Haunted Savannah: America's Most Spectral City

by Caskey, James

  Other versions omit the marriage angle, and simply state that Anna (who in this account is just a servant) had a love affair with a sailor, and wound up killing herself when he never returned for her. The problem with all of these Anna stories is that there is nearly zero documented historical evidence to back up any of it, despite that it has become one of Savannah’s most popular ghost yarns. So how, as a lover of history, was I to tell a tale as fact when I strongly suspected that the underlying ‘history’ was fiction?

  When telling the ‘Anna’ story, the uneasy compromise I had previously reached in terms of reconciling telling the above version as true was to tell the legends as exactly that: legends. After all, people love a good story, whether that tale is the Parson Weems’ concoction of George Washington chopping down the cherry tree or one such as Anna. And her yarn is one that is more about the time period, and less about the people purported to be involved.

  The scarcity of evidence did not stop me from trying to learn the truth about 17Hundred90: I had been trying for years without measurable success to pierce the veil of history and find the real story of Anna and Steele White. So which of these versions are true? Which are fiction? The answer is not as easy as you might think. For a tale so often told, the facts seemed to be scant to none when the sometimes harsh light of historical research was turned upon it. And it is there, where the edge of that glare turns to shadow that I was most uncomfortable as a writer. The historian in me wants to puncture the old myths; the storyteller wants to embrace them. I began to doubt that I would ever know the truth of what transpired, or who those people really were. But all that changed one rainy August afternoon, when I was surprised by a dead man who had answers.

  The site of the famous Savannah ghost, Anna.

  Real People Can Be Ghosts, Too: Ask Any Researcher

  Every aspect of this story, research-wise, is a literal nightmare: while sifting this data I suffered from bad dreams about the headache-inducing lack of historical info regarding this property. In these nightmares I was literally ensnarled and held fast by conflicting documents. Records for the Inn conflict or don’t exist; and, depending on the source, there are many dates attached to this structure’s alleged construction, all of which cannot be correct. I desperately sought the truth about the 17Hundred90 amid all the folklore.

  I spent many hours sitting at the Georgia Historical Society, wanting to pound my head on the oak table (I found that this is frowned upon). The data I was getting seemed too jumbled for me to ever make any sense of it. But the confusion of official records is not unusual for this city. Savannah has burned almost completely several times (along with our records and ledgers), and we’re also famous for misplacing things—just ask General Nathanael Greene, Count Casmir Pulaski, or Declaration of Independence signer Button Gwinnett. We mislaid all of their bodies at one time or another, so if we can’t even keep track of our heroes you can understand how it would be easy to lose a file or two. I’ll do my best to sort the history of the building out here, but be prepared to be confused (as I still am).

  The structure, which is actually several adjoining houses, is named after the year 1790. It’s a romantic notion of a quaint 18th century wooden little boarding house that is probably wrong. There was a building there that was likely built in that year, sure, but it succumbed to fire, an all-too-common fate of the time period, leaving behind only the slate floors and brick first level (how much is open to conjecture). A couple of sources list the basement as what survived the fire, which in Savannah is not the same as the first floor, so records here too are not very clear. The whole place could have been razed by the flames and rebuilt using some materials which survived the blaze.

  I also need to point out that the structure is part of Columbia Ward, which was laid out along with its trust and tything lots in 1799. The house sits on a southwest tything lot aligned with the plan of the square, so did the house precede the square? And if so, why is it in the configuration of the square’s design? So the more correct name for the property might well be the 17Hundred90’s-ish Inn. Do you see why this is frustrating to a researcher?

  Even the wooden upper floors of the house inspire confusion. One section fronts onto Lincoln Street, and the other on President Street, and these were obviously built at differing times. Some records indicate the original date (1790) for both structures, and other records say 1820, 1821- 1823, or even 1824. I finally turned to the book Historic Savannah, by Mary Morrison; the information contained within that volume is considered to be almost Biblical when it comes to finding dates and names associated with historic buildings in Savannah. Even here I was disappointed: the date listed for the section facing Lincoln Street is 1821-23, and the house fronting President Street is 1888!

  The Elusive White, or ‘Steele’ Crazy After All These Years

  Anyway, back to the year 1790, and what we can piece together. In a year marked by the election of our first mayor and city council, an edifice was built on that spot. It served as either a home or inn or some combination of the two, until it burned at an unknown date in the early part of the 19th century. The wooden structure was built atop the brick and slate foundation for Steele White, who was, as near as I can tell, originally from Virginia. But before we get into his personal history, let me first recount how he is painted in the various legends or versions of this story.

