Inside Cassadaga, the “Psychic Capital of the World”
On the surface, Cassadaga resembles a Florida Mayberry. Set back in the backwoods between Daytona and Orlando, the little “Psychic Capital of the World,” has long been a sanctuary for mediums, healers, psychics, and just plain freaks.

The Spiritualist Camp in Cassadaga was founded in the late 1800s by one George P. Colby. Colby, a New York native and medium had been instructed by his spirit guide—a Native American named Seneca—to go to Florida and start a spiritual center. He trekked into the Central Florida wilderness in 1875 and homesteaded the land, in accordance with Seneca’s prophecy. A charter to form the Southern Cassadaga Spiritualist Camp Meeting Association was granted in 1894, and Colby acquired 35 acres. This spirit guide apparently had quite the knowledge of property rights. Over the decades, the Spiritualist Camp has grown to 57 acres. Cassadaga started as a place for snowbirds to practice their Spiritualism—a secular-minded, turn-of-the-century mish-mash of science, philosophy and religion.
Fast forward to 2013 – things have changed. 
Two distinct tendencies have emerged within the Cassadaga Spiritualist Camp—the New Agers and the religious, non-profit organization charged with running the camp. Like the Jews and the Muslims in certain parts of the world, a single street separates them from each other. 

The New Agers use tarot cards and stick to the Cassadaga Hotel. A stone’s throw away is the religious organization maintains the traditional belief system that Colby established in the 1800s. That’s not to say the Cassadaga Hotel and its hired psychics don’t stay true to Spiritualism as religion, but they’re a bit more relaxed about it. Its like Episcopalians and Catholics.
The Cassadaga Hotel—the only hotel in Cassadaga—is allegedly haunted. The perimeter porch with its rocking chairs and hunchbacked palm trees resemble a more Mediterranean incarnation of the Bates Motel. The hotel’s website states that the hotel has “friendly spirits”—I’m guessing this means Ghost Dad-like apparitions. The original hotel burned down on Christmas Day of 1926 and was rebuilt a year later. The inside of the hotel evokes the Roaring Twenties with its Tuscan-style furniture and speakeasy-style lobby. To the side of the lobby is Sinatra’s Ristorante, which features a piano player, full liquor bar, and Italian food. Saturday night is karaoke, but we’ll get to that later.
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Inside Cassadaga, the “Psychic Capital of the World”

On the surface, Cassadaga resembles a Florida Mayberry. Set back in the backwoods between Daytona and Orlando, the little “Psychic Capital of the World,” has long been a sanctuary for mediums, healers, psychics, and just plain freaks.

The Spiritualist Camp in Cassadaga was founded in the late 1800s by one George P. Colby. Colby, a New York native and medium had been instructed by his spirit guide—a Native American named Seneca—to go to Florida and start a spiritual center. He trekked into the Central Florida wilderness in 1875 and homesteaded the land, in accordance with Seneca’s prophecy. A charter to form the Southern Cassadaga Spiritualist Camp Meeting Association was granted in 1894, and Colby acquired 35 acres. This spirit guide apparently had quite the knowledge of property rights. Over the decades, the Spiritualist Camp has grown to 57 acres. Cassadaga started as a place for snowbirds to practice their Spiritualism—a secular-minded, turn-of-the-century mish-mash of science, philosophy and religion.

Fast forward to 2013 – things have changed. 

Two distinct tendencies have emerged within the Cassadaga Spiritualist Camp—the New Agers and the religious, non-profit organization charged with running the camp. Like the Jews and the Muslims in certain parts of the world, a single street separates them from each other. 

The New Agers use tarot cards and stick to the Cassadaga Hotel. A stone’s throw away is the religious organization maintains the traditional belief system that Colby established in the 1800s. That’s not to say the Cassadaga Hotel and its hired psychics don’t stay true to Spiritualism as religion, but they’re a bit more relaxed about it. Its like Episcopalians and Catholics.

The Cassadaga Hotel—the only hotel in Cassadaga—is allegedly haunted. The perimeter porch with its rocking chairs and hunchbacked palm trees resemble a more Mediterranean incarnation of the Bates Motel. The hotel’s website states that the hotel has “friendly spirits”—I’m guessing this means Ghost Dad-like apparitions. The original hotel burned down on Christmas Day of 1926 and was rebuilt a year later. The inside of the hotel evokes the Roaring Twenties with its Tuscan-style furniture and speakeasy-style lobby. To the side of the lobby is Sinatra’s Ristorante, which features a piano player, full liquor bar, and Italian food. Saturday night is karaoke, but we’ll get to that later.

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Surely being terrified of bananas—nature’s sweet cure for depression, PMS, hangovers, mosquito bites and ulcers, carefully wrapped in the warm, cheery color of the sun—would be madness, right?But apparently banaphobia is a real thing. Apparently it’s a condition so severe that sufferers can’t even walk through the fruit sections of grocery stores without screaming out in panic. This puzzled us, so we called up a bananalyst, and she explained that, like all other phobias, bananaphobia is triggered by a bad experience involving the item of dread. Like, for example, being force-fed a succession of bananas by a drunk uncle as a kid, or being one of the 300 hundred Britons a year who are taken to the emergency ward after momentarily entering the world of Who Framed Roger Rabbit and slipping on a banana peel.
To increase our understanding of this very serious anti-nana condition, we chatted with a bunch of bananaphobics. All of them were granted anonymity due to the seriousness of this life-wrecking affliction.
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Surely being terrified of bananasnature’s sweet cure for depression, PMS, hangovers, mosquito bites and ulcers, carefully wrapped in the warm, cheery color of the sun—would be madness, right?

But apparently banaphobia is a real thing. Apparently it’s a condition so severe that sufferers can’t even walk through the fruit sections of grocery stores without screaming out in panic. This puzzled us, so we called up a bananalyst, and she explained that, like all other phobias, bananaphobia is triggered by a bad experience involving the item of dread. Like, for example, being force-fed a succession of bananas by a drunk uncle as a kid, or being one of the 300 hundred Britons a year who are taken to the emergency ward after momentarily entering the world of Who Framed Roger Rabbit and slipping on a banana peel.

To increase our understanding of this very serious anti-nana condition, we chatted with a bunch of bananaphobics. All of them were granted anonymity due to the seriousness of this life-wrecking affliction.

Continue