Ghosts of 115 Wyoming Street: My Encounters with the Unseen

By Julie McBride

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Upstairs: The Watcher in the Window

It all began that first Christmas, before we had even opened to the public. I wanted to bring some holiday cheer to the upstairs windows, so I placed large blow-up Christmas bulbs in the right window. But something—or someone—wasn’t having it.

Each morning, I’d find the bulbs knocked over. I assumed I hadn’t secured them well enough, so I tried again. And again. But after the third time, one bulb was not just toppled—it was completely deflated. That’s when I felt it: the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

I stood in the room and spoke aloud, “Thank you for letting me decorate the windows. I won’t put any more decorations in this window.” Strangely, the left window’s decorations remained untouched. They didn’t block the view of the street below.

Later, when PMS Ghosthunters investigated the building, they captured an image of a man standing in that very window, gazing down the street. His name, they said, was Wyatt Guthrie. He had appeared to them and shared his name. Wyatt, it seemed, had claimed that window as his own.

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The 2023 Last Encounter

In 2023, we hosted an official ghost-hunting event upstairs with PMS Ghosthunters. The spirits were electric—literally. Machines lit up like a disco, and during filming, hundreds of orbs danced around me like bubbles from a machine. It was joyful, surreal, and powerful. That night was my final encounter before we sold the building later that year.

Robert and I had discussed the sale inside the building, and we sensed the spirits already knew. There was a clear feeling that they enjoyed having us there, and we worried they might be upset. I spoke to them gently, reassuring them:

“It’s okay. Your space is safe. Whatever happens, know that Robert made sure this building will remain strong for another 100 years.”

It felt like they understood. That final night was not just a farewell—it was a moment of mutual respect and gratitude between the living and the unseen.

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The Patio Lights

One night after closing, Robert called me in a panic. The security cameras showed lights flashing all over the outdoor patio. He was convinced people with flashlights were trying to break in.

I had just left and hadn’t seen a soul. I checked the cameras myself—and there they were. Dozens of light orbs, swirling and dancing across the patio. The police arrived and found no intruders, no reflections, and no signs of tampering. Everything was locked up tight. The lights? Gone. But the mystery remained.

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Downstairs: The Playful Protector

Inside the restaurant, I had a special spirit who seemed to know me well. He would call me by name—”Julie”—in a voice that was clear and familiar. I never felt afraid of him. In fact, he felt protective, even playful.

One night, I was finishing up in the washroom when I heard six loud thuds—boom, boom, boom. I rushed out to find six wine bottles rolling down the middle of the restaurant floor like bowling balls. They had been securely placed in the top rack. I scolded him gently,

“I do not appreciate you moving my wines and rolling them down the floor. I just put these up and I don’t have time for this tonight.”

After that, he stuck to calling my name. I’d respond with a smile, “Stop doing that, I’m busy.” He followed me often, and each time, I’d say, “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

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A Final Goodbye

Selling the building was bittersweet. It had been more than a place of business—it was a space filled with memories, laughter, and the quiet presence of those who came before us.

The spirits at 115 Wyoming Street were never threatening. They were guardians, pranksters, and silent companions. I believe they knew we were leaving, and I hope they felt the love and respect we had for their home.

As I walked away for the last time, I whispered one final thank you—for the protection, the surprises, and the stories I’ll carry with me forever.

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Author’s Note

I’ve shared these stories not to convince anyone of the supernatural, but to honor the experiences that shaped my time at 115 Wyoming Street.

Whether you believe in spirits or not, I hope this glimpse into my encounters reminds you that some places hold more than just history—they hold energy, emotion, and connection.

For me, this building was alive in more ways than one. And I’m grateful for every moment I spent within its walls.