Please pardon the lack of posting. I’m currently working not one, but two, jobs and my time has been very limited. When I do have a little time, however, I’ve been working on research.
Most of my research could be termed as arm chair ghost hunting. I start by scouring the books in my library, then move to other media sources—periodicals, newspapers and trustworthy blogs—looking for more information. To keep up with these disparate sources, I have spreadsheets—one for each of the 13 states I’m working on—listing hauntings by locations, with other pertinent information like address, city and county, then a column of references—with page numbers for books.
It’s a decent system that works for me. If I’m in need of finding haunted places in a specific area, I can sort the listings by city or county. When I need to find something I can simply pull the book from the shelf or go to the computer file and find it. Though it does take time to scour each book or article and add that information to the spreadsheet.
I have neglected Georgia for awhile, while working on other states. Though, it is hard to neglect my home state for too long. Jim Miles has just published three marvelous books on Georgia’s Civil War ghosts: Civil War Ghosts of North Georgia, Civil War Ghosts of Atlanta and Civil War Ghosts of Central Georgia and Savannah, and I’ve busily gotten these entered into the spreadsheet.
They’ve inspired me to start a heavy duty search for Georgia ghosts and I’ve found many interesting hauntings. Here are a couple of some of the more interesting hauntings.
Southeastern Railway Museum 3595 Buford Highway Duluth
According to a 2008 article from Accent Gwinnett Magazine, a few of the pieces of rolling stock in the museum’s collection contain ghosts. The “Washington Club” car from the old Atlantic Coast Line Railway is the supposed residence of a man in old fashioned attire. The story contains reports of two separate visitors encountering the mysterious man.
President Warren G. Harding’s personal Pullman Car, The Superb, now housed in the Southeastern Railway Museum in Duluth. Photo 2007, by John Hallett. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
President Warren G. Harding’s personal Pullman sleeper, The Superb, is also housed here and quite possibly houses a restless spirit. During a presidential cross-country tour in 1923, Harding collapsed and died in San Francisco. The Superb transported his body back to Washington.
The museum was founded in 1970 by the Atlanta chapter of the National Railway Historical Society. The grounds occupy some 35 acres and displays nearly 90 items of rolling stock. A quick search reveals that in the past the museum has operated ghost tours of its haunted collection.
Sources
Bieger, Emily. “Mysterious man from days gone by.” Accent Gwinnett Magazine. July-August 2008.
Southern Railway Museum. “About.” Accessed 31 August 2013.
Southern Tailway Museum. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 31 August 2013.
The Superb. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 31 August 2013.
Louisville Market House West Broad Street at Mulberry Street Louisville
As to whether the old market house in downtown Louisville is haunted remains to be seen, I did come across an article about an investigation conducted there in 2006. The organization that investigated, the Georgia Ghost Society, no longer has a website and is presumably defunct, like many paranormal organizations. Therefore, there’s nothing readily available on what the group found during their investigation.
Market House, 1934. Photograph by Branan Sanders for the Historic American Buildings Survey, Courtesy of the Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.
The building itself is quite intriguing. Since its construction towards the last years of the 18th century, the market house has seen the sale of many things including slaves. The building was constructed during the few years that Louisville served as a capital of Georgia from 1796 to 1806. Under the building’s ancient roof is a bell that was originally sent by Louis XVI of France (for whom the city is named) to a convent in New Orleans. On its journey, it was supposedly captured by pirates and sold in Savannah.
Sources
Ellison, Faye. “Ghost society hopes to stir up spirits at Market House.” The News and Farmer. 26 October 2006.
Workers of the Writers’ Program of the WPA in the State of Georgia. Georgia: A Guide to its Towns and Countryside. Athens, UGA Press, 1946.
Rippavilla Plantation 5700 Main Street Spring Hill, Tennessee
N.B. This post was edited and revised 13 May 2019.
Phantoms and ghosts are very fickle things. Like birding for a rare species, it’s very difficult to find them even in their natural habitat. I was contemplating all of this as I sat alone in a bedroom at Rippavilla around 2:30 AM, towards the end of my first, formal paranormal investigation.
The facade of Rippavilla. Photo 2013 by Lewis O. Powell IV, all rights reserved.
As Nashville, Tennessee sprawls its fingers outwards, it’s beginning to take over middle Tennessee. Small towns like Franklin and Spring Hill have been caught up in the web of development as these charming, and once rural towns are paved over with asphalt and chain businesses. Franklin, just north of Spring Hill and closer to Nashville, has only in recent decades begun fighting back and working to preserve its historic and battle-scarred heart.
Middle Tennessee was one of the areas that saw the brunt of fighting during the Civil War. As the last state to join the waltz of the Confederacy, Nashville became an immediate target for the Union and was the first state capitol to fall into their hands. Those cities and towns south of Nashville—Franklin, Spring Hill and Columbia, among them—were captured and held by armies of both sides during this turbulent period. After Sherman’s capture of Atlanta, far south, the Confederates under General Hood—who had lost Atlanta—attempted to capture Nashville and redeem themselves in the eyes of the Confederates.
Spring Hill and its surrounding estates had seen an influx of Confederate wounded into the small town. Many of the homes—including Rippavilla—had been requisitioned for use as hospitals. According to my guides in the house, the house had seen a smallpox epidemic among the wounded in 1862. During Hood’s Nashville campaign, wounded soldiers once again began to pour in followed by a series of generals, including Hood himself. During the fighting here in Spring Hill, Rippavilla’s fields were the scene of fighting.
