Bijou Theatre

One of Knoxville's oldest buildings, the Bijou has served as a hotel called the Lamar House, a Civil War hospital, a vaudeville house, an adult movie theater, and now a concert venue. Ghost Hunters named it the "hidden gem of haunted America."

The Bijou Theatre has been called the most haunted building in Knoxville, and across its two-hundred-year history, the structure has accumulated enough tragedy to justify the claim. The story begins in 1817, when the Lamar House hotel opened on the corner of Gay Street and Cumberland Avenue -- a three-story establishment with thirteen guest rooms, a bar, a ballroom, and a dining room that quickly became the center of Knoxville's elite social life. President Andrew Jackson attended an event here in March 1819. The hotel changed names and owners repeatedly, going through incarnations as the Jackson Hotel, City Hotel, Coleman House, and finally the Lamar House in 1856.

The Civil War transformed the building into a place of suffering. Union General Ambrose Burnside's forces occupied Knoxville and converted the hotel into the Lamar Hospital, where wounded Federal soldiers were treated. Generals William Sherman and Phil Sheridan both headquartered here and planned military operations from its rooms. On November 19, 1863, Union General William P. Sanders was fatally shot by a Confederate sharpshooter during the siege of Knoxville and carried to the hotel's Bridal Suite, where he died. His body was buried secretly at night to prevent Confederate forces from learning of his death -- Sanders is now interred at the entrance of Krutch Park near Market Square.

In 1909, the ballroom was converted into Jake Well's Bijou Theatre, opening on March 8 to a sellout crowd with a production of 'Little Johnny Jones' starring George M. Cohan. The venue became one of the premier performance halls of the South. But the building's later decades brought further darkness -- by the 1960s, the adjacent hotel had deteriorated into a home for transients and prostitutes, and the theatre itself became an adult film house before being condemned as a public health hazard in 1969.

At least four distinct spirits are reported to inhabit the building. General William Sanders is the most prominent -- musicians performing at the Bijou have seen a man dressed in a Civil War uniform standing on the balcony, precisely where the hotel's Bridal Suite once was, before vanishing in an instant. Multiple witnesses describe catching him out of the corner of their eyes only for him to disappear when they turn to look.

Thomas Atkins, a hotel guest, was stabbed by Thomas Sneed around 3 a.m. following a vicious argument during the hotel's operational years. Atkins's unavenged spirit is heard stumbling through the hallways late at night, searching for a glass of water and peace. A mysterious woman in a flowing white dress -- the Lady in White -- has been spotted gliding across the stage and along the balconies, vanishing when approached. Some speculate she was an actress or a hotel guest who died tragically, but her identity remains unknown. The spirit of a small child, believed to have died during the hotel era, haunts the women's bathroom on the second floor.

In 2006, the East Tennessee Paranormal Research Society conducted a months-long investigation, reviewing video footage and EVP recordings. The team captured several voice recordings of residual spirits and recorded conclusive video of a small figure darting past the camera in the fourth-floor bathroom. Other teams from across the Southeast have documented EMF fluctuations, photographs showing orbs and shadow figures, and EVP whispers. Staff and visitors report spirits tugging on shirts, sudden temperature drops, electronic malfunctions including flickering lights and failing microphones, and faint piano melodies from the turn of the century playing after midnight. Ghostly applause has been heard in the empty auditorium.

The Bijou was saved from demolition, restored, and reopened in 2006, and now presents operas, musicals, concerts, and comedy shows in its beautifully renovated space -- a space that, according to decades of witness accounts, the original occupants have no intention of leaving.