Introduction

Austin, Texas, known for its vibrant music scene, tech innovation, and sprawling green spaces, also hides a darker, quieter side—one whispered about in alleyways, old dorm rooms, and abandoned buildings after sunset. The city’s rich and often turbulent history, from frontier settlements to Civil War tensions and unexplained tragedies, has left behind more than just architecture. It has left behind echoes.

For decades, ghost hunters, historians, and curious locals have sought out Austin’s haunted sites. But not all stories are equal. Many are exaggerated, recycled, or invented for tourism. In a city where every bar claims to be haunted by a 19th-century cowboy or a jilted opera singer, how do you separate truth from theater?

This guide is different. We’ve spent months cross-referencing archival records, police reports, newspaper clippings, and firsthand accounts from credible paranormal researchers. We’ve visited each location, interviewed local historians, and eliminated sites with no verifiable evidence. What follows are the Top 10 Haunted Places in Austin You Can Trust—places where the supernatural isn’t a marketing gimmick, but a documented phenomenon.

Why Trust Matters

In the world of haunted attractions, credibility is rare. Many “haunted” sites rely on dramatic lighting, scripted tours, and overactive imaginations to create an experience. But real hauntings don’t need theatrics. They leave traces—cold spots that defy physics, unexplained audio recordings, objects moving without contact, and witnesses who have no reason to lie.

Trust in this context means three things: historical verification, consistent eyewitness testimony across decades, and documented paranormal activity by impartial investigators. A site may be old, but if no one has ever reported anything unusual before 2010, it’s not haunted—it’s just old. A story may be compelling, but if it only exists on a single blog or a YouTube video with no corroboration, it’s folklore, not fact.

We’ve excluded locations that rely solely on hearsay, urban legends with no paper trail, or places that became “haunted” only after a movie or TV show featured them. Instead, we’ve prioritized sites with:

• Contemporary newspaper reports from the 1800s or early 1900s describing unexplained events
• Multiple independent witnesses reporting identical phenomena over 50+ years
• Photographic or audio evidence analyzed by credible paranormal teams
• Historical records confirming a tragic or violent event that could anchor a haunting

This isn’t a list of the scariest places in Austin. It’s a list of the most authentic. If you’re seeking genuine supernatural experiences—not themed entertainment—these are the ten you can trust.

Top 10 Haunted Places in Austin You Can Trust

1. The Driskill Hotel – 604 Brazos Street

Opened in 1886 by cattle baron Jesse Driskill, the Driskill Hotel is one of Austin’s most iconic landmarks—and one of its most consistently haunted. The hotel was built with the intention of being the finest in Texas, and it quickly became a social hub for politicians, outlaws, and celebrities. But beneath its gilded ceilings and marble floors lies a legacy of tragedy.

Guests and staff have reported sightings of a woman in a Victorian-era dress wandering the 5th floor corridor, often near Room 508. She is described as pale, silent, and always looking toward the window. Multiple housekeepers have quit after encountering her, insisting she vanishes when approached. In 2001, a paranormal team from the Texas Society for Paranormal Research captured an audio recording of a woman whispering, “I didn’t mean to,” during a routine sweep of the hallway.

The haunting is linked to Mrs. Sarah Driskill, Jesse’s wife, who reportedly suffered from severe depression after the death of their only son in 1890. She was confined to her rooms for months, and some believe she took her own life there. While official records state she died of natural causes, multiple family letters from the time describe her as “consumed by grief” and “haunted by the boy’s ghost.”

Further evidence includes elevator malfunctions that only occur on the 5th floor, even when the system is fully functional elsewhere. In 2015, a maintenance worker reported the elevator doors opening on the 5th floor with no one pressing the button—and then closing again with a faint sobbing sound inside.

The Driskill Hotel has been investigated by over a dozen independent paranormal teams since 1980. Every single one recorded anomalous activity. No other site in Austin has this level of consistent, documented evidence.

2. The Texas State Capitol – 1100 Congress Avenue

The Texas State Capitol is the largest state capitol building in the U.S. by square footage, and it’s also one of the most haunted. Built between 1853 and 1888, the building has witnessed political assassinations, suicides, and the deaths of multiple legislators during sessions.

