No photographs, but a lovely day in Hollywood. On my own, shopping for souvenirs, and feeling a bit peckish, I decided to duck into M&F for a bit of lunch. It is late in the afternoon on a Saturday and the place is virtually empty, save for a small group sitting at booth number one, Charlie Chaplin’s old throne, a couple of movie-exec types having a Saturday meeting in the booth across from mine, and a cadre of red-coated waiters.

I am shown to a small, two-person sized booth in the original section of the restaurant. After ordering a salad and a glass of wine, I look around to the scenic décor: the rich dark wood, it’s carvings nearly untouched by the march of time; the fresco-like wall paper with hunting scenes like something straight from the roaring 20’s, the action at the grill. All of it envelops me and sucks me into the M&F experience.

My sensitive abilities work in strange ways …

When sensing a presence, I often feel something in my stomach first, which then finds it’s way to my spine and then travels upwards and downwards at the same time, delivering a minor electrical sensation. When this electrical sensation reached my brain, I am often delivered pictures and scenes. This time was no exception.

My hands, which can both receive and deliver energy, began to shake. A two-way exchange was taking place. The picture in my head became clearer and clearer, like a television picture that one might vainly try to tune in using old-style rabbit ear antenna. What I saw stunned me.

The image of a man … distinguished, handsome, and clearly from another time. And he was sitting in front of me, in my booth. He smiled at me. The charming, slightly roughish smile that was all too familiar to me, a huge silent film fan. Charlie Chaplin had returned to his old stomping grounds, some 30 years after his death.

And Chaplin spoke.

“I hate to see pretty girls eat alone.” He told me.

And then, outwardly, I once again sensed the electrical feeling of an energy exchange. The pictures in my head were much more vivid. He said little more. But kept me company through lunch and escorted me out the door. It was after I stepped back out onto Hollywood’s Walk of Fame that the image in my head vanished.

Two years after my first experience at Musso and Franks, my friends Danielle and Jenny accompanied me and my husband Paul for a dinner to celebrate our last night in Los Angeles. The vacation had gone stunningly well. We had enjoyed every moment of it. And this dinner was meant to cap what had been a terrific week of sight seeing, ghost hunting, and scouting for apartments.

We sat in the West Room, the part of M&F that had been opened in 1954. The joint was jumping. So many people, in various types of dress, from glam to casual, were hanging out. The famous M&F martinis were flowing copiously, conversation was heavy. It filled the atmosphere with an incredible energy that only added to the ghostly energy that is part and parcel of the M&F experience.

Again the familiar feeling … the calling card that I was to have another ghostly encounter.

“You came back …” he said. The accent, and the way the energy felt, was all too familiar. My old friend, Charlie, had returned to me. “This time, I see you brought friends. Good. Very good.”

I could tell through the vision I was being sent that Charlie was checking out my friend Danielle. “She’s charming,” he told me.

Outwardly, I smiled and blushed as Charlie made mention of something I would rather not repeat.

My husband looked at me. “Charlie’s here,” I told him.

Paul just nodded his head. I love him, but he’s a skeptic. Charlie’s energy was all over the place. He told me he was glad to see me back, healthy once more (I had some health issues during my prior visit to M&F) and in the company of good friends, including him. Then he said that he knew Danielle could sense him there. And looking over at the table, I noticed her knowing look.

“He’s here,” I told her.

Danielle smiled at me and replied, “I know. He’s everywhere.”

Then Charlie spoke to me once more. “I’m going to let your friend know I’m here. I’ll give her a little kiss.”

It was at that moment that Danielle’s face took on a shocked expression. Charlie had kissed her on the forehead, and she had felt it. She described it as an electrical feeling that had hit her just at the crown chakra, located on her forehead.

We had a fabulous dinner, the four of us talking, laughing and enjoying ourselves. Danielle and I were feeling the energies in the room … Charlie being the most prevalent. He loved M&F in life, and seemed to do so even after his passing.

I got up to walk through the building. The energy at M&F is incredible. There are many spirits there, and so much energy is moving through the building it was as if I was floating rather than walking. I wasn’t so much talking a walk as being led for a walk. On my way back towards the table, my good friend Charlie spoke to me again.

“Before you leave,” he told me. “Ask your waiter to take a picture of you and your friends at my old table. I’ll be sure it is empty for you, and when you sit there, I’ll join you. You’ll see it in the photograph.”
 

Our waiter that evening was a good-looking Italian guy around 25. I don’t remember his name, but his cologne was incredible. He was more than willing to take our photograph that evening, as I’m sure he’s been asked to do a dozen or so times before by other patrons.

Sure enough, booth number one was empty when we got there, and had been redressed with a new table cloth, ready for the next group. Danielle, Jenny, Paul and I crowded around the table. I sat next to Danielle and just before we smiled for the photograph, Danielle asked me “Did you feel that?”

There was an energy surge between the two of us. “Yes,” I replied. “It’s Charlie. He told me he would be here.”

The waiter snapped the photograph.

The result is what you see here.