The Rise of Skagway
Before the ghosts came, before the perfume lingered in empty hallways, before the laughter of long-dead women echoed through the upstairs cribs—there was Skagway. A raw, wild frontier town carved into the icy edge of Alaska, born not of settlers or saints, but of gold.
In 1897, the Klondike Gold Rush detonated across the Pacific Northwest like a fever. Thousands of prospectors, dreamers, and desperados surged northward, chasing rumors of riches buried in the Yukon. Skagway, a sleepy port town nestled between mountains and sea, became the gateway to the goldfields. Within months, its population exploded from a few hundred to over 10,000. Tents turned into saloons. Mud paths became alleys of vice. And law? Law was a suggestion.
Enter Jefferson “Soapy” Smith, a conman and self-proclaimed king of Skagway’s underworld. He ran gambling dens, extorted newcomers, and even formed a fake “law and order committee” to legitimize his scams. His reign ended in a shootout on June 8, 1898, but his legacy of chaos lingered. Skagway was a town built on desperation, and desperation breeds ghosts.
Amid this frenzy, the Red Onion Saloon was born. Constructed in 1898 with timber reportedly cut by Captain William Moore himself, the building stood out with its bold red façade and false front—a common architectural trick to make frontier buildings appear grander than they were. But the Red Onion wasn’t just a bar. It was a brothel. And it quickly became the most infamous in town.
Strategically located on Broadway, the Red Onion offered warmth, whiskey, and women to miners fresh off the trail. Its upstairs featured ten tiny rooms—called “cribs”—each barely large enough for a bed and a washbasin. Downstairs, the bar buzzed with piano music, laughter, and the clink of gold dust. The saloon operated with ruthless efficiency. Behind the bar, ten dolls represented the working girls. When a doll was upright, the girl was available. When laid down, she was “occupied.” It was a system as cold as the Alaskan wind.
But beneath the surface of commerce and pleasure, something darker stirred. The Red Onion was built on the bones of ambition, soaked in the sweat of survival, and haunted by the women who gave everything—and sometimes lost everything—within its walls.
Skagway may have been a boomtown, but the Red Onion was its beating heart. And hearts, when broken, tend to linger.
The Ladies of the Red Onion
The Red Onion Saloon wasn’t just a bar—it was a business built on the backs of women who knew how to survive. In the gold rush chaos of Skagway, where fortunes were won and lost in a single hand of poker, the women of the Red Onion offered something more enduring: comfort, companionship, and a momentary escape from the cold brutality of frontier life.
Each of the ten upstairs rooms—known as “cribs”—was barely large enough for a bed, a washbasin, and a mirror. The women who worked there were called “soiled doves,” a euphemism that masked the harsh reality of their profession. They came from all walks of life: widows, runaways, immigrants, and adventurers. Some were forced into the trade by circumstance. Others chose it as the only viable path to independence in a town ruled by men and money.
The brothel operated with a chilling efficiency. Behind the bar, ten dolls stood in a row, each representing a working girl. When a doll was upright, the girl was available. When laid down, she was with a client. This system allowed the bartender to manage appointments without ever leaving his post. It also served as a visual reminder that these women were commodities—tracked, rotated, and displayed.
But among them, one name rose above the rest: Lydia.
Lydia was the madam of the Red Onion, a woman of sharp wit and sharper instincts. She ran the brothel with military precision, ensuring that her girls were safe, her clients were satisfied, and her reputation remained untarnished. She was known for her perfume—a heavy, floral scent that lingered in the air long after she passed. Today, that same scent is said to drift through the upstairs hallway, even when no one is there.
Lydia’s legacy is more than perfume and paperwork. She was a protector, a negotiator, and—according to many—a ghost. Staff and visitors alike report seeing a woman in period dress tending to the plants, adjusting the dolls, or simply watching from the shadows. Her presence is described as calm but commanding. She doesn’t scare. She supervises.
The economics of pleasure in Skagway were brutal. Women were paid in gold dust, often weighed on scales behind the bar. They had to buy their own food, clothing, and even protection. Lydia ensured that her girls weren’t cheated, but the system itself was unforgiving. A single illness, a violent client, or a lost pouch of gold could mean ruin.
