Will my soul pass through the Southland To my old Virginia grant? — “The Legend of the Rebel Soldier,” traditional
I hope that when we pass on we have a chance to pass through the places that mean the most to us. I’d like to imagine that L. B. Taylor, Jr. of Williamsburg, Virginia is still touring the haunted grants of Virginia that he wrote so fervidly about.
Perhaps he’s meeting the ghosts that became so familiar to him through his many books of Virginia ghost lore. Perhaps he’s being greeted by ghostly coach and horses from Rosewell Plantation in Gloucester. Perhaps he’s touring the grand plantations along the James River and the historic farms and battlefields of the western part of the state. Perhaps he’s meeting the heroes and villains from the pages of the Old Dominion’s history: Jeb Stuart, Robert E. Lee, Thomas Jefferson, John Wilkes Booth, Nathaniel Bacon and Powhatan.
Taylor never set out to write about ghosts. After the Lynchburg, Virginia native graduated from Florida State University with a degree in journalism he worked as a writer for NASA and later for the BASF Corporation. After working in a book about haunted houses he focused his research on his home state publishing his first volume on Virginia ghosts in 1983. He would pick up the tradition of documenting Virginia folklore from Marguerite DuPont Lee, who first published her landmark Virginia Ghosts in 1930.
His first volume would serve as a basis for more than twenty volumes on the state’s ghost lore. While some books focus on the state in general, Taylor did tighten his focus for other volumes specific to the Tidewater, Richmond, Williamsburg, Lynchburg and Roanoke, among others. Initially, he self-published many of his books, but later worked with Stackpole Books and History Press to publish a few volumes. Taylor leaves behind a marvelous legacy: a well-researched, written and meticulously cataloged oeuvre documenting the hauntings of one of the paranormally active states in the South.
To Mr. Taylor, I wish you a fine journey! You have left many grateful readers and researchers behind and it is my sincere wish that our paths will cross once I make my final journey through the Southland. Bon voyage, sir!
Bristol Train Station 101 Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard
“I’m a thousand miles away from home just waitin’ for a train.” –Jimmie Rodgers, “Waitin’ for a train,” 1928
Until it was replaced by the interstate highway system, the railroad was the predominant mode of transportation in the nation for more than a century. For small towns and communities, the train station served as a link with the outside world and, even deeper, as a place of transition. From these stations, children began the transition to adulthood, leaving behind provincial life to pursue opportunities in the larger world. All who left would be changed; some for the better, some for the worse and some would never return.
Still, others would transition from life to death at the very beginning of their journeys: they would find death awaiting them at the train station.
Bristol’s State Street straddles the state line between Tennessee and Virginia, with the street’s north side in Virginia and its south side in Tennessee. Originally part of a large plantation, the land now occupied by the town was developed once the owner was notified that two railroads would be converging at that spot. Joseph R. Anderson—son-in-law to the plantation’s owner—erected a home and business house just south of what is now State Street, directly across the street for what would become the site for the town’s train station.
A train pulls into the Bristol Station on a cold morning. Photo 2013 by Hunterrr, courtesy of Flickr.
The first train pulled into the original depot at this site in 1856. With it, the train brought decades of prosperity to the town. Local historian, V. N. “Bud” Phillips, notes that, “there would have been no Bristol had it not been for the coming of the railroad.” The massive brick station that currently stands was constructed in 1902 and is the third building on the site. Once passenger service ended in 1969, the depot was used briefly for shopping and dining but then stood empty for some years. In 1999, the Romanesque structure was purchased by a foundation and renovated into an events facility.
The great country singer, Jimmie Rodgers began his transition here from itinerant musician and railroad employee to the Father of Country Music when he stepped from a train in 1927 and recorded two songs in a makeshift local studio. Those two songs would inspire a recording career that would propel Rodgers into history.
While no longer the scene of arrivals and departures, there remain some lingering spirits from those who made dramatic transitions at this spot.
On the platform of the previous depot, a young lady, Emma Tompkins, stood with her travel bag on the morning of May 5, 1887. Her good-for-nothing husband, “Big Will,” cajoled her to stay. Emma had spent the previous night, like many nights, alone while her husband caroused among the town’s saloons and brothels. In despair, Emma had finally decided to leave her husband and join her sister in Radford, Virginia.
As she marched herself towards the station, Emma encountered her husband and he followed her to the station platform. With the train pulling into the station, Big Will grabbed the arm of his wife and the couple tumbled onto the track. Emma screamed but it was cut short as the train decapitated her. Her husband was cut in half by the train. Emma’s spirit joined the throng of spirits that already flit through the vast halls of the station.
Bristol Train Station, 2008, by Tim Emerson. Courtesy of Flickr.
One ghost hunting organization somehow determined that some 68 spirits haunt the building. Besides Emma’s wailing spirit, the spirit of a man by the name of Joseph Chalmers King has been known to appear in the building. Dressed in black pants, a white shirt, bowtie, and derby hat, the spirit is apparently still waiting on his lost lady-love to arrive. King’s spirit was known to appear when southwestern trains would pull into the depot. His last known appearance was in 1969, when the last southwestern train pulled in.
Throughout the building it still seems there is activity from former railroad passengers. In 2008, the building’s manager clearly heard the main door open followed by footsteps across the great hall. Peering down from a balcony near his office, the manager was unable to see anyone present and was shocked to hear a cough from the invisible being. He also reports the sounds of people talking, coins rattling in an unseen pocket, a clock that always stopped at 8:50 PM, and elevators moving without passengers.
The paranormal group, HAUNT Paranormal (Hunting and Understanding National Terrors), investigated the building in 2010, which was documented by a reporter from the Bristol Herald Courier. Apparently, the group captured an EVP of a scream, perhaps the same scream that escaped the throat of Emma Tompkins before her neck was severed by the train’s iron wheels.
