Downtown Chattanooga Folklore
The fall season is in full swing, and anticipation continues to grow for the chilly, sweater-clad, and pumpkin-carving days before us. With this change in the weather also comes a shift in the air—a certain mystical energy emblematic of the autumn season: the days are shorter, the air is a bit more crisp, and the dark days lead to cozy nights encased in nostalgia and a profound sense of togetherness. Fall is the time to gather, and the season’s uniquely bewitching spirit makes for the perfect excuse to sit around a bonfire and conjure up stories unnerving enough to captivate all ages.
Luckily, Chattanooga holds many tales within its history, so whether you want to recount ghost stories or little-known folk tales, look no further. Here are some of the most unsettling Downtown Chattanooga mysteries and legends that have cemented this city as one of the most haunted in the South.
A Complex History:
Prior to its incorporation in 1839, Chattanooga was inhabited by Native Americans for over 12,000 years and became a trading and business epicenter when John Ross, Chief of the Cherokee Indians, established Ross’s Landing around 1816. The Bluff area was also of utmost importance to the Cherokee people, as it was the highest point along the Tennessee River and was believed to be home to their sacred hawk, Tia-Numa.
However, once the federal government approved the Indian Removal Act of 1830, thus began the forced removal of Indigenous people and what would become known as the Trail of Tears. This tragic event would be the catalyst for many more, as legend says the land was cursed once stolen by colonizers.
In the years following Chattanooga’s establishment came war, flooding, and murder which brought insurmountable death and, of course, spirits that lingered behind. However, the lesser-known contributor to Chattanooga’s rich paranormal history is its previous spiritualist community.
Newspapers from the 1800’s detailed daily meetings of the Southern Spiritualists’ Association, a community of spiritists, clairvoyants, and mediums who performed seances, connecting the living to the dead. They built the Natural Bridge Hotel in 1870 to host their rituals, and though this activity took place way up on Lookout Mountain, its metaphysical effects could be felt in the heart of the city where the self-proclaimed witches, witch doctors, and spiritualists of all kinds walked the same downtown streets we do today.
The Read House
A grandiose work of art, today the Read House boasts crystal chandeliers, marbled flooring, and lush touches of velvet and gold in every room. Showcasing a flamboyant design inspired by the glamour of the 1920’s, the South’s longest-operating hotel holds within its ornate façade an interesting yet tragic history that reaches far beyond the scope of its design.
It was 1847 and Chattanooga became readily accessible by railway, ushering in a plethora of passengers through the new rail system connected to Atlanta. A businessman named Thomas Crutchfield noticed this opportunity and transformed his family’s home into Chattanooga’s first hotel which sat right across the street from the depot. Thus, Crutchfield House was born.
Once war broke out, however, the hotel no longer served as a warm place for those passing through but as a fortress and headquarters for confederate troops. Not long after, the space was converted into a hospital for union soldiers, housing a morgue in the basement during one of the war’s costliest battles.
Stained by the blood of fathers and sons, the Crutchfield house saw its final days after the great flood of 1867. One of Chattanooga’s worst floods to date, five feet of water waded throughout the lobby, forcing patrons to be paddled by boat to the front desk. The hotel was burned to the ground less than a year later.
Over time, the location was transformed to fit the needs of its inhabitants when, finally, the Read House was built and opened in 1926. However, the troubling history of this plot of land seems to have had a lasting effect, as the Read House is now the site of many infamous ghost stories, along with an energy that can only be described as other worldly.
The most well-known Read House tale is that of Annalisa Netherly, a woman whose life came to a tragic end in 1927 when she was allegedly beheaded by a jealous lover in the bathtub of room 311. Those who have stayed in the room and throughout the hotel over the years have since reported shadowy figures, strange noises, flickering lights, and running water throughout their stay.
Room 311 also housed Al Capone in the 1930’s as he awaited federal trial. To prevent escape, custom iron bars were placed on his window which were removed in 2004. Capone never mentioned crossing paths with Annalisa despite her dislike of men, suggesting she might have been more afraid of him than he of her.
After being forced to rebuild downtown time and time again, locals had to devise a plan to sustain the city. Once the idea of a levee was shot down, townspeople began to consider raising the grade level of the street by 3-15 feet. Though there’s not much documentation on what was actually done to combat the flooding problem, there is documentation of petitions which supported increasing the grades, as well as a news article about paving downtown streets in 1889.