Yet despite the hardship, the Red Onion thrived. It became a sanctuary of sorts—a place where women could earn, rest, and reclaim a sliver of control. And though the brothel closed long ago, the spirits of those women remain. Some linger in the cribs. Others drift through the halls. And Lydia? Lydia never left.
Death in the Time of Gold
Life in Skagway during the Klondike Gold Rush was short, brutal, and often ended in blood. For the women of the Red Onion Saloon, death was not a distant threat—it was a constant companion. Disease, violence, and despair haunted the brothel as surely as any ghost, and the echoes of those tragedies still reverberate through its halls.
The Red Onion’s heyday coincided with one of the most lawless periods in Alaskan history. Skagway was a powder keg of greed and desperation. Men arrived by the thousands, many of them hardened by the trail or broken by failure. They came to the Red Onion not just for pleasure, but to forget—to drown their fears in whiskey and flesh. And sometimes, they brought their demons with them.
Violence against sex workers was common, and justice was rare. Though Lydia was known for protecting her girls, she couldn’t stop every knife, every drunken rage, every disease that crept in under the guise of a paying customer. There are whispered stories of women who vanished without a trace, their names lost to time. Others died in their cribs, their bodies quietly removed and replaced before the next shift began.
One of the most persistent legends involves a girl named “Goldie,” who was found dead in her room under mysterious circumstances. Some say she overdosed on laudanum. Others claim she was strangled by a jealous lover. Her spirit is said to linger in the upstairs hallway, where guests report the sound of soft sobbing and the faint creak of floorboards under invisible feet.
Disease was another silent killer. Tuberculosis, syphilis, and influenza swept through brothels like wildfire. With little access to medical care and no legal protections, many women died young. Their bodies were buried in the nearby Gold Rush Cemetery, their graves marked with wooden crosses that have long since rotted away.
But perhaps the most chilling story is that of the “crying crib.” One of the upstairs rooms is said to emit the sound of weeping late at night. Staff have reported entering the room to find the bed indented, as if someone had just been sitting there. Others claim to have seen a pale figure curled in the corner, vanishing when approached.
These aren’t just ghost stories—they’re echoes of real suffering. The Red Onion was a place of survival, but also of sorrow. And sorrow, when left unresolved, has a way of clinging to the walls.
Today, the saloon’s upstairs museum preserves these cribs in their original state. Visitors walk through the narrow hallway, peering into rooms that once held laughter, pain, and death. Some feel a chill. Others feel watched. A few leave in tears, unable to explain why.
The Red Onion Saloon is haunted not just by spirits, but by memory. And memory, as any ghost hunter knows, is the most powerful haunting of all.
Lydia’s Ghost and the Perfumed Cold
If the Red Onion Saloon has a queen, it is Lydia. Not just in life, but in death.
Lydia was the madam of the Red Onion during its heyday—a woman of poise, power, and precision. She ran the brothel with a strict hand and a sharp eye, ensuring that her girls were protected, her clients satisfied, and her establishment respected. In a town where lawlessness reigned and women were often treated as disposable, Lydia carved out a space of control. She was, by all accounts, formidable.
And she never left.
Lydia’s ghost is the most frequently reported spirit in the Red Onion. Her presence is unmistakable: a sudden drop in temperature, the overwhelming scent of perfume—floral, heavy, and old-fashioned—and the feeling of being watched. Staff and visitors alike have encountered her in the upstairs hallway, near the cribs, and especially in what is believed to have been her personal room.
One of the most chilling encounters occurred in the early 1990s, when police were called to the saloon after a motion detector was triggered in the middle of the night. The officers entered cautiously, ascending the creaking staircase to the second floor. As they reached the top, they saw a woman in a long dress sprint down the hallway and vanish into Lydia’s room. They followed, guns drawn, but the room was empty. The only window was locked from the inside. There was no way out.