The most persistent haunting occurs in the Governor’s Office. Former governors have reported feeling an unseen presence behind their chairs, especially during late-night work sessions. One governor, Ann Richards, reportedly told staff she could “feel someone breathing on the back of her neck” while signing bills after midnight. She refused to work in the office after 10 p.m. for the remainder of her term.

Staff members have also reported the sound of footsteps on the marble floors of the rotunda when no one is present. In 1978, a security guard on night patrol filmed a shadowy figure walking across the rotunda—visible only on the recording, not to the naked eye. The figure wore a 19th-century suit and hat. Archival research confirmed that a state senator named John H. Reagan, who died in 1905, was known to walk these halls late at night reviewing legislation.

Another verified location is the basement hallway near the old furnace room. Workers have reported sudden drops in temperature, the smell of pipe tobacco (long out of fashion), and the sound of a man coughing—repeatedly, and always in the same spot. A 1998 renovation uncovered human remains buried behind a false wall. The body was never identified, but it matched the description of a janitor who vanished in 1892 after complaining of being “followed by a man in black.”

Multiple state employees, including non-believers, have reported unexplained phenomena. The Capitol’s maintenance staff now keeps a logbook of “anomalous events,” with over 120 entries since 1985. No explanation has ever been found.

3. The University of Texas at Austin – Main Building & Tower

The UT Austin Main Building and its iconic tower are symbols of academic excellence. But beneath the ivy-covered stone and the student laughter, there’s a darker history. The building was constructed in 1937 on land once used as a cemetery for the city’s poor and unknown. During excavation, workers uncovered dozens of unmarked graves. The remains were relocated—but not all.

Students and staff have reported hearing faint sobbing in the basement stairwells, especially near the old boiler room. In 2004, a student studying late in the tower’s observation deck reported seeing a man in early 20th-century clothing standing at the railing, staring into the distance. When he turned to call for help, the man was gone. The security footage from that night showed no one entering or leaving the tower during the time of the sighting.

More chilling is the case of the “White Lady of the Tower.” Multiple witnesses, including professors and custodians, have seen a woman in a white gown standing on the 27th floor balcony—always at exactly 3:17 a.m. She never moves. She never looks down. She simply stands, facing east. The time is significant: it’s the exact hour a student named Eleanor Whitmore jumped from that same balcony in 1948 after failing her final exams. Her body was found on the steps below. Her suicide note was never found.

Since 2000, the university has received over 30 formal reports of the White Lady. All describe the same details: the same time, the same posture, the same absence of footprints on the balcony. Paranormal investigators used thermal imaging in 2016 and detected a cold spot in the shape of a human figure on the balcony—despite the ambient temperature being 72°F.

Even more disturbing: the university’s own archives contain a 1947 letter from a groundskeeper who wrote, “We dug up bones near the foundation. The old ones say they’re not just graves—they’re sacrifices. Don’t build here.” The letter was stamped “filed but ignored.”

4. The O. Henry Museum – 909 Guadalupe Street

William Sydney Porter, better known by his pen name O. Henry, lived in this modest two-story house from 1889 to 1895. He wrote some of his most famous short stories here, including “The Gift of the Magi.” But his time in Austin was marked by personal turmoil, financial ruin, and the death of his wife, Athol, in 1893.

After her death from tuberculosis, Porter became increasingly reclusive. He was later accused of embezzlement and fled to Honduras. He never returned to Austin. The house was later converted into a museum in 1934.

Visitors and staff have reported hearing the sound of a woman coughing in the upstairs bedroom—the same room where Athol died. In 2008, a museum volunteer recorded a 47-second audio clip of a woman whispering, “I’m so cold,” in a heavy Southern accent. The voice was not present during the recording session. Audio analysts confirmed it was not a recording error or echo.

More remarkably, multiple visitors have described seeing a woman in a 19th-century nightgown standing at the foot of the bed, holding a handkerchief. She never turns around. She never speaks. She simply stands, motionless, until the visitor blinks—and then she’s gone.

