Emails are great and I love to get them from you guys. I received this one from Mitchel Ritchie who lives in Selma, California.

Ron, if you haven’t heard the song “The Ghost of Beardsley Road “ here is a link for you and a couple personal stories to go with it. 

In my early twenties, I was living in my mother’s rental house. My father passed away in an auto accident when I was around ten. In the 70s I was burning the candle at both ends already having an amazing career rewinding electric motors and generators all over the Western United States. We worked crazy long hours in the noisiest and dirtiest conditions. I was the lead man and that meant I got to do all the out-of-state jobs mostly in cement ball mills. 

Editor’s note: I had to look up what a Cement Mill was:  It is the equipment used to grind the hard, nodular clinker from the cement kiln into the fine gray powder that is cement. Most cement is currently ground in ball mills.

Anyway, I was home very little and when I did I would try to catch up with my friends. My girlfriend and I were not getting along so I was home alone sleeping on the couch with my head facing the hallway to my bedroom. I awoke in the middle of the night and saw a faint white figure down at the end of the hall. I was still half asleep and closed my eyes. When I reopened them the figure was halfway down the hall coming towards me now brighter and flowing.  I jumped up! 

Now, I am six foot four and I am standing toe to toe with a pure white angel! The room was lit up. I can only describe her as the “good witch” in The Wizard Of Oz (Only taller and more beautiful). Confused, I ran right through her down the hall to my bedroom and didn’t sleep anymore that night. I can tell you at the time I was making some marginal choices in life and that night I slowly got on track !! 

I’m now 29 (1990) and I’m Vice President of sales. I met my girlfriend who was a farmer. Her father had just passed away two years earlier and she lived with her mom to run the farm. After three months we knew that we had a special relationship and within 6 months we were engaged. We had a long-distance relationship so I would occasionally stay with them on the weekend. 

One night I woke up in the spare room and rolled my feet off the bed to get up. There was a pair of men’s brown shoes there. It was like I was supposed to step into them. I didn’t remember seeing them there when I went to bed. I went into the kitchen and asked my fiancée and her mother about the shoes.  She ran in, checked, and said that it was her father’s and didn’t know how they got in the room.

We’ve been married 30 years now and raised two beautiful daughters in the same house. My wife and I can honestly say over the years we’ve had some strange stuff happen. The alarm goes off for no reason, certain lights go on and stay on, the grinder starts up for no reason as well as the TV. Also, The bedroom lamp would go on, wake me up, and then go off. We were always on our toes and took them as either something was going to happen and heeded them as a warning and sometimes that we were just doing a good job. 

One more little crazy thing that we all remember. We have a second home in Morro Bay Ca. One night we went to a smaller town for dinner. I got up to wash my hands and when I came back my wife’s and mother-in-law’s eyes were big as saucers! In the small restaurant, a lady came up to my wife from out of nowhere and stared at my two-year-old daughter. My wife asked, “Can I help you?”

She said, “Your girl is an Angel!”

Proud, my wife said, “Thank you.” 

The lady said, ”No you don’t understand she is a real angel!” 

Mitchel Ritchie – Selma, California

This Week’s Podcast:

On the show this week we have a classic OTR story from the series Escape. It is a tale about Pollack and his encounter with the Porroh Man. So very creepy and you won’t want to miss it. You can listen to this podcast on Thursday at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from Apple Podcasts, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? We are heard every Thursday at 10:00 pm and Sunday Night at 11:00 PM (EST) on AMFM247.COM. Check your local listing or find the station closest to you at this link

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Our Story comes from long-time listener David Larsen. He is a regular contributor to the show and was the focus of the haunted doll series we did on The Horror Express. David sent in this story he calls, Friendly Fire.

Hey Ron, this isn’t my story exactly but it was one I was told as a child.

Growing up I had an elderly neighbor, his name was Mr. Schade.  For five dollars, the occasional bit of smoked salmon, and as many stories as we had time to go through, I would mow his lawn for him. Oftentimes, I would mow the lawn after lunch and then enjoy stories until my mom would come calling me for dinner which was usually around six or seven. This story is from World War II and is about one of his friends who I will simply call “Mr. C.” and is a story of how his ankle injury had saved his life. 

It begins on an LCVP or Landing Craft Vehicle Personnel. They were crammed into these boats like sardines. Mr. C and his mates were landing on the beaches of Normandy on June 6, 1944, and were some of the first few hundred young men to storm the Nazi’s pillboxes. They were terrified but knew that what they did that day needed to happen and would help to topple the Third Reich even if it was only a foothold.  For Mr. C.?  He remembered praying that he would get to come home and that he would get to see his family again. 

The doors slammed open and he and his mates had no hesitation. They sprinted towards what looked like certain death. He passed what he called “shapes of young men” who had already fallen to enemy fire. He sprinted past them scared but determined to take the ground they needed to take. 

The crack and rattle of shells and small missiles whizzing past unrelenting were all around him. Then more cracks and booms centered in on his position and a searing pain shot through his ankle sending him to the dirt. Mr. C looked up only to see his panicked friend firing on a pillbox. He watched in horror as his friend fell to the ground from the gunfire that surely would have been his fate. He was shot by accident as his friend had panicked and shot him through his ankle saving his life at the price of his own. At this point, Mr. C stopped his story and lifted his pant leg. With a smile, he showed me his fused unmoving ankle and the remainder of the scars he earned that day. 

I hope I did his story justice, and I am so thankful to him for everything he did and for telling me this story. Mr. Schade is now 94 and still goes fishing on a regular basis. He has always been like a grandfather to me.

David Larsen, Ogden Utah.

Thank you David for your story, and I thank both Mr. C and Mr. Schade for their service.

This Week’s Podcast: On Ron’s Amazing Stories this week we have a new episode of Ghost Stories With Sylvia. This time we have two emails to respond to, celebrity ghost stories, and a history lesson you won’t want to miss. You can listen to this podcast on Thursday at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from Apple Podcasts, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? We are heard every Thursday at 10:00 pm and Sunday Night at 11:00 PM (EST) on AMFM247.COM. Check your local listing or find the station closest to you at this link

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Our story comes from the real-life character Mason Henry Blue. First, let me say that I didn’t believe the name either until I had the pleasure to talk to Mason on the phone. He is about as real and down-home country as a man can get. He wanted to tell us a story. Mason said that he heard the podcast we had some time ago with author Alan Day. He loved Alan’s interview so much that he wanted to tell one of his tales to match. You can listen to that interview with Alan Day in RAS #166 – The Horse Lover. Mason’s Story can be heard on RAS #334 – Mason Henry Blue. He came back for another story and we told that one on RAS #422 – Billy The Donkey. Great Story!

-Ron

My name is Mason Henry Blue.  My friends just call me “Buckles”. I got the name during my rodeo years. I earned a few of them a time or two. My story comes from the late 1940’s. I was a young man just about 18 years old. My folks had just given me the get out and about or take over the farm speech. I chose to get out.

I began working at a place near Dallas called the South-Fork Ranch. My job those early years was to clean the bunkhouse, wash clothes and help the cook.  Later I became the handyman and protector. There were two predators there that had to be dealt with. Coyotes and Spiders. The spiders were recluse and black widows. The coyotes? Well, they were just trouble. 

One morning Beth, the owner’s wife, told me to get up in the hills to stop a pack that had been taking her chickens at night.  In those days there was a bounty on the critters, so I was pleased at the chance for some extra cash.  I loaded up with traps, my long gun, supplies and off I went.

I made camp along a creek in the nearby hills.  It was winter and I knew two things about coyotes. They need food and water.  Chickens for the food and creek for the water. That first day was all about setting up camp and fixing any broken traps. Day two was finding their trails and setting traps. That night I heard their howls so I knew I was in the right place.

The next day I checked my traps and most of them had been tripped and the meat was gone. I almost expected a note from the coyotes saying, “Thanks for the grub, lunk-head”. 