Spring Hill saw battle the day before the Battle of Franklin in 1864. While not a major battle, it did leave a few hundred dead or wounded on both sides. Spring Hill was just a stepping-stone in Confederate General Hood’s attempt to dislodge the Union army from Nashville. As the fighting edged on towards Christmas, hope for the Confederacy faltered. Sherman held Atlanta and was marching to the sea destroying much in his path to Savannah, while Hood was defeated at Nashville and routed to Tupelo, Mississippi.
Part of that battle was fought on the grounds of Rippavilla Plantation, just south of town and like so many buildings throughout the South, the house was used as a hospital. This house has many layers of history, each leaving spirits within the house. One source reports spirits from Native Americans, through the Civil War and a smallpox epidemic during that era through to the 20th century, when rumors indicate the house may have seen use as a brothel.
The Egyptian-Greek capitals of Rippavilla’s columns. Photo 2013 by Lewis O. Powell IV, all rights reserved.
The home is very similar to a number of other remaining plantation homes in the area in its brick construction and Greek Revival design. The columns, however, show the influence of Egyptian Revival design with capitals depicting papyrus but with the addition of the Greek-style acanthus leaf. This adds a unique touch. Apparently, while the exterior of the home has not changed much, the interior has changed greatly. Downtown Nashville’s First Presbyterian Church—now a National Historic Landmark—features Egyptian Revival elements, one must wonder if there’s a connection.
Visitors being shown inside will encounter a dramatic, sweeping staircase that splits at the landing to rise to the second floor. This feature was added in the early 20th century to replace the smaller, less dramatic staircase. Electricity, plumbing and air conditioning were installed in the house as well as bathrooms.
The home was built by Nathaniel Cheairs, a wealthy cotton planter. It was modeled on Ferguson Hall—the nearby home of his brother, Martin. Work was begun in 1851 and it took four years to complete. The large kitchen building behind the house was completed first and the family lived there until the mansion was finished. Legend holds that the mansion’s walls were pulled down three times to correct Nathaniel’s perceived deficiencies in the masonry.
Rippavilla flourished along with other nearby plantations owned by Cheairs, and by 1860, the census reports some 75 slaves working the estate. Though, with the coming war, all that would be swept away.
The back of the house from the courtyard. Photo 2013 by Lewis O. Powell IV, all rights reserved.
Many have automatically assumed that I’m a paranormal investigator. That’s not really the case. I consider myself a writer and researcher—more adept at sussing out information and presenting it in a palatable form—as opposed to an investigator tramping through historic places with loads of technology. I can say, that I’m very much a Luddite. Not that I reject technology, but I do grow weary of having to keep up with it.
This brings me to sitting alone in a bedroom at Rippavilla Plantation last weekend as the clock neared 3 AM. We’d been told to pick a room and then just sit for a little while and see what happens. Always being the “different” one, I chose the room that a number of people didn’t “like.” One of the volunteers helping with the investigation had told me that she could not enter this particular room. If she did, she’d usually end up having an emotional reaction.
This bedroom, in particular, had been used as a surgery. Blood stains on the floor attested to that fact. A military style bed had been installed in the room with soldier’s accoutrements sitting upon and around it. I found a single chair within in the room next to the door leading into the next bedroom. Through the door I could see the door of another bedroom, one that had bloodstains from a more recent murder still staining the floor.
All of this did make me uncomfortable. Glancing at the floor around my chair I did see about five drops of something staining the floor. My active imagination envisioned these drops possibly dripping from a surgeon’s knife or a spurting artery as a soldier writhed in pain. In fact, I had nothing to indicate it was actually even blood.
Still, sitting in this room, I found it hard to imagine the air filled with moans and cries, as it would have been during the war. Though, it seems that other, far more sensitive souls had had experiences in this room. Earlier in the evening, as I was awaiting the start of the investigation, a volunteer who had been working in the house that weekend began to report the smell of tobacco in that room along with the smell of an astringent—possibly witch hazel. She’d been one of the first people in the house that morning when it was discovered that the antique dresses so carefully laid on the beds had been moved.
Civil War hospital display in one of the bedrooms. This is the bedroom that staff members do not like. Photo 2013 by Lewis O. Powell IV, all rights reserved.
The senses can play tricks on you. At various times through the night, I was convinced that I saw things, but realized my eyes were fooling me. At times I may have heard things, but I was listening so hard my brain could have simply misinterpreted other, more common, sounds. For these reasons it is imperative for ghost hunters to obtain clear evidence and that exists for Rippavilla. During previous investigations, many Class A EVPs have been captured that point to the conclusion that this house is active. A haunting photograph with a couple of possible spiritual images and video of some type of phenomena that was captured on three different cameras also exists.
The investigation’s leader suggested that the site was very quiet that night. A fair had been held on the grounds of the house and many visitors had passed through the house in the days leading up to the investigation. Perhaps the spirits were resting?
