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Hello and welcome to Ohio folklore. I'm your host Melissa Davies. I've been producing podcast episodes for Ohio folklore for nearly a year now. During that time, the requests for an episode on the legend of gore orphanage in Ohio's Lorain County have never ceased. This widely known folktale has captured the imagination of countless Ohioans. To be honest at first, I was reluctant to dive in simply because the topic has been covered by so many sources already. But when the interest among the listeners just kept rising, I decided to give in. I was glad to find real depth to the story and a unique angle I think you'll appreciate. So without further ado, let's delve into one of Ohio's most widely known and deeply held legendary stories. Let's explore the legend of gore orphanage. The best way to learn about the myth the hype the lore of legend is from the locals. During my research on this episode, I had the great fortune of connecting with two such men each were born in Lorain County. Each grew up hearing the tale of a remote and densely wooded location haunted by the spirits of torture children. For many youth growing up in Lorain County, it's a kind of rite of passage to sojourn there. Some with curious minds rally a group of their closest friends to traipse through the dead leaves and fallen branches. The braver among them wait until after sundown when the night insects come alive and start their calling. Many kids are brought by older siblings looking to prove their mettle. And some I'm sure enjoy watching the youngest among them trying to prove they're not scared, despite their rapid breathing and trembling voices. The first local we'll hear from is Ryan Lawrence. He graciously shared his own story of a trip he'd made with a friend during their teenage years. So I don't know if you know how it looks when you go down there. But so it's in the middle of nowhere, right? Like Gore orphanage. There's a road called Borchers road. And that ends because there's there's like a an out bridge. And it's been out for years. Since I've gone down there, there's been a road closed sign there for driving down there like maybe eight years ago. So it's been closed forever. It's really hard to get down there. So when you're finally down there, there's a fork in the road. And it goes down into this dump by this lake. There's a little bridge that's got no railings or anything. And it goes over a little river that comes off of that lake. I went with one of my friends who's from Pittsburgh. And so we drove out that way. And it was about a half hour drive from my house, we go and find it, which is actually kind of hard to find, because there are some road closings down there that haven't been addressed in years. So we finally get down to the little valley area where it's at. As we're driving down there, there's a big open field before you get to the branch Park. And there was probably at least a dozen cop cars with our lights on across an open field, right by where this was. And we had no idea there has been a road over there. And I stopped my car. I turned I pulled on my windows and there was no sound is silent. It was so odd in Erie. Still to check our phone, see if there's something going on both of our phones dead. Well, not dead, but they're they have no service. So we're like, Okay, this is weird. We go down to where the bridge is. And there's no service down there either. And we're like, this is odd. So she freaks out. Of course, we start hearing a siren nearby and we're like, okay, like, we should probably head out because, you know, I don't know if this is, you know, private property. So, we head out, and we don't see any vehicles that have a siren. And then we go back and look to where that field is. And all those lights are gone. That we saw five minutes before. And then we didn't get our phone service back and fully got out of that area completely. And I called my one friend that had experienced yourself. And it was he was like, Dude, are you serious? And yeah, as pretty, pretty crazy. And I had been down there a couple times already, but I had been there maybe three times before that and I didn't have any experience answers that were odd, per se. I had some there was just some random stuff like the the noises from under the bridge, because we like to go in the wintertime. Obviously like there's all that ice that cracking off there and it's just makes it even even spookier. There were a lot of folklore and in rumors comes from that kind of stuff where it's like it's just a weird sound and a coincidence and everybody starts freaking out. It's, it's fun. I'm sure there's like completely, you know, good explanation to why there is all that stuff going on when I went down there, but doesn't make it any less, less weaker and tricky. It was pretty clear you can tell from the life that they were cops. Yeah, yeah. And then I even looked over a couple days, and there was no police reports that I could see like, seeing that would be that many cops. So it was really weird, huh. Could have been any number of issues? Who knows the drunk driver? Or, you know? Do you have any guesses about why this is held such a