If you’re visiting New York City and looking for something a little different to do, then this self-guided ghost tour is for you! Even if you’ve been to the city multiple times, taking a tour like this opens up interesting secrets you may never have uncovered before. And one of the city’s best areas to seek out historic hauntings is Greenwich Village! The historic neighbourhood nestled along the Hudson River is home to many iconic slices of New York and an abundance of historic buildings. But it’s also the setting for some of the city’s most famous ghost stories. Hidden between row-upon-row of brownstones, behind iron gates and ivy-covered walls are some of the city’s most ghastly stories, ripe for discovery. Come with us on this Greenwich Village Ghost Tour and discover those tales for yourself!
Whether you believe in ghosts or not, the true stories behind the legends are a great way to learn more about this incredible city. Whether you’re an avid urban explorer or just someone looking for something unique to do during your stay in New York, this Greenwich Village Ghost Tour will help you discover all of the best haunts. And best of all, you get to go at your own pace. There are so many places along the way to rest your feet, so don’t be scared to take a break, or grab a drink at one of the many bars and cafes along the way!
This tour starts off in the eastern outskirts of Greenwich Village and ends aptly on the north tip of the neighbourhood, just off of Greenwich Avenue. The google map below will show you all the stops along the way! The walk will take around two hours, taken at a leisurely pace. Stop in a restaurant, grab a beer in a pub or even just sit and admire the architecture. Plus, you want all the chances you can get to see if you can spot a spectre!
There are plenty of spooky and scary stories along the way, so if you’re taking this tour with little kids you might want to pre-read through some of the stories. That way, you can decide for yourself if they are appropriate for your kids.
The best time to do the tour is before dusk. Remember: New York is a big city. And like any big city, you need to keep your wits about you when walking around at night. But the tour is designed around popular locations in busy parts of the city. That way, you’re not somewhere totally out of the way late at night. You don’t want to start your walk too late at night. That way, you might miss out on being able to stop in for drinks along the way.
Obviously, “spooky season” (aka September and October) are the most atmospheric times to do the tour. The leaves change and cast a gorgeous yellow and orange hue across the brick brownstones. And the crisp Autumnal air sets the scene for ghostly apparitions. But if you don’t care about the time of year, you can absolutely take this Greenwich Village Ghost Tour whenever you are in town.
The original marshland that now makes up Greenwich Village was called Sapokanikan by the indigenous people who were the first inhabitants of New York. Sapokanikan means “tobacco field” since the indigenous people used this rich land, close to the water, for their fields and crops. Greenwich Village was also a popular spot for fisherpeople as it was located next to a populated trout stream.
When the Dutch colonized the land, they renamed it New Amsterdam, after the original capital city in the Netherlands. At the time, this little hamlet was far from the dense city centre. When the English arrived, they battled for land and won it from the Dutch in 1664. But it wasn’t until 1713 that the colony was officially designated as “Grin’wich” in the public records. It was named after a popular neighbourhood in London.
In the late 1700s and early 1800s, people were trying to escape the yellow fever epidemic that ravaged the centre of New York. So they fled to areas outside the epicentre, into rural communities like Greenwich. New blocks of rowhouses began to pop along previously uninhabited farmland. These new streets were designed in the popular Federal style. Houses were simple square or rectangular boxes, only two or three stories tall. Most New York Federal-style buildings were made of brick with cast or wrought iron handrails. The brick buildings that make up this part of the city are one of the most iconic features of the area. These houses were occupied mostly by middle-class merchants and tradespeople.
In 1833 the New York City University moved its campus to Greenwich. With all these academics in one central area grew a bohemian environment. Art galleries, literary salons, and libraries swept through to match demand. This beatnik enclave was marked by cheap rent, drawing more and more artists and immigrants to the area. And drove out the upper classes.
In the late 19th century, Greenwich Village saw another huge growth spurt. This was with the influx of French, Irish, and Italian immigrants fleeing Europe during World War II. Factories began to pop up around the area where large expanses of land were still available. And these factories could easily be filled with immigrant workers living in the newly created tenements housing.
This free spirit and rowdy community were rich with speakeasies in the prohibition era of the 1920s. Which ironically attracted uptown patrons who couldn’t find anywhere to drink in their upper-crust neighbourhoods. Throughout the years, the neighbourhood became known for its counterculture attitudes and was a hub for political and cultural movements. In fact, it was here that the Stonewall riots were first started. Sadly, rising housing costs in the district drove out the artists that originally made it what it was. Today the neighbourhood remains one of the most architecturally and historically rich areas of New York City.
The first stop on our tour is notoriously one of the most haunted. At the intersection of 2nd and 10th Street, walk north until you see the giant silhouette of a church in the distance. This is the old St. Mark’s Church in-the-Bowery. As you approach, keep your ears peeled for the sounds of an old church bell ringing in the distance.
The site for this first church in the area was purchased in 1652 by Petrus (Peter) Stuyvesant. Stuyvesant was the first of the colony of New Amsterdam. Stuyvesant was originally a great Dutch soldier. But during a battle against the Spanish, he was badly wounded and lost his leg. It was amputated and replaced with a wooden leg, giving him the nickname “Peg Leg Pete.” Because he could no longer fight, he was selected by the Dutch West India Company to go to New York. There he would serve as governor of one of their new colonies.
Stuyvesant built a small church on the site for himself and his family. After his accident, Stuyvesant was a melancholy man. He was also a religious man, and the church brought him much peace. Stuyvesant had purchased this specific property for his dwelling because it was located far away from the hustle and bustle of the “big city.” So it was much to his dismay, as the city continued to grow, that his once peaceful neighbourhood would soon be riddled with townhouses and noisy pedestrians.
