Long After Death: A Gettysburg Ghost Tour

A Harvest of Death by
Timothy O'Sullivan. Maintained at
the Getty Museum in LA

A three day battle resulting in 50,000 casualties including 8000 American lives lost. 165,000 troops, 653 cannons, and more than 46,000 horses and mules were used between both sides. Still the legends of those who fought and the battlefields they bled on loom larger than even these staggering numbers. The names and places are iconic: Robert E. Lee, Joshua Chamberlain, The Irish Brigade, Little Round Top, Pickett’s Charge. Like many Americans, I’ve been infatuated with the Civil War since I was a kid, and although I was born and raised less than a day’s drive from the battlefield, it wasn’t until I was in my early 30s and living in California before I finally made plans to visit the historic site of Gettysburg in Adams County, Pennsylvania.

I was making some routine plans to visit family in Kentucky during the month of May when I decided to tack on a three day side trip to Gettysburg prior to arriving in the Bluegrass. I took a Delta flight into Harrisburg, PA, where I rented a slick, black Dodge Challenger, driving it the remaining 40 miles south to Gettysburg.

Image in Sach's Bridge
from Destination Gettysburg

Several weeks prior to my trip I did a little research online to find a good hotel near the battlefield and found out the town is peppered with inexpensive little bed and breakfast houses decorated in lovely old-fashioned Americana and serving delicious local dishes: fried chicken, pot roast, dumplings and gravy, boiled greens, apple pie. I made reservations for two nights at a peaceful and well-kept B&B called The Gaslight Inn located near what would be considered “downtown” Gettysburg.  It’s within walking distance of the battlefields, but to really enjoy your visit a set of wheels is a must.

Instead of doing a blow by blow of the traditional tourist spots at Gettysburg, I want to describe one of my more memorable experiences from the trip which was my evening with a group of ghost hunters on a haunted tour of the battlegrounds with the celebrated Miss Betty. Miss Betty’s ghost tour was recommended to me by the hostess of the Gaslight Inn and I quickly called her up and made a reservation at my first opportunity.

Another photo from Sach's Bridge of
a figure.  Photo from Dark Shadows
Ghost Tours.

The next night, a small group of maybe ten ghost hunters met up with Miss Betty in the nearby elementary school parking lot. We packed into a small caravan of three cars led by Miss Betty towards the outskirts of town where the old Sachs Covered Bridge straddled across Marsh Creek. Since I was the only person who arrived solo I rode with Miss Betty in her little car where I discussed with her my desire to witness any sort of supernatural phenomenon even though I was a devout skeptic. This point of view stoked her interest and she would check in with me periodically throughout the rest of the evening to see if I had been convinced by anything I had witnessed.

Sachs Bridge is a one hundred foot lattice truss structure straight out of a Sleepy Hallow nightmare. You can almost hear the slowly swinging nooses stretching down from the dark rafters, tickling the back of your neck as you walk through the dusty tunnel. Our investigation here lasted through dusk and was accompanied by several ghost stories from Miss Betty. The anecdotes ranged from various atrocities taking place around the bridge during the battle to local children seeing spirits marching up the nearby road just a few months prior.

We were also encouraged to take pictures throughout the evening because it was near these spiritual epicenters where floating orbs and spectral manifestations would miraculously appear in photos even when they may not have been visible in person. I took lots of photos with my Canon XT. I never captured any of these orbs.

Zach Bagans visits Gettysburg.
Via Travel Channel.

We made two more stops during the tour: a visit to a forsaken gazebo near a haunted inn (which was possibly built next to a mass grave) and a field next to the public school where several Confederate soldiers from Louisiana had been massacred. The eeriness of the locations, the sweet but pungent odor of the ripe Pennsylvania grass, and the haunting tales weaved by the charismatic Miss Betty provided for an unbelievably entertaining and inexpensive evening ($15 after the Gaslight Inn discount).  If you go on your own you may even be able to ride along with Miss Betty as she drives from site to site. This woman knows her history of the battlefields, not just the ghost stories but the traditional textbook stuff as well. There also seems to be some limitations enforced by park rangers with regards to people being out and about the battlefields after dark, and the official ghost tours are a great way to be driving through the park at night without being harassed by security.