such a hold on people's imaginations out there? What is it about the area, maybe that just, I think part of it is the isolation. I think this because it is hard to find, because it is kind of in a spot where it's a little out in the middle of nowhere, it's a little bit of a drive for anybody to go get it there and find it, you actually have to know where you're looking, or you will never find the place. It makes it a little, you know, a bit of an adventure. When you get down there, like there have been stories of, you know, teams getting arrested down there because they're trespassing. So it's like another one of the things where people are like, well, let's check this out. People are willing to, you know, call the cops on you for down there must be something down there. Sort of those things where it's, you're kind of like, wow, this is a very weird place. And then there's stuff that happens with the bridge, which is very odd, because there's it's basically crumbling, you know, it's probably made of material, which is why it's probably got something in it, you know, that fix cars have problems on it. And so when I mean, that happened to my friends, like the first or second time they went down there. And so I mean, I can't imagine how many times it's happened other people where their cars stalled out on that bridge. And so they have been flooded twice, and then it spreads to a bunch of people. And then everybody heard about it. You know what I mean? I honestly think people should go down there because there's something weird about the place, even though I don't I don't think it's necessarily haunted or anything like that. It's definitely there's something weird about it, you go down there and there's there's too many instances of something happening that I've heard from from my friends or happened to myself, where it's like this there's it's too weird to be a coincidence, Stephen that many times. So there's, there's there definitely is something about that place. But yeah, I think people should go down there, check it out with frankly, for themselves and see, because I didn't believe any of that stuff until I went down there and had to experience myself. Yeah, and then you're like, Okay Brian story gives us a taste of what it feels like to explore this hallowed ground for ourselves. There's something about being young that keeps a natural curiosity alive for these kinds of quests. Our next guest, Eric Defibaugh, starts by describing his experience of having gone to Gore orphanage with an older brother, when he was only 11 years old. Do you remember when you first heard the story? Or were you pretty young? Yeah, I was 11 years old. My first memory of the story. I have older brothers. I'm actually the youngest of seven. So I have a number of older siblings. My earliest memory of it was my brother had just gotten his license in his first car, and we all piled in his car. And we're, they decided to drive down there. I had no clue where we're going. So he filled me in on the story as we're heading down there. So okay, and it was dark. And I had already had an interest in the paranormal. I love ghost stories. So as we're driving down, if you've ever been to orphanage, you know, it's kind of a remote location. So there's a there's a main road route 60. And there are several different paths you could take to get down to the orphanage road off 60. And I believe if memory serves me correct, that we came down off Darrow. And when you head south austero you kind of dropped down into the hollow and you see nothing but trees and darkness. It's pretty foreboding atmosphere down there. But as you got down in the valley, you kind of make this hairpin turn onto Gore from the throat. And that's when things really get spooky because there's just Absolutely nothing down there. Very dark, it's very desolate. And for 11 year old kid, you think you're in the middle of you might have been the middle the Amazon, you have no idea where the nearest person is. In even now, as you go down there now, at night in particular, it still seems like a very remote, you go down there, you get out your vehicle, and all you hear is, you know, forest sounds, there's no seemingly no civilization down there. But if you go down there during the day, it's kind of a different story. You can see there's other homes down there, you get the sense that it's not quite as remote as you fake it. Is that. Okay, and especially in from a child's viewpoint. Exactly. That's right. What do you remember that once you arrived at the scene itself? Yeah. So that's another thing that kind of changes with time. If you go there, now, you see that the foundation is fairly close to the road, it's only a few yards actually, as a kid, though, it seemed like we wander through the woods for a significant amount of time, maybe because we didn't take the right path initially. But that's also possible. Yeah, like, it was kind of an amazing sight actually, because, you know, you think of a foundation of a home, you think of this flat, rectangular or otherwise house shaped slab of concrete. And that's not the case at all, I hadn't accounted for how time in nature would affect the area. So when you get back there is more looks like a landscape of stones, smaller, large, big slabs that are kind of been pushed around by growing trees and the constant freeze thaw cycle here in Northeast Ohio, rakes up the the concrete and stones and the hundreds of 1000s of visitors over the years, also has its tolls, things have been moved about. And every time I go there, there's something different I went there just a few weeks ago. And there's a there's a big pile of like, look like some starting to have a large bonfire there in the center of the foundation, that they piled up all the branches into a pyramid there. I've not been there myself, but I have read that people are known to leave various kinds of like objects, like a cult things kind of grounds and that sort of thing. Yeah. And that maybe people do stances out there still. Yeah, right. Okay. Yeah, I you see evidence of that. There's one stone in particular, the first thing you come across is maybe a four foot tall column, a base of a column. They say that was the hitching post for the house. That's the word. You know, visitors would have shared horses too. So that has graffiti on it. And the most prominent graffiti are usually occult symbols. Okay. You do have your occasional Joe loves Joanie kind of stuff, too. But generally, it's the foreboding pentagram, or something like that. So the gentleman that has since retired, I won't say his name. He used to be stationed down there. He has a park ranger. And he was a bit of a prankster. So one of the one of the legends that you hear is when you go down there, you leave your car, you head into the woods. And then when you come back, you find little, small children's handprints on your car. That that was probably this park ranger. He would see cars parked at that spot. There's, there's only a couple spots that you could park down there. He had a way of leaving small handprints in your car. Oh, yeah. Fine with those kids. Yeah, yeah. So there is an element of that, you know, that he kind of played along, he used to give tours of the foundation under the Metroparks used to offer, they have their own little bus, and then they take you down there. And they would kind of help you separate the fantasy from reality down there. So and this gentleman was the, the guide for these tours. He had been on the property for quite some times. He's seen his share of things, but he's less inclined to attribute that to any kind of paranormal activity. He's very much a skeptic, but he was also a prankster. So and that's kind of a very popular tourist area, you know, a destination for kids and adults. You run into people of all ages down here. But very, very common to run into groups of teenagers down there who bring their girlfriends down to scare them. So that that also that's what I've been gathering so far. And I'm glad that I'm on the right path here. Do you have any thoughts about what you hope happens with the area and the future? I know it's in a park now it looks like yeah, there are plans to make it an actual part. That's part of the reason why the the Metro Parks tried to throw a wet blanket over the whole paranormal aspect. There. Actually, there's a couple of trails on the property already. That little small trail takes you to the foundation that actually continues further back. You reach the river, and then it goes down along the river. And their plans are eventually to actually have that as a remote segment of the park system. So that's the plans of it. And once a Metroparks gets it's a done deal at dinner probably never see private hands again. That's probably a good thing. Oh, yeah, no, it's with the river that a really river there is very scenic. When you think about the location of gore orphanage in particular, is there anything that you think really captures the people's imaginations for for so long? As you mentioned, it's just a palpable feeling. Well, it's a it's very close to home as you if you grew up in this area, Lorain County, Erie County, in the Sandusky even. So, that's an excellent story for one, but it's so close. One person tells the story to the next person and the next person tells it some details get left out some details are exaggerated to ridiculous proportions. So that that always that's you know, obviously very common you deal with folklore that that's very common in any story that's like local legends. So the story gets better or worse, depending on your perspective as generations go on. So the like the original stories that I heard, had some basis to reality, but a lot of it was just stuff that kind of evolved over the years. Eric's intrigue with the legend of gore orphanage but last well beyond his first trip to the location at 11 years old. He would go on to write a book on local legends called haunted Lorain County. It's found easily on Amazon and other places that sell books. both Eric and Ryan's personal experiences as young people provide a window for the rest of us. Through their eyes, we could imagine what it must have felt like to hear the tale for the first time. For most natives of Lorain County, this desolate wooded area outside the village of Birmingham has held an eerie tension and a spiritual allure for more than a century. It all started