Elvis Lives! Spectral Sightings of the King of Rock n Roll

Graceland, the Memphis home of Elvis Presley, has had reports of sightings of Elvis by visitors almost since the day he died.

Almost since that day in 1977 when the King of Rock ‘n Roll passed on to that big concert in the sky, there have been sightings and reports of encounters with Elvis Presley. Many folks who have witnessed the king since his death claim he is alive and well. But there is another explanation for their uncanny encounters: they have met the ghost of Elvis.

The most common place where Elvis has been seen is, of course, Graceland. Admirers, hanging out in front of the house at midnight claim to have seen a black limo pull through the gates and spy the King’s unmistakeable profile as it passes by. Others have snapped photos of the upstairs windows, where an image seems to be staring out. Nor are the apparitions at Graceland limited to Elvis; his mother, who was very close to him, has also been seen; one somewhat eccentric actress, Paz de la Huerta, has even claimed the ghost of Elvis gave her an orgasm when she visited his recording studio in Graceland.  Whole lotta shakin’ goin on.

Nor is Graceland the only spot where the restless shade of Mr. Presley been reported. Some of his favorite haunts in Vegas and Hollywood have been claimed to receive visits from Elvis from time to time. while A motel across the street from Graceland has had some weird encounters as well.

Moreover, Elvis has also been reported in Nashville on more than one occasion. There was the broad daylight encounter with a man all bedecked like the glitter Elvis, in a rhinestone studded white jumpsuit. He was encountered on Lower Broad, where tourists flock to visit the honky-tonks and gifts shops. While this encounter could just be a very good Elvis impersonator, the Lower Broad area of downtown Nashville is well known to be psychically active, and this report may very well be the real deal.

More credible are the reports I have gathered from the music pros of Elvis’s haunting of the old RCA studio—now torn down—where he recorded his first big hit—Heartbreak Hotel. Penned by the legendary Mae Axton (Hoyt Axton’s momma) its haunting lyrics were based on a suicide note, which inspired her to write the complete song in about a half hour! The studio has had many weird occurrences and those in the know swear it was Elvis’s shade lingering in the place where his first big hit was made.

As with much about ghosts and hauntings, there is no definitive way to prove the Elvis haunts Memphis or Nashville; but those who have experienced his spectral presence are sure of what they experienced—and they are sure it was Elvis.

In a short posting like this we can only highlight the numerous accounts of Elvis’ ghost; for more on the King’s hauntings see, Chapter 28 of Ghosts and Haunts of Tennessee and Chapter 36 of Strange Tales of the Dark and Bloody Ground for details.

A polaroid photo of the Graceland marker with ectoplasm around it, taken by a visitor.

Restless Spirits of the Memphis Blues: The Haunting of Ernestine and Hazel’s Dive Bar

Ernestine and Hazel’s has been host to many famous musicians and still is host to several ghosts.

Entrance to “The Best Dive in Memphis” Ernestine and Hazel’s

Like Nashville, Memphis, Tennessee is famous for its music; while Nashville is renowned as the home of Country music, Memphis lays claim to being the home of the Blues and Rock ‘n Roll. While other places in Dixie have hoppin’ music scenes equally vibrant, it seems that Memphis has a long and venerable history on that score. So it should come as no surprise that along with its musical heritage come more than a few ghosts and haunts.

If there is one place in Memphis which epitomizes this dual heritage it is an old brick building which houses the “Best Dive in Memphis”—some claim its the best dive in the United States: a place called Ernestine and Hazel’s. Now you may not think being a dive is any claim to fame, but the regulars at E&H—living and deceased—would give you an argument on that score.

Built sometime before the end of World War I, the old two story brick building has had many previous lives before becoming a dive bar. It was originally a pharmacy; in fact some of the pharmacy drawers where old time drugs were kept are still intact behind the bar. According to some, this old drug store was where St. Joseph’s Aspirin for children was invented. Later on it became a dry goods store; then a seedy hotel/brothel, then finally a Blues night club.

The haunted stairwell leading to the old brothel on the second floor where several R&B classics were created.

After World War II, there grew up what was called “the Chitlin’ Circuit.” Because of segregation, black folks couldn’t go to white night clubs, so they frequented a series of black clubs where one could hear “race” music: the Blues. Ernestine and Hazel’s became one of the most famous of these night clubs and in its heyday one could listen to all the legendary bluesmen; by all accounts, this is also where Rock ‘n Roll was born. Upstairs from the club male patrons could also enjoy less reputable entertainment as well.

