“Welcome, foolish mortals, to The Haunted Mansion. I am your host, your GHOST HOST. Kindly step all the way in, please, and make room for everyone. There’s no turning back now.”
These are the words I utter each time you humans inhabit my playground for a time. You enter my Doom Buggies, and you watch the macabre proceedings. Then, you try to leave, ignoring me when I tell you that there’s always room for one more. I laugh mirthlessly for I know all and see all. I am the proprietor of your favorite establishment of any Disney theme park. And I can tell you that most of the stories in my home mirror my own. They didn’t have happy endings.
I’ve previously relayed details of the sordid history of The Haunted Mansion. I lamented the genesis of the park. Even I, a dweller of an unholy realm, regret that Walt Disney never lived to see the attraction he envisioned. In his absence, able-bodied Imagineers fell victim to the curse that felled me. For the body of a decade, they struggled to introduce outsiders to the horrors of my New Orleans Square plantation.
Eventually, Disney’s finest disciples succeeded but their house remained divided. After The Haunted Mansion opened at Disneyland, guests expressed the same confusion that had once caused a schism inside the Disney offices. No one could quite decide whether to laugh at the interior of my home or fear the residents inside. That’s understandable. My motley crew is a veritable rogues gallery of rapscallions along with a few innocents condemned to co-exist in a far from peaceful (but oddly musical) manor.
Since I’ve already told you how the pieces came together, I’ll stave off the boredom of the 1000th playing of Grim Grinning Ghosts today to fill you in on another part of my home. In this article, I’d like to introduce you to many of the unforgettable ghost and ghasts who dwell in this eternal place alongside me. Think of this article as supernatural social media. You’re about to receive 999 friend requests. Decline them at your peril.
Here then are the stories of the most notorious residents of Disney’s Haunted Mansion.
Not to be confused with Uma Thurman
Some marriages last until the end of time, and some end in divorce. A secret option number three exists, and it’s the most popular one in my realm. A scorned (or merely malevolent) spouse can end their holy union in the unholiest of ways. And this sort of murder most foul leaves an indelible impression on strangers. That’s why everyone remembers The Bride, and I don’t mean the one who wanted to Kill Bill.
Originally, the Bride was a mysterious figure who lived in the Attic portion of The Haunted Mansion. Over time, she gained a name, but let’s focus at first on the early days when she was simply a mourning widow.
One of Imagineer Ken Anderson’s jobs at WED Enterprises involved the creation of concept art for The Haunted Mansion. He crafted the backstory for many of my cohabitants at our evil dwelling. The Bride was one of the most intriguing of these early offerings.
Anderson envisioned a tragic life for the woman he called Priscilla. She would regrettably marry a wayward gentleman known as Bartholomew Gore. The union was a happy one for a time. Then, Priscilla happened upon her husband’s darkest secret. He lived a pirate life indeed. Rather than explain his side of the story as well as how happy he’d become as a law-abiding citizen, Gore instead returned to his evildoing ways. He mercilessly murdered young bride Priscilla, leaving her in a final repose. Or so he thought.
The disappearing groom
Instead, the horror of her fate caused the wife to linger in the earthly realm rather than abandoning her mortal coil. Priscilla haunted Bartholomew Gore ceaselessly. She allowed her killer no respite from the hauntings. Eventually, Gore felt he had no other choice. He ended his own life to escape the torment of his dead but omnipresent wife. The element of his death was later adopted…well, I’m getting ahead of myself as the Ghost Host. Let’s save that revelation until the end.
Anderson’s cohorts at WED Enterprises expressed conflict over the nature of Gore and Priscilla’s relationship. They felt it was a bit too dark for a theme park attraction that children would visit with their parents. Once again, the debate about humor vs. horror impeded the progress of The Haunted Mansion.
Undeterred, Anderson took another shot at the same character. Gore evolved from pirate to sea captain. His new profession still caused his death, albeit in a much different way. Rather than Priscilla, Gore was now married to the sea. A shipwreck caused him to drown at sea. Anderson sketched out some ideas for Gore’s appearance that went unused as Disney never actually provided admittance to him in The Haunted Mansion. Instead, his history became that of Culpepper Clyne, the Mariner covered in seaweed and starfish. Gore went from pirate to murderer to suicide victim to sea captain to persona non grata. My home offers many cruel twists of fate, but banishing someone from existence is harsh even by our standards.
Still, haunted spirits are hard to keep away forever. Gore has started making a comeback in recent years. The 2011 update of The Haunted Mansion at Magic Kingdom included a new tombstone commemorating the life of Captain Gore. Similarly, the recent comic book version of The Haunted Mansion includes a nefarious fellow named The Captain as the main protagonist. He claims a similar heritage as Mr. Gore, and the comic goes so far as to recreate a scene based on Ken Anderson’s earliest rendering of the captain. One of the most important rules of my realm is that nothing stays dead forever here, even if it doesn’t necessarily exist at the moment. A second story similar to this one is included below. It involves a man, a hat, and a box. Let’s finish our discussion of Priscilla the Bride first, though.
Say yes to the dress
With her barbaric groom out of the picture, the Bride received a makeover. It would be the first of many across theme parks and other media outlets. Originally, she held a candle in one hand and a bouquet of wilted, long dead flowers in the other. Her most memorable feature was the beating heart clearly visible through her wedding dress. In fact, the blueprints for the ride referred to her not by name or by the Bride. Instead, they simply called her Beating Heart.
The popularity of the vengeful, scorned bride caused Disney designers to re-think her anonymous existence. Priscilla had morphed into the Bride, but Disney felt they could do better with the details. Enter Constance Hatchaway.
Flipping the switch on the original story of Priscilla, Hatchaway earned a reputation as predator rather than prey. Colloquially known as the Black Widow Bride, this woman wasn’t someone men should trust with their hearts. Anyone who made that mistake paid for the mistake with their life.
Five grooms for one bride
Image: Disney
Don’t believe me? Ask Ambrose Harper, a California farmer who married Mrs. Hatchaway in 1869. He didn’t live to see the 1870s. Three years later, a pillar of the community named Frank Banks, fittingly a banker, took Hatchaway’s hand in marriage. She quickly took it back but only after ending his life. Given this information, it’s not hard to believe that someone with a name as questionable as Marquis de Doome suffered a similar fate. Even if the Black Widow Bride had been a gentler spirit, I wouldn’t have held out much hope for that relationship. Still, the death of the Marquis fell on Valentine’s Day, which is a tough way to end any marriage.
By 1875, Hatchaway had already moved on to her fourth husband, Reginald Caine. In the wake of her failed marriage to the Marquis de Doome, who wasn’t a rich man but instead a Chinese diplomat, the no longer blushing bride sought a more comfortable lifestyle. Caine was a railroad baron who discovered his fortune taken from him by his less than innocent wife. The moral of his story is that you should never marry for money.
Finally, the Black Widow Bride fell in love (ha!) with George Hightower in 1877, making him her fifth groom in less than a decade. Even Elizabeth Taylor would wince at this news. Once again, romance failed to carry the day, as Hatchaway’s final marriage was no more of a Harlequin romance than the prior ones. Hightower became the latest groom to learn that Hatchaway fittingly preferred hatchets in lieu of divorce papers. It’s this failed relationship that’s most important to our story, though.
Prior to his “accidentally” getting chopped into dozens of pieces, Hightower had come into some property. Conveniently located in New Orleans Square, this estate is now my home. Yes, prior to her death, Constance Hatchaway became the owner of The Haunted Mansion or at least one of them. That title was always in dispute. In an awkward turn of events, several of Hatchaway’s exes now reside on the house grounds as well. Even in a dwelling full of nearly a thousand spirits, that’s an uncomfortable situation. The Black Widow Bride doesn’t help the situation any with her taunting. As you may know, she loves to recite this ill-tempered lyric:
“We’ll live happily ever after
Till death do us part
Here comes the bride
As long as we both *pause* shall live
For better or for *pause* worse
I do, I did
In sickness and in *pause* wealth
You may now kiss the bride.”
Apparently, Hatchaway didn’t find enough satisfaction in killing her husbands and then taking all their wealth as well as their real estate holdings. She has to taunt them in death as well. In hindsight, maybe Gore had the right idea about her. That might have been a kill or be killed situation. All of Hatchaway’s relationships are like Mr. and Mrs. Smith, only Angelina Jolie’s bullets never miss.
Finally, I’d like to offer one final note about the Black Widow Bride’s final victim, I mean husband. Mr. Hightower’s lineage suggests that he is a blood relative of another famous Disney character. I’m speaking, of course, of Harrison Hightower III, the New York tycoon who famously disappeared on New Year’s Eve of 1899. You may know him better as the owner of Hotel Hightower or, as it has come to be known after his death, the Tower of Terror. For incredibly wealthy property owners, the Hightowers were undeniably unlucky in life. They’re also a bit of a pill in death.
The multiple versions of the Bride
The American version of the Bride is fairly consistent at Walt Disney World and Disneyland. Constance Hatchaway is the marrying kind beyond a point of fault. She’s also good with oversized cutlery. When guests reach her portion of the Attic, she gleefully hints at dastardly deeds that restored her status as a swinging (get it?) single. The tell-tale silver hatchet appears as she recites her fatal and fatalistic lyric.
Disney’s Imagineers have lovingly crafted an atmospheric reminder of Constance’s many wedding days. Bridal gifts litter the area, and she’s sentimental enough to populate her residence with mementos of her former husbands. Why people continued to offer wedding gifts for the later marriages is a bit of a mystery. Then again, the Black Widow Bride is someone whom friends (well, acquaintances) would want to keep happy and not grudge-y.
Perhaps the most interesting fan theory that Disney has yet to confirm is that the Black Widow Bride also makes an appearance in the Stretching Room. You remember the widow who sits on the tombstone that reads, “Rest in Peace, Dear Beloved George,” right? Since Mr. Hightower, her fifth husband former owner of The Haunted Mansion, is also named George and the image shows him with a hatchet in his head, the story fits.
Is it true? I, the Ghost Host, won’t say for sure, but Disney’s Imagineers certainly want you to believe it’s possible. The scary – and thereby magnificent – thought is that dear Mrs. Hatchaway must have lived a long and happy life after her final failed attempt at marriage. This turn of events may single-handedly disprove the notion of karma.
Who says it pays to be nice?
The primary international version of the Bride also operates against the notion of karma. At Phantom Manor in Disneyland Paris, the bride is a much kinder woman named Melanie Ravenswood. Her life hasn’t worked out quite as tidily as Hatchaway’s, though. A sheltered woman born with a silver spoon, Ravenswood is the apple of her parents’ collective eye. Eventually, she grew into adulthood and moved out of their mansion to live with the local townsfolk of Thunder Mesa, which Disney fans know as the city closest to Big Thunder Mountain.
Not coincidentally, Ravenswood falls in love with a train engineer working at Thunder Mesa. They plan their wedding together, and she has no plans to put a hatchet in his throat during the honeymoon, which clearly differentiates her from Hatchaway.
Tragedy strikes the city of Thunder Mesa when a major earthquake destroys the town. In the process, hundreds of citizens die. Among them are Henry and Martha Ravenswood, Melanie’s parents. Despite her heartbreak, she resolved to marry her engineer. At least she would have if he had bothered to show up for their wedding. Whether he died during the earthquake or simply got cold feet, Melanie Ravenswood never gave up hope. She did, however, gradually lose her marbles as days turned to weeks then months, years, and finally decades.
Phantom Manor delivers an entirely new spin on The Haunted Mansion concept. The protagonist is a suffering spirit with a good heart. Throughout the ride, Ravenswood appears, revealing parts of her life story in the process. She also offers warnings to Doom Buggies as they traverse the scarier portions of the Ravenswood estate. Eventually, they learn that an evil entity known only as Phantom hung her boyfriend from the rafters, thereby preventing him from marrying Melanie. She and the Phantom constantly fight for supremacy of Phantom Manor as well as control of its inhabitants, living and dead. While you might feel otherwise, I root for the Phantom since he is the French version of yours truly.
He’s a suitor. Bona fide.