A 2011 investigation by Appalachian Truth Seekers was featured on an episode in season four of My Ghost Story: Caught on Camera. The episode concentrates on a few pieces of evidence by that group. The most compelling piece of evidence is a video that was captured by accident. One of the investigators was testing out a video camera in what appears to be one of the station’s main halls. In the few seconds of video, a dark figure moves past an upstairs doorway. At the time, none of the investigators or station staff were upstairs.
While investigating the station’s basement, a female investigator was shoved by something that she claims rushed her. After she became angry and told the spirit to stop, an EVP was captured proclaiming that “I did not do it. Not here, not me.”
While the station has transitioned into its modern usage as an events facility, it seems that the spirits residing there may still be trying to make the transition into the afterlife.
In this blog, I have covered several other locations in Bristol, Tennessee/Virginia. Two theatres on State Street–the Paramount Center for the Performing Arts on the Tennessee side, and the Cameo Theatre on the Virginia side–have been covered in my article, “Phantoms of the Operas, Y’all–13 Haunted Southern Theatres.” I have also covered East Hill Cemetery, which straddles the state line.
Haunted Pillar North Corner, Intersection of Broad and 5th Streets Augusta, Georgia
“If you wouldn’t mind,” I explained to my boyfriend, “I’d like to get my picture in front of the pillar, but I won’t touch it. Supposedly, if you touch it, you die. And I’m far too superstitious to risk it.”
“Well, he’s not,” my boyfriend said looking towards the infamous “Haunted Pillar.” Glancing across the street, I saw a young boy casually passing the landmark and running his hand along it as he passed. He seemed totally unaffected by the curse.
After dodging traffic, we finally crossed the street and approached the curious landmark. There’s not much to it, though it’s a bit taller than I assumed from pictures. Given its sinister name and legendary history, I expected something more frightening. Other than being located on a section of Broad Street that was dodgy, the pillar looks rather forlorn and innocent. Just behind it is a tattoo parlor bearing the name of the accursed column with a gaudy sign painted above it.
The Haunted Pillar with the Haunted Pillar Tattoo Shop behind it. Photo 2014, by Lewis Powell IV, all rights reserved.
The drab gray pillar glowers sourly in the middle of the sidewalk like a grumpy old man. After the rough history it has witnessed, I’m sure I’d glower too.
The pillar once proudly stood as part of the Old Lower Market in the middle of Broad Street. Built around 1830, Augusta’s market consisted of two buildings, two hundred feet long by one hundred feet wide. Under its expansive roof, agricultural goods were sold and traded; trade that possibly included slaves. As with any place that’s been tainted by the stench of slavery, the pillar’s history, both factual and legendary, still reeks with it. The historic marker near the pillar makes no statement as to the selling of slaves in the market but other sources involve the pillar with the inglorious industry.
Slavery is alluded to in the account of the Haunted Pillar collected in the mid to late 1930s by the WPA’s Writers’ Project. It mentions that at one point the pillar bore the handprint of a slave. Scott A. Johnson in his The Stately Ghosts of Augusta (2005) suggests that the pillar may have possibly been part of the slave-trading platform. Sean Joiner in his Haunted Augusta & Local Legends (2002) goes further by suggesting that the pillar’s curse may be “the residue of a curse being uttered by a man being sold into slavery.”
However, this is where slavery’s involvement in the story ends and the general legend takes up, jumping to the late 1870s. According to the legend, shortly before the night of February 8, 1878, an itinerant preacher began exhorting sinners within the market. Perhaps his condemnations drowned out the cries of vendors or his strong words upset customers, for whatever reason he was asked to leave. Before leaving, he warned those within earshot that a great storm would smash the building but leave one column standing. Anyone attempting to move that lone column would most surely die.
In the early morning hours of February 8, 1878, the market’s destruction commenced as a rare mid-winter tornado ripped through downtown Augusta. In the flowery language of the period, Patrick Walsh, editor of The Augusta Chronicle editorialized: “While thousands slept in what seemed perfect security, tremendous agencies of destruction were abroad on the wings of the wind, and but for the mercy of heaven, few of the slumberers would have escaped.” Indeed, two slumberers did not escape and were killed a short distance from where the Broad Street sentinel now stands.
Later that day, the Chronicle reported that the market was a “heap of ruins.” “The whole roof of the structure was thrown into a mass of ruins. Timbers were broken and many piled in utter confusion.” With a dramatic flourish, the reporter added that the market’s bell rang out as it crashed to the ground. Opinions on the market were quite strong as evidenced in papers published later that week: “It was, at best, an unsightly edifice and marred the grand boulevard upon which it was mistakenly located.”
But, among the broken timbers and toppled brick, the pillar remained standing like a scolding finger. At this point, the column’s history becomes murky again. Jim Miles writes in his 2000 book, Weird Georgia, that a local grocer, Theodore Eye of Lavasseur & Eye paid workmen to move the column the year after the market’s destruction. As the workmen began, a young boy set off a firecracker scaring the workers (and the horses as well, I imagine). The effort was abandoned.
Other attempts to move the column are not as well documented and include workmen being struck and killed by lightning while trying to move the column during a road-widening project. Another story mentions a bulldozer operator suddenly dying of a heart attack just as he begins moving towards the column. Like most legends, these are just embellishments that beef up the story.
The historic marker erected to briefly outline the pillar’s history mentions that the pillar has moved successfully at least once during its history. From other sources, it appears it has been moved a number of times. A 1997 article from The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution quotes the owner of a business across the street from the pillar as noting that “it’s been moved several times because it was too close to the street.”
The historic marker located at the original site of the pillar, in the median of Broad Street. Photo 2014 by Lewis Powell IV, all rights reserved.
Still, there seems to be a mythos surrounding the cracking brick and cement creation. On two occasions, the pillar has been nearly demolished. In 1935, the pillar was struck by an automobile, but the driver was not injured. In 1958, on a Friday the 13th, the pillar was knocked over by a large bale of cotton from a truck. Again, the driver was uninjured. That incident led city leaders to move the pillar eight feet back from the street.
