When Cameron Jensen first saw the abandoned buildings that sit beyond the mouth of Logan Canyon, he was unaware of their disturbing lore.
No one told him they were supposedly home to the sinister soul of a vicious head nun. He didn’t know of the ghastly Dobermans that, as legend put it, patrol the area with red eyes aglow.
When he explored the property for the first time in August, all he knew of the dilapidated, eroding structures was their detailed woodwork, hand-laid stone walls and staples of dated luxury now plastered with spray-painted graffiti and covered in rat feces.
The beautiful summer trees watched over his visit, and the melodious Logan River played a peaceful, rushing tune through the site.
He was sold.
“I saw it for what it was," Jensen said. "I got it under contract.”
Jensen, a Saratoga Springs real estate developer, is dead set on restoring these buildings that became a magnet for teenage mischief to their ritzy roots by opening a resort — complete with a coffee shop, pilates studio, and spa.
Only after he told his wife, Carlee, that he was in the process of buying the buildings did he learn of their haunted tales through Carlee’s internet sleuthing.
“She audibly gasped," Jensen said. "She’s like, ‘Do you realize that babies were drowned in that pool?’ and I was like, ‘what are you talking about?’"
Haunted or historic?
Babies, of course, were not drowned in that pool.
As Jensen started researching the real history of the buildings, which sit on a plot of U.S. Forest Service land, it started to make sense to him why no expense was spared in their construction. The property started with a single-cabin family retreat and evolved under one of the richest men in Depression-era America.
After Hezekiah Eastman Hatch put up the first building in 1915, his son Lorenzo Boyd Hatch and Lorenzo’s brother-in-law, Floyd B. Odlum, expanded the complex, adding several houses, a pool and other amenities, according to documents submitted to the National Register of Historic Places.
“Odlum is known as the only person in the world that made a fortune out of the Great Depression," Jensen said. "He had lodges and properties all over the world. … Hatches were obviously extremely wealthy, too.”
Records show that while under Hatch and Odlum ownership, the Logan Canyon property hosted famous actors, politicians and other accomplished people.
Among them was pilot Jacqueline Cochran, Odlum’s second wife, who was the first woman to break the sound barrier.
“It’s rumored that Marilyn Monroe stayed," Jensen said. "Joan Crawford, which is before my time … but she’s someone really famous. That’s who’s staying here.”
In 1950, the families donated the complex to the Roman Catholic Diocese of Salt Lake City. The church renamed the property from Hatch’s Camp to St. Ann’s Retreat, and used it as a nun’s retreat and youth camp for years before the buildings fell into disrepair and were eventually sold in 1990. Since then, they’ve changed hands multiple times, but have not seen any significant improvements.
The cluster of buildings became known locally as “The Nunnery.”
Lisa Gabbert, the director of Utah State University’s folklore program, explained that it was while the camp was in the church’s hands that dark rumors about the place began to flourish in the community.
“The Catholic Church and, I would say, Cache Valley, were both very closed societies," Gabbert said. "Of course people are going to be curious. What is a nun? What do nuns do? … Those kinds of stories about nuns having babies and committing, essentially, infanticide, are actually ancient.”
Ghost hunting in Logan Canyon
The Cache Valley community readily filled knowledge gaps with fanciful tales of what could be lurking some 8 miles into the canyon, and Gabbert said it became common for people to explore the property in search of malevolent spirits.
Jason Watson, who grew up in Tremonton, became curious about the place while attending USU.
One rainy night some time around 1991, he visited the retreat with his friends. Many in the group, he recalled, were initially unconcerned or intent on making fun of people who grew scared.
“We went up," he said. "I was pretty blasé about it.”
But on that drizzly, dark evening, what started as curiosity grew to a fever pitch of terror when his group stumbled upon the Hatch children’s playhouse and found miniature dishware in its cupboards.
“There was something just kind of inherently creepy about this abandoned space," he said. "Being in this really dark, abandoned space just freaked us all out. Everybody stopped pretending that they weren’t scared, including me.”
Horror to hospitality
Jensen, who’s stayed alone at the property overnight, said he has yet to have any paranormal encounters. The buildings are, however, still haunted by curious teenagers looking for ghosts. These days, though, they are more likely to find the alarms Jensen has set around the complex.
As he juggles historic preservation rules on U.S. Forest Service land, Jensen’s also balancing the cultural significance of the buildings’ fables with a desire to give the retreat new life.
“I learned how passionate people are and their opinions on the place," he said. "Some people are like, ‘don’t touch it, keep it haunted.’ … But I’m not going to base the history of this place and the beauty of this place on a few passionate folks.”
Jensen plans to open his resort next year. He’s already replaced a bridge over the Logan River and rebuilt several of the buildings’ roofs.
For the next three months, he has to pause construction to compile a historic report to ensure he restores the property in line with regulatory guidelines.