The highlight of the evening took place in a small, modern building at the back of the property. Built on part of the battlefield, this structure is used for various meetings and consists of a large room with restrooms and a small kitchen. The entire group of investigators was seated in this room around an empty chair with a ball on it. Dudley Pitts, the lead investigator, encouraged the spirits to move the ball and we waited in earnest for something to happen. Mr. Pitts spoke up again, saying that if the ball moved, we would all leave. Not two seconds after he said that, a very small, male voice was heard from a side of the room where no one was sitting. The voice asked, “All of you?” A gasp went up among the group and, as promised, we made a quick exit.
As the group I was with concluded their first investigation of the second floor I walked through two of the bedrooms: the nursery and the master bedroom. We left the upstairs in the dark. We had not turned on any lights during the time we were up there. We returned to the kitchen and no one else was in the house. We returned to the upstairs about 15 minutes later to discover that lamps in both rooms were on. The lead investigator turned off the lamp in the master bedroom and then as he approached the lamp in the nursery it turned itself off. Were the spirits saying hello?
The evidence is still being reviewed. Personally, the experience was really wonderful. Though, in the words of one of the investigators, a paranormal investigation “is 7 hours of waiting and 60 seconds of a thrill.” To spend time in such a marvelous historic home, quietly contemplating darkened rooms is actually marvelous. Especially in today’s hyper world of fast technology, instant gratification and even quick tours of historic tours, the experience of sitting and listening and imagining is often lost.
This investigation at Rippavilla lead by Dudley Pitts of Innovative Paranormal Research (IPR) and resident paranormal investigator is held monthly. I’d like to thank Mr. Pitts and the investigators for their help and leadership during the investigation and especially Laura Bentley and Lisa Webber for their kindness. For further information, contact Rippavilla Plantation on their website or through their FaceBook page, “Whispers of the Past.”
Shreveport Municipal Memorial Auditorium 705 Elvis Presley Avenue Shreveport, Louisiana
I saw the light! I saw the light! No more darkness, no more night! Now I’m so happy, no sorrow in sight. Praise the Lord, I saw the light! –“I Saw the Light,” Hank Williams, 1948
The great Elvis Presley, a son of Tupelo, Mississippi, as he appeared in his 1957 film, Jailhouse Rock. His appearance at the Shreveport Muni catapulted him to fame. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
On October 18, 1954, a nervous young man stepped to the microphone at the Municipal Memorial Auditorium in Shreveport. Surely, he could not have imagined that his performance that night would eventually lead to the street outside being renamed in his honor. The young crooner with the provocatively swaying hips and sensuous baritone was Elvis Presley and he was making his first appearance on the radio show, Louisiana Hayride, a popular country music program that would launch many important careers. The “Muni” stage saw the likes of many great singers in the flush of youth: names such as Johnny Cash, George Jones and Hank Williams.
Besides hosting Louisiana Hayride from its beginning in 1948 to the end of its first run in 1960, the Municipal Memorial Auditorium accommodated graduations, local theatrical events, a variety of musical performances, and billeted soldiers during World War II. The building served as a center for Shreveport’s cultural life as well as playing a role among the city’s dead. The exuberant Art Deco façade of the auditorium hides a darker function: the building was reportedly used as a temporary city morgue.
The elaborate facade of the Shreveport Municipal Memorial Auditorium. Photo by Michael Barera, 2015, courtesy of Wikipedia.
This plethora of functions have left a spiritual imprint on the building. One paranormal investigation of the building captured an EVP—electronic voice phenomena—of a woman’s voice ardently stating, “I love Johnny Cash,” while another investigation yielded the sound of applause in the empty auditorium. The stories from this historic edifice are numerous and fascinating.
In an article by Debe Branning on Examiner.com, she relates the story of a workman who was in the building setting up for a sporting event. Though no one else was supposed to be in the building, the workman kept spotting a young man sitting in the auditorium. He would see the man sitting in one section and moments later, the man would have moved to a different section. Eventually, the workman stepped outside to retrieve a tool from his truck and encountered the strange man outside the building. The workman inquired if he could help the young man.
“I just come by to see what time the fights start,” replied the young man. With a smile he faded away before the workman’s bewildered eyes. The workman was later told of a young boxer who was killed in a car accident on his way to fight a match in the auditorium.
According to Drs. Gary Joiner and Cheryl White, authors of Historic Haunts of Shreveport, there have been two notable investigations of the building: Louisiana Spirits Paranormal Investigations—the first team to investigate the building—and Everyday Paranormal who investigated the building for the Discovery Channel show, Ghost Lab.
Investigating rumors of shadow figures, voices and doors opening and closing on their own, both teams captured a great deal of evidence. Louisiana Spirits captured numerous EVPs during their investigation aside from some personal experiences including some team members smelling flowers and baby powder in one of the dressing rooms. In addition, one of the team members was pushed and scratched by something in the basement area that once served as the morgue.
Hank Williams performing in 1951. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
During Everyday Paranormal’s investigation, the team collected one particularly good A-Class EVP stating, “We saw the light.” No one on the show made the connection with the well-known Gospel song by Hank Williams (which I’ve quoted above). The connection grows even stronger when it’s noted that Hank Williams’ fame was propelled by his appearances on the Louisiana Hayride the same year his song, “I Saw the Light” was released.
Also during the course of the investigation a door in the ballroom opened on its own volition after a team member specifically closed it. Another door closed after the team hired a band to play rockabilly music in hopes of stirring up the spirits of this most spirited location.
The auditorium continues to feature the living and the dead of Shreveport.