with one extraordinary couple by the names of Miller and Harriet Wolper. Their tragic get on spiring lives would ignite the folk legend that persists today. It's their story that imbues the gore orphanage site with an era of wonder and mysticism. Much of it is misplaced. Many people today mistakenly believe this specific location was once the site of an orphanage. Many mistakenly believe it was burned to the ground by its dastardly owner, a man named Gore, a caretaker turned arsonist and murderer. Many mistakenly believe that if you sit quietly at the spot where these orphans burn to death, that you'll hear their cries for help. You know the genuine story. It's been buried underneath more than a century of fiction. Let's reveal the truth of the legend of gore orphanage. In some ways, the actual details are more profound than any ghostly tale. Miller Wilbur was born in Preble a small town in rural New York in 1854. He was the only child of Nicholas and Eliza Wilbur. They were a farming family with some financial means a rarity in those days. Perhaps their wealth had been inherited from generations before them. In any case, Miller's life would be forever changed when in March of 1866. His father responded to an ad for the sale of an Ohio farm. It read the well known farm recently owned by Joseph Smith Jr. situates on the Vermillion River in the township of brown Haim Lorain County, Ohio. This farm contains 185 acres of the best land and a high state of cultivation. Well fenced in with a good dwelling house, barns, carriage house, and granary and good order. This farm will be sold for cash possession given immediately for particulars apply to Joseph Smith Jr. When he was about 14 years old, Millers father would buy the farm. These 185 acres were known to the locals as swifts hollow, after the man who initially constructed the homestead Joseph swift in 1817. The Vermillion River meanders through its bountiful fields and dense forest. The dwelling house so modestly referenced in the ad, was called the Swift mansion. This Greek Revival home had 14 rooms boasting 15 foot ceilings. Inside, surfaces were covered and marble and ornate woodworking and magnificent veranda offered a natural vista of the changing leaves in autumn. The family moved into this famous farm outside Birmingham, they work to keep its reputation among the locals as a verdant and elegant place among the more ordinary farms that dotted the landscape. Miller, the only child tried hard to meet his parents expectations. Along the way, he would have the good fortune of meeting the love of his life. A Miss Harriet Kellogg of Berlin Heights, Ohio. Harriet was two years his junior. She was one of two daughters born to Simeon and Caroline Kellogg. She'd also been raised on the farm and their shared background likely proved helpful to their young marriage. They wed on March 26 1878. The couple's wedding announcement was found in a national spiritualist newspaper. It read the marriage of Mr. Miller Wilbur of Birmingham to miss Hattie Kellogg of Berlin heights occurred on the 26th of March at the residence of the bride's father, Hudson Tuttle officiating. Hudson Tuttle was a leader and prolific author of the spiritualist movement, and he lived all his life in the tiny village of Berlin Heights, Ohio. He was known to conduct seances, inducing himself into a trance like state, when he would then began what was called automatic writing. The theory was that spirits would possess him and write their messages through his hand. On the surface, that all sounds like a scam, but he was taken seriously by countless followers. He wrote and published volumes. One of his ardent followers was Charles Darwin himself. Two others were Miller and Harriet Wilber. Spiritualism had reached its peak worldwide at the time of their marriage in 1878. Many of you may have heard of spiritual lism. For those who haven't, let's consider a brief summary. Its impact is felt yet today in our collective folklore and history. Its primary belief is that our deceased loved ones live on in spiritual forms. These spirits continue to advance and develop well beyond our human capacities. And even more to the point, the spirits have the ability and inclination to communicate with us. The Living spiritualists devote their lives to sensing the spirits among us. Their goal is to make contact with them. This way, the living can better themselves, they believe they can learn the nature of God through communication with deceased loved ones. While these beliefs may seem outlandish to many, they encapsulate much of our society's current obsession with ghost hunting. We G boards and reality show psychic mediums. Today, many view these practices with much skepticism. in decades past, spiritualism was a full fledged religious movement. It had adherents all over the world numbering in the millions. It remains today in far fewer numbers with communities in the US, Canada and the UK. In the late 1880s, Miller and Harriet Wilbur counted themselves to among the millions that actively practice the religion. Harriet had been born and raised in Berlin heights, who knew such a tiny Ohio village would serve as a hotbed of spiritual activity in the late 