Image: Disney
Other than the Bride, several other characters from The Haunted Mansion are worthy of brief discussion. The first of them is perhaps the most interesting. When you foolish mortals entered my humble abode for the first time on August 9, 1969, the Bride had a new suitor. Undeterred by the unfortunate fates of the previous five husbands, this gentleman stood by her side in the attic.
There was a catch, of course. The woman later known as Hatchaway had already worked her magic on him. The haunt without a name undeniably had style. Clad in a cloak and top hat, this older fellow balanced himself with a cane in one hand. It’s the contents of the other hand that elevated him to legendary status, though.
One of the ghastliest jokes Disney’s Imagineers unveiled for their new attraction was horrific even to me. This suitor held a hatbox in his hand. Occasionally, his head would disappear from the space above his shoulders. At this point, it would relocate to the hatbox. Clearly, the Bride had gotten to him, too. Only one problem persisted. The technology of this trick failed. Yes, even Disney’s Imagineers are imperfect creatures.
The tests they performed for their sleight of hand operated under different conditions than the actual Doom Buggies. Once the public invaded my territory, the Imagineers quickly realized their miscalculation. The track through the estate traveled too closely to the Hatbox Ghost, negating the effect. Guests couldn’t always tell what was happening and when they did, the amateurish nature of the trick distracted them from the majesty of my dwelling.
In simplest terms, the Hatbox Ghost’s face never truly disappeared. The trickery depended on lighting effects. Imagineers inserted black lighting inside the Hatbox Ghost’s head, which would shut down when the head was to disappear. The designers failed to consider the ambient light already placed in the attic for other parts of the attraction. Their glow highlighted the head too much, preventing it from vanishing. The problem wasn’t something they could fix at the time. Perhaps ironically, the Hatbox Ghost’s head disappeared months later, along with the rest of the ghoul.
The comeback kid
Image: Disney
What followed over the next few decades warms the heart I abandoned when I left my mortal coil. Fans of the Hatbox Ghost kept his memory alive despite the fact that they’d barely got to know him in the first place. The explanation for this oddity is that the marketing team at Disneyland had highlighted him in a lot of the early advertising for the new attraction. When he disappeared, guests naturally wondered why.
The legend of Disney’s mistake grew over time. As technology improved, fans of the greatest park attraction (in my biased but humble opinion) championed its return. As the 40th anniversary of The Haunted Mansion approached, Disney wanted to do something to stir up interest in the celebration. They settled on a brief return of the character, albeit not on the ride itself.
Instead, the Hatbox Ghost remained banished from the estate but celebrated in other ways. Disney artists created souvenirs and other memorabilia featuring the once and future resident. The company also named him the official “spooksperson” for the Haunted Holidays celebration, a choice I resent to this day. Can the Hatbox Ghost even talk? That’s literally my one job at The Haunted Mansion!
Image: Disney
The popularity of the long-absent Hatbox Ghost in 2009 proved the point to Disney. Guests missed his classy presence and wanted him back. In 2015, they finally got their wish. Disney hinted that a change was coming when they released their 45th anniversary merchandise for The Haunted Mansion. The Hatbox Ghost became the de facto face of the franchise during this time.
When cast members removed the holiday facelift from December of 2014, guests correctly deduced that the placeholder wall erected in its stead hid the return of a The Haunted Mansion original. They were correct. On May 9th, 2015, more than half a century after the Bride’s suitor vanished without explanation, he made his triumphant return to Disneyland.
The Hatbox Ghost is different now. That’s because the initial installation was lost in time. Imagineers did their best to pay homage to the original look with the new design, though. He’s still the same fashionable trendsetter in stylish garments. The primary difference is that now his head disappears as intended.
Rather than run the risk of lighting betraying the effect once more, Disney took a more modern approach with the character. The Hatbox Ghost employs an animated illusion to build the effect of the disappearing head. And now, unlike in his first iteration, he’s capable of making sound. It must be a skill he developed during his brief, undeserved tenure as a spooksperson. As the head disappears, the Hatbox Ghost gleefully celebrates his trick, the one he spent 50 years trying to master. The whole situation is odd to me. You’d think he’d feel some bitterness over the Bride hatcheting off his head rather than embracing the role with such devotion. Then again, I’m probably just bitter about the spooksperson vote.
