These terrifying haunted hotels in Alabama, once-grand establishments, now pulse with malevolent energies that turn polished lobbies into labyrinths of dread.
From the spectral spurs of Jesse James in Selma’s St. James Hotel to the choking sobs of a hanged newlywed swaying from the chandelier in Mobile’s Battle House, each property harbors horrors that prey on the unwary—doors slamming in dead silence, beds shaking as if gripped by unseen hands, and cold breaths fogging mirrors with pleas from the damned.
Many believe that these haunted hotels in Alabama are now prisons for restless souls whose vengeful pranks escalate to outright assaults. And yet, most remain open and continue to receive visitors. Will you risk a night in one of these haunted hotels in Alabama?
Summary
St. James Hotel, Selma
The St. James in Selma is one of the oldest and most storied haunted hotels in Alabama, dating back to 1837, when it opened as the Brantley Hotel.
Located along the Alabama River in the historic district, it served as the Union headquarters during the Civil War. It miraculously survived the fiery destruction that followed the Battle of Selma in 1865. Today, this antebellum gem draws visitors not just for its elegant architecture and stunning river views, but also for its reputation as a hotspot for paranormal activity among the state’s haunted hotels.
Guests and staff often report encounters with the spirit of infamous outlaw Jesse James, who allegedly stayed here in 1881 with his gang. Dressed in cowboy attire, complete with spurs, his apparition has been sighted emerging from rooms 214, 314, and 315, sometimes accompanied by the sound of a ghostly black dog believed to be his loyal companion barking.
Another prominent resident is Lucinda, Jesse’s girlfriend, whose ethereal presence lingers in the hallways, leaving behind a faint scent of lavender. A portrait of her hangs in the lobby, and some claim her eyes follow guests. The courtyard, too, buzzes with residual hauntings—figures in 19th-century clothes wander aimlessly, oblivious to the living, evoking the hotel’s turbulent past.
Despite its spectral guests, the St. James offers modern comforts, such as restored suites and fine dining, blending Southern hospitality with supernatural intrigue.
Redmont Hotel, Birmingham
Birmingham’s Redmont Hotel, opened in 1925, holds the distinction of being the city’s oldest continuously operating haunted hotel.
Pioneering luxuries like private baths and ceiling fans in every room, it quickly became a hub for celebrities and locals alike, hosting figures from politicians to performers.
The most famous spectral resident is country music legend Hank Williams, who spent his final night here in 1952 before his untimely death en route to a performance. Guests report glimpses of his figure in the ninth-floor room, accompanied by faint strains of guitar music or the scent of his signature cologne.
Adding to the lore, a small ghostly dog—possibly his pet—roams the halls, its paws pattering softly in the dead of night.
Former owner Clifford Stiles, who resided in the penthouse suite, is another frequent visitor. His apparition is seen pacing the corridors or adjusting furniture with an unseen hand. Doors creak open on their own, and cold spots chill the air, as if Stiles is still overseeing his beloved property.
Renovated in recent years while preserving its historic charm, the Redmont blends Art Deco style with modern amenities, offering rooftop bars and cozy lounges. For those intrigued by Alabama’s haunted bed-and-breakfasts, it’s a prime spot where history’s echoes invite personal encounters with the beyond.
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Fort Conde Inn, Mobile
As Mobile’s second-oldest structure, the Fort Conde Inn, built in 1836, embodies the port city’s rich and layered past, from its French colonial roots to its pivotal role in the War of 1812.
Originally a private residence near the historic fort that shares its name, this charming bed and breakfast now welcomes travelers with period furnishings and a serene courtyard. Its proximity to Dauphin Street makes it ideal for exploring Mobile’s vibrant culture, yet it’s equally famed among haunted hotels in Alabama for guests who linger eternally.
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Paranormal reports abound on the second floor, where disembodied voices murmur in the night and an oppressive dread settles over rooms. Doors slam without cause, beds shake violently, and lights flicker erratically, as if the inn’s early inhabitants replay long-forgotten dramas. Some attribute these disturbances to soldiers from the fort’s era.
One paranormal investigator captured electronic voice phenomena whispering names of the inn’s original family, suggesting intelligent hauntings tied to 19th-century tragedies.
Tutwiler Hotel, Birmingham
The Tutwiler Hotel in downtown Birmingham, reborn in 1986 from the ashes of its 1914 predecessor, captures the city’s industrial rebirth while harboring mischievous spirits from its apartment-era days.
Named for Colonel Henry Tutwiler, a key investor in the original, this elegant property features marble floors and offers skyline views, attracting both business travelers and history buffs alike. Yet, as one of the most haunted hotels in Alabama, it offers more than luxury—it’s a playground for the paranormal.
The infamous “Knocker” reigns supreme on the sixth floor, rapping urgently on doors in the dead of night, only to vanish when answered. Believed to be a male entity targeting female guests, his knocks echo with frantic insistence, leaving sleepers startled and alert.
