logo-image

The Hauntings of Hurricane Mills

Lisa Thomas • October 26, 2022

She didn’t understand why the woman was on her second floor balcony.  Granted, she’d been away from home for a while, but no one had mentioned any unexpected guests, and this woman was obviously distraught, pacing back and forth, wringing her hands and silently sobbing.  She hurried inside to find the sitter, asking her about the stranger upstairs . . . at which point the sitter assured her there was no one upstairs.  Rushing to the second floor, she opened the door to the balcony—only to find it empty.  Her mysterious stranger clothed completely in white had seemingly made her way down the stairs without being seen and was now wandering about the cemetery that was on the property.

It was not the last time Loretta Lynn would see The Lady in White.

Delving into the house’s past, she found the name of Beula Anderson, wife of John Anderson, the son of James Anderson, the builder of the home.  Beula had given birth to a stillborn son in 1918—a child named for his father and buried in Anderson Cemetery—the same cemetery frequented by the sorrowful spirit.  Beula grieved herself to death, following her son twelve days after his birth, and was laid to rest beside him.  Loretta believed this was her visitor, still searching for her child, still trapped in her grief as she mourned her loss from so many years before.  Later, when she and her family moved from their antebellum home into a newer one on the property, one of her sons joked “the house wasn’t big enough for two women”, and it seemed as though The Lady in White wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Beula was not the only spirit to walk the grounds of the Lynn abode at Hurricane Mills, nor was Loretta the only person to witness the comings and goings of the ghostly apparitions.  Her family often had encounters of the other-worldly kind as did those who worked in the home over the years.  Take, for instance, the tale told by her son Jack Benny who once fell asleep still wearing his boots; the feeling of someone tugging on them drug him from his slumbers—and the sight of the Civil War soldier who seemed intent upon removing them sent Jack running from the room.  Perhaps the soldier wanted the boots for himself.  Perhaps he simply wanted to be sure Jack was comfortable.  Whatever the reason, Jack didn’t stay to find out.

Anthony Brutto, Loretta’s grandson, had his own introduction to the spirit world one night when the power went out, plunging the house into total darkness.  Total that is, but for one chandelier that continued to glow.  Despite the fact that everything in the room was on the same breaker, and nothing else seemed inclined to work, the chandelier still burned.

Loretta often spoke of her own psychic abilities, powers she inherited from her mother who foresaw a family tragedy involving the river that flowed through the property years before Loretta’s son Jack lost his life there.  In an effort to contact someone from the home’s past, Loretta invited several close friends to assist her in holding a séance.  Their communication with the spirit world was successful, if you could call it that, given that the entity identifying himself as “Anderson” seemed quite angry at being disturbed.  His response was to violently shake the table around which they had gathered, finally slamming it against the floor and breaking it into pieces.

No matter how you may feel about the ghostly goings on that seem to frequently happen at the Lynn home, you will never convince those who have been unwilling participants that they are anything other than truth.  That’s why the tour guides will never take you to the second floor.  No visitor is allowed to enter the “Brown Room”, the most haunted place in the house.  That was the room where Jack encountered the soldier who so desperately wanted his boots . . . the room where he and his brother Ernest refused to stay after Ernest awoke one night to find two Civil War soldiers watching him as he slept.  It is always the coldest room in the house and those who are brave enough to enter may find themselves confronted with unexplained noises . . . rappings that seem to come from the closet . . . a closet filled with Christmas decorations . . . and supposedly nothing more.

It has been over 30 years since Loretta and her family vacated the house, opting for a newer one with fewer previous inhabitants.  But that didn’t stop the stories from growing since the spirits continued to make their presence known.  Despite their pranks, no one has ever been physically harmed, although one tour guide was pushed off the bottom steps when they accidently brushed against the album covers that lined the stairway wall.  Loretta always believed the ghosts tolerated the presence of the living because, when she first learned the house was haunted, she had announced to all of them she would take care of it and “fix it up real nice.”  And so she did.  Perhaps that’s why she believed ol’ man Anderson was watching over her as she made good on her promise to care for his home. And who knows, with Loretta now buried close by, perhaps she and Mr. Anderson will keep watch over it together.

 

 

About the author:  Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926.  She has been employed at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 40 years and currently serves as the manager there.  Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone, and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.

By Lisa Thomas February 20, 2025
Although every arrangement conference is different, any that involve planning some type of service share a few things in common, such as deciding who will speak, and when and where the service will be held. And at some point in all this planning, the funeral director will ask “Have you thought about music?”
By Lisa Thomas February 13, 2025
It was the spring of 1991 when I was first required to walk through the doors of Henderson Office Supply on Main Street in Henderson, Tennessee. The business was owned by the Casey family—the same Casey family who owned Casey Funeral Home—the same Casey family from whom we had just purchased both.
By Lisa Thomas February 6, 2025
It was December 14, 1799, and George Washington, first president of the United States, lay on his deathbed, the result of male obstinance, a sudden change in the weather, a desire to be prompt which led to dinner in soggy clothes, and medical practices of the day that were useless in the face of whatever illness was attacking his body. Actually, just useless in general.
By Lisa Thomas January 30, 2025
Pia Farrenkopf was a loner, a smart, driven woman of German descent who would be gone for weeks at a time, if not for work, then for the sheer pleasure of exploring the world. Her family grew to expect unanswered phone calls and random postcards from faraway places.
By Lisa Thomas January 23, 2025
Whenever a death occurs there’s always a cleaning out that follows. It may be a house or apartment, a hospital or nursing home room—maybe even just a closet and a drawer—but somewhere the items that represent that person’s life are tucked safely away, waiting for the day when they will pass to the next generation . . . or Goodwill, whichever is deemed appropriate.
By Lisa Thomas January 15, 2025
I find myself sitting in Panera, eating an Apple Chicken Salad and reading “The 7 ½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle”, a Christmas present from my daughter and her family. Only this Panera is located in Vanderbilt Medical Center. Soon I will return to the darkness of Room 7 in the ICU and wait.
By Lisa Thomas January 9, 2025
We were just wrapping up a celebratory family meal (please don’t ask which one; I haven’t the foggiest notion, given the time of year and the prevalence of celebratory meals), when my 15-year-old grandson Wilson stretched his lanky frame in the manner that indicates a satisfaction with the food and a fullness from overindulging, and asked “Mona, (that’s what all the grandchildren call me . . . because my first name is Lisa . . . so, Mona Lisa . . .) “when do I get a copy of the Thomas Cookbook?”
By Lisa Thomas December 27, 2024
As I sit writing this, it is Christmas night—that time when the world grows still and quiet as the celebrations of the day fade into memories.
By Lisa Thomas December 18, 2024
‘Tis the season to be jolly . . . unless it isn’t. Unless it isn’t because Grief has recently come to call and seems quite content to stay, at least for the foreseeable future.
By Lisa Thomas December 12, 2024
I made a pretty big mistake this year. Actually, truth be known, I made a lot of mistakes this year. But this particular one was a doozie.
More Posts
Share by: