Through word of mouth and various other methods I've managed to track down several people that have hired Crate Northgate to help them. Some were willing to talk - although not about everything that occurred - while others were not quite as forthcoming. Here are some of their statements.
Crate helped me when everybody else looked at me like I was a damn fool. He's a good man, and you need to just leave him the hell alone. -- Name withheld by request
Creighton Northgate knows things the rest of us can't hope to know. He told me a little bit...about why spirits may still be here and things like that, but he has more secrets than the President. --Jackie Barker, former client
Crate Northgate is a better man than you'll ever be. If it wasn't for him I would have never known what happened to my little girl. I'd have never known that she'd found peace or why she had to leave me. I'd do anything for him. Don't you bother him. ---Tom Lee, former client
He showed up and we told him what was going on. About the thing in the attic. He went up and was up there for probably three or four hours. I don't know what he did, but when he came down he looked like he'd been through hell. We never had another problem after that. I owe Crate Northgate a lot. --Name withheld by request
He seems sad, somehow. Like he's lost more than most ever will. It's like he's trying to help others to get away from whatever's eating him up inside but he can't. I'll tell you this, though. The man is the most amazing person I've ever met. --Todd Wilson, former client
I don't know what you're talking about or who you're talking about. No comment. --Mark Jones, Mayor of Sutton's Mill (reports indicate the town hired Mr. Northgate to deal with an issue, but nobody in the town will admit to it despite my showing them the evidence that they're lying)
What follows is the comment that Dr. James Buchanan wrote for me regarding Creighton Northgate's handling of his problem. More info on this case can be found in the "messages" section of the website, and photos that Dr. Buchanan took are located in the "photos" section.
I first heard of Creighton Northgate through a faculty member of the college I teach at - a janitor, actually. At that point I had been sleeping very little and my face showed it. I overheard two custodians discussing a man who could see the dead. Who could drive them away or help them move on. Of a man who traveled the south, collecting a fee for his services and never staying in one place for very long.
I'm a rational man, and I had tried to ignore the occurrences in my office for several months. I'm sure there's no need to restate them here - they were included in the original message I sent Crate which you told me you would repost on your site. (Note - That message can be found here)
By the time I discussed Crate with the custodians, I had reached the point where all logic and reasoning were gone. My photos disturbed me. They shattered my perception of what was real in this world and even changed my mind about the existence of an afterlife.
I contacted Crate through email - I had tried to call him but his voice mailbox was full at the time. It took a week and a half to hear back, at which time I had almost given up hope. The phone call was brief - a discussion of my problem, the matter of his fee, and little more. He agreed to help, but said it would be several days before he was in my area.
The time passed like a slug, each night stretching out for an eternity. Finally, I received another call telling me that he was on his way.
I'm not sure what I expected, but Crate looked surprisingly normal. Early to mid thirties, maybe, a thick five-o-clock shadow, short cropped hair. He was lean, but looked to be in shape. He did, I noticed immediately, smell of alcohol. Beer, I think. Throughout his stay - which was three days, two nights - I noticed that he drank a fair amount in the evenings. Not quite a drinking problem, and we all have our vices, but I found it surprising that such a man would have a fondness for drinking....although in hindsight, seeing what he has seen, drinking may have been his only comfort.
Anyway, I showed him the room and repeated my story, then showed him the photos I had taken. He nodded, looked around the room, and then asked a few questions about the history of the house. I told him what I knew, and that was it really.
He asked to stay in that room. It's an office, so he slept on the floor. I tried to give him all the privacy I could, but at times my curiosity got the better of me and I found myself at the closed door to the room, listening. Sometimes there were small noises, his voice softly speaking to someone - maybe himself - or the sound of someone moving around, and even a beer bottle being opened. Most of the time there was silence.
The first night passed like that and I have to admit that for the first time I could remember, I slept fairly well. My wife did also.
I stayed home from work the next day, although Shirley went on to her job as usual. Crate looked through the rest of the house and then around the outside of it, but mainly stayed in that one office. He came out for a quick breakfast and lunch, then again for dinner. I tried to ask him questions about himself but he seemed guarded. He did explain that spirits are all different, all here for different reasons. That finding out why they were on our plane was the first step.
The next night was the same - mostly silence from the room and little activity at all. Again, once that I managed to get into my bed I slept very soundly.
It was the third night that it happened. A thump woke me up in the early morning, around two AM. I ran for the office, and halfway to it the very air inside my home seemed to change. It felt like my body was covered in static electricity and it became hard to breathe. My ears popped and then pressurized. I heard a whooshing sound rushing through the house and then something that sounded like a man groaning.
Then it ended and I was left in silence, standing at the bottom of the stairs and trying to slow my heart and force myself to breathe.
When I reached the office, Crate was standing in the corner looking as if nothing had happened at all. He said I wouldn't have trouble anymore, that my office was mine again.
Obviously I had a million questions. He tried to answer them, but I could tell that despite his...abilities...that he understood it only tentatively himself. It was an old spirit, he'd said. Not malicious like some but only here because it wanted to be remembered. He told me that it was done - that he would carry the memory of the man the spirit had once been and that he'd helped it find some form of peace.
That was all he could tell me. The next morning he collected his fee and left. I don't know where he was heading.
I understand why you're searching for the truth about him, Mr. Parish. I understand why you've set up this site and that's why I donated what little information I have concerning him. But I can say that in all honesty, Crate Northgate seems to be as tortured and lost as anyone on the planet. I'm unsure if even he knows the truth behind his life and his gift.
I wish you luck in your quest for answers, but somehow I doubt that you'll find them.
Dr. James Buchanan.
The following statements have been sent to me since making this site live. I hope that more of you who have had dealings with Mr. Northgate will write in to tell me of your experiences with him.
We bought a nice southern home to retire in. It was old and needed a touch of fixing up. Just like we wanted! But it seems like the previous tenant wasn't ready to leave. Some sort of apparition or ghost would stomp around the front porch howling all night! Never did a thing except that. Mr. Northgate did some research digging up old photos and speaking to people who grew up in the area. Mr. Gentry used to spend his nights on the patio enjoying the breeze in his rocking chair. Well, Mr. Northgate suggested we buy a chair and put it on the patio for him. It worked! No more ghostly fits but every once in awhile you can hear some gentle humming and a harmonica playing.
The Helm Family
Holes started appearing in my property grounds. Got to the point where I couldn't plant and if I can't plant I can't harvest. If I can't harvest I can't make money. I'd be out there walking the grounds and never see a damn thing. But where ever I wasn't a new hole would appear just tearing up a days work. I guess it got tired of digging cause then it made its way inside the house and just started moving stuff around. Drawers, shelves, boxes in the attic and so forth. You'd just hear it at night. Like it was just searching for something and we never what was doing it. My entire family was terrified. I have no shame admitting it put the fear of God in me as well. All the racket just coming from something you couldn't see! Mr. Northgate came over and did whatever it is he does and took care of it. Seems as if a newly wed couple was murdered here a long time ago. The night it happened the wife lost her wedding ring and all these years later needed to find it again. He found it and buried it in her grave with her with respect. (If you're the curious type, the ring had fallen into a floor register. )