The Old Torrance State Mental Hospital
Update: Due to overwhelming popular demand, I have decided to post my Torrance experience. Scroll to the bottom of the page to read it. The Old Torrance State Mental Hospital (OTSMH) is, in my opinion, the scariest place I have ever explored, and the scariest place in Pennsylvania for that matter. Even looking at these pictures gives me goosebumps, especially when I know how dreadfully evil the aura around the place is. In the mid 1960's, OTSMH was shut down - due to patient neglect, overcrowding, and numerous patient escapes - and replaced by a larger hospital a couple of miles down the road, which is still in operation to this day. OTSMH is renowned for having inhumanely treating patients - some records suggest that patients were hung from hooks, tied to the walls, confined in rooms with no beds or bathrooms for weeks at a time, and some people claim that some were even buried alive. Regardless of what happened here, it is obvious that it was demonic...the entire property has a very undeisreable feel to it. As soon as you step out of your car, you get the feeling that, for some reason, you should not be there. A cold draft emancipates from within the ancient walls, cooling the entire grounds. The surrounding lands are dark and eerie, and if you go alone, you will not get far; I guarantee you will leave as soon as you get near the building. Surrounding the old hospital are huge, wide-open fields, which was probably intended, because having fields surround a place like this makes spotting and catching escapees much easier. The building itself is in pretty good shape considering its age, but the second floor is off limits and unsafe. The scariest portions of the building are located in the basement, particularly the furnace room, but the entire place will make your teeth chatter and your heart beat just a little faster. I will not go into my personal experiences here on this page for personal reasons, but I have written a 4 page documentary of my experiences, and if you would like to read it, let me know and I will email it. If you explore any place in Pa, let this one be it....however, this place is not for the faint of heart - This isn't the kind of scariness and fear that goes away when it's over....the fear sticks with you for a long time....it gets inside your head. It is because of this that I have deemed the Old Torrance State Mental Hospital "The scariest place in Pennsylvania." Now for my Torrance story: The Tormenting Torrance What you are about to read is true. It was January 17, 2003, and I and my best buddy Matt, both seniors in high school, were looking for something to do on this frigid Friday night. There were only a couple of inches of snow on the ground, which restricted what we could do, and it was below zero, so we decided to do something active. He and I, both into exploring abandoned places, decided to drive to the old Torrance State Mental Hospital (from here on, referred to as Torrance). We had known about it for sometime, and had wanted to go, but it was difficult for us to be off on the same evenings. We knew roughly the area it was located in, but no specifics. So, that evening, around 8 PM, we headed out. Of course, we brought along the Abandoned Exploration must-haves: Flashlight, video camera, cell phone, spare keys, and an open mind. Although there was a forecast for snow that evening, we took no notice, and left our low-lying area of Hollidaysburg, with not a doubt in our minds. However, as we slowly climbed in elevation, snow began to fall, and before long, has covered the roads’ surface. As we continued on further, Cresson Mountain continued to dump snow, and stranded us along Route 22. We got pushed up the mountain (by a minivan, so embarrassing), and turned around and headed home. Not a bad way to blow two hours of a Friday night. That night, Matt and I made plans to attempt this endeavor again the next Friday. After a long week, the night finally came. This time, we left around 7 PM. The air was still frigid, and totally silent…not a bit of movement in the air. We neared the Blairsville exit on Rt. 22, and finally came to the bottom of the ramp. Now, we knew not where to go. We went right for several miles, found nothing, and then went left, through the town of Derry (a town on Stephen King’s “IT”), and cruised along, looking for something that resembled pictures of the old structure. Eventually, we came to a Sunoco, and just after it, saw a street sign that read “Torrance Rd”. “Surely it is along this road,” we thought. After several miles, the new Torrance State Mental Hospital, larger than most college campuses, came into view. We drove far past the structures, into a dark wooded area, but found nothing. We turned around, and were ready to give up, when Matt said “There, there, turn there!” There was a dark, lonely dirt road going off to our left, and I slowly made the turn, crawling along on the ancient gravel. About a half mile back, we saw the structure shining in the moonlight. We stopped about a hundred yards away, gathered our courage, and drove as close to the building as we could get. I grabbed the camera and my backpack, and Matt held the flashlight and his backpack, along with our cell phones. There it was: The Old Torrance State Mental Hospital. Within these ancient walls, tortures, deaths, beatings, and other horrific events occurred. It was here that the Pennsylvania Department of Health found enough haunting activity to make them shut the building down – FOREVER. The building stood with an aura like none I had ever felt. Something about this place didn’t jive with me, and I know Matt and I both felt it. We pushed our feelings aside, and headed on. In these higher elevations known as the Allegheny Plateau, the ground was covered in almost a foot of snow – far more than at our hometown. The temperature was still frigid, and the air remained dead calm, almost an eerie calm, like something you’d see in the movies. As we neared one of the many entrances, I turned on the video camera (with night vision), and Matt continued to shine the flashlight. Our plan tonight was to make a documentary kind of video, to share with friends, and just to have a record of the place. We entered. Although the air was calm, a cool draft pushed its way through the ancient walls, carrying with it a musty smell similar to a damp basement. We had entered into a room, about 50 x 100 feet, which