  Many of the stories involving White begin with him as a wealthy planter. This might be true, to some degree, although all the records I found indicate he was involved in the family shipping business and was later a judge. The stories also describe him being an older man, which is definitely not true. He was born in 1784 and died in 1823. So Steele White actually died before the age of forty, which even in that time period was not considered to be advanced in years. In nearly all of the versions Anna enters the picture as an arranged bride, much younger than White. One (shall we say extremely fanciful?) retelling put the age of the bride at barely 14 years old. And these arranged or more precisely forced marriages did routinely take place (in fact, they are still legal in this country. Anyone 16 years of age and older can marry freely, and under that age requires a court order). But most of these stories put Steele White marrying Anna in the very early 1820’s. But seeing as how White was already married this would be difficult to say the least. He was married in 1810 to Ann Matthews Guerard. But she’s certainly not the ‘Anna’ from the ghost story any more than I’m James Brown, the Godfather of Soul—sharing a first name doesn’t make anyone the same person. And the extreme lack of similarity between Mr. Brown and I (my funkadelia notwithstanding) is the same extent that Ann M. White most certainly does not resemble the wretched servant girl ‘Anna’ so often spoken of in these ghost tales. Many guides describe Steele White as abusing the practically-enslaved Anna, and some even claim that he murdered her after noticing some flirtations with a sailor. But there is no truth whatsoever to White being Anna’s murderer. Why not? He died just as the house was completed, so him abusing and ultimately killing his ‘servant girl bride’ in the house is impossible. But more on his death later.

  We’ve answered a lot of questions about who Steele White wasn’t, namely a murderer, abuser, or polygamist. But who was Steele White, really? As a researcher, he eluded me for a very long time. I managed to piece together that he was a leading businessman in Savannah, and was the representative for the family mercantile house in the city. He also was a vocal critic of the practice of dueling. This account comes from the 1819 Chatham County archives in which White served as foreman of the jury in a trial over a duel:

  Regarding duels, even when death resulted, as “purely private affairs”, the Savannah newspapers refrained from noting them. But the frequency of their occurrence is once more made apparent by the action of the Grand Jury in January, 1819, of which Steele White was foreman. In its presentments it unveiled the situation locally: “The frequent violations of the law to prevent duelling have made the
practice fashionable and almost meritorious among its chivalrous advocates. We will express it as our opinion that the law has been violated in repeated instances with impunity, when a knowledge of the cases were, or have been, known to its constituted guardians, and in the next instance the character of our city was wantonly disregarded, the laws of social order and of the state unblushingly set at defiance. Viewing the subject, as we do, of such magnitude, we deem it our duty to present the negligence and indifference of the officers whose duty it is to take cognizance of such matters as proper subjects of which to make examples.”

  White was also recognized as a president of Savannah’s Union Society, a social organization which was also dedicated to helping the orphans at Bethesda orphanage. Judging from the other names on the list, this would have marked him as an extremely popular and wealthy man. Quite a different picture than the one painted of him by many of this city’s tour guides, wouldn’t you agree? Steele White’s historical record is one of helping the young and unfortunate, and today is ironically only remembered because of erroneous claims that he married and murdered a child.

  Finally, A Steele Curtain Is Lifted

  I was unsatisfied with this lack of information. I finally noticed an obscure reference while poking around for information online: The Colonial Dames at the Georgia Historical Society had compiled something called the Steele White Collection. Upon my request in writing to view the collection, a helpful staff member presented to me, without flourish, a box of papers in multiple separate files that had no writeup, preamble or description. All I knew is that they referenced White in some degree. I remember thinking that they would probably be a list of land holdings or transactions; at best I might find a ledger or a vague reference to the man in a letter. I could not have been more wrong.

  I opened the file folder and saw a number of pale delicate yellowy-brown letters handwritten in a flowery, sensitive scrawl. I gingerly unfolded the one on top and found that I could not take a breath. I had found not just the personal papers of the dead man I had sought for so long, but the most intimate thing a person could possibly set to paper: I had stumbled across a bundle of love letters that Steele White had penned to his wife, Ann Matthews White. My seven year search was over.

  Difficult to read, both in terms of ink soaking the pages and the florid language of the day, what struck me right off the bat was the intense immediacy of these letters. These are not measured and carefully formal notes, as these types of historical letters so frequently are; but instead it feels very much like a conversation. They always begin the same way: My darling wife. These letters are written over a span of nearly thirteen years (and numbering nearly twenty in all) and mailed from all over Georgia. White apparently traveled a great deal, whether for the family business or his work as a judge I cannot determine, and he also sent his wife and children away during a time of sickness (probably yellow fever) in Savannah’s dreadful late summer months.

  I kept feeling the sensation that I was doing something wrong, that somehow this glimpse into the world of two lovers was ill-gained. I felt oddly guilty just looking through the communications between the Whites, no matter how long I had sought this firsthand account. He wrote of his longing to be with her, and how much he missed their children; but he wrote most often of how much he anticipated her letters in response to him, which sadly were not contained in the treasure trove of files. It is entirely possible that Ann’s letters did not survive.

