In Butchers, Bakers and Building the Lakers: Voices of Collingwood, released in September, 2008, author Christine Cowley distills the stories of generations of Collingwood residents and combines it with historical research for a richly presented oral/pictorial history spanning more than 150 years—just in time to mark the town’s sesquicentennial anniversary. With freshly told tales and old favourites shared around family dinner tables for many years, Butchers, Bakers and Building the Lakers: Voices of Collingwood gives readers an intimate glimpse into regional history that encompasses a heritage beyond the beautiful architecture of a past era. In this brief excerpt, storytellers share an intriguing heritage of particular interest at this “haunting” time, where old souls and ancestral apparitions get a little more attention than usual: David Williams, born in Collingwood in 1869, is remembered as one of the town’s great historians. . . . Between running a newspaper, raising a family and serving in numerous civic capacities . . . Williams somehow still found time to nurture his great love of history. One of his most significant contributions is a vast collection of historical accounts written for various organizations. . . . Much of what we know today of Collingwood’s history is owed to David Williams. . . . David Williams died in 1944, leaving behind a wealth of historical documentation, testimony to his love of Collingwood and his dedication to learning, sharing knowledge and preserving heritage. . . . But valuable historical records are not the only legacy that Dr. Williams left behind; as one of Collingwood’s best-loved “ghosts,” Williams is said to still haunt the building which once housed the offices of the newspaper, The Enterprise-Bulletin, where he spent many years as owner and managing editor: . . . Stories of the ghost of David Williams are still told today: People claimed The Enterprise-Bulletin building was haunted. I can only tell you two things firsthand: one night there was a big snowstorm and the power went out. I used to work all kinds of odd hours and I was [in the building] late, I think it was eleven or twelve o’clock at night. That would not be unusual after a council meeting. That night I went downstairs and I opened the door to go out, and the wind pulled the door right from my hand. I opened the door again and it sucked the door right shut again. I pulled a number of times and I actually had to brace myself and yank on the door to get out. I just thought, what is going on? There can’t possibly be that much of a vacuum coming down around the alleyway there, by the building, which is now Molly Bloom’s. It was just like someone was holding the door closed. The other story we had was . . . it was the early spring. There was still snow and this is not explained to this day. On top of the roof there’s a three foot by three foot hatch and the cap of that hatch was like a little rectangular box with an open side that fit over a flange in the roof. And when it was closed, it was quite heavy; it would take a very strong man or maybe even two men to lift that hatch off. One day people came in and said, “You know, there’s water dripping over the stairwell,” and the stairwell had quite a high ceiling above it—the ceiling was quite out of reach. So I found out that there was a false ceiling of about three feet above it before you had the roof. So when we first opened the trap door above the stairs, it led into this crawl space. It was like an attic under the real roof, and above that there was this hatch. And when we looked up, all we could see was sky, and people wondered how did this hatch ever come off, because we had been on the roof and we knew it was closed. It was set down next to the opening and there were no footprints in the snow on the roof. The roof was covered with snow and that snow had been there all winter. I have no idea how the hatch mysteriously came off and was set down, because to lift it off you would have had to have people up there leaving footprints. No wind could’ve lifted that much weight. People were kinda spooked because they would hear noises and see flashes of light that they couldn’t explain. They all figured it was the ghost of David Williams. . . Some of the employees got nervous enough; some of the female employees, when they worked there in the late evenings, they used to keep a baseball bat handy. George Czerny You see David Williams was the owner for a long time. A lot of people believe that he haunts the building. I had gone in one morning, and I had a nephew that came and worked for me for a summer, and when I went in one day I found a note that said, “David came, I left.” He was scared. He swore there was a ghost there. Don Wilcox Many more stories abound in this latest book of local and Ontario history. With nearly 500 images, mostly from private collections, Butchers, Bakers and Building the Lakers: Voices of Collingwood provides more than just fascinating stories: maps, memorabilia and hundreds of unpublished photographs fill over 350 pages. A thorough index, endnotes and bibliography make it an ideal research tool for genealogists and history buffs. To view photos or to read additional excerpts, visit www.lifegemsbio.com or call (705) 444-0104 to order.