When it comes to abandoned buildings, penitentiaries might rank only slightly behind psychiatric hospitals in creep factor—and the Old Idaho Penitentiary , with its built-in gallows and death row, may be one of the country's creepiest. Between and , the Boise prison served as a temporary home to more than 13, prisoners —including Raymond Allen Snowden , a. On October 18, , Snowden was brought here to be executed, but the noose that should have broken his neck didn't ; it took 15 minutes for him to suffocate.
In the years since, visitors to the "Old Pen" have reported strange happenings in 5 House and other areas of the former prison, such as hearing odd sounds and voices and being overcome by strong feelings of sadness. The prison is open to the public year-round for paranormal enthusiasts who want to test their mettle.
In the depths of the Great Depression, the Oh Henry Ballroom southwest of Chicago drew young people hoping to dance away their troubles. One night, a teenage girl named Mary had a fight with her boyfriend at a dance and decided to walk home along Archer Avenue. She was killed by a hit-and-run driver and buried nearby in Resurrection Cemetery. Since then, residents have described a girl in a white party dress hitchhiking along the avenue. A cab driver even picked her up, and she asked to be taken to the cemetery.
But by the time they arrived at the gates, Resurrection Mary had vanished. The tiny township of Tunnelton was named for the number of railroad tunnels constructed around it, beginning in the s. One of them, Tunnelton Tunnel a. The Big Tunnel , is one of the Hoosier State's most feared landmarks.
Reportedly, there are a few ghosts who refuse to leave the area, including a man who was beheaded in an accident during the tunnel's construction and still roams the grounds with his head in one hand and a lantern in the other. But the most famous of this tunnel's tenants is Henry Dixon. In , the body of Dixon—who worked as a night watchman for the railroad—was found just inside the tunnel with a gash to the back of his head, his lantern still lit beside him. Dixon's murder was never solved, and locals claim that he still haunts the area seeking justice for his death.
Coe College in Cedar Rapids is said to be haunted by the ghost of a freshman named Helen Esther Roberts, who died after becoming ill in the flu pandemic. As legend has it, the ghost of Roberts set up residence in an old grandfather clock—in Voorhees Hall, her former place of residence—which her parents donated to the school in her memory.
While the clock was being installed, students claimed they saw an apparition hovering over their beds at night, pulling the covers off, and even playing the piano in the lobby, before taking a quick trek to her old room. Some even claimed that the clock would act up or stop working altogether at , the time of Roberts's death.
When the clock was removed in the '70s, the sightings promptly ended at Voorhees Hall. But then they manifested in Stuart Hall—the grandfather clock's new home. People in Hutchinson, Kansas, know not to venture into the surrounding sand hills alone—because that's where the Hamburger Man lives. Some say the monster, horribly mutilated by a fire or car crash sometime in the s, abducts victims by brandishing a long knife or meat hook, and then carries them back to his lair where he grinds them up for dinner.
The locals aren't sure whether the half-human, half-ghost was ever a real person—or why he seems to crave so many burgers. In , just a year after thousands of spectators converged on Pikeville to see the last hanging in the trial of the Hatfields and the McCoys, a newlywed named Octavia Hatcher died. Octavia had fallen into a depression shortly after her only child had died in infancy, and then slipped into a fatal coma. Since it was a hot spring, her husband wasted no time in burying her. But soon doctors began to notice a strange—but not lethal—sleeping sickness spreading through the town.
Panicked, her husband exhumed her casket and found its inner lining shredded with claw marks and his wife's face frozen in a mask of terror. Wracked with guilt, he reburied Octavia and had a tall stone statue of her placed above her grave. Locals say they can still hear Octavia crying, and that once a year—on the anniversary of her death—the statue rotates and turns its back on Pikeville. Louisiana's Cajun communities have an explanation for sleep paralysis: cauchemar, a species of nighttime witch that immobilizes sleepers and rides them like horses.
Some say the cauchemar comes to those who forget to say their prayers before going to bed. Its unfortunate victims lie awake, unable to move, as the cauchemar presses down on their chests, and no matter how much they try to call out, their screams catch in their throats. Some have even reported waking up with marks on their bodies from the bridles and whips that the cauchemar uses to mount and ride sleepers. Beware: Talking about cauchemar increases the likelihood it will visit you tonight. In the midth century, a lighthouse keeper and his wife moved in to the lighthouse on Seguin Island, a acre speck of land two miles out to sea.