I decided these guys were going to require the night hunter. I found the trail most likely used to get to the chickens, built a sort of tree perch and set myself for the night. It wasn’t too long before I fell asleep. 
That is when the growls began. I grabbed my flashlight and sure enough right below me was a pack of hungry dogs all looking up at me like I was dinner. I reached for my rifle and was surprised when it was gone. I flashed the light around a bit and found it right down there leaning on the tree where I had left it. I slapped my forehead and was glad that Coyotes can’t climb trees.

It was a long, cold and dark night. I had nothing to do so I had me a conversation with them yelps.  We talked about the wrongs of eating chickens and where they could find a large barrow of rabbits. The pups arrived with their mamas and it got to be a big ole camp meeting. Except I was the preacher and they were my flock. I must have fallen asleep again, cuz when I woke up they were all gone.

I went back to camp and it came as no surprise it was torn to pieces. Every spec of food gone. I packed up, tucked my tail in-between my legs and headed home. When the misses asked about the trip I just said I had a long talk with them and they won’t be bothering us anymore. The funny thing was they never did. 

Mason Henry Blue – Dallas, Texas

This Week’s Podcast: On the show this week we have a western-based theme. This is something we have not done in a while. Our featured story starts out as a typical Range War but ends with a twist that you won’t see coming. We will also have a listener tale from New Mexico. It relates to the history and times of Black Jack Ketchum. You can listen to this podcast on Thursday at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from Apple Podcasts, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? We are heard every Thursday at 10:00 pm and Sunday Night at 11:00 PM (EST) on AMFM247.COM. Check your local listing or find the station closest to you at this link

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This time on These Are Your Stories we have one that comes from the old west and was sent to us by Big Jimmy Calhoun. Big Jimmy lives in the great state of Arizona and is a real cowboy. In fact, he comes from the lineage of real cowboys. I spent some time on the phone with Jimmy and here is the story he told me about his great-grandpa Jerico. 

His great-grandpa was a bit of a legend in Arizona. You won’t find his name in any history books and Jimmy doesn’t even have a picture of him. What we do have is a journal of his stories. All of which he swore was true. Jimmy never got to meet Jerico, but he did get to meet his Chiricahua wife, Zi-Yeh. She was very old at the time and gave Jimmy his great grandpa’s journal. This story is one of the last in the book. The words were copied directly from the journal, so please don’t expect perfect English. Big Jimmy had this to say, “This is as true a story you find about the old west, well mostly true anyway.”

I was shot by my friend Sam waters.  If he had not done it, I would have been dead for sure. 

We had been sent out to collect strays in the north end of the ranch near Willow canyon. We made our campsite near a stream and enjoyed a hearty meal of beans and trout. It was our last night out and had collected 15 cows and a few calves.  We had an iron on the spit with plans to brand the calves after supper.

Sam had brought a bottle with him and we agreed that we would share it on our last night. We knew that we had to stay sharp, because the “REZ” was not too far away and there had been some jumpers over the last few weeks. Jumpers are what we call illegal Indian hunts. You had to be careful because the Indians were not always in the best of moods. Also, they had been known to shoot cattle rather than look for other game.

I had first watch. We had hobbled the horses but the cattle had been left to graze. Wolfs or Rouge Indians could easily run them off and have their pick of them. It was after midnight when I heard a rustling in the bushes. I threw a rock at Sam to wake him up. I pointed off into the bushes and he reached for his rifle.

It was quiet, too quiet and we both knew that there was going to be trouble. We didn’t know if it was going to be Indian or wolves. I had just turned my back when the first howl rose into the night. The cattle all raised their heads and were off.  Sam yelled, “Stampede!” and a pack of hungry wolves appeared nipping at cattles hooves.

All of this would have been fine, we would collect what was left, and in all likelihood the wolves would take the calves rather than bring down a 400 pound cow. The problem was that the cattle all were heading straight to me. I was turned around and didn’t see the danger until it was too late.

Sam took aim with this Winchester and shot me straight through and through in the shoulder. The impact knocked me sideways over a rock and cattle changed their direction. The herd missed me only a couple of feet. The bullet had gone right through me leaving a neat hole which Sam quickly closed with the whiskey and that hot branding iron. As it turned out I was branded that night and will carry a scar to prove it.

