10 Ghostly Women Who Never Left These Now Haunted Hotels

Mary Augusta Yohe’s striking contralto voice dazzled guests staying at her parents’ Hotel Eagle in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, in the late 1800s. So convinced of her talent, locals pooled their money to send her to Paris to formally train in the operatic arts. May Yohe, as she became known, did indeed become a larger-than-life star. She married British aristocrat Lord Francis Clinton Hope, owner of the legendary Hope Diamond, and we’re not saying the stone, which some say is cursed, is to blame, but soon after, she experienced a slew of bad luck: she dived into divorce, financial decline, two more failed marriages, and died penniless in 1938. Today, guests have spotted her ghost in the third-floor exercise room of the present-day Historic Hotel Bethlehem—built in the 1920s on the site of the Eagle Hotel)—and the player piano in the lobby mysteriously turns on, accompanied by ethereal singing. Is it May returning to the happier times of her life?

Jane Stanford was a go-getter, but not without tragedy. After she and her husband, railroad tycoon Leland Stanford, lost their only son, they devoted themselves to building a university for all of California’s children. When Leland died in 1893, Jane became the sole trustee of Stanford University, and she dedicated herself to running the institution—with one obstacle: David Starr Jordan, the university’s president, whom she planned to fire. She probably would have, except she nearly died in her San Francisco home in January 1905 when she drank rat-poison-laced water, which detectives deemed an accident. Nevertheless, terrified, she fled to the Moana Hotel in Honolulu (now the Moana Surfrider), where she ordered a bicarbonate of soda to settle her stomach. That evening, February 28, 1905, she died for real—from strychnine poisoning. It remains a mystery who killed her, though Jordan remains a serious suspect. But we’re here to talk about ghosts, and, yes, her billowy apparition is said to haunt the 793-room Waikiki Hotel. She wanders the hallways, searching for her room—which was integrated into the hotel’s more modern structure long ago.

If you’re ranking female ghosts, Kate Morgan surely tops the list. This mysterious young woman from Detroit checked into San Diego’s iconic Hotel del Coronado on Thanksgiving Day, 1892, spinning different stories: she was waiting for her estranged husband, dealing with stomach cancer, meeting her brother, a doctor. Fast-forward five days, and she was found dead on an outdoor staircase, a bullet to her head. Officially? It was deemed a suicide. But the bullet didn’t match her gun. Whatever went down, one thing is sure: Kate never checked out. She makes herself known with flickering lights, icy cold spots, phantom fingers touching cheeks, and sightings of a mysterious woman in a black lace dress in Room #3327—the distraught young woman’s room.

Of all the ghosts, this bride ghost, embodying the agony of unfulfilled love and shattered dreams, must be the saddest of them all. You can meet one of the most tragic bride ghosts at La Fonda on the Plaza in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where she has taken up residence. This unfortunate woman—her name now lost to history—was honeymooning at the hotel in the 1930s. Her groom went to the bar, brawled with the bartender, and ended up dead at the bottom of the stairs. Another version has a vengeful ex-lover killing the young bride at the hotel. Whatever the case, keep your eyes open for the melancholy bride drifting around Room 510. She can be seen near the wedding suite, lurking in the lobby, elevator, and basement, and, most poignantly, at the base of the stairs, her hands clutching her chest, before vanishing into thin air.

The Partridge Inn in Augusta, Georgia, is historic, for sure—established in the late 1800s, it’s the state’s first hotel to be included in the Historic Hotels of America registry. And so, no wonder at least one spirit has taken up residence—meet Emily, another bride ghost. The belle of the town, with long chestnut hair, was set to be married in the late 1800s. But tragedy struck as she put on the finishing touches in the hotel’s bridal suite. Her fiancé, mistaken for someone else as he rode his horse into town, was fatally shot. Devastated, Emily wore her custom-made wedding gown and exquisite veil for weeks, and although many others courted her, she never married. At last, she succumbed to her grief, dying from a broken heart. If you stay here, don’t be surprised if you feel a chill—or catch sight of a young girl with long, dark hair dressed in a flowing white gown, unable to move on.

Insider Tip: The inn has a signature cocktail named after Emily, containing botanist gin, butterfly pea flower tea, fresh lemon juice, and blueberry-and-lavender-infused simple syrup.