appeared to be a cafeteria of some sort. Ahead, we could see the room bottleneck into a small doorway, with nothing beyond but a narrow hallway, just daring us to come closer. A chill crept down my spine. As Matt described what was going on (for the camera), I pushed forward, toward the dark hallway ahead. As we neared it, we could see the size of the building come out and bite us. The hallway was long, so long that it reminded me of a high school hallway, and rooms littered each side. We made our way through the doorway and into one of the rooms. Nothing remained but a small toilet in the corner. We entered then into what appeared to be a bathroom, with showers and urinals all intact. On our left was a staircase, and we began to make our way to the second floor. However, halfway up the steps, it became apparent that the second floor was off limits – and unsafe. We stood at the top of the stairwell, looking down. It was pitch black, almost sinister looking, just begging us to try it. Slowly, Matt and I made our way down to what is considered to be the most haunted part of the building – the basement. At the bottom of the stairs was an intersection of hallways. Rumor has it that these hallways are so long, that one can hear a gust of wind make its way down the halls, before even feeling it. To show our “viewers” how dark it really was down there, Matt and I turned off our lights and night vision, and let the camera run. There was nothing to be seen, nothing but darkness, and not just a normal darkness. With it came a feeling of fear, like we shouldn’t be there, and we quickly turned on our lights, looking at each other, knowing we both felt the same thing. We began walking down one hall, finding an open pit in the middle of the hallway, with small cement crescents laying in it. Upon closer inspection, it was obvious that these were tombstones. Observing what one read: “Timothy Andrews 1901-____”. The tombstone was pre-made it seemed, as if the person had no choice but to die there, as if by fate. It was definitely scary, and we hurried on. We now were making our way into one of the documented, scariest places in the old asylum – the furnace room. As we entered, we could see the large, dark furnace towering in the far corner, with a mess of bricks, old beds, and towels lying throughout the room. As we made our way to the furnace, a loud boom emanated through the building. It wasn’t someone stomping, nor was it the wind, which some skeptics of this story love to throw the blame to. We hastily left the room, our hearts beating out of our chests. We ran down a hallway, having now clue where we were or where we were going, and ended up in a small room, about 15x15 feet. Unlike other rooms, this room had no windows, and a large, heavy metal door. The only source to the outside world was a small ventilation fan in the far corner, covered in prison bars. Immediately, we could smell the stench in the room. It smelled musty, but almost a more morbid smell, and, despite the frigid temperatures, this room felt even colder than the others. I began to get sick to the stomach, and we found our way out to my car, and left rather quickly. A few weeks later, Matt and I were talking, and Torrance came up. As we recalled, we had seen others there when we arrived, and concluded that perhaps they were the source to the noise. So we made plans, once again, to finish exploring the old haunted building. It was now January 31, 2003, and Matt and I left around 8 PM once again. We arrived at Torrance around 9:30, and stood outside the building. The moon was still bright in the sky, but temperatures had warmed up into the teens, making things a little more tolerable. We made our way in through a different door this time, further down the road and along another wing. The building is fairly large, and entering via a different door opens up more places to explore. We immediately came to a staircase – one that went down and around, so that you could not see the bottom, and looked over the rail. It was totally dark, and Matt and I approached the top step. Suddenly, Matt stopped me, placed his finger over his lips. Matt had always had a 6th sense about him. He could sense things that I couldn’t, that nobody else could – He didn’t fake it; he was usually right, so I trusted him. He whispered to me, “Don’t move.” We stood motionless, and listened. Something downstairs had moved, and was making its way toward the bottom of the stairs. It brushed against the cement walls, and kicked something out of its way (perhaps a board), as it neared the bottom of the staircase. Our instincts kicked in, and we ran as fast as we could, straight down the hallway, out a small door, onto the road, and all the way back to my car. We sped away, saying nothing. The entire trip home, neither of us said a word. When we got home, we made a pact – a pact that has held true today – to never return to the Old Torrance State Mental Hospital. We sat down to work on our documentary. At the point in the video where we had just entered the basement, and shut off the lights, something strange appeared on the screen. No, it wasn’t a human; we don’t know what it was. Something crosses the hallway, about a hundred feet away – something white, and tall. Whatever it was, I don’t like the feeling of. Something was down there with us that night. Something that didn’t want us to know it was there, something that didn’t want us there. Some people question the validity of this story. However, when two people tell a story, exactly the same way, it has to be true. Even when people still don’t believe it, I don’t care. What I saw and experienced is what I know, and nobody can take that away, and until they find proof that it was something else, I truly believe that it was a confrontation with something of the supernatural. Was it a ghost? I am reluctant to say what it was. I am reluctant to think about it, and I am reluctant to watch that tape again. The tape remains locked up safely in a secret spot, and I never plan to watch it again. I will never forget that night. And to those of you who explore this place: Be careful. It’s scary, and it’s real. What you don’t know CAN hurt you. Use your common sense, and be respectful. If something happens, LEAVE. And, don’t go alone. My story has come to an end. Please share yours, if you have one, and keep abandoned exploration alive. The End
The left wing of the hospital
Front
Fields around Torrance