When it comes to tales of the strange and unexplained, I am an enthusiastic consumer. From folklore to the paranormal and all the oddities in between, it gives me great pleasure to discover and catalog these curiosities. Often, as you might imagine, I come across stories that—no matter how good they sound—fail to stand up to even the most cursory investigation. While these make for fantastic campfire tales, they are entirely fantasy and easily dispelled by facts. Occasionally, though, the truth behind the legends proves to be equally intriguing. Such is the case with New Orleans’ infamous Sultan Massacre House.
The Legend
The Gardette-LePrete Mansion at 716 Dauphine Street is one of New Orleans’ most iconic locations. Built in 1836, the elegant Greek Revival structure looms over the corner of Dauphine and Orleans streets, nestled in the heart of the French Quarter. For decades, residents and passersby have reported strange occurrences within its walls: full-bodied apparitions, shadow figures flitting about, and objects moving on their own. While these paranormal claims are widely accepted by many locals, the origin of the activity remains a matter of debate.
The most enduring tale is that of a wealthy and eccentric Sultan who arrived in New Orleans in the late 1700s, supposedly taking up residence in the Gardette-LePrete Mansion. The man was no ordinary Sultan, however—he was said to be an imposter, a brother who had stolen his sibling’s treasure and harem of women. His entourage, consisting of over thirty attendants, quickly became known for hosting decadent parties in which no excess was spared.
For months, the lavish revelry continued—until, one stormy night, the real Sultan’s assassins appeared in the city. The following morning, locals were horrified to see blood pooling beneath the mansion’s front door, dripping down into the street. When authorities arrived, they discovered a scene of unimaginable carnage: the entire household had been slaughtered, their bodies dismembered. The “Sultan” himself had been buried alive in the garden. The legend, of course, claims that his angry spirit has haunted the house ever since.
As spine-chilling as this tale is, it crumbles under scrutiny. The mansion wasn’t built until 1836, by a dentist named Joseph Gardette, and sold a few years later to Jean Baptiste LePrete. So, not only did the house not exist during the alleged massacre in the 1790s, but there is also no historical record of any such mass murder occurring at any point in time.
The earliest version of the Sultan legend appears in Helen Pitkin Schertz’s Legends of Louisiana (1922), in which she spins the elaborate tale of “The Brother of the Sultan.” But even Schertz’s story lacks any verifiable historical basis. So how did this legend come to be?
Interestingly, Schertz may have drawn inspiration from an earlier, slightly more plausible account written by Charles Gayarre in 1866. In History of Louisiana, Gayarre details a mysterious story about a Turkish man—possibly a political refugee—who took up residence in a small house at the same corner of Dauphine and Orleans in 1727. This man was ultimately hunted down by Ottoman assassins for his supposed crimes. While Gayarre’s tale still seems to be more fiction than fact, it provides an intriguing possible origin for the Sultan legend.
In Tree of the Dead, Gayarre writes:
“In the beginning of 1727, a French vessel of war landed at New Orleans a man of haughty mien, who wore the Turkish dress, and whose whole attendance was a single servant. He was received by the governor with the highest distinction, and was conducted by him to a small but comfortable house with a pretty garden, then existing at the corner of Orleans and Dauphine streets, and which, from the circumstance of its being so distant from other dwellings, might have been called a rural retreat, although situated in the limits of the city.”
One of the most haunting aspects of the legend involves a date tree that allegedly sprouted from the ground where the murdered Sultan was buried alive. In Gayarre’s account, the Sultan’s killers left a plaque at the scene, declaring:
“The justice of heaven is satisfied, and the date-tree shall grow on the traitor’s tomb. The sublime Emperor of the faithful, the supporter of the faith, the omnipotent master and Sultan of the world, has redeemed his vow. God is great, and Mohammed is his prophet. Allah!”
Curious about the truth behind this tree, I investigated further. Date palms are not native to New Orleans, so the idea of one growing in the French Quarter is indeed peculiar. However, there is no concrete evidence that a date tree ever existed on the grounds of the Gardette-LePrete house. Yet, this mystery may have roots in another story—one involving a famous figure in New Orleans history: Père Antoine.
Pere Antoine
A Possible Origin
Antonio de Sedella, known as Père Antoine, was a Capuchin friar who came to New Orleans in the mid-1700s. He was deeply beloved for his compassion, ministering to the poor, slaves, and prisoners. Père Antoine is a figure firmly embedded in New Orleans lore, his reputation so cherished that after his death in 1829, locals took relics from his possessions in a frenzy of devotion.
Interestingly, Père Antoine tended to a date palm that grew beside his hut near the St. Louis Cathedral. While he never explained its origins, this foreign tree became a subject of much curiosity, leading to wild speculation and rumors about its meaning. Some claimed it marked the grave of a woman the friar had loved before entering the priesthood. Others saw it as a symbol of his humility and otherworldly connection. Père Antoine is even said to have given seeds from the tree to those who visited him.
Given the exotic nature of this tree and the intrigue surrounding it, it’s not hard to imagine how the story of Père Antoine’s date palm could have influenced Gayarre’s fictional “Tree of the Dead.” While no record confirms that one of these trees ever grew at Dauphine and Orleans, the idea of a cursed or sacred tree tied to a haunting fits perfectly within the lore of old New Orleans.
Above: An early palm date from New Orleans, taken in early 1900’s but clearly not on the grounds of St Louis Cathedral (left). A sketch of Pere Antoine’s palm date (right).
Today, the Gardette-LePrete Mansion still stands, a stunning relic of the city’s past. It has changed hands many times over the years, with some residents reporting eerie encounters, while others have experienced nothing unusual. Whether or not the ghost of the Sultan—or anyone else—haunts its halls is a matter for debate. What’s certain is that the legend of the Sultan’s Palace has become part of the rich fabric of New Orleans’ haunted history.
Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the story is how easily myth can take root in a city like New Orleans, where mystery and the supernatural are woven so naturally into the culture. The real history behind the Gardette-LePrete Mansion may not be as violent or dramatic as the Sultan legend suggests, but it is no less intriguing. And if you ever happen to find a date palm growing in the French Quarter, it just might be a descendent of Père Antoine’s mysterious tree.
Jason Roberts is a Seattle-based author noted for his acclaimed Western Horror series The Dead Wind Trilogy and other works of cosmic horror infused with historical fiction. His web-based series, Dark Distractions, examines paranormal mysteries, unexplained phenomena, and all things strange.
