The Haunting of Herring Cole
It’s that time of year again, Saints. The trees are brighter, the air is crisper, Price Chopper shelves are dutifully stocked with cheap bite-sized sweets, theme house porches are speckled with pumpkins: some carved, some smashed, some gently munched on by squirrels. That’s right, it’s spooky season here in the North Country!
While the quaint image painted above is loved by students and locals alike, late October also brings another image to mind, and this one is a little more sinister. What’s that, you say? Could campus really be…haunted? Well, read on, dear reader, and maybe we can find out together.
Perhaps the most well-known haunted building of interest on our campus is Herring Cole Reading Room. Built in 1870 as the first library at St. Lawrence, the stately, red-stone study space is the second-oldest building on campus, and happens to be on the National Registry of Historic Buildings.
The inside is cozy and warm, paneled floor to ceiling with carefully crafted wood accents. As you enter the quiet (dare I say, eerily quiet) space, it isn’t difficult to notice the multitude of old portraits along the walls. You may ignore them, but, wait, is that one following me?
The antique interior, creepy portraits, and downright dismal basement bathrooms only fuel the rumors of catacombs beneath its foundations. While I’ve never met a soul who has verified the existence of such eerie subterranean tunnels, I know we’ve all heard that Beta somehow has access (Brothers: please confirm).
While all these rumors make for fantastic tour guide fodder, there has been little to anchor the tall tales of paranormal activity. That is, until today. Continue at your own risk, dear reader, as I have photographed evidence of spectres and/or spirits lurking in the halls of Herring Cole on one cold March evening. Last semester, Quinn Audsley ’20 and I had a brush with the paranormal right here on our very campus, and lived to tell the tale.
We met for coffee this week to reminisce, and Audsley recounts the experience with a faraway look in her eyes. After a long, cold afternoon enjoying Rail Jam activities, the two of us decided to take refuge in the inviting old building.
“While we had expected the warmth of Herring Cole to be inviting us in from the frigid Titus tundra, a chill ran down our backs once we passed through the cavernous- and aggressively heavy- doors to Herring Cole.” We then remember how we had decided the moment was a perfect opportunity for a quick photo opp, admittedly influenced by some earlier libations on the quad. Audsley continues,
“During our winter photo shoot, a specter decided to join in on the lookbook we were shooting, and a glowing white orb appears in the image of Kate absolutely killing the game. We gave a polite thanks for the cameo, and left without haste out for fear of the spirit becoming too comfortable with us.” She pauses to take a long, thoughtful sip of her hot chocolate, a sweet treat on the blustering autumn day outside.
“I haven’t been in Herring Cole since, but I expect my own ghost to lie there after the year 2056 when the world deteriorates because of climate change.”
So, dear reader, decide for yourself. Take a look at the objectively embarrassing photo I’ve included here– for science–and tell me if you believe we experienced something other-worldly that evening. Don’t believe me? Conduct your own investigation and report back–if you dare.