Cobblestone Tours Inc

Greetings, and thanks for visiting the section devoted to sharing a few select ghost stories. These are excerpts from my recent book, ‘Haunted Savannah’. I hope you enjoy them. But first, a bit of legalese which essentially says ‘don’t steal my work’. My publisher gets awful touchy about that. If you want to share this, just link to the site, please.

James Caskey

Copyright © 2005 James Caskey
Originally published as ‘Haunted Savannah: The Official Guidebook to Savannah Haunted History Tour’. All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written permission of the Publisher.

“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”
—William Faulkner
Act I, Scene III, Requiem for a Nun

One cannot walk down Savannah’s streets at twilight without feeling evidence of her supernatural side. The old beautiful homes practically emanate the aura of lost loves, lives cut short, and other misfortunes. The Spanish moss-drenched live oaks set the mood. The dead never truly depart in Savannah. One just has to walk into a shop, hotel or restaurant in Savannah and strike up a conversation with the staff, and the talk will turn inevitably to the supernatural. Any old tavern worth its salt has a good ghost story. It is in these stories we find common elements: tragedy, lost youth, and occasionally, redemption. Can a better setting for a ghost story be found than the Olde Pink House, or the Kehoe House? Savannah’s Historic District sets the mood like no other city.

One of the theories regarding Savannah’s prominence in all realms haunted has to do with energy. There is speculation that houses could possibly store a ‘dry charge’ of the energy expended in the structure, much like a battery can store electrical power. This energy could be bound to the property by moments of extreme emotional distress by the inhabitants, such as death or great sadness. There is also the possibility that an action repeated over and over again can also have this effect, which would explain why hearing footsteps is one of the most common forms of a structure being haunted. From time to time, when conditions are right, that stored power is unleashed. An analogy would be with sound waves: energy is released in audible form, and when conditions allow, such as an object bouncing the sound waves back toward the point of origin, the energy returns in the form of an echo. If energy can bounce back and return in this way several seconds after the actual event, why can’t psychic energy return at a later time as well? And if an echo can return several seconds after the event, could it be possible that the psychic energy could return years, decades or even centuries after the fact? So ghosts may be an explainable phenomenon in this way. The lack of scientific proof of the existence of ghosts may be that we have thus far been unable to duplicate the conditions under which such an event might occur, or perhaps science has not developed the technology to record this psychic energy.

There is also another factor to consider: many old port cities have a reputation for being haunted. Seaports like Charleston, Savannah, Wilmington, and New Orleans have garnered the reputation of having many supernatural occurrences. Perhaps it is tied in with the close proximity to the oceans and rivers—if ghosts are life-force energy that has not faded away, then maybe the tidal action and ebb and flow of the water has somehow polarized the entire area, preserving the remaining energy and capturing it for a time when conditions are right.

Supernatural activity may be defined by the type of occurrences observed or experienced. Some take the form of what is known as a ‘residual haunting’, such as hearing footsteps in a deserted hallway or seeing a brief glimpse of someone or something which disappears. Residual hauntings can be audible, visible or even olfactory, such as smelling pipe tobacco when no one in the house is smoking. If the residual energy is visible, the incident is often referred to as a ‘spectre’ or an ‘apparition’. Spectres or apparitions differ from true ghosts because there is no true interaction with the living. Imagine an endless video loop, where instead of an image playing on a television there is instead an image or occurrence which ‘plays’ on this physical plane.

If any of the eyewitness accounts in the following pages are correct, there are also ghosts which can interact with the living. Ghostly loved ones who can appear-- usually in the middle of the night-- to deliver words of comfort to the living; ghosts known for locking or unlocking doors, or even moving or hiding objects are some of the occurrences noted.

Another form of haunting is a poltergeist, which is German for ‘noisy ghost’. Poltergeists are not as easy to attribute to the spirit of a departed soul; a poltergeist more resembles pent-up energy which can create havoc in the area afflicted by such a phenomena. Poltergeists frequently (but not always) are associated with households with adolescent children. A poltergeist can be playful, destructive, or downright terrifying.