Although the night club closed as integration took hold in the 1960’s and both races could mingle and enjoy “race” music together, in recent years Ernestine and Hazel’s was reopened and has undergone a revival. In its heyday legends like Wilson Pickett, the Rolling Stones, Little Richard, Otis Redding, Howlin’ Wolf and others all visited its haunted hallowed halls and played or stayed there. So today, the spirit of the Blues is alive and well and rockin’ on in the same place. But the new owners and patrons of the old dive have found that some of the place’s long dead patrons have decided to hang around way past closing time.

A red light upstairs, a reminder of Ernestine and Hazel’s seedy past. The upstairs was where the hits songs Mustang Sally and Midnight Hour were created on an old upright piano.

For one thing, the old time juke box seems to have the uncanny ability to read people’s mental states and play the appropriate song. Although the songs are supposed to play in random order, more than one patron has found it playing a tune eerily in keeping with what their own thoughts are. Coincidence? Perhaps, but that’s not the only eerie thing that goes on there.

Male and female apparitions have been seen in the bar and on the stairs leading up to the old cat-house; one of the phantoms’ face has even been caught on film. The bar has also become a favorite haunt of ghost-hunters because the place is so psychically active and more than a few evp’s—ghost recordings—have been captured, although none of them were singing the Blues at the time.

There are various theories as to who haunts the old pharmacy turned flop house, turned night club, turned cat house and now legendary dive bar. But for the curious, perhaps a visit to the old haunts of the legendary bluesmen would be the best way to see for yourself whether Ernestine and Hazel’s is indeed as haunted as they say; and while you’re there, enjoy a “soul burger.”

For more on the haunted history of the legendary dive, read Chapter 25 of Ghosts and Haunts of Tennessee; and if your radio starts playing an old Blues song for no apparent reason as your read—well, you were warned.

Tom Brown’s Ghoul Daze: Rugby, Tennessee

Early settlers of Rugby. The indolent sons of English nobility largely found Hushes’ work ethic uncongenial and soon left Rugby; the middle class Englishmen who settled there did not and stayed.

Thomas Hughes, author of Tom Brown’s School Days and high minded founder of Rugby, Tennessee.

First off, let me reassure folks: there are no ghouls in Rugby, Tennessee; no flesh-eating beings of any sort, at least that I know of, reside there. However, there is a gaggle of ghosts that inhabit the place, more per square mile than any town I know of. That is why this quaint rural village has been called “The Most Haunted Town in America.” It may, in fact, be the most haunted town in the world, although proving either assertion would be difficult, since the census bureau does not keep record of such things.

Rugby, Tennessee, is located high in the Cumberland Mountains, a wild and scenic area that while by no means backward, has not been subject to the massive influx of commercialism and corporate tourist development that the equally scenic Smoky Mountains have. The Cumberlands are located between Nashville and Knoxville, so to go from one to the ‘tuther, one passes through this area; travelers rarely stay there for their vacation, however, and mostly just pause in the region long enough for a lunch or brunch at one of the many restaurants and rest stops just off the interstate. A pity, since they miss quite a lot.

To give an idea of the difference between the two mountain regions of Tennessee, in the summer when one goes fishing in a beautiful mountain stream in the Smokies, one is generally doing so with dozens of other fishermen, all elbow to elbow enjoying the same stream. When you go fly fishing in the Cumberlands, you can cast your reel without worrying about snagging another anglers fishing hat in the process and the only anglers within sight of you also fishing is the occasional bear.

So while Rugby is not hard to get to, being about an hour or so from downtown Nashville, it is not a heavily traveled spot, which suits the ghosts just fine. In this brief review of the spirits of Rugby, we can but hit the highlights; I have covered the subject in greater depth in Chapter 2 of Strange Tales of the Dark and Bloody Ground.

Briefly, Rugby was founded by Thomas Hughes, the novelist famous for Tom Brown’s School Days. Hughes was a high minded sort and founded the town to provide a haven and gainful employment for the younger sons of titled English nobility who, because their elder brothers inherited the family wealth and titles, were dependent on handouts from the family patriarch yet were prohibited by social custom from gainful employment. So these younger sons whiled away their days drinking, gambling and whoring.

Hughes thought to provide in America a place where they could learn a trade and be productive members of society, so he funded the construction of this little Victorian English village in the Southern highlands. Unfortunately, while the village of Rugby served Hughes’ purpose, it turned out the younger sons of English nobility preferred to drink, gamble and go wenching instead of soiling their soft hands with any sort of gainful employment. What the late nineteenth century social experiment left behind was this village of quaint and beautiful Victorian homes and a number of mostly English ghosts in the heart of Dixie.

