Curiosity Is Welcome Here: Why I don't ask guests to believe what I believe.
Updated: Aug 2
People ask me all the time,
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
My answer is simple.
Yes.
But that's my answer.
It doesn't have to be yours.
One of the things I'm most proud of about History, Haunts, & Hahas! is that my tours aren't designed to change anyone's mind.
If you arrive believing you've had paranormal experiences, you're welcome.
If you arrive convinced there's a scientific explanation for every reported haunting, you're welcome.
If you haven't made up your mind yet, you're welcome too.
Curiosity is the only prerequisite.

I don't aspire to challenge anyone's deeply held beliefs, values, or understanding of the world.
Instead, I invite guests into the same investigative process that has shaped my own approach to Charleston's history and its reported hauntings.
Because that's what these tours really are.
Ghost Forensics. Live Investigations.
The Ghost Tour Is the Beginning, Not the Conclusion
People sometimes hear the phrase "ghost tour" and assume they'll be told what to believe.
That's never been my style.
I don't stand on a street corner and announce,
"This place is haunted."
Instead, I ask questions.
Why do people report experiences here?
How long have those reports existed?
Do independent witnesses describe similar things?
What does the historical record tell us about this location?
What happened here?
Who lived here?
Who worked here?
Who died here?
What do archaeology, architecture, maps, newspapers, diaries, letters, court records, and other primary sources add to our understanding?
A reported haunting isn't the end of the conversation.
For me, it's often the beginning.
A Part-to-Whole Investigation
One of the things I love most about history is that very few discoveries stand alone.
Every clue becomes part of a larger picture.
That's the approach I take on tour.
We'll discuss documented historical events.
We'll examine primary-source accounts.
We'll explore newspaper articles, personal letters, archaeological discoveries, architectural evidence, historical maps, and firsthand reports preserved in the historical record.
We'll also discuss reported paranormal experiences associated with those locations, including eyewitness accounts collected over many years and, when relevant, observations from my own investigations.
None of those pieces automatically prove—or disprove—anything.
Instead, each becomes another data point.
One piece of a much larger puzzle.
The goal isn't to hand guests a conclusion.
The goal is to examine the evidence together, explore the historical context, recognize patterns, ask thoughtful questions, and allow each person to decide what those patterns mean.
That's a very different experience from asking someone to simply accept a ghost story at face value.
Why I Share My Own Investigations
Every so often, I'll talk about one of my own spirit communication sessions.
Not because I expect anyone to accept it as evidence.
And certainly not because I think one experience settles a centuries-old debate.
I share them because they're part of my research process.
Sometimes a phrase, a name, or a recurring theme catches my attention.
Not as an answer.
As a breadcrumb.
And breadcrumbs deserve to be followed.
If a session repeatedly points toward ships, I start digging into Charleston's maritime history.
If a forgotten surname appears, I start searching newspapers, census records, property records, church registers, and city directories.
If a location keeps surfacing, I ask what happened there that might explain why people continue reporting unusual experiences today.
The investigation doesn't stop with the session.
That's where it begins.
Following Rabbit Holes
If you've toured with me before, you've probably heard me say,
"Let's go down the rabbit hole."
It's one of my favorite phrases because it perfectly describes how I research.
One breadcrumb leads to another.
One archive references another archive.
A newspaper article points to a court case.
A court case introduces a family.
That family appears in a shipping manifest.
The shipping manifest connects to an archaeological report.
Before long, you've uncovered an entire chapter of Charleston history you never expected to find.
That's the beauty of rabbit holes.
They're not distractions.
They're discoveries.
Every Ghost Story Is a Human Story
At the heart of every reported haunting is a person.
Someone laughed here.
Someone worked here.
Someone built something here.
Someone mourned here.
Someone celebrated here.
Someone experienced joy.
Someone experienced unimaginable hardship.
Those human stories matter whether someone believes in ghosts or not.
That's why I don't spend my time asking,
"Can I prove this haunting?"
I ask something much more interesting.
"Who might this story belong to?"
Because if a place has captured people's attention for generations, I want to understand why.
Sometimes the answer comes from history.
Sometimes from archaeology.
Sometimes from architecture.
Sometimes from folklore.
Sometimes from eyewitness testimony.
Sometimes from environmental observations.
Sometimes from patterns that emerge only after years of careful research.
And sometimes...
the search simply reminds us that there are still stories waiting to be rediscovered.
Restoring Context, Not Convincing Belief
I often say that every ghost story is a human story.
That's more than a slogan.
It's the philosophy behind every tour I give.
I'm not interested in reducing a person to "the ghost in the corner."
I'm interested in asking who they were.
What they experienced.
What happened at this location.
Why people continue talking about them.
How history and reported hauntings intersect.
Whether you're a believer, a skeptic, or somewhere in between, those are fascinating questions.
And they don't require everyone to reach the same conclusion.
They simply require curiosity.
So if you join me on a tour, don't expect me to tell you what to believe.
Expect me to invite you into an investigation.
We'll follow the breadcrumbs together.
We'll wander down the rabbit holes together.
We'll examine the historical record, the reported experiences, and the places where they intersect.
And then I'll leave the most important conclusion exactly where I believe it belongs:
With you.




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