Ghosts or not, the appearance on the stone faces of the life size statues that stand like sentinels around the park is enough to make your throat go dry. Moving shadows caused by passing low beam headlights gliding across their cheeks and noses like spirit dust as their cold eyes stare off into the eternal beyond, this alone is worth the price of admission. Its wonderful theater and you know for a fact that all those years ago hundreds of men may have been blown to bits right where you are now standing, some vaporized in a red mist of sanguinary termination thanks to cannon fire. Such thoughts do make one pay close attention to their immediate surroundings.

Maj. Gen. Meade Monument

Prior to going to Gettysburg I felt I had a better than average understanding of the battle itself.  I had read several focused works on the encounter as well as the entire trilogy of Shelby Foote’s Civil War including a recent re-reading of his Stars in Their Courses. I had watched the “Gettysburg” episode of the Ken Burns documentary four times, and I had even viewed the Ronald Maxwell film Gettysburg made in 1993 starring Tom Berenger and Martin Sheen.

For those two days I was in Gettysburg prior to taking the ghost tour I covered as much of that field as a person possibly could with self-guided tours, official bus tours, hiking on foot, and driving my grumbling Challenger all around the park. I felt I had a firm grasp of the traditional image and understanding of those three brutal days in July. But it was those brief treks on my final night there, roving back and forth from one haunted spot in the park to another with a full moon overhead, those empty stone eyes watching our every move that provided a different perspective of the area that I wasn’t quite anticipating.

Miss Betty

Standing in silence in that open expanse, the stars beaming down, the solitude of the moment. If you let your mind wander you can imagine the worried parents of these young men waiting back home for hopeful news. Wherever home might be: Tennessee, Michigan, New Jersey, Virginia. Waiting for word that their son is still alive, that the war is over, that life will once again go on as it had before. But that word won’t come. Their son will die, painfully, in agony, along with thousands of others in the hope that this nation would stay united. Standing there under the stars with my mind flying through these images like a scene from Siddhartha, it is only then that the battle becomes real to me and not just words in a book or actors on a screen.

“Have I convinced you at all in the existence of spirits, Jason?” Miss Betty asked as we were about to part our ways at the end of the evening.  I told her no, unfortunately, but I still had a hell of a time and that I would highly recommend her to anyone I knew who would be visiting the park. Sometimes an unconventional method of viewing something that we thought we already understood can reveal something new. They might not quite be ghosts, but subtle details and different insights that we never knew existed can suddenly appear.

Haunted Taverns of Nashville

The milligauss reader

Text and photos by Jason McKenney

Thomas spoke with a calm respect. “Is there anyone here with us? Is there anything you would like to say?”

He held the white noise machine out ahead of him as if it were a compass and he was Meriwether Lewis searching for the Pacific.

He turned to me. “Would like to ask any questions?”

My wife had been given the milligauss meter to hold. It detects any changes in the magnetic field surrounding us. Any disturbances in the Force, so to speak.

“If you are here, please make a noise,” I said, enjoying the moment. “Push my beer glass of this foosball table.”

We were in the back room of Buffalo Billiards, one of the large multi-story pool halls along 2nd Street in Nashville’s Entertainment District. My wife and I had signed up for the Haunted Taverns Tour to indulge in our never-ending obsession with the paranormal (and imbibing tasty regional brews).

It was a misty fall evening in the middle of the week. Another couple had signed up for the tour but they were no-shows. So it was just the two of us and our guide Thomas, an experienced ghost hunter who was also very knowledgeable of Nashville history.

