Shanghai Tunnels 36:40

He's the most terrifying serial killer you've never heard of. Haddon Clark has confessed to several murders, but investigators say he could have over 100 victims. At the center of the mayhem, a cellmate of Haddon's that was able to get key evidence into Haddon's murder spree across America,

because Haddon thought he was Jesus Christ. Born Evil, the Serial Killer and the Savior, an ID true crime event. Premieres Monday, September 2nd at 9. Watch on ID or stream on Max. Set your DVR. This episode is brought to you by Shopify. Whether you're selling a little or a lot.

Shopify helps you do your thing, however you cha-ching. From the launch your online shop stage, all the way to the we just hit a million orders stage. No matter what stage you're in, Shopify's there to help you grow. Sign up for a $1 per month trial period at shopify.com slash special offer, all lowercase. That's shopify.com slash special offer.

One of the most terrifying things that could happen to anyone is being taken away from your home, your family, and everything you hold dear. One minute you're enjoying a drink with your friends. The next you're waking up on a ship, bound for who knows where, with no idea when and if you will return. On top of that, you're forced into labor. You either work or you starve.

One of the most terrifying destinations is the unknown. Welcome to Destination Terror, your passport to the scariest places in the world. From haunted hotels to locations of unexplained creature sightings, we will travel to places that will provide excitement, adventure and horror. Today we are discussing the Shanghai Tunnels in Portland, Oregon.

The tunnels running beneath the city of Portland are rumored to be inhabited by the victims of Shanghires and victims of many other crimes from the 1800s. So if you're into travel and all things scary, listen close and you might just find your next exciting adventure destination. But hopefully, not your final destination. Destination Terror is an EerieCast original podcast hosted by me, Carmen Carrion.

If you would like to send us a suggestion or submit a story with your own experience, you can email them to CarmenCarion at gmail.com or follow me on Twitter at CarmenCarion. If you enjoy the show, please follow and rate Destination Terror on Spotify or Apple Podcasts to help us grow. Also, check out EerieCast.com for more scary podcasts such as Tales from the Break Room, featuring allegedly true and terrifying stories that happened on the job.

Around 8 o'clock, after being cloudy most of the day, it started to rain. No major shocker for Portland. It was one of those casual Oregon rains. It wasn't a downpour or a drizzle, just enough rain to make it unpleasant to be outside. I had been stuck in a hot boiler room with two other technicians all day, working on soot blowers, so I didn't care as long as I was breathing the cool, clean air.

Sometimes it felt suffocating being in the hot paper mills working for 12 hours a day, sometimes for a month without a day off. This isn't the way I had expected my life to turn out, but I wasn't surprised that my job had changed so drastically in the past year. It seems that everywhere I worked started out good, but eventually corporate would start changing things, taking away bonuses while padding the pockets of union leaders, and increasing hours while decreasing wages.

When I first started this job almost two years ago, I was promised every weekend off. And even though I had to travel, I was okay with that, as long as I had those weekends with my family. That lasted for a little over a year before things changed. Now I was lucky if I got to be home twice a month. "Hey man, you forgot your tool bag." I heard Rob, the lead for this job, yelling from behind me as I exited the building. I turned and headed back to grab the bag. "Thanks, my mind seems to be somewhere else today."

Rob laughed. "I know what you need. You need to come with us for a cold one." They tried to get me to go to the bar with them every evening, but I always declined. After twelve hours of stifling hot work, all I wanted was to shower, eat, and call my wife. "No thanks. Maybe next time." I gave him the same answer I did every evening. "You know," he said, "a few drinks in the evenings make being away from home more bearable. I'm sure it does.

I told him. "But I quit drinking six months ago and my wife would kill me." "What she doesn't know won't hurt her," he chided. "Oh, she will know." She definitely would know. We went back to the hotel which happened to be in downtown Portland and we parted ways in the lobby. The guys headed to the bar to get a jump start with a few beers before heading out onto the streets. I went straight to my room, ordered a pizza, and hopped in the shower.