While the stories of deaths associated with the pillar seem to be urban legends, Jim Miles does note that there is apparently paranormal activity associated with the pillar. This includes the sounds of “whispered conversations between phantoms and footsteps of invisible beings pacing alongside.” The grim structure also seems to attract bad luck. The 1997 AJC article notes that the local sheriff counted eleven traffic accidents over the course of ten months of that year at the intersection where the pillar stands. The sense of bad luck was so forbidding that a group of people gathered that January to surround the pillar in an attempt to pray away the evil that dwelled there.
While most locals scoff at the legend they still don’t touch it.
Posing with the pillar. I didn’t touch it. Photo 2014 by Lewis Powell IV, all rights reserved.
Both my boyfriend and I posed next to the pillar, but we also took care not to touch it. Neither of us needs any more bad luck in our lives.
Update 31 December 2016
It’s seemingly been a bad year for everyone. Even haunted places have had a terrible year as demonstrated by Augusta, Georgia’s Haunted Pillar. In the early morning hours of December 18, the pillar was struck by a vehicle and toppled into a pile of broken brick and mortar.
Taking cues from the Augusta Convention and Visitors Bureau and other local organizations, money is being collected to rebuild the pillar. While the pillar and its lingering curse has served for years as a bleak reminder of oppression, death, and destruction, we can take hope from its story. The pillar’s recent toppling is not the first time it has been toppled. Every time it has been damaged, locals have banded together to restore and rebuild this odd monument.
Update 5 July 2018
The remains of the Haunted Pillar are lingering in a city storage facility. The location of this curiosity is haunted by a pedestrian orange cone. The last word from local media regarding the landmark’s fate states that some city workers are still afraid to touch it and that it will eventually be restored. Hopefully, the columns will be restored to its rightful position as a pillar of the community.
Amory Regional Museum 801 3rd Street South Amory, Mississippi
By Mississippi standards, the roots of the town of Amory—in the northeast part of the state, near the Alabama state line—by comparison, are not very deep. The town’s history dates to 1887 while the state’s history reaches back millennia towards Native American settlement and Hernando de Soto hacking his way through the region and the local inhabitants in the 16th century. Amory owes its creation to the railroad as it began to wend its way through the state following the Civil War.
The Frisco 1529 Locomotive, one of the trains that helped to create Amory, is preserved in Frisco Park, a few blocks from the Amory Regional Museum. Photo 2005, courtesy of Wikipedia.
When the Kansas City, Memphis & Birmingham Railroad needed a stop halfway between Memphis and Birmingham, a location in Monroe County was chosen and named for railroad magnate Harcourt Amory. As town lots were sold, citizens of nearby Cotton Gin Port slowly abandoned their much older town—established as a base for French explorations of the region in the early 18th century—to settle in the brand new planned town.
Much of this regional history is recalled in the Amory Regional Museum. The building housing the museum is woven into the history of the region as the birthplace of many locals including the museum’s director. The building originally served as the town’s hospital, the Gilmore Sanitarium, opened in 1916. It served as a hospital until 1961 when the hospital opened its current location. After that, it was converted into a nursing home for four years. After closing as a nursing home in 1965, the aging, though still vital, building stood empty until it opened as a museum in 1976.
It’s unclear when exactly the tales of the building being haunted began to spring up. One tale concerns Dr. M. Q. Ewing, the hospital’s chief of staff around the time the hospital closed. Supposedly, he’s still keeping watch over the old hospital and has been seen and heard around the building. Of course, like any hospital, birth and death are ever present and the veil between life and death here may be quite thin.
The activity within the facility is significant enough that the local paranormal investigation team, the Independent Paranormal Research Team, has hosted two public paranormal investigations in the museum. In December 2013, the group hosted a benefit investigation for a local child suffering from a rare illness.
An August 2013 article about the museum states, “Exhibits at the museum showcase Amory’s earliest inhabitants.” That statement is even more literal now that investigators are uncovering evidence that those inhabitants may still be around. The director notes a bit later in the article that, “Every town needs to preserve their heritage, it’s who you are. It’s where you come from.”
Sources
Amory, Mississippi. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 31 December 2013.
“Amory Regional Museum.” Monroe County Magazine. 2009
Barnett, Sheena. “Join paranormal team on benefit investigation.” Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal. 12 December 2013.
Albertville Public Library 200 Jackson Street Albertville, Alabama
One of the classic library images is the bespectacled librarian shushing anyone making noise within the solemn and sacrosanct confines of the building. In the case of the librarian at the public library in the small, north Alabama town of Albertville, she’s trying to shush rumors of the library being haunted.
“I find the whole thing embarrassing,” she told a local reporter in 2007. It seems the story started as a joke a few years previous but has taken on a life of its own. I even covered it in an entry called “Some Alabama Hauntings, Briefly Noted,” from January 16 of this year. This is what I wrote:
Should my spirit remain on this plane after my death, it’s my sincere wish that I would remain in a library. The public library in Albertville, a small town in the north east part of the state, is typical of small town libraries throughout the country, but on one account is not so typical: it may be haunted. Built in 1964, the building replaced a much older home. Local legend indicates that spirits from that home may have taken residence in the library building. Apparently harmless, the spirits make their presence known by turning faucets on and playing on the elevator.
In 2010, Albertville was devastated by an EF3 tornado which damaged the library. I can find no word if the spirit remained after repairs.
I have discovered that ghost stories are like a garden, they must be regularly tended. They are forever growing and needing to be weeded. While digging around through newspaper archives, I uncovered a few articles about the library’s ghost.
Of course it’s a bit disappointing to find that there’s no ghost behind the legend, though I’m happy to be able to post a correction. The story also gives us a view into how some folklore is created. According to the librarian, the rumors started when a local television news station ran a story about local businesses and institutions celebrating Halloween. “We were dressed up for Halloween and during the interview some of the girls up front started joking around about the library being haunted. Saying any time a book fell the ghost did it. Just joking around,” the library director continued.
