Ghosts. Goblins.

Things that go bump in the night.

These are the things that Halloween nightmares are made of; however, one need only travel down U.S. Hwy 80, formerly known as the Dixie Overland Highway, to sense the presence of ghosts from days gone by at the Irvin Hotel.

In the 1950’s and 60’s this luxurious attraction, built by Charles E. Irvine, was popular among celebrities, world travelers, and reportedly, Mafia figures and other criminals whose comings and goings were the routine subject of gossip in Meridian.

With a 4-star restaurant and a long mahogany bar stocked with fine liquors and wine, Irvine built the Bavarian-style hotel in the same spot where he began his hamburger stand business in 1937.

The stand was transformed into the Blue Willow Chalet, a café specializing in European style cuisine, and in 1942, Irvine began construction of the Inn, which was interrupted by the outbreak of World War II.

Irvine was drafted in 1943, spending many of the war years at the Army Air Force Base at Columbus.

After he was discharged, Irvine finished construction of the Irvin Inn in 1946.

“Actors, businessmen, even gangsters made an appearance at the Irvin Inn,” said Bill White, administrator of lauderdalecoms.com and a former Meridian resident. “It’s been reported that fashion icon Gloria Vanderbilt enjoyed staying there as well as other celebs like Frank Sinatra, Jayne Mansfield.”

Following the passage of the Federal Aid Highway Act of 1956, creating the interstate highway system we know today, traffic was diverted from the Dixie Highway, leading to the closure of many motels, restaurants and service stations as travelers began driving on the newly opened Interstate 20, according to White.

Soon, Irvine found himself destitute and could no longer afford to keep up the hotel. A leaky roof ruined many of its furnishings, and before long, Irvine shared the motel with cows who wandered throughout the building.

Upholstery shop owner Raymond Huffmaster remembers several business dealings with Irvine.

“[Charles] asked me to put a top on his 1958 Cadillac Eldorado convertible,” Huffmaster recalled.” I did, only to return six to eight years later to replace the top which had rotted. In 1980, the car still had no miles on it.”

Huffmaster recalls once visiting the motel with his coworker, Johnny Brashier.

“This time, he wanted the chairs in his lavish dining room upholstered,” Huffmaster said. “Every single table was set with fine china, silver service, and napkins folded as if he was expecting dinner guests.”

To Huffmaster’s surprise, he looked at the back wall of the dining room to see a large cow grazing beside one of the tables.

“I saw it with my own eyes,” he said. “(Irvine) looked like he hadn’t had a bath in quite some time. I gave him a price and never heard from him again.”

Donna Owen also remembers the motel and its stories.

“Mr. Irvine called me, and I visited a few times in the late seventies,” Owen recalled.” He showed me news articles and photos of his family. He had photos of elaborately carved and painted circus wagons as well.”

Owen also recalls listening to Irvine sing his favorite song, “In the Garden,” as they shared a Wendy’s Frosty.

“He was an exceptionally nice man with no agenda, other than to show someone his memorabilia and share his stories,” she said.

Luane Smith Burns, formerly of Meridian, recalls her and her friend Sally Brown exploring the grounds of the Irvin Motel when Irvine himself opened an upper room window and demanded to know what the two were doing there.

Burns describes, “He had been bleeding from an injury, already crusting up. When he learned [Brown] worked for attorney Dan Self, he warmed up to us.”

“[Irvine] had to pry the nails out of the front door to let us in. There were vintage magazines and room keys scattered around the room. He claimed his silver had been stolen by guests as they traveled to New Orleans, but he also declared one of his antique sculptures had been created by one of Michelangelo’s students,” Burns adds.

Burns remembers the surreal atmosphere. The place was dust-laden, and Irvine only allowed Burns and her friend to look in the front room.

“I took a lot of black and white photographs before [Irvine] opened that window, but he wouldn’t allow me to take photographs inside,” she said.

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, teenagers took dares to drive out to the spooky old building, but sightseers were quickly met with a shotgun-wielding Irvine.

He soon sold most of his 400 acres and used the proceeds to purchase three new Cadillacs, which he parked on the property but seldom drove.

During his most desperate times, some business owners claim they saw Irvine begging or “borrowing” food scraps for his bevy of cows and stray dogs that became his roommates.

Many speculated about his sanity, but no one would tell for sure.

In 1986, Irvine was found dead one morning in the parking lot of the hotel.

The cause of his death was never determined.

The property stood weather-worn and deteriorating until June of 1995 when a suspicious fire reduced it to rubble.

Today, the Irvin Hotel and its owner are long gone, existing only in the memories of a dwindling handful of local residents.

Some tell only parts of the stories they remember from those days gone by; some claim no memory at all.