You may have heard about The Stanley—horror author Stephen King stayed in Room 217 in 1974, and whatever terrorized him that long, dark night inspired him to write The Shining. The hotel partially sits atop a quartz and limestone mineral belt, thought to store residual energy—which might explain the abundance of paranormal activity reported by its guests. Yes, Stephen King isn’t the only one to experience strange things in the night. Among a parade of ghosts, one of the most famous is Elizabeth Wilson. She’s a former housekeeper who, on July 25, 1939, narrowly survived a harrowing accident when an explosion trapped her in the rubble for three hours. With all that, she continued working at the hotel until her peaceful passing in 1951. But, according to reports, she never truly left. Guests have spotted her spirit roaming the hotel’s halls and, especially, in Room 217 (the Kings’ room), where their belongings are mysteriously packed or neatly organized during their stay.

When Carolyn Foster Stickney’s railroad-tycoon husband died in 1903, she was heartbroken, no doubt, but inheriting a grand resort—i.e., the Omni Mount Washington Resort in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire, which hubby Joseph Stickney had just built—must have offered some solace. She spent her summers there, transforming it into the epitome of luxury. Even after remarrying a decade later and moving to France, her heart remained at the resort, where she summered. She died in 1936, and ever since—you know what’s coming—her ghostly presence permeates the hotel. You can stay in her former room, No. 314, where she makes herself known with flickering lights, the scent of sweet perfume, and water mysteriously filling the bathtub. That said, the eeriest sightings have been Carolyn’s ghost on the balcony overlooking the hotel’s front entrance, just as she always did, making sure no guest was better dressed than she.

During World War II, the story goes, a young woman named Abigail tearfully bid farewell to her soldier fiancé on the platform of Nashville’s Union Station as he departed for France, promising to meet him at the same spot upon his return. But when the war ended, Abigail learned he had been killed in battle, and, overcome with grief, she threw herself in front of a passing train. Today, even though the station has been beautifully transformed into the Union Station Nashville Yards, it is said that Abigail’s spirit lingers. Guests have reported seeing a woman dressed in Victorian clothing jump over a rail to her death; when they look closer, all they see is a man in uniform, waiting for someone. It’s as if Abigail and her beau are caught in an endless loop. Room 711 has also seen strange activity: phones ringing with no caller, flickering lights, icy chills, and the eerie sound of furniture moving on its own. Why Room 711? Because it offers Abigail the perfect view of the tracks where she once stood, forever waiting.

If you were anyone in the nation’s capital during the Gilded Age, you longed to be invited to one of Clover Adams’ elegant gatherings. The vivacious, intellectual wife of novelist Henry Adams, she was a key figure in Washington’s cultural scene as part of the “Five of Hearts,” an elite social circle that hosted everyone from Mark Twain to Teddy Roosevelt at the city’s grandest events. But when her father died in 1886, her grief became unbearable, and she finally ended it all by taking potassium cyanide, a chemical used to process film (she was a skilled photographer, on top of her other talents). The Adams’ house once stood on the site of what is now the elegant Hay-Adams, just steps from the White House. To this day, staff and guests insist she has never left the place: doors mysteriously lock and unlock, radios switch on, and—here’s the weirdest one—the unmistakable scent of almonds is often smelled, a telltale sign of potassium cyanide.

While most ghosts tend to be scary, the Pink Lady, who haunts the Omni Grove Park Inn in Asheville, North Carolina, is known for her gentle and kind presence. The story goes that, back in the 1920s or ‘30s, a young woman fell to her death from a balcony in the hotel’s Palm Atrium. Perhaps she threw herself over the balcony when a married lover ended their affair or, headed to a debutante ball, she accidentally slipped and fell. Whatever the case, her presence has been around ever since, typically appearing as a soft pink mist or a graceful figure with long hair dressed in a pink ballgown. She’s especially fond of children. One family, upon leaving, left a touching note for the staff, expressing how much their children enjoyed playing with the “lady in the pink ballgown.” You’ll find her most frequently in Room 545, close to the site of her fateful fall—but as a ghost, she’s free to roam as she wishes.