97 - Scary Stories: Grave Secrets of Texas — The Cemeteries That Never Sleep

From San Antonio’s mysterious Chinese Graveyard to the heartbreaking legend of Baby Head Cemetery and the chilling tale of Elize Alberti in Galveston’s Old City Cemetery, this episode explores Texas’s most haunted resting places.
Each grave holds a story — of forgotten workers, lost children, and love turned to despair.

Join Michelle and Zoe as they uncover the history, mystery, and legends behind Texas’s most haunted burial grounds. 

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:00

Hello, and thank you for listening to Texas History for Kids. I'm your host, Michelle Gallegos, an educator, writer, history nerd, and novice investigator. Each week on the show, we will learn about interesting parts of Texas history, from battles and historical figures to the odd and enchanted. Hi, and welcome back to Texas History for Kids. Before we start, teachers and homeschool families, make sure that you grab the Haunted Cemeteries companion kit on the link in my show notes. It's filled with reading passages, vocabulary, and spookies and stem fun. Or you can just visit my website at com. Our story begins with today's artifact. And it whispers the same question we'll be asking today.

SPEAKER_01: 1:37

Why do some cemeteries seem more haunted than others?

SPEAKER_00: 1:50

Today we're talking about three separate graveyards. The first one is called the Chinese graveyard in San Antonio, Texas. I think the reason why some cemeteries are more haunted than others is because the history of those who have been laid to rest there. Who were they in life? The circumstances that may have surrounded their death, and let's be honest, it could be because of the imaginations that tend to run wild in the dark of the night. So on the south side of San Antonio, hidden between homes and overgrown mesquite trees, lies a small plot surrounded by rusted bars. Locals call it the Chinese graveyard, but its actual name is Lona China Cemetery, where it has been the home of private graves of the Guzman family for nearly 120 years. However, about 30 years before that, Chinese immigrants arrived in Texas, working long hours building the railroads that connected the state together. They faced discrimination, low wages, language barriers, and isolation. So when they died far away from home, few of them had families nearby to bury them. So did they send them back to China? No, Zoe. They had to come here to work and they tried to make a living in Texas, but most of their families were in China. They did not get to send them back. Instead of sending them home, officials buried them with little care or knowledge of their culture's traditions. In Chinese tradition, family rituals guide the soul to peace. Without them, legends say these workers were trapped, their souls doomed to an unpeaceful afterlife. That's the historical version of the cemetery's past. But there's another story that's most often believed. One of love and lost. Legend has it that a member of the prestigious Guzman family was having a forbidden affair with a Chinese woman. One night lightning struck the man and his horses, killing them instantly. Both were buried in the cemetery. Over the years, people began daring each other to park by the fence, flashing their headlights five times and wait to see what comes out. Some claiming glowing orbs float from among the graves. Others swear they've heard soft, rhythmic chanting like distant prayers.

SPEAKER_01: 4:51

Maybe the lights are just reflections, right?

