Opened in fall 1966 for 392 students, Barnes-Campbell has at least two things in common with some of Western's other residence halls: it was named for two regents, in this case Sheridan C. Barnes and Donald A. Campbell, and it has those pesky elevators. Residence hall elevators, particularly when they malfunction, have a way of inspiring students and resident assistants to attempt quick repairs. Unfortunately, such amateur maintenance also has a way of dispatching its practitioners to the hereafter. It happened in Barnes-Campbell Hall during spring break about 1968.

One of the hall's resident assistants had just finished taking a shower. Trotting along the fifth-floor (some say sixth-floor) hall in his bare feet, he noticed the stuck elevator. He had been warned against correcting the problem on his own but, heck, he had done it before. Just find an elevator key, pry open the door, lean into the shaft, flip a switch and presto! No more long walks up the stairs.

This time, however, it didn't work. Maybe it was his slippery, wet feet, but some say he hurtled down the elevator shaft to his death. Others say he actually got the elevator working again, only to be crushed as it moved down the shaft before he could get out of the way.

Today, the ghost of the unfortunate RA not only revisits the scene of his last duty, but has been held responsible for other strange occurrences in the hall. One year during spring break, two RAs returned from dinner to discover all the fifth-floor water faucets turned on. Residents have reported seeing the elevator doors open on the fifth floor late at night, but have wondered how the stop was made with no one inside to press the button.

The most chilling evidence of the ghostly RA, however, is the trail of wet footprints leading from the showers to the elevator, and sometimes to a vacant, locked room. Spring break is the best time to watch for these footprints, as the doomed RA reenacts his fatal mission.