Despite all this, Stuyvesant stayed put in his home, and when he died, he was buried beneath his chapel. In 1793 the original chapel was sold off to the village. But the community built an even more impressive Episcopal church in its place in 1795.
But soon after building the new and improved church, people started noticing strange occurrences happening inside. One day, the villagers were awoken by the tolling of the church bell. This would usually not be a strange noise, but this bell was ringing in the middle of the night. And it wouldn’t stop!
Everyone raced to the church to see what was the matter. But when they arrived, they found the door to the bell tower locked shut from the inside. When they finally broke down the door, the noise stopped. But the room was empty. And they looked up to find the bell’s rope had been cut. The only reachable part of the rope was way too far above the ground for anyone human to reach. Everyone was perplexed as to how the bell had been rung at all, let alone for hours.
The townsfolk searched the church for clues. Finally, they found the torn part of the rope lying atop Peter Stuyvesant‘s crypt. And as they were all standing around the crypt in silent horror, they heard the sound of Stuyvesant’s wooden leg echoing throughout the halls of the church. Today many people report still hearing the ghostly footsteps of Stuyvesant’s wooden leg throughout the church. See if you can hear it for yourself.
Another interesting story from the churchyard revolves around the stone burial vault of Alexander Turney Stewart. When he died in April 1876, Alexander Turney Stewart was America’s third-richest man. Stewart made his fortune as a retailer. He was a hugely popular figure in the city, and his funeral was packed with the city’s cream of the crop. Writers, politicians, lawyers and more all came out to St. Mark’s Church on the Bowrey to pay their respects.
In October, six months after Stewart’s burial, the church sexton noticed that doors to the vault had been disbursed. When he looked inside, he noticed several vault slabs moved, but the tombs were still in place. The sexton was immediately suspicious, with fears of so-called “resurrection men.” He made sure to a night watchmen just in case the people who broke in tried to do it again.
In the 1780s, grave robbing was on the rise. Originally grave robbing was mainly done for doctors to get their hands on “fresh” dead bodies. They used these to practice their trade and other medical experiments. But in 1870, the sensation of grave robbing was often done in search of ransom. Even Abraham Lincoln’s body was victim to an attempted robbery. Although thankfully, that was thwarted. But it was not uncommon for the bodies of wealthy men to fetch an acceptable price. Once the ransom was paid, the bodies would be returned.
Unfortunately, the watchmen the section hired failed at his one duty. And on the morning of November 7th, the sexton discovered the body of A. T. Stewart had been removed from his vault. Police arrived on the scene and were horrified by the brown blotches they found around the area. These were immediately identified as “pieces” of Stewart. Stewart had been dead for more than eight months and would have been in a terrible state of decomposition. So when the criminals left with the body, they left bits of the body trailing behind them as they fled. But the trail went cold, and the police had no leads.
The newspapers ate up this media sensation. A reward of $25,000 was offered to the public for any information leading to the thief’s capture. Hundreds of letters poured in with theories, but none proved to provide any actual leads. In 1879 the attorneys for Stewart received a letter from Canada claiming to be the robbers. When the lawyers asked for proof, they provided several silver pieces of Stewart’s missing nameplate, also taken during the robbery. The lawyers tried negotiating with the thieves, but the trail eventually went cold. As perhaps the thieves were getting scared off, with talk of the robbery is all the papers.
A very contested private memoir from the police chief Walling in 1878 claimed that he was in communication with the real thieves. And he claimed to have negotiated with the criminals. With the help of Stewart’s wife, they met up at midnight on an abandoned pathway outside the Hudson Valley. The masked men arrived on horseback with a velvet coffin cloth from the tomb. And a bag of bones they claimed was Stewart’s.
The masked men handed them over in exchange for the money and rode off into the night. Walling claims the bones were taken by Stewart’s wife. In 1885, they were laid in the Cathedral of the Incarnation, where Stewart’s wife was buried. But many have refuted this claim as gossip and a way for Walling to make a few bucks on his memoir. No one will ever know the truth, but many people have claimed that the cemetery is haunted by the ghost of Stewart. Stewart is known to roam angrily around the church, furious about being torn from his grave. Many say if you smell something awful, like the piece of his body that was trailed behind, that is a sign Stewart is just around the corner.
Head south along 2nd Avenue, turning west onto East 7th Street. Walk west along east 7th Street until you reach #15 where you’ll find the historic McSorley’s Old Ale House. McSorley’s is Manhattan’s oldest continuously run tavern! You definitely need to make a point to stop here inside to rest your legs and admire the decor and atmosphere, and get a drink! The darkened wood of the walls is almost stained with history. Along the interior, you’ll see an authentic old wanted poster for John Wilkes Booth. The chair hanging above the bar was the one that Abraham Lincoln himself sat in when he came in for a drink. And the handcuffs on the wall were apparently worn by Harry Houdini.
But what might lurk in the shadows among the displays are the ghosts of the tavern’s past. Bar staff have frequently seen their cats arching their backs and nuzzling into invisible hands. As if the ghost that comes every night is only there to give the cats a pet. So see if you can spot any cats who look particularly happy with no living soul around to be entertaining them.
Walk south down 3rd Avenue, and turn west down 4th street. At #29 stands an old brick mansion, sitting in between two large empty lots, ripe for new constructions. But the old mansion remains, sticking out like a sore thumb. The house was once owned by wealthy merchant Seabury Tredwell. It was built in 1832, and despite its age, if you walked inside, you’d find almost the entire house unchanged.
In the 250 years since its construction, the house appears as if no time has passed. This is because the house is now a city-owned museum. It aimed at presenting to the public the personal lives of upper-class families living in New York in the 19th century. Throughout the museum are hundreds of personal objects from the Treadwell family. And supposedly, one descendant, in particular, doesn’t like when you touch her things. This would be their youngest daughter, Gertrude Tredwell.
