Haunted Oregon Series: The Daniel Delaney House, Turner

Spooky, Strange, Historical- three of my favorite words. The Delaney House in Turner, Oregon is one of the state's oldest homes. Built by Mr. Delaney himself around 1845 this home has seen its fair share of activity- both when Delaney was alive and after his untimely murder (which took place on the expansive wrap around porch).

I agreed to visit the home along with a paranormal investigation team and two psychics one hot August night. I’m not scared of such things, I myself lived in a haunted brothel/hotel in downtown Bend. I’m no stranger to things that go “bump in the night”.... Still, I was a bit apprehensive to go over the mountain to spend the night in the 178 year old house.

I just had a premonition that what I would find out there might change my mind, or at least mood…and after the tireless heatwave of a smokescreen summer I’d had, I was exhausted. Still, I woke up early and drove through the mountains, past Oakridge and up 1-5. I turned at the exit after the Enchanted Forest, another possibly spirit inhabited property in Turner. I’ve been there…it’s creepy, that’s ANOTHER post.

The home is tucked between waves of rising blackberry bushes, their sweet scent heavy in the air. I was greeted by Tim, who was in the garage tinkering with a drone. A funny collision of time- a flying robot camera in a home built by an Oregon Trail pioneer. Vicki came outside to meet me, a kind eyed lady with purple hair and an infectious smile. She had been asking me to visit her “haunted” house for nearly two years.

The Delaney House is one of the oldest homes in Oregon

I’d finally made it and what a night it would be- Vicki showed me into the home which is cleverly decorated with oddities and antiques. In the dining room a table was set for Spirit Tea, delicate cups and saucers laid around an altar of candles and hand made skulls. Soon guests would arrive to be surprised by a team of investigative physics, ready to tell us what Spirit had to say.

A few hours left before the big event, I sauntered out to an elegant gazebo on the property, its entry guarded by two stone gargoyles. The Willamette Valley in August is one of my favorite times and places, it feels rich with berries and bugs. The midday heat wrapped around me like a fuzzy blanket, I stared at the peach colored home before me. My friend Tambi arrived and met me in the Gazebo- then the paranormal investigation team began to pull into the gravel drive.

The scene of the crime- buckshot is still visible in the siding of the house behind this bench

That night I would be staying in Daniel Delaney’s bedroom, located upstairs. I went up to change into a dramatic maroon dress, adorned with layers and pearls; fitting for an evening with ghosts. Downstairs the evening guests had situated themselves around the dining room table. The lead psychic, Maggie was at the head, ready to reveal messages to us from the otherside.

Maggie and her friend Sherrie explained to us their experience as mediums- both have been working for 30 plus years in the field and now assist Law Enforcement to locate missing persons. Later on we would hear about their expertise in remote viewing and channeling- together they have brought peace to many families by helping to locate the remains of lost loved ones.

The evening began with Maggie listening in from her guides to see who needed a message. She explained that beforehand she had meditated on the group and that some very significant angels would be present, including the Archangel Azrael who is known as the angel of death. Maggie assured us this was not a bad omen- but could mean someone in the room is dealing with a recent loss. She then told us that she doesn’t often pick up names in readings and that “she’s not here to say Jason is in the room.”

I kicked Tambi under the table, she had lost her long time partner Jason, one year earlier. We had both hoped he may come through and it seems the evening was starting with the mention of him by name, although Maggie had no idea what she just said.

Spirit had many things to say to each of the guests. Someone’s mother explained that she did not mean to be so controlling in life, another grandfather came to say that he saved his grandson (now sitting across from me at the table) so that he could go on to be an especially loving and accepting father. Another guest had only the symbol of salmon swimming upstream around his head.

However, when it was time for my reading there was quite a bit to be said. “Who is the cute man with the glasses behind you? He isn’t large but he’s strong, he’s quite charming! Oh I like him…oh and he is wise.” It was no question to me, I already knew my grandfather spends time with me. I had only been to one other psychic reading in my life and he was the first to present himself- small, strong, wise, always with me. I’m familiar with his presence, he’s been helping me with my problems since he left Earthside in 1997.