If any of these theories regarding how or why hauntings occur is correct, then why is Savannah a nexus for such supernatural happenings? What causes her to experience psychic echoes with such regularity?

To understand why Savannah is so haunted, one must look at her history. She’s endured several great fires, numerous Yellow Fever Epidemics, and has been involved in both the Revolutionary War and the War Between The States. Tragedy is her calling-card. The historical record is full of this Savannah mainstay: violent death tempered with an ironic spin. Savannah has a dark and twisted nature, and she certainly has a sense of humor.

So this link with tragic history may go a long way towards explaining exactly why Savannah is hailed as one of the most haunted cities in America. Certainly, the legacy goes all the way back to when the area was inhabited by Indians. In 1736, the local Native Americans told the eventual founder of Methodism, John Wesley, that they believed that the spirits of their fallen comrades persisted near where they fell or were buried. Also, the Native Americans claimed to hear strange noises near where they had burned prisoners (which was an Indian custom). Traditionally, Native Americans have been superstitious regarding the spirit world, and the idea that one’s ancestors watch over the living is an idea which goes back thousands of years.

Another possible explanation is that there is such a strong Irish presence in Savannah. Skeptics might charge that one type of spirits begets another, but one cannot dismiss the strong storytelling tradition of the Irish people. The Great Potato Famine was ravaging the Irish at the same time that Savannah was booming with King Cotton, so a good number of transports full of refugees found their way to our shores, bringing their long history of oral traditions with them. The Irish have a healthy respect for the supernatural, and their stories reflect that attitude.

Another ethnicity which is conducive to the traditional art of ghost storytelling is the Sea people, called the Ogeechee, Geechee (or mistakenly referred to as ‘Gullah’) people. This unique cultural phenomenon was so important that it was dedicated a whole chapter in this volume (‘Slave & Geechee Culture’).

Perhaps her special connection with history as well as the special ethnicities of Savannah and the surrounding areas (Indian, Irish, and African-American) can explain why Georgia’s First City is forever associated with the supernatural. Strange historical happenings are the norm in Savannah. Consider these instances:

Several bodies were discovered in 1967 when roadwork was done on Abercorn St., right next to Colonial Park Cemetery. Presumably the City pulled up the tombstones to make way for both a city street and sidewalk next to the burial ground in 1896.
In 1915, a group of boys stole human bones from a burial site 5 miles north of the city. Turns out, they were the remains of Revolutionary War hero Gen. Samuel Elbert. The children gave the bones to the Georgia Historical Society, where the librarian placed them in a desk drawer for 9 years.
In 1779, during the American Revolution, the Allied forces were repulsed by the British in a massive battle inside the current Historic District of Savannah. It was the single bloodiest hour of the Revolution. The dead from this battle were estimated at 1,100, and were buried in a mass grave—the location of which is unknown even today.

Another strange occurrence in the early days of Savannah happened in 1820. That particular year is remembered as one of the worst in Savannah’s history, with a great fire and a Yellow Fever epidemic. An embittered departing editor of a local paper, one John M. Harney, wrote a scathing poem as he left the city which placed a curse on Savannah. It ended with, “I leave you, Savannah, a curse that is far/ The worst of all curses - to remain as you are!" Perhaps Savannah is indeed cursed, but there are some who look at the wondrous old houses and buildings of the Historic District and muse that ‘Harney’s curse’ may have preserved us, as well.

Explaining why ghosts exist or what their scientific cause may be does not ask the more important question: why do ghost stories fascinate us? Whether you are a believer or not is irrelevant—the fact remains that Savannah is a town which believes itself to be haunted. Why do we care? What part of our curiosity is being satisfied by the telling and retelling of ghost tales?

It is my belief that we are looking for a touchstone to the past. Living downtown, I see tourists wandering around in Colonial Park Cemetery, taking photos of tombstones with which they have no literal connection. But the truth of the matter is that there does in fact exist a correlation. In the old cemetery plot, we see ourselves, figuratively speaking. We as a society also are fascinated by antiques and old photographs. I believe we are looking for some sort of kinship with who or what was here before us. We want to feel like we can make sense of who we are and where we are going and the way to get a feel for the direction is to know where we’ve been. Learning about history connects us, and that same history is Savannah’s most precious resource.