The first Tabard Inn, which burned under mysterious circumstances on Halloween, 1884.

One of the most famous haunts was the Tabard Inn, where a grisly murder took place in Room 13. Alas, one can not stay here, as the building went up in flames some years back. But I talked with the director once, who had interviewed eyewitnesses who testified that as the building burned they could hear screams coming from the vacant Room 13. Some think it was the ghost that haunted the hotel who set the fire.

The second Tabard Inn, scene of a grisly murder, burned under even more eerie circumstances and was not rebuilt.

Much of the Victorian furniture from the second hotel was salvaged from the fire however, and repurposed to homes throughout the town; some say cursed furniture was the cause of the supernatural phenomena spreading throughout the rest of the town. Others in Rugby disagree on this; but if you visit the town you may inquire further on that score.

More fortunate in its fate was Newbury House. Its owner was an English gentleman of high esteem but low birth who found the town quite congenial and sent for his family from England. He died before they came and now his ghost resides in Newbury House, still waiting for them to arrive.

The Newbury House in Rugby, home to its own resident ghost.

Then there is the old Victorian library, which looks for all the world like something out of Harry Potter. Some call it the “Rip Van Winckle” library, because it seems as though when one enters it, one has entered a sort of time warp. Although there is a phantom librarian reported present there, its presence is mostly unseen. You, however, may have a different experience when you visit.

The old Victorian Library is thought to be presided over by the unseen ghost of a former librarian. Its presence is more felt than seen. Ssssh!

There are a number of homes in the town with ghosts, some more active than others and over the years eyewitnesses have reported encounters with them all. There is Kingston Lisle, Thomas Hughes’ sometime residence; there is Roslyn, a two story mansion with several spirits, including the wild carriage driver who thunders up to the front door in a black carriage. Then there is Twin Oaks, once home to a witch—and perhaps still is.

Again, for more in depth accounts of Rugby’s many ghosts one is better off consulting the chapter in Strange Tales. Then after reading, you will be armed with enough knowledge to tackle Rugby for yourself. The living residents are friendly and helpful to visitors and the spectral residents are mostly harmless—even if the occasional encounter with them is a bit startling. By all means, if you visit Dixie in your travels, Rugby is worth the trip.

For more of Tennessee’s ghosts and haunts, witches and monsters and things that go bump in the night, see Strange Tales of the Dark and Bloody Ground and Ghosts and Haunts of Tennessee; the two combined are essential reading for any interested in paranormal Dixie and Southern spirits.

Beware the Curse of the White Mule

The Curse of the White Mule is one of Knoxville’s more persistent legends. Some say the curse has been lifted; others not.

Downtown Knoxville, like the heart of many Southern cities, has a long history–and quite of few ghosts. Although Ghosts and Haunts of Tennessee is mainly concerned ghosts and haunts, and a curse does not quite qualify as a haunting, it is in the realm of the paranormal nonetheless. In this case, the Curse of the White Mule was localized to a certain block of downtown Knoxville. It goes back to the mid-nineteenth century, when the Gypsy Circus once came to town. While the details of the story vary depending on who you listen to, the upshot was that the side-show’s prize display–a white mule–died unexpectedly while visiting Knoxville. The gypsies blamed the local folk for their the death of their valuable side-show freak; in revenge, they cursed the area and departed town in a huff.

Now people getting angry and cursing out certain people or places is not all that unusual; but when the curse comes true, it tends to get your attention. During the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, this area of downtown Knoxville had a series of uncanny fires break out, some quite severe. Since then, other weird disasters have happened which some say are also due to the Curse of the White Mule.

They say that libations will stave off the curse and in fact there is a tavern in the heart of downtown Knoxville where you may quaff a White Mule ale. Whether this will cure the curse I cannot say; but if you visit downtown Knoxville you may want to try. It couldn’t hurt.

For more details on the Curse of the White Mule, see Chapter 7 of Ghosts and Haunts of Tennessee. Good haunting!

Run Through the Bayou: Cajun Country Werewolves

The loup garou (or rou garou) is native to the swamps and bayous of Louisiana, although it migrated there from France.

In the section of Dixie Spirits dealing with Louisiana, there is a chapter devoted solely to the loup garou—the Cajun version of the werewolf.