I had a routine that I followed every evening except when I was lead. Then there would have been paperwork to do. I finished my pizza before calling Sherry because I knew she would scold me if I didn't eat first. "Hi baby, how was your day?" It was the first thing she always said. I would give her a rundown of the events of the day, which were usually the same, and then asked how her day was. She worked from home, and we had teenagers with school and jobs. So she always had something new to tell me. It was the highlight of my day.

I have been down this week, mostly because I was homesick. I'm not afraid to work, but I'm a family man. There's no place that I'd rather be than with them. Sherry told me about my youngest son's new magic trick he was working on. He's 15 and is always finding new things to learn. Last month he was teaching himself to speak Italian. She told me how our oldest son, who was 19, had figured out how to fix the blower motor on his car with the help of his older cousin. I was happy for him, but sad that it hadn't been me helping him.

Our daughter, she said, was loving her new job and had suddenly learned how to get out of bed on her own. It was a nice surprise considering she was the one we worried about the most. We were afraid she may never grow up. After that, we struggled to find things to talk about. It's like being away from them only allowed me bits and pieces of their lives. I guess I was being emotional because I smarted off about her getting tired of talking to me and she got angry. "Why do you always say stuff like that?" she said.

This is hard for me too. But we text throughout the day, and then at night I run out of things to tell you about. I apologized, but when we hung up I could still hear the frustration in her voice. The next morning I texted her to tell her I love her before I left for work. She must have slept in because I didn't get a reply. I texted her again on my break because I was beginning to worry. By lunch, I still hadn't heard from her. So I tried to call, but it went straight to voicemail.

I tried texting the kids, but no one replied. I felt really alone. It was like no one cared or didn't want to hear from me. Were they all avoiding me? I'd never gone this long without hearing from Sherry. At first I was scared, but as the day went on without word from her I began to get angry. I knew that I was using the anger as a way to stifle my worries. That evening when Rob asked me to go for a cold one, to his surprise I accepted.

So, after my shower, I met the guys downstairs in the lobby and followed them down the street to Old Chinatown. When we arrived at their bar of choice, it looked kind of empty from the outside, but when we walked through the doorway, there was a set of stairs that led down to a basement. I was shocked to find a lively brick-lined dive bar, with pinball machines along one wall and a Chinese dragon across another. It had a dungeon-like feel with glowing lanterns that evoked an earlier era.

The bar was almost full and there was four of us, so we took a table. Rob bought the first round of drinks, ordering me something called a Crouching Tiger. I wasn't much of a drinker anymore. I had been once, but I gave that up. So when the drink hit my stomach, it was as if it was my first time. A warmth began to flow from my stomach and through my veins, relaxing me in a way I hadn't felt in a while. I don't know how many more I had after that, or even if I ate dinner.

The room began to fill as the evening grew later. At first I thought it was the drink when I saw him watching me from across the bar. It was a man dressed rather oddly. He brought to mind old movies about sailors and ships. My head was beginning to spin, and I began to feel nauseous and guilty for being there in the first place. I got up to go to the bathroom, hoping I would make it there before I released the contents of my stomach all over the floor.

I remember standing and walking away from the table, but as I did, the room began to spin faster and faster until I couldn't make out anything or anyone around me. My knees went weak, and the relief of darkness wrapped me in a soothing blanket before I crashed to the floor. This episode is brought to you by Shopify. Whether you're selling a little or a lot...

Shopify helps you do your thing, however you cha-ching. From the launch your online shop stage, all the way to the we just hit a million orders stage. No matter what stage you're in, Shopify's there to help you grow. Sign up for a $1 per month trial period at shopify.com slash special offer, all lowercase. That's shopify.com slash special offer.

Make this new school year an opportunity for your kids to learn important life skills with Greenlight. Greenlight is a debit card and money app for families where kids learn how to save, invest, and spend wisely while parents keep an eye on kids' money habits. Greenlight also helps families get into their fall routine with a chores feature that lets parents assign chores and pay kids allowance when they check them off. Get your first month free at greenlight.com slash spotify. greenlight.com slash spotify.