I have seen virtually every episode of Ghost Adventures on Travel Channel and was a huge fan of Poltergeist when I was kid so when it comes to dealing with spirits, I certainly know my stuff.

One of Nashville's best

Thomas brought along the equipment most needed for contacting the beyond: white noise machine through which spirits can speak, a digital recorder to capture electronic voice phenomena (or “EVPs” for short), as well as the milligauss meter which told us if there were any major fluxes in the magnetic field as well as sudden temperature drops. Either activity could represent the arrival of a spirit. Or possibly the opening of a nearby refrigerator.

Our second stop of the night was a bit more interesting. The Wildhorse Saloon boasts a downstairs bar that wasn’t being used on this particular night. While country music and earthy blues were thumping on the main level, our merry band of ghost hunters went below ground to a dimly lit bar shrouded in shadows and Budweiser signs.

Thomas informed us of several spectral experiences he had witnessed in this location as well as the history of a woman who had lost her life on this very ground years before the bar was ever built. Or maybe the bar had been built and then the woman had simply gotten sick in the toilet after too many Jäger shots, I can’t quite recall.

Downstairs at the Wildhorse

I took the digital recorder from Thomas and walked all the way to the rear of the room where a stage lay veiled in quiet mystery. I must admit it was more than a little creepy and a bit exhilarating. It’s not often I get to roam around freely in a Nashville bar, walk up on stage where who know how many popular country artists had once stood, and then start demanding the spirits around me to make themselves known. Maybe Johnny Cash had performed here or Waylon Jennings or Muddy Waters! Or none of thee above!

“Do you want to hurt me?” I asked hoping to provoke any sort of response.

I could say here that I heard a knocking in the darkness behind me or saw a floating light pass down the hallway leading to the bathrooms. But I didn’t. I saw nothing unusual nor did I hear any EVPs when playing back the digital recorder. I still enjoyed my pint of Yazoo Sue and assured my trembling wife that those thumps she had heard were just clumsy boot clonks upstairs. Or were they?

Our final stop was a place called The Stillery. It was a quiet night at the bar. I ordered a Jackalope Red Eye Ale and we headed upstairs to an empty room usually reserved for DJ dances. Again, the room was dark. The only light was that of the street lamps outside the fogged up window.

Upstairs at The Stillery

“There’s a small bathroom down that hall across from the kitchen,” said Thomas. “In that bathroom I’ve been told multiple times that if you turn off the lights, say ‘Mary may I’ three times while looking in the mirror, an apparition will appear standing behind you. We’re not sure who this apparition was during her life. It may have been a bartender or possibly a singer. If you’re brave enough, feel free to try it yourself.”

I was certainly brave enough. I’ll take up your challenge, Thomas! Into the small bathroom I went. It was barely larger than a phone booth. I imagined how wretched it probably got on nights when this floor was filled with dancing and drinking. That was more horrifying to me than any ghostly specter.
I looked into the mirror and turned out the light. I stood in silence for a moment making sure nothing else was in the room with me.

“Mary may I.”

I couldn’t see a thing. The blackness in the confined room was complete.

“Mary may I.”

Did I hear a rustle? Was that the scuff of a shoe across the tile floor behind me?

“Mary . . . may I.”

Third time’s the charm. I stared into where I believed the mirror to be, awaiting a glow to appear or maybe a hand to reach over my shoulder.

But nothing. No rustles. No glowing orbs.

A couple of dorks.
AKA the photo my wife hates

I went outside and reported my findings. I finished my beer, soaking in a wonderful exploration of Nashville from a vantage point much different than what one experiences at the Grand Ole Opry or the Country Music Hall of Fame. So what if I didn’t see any ghosts? The missus and I had fun, sampled a few of Nashville’s best micro-brews and made a new friend in Thomas who we will probably go and see again next time we’re in town.



A few recommended Nashville MicroBrews
Turtle Anarchy
Jackalope
Yazoo
Tennessee Brew Works
Fat Bottom Brewery