Less than a mile away from the Municipal Auditorium in downtown is the Spring Street Historical Museum, which occupies a haunted former bank.
Sources
Go Go Luckey Entertainment & Paper Route Productions. Ghost Lab, Episode 1.01, “Disturbing the Peace.” Premiered 6 October 2009.
Hank Williams. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 11 June 2013.
Joiner, Gary D. & Cheryl H. White. Historic Haunted Shreveport. Charleston, SC: History Press, 2010.
Louisiana Hayride. Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Accessed 1 March 2013.
N.B. This article has been revised and edited 18 May 2019.
It’s not hard to imagine that investigating in pitch black darkness could be both terrifying and exhilarating. Ghost hunters are accustomed to stumbling about in dark spaces, but usually there is some dim light even if just from the moon or street lights outside. Within a cave there is no ambient light, and the inky darkness envelops you.
In an article from WHSV, the ABC affiliate out of Harrisonburg, Virginia in the Shenandoah Valley, the founder of the Twisted Paranormal Society of Virginia talks about the adrenaline rush that he gets from investigating the shadier side of things. In his investigation report he says, “Once the interior lights were turned off, [Grand Caverns] took on a whole new appearance.”
According to the history on its website, Grand Caverns is the oldest continually operating show cave in the nation. Show caves are those caverns that have been opened—exploited some say—for tourists and commercial use.
Like so many caves, Grand Caverns was discovered when someone simply stumbled on it, in this case a hunter retrieving traps. Bernard Weyer discovered the cave in 1804, and within two years tours were being led through it. In the early days, standing in the thick darkness tourists imagined ghosts, demons and all those denizens of the underworld were just at their heels. The weird formations were transformed into manifestations of nightmares and named accordingly: Dante’s Inferno and George Washington’s Ghost among them. At Dante’s Inferno especially—a hole-like formation with rock that seemingly melts towards the mouth of Hell—tourists were warned of evil spirits there that would extinguish candles or torches: the only sources of light here.
Formations within Grand Caverns. Photo 2010 by P199. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
Other areas inspired awe or whimsy. In one large room, grand balls were held, while the sacred space of The Chapel was actually used on occasion for religious services. These things brought the curious to visit these caverns for just over two centuries. When the Virginia countryside was overrun with battling armies during the Civil War, soldiers visited, easing their minds of the weariness of war.
The identities of the spirits within Grand Caverns are unknown. While the articles relating to the haunting point to the military visitors to the cave during the Civil War, it appears that the soldiers simply visited and none died or were killed within the cave. Twisted Paranormal’s investigation did produce some results that may indicate the presence of spirits here, though their investigation was only 3 hours long. The group presents some of the evidence they captured on their website including some photographs with orbs and video of EMF detectors being set off with no one around. Unexplained flashing lights were also encountered.
Sources
Adams, Cindy. “Strange activity found in Grottoes Grand Caverns by paranormal investigators.” Examiner.com. 26 June 2012.
Old Richardsville Road Bridge Richardsville Road at the Barren River Bowling Green, Kentucky
N.B. This article was edited and revised 3 February 2019.
Bridges are the centerpieces of numerous ghost stories. They can be symbols of the transition between life and death. Perhaps that’s what also attracts ghosts. In a distant memory, I recall something about folklore stating that ghosts cannot cross water; that would certainly cause problems for many bridge-dwelling spirits, though it does nothing to prevent many bridges from being haunted.
The Old Richardsville Road Bridge is certainly something out of a different time. In proper bridge parlance it is a “three span bowstring arch truss bridge.” The span is a segment of the bridge supported on both sides by piers. Bowstring arch truss refers to the graceful curved iron arches–resembling a bow primed to shoot an arrow–that support each span. Located on both sides of the road, these graceful arches are also supported by another, squarish truss on each span. The deck is wooden and a single lane, which does present some issues for modern automobiles. Aesthetically, the bridge is an elegant marriage of form and function.
Old Richardsville Road Bridge, 2014, by Nyttend. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
While the bridge may be somewhat unusual in its architecture, its legend is a version of the far more common Crybaby Bridge Legend. At some point in the bridge’s early history a young, unmarried woman found herself pregnant. Unable to face the shame and scorn that society heaped upon innocents gone astray like herself, she leapt from the bridge to drown in the waters below. Other versions of the story include the woman jumping as she fled an attack, or driving off the bridge either accidentally or purposefully. The legend continues that if one drives onto the bridge, puts the car in neutral and turns it off, the car will be pushed towards the opposite end. I have covered this folkloric archetype in my article on the Kayo Road Bridge in Hartselle, Alabama.
A 2011 article in the Bowling Green Daily News by Jack Montgomery recounts his informal investigation of the bridge legend. Montgomery and his companions tried to get their car pushed across the bridge, but to no avail. He then walked the bridge with a pair of dowsing rods. The rods did respond in three specific areas of the bridge. Other than that, he left with no other evidence of a haunting. Though, Montgomery did note that the wires on the bridge may produce high EMFs which may affect some who are sensitive. In addition, he noticed the creaks and groans of the old bridge which may give the impression of human cries or screams.
A more formal investigation of the bridge was conducted by Kindred Realm Investigations on three days in September of the same year. The first investigation produced no odd results. The second evening produced a single photograph with a possible orb. The third evening produced a few interesting results. The group finally had their vehicle, a large SUV, pulled along the bridge. A short time later, one of the group’s recorders picked up the sounds of singing or humming, as well as conversation and laughter from a female.
