The Intruders - Classic

Spooked

This episode of Spooked explores two chilling tales: the haunting legacy of Julia Staab, a 19th-century Jewish immigrant mother whose spirit

Key takeaways

• Julia Staab's ghost is believed to be tied to her deep emotional trauma after losing her infant child, leading to her reclusive final years and enduring presence in the home she once loved.
• Multiple staff members at La Posada Hotel report physical and psychological disturbances when approaching Julia's former room, suggesting a powerful spiritual residue.

Main topics

• Hauntings and ghost lore
• Trauma and its lasting impact on legacy

Notable quotes

"I know I will kill this person. Or I will break glass. Or I will find fire." – A nine-year-old's chilling certainty about confronting a predator.

"She was there. I really felt her." – The concierge describing his visceral encounter with Julia Staab's spirit.

Conclusion

These stories reveal how fear, trauma, and unresolved history can echo through

Transcript preview

Speaker 5 (0:01) When you go to bed at night, you lock the door for a reason. But what if whomever is trying to get in doesn't need a key? You're listening to Spooked. Stay tuned. Speaker 5 (0:28) Insurance isn't one size fits all. That's why drivers have enjoyed Progressive's Name Your Price tool for years now. With the Name Your Price tool, you tell them what you want to pay and they'll show you options that fit your budget. So whether you're picking out your first policy or just looking for something that works better for you and your family, they make it easy to see your options. Visit Progressive.com. Find a rate that works for you with the Name Your Price tool. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates. Price and coverage match limited by state law. I remember when he came to our house. I hear him say he can fix the septic system or something. And my mother tells him that he should maybe come back when my father is home. From the hallway, I see him tall, wiry, red face, red hair. He says, sure, he can come back later, of course. Just want you to know. I never had no problems with coloreds living here. No matter what the neighbors say, I always thought colored women were the most beautiful women on the earth. And you know, you know, I'd be willing to cut a deal. Cut a deal to get some of this work done you need around here. Cut a deal to find colored women like yourself, if you know what I mean. If you know what I mean. I step out there from the hallway. He draws back, surprised. I walk past both him and my mother. Into the kitchen, I open the silverware drawer. I pull out a knife. Will it to be sharper than the butter knife it is? But it is steel. And I will stab this red-headed man with it. I am only nine. But I will stab this man. Or I will break glass. Or I will find fire. I know this. Like I know the sky is blue. Like I know the taste of a summer peach. I know I will kill this person. I've just been drinking a glass of milk, washing the Flintstones. But I know with utter certainty that I will kill him or perish in the process. Almost as if it has already happened, I know it. I walk back into the living room, clutching the knife tight in my fist. Maybe he's already decided to take his leave. Maybe he sees the cold rage in a nine-year-old boy's eyes. He places his cap back on his head. nods to my mother and backs out the front door. From the window, I see him get into his truck and pull off. I throw the knife into the sink, walk past my mother, go back into my room, but the anger doesn't subside. The rage doesn't leak away. Instead, it builds. My skin feels hot. My jaw clutched tight. I see myself ending the red-faced man in different ways with knives and guns and scarves and sticks and shards. And I wonder if in another world, there awaits another me sitting in his room, not clean, not furious, but relaxed, sitting in the same chair after washing the blood from a butter knife. Our first story takes us to New Mexico. Which, because it was the land of many, many battles, is now a land of many, many spirits. But there's one ghost in particular. She's not a ghost of a war battle. She's a ghost of a 19th century Jewish immigrant mother on the hell of a name for herself. Speaker 1 (6:03) So the ghost is named Julia Staub, and she's my great-great-grandmother. We started hearing stories about a pale woman in a black Victorian gown who kept being seen by guests at the hotel that had once been her home. The hotel is called La Posada. I wanted to know just what she was like. Speaker 1 (6:29) So I went on a quest to find all the information I possibly could about my great-great-grandmother. I think the idea was just anything and everything and trying to approach it from any angle I could, which included reading old newspapers, doing oral histories with family members. I tried very hard to interact with her. I started with a tarot card reader, then a phone psychic. I went to a psychic colony in Florida. I met with a clairvoyant in the library of her house. I even ate a marijuana cookie, hoping to open myself up to communing with the beyond. And that didn't go well at all. Speaker 1 (7:17) I never had the encounter with Julia's ghost that I so wanted to have. She never spoke to me. But I've spoken to a lot of people who've had interactions with her. And the one that struck me the most was a man named Jonathan who had worked as a concierge there. Speaker 6 (7:35) Well, a concierge is essentially the ambassador of the hotel. What we do is, many people think we just make dinner reservations for people, but we don't. We do a whole bunch of things. I considered it an honor. La Posada has such a good reputation in town. It was considered a badge of honor to work at La Posada. I was hesitant at first. Everyone knew about Julia Staub and how she was still there in the house, and I was just hesitant. Speaker 1 (8:07) Julia's house, that's now La Posada Hotel, was built by her husband Abraham in 1883. And it was an elegant Victorian with a mansard roof, ornate brass work, beautiful mahogany woodwork. It's all still there. Speaker 1 (8:23) Abraham was the richest man in the territory at that point, so the family always hosted lots of events in the house. They had salons and lectures, sewing circles. According to newspapers from the time, Julia was often the hostess at those events. Speaker 6 (8:38) That house was the center of the social scene, and her entire focus was on the house, keeping it up, entertaining. That was her life. Speaker 1 (8:50) She was a very busy woman. She had seven kids, and all of them survived to adulthood. But she then had an eighth baby who died at three weeks old. Speaker 1 (9:03) They say that after Julia lost her baby, her hair turned white overnight. I found a bunch of newspaper articles showing that for a few years after the baby died, Julia was still out in Santa Fe doing things, going to parties. But then she spiraled into a severe depression. In 1893, after years of trying to get better, she went into her room and there's no evidence that she was ever seen in public after that. And one thing that really struck me was her daughter got married in 1894. And the newspaper article says that Julia wasn't able to come because of her health. So she was in her room at the top of the stairs and her daughter was getting married and she was unable to come down to be there. She died in that room in 1896. Speaker 6 (9:53) I think I was working there. three or six months or something like that. John, would you take these people up to see Julia's room? And I said, oh no, please no. I don't want to go up. And as I go up the stairs, about halfway up, it's like I hit this wall of, well, actually like magnets. Two magnets of the same pole trying to, and you're trying to make them attach, but they won't. There was like that pushback that I felt.