It stands there on Franklin Boulevard, a jagged teeth-like silhouette of Victorian Gothic stone that looks like it was dropped straight out of a Hammer Horror film and into the middle of Cleveland’s Ohio City neighborhood. You’ve seen it. If you live in Northeast Ohio, you’ve definitely heard the stories. The Tiedemann House—better known to the world as Franklin Castle—is arguably the most "haunted" house in the entire state. But here is the thing: almost everything you think you know about the place is probably a lie. Or, at the very least, a massive exaggeration cooked up by a 1970s homeowner with a flair for the dramatic and a need for some quick cash.
That doesn't mean the house isn't creepy. It is.
When Hannes Tiedemann, a German immigrant who struck it rich in wholesale groceries and banking, started building this limestone behemoth in 1881, he wasn't trying to build a dungeon. He was building a monument to his success. But then people started dying. That’s where the "curse" narrative begins. Between 1891 and 1895, Tiedemann lost his mother, his wife, and four of his children. Death was a frequent visitor to the stone-walled rooms of Franklin Castle, and in a neighborhood that has transitioned from elite enclave to crumbling urban core and back to a hipster paradise, those deaths have fueled over a century of ghost stories.
The Actual History of Franklin Castle in Ohio City
Let’s get the facts straight because the real history is actually more interesting than the ghost stories. Hannes Tiedemann was a co-founder of the United Banking and Savings Company. He was wealthy. He was influential. And, according to local historians like William G. Krejci, who literally wrote the book on the property, Tiedemann wasn't the "Bluebeard" villain local legend makes him out to be.
The rumors? Oh, they’re wild. People claim he murdered his daughter Emma. They claim he killed a niece named Winnie. There are stories of secret passages used for illicit bootlegging or darker, more sinister deeds. But if you look at the paper trail, the "secret passages" are mostly just standard Victorian service crawlspaces and dumbwaiters.
The tragedy of the Tiedemann family was real, but it was likely the result of disease, not malice. Emma died of diabetes. His wife, Luise, died of liver failure. These were common, albeit devastating, ways to go in the late 19th century. Yet, the house’s imposing architecture—the turret, the gargoyles, the heavy stone—practically begs for a haunting.
After the Tiedemanns left, the house saw a weird rotation of occupants. The German Socialist Party used it as a clubhouse for years. There’s a rumor they were using the thick walls to hide radio equipment during the World Wars, but that’s mostly neighborhood scuttlebutt. Then came the Romano family in the 1960s. This is when things got weird.
The Romanos claimed their children saw ghost playmates. They claimed they heard organ music. They even called in psychics. But when the Romanos sold the place to Sam Muscatello in the 70s, the "haunted" brand really took off. Muscatello was the one who started digging into the walls and "finding" bones. It’s a bit suspicious, right? You buy a house known for rumors and suddenly you’re finding human remains behind a panel? Most serious investigators believe those bones were planted to drum up tour revenue.
Why the Architecture of Franklin Castle Feeds the Paranoia
If you walk past the property today, you’ll notice the stone is rough-cut. It’s a style called Richardsonian Romanesque, characterized by its heaviness. It feels like it’s pressing down on the sidewalk. Inside, the house is a maze. It has over 20 rooms, and because of the various renovations over the years, the layout makes no sense.
- The Turret: A classic Victorian feature that provides a 360-degree view of the street, making it look like someone is always watching.
- The interior woodwork is heavy oak and cherry, which absorbs light rather than reflecting it.
- The windows are narrow, contributing to a sense of claustrophobia.
The house has survived fires, neglect, and several "total" renovations. In 1999, a massive fire nearly gutted the place. A man named Paul Turley had bought it with the intent of restoring it, but an arsonist (who was never caught) set it ablaze. For a decade, the castle sat as a charred, boarded-up eyesore. You’d walk by and see the black soot staining the limestone. It looked like a corpse.
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Honestly, the fact that it survived that fire is the most "supernatural" thing about it. Most houses would have been razed. But Franklin Castle is built like a fortress.
The Modern Era: Who Owns it Now?
In 2011, the house was purchased by Chiara Dona dalle Rose, an Italian woman who reportedly had family ties to European nobility. She spent years and hundreds of thousands of dollars meticulously restoring the limestone, fixing the roof, and bringing the interior back to life.
