‘Hey Mr. Wilson! Show Me Your Wurlitzer!’ – The Ghost of Joseph Kearns
Actor Joseph Kearns (1907-1962) will always be remembered as the easily ruffled Mr. Wilson on the classic television series Dennis the Menace. But there are some today who believe Kearns also made a series of audible appearances at his Del Mar Tract home for many years after his untimely death. The following excerpt, which recalls several unexplainable encounters, is from Hollywood Haunted – Authors Cut.
To stroll down the shady block of Carlos Avenue in Hollywood today is to step back in time.
The Del Mar Tract, as it is called, was one of the first tracts developed in Hollywood and by 1913 boasted a large farmhouse with several additions to the main building and later, even a second house. After a time, neighboring homes sprung up on the short block which held onto its rural setting despite being a stone’s throw from the iconic corner of Hollywood and Vine. Many of the residents of the ‘40s and ‘50s were entertainers who apparently believe that the show must go on.
In the mid-1970s, Phyllis Upshaw came to live in the second house on the property, then divided into a quad-plex. Fiftyish, kind, soft spoken with a quick laugh, Phyllis was soon friendly with all the neighbors. Mr. Henricks was one of her favorites. “When I met him, he was about 80, retired. He’d been maître ‘d for years at the Melody Lane Cafe, a big restaurant on the corner of Hollywood and Vine. He knew everyone and was very friendly. He loved living here,” Phyllis smiles and adds, “He used to always tell me, `After I die, I’m going to come back to haunt this place. I want to see what everybody’s doing.'”
Not long after, Mr. Henricks fell in his apartment and died from his injuries. The young woman who later rented his apartment knew nothing about him. She confided to Phyllis that on several occasions, the ghost of a man appeared in her room and said hell-o. “She described him perfectly,” Phyllis said, “Blond, about this tall, very friendly, wearing a red turtleneck and green pants. That was Mr. Henricks.” And why didn’t Mr. Henricks look in on her, his friend? “Because,” Phyllis explained, “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
Phyllis recalled stories told her by another renter around that time, a Yugoslav opera singer. She claimed to see a figure climbing into her room from a second story window more than half a dozen times. She couldn’t make out if it was a man or woman. The person continuously threw knives and wherever they landed — blood. And once, blood ran from the faucet. Then the figure would jump out the window.
Neighborhood legend is sketchy, but remnants of a story survive. Boarders — a couple with a knife-throwing act — were renting that room during their appearance at one of the nearby theaters – perhaps the Palace or the Palladium. The owners of the farm often rented rooms to the show business transients for extra income. But during their stay, the couple had a terrible fight. He threw her out, screaming at her to go back to England. Instead, she killed him…with a knife.
Next door, behind the original farmhouse, was a long, narrow addition built as servants’ quarters. Rock icon Jimi Hendrix lived there in the ’60s. Phyllis had vague memories of a limousine or two arriving for him, but the house had a sound-proof basement, so, if any rehearsing was going on, she never heard it. She also never heard him speak of a ghost there. But after the 6.8 earthquake in 1994, ghostly goings-on increased. An eleven-year-old boy living in the addition heard noises in the living room one morning when he knew it was empty. He hurried to investigate and just caught sight of a filmy image as it flew out of the window.
Another chapter of the property’s history concerns actor Joseph Kearns who became a household name in 1959 as the easily ruffled Mr. Wilson on Dennis the Menace.
Few remember that Kearns was also a leading West Coast theater organist for many years. He bought the original farmhouse in the late ’40s and lived there with his mother, while finding work on radio and television series like: The Burns and Allen Show, How to Marry a Millionaire, The Jack Benny Show as Ed, the vault keeper and The Judy Canova Show as her goofy boyfriend Lukie. But Kearns’ first love remained the pipe organ and in 1955, he purchased a real beauty.
The unique Wurlitzer, completed on January 31, 1929 for Warner Brothers, was the second of three made specifically for motion picture recording, voiced differently from the average organ. CBS bought it in 1948 and stored it. In ’55 as they prepared to move to new facilities, they no longer wanted it. Kearns bought it and immediately began drafting plans for a structure which would serve not only as a home for him, but as one of the most impressive settings in which a theater organ has ever been placed.
The special instrument meant special construction problems: sound proofing, air conditioning, temperature and humidity controls, proper acoustics. The power company had to install a special transformer. The console alone weighs a ton and a half and needed special steel beams and girders to support it.
The basement contained a double garage, a relay room, a blower room, and the lower organ chamber. The organ was on the main floor along with the solo organ chamber with shutters and grille. On the mezzanine was a study wired for recording while the upper floor consisted of an echo chamber and a room for an echo organ, complete with swell shades and louvers to adjust the volume. Then there were hundreds of pipes, pipe chests and other accessories, consisting of percussion, chimes, vibraphone, marimbas, even an upright piano playable from the console. It took Kearns months to assemble and refine his prized instrument.
“The experience of hearing the organ played in this setting is indescribable,” an admirer wrote. “Listening to a master bring forth from this instrument its most subtle whispers and its crashing floods of sound while completely relaxed in an easy chair, one participates in an unforgettable musical experience.”
Joe enjoyed his organ for six years, until 1962 when he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 55 and died a week later.
Fortunately, true aficionados, Bob and Ruth Carson, moved in and devoted themselves to giving tours and recitals for busloads of curious organ lovers every Sunday. Mrs. Carson died of cancer in the house in 1972. Her husband later married Helen Dale, organist at L.A.’s Dodger Stadium. Organ enthusiast Bob Hill remembers many wonderful parties in the house gathered around Helen as she dazzled friends on Joe Kearns’ organ. “Hearing that spectacular organ in a house built to show it off was an extraordinary experience,” Hill reminisces. “Helen could really play and we had some great times there.”
When Bob Carson died in 1975, Helen moved away. The new owner sold the organ. In 1985, through a generous private donation, the organ was restored and installed in the 1430-seat Renaissance Theater in Mansfield, Ohio. Joe Kearns would be proud if he only knew. And the current residents of his organ house wish they could tell him. Maybe then they could get some sleep.
In 1992, actress Marisa De Simone shared the organ house with two friends. She slept in the old echo chamber. On several occasions, she heard a man’s footsteps in the house. The first time, footsteps downstairs after midnight woke her. They seemed to start from the main floor pipe room, come across the living room and up the stairs. She heard someone stand on the stool at the entrance to the echo chamber, climb into the loft and walk to the edge of her bed. But Marisa saw no one. Frightened, but animated, she shouted, “Knock it off, Mr. Wilson!” Right away, she heard the footsteps running down the stairs.
At other times, Marisa heard the upstairs floorboards creaking when no none was up there. She asked nicely, “Mr. Wilson, if that’s you, please go away,” but the steps continued on an irregular basis.
Parapsychologists Barry Taff, Barry Conrad and Jeanette Batton visited the property in April of 1994. There was no paranormal activity while they were there, although Barry Taff went to the front door several times to see who was there…and no one was. Taff and Batton felt particularly depressed in the house and Batton said she could have burst into tears, especially in the bedroom in which Mrs. Carson died. Marisa agreed that the house seemed sad. “We felt that when we first moved in.”
Strange, in a house where so many people gathered to celebrate and enjoy music and friends, that sadness permeates the building. Perhaps it’s because the heart of the building, the organ, was ripped out. And ‘poor old Mr. Wilson’ runs from one end of the house to the other looking for his beloved instrument.