Have you ever been shanghaied? I know I have more than once. Usually by a crazy friend who wants me to do something I wouldn't ordinarily do. But the origin of this word is much darker than what you may imagine. It means to be forced to do something or to go somewhere. It's a term that most of us have heard, but don't know where it originated from. Midway through the 1870s, cabinetmaker William Davis left his home in the Utah Territory near Great Salt Lake and traveled to Northern California.

There, in the rapidly developing area, he intended to adapt his skills to ship carpentry in order to make up to $6 per day. With his wife Isabel and three small children, the youngest of whom was only six weeks old, he traveled the 800 miles. After working briefly at the Mare Island Navy Yard, north of San Francisco, Davis left his family in nearby Vallejo, while he made a brief trip into San Francisco in search of an even better job.

Unfortunately, he chose to quench his thirst after the journey at a waterfront saloon in the area known as the Barbary Coast. His family didn't see him again for nearly eight years. His likely fate was speculated by those familiar with the dangers around the wharves, but it wasn't confirmed until he turned up again a few years later. After passing out from either liquor or drug, he had awakened aboard a ship bound for Europe by way of Cape Horn.

William Davis had been Shanghaied. If you've ever visited Portland's network of decrepit tunnels known as the Shanghai Tunnels, which runs beneath Old Town streets, you're already aware of the city's seedy past. As legend has it, the men who once imbibed in Portland's rowdy saloons, pool halls, and gambling parlors could wake up to find themselves consigned to service at sea, having been slipped a drop or two of knockout powder in their drinks.

They were then moved illegally through a system of underground passageways that led straight to the waterfront, where they were offered for sale to boat captains looking for deckhands. Tourists congregate in the stores and eateries in downtown Portland, fully oblivious to what is beneath their feet. A network of 150-year-old tunnels that run beneath the surface link Portland's Chinatown and the Willamette River, with the basements of the oldest buildings in the city.

When Chinatown served as the hub of trade and commerce, Chinese artisans constructed the tunnels. The tunnels were initially intended to be used for delivering cargo from ships to the inner city. The ship's crew could avoid the headache of inner city traffic by utilizing the tunnels. Since many Portland businesses kept their inventory in their basements, this was advantageous to the city's economy. But the tunnels had a much more sinister purpose than the good citizens of Portland were aware of.

Portland, at the time, was a small town with a sizable harbor that could accommodate numerous ships. Before dumping their goods in Portland, several cargo ships traveled across the Pacific for several months. Sailors had a very small window of downtime before they had to pack up and set sail once more as a result. Many sailors spent their time drinking in the bars or fighting in the saloons. Some sailors seized the chance to end their life at sea, because they dreaded contracting a fatal illness or suffering a crippling accident.

Sea captains would then need to fill those vacant spots in order to leave port on time. Long maritime voyages were often reluctantly accepted by the general public. Therefore, dishonest captains would pay men $50 per person to Shanghai replacement sailors. This is where the Shanghai Tunnels get their name. Men would cruise Portland's bars, saloons and taverns in search of easy money, searching for single young healthy men.

These Shanghires would wait until their intended victim was intoxicated before bringing him to the basement. The victim would be knocked out before being dragged to the docks through the Shanghai tunnels. These men decided to work rather than starve once they were on the ships. A few lads were able to get off the ships and alert people about the Shanghires. Men began to drink more discreetly at bars when rumors about the Shanghires spread throughout Portland.

When kidnapping males grew challenging, cunning Shanghires instead snatched women. Shanghires took advantage of women who frequent in pubs alone. There were trap doors in several bars that were sprung on unwary women. It was impossible for the woman to escape the tunnel once she had entered. Sex trafficking rings often used the tunnels to hold groups of women in cages for long periods of time. This gave them enough time to secure buyers outside of Portland.

Chinese gangsters were also known to Shanghai people after doping them. Chinatown had many conflicting gang groups who oftentimes had their own separate tunnels towards the docks. They used the tunnels to sneak in immigrants as well as goods and drugs. The many different brothels, bars, and gambling lairs received these goods and people through their own personal tunnels and trap doors. Like most of the gangs in the area, using these methods prevented them from being busted by the police.