To stave off their loneliness and boredom, the man ordered a piano and some sheet music from the mainland, so that his wife could learn to play. Dutifully, she learned her first song—then she played it again and again and again, the same song, every day. Eventually, it drove the lighthouse keeper mad. He took an axe first to the piano, then to his wife, and finally took his own life when he realized what he had done.
Visitors to the island say they sometimes hear phantom piano music, and occasionally catch a glimpse of the lighthouse keeper walking by, still carrying his axe. With thick cypress swamps fringing a black river, the Pocomoke Forest on Maryland's Eastern Shore has birthed several ghostly legends. Folks say that a teenage couple drove into the forest but ran out of gas. The boyfriend went to get help, and the girlfriend was woken in the middle of the night by scratchy sounds on the car's roof.
In the morning she discovered her boyfriend hanging upside-down from a tree and his fingernails trailing on the metal. In another tale, a couple in a car heard a radio report of an escaped murderer with a hook for a right hand. The girl noticed a strange sound outside the car, and when she opened the door, a hook was hanging from the handle.
Locals also talk of fireballs erupting from thickets and a six-fingered sea captain who killed his adulterous wife and bastard child in the forest. The baby's wails still echo through the trees. Minots Ledge, a tiny outcropping of rock rising from the sea a mile off the coast from Cohasset, was a ruthless destroyer of ships and sailors.
Between and , the ledge sank 80 ships and drowned men. But no one knew how to build a lighthouse on such a perilous sliver of rock in the middle of the sea. Finally, in , Massachusetts erected a small granite beacon tower on nine cement pylons grounded on the ledge. One year later, a furious nor'easter hit and set the tower swaying. During a lull in the storm, the lighthouse keeper rowed to the mainland, leaving his two assistants behind to man the beacon. All night, townspeople on the shore heard the lighthouse bell ring furiously, perhaps as a final goodbye from the assistants.
In the morning, the tower was gone, toppled into the sea. The assistants' bodies washed up days later. Passing fishermen say they can still hear their ghosts crying for help. Be careful where you roam at night in western Michigan: The Melon Heads might come after you. Said to haunt the woods near Saugatuck, these childlike figures have oversized heads and mostly white eyes, with irises barely visible above the lower eyelid. They might knock on your car window, or they might stalk you as you walk the dog. Some speculate that the Melon Heads were children in the late 19th century with hydrocephaly who escaped a local hospital where a doctor had been conducting terrible experiments on them.
Be especially wary if you're a young couple making out in a parked car; the Melon Heads like to tap on the windows to get your attention. Ghost hunters have come from all over the country to visit the Palmer House Hotel in Sauk Centre in the hopes of glimpsing a permanent guest: Lucy, a ghost who hasn't forgiven the male gender for her tragic life and even more tragic demise. As the story goes, Lucy was a prostitute who worked in a brothel erected on the future site of the hotel.
It burned down, taking Lucy and other escorts with it. When men pass by, she's said to slam doors and drop the temperature. Guests can ask for Room 17—Lucy's favorite—if they're feeling adventurous. At the center of the historic section of Glenwood Cemetery, Yazoo City's public burial grounds, there's a grave surrounded by a chain link fence.
- Encarnação (Portuguese Edition).
- WPKN’s Favorite Tracks of the Week – 5/29/16?
- Learn the Right Way to Attract Sexy Girls;
- Chocolate Moon.
Local lore claims that the grave belonged to a witch who lived along the Yazoo River, who used to lure fishermen to the shore to torture them. When the Yazoo County sheriff came to arrest her, she fled into the swamp and fell into quicksand. The sheriff found her half sunk. Before she drowned, she swore to take revenge on Yazoo City. No one thought much of her threat, but they fenced in her grave just in case.
Then, on May 25, , a fire nearly wiped out the entire city, spreading quickly on unusually fierce winds. After the fire, Yazoo City residents found the chain link around the witch's grave cut open. An old couple in Overton, who made a trickle of income lodging travelers in their home, decided one night to murder a wealthy boarder and make their fortune. They hid his body, took his money, and used it to build a grand new house.
Years later, as the woman lay on her deathbed, she made her husband promise to keep their secret and never to remarry … but he took a new bride within a year. The people of Overton, disapproving of the widower's impropriety, harassed the couple on their wedding night with catcalls, drums, and rifle shots. But when the man went outside to shush the crowd, he was startled to see a black carriage pull up to the house.