The bridge, built in 1889 by the King Bridge Company of Cleveland, Ohio, has held up for more than a century, though in recent decades, the bridge has begun to show its age. While the iron has remained in excellent condition, the stone piers and the stone entrances to the bridge as well as the wooden decking have deteriorated. However, the bridge has found a savior in the form of local resident David Garvin. Having been born and raised nearby, Garvin has “adopted” the bridge and financed repairs and restorative work with his own money. If only every endangered historic site could find such a savior!
Sources
Bernson, Barry. “Bernson’s Corner: The Caretaker of the Old Richardsville Bridge.” Fox41 News. 10 May 2010.
B & D Burgers 209 West Congress Street Savannah, Georgia
N.B. This article was edited and revised 15 September 2019.
In a city like Savannah with so much of the original built environment still intact, it can be expected that much of the spiritual realm will be intact as well. Even in places whose histories are not marked with tragic events, there still may be residual energy left from the many souls using these places over decades and centuries. Apparently, this may be the case of B&D Burgers, a gourmet burger joint.
According to two recent stories from Savannah ABC affiliate, WJCL, the B&D Burgers location on West Congress Street, well inside the large Savannah Historic District, may have some spirits lingering about it premises. The Savannah Historic District is a National Historic Landmark District, a recognition afforded to only around 2,500 sites in the nation, and even fewer historic districts.
B & D Burgers, 2017, by Michael Rivera. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
The plain, mid-19th century commercial building located on Congress Street looks out onto Ellis Square, one of the original squares laid out by General James Oglethorpe—the founder of Savannah and the Colony of Georgia—in 1733. The square and the market building within it were demolished in the mid-20th century and replaced by a not so glorious parking garage.
Spurred by this sad fate, locals began to band together to preserve the history that was being demolished around them. When the lease on the parking garage expired almost 50 years later, the city did not renew it and took over the square again with plans to renew the streetscape. The garage was demolished and replaced with underground parking while the square was recreated and reopened in 2010. All this has been witnessed by the little brick building on Congress Street.
For some time, the employees of the burger joint have thought the building to be haunted. One manager reported having had his name called when no one was present. Others have felt uncomfortable in the building’s basement. All of these things are classic signs of a haunting, but it wasn’t until surveillance video revealed some odd occurrences that a paranormal team was called in to investigate.
One video shows an odd light moving around the busy bar area and then seeming to hover. Another video shows a stack of plastic glass pallets toppling over on their own accord. Granted, these odd videos themselves do not preclude the presence of paranormal activity, though when combined with reports from the restaurant’s staff, paranormal activity becomes quite a bit more evident.
Paranormal investigators from 3D Ghost Hunters, did pick up on some spiritual energy within the building. Accompanied by a local psychic, the preliminary investigation of the building produced some high EMF readings and personal experiences for the investigators. A woman’s perfume was smelled, though none of those present were wearing any. Interestingly, when a brothel was mentioned, the odor of perfume got stronger. All of this evidence, coupled with the video and employee experiences appear to be enough to bring the investigators back for a full investigation.
WJCL included the surveillance videos on their website, but they do not appear to be working.
Sources
Colwell, Josh. “B&D Burgers Ghost Hunt.” WJCL. 1 May 2013.
Colwell, Josh. “Ghost Busters Anyone?” WJCL. 30 April 2013.
U. S. Post Office
729 4th Avenue West Point, Georgia
Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds. –Inscription on the façade of the James Farley Post Office, New York City, from the Histories of Herodatus.
Apparently, this inscription which is often considered the unofficial motto of the United States Postal Service should also include death. It seems that something is still at work within this old post office; something still carrying on its appointed rounds perhaps?
I was first introduced to the West Point Post Office’s haunted state when I took the local Ghost Walk that’s held around Halloween each year (see my review here). The post office was included on the tour, though I was skeptical of the legend which involved a young girl in a bloody dress being seen outside the building. To me, it just seemed like local tripe. That is, until I received an email a couple of weeks ago.
West Point Post Office, 2012, by Rivers Langley. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
Robin Jarrell, who has worked at this post office branch since 1996, wanted me to know about the ghost there; something far more believable than a girl in a bloody dress. They call him Joe, though his exact identity remains a mystery, and he tends to ramble about the building mystifying the employees. Robin invited me to visit, tour the building and hear their stories.
Built in 1932, the old building is quite intriguing. The main floor includes the post office and all of its functions. With the exception of a few modern additions, the lobby appears to be mostly original with banks of old post office boxes, marble flooring and original streamlined Art Deco-styled light fixtures. The post office’s main workspace occupies the remainder of that floor. The old, creaking wooden floor underscores the old techniques still employed to sort the mail here. No robots or complicated sorting mechanisms here, just the tried and true hand sorting that I imagine is still employed in small post offices throughout the nation. Above, a modern acoustical tile drop ceiling hides the catwalk that once existed above the floor from which employees were monitored to keep them honest.
From the lobby, a marble staircase leads to a series of rental offices upstairs. Again—in this now mostly empty series of rooms—the building really shows its age. This is also the domain of the ghost. According to Robin, footsteps are heard issuing from up here sometimes accompanied by the slam of a door. The employees downstairs often hear this but simply return to work with the chill of knowing that no one is up there.
