The Haunted Listing: My Time at the Warner Hotel in Bisbee
Walking into the Warner Hotel was like stepping straight into a ghost story. Even on the brightest Arizona afternoon, the interior stayed pitch black and heavy, as if the building had swallowed the sun whole. Flashlights that worked perfectly outside would flicker or die the moment we crossed the threshold. One afternoon, halfway up the grand staircase, my own beam went haywire—flashing wildly—while the air thinned, the temperature plummeted, and everyone froze. That was my cue to smile and say, “I’ll be waiting for you outside. Feel free to look around—if you dare.”
Bisbee, Arizona, 2014.
Every Realtor has a story about “that one listing.” Mine just happened to be haunted.
The Historic Warner Hotel in Old Bisbee had been abandoned for decades. Built in 1908 as a boarding house for miners, the building fell into disrepair after the mine closed in the 1970s. By the time I took it on, the ceiling had caved in and been patched with a tarp, the windows were long gone, and sheets of plywood sealed the dark hollow spaces. Even on the brightest Arizona day, the interior stayed pitch black, damp, and eerily quiet.
The listing had sat for years, waiting for someone with enough vision (and enough cash) to bring it back to life. I fielded calls from dreamers—people who imagined it as luxury condos, an artist colony, or a boutique hotel. The dining hall alone had a thirty-foot ceiling with remnants of a once-grand glass skylight. You could see the potential if you squinted past the cobwebs. But the cost of renovation was sky-high, and true buyers were scarce.
What I did get plenty of calls about were ghost hunters. Word on the street was that the Warner had paranormal activity, and film crews loved the idea of setting up in the old wreck. A few even got permission from the seller to do so.
I walked the property with prospects a handful of times. Before we ever set foot inside, I always gave the same speech: closed-toed shoes, hard hats, and multiple flashlights were required. The warning wasn’t for dramatic effect—it was for safety. Yet, curiously, flashlights that worked perfectly fine outside often refused to cooperate once we stepped into the Warner. Batteries drained without explanation. Beams flickered.
One afternoon tour stands out in particular. I started up the grand staircase, its wooden frame still strong and elegant despite the years of neglect. Suddenly, my flashlight went berserk, flashing wildly. The air grew thinner. We all started coughing. The temperature dropped so sharply it was as if the desert outside had vanished. Everyone froze in place.
That was enough for me. I turned to my clients and said, as calmly as possible, “I’ll be waiting for you outside. Feel free to look around—just…be safe.”
Did I sell the Warner Hotel? Not that time. The ghosts seemed to prefer keeping it to themselves. But as far as “memorable listings” go, this one takes the cake.