Conrad was sent north to Massachusetts to live with relatives. He went on to write numerous poems and authored several novels. During the First World War, Aiken claimed that he was in an ‘essential industry’ because of being a poet, and was granted an exemption for that reason. Aiken, during his illustrious career, held the poetry chair at the Library of Congress from 1950-57 and was awarded the National Medal for Literature in 1969.
The Great Circle
Aiken moved back to Savannah in 1962, and bought the house right next door to his childhood home. At first glance, to live next door to where his father shot his mother and then himself would appear morbid, but Aiken claimed that he had happy memories of the area. Also, the idea of ending up where one began would appeal to Conrad. It had both a literal and figurative meaning for him: he had even written a novel about the subject (‘Great Circle’, 1933). This cyclical idea is strengthened by the fact that Conrad lived his first eleven years in Savannah, and his last eleven years, as well: matching bookends to his life in matching houses on the same street. He died in 1973.
Aiken did visit his parents before his death, out in Bonaventure Cemetery on the far eastern side of the city. They were interred in one of the most beautiful sections of the cemetery, close to Johnny Mercer’s grave and within sight of the river. While he was there, he saw a ship passing in the Wilmington River with the name Cosmos Mariner. It struck a lyrical chord with Conrad, so he checked the Shipping News for more information. Cosmos Mariner had a destination officially listed as ‘Unknown’. This turn of phrase delighted Conrad, and he felt a kinship with the vessel.
Conrad specified that when he died, he wanted to be buried near his parents, but rather than a statue or large burial vault, he wanted a bench. The inscription on the bench says:
Conrad Aiken
Cosmos Mariner
Destination Unknown
It is a Savannah tradition, observed to this day, to sit on Aiken’s grave and toast him with either a martini or a mint julep.
Lucas Theatre
32 Abercorn Street
The Lucas Theatre was built in 1921 by Arthur Lucas. Located at the corner of Abercorn and Congress Streets, on the southeastern edge of Reynolds Square, this beautiful theatre, with an Italian Renaissance exterior and fully- renovated interior, is an edifice responsible for improving and enriching the cultural atmosphere of this unique Southern city. The theatre remained open until 1976, and the last movie that showed before the doors were closed was The Exorcist. A number of people tried to renovate the Lucas during its vacancy. Even actor Kevin Spacey, who was in town filming Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, gave a sizeable donation and hosted a black-tie fundraiser. The grand old theatre finally reopened its doors in December of 2000, with a showing of Gone with the Wind.
This tribute to the arts in Savannah has also had its share of ghost stories throughout the years, some true, and some with their veracity very much in doubt, but they are colorful tales nonetheless.
One bit of folklore being told as fact about the structure is the claim that in 1928, a group of gangsters in a car opened fire on a crowd of people waiting to get into the Lucas Theatre with a .45 caliber Tommy Gun. Some point to a grouping of blackened marks on the outside of the Lucas’ tile façade as evidence of the repair job done to hide the bullet holes. The story continues, claiming that a ticket-taker was shot in the back by these men as he attempted to reach safety within the doors of the theatre. Claims of seeing this man abound, who supposedly flings open the front doors, staggers into the movie-house lobby, falls to the floor, and vanishes from sight.
The first problem with this story is that the shooting never happened. No incidents of a drive-by shooting have ever taken place at the Lucas Theatre. An exhaustive search of the archives at the Georgia Historical Society reveal not one bit of supporting evidence for this story. Also, since the box office was located inside, the ticket-taker would have been stationed inside the lobby next to the main doors leading into the theatre, not on the sidewalk. And lastly, the black marks pointed to by tour guides are decidedly not caused by .45 caliber bullets. A round from a Thompson machinegun would have almost certainly shattered the Spanish-style tile, or at the very least left a gaping hole, not the dark smudges that are apparent on the front of the Lucas.
“Several of the workers involved in the renovation also claim to have had otherworldly experiences.”
The $10,000 Haunting
However, there are some strange stories about the Lucas which have the ring of truth.
A longtime Lucas Theatre executive, Jon Leisure, told me a story that occurred fairly close to the completion of the theatre: “We were getting ready for the premiere in December of 2000, and one of the problems we were having was that the air conditioners located above the balcony were leaking water. So we rigged up what we thought was a solution. We strapped what amounted to a funnel on the underside of the a/c unit, so the dripping water would flow into the funnel, down a hose and into a 5-gallon bucket at the bottom.” Jon went on to say that the plastic lid of the bucket was left on, and the hose passed through a small hole which was cut into the lid. The fit had been so tight, he insisted, that it had taken some ‘elbow-grease’ to get the hose through the hole in the first place. “It was a snug fit,” he said, shaking his head.
