Located in the center of Savannah’s expansive and bustling historic district is a mute reminder that in
this town, we measure progress one grave at a time. If the theory is true that desecration of human remains
can spur a haunting, then a word to the wise: all the ghostly stories about Colonial Park Cemetery had
better be not just believed, but venerated. Savannah qualifies for the ‘bulk rate’ on gruesome burial
practices. There are at least eleven thousand reasons why you should be respectful towards our hallowed
dead, so the veil between life and death is very thin here. The deceased rest uneasy.
I know this because I myself have experienced paranormal activity at Colonial Park Cemetery. I’ll delve
into my own personal ghost story in just a bit, but context is important. Why is this large cemetery
seemingly land-locked in the center of Savannah, and who is buried there?
Colonial Park Cemetery was established in 1750, and was open to new burials until 1853. It is our oldest
burial ground still in existence, but not our first. The first cemetery was laid out in 1733, and was located
right off of Wright Square, a few blocks away. In the early days of Savannah, death felt as close as your
own shadow in the moonlight. So our first burial ground was quickly filled and bursting with human
remains after only seventeen short years. An unassuming plaque on York Street is one of our only
reminders that this first burial spot even existed, and the city allowed that land to be developed without
removing the bodies interred there. But that’s a story of willful desecration (and haunting) which I’ll have
to wait for another twilight to share.
The early colonists had an urgent need for a larger burial site as the fledgling city expanded south. They
decided to lay out the new cemetery on the South Common, a large field which lay right outside the
wooden defensive wall that existed in those days. The wall ran along what is today known as Oglethorpe
Avenue. The defenses were not decorative: Spaniards to the south in St. Augustine, Florida would have
been quite pleased to wrestle Savannah away from the ambitious English upstarts, or simply put the entire
city to the torch. France was jockeying for strategic position, including a fort at one time near present- day
Beaufort, South Carolina.
The city literally grew around the burial ground. It was a dark malignant heart which throbbed with the
relentless drumbeat of inevitability, and was continually refreshed by the blood and bones of Savannah’s
early inhabitants.
So much tragedy in a scant six acres leaves the cemetery gate unlocked and wide, if you can pardon the
grim humor, for all manner of ghostly happenings. My first experience with the paranormal at the old
burying ground came in 2002. I was about to give a ghost tour at 9 pm on a chilly November night. The
weather forecast had predicted an unusually severe cold front was imminent, but wouldn’t push through
until sometime after 1 am, so I dressed for a moderate night. Big mistake. Halfway through my first tour
of the evening, which began at 7 pm, the temperature plummeted like a crooked boxer. By the start of my
second tour, my teeth were chattering.
Standing at the historic front gate with a smallish crowd, I attempted to start my 9 pm tour. Why, you
may be asking, do I say ‘attempted’? The problem was that I was having trouble keeping the attention of
the crowd, which is my fancy way of saying I was bombing. Big time. Every tour guide eventually
encounters a group that’s distracted in general (which is bad) or finds you uninteresting (which is
infinitely worse). I had just barely told them my name and their attention had already wandered. Or maybe
they were just chilled to the bone? Would this tour become unofficially known as The Night Mother
Nature Left The Freezer Door Open?
Their expressions were not the empty eyes of disinterest, though. Their faces reflected an intense range of
emotions, from fascination to creeping dread. What could be so distracting? I finally turned, following the
gazes of my tour, and I finally saw what my group had already spotted. My mouth fell open.
It was rising out of the Wilson family tomb, although there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about the
Wilson family’s grave. It was just one more burial plot out of seven hundred or so in Colonial Park
Cemetery. Their large tomb was located about 20 yards from the front gates of the cemetery, just west of
the path. What had been at once a marble slab sitting on a raised platform of bricks, had at some point
been lowered to just above ground level.
And what was ‘It’? Well, what I saw defied easy description or explanation. But however inadequate my
words will be in encapsulating what I observed, I can confirm that there were eerie columns of whitish
mist or smoky vapor, and it appeared that the mysterious mist was seeping from underneath that particular
tomb. I didn’t see any other fogs, mists, or vapors anywhere in the cemetery. In fact, there weren’t any
fogs, etc. within view, anywhere else.
So my tour group and I stood, utterly transfixed by the unbelievable sight. It was then that I had a
realization. The columns of mist looked like people.
Now, when I say that, some folks get the idea that I saw Casper the Friendly Ghost. That’s not what I saw.