Arthur, a postal contractor, is the one person who probably uses this floor more than anyone. His schedule driving the mail requires downtime and he uses one of the old offices to relax. Commonly, he’ll hear footsteps out in the hall or in other offices and he’ll hear things being shuffled through. The old doors of these offices are fitted with opaque window panes and heavy brass knobs that really provide the weight of age. It was through the window of the restroom that he actually saw something. He’d heard footsteps and looking up from the toilet he saw something pass by the door. The window’s opacity blocked out any details.
It is Arthur’s polite, but no-nonsense demeanor that is in sharp relief to his very odd experiences in his garret room in the post office. In the small, cluttered room with a desk, computer and air mattress, he’s had the computers turn themselves on. At times, he’s heard footsteps on the roof as well, though getting up there appears to be a bit of a challenge. He has also had some moments where he has been awakened to the feeling of being smothered.
The issue of sleep paralysis has been frightening people for millennia. In centuries past, the blame for these has been placed squarely on the spirit world and even more specifically on creatures called incubi and succubae. The male form—the incubus, from the Latin incubo, “to lie upon— was believed to attack females and to sometimes impregnate them. The female form, the succubus—from the Latin succuba, “to lie under”— was believed to attack the male in his sleep. Both entities were supposed, over time, to slowly drain the life from the sleepers. Shakespeare includes a description of an incubus in Act I of Romeo and Juliet with Mercutio chiding Romeo, “This is the hag where maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage. This is she—“
He is interrupted by Romeo who responds, “Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talkest of nothing.” Indeed, Romeo now has the weight of science behind his exclamation.
As science has explored and begun to understand “O gentle sleep!—Nature’s soft nurse,” (Shakespeare’s Henry VI, Part II) it has come to understand that sleep paralysis—a much gentler name than evil entities with Latinate names—is a common occurrence. An experience with such may only indicate an uneasy transition between stages of sleep. Though the experience may be terrifying it is not dangerous.
When people experience sleep paralysis in a paranormally active location, though, the black-and-white of science then meets the grey void of tradition and folklore. Could these instances actually be caused by spirit activity in these cases? Since I have begun interviewing witnesses to paranormal activity over the last few years, this is one of a few cases I’ve been privy to involving sleep paralysis in a possibly haunted location.
The first case happened at Unto These Hills Cast Housing in Cherokee, North Carolina. My friend, Philenia, was napping in the new dormitory building. The building occupies the footprint of the old girls dorm and while it is surrounded by buildings with fairly high amounts of paranormal activity, the new building—as well as the old one—had few occurrences. Philenia had been napping awhile when she awoke to the feeling of something climbing on her chest. She said she felt a hand over her mouth and could not move or breathe. When it finally released her, she jumped up upset and terrified.
While Arthur’s experience was not as dramatic as Philenia’s there’s still the question of cause left hanging. There are other cases of people being awakened by possibly paranormal activity. A cousin of mine grew up in an antebellum home in Newnan, Georgia. During the Civil War, Newnan was, like many Southern towns along the railroad, pressed into hospital service. Churches, government buildings and private homes quickly filled with the wounded and sick, my cousin’s home included. She spoke of being awakened to the feeling of something holding her feet down. She continued,
I could feel the pressure of hands. I assumed it was my mom. But when I looked down at the foot of the bed, I saw a small woman with a bun wearing a long, grayish blue dress that came all the way to the ground. It was a weird sensation because I could see her, but I couldn’t make out details. What remains with me more than the brief image I saw was the feeling she gave me. It was extremely peaceful and sweet and real. It was nothing like I had ever felt before that day or since.
When my cousin married and moved into a home with her husband, she began to experience a far less positive haunting. “I had a lot of experiences where I would wake up in the morning (sometimes at night) and feel paralyzed. I was completely aware but unable to speak or move. That was not pleasant at all.” This was in addition to other activity, some of which centered on her young daughter. While this was going on she took a photograph of her youngest daughter in which a grayish hand appears reaching towards the child. She no longer lives in the house and has experienced nothing in her new home.
As for Arthur, he pointed out a lounge chair on the other side of the room and said he’d slept in that chair several times without incident. The only times he’d been awakened were while sleeping on the air mattress. He noted that he would sometimes leave a radio on upstairs to hopefully placate the spirit or at least keep it at bay. He removed the radio and the activity has returned. “I don’t think I’ve slept since I took the radio out.” He remarked. I made the suggestion that he try sleeping in the lounge again or that perhaps he move the air mattress.
As I toured the building from attic to basement, I didn’t really feel anything energy-wise that was off. I was guided up to the old attic entrance to the catwalks. The narrow, closet-like space felt quite different, though. As attics are wont to be, this one was hot and stuffy, though the atmosphere was charged with energy. It was almost like being surrounded by hot breath. While I’m not really sensitive, I do sometimes pick up on strong energy and what I felt was a feeling I’ve felt in only a few other situations. Needless to say, I didn’t stick around in the attic very long.
While the spirit or spirit may occasionally upset or mystify the employees at the post office, it’s not thought of as dangerous. Robin remarked, “We take it as a good spirit.” She thinks that the spirit is “looking for something or he needs something fulfilled.” Or perhaps he’s just going about his “appointed rounds.”