The entire affair with the Hatbox Ghost does lead to an interesting question, though. If only 999 ghosts live in my home right now and always have since the estate opened to the public, who moved in when the Hatbox Ghost left? And were they forced to move out again once he returned? Even I, the Ghost Host, cannot answer this particular question. But it’s nice to see my friend back in the fold again after so many years away.
The headless summoner beloved by mortals
Before Futurama embraced the concept of heads in jars, my housemate Madame Leota had already placed her stamp on the concept. What’s strange about the seer is that she’s a master of communicating with the supernatural, which she also happens to be. Since dead people can already talk to dead people, she saves most of her shtick for humans, many of whom are easily seduced by mediocre couplets. To wit, Leota’s most famous poem is also allegedly a spell. You know it as:
“Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat; call in the spirits, wherever they’re at.
Rap on a table; it’s time to respond. Send us a message from somewhere beyond.
Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween: awaken the spirits with your tambourine.
Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond; let there be music, from regions beyond!
Wizards and witches, wherever you dwell, give us a hint, by ringing a bell!”
And no, it’s not your imagination. At one point, she rhymes “beyond” with “beyond”. Since I’m a Ghost Host rather than a professor and this isn’t Poetry Appreciation 101, I won’t ding her for the laziness of her incantation. Instead, I’ll simply point out that Leota is a bit of an odd duck even by the standards of the residents of the Haunted Mansion.
Whereas most of the Ghoulies materialize out of thin air and relish the haunting of the living, Leota’s behavior is inscrutable. Is she even on our side? A lot of humans believe that she’s trying to help them, yet it’s her spell that summons my 998 other friends out to play. Does that make her good or bad?
Her disembodied head floats in a jar, and the jar itself levitates at times. As she recites her spell, musical instruments begin to play even though no musicians are in sight. Once she completes her magic, the summoning is complete, and my friends begin their supernatural party. You’ve seen them singing in the graveyard and dancing in the ballroom. Madame Leota is the one who makes it all possible, yet mortals love her anyway. Perhaps it’s the cleverness of her tombstone. It reads:
Dear Sweet Leota,
Beloved by All
In Regions Beyond Now,
But Having a Ball
And they say nobody rides for free…
Image: Disney
Just when you think the ride has ended at The Haunted Mansion, three lovable scamps spoil your ascending mood. These blokes don’t want you to exit the estate unscathed. It’s their job to jump aboard your Doom Buggy and follow you out of the park. That way, they can cling to your soul beyond the point when you naively consider yourself safe from the 999 residents of the manor.
You know them as the Hitchhiking Ghosts, and their popularity rivals my own. Did you realize that they have actual names? It’s true, albeit unofficial according to Disney, although they still use these names in one of their mobile games based on The Haunted Mansion. The traveler with the suitcase is named Phineas. The prison escapee who turns you into an accessory to the crime is Gus. And the too-thin fellow who is all bones and no skin is Ezra.
Before they appear at the end of the ride, you’ll notice Gus regularly resides at the Graveyard. I question his wisdom, as he stands close to the Executioner, someone who is ostensibly his mortal enemy in life. Still, you have to hand it to Gus. He’s committed to his character. He drags a heavy ball and chain with him wherever he goes. And he also hasn’t shaved since before ZZ Top popularized the disheveled look.
Gus is slightly different from his cohorts in that he gets a singing part in the Graveyard scene. His current dialogue is: “When the crypt doors creak and the tombstones quake, spooks come out for a screaming wake.” That line should sound familiar to you, even if it’s changed in recent years from the original verse that ended with “swinging wake.” Yet again, Disney vacillates between scary and silly. You should know the tune since it’s the beginning of “Grim Grinning Ghosts,” the theme song of my domicile.
For Phineas and Ezra, what you know of them comes from their appearances. Phineas is a hunchbacked man who always has his luggage in hand. He also a kicky top hat, appreciating that the perfect accessories elevate the entire outfit. Ezra the skeletal ghost may look familiar to you. He has the facial model of the Hatbox Ghost, and he is never seen without his hat, either. Since he’s already dead, his head remains firmly attached to his body, though. Oddly, in spite of the popularity of Ezra, Gus, and Phineas, Disney’s team of storytellers never chose to fill in their backstory, a glaring omission in an otherwise meticulously detailed attraction.