Before researching that chapter, I had assumed, like most folks, that the werewolf’s home turf was mainly England and Germany. After all, thanks to Hollywood, who doesn’t know about the werewolves of London and their Anglo-Saxon and Germanic kith and kin? The truth is, like most else occult emanating from Hollywood and the media, they have got it all wrong.

While there are indeed credible tales of man-wolf encounters that come from the British Isles and Germany, the truth be told, the epicenter of lycanthropy—in the Old World at least—is France. While in English we have but two terms for the werewolf, in France and its former colonies there are no fewer than sixty different names for the werewolf and its kith and kin. One variant one hears in Louisiana, for example, is rou garou, who simply seems to be the Cajun version of the beast.

Of course we are all familiar with the French fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast and Perault’s Little Red Riding Hood likewise centers on a wolf who can walk and talk like a human, and devours human flesh—although Perault also intimated that the carnal desires of the werewolf had sexual overtones as well. But as early as the Middle Ages, the French were penning romances involving werewolves, including one by poetess Marie de France. Obviously, when the French first colonized Louisiana, something not quite human came with them to settle in the swamps and bayous of the Delta.

Charles Perault made the tale of an innocent girl falling for the wiles of a loup garou famous, but the story goes back into antiquity.

The French, in fact, make an important distinction between genuine werewolves—skin changers who transform from man to wolf—and those persons who are mentally deranged and imagine themselves to be wolves. The delusion they call lupomanie—lupomania—while the term lycanthropy is reserved for the phenomena of true werewolfism. Even in English, someone who is disoriented or out of their senses is called “loopy.” Sigmund Freud treated a case of lupomania in late nineteenth century Vienna, although he confused the issue by calling it lycanthropy.

Another popular misconception perpetrated by the media is that werewolves (assuming there be such things) are cursed with this condition through no fault of their own, that it is a curse brought on by a cruel twist of fate. In fact, from accounts in the Middle Ages we know that those who practiced lycanthropy did so willingly, using a belt of wolf’s skin treated with a magic ointment to transform themselves. They were, in fact, considered sorcerers and assumed to be in league with the devil.

According to some lycans, they serve God not the Devil. In Italy they were called Benandanti and are “hounds of God” who fight witches and protect villages.

This last accusation—consorting with the devil—was disputed by at least one confessed werewolf. In 1692, in Livonia, on the Baltic Sea, one elderly lycanthrope named Theiss said that he and his confreres regularly fought the witches, who were in the service of the devil, and that he and his fellow lycans were in fact “god’s dogs.” In Italy there is a similar allegation; there the werewolves call themselves “benandanti” or “good walkers,” who, entering into a trance state, leave their human bodies and assume the spirit body of a wolf, in which form they do battle with the Evil Ones.

In the case of Louisiana’s loup garou, my sense is that though it is much talked about in general terms and Cajun folk will gladly spin a yarn or two for you, when you try to pin them down to specifics—date, place, name—they clam up real quick. Cajuns—or at least the ones I have met—are garrulous and outgoing, but when it comes to loup garou and who and where they may be found, my experience was an extreme reluctance to divulge specifics. Whether this is because they genuinely don’t know or whether they do and are afraid to talk I can’t say for sure, although I think the latter is true. I go into depth on this subject in Chapter 15 of Dixie Spirits and for more on it see that book.

Werewolves, being gregarious folk–like the Cajuns–often gather together at the full moon to party and dance. Once place they have been alleged to hold their werewolves ball is Bayou Goula. The dance is not open to non lycans.

One curious fact I did uncover was that the loup garou of the bayou gather together and hold a ball or party on occasion and this fete du bete is alleged to occur near a small community in swamp country called Bayou Goula. Why there and exactly when the clans of werewolves gather to cavort and make merry remains a secret I have yet to plum. As with all else uncanny and unexplained, I often rely on the kindness of strangers to inform and enlighten me on such things. Therefore, any out there who know more than I have so far unearthed, I and other readers of this blog would love to hear from.

So while the loup garou may not be quite the evil monsters the media and the Inquisition have made them out to be, until we know more of this fey creature and his family, I would advise caution to the curious—especially when the moon is full.

Werewolves are traditionally believed to be ravenous beasts filled with carnal desire. Some confessed lycans have disputed this claim.

For more fey creatures and uncanny encounters in Louisiana and elsewhere in the South, see Dixie Spirits; for more weirdness in the same jugular vein, also read Strange Tales of the Dark and Bloody Ground.

