

5. Phenomena stigma:

• the house is renowned for hauntings, ghost sightings, etc.
• very controversial type of stigma
• disclosure required by many, but not all jurisdictions
• biggest turn-offs: somehow, people don’t feel good about the presence of a ghost in their house

6. Minimal stigma

• known to, or taken seriously by, only a small group
• unlikely to affect the ability to sell the property
• realtors usually decide to disclose this information on a case-by-case basis

Realtor Scott FladHammer of Fort Wayne, Indiana, understands the flip side of the coin.  He has sold for more than a dozen haunted houses, including one that looked remarkably like the one in Amityville Horror.  There are a group of buyers, like a recent goth client, who are looking for particularly unusual attributes and histories.   He notes there are different laws for different states, so it is incumbent on realtors and owners to understand their local disclosure rules.

But it is equally incumbent on potential purchasers, particular Canadian buyers, to do their homework.  Except in Quebec, there is little specific legislation in Canada around disclosure.   It is caveat emptor.  But it takes relatively little time to conduct a Google search or knock on the doors of potential neighbours.  First-time homeowner Samuel Jacques could have used this advice.

Toronto newspaper The Star reported that:

Jacques was watching the evening news on the anniversary of the unsolved murder of Sonia Varaschin, the 42-year-old Orangeville nurse who was reported missing Aug. 30, 2010 and found dead six days later.

Without knowing anything about the murder, Jacques had just days earlier handed over a $5,000 deposit on Varaschin’s former Spring St. home.

Jacques “eventually got out of the deal and got his full deposit back.”  But he still filed a complaint with the Real Estate Council of Ontario, alleging lack of disclosure.

But if full-disclosure and careful research fail, you can always look for ways to make peace with your personal ghosts of Christmas past.  Plus you’re virtually guaranteed a top spot on the A-List dinner circuit.