19th century. No one could guess that the energy would spread towards Swift's hollow. After their marriage in 1878, the couple would move in with Miller's parents Nicholas and Eliza Wilbur. The mansion had been dubbed with its own name. Rosedale. The newlywed couple would live there for four years before welcoming their first child in 1880. To a son they named Jesse. They would then return to Harriet's parents home in Berlin heights. There they would welcome their daughter Mae a year later. And finally, twins Roy and Ruby would arrive in 1890. The family was growing, farming was good, and the income was more than enough to support them all. However, their good fortune would come to a screeching halt in January 1893. Jessie in May, the eldest Wilbur children had traveled to Rosedale to visit their grandparents. Upon their return home to Berlin heights, may came down with a serious illness. Her symptoms began with a sore throat and fever, then progressed to a barking croup, and a severely swollen neck and throat. Within a couple days, Jesse began showing the same signs. And then even worse, the two year old twins became sick as well. The diagnosis was clear, a dreaded disease who signs were known and feared by all, diphtheria. The highly contagious bacterial infection proved fatal for many, especially children whose immune systems were fragile. To them it was more deadly than smallpox or yellow fever. Less than a year earlier, the state health department had issued specific guidelines for management of the illness, they included quarantining the child to one room in the house, allowing contact with only limited caregivers. Most rural hospitals would not accept children infected with diphtheria, as they were unable to manage such a serious contagious epidemic. The infected child's room at home was to be stripped of all unnecessary items on which the bacteria could settle. A large sign was to be placed on the front entrance of the home warning all who would enter for especially very old homes, a police officer was to be stationed outside at all times, preventing others from entering. Under no circumstances were healthy children to enter an infected home. The victim's bedding and eating utensils were to be kept separate from the healthy members of the family. Children who were lucky enough to survive the disease had to remain under quarantine for weeks after recovery as they remained contagious. Those who died from the disease which were many were not given a public funeral. Only a sealed casket for small private gatherings was permitted by the state. A common home remedy for the dreaded disease was to port equal parts tar and turpentine into a tin cup and then heated to boiling. The second child was then to breathe in the fumes until he coughed up the mucous membranes that were filling up his throat. Many died despite attempting this method. Two year old Ruby would be the first of the Wilber family to suffer that fate. she succumbed after only a couple days of the illness on January 13 1893. Her older brother 11 year old Jessie would be dead the following day. An article was published in the Sandusky daily register four days later, detailing the saddest of circumstances for the Wilber family. It acknowledged the deaths of little Ruby and Jessie and expressed hope that the two remaining children may and Roy might yet survive. May had already been suffering from the symptoms for a week, and physicians had hope that she might pull through the entire community had been made aware of the family's plight, but by the time that article had gone to print, may had died. The couple's last surviving child, little Roy would take his last breath. One day later, on January 19. Miller and Harriet could do nothing more than watch by the bedside as one by one each of their children died in the span of a week. Most of us can't even imagine the pain of losing one child. The idea that such a bright young life could be snuffed out before our own is just unfathomable. What does it mean to lose all four of your children and in one week, and in your own home as you watch each one succumb to their inevitable fate? How could a parent any parents survive such horror? How could a marriage endure the immeasurable pain and grief that would haunt them for the rest of their days? This is where faith came to save them. Eliza Wilbur Miller's mother had been suffering from diphtheria for weeks. Come early February Miller and Harriet returned to Rosedale. It was less than two weeks after burying their children and a large family plot in Maple Grove cemetery outside for a million. The couple would live in the stately mansion once more to care for his ailing mother. What sustain them was their ardent belief that while their children's physical bodies cease to be, their children's spirits remained in their midst. Miller and Harriet retreated to their faith, and held fast to the knowledge that their children had grown into advanced spiritual beings. As Eliza began to improve, The couple began holding seances regularly within the home. On some occasions, professional mediums would be invited to leave the ceremonies. Friends, extended family and community members were encouraged to