  “Time Hangs Heavy On Us Both…”

  As I stated earlier, the tale of Steele White and ‘Anna’ is a famous Savannah story. This section that you’re about to read is admittedly pretty heavy on history, so if you are not interested in learning about the real people named Anna and Steele, go ahead and skip ahead to the section labeled: ‘The Differing Legends’. But I wanted to lay out the history I uncovered in an effort to right some historical wrongs. The Whites have had a historical backstory attached to their name which has been not just exaggerated, but completely fabricated. This is an attempt to correct that historical disservice. The more information that I bring to light regarding these two very real people, the less wiggle-room other authors and tour guides have to get this great story wrong.

  The first record we have is dated from 1810, and is a legal document pertaining to the Whites’ marriage. This paper is a somewhat sad reminder that Steele White was a man of his time in all respects, meaning as a businessman in Savannah during that time period he would deal directly in slaves, both buying and selling. The document in question is an agreement that Ann White, upon entering into marriage with Steele, would retain possession of six slaves. The document goes on to list various conditions pertaining to ownership of these slaves depending on whether Steele or Ann survived their spouse. These types of documents were quite common, and being so quick on the heels of their marriage it indicates that these slaves were very likely a wedding gift to the new couple from Ann’s brother, Peter Guerard, and his business partner, Dr. William Parker (both are listed in the document). Steele White had extensive financial dealings with both men. This is a noteworthy document because it disproves the fanciful folklore regarding Ann being bartered off by her family to the supposedly much-richer White. This would be unlikely since Steele White was the recipient of a valuable gift (the slaves) upon marrying Ann: if he were the wealthier party, wouldn’t the gifts be going the other way? Ann clearly comes from money since she is the granddaughter of past Governors of South Carolina on both sides of her family (John Matthews and Benjamin Guerard).

  This legal paper of 1810 is of special interest because it is the only time we have a direct connection to Ann M. White, literally firsthand. She signed her name right beneath her new husband’s.

  Our next document is the first letter on record between the Whites, dated August 19th, 1813. The letter is authored by Steele White to Ann, who was in Augusta, Georgia with the children to escape what was probably an outbreak of yellow fever. To our modern sensibility, Augusta is roughly two hours distant or so by automobile from Savannah, but in those days it was a considerable journey. Steamships had not gained wide use at that time, and these two cities would not have steamer service between them until 1816. There was also no railway line between the two cities, and one would not exist until the mid 1800’s. To reach Augusta you would have to sail against the considerable current of the Savannah River, or attempt to make the journey via the stagecoach. So to Steele White, it may have felt as if his wife and small children were on the dark side of the moon instead of just a few counties away.

  In his letter reproduced in part here, Steele records his feelings of loneliness and worry for his wife and children (illegible or unknown words struck out). It is a gripping moment:

  My dear Wife,

  I anxiously awaited the arrival of the stage yesterday to hear from you my love; and how disappointed was I when I found the offices shut, and I had to go home and indulge in a thousand different fears and feelings, until I got your letter this morning!

  You can easily picture to yourself, my dear wife, what were my feelings on opening and seeing it was from you, by your own, under the same circumstances.

  Your husband my love, will use every forecaution and care to keep well. I am now hearty, and what will contribute much to keep me so, as well as to reconcile me to our separation, is the knowledge of your and our dear children keeping well—that you not only keep well, my dear wife, but that you are entirely comfortable and more reconciled. Time hangs heavy on us both my precious wife; and only thou who know, and feel the happiness that we experience together, can form any notable idea of what real happiness consists; but as temporary privations heighten enjoyment, this partial separation will only tend, my dear wife, to endear us more to each other, and to our little children. The fears which prevail’d before you went up have nearly subsided, indeed I have very little express’d.

  Several letters written from Steele to Ann during the
War of 1812 reflect the growing apprehension of a possible invasion of coastal Georgia by the British. He is listed as a Colonel, although it is still unclear in which unit he served, and his knowledge of the coastal defenses seems to confirm his military rank. He mentions rumors of landings by British troops. It is unclear, really, which military operations Col. White was referring to in his letters to Ann—it could be in regards to the actual British occupation of Cumberland Island and St. Mary’s (approximately 100 miles to the south of Savannah) in late 1814, or it could be a mistaken report. Remember that this was a time before the internet, cell phones, land lines or even the telegraph; an erroneous report could be mistaken for fact for weeks if not months because information disseminated so slowly. The fog of war does not strictly refer to the battlefield, especially in those early days of this country’s troubled adolescence. It does bear pointing out that if White was indeed writing about the British forces in St. Mary’s, he had every reason to be worried: the English plan was yes, to target Savannah for occupation, and soon. The only thing that spared the city from invasion was the Treaty of Ghent, which effectively ended the War of 1812 before the attack could take place.

  The file containing info on Steele White also contained another surprise: a stirringly patriotic speech which was to be read on July 4th. The speech was bound together, and handwritten by White. This discovery in the archives completes the indignity heaped on an innocent man: the supposed killer of a young girl was in fact a patriot who spent his spare time helping orphans. To call this man a murderer besmirches his military service and later legal career.