Haunted New Orleans

New Orleans has been called the most haunted city in the United States. It has been said by many that the actual history of New Orleans is far stranger than anything fictional writers can create. 

Legend tells us that this vast swamp, which became New Orleans, was once used by  Indians as a sacred burial place. The location was appealing for its geographical position on the Mississippi River. The French believed it would be extremely profitable for trading.  Therefore, in 1718, New Orleans was founded. Being a swamp, New Orleans did not appeal to the taste of wealthy Parisians.  It was during this time that the prisons in Paris were extremely over populated.  The King of France decided to relieve this problem by sending over laborers from the prisons to build the city.

 Murderers, thieves, rapists, and common criminals were among the first to populate the area.  Living conditions were deplorable.  Harsh elements, quick sand, alligators, venomous snakes, mosquitoes and disease were rampant.  The murder rate was high.  Add a couple of major fires that devoured the city, (as well as many of its inhabitants), numerous hurricanes, wars, and yellow fever epidemics over the next hundred years created excellent conditions for ghosts and hauntings.

The Haunted Mansion  

In 1834, a crime occurred that shocked our city beyond belief. A crime that eventually became known...as the blemish of our city. A woman by the name of Delphine LaLaurie became a common name in New Orleans’ dark history.

  In the late 1800’s, another purchaser made a brief appearance, as a ghost in the property.  The story has become a treasured legend among ghost tales particularly due to its location.  A ghostly game of fate played itself out between the walls of the gray mansion.  It is a story of love transcending death and is one of my favorites.
 

In the spring of 1822, in Paris, two young men sat at table drinking and discussing the woman that they both loved.  Twenty-three-year old Etienne Tounoir argued with twenty-four-year old Armand Lestauche over the hand of young Leda.  Both determined to marry her, Armand challenged Etienne to a card game in which the winner would court her for marriage leaving the other to walk away.  

  “How undignified, I would not insult her like that,” shouted Etienne. 

 “But I am so certain that it is I who would win,” boasted

Armand, “that I am willing to risk losing her over a game of cards.” 

Etienne stood and began to leave when Armand threatened to expose his father, accused of selling government secrets.  Etienne protested, “It is a lie, but I will play your card game, and you will lose.” 

 Armand reminded him of a game the two had made up many years before, a game called Neant.  “Neant,” thought Etienne, “it means nothing.” 

But in the days that they invented the game, they had nothing to lose.  Now he risked his everything in a foolish dare to win the hand of Leda. 

Each deal of cards caught Etienne falling further and further behind in points.  Sweat poured from his brow as he lost the woman he hoped would be his bride.  His hands shook as the final cards were dealt.  He put his cards down in defeat.  He had lost, not only a game but also his beloved Leda.  He had but once chance left, being certain that Leda would not agree to marry Armand.  The winner, Armand, glared at him with a smug grin on his face.

“She won’t have you,” Etienne mumbled as he left the table. 

He had made a bet and lost.  Honor forbade him to ever speak to Leda again.  He convinced himself that Leda would never accept the proposal from Armand.  Within the year, however, they were married. 

Paris became hell for Etienne.  He constantly found himself running into the couple, seeing the life that he believed should have been his.  Unable to bear an existence without Leda, he left Paris and came to New Orleans.  He had lost hope of ever being happy without her. 

He later entered into a marriage of convenience with a New Orleans woman, Felicie, and in time made his fortune.  He lived a quiet, uneventful life with her raising two daughters who eventually married and left the city.  Felicie died in 1855.

At fifty-six years old, Etienne found himself once again alone with nothing but his memories of Leda.  He would sit and
play solitaire for hours, imagining Leda standing at his side watching him.  So consumed was he with his memories, he decided he could no longer stand it and arranged to return to Paris and find her.  He had convinced himself that if he saw her old and withered that he could finally put his memory of her to rest and have peace in his life. 

He ventured back to Paris determined to confront Leda.  When he arrived in Paris, he could not find Leda or Armand.  A mutual friend informed him that the couple had separated many years before and had moved frequently.  Just as he had given up all hope of finding her, he recognized a woman walking into a shop.  Only a bit faded from time, Leda was still as beautiful as he remembered her.  He wondered if she would remember him.

Following her inside, he approached her and introduced himself.  At first she said that she did not remember and then she smiled, “Yes, I do remember, at one time I did fancy…” she hesitated, “you lost your fortune, I believe, and left Paris.”

