The Real Story Behind Rose The Prostitute And Her Death At The White Eagle Hotel
By Amy Venezia
I don’t mind haunted. I can do haunted all day long, but there is haunted and then there is Haunted. The White Eagle is definitely haunted with a capital H.
I am very excited to write about The White Eagle mostly because I believe I am about to tell a story. A new story. One that has not been heard before. I believe something is about to be set right. That a few souls have waited for that rest in peace thing…until it got told.
The White Eagle Saloon and Hotel came about in 1905 and it is from my understanding that two Polish immigrants opened it in the middle of a badass part of town so that, well, badasses would have a place to go drink, fight, and be merry. The history is all over the internet, so I’m not going to repeat it. I will just say because of all this badassery, a lot of energy sticks to this place. A lot of circumstances are responsible for that. One of those circumstances being the story of Rose.
Rose was said to be a prostitute that lived upstairs of The White Eagle when it acted as a brothel. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that? Evidently, as the story goes, Rose fell in love with one of her clients turned suitors. There was one small problem though. Rose was the property of the manager of the place and from tuning into the energy of The White Eagle, I would say to be the manager of the kind of place the White Eagle was at that time….you had to be a pretty gnarly individual.
The story goes that Rose and her new suitor wanted to run away and get married. Her lover confronted the manager only to be beaten to an inch of his life. They then say her lover went to Rose begging her to run away with him for good this time and because she refused, he stabbed her to death in Room 2.
Fast forward to today, when a clairvoyant/medium and her boyfriend decide to take an impromptu drive to Portland and stay at one very rumored to be haunted hotel. That would be me…in case you haven’t figured that one out yet.
We checked in and immediately went upstairs. To my delight, we were the only ones up there. I opted for Room 7. I had the choice of Room 2 or 7, both of which the manager said had reports of activity. I don’t know why, but I chose 7.
Going up those stairs to the 11 rooms was like walking into a full hotel…except it was full with people you can’t see with the naked eye. It is palpable, let me tell you.
We went to our room and I decided to bravely walk back down the hall with my camera and introduce myself to the spirits I was already seeing, hearing, and sensing.
About halfway down, I felt a male presence that was literally right over my left shoulder. It felt like he was following me, as if he was peering over my shoulder at my phone as I recorded to see what I was doing.
He didn’t feel menacing, but he was very protective and wanted to know exactly what I was up to. When I got to Rose’s room, I stood in front of it filming the door. It was then I saw something dart out of the corner of my eye, so I turned the camera to that area and began walking toward it. Next, I caught something I can’t really explain. I was alone. I had nothing in my hand but my phone. It was late afternoon. Here is the video of what was captured. You will see the light move swiftly and fluently. You will also hear what I describe as a very creepy noise that happens at the exact same time as its movement.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3zNNy-0Qq4
I began to feel Rose. Rose is a perfect name for her. She is lovely. I went back to my room and it was there I started feeling the sadness. I kept hearing, “Life is hard. Very, very hard,” over and over. I felt exhaustion. Exhaustion at the very process of life. The labor. The toil. Some time passed and I found that I was being affected by this. I was moody and on edge. I had a small disagreement with my boyfriend and it was then I said to Rose out loud, “See Rose…life is hard in every decade, generation, circumstance. Couples still get in tiffs and there are still misunderstandings. With every passing century.”
I think she really understood this. Our little love spat didn’t last long…as soon as I realized the effect the energy was having on me, I was able to back out of it.
There are no bathrooms in the rooms. You have to share bathrooms down the hall. Although, there are single bathrooms. I had gone in and out of our room at least a half-dozen times, never having the door lock on me. I decided to go use the restroom and went inside one of them and locked the door. When I got to unlock the door to leave, it wouldn’t unlock. I spent five minutes in the bathroom trying to unlock the door. It got to a point where I started to panic. I knew my boyfriend would eventually come down to see where I was, but even so, the walls were closing in on me. I soon had the bright idea of asking the spirits to please stop and let me out. With the next turn of the knob…I was free. Only to walk down to my room and be locked out of it.
With all this chaos, I felt they were more playing with me than giving me a hard time. Since staying there, I have read that spirits at the White Eagle are hostile to psychics. I, however, did not experience this.
We decided to go to bed and I left my Zoom H1 recording all night. It picked up many EVPs, which I will share here. The same female voice says, “Hello,” giggles and also says something like, “Let them hear…story.”
We also captured a male voice, once rolling his r’s and next humming what sounds like “Ratatat.” When I fell asleep, I dreamt that Rose was trying to tell me the real “story” of what happened at the hotel.
In this first EVP, I asked Rose if she could come down the hallway and visit. I asked her to let me know if she could hear me. It took about 58 seconds for a response.
[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/182925076″ params=”auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true” width=”100%” height=”450″ iframe=”true” /]
The next EVP is once again of Rose. I caught this same moan and thud at least five separate times throughout the night. Could it be residual?
[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/182925205″ params=”auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true” width=”100%” height=”450″ iframe=”true” /]
Next EVP is the same female voice. It sounds like she is saying hello?
[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/182926656″ params=”auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true” width=”100%” height=”450″ iframe=”true” /]
This next one is pretty amazing. Same voice in what sounds like her saying “Let them hear…story.”
[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/182927412″ params=”auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true” width=”100%” height=”450″ iframe=”true” /]
Next is a little giggle from Rose.
[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/182938042″ params=”auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true” width=”100%” height=”450″ iframe=”true” /]
Next is a male voice and it sounds like he is rolling his r’s.
[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/182928058″ params=”auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true” width=”100%” height=”450″ iframe=”true” /]
Next, same male voice…sound like he is humming “Ratatat.”
[soundcloud url=”https://api.soundcloud.com/tracks/182928567″ params=”auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true” width=”100%” height=”450″ iframe=”true” /]
With all that evidence, my most compelling experience came once I fell asleep.
I had a vivid vision of taking what appeared to be a letter opener or a very sharp object that was not a knife…and stabbing myself three or four times violently in the abdomen. I felt the pain. I was in period clothing. I had stabbed myself.
I woke up in a jolt and once I came to, I felt that it was Rose showing me what had really happened to her. I was then led through various frames of images showing me that she was deeply in love with her lover. She wanted with everything in her to flee and run away with him, but there was hopelessness. Deep hopelessness. She knew they would never be able to get far without being caught, hunted down by the man who “owned her.” They had no money. No means to get far, fast. She knew if he found them, they would both surely be killed. He had already come close to being killed when he went to confront the manager the first time. She knew they would end up dead. And so, She stabbed herself to death. To save his life. She truly felt there was no other way out. That in itself is heart wrenching. And think about it — who would know any differently? Of course, her lover would be blamed. Unless there was a witness. Even if they had a bitter quarrel over her refusing to leave, if she had done it right in front of him, it would’ve only been his word. He took the fall. And to this day, people are still telling the wrong story.
Rose, sweet Rose, met her fate by her own hand. This much I do, undoubtedly believe.
I do hope in writing these words, no matter how few may read, that she and her lover may be at peace.
I leave you with a picture I took in our room right before we went to sleep. Do you see the face?