HauntTracker collects a particularly vivid story about Building Five: a security guard allegedly left an elevator to find a hospital ward full of wounded soldiers instead of the expected hotel interior. Another visitor described seeing bloody bandages where she initially thought towels lay. The episodes belong to the hotel’s Civil War hospital folklore.
Hospital scenes are reported experiences. Specific historical hospital use not independently verified.
Louisiana Life reports staff and visitors describing a tall apparition, disembodied voices, a presence in the belvedere and a supposedly haunted clock. Owner Kevin Kelly told the magazine that others reported ghosts regularly while he had never seen one himself. The stories form part of the house’s modern visitor folklore.
Lafayette Travel recounts broadcasters hearing a conversation while alone and seeing a man reflected in a television who was absent when they turned around. Other reports feature a woman in white and repeated knocks.
Lafayette Travel records appliances switching on, DVDs leaving shelves and a ringing doorbell with nobody outside. One employee described a woman, a child and a man who favored the porch rocking chairs.
Ghost City Tours records the hotel’s account of Marie, a child said to appear in the mirror near Room 21 and speak with younger guests. Staff also report dragging sounds from empty rooms, furniture rearranged during guests’ absence and a nightgowned girl seen climbing the stairs without returning.
Distinct from Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop. Historical child-death identification unverified.
Ghost City Tours records a man in sailor’s clothing beside the downstairs fireplace, a woman’s voice whispering names upstairs and red eyes in dark corners. The male figure is commonly identified as Jean Lafitte, although the tour source distinguishes the shop’s pirate association from documented ownership or occupation.
Ghost City Tours recounts moans, scratching and phantom footsteps associated with the house, alongside an oppressive feeling reported by passersby. Its research distinguishes these ghost traditions from extravagant torture stories added in later retellings. The real suffering of enslaved people is essential context and should not be replaced by sensational inventions.
A guest account collected by HauntTracker describes a woman emerging from the closet area of a cottage room after the lights were turned off. The figure drifted toward the bed and eventually faded after the guest repeatedly asked her to leave. The account does not identify the woman.
Haunted Rooms recounts the figure called Adda, Ava or Eva, seen near the entrance in a hat, shawl and long skirt. In one recurring encounter she bumps into someone, apologizes and vanishes. Another tradition describes an elegantly dressed couple walking together before disappearing into doors or elevators.
New Orleans tourism tells of Caroline, a white-gowned actress associated with a fatal courtyard fall, and a captain watching performances from the balcony. Their appearances form the theater’s enduring backstage folklore.
Atlas Obscura recounts the tradition of Theodora Hunt, a girl said to have fallen from the attic window. The owner interviewed described the alleged presence as playful rather than threatening, with guests’ keys going missing. The story’s appeal rests on a child seemingly returning to a familiar home.
The child’s identity and fatal fall are presented as legend; archival corroboration not established.
Security alarms, unexplained doors and footsteps in the chambers form the Old State Capitol’s ghost lore. These staff accounts are distinct from the museum’s theatrical Ghost of the Castle presentation.
Folklore writer Cheré Dastugue Coen records former manager Melinda Fitzgerald Anderson’s account of Harry, a Union soldier said to play a violin on the second-floor balcony at midnight. Guests have also described furniture seeming to take someone’s weight and objects moving without a visible hand. Another former manager rejected the ghost stories.
Source includes differing staff opinions; historical death narrative not adopted.
Louisiana tourism links Magnolia to paranormal television accounts of tapping, unexplained lights and a soldier’s face at a window. The public National Park Service complex and privately occupied main house require separate access treatment.
Louisiana’s Secretary of State tourism booklet recounts a supposed Civil War-era ghost that became a mascot for later generations of students. The story is associated with the college buildings’ use as a hospital for soldiers wounded near Mansfield. The source does not provide a name or specific modern encounter.
Louisiana folklore identifies the Bayou Tortue Road bridge with a woman in white called Mary Jane. A radio account repeats a retired officer’s story of stopping to help the silent woman before she disappeared. The violent prom-date origin has no established supporting case record in the researched sources.
Muriel’s dining guide describes Pierre Antoine Lepardi Jourdan as a glowing, sparkling column that passes through its upstairs séance lounge. The restaurant also tells of glasses flying from behind the courtyard bar. Its resident ghost has become a named dining companion, remembered with a table reserved for him.
Chef Chris Montero told NOLA Now that the most familiar spirit is an elderly woman sweeping on the second floor. He also relayed stories of a young woman in the courtyard and an old sailor drinking in the downstairs bar late at night. Montero attributed the traditions to the former owning family.
Lafayette Travel identifies the playful presence as Edmund, a child associated with the family portrait. Items move, restroom hand dryers activate unexpectedly, and staff hear running in the hallway.
Current operation and the child’s historical identity require independent checks.
Ghost City Tours recounts a short, mustached man in a brown suit and top hat appearing after closing, identified in the legend as Dr. Dupas. The museum itself directly rejects the lurid stories of murder and forced experiments often attached to him: it has found no evidence supporting them.
Museum prohibits paranormal investigations. Its official correction takes precedence over the tour company’s unsupported historical allegations.
Louisiana tourism records a shadow at an upstairs window, the sounds of an unseen horse-drawn carriage along the oak avenue, and a candlestick reportedly moving across a room during a tour.
New Orleans tourism records doors moving by themselves and bottles, glasses and chairs shifting around this old bar. Local lore assigns the disturbances to celebrated former visitors.
The convent is associated with the Casket Girls legend: young women’s travel chests are imaginatively recast as containers for vampires. New Orleans tourism repeats this supernatural tale as part of the building’s folklore.
Vampire legend, not a verified account of the women or Ursuline sisters. Avoid conflating immigrant history and religious practice with supernatural wrongdoing.
The St. Charles Herald Guide records bells ringing at the front door without anyone entering and sightings of a blond child on the stairs. A birthday-party guest reportedly followed the girl upstairs and found no one. Local tradition identifies her as a child still waiting for her missing father.
Child’s historical identity is unverified; retained as local tradition.