THERE’S AN OLD HOTEL . . . .

At the Leger: Everything Old Is New Again

By Antoinette May Herndon

One of the most historic hostelries in the Mother Lode, Mokelumne Hill’s Hotel Leger (pronounced “luh zhay”) has always been the hub of town activity. Beginning in 1851, a hotel has existed on the corner of Lafayette and Main. Until 1866, the building included the county courthouse with a convenient downstairs dungeon and a hanging tree out back.

Since “the Hill” was the biggest, baddest, most important mining camp in Calaveras County (according to the records, 17 people killed there in 17 weeks, then five more shot the following weekend), it scarcely seems surprising that such riotous history would inspire a legion of restless spirits.

At least that’s one theory.

Very little is known for certain. George Leger, born in Germany, but claiming French descent, came to Mokelumne Hill in 1851. Catering to the town’s large French population, already ensconced on Lafayette Street, he erected his “inn”— probably a tent—fronting on Center Street.

A fire destroyed the hotel in 1854 but left the stone courthouse still in tact. Within a year the forty-year-old bon vivvant was not only back in business but had acquired a wife, Louisa Wilkin, age 23. The story goes that she died in childbirth. Does that explain the eerie sounds of a woman crying reported over the years by hotel guests? Some think so.

Leger added a stone annex to his hotel and changed the name to the Hotel de Europa, then to the Grand Hotel. He could call it anything he pleased, but for townspeople it was “Leger’s place.”

In late August of 1874 George embellished his hotel with a new bar. It was said to be a gorgeous creation of black walnut, maple and laurel. The Calaveras Chronicle raved: “All the hotel lacks to make it equal to any house in our rival city of San Francisco is an elevator.” Wow!

Unfortunately, the building was gutted a week later in the Sept. 4 fire which raged through Mokelumne Hill. His loss was estimated at $50,000. But on April 26, 1875 Leger celebrated his phoenix-like rise with a grand ball. More than 100 carriages pulled up in front of the hotel conveying couples from every town in Calaveras and Amador counties.

Today the hotel looks exactly as it did then—including original stones dating from 1851 and the 1862 annex addition.

People love to embellish the story by saying that Leger was gunned down by an irate husband. Those Frenchmen! It didn’t happen. Whatever his indiscretions, the man died of natural causes in 1879. His remains were taken from the hotel and interred in a nearby graveyard.

Some say that was the end of it. Some say not.

But let’s fast forward more than 100 years to new owners with their own stories to tell. It was in the 90s—the 1990s—when “just a job” took on a whole new spin for Ron Pitner, maintenance man and resident musician at the Hotel Leger. He’d just met Jane Canty, the bartender there.

Love at first sight? Maybe. For certain, work became lots more fun. Still, no one could ever have guessed what fate had in store for them.

Jane and Ron became a couple, then a married couple. Jane worked for three Leger owners, Ron for two. A familiar refrain around their house was the dream, “Now, if that place were ours…”

Jane’s daughter, Ashley, a Bay Area interior decorator visited her parents often. Driving by the Leger, a place where she’d literally grown up, the designer in Ashley saw possibilities. “I felt the old building calling out: ‘Save me! Save me! Make me pretty again!’”

The rest is history. In November 2002, Jane, Ron and Ashley leased the tumble down hostelry with an option to buy. In less than two years they not only exercised the option but received six Calaveras County awards for excellence. Here’s the list:

Best Place to Stay Best Local Night Spot Best Place To Dance Best Place To Play Pool Best Pick-up Spot Best Mixed Drink Concoction. The hotel’s most recent accolade is Best Taste of Calaveras.

Does the Leger sound like party central? For guests, definitely. But what about the owners? Well, that’s another story. Over the years Jane, Ron and Ashley have re-plumbed the building, painted both the interior and exterior, put in air-conditioning and heating upstairs, pulled up the carpeting and sanded the floors, painted the pool, landscaped the backyard, and restored the ballroom.

Seems like enough activity to drive off a legion of spooks. Who’d have time to even notice them? Think again.

Consider Jane’s experience. She’d just cleaned the dining room after a party, using three keys to lock three doors before leaving late at night. When Jane returned the next morning and unlocked all the doors, she found the room in disarray. Tables were shoved together. Dishes, glasses and silver used. “A hoax seems unlikely,” she says. “It was so elaborate—a lot of trouble to execute and difficult to conceal.”

Stories proliferate. In Room 2, guests report seeing a Victorian woman—maybe one of George’s girl friends. In Room 3, they see a little boy. Maids make the beds in Rooms 10 and 11, returning later to find them torn up. The wildest story is the midnight cattle drive down Main Street—sounds of mooing, hoof beats and cowbells. Guests—as well

as Ashley Canty—have rushed to the window only to see a dark, deserted street.

Over the years the owners have called in teams of “ghostbusters.” The psychic investigators begin their case studies by drawing detailed floor plans to establish a frame of reference. Experiments are recorded on the maps such as tests for environmental anomalies—anything occurring out of the norm.

The teams use tri field meters to measure electric magnetic frequencies. They have thermometers to record cold spots, compasses to mark deviations from the field maps and a wide variety of cameras and recorders—thousands of dollars worth of highly specialized equipment.

Dagmar Morrow, a Bay Area medium, accompanied one such team. At first she felt overwhelmed by impressions. “So many spirits have associations to the hotel,” she said. “Imagine 150 years of passion and intrigue. Some of them are rather mischievous, too. It’s as though they’ re teasing, ‘Find out about us if you can’.”

The fact that owners, staff, and guests remain on the watch for spectral visitors, doesn’t stop the day-to-day development of new corporeal events and activities at the hotel. A recent addition to the Pitner family staff is Ron and Jane’s son, Shawn, who tends bar.

Also new to the team is Denise McGee who teaches a monthly baking class at the Leger and Kundalini yoga teacher Mary Kate who leads groups on Monday evenings.

Martini Thursdays have grown increasingly popular—call it Mok’s weekly cocktail party—and Mexican Monday draws crowds of South of the Border aficionados.

Now an even more spectacular and intriguing innovation is poised to take off at the Hotel Leger. Jane and Ron are about to launch “Dinner in the Dungeon,” a series of private banquets held deep in the haunted fastness of the ancient hostelry. Whoooooo!

“People have been coming here for fun and excitement for more than 150 years,” Jane says, “And this’s just the beginning.”

VITALS: The Leger is located 8304 Main St., Mokelumne Hill. Phone: 286 -1401

(Sidebar?)

AND NOW FOR A GREAT MARTINI: Many think it was Jane’s pixie smile that first attracted Ron. But others suspect it was her prowess with a martini shaker. Whatever, the Leger’s martinis are prize winners. Perfect martinis are hard to come by. Here’s Jane’s cherished recipe: Put a martini glass on ice. Fill shaker three-fourths full. Add one-half ounce dry vermouth (Jane prefers Martini and Rossi). Swirl—don’t shake—four times. Drain off the vermouth. Pour in three ounces of your favorite gin. Swirl 17 times! Pour into chilled glass. Add two olives. Rim the glass lightly with olive juice. Enjoy!