The Big Thicket is a dense, biodiverse forest region in East Texas. A few tribes, including the Alabama-Coushatta and Caddo, hunted around the edges, but it was essentially uncharted territory when Anglo settlers arrived in the 1830s seeking solitude to hunt and carve out subsistence farms. Swampy, dark, and difficult to penetrate, it was a destination for people who didn’t want to be found. Oil and lumber operations rendered the terrain more accessible, but the Big Thicket remains plenty dense and mysterious today.
In the heart of the Big Thicket is Hardin County, and in the heart of Hardin County is the infamous Bragg Road, home to countless sightings of the Ghost Road Light (aka Big Thicket Light, Saratoga Light, and Bragg Road Light) that appears to nighttime travelers on the road between Saratoga and the defunct village of Bragg Station.
The road replaced the railroad tracks in 1934, but the light remained, seen by hundreds of people over the decades. In the 1960s, Archer Fullingim, iconoclast editor of The Kountze News, spread its notoriety in articles. National Geographic published a clear photo of the light in a 1974 feature about the Big Thicket. Texas folklorist Francis Abernethy documented sighting stories from old-timers and young folks alike.
In 1997, Hardin County designated Bragg Road as Ghost Road Scenic Drive Park. A pretty road through the woods in the daytime turns into a spooky spot for supernatural sightings by night. Word is the most auspicious times to see the light are on moonless autumn nights. Dare you go? –MM Pack
The oldest continuously operating hotel in East Texas, the Excelsior House Hotel in Jefferson, is notorious for sightings of a headless man; a woman in black holding a child; and “Diamond Bessie,” murdered by her itinerant lover. Director Steven Spielberg told the Dallas Morning News he was spooked while staying there in the 1970s. 211 W. Austin St., Jefferson.
Yorktown Memorial Hospital
728 W. Main St., Yorktown
Originally built in the 1950s and managed by the Felician Sisters of the Roman Catholic Church, the sprawling facility contains two main floors, a basement, two wings, a chapel, and an observation tower. The hospital closed in 1986, says current caretaker Stephanie Mayfield, after a new facility opened in nearby Cuero. From then on the building operated as a drug rehab facility, but the state closed it in 1992. The building sat empty, attracting stories of terrible malpractice and lurid misbehavior. Rumor has it that hundreds of patients died there, Mayfield says.
Naturally, it also acquired a lasting reputation for ghosts. There are stories of patients killed by neglect or surgical mistake and the ghost of the surgeon who is often held responsible. A fearsome black specter with red eyes has been reported to haunt the chapel and growl when Bible verses are read there. Mayfield says she once saw the ghost of a young man staring out from behind the locked front doors, a bullet wound in his head. The spirits of the nuns residing on the second floor are said to push and scratch at men with tattoos.
The hospital is on private property and has been a popular spot for ghost tours since the building was acquired in part by Jo Ann Marks-Rivera, owner of Victoria’s Black Swan Inn (likewise haunted). Rivera hired Mayfield to look after the building after the departure of an earlier caretaker. The hospital offers daily walking tours for $25, photography/video shoots for $100 an hour, and overnight investigations for $500.
The hospital has had a recent problem with vandals breaking in for unauthorized ghost hunts, graffiti, or other mischief, often leaving the building’s antique furniture in bad shape. Mayfield wishes to remind everyone that this doesn’t just rile up the local ghosts, it’s also against the law and will be prosecuted as such. If you’re not there on an official tour, honor that most hallowed of haunted house signs: Keep out. –Asher Elbein
At The Alamo you may hear ghostly whispers or see the shade of a Mexican soldier. 300 Alamo Plaza, San Antonio.
A stay at the Emily Morgan Hotel is reputed to expose visitors to whole floors of ghostly visitations, including phantom visions of the building’s past as a hospital. 705 E. Houston St., San Antonio.
In Goliad, the Presidio La Bahia commemorates the Goliad Massacre with Spanish-speaking poltergeists, humming women, and a spooky (though entirely real) flock of vultures. 217 US 183, Goliad.
The Plaza Theatre Performing Arts Centre
125 W. Mills Ave., El Paso
“We managed to revive this historic theater before it was too late,” says Gary L. Williams, senior program officer with the El Paso Community Foundation, the organization that saved the Plaza Theatre and then partnered with the city of El Paso to restore it to its former glory. “The dust and cobwebs may be gone, but it appears the ghosts have remained.”
