6 HAUNTED TEXAS HOTELS
SEARCH FOR SPIRITS AT THESE SPOOKY STATEWIDE DESTINATIONS THIS HALLOWEEN
Looking for a fall getaway with a chance of fright? You may find a bone-chilling bedfellow or spot a mysterious apparition in the hallway when you visit these six historic Texas properties.
Photo by Jason Risner
The pet project of rancher Alfred Gage, this hotel opened in 1927 to great fanfare. Too bad Alfred died a year later, without having much time to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Perhaps that’s why his ghost purportedly lingers on the front porch, in the garden, and as a gauzy visage in the hallways. Some guests report taps on their shoulders and the sound of a woman reading poetry deep into the night. Expect strange dreams in Room 10, where guests have heard a ghostly version of Rick Cavender’s “Daylight in Marathon” as they drift off to sleep.
Photo courtesy Crockett Hotel
The battle never ends for the apparitions who patronize the Crockett Hotel, erected in 1909 on a portion of the Alamo combat zone. Reported by paranormal tours and enthusiasts to be home to disembodied soldiers slain during the 1836 bloodletting, the lobby, bar, and executive offices have recorded the most unexplained activity. Numerous guests attest to spying a phantom clad in a dark blue uniform, while others have felt cold spots, been caught in the elevator as it went up and down on its own, captured photos of translucent orbs with cameras, and heard horses trotting in the hallways.
Photo courtesy The Driskill
Locals flock to the Driskill for many reasons—its gorgeous Romanesque architecture, famous cheese soup, cozy bar filled with Texas furnishings—and the potential for ghost sightings only adds to the allure. Perpetual typewriter tapping, inexplicable whispers in the hallways, a child giggling, the undeniable perfume of cigar smoke, and distant arguments that waft like wind from afar are just some of the supernatural occurrences that you might experience during a staycation here. The luxury 130-year-old hotel is reportedly home to a coterie of “earthbound spirits” (defined as those who died violently, but who don’t realize they’ve passed on). Consider the child who met her demise falling down the grand staircase while chasing a ball. Be plucky and stay in Room 525, which is reputed to be the most haunted.
The strumpets still seduce at Miss Molly’s, exuding their heady perfume in the dark of night from the foot of the antique beds. Sure to convert skeptics, this diminutive bed-and-breakfast in the Fort Worth Stockyards teems with history. Once a speakeasy, a cowboy hostelry, a boarding house, and a bordello in turn, the hotel has torrid tales to tell. A paranormal investigative team claims to have captured the voice of one young girl, the daughter of one of the “ladies” of the bordello, who had died of a childhood disease. (“I hate dancing,” the girl complained.) Miss Molly’s ghosts emerge in cold spots, place coins in unexpected places, project shadows, emit scents, appear in whole body form, and flit about as arcs of light. Reserve the Cattlemen or Cowboy rooms to ensure a spooky interaction.
Photo courtesy Miss Molly’s Hotel
Photo from Wiki Commons
Bring your earplugs, lest you hear the mournful weeping of the jilted bride who hanged herself in heartbreak at this 105-year-old downtown Dallas hotel. Rumored to traipse along the hallway of the 19th floor accompanied by 1930s-era tunes that tinkle from a tinny music box, the phantom may be the same culprit who bedevils staff during the graveyard shift. Witness accounts include a sensation of being followed, watched, and occasionally tapped on the shoulder. In the bistro, look for another ghost, the once-regular customer who relentlessly returns to dine in her usual chair.
Photo from Wiki Commons
The spirits can’t be mollified at this sea-facing grande dame, which opened in 1911. Rumor has it that the phantasms have even smashed wineglasses and sabotaged the electrical equipment. While a variety of energies have been measured here on ghost-hunting television shows, the most legendary discarnate being has a name: Audra. Engaged to a sailor, she spent her days awaiting his return from sea, watching from the windows of Room 501. When after a heavy storm her fiance was pronounced shipwrecked and lost at sea, Audra wasted no time in hanging herself from one of the hotel’s turrets. Some say that she waits there still.
by BECCA HENSLEY