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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Many years ago, what might have been a marriage of convenience or politics wound up being a real love match. Although the couple in this wonderful marriage is not quite as well known as their daughter, Girl Scout founder Juliette Gordon, Willie and Nelly Gordon have a romantic story that goes beyond the confines of the grave. Their Savannah home is a testament to their never-fading love.

Supposedly Willie first decided Nelly was the girl for him when he saw her slide down the staircase at the Yale Library. She crushed his hat and stole his heart at the same moment. Nelly continued sliding down banisters and doing other things that were considered improper for a young lady of her social standing. And yet, it didn’t seem to tarnish Willie’s image of her.

In 1858 Willie brought Nelly to the family home in Savannah’s downtown historic district. Their love had caused them to make some compromises, although Nelly disliked slavery, she accepted Willie’s love and loyalty for the South. In return, he gave up his Presbyterian Church for her Episcopalian religion. But they made it all work.

During the Civil War Willie served with the Georgia Hussars and was wounded in battle. Nelly used her influence (and a good dose of stubbornness) to get both Robert E. Lee and Sherman to help her locate her husband at different points in the conflict.

Nelly so charmed people that when Sherman took Savannah he promised to place guards at her home and he brought her mail from her family as well as treats for her children. When all the Confederate officers wives were forced from the city, Nelly got special permission to say goodbye to her husband before catching the steamer north.

In 1865 the couple was reunited and they rounded out their brood of children by adding three more relatively quickly, bringing the total family’s number to a cozy eight. Nelly so impressed people that she was put into one of Rudyard Kipling’s stories, and she loved his description of her: “a little old lady with snapping black eyes, who used very bad language.”

Willie died in 1912 and Nelly passed away in 1917 in the large front bedroom of the Savannah house, surrounded by her five surviving children.

The first report of a ghost in the home came from Nelly’s daughter-in-law, Margaret, who was seated outside the bedroom. Margaret was suddenly surprised to see the familiar form of Willie Gordon exiting his wife’s room, wearing his regular gray suit, and wearing an expression of joy mixed with the proper gravity the situation deserved. He walked through his old bedroom and went down the stairs. Shortly after Arthur Gordon, Margaret’s husband, stepped out and told her Nelly was dead. When Margaret tried to tell him whom she had just seen, Arthur tried to tell her it was simply the stress of the situation.

But Arthur must have reconsidered when they met the family’s butler in the front hall. The butler proclaimed through joyous tears that he had just seen the general, in his favorite gray suit, walk out the front door—just like he always did when a buggy was waiting for him. The butler said Willie had looked happier than he had almost ever seen him, and the butler just had to let them know that the general himself had come to fetch his wife at the moment of her passing.

Today the family house is the Juliette Gordon Low Girl Scout National Center and open to tourists. Visitors and staff have reported the sound of footsteps where no one is seen walking. One staff member even saw the apparition of Nelly in the center hall when the staff member had run back inside to get a book she’d forgotten. She was so startled she left the book and rushed back down the stairs. Nelly’s ghost has also been spotted peering out a window. Other people have reported that missing items suddenly turn up in plain sight and mysterious forces move some things when the museum closes for the day. One early-arriving staff member also claimed to see Nelly relatively regularly at the dining room table, seated comfortably in her robe. As Nelly Gordon was an accomplished musician, it comes as no surprise to people when they occasionally hear the pianoforte playing softly, although the only pianoforte in the building is essentially unplayable due to its condition. Whether seeing the specter of Nelly Gordon, hearing her music still resonating in the old family house or feeling like you’re simply never alone, the sensation nearly everyone gets in the Gordon family house is one of love and comfort.

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Forsyth Park is a lovely escape near the heart of the city. Spanish-moss laden trees cast strange shadows and the perfume of magnolias and azaleas is heavy in the air. Just across the street from Forsyth Park is a beautiful yellow Victorian B & B. Built in 1893, the Forsyth Park Inn and its romantic courtyard evoke a feeling of the deep South at its most luxurious.

But haunting this gorgeous eleven-room and its accompanying cottage is the spirit of a heart-broken young girl. Early in the house’s history, a young couple owned it. Aaron and Lois Churchill were married, very much in love with each other, and sadly—infertile. Dreaming of a child of their own, they brought an adorable little girl, Lottie, home to live with them. Details as to how or where they obtained the girl are now seemingly long-lost to history, but we do know the child lovingly referred to the Churchills as “Aunt Lo” and “Uncle Aaron.” Lo and Aaron gave Lottie an enviable lifestyle. Well-loved, perhaps even spoiled by her doting guardians, Lottie flourished. Lottie’s life seemed perfect.

And then her family changed.

Lois brought home her ailing sister, Anna, a girl well her junior. Anna quickly became like a big sister to Lottie. And as Lo worked to nurse her sister Anna back to health, someone else was working on Anna, too, but in a vastly different way. One day as Lottie was rushing to visit Anna she stumbled into a shocking scene—Anna locked in a romantic embrace with Lottie’s Uncle Aaron. Shocked, thoughts raced through Lottie’s disillusioned mind.

That night, trapped with the secret of their illicit love, Lottie tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She devised a plan—a way to rid the household of the problem that threatened to forever shatter her happy little family. The next day Lottie set her plan in motion while the ladies awaited their afternoon tea in the garden.

A little bit of poison in a teacup did the trick. In a moment Anna was choking, struggling to breathe. She fell to the ground, Lois holding her head in her lap as she choked out her final few gasps of breath. As she died, Lottie standing triumphant, Lois spilled out the tragic truth. It seems that, in killing Anna, to save her family, she had actually killed her biological mother. Poor Anna had been unable to raise her and had trusted her darling daughter to the only person she felt could give Lottie the life Anna so desperately wanted her to have. Anna had sacrificed her happiness, and now lost her life, so that Lottie could be truly happy.

And that was when Lottie’s mind snapped. Lottie went insane, right then and there. She was then committed to a mental institution, where she lived out the rest of her life.

So is Lottie’s ghost the poisoning, vengeance-seeking spirit that she was at her last moment of sanity? No, in fact, it seems Lottie’s ghost is a happy spirit with a child’s simple enthusiasm. Visitors occasionally report a child’s laughter and footsteps echoing in empty rooms. Some claim they’ve spotted Lottie on the staircase, dressed in the clothing of her time period. Others claim to feel her presence near the fountain in the courtyard—near the scene of the mistake that changed her life forever. But mainly Lottie seems to just be revisiting the happiest moments of her life—the moments before she inadvertently destroyed the rest of her life.

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