The Cold War, Prohibition, the Gold Rush, the Space Race. Every part of your life - the words you speak, the ideas you share - can be traced to our history, but how well do you really know the stories that made America? We'll take you to the events, the times and the people that shaped our nation. And we'll show you how our history affected them, their families and affects you today. Hosted by Lindsay Graham (not the Senator).

Listen to American History Tellers: Wondery.fm/AHT_SG

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In a city famed for its grand antebellum mansions, Natchez’s oldest building feels like it belongs to another world entirely. Rough-hewn timbers, crooked shutters, and centuries of whispers cling to the walls of King’s Tavern, where legend says a young woman named Madeline met a grim fate at the hands of jealousy—and where, decades later, workers unearthed something chilling behind a fireplace: bones and a jeweled dagger.

Whether the story is truth or just another layer of Natchez folklore, one thing’s certain—something in those walls refuses to rest.

Want to Listen to Southern Gothic Ad-Free?

Connect with Southern Gothic Media:

Advertise on this podcast: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠[email protected]

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Tucked deep in the hills between Cookeville and Monterey, Tennessee, there’s a narrow, graffiti-covered bridge locals say you shouldn’t cross after dark. It’s called Crazy George’s Bridge, and according to legend, the spirit of an old railroad worker still wanders there—lantern swinging, searching for his missing head.

They say if you whisper his name three times, you might just see him. Some claim their cars won’t start when parked on the bridge at midnight. Others say it isn’t George haunting the place at all, but a young man named Narmon—killed on the tracks below after a night gone wrong back in 1931.

Want to Listen to Southern Gothic Ad-Free?

Connect with Southern Gothic Media:

Advertise on this podcast: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠[email protected]

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Head east out of Washington, Georgia, and you’ll find a lonely little grave surrounded by a moss-covered stone wall — the final resting place of Captain Abram Simons, a Revolutionary War veteran, tavern keeper, and horseman known for living life on his own terms.

Local legend says that when the Captain died in 1824, he was buried standing upright, musket at his side, so he could “meet the Devil face to face.” Some say that’s just how a man like Simons would’ve wanted it — proud, defiant, and ready for a fight.

Want to Listen to Southern Gothic Ad-Free?

Connect with Southern Gothic Media:

Advertise on this podcast: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠[email protected]

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Just outside Fayetteville, Arkansas, there’s a dip in the land the locals call Ghost Hollow — a quiet patch of woods where fog clings low and the wind carries a sound you’ll never forget.

They say a young bride died here long ago, her wedding gown catching fire before she could reach the creek below. On still nights, her screams are said to echo through the hollow — a cry for help that never comes.

Want to Listen to Southern Gothic Ad-Free?

Connect with Southern Gothic Media:

Advertise on this podcast: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠[email protected]

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On the corner of Sixth and Park in Old Louisville stands a tree like no other — its gnarled trunk twisting back over itself, its branches draped with beads, ribbons, and charms left by visitors who whisper their wishes into the wind.

Locals call it the Witches’ Tree, and legend says it grew from a curse. More than a century ago, the city cut down a sacred maple that once stood on that same spot — and when a storm leveled Louisville soon after, folks swore it was revenge.

Want to Listen to Southern Gothic Ad-Free?

Connect with Southern Gothic Media:

Advertise on this podcast: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠[email protected]

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In the quiet community of Furman, Alabama, an old house still stands — its white siding fading beneath the moss-draped oaks, its brick chimneys watching over more than a century of secrets. But what chills folks most isn’t inside the Purifoy-Lipscomb House. It’s what lies just behind it.

There, in a ring of earth where nothing grows, locals say you can still hear it — a man’s desperate voice rising from the ground, pleading to be freed.

Want to Listen to Southern Gothic Ad-Free?

Connect with Southern Gothic Media:

Advertise on this podcast: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠[email protected]

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Just off the coast of Murrells Inlet, South Carolina, lies a tiny strip of sand and scrub known as Drunken Jack Island — a place born from rum, revelry, and one very unlucky pirate.

Local legend says Jack was part of Blackbeard’s crew, left behind after a night of heavy drinking when the tide rolled out and the ship set sail without him. Stranded with nothing but barrels of rum and the company of seabirds, Jack’s final days became the kind of story coastal towns never forget.

Want to Listen to Southern Gothic Ad-Free?

Connect with Southern Gothic Media:

Advertise on this podcast: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠[email protected]

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On a hill above the Cane River in Natchitoches, Louisiana, three white columns stand where a grand antebellum mansion once rose — the only trace of a building that’s been gone for more than a century. For the students of Northwestern State University, they’re more than a landmark. They’re the heart of one of Louisiana’s most enduring ghost stories.

They say a young woman once lived — and died — within those walls, her sorrow echoing long after the fire that destroyed them. Some call her Sister Isabella, and her spirit is said to wander the campus still, from the old dormitories to the columns on Normal Hill, forever bound to the place where her story began.

Want to Listen to Southern Gothic Ad-Free?

Connect with Southern Gothic Media:

Advertise on this podcast: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠[email protected]

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In the quiet mountain town of Lewisburg, West Virginia, stands a small limestone church that has watched over its congregation for more than two centuries. But among the old graves behind its walls, one monument draws more visitors — and more whispers — than any other: a white marble angel said to bring death to anyone who dares to kiss her cheek.

Want to Listen to Southern Gothic Ad-Free?

Connect with Southern Gothic Media:

Advertise on this podcast: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠[email protected]

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices