Remember Goliad

Most people in America and even a goodly number of people around the world know the phrase, "Remember the Alamo!" Few people outside of Texas know "Remember Goliad!" Both of these phrases were shouted by the Texan forces on Aril 21, 1836, as they launched a surprise attack on the Mexican forces who were enjoying their siesta. Although outnumbered, the Texans, led by General Sam Houston caught General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna's army totally unprepared for battle and completely routed them. Only 9 Texans were killed and 26 wounded in the engagement while there were 630 Mexicans killed, 208 wounded, and 703 captured, including the president of Mexico, Santa Anna. Texas won its independence and became a nation on that day.

What gave the Texan troops such a thirst for revenge that they showed little mercy even when Santa Anna's troops were running away? There was, of course, the Alamo, where Santa Anna proclaimed there would be no mercy shown to Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie, William Barret Travis, and the other 179 Texas defenders. He commanded his men to put to death everyone and when his men brought him a handful of captured male survivors, he ordered they be bayonetted to death. He then ordered all 182 bodies to be burned in a huge pyre and let a couple of women, children, and one male servant survive in order to spread the word that nobody should stand against him.

After the fall of the Alamo, a Mexican force of 1,400 men led by Santa Anna's chief lieutenant, General Jose de Urrea, continued to march east toward the Presidio in Goliad where Colonel James Fannin commanded 400 men. Sam Houston ordered the Texans to move to Victoria, a more defendable position on the other side of the Guadalupe River. For some reason, Fannin hesitated for several days, and then when he did begin the move, they ran into the main body of the Mexican troops while crossing an open prairie. After fending off four separate attacks on the first day, the Texans spent that night digging trenches. However, in the morning they found they were now totally surrounded by the enemy. Almost out of ammunition, Fannin asked for a parley to prevent his troops from being massacred. General Urrea promised the Texans would be treated as prisoners of war and given clemency. Upon surrender, the Texans were marched back to the Presidio at Goliad and placed under the watchful eyes of Nicolas de la Portilla and his detachment of men while Urrea and his remaining troops continued their march south. 

Santa Anna, however, was determined to fight a war of extermination and ordered Portilla to execute the prisoners. Having conflicting orders from General Urrea and General Santa Anna, Portilla chose to follow Santa Anna's orders. 

On March 27, the prisoners were divided into quarters. While the sick and wounded remained in the chapel, the other three groups were escorted on different roads out of town. The three groups were told they were on missions to gather wood, drive cattle or sail to safety in New Orleans. Believing their captors, the rebels joked and swapped stories as they walked along. When they were ordered to halt a half-mile from the fort, however, the Texans realized their fates. The Mexican guards opened fire as some of the men began running for their lives. Those not killed by gunshots were slaughtered with bayonets. Back at the presidio, the Mexicans stood the wounded against the chapel wall and executed them. Those too wounded to stand were shot in their beds. Fannin, who had been shot in the thigh during the original engagement, was the last to be killed. His three dying wishes were to be shot in the chest, given a Christian burial, and have his watch sent to his family. Instead, Portilla shot Fannin in the face, burned his body with the others, and kept the timepiece as a war prize. In all, nearly 350 men were killed at Goliad.

Santa Anna's treatment of the captured soldiers had the opposite effect of what he intended. He was no longer seen as a brilliant military strategist but a cruel despot. The Goliad Massacre hardened attitudes toward Santa Anna throughout the United States and inflamed and unified the Texas resistance. Less than a month later at the battle of San Jacinto, Sam Houston's men won independence for Texas with the battle cries of "Remember the Alamo" and "Remember Goliad" ringing throughout the Mexican camp.  

Today, almost 185 years later, the old presidio and its adjacent Chapel of our Lady of Loreto still stand. Given the horrific events that happened within and around the site, is it any wonder the walls sometimes echo with the mournful sounds of spirits returning from that troubled and turbulent time? 

Visitors often report feeling "cold spots" and uneasy feelings as they walk around the grounds where Fannin and his men were executed. In 1992, a man named Jim reported strange goings-on. As a former deputy sheriff and a security guard for a number of years, Jim was not a man easily frightened or prone to make up wild stories. Hired for a few nights to watch over some equipment at the presidio that was to be used for the Cattle Baron's Ball, he expected quiet routine nights. On his first night though, just before midnight, the silence was broken by the "eerie, shrill cries of nearly a dozen terrified infants." He swore the sounds indicated "pain and suffering." Although understandably frightened, he tried to find where the sounds were coming from. After several long minutes, he finally determined they were coming from one of the dozen or so unmarked graves that are located near the Chapel of Our Lady of Loreto.

As he shined his flashlight on the spot, the cries abruptly stopped but were immediately replaced by the singing of a women's choir. It sounded like it was coming from the back wall of the old fort, but the beam of his flashlight revealed nothing there. After two or three minutes, the singing stopped and silence returned for the rest of the night. When Jim reported his experience, he was teased by his co-workers, but he is convinced what he saw and heard was real and besides, he is not the only person to report strange things in and around the presidio.

Numerous people have reported seeing a strange, 4-foot-tall friar who suddenly appears by the double doors leading into the chapel. His robes are black, tied around his waist with a rope and his face is concealed with a hood. He then walks barefooted to each corner of the church and seems to bless it before walking to the center of the quadrangle and begins to pray in Latin. 

A woman in a white dress has been reported kneeling and crying by the graves of the children. When seen, she then turns and looks directly at the person before gliding over to a wall and vanishing. A beautiful soprano voice is often heard emanating from one particular room, but upon investigation, there is nobody in the small space. Visitors who stay late often come back from the fort and comment to the staff about the historical reenactors even though there are no reenactors on the property that day. 

It seems there are many restless spirits here. Who are the crying babies? Are they the little lost souls of pioneer infants killed by Indians in a raid or was there an epidemic that took their too-short lives. The woman in white - is her own child buried in one of the unmarked graves? Why does the short friar keep returning? Is his soul in turmoil over so many brave men who were brutally executed? Whose souls are eternally singing beautiful hymns in a choir, unable to leave this chapel? Caught in a timeless web, so many lost souls searching, sorrowing, singing, praying, unable to let go of the life they briefly lived in a little town named Goliad.

