In September of 2018, we traveled to Marietta, Ohio, and joined in on a ghost tour of the Harmar area of the city. One of the locations on that tour was the Harmar Tavern, and we learned about the story of a spirit named Mollie that resides in the tavern.

Located on Maple Street, the Harmar Tavern stands as a local institution, its walls steeped in stories that blur the line between everyday lore and the supernatural. Patrons have whispered about a presence they call “Mollie,” a ghostly figure said to linger quietly in the corner, observing the hum of life through decades of laughter, conversation, and the clink of glasses.

Some claim Mollie isn’t a silent observer, but her soft presence is felt more than seen. Guests report a sudden sense of calm when seated near her usual spot—an odd juxtaposition to the usual tavern hustle. Others, however, speak of a chill air or fleeting feeling of being watched, a subtle reminder that there’s something more behind the façade of chalkboards and draft taps.

Tales suggest Mollie may have a connection to the building’s layered past. The tavern, having served the community since around 1900, lived through eras marked by Prohibition, Depression, and roaring celebrations alike. Perhaps her story is tied to one of those times—a lost soul lingering from a different chapter of Marietta's narrative.

Long-time locals sometimes recount hearing soft sighs or the faint rustle of fabric, especially in the late hours when the tavern empties and the lights dim. Bartenders have been known to pause mid-tap, certain they’ve glimpsed a figure out of the corner of their eye, only to turn and observe empty booths.

Some customers mention their phones behaving oddly—photos taken in Mollie’s corner appear with inexplicable glare or shadow streaks; video recordings occasionally capture muffled voices or whispered murmurs absent of any living speaker. Others chalk it up to quirks of low lighting or electromagnetic interference, yet the stories persist.

There’s talk of footsteps echoing after staff cleanup in the early morning hours, tracing the worn wooden floors of that corner. Cups left spotless one moment may be slightly askew the next. Small knocks or taps against the bar sometimes go unexplained. People don't perceive these minor occurrences as malevolent, but rather as spectral reminders of a bygone era.

Because the tavern sits near the Harmar Bridge and Fort Harmar district, with their spirit of frontier history, some say the building carries an echo of early settlers—or even soldiers—whose energies imprint upon the space. Mollie may be a residual imprint of someone with deep roots in the neighborhood’s past.

On quieter nights, staff have reportedly felt compelled to pause near the corner, as though part of the conversation comes in far quieter tones. “Talking without speaking,” one bartender described it to a longtime customer, shrugging—but with a small, knowing smile.

Some patrons, drawn by local lore, visit the tavern precisely hoping to sense Mollie’s presence. They linger by that corner, ordering bologna sandwiches or wings, then lean in close to listen. In a low hush, they swear they catch a faint whisper—soft enough to raise goosebumps, insistent enough to make them look around.

Through it all, Mollie remains gentle company. She doesn’t cause fear or disruption. Instead, she embodies something else: a guardian of memories, a quiet constant. In a place where generations of families have toasted birthdays, endings, and everything in between, her presence feels oddly comforting—a spirit of continuity in a changing world.

Whether you’re a skeptic or believer, the Harmar Tavern offers more than food and drink—it offers a connection to the unseen tapestry of Marietta’s past. And if you sit long enough in the right corner, you might just feel Mollie, listening with a kind of spectral warmth.