The final note about the trio is that Disney used to employ parlor tricks and old school magic illusions to foster the perception that the Hitchhiking Ghosts were traveling home with you. In recent years, however, new school CGI animation has replaced the magic tricks of yore. Now, the Hitchhiking Ghosts can appear in the car with you, switch the heads of you and your passenger, and other tricks. Still, as a relic of a bygone era myself, I miss the days when a hidden mirror convinced guests that they had unwelcome guests in their Doom Buggies.
Allow myself to introduce…myself.
Image: Disney
The final popular character in the discussion is yours truly, the Ghost Host. My story is one you already heard above. I was a loving husband who just so happened to kill my wife once she uncovered my startling secret. I’d been a bloodthirsty pirate in my previous life before I settled down and got married. Once the missus learned of my former transgressions, she got a bit too judge-y, so I got a bit too kill-y.
Rather than forgive me for an unfortunate incident that sent her to the next world, she preached vengeance instead. She lingered in the nether region between worlds, haunting me to the brink of madness. Eventually, I grew tired of her nagging, as so many husbands do. I decided it was better to tie a noose around my neck then jump from the rafters rather than spend another second listening to her. In this way, I lived the dream of every long-suffering husband.
Alas, the bliss of oblivion never came to me. The madam in question claimed former ownership of the mansion where I lived, a place with no windows and no doors. She chose to trap my soul here, which just goes to show that I was right to stab her in the first place.
Actually, that’s the popular version of the tale. Doom Buggy fanatics know that what I actually just described was the legend of Mr. Gore, the pirate mentioned above. It was then co-opted by Master Gracey, who also isn’t necessarily me. Yes, he hanged to death and I hanged to death, but that might just be a coincidence. In the movie and comic book versions of The Haunted Mansion, we are one and the same. For the Disneyland and Walt Disney World rides, however, he’s not me. Neither is Mr. Gore. The entire thing is confusing to this simple spirit. Sometimes, I share the memories of Master Gracey while other times I feel like an anonymous man who couldn’t go on living.
What is certain is that I have some musical skills. If you’re ever at the Florida or Tokyo versions of my ride, notice the shadows playing the piano. I’m doing that! You won’t ever see the Hatbox Ghost playing the piano with his mind. Yes, I’m clearly bitter about that spooksperson vote.
The important biographical note about your friendly neighborhood Ghost Host is that I’m the body you see at the top of the Stretching Room. My entire purpose is to warn you that the only way to leave The Haunted Mansion is to become a part of it. Sure, I quip from time to time as I commentate on the proceedings across the estate, but if anyone has earned the right to express gallows humor, it’s me. The entire building is my gallows.
To a larger point, my position at The Haunted Mansion is a bit odd. If you don’t believe that I am Master Gracey, I have no true back story beyond the details of my death. Sure, I’m a breakout star of the afterlife, the caustic narrator who enriches your stroll through the estate, but you’d think an entertainer as gifted as myself would have had more going on when I was alive. It’s vexing. I’m almost two centuries old. It’s late in the game to suffer through this sort of identity crisis.
Despite the gaps in my own biography, I’ve now covered the spectrum of the major players at The Haunted Mansion. The Bride aka the Black Widow Bride aka sweet Melanie Ravenswood is either a helpless victim, a horrific wife, or an unfortunate victim of circumstance and murder most foul.
The Hatbox Ghost was a heavily hyped but poorly designed haunt who should have faded into oblivion. Instead, he returned decades later and better than before. He also stole a gig that rightfully belonged to yours truly.
Meanwhile, the Hitchhiking Ghosts are friendly but largely undefined blokes, only one of whom gets to appear in the main part of the attraction. The others simply wait until the end then perform cheesier pranks than Ashton Kutcher’s.
And I, the Ghost Host, continue to lord over this otherworld realm where 999 spirits interact with theme park tourists. I may or may not be one of two different other gentlemen who happened to hang from the rafters, but I’m told I’m neither of them. It’s a humiliating position for the master of ceremonies at the greatest of Disney theme park attractions.