attend the Wilbers evangelize their message of life beyond the veil. It was these first occasions when towns people would put on their best hiking boots to traipse out into the wilds of Swiss hollow, fighting swarms of insects and no doubt getting lost a few times along the way. They would eventually arrive full of excitement, anticipation, and a healthy dose of fear. Such feelings are well known to those who sojourn to this site yet today. Few have any clue that they're partaking in a ritual that's repeated itself countless times for more than a century. On walking past the large ionic columns of the front entrance, attendees would come into a darkened room lit only by candles. Soft spiritualist hymns would be hum too low in unison. When all had arrived, the outside doors were Loctite, sealing out the influences of the outer worlds. All present then gathered in a circle joining hands. Soon one or more of them would enter into a trance like state, offering their bodies to the spirits roaming freely in their midst. Their voices were not their own, their mannerisms, foreign to their character. Most became wholly convinced that dearly departed souls were not only communicating, but that they remained present beside them day by day. Eliza had quite fortunately survived her bout with Diptheria. However, she would die after only six years in 1899. There at Rosedale. Funeral Services were of course held in the home and officiated by none other than spiritualist leader Hudson toddle, the entire Wilber family and their sprawling elegant estate, were now known for the mystic spiritual practices. Miller and Harriet would go on living another 37 years, some of that time would be spent there at Rosedale. What sustain them was likely the promise of connecting with their deceased little ones. The seances would continue until the sale of the property to the Light of Hope orphanage sometime around 1903. No one could predict the evil and very earthly forces that would grow next door to where the mansion once stood. The Light of Hope orphanage was a nonprofit organization that claim to offer safe haven to orphan children. It had about 100 children in their care at any given time. The orphanages property abutted, Swiss hollow to the north, although the organization own Rosedale and all its property, once it became unoccupied, the mansion fell into ruin and decay, leading further credence to its reputation as a haunted house. In those days in the early aughts, rumors began to swirl about the orphanages abuse of children as they forced them into long hours of labor in the fields. Some children were reportedly starved or fed spoiled meat. school attendance was only permitted when the weather was unsuitable for work in the fields. Many children were allegedly beaten, and some were believed to have disappeared without a trace. It seemed the organization was allowed to carry on without oversight of the law. And the area which had A known for its spooky reputation had now become tainted with signs of abuse and cruelty toward the weakest members of society. When the word of mouth had grown to a crescendo newspaper reporter started digging in. As early as 1909. Headlines declared that children were forced to eat the meat from a cow that had died in the field. The meat had already spoiled. Members from the Humane Society, yes, the organization that now ensures safety for animals had come to investigate. Children had told them of repeated beatings with straps by farmhands bedrooms were full of bedbugs and lice, and often unheated baths were offered every two weeks, with one tub of water used for as many as 20 children. The investigation revealed that an underground railroad of sorts had been created by women of the nearby town of vermillion. They assisted in the escape of a number of children from the horrid place some were eventually adopted by these same women. At the center of the scandal was one John Springer superintendent of the Light of Hope orphanage. When the media uproar reached a fever pitch, he finally made a public statement to the press. He didn't deny the claims. He offered an excuse. Instead, the organization was overwhelmed with debt, and they had no means to provide the quality of care that the community demanded. He claimed to have sunk $30,000 of his own money into the organization. It wasn't enough to stem the tide of neglect and abuse sprung or pled for sympathy from those who would judge him. As shocking as this is to hear and today's view of child abuse, the excuse worked, sprung her would face no legal charges. Back then, laws pertaining to the welfare of children were practically non existent. The Light of Hope orphanage, a cruelly ironic name I might add, was allowed to continue operating under new management, however stronger maintained ownership. The claim was that the former abuses had been corrected. That was thrown heavily into doubt when a 14 year old boy was killed while driving a horse drawn wagon for the organization. His 12 year old passenger nearly died as well. In September of 1911, Springer was on his deathbed, he would finally sell the entire operation and his assets to the Cleveland area Christian bible school, effectively closing