Postcard from the Haunted Excelsior House Hotel

I woke up this morning and it was 14 degrees outside. The weather lady said the wind chill was 8 degrees. It reminded me of a road trip my good buddy, Chip, and I took one winter. For a number of years now, about 3 times each year, we pack a few things, leave the women and children behind and head out on a road trip, a "Mancation" if you will. We used to feel guilty going off on a grand adventure to who knows where and not bringing the wives, but now that we're both retired and our main occupation is hanging around the house, it seems the women-folk are more encouraging we do this than they were before.

 Chip and I have been best friends for going on 50 years now, ever since we met in Pensacola, Florida while in the Navy. Somehow we kept getting assigned together and for almost 4 years we saw some "interesting" times together sailing the world's oceans and sleeping about 2 feet from each other, me in the top berthing rack and him in the middle one. It cemented our brotherhood. And now, even though we live in different states, we usually don't go more than a couple of days without touching base with each other just in case we need to argue about something.

I have always enjoyed reading and every time I read about someplace or something interesting, I put it in my "Places To See" spreadsheet and spend many hours researching to find the history and back story of those places and things. I also like to eat so every time I see something like "Top Ten BBQ Places" or "Top Ten Hamburgers," I add those to my spreadsheet too. Over the years, I've noted almost 500 of these places and it's my intention to visit them all and write about the more interesting ones. Call it my retirement job.

In order to check out some of these places, Chip and I had made plans to go on a Texpedition; driving around Texas to see some of those sites and eat at places recommended. We made reservations for our first night at a hotel that is reputed to be one of the most haunted in the whole state, the Excelsior House Hotel in Jefferson, Texas.

The day before our scheduled departure, Chip drove the 325 or so miles to my house and spent the night. We planned to get an early start the next morning but became a bit concerned when the weather forecast called for severe cold down Texas-way over the next few days. No problem we figured, as I have a good truck with new tires and we'll just take our big coats and bundle up.

A little after night changed to day, we headed out in clear, balmy 39-degree weather. After stopping for breakfast at a nearby IHOP, we turned the truck southeast and hit the road. Riding along we had much great fun in the typical fashion of two male friends on a road trip - crude humor, tasteless jokes, and numerous castings of dispersion on each other's mental capacity, driving ability, looks, and tastes in women, movies, books, and cars. During these times, we often solve all the world's problems - if people would just listen to us!

Interesting ice formed on the hub of my truck

About a hundred miles into the trip, we noticed clouds rolling in and the outside temperature gauge showed a steady decrease. It began to rain which rather quickly turned to sleet. Being the manly men we think we are, a quick conference decided since we were halfway there already, to just keep going. Soon though, we went down some backroads, roads that the locals evidently knew to stay off of when ice falls from the sky. The sleet got heavier and the roads became icy. Our talk turned to quiet as the tick, tick, tick of the sleet on the truck became heavier and our anxiety grew. I slowed down to about 20 miles per hour as the truck kept sliding from one side of the road to the other. Driving a pick-up in conditions like this with nothing but a couple of suitcases in the covered back is not fun. Thinking more weight might help, we stopped in a town and filled up with gas. The truck was covered with ice which fell off in sheets as we opened the doors.

Somehow, a few miles later, we arrived at our destination without getting stuck on the side of the road or rolling over in a ditch. The drive had taken a lot longer than expected, but we were still a little early for check-in at the Excelsior House. We went inside to let them know we were there so don't give our room to someone else. The front desk lady was extremely nice and told us we could go on to our room since it was ready. She also told us the Garden Club was holding a chili supper in the dining room that evening and we were welcome to have some really good homemade Chile if we wanted. She didn't have to ask us twice!  

Located in the heart of Jefferson's Riverfront district, the Excelsior House is the 2nd oldest continuously operating hotel in Texas (the Menger Hotel in San Antonio is slightly older). Around 1855, riverboat captain William Perry realized there was a need for a hotel in the rowdier part of Jefferson so he purchased land and built a hotel he named "Irving House." After Captain Perry died, the hotel was bought and operated by a succession of owners. In 1877, it was purchased by Kate Wood and renamed the Excelsior House. Over the years, additions were constructed and it underwent several restorations until it was sold to the Allen Wise Garden Club in 1961. Since then, many volunteers have spent thousands of hours updating and restoring the hotel. Each room has been furnished with period antiques harking back to its glory days.

Many famous historical figures have spent nights in these rooms. Presidents Grant, Hays, and LBJ have signed the guest register as well as folks like W.H. Vanderbilt, John Jacob Aster, Oscar Wilde, Steven Speilburg, and Jay Gould, who wanted to bring the railroad to Jefferson. When the city fathers turned him down, he put a curse on the town and left. He promised the end of Jefferson and said "grass will grow in the streets and bats will roost in the church belfries." Gould's curse almost came true when the town's steamboat port had to close and the population went from 35,000 to 1,000. To serve as a reminder of what might have been, the Garden Club purchased Goud's custom-built railroad car, placed it across the street from the hotel, and today offers guided tours through it.

Stories of the hauntings of the Excelsior House are numerous with many people who do not know each other and are unaware of the stories all telling of the same, strange and unexplainable happenings. Several of the rooms are named after the historical people who slept in them. While there are three rooms that seem to be the most haunted, the Gould Room is by far the most famous. There have been many reports of an ethereal headless man who has been seen walking the hallway outside the Gould Room. A number of guests have told of a woman in black sitting in a rocking chair rocking a baby in the Gould Room. It appears there is a least one ghost who likes to lightly touch people on their face or tickle their neck while they sleep. Sometimes it will yank the covers off in the middle of the night. Voices speaking in German have been heard coming from rooms where nobody was staying. Many reports have been of guests smelling a strong perfume in one room which quickly dissipates when the room is entered. A well-liked prostitute known as Diamond Bessie, tragically murdered in the nearby woods, used to stay in the room and was known to always wear a strong, sweet-smelling perfume. 