“When we came back the next morning, the hose was no longer in the bucket. Somehow, the hose had been pulled out of the hole in the lid. There was no way that hose could have gotten out of the bucket unless somebody pulled it, hard!
“The dripping water had absolutely ruined a portion of the balcony, an area that had recently been finished. It cost nearly $10,000 worth of damage to the plaster. Fortunately, it didn’t affect the premiere.”
Several of the workers involved in the renovation also claim to have had otherworldly experiences. One worker reported hearing the sound of a whirring projector and a light coming from the old projection booth. The problem was, it was early in the renovations and the projector had not yet been re-installed in the projection room.
The ghost stories predate the renovation. One former employee who worked at the Lucas in the early ‘70’s remembers an incident. “We were all pretty sure the place was haunted—even back then there were stories,” he said. “But boys being boys, we would often use this to scare some of the female employees, by hiding and jumping out, that sort of stuff. Well, one day it backfired. I hid in a dark room, ready to spring out and scare one of the girls, when suddenly I felt a presence in there with me. I could hear someone there in the dark, in the room with me. I knew I was all alone in there, but I could also feel them watching me. I made a pretty quick exit, and I also lost my enthusiasm for hiding in dark corners at the Lucas Theatre.”
Other members of the staff have reported hearing applause coming from the empty theatre. “I was walking into the theatre to start my shift,” one former employee recalls, “and I hear what sounded like a full theatre applauding. I remember thinking that it was odd, because it was early afternoon before the movies really got busy—why would there be a full audience watching a matinee, and why would they applaud? I walked to the door of the movie theatre and opened it, and it was deserted. We hadn’t been showing a matinee at all.”
It is only fitting that such a cornerstone of Savannah’s culture throughout the years would also have another type of deep connection to Savannah’s past. The stories of things that go bump in the night at the Lucas are perhaps exposing the ‘reel’ side of this beautiful Southern town.
River Street Inn
124 East Bay Street
Sitting on the bluff overlooking River Street is the hotel known as the River Street Inn. Portions of the Inn were built as early as 1817— the ground floor of the structure is constructed of ballast stones, which were brought as ballast in ships from Europe. This lower story, as is common with much of the construction on River S
treet, dates from circa 1817. The upper three floors were added in 1853. The building used to be a place where cotton was stored and graded, but now it has been renovated into a beautiful inn. The River Street Inn has another reputation, in addition to being some of the finest lodging in the city: a haven for haunted happenings.
Housekeepers say they dislike the third floor of the Inn because of the westernmost hallway. Strange occurrences include unexplained footsteps that sound as if they are walking on hardwood, even though the hall is carpeted. The staff has even heard disembodied voices. The most disturbing part is that the housekeepers hear their own names being called. And I had my own personal experience at the Inn, but I’m getting way ahead of myself.
“Suddenly...a door slammed hard behind me!”
A ‘Slam’ to the Psyche
After hearing many stories involving the Inn from the staff, I decided to check out the hallway in the Spring of 2003. I went down to the third floor and slowly began walking down the hallway in question. I am by no means a scientist, and I had definitely left my Ghostbusters proton pack at home, but I have to experience the areas about which I write. Not only is personal familiarity the only way I can write honestly about a location, I always wonder what might happen to me in an area which is reputed to be haunted. On several occasions I have been in the presence of what I would deem genuine paranormal phenomena, and in more than a couple of these I have felt a strange polarizing energy in the air. The only comparison I can offer is feeling like the air is charged with static electricity, as if someone pulled an acrylic blanket out of the dryer and then wrapped you in it. This is the feeling I experienced while walking down the hallway of the River Street Inn: every nerve ending seemed to tingle as I walked.
Suddenly, about three quarters down the hallway, a door slammed hard behind me! I nearly jumped out of my skin. As I stood there with my heart pounding, I began to feel a little foolish. I had, in my own opinion, psyched myself up so much that I had psyched myself out, so to speak. I had badly wanted an encounter with something unexplainable that I allowed myself to be frightened by what I assumed was a guest, one who opened and then immediately slammed their door closed. The strange ‘energized’ sensation was gone, as well.
I walked back up to the lobby and explained to Elizabeth, the staff member behind the front desk, what had happened to me in the third floor hallway. I poked fun at myself for being so scared by a door slamming. But she got an odd look, and asked for me to repeat myself. I told her again: “I went down to the third floor hallway and was scared silly by a slamming door. I swear, Elizabeth, if that guest had slammed their door just a little harder, you’d have to call housekeeping to clean up the puddle I’d have left in the hall.”