Ulysses and Julia Grant: Paranormal Partners

Ulysses and Julia Grant: Paranormal Partners.

Old Green Eyes: the Green Ghoul of Chickamauga

Ol’ Green Eyes, whatever it is, has roamed Chickamauga Battlefield since at least the time of the Civil War.

In my very first book of all things weird, wondrous and wicked in the Mid-South, Strange Tales of the Dark and Bloody Ground, in addition to the traditional haints, haunts and boogers, UFO’s and other unexplained phenomena, one curious tale revolved around the northern Georgia Civil War battlefield of Chickamauga. In that chapter I chronicled several of the battlefield apparitions known to haunt the battlefield, but the one which was the most curious, to my mind, was Ol’ Green Eyes, sometimes also known as the Green Ghoul. Since publishing that account, I have run into a few folks who have had their own tales to tell about this particular spook, so this venue I judge to be a good place to update my readers until I can prevail on my publishers to let me do a revised edition of that classic book.

Anyone who has visited Chickamauga knows it is a brief run from downtown Chattanooga—a brief run, that is, if you are a Yankee soldier trying to flee from ten thousand Rebels with bayonets all yelling like a banshee. Otherwise, it is about ten miles or more. At any rate, between the eighteenth and twentieth of September, 1863, thousands of Union and Confederate soldiers lost their lives fighting there, while thousands and thousands more suffered agonizing wounds.

It is not surprising, therefore, that quite a few ghost stories and reports of eerie encounters at Chickamauga have surfaced over the years. As I tell in my book, one version of Ol’ Green Eyes holds that he is a stone monument—dedicated to the Union brigade known Opdycke’s Tigers—that comes to life at night and stalks the countryside. I personally am dubious of that one—it has all the earmarks of a story invented around a campfire to scare gullible youths.

Opdycke’s Tigers, battlefield monument. Chickamauga; some claim this is Ol’ Green Eyes; others say it dates back to Indian days.

Another version holds that Green Eyes is a human looking ghoul, with top hat, gentleman’s cloak and long stringy hair; after the battle, it was said, this green eyed fellow went about munching on the bodies of the dead. It’s been a long time since that feast and he’s built up a powerful appetite since then. According to one source, this version was invented out of whole cloth by Park Ranger Ed Tinney some years back to entertain tourists.

While I can’t judge the veracity of the Tinney version, I do know that some park rangers go out of their way to deny any paranormal activity, in order to discourage people trespassing there at night. In all fairness, some self-appointed ghost hunters have vandalized historic sites in pursuit of nighttime thrills. The rangers at Chickamauga have been known to shut down all the secondary roads in the area at Halloween to keep out the thrill-seekers. So officials at Chickamauga National Battlefield have a rather strong motivation to deny accounts of Ol’ Green Eyes and other hauntings there, valid or not.

To my mind, the most credible accounts of Green Eyes are less specific; some have seen a green glowing light about Snodgrass Hill, while others describe a pair of eyes. Is it a ghoul, a ghost or a beast? Hard to say, but I have spoken to one man who had a close encounter.

Although Ed Tinney popularized Green Eyes, according to this local source, folks have known about the creature for generations; it’s just that in the old days you didn’t talk about such things, and certainly not to strangers.
After Strange Tales came out, I was doing a signing and this gentleman from Chattanooga, who bought a copy, told me of his experience.
It was some years back, when he was a hot blooded young teenager and since he had a few years on me, I am judging this was sometime back in the 1950’s. Well, he took a date out one Saturday night and after a little dinner and dancing they decided to park after dark; it was somewhere near Snodgrass Hill.

Then as now the park was closed to the public at night, but it was a favorite place for couples to go nonetheless. They were parked in his car with the top down, and he and his girlfriend were, shall we say, somewhat distracted at the time; that was until he felt the sensation of warm moist breath behind him. With a start he turned around to see two large green eyes glowing behind him.

The eyes were set apart, farther apart than any human pair of eyes could possibly be, and the creature was close enough to tell it was on the curved trunk of his car or close to it. Romance turned to terror in an instant; the teenager fumbled for the ignition, slammed his car into gear, and high-tailed it out of there as fast as his jalopy could go, just barely avoiding being Ol’ Green Eyes next meal.

There are those who scoff and those who deny, but for that mature gentleman at least, there is no denying that Ol’ Green Eyes is very, very, real—whatever it may be.

For more accounts of Civil War Ghosts and Haunts, read Strange Tales of the Dark and Bloody Ground; also see Ghosts and Haunts of the Civil War.