The famed movie director, Steven Spielberg, was booked to stay in the Excelsior House in the early 1970's while filming Sugarland Express. As it happened, he was given the Jay Gould Room. According to him, as soon as he walked into his room, he felt uneasy, as if someone was watching him. It had been a long, hard day and he wanted to lay down for a few minutes so, dismissing his unease, he walked on into the room and casually tossed his briefcase onto a rocking chair in the corner of the room. The briefcase immediately flew back into his face, as if it had been thrown back at him. He decided to go eat and get to bed early, but when he returned and lay down, he had trouble sleeping, again feeling as if someone was watching him. Finally drifting off, he was suddenly awakened by a little boy tugging on his nightshirt and asking if he was ready for breakfast. While staring wide-eyed at the little boy, the figure slowly vanished and through the apparition, Speilburg could see the rocking chair in the corner rocking back and forth. It was only 2:00AM, but he got up, packed his things, woke up his film crew, and made everyone drive 20 miles to the nearest Holiday Inn where they stayed for the rest of their time filming around Jefferson. After filming on "Sugarland Express" ended, Spielberg wrote the screenplay for his next movie, "Poltergeist."

Our Room

When Chip and I arrived, we found the lobby area to be filled with interesting old pictures and antiques. The lady who checked us in, gave us an old-fashioned room key and told us how to get to our room in "the original section of the hotel." She informed us they had turned on the wall furnace so the room should be warm, but if we needed, there were extra blankets and quilts in the wardrobe. Grabbing our bags from the truck, we passed through a door from the lobby, walked a short way down a hall and hauled our bags up a skinny flight of stairs which creaked and groaned with each step. On the 2nd floor, we turned left to the end of the hall to our room. While inserting the key into the lock, the door creaked open. It had not been locked. I guess the maid just forgot to lock up.

On entering and closing the door, we found the room to be clean and fully furnished with old antique furniture except for the flat-screen TV. The bathroom was antique as well with an old sink and claw-footed tub, but there was also a tiled shower stall and, of course, the toilet. It was only then I started remembering some of the stories I had read - a rocking chair in the corner of the room, two beds with carved, wooden head and footboards made of Circassian Walnut, a large wooden wardrobe, a club-footed tub - we were in the Jay Gould Room! In for a dime, in for a dollar, and besides, who really believes in ghosts? As we unpacked a few items, it seemed the room, even with the ancient wall furnace turned all the way on high, was not warming up. After such a tiring drive and it being several hours until the chili supper, we decided to take naps. The outside temperature was in the upper 20's and it didn't seem to be much warmer in our room. Covering up with the covers on our respective beds, we both crashed.

Waking up a while later, we noticed the door was slightly ajar. I was sure I had locked it before my nap. Worried that maybe someone had come in and taken something, we took inventory of the things we had brought up with us. Everything was right where we had placed it except for one thing - Chip's iPad. We searched high and low, in his suitcase, everywhere. Nope, it was not there. Finally, I asked, "Are you sure you brought it in from the truck?" "I'm pretty sure," he replied. "Well, let's get bundled up again, go outside and look in the truck just to be sure." We searched the truck. Not there either. Well, crap. We locked the truck doors and started to head back inside to report the theft when Chip said, "Hey, here it is!" And there, wrapped in its black leather case sitting on top of my black pickup bed cover, now under a good 1/4" of sleet pellets, was his iPad, right where he had set it while getting his suitcase out of the truck. It had been sitting out in public in full view of anyone passing by for several hours in mid-20's temp and getting covered in sleet. We rushed back inside, back to our room and found the door once again partially open. Chip turned on his iPad and low and behold, the thing started right up!

Our bathroom - before the deep freeze

Before heading down to the "new" section of the hotel to the dining room, we turned our attention to the door that wouldn't stay closed. After several minutes, we figured out that if you lifted up on the door, the lock would fit into the cutout and be secure. Our haunted door was nothing more than a misaligned lock.

Getting back downstairs and milling around with some of the Garden Club members while waiting for the chili and fixings to be spread out on a table, we talked with the lady who had checked us in. She said it should be quiet for us tonight as we were the only ones in "the old section." I asked her, "Do you mean anything by saying it "should" be quiet for us tonight?" "I'm not sure I know what you mean," she replied. So I asked her, just to be sure, "Which room are we in?" "Oh, you guys are in the Jay Gould Room, one of our most comfortable. If you need anything, Phyllis will be the night manager on duty." Seeming to not want to answer any more questions, she excused herself and walked away.

The chili was great. There must have been ten different topping choices, free sweet tea, and cupcakes for dessert. Everyone was friendly and we had a number of good conversations. Several of the Garden Club members seemed to make funny, sideways glances before edging away from us when they found out we were staying in the Gould Room, but that was probably just my imagination. After eating our fill, we headed back to our room for a good night's sleep.

The door that refused to stay locked

It was quiet going back to our room and very obvious we were indeed the only guests in the whole section. Arriving at our door, once again, the damn thing was ajar. I was positive I had jimmied the door so it locked securely when we left earlier. Entering the room, it seemed even colder than before. Chip took a chair and jammed it up against the door to ensure it stayed closed and nobody could get in while we slept. We fired up our laptops to check email and the news. It had gotten colder outside with the temperature now down to 18F. I don't know how cold it was in our room, but it was cold, damn cold. We got ready for bed by pulling out and dividing up all the blankets and quilts in the wardrobe and piling them on those already on the beds. Keeping our clothes on, we crawled under about 25 pounds of covers on our respective beds. Quite often, we will stay up late talking lies and telling sad truths we hope the other will think are lies, but not this night, not when it's so cold you can actually see your words leaving your mouth. 

It was warm under all those covers and I slept pretty comfortably through the night. No weird sounds, no empty creaking rocking chairs, no covers pulled off and nothing touched my face or neck. Evidently, it was too cold even for restless spirits. What was really hard was crawling out of those covers into our very cold room. Eventually, my bladder told me cold or not, you better get out of bed and take care of business. In the bathroom, I held things up as looking down into the toilet, I found it was a solid hunk of ice. I turned to the sink and turned on the hot water - nothing. I tried the tub and the shower - not even a drop of water. The pipes were frozen. I turned on the TV as I told Chip he needed to get up since we had to go find a bathroom somewhere. The weather guy on the TV informed us the temp had dropped to 8 degrees - a record low for that day!

The hallway outside our room where

a headless man is said to walk

Grabbing our overnight kits, we headed over to the newer section hoping to find a suitable place to take care of our needs. The chair against the door was still in place so we moved it out of the way and quickly went down the stairs. In the lobby, it was, thankfully, much, much warmer. We met Phyllis and after telling her about our frozen pipes, she heartily apologized and showed us to a little bathroom. She explained they only serve breakfast on weekends (we were there on a weekday), but she had a fresh pot of coffee going and she broke out some breakfast muffins. 

