Haunted Savannah: America's Most Spectral City

by Caskey, James

  The house itself was begun in 1771, and completed in 1789. The completion of the house was held up by the British occupation of Savannah for the majority of the Revolutionary War. It was constructed out of red brick and then covered with white stucco, and it is said that the restaurant got its name when the red brick bled through the stucco and turned it pink. Habersham apparently didn’t want to be known as the man living in the big pink house on Reynolds Square, because he had it painted white. The white paint never did do an adequate job of covering the pink color up, as the bricks kept bleeding through the stucco and turning it pink yet again. This cycle continued until the 1920’s, when a woman who ran the home as a tea room finally decided to paint it pink. Sometimes it does take a woman to think of something as sensible as painting the Olde Pink House a shade of pink.

  “...she was dressed in servant’s clothing from what appeared to be the early 19th century.”

  One of America’s Most Haunted

  The Travel Channel program America’s Most Haunted Places- Savannah featured the Olde Pink House, showcasing both the upstairs and the lower tavern. One former waiter that was interviewed described a strange light appearing in the ‘Purple Room’ on the upper floor. He said that it appeared as a floating orb, raced around the room, and then vanished.

  I have spent considerable time at this restaurant, and not because of the ghosts which inhabit the old structure: the food is delicious, making it one of my favorite eateries in Savannah. During my time spent there I have encountered many staff members who have stories of their own brushes with the supernatural. One longtime female server had a strange instance involving candles in one of the dining rooms. She blew out the tea lights in the center of each table, and then stepped out of then room for just a few seconds. When she walked back in, she found that the tealights had been mysteriously re-lit. She thought for a moment that she had just made a mistake and had not extinguished them at all, but then she noticed that she could still see the smoke still hovering in the air from where she had blown them out the first time. When I asked her what she did then, she smiled and said, “I left them lit for a while. Who am I to argue?” Another server reported that she tried to pull a tablecloth off a table at the end of an evening, and something pulled right back! She got into a tug- of- war with something unseen on the other end, and lost. She then fled the room.

  Another server reported seeing the apparition of a young woman in an upstairs dining room. She was dressed in servant’s clothing from what appeared to be the early 19th century. The apparition retreated deferentially into an adjacent upstairs dining room. The modern-day (and quite live!) server walked into the room to verify that there was someone in a costume in that room, and found nothing but empty tables. She described the woman as wearing a scarf on her head, and being “incredibly meek, and sad.”

  Although there have been many instances of strange happenings on the upper floors, many believe the downstairs tavern is by far the most haunted area of the old structure. If all the stories are to be believed, there are powerful forces at work in the sublevel tavern, which is called Planter’s Tavern to commemorate James Habersham Jr.’s title of planter, meaning an agricultural producer and plantation owner.

  One believer is musician Gail Thurmond, the talented and versatile piano player and vocalist who entertained diners for years in the Planters Tavern. But Gail was not just blessed with musical talent; she is one of the few people whom are gifted with special ‘sight’: the ability to see the spirit world. She claims to have seen a small African-American child in the tavern from time to time, or feel his presence. She even claims to have asked this small boy his name, and he replied “Magumbo.”

  Erika’s Bottle Problem

  Others have felt a presence downstairs, be it Magumbo or some other spirit. But by far the strangest story was told by Erika Williams, a longtime former bartender in the tavern. On occasion, according to Erika, the wine bottles will pop out of their cubbyhole in the wine rack by themselves. She has even been hit by a flying bottle or two in her time behind the bar—an event seen by eyewitnesses. And by ‘eyewitnesses’, I mean me personally. I was once sitting at the bar, holding a conversation with Erika in the tavern when I saw a bottle of red wine pop out of the wine rack by itself, and she caught it before it could fall and break. The most amazing thing about the incident is that Erika didn’t see it as anything unusual: she just kept working. The spirits have been known to flow pretty freely at the bar, but this would be considered taking that turn of phrase too literally when bartenders are being smacked by them. So in this case, Erika’s supernatural experience was caused by being hit by the bottle, instead of the other way around.

  Erika also related hearing the distinctive sound of dice being thrown against the wall on several occasions, and claims that when she is in the vault, she will sometimes hear her name called when she knows she is alone. The ladies room located in the tavern, according to Erika, is another spot for hauntings. Apparently some women find their trip to the rest room anything but restful when they are mysteriously locked inside. The door was holding fast on its own, prompting the management to shave the edge of the door down, thinking that might alleviate the problem. But the dilemma of ladies being locked in the water closet continued, so the staff even went to the extreme measure of removing the lock on the door. This drastic step has still not fixed the predicament—the door, sans lock, will still inexplicably lock itself for short periods.

  A Savannah man who was well-known to the staff went down to the tavern one evening for a beverage. He had just gotten his drink when he saw a man at the other end of the bar in full Colonial dress. Thinking that the restaurant had hired someone in costume, he smiled and raised his glass. The Colonial gentleman did the same, sharing a toast. The man turned to the bartender and mentioned what an authentic-looking outfit the gentleman had on, and the bartender asked him what he was talking about. When he turned and motioned towards the man, there was no one to be seen.

  So on this occasion in the tavern, a local shared a toast—with a ghost. This is thought to be the spirit of James Habersham, Jr., who had a reputation for being a fine and cordial host. The staff feels that he will check in from time to time, just to make sure that his former home is still being hospitable.