Another staff member reported entering Lydia’s room to find the bed neatly made, the air thick with perfume, and the impression of someone having just sat on the edge of the mattress. She turned to leave—and the door slammed shut behind her. It took several minutes for her coworkers to pry it open. When they did, the room was freezing.
Lydia’s ghost is not malevolent. She doesn’t scratch, scream, or throw objects. But she is active. She’s been seen adjusting the dolls behind the bar, watering the plants in the upstairs hallway, and even brushing past guests with a gentle but unmistakable touch. One visitor described it as “being acknowledged by someone who wasn’t there.”
Paranormal investigators have captured EVPs in Lydia’s room—soft whispers, sighs, and once, a clear voice saying, “I’m still here.” Cold spots bloom in the air like bruises. Cameras malfunction. Batteries drain. And always, the perfume.
Some believe Lydia remains to protect the saloon, to watch over the women who once worked under her care. Others think she’s simply not ready to leave. The Red Onion was her domain in life—and in death, it still is.
Visitors are encouraged to greet Lydia respectfully. Speak softly in her room. Compliment the flowers. And if you smell roses where none exist, don’t be afraid. It’s just Lydia, saying hello.
Other Hauntings and Paranormal Phenomena
While Lydia may be the most famous spirit at the Red Onion Saloon, she is far from alone. The building hums with energy—residual, intelligent, and something else entirely. Guests, staff, and seasoned investigators have all reported encounters that defy explanation. The Red Onion is not just haunted by one ghost—it’s a chorus of the past, each voice whispering through the cracks in the floorboards.
The Shadow in the Hall
One of the most frequently reported phenomena is the appearance of a tall, shadowy figure that lingers near the top of the staircase. Described as male, this entity is often seen out of the corner of the eye—just a flicker of movement, a silhouette that disappears when looked at directly. Some believe he was a former client, perhaps one who met a violent end. Others think he may be a protector, watching over the women who still linger in spirit.
Whatever his origin, his presence is unsettling. Guests have reported feeling a sudden heaviness in their chest when passing the staircase, as if walking through invisible fog. One visitor claimed she felt a hand press against her back, gently but firmly, as she ascended the stairs—only to turn and find no one there.
The Laughing Ghost
Laughter is a common sound in the Red Onion—but not always from the living. Staff have reported hearing giggles and full-throated laughter coming from the upstairs cribs, especially late at night when the building is empty. The sound is described as feminine, playful, and sometimes mocking.
One bartender, locking up after hours, heard laughter erupt from Lydia’s room. He assumed a coworker was playing a prank—until he realized he was alone in the building. When he opened the door, the room was dark, cold, and empty. The laughter stopped instantly.
The Crying Crib
In contrast to the laughter, one room upstairs is known for its sorrow. Dubbed “the crying crib,” this space is often avoided by staff. Visitors report hearing soft sobbing, the rustle of fabric, and the faint creak of a bed under invisible weight. Some have entered the room and felt an overwhelming wave of sadness, so intense that they had to leave immediately.
Paranormal investigators have captured EVPs in this room—low, mournful moans and whispered phrases like “I didn’t want to” and “he said he loved me.” Theories abound: a girl who died by suicide, a victim of violence, or perhaps a spirit trapped in a loop of grief.
The Haunted Mirror
One of the most curious artifacts in the Red Onion is an antique mirror that hangs in the upstairs hallway. Several guests have reported seeing faces in the glass—faces that don’t belong to anyone in the room. One woman claimed she saw a reflection of herself standing still, even as she turned her head. Another saw a man in a bowler hat standing behind her, though she was alone.
The mirror has been tested by investigators, who found no logical explanation for the anomalies. Some believe it acts as a portal, a thin place where the veil between worlds is especially fragile.
Cold Spots and Malfunctioning Equipment
Cold spots are common throughout the building, especially near Lydia’s room and the staircase. These aren’t just drafts—they’re sudden, localized drops in temperature that defy the building’s heating system. Thermometers have recorded 20-degree differences within a few feet.
Electronic equipment often malfunctions in the Red Onion. Cameras refuse to focus. Batteries drain in seconds. Audio recorders pick up static or strange voices. One team of investigators brought a brand-new EMF detector that lit up like a Christmas tree the moment they entered the upstairs hallway—then died completely.
