If your hotel rests on the site of one of the Civil War’s most colorful skirmishes, you would expect there to be a few uniformed ghosts haunting the grounds. However, at the General Morgan Inn, the most colorful ghosts are the ones who used to work here.
Meet Greene Room Grace, The Spoon Snatcher
Grace, by far our most clever, playful ghost lives in our restaurant’s Greene Room. We’ve heard that Grace, in her former life, was a waitress at the original Grand Central Hotel during the late 1800s and early 1900s and, by all accounts, is generally a very happy ghost who, along with at least nine other ghosts, has been haunting our inn for many years. However, we think she may have had some trouble managing her place settings—as our spoons quite often disappear from the place settings in the Greene Room over night — never a fork, never a butter knife…always a spoon. And, never our other dining rooms, always the Greene Room. You might expect to find the spoon on the floor, in a chair, or even in the dish room—but we’ve never been able to locate them.
Meet Front Desk Bill
Adjacent to the General Morgan Inn, stands another hotel built in the late 1800s — originally called the Depot Street hotel. The building, which now houses an assortment of businesses along with some vacant spaces, hails from Greeneville’s grand railroad era. We’ve since learned that the former hotel is haunted by a ghost of one of its employee, whom we call Front Desk Bill. Bill reportedly roams throughout that space and our current hotel. We invited dowsers to speak to Bill and find out a little bit about him. While he wasn’t forthcoming with a great deal of personal information, he did say that he was “quite happy to haunt the hotel” and that he was in the company of 26 other ghosts who haunt the area. When asked if he was as happy when he actually worked at the front desk of the hotel, his response was an overwhelming, “No!” Perhaps the old hotel didn’t enjoy the high occupancy level that it now enjoys.
Meet John Hunt Morgan
The Confederate General who was considered the Jessie James of his day, a tactical genius who raided the Ohio Valley during the Civil War, was killed during a confrontation that took place, literally a few feet from the inn’s grand lobby. Morgan, who was visiting friends at the nearby Dickson-Williams Mansion, left his men a few miles outside of town while he reconnected with Mrs. Williams and her family. Morgan was unaware that a small group of Union officers were also staying in the small town of Greeneville. Reports of the conflict vary. But, this we know: after claiming that the Union soldiers would never take him alive, Morgan was shot in the back while attempting to get to his horse, which was tethered in the Williams’ stables. Lucy Frye, a young woman staying at the inn was publicly accused of betraying his location to the Union soldiers—a charge which, although she vehemently denied, followed her and left her a social outcast for the remainder of her life. Mrs. Williams, a genteel Southern lady who took her duty as hostess very seriously, felt that she should have protected Morgan during his stay, and by all accounts, entered into a serious depression upon his death. For decades she was reported to have covered the site where he fell dead with a blanket of violets, her favorite wildflower.