After a couple of muffins each and starting on our 2nd cup of coffee, we got to talking with Phyllis about the hotel. She gave us a wonderful little tour and told us all kinds of interesting information about each of the many pictures on the walls and items in the display case. She showed us the famous signatures in the hotel's register. We got her to talk about the hauntings and she admitted sometimes late at night, she would hear things - footsteps, voices. But she claimed nothing bad had ever happened and she didn't get scared. She also told us about the old hotel across the street, The Jefferson. She informed us that the Excelsior is famously haunted, but in her opinion, the Jefferson has more ghosts and some of them are not nearly as innocuous as the Excelsior's. 

The courtyard from the balcony outside

our room. That's not snow, it's sleet

She told a wonderful story about a poor fella that accepted a job as night clerk at the Jefferson. Since the nights sometimes were long and dark when there were few or no guests in either hotel, they would cross the street and visit to pass the time. One dark night, she saw the gentleman run out of the front door, jump in his car, and drove away like a bat out of hell. That would be the last time she ever saw him. He called her the next day to say he couldn't take it anymore and he would never go back. He said he had heard footsteps on the 2nd floor and knowing there were no guests that night, he went upstairs to find out who had snuck in. He walked all the way down the hall, not seeing or hearing anything until he came to the end of the hall when all of a sudden the locked door to the room swung open and he saw a pair of red eyes staring at him. He turned and ran back down the hall, but the disembodied red eyes followed him and as it went by the individual rooms, each and every door slammed open! The eyes followed him all the way to the front door as he ran away screaming. The gentleman and his wife quickly sold their house, moved away, and have never been back.

The fountain in the courtyard in the morning

As we checked out, Phyllis talked about her husband and how he goes fishing nearly every day on nearby Caddo Lake. She said she doesn't mind because when he stays home, he gets bored and finds things to fix, but he's not very good at it and just generally gets in her way. She then jokingly said, "If you meet my husband, don't tell him what I said!" Before heading out the door, we asked for her recommendation of a place to get breakfast and she directed us to the Port Jefferson Outpost, "the place where the locals go."

The Outpost just before the local guys arrived

Following Phyllis's directions, we found the Outpost a few blocks away. The front 3/4 of the store is one of those little Mom-&-Pop places that sell all kinds of things like scented hand-made soap, knick-knacks, signs, sauces, and jams. Go all the way through though and in the back is an ordering counter, several picnic tables, and a sit-down counter. On a little table at the end were several urns of hot coffee where you can help yourself. The girl we gave our order to was very nice and a full breakfast was very reasonably priced. We wondered a little if this really is where the locals come since we were the only customers. However, just a few minutes after we sat down, a couple of older gentlemen came in, then a man and his wife, then a few more guys, all wearing gimme hats from Massey Ferguson, Farmall, John Deere, or Janes Farm and Feed. Everyone was friendly, smiled, and said hi. Finally, a bearded gentleman in another gimme hat strolled in and everybody called him by name. He was obviously a popular guy. Getting a cup of coffee and telling the counter girl he would have his usual, he came over and took the last open seat which just happened to be next to us. They all talked about fixing tractors, barn roofs, and boat motors, but mostly they discussed fishing - were the fish biting, where are they biting, what are they biting and who all is going fishing today. The conversation took a lag so Mr. Popular turned to us and stated with authority, "You guys aren't from around here." Every head in the room was focused on us, wanting to know our story. We told him no, we were just passing through and had spent last night at the Excelsior House. "Oh," he exclaimed, "then you must have met my wife, Phyllis!"

Small world! We talked about various things for a while and then the guys started drifting out one-by-one to go fix something or to go fish. Our breakfast was finished so with bellies full and cups of coffee for the road, we said our goodbye's to Phyliss' husband and headed out for our next destination, the town of Uncertain. Don't worry, Phyliss, we never said a word.

Bye-Bye Spooky New Orleans

With only one day left in our New Orleans adventure, the Mama-woman and Youngest-daughter wanted to visit the Audubon Aquarium of the Americas and do some shopping while I wanted to visit the acclaimed World War II Museum. They had no interest in my museum and I had no interest in more shopping so it was adios, catch you later, see ya and off our separate ways we did go.

The WWII museum is very extensive and informative. I thought the ticket price was a bit high at $22 per person. but if you are active military or a veteran, you get a real nice discount so I paid a much more reasonable $13. Following the displays and artifacts through the maze-like corridors proved to be a bit of a challenge as the proper chronological route is not always clearly marked and several times I found myself in rooms I had already seen and had to backtrack to figure out what turn I had missed. Other than that minor complaint though, I found it to be interesting and would certainly recommend it. Allow yourself 3 or 4 hours to go through it.

Amazing architecture throughout the city,
but especially in the French Quarter

Later that afternoon, I hooked back up with the women folk and we just walked around, taking pictures and enjoying the sites until we were able to meet the Sis-in-law for supper. She just happened to be in New Orleans attending a business conference during the last 2 days of our visit, but couldn't get away to meet up with us until after the conference was over. While waiting for our food to be delivered, we told her about the ghost tour we had gone on the previous evening and she told us of her own interesting experience the night before. While we paid good money in search of ghosts, she actually had a frightening up close personal ghost encounter and it came free with her room!

When she decided to attend the conference, she simply picked one of the hotels nearby. She made her reservation at the Hotel Chateau Dupre' not knowing it has the reputation of being haunted. It wouldn't have mattered to her anyway. She had an open mind, but didn't actually believe in "any of that nonsense."  And the first night, absolutely nothing happened except she got a good night's rest in the old, but well-kept room. It was the second night that challenged her non-belief.

After being at the conference all the next day and then going out to eat with some of her business associates, she returned rather late to her room ready to relax and prepare for the following day's activities. Her "room" actually consisted of 2 rooms - the bedroom and a sitting room with a television which led to the bathroom. She had just settled into the bed with all of the lights out when she heard a noise. It sounded like someone slowly, softly walking across the room. She was looking toward the sound trying to see something when the light in the sitting room came on. Scared now and certainly unnerved, she called out, "Is somebody there?" All was quiet for several seconds when the TV came on! 

Entrance to the Hotel Chateau Dupre

She was pretty freaked out now, but was sure she had locked the only door into her room and absolutely knew nobody was in the room before turning out the lights. She worked up her nerve, slowly got out of bed, picked up a large bag of rather heavy written material she had brought back from the conference, and tip-toed to the sitting room. When she looked in, nobody was there! She turned on all of the lights in the whole room, checked the bathroom and was positive nobody was there. She decided it must just be something weird going on with the electricity in this old building so she turned off the TV and all of the lights and went back to bed.

She was laying there trying to calm her nerves and go to sleep when once again, the light came on and a few seconds later the television came on, this time with the sound turned up! This time she was just mad so she got up, marched into the sitting room and saw again that nobody was there. At least, nobody visible. She spoke in her most authoritarian voice and said, "OK, enough of this! I'm tired and I have a big day tomorrow so I need to get to sleep!" She reached over, turned down the volume very low on the TV and said, "I'll leave the TV on for you to watch, but don't turn up the volume. And I'll leave 1 lamp on over here for you, but do not turn on the big light overhead and YOU LEAVE ME ALONE SO I CAN SLEEP!" She went back to bed, pulled the covers up to her chin and went to sleep with no more problems from her unseen visitor that night.

Room 203 - where a spirit likes to play tricks on guests?

The next morning, not only had she not been bothered the rest of the night, but when she went through the sitting room into the bathroom, she noted both the TV and the side lamp were turned off!  She was taking a shower when she noticed the shower curtain moving a little peculiar  As she watched, she could make out a hand that was gently  brushing from left to right! Once again, she screwed up her courage and peeked out from the end the furthest away from where the indention was moving. As soon as she looked, the indention and shadow disappeared and she saw absolutely nothing. She said, "I told you to stop it. Now leave me alone!" And that was the end of any eerie activity.

Now I've known this lovely lady very well for many, many years and I've never in all that time known her to not tell the truth or even embellish a story. Still, I asked her if she was yanking our chains and she assured me she was telling the absolute truth. I was really impressed. If that had happened to me and I was by myself, I'm not so sure I wouldn't have gone running out of there screaming like a little girl and demanding a different hotel or at least a different room!

Youngest-daughter not so sure she wanted to go into the
Hotel Chateau Dupre'

With bellies full of food, we parted so she could catch her flight back home and we went back to our non-haunted hotel to pack and get ready to head home ourselves early the next morning. It had certainly been interesting and we had totally enjoyed our time in this unique city. If you've never been to New Orleans, you don't know what you're missing. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

The inside of the St. Louis Cathedral

Another picture inside the St. Louis Cathedral

Beads left over from Mardi Gras. Notice some person's sense of
humor - One "Day"

Entrance to Saint Louis Cemetery - eternal home to Voodoo
Queen Marie Laveau and many other voodoo practitioners 

The Saint Louis cemetery is supposedly 1 of the 10 most
haunted places in America

Postcard From Haunted New Orleans - Part 2

continued from Part One. 

Chief Dunderhead finally returned and gathered his flock to continue the tour. I noticed we were down to about 16 from the original 22 folks who started the tour. We moseyed over to the Beauregard-Keys House at 1113 Chartres Street. The house was built in 1826 for a rich auctioneer, Joseph LeCarpentier, but the name given to the house comes from 2 other residents, Confederate General P.G.T. Beauregard and the author Frances P. Keyes.

Chief Dunderhead holding forth at the
Beauregard-Keys house.

This house is the scene of what is perhaps the most spectacular haunting in the city. There have been reports that late at night, there is sometimes a ghostly replay of the Civil War Battle of Shiloh where more than 3,500 men were killed and General Beauregard had a major role. Men with mangled arms and blown off faces wander around the house. Severed human limbs float in the air and the cries and moans of wounded men and dying horses fill the air. The furious sounds of war are heard, guns and cannons firing a deadly hail of lead and the smell of blood and death fills the air. 

The house has been converted into a museum now and the current caretakers say the story a ghostly battlefield is nonsense. The do admit though, there is certainly some unexplained goings on in the house and they also admit none of them will stay in the house during the night because "it gets kind of spooky in here." They report the windows will often rattle in their frames, even when there is no wind. They feel cold spots as they walk the halls and sometimes feel a cold hand brush against their arm. The worst though is the feeling that they are not alone even when they are obviously in a room by themselves. They say it feels as if someone is watching them.

The house is supposedly also home to a rare animal entity. Two psychics both stated they feel it is a dog named "Lucky," the pet of Frances Keyes when she lived in the house. When Ms. Keyes died in 1970, the faithful dog quit eating and drinking and would not leave the bed side. The poor dog laid there whining and crying until she too died just 2 days later. Caretakers and visitors have told of hearing a dog running down the hall behind them, but when they turn to look, there is nothing there. One time, a blind visitor with a seeing-eye guide dog was on a tour of the house. Upon entering the bedroom where both Ms. Keyes and Lucky died, the guide dog stiffened, raised its hackles and began to nervously shake and whimper. The visitor said, "Oh, you have a dog in here." The guide told her there had not been another dog in the house since 1970. "No," the visitor replied, "My dog never acts like that unless he sees another dog." As soon as the group left the bedroom, the guide dog calmed down and was once again his normal, calm self.

Another resident, Paul Munni, was a world champion chess master. While living there, he went insane. His last night alone in the house, he came running out naked, holding an ax and screaming. He ran through the streets trying to kill anybody he could get near, but fortunately, everyone managed to get out of his way or hid until he passed by. Police finally subdued him and hauled him off to an asylum. In addition to being a chess genius, Mr. Munni loved to play the piano and was very adept at it. The police have been contacted by people who do not know the building's history who were passing by late at night and heard beautiful piano music accompanied by a man screaming. When police respond, there is nobody in the house.

The sun has fully set by the time we leave Beauregard, Keyes, Munni and Lucky. I give the tour guide props for telling some good stories (when he's not talking about himself), but there hasn't been anything scary or weird yet. Now it's dark though and I got a bit of a spooky feeling at the Lalaurie house. The Lalaurie Mansion is considered to be the most haunted spot in perhaps the most haunted city in America. With the proven facts of the evil and depravity that went on there, if any place deserves to be haunted, it's this place. The story is not for the squeamish or faint of heart.