Gertrude was a spinster who lived out her entire Iife inside the house. She was born here in 1840 and died in 1933. Gertrude had seven siblings, two brothers and five sisters. While the rest of her family grew up and got their own families, Gertrude remained alone. Gertrude had one real chance at love, but sadly, the affair was broken up by her Episcopalian father, who refused to let Gertrude marry a poor Irishman. As she grew older and became a spinsterhood, she became more and more eccentric. She seemed to care only for the house, with nothing left in her own life to care for. She was constantly obsessing with ensuring the house maintained its elegance. Even as she herself fell into financial ruin.
Her sad fate supposedly inspired Henry James‘ novel Washington Square Park, about a woman whose father attempts to thwart her romance with another man. After Gertrude’s death, the house was passed down to her cousin. But, knowing how much Gertrude protected the history of the house, the cousin was able to sell the house and all its contents to the city. Who saved it from foreclosure by turning it into a museum.
Since becoming a museum, the staff have seen the ghostly figure of Gertrude roaming the halls. She loved nothing more than to make loud noises whenever “her” objects were being moved. See if you can spot her in the window, peering down on the street. She is often seen looking out the window, always watching out for her beloved home.
Leaving 4th Street behind, we’ll head down to 3rd Street. Walk west down the street and continue walking until you reach the corner of #85 West 3rd Street. This building is the residence for NYU students, Furman Hall. Unfortunately for the students, we find ourselves at another haunted residence. But this building is a real literary treasure of the city. It was here where Edgar Allen Poe lived when he wrote his infamous poem, The Raven.
Back then, the buildings along West 3rd Street were made up of a series of brick rowhouses. During Poe’s time in his rowhouse, he lived with his beloved wife (and cousin) Virginia Eliza Clemm Poe. Virginia suffered from Tuberculosis, but this, combined with the stress from Poe’s scandalous activities, caused her untimely death. After her death, Poe moved out of the house and to his cottage in the Bronx. Partly to escape the madness he began to suffer after her death. When the house was set to be demolished in 2001, 70 scholars from NYU fought to preserve it. They wanted to keep Poe’s legacy within New York alive for future literary fans to appreciate for years to come.
But the building was simply in too bad of a state to be restored, and even renovation would be near impossible. As a compromise, the entire front facade of the house was cut out and preserved. It was then integrated into the new building at #85 West 3rd Street. Standing opposite the new building, even those who might not know the whole story can clearly notice the rather strange-looking addition to the facade. You can really see the difference between the salmon-coloured bricks from the original facade and the deeper red-coloured bricks from the new building surrounding it. But both brick patterns were laid out in the rinning-bond pattern to create unity between the two structures. If you walk up to the small front door on the outside of the building, you can see a plaque dedicated to the famous writer explaining the whole story.
Another architectural element preserved from the original building was a wooden banister. Today, it stands in the entryway to Furman Hall. Many students have reported seeing the ghost of Edgar Allen Poe walking up and down the staircase, holding onto the railing. Often, the students report seeing him one minute and yet gone the next. Edgar Allan Poe was a deeply troubled soul, and the death of his beloved wife marred him perhaps more than all the other events in his life. So it is without a doubt that this place would be an important spot where his spectre would return. Wandering up the stairs, holding onto the railings, and looking out the windows, for that raven, nevermore.
Right across the street, at #84 West 3rd Street, you can see the gorgeous facade of an old Fire House. The house has since been transformed into a grand private residence for none other than news anchor Anderson Cooper! But Anderson must be a pretty brave owner as this building is known to be haunted by the ghost of Firefighter Schwartz.
During its time as a firehouse, firefighters would constantly report seeing a man’s ghostly figure hanging from the attic rafters. The story goes that this was the ghost of a firefighter who once worked here in the 1930s. After discovering that his wife was having an affair, he hung himself from the rafters, unable to cope with the betrayal. Ever since, workers reported hearing noises and creaking coming from that attic. As if his body was still swinging from those rafters. The large windows frame the upper-level beam with light at night so keep an eye out to see if you can see the ghost still hanging from above.
Walking north, you only have to go so far before you hit Washington Square Park. This site is perhaps one of the most popular destinations for tourists coming to New York City. It’s known for its communal atmosphere, with musicians and artists surrounding the fountain at all times of the day. Entertaining the masses that collect here to sit around the fountain or relax on the benches that surround it.
But few tourists, and many locals, might not know when they are walking onto the square because below them lies over 20,000 bodies. Buried right under their feet. In the 1780s, the city purchased a parcel of eight acres of land to be converted into a large potter’s field. A potter’s field was the old term for a common grave site. The bodies buried in these types of graveyards were often those of criminals, the destitute, or even those who could not be buried in a church cemetery for religious reasons.
But in the late 18th century, the epidemic of yellow fever hit New York City. The spread of the virus was most prevalent in the centre of Manhattan, and it claimed thousands of lives. But what to do with so many bodies? And bodies that were thought to still be infected. The answer was to bury them in graves far outside the city centre in the hopes of preventing further spread. So the potter’s field out in what is now Washinton Square Park was selected as the prime location.
The cemetery was closed in 1825, and the ground was quickly paved to create the Washington Military Parade Ground. Seemingly overnight, the area was transformed from a haunting burial ground to a fashionable residential area. Fountains, pathways and gardens were added to the beautification of the park. And in 1889, to celebrate the centennial of George Washington’s inauguration, an enormous stone Memorial Arch was built in his memory. Modelled after the Arc de Triomphe in Paris.