It also wasn’t something dreamed up by the boys down at Industrial Light & Magic, who decided to take
the night off from designing all the special effects for the Star Wars prequels (remember, this is 2002) and
prank a ghost tour just for the heck of it.
Do I know what I saw? No. But I have taken enough life drawing courses to favorably compare whatever
phenomenon we were experiencing to gesture drawings, which are a ‘loosening up’ exercise most artists
would be familiar with. It is a drawing method intended to start very fluid, and get tighter and more
detailed after the initial bold movement. I noticed that there were between five and seven human-shaped
apparitions, all of which had gathered around the Wilson slab.
We watched in silence. No one’s phones had so much as camera yet, much less the high clarity video we
take for granted today. I estimate that we stood watching this unbelievable sight for about 4 minutes,
which is a lifetime on a tour where the guide is literally paid to talk. Finally, the wind shifted and blew the
mists away. In a matter of moments, it was if we all imagined it. When I turned back to my tour group I
could see that several folks wanted to run– and I also realized that I hadn’t taken any money yet, and back
then we were cash-only.
Fortunately a little old lady saved me on both issues. She pointed a trembling finger at the cemetery and
asked,“Has that ever happened before?”
I replied quickly, “Yes, ma’am. Every night at 9 pm!” And then I took payment for the tour right away.
About a year later I was at the Georgia Historical Society, looking up something in the archives. I wound
up finding some documents about the Wilson family quite by accident, specifically regarding two of the
Wilson children buried in that specific tomb: Mary, aged 15, and Daniel, aged 8.
Mary died of burns in an unusual way. Her death occurred “when her Bible took fire on her breast.” Did
she fall asleep reading her Bible by candlelight, or is this a miraculous instance of spontaneous
combustion?
Daniel suffered from bilious fever (possibly yellow fever), and at the age of eight, his last recorded words
were: “Now! I want to die now!”
Can it be mere coincidence that one of the Wilson children died in a fire, and the other due to a massive
fever? Both casualties involve being snuffed out by extreme temperatures. And is it therefore unthinkable
that the Wilson tomb would be a logical place to see people made of smoke milling about? I know that for
me, finding the historical backstory offers context but not definitive confirmation. Maybe uncovering
more about the Wilson family will be the next happy accident in the stacks at the Georgia Historical
Society.
Why did this supernatural event happen right in front of me and my group? One gentleman who was on
that tour that cold night offered his opinion which is as good an explanation as any. “I’ve been thinking
about it for the entire tour,” he said. “And the best thing I can figure is that this group, with these specific
people and this exact spot, were somehow selected. Or our cosmic vibration or collective aura or whatever
you want to call it, made our encounter possible. I don’t mean this in any sort of negative way– quite the
opposite. But did anyone else notice that for the entire time that mist was out there, there wasn’t a single
tour group or pedestrian out here at the same time? I believe it was a message meant for one of us. Or all
of us.”
If anyone out there has a better theory, I would love to hear it.
Perhaps the lesson is that Colonial Park Cemetery is much more than where the dead are buried. It’s also
much more than ghost a story in a town full of haunted tales. If you’re attuned, a burial ground often tells
a narrative. How old is the place? How affluent were its citizens? How did the city grow? By that
measure, Colonial Park Cemetery speaks volumes about the people and the relative wealth of the
population. Began in 1750 when Savannah was a grubby, somewhat underfed seaport, the early simple
headstones reflect that hardscrabble existence. As the city grew, it witnessed a renaissance of commerce
and culture. In a century-plus worth of burials at Colonial Park Cemetery, the later tombstones are more
elaborate. Ultimately what we have is a snapshot of a seaport, echoing both boom and bust.
Colonial Park represents much more than a collection of random tombs and burial markers. Early
Savannahians were confronted with the prospect of disease, imprecise medical care, a staggering infant
mortality rate, and unsanitary conditions. Mary Wilson was proof that even your Bible could kill you. The
early Savannah residents responded to that toxic soup of lethality that was their environment by erecting a
simple yet elegant burying ground. As their city grew they embraced Colonial Cemetery, literally
wrapping their streets and homes around it, as a reminder of the razor-thin and all-too-familiar line
between blooming vitality and decay.
If paranormal activity is caused by unfinished business by the souls of the departed, then Colonial Park
Cemetery in Savannah could be the most haunted spot in America’s Most Haunted City.