The Red Onion Saloon is more than a historical site. It’s a living, breathing entity—one that remembers. Its spirits are not confined to a single room or a single story. They move, they speak, and they watch. And for those who dare to listen, they have much to say.
Architecture of the Afterlife
The Red Onion Saloon isn’t just haunted because of its history—it’s haunted because of its design. Every corner, every creaking floorboard, every narrow hallway seems built to trap memory. And in the world of paranormal investigation, architecture matters.
The saloon was constructed in 1898 using locally sourced timber, much of it reportedly cut by Captain William Moore himself. Its false front—a common feature in frontier towns—gave the illusion of grandeur, masking the modest size of the building. But inside, the layout was anything but ordinary.
The Cribs
Upstairs, the brothel featured ten small rooms known as “cribs.” Each was barely large enough for a bed, a washbasin, and a mirror. The rooms were arranged in a tight corridor, with multiple exits and hidden passageways. This wasn’t just for convenience—it was for safety. If a client became violent, the women needed a way to escape quickly.
These cribs are still intact today, preserved as part of the Red Onion’s brothel museum. Visitors walk the same narrow hallway, peer into the same rooms, and feel the same oppressive closeness. Paranormal investigators believe the layout contributes to the hauntings. The tight quarters trap energy. The mirrors reflect more than just faces. And the artifacts—beds, linens, personal items—act as spiritual anchors.
The Bar and Doll System
Downstairs, the bar operated with a unique system: ten dolls, each representing a working girl. When a doll was upright, the girl was available. When laid down, she was with a client. This system was efficient, but also deeply symbolic. The dolls reduced women to tokens—tracked, rotated, and displayed.
Today, replicas of these dolls sit behind the bar. Some staff claim they move on their own. One bartender reported finding a doll laid down after closing, though no one had touched it. Another saw a doll fall from the shelf without explanation, landing upright.
Materials and Residual Energy
The building’s materials may also play a role. Wood is porous. It absorbs moisture, sound, and—some believe—emotion. The Red Onion’s timber walls have soaked up decades of laughter, sorrow, and fear. Paranormal theorists suggest that residual hauntings—where energy replays like a broken record—are more likely in buildings made of organic materials.
The saloon’s preservation adds to this effect. Unlike many historical sites, the Red Onion hasn’t been gutted or modernized. Its original layout remains. Its artifacts are authentic. And its energy is undisturbed.
The Upstairs Museum
The upstairs museum acts as a spiritual amplifier. Visitors enter with curiosity, reverence, and sometimes fear. That emotional energy feeds the spirits. Investigators report stronger activity in the museum than anywhere else in the building. EVPs are clearer. Cold spots are colder. And the sense of presence is undeniable.
One theory suggests that the museum acts as a “thin place”—a location where the veil between worlds is especially fragile. The combination of preserved artifacts, emotional resonance, and architectural design creates a perfect storm for paranormal activity.
The Red Onion Saloon isn’t just haunted because of who lived and died there. It’s haunted because of how it was built. Its architecture traps memory. Its materials hold emotion. And its layout invites the past to linger.
Visiting the Red Onion Today
The Red Onion Saloon still stands proudly on Broadway Street in Skagway, Alaska—a crimson relic of Klondike debauchery and spectral memory. Though the gold rush has long since faded into history, the saloon remains a living monument to the era’s grit, glamour, and ghostly residue.
Today, the Red Onion operates as a bar, restaurant, and brothel museum. Its dual identity—part tourist attraction, part haunted landmark—makes it one of the most popular stops in Skagway, especially for cruise passengers and paranormal enthusiasts. But this isn’t just a kitschy pit stop. It’s an immersive experience.
The Saloon Experience
Downstairs, the bar retains its vintage charm. Bartenders in corsets and garters serve drinks with a wink and a story. The walls are adorned with Klondike-era memorabilia, and the original doll system is recreated behind the bar. Visitors can sip whiskey where miners once traded gold dust for pleasure, and toast to the spirits—both liquid and lingering.
The menu features hearty fare with a frontier flair, and the atmosphere is lively, theatrical, and just a little bit eerie. Staff are well-versed in the saloon’s haunted history, and many are happy to share their own encounters—especially if you ask nicely.
The Brothel Museum Tour
Upstairs, the brothel museum offers a guided tour through the original cribs, hallway, and Lydia’s room. The tour is theatrical, informative, and deeply atmospheric. Guides dress in period costume and share stories of the women who worked there, the clients they served, and the ghosts who remain.
Visitors walk the narrow hallway, peer into preserved rooms, and stand in the very spot where Lydia’s perfume still lingers. The museum is dimly lit, intentionally claustrophobic, and emotionally charged. It’s not uncommon for guests to feel chills, hear unexplained sounds, or experience sudden waves of emotion.
Tips for Paranormal Visitors
If you’re visiting with ghost hunting in mind, here are a few tips:
- Bring equipment. EMF detectors, voice recorders, and infrared cameras have all yielded results here.
- Be respectful. The spirits at the Red Onion respond best to kindness and curiosity.
- Ask permission. Before entering Lydia’s room or taking photos, speak aloud. Many believe this simple gesture earns favor with the spirits.
- Stay quiet. The upstairs museum is most active when the energy is calm. Avoid loud groups or distractions.
- Document everything. Even if you don’t see a ghost, you might catch one on playback.
Accessibility and Hours
The Red Onion is open seasonally, typically from May through September, aligning with cruise traffic and summer tourism. Hours vary, and tours may be limited during peak times. It’s best to check ahead or book in advance if you’re planning a paranormal investigation or private visit.
Visiting the Red Onion Saloon is more than a tour—it’s a time slip. You’ll walk where miners staggered, where women whispered, and where spirits still stir. Whether you come for the drinks, the history, or the hauntings, one thing is certain: you won’t leave untouched.
Theories Behind the Hauntings
Why do some places seem to hold onto the dead? Why do certain buildings—especially brothels, hospitals, and prisons—become magnets for paranormal activity? The Red Onion Saloon offers a textbook case for investigators and spiritual theorists alike. Its hauntings aren’t random. They’re rooted in trauma, architecture, and intention.
Residual vs. Intelligent Hauntings
Paranormal researchers often divide hauntings into two categories:
- Residual hauntings are like spiritual recordings—energy imprinted on a location that replays under certain conditions. These hauntings don’t interact with the living. They simply repeat. Lydia’s perfume, the crying crib, and the laughter in empty rooms may fall into this category.
- Intelligent hauntings involve spirits that are aware, responsive, and sometimes communicative. Lydia’s interactions—slamming doors, moving dolls, and responding to respectful greetings—suggest intelligence. She’s not just a memory. She’s a presence.
The Red Onion seems to host both types. Some spirits are echoes. Others are watchers.
Emotional Imprint Theory
One of the most widely accepted theories in paranormal circles is the emotional imprint theory. It suggests that intense emotions—fear, sorrow, passion—can leave a lasting mark on a location. Brothels, by nature, are emotionally charged. They are places of desire, desperation, and sometimes violence.
The women who worked at the Red Onion lived complex lives. Many were marginalized, mistreated, or forgotten. Their emotions—especially those tied to trauma—may have imprinted on the building itself. The timber walls, the mirrors, the cribs—they absorbed those feelings. And now, they replay them.
The Power of Intention
Another theory centers on intention—the idea that places become haunted because people expect them to be. The Red Onion has been known as a haunted location for decades. Visitors arrive with curiosity, fear, and reverence. That energy feeds the spirits. It creates a feedback loop: the more people believe, the more activity occurs.
This doesn’t mean the hauntings are fake. It means they’re amplified. Paranormal investigators often find stronger evidence in places with high emotional investment. The Red Onion is one of those places.
Brothels as Spiritual Hotspots
Brothels are often paranormally active. Why?
- High turnover of people: Hundreds of clients, workers, and staff passed through the Red Onion. Each brought their own energy.