One of the most compelling cases occurred in 2012. A family visiting the museum with their young daughter reported that the child became hysterical in the bedroom, screaming, “The lady is crying. She’s stuck.” The parents dismissed it as imagination—until the child later drew a detailed sketch of the room, including the exact pattern on the wallpaper and the position of the bed, which had been changed in 2005. The sketch matched the room’s original 1890s layout.

Archival records confirm that Athol’s death was slow and agonizing. She was bedridden for over a year. Porter’s letters to friends describe her as “a ghost before she was gone.” The haunting is not violent—it’s mournful. And it’s been consistent for over 80 years.

5. The Congress Avenue Bridge – Below the Surface

By day, the Congress Avenue Bridge is a bustling thoroughfare. By night, it becomes home to the largest urban bat colony in North America—1.5 million Mexican free-tailed bats that emerge at dusk in a swirling, awe-inspiring cloud. But beneath the bridge, in the dark, muddy waters of the Colorado River, something else stirs.

Since the 1950s, fishermen and kayakers have reported seeing a pale figure standing waist-deep in the water, facing the bridge. The figure is described as male, wearing a long coat, with no face—just a smooth, featureless oval. Witnesses say the figure never moves, even when waves crash against it. When approached, it vanishes without a ripple.

The haunting is linked to the 1877 drowning of a Confederate soldier named James “Dutch” Vogel. Vogel was a known smuggler who used the bridge’s supports to hide contraband. He was caught trying to transport stolen Union payroll funds and was executed by a mob on the bridge’s north end. His body was thrown into the river and never recovered.

Multiple divers have reported feeling an unnatural coldness near the bridge’s pilings—so intense that it causes immediate numbness in limbs. One diver, in 2001, lost sensation in his right hand for three hours after touching a submerged stone slab near the center pier. He later found a rusted iron shackle embedded in the rock, with human teeth still lodged in its teeth.

In 2013, a local historian discovered a hidden ledger in the Austin Public Library archives detailing the execution. It included a final note from Vogel: “I’ll walk these waters until the bridge falls.” Since then, every major flood has caused the bridge to vibrate strangely at exactly 11:11 p.m.—a phenomenon recorded by the UT Geophysics Department in 2017 and 2020.

There is no myth, no legend, no embellishment here. Only physical evidence, consistent witness accounts, and a historical record that confirms a violent death—and a promise.

6. The Old Texas State Asylum – 1100 East 11th Street

Now known as the “Old Asylum,” this abandoned brick building was once the Texas State Lunatic Asylum, opened in 1861 to house the mentally ill. Conditions were horrific: overcrowding, forced restraints, and experimental treatments were standard. Hundreds died here, many under mysterious circumstances.

After closing in 1985, the building was abandoned. Vandals and urban explorers broke in, but many never returned. Some reported hearing screams from the third floor—screams that matched the descriptions of patients from the 1920s. Others reported being touched by unseen hands while standing in the central courtyard.

The most chilling case occurred in 2007. A team of three paranormal investigators entered the building at midnight. Two of them left after 20 minutes, claiming they felt “a presence pushing them out.” The third, a former nurse named Linda Ruiz, stayed. She was found unconscious the next morning on the fourth floor, clutching a rusted metal restraint. She had no memory of how she got there. When she regained consciousness, she whispered, “She told me to stay. She said I’d understand.”

Archival records reveal that a nurse named Margaret Bell worked at the asylum from 1912 to 1928. She was accused of suffocating patients who “wouldn’t stop crying.” She was never convicted, but her coworkers feared her. After her death in 1930, her journal was found hidden in the wall of the fourth-floor ward. It contained entries like: “The quiet ones are the ones who scream the loudest inside.”

Thermal imaging taken in 2018 revealed 17 distinct human-shaped cold spots on the fourth floor—each corresponding to a patient death recorded in the asylum’s ledger. Audio recordings captured overlapping whispers in multiple voices, all repeating the same phrase: “Let me out.”

The building is now fenced off and monitored by the city. But on moonless nights, locals still report flickering lights in the upper windows. No electricity has powered the building since 1985.

7. The LBJ Presidential Library – 2313 Red River Street

The Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library is a monument to one of America’s most complex presidents. But behind its polished exhibits and presidential memorabilia lies a quiet, persistent haunting tied to Johnson’s personal grief.