“You're working on boundaries, self worth….and it seems there are two people in particular that you are setting those boundaries with. A relative and a friend. The relative has said things about my appearance and is known to hurt people. He is not at peace and it’s ok to love him from a distance. The friend is manipulative and deceptive and because I have an open heart and get so excited to make friends, I let them use me. I need to stick to those boundaries, not close my heart, but also realize my beauty AND my worth”

The Delaney house is a mix of old and new

It’s true, I had been working very hard to release a lot of pain associated with not visiting my (living) grandfather. He’s been very judgmental and hurtful to not only me but my now teenager. I’d had to make the heartbreaking decision to step back, in order to protect my child from his words, and it had been making me sick. The friend ... .well, I already knew her friendship was not a two way street and I had been placing intentional distance between us. It felt validating to hear that my boundaries were not at a loss but instead were helping me to grow self respect.

My grandfather who often visits in spirit

Then Maggie told me a big cat, Tiger, was around me with what appeared to me a “candy cane” tale. My 22 pound tabby- named Tiger- had died on my 20th birthday. I distinctly remember hearing his heavy footsteps walk to his food dish and then the crunching of food a few days after his death. His was one of the first auditories I ever heard. A normal occurrence for me, living with a Schizophrenia diagnosis I hear a lot of things, mostly of unknown origin.

She said many other pets are around me, I’m not surprised. I saw a full apparition of my long haired Chihuahua Bogart right before a tree broke and nearly missed crushing me (and my child) in a hot tub ten years prior.

Last around the table was Tambi. We both sucked in air through our teeth- almost not ready to hear what she might have to say about Jason. Instead Maggie asked about an eccentric lady who looks like Phyllis Diller. Then she began to ask about retro trailers, long cigarettes, flamingos and the word “Florida!”

We both looked at each astonished. Maggie had just described a “brand idea” we had dreamed up called Aunt Mary.

“I’m seeing a poodle, with a funny hairdo?” No way! Tambi and I had gone thrifting in Klamath Falls to pick up ideas of inspiration for Aunt Mary. We found a porcelain poodle with a funky updo along with some glass fruit. In order to manifest the idea into life Tambi packed the items in a suitcase and said she’d bring it around with us, for photoshoots or whatever. We wanted a flamingo to be the logo. My friend has even blown us a glass flamingo pipe as a prototype for our vision!

Then Maggie’s time was up. I felt bad that Tambi’s reading was simply spirit advocating for our brand idea. We didn’t even know what type of brand it should be- just that this was the aesthetic we wanted to make happen.

Tambi and I in our Aunt Mary inspired attire

“Oh well, at least she said his name….” I consoled Tambi as the paranormal investigation team stepped up to begin the ghost hunt. We concluded the reading with a special manifestation bag, custom for each of us. The kit included charms, herbs, and oils to help us overcome obstacles and achieve our desired outcomes. I didn’t expect it- but this portion of the evening was more than just fun, it was deeply healing.

Manifestation bag goodies, home grown lavender from a neighboring farm

Now, this team of investigators came equipped with the type of tools you see on Ghost Hunters- EMF readers for each of the guests, a REM POD, ghost box, and Kinect SLS Camera. The team was familiar with the home and its ghostly history.

Daniel Delaney was a prominent man who was well known in Turner. He had owned a plantation in Tennessee which he sold for a large sum of gold. Traveling West with his then wife, children, and one (remaining) slave- Rachel Beldon. They crossed the Oregon Trail on the Applegate Wagon Train landing at Cascade Locks, from there they took a boat to Oregon City and settled South in a burgeoning Turner. Delaney acquired a large swathe of land and established himself as a horse trader, friendly with the Indigenous tribes. He was known in town as “Uncle Daniel” and was sympathetic to people of all color, which was not usual at the time, especially in Oregon.