I’d like to thank Robin Jarrell and Arthur for extending me such hospitality on my visit and for sharing their experiences. I’m also grateful to my cousin and Philenia for sharing their experiences as well.
Sources
Conversation with Bonne B. 23 April 2013.
Interview with Arthur C. at the West Point Post Office, West Point, Georgia. 19 April 2013.
Interview with Philenia W. at the Cherokee Historical Association, Cherokee, North Carolina. 21 September 2012.
Interview with Robin Jarrell at the West Poing Post Office, West Point, Georgia, 19 April 2013.
Johnson, Forrest Clark and Glenda Major. Treasures of Troup County: A Pictorial History. LaGrange, GA: Troup County Historical Society, 1994.
West Point Depot Visitors Center and Museum. Ghost Walk. 15 October 2010.
Actors Theatre of Louisville 316 West Main Street Louisville
The two buildings at this address are at the heart of modern American Theatre. The theatre company here, the Actors Theatre of Louisville, has striven to become one of the premier theatre companies in the nation and they have succeeded. From humble beginnings in a former tea-room, the company moved to an old train station which was renovated to house a 350-seat theatre. At that time, Jon Jory, son of Hollywood actor Victor Jory, joined the company as an artistic director. He expanded the horizons of the company and oversaw their move to this current space after the train station was demolished in 1972.
With the company, Jory envisioned and created the Humana Festival of New American Plays, now considered the “preeminent annual showcase of new theatrical work.” The festival has introduced new American plays such as David Margulies’ Dinner with Friends and Beth Henley’s Crimes of the Heart to the American theatrical consciousness; both of which garnered Pulitzer Prizes for drama.
Western theatre’s deepest roots lie in Ancient Greece, thus it’s appropriate that the entrance and lobby for this venerable theatrical institution is a remarkable Greek Revival structure. Built in the mid-1830s, for the Bank of Louisville, this building’s marvelous architecture and the participation of noted architect Gideon Shryock in its construction have led it to be named a National Historic Landmark. The adjoining late-19th century commercial building also belongs to the theatre.
Bank of Louisville Building, now the lobby of the Actors Theatre. Photograph taken in 1987 by William G. Johnson for the Historic American Buildings Survey. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
Part of the ghost story of this venerable institution begins in a field in the Hamptons in 1970. Rodney Anderson and his wife, Pamela Brown—an actress and scion of Kentucky’s prominent Brown family—were setting off on a journey with pilot Malcolm Brighton to cross the Atlantic in a Roziere balloon (a hybrid between a hot-air balloon and one held aloft by gases like helium or hydrogen). Friends and family gathered to fete the trio and watch as the intrepid voyagers headed into the horizon aboard The Free Life. One of the friends in attendance recalled that the event was “kind of a last hurrah.” She continued, describing the atmosphere as“all that hope and joy of the 60s that seems to have gone so sour, a last little flickering flame before everybody got serious again.” Grasping the euphoric hopes of a libertine decade the balloon ascended heavenwards into a perfect sky. Some thirty hours later, those hopes were dashed when fate caught up with them off the rocky coast of Newfoundland.
In the Brown family’s grief, the Actors Theatre was granted a substantial sum to build a theatre in Pamela’s honor. Built directly behind the antique buildings fronting the street, the 643-seat Pamela Brown Auditorium stands as a memento mori to the idealism of youth. The young, promising actress who was lost so young is still glimpsed in the theatre bearing her name while another specter is seen as well: the shade of an African-American male, possibly from the 19th century. He quietly goes about his business and disappears when he detects he has been spotted by the living.
Sources
Actors Theatre of Louisville. “The History of the Actors Theatre.” Accessed 15 March 2013.
Cummings, Mary. “The Day a Dream From Springs Crashed.” New York Times. 22 January 1995.
Plant Hall—University of Tampa 401 West Kennedy Boulevard Tampa, Florida
A Haunted Southern Book of Days–5 February
This article is a part of an occasional blog series highlighting Southern hauntings or high strangeness associated with specific days. For a complete listing, see “A Haunted Southern Book of Days.”
It’s truly an incredible sight, silver-roofed minarets out of a Moorish fantasy rising above the oaks and palms of downtown Tampa. As I was researching something else, photographs of this fantasy palace called for a further look. I’m glad I did.
It does not, in any way, resemble an academic building, though that is its current use. It was constructed by Henry Plant as the Tampa Bay Hotel between 1888 and 1891. Plant—who had already constructed a rail line to this sleepy hamlet in 1884 and later a steamship line running to Havana—had dreams, like those of Henry Flagler, of turning Florida into a vacation paradise. Their pioneering ideas did succeed—look at Florida now—though it took quite a bit of time. Plant’s investments in this fine hotel were never recouped, though he did succeed in building Tampa into an exciting and cosmopolitan city.
Some of Plant Hall’s minarets. Photo 2012 by WalterPro4755. Released under a Creative Commons License.
Over the more than forty years the hotel operated it barely turned a profit while still attracting some of the best and brightest celebrities. The great French actress, Sarah Bernhardt, lounged in the hotel’s opulence while the Russian ballerina, Anna Pavlova, danced in the corridors. The voice of William Jennings Bryan echoed through its rooms while Babe Ruth signed his first baseball contract here.
