It’s been 50 years since the Candy Man murder, and everything’s different.
BY E.R. BILLS
Fifty years. It goes by in a flash.
Timothy Mark O’Bryan was 8. I was 7.
It was Halloween, 1974. On a Thursday, a school night. Just like the All Hallows’ Eve coming up this year.
I lived in a rural area between Aledo and Weatherford. Timothy lived in Deer Park, part of the burgeoning Greater Houston metropolitan sprawl.
Timothy’s father, Ronald Clark O’Bryan, was an optician by trade and worked at the Texas State Optical in Meyerland Plaza in Houston. Ronald’s somewhat dour countenance — reminiscent of a doughy, drab Perry Mason — masked a wonderful singing voice. Today, he might have auditioned for American Idol or America’s Got Talent, but back then, he had to settle for being a soloist at the Second Baptist Church in Deer Park, where he was also in charge of the bus program.
By all accounts, Timothy’s father Ronald seemed like an All-American dad.
But the American Dream is expensive, and Ronald wasn’t good with money. He was behind on loans, saddled with increasing debt, and his car was about to be repossessed. He’d already sold the family’s home. No amount of praying or belting out Bible hymns was going to fix this, so he pursued a rather unorthodox business opportunity.
Several months before Halloween, Ronald began taking out life insurance policies on his children, Timothy and 5-yearold daughter Elizabeth. Then Ronald began researching cyanide. He discussed it with a co-worker. He telephoned a friend who worked at a chemical company and inquired about the poison, even asking about lethal dosages. Ronald even made a trip to a Houston chemical supply and approached a salesperson about purchasing some of the deadly substance.
And so it went.
Optician by workday, cherished church parishioner on Sunday, and troubled though reportedly loving father at home.
A few months before Halloween, Ronald purchased additional $20,000 life insurance policies on Timothy and Elizabeth. He paid cash for both but didn’t tell his wife, Daynene.
Halloween day in the Houston area in 1974 was warm, mid-70s to low 80s. By the time evening came around, it was raining, but the suburban Houston streets were filled with miniature ghosts, goblins, astronauts, Wonder Women, Supermen, and even some Evel Knievels. Nearby Pasadena was a Halloween hot spot, and Ronald decided to take Timothy and Elizabeth to trick-or-treat there with a Pasadena resident named Jim Bates and his son. Ronald was still wearing his white optician’s lab coat.
The kids were having fun going from house to house with other kids. Then Ronald’s crew came to a residence where no one responded to their Halloween hails. They gave it a minute, knocked again, and then went on — but Ronald didn’t want to give up or maybe said he thought he heard something. He decided to wait, just to be sure, and sent his friend and all three kids on to the next house.
In a few minutes, Ronald caught up to them. His patience had apparently paid off. He’d hit the proverbial jackpot. He said the residents had finally come to the door and given him five giant Pixy Stix!
“You must have some rich neighbors,” Ronald commented to Bates, giving each kid a stick, and they went on to the next house.
Though All Hallows’ Eve had fallen on a Thursday night that year, it was a sweet
success for Ronald and his neighbor’s children. They only had to trick-or-treat down two streets to fill their bags.
Later, when Ronald, Timothy, and Elizabeth returned home, Timothy wanted to eat some of his candy. Ronald reportedly allowed him to have one piece. Timothy chose the giant Pixy stick.
Timothy had problems getting it open, so his father opened it for him.
When Timothy held the tail end of the giant stick up to pour some of the open end into his mouth, he immediately complained. Nothing came out. Ronald took the stick, obligingly rolled the oversized plastic strawlike container between his palms to loosen its contents, then handed it back to his son. Timothy tipped the candy container back up and poured some of it into his mouth.
Timothy smacked his lips. “Oh, Daddy,” he said. “That’s bitter.”
Ronald gave him some Kool-Aid to wash it down.
Timothy gasped and immediately started vomiting. Within moments, his small frame was wracked by convulsions. Ronald called an ambulance.