Downstairs, the restaurant buzzes with poltergeist pranks: appliances whir to life, lights blaze on after closing, and one bartender discovered a fully set table—complete with wine—for an invisible patron. Some link these antics to Colonel Tutwiler himself, his spirit unwilling to relinquish control over his namesake.
Malaga Inn, Mobile
Located in Mobile’s Lower Dauphin Street Historic District, the Malaga Inn was built in 1862 from twin townhouses built by brothers-in-law for affluent families, later merging into a boutique haven in the 1960s. Its lush courtyard and Spanish Revival style evoke old-world romance, attracting couples and history lovers. Ranked sixth among America’s most haunted hotels by USA Today, it lures the brave with tales of Civil War tunnels and timeless spirits.
Room 007’s veranda is haunted by the most vivid apparitions: a woman in white paces relentlessly, her gown whispering against the railings like a sigh from the past. Guests report her sorrowful gaze piercing the night, possibly a Confederate-era figure lost in the tunnels beneath, where soldiers once hid—and perhaps perished. This spectral sentinel solidifies Malaga’s status as one of Alabama’s most haunted hotels.
Kendall Manor Inn, Eufaula
Perched on Eufaula’s West Broad Street hill, Kendall Manor Inn, completed in 1872 amid post-Civil War reconstruction, is an Italianate masterpiece resembling a grand steamboat with its cupola and white facade.
The inn was built for merchant James Turner Kendall, whose fortune weathered the conflict. It later served as a welcoming inn for travelers along the Chattahoochee River. Now a private residence, its legacy as one of Alabama’s haunted hotels endures through whispers of devoted spirits.
The primary apparition is Annie, the loyal nursemaid who tended Kendall’s children and later cared for him in his final days. Her gentle presence is evident in the soft footsteps on creaking stairs or the comforting hand on weary shoulders, evoking her nurturing role. Guests once reported that she would tuck in linens with maternal care and attention.
A Victorian lady in flowing gowns glides through downstairs rooms, her skirts rustling like autumn leaves, while a little girl giggles on the porch, vanishing into mist. A top-hatted gentleman materializes in the parlor doorway, pipe smoke curling before he fades, possibly Kendall himself overseeing his domain.
Though no longer open to overnight stays, Kendall Manor’s exterior tours and local lore keep its spectral charm alive.
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1880 Josephine Hotel, Union Springs
In quaint Union Springs, the 1880 Josephine Hotel rose as a 32-room beacon of post-war prosperity, constructed by Dr. Robert A. Fleming for his wife, Josephine.
Once a bustling commercial hub with lively saloons and masquerade balls rivaling those of New Orleans, it hosted Alabama’s elite before fading into abandonment. It was later revived as a cafe, art studio, and gift shop. Today, it stands as a preserved relic among haunted hotels in Alabama, where ghostly revelry echoes through empty halls.
Nights bring ethereal voices murmuring deals or laughter from vanished parties, while orbs of light flicker like forgotten candles. Paranormal investigators have documented flying objects—a framed photo hurled at a team member in the parlor—and EVPs capturing piano strains from a silent room.
Aunt B’s Bed & Breakfast, Elba
Aunt B’s Bed & Breakfast, a circa-1910 home transformed into a cozy retreat, offered heartfelt hospitality until its closure. Surrounded by piney woods near the Conecuh National Forest, it drew nature lovers with home-cooked meals and tranquil gardens. Now shuttered, its place in Alabama’s haunted hotels is rooted in wartime shadows that refuse to fade.
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Intruders from beyond—ghostly men in tattered uniforms—rattle windows and pound at doors, as if storming an old infirmary that once stood on the site. Apparitions of women and children flicker inside, their faces pale with unspoken pleas, evoking Elba’s role in Civil War skirmishes.
Cold drafts sweep through sealed rooms, and objects vanish only to reappear in odd spots, suggesting poltergeist unrest from soldiers seeking aid. One guest awoke to find claw-like scratches on her arm and fled before dawn.
Kate Shepard House B&B, Mobile
The Kate Shepard House B&B, a 1897 Queen Anne beauty in Mobile’s Midtown, was crafted by railroad magnate C.M. Shepard as a private school for elite children, run by his daughters Kate and Isabel.
Its turrets and wraparound porch exude Victorian grace, now offering three suites with antique charm and gourmet breakfasts.
An elderly lady, possibly Kate herself, roams hallways and materializes in guest rooms, her form soft and watchful. She folds stray blankets or adjusts vases with unseen hands, leaving a faint floral scent.
Upstairs, playful giggles echo from empty attics, linked to Isabel’s spirit or lost pupils, while Civil War papers unearthed there hint at deeper secrets. Guests feel the lightest of touches or hear whispers of lessons long past.