Inside sat a woman, pale as death and dressed in black. Without a word, the man got into the carriage. It drove off and he was never seen again. Ever since, townspeople have spotted the black carriage and interpreted it as an omen of danger. If the legends are true, you'll want to think twice before agreeing to pick up just any hitchhiker. Locals claim that a man known as the Phantom Hitchhiker of Black Horse Lake—a Native American man wearing a jean jacket—appears on the road, then violently smashes against your windshield as if struck by your car.
It is said that the man was involved in a fatal car crash many years ago and has reenacted it ever since. Blackbird Hill, Nebraska, is best known as the gravesite of the eponymous Omaha Indian Chief named Blackbird, who was famously buried sitting upright on his most prized horse. But the hill is also home to one of Nebraska's oldest ghost stories. In the late s, a local man discovered that his wife still had feelings for a long-lost lover. Consumed in a fit of jealous rage, he stabbed his wife and then, in a panic, picked up her body, ran to the cliff on Blackbird Hill, and jumped.
It's said that if you listen closely on October 17, you can hear a woman screaming near the top of that hill. Long before the founding of Las Vegas, a pair of lovers named Timber Kate and Bella Rawhide toured the saloons of Nevada performing a live sex show. One day, Bella abandoned the act and left Kate for a man named Tug Daniels, breaking her former partner's heart. Kate eventually ran into Bella and Tug in a Carson City brothel, resulting in a knife fight. During the melee, Tug murdered Kate, and it's been said that her disheveled ghost still haunts the halls of the bordello.
Before the Portsmouth Music Hall was built on Chestnut Street in , the site was home to the Temple, a public meeting house where black abolitionists like Frederick Douglass spoke against slavery; a Baptist meeting hall; an 18th-century prison; and one of the first almshouses in the colonies. With all that history, its ghosts could be a mixed bag, but they seem to be all about the stage. Audience members have reported seeing a man dressed in clothing so convincingly Victorian, they thought he was an actor—until he faded away.
They've heard shuffling feet near the box office and loud footsteps in the empty hallway. Some have witnessed a shadowy mist blocking their view of the stage, dark shadows passing in front of their seats, or the stage curtains rippling as if someone were walking behind them—but no one was there.
Sounds like at least one phantom is still yearning for some time in the spotlight. Manuel Rionda, a sugar baron living in the wealthy New Jersey enclave of Alpine, wanted to do something nice for his wife Harriet. In , he built a tall gothic stone tower to give her a view of the New York City skyline. But the gesture lost its charm when, sitting atop the tower one day, Harriet spotted Manuel with another woman. With years of fears and suspicions confirmed, Harriet grew despondent and leapt from the tower. Afterward, every time Manuel walked up its stairs, he heard footsteps and sobs or felt the push of a cold, angry hand.
Overcome with guilt and fear, Manuel walled up the tower, vowing that no one should ever climb it again. After his death in the s, construction crews came to tear the tower down, but after several men fell to their deaths, they left the building as it was. One night, as the two danced at an officer's birthday party, a messenger burst in to announce an Apache raid.
Fearing he might not get another chance, Johnny immediately proposed to Celia, who said yes and promised that if he didn't return, she would never marry. Some soldiers died in the fight, including Johnny. Despite her promise, Celia soon married another man. At their wedding ball, a ghoul in uniform appeared, a gash on his head and fire in his eyes.
He pulled Celia from the arms of her new husband as the musicians, entranced, played an eerie waltz. Johnny's spirit danced Celia around the room. She grew pale and died in his arms. Faithful in death, Celia's ghost can still be heard weeping over Johnny's grave. Rumors quickly spread that Sands had been murdered by Levi Weeks , an alleged lover who lived in the same Greenwich Street boardinghouse as Sands did.
With his brother's help, Levi hired an all-star defense team that included Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr—and beat the charges. Ever since, people have reported strange shrieks and flashes of light emanating from the well, which remains untouched in the basement of a clothing store at Spring Street. The infamous pirate Blackbeard—whose real name was Edward Teach—is said to haunt a cove on Ocracoke Island, in the Outer Banks, where he was executed by members of the British navy in Blackbeard's head was severed and hung from the bowsprit of one of the British sloops, and his body tossed overboard.
