"Genteel & Bard's high-end Savannah History and Ghost Walking Tours are crafted with you, our guests, in mind. Our passion is creating an unparalleled tour experience, and to treat ya'll like family is our second nature. We value the fine southern art of storytelling, and the privilege of sharing that art with you.
Welcome, friends. Ya'll book a tour. Let's walk a while." - T.C. & Brenna, The original Genteel & Bard
PERUSE OUR FINE SAVANNAH GHOST & HISTORY WALKING TOURS
7:00 pm & 9:30pm
We're so glad you're here. We limit the size of our groups because we value your quality of experience over the quantity of guests we host at once. See, we don't see you as a number, a ticket sold, or a seat filled. We see you, and we celebrate you for who you are, and the unique experience we can give you during your stay in our sweet southern city. Our family understands the value of your time and money, and we're honored to be a part of the priceless memories you'll make here along your journey in historic and haunted Savannah.
A Legacy of Storytelling
This Savannah [love] story.
We're T.C. and Brenna Michaels, professional storytellers, and owners of Genteel & Bard.
We still can't believe we get to tell stories for a living. We love God, our sweet little southern gentleman, and our beautiful city of Savannah.
We're honored to host each and every one of our guests. You've come from near and far to witness the incomparable sights of our old city. Let's walk a while.
Genteel & Blog
A nurse throws the severed part of you under the loose floorboard.
He doesn't know the wheat fields where you ran, or the crystal lakes where you swam, or the prickly bark of the oak tree in mama's yard where you climbed back home.
And you're not that child anymore.
You're a man, with a badge of honor.
Everytime I pass by the Sorrel Weed House, my nerves immediately go on edge and my senses on full alert. Long before it was a museum and department store, the home was cast with shadows of suicide, murder, adultery, and war. How could one home hold the key to so many hauntings?
General James Oglethorpe was 37 years old when he first laid eyes on what was then referred to as “Open Grassy Plain, King George II” in the Winter of 1733.
Not even knowing exactly where he was going to put this utopia-like debtors and poor person's colony, Oglethorpe embarked on a mission to aid those under stress.
If you were standing on the corner of Bull and Hull Streets in the early 90’s, you’d see a forgotten quiet city nestled among Live Oaks and Spanish Moss. Locals would quietly leave their offices at the closing bell and retreat to their homes outside of Savannah’s historic district. Because inside, Savannah lacked restaurants, hotels, and was overshadowed by empty buildings. Still beautiful by nature, the Hostess City didn’t have anyone to host.
Thankfully, he’s a Savannah boy. Blessed by the genteel grace of the South, kissed by the Georgia Sun, and loved fiercely by his Southern Belle of a mother. To be a Southern Gentleman is not God-given. It’s earned through lessons of “yes ma’am”, opening doors, and looking into people’s eyes with genuine care. It’s leading by faith, and not fighting with words, but proving through actions.
By the time we’ve poured our second cup of coffee and settled into the cushioned wrought-iron chairs on our front porch, the bride and her ladies will have shown up, looking all like flower petals twirling and floating into position for pictures and poses and procession.
For Alice, an indentured servant, her life's goal was to work off the debt she owed in exchange for her passage to America - an all-too-common ritual in 1734.
But as fate would have it, William Wise found his entertainment in beating and abusing Alice daily. And her only companion, and suspected lover, Richard, was forced, day after day, to angrily look on as his beloved was abused by the lecherous old man.
One of Alice's duties was to bath William night after night.
Among the easy distraction of today’s technology, the Hostess City wins every time. I could care less about scrolling on a screen - give me Savannah’s daily orchestration.
Wherever you are in Savannah, you got the best seat in the house.
Can't capture that on a screen.
'Reckon we've known that all along.
So when you hear, “would ya like wondago?”, download your preferred taxi app, watch your step along the cobblestone walkways, and sip the sweet taste of the South.
Savannah isn’t just a city of parks, squares, history, and public drinking. It’s home… Home for those who check on each other after storms. Home for those who pray for each other. Home for those who look into each other’s eyes, smile, and ask, “How are you?” Then they listen.
A Savannah courtyard is the kind of secret oasis we dream of in books.
I’ve had the pleasure of hosting guests from Canada, Australia, England, France, Germany, Italy, Poland, Austria, Ireland, Russia, Bulgaria, Columbia, and Israel to name a few. Most of them have only read about the South, seen pictures, and Savannah never disappoints any preconceived notion. For me, I become a student of their country as much as they become a student of ours. For the greatest lesson I’ve learned is that we’re all incredibly similar.
Genteel: polite, refined, respectable, or well mannered.
Your heart breaks in the best kind of way, and it’s just as if you’ve stepped back in time one-hundred years, or one-thousand. And you breathe deeper, and slower, and whatever hurry you were in sort of peels off you like a wet sweater.
Pocket of sage, and cross,
Laides and Gents, remember,
But we don’t call those shadows by name.
Might make ‘em stick around a while . . .