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Ghostly laughter, footsteps and objects that move—It all seems pretty standard at first glance at The Pirates’ House in Old Fort, Savannah. But the name of the location reflects a lot of the spirit—or spirits—of the place. Yes, The Pirates’ House is haunted by sailors, seadogs, privateers and perhaps even real (and, of cousre, very dead) pirates.

Not far from the Savannah River in Old Fort, Savannah, Georgia is The Pirates’ House. Built in 1753 and joined with the oldest house in the entire state, the brick and wood structure even looks like it should be haunted by the seadogs of yesteryear. The American Museum Society even credits it as a “house museum” because of ongoing and continual efforts to restore it faithfully.

Over time the original house became a tavern and additional buildings merged into it, giving its first floor more than a dozen separate dining areas today. Traditionally, the eating and drinking was done on the first floor and men slept in the rooms comprising the second floor. For a while (much more recently) a jazz bar took up several rooms upstairs, but now the 2nd story is mainly used for storage. In the basement, a long brick-lined tunnel ran from The Pirates’ House all the way to the water’s edge and was supposedly used for aiding impressment, a common practice in The Pirates’ House’s early years.

Sailing was dangerous work, and there were many times when crews had spots to be filled—and not many willing volunteers. So in spots like The Pirate’s House’s Captain’s Room, captains and crewmen got creative and would either get able-bodied men drunk, drugged, or (occasionally) whacked over the head, and then drag him down the long brick tunnel to a waiting ship. By the time a man had regained his senses he was out at sea, and firmly stuck aboard ship at the mercy of the captain and supporting crew. A popular local story is told of a Savannah police officer who happened by for a drink on his way home and wound up taking a two-year forced tour of the Far East before he could get back home.

Although pirates had been a real menace up and down the eastern coast, by the time The Pirates’ House was originally constructed most of the pirates had been run out of town. But the privateers—men who had a “letter of marque” granting them the legal right to raid ships belonging to other nations—rivaled the danger of pirates any day. The famous French privateer, Jean Lafitte, stayed at The Pirates’ House many times between dates aboard ship.

Supposedly it was, in part, The Pirates’ House that helped inspire Robert Louis Stevenson and the characters of his popular “Treasure Island.”

Laughter is often heard coming from the unoccupied upstairs, and many people have reported seeing a scarred and ragged looking privateer (nicknamed “Captain Flint” now) in the upstairs and basement area. The first floor also hosts a spectre—seemingly a gruff sailor—hangs around the stairs, and another equally charming spirit has supposedly appeared long enough to cast a baleful glare at the cook before disappearing again. Chairs get rearranged nearly nightly in one particular dining area on the first floor and some people have reported feeling physically sick when they report to work at The Pirates’ House.

The site has been investigated twice by the Paranormal Ghost Hunters of North Georgia. The first investigation yielded nothing of great value, but the second investigation did yield photos of orbs as well as some recordings of ghostly voices via EVP.

The Pirates’ House is open to visitors interested in having a meal or a drink and an unobtrusive glance around. If you are more serious about doing an investigation or asking questions about something other than their menu, look them up and call for permission.

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Usually when people think of ghosts, they imagine a disturbing presence that harasses and makes the lives of the living more difficult. But, in the case of the Greenbrier Ghost of the late 1800s, the ghost helped solve a West Virginia murder—the very murder that created the ghost.

Born in the early 1870s, Elva Zona Heaster married Erasmus Stribbling Trout Shue on October 26, 1896. Erasmus (sometimes called Edward) was from out of town, coming to Greenbrier to start a new life as the blacksmith. Zona (as she was called) married the near stranger very quickly in her mother’s opinion, and so the marriage was opposed but not halted.

On January 23, 1897 Erasmus sent Andy Jones (an 11-year-old African American) to the house, supposedly to ask Zona if she needed anything from the store. Jones found her body and ran home to tell his mother. The local doctor, and coroner, arrived within an hour to find the body had been carried upstairs by the apparently grief-stricken husband, Erasmus. Erasmus had already dressed Zona in her “Sunday best”—a dress with a conveniently high and stiff collar tied with a large bow. A veil covered her face and throughout the rudimentary examination Erasmus cradled his wife’s head and upper body and sobbed.

Convinced of the husband’s grief, the coroner announced the death was related to childbirth (as he had been treating Zona for symptoms we can only now presume were related to such a state a few weeks earlier).

At Zona’s wake, people observed Erasmus acting oddly. He was nearly frantic with trying to keep her “comfortable”—wedging her head between a pillow and fabric and maintaining that the large scarf now tied around her neck was her favorite. He kept people back from the body.

Zona’s mother removed the sheet from inside the coffin and tried to return it to Erasmus, but he wanted none of it. Thinking it smelled oddly, Heaster washed it. Oddly, the water turned red then clear. The sheet developed a pink stain. Heaster took it as proof that her daughter had met a foul end. A God-fearing woman, Heaster prayed Zona would return from the grave long enough to tell the truth of what happened to her so that she could find eternal rest.

Zona did cross back over, haunting her mother’s dreams for four nights as she explained the abuse she’d suffered at her husband’s hands and how—in a sudden fit over not having dinner ready for him—Erasmus had broken her neck. In the dream Zona’s ghost turned her head all the way around to illustrate.

Heaster approached the prosecuting attorney and in short order Erasmus was arrested. Her ghostly story was not the only thing to prod him to action, as the rumors had continued to fly about Erasmus’ odd actions.

