When you think of haunted places in the United States, you probably picture the classic ghost tours of Charleston or Savannah. Yet, beyond those well‑trodden streets lies a treasure trove of spooky sites that most travelers never hear about. In this roundup we spotlight ten little known haunted spots that sit far off the usual tourist map. Whether you love a good ghost story or just crave a shiver‑inducing adventure, these eerie locations are sure to intrigue and maybe even spook you.
ten little known haunted locations you’ve never heard of
1 Red Onion Saloon (Alaska)
Don’t be fooled into thinking the Red Onion Saloon is merely another watering hole. Nestled in Skagway, this historic bar still clings to its Old West roots, complete with weathered décor that transports patrons back to the Gold Rush era of 1897. The atmosphere feels like stepping into a living museum, where every brass knob and creaking floorboard whispers of a bygone time.
But peel back the surface and the story takes a darker turn. In its early days the saloon doubled as Skagway’s most popular brothel. Upstairs, the second‑floor rooms housed working girls who entertained clients, while the bar staff used a peculiar system of dolls to signal each woman’s availability—upright for “ready,” reclined for “unavailable.” The most famed of these ladies was Lydia, whose spirit is said to still roam the premises. Employees frequently report hearing her footsteps on the second floor, feeling sudden cold drafts, and even catching a whiff of her century‑old perfume drifting through the bar.
Legend has it that Lydia still tends the plants that dot the saloon, not watering them herself but somehow keeping them thriving. Some visitors swear they’ve seen a translucent figure resembling Lydia slipping into what would have been her old room. Unlike many malevolent specters, Lydia appears to be a friendly haunt, simply lingering where she once lived and worked, adding an eerie yet comforting presence to the historic saloon.
2 Sloss Furnace (Alabama)
The Sloss Furnaces in Birmingham once powered the city for a full century before shutting down in the 1970s. These massive iron‑making structures were pivotal in turning Birmingham into an industrial hub, and the community still honors the laborers who kept the furnaces roaring. Yet, buried beneath the pride of progress lies a chilling tale of a restless spirit.
In the early 1900s, the furnace’s graveyard shift was overseen by a notoriously harsh foreman named James “Slag” Wormwood. Known for his brutal expectations, Wormwood demanded relentless speed from his skeletal crew, and under his watch at least 47 workers lost their lives. In 1906, Wormwood met a fiery end when he slipped into the massive furnace dubbed “Big Alice,” melting instantly in the molten ore. Whether his death was accident or retribution remains debated, but his presence has lingered ever since.
After his demise, workers began sensing a demonic aura within the furnace walls. Reports flooded in of phantom pushes urging faster work, and even physical shoves from an unseen force. Over the ensuing decades, more than a hundred documented incidents described strange happenings attributed to this spectral overseer. The Sloss Furnace’s legacy now includes not only industrial heritage but also an unnerving tale of a foreman who still haunts the very steel he once commanded.
3 Jerome Grand Hotel (Arizona)
Originally built in 1927 as the United Verde Hospital in the tiny mining town of Jerome, this massive structure later fell silent in 1950. For half a century the building lay empty until developers transformed the abandoned hospital into the Jerome Grand Hotel in 1996, hoping to capitalize on its stunning location and architectural charm. Unfortunately, the conversion awakened a host of lingering spirits.
Historians estimate that nearly 10,000 souls passed away within the hospital’s walls during its three decades of operation—an unsurprising figure for a medical facility. As a result, the hotel now hosts a variety of phantom activity. Guests frequently report seeing hospital gurneys glide down hallways, hearing disembodied wails echoing from vacant rooms, and feeling an uncanny chill in certain areas.
The third floor, once home to the operating theater, is the epicenter of the most intense hauntings. Visitors describe the unmistakable sound of rolling gurney wheels and the sensation of animal spirits—particularly cats—leaping onto their beds in the dead of night. Room 32, in particular, is said to be possessed by a maintenance worker who was crushed by a runaway elevator in 1935. The hotel’s manager even maintains a detailed journal chronicling hundreds of supernatural incidents each year, underscoring the building’s reputation as one of Arizona’s most haunted locales.
4 Whaley House (California)
San Diego’s Whaley House stands as perhaps the most infamous haunted residence in California. Constructed in 1856 by Thomas Whaley, the house was intended to be the most elegant home in the region, complete with a courthouse, general store, and theater on the surrounding property. Today, the historic district is preserved for tourists to explore the Whaley legacy.
However, the house’s tranquil façade hides a tragic past. In 1852, a horse thief named Yankee Jim Robinson was executed on the land that would become the Whaley estate, and his restless spirit has been rumored to linger ever since. Shortly after the Whaley family moved in, a newborn son died of scarlet fever, and later, Thomas’s daughter Victoria took her own life within the house. These layered tragedies have woven a tapestry of hauntings that persist to this day.
Visitors frequently report sensing Thomas’s cigar smoke drifting through the corridors, catching whiffs of his wife’s perfume, and hearing the giggles of the infant who perished. Ghostly sightings of Victoria wandering an upstairs bedroom add to the eerie atmosphere. The Whaley House has become a magnet for paranormal investigators, who regularly document unsettling phenomena within its historic walls.
5 Mackinac Island (Michigan)
Mackinac Island, a summertime jewel of northern Michigan, draws visitors with its car‑free streets, horse‑drawn carriage rides, and historic Grand Hotel. While its sun‑lit charm is undeniable, the island also harbors a darker, spectral side rooted in its tumultuous past.
