1700's, probably a few years before the 1718 founding of New Orleans as the colonial seat of government, a settler claimed land from an original royal grant for his dwelling and defined its entrance with an alley of live oaks in two rows leading to the river. Although we do not know how successful he was in his efforts to adapt in the New World, it is clear that his live oaks had no problem. Native to the area, they thrived and by 1722, when the early Capuchin Fathers arrived at St. Jacques de Cabahanoce to establish the settlement of St. James Parish, the young trees had already attained a stature which hinted at the magnificence that was to be theirs.
Old buildings appear to be particularly attractive to ghosts. These last are often alleged to be souls of former residents whose earthly mission was tragically cut short, leaving a frustrated spirit grasping at bizarre means to capture the attention and support of the living in order to resolve personal unfinished business. Of course, the older the building the longer the list of resident souls and the greater the possibility of drama. No antebellum plantation home is without at least one ghost, running the gamut from wispy shadows to an assortment of aggressive, howling poltergeists. Oak Alley is no exception.
Generally speaking, Oak Alley is recognized more for the beauty of her setting than for mysterious disturbances, but tour guides, visitors and staff members alike have shared interesting experiences over the years. The following include some of the more obvious:
Upon closing the house one evening following a private function, Denise Becnel, assistant house manger, her daughter, Kaysha and tour guides Connie Donadieu and Billie Jo Bourgeois, were surprised to notice that the lamp in what is referred to as the lavender room was still on. The four ladies each remembered clearly that all but security system illumination had been turned off prior to their leaving the house and heading toward the parking lot. As they stood looking up in bewilderment at the light shining from the lavender room windows, they saw the shadowy figure of a lady closely resembling photos they had often seen of Mrs. Stewart, last resident owner of Oak Alley, gazing down at them from her pleasant bedroom lookout. Denise had no more asked, "What's that?", when the upstairs gallery lamps blinked once.
That was enough! All four took off toward their cars and lost no time in exiting the plantation grounds. No until they were passing by the alley on River Road did they look at the house and saw to their amazement that all windows were dark and everything was as it should be.