The Shanghai tunnels were converted into underground expressways during Prohibition. Shanghai residents carried booze from ships on the Willamette River to bars all across Portland using the tunnels. Secret entrances in the Shanghai tunnels were frequently utilized by bars, hotels, and taverns to conduct business away from prying eyes. During Prohibition, police frequently raided bars, making it impossible for bar owners to run their businesses.

In order to combat this, bar owners started hiding their booze in secret locations deep within the Shanghai tunnels. Bars used hidden doors extensively around this time as well. Large squads of police officers conducted raids on pubs, taverns and saloons, making it impossible for criminals to flee. Bar owners hid their associates when they were on the run by using secret entrances and corridors. The criminal would go back to his seat at the bar and order another drink when the police finished their work.

Unfortunately, the size of the tunnels meant that the police officials frequently failed in their efforts. Gangsters and bar owners had long before developed a map of the tunnels and knew just where to stash their contraband. The Shanghai tunnels are mostly used as a tourist destination today. An estimated 2,000 people per year were shanghaied through Portland's underground tunnels at its peak operation. Many unfortunate people never survived, according to experts.

Deep inside the tunnels, many people were hungry, beaten, and left for dead. In order to prevent their victims from speaking to the authorities, gangs frequently pulled their victims down into the tunnels where they hide out. There is proof that the gangs even punished disobedient members by keeping them in the tunnels. The disobedient gangster was frequently left alone and without light. After a predetermined amount of time, the gangs would generally bring their man back, but occasionally they wouldn't.

The tunnels are extremely long in certain places. Without a light to guide you, it would be simple to become disoriented in the dark. The maze of subterranean tunnels is still being explored today. The detention cells that the sex trafficking rings formerly utilized are still visible to explorers who walk underneath. Additionally, several pubs still have the trap doors that the Shanghairs dropped individuals through. However, nobody should go tunnel exploring alone.

Over the years, numerous tunnels have collapsed, and other tunnels are inaccessible. You definitely don't want to get lost down there, so if you're going on an excursion through the Shanghai tunnels, make sure to get as close to your guide as you can. Nobody should be surprised to find that one of the world's most haunted locations is said to be the Shanghai tunnels. Travelers say they get shivers when they're deep inside the tunnels because they feel like someone is watching them from the shadows.

Numerous people claim to have seen an Asian man passing them in the tunnels. The ghost is known by the nickname of Sam, and according to explorers, he is in charge of shutting out the lights in the bar basements. Sam enjoys moving objects about in the tunnels as visitors pass by. One tour guide claimed to have repeatedly heard a voice shouting out the name Sam. His visitors were startled as it reverberated through the tunnel. He knew it was not one of them because his entire group was standing behind him.

one of the scariest moments of his life, according to him. Others claim to have ghostly fingers touching their shoulders while no one else is nearby, as well as fast shadow motions. The majority of visitors to the tunnels identify Sam as a good ghost and look forward to his presence. Other tunnel spirits are referred to as tricksters, who just enjoy themselves. They frequently pull at the bottom of your shirt or at the ends of your hair.

One visitor claimed that just before she tripped, she felt a tiny tug on her clothes. Despite not being hurt, she claims it was a memorable event. Even though it seems that most of the ghosts in the Shanghai tunnels are friendly, it is still best to exercise caution. Some claim to have experienced an unsettling feeling, as though someone or something was watching them. Before being flung to the ground, one man recalls hearing the sounds of childish whistling

He got to his feet and looked to see who had knocked him over. He raised his flashlight to check behind him and saw nobody. The man said this would be his final trip to the Shanghai tunnels. A visit of the Shanghai tunnels is your best option if communicating with spirits interests you. Prepare yourself for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. But bear in mind to stay alert while in the tunnels. You never know who or what might be lurking in the shadows below.

- Finally, after all these years, I've found complete, foolproof evidence of cryptids. Bigfoot, Windigo, Mothman. They are real.