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At the corner of Bryan and Bull Streets, a 1950’s era structure sits on a very historic corner. The original tything lot (Oglethorpe’s plan called for a series of residential plots built around the squares, which were known as tything lots) was where James Habersham, Sr. called his home in Savannah. Habersham was a planter, and also the headmaster of Bethesda Orphanage. But more importantly, the site also formerly housed the old Pulaski Hotel.

There is debate as to when the Pulaski Hotel was built, with some evidence that the hotel could have been built as far back as 1795. Others place it at a much more conservative 1835, but whatever the date the Pulaski Hotel was one of the finest hotels of the period. In the 1880’s it came under new management: the Watson family, W. J. and Frances, originally from Boston by way of Charleston. The Watsons found themselves excluded and ostracized from Savannah society. Frances Watson wanted to fit into Savannah society, and she was a smart woman. She used the hotel at her disposal. It’s amazing how many new friends the Watsons had when they started giving away free food and drink, especially in a setting as fine as the Pulaski Hotel. Mrs. Watson only invited the Savannah elite, so in a matter of no time she was also considered a member of the Savannah elite as well.

Her daughter, little Gracie Watson, was born in 1883; she was also included in these parties. She was entertaining the guests by the age of three, and by the age of six was playing the role of hostess. She was much- loved by the Savannah elite. Gracie liked all the attention, and also liked helping her mother, but Gracie, her being a child at a party for adults, would become bored. Gracie would often slip away, and could be found playing underneath the back stairwell of the old Pulaski Hotel. In fact, it became a joke amongst the partygoers: when Gracie would disappear, they had overstayed their welcome. Someone would ask the question, “Where’s Gracie? If Gracie has disappeared, it must be time for us to go as well.” Gracie (or lack thereof) was a better indicator of the lateness of the hour than the clock on the old Exchange Building.

Gracie passed away two days before Easter in 1889 at the age of six, due to pneumonia. After her death, Gracie’s mother claimed to be able to still hear little Gracie laughing and playing up underneath that stairwell. Many people thought that perhaps the strain of losing Gracie was proving to be too much for Mrs. Watson. It was especially upsetting for Mr. Watson. Her husband decided to move them both to the newly-opened DeSoto Hotel, to get her away from so many memories at the Pulaski. The family erected a life-sized statue of little Gracie out at Bonaventure Cemetery.

Over the years many staff members would claim to hear the sounds of a little girl laughing and playing when they got near that stairwell, but no little girl could be found. Other staff members refused to go into the basement of the old hotel, because of the low moans heard occasionally, and the sound of clanking iron. The downstairs had at one time been used to store slaves who had been transported to the Americas from Africa — as was common with many buildings with basements near Bay St. The Pulaski Hotel was eventually torn down in 1957, and replaced with a cafeteria, which remained open under various ownerships until the fall of 2001. The structure, now fully renovated, is being used as a bank.

Many thought that the sights and sounds of Gracie would disappear when the Old Pulaski Hotel was demolished, but this has not proven to be the case. Beyond the last archway to the right if you were to face from Bull St. is where the back stairwell of the old Pulaski Hotel used to be located, roughly twenty-five feet down a hallway. It is now the ladies room. The sounds of Little Gracie can still be heard, laughing and playing at this spot. People have reported seeing a small girl run past them in period dress, and when they turn to see where she is headed in such a big hurry, no little girl can be seen. This ghost was even seen by fellow tour guide Reagan Howard, who glimpsed a little girl through the windows of the then-abandoned structure. So little Gracie to this day is still avoiding the party of the Savannah elite, slipping away and laughing and playing near that stairwell.

Former tour guide Naomi Starr had a strange experience involving the story of Gracie in the spring of 2002. She led her group to a convenient area across the street and was beginning her story, when she suddenly noticed that she could see a four-story building reflected in the window of the bank she was facing instead of the two-story former cafeteria. She turned around and faced the then-abandoned structure, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, but the reflection of a building she did not recognize remained in view for the entirety of her story. When she related the story to this author, I pulled out a photograph of the four-story Pulaski Hotel and showed it to her. Naomi went deathly pale, and after taking a moment to recover informed me that I was holding a picture of the building she had seen reflected.