Main Street, Albertville, 2012, by Rivers Langley. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
From that local interview, the story has grown legs and made its way throughout the internet. The listing of the library on the haunted places list on the infamous site, Shadowlands, has most certainly helped give movement and credence to the rumor. The problem with Shadowlands is that the site is almost entirely user submitted, with none of the information being properly vetted before it’s posted. While there is some truth to some of the entries, many of them are a chaotic jumble of fact and fiction, or just pure fiction. I’ve seen Shadowlands credited in everything from blog posts to books and it’s given rise to many ghost stories and legends.
Possibly using Shadowlands as a source, the library was listed in a 2006 article in the Sand Mountain Reporter, the local paper. The article by Charlotte Christopher lists a number of haunted locations throughout north Alabama. An article detailing the fact that the library is haunted appeared in the same paper in 2007.
In 2008, the library was listed as part of an entry in the Encyclopedia Brittanica Blog listing haunted libraries throughout the United States. With the name as respected as the Encyclopedia Brittanica behind the listing, it must be true, right?
The story was picked up on by Jessica Penot in her excellent Haunted North Alabama, published in 2010. Just after the book’s publication, an article appeared in the Sand Mountain Reporter discussing the library’s inclusion in the book and quoting both Penot and the librarian. “With all ghost stories, there is the possibility they are as much legend as fact,” Penot says in the article.
One of the issues she encountered in researching the library was the large tornado that struck the town in 2010. The damaged library was closed for repairs, and she couldn’t find a proper contact to confirm the legends.
She continues in the article, “The fact that a legend surrounds a location like the library only underlines its importance in the community. Places that are central to communities are often the first to have ghost stories spread about them. Because people love these places, the stories spread more quickly.”
Sources
Albertville, Alabama. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 16 January 2013.
Christopher, Charlotte. “Haunted sightings in Northern Alabama.” Sand Mountain Reporter. 26 October 2006.
N.B. This article replaces the 4 October 2010 article about the Alabama Theatre.
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. —Williams Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act V, Scene 5
Sign for the Alabama Theatre, Photo by Carol Highsmith, 2010. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.
The theatre world is full of superstition and spirits. In nearly every theatre I have worked, there are stories of ghosts. The theatre world is filled with mystery and mysticism, especially when it comes to actors. There is a ritual in preparing a character for his hour of strutting and fretting upon the stage before they are banished back to the world of fiction. Perhaps that may be a clue to why theatres are haunted.
While many haunted places may be locations of tragedy and death, that’s not always the case with theatres. As most theatre people are passionate about their profession, it’s not unheard of to imagine that they remain to rekindle that passion. In his Ghost Hunter’s Guide to New Orleans, Jeff Dwyer contends that one can be almost certain that a theatre will be haunted.
There are few certainties in ghost hunting. But when it comes to haunted places, ships and theaters offer ghost hunters the greatest opportunities for encounters with the spirit world. Theaters often harbor the ghosts of actors, writers, musicians and directors because something about their creative natures ties them to the place where they experienced their greatest successes or failures. Stagehands and other production staff may haunt backstage areas where they worked and, perhaps suffered a fatal accident. They may also be tied to room where props are stored. The ghosts of patrons remain long after death because they love the theater or, more likely, they loved an actor who performed regularly at that location.
Lyric Theatre, 2016, by Lewis O. Powell IV. All rights reserved.
I can agree with some of this. Yes, the creative natures of thespians, writers, musicians, directors and other members of the creative staff may cause them to linger in the places where they happily created their art. As for stagehands and other members of the production staff, with the higher rate of accidents for such people, there are cases where their deaths have left them in limbo within the theatre. The haunting of the Wells Theatre in Norfolk, Virginia comes to mind. One of the spirits in this 1913 theatre may be that of a careless stagehand who became entangled in the hemp rope-operated fly system (a system that is still in use) and accidentally hung himself.
Within a modern theatre, I do have an issue with Dwyer’s contention that spirits may be connected to props rooms. Most modern theatres serve mostly as general performing arts spaces and unless they have a theatre company attached, they are not likely to have props storage. In my research, I cannot recall any stories of haunted props storage spaces.
The Alabama Theatre’s Spanish Lounge. Photo taken for the Historic American Buildings Survey (HABS), courtesy of the Library of Congress.
As for lingering spirits of theatre patrons, there are a few love stories involving patrons and performers, though it does seems that most of the hauntings by members of the audience are apparently residual in nature with phantom laughter and applause sometimes being heard.
Contributing to theatres’ haunted natures, I would add the fact that theatres are often created in old buildings. These repurposed buildings may already be haunted and the spirits adapt to the new use of the location. Among the numerous examples of these types of theatres are the Baltimore Theatre Project in Maryland in an old building originally constructed for a men’s fraternal organization and the Hippodrome State Theatre in Gainesville, Florida, formerly a post office and courthouse.
Balconies of the Lyric Theatre. Photo by Andre Natta, 2006, courtesy of Flickr.
Regardless, some of these assertions can be seen in play with two haunted theatres in Birmingham, Alabama. Theatres that happen to be located directly across the street from each other, though they have wildly differing histories: the Lyric and the Alabama Theatres, located on 3rd Avenue, North.
Standing in the shadow of the Alabama Theatre, its well-restored, gaudier and haunted sister across the street, the LYRIC THEATRE (1800 3rd Avenue) is finally coming into her own after many years of neglect. The Lyric opened in 1914 at the height of American vaudeville. Upon its now dusty boards passed many of the top headliners of B.F. Keith’s vaudeville circuit: the curvaceous and naughty humor of Mae West; the last Red Hot Mama, Sophie Tucker; the Marx Brothers with their goofily brilliant brand of comedy; Buster Keaton and his family of acrobats; and legions of hoofers, singers, comedians and other weird and wonderful vaudevillians.
With the opening of the nearby Ritz Theatre in 1926, big time vaudeville departed the Lyric leaving its stage to second and third tier performers. Films were shown, but even these were overshadowed by the Alabama Theatre. The theatre limped on until 1958 when its doors were shut. In the 1970s under the flashy name, the Roxy, the grand lady became an adult theatre. Legend holds that the last film shown was the infamous “Deep Throat,” after which the projectionist was arrested. The theatre closed its doors to sit quietly and crumble for a few decades.
Efforts to revive the Lyric have reached a fever pitch and activity now hums in its once forlorn halls. Soon, it’s expected that the Lyric will stand proudly across the street from the Alabama Theatre again. And the ghosts of vaudeville will have found a new life.
There’s no question why the vaudeville performers of old would want to continue gracing the stage of the Lyric. It may be one of the best preserved vaudeville houses in the nation and it is also known for its superb acoustics. Those same acoustics and its remarkably well-preserved interior are the very reasons that local arts groups are clamoring to see the theatre restored for live performance.
On recent investigations of the Lyric, paranormal investigators have witnessed much activity that can possibly be traced to the ghosts of vaudeville. A reporter observing an investigation in 2012 saw what she believed to be a man with a cane move across the empty theatre’s stage. The figure stood in the wings for a few moments before disappearing. Another group of investigators smelled the distinct odors of lit matches and cigar smoke.
The crown jewel of Birmingham, the ALABAMA THEATRE (1817 3rd Avenue), was opened as the southeastern flagship theater for the Paramount-Publix chain in 1927. This most exuberant of theatrical monuments was named the Historic State Theatre of Alabama in 1993 and continues to serve the citizens of Birmingham and the region.
Interior of the Alabama Theatre before restoration. Photo taken for HABS, courtesy of the Library of Congress.
Designed by the Chicago architectural firm of Graven and Mayger, the Alabama Theatre is one of only two extant theatres they designed, the other being Knoxville’s Tennessee Theatre which opened a year after its Alabama counterpart. The first air-conditioned building in the state of Alabama, the theatre features an opulent interior in the Spanish Colonial style that has wowed patrons for almost 90 years. A booming Wurlitzer organ still graces the auditorium and is featured in concerts and sing-alongs.
The theater served as a movie house until the owners declared bankruptcy in 1981. The theater had been sitting empty when Birmingham Landmarks, Inc. purchased the theater as a performing arts center. The theater edifice was fully restored in 1998 and hosts a wide array of events throughout the year.
Since reopening as a performing arts center, the Alabama Theatre has had varied reports of ghostly activity. One legend remembers a construction worker falling to his death during construction who allegedly haunts the balcony. A theatre staff member in the balcony checking sightlines did watch as a seat near her lowered by itself—the seats are spring-loaded to pop back up. Perhaps the construction worker enjoys watching the activity onstage?
HABS photo of the Alabama Theatre’s exterior. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.
Southern Paranormal Researchers were granted permission to investigate the theatre in 2006. They encountered a variety of activity. As one investigator ascended the stairs to the balcony, they encountered a force that pushed them down. While investigating the film room shortly after that two investigators heard something descending a staircase.
According to Dr. Alan Brown, the now retired, long time theatre organist Cecil Whitmire told of many encounters in the building. While rehearsing with a singer in 1986, Mr. Whitmire reported that the singer watched a shadowy figure emerge from behind the edge of the curtain just offstage and disappear. He believes the spirit may be that of one of the former theatre organists. The extravagant theatre and its “walking shadows” still surprise and delight theatre patrons and visitors today.
Sources
Alabama Theatre. Accessed 8 March 2013.
Brown, Alan. Haunted Birmingham. Charleston, SC: History Press, 2009.
Brown, Alan.Stories from the Haunted South. Jackson, MS: University Press of Mississippi, 2004.
Dobrinski, Rebecca. “Wandering the Lyric at midnight.” Weld for Birmingham. 17 September 2012.
Dwyer, Jeff. Ghost Hunter’s Guide to New Orleans. Gretna, LA: Pelican, 2007.
“Haunted Places: the Lyric Theatre in Alabama.” The Most Haunted Places in America Blog. 21 April 2011.
The Heritage of Jefferson County, Alabama. Clanton, AL: Heritage Publishing, 2002.
Huebner, Michael. “Birmingham’s Lyric Theatre: Heightened anticipation for long-awaited restoration.” The Birmingham News. 29 Spetember 2012.
Seale, Kathy. “Happy Haunting!” Birmingham News. 29 October 2006.
Southern Paranormal Researchers. Investigation Report for Alabama Theatre. 24 November 2006.
Underwood, Madison. “Lyric Theatre set to host its ‘first concert in the 21st’”AL.com. 26 September 2012.
Last month, a group of seven men dealt a heavy blow to Southern identity and to the reputation of paranormal investigation. In search of ghosts, these men broke into the historic LeBeau House in Arabi, Louisiana. Apparently frustrated by the lack of paranormal activity provided by the home’s resident spirits, they set fire to the ancient structure. By the early morning hours of November 22, a small piece of Southern identity lay in ashes, the reputation of paranormal investigation lay open to derision and seven suspects were in jail with their futures in question.
In an article following the fire in The Times-Picayune, Richard Campanella remarked on the “exceptional nature” of the LeBeau House in Arabi, Louisiana. Architecturally, the home was a treasure that showed the mélange of influences at work—French, Creole, American—in the region at the time. But also in terms of identity, the house served as an identifying feature of Arabi and extending further afield to St. Bernard Parish, the New Orleans metro area, the state of Louisiana and the South as a whole.
The LeBeau House in 2006. Photo by Infrogmation, courtesy of Wikipedia.
Campanella continues, “the identity and economy of our region rest on the aged timbers and piers of our historical structures.” Indeed, the identity of the South rests on the many historic structures that dot the landscape like tombstones or mile markers to our history. While some of these places are protected, there are still many places like the LeBeau House that are unprotected and desolately waiting for a savior.
