All research and commentary by Jefferson Hall
A confession: On occasion, back in 1991 and ’92 I and other curious SCAD students would pay a visit to the mysterious old subterranean tunnel beneath the parking lot of the old Candler Hospital. Not often, and no harm was ever done; we respected the place with the ancient reverence that—whatever purpose it served—we knew it deserved.
Making our pilgrimage to the parking lot, we would pull away the old steel plate (which at the time was the only obstacle), revealing a hole. One by one we would descend the ladder into the unknown and find ourselves at the beginning of a hallway—ceiling arched with rusted iron trestles—running a span of twenty feet or so, underneath the modern-day parking lot, the hallway eventually opening up into a small room of ten by twelve feet. We would gape in awe, explaining to whatever guest we had brought down that evening what little we knew… and the more that we didn’t. We would emerge again from the ancient site humbled, our multiple heads filled with multiple questions. What was this thing…? What was its purpose…? The hospital building was completed in October, 1877… was the tunnel that old? Then again, there had been a prior iteration of the hospital on that site dating back to 1819… so could the tunnel perhaps be THAT old?
In 1959, the Savannah Evening Press published a feature entitled: “Questions Remain Unanswered About City’s Mystery Tunnel,” by Staff Writer Araminta “Mitzi” Bythewood:
“A new flashback into Savannah’s history flared today with the first public exposure of a mysterious old tunnel adjoining Warren A. Candler Hospital. The tunnel, long known to exist but no one is sure of its purpose and somehow it escaped the scrutiny of historians.”
The above statement is not entirely accurate, and unbeknownst to Ms. Bythewood, the answer to “its purpose” actually lay within the archives of her old Savannah News Press building. Consulting the Savannah Morning News index books under the heading of “hospital,” (as I eventually did with the copies at Hodgson Hall) would ultimately answer all questions.
Here are the accompanying images within the feature.
“Rumors about the tunnel’s origin and its use are amazing,” Ms. Bythewood continued. “One story tells us about how the bodies of yellow fever victims were spirited through the tunnel in the dark of night to prevent panic in the city. Another concerns the use of the tunnel during the War Between the States to aid newly freed slaves.” Elsewhere she suggested, “Strong evidence points to the tunnel’s use in both the yellow fever epidemic of 1854 and the more serious one of 1876.”
Bodies being secreted away in attempt to mitigate panic has long been the rationale for those believing in Savannah tunnels; of course, the flaw in this argument is that in all of Savannah’s epidemics—1820, 1854 and 1876—the numbers of dead were printed daily in the newspapers…. To be blunt, people were not only encouraged to panic, they were urged to leave.
After considering the lore and rumors of this bizarre subterranean oddity in 1959, Ms. Bythwood concluded:
“Actually, no one can really be sure just when and why the old tunnel was built. There are no written records of its construction. This fact alone leads to two possible conclusions, one that the tunnel was too insignificant to be mentioned, or that it was built for some secret purpose.”
“De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bonum.”
Okay, so anyway, in case you’re still wondering, here’s what the thing really was…
Translation of the above is “Speak no ill of the Dead.” It’s a sign that was once down there.
On February 7, 1884, the Savannah Morning News printed an article entitled “The Hospital Grounds – the Improvements Now in Progress.” The closing paragraph is of special interest:
The text of the article makes the purpose of the facility very clear… it was the hospital’s new morgue, replacing the old, outdated and unsightly above-ground “dead-house.” On June 15, 1884, with the project complete, the Savannah Morning News returned to the hospital grounds, boasting of the underground facility that “there is probably no superior morgue… in the United States. It is cool, absolutely clean and perfectly ventilated.” As seen in the article below, the facility is today essentially as it was described in 1884. It was not part of a labyrinth, nor was it any larger than it is today. It had two entrances, the smaller hospital-side entrance into the hallway, and the larger Drayton Street side, which was used to gurney bodies/caskets directly into the room. The only architectural feature mentioned below today absent is the western gurney ramp access into the room.
Ultimately, far from a secret or a mystery, the project was executed in the light of day, a pride of the hospital and documented extensively in the newspapers of 1884. We even know the name of its architect: John Daly.
“The Savannah Hospital is one of the handsomest public buildings in the city,” the Morning News boasted two months later under the heading of “The Savannah Hospital,” an article which once again featured a reference to this new morgue.
Far from mysterious, but no less creepy, the old underground morgue of the Savannah/Candler Hospital is a time capsule… like so many other archaic structures in the town, inspiring wonder and curiosity long after its original purpose had ceased.
Fact-Checking Savannah's History 
Can you tell me where the Savannah Hospital and Poor House was located in 1820 ?
Also, where was the Candler Hospital in 1820 ?
Did they combine ? When ?
Am writing an historical fiction novel of Savannah in 1820 and would appreciate any info.
Henry Duggan…Albany,Ga
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Henry, let me know if you did not get my email with the map. They were all one-in-the-same, just going by different names over the years. The “Poor house and hospital” of 1820 became known as the “Savannah Hospital” by the 1870s, and renamed “Candler” in 1931. In 1820 the hospital/poor house was located on the same site where the current old Candler stands today, one of only two buildings in 1820–the other being the jail–that were situated in the cleared South Common, then entirely outside of town. Today, it’s Huntingdon Street, but in 1820 there was no such street.
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Interesting tidbit: As of the publication of this post, Araminta “Mitzi” Bythewood, the author of the above 1959 article, is still alive, 101 years young (and got her first tattoo to celebrate her centennial in 2020).
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