Hidden Histories: A UNC Asheville Student’s Guide to strange and silly AVL Stories
One of the first weekends of my freshman year, I was taken on a bit of a road trip up to what’s known as Helen’s Bridge. As the story goes, Helen, a mother who lost her child in a house fire, hanged herself from the bridge that now bears her name. Whether that’s the truth is not my place to say, but it is a fairly famous local place for people investigating the paranormal. With shadowy figures and possible car trouble when driving under the bridge, it’s become quite the little showstopper for supernatural activity in Asheville.
Let it be known that while on said road trip, I never experienced any car problems, and I haven’t in the few times I’ve passed under the bridge in recent years. (Let it also be known that I don’t believe in ghosts, but I think they’re cool.) Regardless if the bridge is actually haunted, there are plenty of strange (or silly) stories like this lurking around Asheville, and even on UNC Asheville’s campus, so let’s go through some of my favorites.
ALL OF THESE STORIES ARE TALL TALES, LEGENDS, HYPERBOLE, ETC, SO TAKE ALL THAT I SPOUT WITH A GRAIN OF SALT.
HIGHLAND HOSPITAL
Not all of these legends are about ghosts, but this one sure is. Highland Hospital once sat in the historic neighborhood of Montford, where the building housed those deemed mentally ill. While many may have come and gone through its doors, Asheville tends to focus on the most famous patient at Highland Hospital, none other than Zelda Fitzgerald.
Yeah, Zelda Fitzgerald, the wife of F. Scott Fitzgerald—though it should be recognized Zelda was an author herself, not just the wife of one. Throughout the ‘30s, Zelda and Scott carried a heavy resentment towards each other. Eventually, as their marriage fell apart, Zelda was admitted to Highland Hospital around 1943, and she would spend the rest of her days in the ill-fated asylum.
On March 10, 1948, a rogue fire climbed its way through the dumb-waiter shaft, destroying the wooden fire escapes and killing nine women. Zelda, having been locked in her room waiting for electroshock treatment, died in the flames. Nowadays, visitors are said to have seen Zelda watching them, almost as if she’s trying to remember your name. Some say Zelda has appeared to take a walk around the grounds like she used to. While the building was never rebuilt, taking a walk on Zillicoa Street can give you a look into the past of what Zelda may have seen out her window.
THE BUILDING OF ROCKY I
I spent about a year here at UNC Asheville as a Student Ambassador, and one the highlights you get on the school tour is the not-so-secret history of Rocky the Bulldog (the silver one). This is officially the story I know, though I’m sure others will tell you a slightly different, or radically different version. There’s a reason why, and that reason’s name is: Matt West.
Sometime around the turn of the century, Matt was a junior art student at UNC Asheville. For his undergraduate research, he decided to gift the class of ‘98 a handmade statue of our lovely mascot. Rocky was coming together in his aluminum glory. Well, kind of coming together. Apparently, as Matt was finishing up Rocky he only had the last paw to seal to the rest of the body. As I was told by my roommate, who was an art major, Matt took his 8-months-unwashed studio clothes and shoved them into the hollow body of our mascot.
“Why?” I asked her.
Her response: “I don’t know, because he could.”
Truly, because he could. But the story continues. After depositing his clothes, West found himself staring down S. Tucker Cooke, (the then art department head), who was giving a tour of the old Owen Hall. According to Matt, Cooke laughed at him, letting him sneak out the building before any of the guests caught him in his underwear.
The rest of the story you might find on a tour tells you that we’ve medically probed Rocky, X-rayed him, amongst other things, and none have been able to confirm or deny the proof of Matt’s clothes.
And as I always said on tour, feel free to ask Matt, since he’s an art professor here.
HONORABLE MENTION: CIVIL WAR IN THE BOTANICAL GARDENS
This, by no means, is really that much of a legend, or hidden, but perhaps better understood as unknown.
Located in the Botanical Gardens is the site of the Battle of Asheville. Well, more like a little scuffle, here in Asheville. The battle itself lasted only five hours, and no one was killed. According to Daniel Pierce, professor of history at UNC Asheville, the Buncombe Turnpike (now Broadway) was an important “lifeline” for the Confederacy. The battle to control Asheville – which took place only six days before Lee’s surrender– ended with little fanfare as the Union forces withdrew, not wanting to waste soldiers over Asheville.
So now, a little plaque sits in the Botans, going green in oxidization, and it’s a fun little fact to know about.
OLD SEELY CASTLE
Alright, so there’s a lot of history to this place already and though much of it is definitely true, I can’t promise that for some of the more unbelievable parts of this story.
Seely’s Castle–known in its time as Overlook Castle–was built in the 1920s, was the home of Fred Seely, the architect responsible for The Grove Park Inn in downtown Asheville. Seely’s Castle included stones from the Tower of London, hosted guests like Franklin Roosevelt, and featured industrial lighting done by Thomas Edison. It’s said that the castle was the second greatest structure to tower over Asheville, following The Biltmore. Suffice it to say, it sounded pretty grand.
After Fred Seely’s death, his wife sold the castle and property to Asheville-Biltmore College, UNC Asheville’s predecessor. (UNC Asheville went through several name changes, starting with Buncombe County Junior College, to Biltmore College, then Asheville-Biltmore, then finally UNC Asheville in 1969. We also moved quite a bit.) The college renamed the site Seely Hall, and held classes there. Eventually, UNCA moved to our current campus, and Seely Hall was sold and passed through a few more hands till it became a private estate again.
The fun, though rather unlikely, story comes from the secret society known as OBC. Complete with an entire Wikipedia page, OBC is said to have started long before the college took hold at Seely’s Castle. While at the castle, the rumors of a secret society consisting of students with Civil War artifacts spread. Why the artifacts are important, no idea. But allegedly, they held secret meetings to–get this–make the college a public liberal arts school.
If that was their only goal, boy, did they hit it out of the park. Seriously, no weird satanic rituals or even a little hazing? Nope, according to Wikipedia, the OBC has been fundamental in keeping the school running through multiple generous donations. Allegedly, they helped fund the building of Zeis Hall, though I would argue that Steve and Frosene Zeis paid for the building of their hall.
There’s also supposed rumors of Seely’s Castle being inhabited by satanists in the 90s, but by all accounts that’s extremely unlikely, and just a fun campfire story.
Unfortunately, as Seely’s Castle is once again privately owned, you can’t go up and visit it, but you can drive by the menacing gate that probably led to some of the rumors about haunted halls with wandering satanists, but is most likely just a really old building.
Asheville has a lot of strange stories, some more interesting than others, and most ending in rumors and extravagant blather. Still, it’s fun to indulge in the supposedly haunted bridges and the secret rotten treasure in Rocky I. Other than that, go look into the real history around Asheville. Take a trip up to Cherokee to understand the land we currently stand on, or join a Hood Hugger’s tour to learn more about the black community in Asheville that was uprooted by urban renewal. Asheville’s history isn’t only located in the walls of the Biltmore or Battery Park.
Dive deeper, ask questions, and support communities that are overlooked.
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