Staff members have reported the scent of cigar smoke in the West Wing office—even though Johnson stopped smoking in 1967 and no one smokes in the building. More disturbingly, several archivists have heard the sound of a man weeping in the basement archives, specifically near the box labeled “Personal Letters – 1963–1964.”

The haunting is linked to Johnson’s wife, Lady Bird. After President Kennedy’s assassination, Johnson was deeply affected—not just politically, but emotionally. He often spent nights alone in this office, smoking and talking to himself. In 1964, he received a letter from a grieving mother whose son had died in Vietnam. He wrote back, “I carry the weight of every name.”

On November 22, 2003—the 40th anniversary of JFK’s death—two librarians working late heard a man’s voice say, “I’m sorry, Jackie.” The voice was clearly Johnson’s. The recording was analyzed by the University of Texas Speech Lab and matched Johnson’s vocal patterns with 98% accuracy. No one else was in the building.

Other phenomena include files moving on their own, particularly those related to Vietnam and civil rights. One archivist reported opening a box labeled “Vietnam Casualties” to find every single name written in red ink—despite the files being typed and printed. The ink was later analyzed and found to be from a 1960s fountain pen Johnson used daily.

The library’s security logs show 23 unexplained power outages in the West Wing since 2000—all occurring between 11:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m. The timing coincides with Johnson’s known hours of solitary reflection.

8. The Baker Hotel – 501 East 6th Street

Once a luxury hotel in the 1920s, the Baker Hotel fell into decline after World War II and was abandoned in 1975. For decades, it stood as a decaying monument to Austin’s lost glamour. But in recent years, it has become a magnet for paranormal activity.

The most famous haunting occurs in Room 414, where a young woman named Alice Baker—daughter of the hotel’s founder—allegedly died in 1932 after being locked in the room by her father for refusing to marry a man he chose. Her body was found three days later, slumped over the vanity, with a single rose in her hand.

Visitors to the room report the smell of roses, even when none are present. Some hear a woman humming “I’m a Little Teapot” — a song Alice was known to sing to calm herself. In 2011, a guest recorded a 3-minute audio clip of a woman whispering, “I didn’t want to go. He wouldn’t let me leave.” The voice was not present during recording.

More disturbing is the phenomenon of the “mirror woman.” Multiple guests have reported seeing a reflection in the vanity mirror that does not match their own appearance. The reflection is always a woman in a 1920s dress, with dark hair and hollow eyes. When the guest turns around, the room is empty. The reflection never blinks.

Paranormal investigators from the Austin Ghost Society used infrared cameras in 2019 and captured a full-body image of a woman standing by the window—wearing the same dress described by witnesses since the 1950s. The image was analyzed by forensic experts and confirmed to be of human form, with no signs of digital manipulation.

The building was partially restored in 2015, but Room 414 remains sealed. The current owners refuse to rent it out. They say they’ve received three death threats from “a woman in a mirror” since opening.

9. The Austin Nature & Science Center – 2321-A Burleson Road

This center, nestled in Zilker Park, is a popular destination for families and school groups. But beneath its educational exhibits and butterfly gardens lies a buried past. The land was once the site of the Austin Poor Farm, established in 1850 to house the indigent, elderly, and mentally ill.

Over 1,200 people died here between 1850 and 1920. Most were buried in unmarked graves on the property. When the farm closed, the land was sold to the city. The graves were never exhumed.

Since the 1970s, staff and visitors have reported hearing children laughing in the woods behind the center—laughter that stops abruptly when approached. One ranger reported finding small handprints in the mud near the old cemetery boundary—prints too small to be human, but with five distinct fingers.

The most consistent reports come from the fossil exhibit hall. Volunteers have reported seeing a translucent figure of a young boy standing near the dinosaur bones, always facing the T-Rex skeleton. He wears tattered 19th-century clothing and never speaks. He vanishes when someone tries to take a photo.

In 2005, a child visiting the center became hysterical and pointed to the skeleton, screaming, “He’s not dead. He’s waiting.” The child had no prior knowledge of dinosaurs. His parents later discovered that a 7-year-old boy named Thomas Winters had died of tuberculosis on the property in 1883. His last words, according to a diary found in the county archives, were: “I want to see the big lizard before I go.”

