Stow Lake (The White Lady)

Stow Lake is a peaceful artificial lake in Golden Gate Park, built in 1893. After dark it's a different story — the White Lady has been spotted here for over 100 years, and she's one of San Francisco's oldest ghost legends.

Nobody knows for sure whether anyone actually drowned in Stow Lake. The 1906 earthquake and fire destroyed San Francisco's police and coroner records from the era when the drowning supposedly happened. But for over a century, visitors to this artificial lake in Golden Gate Park have reported the same thing: a woman in a white Victorian dress, drifting along the water's edge on foggy nights, asking a single question. "Have you seen my baby?"

The lake was created in 1893, surrounding Strawberry Hill, and named for William W. Stow, who donated $60,000 for its construction. By day it is a serene spot for boating and picnics. By night, for over a century, it belongs to the White Lady.

The legend goes like this. A young mother in the late 1800s brought her infant to the lake in a baby carriage. She sat on a bench to chat with a friend. While she was distracted, the stroller rolled down the slope and into the water. By the time she noticed, it was too late. She circled the lake screaming for help. When none came, she waded in to search. Neither she nor the child was seen again.

The first documented encounter appeared on January 6, 1908, when the San Francisco Chronicle ran a front-page story headlined "Park Ghost Holds Up Automobile Party." A man named Arthur Pigeon was driving a group of female partygoers through the park late at night when a figure stepped in front of his vehicle. "It was a thin, tall figure in white," Pigeon told the Chronicle. "And it seemed to shine. It had long, fair hair and was barefooted." The women shrieked as the ghost held its arms outstretched, blocking their path. Pigeon floored the accelerator and was soon stopped by a mounted police officer for speeding. When he escorted the officer back to investigate, nothing was there. Captain Gleeson of the Park Station reportedly "gave orders that any ghost answering this description is to be arrested on sight."

The park itself has a dark history that lends the legend some weight. A 1900 newspaper reported that 1 in every 12 San Francisco suicides from 1890 to 1900 occurred in Golden Gate Park, including four unidentified women. In July 1906, two 12-year-old earthquake refugees living in the park--Mary Cook and Nellie Gillighan--told police they saw "the naked body of a baby floating in Lloyd Lake," a nearby pond. Officers dragged the lake but found nothing.

Witness accounts across the decades describe the same details: a woman in white gliding silently along the water's edge, approaching people and begging them to help find her child. Some have heard only her moans echoing across the water. Others have seen a pale face staring up from just beneath the surface. Cars parked near the lake at night refuse to start. The temperature plunges without warning along the paths. Local legend holds that if you stand at the water's edge and chant "White lady, white lady, I have your baby" three times, she will rise from the lake. But if you answer "yes" to her question, she will haunt you forever. Answer "no," and she will kill you.

The Pioneer Mother statue at the lake entrance has become tangled up in the haunting too. Witnesses report the statue's head moving as if searching the ground, cracks appearing on its face that were not there the day before, and the sound of children laughing nearby. Some swear that on certain nights, a third child--barely a toddler--appears alongside the statue's two carved children. A secondary ghost, the "Ghost Cop," patrols the park in a phantom police car, issuing traffic tickets that vanish from courthouse records because the officer died over a decade ago. Tommy Netzband of the San Francisco Ghost Society has investigated the site and believes the White Lady is a residual haunting--an energetic imprint replaying a traumatic event eternally, unable to communicate with the living. The lake was renamed Blue Heron Lake in January 2024, but the White Lady's legend endures.