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The Oxford House of Refuge
Woodstock, Ontario
Historical Introduction by Stephanie Lechniak-Cumerlato

The Oxford House of Refuge has been sitting abandoned on the 11th Concession in Woodstock, Ontario for over 30 years now. This grand old building was built back in the early 1890's and through all these years, one thing has seemed to remain the same, the fact that the structure itself seems to still be a sort of barrier for the many spirits trapped within its walls.

When Woodstock started out as a small town, the Oxford Jail provided a place for disadvantaged people to come in off the streets for food and shelter when they could not afford to pay rent on their own.

It wasn't until several Anglican ministers decided that the jail wasn't a proper place to house the needy and unfortunate that they decided to built a nicer facility in order to care for such people. The first person admitted through the doors was Mr. James Leek on March 10, 1893. By the end of that year, the 15 males and 7 females who resided at the new Oxford House of Refuge only had to pay $6.05 per week.

A Superintendent couple were hired on to act as live-in managers when the refuge house first opened. Their duties included examining all the people who came in through the doors, treat the sick, supervise that all meals were properly cooked, to make sure the lights were out by 9 p.m. and "to inflict suitable punishment for diobedience, not more than 24 hours confinement to be inflicted..." No "drunkenness, disobedience, immorality, profane language, theft, waste," were allowed or a strict and severe punishment would be implemented.

To this day, the basement itself still contains numerous small cell blocks with cast iron bars closing them off. From what i've heard, it is quite a vivid, yet morbid sight.

While the number of residents skyrocketed to 125 people in 1916, that figure dropped substantially several decades later to 27 in 1965.

In 1895 a quarter acre of the 100 acre property was put aside for a cemetery. The cemetery is located at the centre of the western edge of the property, and the youngest person buried there was a still-born baby while the oldest was a lady reported to be around 103 when she died. Over a time span of about 60 years, about 200 residents were buried in this cemetery.

The house is currently for sale and has drastically dropped in price from $399,000.000 to $224,999.00. We here at Haunted Hamilton have our speculations and even considered purchasing the property ourselves and turning it into some grand Bed & Breakfast or HH Headquarters. After reading the following however, we had a change of heart.

References:
Woodstock Museum, 'County of Oxford Historical Item # 5'
County of Oxford Website
MLS #46-330

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An Experience One Will Soon Never Forget
By The Ghost Hunter

I really think you guys are doing something great here, however covering the former Oxford House of Refuge in Woodstock should be a very careful endeavor. This house is damned and a terrible place that will only be saved by falling to the wrecking ball.

I've read all of the stories on Haunted Hamilton, about the buildings from around the city, how they were lost to the mad-mind of a modern mayor. How one man of power can cause the removal of structures that were loved by millions. These pictures on the message board, showing the beauty this downtown core once held makes me think how history is so precious.

I have never been one to advocate trespassing, in fact I think it's the thing teenagers with no life do when they are bored. But I do appreciate beauty, and a historic mansion on the country-side is a thing of elegance. I'm there for the beauty.

I took a field trip from my home with the idea of taking a quick peek of the spooky place "everybody" in my area was talking about. Just walking to the place was challenging, for as a sensitive you can feel the energy emanating off the building from miles away. Over the hill a tower appears, and as you approach it more and more, the massive mansion comes into view.

I continued up the driveway, not realizing that my daytime field trip would turn into a nighttime struggle. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, it was a great day, however darkness surrounded my vision as I walked closer to the house. It grew in my vision and covered everything, until all that was left for me to see was negative energy.

The rumors surrounding the house were turning in my brain. Anybody who knows me can agree that I'm the type to back down, even if the thought of entering this monster made me feel like vomiting. A friend told me that the side door was never locked, so I slowly made my way around as if fearing that the house would reach out and swallow me whole. No, the house wouldn't get that chance as I was going to walk right into its belly.

Even before I opened the screen door, I saw the beginning of a long, dirty and neglected hallway leading right to the other side. It must have been a mile long, but only half-a-mile I would travel as the ghosts of the house would win today. My feet echoed as I walked through the dust and dirt, passing on either side of me were rooms framed by exposed beams where walls once occupied.

The first stairwell seemed to lead into a white light, black light in my vision, but just as bright. The second stairwell led to real darkness, but I wouldn't climb that one either, instead I found my way around to the old kitchen.

It was quite impressive and seemed to be clear of any bad energy. Who could be angry while cooking (this coming from an amateur cook in his own right)? Something good can quickly lead to something bad, which was proven when I saw the entrance to the basement.

Under the main stairwell and just off of the kitchen is the stairway down to my perception of hell. The basement is the only part of the house that still grips me with a feeling of real fear. All I can see is the entrance, the top of the stairs leading down into pure black darkness. A descend that I would never do willingly. As history shows, when the house was active, anybody who was in that basement didn't go down there willingly.

I rushed out of the kitchen and past the basement, keeping my eyes averted. I ran down the hall and out into the sunlight. The whole situation felt like the run from one of those haunted houses you see in Niagara Falls, like a kid dressed up as a werewolf holding a chainsaw and chasing me. I didn't stop until I was off the land and away from the dangerous energy, or so I thought, not knowing that this danger could follow you home and that the night would be very eventful.

I felt brave as I shut the lights out and surrounded myself with covers in the safety of my own bed. Pride filled me with the thought that I was in the famous Oxford house and it was no longer a mystery. If and when the house falls, I will have these bragging rights.

This pride wasn't enough to remove the image of that basement from the deeper parts of my brain. I saw it when every time I shut my eyes, feeling fear in my stomach. My back would tense and my head would ache. Sleep was the farthest thing from me at this point.

As a sensitive I've learned to push away the energies that don't agree with me. I pushed as hard as I've ever pushed, and the image would just push back. With the pushing came the picture of an old man staring back at me with the facial expression of someone who really needs to tell me something. I wasn't ready to listen so I ignored the images of a dark graveyard with yellow grass and the feeling that I should dig. I ignored this and yelled, "I will never visit your home again!"

It would be an hour before sleep would find me. I dreamed of bad things that night, details that I cannot recall now, nor would I ever want to because whatever reached out to me from the former Oxford house of Refuge should not be disturbed.

I love historic buildings and it's a shame how Hamilton and surrounding cities have removed their best over the years. Although this house looks like it could be in the same league with the mansions of Brantford and Hamilton, its energy gives it a different look and makes it ugly.

In the end, I feel bad for the spirits caught between worlds and calling this place home. I wish them rest and if destroying the house will allow this then do it. Being trapped in the energy that I got a taste of is the true definition of hell.

The Ghost Hunter

** photographs taken and copyrighted by The Ghost Hunter

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Haunted Hamilton does not support or advocate certain aspects of the Ghost Hunter's methods. We are not involved, nor do we assist in the planning of his/her investigations. We admire the style of writing and the passion that they put into their work. Under the morals of Freedom of Speech we feel an obligation to display this for the world. Please direct any comments or concerns to The Ghost Hunter appropriately.

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