Though, it was not just the South’s identity that took a blow in the early morning hours of November 22, the pursuit of paranormal investigation also received a blow from a group of so-called “ghost hunters.” As the news of the home’s spectacular loss was splashed across newspapers from coast to coast some authors looked to blame paranormal investigation itself as one of the reasons for the home’s destruction.
Allegedly, a group of seven men broke into the LeBeau House in search of the home’s storied ghosts. Some of the men had been smoking marijuana and alcohol may have also been involved. An officer from the St. Bernard Parish Sheriff’s office remarked that the men became frustrated trying to summon spirits and decided to set the house ablaze. Within minutes, the 10,000 square foot mostly wood frame structure became fully involved and by sunrise had been reduced to smoldering ashes.
Though they had already broken the tenants of responsible paranormal investigation by breaking into the secured house for an unauthorized investigation, their abject stupidity led them further to destroy the landmark. Even if the fire was set without the intent to destroy the home, the men were obviously too dense to think through the possible consequences of doing such a thing in an old wood structure.
The circa 1854 home was one of the largest unrestored antebellum structures in the New Orleans Metropolitan area. The Mereaux Foundation, which owned the property, had been looking for ways to preserve the home and had done basic work to shore up the decaying structure. They’d also secured the structure with a chain-link fence and by boarding up the windows and doors.
According to the St. Bernard Parish Sheriff, Jimmy Pohlmann, “we all heard ghost stories [about the LeBeau House] while growing up.” Those same stories drew the seven suspects to the house where they may have tried provoking the spirits before destroying the house. Most stories involve a very typical woman in white who is seen within the ancient structure.
In an article from Mother Nature Network, the author derides paranormal investigation by describing it as “harmless (and fruitless) fun,” that can have a “dark, dangerous side.” It continues by recounting a few recent incidents where ghost hunters have been injured or even killed while pursuing ghosts. Among them, a 2010 incident where a ghost hunter was killed by a train while investigating Bostian Bridge near Statesville, North Carolina, the scene of a tragic, 19th century rail disaster.
These seven men—it’s interesting that they come in a sacred number—have, with their selfish actions, wounded the reputation of paranormal investigation as well. Granted, the reputation was not the greatest to begin with, but as this story has spread the reputation has been furthered sullied.
To hopefully begin the process of repairing our public image I have two proposals.
First, there is a need to rebrand ourselves a bit. To accomplish this there is a need for us to retire the phrase “ghost hunting” in describing what we do. It’s an issue of implications. By describing what we do as “investigating,” we are implying a methodical, organized search that may involve evidence—exactly what a detective does. “Hunting” on the other hand, implies seeking out and killing, certainly the opposite of what we’re intending to do. Therefore, “paranormal investigation” is the best choice. We’re seeking to understand spirits, not destroy them.
Second, there is a need for a code of conduct. I would suggest an oath similar to the Hippocratic Oath taken by health professionals. There are a number of points I think should be included:
“First, do no harm.” The Latin phrase primum non nocere does not actually appear in the Hippocratic Oath, though often it is thought to be adapted from it. Most certainly, this sums up in four words what paranormal investigators need to consider: the further implications of what they do. There should be no harm to the locations, the spirits, the property owners or the investigators. Hikers often use the phrase “leave no traces, only footprints.” This is much along the same lines.
Respect above all. This is respect for everyone and everything. While we’re trying to protect everything and do no harm, holding everyone and everything in high regard is also important. This includes not provoking the spirits. If we hold them in high regard then bullying them should be out of the question. But also respect for other investigators and their findings.
Pay heed to cultural norms. Investigators may often encounter cultural and religious norms that may be opposite of or contradict their own staunchly held beliefs. If we are to respect everyone, spirits included, there is a need to understand and tolerate these differences in others.
Respect for history. Not only is it important to be respectful of history in its physical sense, but being respectful of historical facts. Do the research and have respect for the sources. Too often legends are taken at face value while actual historical facts are ignored. Historical research is not a simple task and does not end once the investigation begins. It is an ongoing process.
Keep an open mind. Not only that, but keep what a friend of mine called the “Eleventh Commandment: Do not take thyself so f—ing seriously.”
This is a rough outline. If something else should be added, please let me know.
Of course, I understand that an oath does little to prevent people from straying, it does instill a sense of honor, something that will help immensely with creating a cohesive sense of identity.
Sources
Alexander-Bloch, Benjamin. “Seven suspects in LeBeau Plantation fire were looking for ghosts, sheriff says.” Times-Picayune. 22 November 2013.
Campanella, Richard. “In LeBeau House’s ashes, a lesson in carpe diem.” Times- Picayune. 25 November 2013.
Monteverde, Danny. “Historic LeBeau Plantation in Arabi burns to the ground.” New Orleans Advocate. 27 November 2013.
Radford, Benjamin. “Ghost hunters burn historic mansion near New Orleans.” Mother Nature Network. 2 December 2013.
Engel Stadium 1130 East Third Street Chattanooga, Tennessee
N.B. This article was revised 10 March 2019.
Despite its name—“engel” is German for “angel”—Engel Stadium was not likely built with the spiritual in mind. Though, according to a recent article from the Chattanooga-area news blog, Nooga.com, there may be spiritual activity here.
Following a career as a pitcher with the Washington Senators, Joe Engel worked as a promoter for the Chattanooga Lookouts. Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.
In the context of baseball stadiums throughout the country, Engel Stadium could be considered hallowed ground. This stadium has heard the crack from the holy bats of baseball saints such as Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Satchel Paige, and Willie Mays. It bears the name of Washington Senators pitcher, Joe Engel. Engel served as a recruiter and promoter following his Senators career and took over the Chattanooga Lookouts after it was purchased by the Senators’ owner, Clark Griffith.
Engel immediately embarked on a plan to build one of the finest minor league ballparks in the country. Ground was broken for Engel Stadium in 1929 and the 12,000-seat park opened the next year. Engel’s zealous and raucous promotion of the park led to his being nicknamed “the Barnum of Baseball.” He would remain with the Lookouts for 34 years.