The REM POD lighting up in Rachel’s room

Little is known about Rachel and her rights but she did eventually mother two of Delaney’s children. Much to the disliking of Mrs. Delaney, who promptly moved to a smaller house on the property. Rachel was given her own room in the home as well as a large garden and orchard. She gained her freedom in the 1860’s and went on to marry a local name named Nathan Brooks of which she had two more children with. Her sons Jackson and Noah, whose father was Mr. Delaney, continued to visit their fathers home to learn his trade in horses.

Oh the things youll see at the Delaney House

Always one to extend Southern hospitality- Mr. Delaney would help newcomers to the area and take trips often to Oregon City for supplies. Quite handy, he began to craft wooden chairs to add to the opulence of many local estates. Upon the invention of glue,he made his own invention, press to hold his chairs together, with a patent that is still in use today. His home reflected his success, perfectly summed up by the prominent display of something brand new to Oregon Country; an in-home cookstove. People came from miles around to see the new technology afforded by the Delaneys.

Rumors of Mr. Delaney’s fortune spread through town- it was believed he had buried gold on the property or perhaps hidden it in the house. Two of his associates,George Beale and George Baker, hatched a plan to rob one of the (then) richest men in Oregon. The two men, knowing of Mr. Delaney’s kind nature towards men of color painted their faces black, got drunk and rode their horses to the home.

They loaded a shotgun with buckshot and approached the home, late in the evening. Only Delaney and his son Jackson, then 8-10 years old, would bear witness to what would happen next. The two men knocked on the door that quiet evening, asking for directions to another home on the property. Delaney stepped outside of the door where he was then shot in the arm, buckshot spraying behind him into the side of the house. These bullet holes remain today, a testament to the violence of that night. The robbers then shot Delaney again, this time in the back of the head. The 71 year old man took his last breaths on the back stairs of his beloved porch.

A frightened Jackson watched from the woodpile as the men ransacked the home, looking for the hidden gold. Some accounts said they left with only $1,400…a far cry from the rumored fortune for which they so wantonly committed murder. Little Jack hid in the woodpile all night but then went into town to tell of what had happened, being a child of color, his word was left by the wayside (until later).

Justice was swift however, as one of the George’s rode a lame horse. It was not hard to follow the trail straight to the culprit's barn. Beale had been missing from home that night with no aliby. A tell tale hatband as well as supplies used to blacken their faces were found in Turner. Little Jackson was brought to testify at the trial of Beale and Baker, he was one of the first people of color to testify in a court of law in Oregon. A judge found the two men guilty and they were hung at the southeast corner of Church and Mill streets, where a double gallows was erected next to small oak trees. Today the trees still stand, much larger now. The hanging was the first in Marion County and was attended by a crowd of thousands.

As most of the citizens of the area were Christian, no church or home would take the bodies of the murders save one- Mr. Daniel Waldo. He buried the men on a knoll on his farm; for many years their graves were pointed out as the first men to die for a crime in Salem. Today there is no trace left of their demise.

It is said that Rachel knew of the whereabouts of the hidden Delaney gold but never told, the secret went to the grave when she passed away in 1910.

Vicki walked us through the halls of the home, showing us pictures and artifacts from past residents as she told the story of Mr. Delaney and his murder. Night was settling in and it was time to start the investigation.

One of Mr. Delaney’s handbuilt rocking chairs, which tends to rock all by itself

We split into two teams- one group set up in the sitting room which hosts Rachel’s room off to the side. I went upstairs to see if there was any activity in Mr. Delaney’s room. Each of us had our own EMF detector, mine lit up RED on a chair that Mr. Delaney handcrafted himself. The chair used to be a beloved seat in the Salem old folks home, where it had been donated at 75 years of age by Mr. Delaney’s granddaughter. It was greatly prized and in constant use by residents until its return to the house. Vicki said that it is often found rocking all by itself at the top of the stairs, every window shut. She stoops to pick up a hat that had fallen on the floor since I went up to change into my dress a few hours earlier. “This hat, for whatever reason, refuses to hang up for very long!”

“You guys!! We've got an entity!”

After a quick measure of the staircase revealed nothing the team’s SLS camera began to light up. An SLS (Structured Light Sensor) camera projects a pattern of light onto a scene and uses the distortions in the pattern, captured by its sensors, to calculate the depth and create a 3D model of the scene. This one was picking up on the figure of a human in the shower.

I crossed the wooden floors to see the figure for myself, there it was- standing under the showerhead wiggling back and forth.

Measuring the shower ghost with an EMF reader

“Can you wave at us?” The team asked the figure to interact with us through the SLS camera. A hand jutted up and out. Unconvinced, I asked the figure to “kick out a leg”. The figure worked on lifting its foot slowly and unsuccessfully for a few minutes before kicking it’s leg way up, like a giddy school girl. The team gathered around, excited to have such a clear interaction on camera.

“A shower ghost, well at least he’s not a toilet ghost.” One of the investigators cut the air with a joke, a much needed reprieve to the heavy electricity that surrounded us.

Mr. Delaney’s bed where I spent the night

Next we all huddled into Mr. Delaney’s bedroom- where I’d be staying overnight. The team set up flashlights that were unscrewed just enough to allow for a ghost to turn it off and on. We stood with our EMF detectors at the ready, like geiger counters at Chernobyl. At first there was nothing. Then, I decided to sit on the bed- something Mr. Delaney was known to make a fuss over in past investigations. He apparently spoke up when women did certain things that would not have been permitted in his day. My favorite type of light provocation, women power.

Tambi and I seeing if Mr. Delaney will make a fuss about us sitting on his bed

I stared into the mirror on the vanity across from the bed, my phone camera pointed in the direction of the flashlight.

“Mr. Delaney- is that you?” the flashlight flickered on and blinked intime to my voice.

“Thank you for letting me stay tonight. Would you like to smoke a cigar and drink whiskey on the porch later?” The flashlight appeared to light up brighter and bolder, strobing to my voice.

Communicating with spirits via flashlight

Billy, one of the team, had started the ritual of sitting on the porch with a cigar and a toast at the end of each investigation to say thank you and seal the night. It was apparently Mr. Delaney’s favorite part.

After that the flashlight ceased to blink and we traveled down to the sitting room. Night had fully settled in and we turned off the lights and opened the door to the still warm summer night. Nothing but crickets made a sound until the ghost box lit up.

“Win! Score!” a voice came through and then another entity appeared on the SLS camera. This one was much smaller than the Shower Ghost and was huddled between the door and a hutch. It appeared to be shivering.

“Coat. Violent” the ghost box shuddered.

“Are you Jackson?” I asked the box. Perhaps it was the son of Mr. Delaney, recalling that fateful night when his father was so violently murdered. As quickly as I could ask it YELLED “NO!” through the box. Whoever it was, it was not answering that question nicely. There was a sharpness to the tone. That was all that was said. My EMF meter shot up a few points and the entity disappeared.

Despite another half hour of gentle questioning from the team and I, nothing else appeared except for a blinking flashlight on the mantle behind Billy’s head. I had a feeling whatever was there wasn’t a Delaney….it felt attached to Billy himself. He told me he had spent the morning searching for his cousin, who is missing.

Time seem to pass incredibly fast and it was all of a sudden half past midnight, we were late for the ritual of cigars and whiskey.

Those of us who were still left sat out on the porch, watching the passing of airplanes in the night sky above the gazebo. We held up drabs of whiskey to the memory of the home and Billy presented a pre civil war rifle to Vicki. Cigar smoke roped around the porch and disappeared over the direction of an impossibly steep ravine deceptively covered by blackberries. If the gold was buried here, it would likely never be seen again- lost to two hundred years of Willamette Valley mud and memory.

The Delaney House is one of Oregon’s oldest homes. Vicki and Tim have lovingly dedicated themselves to the preservation of the history of this place. The home is on the Historic Registry of Places and has been moved 500 yards from its original site. The home sits atop a modern basement that Vicki and Tim call home. A background in horror special effects and makeup- Vicki has adorned the home with an eclectic mix of spooky decorations and time period antiques.

You can rent the original portion of the Delaney House as an airbnb. Spirit Teas and Paranormal investigations are held regularly at the home- so you can go and decide for yourself if there truly are ghosts and hidden treasure inside.

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