SPEAKER_00: 4:56

Maybe. Or maybe it's the past reminding San Antonio to remember those who built its railway but never made it home, and maybe it could be that of a love story twisted so far in the roots of the trees that neither lover could leave. Alrighty guys, we're moving on to cemetery number two called Baby Head Cemetery in Llano, Texas. Drive the lonely stretch of Highway 16 through the hill country, and you'll pass a small sign green with white letters Baby Head Cemetery. The name alone sends chills down your spine. How in the world could a cemetery get a name like that? Well, according to frontier legend, a settler's young daughter disappeared in the 1850s. Searchers later found her remains at the base of a hill. Her head was placed on a stake, a testament to the cemetery's terrible name. The searchers buried the rest of her there, and the hill became known as Babyhead Mountain. That's awful! Did they ever find out what really happened? Well, no one knows for sure. Some historians think the story might have been created later on, but locals swear by its legend. The oldest documented grave there is that of a child. Her name was Jodi May McNeely, and she died on New Year's Day in 1884. The cemetery is the last physical reminder of the babyhead community, which once had numerous farms, homes, and even businesses. Visitors have reported hearing a child's laughter that turns into crying or seeing a small figure vanish between the stones. One traveler once left a doll at the fence, and when they returned days later, it was gone, but it was replaced by a single wildflower. A fair. Although the cemetery is still visited by those who mourn their loved ones, paying them care and special attention after they've passed. Alright, Zoe, we're moving on to cemetery number three, Old City Cemetery in Galveston, Texas. Galveston, the island of stormy seas, salty sand, and scary stories. Among its tangled oaks and stone angels lies Old City Cemetery, founded in 1839. There lies the remains of soldiers, sailors, and thousands of people who lost their lives to yellow fever and the most devastating hurricane to hit Texas in the year 1900. Because the island's soil is so shallow, graves were sometimes stacked three people deep, layer upon layer of history. Galveston is a barrier island, which means it's mostly made up of sand and soft sediment, not solid ground. The island sits barely above sea level, just a few feet in most places. And that causes two big problems for burials. Number one, it's shallow water table, and number two, limited land space. So the ground in Galveston is saturated with water. Dig down just a few feet deep and you hit moisture or even standing water. During heavy rain or storms, the water level rises so high it can literally push coffins upward above the ground. So to prevent caskets from surfacing or shifting or moving, cemeteries began reinforcing graves and sometimes stacking them to use less vertical depth and more controlled space. So in the 1800s, Galveston was booming. It was one of the busiest ports in all of Texas. Then came a series of yellow fever epidemics. Then the cholera outbreak, and later the 1900 hurricane, which was the deadliest natural disaster in all of U.S. history. Cemeteries filled quickly, but expansion was limited by both geography and flooding. So their solution was to stack coffins, two or even three people deep, in family plots or even shared vaults. Some families built above ground vaults or concrete liners to protect against the island's soggy soil. So these acted like underground bunkers, allowing multiple burials within a small sealed structure. So today when you walk through Old City Cemetery in Galveston, you'll see headstones close together and raised plots that almost look leared. It's not just because of space, it's a reminder of how islanders adapted to burial practices to a land that constantly battles the sea. One of the most famous legends is that of Elise Romer Alberti, who is remembered as the Demented Mother. In 1894, Elise stunned the island community of Galveston with the most unthinkable act. She poisoned her four young children before taking her own life. The reasons are lost to time. People don't know why she did it. Some whispered of mental illness, others of unbearable sorrow, or even a mind that was overcome by darkness. What makes her story live on isn't the tragedy itself, but what came afterwards. Elise and her children were then buried together, mother and children, side by side, in one grave. For over a century, this site has drawn both curiosity and quiet dread. Imagine being buried right next to the person who killed you. Visitors speak of an overwhelming sadness that settles over the plot, a sudden chill even on the most humid Gulf nights. Some say they've heard weeping or the soft laughter of children drifting through the air. Newspapers like the Galveston Daily reported on the tragedy in 1894, describing the island's shock and confusion. Historians now see the case as one of the earliest recorded examples of maternal mental illnesses in Texas, which is a heartbreaking reflection of a time when despair was misunderstood and help was rare. Perhaps she would have been a great candidate for one of the insane asylums that we discussed in episode number 95, Zoe. Today, Elise Alberti's story lingers in Galveston's folklore alongside tales of the 1900 storm and the island's grand Victorian homes. Ghost stores are still talking of her name. Some visitors leave flowers for the lost children, and even for the mother who, even in death, could not find peace. Now, whether her spirit truly walks among the gravestones or not, the tale of Elise Romer Alberti remains one of Texas's most haunting reminders of love and grief that echo beyond the grave. So people actually see her. Well, they say a woman in black appears in the fog, kneeling at her child's grave, and when you blink, she's gone. So whether she's a ghost or just a tale, she's become part of Galveston's story, a reminder that love and lost can outlast even the storms. It's quiz time.

SPEAKER_01: 14:26

Question one.

SPEAKER_00: 15:21

Well, that's sort of A and B are both correct. Because a lot of people did die during the 1900 hurricane and they died of yellow fever and cholera. That's one of the reasons why the Galveston graves were stacked. But another main reason is actually answer B because the island soil is shallow. To prevent caskets from moving, cemeteries began racing the graves by stacking them to use more controlled space. Every cemetery tells a story of lives lived, struggles they faced, and memories left behind. Some stories are carved in stone, others are just whispers in the wind.

SPEAKER_01: 16:03

So are you sure that a grey stony sound doesn't glow at night?

SPEAKER_00: 16:11

Well, only under a flashlight, Zoe. But each name, each faded letter, glows with history, and that's haunting enough. I hope you enjoyed the third episode of this scary story series. Next week, we're uncovering the mystery of the haunted ghost tracks in San Antonio, Texas. You won't want to miss that one. Thank you for listening to Texas History 4K. Hit that subscribe button and follow the show. More importantly, share it with others who might find it interesting too. If you have any questions, always feel free to email me at Michelle at TX History4Kids. And don't forget the best Texas stories live just beyond the lessons in your classroom, waiting for you to explore. Take care.