The stadium was used as a minor league stadium until 1999, when it was turned over to the University of Tennessee, Chattanooga. In 2009 the Engel Foundation was formed to help preserve and restore the old park.
Recently, the park was investigated by Stones River Paranormal (SRP) out of Murfreesboro, Tennessee, a location known for a plethora of spiritual activity, mostly centered on the Stones River Battlefield. The team, in an effort to explore places in Chattanooga that may be haunted, approached the executive director of the Engel Foundation and was granted permission to explore the stadium for paranormal activity.
Engel Stadium, 2010. Photo by Andrew Jameson, courtesy of Wikipedia.
The group split up into various teams and they explored different sections of the park with a variety of investigative techniques. John McKinney, leader of the newly form Chattanooga branch of SRP, stated that the group found possible activity in a number of places throughout the park. “Definitely, the home locker was more active than I thought it would be at first,” he said. He continued by saying that “the entire right side was active” as well as the baseball diamond. While in the press box, the group believes it may have made contact with the spirit of Joe Engel himself.
The final results of the investigation will be revealed in a few weeks.
Perhaps the Engel has angels after all.
Sources
Engel Stadium. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 19 November 2013.
Joe Engel. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 19 November 2013.
Richards DAR House 256 North Joachim Street Mobile, Alabama
The figure appears to me to be a man wearing a frock coat. An image was captured during a recent investigation of the Richards DAR House in Mobile. It was taken in one of the bedrooms and includes the image of a man with his back to the camera. The figure is only partial, definitely a head, shoulder, arm and torso are visible, but not much else is visible. It could be a woman, for all we know.
The Richards DAR House is one of those fascinating places where the paranormal appears to be very much in evidence. The Daughters of the American Revolution chapter who operates the home has recently begun allowing investigators to scour the house for evidence of the paranormal and they have found a great deal.
“Every time we end up going into that location, we end up with evidence of some sort,” says one of the investigators from the Alabama chapter of the Delta Paranormal Project who sponsored a public investigation of the house.
As it came into being, the city of Mobile endured very violent labor pains. The area was originally occupied by native people who called themselves the Mauvila. It was these people who met the Spanish who first explored the area in 1519 under Alonzo Alvarez Pineda naming Mobile Bay the “Bay of the Holy Spirit” or “Bahia Espirito Sancto.” While the first Spanish approached the natives peacefully, the second encounter under Henando de Soto a few decades later, was wracked with violence.
Often, places like this that produce a plethora of evidence tend to be the scene of tragedy, the Richards DAR House goes against the grain: it appears to have been a very happy home. The house has quite a cheerful appearance from the street.
The Richards DAR House, 2010, by Carol M. Highsmith. Courtesy of the Carol M. Highsmith Collection, Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.
Ralph Hammond in his 1951 Ante-Bellum Mansions of Alabama, notes that the home has the some of the finest ironwork in the city of Mobile. Lacey grillwork surrounds the first floor porch with a similarly decadent iron fence running along the sidewalk in front. The National Register of Historic Places nomination form for the De Tonti Square Historic District, of which the Richards House is a contributing structure, notes that the ironwork depicts the four seasons and is the most elaborate in the city. The rest of the house is far simpler: it’s a brick townhouse with a few fanciful, Italianate decorative touches.
The home was completed around 1860 for Charles G. Richards as a family home for his wife, Caroline Elizabeth Steele, and their many children. In total, the couple had twelve children, though a few did not make it past childhood as was common in the era. Caroline Richards lived in the home for seven years before dying in childbirth. Her husband did not remarry, which, according to the president’s of the home’s executive board, indicates that “there was a lot of love in that family.”
The home remained in the family for a few further generations until passing into the hands of the owners of a cement company. Luckily, the cement company owners were dedicated to preserving the house that served as their offices. When the building outlived its usage as an office, it was turned over to the city in excellent condition.
Quickly, the DAR members became aware of the spirits in residence. “There are times when you hear—when you first go in, after opening up—you’ll hear young children. It sounds like children playing on the stairs or right at the top of the stairs,” one of the ladies told author Elizabeth Parker.
In an effort to contact the children, a recent investigation introduced marbles with the promise that if they were moved, the children could keep them. Later in the investigation, the marbles were found to have moved.
Apparently, there are adults watching over the children. Definitely the person who appeared in the photograph, but also the woman who is seen staring out the window of the red bedroom may be watching over the children. In fact, one guide entered the home one morning and she and the guests with her clearly heard the sound of a woman scolding children.
According to the president of the home’s board, “We just feel like it might be Captain Richards and his wife and children. They’re just happy that we’re taking care of the house so well, and letting others enjoy the house.”
Sources
Floyd, W. Warner & Thomas St. John, Jr. National Register of Historic Places Nomination Form for De Tonti Square Historic District. 29 December 1971.
Hammond, Ralph. Ante-Bellum Mansions of Alabama. NYC: Bonanza Books, 1951.
Kirkland, Scotty. “Mobile.” Encyclopedia of Alabama. 25 September 2008.
Paker, Elizabeth. Haunted Mobile: Apparitions of the Azalea City. Charleston, SC: History Press, 2009.
Sharp, John. “Ghost hunters make haunting discoveries at Richards DAR House.” com. 10 September 2013.
Vargas, Lauren. “Ghost Hunting at Richards DAR House.” WKRG News 5. 22 February 2012.
There are articles about hauntings blooming all around the South for the Halloween season. Florida, the floral state, is at full bloom. Here’s an overview of recently reported Florida hauntings.
St. Cloud Greater Osceola Chamber of Commerce 1200 New York Avenue St. Cloud
The Southern literary magazine, The Oxford American, explores Southern culture. As ghosts, ghostlore and ghost hunting (Southerners love their hunting) have permeated Southern culture in recent decades, it’s appropriate that the magazine would publish an article about it. An article by Chantel Tattoli explores this through the experiences of GhostStop, a St. Cloud business specializing in ghost hunting equipment. They also conduct investigations and the St. Cloud Chamber investigation included the article’s author.