But despite the visual changes to the area over the years, there is no use in ignoring the fact that this beautiful parks stands atop a mass grave. And ghosts have certainly not forgotten. People have reported feeling a freezing cold chill run down their spine even on hot summer days. And if you spot a woman dressed in 18th clothes walking by, only to disappear a moment later, you surely have spotted one of the “local” residents.
Another rumour tells the story of a local store owner who would see a woman in dishevelled clothing coming into his shop, begging for milk for her child. After taking the milk, she would quickly run outside. One day, the store owner followed her out. She ran into the park, and the horrified store owner watched as she disappeared into the dirt ground below.
But it is not just the bodies of those taken by the virus that haunts the ground here. The park was also home to a great Hangman’s Elm. The old tree still stands on the northwest corner of the park. The elm tree dates back more than 300 years and is considered one of the oldest surviving trees in Manhattan. There are tales that the tree may have been used for public executions, but there is no truth to this rumour. Its spooky appearance perhaps gives it a bad reputation. Only one public execution was ever known to have taken place here in Washington Square park. And it occurred with the use of a gallows, not by the tree.
The victim of this sole execution was a young woman named Rose Butler. Rose was executed in 1820 for the shockingly benign crime of arson. Rose was only 19 years old and an enslaved woman living in the household of a nearby family. Her only crime was setting fire to the wooden steps of her owner’s house.
Police claimed she had “confessed” to setting the fire in the hopes that she could trap her enslavers inside the house. And burn them alive. But many doubt the truth of this story. Rose was sentenced to death for a minor crime where no one was injured, and the damage to the stairs was barely even noticeable. The fire put out with a small bucket of water. Her unjust death, is a clear marker of the racism that black people were subjected to. And still are to this day. In 1827, slavery in New York was abolished, just seven years after Rose’s execution.
Rose was buried in the same spot where she was executed, the last person buried in this potter’s field. Rose’s ghost is known to haunt the park. Some claim to see her swinging from the hangman’s elm. Others have been known to see her apparition walking through the park. Often lingering under the shadow of the elm tree. If you do come across her ghost, be sure to pay her some respect. As the last person buried here she is often thought of as the proprietor of the burial grounds. And so perhaps she is still walking about, monitoring and looking after her fellow departed.
Walk through the park, east along Washington Place, to #23 where we find the Brown Building and the sight of the old Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. In this very building, the deadliest industrial disaster in the history of the city and one of the deadliest in U.S. history occurred.
As it was originally named, the Asch Building was constructed here in 1900 in a fabulous neo-Renaissance style. It was made in the most popular material of the time, iron and steel. These newly manufactured materials were all the rage as they were meant to be “fireproof.” Unlike the brick and wooden buildings of years past that would instantly be destroyed in a large fire, these iron buildings were thought to be able to withstand even the strongest blaze.
These so-called “fireproof” buildings were very attractive to factory owners, especially those in the textile industry. Fires weren’t uncommon at the time, and the price to either rebuild or renovate after a fire was sometimes enough to bankrupt a company. The Triangle Shirtwaist Company manufactured women’s blouses and occupied the top three floors of the Asch Building. Most employees who worked here were young, Jewish, Italian, Russian, and German female immigrants. And although they came to the United States in search of a better life, they were almost immediately taken advantage of upon arrival. Even today, the garment industry’s underpaid labour is a huge ethical issue. And sadly, in the past, things were even worse.
Workers here were unpaid, overworked, and often as young as 14 years-old. But worst of all, they were subjected to awful working environments. The upper floors of the building had almost no ventilation, and the heat would have been unbearable in the summers. But worse, freezing cold in the winter. Being a textile factory, the rooms were filled with the most flammable objects you could bring together. Tissue paper, linen, cloth, and cotton cuttings were strung all over the floor and even hung from the ceiling above.
On March 25th, 1911, someone dropped a single match in the northeast corner of the 8th floor. No doubt, the poor freezing soul was just trying to keep warm on a cold winter’s day or perhaps lighting a cigarette as their only means of relaxation. In seconds the floor was aflame. And spread in an instant throughout the entire factory floor, igniting all the scraps that were strewn across the ground. There could be no better environment for fire to spread.
Women on the 8th floor rushed towards the exit doors. Although there were technically two exit stairwells, one was locked shut as a means to prevent theft by the workers. So only one stairwell was able to be used for escape. The remaining stairwell inside was a death trap. Since the building was always overcrowded, well past legal capacity, the escape became a log jam as people scrambled to get out. Many women were crushed to death in the stairwells, long before the fire even reached them.
It only took a few minutes before the fire spread to the 9th floor. But with the chaos ensuing below, no one could warn those above. When the fire erupted above, some women were able to escape using the freight elevators. But eventually, these elevators became overcrowded and the elevators unusable. When the women on the 9th and 10th floors went to use the stairwells to escape, they found them consumed with fire. The last option for survival was the fire escape on the outside of the building. But unfortunately, the outer stairs were flimsy and poorly anchored to the iron structure. So when these hoards of women tried to scramble down, the heat and extra weight caused the stairs to collapse, and about 20 women fell to their deaths onto the concrete, exactly where you’re standing below.
The women left upstairs who witnessed this horrifying scene could do nothing but wait. They saw the firefighters arrive on the scene, but their ladders could only reach the 6th floor. While they tried to use their hoses to put out the blaze, the flames were too strong to be so easily snuffed out. Many trapped women standing on the edge of the windows were forced to jump. Killed by the nine-storey fall. Many died from smoke inhalation as they could not escape from the fire.
When the fire was finally put out, there were nothing left inside but ashes. But the building’s structure was undamaged. The iron and steel were indeed “fireproof,” but sadly for the victims, this didn’t apply to them. Over 123 women and young girls died in the blaze, along with 23 men.