Ronald reportedly held Timothy in his arms until the first responders arrived. The boy went limp and was dead in less than an hour.
The O’Bryans were well known in Deer Park, and the community was shocked. The alarming news spread fast and remarkably far. The initial narrative — for Ronald’s part, anyway — was ingenious. An 8-year-old boy had been poisoned by tainted Halloween candy, and reporters came from as far away as London and Germany. Parents across America were terrified and aghast, and
churchgoers of every faith were outraged, claiming they weren’t surprised that such a thing could happen on a Satanic, pagan holiday.
Untold tons of Halloween candy from homes across America were tossed out summarily, and legions of prepubescent trick-or-treaters protested en masse. When the Pasadena police made an appeal to the citizenry to bring in suspicious treats, the candy delivered was enough to fill an entire squad room.
Every other giant Pixy stick Ronald had reportedly received from the house he’d patiently waited at was recovered unopened, and each contained quantities of cyanide capable of killing two or three adults.
Ronald O’Bryan tried to collect on one of the insurance policies he’d taken out on Timothy less than 11 hours after the boy’s death, but he really hadn’t thought things through.
The notoriety and hellish hoopla that accompanied Timothy’s grotesque demise didn’t shellshock local law enforcement for long. They wanted Ronald to take them to the house where he’d received the poisoned Pixy treats. First, Ronald said he couldn’t remember, but Ronald and Bates had taken their kids trick-or-treating on only two streets. Then, the story Ronald concocted to present the poisoned candy to the kids completely backfired.
The residence Ronald identified belonged to a man named Courtney Martin, who happened to be a p.m. shift supervisor at Hobby Airport. Martin had more than 200 witnesses who could vouch for his whereabouts, and things went swiftly downhill from there.
The police found out about Ronald’s financial problems and mounting debts. They continued on page 5
also discovered the recent life insurance policies he had purchased on his children.
Ronald denied everything, at first, and then only admitted to purchasing the insurance policies. He steadfastly maintained his innocence. Presumably inspired, he dedicated the next solo he sang at his church to Timothy. He performed a moving rendition of “Blessed Assurance” in front of the congregation, changing the chorus of “This is my story, this is my song” to “This is Tim’s story, this is Tim’s song.” It was a brilliant piece of stagecraft that reportedly left nary a dry eye in the church.
The Pasadena police kept digging, and Ronald’s neighbors and fellow parishioners were incredulous. “I’ll not believe it,” said one resident, “until I hear it from his own lips.”
Ronald was jailed and indicted for the murder of his son and the attempted murder of the other children. When detectives shared the evidence with his wife Daynene, she said, “Oh, my God, no” and lowered her head, visibly distraught.
When she was able to gather herself, Daynene told the Pasadena police that Ronald had problems. She said her husband exaggerated things and was a spendthrift. She also said that he was in constant financial trouble and had started and lost more
than 20 jobs in the last five years. And it went further. Ronald had collected on two insurance claims involving fires that destroyed furniture.
In the ensuing trial, Daynene O’Bryan testified that her husband asked her how
the insurance money should be spent before Timothy’s funeral. Another relative testified that on the actual day of Timothy’s funeral, Ronald asked them if the insurance money should be used to pay off bills or buy a new house.
Ronald denied all the charges, but the Harris County district attorney caught him lying more than once during cross examinations. The jury deliberated for less than hour and found Ronald guilty. During the continued on page 7
Look Again
mind: “Growing up and seeing your parents’ flaws like is like losing your religion.”
punishment phase of the trial, the DA asked for a death sentence because, as he put it, Ronald ought to be damned to Hell.
“It is the most despicable crime I ever heard of,” the DA added, “to take the life of your own flesh and blood for money.”
