There are certain places where the veil between our mortal plane and the Great Beyond appears to be paper thin, where locals learn to live with resident spirits, and apparitions from a bygone age are regarded as sporadic constants as steadfast as the ancient buildings they inhabit. The infamous Tower of London, for example, where a thousand years of anguish seem to be seared into the very stones, is said to be haunted by a host of noble spirits, from the pair of Plantagenet princes who vanished under the protection of King Richard III, to the headless spectre of Anne Boleyn, the ill-fated Tudor queen. In Savannah, Georgia, where dark echoes of war, epidemic, piracy, and voodoo seem to permeate the atmosphere, shadowy figures from another era are spotted strolling through historic squares or lingering in storied inns, sometimes laying their icy fingers on the arms of passersby in desperate bids for acknowledgement.
Canada has its own purported hotspots of paranormal activity. Some say that the most active is the charming town of Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario, a historic settlement nestled at the quiet southern tip of the Golden Horseshoe where the Niagara River meets Lake Ontario, just west of the New York border. At the eastern end of town, with its epicentre at the junction of King and Queen Street, is a roughly-five-block area where every third or fourth building seems to have its own resident ghost story. Tales of love, sacrifice, triumph, and tragedy, these folktales transport us back to some of the most turbulent spells of Canadian history. Join me as I explore the most haunted locations in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Canada’s most haunted town.
Many of Niagara-on-the-Lake’s best ghost stories are set during the War of 1812, a small but impactful military conflict fought between British Canada and the United States. In order to appreciate these tales, some historical context is required.
The War of 1812 began in the midst of the Napoleonic Wars, in the aftermath of the French Emperor’s disastrous invasion of Russia. Since its entry into that conflict in 1803, the British Royal Navy had accosted American merchant ships on the Atlantic and impressed any British-born deserters they found aboard into service, a practice which many Americans regarded as an insult to their national honour. In 1807, in response to Napoleon’s trade embargo on Great Britain, King George III’s Privy Council decreed that all American merchant ships bound for Europe must make their first stop in English ports so that they could be searched for military supplies which might find their way into French hands – another perceived affront to American sovereignty. A third act of British aggression against the United States was its peaceful overtures to Tecumseh’s confederacy, an unlikely alliance of Algonquin, Iroquoian, and Siouan nations in the Great Lakes region, which hoped to carve a sovereign pan-Indian nation from American territory. Incensed by these indignities, a handful of belligerent young American congressmen, known as ‘War Hawks’, convinced their peers to declare war on Great Britain, an action which might allow their fledgling nation to achieve its long-held objective of annexing Canada. Thus, on June 18th of that fateful year, the War of 1812 began.
The Americans’ first martial action was to move troops and equipment to Fort Detroit in preparation for an invasion of the British province of Upper Canada, which encompasses much of the present province of Ontario. Hoping to thwart the invasion before it took place, a daring British commander, Major-General Isaac Brock, made an alliance with the great Shawnee Chief Tecumseh, leader of the aforementioned Indian confederacy, who had been at war with the United States Army for over a year. Through the use of false intelligence and illusory tactics, Brock and Tecumseh deceived the much larger American force at Fort Detroit into believing that they were a far more numerable and formidable fighting force than reality decreed. On August 16th, 1812, after enduring a brief artillery bombardment administered by the redcoat besiegers, U.S. Brigadier General William Hull surrendered Fort Detroit to the British, eager to avert what he feared would be an Indian massacre. This stunning victory earned Brock a knighthood and the moniker ‘Hero of Canada’.
Undaunted by this early defeat, the Americans mustered troops on the eastern shores of the Niagara River in preparation for a second invasion of Canada. Having received intelligence of this impending attack, Sir Isaac Brock relocated from the town of Amherstburg, near the junction of Lake Erie and the Detroit River, to Fort George, a palisaded military complex located at the mouth of the Niagara River. Just west of this installation was the town of Newark, formerly the capital of Upper Canada, and presently Niagara-on-the-Lake.
Brock was no stranger to Fort George, having made his first visit there in 1804 as a lieutenant-colonel for the purpose of quelling a mutinous conspiracy. Legend has it that the officer was also intimately familiar with neighbouring Newark, which he frequented when duty permitted. There, he purportedly developed an amorous relationship with Sophia Shaw, the daughter of Major-General Aeneas Shaw, an officer in the Upper Canada militia.