The owners of the factory, Max Blanck and Isaac Harris, managed to escape the fire. But they were not able to escape prosecution for their negligence. After the traumatic deaths of all these women, a rush of protests occurred throughout the city. These resulted in a huge change in legalization and for better safety standards for workers. It even was the catalyst for the creation of the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union.
Today, students report seeing countless ghosts throughout the building. The ninth floor of the building is where the most people died and is, therefore, the most haunted. The phantom screams of women echo from the top three floors late at night. A famous ghostly couple is often seen in a final embrace beside the window. They are seen standing together before jumping to their deaths, hand in hand. There have been ghostly apparations seen fleeing down the corridors, still trying to outrun the fire.
In the stairwells where so many women were met with a locked door, the door handles still seem to shake and jiggle, as if a phantom hand is still trying to get them open. And in another stairwell, the sound of running footsteps is often heard.
Above the elevator, on the 9th floor, there is a mirror that student says reflects the living and the dead. People have reported seeing a woman dressed in Victorian garb staring back at them in the mirror. But when they turn around, there is no one there. Listen carefully as you stand outside in the dark. People say that you can still hear the ghostly crackle of the fire that burns in the memory of this place forever.
Walk north, turning onto 5th Avenue. Continue until you reach 11th Street. Before heading to the stops on 10th Street, we’re going to make a quick stop at #18 West 11th Street. The building stands out amongst the other classical buildings due to its unique appearance. You might not notice it from far away, but as you get closer, you’ll see how the facade of the house is diagonally indented. But it’s not its architectural uniqueness that brings us here today, but the incredible events which took place in 1970.
Back then, the house was owned by James Wilkerson. But at the time, he was letting his daughter, Cathy Wilkerson, stay at the property while he was away. Little did he know that his daughter was a prominent member of the Weather Underground group. The Weather Underground was a radical left-wing militant organization. So prolific at the time, it was named as a domestic terrorist group by the FBI. They originally started as a group of students from the Democratic Society. Their goal was to create a revolutionary party to overthrow American imperialism.
But their intentions turned violent in the 70s, and the group started a targeted bombing campaign. It aimed to destroy government buildings and large banks. It was in this house that several group members were set up, building bombs in the basement. No one could have suspected such activity was going on behind an otherwise innocent-looking middle-class brownstone.
While assembling the bomb, it was accidentally set off, causing an enormous explosion. Two members in the basement were killed instantly, and another outside the room would die from his wounds later that evening. Cathy had just been returning home and, once witnessing the explosion, fled the scene. She avoided capture for more than a decade but eventually surrendered in 1980.
A fascinating twist to the story was that actor Dustin Hoffman lived just next door! When the explosion happened, Hoffman was captured by the newspaper, fleeing his home. Since his house was one of the adjoining houses, it also caught fire. So Hoffman was caught running in and out of his house, carrying large pieces of precious artwork in the hope of saving them from the flames.
The house was left vacant for years, the scars of the deaths that occurred here too fresh for anyone to want to move right in. Architects went about trying to restore the damage to the home. The heritage department prevented any kind of visual renovations to all the other houses on this street as they pre-date 1845. But since this home has been so badly damaged, there was a dire need for repair. The architects didn’t want to simply restore it back to the exact design of the original home. They felt they needed to honour what happened here not just hide it all away.
So they came up with the idea to create these angular and modernist bay windows that seems to cut into the fabric of the building. Almost exploding out of the frame. It was a pretty hotly contested design, but eventually, after time passed, the house was repurchased. And people began to forget the event ever happened. But the angry ghosts of those radical victims who never got to carry out their horrible deeds are known to still wander the streets. The ghostly echoes of the explosion still reverberate in the glass. So listen closely on hauntingly dark and quiet evenings to the sounds of the house that still cries out.
Head back to 5th Avenue and walk down to the intersection of 5th and 10th, where you’ll find the gothic revival-style Church of the Ascension. One of the church’s unique aspects is that even at night, the stained-glass windows are illuminated. Giving the building a haunting effect, glowing brightly in the darkness. But the windows are not just a beautiful aspect of the church, but the spectral reason that brings us here today.
The windows were designed by artists John La Farge. La Farge was an innovative American painter, muralist, and writer, but most famous for his imaginative stained glass windows. After completing the window design, the church Parish was so impressive that they commissioned him to paint an enormous arched mural. This mural would be the central focus of the entire nave. The canvas he used was enormous, almost as wide as the church itself. When he completed the painting, hanging it up inside proved to be a big challenge. According to the legend, when the installers came to hang the mural, it fell off the wall, crashing down to the floor. It’s said that the same moment the mural crashed to the ground, La Farge passed away. As if the two incidents were eerily linked.
La Farge lived just down the street at Tenth Street Studio Building. Ever since his death, multiple residents have seen La Farge’s ghost wandering the down the street and into his beloved church. Lights have been turned on, and doors unlocked. Many people have seen his ghostly figure, and he even appeared to people during seances when called upon. Keep an eye out for his shadow in the illuminated stained glass windows as he is frequently seen floating past.
Across the street from the church is perhaps one of the most haunted buildings in all of New York. You’d never known it from the classical brownstone’s appearance, looking just the picture of regal New York architecture. The house was built just before the civil war in the 1850s and has barely changed since. But since it is so old, it has seen its fair share of deaths over the years. There are reports of over 22 different ghosts who are said to appear to the residents of the building. All of these chilling happenings lend to the house’s nickname, The House of Death.
Many people believe that traumatic circumstances are the cause of ghostly appearances. But sometimes, even the presence of ghosts can cause these incidents, causing a knock-on effect. Various paranormal investigators who have visited the building have seen the ghost of a young child, an aborted fetus, a gray cat and a lady dressed in white. But the most famous ghost residing here is that of famous write, Mark Twain. A small bronze plaque is located on the outside of the building to mark Twain’s official stay.
Mark Twain lived here for only a year in 1900. But even in that short amount of time, he claimed to have experienced some supernatural occurrences. But Twain was a skeptic, but one night, while sitting near the fire, he saw a piece of wood kindling moving all by itself. Floating in the air. He thought it was caused by a rodent and even shot at the wooden log. Blood appeared from the bullet hole, but no rodent was ever found. Despite being a skeptic, the strange occurrences were enough to cause his quick exodus from the building. Twain died ten years later at age 74 in Connecticut.
In 1930, a mother and daughter moved into the house. They almost immediately experienced the first sighting of Twain’s ghost, sitting near the window. He turned to them and said, “My name is Clemens, and I have a problem here. I gotta settle.” Clearly, despite dying in Connecticut, something was bringing Twain back to this site. Something left unfinished.
Years after Twain’s death, the house became home to actress and writer Jan Bryant Bartell. As soon as she moved in, Bartell began to experience paranormal sightings. This includes noises in the walls, and visions of a ghostly woman in white woman seen in the windows. She also would increasingly smell putrid aromas throughout the house. And could never find the source. But worse than anything else, was this constant feeling of a presence nearby. Even when she was alone in the house, she felt like someone was watching. One day, while searching for this presence, she saw the ghostly figure of Twain himself. He was standing on the stairs, dressed in his white suit. Staring straight thru her.
But the most horrible event inside the House of Death was the murder of a helpless 6-year-old girl. In 1987 former attorney Joel Steinberg beat his adopted six-year-old daughter Elizabeth “Lisa” so badly that she fell into a coma. Unfortunately, little Lisa died in hospital a few days later from her injuries. Despite being convicted of manslaughter, at the time in New York State, first-degree murder applied only to those who killed police officers. Or had committed murder while already serving a sentence for a previous murder. So the jury could only convict Steinberg to the maximum penalty of 8 to 25 years in prison.
Despite NEVER claiming any remorse for the murder, Steinberg was released on parole in 2004 and is still living in Harlem. The relatively short stay in prison is an unjust reality compared to the cruelty of his actions. Today, the young girl’s ghost is known to cause the lights on the floor where she was killed to go on and off at various times when no one is home. A sign that the girl is still there, waiting for real justice to be served.
Just two doors down, at #18, is the Emma Lazarus House. Emma Lazarus is perhaps best known for her poem, The New Colossus. The poem is emblazoned on a pedestal beneath the Statue of Liberty. The poem goes, “Give me you’re tired, your poor/ Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Emma was a talented child right from the jump. Her father, a Jewish immigrant and wealthy sugar merchant, moved into the Italianate-style residence in 1883. Emma couldn’t attend school as a girl, but she was well taught by many private tutors. And when she was just 20 years old, she began writing poems. Some of which were actually published in newspapers all around New York.
Emma was also very outspoken about the rights and struggles of Jewish immigrants. She aimed to help new immigrants when they moved to the city and immersed herself in helping others. Emma never married; perhaps she already felt like she was a mother to many other families. Sadly, she fell ill at only 38 from what we now suspect to be lymphoma. She died shortly after returning home to New York from a European trip. But she never could find a way to leave her beloved home. And her ghost is known to roam the house halls even today. Her figure is often seen walking past the windows at night, looking out at the street below.
Continue walking east along 10th street until you reach #43. This building was the original location of the old Tenth Street Studio. The Tenth Street Studio was La Farge’s original residence. And the place from which his ghost is often thought to emerge at night. Wandering down the street, heading towards the church. So be sure to keep an eye out for him as you pass by.
Stepping out from 10th Street onto 6th Avenue, you are immediately overwhelmed by the sight of the most unbelievable architectural wonders of New York City; the Jefferson Market Library. Although it might look like a church, the building was originally designed in 1870 as a Victorian Gothic courthouse. Unlike today, most courthouses of the time housed their prisons inside the same building. The basements of courthouses were where prisoners awaiting trial would be locked away.
By the 1940s, the courthouse was closed, and the building was saved from demolition by being transformed into a public library. But ever since it became a public space, people have seen the ghost of a woman roaming the library halls. Particularly, she loves to lurk around the fire watcher’s balcony windows and wave to people below. If you spot her, try waving back. Perhaps she is just lonely and yearning for someone to give her back some affection. Many people speculate that she is the ghost of a wrongly accused prisoner who may have died in prison. And who today continues to wander the building, yearning for justice.
Turn down 6th Avenue, and walk south for one block until you reach Christopher Street. Head east down Christopher Street until you reach the tiny, tucked away lane marked “Gay Street.” Gay Street is one of the most iconic streets in Greenwich Village. But despite what you might immediately think when looking at a street called “gay” at the time when the street was named, the word had nothing to do with homosexuality. It was actually named after the land owner, R. Gay, who was given ownership of the land in 1775. The narrow lane was originally used as a stable alley for horses. But in 1833, the lane was widened, and houses began to be built up around it. Only by coincidence was Gay Street, located in the heart of the Gay and Lesbian neighbourhood that grew in the 1970s and 80s.
But the haunted nature of the street dates back even before the street had a proper name. Back when the area was still a part of the Dutch Colony, it was owned by Wouter Van Twiller. Twiller built a morgue and brewery in this very spot. As it was then on the city’s outskirts, these two smelly establishments were perfectly suited to be on the fringes. But from day one, death seemed to hang heavy in the streets. With local residents claiming to see the ghosts of the corpses fresh from the morgue still wandering the streets.