The night of Timothy O’Bryan’s murder, Ronald may have looked like he was dressed up for Halloween in his lab coat, but it probably helped him conceal the giant Pixy Stix. Investigators never pinpointed how Ronald acquired the cyanide, but the circumstantial evidence and corroborating eyewitness testimony were overwhelming.
Over the next several years, Ronald’s conviction was appealed in the state courts and, eventually, to the U.S. Supreme Court, which refused to review the case. On September 30, 1984, State District Judge Michael T. McSpadden set Ronald O’Bryan’s execution date for October 31, exactly eight years after his heinous, financially motivated act of filicide.
“I picked it for you, especially,” Judge McSpadden informed Ronald at the sentencing hearing, but Ronald was granted another appeal and continued to insist he had “absolutely nothing” to do with the crime.
Dubbed the “Candy Man” and often referred to as “The Man Who Killed Halloween,” Ronald O’Bryan exhausted his appeals in early 1984 and was executed by lethal injection on March 31. Ronald’s final meal included steak and Boston cream pie.
This approaching Halloween will mark exactly 50 years since the original Houston “Candy Man” struck, and I can’t say it’s far from my mind. A line from Nicola Yoon’s 2016 book The Sun Is Also a Star comes to
In this life, Timothy O’Bryan died without ever knowing his father was a murderer, much less his murderer. In the next life, did Timothy get to see Ronald perform his theatrical version of “Blessed Assurance”?
“Perfect submission, perfect delight … Visions of rapture now burst on my sight”? Or “Blessed assurance / Jesus is mine … Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine”?
I think Timothy might have preferred Boston cream pie, but my family wasn’t religious.
Back then, my dad and mom drove my brother and me to Fort Worth to trickor-treat. There were more neighborhoods, and the houses were closer together. My Halloween that year — unlike Timothy’s — was excellent. Nice crowds, great treats, and some houses where the residents really went all out to make their places creepy. I remember open garages converted into dungeons. Figures you assumed were stationary playfully lunging at you but making you almost jump out of your costume.
I remember weird, wax harmonica treats and Sweet Tarts. I remember Marathon Bars and Pop Rocks. It’s five decades ago, but I still recall it all and especially what happened to Timothy O’Bryan.
The scariest thing about his Halloween was his father.
And what came after wasn’t much better. Trick-or-treating was discouraged in innumerable American towns and cities. In 1975, the city of Houston hosted a Halloween party at the Astroworld amusement park to cut down on trick-or-treating. In other parts of the nation, schools held on-campus parties to discourage trick-or-treating.
One Texas patriarch’s act of filicide via cyanide evolved into tales of dangerous pills handed out as candy and pins and razor blades inserted in apples. In a ludicrously paranoid, major way, tricks were taken out of treats, trick-or-treaters were egregiously short-changed, and All Hallows’ Eve was changed forever. l
ZIPZONE service stops just outside the entrance, and Trinity Metro bus No. 53 stops a short walking distance away. (You can find more information at RideTrinityMetro.org.)
This daytime event is included with your admission, which is $19 for adults or $15 for children (ages 3-12) and seniors (age 65+) at FortWorthZoo.org.
Grapevine Vintage Railroad hosts a Witches’ Brew Train at the Cotton Belt Railroad Historic District (705 S Main S, 817-410-3185) at 7:25pm. Tickets to this adults-only ride are $42 at GVRR.com. Texas craft beer and wine will be available for purchase. There’s a kid-friendly event on Sunday, too.
Season’s
Greetings!
And by ‘Season,’ We Mean Halloween.