And now you can do battle with them against friends and foes alike. Cryptid is available for pre-order right now. Go to cryptidcardgame.com to pre-order today, or go to eeriecast.store. To make shipping and keeping stock easier on our small team, we'll be shipping Cryptid in rounds. In this pre-order round, orders received before October 1st, 2024 will ship by October 31st, 2024.

Now get out there and prepare to make your werewolf eat your friend's skinwalkers and all that. The first thing that Tom noticed when he began to stir was that he was still nauseous. Except the world wasn't spinning anymore. Instead, he had the sensation of being dragged. He thought at first that it was just another symptom of too much drink and refused to open his eyes in fear that he would vomit. When his head bounced off of something hard, he was forced to open his eyes.

It was dark, and at first it was hard to make out his surroundings. The splitting pain in his head didn't help matters any. After a minute, he began to make out a glowing light. It looked like a lantern hanging on a brick wall, but that didn't seem right. He tried to move and realized he was bound somehow. He couldn't get his arms or legs to cooperate. Fear took hold of him and he tried to cry out, but he couldn't move his mouth.

He could only manage muffled grunts. Someone stepped between him and the light, darkening his view. It was a man in a hat, but he couldn't make out any more than that. He began to struggle trying to break free, confused about what was going on. But something slammed up against the side of his head, and darkness consumed him again. When Tom began to wake for the second time, he was free from his bindings, but his head was still pounding in pain.

He had a strange sensation of rocking. The constant feeling of rising and falling brought back his nausea with a vengeance. He pulled himself to his knees just in time to throw up without choking on it. The nausea then passed and he felt weak. But his mind slowly began to clear. He sat up and began to inspect his surroundings. He didn't recognize anything. He couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. He was in a cage or a jail cell.

He could see that. But the rest of his surroundings were insane. It looked like a movie set from the Pirates of the Caribbean movie. At least that's what it brought to mind. The room around the cage held wooden barrels or drums, as you may call them, and wooden crates were stacked in places. There were lanterns hanging on various hooks, the old kind fueled by oil. He stood using the iron bars to pull himself upright, trying desperately to figure out what the hell was going on.

He began to yell for help not knowing what else to do. "Hey! Is anyone there?" No one came at first, so he began to search his pockets for his cell phone. That's when he realized that he wasn't wearing his own clothes. Instead, he seemed to be in costume of some sort. He had on a pair of brown pants that were dirty and stained. His shirt had long sleeves and buttoned up the front. His feet were bare and his ankles were bruised where he had been bound.

His mind reeled in confusion, and alarms of terror began ringing through his mind. He shook the barred door of the cell, but it was secured by an old block that required a key. Horror led to panic, and he began shaking the door and screaming, "Let me out of here!" In the full throes of hysteria, his screaming stopped when a cold, clammy hand grabbed his bare ankle.

Tom looked down to find a heavily bearded man, dressed very similar to him, leaning against the bars. How had he not noticed him before? The man had grabbed him by the ankle. Tom squatted down to look him in the face. His cheeks were gaunt, his skin was gray, and his eyes were sunken. He looked close to death. "Where am I?" Tom begged of the man to reply. The scruffy corpse of a man answered,

I've been here alone for so long. Finally, I have someone to keep me company. And then he smiled, and it was a horrid sight to see. His teeth were mostly rotted, and his breath was the stench of death. Tom began to back away, but the man held tight. Tom fell backwards and kicked as hard as he could, but the man was stronger than he looked.

Tom began to kick harder, but the man laughed as he pulled him back towards him. He pinned him to the floor and crawled over Tom's body until they were almost nose to nose. Tom held his breath, trying not to breathe in the nasty odor. The man was staring down at him, and his rotten smile began to widen grotesquely until it reached his ears, and then he began to open his mouth.

It was impossibly wide and held more rotten teeth than it should have. Saliva began to stream from his mouth and was about to drip onto Tom's face when a voice cut through the air. "Let him go. We need him to work." Tom took the chance as the man was distracted and hit him hard on the cheekbone with his fist, causing a disturbing cracking sound. The man fell off of him and sat up.