In the early 20th century, Gay Street became a popular spot for the city’s black residents, many of whom were musicians. And with great music came great parties! During prohibition, Gay Street was a popular spot for speakeasies, as the street was not only off the beaten path but also quite tucked away from the main roads. The parties of the 1920s roared down the narrow lane. And one of the partygoers seems to have never left. They call him the Gay Street Phantom. The Phantom is frequently seen walking down the street dressed in his dapper black cloak and large top hat.
The quaint brick townhouse with pale blue shutters at #12 Gay Street was once home to one of the most famous speakeasies; the Pirate’s Den. The Pirate’s Den was opened during prohibition as a theatrical buccaneer-themed establishment and a popular hang-out for then-local Mayor Jimmy Walker. Before he was a mayor, Walker actually wrote the music for broadway shows and his love for the theatre never waned. And neither did his love for chorus girls. Despite being a married man, he became so obsessed with one particular Ziegfeld showgirl, Betty Compton. He was so enamoured with her that he set her up with a small apartment inside #12 where she could live as his mistress and eventually be his wife.
Today, the house is rumoured to be home to Walker’s ghost. The ghost is known to still walks about the house, the upper levels’ floorboards creaking at night when no known is at home on those levels. His spirit must have clung to these streets, wishing to return to a better time when life was all about fun and frivolity. Walker’s time as mayor was marred with scandals and corruption. Life was easier when he was just a broadway tunes writer.
Walking west, turn down Grove Street to #59, where we find Marie’s Crisis Café. Marie’s Crisis Cafe is a lively piano bar built atop the site of Thomas Paine’s home. Thomas Paine was an English-born political activist. Despite his English origins, he was one of the most influential writers who drove the ideals of the American Revolution into the hearts of the people of New York City. One of his most famous pieces of writing was called the “Crisis Papers,” hence the bar’s name. Shortly after the American Revolution in 1809, Paine died inside his beloved home. Despite all his work to fight for the revolution, his oppositional opinions on institutionalized religion drove him to be ostracized by his peers. And sadly, only six people attended his funeral.
After Paine’s death, the area around the house fell into disrepute, and the home was transformed into a popular brothel. It wasn’t until the late 1850s, during prohibition, that the building served as a speakeasy. After prohibitions were dismantled, the bar continued its operations, this time more public-facing. It continues to be one of the most entertaining places in town. With hundreds of people gathering nightly to sing Broadway tunes around a grand piano. Paine’s ghost is known to still haunt the building. But happily, unlike at the end of his life when he drove everyone away, today he is surrounded by dozens of friendly faces inside Marie’s Crisis Café.
Walk across 7th Street, which cuts diagonally across the village. Take a turn east down Barrow street towards the restaurant named One if by Land, Two if by Sea. The building now houses one of New York’s most illustrious and elegant restaurants, but when it was first built in 1790, it was used as a horse stable. But not just any stable; it was the stable house for none other than now star of the Broadway stage, Aaron Burr. The current restaurant owners pay tribute to the American politician by hanging horseshoes, hitching posts and other antiques they found within the house on the restaurant’s walls.
Aaron Burr owned a swath of land just a few streets west at #17 Commerce Street, but while that home was being built, he moved into the carriage house with his daughter after his wife died. His daughter, Theodosia, was the apple of his eye. And the two spent many good years together inside this quaint home. But sadly, after that fateful dual against Alexander Hamilton, which ended in Hamilton’s untimely death, Burr fell sharply out of the popular political circles in New York. Burr was forced to sell off much of his property, including the carriage house.
After its sale, the house was converted into an engine house for the next-door firehouse. And like many of the buildings we’ve been to throughout our Greenwich Village ghost tour, in the 1890s, the house was (you guessed it) transformed into a brothel and speakeasy. This building was especially useful as a speakeasy because it housed an underground passageway. The passage provided access to the shores of the Hudson River. This meant it was easy to sneak in and out of illegal goods. It wasn’t until the 1970s that the home was purchased as a restaurant and opened back up to the public.
But even after all this passage of time and changing faces of the building, Aaron Burr and his beloved daughter are known to meet here in the afterlife. It was here that they both shared so many warm memories, and it is no surprise that they would want to return. Theodosia also suffered a terrible fate. On her way home to New York, the ship she sailed home in disappeared. Many people think pirates kidnapped the girl; others believe the ship sank in a terrible storm. Whatever the case, her body was never recovered, which drove Burr into a despair from which he could never rebound.
Theodosia’s ghost is known to wear a long black gown and stand at the top of the stair, looking down at the guests below. She is also known to go up to some women inside and pull at their beautiful earrings. Perhaps trying to acquire them for herself.
Burr, on the other hand, is perhaps slightly more angry at all these people seemingly taking up residence inside “his” house. Waiters have been known to be shoved down the stairs late at night or see plates flying across the walls as if thrown by spectral hands. Lights are known to flicker on and off after the restaurant has closed. Picture frames are often found off kilter in the morning when the manager opens the restaurants despite no one being inside.
Continue walking west along Barrow Street, turning north on Bedford Street to #86 Bedford Street. Here we find ourselves outside the blank stone facade of what was once of the most popular bars in the city; Chumley’s. Long before it hosted such notable figures as Ernest Hemingway, John Steinbeck and F. Scott Fitzgerald, the building served as the community’s blacksmith back in 1831. It wasn’t until 1922 that Leland Stanford Chumley converted the building into his covert speakeasy.
There isn’t even a remnant of any old signage indicating where the old bar once was because the original speakeasy had to be as low profile as possible. Even after prohibition was abolished, they kept up the tradition, and only those “in the know” could find the bar. It is rumoured that the term “86’ed” actually comes from life at Chumley’s. During prohibition, the speakeasies paid off police certain officers to ensure they would be informed about any raids in the areas. The officers would call the bartender and tell them to “86 your customers” as a code word to get them to evacuate the customer before police arrived. They used the word “86” since back then, the address of #86 Bedford was actually the back door to the bar. The primary entrance was located on the other side, in the Pamela Courtyard.
