The Witches' Tree

This gnarled, twisted oak tree in Central Park is one of Louisville's most iconic supernatural landmarks. Covered in beads, charms, and trinkets left by visitors, the tree stands as a monument to a legendary curse placed by witches in 1889.

The Witches' Tree stands at the corner of Sixth Street and Park Avenue in Old Louisville, a gnarled and twisted osage orange tree draped in Mardi Gras beads, horseshoes, skeleton keys, crucifixes, candles, and trinkets left by visitors seeking good luck or paying respect to forces they prefer not to anger. The tree is one of the most photographed curiosities in a neighborhood that has earned the reputation of being America's Most Haunted.

The legend begins in the late 1880s, when a magnificent maple tree stood on this corner and served, according to local lore, as the gathering place for a coven of witches and voodoo practitioners who cast spells and brewed potions beneath its branches. In 1889, the city decided to cut the tree down to use as a maypole for Louisville's annual May Day celebration. The witches warned against it, begging the authorities to leave their tree alone. When their pleas were ignored, they fled to the forests west of town, but not before the head witch placed a curse on the city, declaring: "Beware Louisville, beware the eleventh month!"

Exactly eleven months later, on March 27, 1890, an F4 tornado — one of the most devastating in American history — ripped through downtown Louisville. The storm destroyed mansions, schools, warehouses, churches, and the Falls City Hall railroad station. Over 100 people were killed, including, according to some versions of the legend, members of the planning committee that had ordered the maple tree cut down. More than 200 were injured, and entire blocks of the city lay in ruins.

According to the legend, as the twister roared out of town, a bolt of lightning shot from the storm and struck the stump where the old maple had stood. There was a tremendous explosion — sparks, flame, and smoke — and from the shattered stump, a new tree sprang up to replace the one that had been stolen from the witches. But this was no graceful maple. The tree that grew was knotted, twisted, and grotesque, as if the fury of the curse had been encoded in its very DNA. It looked like a tree from a fairy tale meant to frighten children — and it has been growing on that spot ever since.

Today, the Witches' Tree is draped in offerings from visitors who come from across the country to honor the legend. The tradition holds that the higher you can throw your beads into the branches, the better your luck will be. Tour guide Susan Shearer, who leads ghost and architecture tours through Old Louisville, notes that the tree maintains its own Facebook page where good luck spells appear thanking those who leave gifts — and curses are posted against anyone who steals the baubles. The neighborhood treats the tree with a mixture of reverence and humor, but no one has ever tried to cut it down.

Whether the witches of Old Louisville were real practitioners, colorful folklore, or something in between, the 1890 tornado that followed the felling of their tree was devastatingly real. And the twisted replacement that grew from the cursed stump continues to stand on its corner, collecting offerings from believers and skeptics alike, daring anyone to test whether the old curse still holds.