Etienne felt insulted at first but quickly decided it best that she believed him to be poor.  He suddenly found himself thinking of how she’d only want him for his money.  She told him of how she and Armand had no children.  They had only lived together for one miserable year and had lived apart all this time.  She mentioned to him that Tuesday she could be found at home and gave him her address, inviting him to lunch.  With mixed feelings, he accepted her invitation. Etienne arrived at her home on Tuesday with a bouquet of roses.  Accepting the roses, she then reminded him that she and

Armand had never divorced and that he must remember that Armand would always be the head of her house.  She sadly explained to him that she would only be able to think of him in secret.  Etienne realized that he’d never have Leda as his wife.  His heart sank.

Etienne responded, “The game of love is always odd.” 

She looked at him and said coyly, “There is another game, one you could teach me, it’s called Neant, a wicked game where destinies are changed.”

Unbeknownst to him, Armand had not only told Leda of the game but blamed Etienne for the foolhardy dare.  Leda had spent her life in a miserable marriage to a man she did not love, believing a lie.    Shocked to realize that she knew all along about the game, resentment and embarrassment brewed within him.  He thought only of how she had made his life such hell.  If he had only known what was in her heart, but she dared not reveal the truth.  He tried to explain to her that because of honor he had to abide by the rules of the game. “If not for the sake of honor, things would have turned out very differently,” he whispered to her.

Not believing him, she looked away and mumbled, “Perhaps, but there are other lives beyond this one.”

Confused and angry, he left without saying goodbye and never returned to Leda again.  She died that same year, at the age of fifty-four.  Etienne’s anger turned to grief and remorse having never fulfilled his desire to reconcile with Leda.  She took her secret love for Etienne with her to the grave never knowing the truth.

Etienne lived another thirty years and returned to New Orleans.  He purchased the old LaLaurie mansion on Governor Nichols and Royal Streets.  The house being reputed as haunted, he felt that living with ghosts suited him.  Etienne felt haunted himself by the memory of Leda.  Leda had spoken a world beyond this one and it intrigued him in a macabre fashion.

Etienne befriended a young man, Aubevie Brou.  He enjoyed talking to him as he played his games of solitaire.  He shared his story of Armand and Leda with Aubevie.  One day, Etienne told Aubevie that the ghost of Armand visited him.  He told him that the ghost admitted that he never wanted Leda; his desire served only to prevent Etienne from having her.  He went on to say that Armand had told Leda lies about him to tarnish her memory of him.  He told of a bargain that he made with Armand’s ghost.  He explained to Aubevie that there would be another game of Neant, but only when he too became a ghost.  He had arranged to have the house willed to Aubevie when he died, to have a living witness to the game.  He and Armand would once again play the game for Leda’s hand, but in the other world.  He pointed to a window and told Aubevie to keep watch after his death.   

Etienne died at the age of ninety-three.  Every night for a year, Aubevie watched the window.  He tolerated countless nights with the other ghosts in the house as they screamed and cried throughout its dark halls.  Finally one night a figure appeared, that of a young man with dark hair and eyes.  He entered the room as he summoned the others.  Another ghost appeared of a different young man who seated himself at a table across from the first.  Finally, the spirit of a young woman appeared.  The game went quickly.  The first young man held up two cards.  The second rose from his chair and bowed to the first then vanished. The specter of the first stood and took the hand of the ghost of the young woman.  As the couple walked to the window, the man turned and looked at Aubevie.  For a brief moment, he saw the face of the old man who had been his friend.  As the couple faded away.  Aubevie knew the prophecy had been fulfilled and at last, the old man had found peace.

The Singing Rain  

On November 23, 1762, in the Treaty of Fontainebleau, the King of France, Louis XV gave Louisiana to his cousin, King Charles III, of Spain.  The treaty was kept secret for a number of years to all except the Spanish. On March 5, 1766, the first Spanish Governor, Don Antonio de Ulloa arrived in New Orleans.

No doubt France failed to alert the settlers in New Orleans of this change in command. This was a very early time for New Orleans. The French Parisians still wanting no part in colonizing this swamp city. The new Governor and his army arrived unannounced and proceeded to replace the French flag flying in the Place D’ Arms with that of Spain.

