Like 20 years ago, I visited a friend out here in the Valley who was living temporarily in an old house that was going to be torn down for a large apartment complex. Eventually we went to hang on the back patio and at one point I had this terrible rush of negative feelings just hit me out there. It was weird. A week or so later he heard from the owner that someone had committed suicide back there and it was part of the reason they were demolishing the house. I don't overly believe in that stuff too much, but this was quite the eerie coincidence. BTW, one thing I loved about STL was the old rich history.