Sophia, at that time, was living with her sister, Isabella, in a Newark manor. Isabella was married to militia officer Captain John Powell, who had built his stately home a short distance from the garrison back in 1809. Whenever Brock’s duties allowed him some R&R in the Fort George area, the Powell family home was the site of many a happy rendezvous. After a respectable courtship, the 42-year-old Major-General proposed to the 19-year-old demoiselle and the two became engaged – in one version of the story, without Aeneas’s consent.
In the early morning hours of October 13th, 1812, Isaac Brock awoke in his quarters at Fort George to the thunder of distant cannons rolling in from the south. He slipped on his field uniform, supplementing it with the red sash that Tecumseh had gifted him as a token of friendship, and ordered a detachment to investigate the commotion. Not content to wait for the detachment’s report, the general mounted his horse and rode south to assess the situation himself.
Legend has it that, before his departure, Brock made a quick visit to Captain Powell’s house in order to see his beloved Sophia. While he sat in his saddle, his betrothed served him a ‘stirrup cup’ of tea and bid him a fond farewell, swearing him to return to her once the business of the day was complete. Without further ado, the general galloped off towards the sounds of battle.
Brock quickly learned that an American army nearly three times the size of his 1,300-man Canadian defense force was making its way across the Niagara River in rowboats. The British artillery battery atop Queenston Heights, a strategically-important escarpment which overlooked the river, had rained a withering barrage upon the Yankee invaders, inflicting serious casualties. Despite this stiff resistance, the first wave of U.S. troops had reached the western shore and, by way of a precarious cliffside trail, managed to capture the heights.
Brock sent word to Fort George for as many reinforcements as could be spared. Rather than wait for fresh troops to arrive, the Major-General, whose military career had hitherto been distinguished by a penchant for swift and stunning aggression, decided to retake Queenston Heights immediately. The commander dismounted, drew his sabre, and led two companies of militia and British regulars in an impromptu charge uphill.
Standing 6’4” and bedecked in all his martial finery, Brock struck a dashing figure as he pressed the attack at the head of his troops. He also presented a large and gaudy target to the American infantrymen who had ensconced themselves behind trees and spiked cannons on the hill above, their muskets primed and cocked. During the ascent, one U.S. sharpshooter stepped out from behind cover and fired a double ball into Brock’s chest. The celebrated ‘Hero of Canada’ died almost instantly.
The initial British attempt to regain Queenston Heights was repulsed by the Americans. As reinforcements from Fort George continued to arrive, a party of Mohawk braves allied with the British made a guerilla-style assault on the promontory, screaming war whoops as they fired pot shots at the Yankees from concealment in the brush. Despite being completely bloodless, this firefight proved to be a devastating blow to the Americans, completely demoralizing the soldiers who had yet to cross the Niagara. In a remarkable repetition of psychological warfare which won Brock and Tecumseh the Siege of Detroit, the warriors’ chilling battle cries echoed across the river, freezing the blood of the U.S. militiamen who stood on the eastern shore. Defying the orders of their general, the Americans refused to enter the rowboats.
Panic began to take hold of U.S. troops just as reinforcements arrived from Fort George. Within hours, the British had regained complete control of Niagara’s western shores, winning another unlikely victory against a much larger American force.
Legend has it that after the battle, a heartbroken Sophia Shaw, bereft of her gallant betrothed, fell into a deep despondency. She spent the rest of her days as a recluse in the home of Captain Powell, never marrying.
Today, the Powell home is a charming bed and breakfast called Brockamour Manor, its name being a reference to the romance that once blossomed beneath its roof, and which may still flourish there today. Some say that, true to his promise, the spirit of Sir Isaac Brock returned to the manor after the Battle of Queenston Heights, to be reunited with Sophia’s at her own earthly departure. Sophia is said to make her presence known to guests by singing near the top of the stairs, opening and closing doors at night, and materializing near her favourite armoire. One female guest who stayed in Sophia’s old room reported waking up in the middle of the night to see the spectre of a 19th Century lady standing at the foot of her bed, admonishing her with a disapproving glare. And every once in a while, a misty vision of a red-coated Army officer and a Georgian lady clasped arm-in-arm is said to appear in the rose gardens before vanishing into thin air.
The war plodded on after the Battle of Queenston Heights, the remainder of its first year being characterized by a third failed American invasion at Montreal and a succession of unexpected American naval victories on the high seas. In early 1813, British and Canadian militia moved into the forests of Michigan Territory and, alongside Tecumseh’s braves, waged a ruthless campaign against the Americans.
On April 27th, 1813, fourteen U.S. Navy warships hastily constructed at Sackets Harbor, New York, descended upon present-day Toronto – at that time, the city of York. This capital of Upper Canada was located on the northwestern shores of Lake Ontario about 30 miles (48 kilometres) northwest of Newark. A landing force of 1,700 American Army regulars quickly overwhelmed the city’s 600-man garrison. During their retreat, the redcoats detonated Fort York’s powder magazine, killing several dozen American soldiers and U.S. General Zebulon Pike. In retaliation, the Yankees burned much of the city to the ground.
After reorganizing at Fort Niagara, a U.S. military base located across the Niagara River from Newark, the Americans launched an assault on Fort George on May 25th, 1813. For two days, American warships anchored in the Niagara River unleashed a cannon bombardment on Fort George, mercilessly barraging its bastions with heated shot. While the smoke cleared on the morning of May 27th, 4,000 U.S. soldiers disembarked on the shores of Lake Ontario to the northwest. Using grapeshot to overwhelm the British soldiers who charged them with bayonets on the beach, the Yankees marched on Fort George. Unable to withstand the assault, the redcoat defenders beat a hasty retreat to Burlington Heights at the westernmost end of Lake Ontario, allowing the Americans to capture the fort, now little more than a smoking ruin, with few casualties.
Considering the tumult of emotions that swirled within the walls of Fort George in the spring of 1813, it is perhaps not unsurprising that this historic relic serves as the setting for a number of chilling ghost stories. Many of these tales were documented by Kyle Upton, founder of the Ghost Tours of Niagara. Since 1994, Upton and his lantern-bearing, top hat-wearing employees have guided ghost seekers on evening tours of the old fort, which was rebuilt in the 1930s by the Niagara Parks Commission. Their uncanny experiences led them to the conclusion that Fort George is home to several restless spirits, which Upton described in volumes 1 and 2 of his book Niagara’s Ghosts at Fort George, published in 1999 and 2004, respectively.
Upton’s books are difficult to find. Fortunately, some of the stories he recorded were recounted in Maria Da Silva and Andrew Hind’s 2009 book Ghosts of Niagara-on-the-Lake, and the late Terry Boyle’s 2015 publication Haunted Ontario 4: Encounters with Ghostly Shadows, Apparitions, and Spirits. According to Hind and Da Silva, one of the forlorn spectres said to haunt Fort George is a sentry whom legend says froze to death on duty in the winter of 1811, having made the fatal error of mistaking his hypothermia-induced drowsiness for genuine sleepiness that might be remedied with a brief unsanctioned snooze. From time to time, some say, the ghost of this unfortunate soldier can be seen dutifully pacing the sentry box in which he lost his life, his musket slung over one shoulder. “Oftentimes,” Da Silva and Hind wrote, “only his upper torso is present, his legs disappearing into the parapet. Interestingly, this detail adds authenticity to sightings, since few would know that the bastion actually stands about three feet higher than it did in 1811.”
Other soldierly apparitions have been spotted throughout the fort. In the curving underground tunnel which connects the powder magazine with a structure outside the fort called the Octagonal Blockhouse, tourists have encountered shadowy figures wearing bicorn or shako hats, whose boots can be heard on the hard-packed earthen floor. At night, fort employees have noticed solemn silhouetted men watching them from the windows of Blockhouses 1 and 2, which stand side by side at the fort’s northeastern face. In the officer’s quarters, at the centre of the fort, furniture and tableware are rearranged by unseen hands. And in the gift shop – a one-floor building which once served the dual purpose of kitchen and hospice – footsteps can sometimes be heard pacing the phantom second story which existed in the fort’s heyday.