Inspired by a recent trip to Goodwill, where I found shopping bags, figurines, and plush toys from The Nightmare Before Christmas in the new goods section, I worked on this week’s column while streaming the 1993 Tim Burton classic on Disney Plus. What started as a recognizance mission to scope out costumes became the laziest of home decor ideas. Halloween right on through Christmas will be all Oogie Boogie, Jack, and Sally for me this year. For other Halloween film selections from a Best-Of-winner perspective, check out last week’s Big Ticket on FWWeekly.com. As for hitting some bars with spooky vibes, don’t miss our Eats & Drinks article in this week’s issue. When it comes to info on local happenings, you can always count on us at the Weekly. #HumbleBrag
The ever-popular annual Boo at the Zoo event at the Fort Worth Zoo (1989 Colonial Pkwy, 817-7597555) is 9am-4pm Fri and 9am-5pm Sat-Sun. Enjoy animal shows, live entertainment, and Halloween treat stations. While costumes are encouraged, anyone over 13 must keep their face visible, identifiable, and free from any heavy makeup or full-faced costume masks for safety purposes. As this is a very busy time at the zoo, consider utilizing public transportation. The Southside
Higher Purpose Emporium (505 W Northside Dr, Fort Worth, 682-207-5351) is hosting its annual Pride Halloween Party with family fun from noon to 5pm followed by an adults-only party 6pm-9pm. Enjoy creation stations, raffles, readings of various kinds, a vendor market, and witchy demos, plus a costume contest with prizes. The family-friendly daytime fun is a free community event. Tickets for the after-hours adult party (18+) are $10 per person at HigherPurposeEmporium.com. Did you know that Fort Worth has its own legendary monster? From 10am to 3pm, celebrate at the 55th Annual Lake Worth Monster Fest at the Fort Worth Nature Center & Refuge (9601 Fossil Ridge Rd, 817-392-7410). This family-friendly event will include canoe paddling, a hayride, a nature hike at Greer Island (the home of the creature), a tire toss contest, music, and presentations from cryptozoologists, including local author Lyle Blackburn. Admission is $6 for adults and $2 for kids.
This weekend, the North Fort Worth Historical Society presents the 17th Annual Saints and Sinners Tour at Oakwood Cemetery (701 Grand Av, 817-625-5082) at 1pm and 3:30pm Sat and Sun. Admission for this walking tour is $15 for adults and $10 for children and students, paid at the gate. In the event of rain, the tours will be on Sat-Sun, Nov 2-3, instead.
Globe Life Field (734 Stadium Dr, Arlington, 817-533-1972) is hosting its inaugural Halloween Festival noon-4pm. Guests will be invited directly onto the field at the home of the Texas Rangers to enjoy various family activities. Attendees are encouraged to dress in their Halloween costumes and bring their own trick-or-treat bags/containers for the trickor-treat stations. There will also be costume parades, playing on the field (including pitching in the bullpen, playing wiffle ball, taking photos in the dugouts, and running the bases), and face painting, plus guided ballpark tours to see some of the players and visit the clubhouses. Tickets are $25 for adults, $15 for kids 4-14, and free for kids 3 and younger at GlobeLifeField.com/Halloween.
Mmm, pumpkins! This and more await at Boo at the Zoo.
Summon your “strangest and most unique self” for a
at
N&D
continued from page 14
Grapevine Vintage Railroad is hosting two styles of rides for the young’uns today at the Cotton Belt Railroad Historic District (705 S Main S, 817-410-3185). The Trick ’R Treat Train Excursions, running at 11:50am and 1:50pm, will include prepackaged bags of treats, as well as Halloween songs and stories. Kids are encouraged to wear their favorite costumes. Tickets are $20 per person at GVRR.com.
Those of you whose kids are really into Harry Potter might consider the Wizard Train leaving the station at 5:30pm and 7:30pm. There will be festively decorated train cars, magic tricks, puppet pets, and a real toad during the ride. Wizard sweets and treats from the British Emporium will be sold onboard from a trolley. Costumes are highly encouraged. Tickets are $30 per person at GVRR.com, with proceeds benefiting Friends of the Grapevine Library.
You basically have two choices tonight. Embrace the trick-or-treaters at your door or go out and find some adult fun. Besides the bars covered in this very issue, I have another idea. At least once a month, art installation destination Meow Wolf: The Real Unreal (3000 Grapevine Mills Pkwy, Ste 253, Grapevine, 866-636-9969) hosts an adults-only party. From 6pm to 10pm, the Cosmic Howl Adulti-Verse includes adult beverages for purchase and a costume contest — Meow Wolf says to “summon your strangest and most unique self.” Tickets are $45 at MeowWolf. com.
For those staying in, please be kind to the teenagers. With or without a costume, they chose to participate in a childhood tradition one last time over God knows what else. Also, can we be kind to the animals when choosing which candy to buy? The harvesting of palm oils used in most confections is a problem for the animal kingdom as habitats are destroyed in the process. Choosing to put your money behind companies that use certified sustainable palm oil helps make a difference for wild orangutans and other endangered species. The following candies/brands are made by companies with membership in the Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil and are committed to making a difference: Almond Joy, Crunch, Dove Chocolate, Good & Plenty, Haribo, Hershey, Jolly Rancher, LifeSavers, M&Ms, Reese’s, Skittles, Snickers, and Twizzlers. Learn more at AudubonZoo.com/boo
By Jennifer Bovee
costume contest
Cosmic Howl at Meow Wolf on Halloween night.
EATS & drinks
Not-soEarthly Delights
Chills and thrills await at locales all over Funkytown this Halloween season.
BY ANTHONY MARIANI AND JUAN R. GOVEA
At The Cicada (1002 S Main St, Fort Worth, @The_Cicada_Ftw), customer Sydnee Dunagan enjoys a Brass Brassiere. Made with TX Bourbon, Grand Marnier, lemon juice, and pomegranate juice and topped with ginger beer, the cocktail comes from the twisted mind of Cicada co-owner Tyler Ann Stephens, who’s a (blood-)sucker for the season.
Like superheroes and cheesy music, Halloween is another kid thing that we adults have co-opted for our own enjoyment and entertainment. “Screw dem kids!” we say. “We’re allowed to have fun, too.” (Nostalgia is a helluva drug.) Now, instead of Snickers bars, Milky Ways, and Reese’s Cups and their evil, twisted cousins, Mallo Cups, which can f*ck all the way off, most of us crave boozy treats enjoyed in supernatural settings. And Funkytown does not
disappoint. This year, places all over are going all out for All Hallows’ Eve. They’re not only dressing up their gory insides, offering specials, and hosting costume contests, but some have even concocted ghoulish beverages for the occasion. So, enter … if you dare. — Anthony Mariani
Self-described contemporary cocktail habitat Proper (409 W Magnolia Av, Fort Worth, 817-984-1133) is celebrating witchy season with its Krew of Boo Halloween popup, which, along with ghoulish portraits and other creepy décor, includes a slew of seasonal cocktails, like the Possum Kingdom. The Toadies-inspired drink is made with Acre Distilling Halo vodka infused with French butter cookies, creme de cacao, honey, and vanilla cream and garnished with a toasted marshmallow.
continued on page 18
Juan R. Govea
The nightmarish décor and seasonal beverages at Nickel City (212 S Main St, Fort Worth, @ NickelCityFWTX) are courtesy of Black Lagoon. The L.A.-based pop-up group is spreading its fang-tastic love in 34 other North American cities this year. Fort Worth is lucky to have ’em.
Club Reflection (604 S Jennings Av, Fort Worth, @ ClubReflection) is partnering with the other LGBTQ+ clubs nearby for a wild night of costume contests on Saturday. At 10pm, Liberty Lounge’s contest carries at a $100 prize while across the street afterward at Jackie O’s, the purse is $150. The $300 grand prize will be at Club Reflection at midnight.
Best host winner Kolin Jardine is the main man at Tarantula Tiki Lounge (117 S Main St, Fort Worth, @Tarantula_Tiki), where the spine-chilling seasonal fun extends from the interior to behind the bar. One phantasmagoric drink is Tarantula’s version of the Painkiller, with Pusser’s Rum, pineapple, coconut, orange, and nutmeg.
