In Strasburg, A Medium Well Done

Eighty-seven-year-old Leo M. Bernstein, an unabashed believer in the supernatural, is stabbing into a slab of rare prime rib and holding court in his preferred hangout: the dimly lit bar in the Wayside Inn, a colonial fun house in Middletown, Va., full of creaky halls, staircases leading nowhere and a grimy lock of George Washington's hair.

Looking like comedian Carl Reiner, the garrulous, balding Bernstein is the owner of the Wayside, which has been welcoming weary Shenandoah Valley travelers since 1797 (including the father of our country -- twice). Wildly waving his fork in the air, he switches to curiouser and curiouser topics with every bite.

Chomp. "The Wayside is the oldest continually operating inn in America. And I won't exactly say that it's haunted here -- " Bernstein flashes a sinister grin and lowers his voice: "But which room are you in?"

Crunch. "You're supposed to be dead at 87, but I'm still thinking of girls," he says, as if mysterious forces have somehow fortified his libido. "Why is that? I don't know! I can't explain it!"

And just in time for dessert, Bernstein finally settles on his favorite topic: "Did you know that I was Jeane Dixon's banker?"

He pauses, silently ruminating about the late celebrity clairvoyant who famously predicted in print the assassination of John F. Kennedy and frequently stayed at the ghost-friendly Wayside.

Then Bernstein shouts: "But we were friends! Just friends! I was her financial adviser. She was modest. She was ethereal. I didn't look at her like a woman."

As he lifts himself from his seat and begins his long goodbye to friends and strangers alike, Bernstein leans in and whispers: "Jeane thought I was a psychic just like her. And she was right."

You're never quite sure what to believe with a guy like Bernstein, but this much is certainly true: In May, he officially opened the Jeane Dixon Museum and Library, an exhaustive and downright eerie tribute to the spotlight-craving psychic and astrologer -- not to mention noted confidante of Nancy Reagan -- in the neighboring village of Strasburg.

After Dixon's fatal heart attack in 1997 at age 79, her family entrusted the bulk of her estate -- predictions, books, jewelry and some really ugly furniture -- to close friend and business associate Bernstein, who moved everything from her Washington home out here to the valley, in the heart of her favorite getaway spot.

"I've got her soul there," Bernstein says about the shrine, which takes up a huge room in a long, low building in Strasburg's cozy History Square. "I can feel her presence whenever I walk in."

This would be a good time to cue the creepy music, but walk into the Dixon Museum and curator John Schreiner has already seen to that.