Jericho Calhoun

Well, there you have it straight from Big Jimmy Calhoun. My thanks to him for sharing with us. This was one of the best interviews I have ever done. It is my hope that we get more stories from that journal someday.

This Week’s Podcast:

On the show this week we are all about ghosts. A podcast full of them including a tale from the OTR series The Mysterious Traveler titled The Haunted Trailer. You can listen to this podcast on Thursday at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from Apple Podcasts, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? We are heard every Thursday at 10:00 pm and Sunday Night at 11:00 PM (EST) on AMFM247.COM. Check your local listing or find the station closest to you at this link

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Our story for this time was sent in by Rod Sterling. Yes, you read that right but Before you think it might be a story from the famous creator of The Twilight Zone his last name is actually Serling. Rod Serling writes to us from Seattle, Washington and this story first appeared in RAS #415 – Grandpa’s Christmas Ghost.

Hello Ron, I have a Christmas story for you that is a real head-scratcher. My family and I have tried everything we can think of to debunk it, but there isn’t an answer as to how this could have happened. We have all sworn under oath that it was not a prank and I tell now exactly what happened on December 25th, 2018.

My Grandfather passed away two years ago two days before Christmas. Needless to say, the family was devastated and in that year, 2017, we didn’t have much to celebrate about. My grandpa loved Christmas. He had a full beard and would don a Santa suit to hand out all of our presents. It didn’t stop there, he would go to hospitals, retirement homes, and even would play Santa for the local Christmas parade each year. All of that ended the day he died. Or did it?

Last year we decided that he would be part of our Christmas and that we would not let his passing be the end. We set up his suit next to the tree with a picture of his face in place. It was wonderful and we could all feel his presence and we even spoke to our self-made mannequin-like he was grandpa. 

We all sat around the tree to open our gifts. Instead of having grandpa do the honors we each took a turn handing them out and it went very well. At the end we stopped and went around the room, each of us telling a story about grandpa or what he meant to us. 

Next came Christmas dinner. It was as good as ever and soon we were chatting and enjoying the Christmas season like never before. At the end of dinner, we all decided from that time on Grandpa would become a Christmas tradition. That is when we heard the crash come from the living room. We all ran to see what had happened and found grandpa face down on the floor. We laughed and propped him back up. My brother made the comment that grandpa could never hold his liquor. 

At this point, we kind of broke into groups. One playing games at the dinner table, another chatting, and still another playing with our gifts. I was out in the kitchen helping my wife set up her brand new Nutri Ninja, something she has wanted for years. Then out of the blue came another crash from the living room. Grandpa had fallen again.

This time we are all a little shaken because there was no reason this should happen. In fact, we had added a little more “sturdiness” to the mannequin, but here he was face down on the floor once again. Of course, no one was in the room and amazingly everyone was accounted for during the accident.

We came to the end of the night and we all gathered at grandpa for one last time to say goodnight. While we all stood there. Grandpa wavered and fell flat on his face while we all watched in astonishment. No one touched him or was even close. While I didn’t hear it, two people said that they clearly heard some laughing as he fell.

Nothing else happened. Grandpa never fell again and we kept him up until after New Year’s eve. I don’t know what to make of all this. We tried to find an explanation but never did. I do know that we plan to have grandpa for this coming Christmas. I will write to you after the season to let you know if grandpa comes back for another visit.

Rod Sterling – Seattle, Washington

I connected with Rod to see if Grandpa was still part of their Christmas in 2021. I was told that not only is he still part of their festivities every year but in 2020 he fell again. They can’t wait to see if they have a repeat performance this Christmas Day.

This Week’s Podcast: On the podcast this week we will be presenting a follow-up to A Christmas Carol, with a twist. Sylvia Shults and I are going to take and turn the classic story on its head with real ghost stories and much much more. So, please be there, and tell your friends all about it. This is going to be something special. You can listen to this podcast on Thursday at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from Apple Podcasts, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? We are heard every Thursday at 10:00 pm and Sunday Night at 11:00 PM (EST) on AMFM247.COM. Check your local listing or find the station closest to you at this link

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