The body swam around the ship several times before succumbing to its watery grave. Some tales say that a headless figure has been spotted splashing around in the small, sheltered bay, which is known as Teach's Hole. Other reports say Blackbeard has been seen roaming the beaches with a lantern , looking for his lost head. Once a thriving pioneer outpost, today Sims is a ghost town in more ways than one: Its only permanent resident is a spirit.
Known as the Gray Lady of Sims , she's said to be the wife of a minister of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, one of only a few buildings remaining in town. According to legend, she fell ill and died in the church parsonage sometime between and , after which her husband married her sister and left the region. By the mids, the Gray Lady had begun haunting the parsonage's second floor, pulling back the curtains, opening and closing windows, and pumping its well with her invisible hand. Her antics so spooked the congregants, they wrote a letter to a local bishop to complain about the supernatural activity, which they said kept scaring off new ministers.
The spectral figure is said to still haunt the church, which is home to an active congregation. The darkest, most desolate stretch of the Marietta and Cincinnati Railroad ran through Moonville, Ohio. According to local legend, an epidemic once spread through the tiny community and trains were forbidden from stopping there. Running low on supplies, residents sent a volunteer with a lantern to flag down a cargo train on the edge of town.
The idea was that the train's conductor would start to slow down after seeing the man outside town and come to a stop by the time he cleared the passage. But the plan never had a chance to come to fruition: The volunteer was late getting to the tunnel, and the oncoming train struck and killed him before he could reach the other side. Today, the Moonville Tunnel is one of the few remaining landmarks from the defunct mining town, and some visitors still claim to see a ghostly figure carrying a lantern in the darkness.
Others are convinced they've encountered one of the many other souls who are said to have lost their lives at the location. She was to stay there even after she had the baby. However, the despairing housekeeper had other plans and threw herself and the baby out the window. Nowadays, her spirit tends to get a lot of press for terrorizing NBA players. Opponents of the Oklahoma City Thunder typically stay at the century-old hotel, and athletes have reported hearing a baby's cry in their rooms and knocks at their doors. They've also seen drawers open and doors close without reason.
The New York Knicks once blamed a loss on a restless night caused by the prank-playing spirit. The Kuhn Cinema in Lebanon, Oregon is a relic of movie houses gone by—ornate and without the trappings of a generic multiplex. But preserving that kind of legacy isn't without some risk: Legend has it that a theatergoer once plummeted from a second-floor balcony to her death.
Now, her image can be allegedly be seen flickering on the screen, shocking patrons into spilling their sodas. Local lore has it that the rock formation was viewed as a cursed place long before the Civil War. When Confederate and Union troops clashed at the site in July , the craggy boulders gave them a convenient place to hide. Battalions were separated, and men on both sides were ambushed. A few days after the battle ended, Union soldiers returned to the area and found it still littered with the bodies and viscera of the fallen.
Some Confederate soldiers were allegedly tossed into crevices between boulders and left to rot. It's said that the spirits haunting the area sometimes appear in photographs—that is, when photography equipment works there at all. In the late 19th century, the people of Exeter responded to an outbreak of "consumption"—tuberculosis—with an infamous vampire panic that ended in the exhumation, mutilation, and cannibalization of the corpse of Mercy Lena Brown. Science knew little of tuberculosis, and superstitions quickly spread that the wasting away it caused was due to the nefarious influence of undead family members.
Mercy died at age 19 in January , shortly after her mother and her sister. Since her corpse was the best preserved of the three, she was singled out as a vampire and blamed for the illness of her brother, Edwin, who had also contracted tuberculosis. Villagers cut out Mercy's heart, burned it, mixed the ashes with water, and made Edwin drink the concoction. Edwin died two months later. Mercy's spirit still lingers forlornly about her disturbed grave. According to some historians, America's first convicted female serial killer was a Charleston woman named Lavinia Fisher , who ran an inn called the Six Mile House with her husband John.
Most of Lavinia's victims were wealthy men traveling alone. She would offer her unfortunate guests a cup of poisoned tea, then direct them to a room with a specially designed trapdoor bed.