With its preserved artifacts and proximity to the Azalea Trail, the Kate Shepard offers a blend of serenity and subtle spookiness.
Rawls Hotel, Enterprise
Enterprise’s Rawls Hotel was built in 1903 by Captain Japeth Rawls amid the timber boom, evolving from a simple lodging to a Spanish Mission-style social epicenter. Its teak-paneled lobby and arched porches hosted dances and deals until the 1970s, when the decline began. Reborn as a restaurant and event space, it endures as a cornerstone of haunted hotels in Alabama, where echoes of merriment mask darker presences.
The “Lady in Red” haunts the second floor, her crimson gown swirling as she relives a fatal fall—perhaps from a lover’s quarrel or tragic leap. Captain Rawls himself lurks in the basement, his pipe smoke curling amid clanking chains, as if tallying eternal ledgers.
Children’s laughter bubbles from vacant upper halls, joined by disembodied voices debating timber trades, evoking the hotel’s family legacy.
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Battle House Renaissance Mobile Hotel & Spa, Mobile
Mobile’s Battle House Renaissance Mobile Hotel & Spa, first built in 1852 by the Battle brothers on the site of Andrew Jackson’s old headquarters, has anchored the city’s social scene for over 170 years. Rebuilt grander after a 1905 fire, its marble lobby and crystal ballroom hosted presidents and Mardi Gras kings. As the crown jewel of haunted hotels in Alabama, it pulses with unrest from its rich and layered past.
Room 552 harbors Henry Butler’s vengeful shade, slain in 1932 by a jealous husband’s kin in an “honor killing.” His groans echo, beds dip under invisible weight, and faucets run red-tinged water, terrifying guests. A forlorn bride haunts the ballroom, her noose-scarred neck from a 1910 suicide swaying from the chandelier.
During 2007 renovations, tools vanished and scaffolds toppled, as if spirits resisted change. A grey-suited man photobombs wedding shots, his form absent in life.
Hotel Finial, Anniston
Anniston’s Hotel Finial, a Victorian mansion built in 1888 for attorney Colonel John McKleroy, graces Quintard Avenue as the last of its kind. Transformed into a boutique inn in the 1990s, its stained glass and antiques whisper of Gilded Age splendor. Ranked among the most haunted hotels in Alabama, its restaurant is said to be haunted by footsteps from beyond.
The original owners’ spirits patrol the dining room, glasses clinking behind the bar and chairs scraping at empty tables. A woman in white ascends the staircase, her gown trailing like mist, while music swells from the silent parlor.
The Hotel at Auburn University, Auburn
Auburn’s Hotel at Auburn University, a AAA Four-Diamond haven since 2014, anchors downtown with sleek suites and War Eagle spirit. Steps from Jordan-Hare Stadium, it caters to alumni and fans, its modern vibe masking ties to campus lore.
Subtle anomalies—flickering lobby lights or whispers in empty halls—link to nearby University Chapel, home to soldier Sydney Grimlett’s knocks since the 1920s. Guests report dream visitations from costumed figures, perhaps Civil War annex patients from the chapel’s past.
Hargis Hall’s lady in white, a campus staple, allegedly drifts toward the hotel, her footsteps syncing with tailgate revelry.
White Lion Inn, Thomasville
Thomasville’s White Lion Inn, a modest 19th-century lodging amid Black Belt cotton fields, once buzzed with riverboat traffic before fading into quiet. Though closed, its clapboard facade evokes simpler times, drawing history buffs to Clarke County’s rural charm.
Upstairs bathrooms chill with sudden cold spots, as if icy breaths warn of intrusion, while vanishing figures dart from peripheral vision—farmhands or travelers frozen in flight. An overwhelming compulsion to flee grips some, pounding hearts echoing the inn’s lonesome nights.
Locals attribute hauntings to a 1800s fever outbreak, with spirits believed to be seeking lost kin in empty rooms.
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Hampton Inn & Suites (formerly Greystone Hotel), Montgomery
Montgomery’s Hampton Inn & Suites, reborn from the 1927 Greystone Hotel, graces Commerce Street with mid-century charm and proximity to the river. Once a Jazz Age hotspot, its marble lobby now welcomes modern travelers near the Capitol.
As one of the capital’s haunted hotels, the fourth floor harbors a tragic bride’s lament. A jilted woman’s apparition glides through the hallways, her veil trailing like fog, tied to an early suicide—perhaps from betrayal or fever. Phantom rings jolt staff from the front desk, her voice pleading on empty lines.
Basement linens soil mysteriously, and cries echo from vents, evoking the shadows of Greystone’s speakeasy.
With complimentary breakfasts and event spaces, the Hampton offers ease amid unease. For those chasing Montgomery’s paranormal bed-and-breakfasts, it’s a heartfelt haunt where love lingers, lost.