Originally inhabited by the Odawa tribe, the island suffered devastating losses during the 17th‑ and 18th‑century colonial conflicts. The British later turned it into a fur‑trading outpost, and during the War of 1812, the island became a battlefield. To this day, tourists claim to encounter the lingering spirits of soldiers, witnessing disembodied limbs, headless apparitions, and other unsettling sights.
The Grand Hotel stands at the heart of these hauntings. Some say the hotel is haunted by workers who died during its construction in the late 1880s, while others report a phantom with glowing red eyes that roams the premises. Legends also speak of a sorrowful soul named Harvey, who either took his own life after a heartbreak or was murdered by a jilted lover, and now wanders the hotel and downtown area, adding another layer to Mackinac’s ghostly folklore.
6 Wabasha Street Caves (Minnesota)
The Wabasha Street Caves in Saint Paul began as a 19th‑century silica mine, supplying glass‑blowing factories with raw material. When the glass industry moved on, the tunnels found new life as a mushroom farm, and later, during Prohibition, they transformed into an underground speakeasy and nightclub.
During the roaring 1920s and ’30s, the caves attracted notorious gangsters—Baby Face Nelson, John Dillinger, and others—who partook in illicit drinking, brawls, and even murder within the dank corridors. The violent history left an indelible mark on the subterranean passages.
Modern visitors who brave the depths report a range of paranormal activity: phantom footsteps echoing through the tunnels, chandeliers flickering without cause, and apparitions drifting along the walls. Some historians even speculate that the bodies of slain gangsters may still be interred within the stone, intensifying the eerie atmosphere of the Wabasha Street Caves.
7 McRaven House (Mississippi)
Located in Vicksburg, the McRaven House stands as Mississippi’s most haunted mansion, its roots stretching back to just before 1800. Its original builder, Andrew Glass, was a feared highwayman who robbed and sometimes murdered travelers along the Natchez Trace, stashing his loot within the house’s walls.
After Glass sold the property, a new owner married a 15‑year‑old bride, Elizabeth Howard, who tragically died during childbirth. Her spirit is said to linger, forever bound to the bedroom where she passed. The house’s grim history deepened during the Civil War when it served as a Confederate field hospital, only to be later haunted by the ghost of John Bobb, a homeowner murdered by Union soldiers.
In the early 20th century, the Murray family took residence, enduring the deaths of at least four family members. Their descendants maintained the home until the 1960s, after which it fell into disrepair. New owners soon reported a flurry of hauntings: lights flickering on stairways, a mysterious figure appearing atop the staircase, Bobb’s ghost pacing the porch and balcony, Howard’s lingering presence in her bedroom, and even Glass’s own specter roaming the halls.
8 Old Montana Prison (Montana)
Constructed in 1871 near Deer Lodge, the Old Montana Prison operated as the state’s largest penitentiary for a full century before closing its doors in 1979. The remote, scenic setting belies the brutal conditions that once prevailed within its stone walls.
The prison’s most infamous episode unfolded in 1959, when a massive inmate riot seized control for over 36 hours. Prisoners held guards hostage, killed a deputy warden, and demanded better conditions, prompting the National Guard to intervene. The turmoil resulted in multiple murders and a series of suicides among the riot’s leaders.
Today, the former penitentiary functions as a museum, yet visitors frequently encounter chilling phenomena: inexplicably cold cells, swirling mists, and phantom figures roaming the corridors after hours. The solitary confinement cell, known as “The Hole,” is reputedly the most haunted spot, with spirits reportedly pushing and shoving anyone who enters. Amidst the darkness, a benevolent ghost named Turkey Pete—an inmate who entertained fellow prisoners by “selling” wild turkeys—still roams the halls, offering a comforting counterpoint to the prison’s more malevolent spirits.
9 KiMo Theater (New Mexico)
Opened in 1927, Albuquerque’s KiMo Theater blends American Indian motifs with Art Deco flair, thanks to visionary Oreste Bachechi. Over the decades the venue hosted plays, vaudeville acts, silent films, and later, talkies, earning a place on the National Register of Historic Places.
Local lore tells of a teenage worker named Bobby who perished in a basement explosion in 1951. Since then, his mischievous spirit has been known to play pranks on staff—moving objects, toppling items, and generating eerie noises after dark. Though his antics are harmless, employees often leave candy and donuts to keep Bobby appeased.
Patrons have also reported sightings of Bobby, described as wearing a striped tee and jeans, appearing at the top of the theater’s staircase. Additionally, an unknown woman in a bonnet is said to glide silently through the halls at night. While neither specter appears malevolent, their presence adds a spooky charm to the historic KiMo Theater.
10 Ocean Born Mary House (New Hampshire)
In 1720, a newborn named Mary Wallace arrived aboard a ship bound for New England. Shortly after her birth, pirates seized the vessel near Boston. Moved by the infant’s cries, the pirate captain struck a deal: the parents could keep their child if they renamed her after one of his relatives—Mary. He also gifted the mother a piece of green silk destined for Mary’s future wedding dress.
Mary grew up in New England, eventually marrying and bearing five children. In her later years she settled in Henniker, New Hampshire, where she lived for sixteen more years before passing away in 1814. Decades after her death, a newcomer purchased a nearby estate and, seeking profit, fabricated a legend that Mary had died in his house and now haunted it.
Despite the fact that Mary never actually lived in that particular house, the tale took hold. Tourists began flocking to the estate, claiming to see her specter—sometimes perched in a rocking chair, other times reuniting with the pirate captain to hide treasure in the orchard. Today, visitors to the Ocean Born Mary House report ghostly encounters, even though the spirit was never truly tied to the property, making her haunting a tragic case of misplaced afterlife.