Stephen King - The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer - My Life at Rose Red.pdf - Stephen King - widez2

ellen rimbauer

the diary of

ellen rimbauer

My Life at Rose Red

new york

edited by

joyce reardon, ph.d.

the diary of

Barnes 171-L

whatsoever without the written permission of the Publisher. Printed in the United States

of America. For information address Hyperion, 77 W. 66th Street, New York, New York

10023-6298.

ISBN: 1-4013-9674-7

The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer is a rare document, a record

of the mysterious events at Rose Red that scandalized

Seattle society at the time—events that can only be fully

understood now that the diary has come to light.

Visit www.beaumontuniversity.net to read more about it.

Page 1

Joyce Reardon

Department of Paranormal Phenomena

Beaumont University

Seattle, WA

Dear Reader:

In the summer of 1998, at an estate sale in Everett, Washington, I purchased

a locked diary covered in dust, writings I believed to be those of

Ellen Rimbauer. Beaumont University’s Public Archive Department

examined the paper, the ink and the binding and determined the diary to

be authentic. It was then photocopied at my request.

Ellen Rimbauer’s diary became the subject of my master’s thesis and

has haunted me ever since. (Excuse the pun!) John and Ellen Rimbauer

were among the elite of Seattle’s turn-of-the-century high society. They

built an enormous private residence at the top of Spring Street that

became known as Rose Red, a structure that has been the source of much

controversy. In a forty-one-year period at least twenty-six individuals

either lost their lives or disappeared within its walls.

Ellen Rimbauer’s diary, excerpts of which I offer here, set me on a

personal course of discovery that has led to the launching of an expedition.

Shortly I will lead a team of experts in psychic phenomena through

the doors of Rose Red, the Rimbauer Estate, in an effort to awaken this

sleeping giant of psychic power and to solve some of the mysteries my

mentor, Max Burnstheim, was unable to solve before he went missing

in Rose Red in 1970. (I never met Dr. Burnstheim, but I consider his

writings the most progressive in the ?eld of psychic phenomena.)

Page 2

Many thanks to my publishers, Beaumont University Press. I hope the

publication will widen the public’s perception and acceptance of psychic

phenomena, and ?rmly anchor a fascinating historical period in the

growth and expansion of the Paci?c Northwest. I have taken great pains to

edit this document to a readable size, deleting the repetitive sections and

omitting those I found offensive. For the extremely curious, or the

voyeuristically minded among you, a portion of those edits can be found

archived on the World Wide Web at www.beaumontuniversity.net.

Photos of the house can be viewed on the Web site as well.

Good reading. In the name of science I will pursue the truth of Rose

Red, wherever it may lead me.

Sincerely,

Joyce Reardon, P.P.A., M.D., Ph.D.

The following are excerpts taken from Ellen

Rimbauer’s diary, dated 1907–1928. Any and all editing

has been done at my discretion. Some effort has

been made to protect the integrity of Mrs. Rimbauer

and her descendants, though never at the cost of

content. What follows are the words of Ellen

Rimbauer, in her own hand, with as few editorial

comments as possible.

—Joyce Reardon, November 2000

Page 3

ellen rimbauer

the diary of

17 april 1907—seattle

Dear Diary:

I ?nd it a somewhat daunting task to endeavor to place my

thoughts here inside your trusted pages, I scarcely know if I am

up to the task, but as my head is ?lled with lurid thoughts, and my

heart with romance and possibility, I ?nd I must con?de in

someone, and so it is to your pages I now turn. I have lived these

nineteen years in full premonition of that time when a man

would come into my heart, into my life, and thrill me with love,

passion and romance. That time has now come. I swoon just

thinking of John Rimbauer, and some of my thoughts are not at

all becoming of the lady I am expected to be.

My physical desire does at times possess me. Am I in?uenced

by my reading of popular novels, as my mother is wont to say, or

am I sinful, as my father has implied (no, not with words, but by

branding me with his raised eyebrows and scolding brow)?

I must admit here too to the simultaneous impression that

danger lurks within an arm’s reach. Death. Dread. Destruction.

Born of guilt, I wonder, for the unladylike fantasies to which I

succumb when alone in the dark? (Or is the source of these

images something, some force entirely exterior of myself, as I am

prone to believe?) Does another world exist? For it seems to me

Page 4

it must: a force apart from human experience. A power, all of its

own, and not one familiar with the God to whom I pray.

Something darker, external, other-worldly. Something altogether

unknown. It lurks in the shadows. I feel its presence.

I would be lying here if I did not admit to a certain thrill this

looming sense of the future, of the unknown, affords me, both

the unknown of what John Rimbauer’s touch might bring to my

life, as well as this sense of a larger, darker force at play.

John Rimbauer is a partner in a large oil company, Omicron

Oil, along with a Mr. Douglas Posey, an affable, quiet gentleman

whose company I’ve had the good fortune to keep, along with that

of his wife, Phillis. Oil, I’m told, holds great promise as a fuel for

lighting homes, and perhaps someday even heating them. John

says that oil water heaters for the home are all the rage in the East.

Kerosene is being used in motorcars. I hope someday to perhaps

take the train with John back to Detroit, where he does business

with the Rockefellers. Oh, but my head spins with such fancy:

dinner with John D., himself! A banker’s daughter from Seattle,

Washington! And yet . . . I sense the world is about to unfold at

my ?ngertips. John is the key to that world. I feel certain we are

to be engaged within the month. Dare I say that with such honesty?

Only here in your pages, Dear Diary!

John has ordered the construction of a grand house. Grander

than any house in all the state, perhaps in all the land. He tells

Page 5

Stephen King - The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer - My Life at Rose Red.pdf

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