  One night in the tavern, most of the staff had left, except for the bartender and the manager. The manager said to the bartender, “The upstairs is all clear.” It was then that they could hear the sound of a woman sobbing, clearly emanating from the upstairs. The bartender turned to the manager and said, “Do you hear that?” The manager said, “No, I don’t hear a thing, and neither do you. We’re getting out of here!” They closed and left early, leaving dishes on tables, money in the register, and the safe unlocked.

  In another instance, the sound of heavy coins being counted was heard coming from near the north fireplace in the tavern. A likely explanation is that gold was stored in this area at one time—a British transport ship named the HMS Expervier was transporting gold when it was captured by the Peacock, a U.S. warship, during the War of 1812.

  What ultimately became of the Habershams, the family separated by an ocean of divided loyalty? Only in death did they resolve their bitter family conflict: they are buried together in Colonial Park Cemetery, father with sons, sons with father.

  Some Erroneous Folklore

  One fanciful story told about the Pink House which has no historical merit is that James Habersham hanged himself in the basement which is now the tavern. The erroneous story is that he learned of his wife’s affair with the architect of the building and committed suicide.

  The truth is less theatrical, yet much more uplifting: the junior Habersham was a Revolutionary War financier, successful businessman, loving husband, and beloved father. His is the story of American triumph over adversity. Habersham died in 1799, and the cause of death is listed as ‘declining health.’ Burial of someone who had co
mmitted suicide was not permitted in consecrated ground, so the fact that James Habersham Jr. is buried with his father and brothers in Colonial Park Cemetery is yet another indicator that the story of his self-hanging is false.

  Little Gracie

  15 Bull Street

  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. made his home in Savannah. Habersham was a planter, and also the headmaster of Bethesda Orphanage. More importantly, the site also formerly housed the old Pulaski Hotel.

  There is debate even in the archives as to what year 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 of construction, 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. The Watsons found themselves excluded and ostracized from Savannah society. Frances Watson wanted to fit in, and she was a very intelligent woman, so she used the hotel at her disposal. It’s amazing how many new friends the Watsons suddenly made 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 no time at all she was considered a member of the Savannah elite as well.

  Her daughter, little Gracie Watson, was born in 1883, and 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. Gracie, being a child at a party for adults, would become bored. She 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, from pneumonia. After her death, Gracie’s mother claimed to be able to still hear little Gracie laughing and playing 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. He 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 in 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 ever 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 Street. 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. Where the back stairwell of the old Pulaski Hotel used to be located 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.

  Often, there are questions about why Gracie would come back to this 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 Sr.’s downtown home in the mid 1700’s—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.

  “The sounds of Little Gracie can still be heard, laughing and playing...”

  A Friendly Spirit

  This ghost story also has some personal significance. One night in early 2001, right as my tour was beginning, I had two women join up. 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 the woman’s face. She grew increasingly pale as I told her the story of little Gracie. She then told me that right before the tour, she 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.

  It is safe to say that little Gracie still laughs and plays in that area, and sometimes she invites a friend or two to play.

  This building resides where the Pulaski Hotel once stood. The ghost of Little Gracie has been seen frequently at this location.

  A Strange Tour Occurrence

  Former Cobblestone 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, and 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 me, I pulled out an archival photograph of the four-story Pulaski Hotel and showed it to her. Naomi went deathly pale, and after taking a moment to recover, she informed me that I was holding a picture of the building which she had seen reflected.

  Erroneous Folklore

  I have heard some tour guides falsely transfer the story of Gracie in its entirety to a building located on Pulaski Square. These same tour guides are confusing the now-demolished Pulaski Hotel with Pulaski House, a dorm for the Savannah College of Art and Design, located at 328 Barnard Street. Despite the similarity of their names, Pulaski House wasn’t erected until 1914, so the idea that Gracie haunts a building that wouldn’t be built until twenty-five years after her death is preposterous.

  Moon River Brewing Company

  21 West Bay Street

  On West Bay Street, at the intersection with Whitaker Street, there is a wonderful example of early 19th century architecture, built in 1821. Today the building contains the Moon River Brewing Company, purveyors of fine food and the most delicious and award-winning beer you’ll ever have the pleasure of sampling. You might already be familiar with Moon River Brewing, since its haunted reputation has garnered national media attention. It has been featured on such television shows as the Travel Channel’s Ghost Adventur
es and America’s Most Haunted Places, PBS’ Southern Haunts, A CNN Halloween segment, and Syfy’s Ghost Hunters, among others. It has also been featured in more books, magazines, and newspaper articles than I can list here.

  Lurking beneath its largely unrestored beauty, this building bears a dark, wickedly violent reputation. Originally built as the City Hotel, it is a structure which literally had its beginnings in terror, flames, and death nearly two hundred years ago. This edifice’s very existence relates to tragedy in a surprising way, since it owes its beginning directly to the largest conflagration Savannah has ever known. The Great Fire of 1820 began in a nearby livery stable around 1 a.m. on January 11th. Aided by strong winds and some poorly-placed gunpowder in the market building on the adjacent Ellis Square, the flames destroyed nearly every major building in the downtown (in a masterful stroke of understatement, the Georgia Historical Quarterly article detailing this disaster says that it was these explosions “which demoralized fire-fighters”). Well over four hundred structures were reduced to ash and rubble, a number which equated to nearly two-thirds of Savannah.