The fort’s most famous phantom is a ghostly little girl who has been given the name Sarah Ann. Suspected to be the spirit of an officer’s daughter who lived in Fort George in the early 1800s, this childish spectre is said to play pranks on hapless tourists, giggling quietly to herself from various hiding places, like beneath an officer’s bed or behind a piece of furniture, which, upon subsequent inspection, prove to be vacant. Those who have seen apparitions of this phantom, perhaps after having had their clothing tugged by small mischievous hands, have described her as a bare-footed girl with curly blonde hair clad in a white nightgown.
Another ghost story connected with the Battle of Fort George is set in a charming English-style tavern called the Olde Angel Inn, located near the junction of Niagara-on-the-Lake’s Queen and Regent Streets. Initially named the Harmonious Coach House, this historic establishment has served locals and travelers alike since its construction in 1789.
On that fateful day in the spring of 1813, as British troops retreated west along the shores of Lake Ontario, legend has it that Captain Colin Swayze, an officer in the Upper Canada militia, broke away from his troops to visit the Harmonious Coach House, where he had been billeted for the past few months. The officer hoped to bid farewell to a certain barmaid with whom he had fallen in love.
The star-crossed couple enjoyed a few tender moments together, but before the officer could steal away to join his regiment, American soldiers overran the inn. A panicked Captain Swayze, at the barmaid’s insistance, fled to the cellar and concealed himself within a barrel.
In an effort to root out British deserters, American infantrymen searched every corner of the tavern. In the cellar, they thrust the bayonets affixed to the ends of their muskets into burlap sacks, dark recesses, and other potential hiding places. One soldier threw off the lid of the barrel in which Captain Swayze was hiding and plunged his bayonet into the lovesick officer. Colin Swayze quickly succumbed to his wound.
An old legend, which the diary of an American militiamen indicates may date back to the autumn of 1813, purports that the ghost of Colin Swayze never left the cellar, and haunts the Olde Angel Inn to this very day. Guests staying in the ‘Colonel’s Room’ have reported hearing strange noises in the night. Inn staff sometimes open the dining room in the morning to find furniture mysteriously rearranged. One guest claimed to have seen the face of the erstwhile captain in the mirror of the ladies’ washroom.
Although the officer’s antics may frighten guests from time to time, local legend says that his spirit is harmless, and will remain so for as long as British colours fly over the Olde Angel Inn. To keep their resident spirit happy, the inn’s many managers have long maintained the tradition of flying the Union Jack from the establishment’s front door.
During my own visit to the Olde Angel Inn in November 2023, one of the establishment’s present co-owners – a lovely lady named Kelly, who ordered me a plate of the best fish and chips I’ve ever had from the pub’s English-style kitchen – filled me in on some of the strange things she and her employees have experienced in the historic building. On one occasion, while chatting in the bar with one of her coworkers, a bartender made some offhanded reference to tea. As she did so, a small metal teapot leapt off the wall hook from which it depended and clattered on the floor. A similar incident took place when the pub’s chef burned himself in the kitchen. No sooner had he done so than a first aid kit helpfully flew off the shelf to land at his feet. Another inanimate object propelled into motion by unseen hands was an old book which reposed on a high shelf in a room to the right of the inn’s front entrance. In the presence of Kelly and other staff members, the book inexplicably tumbled to the floor, opened on its own, and riffled through its own pages, all in the absence of wind.
Of all the strange occurrences to take place at the Olde Angel Inn during Kelly’s tenure, the strangest by far transpired at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, when the public house was locked down in accordance with federal mandates. On the night of September 5th, 2020, at 2:22 a.m., Kelly got a notification on her phone alerting her that the motion sensor camera mounted above the bar, which had been installed for security purposes, had picked up unexpected nighttime movement. When she reviewed the camera’s picture bank, she was astonished to find the photo of a translucent white figure standing at the bar. Kelly’s initial impression was that the camera had captured a ghostly apparition in the form of a human skeleton. Upon closer examination, however, the network of wispy strips that she had first taken for ribs and bones seemed to correspond perfectly with the golden embroidery, epaulettes, and shoulder belt of a 19th Century military officer’s uniform. I actually felt a shiver run through me as Kelly directed my attention to the outline of the officer’s face in side profile, complete with a distinct right eye and what appears to be either a chinstrap or a deep nasolabial fold. Considering the inn’s native ghost story, it is difficult to interpret this figure as anything other than the ghost of Captain Swayze, perhaps calling on his sweetheart at the bar, or simply thirsting for a pint.