Along with the ghastly look of Nickel City (212 S Main St, Fort Worth, @NickelCityFWTX), some of the potions also come from pop-up Black Lagoon, including the Siren’s Song (Lot 40 rye whiskey, Giffard Caribbean pineapple, Flor de Caña rum, Lustau Amontillado sherry, spiced oat orgeat, Caribbean bitters, lime).
continued on page 19
Juan R. Govea
Juan R. Govea
Juan R. Govea
Eats & Drinks
A manager at Ol’ South Pancake House (1509 S University Dr, Fort Worth, 817-3360311), Suzi Norton has been dressing up as a scarecrow the past four years just to liven up the joint. Norton is also responsible for decorating the entire eatery herself. She does it because she just loves this ghostly time of year.
To add a bit of the macabre to the Ambrogio (Painted Donkey blanco tequila, Mathilde Cassis, Topo Chico, cinnamon, raspberry, lime), Nick Rayburn, manager at Atlas (314 S Main St, Ste 100, Fort Worth, 682-3485386), serves the beverage along with an IV bag. The South Main establishment won best cocktail in our 2024 Best Of edition.
Named after the London pub in Shaun of the Dead (the Duke of Albany in real life), downtown’s Winchester Tavern (903 Throckmorton St, Fort Worth, 817-501-1850) opened its doors on Halloween 2017, which doubles the primeval power of October 31 every year. For this All Hallows’ Eve at the Winchester, there’ll be a costume contest with fiendish prizes.
The Poe-inspired décor at Atlas (314 S Main St, Ste 100, Fort Worth, 682-348-5386) lends every visit throughout the year a haunting, gothic vibe, but during Halloween, it’s particularly atmospheric. And sinister.
At El Chingon (2800 Bledsoe St, Ste 100, Fort Worth, 817-870-9997), the frightful fun gets going after Halloween. At 5pm on Sat, Nov 2, the West 7th club and restaurant hosts Boos Fest. The meetup for the bar crawl is at 5pm here, and the route will snake its way through stops at Kung Fu Saloon, The Local, and Wonder Bar. Tickets are $22.49-49.99 at BarCrawlNation.com and include trick-or-treat prizes, DJs, and no cover at all the fully decorated stops, plus a $750 (gift card value) costume contest and scream-worthy drink options, with an after-party at 10pm.
Juan R. Govea
Juan R.
Juan
Take our immersive experience and add a splash of enchantment to the cauldron. Enjoy events, workshops, and other special surprises in the spirit of October’s spooky season.
Winning Halloween Flicks
We’ve been showcasing winners from Best Of 2024 in our annual Winners Circle section this month. With Halloween around the corner, here are some spooky viewing choices for your consideration. Winning!
Hocus Pocus at TX Whiskey
Kick off your Halloween weekend with a movie night at TX Whiskey Ranch (2601 Whiskey Ranch Rd, Fort Worth, 817-8409140), home of the 2024 critic’s choice for best distillery. On Fri, Oct 25, from 6pm to 9pm, Hocus Pocus, the 1993 comedy starring Bette Midler, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Kathy Najimy as a coven of evil (and silly) witches, will screen rain or shine. Bring your own blankets and chairs in case it’s outside. There will be a food truck onsite and a palm/tarot card reader available for complimentary sessions. Tickets are $10 at TXWhiskey.com and include your first cocktail. 21+ only. Doors open at 6pm, and the movie starts at 7pm sharp.
Smile 2 Fan Event at AMC Clearfork
Our readers’ pick for best place to watch a movie in Best Of 2024 is hosting a special fan event. At 5pm Thu, be one of the first to see Smile 2 at an advance screening at AMC Dine-In Clearfork (5015 Trailhead Bend Way, Fort Worth, 817-769-6762). Tickets are $16.99 at AMCTheatres.com. If you liked the first Smile film that came out in 2022 — or you’re just a hardcore horror fan who sees everything — I’m sure you’ll love this one, too. Our film critic did not. He thought that Parker Finn’s fright had the “germ of an interesting idea” that got fouled up in the execution, including three different
contradictory endings. Let us know if the franchise did better this time.
