Ghost Hunting the Streets of Minneapolis

Ghost Hunting the Streets of Minneapolis

Todd Swank's Diary Entry for March 1, 2026

Sunday morning we’re on the couch watching Team USA win Olympic gold, Jack Hughes takes a puck to the mouth, loses a tooth, and somehow looks tougher for it. USA! USA! A few hours later I bite into a completely harmless calzone and my 2011 crown decides it’s done serving this nation and drops onto my plate. Same tooth. He gets glory and a medal. I get to cut up my food in small pieces and a dentist appointment. America is beautiful.

Grandma Linda had a rough week. After months of hip pain, an MRI basically said, “Yeah… that thing’s shot.” Now she’s under strict orders not to put weight on her left leg until surgery in early April, which means a temporary stay in rehab. The good news? She’s handling it like a champ. The bad news? She’s 83 and benched. So now we hang out at the hottest new spot in town: Rehab. Great people. Zero happy hour.

Friday night we met Sue and Ron Korkowski at Copper Hen & Cakery for Restaurant Week, which is basically adult Christmas with wine pairings. The place is all cozy farmhouse vibes, scratch kitchen, local ingredients, and cupcakes staring at you from across the room like they know your weaknesses. I went beef bread and tandori chicken, which sounds aggressive but tasted like Minnesota met India and decided to hug it out. It was the special, which is perfect because I only feel adventurous when it’s pre-approved and discounted.

The main reason we were getting together was for the Candlelight Ghost Tour aboard the Minneapolis Trolley. We started our adventure at the Pillsbury Club, grabbed our boarding passes, and headed out into the Minneapolis night with zero idea what we were about to hear. Flickering candlelight, creaky historic streets, and stories of haunted houses. Nothing bonds friends faster than willingly climbing onto a trolley to go look for ghosts in February.

This was our first trip on the Minneapolis Trolley, a decommissioned New Orleans car lovingly restored and now cruising Minneapolis like it owns the place. It started as a weekend hop on hop off ride with a live narrator spinning stories about railroads, lumber mills, architecture, and all the drama that built this city. They offer brewery tours, historic homes, and holiday rides. We read all that and immediately chose the Candlelight Ghost Tour because apparently history is better when someone might still be haunting it.

They handed us fake light up candles, which is smart because apparently real fire and historic buildings don’t mix. We rolled through dark corners of Minneapolis hearing stories about haunted houses while clutching our plastic flames. Then they gave us these neon glasses that I’m pretty sure were either for “enhanced paranormal activity” or just to make middle aged adults look ridiculous on purpose. Either way, we committed.

Cole was our guide for the Ghost Tour, and the guy did not phone it in. Full commitment. Dramatic pauses. Perfect haunted eye contact. As we rolled through downtown and over to Nicollet Island, he told stories of turn of the century murders, mysterious deaths, and sightings that still rattle people who live there. The trolley lights dimmed, the city got quieter, and suddenly every historic building looked like it had secrets. Cole didn’t just tell ghost stories. He performed them.

One of the stops was the Oakland Apartments, built in 1889, which looks charming until you hear about the suicides, murders, and a basement spirit that apparently decided, “I’m staying.” Residents talk about whispers, cold spots, and the original janitor who never really left his post. And there I am realizing the big silver building behind it used to be my old Oracle office. I worked there every day for years and had no idea I was spending my 9 to 5 next to a haunted basement. That feels like something HR should mention.

This is the actual basement that hasn't changed since it was built. The boiler room where the old janitor supposedly still hangs around, guarding his furnace like it’s a union job he never retired from. Dark stone walls. Relics that look like nobody’s touched them since 1923. And here’s the part that got me: this is where current residents go to do laundry. We even asked one woman if she’s seen a ghost. “No,” she said. “But I hear things.” Fantastic. Imagine folding towels next to a haunted boiler while a trolley full of tourists comes in to see dead people.

Our tour wrapped up at 300 Clifton, this stunning historic mansion tucked right into downtown like it’s been quietly judging modern architecture for a century. Built in 1908 and now a restored bed and breakfast, it’s all carved wood, chandeliers, fireplaces, and old money energy. The ghost stories were great, but seeing these preserved homes up close was just as cool. Minneapolis hides some serious gems behind very normal looking streets.

If I learned anything, it’s this: every beautiful place has a story, and not all of them end neatly. Cities aren’t just glass towers and brunch spots. They’re layers of ambition, tragedy, reinvention, and yes, maybe a lingering janitor or two. We came for ghosts, but we left remembering that history sticks around whether you believe in it or not.