Nebraska Schoolhouse: Reporters Sleep in 1897 Building to Test Ghost Legends

Two reporters spent the night alone in the oldest standing schoolhouse in Nebraska to test local ghost legends.

The building, known as Centennial Hall, sits in Valentine, a ranching community of 2,600 people in the Sandhills.

It opened in 1897 as a two-story red-brick school. It served students until 1981.

Today, a nonprofit maintains the structure as a thrift store and museum.

The building is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Local lore claims the house is haunted by the spirit of Lila May Benham.

Newspaper clips confirm Benham, a 17-year-old student, died of heart trouble in Valentine in 1944.

Stories say she died after swallowing a clarinet reed poisoned during music class.

That specific cause of death has not been corroborated by records.

The building was built on 20-inch thick foundation walls cut from local white stone.

Area press declared at the time that fire, wind, water, or time would be unable to destroy it.

Community leaders raised $8,500 in 1982 through bake sales and coin drives to save the building from demolition. They signed a poster in the entrance to record their names. Most of those people have since died or moved away, local historians said. Community events in the space have largely stopped, and it has been years since a ghost hunter visited or the building hosted a haunted house event. Greg Gass, vice president of the Valentine Community Schools board and a former student, said he bets less than half the people in town remember the building. Phyllis Ohlmann, the treasurer for the nonprofit that maintains the hall, is a self-described skeptic. She said she has never seen or heard anything and only believes in the Holy Ghost. The building contains over 1,700 bells, handmade dolls of America's first ladies, and mannequins in military uniforms and ball gowns. The basement is described as dank. Rooms are set up to resemble an old schoolhouse or chapel. The building includes a model of the town's old mortuary. The night began on Oct. 21, 2026, at 1:30 p.m. The wind blew through the streets, carrying the smell of a distant stockyard. The sign outside the schoolhouse was chipping, and fire escapes were rusting. Dozens of windows had thin, white lace curtains. Ohlmann met the reporters at the front door. She unlocked the double doors and wished them luck. The reporters set up base camp on the second floor. They could see two supposedly haunted rooms and the mortuary model from their sleeping bags. The building was silent. There were no creaks or groans from the structure settling. The reporters unpacked borrowed ghost-hunting equipment. This included a radio, a spirit bell, a thermal sensor, and a device that generates random words. Neither reporter had used the equipment before. They placed the bell near the mortuary model. It began to ring. The reporters asked if anyone was there. The bell rang again. They moved to the room honoring the area's athletic history. This room is reputed to be the music class where Benham died. They asked questions into the darkness. No response came. Six school-age boys walked under a streetlight toward the school. They banged on the front door asking to join the ghost hunt. The reporters, who had signed contracts and made promises, let the boys stay. The boys asked to add Chris on Snapchat. The reporters moved through the building in darkness. Pierce held a flashlight while Chris recorded video. They heard only their breath and squeaking floorboards. Mannequins and old portraits of railroad workers stared from the walls. Massive collages of antique baby photos lined the stairs. The first and second floors yielded no results. The reporters descended to the basement. A sign on a white door read Furnace room. Some locals claim to have seen the ghost of a little girl here. Chris unlocked the door. The door creaked open. The flashlight beam revealed rickety shelves against a brick wall and exposed pipes overhead. The reporters took their first step. Something streaked across the room. Chris gasped. Pierce screamed. They closed the door to ensure it was shut. The next morning, the reporters woke to the dolls and mannequins. The night passed without incident. The object in the furnace room was a bat.