The highlight of the hotel’s illustrious, though impecunious, early history came in 1898 when the hotel served as the stateside command post for the American invasion of Cuba. The ladies and gentlemen who usually promenaded through the elegant hallways of the hotel were replaced with generals, troops and newspaper reporters. With Theodore “Teddy” Roosevelt and his Rough Riders stationed nearby, Mrs. Roosevelt was booked into the 511 room hotel alongside the famous nurse, Clara Barton, founder of the American Red Cross, who came to oversee the nursing of soldiers.
After Plant’s death, the grand hotel passed to his heirs who sold it to the city of Tampa in 1905. The hotel saw a series of lease holders until 1933, when the building was leased to the fledgling University of Tampa. Much of the hotel was converted into classrooms and offices while a small portion remained as a museum, preserving the hotel as it was in its heyday. In addition to appearing as part of the university’s logo, the unique building now serves as administrative offices for the school.
A grand staircase inside Plant Hall. Photo 2009 by Gordon Tarpley. Released under a Creative Commons License.
As midnight’s darkness descends on the minarets of Plant Hall—the building’s current designation—the memories from the great building’s heyday are relived. Legend says that students still occasionally encounter servants from the Victorian era still going about their duties. Students have noted that certain parts of the building have an eerie chill and they get the feeling of being watched. A theatre professor in the building’s Fletcher Ballroom encountered an oddly shaped mist. “This cloud of mist…fog, and it was obvious there was some kind of physical shape to it. And as soon as I saw it, it literally sucked into the wall.”
A curving corridor. Photo 2009 by Gordon Tarpley. Released under a Creative Commons License.
A curious student one morning had a frightening experience. As she explored the labyrinthine structure, the student encountered a man in an old-fashioned three piece suit. When she called out to ask if she could help him he did not respond, though he began to walk towards her. At that point she realized his eyes were glowing red and she fled. As she descended a staircase, she encountered the same man calmly drinking tea. There’s no telling what else one might encounter around midnight under the minarets.
Sources
Dickens, Dorothy K. and Ralph Christian. National Register of Historic Places nomination form for the Tampa Bay Hotel. October 1975.
“The Ghosts of Plant Hall.” The Minaret. 1 November 2007.
He appeared first in a Lee County community called Black Zion near the Pontotoc County line. He was a dark, shadowy figure stretching from the leaden clouds to the dusty ground. The winds surrounding him stirred up dust in the still and humid air of a warm spring Palm Sunday. He tore through Black Zion and then slammed into the town of Tupelo with great fury around 8:30 that evening.
April 5, 1936 had been a pleasant Palm Sunday in Tupelo until the twister touched down flattening 48 blocks of the city. Believed to have been a 5 on the Fujita scale—the scale for judging the strength of tornados—this Palm Sunday visitor was part of a line of storms that struck the South with another powerful tornado destroying parts of Gainesville, Georgia the following day. Local officials counted 216 deaths, but in this era of Jim Crow that was only counting whites among the dead. The deaths of African-Americans—and this tornado struck a part of Tupelo that was largely black—went unrecorded.
As the dead and injured were pulled from the twisted wreckage of the city the broken bodies were moved to a temporary hospital and morgue set up in the Lyric Theatre. The sounds of agony from the injured and the dying, as well as the clink of metal medical instruments and trays replaced the laughter that usually echoed through the building. Stories speak of the popcorn machines in the lobby being pressed into service to sterilize the instruments. These bad memories still may linger.
Undated postcard of the Comus Theatre. The facade now features Art Deco elements and marquee. Postcard from the Cooper Postcard Collection, Mississippi Department of Archives and History.
The Lyric opened as the Comus Theatre in 1912. The Comus hosted vaudeville and other live performances until the prevalence of films lead to vaudeville’s untimely demise. The theatre became a part of the M. A. Lightman Company (Malco), a chain of cinemas, acquiring a new name, the Lyric, and it’s Art Deco façade and marquee. It’s appropriate that this theatre, having been built for live theatre would ultimately be saved by it as well. In the mid 1980s when the theatre had outlived its usefulness as a cinema, it was saved from the wrecker’s ball by the Tupelo Community Theatre and has been slowly but surely restored by them.
With TCT’s acquisition of the Lyric Theatre, they also acquired some lingering memories; memories that will mischievously play tricks on actors and theatre staff. One executive director had his keys taken and hidden from him. After searching for about 45 minutes he gave up and decided to call someone to come get him. The phone sat on a Plexiglas stand with a small slot for papers clips. As he lifted the receiver he glanced down to see his keys stuffed into the small slot. Puzzled, he locked up the building and quickly left. He could come up with no explanation except to blame Antoine, the theatre’s lingering spirit.
Exactly who the spirit is or why his name is Antoine is unknown. Perhaps he’s one of the injured, dying or dead brought into the building following the tragic tornado or perhaps a more recent theatre associate who has returned to his beloved theatre? All that is known is that he enjoys playing tricks including playing with the lights, slamming doors when he may be unhappy and possibly making a surprise appearance in a theatergoer’s photograph.
There are other lingering memories that are more obviously connected with the theatre’s tragic past. The clank of metal medical instruments still resounds through the building while the popcorn machines, once pressed into such ghastly service, are said to turn on by themselves. In a place where such happy memories are now made, these negative memories linger to remind us that even the beauty of a warm spring evening can be shattered in an instant by a terrible storm.
