St. Augustine Reminiscences - Ghosts

By: Gus Victoria

Recently I had a conversation with a friend and the subject of ghosts stories came up. Reminiscing, I recalled that I had at one time sought out interaction with ghosts by visiting locations thought to be haunted. Not so much to seek some sort of quantifiable scientific proof of spirits and the afterlife as a memorable thrill shared by and with others. Though ghost stories abound in every corner of this and every country I was and am fortunate enough in this respect to live close enough to arguably one of the most haunted cities in the United States that a day trip is not uncommon. To get the feel of the city though and its ancient charm one must spend more than a day and indeed must taste the night there.

Such was the motivation in 2008 and 2009 to visit the ancient city. Added to this also was the idea of a romantic getaway, which the city easily provides as well. Having visited the city a few times before I had heard tell the story of Lily and her lover; how their affair had been discovered and were forced to part. One of them killed themselves in the house that since has been turned into a beautiful bed and breakfast; the St. Francis Inn.

It was quickly decided then that the inn would be the perfect place to have a romantic weekend and hope to see some ghostly activity in the process. We were even more excited when we learned the particular room where the suicide allegedly took place and became the epicenter of paranormal activity was available. Also it was told that the spirit or spirits were mischievous, not malicious and that they liked couples especially. We booked that room and hoped for the best.

The weekend was one you would expect. A young couple in a historic city filled with dreams and stories, hopes for the future and imprints of the past merging in that one place for that weekend. The inn was the best I had ever stayed at and we were to visit it again. To this day it holds a special place in a city that holds a special place in my heart. During the day we walked up and down St. George street and visited the Castillo de San Marcos of course. In the evening we took one of the many nighttime ghost tours advertised. Throughout it all I took so many pictures I began to annoy her. More than once, as she saw me raise the camera, her face would twist and convey to me without words, “not another one!”

We were, to pardon the expression, in high spirits. A young couple in love we assumed would have to attract the attention of the inn’s residents ghosts. For two nights we went about our business, but with the nearly subconscious expectation that something might and should happen at any moment. It didn’t.

Well I attested then that it didn’t. We did not feel a presence. Her purse and bags were left alone, untouched by any spectral force. No visual apparition was seen. The weekend was memorable despite the lack of paranormal activity. Then I got home and was able to examine the pictures in some detail. Though no expert now, I was then much more the novice. I saw orbs everywhere! Spirit orbs! For more time than I care to admit I thought that we had captured on the camera scores of orbs.

Since then I am glad to note I have read up on the differences between spectral orbs and dust motes and pollen. A great majority of the pictures taken then and in subsequent trips proved to be no more than evidence that they were taken in dusty places or beneath trees and plants that caused the light to react in certain ways to send thrills of excitement to a novice such as I. Still, not all the pictures could be explained quite so easily and some of those I share here.

The St. Francis Inn

Built in 1791 by a Spanish officer on land granted to him by the King of Spain the inn has had a long history and several owners throughout that length of time. The original owner, built the house and retained ownership until 1802 when Juan Ruggiers came to own it. By 1838 when the house and land switched hands again so had Florida; from Spanish to American in 1819. At this time the house would be owned by Colonel Thomas Henry Dummett. He began a sugar plantation not far away and managed after a few years to eek out a successful living. It was with his daughter Anna who took possession of the house upon his death and in 1845 turned it into an inn of sorts that our story finds its origin.

Although she never married, she had sisters who did. Unfortunately not all survived to see the outbreak of the Civil War in 1861. Anna took care of some of the children. It is one of these that turned out to be the ill-fated lover of our story. As it is told he fell in love with one of the black servant girls. Her name was Lily. They would escape and find out-of the way places to enjoy each other’s company. One day they were caught. The details are murky. We do not know if Lily was turned out or not. What seems to have occurred though is that without doubt the relationship was ended and the nephew was so distraught that he hung himself in the attic of the house. Since then the house has seen many renovations and additions. The house has become a bed and breakfast of the finest order and that portion of the attic where the young man met his demise has become one of the many guest rooms. This particularly one bearing the name “Lily’s Room.”

Much is made of this room, the story, and the ghost of Lily. More than one guest has seen her with towels or sheets at the ready as if she is going about her duties tending to the house as she did in life. Stories are circulated as well that women’s purses and bags tend to be found open and the contents, not missing, but out and not where they were before. None of this did we see or experience, but I was able to capture two pictures.

In them you can see Jackie in the mirror. She took two picture moments apart. Near her body you see a pink luminescent orb. I would to be told how this might be a play of the light. An illusion with the mirror and the camera as deceiving culprits. To me, all these years later, it is still an odd set of pictures. It should be noted at the time I do not recall feeling anything out of the ordinary.

To show a clear instance of what I once thought were spirit orbs. Here is a picture of the exterior of the St. Francis Inn during a night walk I insisted we take on our first evening there. To me this is simply a dust particle, though I know some that still would insist this is a genuine spirit orb. You can decide for yourself.

Next is one taken by the pool the same evening. In the first one you can see an interesting orb unlike any other I have taken. It is not quite the dust or pollen particles we are used to seeing by now, but it does not carry its own luminescence either. Rather it looks like a tiny point of concentrated fog. And it moves. In the second picture it is further down the length of the pool and in the third it is almost completely gone. I want to discount this as a dust particle, but that first shot makes it a bit difficult. In all, about five seconds elapsed before the taking of the first and third picture.

Given the history of the building one can be drawn to make their own conclusions of these pictures. I offer these up not as evidence one way or the other, but simply to share what I saw on that particular trip. I have more experiences and pictures to share. Those we will save for another time.