My Favorite Films at the Modern
Not only is the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth (3200 Darnell St, 817-738-9215) an annual winner of various Best Of awards, but they also have some winning movie choices for October. As part of their My Favorite Films series, several Halloween favorites are screening at 2pm Wednesdays in the auditorium. Clue (1985) is on Wed, Oct 23, and Parasite (2019) on Wed, Oct 30. There’s also Dracula (1931) at 7:30pm Thu, Oct 31. Tickets are $5 or free for Modern members at the front desk or via TheModern.org.
Your
Haunted Holiday
on YouTube
If you enjoy traveling and checking out para normal experiences, Your Haunted Holiday (@YourHauntedHoliday5985) is worth a lis ten. Hosted by twin sisters Lisa and Lindsay Estes, this podcast specializes in travel re views with a paranormal spin. New episodes come out every Sunday wherever you stream podcasts and on YourHauntedHoliday. com. Miss Molly’s Hotel (109 W Exchange Blvd, Fort Worth, 817-626-1522), this year’s critic’s choice for best haunted attraction, is featured in Episode 33.
By Jennifer Bovee
1985’s Clue screens at the Modern as part of their My Favorite Films series on Wed, Oct 23.
The campy Hocus Pocus will screen under the stars (weather permitting) at TX Whiskey on Fri, Oct 25.
Haunted?
Yes. Miss Molly’s Hotel is “one most active paranormal sites in Texas.”
By Living Local
Situated above Fort Worth’s Star Café in the Stockyards, visitors to Miss Molly’s Hotel (109 W Exchange Av, 817-626-1522)
climb a staircase to another era with period furnishings, furniture, and many stories about unexplained happenings provided with first-hand accounts by the owner. Miss Molly’s is considered one of the most haunted properties in Fort Worth and one of the most active paranormal sites in Texas.
Established as a boarding house in 1910 and called the Palace Rooms, it went through the prohibition period, being called The Oasis and later, in the 1940s, as a bordello, when it was called the Gayatte Hotel. Miss Molly’s is the oldest bed and breakfast in Fort Worth. Just old enough to have caught glimpses of the Wild West and America’s speak-easy and bordello days, the hotel’s long history as a boarding house has included many residents. Apparently, some have decided to extend their stay into the afterlife.
The eight themed rooms in the hotel share stories of paranormal activity, with the Cattlemen’s and Cowboy rooms having some of the more famous sightings of apparitions. Most of the sightings have involved former working girls from the hotel’s days as a bordello. According to a former owner, one housekeeper quit because she kept finding coins in rooms even though there had been no guests in that room. “She had just finished cleaning, only to return and find the coins where she had just cleaned.”
In the current owner’s private rooms (numbers 8 and 9), visitations have also occurred from a young girl who is considered a former hotel tenant. The phenomena at Miss Molly’s include full-bodied apparitions, unexplained scents, items disappearing and reappearing, lights turning on and off and toilets flushing on their own, cold spots, unlocked doors refusing to open, and a variety of unidentified but entertaining sounds.
Miss Molly’s has been visited by several paranormal investigation groups and is listed with Texas Christian University’s paranormal activity class, which regularly visits to record the phenomena. Copies of unusual photos, tape recordings, investigator statements, and results are kept prominently in the common living area. To make a reservation and check it out yourself, visit MissMollysHotel.com/ Our-Rooms/.
For more promotional features, see our Living Local section on FWWeekly.com.
All the Dollys on the staircase at Molly’s. Courtesy Miss Molly’s Hotel
While they no longer serve a morning meal, Miss Molly’s is still considered the oldest bed and breakfast in Fort Worth.