Dr. Louis Lalaurie and his wife Delphine moved into the 3-story mansion in 1832 and the place became well known for the lavish social affairs the doctor and his wife hosted. Guests dined on fine food served on exquisite imported china. The chairs and couches were covered in Oriental fabrics. Delphine carried herself in style and always exuded her belonging in the highest of society and she and her two daughters were known as the finest dressed ladies in the city. But there was another side to Delphine, some say a truly insane side. It was a side only a few were allowed to see, much to their sorrow.

Lalaurie Mansion (photo courtesy of  
Wikimedia Commons)

With their wealth, the Lalaurie's owned dozens of slaves who saw to their every need and kept the mansion in pristine condition. And Delphine treated them horribly. On days when she held a party, out of eyesight of the guests of course, she chained her cook to the fireplace in the kitchen until everyone had eaten their fill and departed. She would become angered if she found dust on any furniture and would chain the maid to a wall and use a horse whip on them. Eventually, the neighbors began whispering that something was not right in the Lalaurie house. Screams of pain could sometimes be heard. The slaves seemed to disappear and new ones replace them too often to be normal. 3 different stable boys came and went in a matter of months and none of them were ever seen again. One day a neighbor was returning home when she heard a scream and witnessed a small slave girl, Lia, aged 12 and known to be Delphine's personal maid, being chased across the flat roof of the mansion by Delphine with a whip in her hand. The young girl reached the edge of the roof and without hesitation, jumped to her death. The neighbor then witnessed Delphine emerge from the house with a shovel, grab the dead girl by the arm and drag the body into the small back yard where she dug a shallow grave and buried it.

Even though the law in those dark days allowed slavery, there was a law against mistreatment of slaves. The neighbor reported what she had seen to the authorities and all of the Lalaurie slaves were confiscated and resold. Unfortunately for them, Delphine persuaded other members of her family to buy all the slaves and then give them back to her.

The stories of something strange going on in the house continued and soon, party invitations were being declined and the Lalaurie's were no longer being invited to social events. In short order, they were being politely ignored by other members of high society. Then one day a fire, perhaps set by the cook who couldn't take any more abuse, broke out in the kitchen and raced through the house. Firefighters managed to extinguish the blaze, but in the process, a hidden, secret door was found in an upstairs hallway.

Behind the door, firemen found 12 slaves chained to the wall. Men, women, and several children, all naked and in pitiful condition. Several more were chained to homemade operating tables. Two were painfully compressed and confined in dog cages. Their arms and legs had been broken to fit them into the cages. Human body parts were strewn around; heads and severed limbs were found in buckets. Whips and board paddles were hung from the walls and men's severed body parts were lined up on a shelf like trophies. There were more sick depravities visited on these poor people, but I'll stop the description here. It was reported the firemen, men who in their careers had seen human bodies in horrible situations, retreated from the room and threw up. Needless to say, only a truly sick, psychotic mind could even think of such things, much less actually doing them.

When word got out of the discovery, a mob carrying hanging ropes surrounded the house. Before they could break in however, a carriage pulled by 2 horses burst from behind the gate and the Lalaurie's made their escape. Nobody knows for sure where they went or what happened to them as they were never seen in New Orleans again and there has been no record discovered about them after that day.

Within days, the house had been broken into, ransacked and left in damaged condition. It stood vacant for years until a man purchased it from the city for a pittance. He began repairs and moved in, but stayed only 3 months before fleeing. He told the neighbors he couldn't take the screams and moans any more. Again, it remained empty for years. Even the homeless who went inside for shelter would not stay and would even come running out into a cold rainstorm in the middle of the night. Over the years, a few people tried to use the place; it was turned into apartments, but invariably, tenants would leave in a few weeks in spite of the extremely low rent being charged. One tenant left in the middle of the night and told the manager a naked black man had attacked him, but when he screamed, the naked man vanished. One young mother left when she awoke one night to find an elegant woman dressed in fine clothing bent over the crib holding her baby. When the mother made a sound, the entity looked at her with "evil eyes" and disappeared. There were claims of pets being butchered. Children were supposedly attacked by a smoky phantom welding a whip. Everyone complained of hearing moans and cries.

The house at one point was turned into a saloon named appropriately enough, "The Haunted Saloon." It closed when the owner kept having trouble with employees abruptly quitting. It was turned into a furniture store which wasn't successful. The owner thought vandals were breaking in at night because he would find the inventory covered in a black, stinking liquid. After this happened several times, he spent the night in the store with his shotgun and was positive nobody had gotten in, but in the morning, he once more found his merchandise covered in the strange liquid. He closed the store that same day.

Nicolas Cage purchased the house in 2007, but suffered financial setback after his purchase and the property was foreclosed on Friday the 13th, 2010. He never spent a night in it. Today, the Lalaurie Mansion is owned by Regions Bank and has been totally renovated and turned into luxury apartments. Rumor has it that priests and an exorcist were brought in to cleanse the building. Maybe that worked. However, perhaps there's still something there. You may notice the picture posted here is from a royalty-free source rather than one I took like the others. I have a very dependable Nikon 35mm digital camera that I keep in very good condition. It has never given me any trouble and takes great pictures. I took several shots of the Lalaurie Mansion and when I looked at them after taking the picture, they looked fine. When I got back to our hotel and downloaded them to my computer, the pictures were nothing but white. I looked on the card - white. I didn't change any settings and the pictures I took before and after are perfectly fine, just not the Lalaurie Mansion photos. Chill bumps on my arms!

Our next destination was a bar which used to be a house of ill repute and I'm sad to say, it was kind of forgettable. Again, Chief Dunderhead claimed it belonged to a friend of his and urged us to buy drinks as we went into a back outdoor patio which had a somewhat large tree in it. The story here was that a young prostitute, new to the profession, fell in love with a sailor. He asked her to marry him and said he was going to make one more voyage overseas to earn enough money to buy a house for them. She faithfully kept going to the docks waiting and watching for his ship to return, but it was long overdue and assumed to be lost at sea with all hands. The older ladies made fun of her for thinking she could escape the life she had been forced into by circumstances. One night, deep in despair, she made her way into the courtyard and hung herself from the same tree under which we sat. Supposedly, there have been reports that some nights a wispy, ghostly female can be seen hanging from the tree. I intently looked, but probably needed several more adult beverages before I would be seeing anything hanging from the tree other than a few leaves.  To be honest, the bar wasn't that interesting and Chief Dunderhead told the story like he was more than ready to end this thing and join his friend at the bar. It was a disappointing ending to the tour.