Captain Swayze’s isn’t the only spirit believed to haunt the Olde Angel Inn. Several years ago, a bartender named Jane, along with the inn’s chef, had a run-in with what appeared to the ghost of a 19th Century lady. Jane kindly related her experience for me on tape. For context, our interview took place at the inn’s front desk. The following is Jane’s story, in her own words:
“I spent a lot of time in this building by myself. Especially, when we were in lockdown for COVID, I was here a lot of the time by myself. For a while there, it was just myself and the other manager that were here at the time. One day that I was working, it was just me and one of the guys in the kitchen. I was taking a garbage bag out the side door, to go out back, and as I was coming back in the building, I saw a woman standing out here [in the front entrance]. She looked so real that I actually said, ‘Hey, I’ll be right in. I’ve just got to close up here for once second.’ And by the time I made it through this doorway and out to where she was standing, I watched her float through the wall, where the fireplace is that’s right beside you here. I ran to the other side to see if she came out on the other side, and there was nothing there.
“Not only did that happen, but I saw the same woman walk through the wall in the pub. Then, a couple of weeks later, we were looking at old photos of the pub over the years. The owner, Kelly, and myself were looking at pictures and found out that where she walked through the wall, there used to actually be a doorway there.
“It’s the same woman that I’ve seen several times to date now. She has long dark hair, and is wearing a turn-of-the-century Victorian-style, heavy grey dress. I’ve seen her several times, and I’m not the only person that has.”
When I asked Jane whether she had any notion as to the phantom’s identity, she replied:
“I have no idea. As far as the history of the building that I’ve heard – I’ve been here several years, and all that I’ve heard is that Captain Swayze haunts the Angel Inn. I don’t know. I have no idea. To date, I don’t hear any stories of a woman being here, but there is one, for sure.”
Another lady in grey is supposed to haunt the Breckenridge-Hawley Estate, a historic manor located about a fifteen minute walk west of the Olde Angel Inn. Built in 1796, this residence is said to be the permanent home of a friendly female ghost whose self-appointed purpose seems to be the maintenance of peace and good order in the house. Those who have seen her have described her as about 30-years old, with a slender waist; a kind, gentle face; a long, grey, mid-19th Century dress; and a bonnet with the strings tied under her chin. Sometimes she appears as a full-body apparition, but more often she manifests as a grey smoke-like haze. Nicknamed Elizabeth, this phantom is said to occasionally make her presence known by rapping on the heavy front door knocker or knocking on the back door. On one occasion, when the house’s owners played host to guests who did not seem to appreciate their hospitality, Elizabeth is said to have showed her disproval by slamming doors throughout the estate.
Another resident of Niagara, as the city was called from 1814 until the year 1900, whom Elizabeth might have known in life, was Edward Clarke Campbell, a one-time lawyer, judge, and Tory politician. In 1841, when Upper Canada and its easterly counterpart, Lower Canada, amalgamated into the Province of Canada, Campbell was elected as a Member of the Legislative Assembly.
Following his death from pneumonia in January 18th, 1860, Judge Campbell is said to have made a ghostly abode of his former office in Niagara’s Old Courthouse, an antiquated stone building located about half a block away from the Olde Angel Inn. According to Parks Canada employee Ron Dale, who managed the National Historic Sites throughout the Niagara region, and who once worked in Judge Campbell’s old office, the 19th Century justice had often lamented the stubborn chill that clung to his workplace, insightfully proclaiming that it would one day be the death of him.
“I always liked my room cold,” said Dale of his office in an interview with Hind and Da Silva, “so it never bothered me as it did the judge, and I always had the thermostat all the way down. Yet on several occasions I’d find the room getting uncomfortably hot and notice that the thermostat had been turned up really high. The only way it could have been turned up was by me, and I never touched it. I believe Judge Campbell was at work, trying to keep it warm in his old office.”