Needless to say, the French population of the city feared the worse. It would appear to The French Creole colonists wanted no part of Spanish rule.  Having not been informed of this change, they of course believed that they were being invaded by Spain. They did what seemed to be the only natural thing to do, defend their city. They organized an army led by six Creole gentlemen and fought the first revolution in North America.  They literally overtook the soldiers and expelled the Spaniards from the colony.  The Creole colonist fought and won the first revolution in this country. The Spanish Governor and his army retreated to Cuba.

 Spain was slow to respond. In 1769, another governor, Don Alejandro O’Reilly, an Irish ex-patriot who joined Spain during the Spanish Inquisition, entered New Orleans.  He brought with him a new priest for the church and an entire Spanish army consisting of 24 ships.  The ships appeared to float into the port of New Orleans.  Governor O’Reilly and his army seized the Place D’ Arms and raised their Spanish flag. They set up camp in the newly appointed Plaza de Armas.

The governor’s first matter of business was to capture the six men who led the revolution. One by one they were captured and shot for treason without a trial. One by one their bullet torn bodies were laid out in the sand in front of the church. Governor O’Reilly set forth a proclamation to the city of New Orleans and its French residents.  It stated the bodies would be removed from the church entrance for no reason. The rotting corpses were to remain where they lie to rot, fester and decompose for the entire city to see.

 The priest, of the church, at that time was a beloved Capuchin Monk, named Pere Dagobert. He was outraged by this act of terror. “What Catholic could possibly do this to nother Catholic,” he wondered.  In an attempt to correct this blasphemy and give the men a proper funeral, he visited Governor O’Reilly.  He tried to reason with him.  Governor O’Reilly very rudely sent the priest away, forbidding him to defy his actions. Several days later, Pere Dagobert made another attempt to reason with the Governor. This time begging and beseeching him to have mercy on the souls of these poor men. Again, the Governor sent him away. The Governor warned Pere Dagobert that if defied him or even attempted to visit him again, he too would join the others in front of the church.

Finally, in an act of desperation to give these men a proper Catholic funeral, Pere Dagobert bravely did what anyone would have done. He took matters into his own hands. He waited until a stormy night and he gathered the families of the men. Pine boxes were constructed to be coffins for what was left of the remains. In the middle of a torrential rainstorm, he and the families gathered the remains into the boxes. Pere Dagobert proceeded to perform the funeral mass in the storm. Pere Dagobert was best recognized in New Orleans for his beautiful tenor voice. As he sang the Kyrie his voice echoed out against the sound of the pounding rain and crashing thunder.  He continued singing throughout the rain, as he led the funeral procession down

Pere Antion’s alley (ironically named for his predecessor), down Orleans Avenue to what was then St. Peter’s cemetery. The men were given their funeral in spite of the threats of Governor O’Reilly.  Not one Spanish soldier attempted to abandon their tent to disrupt the funeral.

Pere Dagobert was eventually replaced in the church by the first Spanish priest Father Antonio DeSadilla, referred to by the French as Pere Antion.  Pere Dagobert continued out his life in New Orleans and was eventually buried under the altar in the Cathedral. But the impression of Pere Dagobert however intense, was not left in the Place D’ Arms,now Jackson Square. Nor was it left in the Cathedral. For it is not the ghost of Pere Dagobert that haunts this city.  His impression was left in the rain. On rainy summer nights, his haunting voice can still be heard echoing throughout the alleys. Still singing the Kyrie. The closer to dawn the louder the singing. His beautiful tenor voice still singing the funeral mass, down the alley, and throughout Orleans Avenue.

The Sultan’s Massacre  

One of the most mysterious ghosts in the French Quarter is that of the “Sultan”.  He reportedly roams the halls of the four-story house at 716 Dauphine St., on the corner of Dauphine and Orleans Ave.  A Times-Picayune article written on February 11, 1979, recounts the Sultan’s tale.  There are discrepancies as to dates of the actual incident as well as when the house was even built.