“Intelligent people don’t believe in ghosts!” exclaimed 90-year-old Charles Russell, Plaza manager from 1940 to 1951, during an interview for the 2006 commemorative reopening. “While I consider myself to be intelligent, if you ever spent the night in the Plaza Theatre, you might change your mind.” –E. Dan Klepper
Theories regarding the Marfa Mystery Lights proliferate, from UFOs to atmospheric phenomena, but none are able to confirm their true origins. Check them out at the Marfa Lights Viewing Area and be patient: The lights are often a no-show… until they aren’t. Hwy. 90, 8.8 miles east of Marfa.
Rumors suggest that El Diablo—an easy-on-the-eyes vaquero with an extra dash of swagger—once showed up to party at Los Arcos Ballroom in Odessa, dancing the night away until his cloven hooves (or, alternatively, chicken feet) gave away his true identity as the devil. 2205 W. Whitney Lane, Odessa. 432-269-2991
(Formerly the Animal Industries Building)
423 Spence St., College Station.
Simms’ death was a tragic accident. But it doesn’t take much for tragic accidents to take on a more ghostly cast. “In the daytime, we never thought much about any ghosts or strange occurrences,” says Jeffrey Savell, a Texas A&M professor who was an undergrad and grad student in the 1970s. “It was the nights when we were in the Meat Laboratory, conducting research, usually by ourselves, that one would hear strange noises or feel like you were not alone.”
Whether or not Simms’ ghost roams the hallways, Savell says, one thing keeping his memory alive is the lesson offered by his death. “It became a precautionary tale each semester as we visited with students about safety and meat cutting. It gets their attention when you tell them that someone lost their life because of a knife accident.” –A.E.
The University of Texas’ historic Littlefield Home in Austin was the last home of Alice Littlefield, who passed in 1935 and has been reported to play the piano and move objects around. While not open to the public, the exterior can be visited. 302 W. 24th St., Austin.
The drive from Wimberley to Blanco is known as The Devil’s Backbone, and contains its own history of phantom riders and undead settlers, as well as gorgeous Hill Country vistas. Ranch-to-Market 32, southwest of Wimberley.
2000-2016 Strand St., Galveston
corporeal habitués with whom she’s worked in Hendley Row, the oldest commercial structure in the Strand Historic District, since 1990.
It’s not surprising that Hendley Row is a hot spot for supernatural activity. Completed between 1855 and 1858 for shippers and cotton brokers, it was the town’s tallest structure during the Civil War; the roof doubled as a Confederate lookout for Union ships. Galveston and nearby barrier islands’ history have been laced with tragedy. It was the site of a bloody Civil War fight, and serial epidemics of yellow fever decimated the populace. Hurricanes blast through regularly; the 1900 storm left up to 12,000 casualties in the worst natural disaster in U.S. history. No wonder Texas writer Bryan Woolley called Galveston “an old cemetery with a beach attached.”
Jenkines and staff recall other spooky experiences. Some years ago, a friend gave her an old photo—of “Dr. Wilbur,” from a house on Church Street—that’s always displayed in the shop. When Hurricane Ike inundated the building with 10 feet of water in 2008, the photo went undamaged while many other things were destroyed. Every year on Nov. 1, Jenkines constructs an elaborate Day of the Dead altar that includes the photo and lighted candles. Before closing, the staff follows a three-person backup routine to ensure the candles are completely extinguished, even dousing them with water. Yet almost every year, one or more candles are burning the next morning. And Jenkines has photos of lighted candles at night, taken by a passerby through the shop window. Perhaps Dr. Wilbur is afraid of the dark. –M.M.P.
The majestic Hotel Galvez hosts ghost tours (reservations required) with tales of spooky occurrences and spirit sightings—most famously a sailor’s distraught bride-to-be “Audra” from the 1950s; “Sister Catherine,” a heroic nun killed in the 1900 storm; and naughty, laughing phantom children. 2024 Seawall Blvd., Galveston.
The third iteration of the elegant Tremont House features ethereal as well as physical vestiges of its earlier incarnations, including a Civil War soldier; the mischievous small boy “Jimmy;” and the gambler “Sam,” murdered for his winnings. 2300 Ship’s Mechanic Row St., Galveston.
In Houston, Market Square’s La Carafe Wine Bar, built in 1860 and the oldest commercial property in the city, is home to the ghost of bartender/manager “Carl,” plus footsteps, loud noises, and unexplained lights from the empty upstairs. 813 Congress Ave., Houston.
Visitors to the USS Lexington, an aircraft carrier used during World War II, can take self-guided tours of the decommissioned ship where they might encounter “Charly,” the polite seaman in white; other ghostly sailors; or a uniformed Japanese pilot. 2914 N. Shoreline Blvd., Corpus Christi.