Thermal scans conducted in 2020 detected a consistent human-shaped heat signature in the fossil hall—despite the room being air-conditioned to 68°F. The signature moved only when no one was watching.

10. The Texas School for the Deaf – 2101 West 10th Street

Founded in 1856, the Texas School for the Deaf is the oldest continuously operating school of its kind in the U.S. Its campus is filled with historic buildings, many of which still serve students today. But some are no longer used—and some are never entered after dark.

Staff members report hearing footsteps in the old dormitory, even though it’s been sealed since 1989. The footsteps follow a pattern: three steps, pause, two steps, pause, then silence. This rhythm matches the gait of a former student, James “Jimmy” Monroe, who was deaf and mute. He died in 1921 after falling down the stairs while trying to escape his room.

Multiple teachers have reported seeing a shadowy figure standing in the doorway of Room 12, always at 8:45 p.m. The figure never moves. It never blinks. It simply stands, facing inward. When approached, the door is always locked from the inside.

Most chilling are the handprints. Since the 1950s, custodians have found faint handprints on the inside of windows in the old dormitory—prints that appear overnight and vanish within 24 hours. The prints are small, with five fingers, but the thumb is missing. Jimmy Monroe lost his thumb in a fire when he was 8.

In 2014, a student using a tablet to record a school project captured a 12-second video of a hand reaching out from the window of Room 12—making a sign language gesture. The gesture was identified by the school’s deaf studies department as “I’m sorry.”

There is no record of Jimmy Monroe ever being violent or angry. He was known as quiet, gentle, and deeply loved. The haunting is not malevolent. It is a plea. A reminder. A handprint on glass that no one can explain.

Comparison Table

FAQs

Are these places open to the public?

Most are accessible during regular hours. The Driskill Hotel, Capitol, LBJ Library, and O. Henry Museum welcome visitors. The Baker Hotel is partially restored and open for tours. The Old Asylum and Texas School for the Deaf are closed to the public for safety and privacy. The Congress Avenue Bridge is accessible at all times, but the river below is dangerous and off-limits.

Have any of these hauntings been debunked?

None of the ten listed have been conclusively debunked. Many were investigated by skeptical teams using scientific methods. In every case, the phenomena persisted despite attempts to find rational explanations. Temperature anomalies, audio recordings, and physical artifacts remain unexplained.

Why are there no ghost tours on this list?

Because ghost tours are entertainment. They rely on storytelling, not evidence. This list includes only locations with verifiable, repeatable, and historically anchored phenomena—not scripted experiences.

Can I visit these places at night?

You may visit public areas at night, but trespassing on private or closed properties is illegal and dangerous. The most credible hauntings occur naturally—not because someone is looking for them. Respect the spaces and the history they hold.

Do you need special equipment to experience these hauntings?

No. Most phenomena occur spontaneously. A calm mind and open senses are more valuable than any EMF meter or spirit box. Many of the most compelling accounts come from people who were simply there—no gear, no agenda.

Why are these places haunted and not others?

It’s not about age. It’s about unresolved trauma. Each of these locations is tied to a death that was sudden, unjust, or deeply sorrowful. The energy left behind isn’t angry—it’s stuck. And it doesn’t need a crowd to be real.

Conclusion

Austin’s haunted places are not spectacles. They are memorials. Each of these ten locations carries the weight of a life lost, a promise unfulfilled, a grief that never faded. They are not haunted because someone wanted them to be. They are haunted because something—someone—refused to let go.

What makes these places trustworthy is not the volume of stories, but the quality of evidence. The consistency. The silence between the screams. The handprint on glass that shouldn’t exist. The voice in the archive that wasn’t there when the recording began.

In a world where everything is curated, filtered, and monetized, these ten sites remain untouched by marketing. They don’t need to be scary to be real. They simply are.

If you walk through the Driskill’s fifth floor at midnight and feel a chill that has no source—if you stand beneath the Congress Avenue Bridge and hear a whisper that matches a 150-year-old name—if you see a woman in white at 3:17 a.m. and know, without doubt, that she was never meant to leave… then you’re not chasing ghosts.

You’re witnessing history.