Often, there are questions about why Gracie would come back to that location. After all, her parents are gone, and so is the original structure of the Pulaski Hotel. One possible answer is that the site was originally James Habersham’s downtown home—as headmaster and teacher of orphans, it would stand to reason he might have quite a bit of experience guiding lost children. Perhaps Gracie has found comfort with this mentor presence.

This ghost story also has some personal significance. One night in early 2001, right as tour was beginning, this author had two women join the tour. One of them asked, “What can you tell me about the Piccadilly Cafeteria?” The question was so odd that I asked if she had had an experience there. She said yes, she had. I asked her if her experience had happened in the ladies room—and all the color drained from this woman’s face. She grew increasingly pale as I told her the story of little Gracie. She then told me that right before tour, her and her friend had eaten at the Piccadilly, and (how to phrase this delicately?) had both drank a bit too much sweet tea. They went to the rest room, and when they were sitting down in their stalls, something unseen in the restroom pulled both of their pocketbooks out from under the stall door. In her words, she couldn’t think of a better place to be sitting when something like that occurred! They both sprang up, thinking they were being robbed, but they found their purses lying in the center of the bathroom floor. Nothing was missing. Things had been pulled out, but not money. Lipstick, makeup and candy had been pulled out of both purses—items which would draw the interest of a little girl.

So little Gracie still laughs and plays in that area, and sometimes she invites a friend or two with which to play.

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In a 1924 yellow brick condominium-style apartment building, there are reports of a ghost with some baggage: tea bags, to be precise.

It seems a young couple moved into their new apartment, located at the corner of Abercorn and State Streets on Oglethorpe Square. They loved everything about their new place except for one thing: a strange recurrence in the kitchen. Often times upon awaking, they would find teacups sitting out, as if they had just missed someone sitting at their kitchen counter. “Sometimes, it would be just the empty cup sitting on an empty saucer, but on occasion we would find the actual remains of a cup of tea, with teabag, in the bottom of the cup,” the young lady related. “Now, neither my boyfriend nor I drink hot tea, which is the funny part. I’m from the South, so for me it’s sweet tea or nothing. He’s even English, and that’s sort of our joke, the fact that I fell in love with the one Englishman who doesn’t like hot tea!”

The young lady began to get nervous, because someone was obviously using their kitchen without their consent. “I was hoping that there was an innocent explanation, like a neighbor who had a key or something. But of course your mind starts to envision the ‘Tea-Drinking Slasher’, that sort of thing. We even changed the locks in the apartment, but it continued—I’d say once a week or so, we’d find a teacup.”

Finally, exasperated, they called the former owner, a young man named Rodney. His answer surprised the couple, because he related the following story:

Rodney had been forced to sell his former apartment because his girlfriend wouldn’t come anywhere near the place after an incident in the kitchen. She had stayed over the previous night, and got up early the next morning for a bit of coffee. It was there that she unexpectedly ran face-to face with Rodney’s mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of hot tea and wearing a yellow bathrobe. She was mortified, because she hadn’t even known Rodney’s mother was in town visiting—the two had never even met, and the setting for their first meeting were less than ideal, you might say. After exchanging pleasantries, she slipped back to the bedroom and woke Rodney up, and began to chastise him for not warning her that his mother was in town. Rodney looked at her very strangely, and then calmly informed her that his mother had died two years previous. She was visiting Rodney and the then-new apartment, and suffered a massive stroke, and died. When Rodney’s mother died, she had been sitting at the kitchen table, wearing a yellow bathrobe and drinking her customary cup of hot tea.

The new young couple was faced with a terrible choice: sell their lovely new apartment, or live with the knowledge that they were in a supernatural time-share situation with Rodney’s dead mother. They wound up compromising. “We left Rodney’s dead mom a note,” the young lady explained, “We wrote her a nice letter, explaining that Rodney had moved. After that evening it was the last time we had a problem with the teacups, so apparently she got the message.”

With a mischievous wink, the girl added, “We even gave her Rodney’s new address, in case she wanted to visit.”

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