In jail, Erasmus kept his spirits high, even proclaiming that he would like to have seven wives, and since Zona had been number three and he was only 35, he felt it was still an achievable goal. But then the truth began to come spilling out. Zona’s body had been exhumed and they discovered she had a crushed windpipe and broken neck. The cause of death became “strangulation.” Erasmus’ life before coming to Greenbriar was looked into. His first wife was abused and finally forced into divorcing him. His second wife died under mysterious circumstances.

Erasmus seemed puzzled that he was being charged with murder—hadn’t anyone wondered about young Andy Jones? Was he not suspect?

Although the case against Erasmus was mainly circumstantial, he was convicted and nearly lynched before being moved to the state penitentiary where he died. The ghost story Heaster was prepared to tell in court was ruled inadmissible, but revisited multiple times by the defense in a hope she would be viewed as unstable and a worthless character witness. Zona’s spirit seems to be at peace, never having been spotted since the arrest of her husband.

The house where Zona died still stands and is a private home.

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You can sleep in the bed Jesse James spent the night in, play poker at the same table as Pat Garret and have a drink at the same bar as Buffalo Bill and Wyatt Earp. At the St. James Hotel in Cimarron, New Mexico, you can have the chance to not only see where your favorite historical Wild West figure spent their time, but you may be able to see their paranormal selves as well.

The hotel was built by Henry Lambert and his family in 1872 after Henry’s job as President Lincoln’s White House Chef abruptly ended with the president’s assassination. Henry went west to search for gold, but was waylaid by a wealthy Land Baron in New Mexico. He worked as a private chef to the baron for a few years while he built his own restaurant and saloon. His watering hole was so popular that he added 30 rooms to it and the Lambert Inn was born. The family was proud of the establishment, and by 1880, was considered one of the most gracious hotels west of the Mississippi.

The hotel was so popular that anyone who was taking the Santa Fe Trail spent time here. Take a look at the registry book and you will see the names of everyone who was anyone in the old west. Jesse James, using the alias RH Howard, always stayed in room 14. Wyatt Earp and his family stayed there for three days while traveling to Tombstone. Lew Wallace wrote part of the novel BEN HUR there and popular western novelist Zane Grey wrote all of FIGHTING CARAVANS in the hotel. Buffalo Bill not only met Annie Oakley here, but when they left to start their Wild West Show, they took an entire Native American village from the Cimarron area with them. Billy The Kid, Kit Carson, Bat Masterson, Doc Holliday and ironically, the man who would later shoot and kill Jesse James, Robert Ford, all drank, slept, and were entertained at the St. James.

With so many different characters converging at a time when law enforcement was defined by who had the quicker draw, it is no wonder that in the hotel’s history there have been at least 26 deaths in the saloon, 43 rooms, and restaurant. In 1901, the 400 bullet holes in the roof were repaired. If you look up at the beautiful tin ceiling of the dining room, you can still see 22 bullet holes preserved by the hotel’s current proprietors. Henry had the forethought to build a 3 foot layer of wood between the first and second floors, preventing anyone upstairs getting accidentally shot. With so much death and anger, it is not surprising that there are, at last psychic count, three ghosts inhabiting the hotel. The ghosts’ personalities range from kind and caring to angry and destructive. This does not include the spirits of past patrons that still come to visit the hotel.

The most violent and prevalent ghost is that of a T. J. Wright who haunts room 18, where he was shot to death. It seems that Wright had just won the hotel in a poker game, but was never able to collect his winnings because as he was walking down the hall towards his room, he was shot in the back. Wright stumbled into his room, room 18, and slowly bled to death. The room is the epicenter of some physically violent episodes. Some of the natives of Cimarron say that there have been mysterious deaths linked with those that have entered the room, but that is just rumors. Whether rumor, truth, or a little bit of both, the room is closed off to everyone today.

For some firsthand experience, stay in room 17, the Mary Lambert room of the hotel. Mary was Henry’s wife and took over the hotel’s keeping after her husband’s death in 1913. It seems she has yet to stop, though she herself died in the hotel in December of 1926. She seems to be the protector of the hotel, watching out for it and everyone who stays. The signs that you have met Mary include a cloying floral scent in and outside of her room; tapping on the window of her room if it is left open, only to stop when someone closes it; and some have even witnessed a transparent figure walking the halls.

A spirit that haunts the entire hotel is a very short old man called “little imp”. He likes to play tricks of the employees by taking things and putting them in places where they absolutely do not belong. One story claims that he once stuck a knife in the floor between the two owners of the hotel. His presence seems to be that of the mischievous sort, laughing at those who are surprised or frustrated by his actions.

There are also many occurrences at the hotel that are the product of the many spirits that are just passing through. There are cold spots, the scent of cigar smoke permeates the second floor in the no smoking building, items falling, electronics behave strangely or stop working completely, feelings of being watched, lights turn on by themselves, and the eeriest of all, some have seen the apparitions of cowboys sitting in the saloon or playing cards upstairs.

Today, the hotel is and elegant reminder of the Wild West heyday, there are no phones, radios, or televisions in the original section of the hotel. The current owners annexed the original building with a modern set of rooms with every convenience, but that has not prevented it from some strange happenings. Those who stay in the newest part of the hotel have complained about doors opening and closing by themselves as well as hearing disembodied voices. Visiting the St. James Hotel, you will find crystal chandeliers, brocade wallpaper and velvet draperies if you stay the night, perhaps even a haunt or two.

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