His eye was hanging out of its socket and laying on his caved-in cheek, and he began to laugh. "We can visit later," he said to Tom. "We have an eternity to become friends." And then he began to laugh harder. Tom scrambled to his feet, backing away from the thing that now looked very much like the living dead. The door to the cage creaked open, and a large hand grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out.

Tom couldn't stop staring at the man in the cage as he was led from the room up a set of wooden stairs. Knowing somehow without thinking that he was on a ship, he expected to be blinded by the sun. But once on deck, the terror he had just escaped began to set in again. He couldn't see the ocean, but he could hear it. The fog was so thick it seemed to crawl about the ship like it was alive.

He finally got a look at his jailer and saw the same gray mottled skin, except there was not much of it. His eyes were empty sockets, and he could see the yellowing skull protruding from torn pieces of decayed flesh. He was too terrified to even fight, as he was drug across the deck. He looked around noticing that there were more of these undead looking men all around.

Some were watching him, others were working at the cells paying him no mind. All of them were in various states of decay. Tom thought to himself then, he must be in hell. He had drank too much and died and now he was in hell. His jailer brought him before another man who was holding two sets of iron shackles. He placed the first around Tom's wrists and the second around his ankles.

Once he was securely bound, they shoved a mop into his hands and ordered, Swab. Tom didn't argue. He did what he was told, even though he had no idea exactly how they wanted it done. He scrubbed the wooden deck of the ship quietly and obediently. He took note of where each man worked and what they were doing. After what must have been hours, his jailer returned and took away his mop.

He then dragged him back down to the cage below deck and locked him in. Tom looked around, afraid he would have to share the space with that horrifying thing from before, but he was alone. After his jailer left, he tried the door one more time, but it was secure. There was no escaping this hill that he was in. Exhausted and defeated, Tom curled up in the corner and went to sleep.

This same routine played out for days or weeks. He wasn't sure. He had lost track of time. The strange thing was that he never grew hungry, and they never offered him so much as a scrap of food. In the beginning, he had fallen asleep at the end of each day thinking about Sherry and the kids. He wondered if they thought he had abandoned them. He wondered if they even noticed he was gone. One morning he woke up and realized he had forgotten his name.

That was more horrifying than anything so far. He was losing himself. He followed his jailer up the stairs willingly, no longer needing to be dragged. He fetched the mop from its place behind a wooden door and went straight to work. His calm, obedient demeanor belied the turmoil and terror that had seized his mind. He couldn't, no he wouldn't, spend his eternity this way.

Without a second thought, Tom quietly laid the mop down and headed towards the side of the ship. He heard someone yell, but he ignored it and broke into a run as fast as his restraints would allow. He felt more than saw the hellish crew coming after him, but he made it to the side before they could reach him. Climbing over was difficult in the shackles, but he scaled the railing with surprising ease, and without looking back, he jumped.

As his body sunk beneath the icy dark waters, he turned and looked back up at the railing, at the hollow eyes of the crew staring down at him. They stared almost enviously as the black water swallowed him up. The crashing of the waves woke Tom to find himself blinded by the sun. He could feel sand beneath his cheek and between his fingers. There were gulls crying from somewhere nearby.

Tom felt someone shaking him. "Mister, are you okay?" He opened his eyes and saw a young boy in swimming trunks. He looked around and a dozen people were staring down at him. A lady in a sundress had pulled a cell phone out of her bag and was calling for an ambulance. Tom had never felt so relieved in his life. He was alive, and by God, he was going home. Thank you for joining us to explore the Shanghai Tunnels in Portland, Oregon.

Tune in next week as we discuss another terrorific location. I'm Carmen Carrion. Remember, you can send me suggestions and stories of haunted places to my email carmencarion at gmail.com or follow me on Twitter at Carmen Carrion. Be sure to check out eeriecast.com for more terrifying podcasts. Until next time, be safe out there. Until I see you at our next destination.