the orphanage. The organization had never reached financial solvency, and proceeds from the sale want to cover unpaid expenses spranger would be dead within two weeks of the sale. Tragically, the Rosedale mansion would burn to the ground in 1923. Luckily, it was unoccupied at the time. Miller and Harriet had moved into a home in Vermillion in 1904. But when Rosedale turned to ashes, the building received an obituary all its own. Its though it were an esteemed member of the community itself. An article in the Mansfield News Journal proclaimed it's known reputation as a haunted house. Repeated seances had imbued the place with an air of mysticism. The public had come to accept its role as a kind of portal, where one could go to commune with spirits unseen. After the fire, Miller and Harriet would continue living in their modest home at 856, State Street and vermillion. Miller found success as a local hardware dealer in town. They called their new house, their sunshine cottage. It was so termed because even though it was a house of average size, in comparing it to Rosedale, it certainly seemed more like a cottage. Harriet was known to continue her seances there as well. Her nephew was once quoted in a letter saying of Harriet, quote, but after her last, which would have caused insanity and many a mother, if Aunt Harriet received even a tiny bit of comfort from her belief in spiritual ism, I am glad for her. There was never anything more unusual in her experience than hundreds of authenticated present day, ESP happenings. Aunt Harriet was never a which was never a medium and despite her admitted peculiar rarities was so generous that it took 77 listed cash bequests and her will to satisfy her generous nature. Harriet would die only two months after Miller. Her death was proclaimed in Bold Prints and local newspapers. Her reputation in the community had become well known. Her funeral was of course steeped in spiritualistic practices, obituaries and local newspapers made mention of the tragic loss of all her children, and how her grief ignited her passion for spiritual ism. Harriet would go on making converts from beyond the grave. One of Harriet's final acts however, had nothing to do with spiritual ism. Before she died, she had the presence of mind to update her will in the two months says her husband's death. In some, their total estate was worth about$35,000. She had listed dozens of separate individuals as beneficiaries. Most of them were close friends and fellow spiritualists. The Ohio spiritualist Association alone would receive $1,000 however, the bulk of her estate went to establish a trust fund for the crippled and poor children of vermillion and vicinity. It was to be known as the Miller and Harriet Wilber Trust Fund. Undoubtedly, the disaster that became known as the Light of Hope orphanage left a mark on her. Clearly she felt a need to try to right the wrongs she had witnessed through countless years of children toiling in the neighboring fields. This dying wish would ultimately go unfulfilled. The trust was never enough to cover the expenses of such an endeavor. Eventually, the probate court ordered all assets and property of the estate to be liquidated to cover the unpaid expenses. Today, the land once owned by the Wilbers is now owned by the Lorain County, Metro Parks, it's public property. Many are known to hike through its rugged wilderness. Some are inspired by the mystic presence of the place, a reputation established long ago by two grief stricken parents. Maybe the real draw for the location comes not from the place itself, but from something much more powerful and universal. The pain of loss, especially lost triggered by the death of a child is insurmountable. At least in this world. The hope that some part of us lives beyond our physical death is part of what keeps the secluded spot alive in our imaginations. The Wilbers espoused a spiritual wisdom that we and human form are not all that exists. They believed in something deeper, something not truly known, but felt. Their beliefs born of the pain of grief is what remains there today. In a wooded spot off the side of the road called Gore orphanage. Many still seek to find what this location knows. If you go today, you're likely to find various trinkets, graffiti, and some occult items. They are strewn among the few stone foundations that remain of what once stood as the Rosedale mansion. Locals and tourists alike are still known to conduct seances there. Some claim to conjure spirits of forlorn children, some claimed to hear their tortured cries. What they're searching for, doesn't belong to a place. The well verse would tell you that a oneness with the spirits or realm can be sought anywhere. They worked to keep that awareness front and center in their lives as they grew old without their children. May we all strive for the same kind of peace in this uncertain life? This concludes today's episode of Ohio folklore. I hope you've enjoyed listening to this legendary story of gore orphanage. If so, please rate review and subscribe to Ohio folklore on your chosen podcast platform. You can also find Ohio folklore at Ohio folklore.com And on Facebook. And as always, keep wondering