According to the investigation team she was working with, the building dates to 1910, when it opened as a bank. One major robbery occurred in the building as well as, if local lore is accurate, a double homicide. The activity in the building includes the requisite footsteps in conjunction with what the author describes as “shadows, rattles and whistles.”
The article ends with the author wistfully asking, “What is a ghost but a smear in the air? A memory, willful and invincible, determined to keep living its life.” I really like that statement.
Florida Theatre 128 East Forsyth Street Jacksonville
When the Florida Theatre opened in 1927, it was the fifteenth movie palace in the city, but definitely the most lavish. The Mediterranean revival-style architecture was very popular throughout Florida throughout that decade. The grand theatre served the citizens of Jacksonville very well for more than five decades even as many other glorious movie palaces and other theatres were shuttered and demolished.
The marquee of the Florida Theatre, 2008, by Craig O’Neal. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
It was here in 1956 that a young singer named Elvis Presley performed. Seated among the screaming fans in the audience was a juvenile court judge to monitor Presley’s notorious hips for movements that were deemed “too suggestive.”
The theatre closed in 1980, but efforts were quickly underway to revive the grand dame. In October of 1983, the theatre opened its doors once again as a performing arts center, a use that has kept the marvelous building open for three decades.
A press release from PR Newswire announces that the theatre will be the scene of a paranormal investigation on Halloween night. The press release includes a remark from the theatre’s house manager that recounts her experience with a strange humming in the theatre. “I’ve heard a strange humming sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I thought it was a bar refrigerator, so I unplugged it, but the humming noise continued.”
The ghosts of the Florida Theatre are fairly well documented, especially after an investigation in 2010 captured the image of someone sitting in a seat in the balcony.
An article in the Florida Times-Union from July recounts the experience. The crew was filming with infrared cameras when they began to detect movement in the balcony. “The cameras captured something in Seat E2, Section 500, up in the balcony, where the original 1927 seats are still in place.” The video captured what appears to be someone sitting in the seat and moving their arm.
Perhaps the figure will make an appearance on Halloween.
History. The Florida Theatre. Accessed 29 October 2013.
Szaroleta, Tom. “Florida Theatre holding ‘paranormal tour.’” The Florida Times-Union. 26 July 2013.
The Petite Boutiques 1002 East New Haven Avenue Melbourne
The Petite Boutiques describes themselves as an “upscale mini-mall” that “hosts a collection of small retail businesses located inside a historic landmark.” The landmark building was once the Brownlie-Maxwell Funeral Home which moved to new location some years ago. After the building’s conversion to retail space, people working in the building began experiencing odd activity including Christmas trees in the Christmas shop being rearranged.
A member of the family who owns the building was quoted in Florida Today speaking about the Christmas trees. “Every morning, I would come into find a bird on one of our trees that was upside down, and I would have to rearrange it. It happened all the time. Then one night, I closed and knew the bird was on the tree right side up. But when I got there the next morning, it was upside down again.”
The article mentions that various customers have picked up on various entities within the building.
Eau Gallie Cemetery Intersection of Avocado Avenue and Masterson Street Melbourne
Eau Gallie was an independent city until 1969 when it merged with Melbourne. The name may be a reference in French to the salt water found around the town.
In the Eau Gallie Cemetery sleep many of Eau Gallie’s founding and prominent family. But, their rest may not be so easy. The cemetery has been rumored for years as being haunted and has been investigated by Florida Unknown, a local paranormal investigation team.
According to an article from Florida Today, the team did succeed in capturing a female voice responding to a direct question.
Sources
Eau Gallie, Florda. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 30 October 2013.
It appears that the Crooked Mile Cemetery may be quite a bit more active than the Eau Gallie Cemetery. Indeed, the cemetery plays a part in one of the area’s most well-known ghost stories—the haunting of Ashley’s Restaurant in nearby Rockledge.
On November 21, 1934, the badly mutilated and decomposing body of a young woman was found near the river. Nineteen year old Ethel Allen had been seen just a few days before when she stopped at a local packing house to say goodbye to a friend. Ethel was leaving to visit her mother. She may have also stopped by her favorite local hangout, Jack’s Tavern, now Ashley’s of Rockledge. The Tudor style restaurant, on U.S. 1, still has activity, which has been attributed to Ethel Allen.
The gentleman with whom Ms. Allen was travelling was identified, but never questioned. Ms. Allen was laid to rest in the Crooked Mile Cemetery where she continues to interact with the living. In yet another article from Florida Today, the Brevard Ghost Hunters report that they received an EVP saying “yes” at the grave of Ethel Allen. The investigators had asked if Ms. Allen was present.
Within the moss-draped graveyard, others have reported seeing and hearing apparitions, but scarier still, hands have been known to reach out of graves here.
Pritchard House 424 South Washington Avenue Titusville
It is said that Lola Pauline Smith Pritchard, known as Miss Lovie, never liked people in her house. Perhaps it is she who is upset about tourists regularly visiting her magnificent Queen Anne-style house.
Pritchard House, 2012, by Jigar,brahmbhatt. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
As of late, Florida Today has been ramping up on paranormal articles. Interestingly, the reporter interviewed Michael Boonstra whose blog I used for information concerning Ethel Allen’s murder in the above location. As the director and archivist for the Brevard County Historical Commission, he was invited on an investigation two years ago of the Pritchard House.
Recently restored, the home has been returned to its original color scheme, an orange color with coral colored trim. Captain James Pritchard, a businessman important in the development of the area, built the home in 1891. Until Brevard County purchased the home in 2005, it had remained in the Pritchard family.
The investigation uncovered evidence that members of the Pritchard family may still remain in the house. Voices were heard, a light turned on by itself and a grandfather clock that was not in working order was heard pinging.