Back to our car parked at Jackson Brewery after
the ghost tour.

I counted the people sitting around the tables in our group when we broke up and found there were only 13 of us left. Seems to me that when almost 50% of your group leaves a walking tour before it is over, then maybe it wasn't exactly the biggest thrill. There were certainly parts that were interesting. Talking to some of the other folks in our group was fun. The way our guide kept urging us to buy drinks from his friend's bars kind of irked me and probably contributed to my less than thrilled feelings for the tour. I think you can do better and get out cheaper by buying one of the many "ghosts of New Orleans" books and mapping out a walking tour of your own. That's what we'll do the next time we are in New Orleans, and there will definitely be a next time. We're already looking forward to it, but I'm pretty sure we'll give the Lalaurie Mansion a wide berth!
 

Postcard From Haunted New Orleans - Part 1

No building or office for Haunted History Tours - just this
sign and a card table set up on the sidewalk.

Ghosts and goblins all year 'round! New Orleans has a long history filled with pirates, battles, voodoo practitioners, evil people, deranged people, sinister people, bloodshed and natural disasters with much loss of life. Is it any wonder it is well deserving of its reputation as one of the most haunted places in America? And one of the more successful businesses in town is Haunted History Tour. For $25 per adult and $14 per child, it seemed like an OK deal, especially since I qualified for the senior discount of $7 off. We signed up and, as instructed, were at Reverend Zombie's Voodoo Shop 30 minutes ahead of the 6:00 pm tour start time.

Our tour guide and his dog.

Along with 19 other thrill seekers, the Mama-woman, Youngest-daughter and I eagerly waited across the street from the card table set up on the sidewalk in front of the Voodoo shop (which led to several concerns about this being a fly-by-night operation and the safety of our credit card number) for our tour guide. A rather strange-looking guy with long grey hair wearing a silk puffy shirt, black pants, derby hat and a small dog on a red leash finally made his way over to us at 6:10. He told us he was going to tell us stories that were profound and profane and if anybody was easily embarrassed then we should get our money back and go away. I found him to be cocky and very condescending, but we'd done paid our money so...

We walked a couple of blocks down the road to the back of the St. Louis Cathedral. We stopped and he began telling a story, but first, he informed us that he was "the real deal," born and raised in the swamps around New Orleans and a full-blooded Indian. He lives in the French Quarter and knows all the stories and all the people and there are stories told about him. He has plenty of women friends because they find him "interesting, a bit scary, a bit dangerous...and they like my dog." I didn't find him to be any of those things, but his dog was kinda cute.

St. Louis Cathedral

Most people are well aware of the St. Louis Cathedral as it is one of the iconic pictures of New Orleans. Chief Dunderhead (the honorary name I gave our guide in my head) finally got around to telling the interesting history that we didn't know. There have actually been 4 churches where the cathedral now stands. The first, built in 1718, was a small, wooden temporary structure. The building which replaced it was made of brick and timber and completed in 1727. This building completely burned in the great fire of 1788. The building which replaced it was completed in 1794. It contained the famous two round side steeples, but the central bell tower, designed by Ben Henry Latrobe, the architect who designed the White House, wasn't added until 1819. An even larger building was needed by the mid-1850's so a major renovation was undertaken. During this renovation to add more space, the middle bell tower collapsed which caused much more of the building to be rebuilt than was planned. This is the current building which is now over 160 years old.

In 1764, the King of France gave Louisiana to the Spanish in the Treaty of Fountainbleu. The people of New Orleans though, were not informed of this before a group of Spanish soldiers showed up, took down the French flag and replaced it with a Spanish flag. Thinking they were being invaded, the Creole people banded together with six men serving as their leaders and drove out the Spanish soldiers. Of course, the Spanish didn't appreciate this so in 1769, 24 war ships carrying hundreds of fully armed soldiers arrived to assert Spanish ownership. A new merciless governor arrived with the troops and ordered the 6 leaders of the Creole brought to him. They tried to tell him they didn't know about the treaty when they drove out the earlier Spanish, but he paid no heed to their pleas and order them to be hanged in the courtyard of the St. Louis Cathedral. He also issued a decree that nobody was allowed to touch the hanged men; they were to be left hanging until their bodies rotted as a warning to anyone else who dared question his authority. Anyone caught trying to remove the bodies would join them.

The priest of the cathedral, Pere Dagobert, pleaded with the governor, but was told to stop asking or the next time he would suffer the same fate. Soon, the bodies began to stink and birds began to eat the decaying flesh. Even the Spanish soldiers were repulsed and thought the governor had gone too far. Finally, during one stormy night, Father Dagobert gathered the families of the six men, cut down the bodies and placed them in pine boxes. He then loudly sang mass in his clear, distinctive voice and led a funeral procession to St. Peter's Cemetery where the men's remains were buried in unmarked graves. The sympathetic Spanish soldiers conveniently had to go inside for a bathroom break or for protection from the storm and were all temporarily away from their posts so nobody stopped the priest's activities. Word soon got to the governor, but even he figured out that if he hung the beloved priest, there would be such a backlash that he would not be able to trust his own soldiers with his safety. Father Dagobert was replaced by a Spanish monk as leader of the church, but he continued to oversee his flock until he died of natural causes and was honored by being buried under the altar.

For many years, personal sightings and experiences have been reported of Father Pere Dagobert and the 6 unfortunate executed men. Nothing strange seems to happen during the day, but once the cathedral is closed to the general public in the afternoon, witnesses tell of faintly hearing mass sang in a clear, beautiful voice at the altar. The singing then travels down the aisle toward the doors and a bright light moves from window to window until the voice fades as it seems to head out the doors and on toward where St. Peter's Cemetery was located. During stormy evenings, the ghostly image of Father Dagobert often materializes and can be seen by the living, kneeling in prayer. Perhaps he still prays for peace for the 6 executed men, or maybe he simply continues to pray for the safety and well being of the city and church he loved. And whenever he can be seen, visages of the 6 men can also be seen in the shadowy doorways and corners of the church, standing ready to assist him, forever grateful for giving them a proper funeral.

The Andrew Jackson Hotel

Walking to the Andrew Jackson Hotel, stopping along the way so Chief Dunderhead's little dog could leave a deposit on a little patch of grass, he kept up a continuous chatter (Chief Dunderhead, not the little dog who never barked or exhibited any signs of being possessed) of how he is an actor and how he knows all the alleyways and nooks and crannies where the underbelly of New Orleans can be seen. Arriving at the Andrew Jackson Hotel on Royal Street, we found out the structure had been built on the site of an old boarding school which had caught fire in the late 1700's and burned to the ground killing 5 children who were unable to escape. For over 200 years now, hotel guests have reported hearing children playing in the courtyard late at night, especially when the moon is full. Some have reported hearing children laughing and squealing like they are playing chase at 3:00 AM, but when the guest looks in the courtyard to see why children are up so late and making so much noise, even in the bright moonlight they can see there is nobody there, not anybody living anyway. And the noises abruptly stop.

Chief Dunderhead in front of Madame John's Legacy

On Dumaine Street is a house called Madame John's Legacy. It was built for Jean ("John") Paschal, a sailor who was killed in the Natchez Massacre of 1729. His widow remained in the home until 1777. The house served as a set in the movie "Interview With The Vampire" in 1994. The scene is of caskets being carried out of the house and placed in horse-drawn hearses and Lewis (Brad Pitt) reveals Lestat's (Tom Cruise) "mischievous" practice of feasting on French Quarter families. However, the spirits reported in the area are most probably due to the yellow fever epidemic which struck in 1853. In this city of 154,000 people, almost 8,000 died in a few short months. In the month of August that year, 1,186 died the first week, 1,526 died the second week, 1,534 the third week, and 1,628 the fourth week. The streets were deserted from fear as the cause of the disease was unknown at that time. So many people died that bodies in the French Quarter were simply piled up outside on the sidewalks of Dumaine Street to wait for the hospital's death carriages to come by and pick them up. It was not uncommon for there to be several dozen anonymous bodies piled up each day in front of the house now known as Madame John's Legacy. Carriages used as hearses would haul 8 - 10 coffins each to the cemeteries. Confusion and delays at the cemeteries were unavoidable so lines of hearses 2 to 3 miles long were often waiting at the gates. The hot August sun, high humidity, lack of time to embalm any of the bodies and the hastily built simple knot-holed pine coffins containing the quickly decaying bodies rendered the air putrid. It's no wonder the spirits of these poor departed are restless.

The elementary school Mr. Simmons attended.

Chief Dunderhead then led us, after stopping for his dog to squat and pee on the sidewalk, to what he called the scariest building in New Orleans. A frightening person once inhabited this building, a person so scary that grown men whimper just from the thought of him, hardened criminals cringe, Hell's Angels turn and run. It is the elementary school building where Milton T. Simmons went to grade school. Most of us know him as Richard Simmons. And before you leave nasty messages for me, those were Chief Dunderhead's words, not mine. Evidently he considers himself to be a comedian as well.

About 45 minutes of our 2-hour tour had expired with 10 minutes of that spent waiting on the tour to start. We now followed our intrepid guide to a spot which is supposed to be very haunted. Nothing happened while we were there so I can't say anything about the haunting, but the building certainly had some interesting history - Jean Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop on Bourbon Street. The structure was built in 1772 and remained untouched by the great fires of 1788 and 1794. Jean Lafitte and his brother Pierre ran a most profitable business from this building by outfitting and financing pirates who plundered goods from ships at sea and then brought the ill gotten booty back to the Lafitte's business to be sold. Since they avoided government fees and taxes, the goods could be sold far cheaper than the honest businessmen could sell their legal wares and soon, almost everyone else was out of business. Eventually, to speed up the process and to ensure all of the captured goods were brought back to their store, they purchased their own ships and became pirates themselves.

Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop

Jean was a good looking man as well as being rich and welding a lot of influence in the city so he had many mistresses and lovers, but he only had one true love in his life - the wife of the governor of Louisiana. When the governor found out about the affair, Jean had an enemy even more influential than he. The authorities became interested in the Lafitte brother's business and eventually closed it down and arrested not only the Lafittes, but their men as well. The war of 1812 was providential for the brothers. They offered themselves, their men and their ships in service against the British and after valiantly helping to win the Battle of New Orleans, were pardoned by President Madison.

The Lafittes moved their operations to the gulf coast of Texas and went back to being pirates after their pardon. After moving several more times when the heat from authorities became too great, the Lafitte brothers faded from the scene with Pierre dying from an illness in 1821 and Jean supposedly being killed in battle as a pirate while trying to capture several Spanish vessels. Some historians however, claim he survived the battle and returned to New Orleans where he changed his name and retired on his pirate riches.

Jean was known to hide a large stash of gold within the brick walls of the structure's fireplace. For many years now the building has been a neighborhood bar and patrons claim to have seen a pair of red eyes watching them from within the fireplace. There have also been reports of inexplicable cold spots near the fireplace even when there is a roaring fire. Several paranormal investigators have said they feel an aura of "unwholesomeness" near the fireplace. Bar patrons sitting near the fireplace have also reported being touched by a cold hand, but when they turn, nobody is there. Jean is known to have smoked cigars and there is often the distinct aroma of cigar smoke in the area. There have been a number of reports of Jean's ghost materializing in the women's restroom. Evidently, his penchant for women remains even in death. Most disturbing, however, are the reports of people seeing a ghostly Jean appearing in corners looking annoyed at the living and twirling his mustache in his fingers. When seen, the figure quickly disappears. There is a mirror upstairs where Jean lived which is reputed to often have the visage of a woman reflected in it. Perhaps it is Jean's true love, the wife of the Louisiana governor who no doubt enjoyed numerous afternoon trysts in the room. Perhaps it is simply some poor forgotten girl who fell hard for Jean, but was rejected by him after he was finished with her.

Chief Dunderhead then told us he needed a break to wet his whistle and we probably did too and since he is good friends with the owner of Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, we should all try one of the establishment's famous drinks and then take advantage of the bar's bathrooms. And with that, he walked off and left us for the next 30 minutes. We waited for our guide to return and we waited for dusk to become full night. We still had sites to see and Chief Dunderhead told us ghosts come out after dark. Perhaps the best is yet to come.