The term “ghost town” first appeared in a newspaper article in 1894. Some attribute the word to the boom and bust of gold mining towns in California. The mere use of the word “ghost” tells me that even from the beginning of a town’s abandonment, people noticed the energy shift from the living to the dead.
That haunting energy remains in ghost towns. Some may say that it grows in the quiet solitude while decades pass without a living soul possessing its land.
Once upon a time, the town of Bellefonte, Alabama, thrived. Then it died, and its dead are all who remain.
The ghost town of Bellefonte lies in the Northeastern part of Alabama. Settlers established Bellefonte in the early 19th century, officially incorporated on December 15th, 1821. Nearly 200 residents called it home. The word “Bellefonte” means “beautiful fount” in French. Bellefonte served as the Jackson County seat until 1868, when they moved it to Scottsboro.
In the 1820s and 30s, the people built a church, courthouse, and post office to cement Bellefonte in the landscape and provide the essentials that every town of that era needed—a place to worship, a place to conduct the law, a means to communicate with the greater world.
By 1844, Bellefonte doubled its residents. But like so many other southern towns, the Civil War would have devastating consequences, leaving this once-blooming town to die a slow and agonizing death. With much of the town burned, there was little to hold on to. By 1859, the post office closed, and by 1868, when the county seat moved, many of the remaining businesses and people moved. Its population rapidly shrank, dropping entirely off the census rolls by 1880. By the 1920s, everyone had wholly abandoned the town.
Today, all that remains of Bellefonte is its cemetery and a lone chimney in the local inn. It’s almost as if the town never existed, yet… its ghosts still remain.
My cousin’s wife, Denise, was the first person to tell me about Bellefonte’s story. She was visiting family and decided to stop at the Bellefonte Cemetery to see what remained. It, too, seems to have been mostly abandoned. ( (She was kind enough to get photos for us. Thanks, Denise!)
The weeds and earth are slowly swallowing the gravestones and their silent keepers. It’s nearly impossible to walk through anymore. There’s an irony that’s almost poetic in that all that remains of the ghost town of Bellefonte is its dead.
In 2006, the Bellefonte Cemetery was included in the Alabama Historic Cemetery Register. It sits on high ground and is believed to bring souls closer to heaven and help prevent the land from flooding or other natural disasters.
Many of the headstones have suffered damage from nature and vandals over the years. The earliest marker is from 1826, almost two hundred years old. People have often claimed to experience an eerie feeling when visiting the cemetery, especially after dark. Some have even claimed to see apparitions or have the sensation of being watched.
Maybe it’s true that dead towns now belong to their ghosts. There’s something about an abandoned place that pulls at the heart—ringing an almost creepy sadness that begs you to look and see it—but most of us are happy to move right along and let sleeping dogs lie.
Some people, but not us, of course. We’re the wanderers who aren’t afraid of looking into the past, the dark, the truth. We’re the ones who choose to remember, care, honor, and respect those who’ve gone on before us. We see and remember you, Bellefonte. And to all the ghosts that still call it home, may you rest in peace.
