I first saw Poltergeist at the movie theatre with my mom and sisters, back when it came out in 1982. I remember being scared, especially during the part when the toy clown drags little Robbie Freeling under the bed. At that age, the idea of a family experiencing something terrifying in the kind of everyday suburban house I was familiar with made a big impression. Later, it became a ritual of mine to put the movie on every Halloween.
I grew up in the Chicago area, but moved to California in the early 90s to go to art college. My sister moved there, too – to Simi Valley, not far from the house used as the Freeling family’s home in the movie. I’d drive past it when I visited her. A couple of years ago, I had a gut instinct that it would soon go up for sale. Sure enough, just weeks later I was sitting with my sister in her back yard when she looked up from her phone and said, “Hey! The Poltergeist house went on the market!”
As it happened, I’d been looking for a new home for me and my three daughters, so I booked a viewing. The house was being sold by the same people who’d owned it when it appeared in the movie. Walking in for the first time was the most bizarre experience – it still had honey-coloured retro furniture everywhere, and I got the trippy impression that I’d travelled back to the 80s.
There were multiple offers, so when mine was accepted I was very excited. I spent the first night at the house with just my dog, Emmy, who kept barking like crazy all night long. Even when I managed to fall asleep, I’d wake up with pictures from the movie running through my head. Part of me felt very uneasy – what did I just purchase?
The sale had attracted a lot of press attention, which made me realise I’d entered into a different realm of home ownership. Families would stop and take selfies outside, and Poltergeist fans from all over the world started emailing me their memories of watching the movie. It occurred to me I could give some of them the opportunity to experience the house for themselves by allowing them to visit or rent it for an overnight stay.
Without attempting to recreate the movie set, I started adding playful touches for these occasional visitors, sometimes with help from fans who had found particular items seen onscreen. I had to have a TV that played only static when switched on, as a nod to the one in the film, and ensured guests had access to my own video cassette copy of Poltergeist, along with a stack of other 80s movies. My daughters are not fans of the movie, and were unimpressed when I also added a 1980s Atari console.
Whenever fans stayed in the house, I’d take the girls camping, or we’d go to my sister’s. I loved hearing the creative ways our visitors spent their time here – recreating the scene where a steak comes to life on a kitchen counter, or filming each other sliding along the floor as if being pushed by invisible hands. Many arrived with their own clown doll.
Some guests reported seeing flickering lights, or hearing mysterious voices when they picked up the landline receiver. The house still has old copper phone lines, so there’s probably a perfectly ordinary explanation, though perhaps it’s more fun not to know.
But everyone agrees the house is a welcoming one – certainly more so than in the movie. The tree that comes alive outside the bedroom window was taken away after filming, and the muddy hole full of skeletons that the mother Diane Freeling falls into is now a finished swimming pool.
I still get many requests from fans wanting to stay here, especially this time of year. We haven’t taken any recent bookings, though Oliver Robins, who played Robbie Freeling, has dropped in a couple of times. Last Halloween he came and we handed out candy together in front of the house. He wore red jammies, just as he did as an eight-year-old boy in the movie.
When we first moved in, I didn’t necessarily picture this as my for ever home, but I think that’s changing. Even my kids now say, “Mom, you can never let go of this house!” It’s a unique piece of film history, and to be able to live in it is an honour.
• As told to Chris Broughton
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