It isn't a museum. It isn't a public tour house—at least not most of the time. It’s a private residence.
That hasn't stopped the ghost hunters. The show Ghost Adventures filmed there. Ghost Hunters did too. They talk about the "Woman in Black" who stands in the window. They talk about the sound of a crying baby. It’s become a cornerstone of "Dark Tourism" in Cleveland.
But talk to the neighbors in Ohio City. They’ll tell you that the real "ghosts" of Franklin Boulevard were the squatters who lived there in the 90s or the developers trying to flip Victorian mansions for $2 million. The neighborhood has changed. Ohio City is now home to the West Side Market, luxury breweries like Great Lakes Brewing Company, and high-end condos. The "haunted house" on the corner is now surrounded by people walking Goldendoodles and carrying artisanal sourdough.
Debunking the Biggest Myths
You’ve probably heard about the "hidden room full of baby skeletons." No. Just, no.
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While skeletal remains were found in the 70s, they were never definitively linked to any crimes committed in the house. In fact, some forensics suggested the bones were quite old, possibly from a medical supply or, as mentioned, planted.
Another big one: the "Nazi Spy" theory. While the German Socialist Party did meet there, they were mostly just guys drinking beer and talking politics. There is zero evidence that the house was a hub for international espionage.
Then there’s the "Crying Girl" in the wall. Legend says Tiedemann killed a girl and bricked her up. If you’ve ever actually tried to brick someone into a wall, you’d realize it’s a massive construction project. There are no hollow voids in the load-bearing stone walls of that house that haven't been accounted for by modern contractors.
How to Experience Franklin Castle Today
Since it is a private home, you can’t just kick the door down and ask for a tour. Don't be that person. The current owners are known to be protective of their privacy, though they have occasionally opened the doors for special events or televised investigations.
However, you can still get the vibe without trespassing:
- Walk the Boulevard at Dusk: Start at the corner of West 25th and Franklin. Walk west. The street lamps are old-school, and the canopy of trees makes the approach to the castle genuinely atmospheric.
- Take a Haunted Cleveland Ghost Tour: Several local companies, like Haunted Cleveland Ghost Tours, include a stop at the castle. They can’t usually take you inside, but they have the best stories about the surrounding area.
- Visit the West Side Market: It’s only a few blocks away. It was built around the same era and gives you a sense of the scale of the "Old Cleveland" wealth that built the castle.
If you are a serious researcher, the Cleveland Public Library’s "Digital Gallery" has original floor plans and photos from the Tiedemann era. Seeing the house when it was a vibrant family home—before the "haunted" label was slapped on it—is a trip. It looks sunny. It looks happy.
What This Means for Ohio City
Franklin Castle is a survivor. It represents the boom, the bust, and the rebirth of Cleveland. It’s a reminder that history isn't just dates; it’s stone and mortar. Whether you believe in the spirits of the Tiedemann children or you just think it’s a cool piece of architecture, the house is the anchor of Franklin Boulevard.
It’s easy to dismiss the legends as campfire stories. But when you stand in front of those iron gates on a cold October night and the wind off Lake Erie hits that limestone, you’ll feel a chill. It might just be the weather. Or it might be Hannes Tiedemann wondering why you’re standing on his lawn.
Your Next Steps for Exploring Cleveland's History
If you're actually interested in the grit and glamour of Cleveland’s past, don't just stop at the castle.
- Research the "Millionaire’s Row": Most of the mansions on Euclid Avenue are gone, but the Western Reserve Historical Society has the archives.
- Check the Property Records: The Cuyahoga County Fiscal Officer’s website is a goldmine for seeing who owned what and when.
- Support Local History: Buy William Krejci's books. He’s done the legwork that most "paranormal experts" skip.
- Visit Lake View Cemetery: If you want to see where the real Tiedemanns are buried, head to the East Side. Their monument is impressive, and it's much more peaceful than the sidewalk in front of the house.
The real story of Franklin Castle isn't about what's hiding in the walls. It's about what we, as a culture, project onto old, beautiful, lonely buildings. We want them to be haunted because the alternative—that they are just empty vessels of forgotten people—is much scarier.