Another purportedly haunted room in the Old Courthouse is the Shaw Theatre (not to be confused with the “Queen’s Parade” Shaw Festival Theatre), located on the Second Floor. By all accounts, the formless spectre that haunts this room is a sinister masculine entity which announces its displeasure by slamming doors, blasting visitors with gusts of icy wind, and audibly cursing in the hallway. In their book, Hind and Da Silva, citing the chilling experience of a mother and her daughter who once toured the building’s second floor, propose that this spirit might be the restless soul of a prisoner who had been held in the courthouse in the 19th Century, before being hanged for a crime of which he was wrongly accused.
Just next door to the Old Courthouse is the elegant Prince of Wales Hotel, one of the most beautiful buildings in the town. Established in 1864 as Long’s Hotel, this luxury stopping place received its present name in 1901, when it hosted Edward, Prince of Wales, the son of Queen Victoria and the future King Edward VII.
Legend has it that the lobby of the Prince of Wales Hotel, which was completely refurbished by local craftsmen in 1999, is haunted by the ghost of a young woman who made her fondest memories there sometime between 1914 and 1918, during the Great War. According to this story, the woman fell in love with a soldier who was training at nearby Camp Niagara, a Canadian Army training camp, prior to his deployment to Europe. Not content to wait until the war was over, the young couple decided to tie the knot in a hasty marriage, followed by a brief honeymoon at the Prince of Wales Hotel.
Before the newlyweds could settle into their new life together, the soldier and his unit were dispatched to Halifax, where they would board a ship bound for the Old World. For months, the lonely bride penned daily letters to her husband, dreaming of the life they would build when he returned from the trenches. She was utterly devastated when she received the dreaded telegram informing her that her love had perished in that muddy, rat-infested wasteland. Heartbroken, the young widow fell into a deep depression, having lost the will to live. Despite her youth, her health rapidly deteriorated, and before long her delicate body succumbed to the resolution of her soul.
It is said that ever since her death, the spirit of the young widow has roamed the halls of the Prince of Wales Hotel, the place where she experienced her last happy memories. There are stories indicating that she expresses her eternal grief by pestering patrons in their rooms, sometimes gently shaking them awake in their beds, or rapping on their doors at night. Some are said to have seen her apparition from the street, gazing mournfully out a second-story window. Others claim to have heard their names called in the hotel lobby at night when no one else was around.
The last haunted spot we will explore in this piece is the Royal George Theatre, located just around the corner from the Olde Angel Inn. Built near the end of WWI, this historic building is said to be occupied by two relatively young ghosts.
The first of the Royal George’s alleged spectres is the spirit of Jeffrey Dallas, the theatre’s former lighting designer, who was, by all accounts, extremely good at his job. In life, Dallas considered the theatre his home away from home. In death, which came for him in 1989, he apparently found it impossible to part with the old building in which he had honed his craft. According to local legend, every once in a while, the lights of the Royal George flicker, and a fleeting apparition of Jeffrey Dallas appears on stage.
The second of the theatre’s phantoms is supposed to be the ghost of Nancy Kerr, a stage actress and long-time staple of the Royal George who passed away in 1991. Regarded as a friendly and well-meaning spirit, Kerr is said to occasionally play pranks on performers, nudging actors who forget their lines and, on one occasion, tripping a thespian who richly deserved it.
If you happen to find yourself in the Niagara area and don’t shrink at the prospect of a brush with the paranormal, a visit to Niagara-on-the-Lake is definitely worth the detour. At Fort George, you can explore the tunnel beneath the powder magazine where shades from a forgotten war still linger. At the Olde Angel Inn, you can enjoy a pint at Captain Swayze’s favourite watering hole, where inanimate objects move of their own accord and grey ladies walk through walls. If you’re lucky, you might have an encounter with one of the eternal residents of Canada’s most haunted town.
https://www.guidetags.com/mindmaps/explore//3453-haunted-niagara-tour-5-royal-george-theatre-2
https://www.guidetags.com/niagara-greenbelt/explore//399-hawley-breckenridge-house-haunted
“Gentle Ghost Visits Niagara Home,” by Michael Clarkson, in the October 30th, 1982 issue of The Standard (St. Catharines, Ontario)