Gogol Bordello: Terminal 5, New York City, NY 11/3/07
When the ill man laid down, John pulled a lever and the guest fell into a pit below the house. There John would make sure the man was dead and relieve him of his valuables. The story goes that the couple was caught when a traveler—who hated tea but was too polite to decline Lavinia's offer—poured his cup into a nearby plant and retreated to his room. As he sat at his desk that night, he was shocked to see his bed plunge into a pit. He ran out of the inn and told the police, who soon found the bodies of missing travelers buried nearby. The couple were hanged, and legend has it that Lavinia's ghost still haunts her cell at Charleston's Old Jail.
The Fairmont Hotel—formerly a brothel and saloon, now an oyster bar—is widely considered the most haunted landmark in South Dakota. The place has seen its share of jealousy and heartbreak: There's the ghost of a man who shot the client of his prostitute girlfriend, and then accidentally shot himself; there's the spirit of an angry fellow whose girlfriend died of syphilis; and there's the ghost of a prostitute named Maggie who jumped out a window to her death.
On more than one occasion, visitors have reported seeing an apparition with red hair and a green dress—perhaps Maggie herself—lurking in the hallways upstairs. The Chickamauga battlefield, which in saw a key Union defeat and one of the bloodiest battles in the Civil War, is now home to a haunting monster known as Old Green Eyes. One legend maintains that the creature was a Confederate soldier whose head was blown off during the battle.
His spectral head floats around the battlefield, searching for his missing body. Another, apparently older tale claims that Old Green Eyes is a humanoid monster, with glowing green eyes, light-colored waist-length hair, and huge deformed jaws sporting massive fangs. In the frontier days, a settler family eked out a living on the banks of Elm Creek near San Antonio. One day, the son of a wealthy merchant in town passed through their property and was bitten by the family mule. Enraged, the young man began beating the animal and wouldn't stop. The family depended on the mule for their living and in desperation pelted the man with stones until he left—but before he did, he vowed revenge.
That night, he rounded up a posse and set fire to the family home. The men came armed and waited to gun down the family members as they fled the fire. When the mother ran out, she was deformed nearly beyond recognition: Her fingers had fused almost into hooves and the flesh on her face sagged terribly. With a screech, she hurled herself into the creek, where her ghastly spirit remains. Locals say they still hear shrieks coming from the creek and nearby woods, and some have reported a terrifying creature with hooves dropping onto their cars and scratching at their windows, trying to get inside.
One of the first gravediggers in Salt Lake City, Jean Baptiste was otherwise unremarkable; he lived with his wife in a two-bedroom home in town, had few friends, and was punctual. He was, perhaps, unusually well off for a gravedigger—and authorities learned the reason why in In just three years, Baptiste had robbed the graves of more than people, stripping them of clothing and possessions, and dumping their naked bodies back in the caskets. The police found his home filled with clothing; he'd sold many of the possessions.
Baptiste showed up in court wearing a suit a local storekeeper had been buried in. Banished to a remote island in the Great Salt Lake, Baptiste vanished six weeks later. Many say his ghost roams the southern coast of the lake carrying an armful of wet, rotting clothing. If you ever stay at the Green Mountain Inn in Stowe, Vermont during a snowstorm, listen carefully for the sounds of boots tapping on the rooftop. You may hear Boots Berry, the ghost that's said to have haunted the inn since his tap dancing days at the turn of the 20th century.
Boots was born to the inn's horseman and chambermaid in the building's servants' quarters in As an adult, he followed in his father's footsteps and became a successful horseman.
So infuriated, Norma grabbed a pistol and shot herself in the head. With seven apartments today just like it had been seven rooms during its brothel days , people can still smell the scent of her cigarette smoke wafting in the air. Whether fantastical or not, there have been paranormal reports of people hearing the tinkling of cocktail glasses and the sound of husky laughter and gentle music.
Has the spirit of Norma Wallace never left the property that was her pride and joy? Be sure to swing past this nineteenth century building and snap a few photos of the exterior—you never know what apparitions might pop up. Locals call it the "MRB" for short. From the exterior, the MRB is a rather unassuming building. The interior offers shadowed alcoves and great food for those who are hungry.
See You On The Other Side sur Apple Podcasts
But back in the nineteenth century, this strip of St. Philip Street was not the sort of place you wanted to visit if you had the opportunity to avoid it. In , for example, a "ferocious" barber named Louis Verling was arrested for assault. He worked just across the street from the current-MRB and apparently struck a Recorder journalist of the city "in the left eye with a colt [.
Obviously the rather ferocious Mr. Verling was the sort of man who resorted to violence at the drop of the hat. But that was not all, because in the same dated newspaper, a "disorderly house" just a step or two away from Mr. Verling and the current-MRB was brought to light by the same Recorder who had taken the butt of a pistol to the eye. This time around, the neighbors had riled together to charge Christian Teigman guilty for operating a brothel. Oh, and also for perhaps attempting to drag the Recorder from his room with "the intention of killing him.
And as a working brothel, there were many girls desperate enough to seek employment within its walls. One such woman was an Irish immigrant who arrived in New Orleans with great hope. Only, after realizing that she had no resources to make it, she fell upon the oldest career in the books: prostitution. Luck was on her side, however, because she had the good fortune to meet a man who claimed her heart. Love was in the air! And finally she saw the out she needed to step away from prostitution.
But then her beloved went off to war and when he returned, he did so in a pine box. Heart wrenching, the woman went to the brothel's courtyard and hanged herself. According to employees and patrons of the MRB, it seems that her spirit has never left. Almost all of the paranormal activity at this bar is relegated to the woman's bathroom where the lights shut off at random and the sensation of someone watching you doesn't quite dissipate. But the ghostly Lady of the Night makes her spectral presence known another way. On a few different occasions, women using the restroom have turned on the sink faucet to rinse their hands.
They glance up into the mirror, only to see an apparition manifest just behind them. Before they even have the chance to blink, their heads are smashed into the mirror. On at least one occasion, management at the MRB has had to replace the mirror in the ladies' bathroom thanks to this crazy paranormal phenomena. It doesn't seem that the afterlife has done anything to temper the female spirit's angry disposition—so we've got to recommend that only the brave seek her out.
Then again, it's said that if she takes a liking to you she will often grant you a wish. Is it worth the possible head smashing and glass breaking if her spirit dislikes you on sight? Only you can answer that particular question. Is he correct? We tend to think so. Although the land once belonged to the Ursuline nuns, by the s the plot of land for the Hotel had been sold off to a local New Orleanian family. It was during the late nineteenth century when it was thought to have been converted into a brothel, perhaps inspiring the song House of the Rising Sun.
It became a boarding house during the early twentieth century, before at long last coming into ownership by a New Orleanian family with descendants tracing back to the Canary Islands or the Islenos. Although the Hotel Villa Convento is now one of the most reputable hotels in the city, its haunted present is often a deciding lure that brings guests to its front doors.
Almost of all of the paranormal activity at this hotel is experienced by men. On one particular occurrence, a couple was checking in at the front desk when the husband stepped outside to have a smoke on the front steps. It was early morning and no one was about, but seemingly out of the blue the husband heard his name carry on the breeze.
He twisted around, expecting to see his wife approaching him. Despite the slightly uneasy feeling settling in his belly, the husband brushed the occurrence aside.
A rock band's journey into the afterlife, UFOs, entertainment, and weird science.
The couple put their suitcases up and headed out to explore the French Quarter. When they returned that night, the wife climbed into bed and the husband went to use the restroom. The husband shrieked, panicking. Although his wife promptly told him that he was probably losing it, she agreed to help him check the room.
Naturally, they found nothing at all and the husband was left to wonder who or what had been trying to capture his attention. Others staying at the Hotel Villa Convento have heard ghostly laughter; some have even felt the bed dip as though someone has settled in beside them for the night.
But perhaps the most common occurrence are when male guests wake up—or are in the midst of doing extracurricular activities with their significant others—only to see a female apparitions shrouded in black staring down at him. As a little precaution, men who are planning to stay at this haunted hotel, prepare yourselves for a spectral visitor who is only hoping to help you out. Today, it seems like every building that was once a brothel is haunted. We visit a few of them on our New Orleans Ghost Tours.
The Hotel Villa Convento, pictured above, is just one of them. On the Killers and Thrillers East Tour, we take you to some of the haunted locations we have mentioned above. Click to Call Buy Tickets Online. The women thing was the last straw. The Ghosts of Smokey Row Soon, another district came to light. New Orleans was horrified.
The haunted May Bailey's Place, former sporting house and current-day cocktail bar. No one but themselves. Now a part of the Dauphine Orleans Hotel, this former brothel was once of the most dangerous spots in all of New Orleans.
Related The Other Side Bordello: Ghost Lover
Copyright 2019 - All Right Reserved