- Unresolved trauma: Many women died young, violently, or in sorrow. Their stories were never told. Their grief was never honored.
- Intimate spaces: The cribs were places of vulnerability. Spirits often linger where they felt most exposed.
- Social stigma: Brothel workers were often denied proper burial rites, memorials, or closure. That lack of recognition can lead to spiritual unrest.
The Red Onion’s Unique Energy
What makes the Red Onion different from other haunted brothels?
- Preservation: The building remains largely unchanged. Its original layout and artifacts act as spiritual anchors.
- Community respect: Staff treat the spirits with reverence. Lydia is honored, not feared.
- Location: Skagway itself is a spiritually charged town. The mountains, the sea, and the history of the gold rush create a potent backdrop.
The Red Onion Saloon is haunted not just because of who died there, but because of how they lived—and how they were remembered. It’s a place where emotion, architecture, and intention collide. And for those who believe, it’s one of the most spiritually active locations in Alaska.
The Red Onion in Pop Culture and Paranormal Lore
The Red Onion Saloon isn’t just a local legend—it’s a national curiosity. Its blend of Klondike-era grit, preserved architecture, and active hauntings has earned it a place in books, documentaries, ghost hunting shows, and travel blogs. For many, it’s the first haunted location they hear about when researching Alaska’s paranormal history.
TV and Documentary Features
The saloon has appeared in several paranormal television series, including Ghost Hunters International and Portals to Hell. These episodes often focus on Lydia’s room, the haunted mirror, and the upstairs museum. Investigators have captured EVPs, unexplained temperature drops, and shadow figures—many of which were featured in dramatic reenactments and interviews with staff.
In one episode of Haunted History, the Red Onion was described as “a brothel frozen in time, where the past still charges admission.” The show highlighted the saloon’s unique doll system and the emotional weight of its preserved cribs.
Books and Travel Guides
The Red Onion has been featured in numerous books about haunted Alaska, including:
Travel guides like Lonely Planet Alaska and Moon Travel Guides list the Red Onion as a must-see destination—not just for its historical value, but for its haunted reputation. Some guides even offer tips for spotting spirits, such as standing quietly in Lydia’s room or watching the mirror near closing time.
Interviews with Staff and Locals
The saloon’s staff are its unofficial historians. Many have worked there for years, collecting stories, sharing encounters, and even experiencing hauntings themselves. Interviews with bartenders, tour guides, and museum curators reveal a deep respect for the spirits.
One guide described Lydia as “a boss lady who never clocked out.” Another bartender claimed the dolls behind the bar moved during her shift—without anyone touching them. These stories are passed down like folklore, growing richer with each retelling.
Locals in Skagway also share their own tales. Some remember hearing laughter from the saloon late at night. Others refuse to enter the upstairs museum, citing a “bad feeling” or a past experience they’d rather not relive.
Haunted Tourism and Legacy
The Red Onion is a cornerstone of Alaska’s haunted tourism circuit. It’s featured on ghost tours, paranormal cruises, and themed travel itineraries. Visitors come from around the world to sip whiskey, hear ghost stories, and maybe—just maybe—catch a glimpse of Lydia.
Its legacy is more than media exposure. It’s a living story, told through creaking floorboards, flickering lights, and the scent of perfume in an empty room. The Red Onion isn’t just remembered—it’s experienced.
Where the Past Still Dances
The Red Onion Saloon is more than a relic. It’s a living ghost story—one that breathes through the cracks in the floorboards and whispers through the perfume-scented air. It’s a place where history isn’t just remembered—it’s felt. Where the laughter of long-dead women still echoes down the hallway, and where the past refuses to stay buried.
To visit the Red Onion is to step into a liminal space, suspended between the gold rush and the grave. It’s a place of survival and sorrow, of power and pain. And for those who listen closely, it offers more than chills—it offers truth.
Lydia is still there. So are the others. They’re not trapped. They’re not lost. They’re simply… present.
And if you ever find yourself in Skagway, standing beneath the red façade as the wind howls down Broadway, ask yourself: are you ready to meet them?