Talk of underground Chattanooga mostly subsided until 1978 when Dr. Jeffrey L. Brown, an associate sociology and anthropology professor at UTC, discovered a newspaper archive titled, “Old Downtown Buildings may have 2 Stories Below Street.” This article detailed citizens bringing in dirt and rock to raise the lower part of the town above the flood water, creating a uniform grade to keep its businesses safe. It also speculated that some 19th century buildings had up to two stories below the ground level we see today- one which acted as the old first story and a second for any buildings that had cellars.
Underground Chattanooga
A mix of fact and fiction, the legend of underground Chattanooga has swirled around for decades, igniting the imaginations of locals and visitors alike. The possibility of a hidden, labyrinth-like city buried beneath another is an enticing one, however, this isn’t exactly what lies beneath our downtown streets. The true story begins with the Tennessee River and its unforgiving floods which devastated the city for decades starting in 1867 when the river level rose 30 feet.
Today, if you walk the five blocks between 6th and 8th Street and Cherry and Market Street, you might be able to spot what looks like the tops of several window arches located just above the sidewalk, indicating there were once windows that peered out onto ground level. Those who have ventured into the basements of these historic buildings also note the boarded-up windows and doors too symmetrical and well-placed to have been designed for underground. However, those lucky enough to have journeyed through these privately-owned underground spaces don’t recount a maze of connecting corridors that stretch for miles but only of large rooms consisting of retaining walls and sometimes eerie presences.
Amy Petulla, founder of Chattanooga Ghost Tours, revealed a couple of unsettling encounters that have occurred during the underground Chattanooga stop of her tours, noting one guest who refused to get close to the stop’s fence, citing a malevolent, oppressive energy that they wouldn’t subject themself to.
She also mentioned an instance where a guest left the tour with something they didn’t arrive with—a scratch on the arm. A teenager who had been teasing and insulting the ghosts in hopes of stirring a reaction got more than what they bargained for, however, the individual and their parents were surprisingly delighted about the encounter. Petulla still emphasizes that guests shouldn’t insult the ghosts to avoid similar or possibly even worse encounters from occurring.
Witch Doctors
A lesser-known tale chronicled in the Chattanooga Daily Times circa 1889 details the partnership of two Chattanoogans, Jim Stanford and Julia Firmin, who led seemingly normal lives with one exception: they worked together as witch doctors. The pair had a large following in the area, and Stanford and Firmin claimed to possess the power to heal those who fell ill from evil spirits by laying their hands on them.
Despite Julia Firmin’s firm belief in witches and spirits, she was also a devout Christian, reading her Bible in her home on Lookout Street and praying daily. Firmin said of her religion, “It enables me to discern the inner motives of a person’s mind, and thus, I am enabled to control and cure them of their infirmities when caused by evil spirits. When not so caused I send them to regular physicians.”
The witch doctors explained how vastly different symptoms of the bewitched could be, but Firmin maintains that she could simply tell if an individual had fallen victim without even hearing of their symptoms. The doctors also explained the various ways that witches could curse someone with evil spirits, as the mischief could be delivered through food or drink, as well as articles placed in the person’s bed. These articles commonly included birds’ feet, feathers, regalia of secret societies, grave dirt, and even human remains.
After healing individuals from evil spirits, animals like snakes, lizards, woodworms, and other amphibians would sometimes run out of their bodies. Firmin recounted a story where this took place. “A woman came to me who had been in torture for three years. When first taken, she suddenly fell senseless, then was afflicted all over, and then in one limb. When hands were placed upon her, a lizard came out of her ankle and ran along the floor. It was caught and preserved. After the lizard was driven out, the woman got well.”
Given its history, Chattanooga’s pull toward the paranormal seems undeniable, especially to those who have had personal experiences with them. Run-ins with the disembodied seem to be a dime a dozen around our scenically supernatural city, so if you’re looking for a fright, talk to locals about their own tales, book a tour with Chattanooga Ghost Tours, or wander downtown and peer into the windows of the historic, 19th-century buildings, acutely aware of the spirits that might be looking back.