The first person known to die inside the fabled bar was writer Clinton Curtis. He was involved in a bar brawl that resulted in his throat being cut by an angry seaman. The cause of the brawl? A rather intense game of chess, of all things! Curtis’ ghost frequents the bar, still looking for chess partners to play with.
After Leland Chumley’s death, the bar was inherited by his wife, Henrietta. But Henrietta fell victim to the call of the alcohol that flowed so freely inside the bar. She died in 1960, sitting inside her favourite booth. Her ghost is still said to haunt that very same booth today. Still drunk as a skunk, her spirit is often heard knocking over shelves, smashing glasses and even drinking up half-empty beers left on the tables.
Chumley’s was forced to close in 2007 after a load-bearing wall collapsed inside. After extensive renovations, it reopened shortly in 2016. But was forced to close its doors once more during the Covid pandemic. The thirsty ghosts still reside inside, awaiting Chumley’s triumphant return, when they can dine with the living once more!
Crossing over Grove Street towards Hudson Street, you find yourself face to face with the rather quaint exterior of the Church of St. Luke in the Fields. The church dates back to 1820, when it was built in the image of an old English village church by the local community around here. The church was named after Saint Luke, the patron saint of physicians and surgeons.
As mentioned when visiting Washington Square Park, Greenwich Village was a safe refuge from yellow fever that plagued the inner city. So the church was built in St. Luke’s name in the hopes he would protect this new community. Later, in the 1980s, at the height of the AIDS crisis, the church once more did right by its namesake. They created the AIDS Project, which provided Saturday dinners and weekend teas to tens of thousands of people afflicted by the disease.
The most famous ghostly resident whose grave can be found in the cemetery is of Clement Clarke Moore. You might not immediately recognize the name, but you will know the story he penned, “Twas the Night Before Christmas.” Moore even first read the poem to the congregation here at the church. Moore loved his church. He was the only child of a wealthy family, so he spent much of his fortune funding the church. He even used the wood from his orchard to help rebuild the church after a fire.
After his death, many claimed to see his spirit inside the church every Sunday. But Moore is the definition of a “friendly ghost.” Many liken his personality to that of Santa Claus himself. Many have seen his spectre singing here at Christmas along with the carolers, as the festive season was always his favourite time of year. People have also reportedly heard the organ being played late into the night. Moore banging out Christmas tunes which echo throughout the empty nave. So listen closely as you pass by to see if you can hear him at play.
Continue north along Hudson Street towards the old White Horse Tavern. The White Horse Tavern touts itself as the second oldest bar in New York, opening in 1880 under the name Longshoremen’s Bar. But the tavern wouldn’t fall into the history books until the 1950s and 60s, when it became a popular hangout for New York City’s most prolific writers and musicians. Being frequented by Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Norman Mailer, Bob Dylan and Jim Morrison.
But most notably for our purposes, the White Horse Tavern is where people often see the ghost of poet Dylan Thomas. When Thomas was visiting New York, he came to this tavern and drank over 18 shots of whiskey. It was a triumphant record for him. He later that night returned to the Chelsea Hotel, bragging about his accomplishment at the famed White Horse Tavern.
But that would be one of the last happy memories for Thomas, as he was suffering from a severe lung infection. Only days after visiting the White Horse Tavern, he died at St. Vincent’s Hospital. Thomas’ ghost is known to return to the tavern, sitting at the bar, sneaking shots of whiskey. Perhaps trying his best to beat his own record. He even has a favourite corner table where guests have most frequently seen his spirit. This is a great place to stop in for a drink to see if you can spot him for yourself.
The last stop on our tour can be found after a short walk east along West 11th Street. At #16 Bank St., we see the picturesque brick exterior housing the old Waverly Inn. The house was initially built in 1884 and served as a tavern and a bordello. Surprise, surprise. After the original tavern closed, the building was converted into a carriage house for the wealthy owners of the homes nearby.
But, the 1920s prohibition era brought the saloon back to life, reopening as a “teahouse.” Teahouses were the nickname many people gave to keep speakeasies a secret. It was one of the most upscale speakeasies of the time. It was even frequented by American poets Robert Frost and Edna St. Vincent May. In 2006, the restaurant was purchased by Vanity Fair editor-in-chief Graydon Carter. Carter would transform the restaurant from a classic tavern to full-on 5-star dining with a wait list full of celebrity names!
But the most frequent guest at the Waverly Inn is their seasoned spectre. Many reports see the apparition of a man dressed in a 1920s-style waistcoat and black top hat. He is often seen lurking in the shadows around the inn’s many old fireplaces. But he doesn’t just like to look; many people have nicknamed the spectre the “firebug” ghost as he is known to light the tinders left in the fireplaces when no one is looking. The fire pokers are seen moving as if by phantom hands as he tends to his beloved fires around the building.
Unfortunately, he is not always so careful with the fires he lights. In 1997, a fire broke out in the middle of the night inside the restaurant. After firefighters arrived and put out the blaze, they could find no sign of accelerants to have started the fire. No electrical outlet had sparked, and there were no combustibles on the scene that could have started the fire. They were left totally perplexed, and yet to everyone who had seen the firebug ghost before, they knew it must have been him! Since 1997, more fire alarms and sprinkler systems have been installed to ensure that whatever he gets up to in the middle of the night doesn’t cause an end to this historical establishment.
This brings us to the end of our Greenwich Village Ghost Tour. I really hope you learned something new along the way, and the stories we told sent a shiver down your spine. Please let me know in the comments if you were lucky enough to see one of the resident hauntings on your city tour. Or any other spectres you came across on your trip to the Big Apple.
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