Elizabeth smiled as she tapped on her computer screen, and replied, “But there aren’t any guests on the third floor right now. It’s between check-out and check-in—the entire side on the third floor is completely empty right now.” I protested, “Surely there must be a housekeeper up there?” She shook her head emphatically, and asked if I had seen a housekeeping cart in the hallway. I hadn’t. “Could it have been maintenance?” I tried gamely. She again said no. I had been frightened by a door slamming in a hallway which was deserted except for me—at least by the living.
The ‘Monopoly Man’
Several guests and staff have had encounters with an apparition in this same third floor hallway. The spectre is male according to eyewitness accounts, and he is dressed in the clothes of a well-to-do 19th century businessman. In more than one instance the staff behind the front desk have been asked if there is a reenactment event in town. One very young girl started yelling to her mother about seeing ‘the Monopoly Man’, making a reference to the popular board game’s instantly recognizable icon. Her mother could see no one in the hallway, but the little girl was adamant that she could see this well-heeled stranger. If ghosts are indeed real, then it would come as no surprise to see a well-off gentleman wearing late 19th century garb in that area because in years gone by, the area was awash in wealthy bidders for cotton, ones who would have been dressed exactly as the young lady described.
One desk clerk named Stan claims to have had a strange encounter late one evening. He was sitting behind the front desk, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a woman dressed in white enter the lobby. Busy at his desk, he gave her a quick glance and continued with his paperwork. She approached the desk, but turned and walked briskly away-- and disappeared by walking straight through a solid brick wall. “I saw it with my own two eyes,” he said.
Yet another staff member had an encounter with something she considers paranormal. “I was working all alone on the second floor near the bar,” the young bartender said, “and I heard someone speaking in muffled tones. I walked out to see who it was, since the bar area was closed and was supposed to be deserted. There was no one there, so I went back to the bar and continued closing up, and then I heard the strange sound again—like a muffled cry, or someone choking back sobs. All the hair on the back of my neck stood up. When I peered down the hallway again, I saw a shadowy form enter the hallway, and walk right straight through a door without opening it.” She added, “It’s the only time I’ve ever seen or heard anything out of the ordinary, but once is enough for me!”
Amanda Marks, who used to work behind the front desk, claims to have had problems with the locking security mechanism on the front doors to the Inn that defy explanation. The lock is one that, when flipped at night, requires a room key for access. Amanda was having issues with that lock on a busy Saturday afternoon, because the switch controlling the mechanism kept flipping to the ‘on’ position, which had the unfortunate side-effect of locking out people who were attempting to check in. Amanda, who is a believer in the supernatural, spoke in a firm voice, asking the spirit to stop—doing so in front of paying customers at check-in. There were looks of astonishment when the problem immediately rectified itself. Apparently the ghosts at the Inn are well-trained.
B. Matthews Eatery
325 East Bay Street
In the course of my dual career as tour guide and writer, I am told a lot of ghost stories. Often times these stories are nothing more than anecdotes, but there are those occasions where a ghost tale, which I at first assume will be a little story, grows into something much, much larger. At the corner of East Bay and Habersham streets, there sits a perfect example of this phenomenon: a quiet, unassuming structure which has ties to several dark chapters of Savannah’s history. Now the home of B. Matthews Eatery, the building has a technical claim as one of the oldest buildings in Georgia.
I was eating a late lunch one day when one of the former owners, Charles, mentioned to me in an offhand way that the restaurant was haunted. I asked if I could interview him when he had more time, and he agreed. I believed it would be a small story when we sat down a day or two later. I was wrong.
One of my first questions regarded the building’s past. The building’s date listed in tax records was 1790, but Charles explained that the documentation on the building was from its sale in 1791. No one, not even the Georgia Historical Society’s records, has any definitive proof of the build date. It could have been much, much older than 1790. How much older, no one knows for certain. The building is thought to have been cobbled together out of both a former building on the site as well as a sailing vessel that foundered in the harbor. Many of the old planks and beams which were used in the construction came from this unknown seagoing vessel, including the large central beam in the center of the restaurant: the original ship’s mast. The restaurant is recognized as one of the oldest public taverns still existing in America today. The building could metaphorically represent Savannah’s history—both serving a different purpose now, and even a little cobbled together, but still beautiful.
“I was following him down into a dark underground lair for an unknown purpose.”
“Come Into The Basement...”
“Is that a… slave tether ring?” I asked, just to be sure. He nodded grimly, and said, “This basement has a secret tunnel leading from here down to the Savannah River. All throughout this lower level there are large iron rings—“ he began pointing them out—“attached to the wall and the stairs where these pitiful souls were once chained. This means the tunnel was used to smuggle slaves up from the river, and then they were held here.”
Haunted Savannah: America's Most Spectral City Page 17