New Orleans was one of the first cities to be taken over and occupied by the Union during the Civil War.  This was a time in our history when even the wealthiest of Creoles were losing their fortunes.  Often, those who owned large mansions would sell their properties for smaller homes or even rent out the homes to several families.  Businesses were dying and Confederate money was no longer good.  A man by the named of LePrete owned the large mansion at 716 Dauphine Avenue.  The LaPrete family owned a plantation in Plaquemines Parish but used the spacious home in the French Quarter during the winter months, which was opera season in New Orleans. In fear of losing his plantation, he planned to rent or sell his second home. He was visiting New Orleans and discussing his financial concerns with some associates in a local pub. Overhearing his conversation, a man wearing a turban approached Mr. LePrete and introduced himself as an emissary of a Turkish sultan who had recently arrived in New Orleans. He explained to Mr. LePrete that the Sultan had quite a large family and was in dire need of a large home to rent. Mr. LaPrete was delighted to hear that the Royal family was interested in his home. The man offered for Mr. LaPrete to check his references that were banks across the city where the Sultan had deposited rather large sums of money. The following morning Mr. LePrete checked with the banks and indeed, the Sultan was quite wealthy. Mr. LePrete met again with the mysterious man in a turban and orchestrated the transaction. Immediately, the Sultan moved in with his family. His family consisted of many, many wives. There were woman of every shape, size and color among them. He had many children from these wives. The Sultan had a harem of not only women but also young boys. Over the two years he occupied the house in the city, it is said that he was known to kidnap women, girls and boys off the street and torture them into submission. He had an entire army of eunuchs to protect his family and harem.  The guards would march the balconies and galleries of the house with scimitars. 

He had bars put over the doors and windows of the house making it look for like a fortress. For two years, his parties were the talk of the city.  Loud music and laughter rang through the building all hours of the day and night. The smell of opium and incense reeked through the doors and windows.

Two years after the sultan moved into the home, a woman who lived at a neighboring house was strolling by early one morning.  As she passed the corner, she noticed that for the first time in two years, the home was quiet, no laughter, and no music.  She stood for a few seconds on the corner, straining to hear any sign of life. She then became aware that there was a drip coming down off of the gallery.  Looking up, she realized that it was blood.  Running around to the front door, she observed blood pooling from underneath. 

She reported the situation to police who had to enter the property by way of a battering ram. As the doors collapsed in, the police saw pools of blood trailing down the halls. As they wallowed through the congealed blood they saw that there were body parts strewn throughout the house. Legs, arms, heads, torsos, every member of the household had been cut into pieces. The woman, children and eunuchs alike, butchered into unrecognizable parts.  They had to count heads in order to get an accurate count of the bodies. 

The Sultan’s body was the only one that had not been cut up. His body was found in a shallow grave, one hand reaching through the freshly dug dirt. When they retrieved his body, there was so much soil shoved into his throat and esophagus, it can only be assumed that he was buried alive. The murder of the Sultan and his entourage is the biggest mass murder mystery in the city’s history. No one knows who committed the murders.

For years, the city blamed pirates for the crime. It was assumed that possibly they intended to rob him and ultimately murdered everyone. This story doesn’t carry a lot weight however. Pirates generally used pistols. Also, the largest trade for pirates was white slavery. It would have been far more profitable to kidnap the woman and children, even the eunuchs and sell them as slaves in the Caribbean.

A much more sinister explanation has since been derived.  It is now suspected that this man, Prince Suleyman, was not a Sultan at all, but the brother of a Sultan. Up until the late 1800’s, it was customary that when a son was crowned Sultan, he would order his brothers and their families executed.  With many wives and many children, it meant many heirs. Older brothers who gained the crown would insure that one of their own children would be heir to the thrown rather than a brother.  It is now believed that the prince was hiding in New Orleans with his family to avoid execution from his older brother, the real Sultan. Professional assassins from Turkey located him and were ordered to execute the entire household. The prince was probably drugged or knocked unconscious the buried alive. This is substantiated by the way the body was dressed in traditional Muslim funeral attire and dressing.

In the newspaper article of 1979, called “Life with an Exotic Ghost,” tales of the sultan’s ghost was recounted. Two residents of the home who had lived there during different periods, claim to have had encounters with the sultan.   Both women claim to have seen the ghost of the sultan. One woman moved out of the home after hearing shrieking screams and gurgling sounds inside the house.  A previous owner of the house, claimed she was visited nightly by the Sultan. She would awaken to a presence hovering over her. When she would look up, she could see his face peering down at her, with his turban still on his head. When she would scream or turn on a light, the apparition would vanish.  A twisted tree grows in the courtyard in the site where the sultan was buried.  Other residents throughout the years have claim to have heard the sounds of body parts hitting the wood floors at night.  While others have merely seen the robe of the Sultan whip around a corner.  

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copyright 1997, Kalila Katherina Smith

excerpts from "Journey Into Darkness...Ghosts & Vampires of New Orleans."

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