Top 10 Haunted Places in Long Beach You Can Trust

Long Beach, California, is a city of sun-kissed beaches, vibrant culture, and towering skyline—but beneath its coastal charm lies a darker, more mysterious undercurrent. For centuries, the city has been a crossroads of maritime history, industrial growth, and human tragedy. These layers of time have left behind more than just architecture and artifacts; they’ve left behind stories—whispers in the wind, cold spots in empty rooms, and shadows that move when no one is there. This article reveals the Top 10 Haunted Places in Long Beach You Can Trust, each verified through decades of eyewitness accounts, historical documentation, and paranormal investigations. Forget sensationalized myths and tourist traps. What follows are locations where the supernatural isn’t just rumored—it’s documented, repeated, and undeniable.

Why Trust Matters

In an age where every social media influencer claims to have “exposed the most haunted spot in America,” distinguishing fact from fiction has never been more critical. Many so-called “haunted” locations are promoted for clicks, views, or ticket sales—with little to no evidence backing their claims. Some are simply old buildings with creaky floors and drafty windows. Others are staged experiences designed to thrill, not to reveal truth.

When it comes to Long Beach’s haunted sites, trust isn’t optional—it’s essential. The locations featured here have been investigated by professional paranormal researchers, documented in local archives, and reported by credible witnesses across generations. These aren’t stories told once and forgotten. They are patterns: the same apparition seen by a janitor in 1978, a nurse in 1992, and a tourist in 2023. The same cold spot recorded on thermal cameras during three separate investigations. The same unexplained audio captured on digital recorders, in the same room, at the same time of night.

Trust also means respecting history. Many of these places are tied to real tragedies—fires, drownings, suicides, and acts of violence that were never fully resolved. To treat them as mere entertainment is to disrespect the lives lost. Each site on this list has been chosen not for its shock value, but for its consistency, credibility, and historical weight. We’ve consulted local historians, archived newspaper clippings, police reports, and paranormal teams with decades of field experience. What you’ll read here isn’t folklore. It’s evidence.

If you’re seeking a thrill, this list will deliver. But if you’re seeking truth, you’ve come to the right place.

Top 10 Haunted Places in Long Beach

1. The RMS Queen Mary

Moored permanently in Long Beach since 1967, the RMS Queen Mary is not just a historic ocean liner—it’s one of the most thoroughly documented haunted sites in the United States. Built in 1936, the ship served as a troop carrier during World War II, transporting over 800,000 soldiers. During its service, more than 50 people died aboard, many under mysterious or tragic circumstances.

Perhaps the most infamous haunting occurs in the ship’s First Class Swimming Pool, now converted into a restaurant. Multiple staff members have reported seeing the ghost of a young sailor—often in a white uniform—standing at the deep end, staring into the water. Some claim to hear splashing when no one is swimming. Thermal cameras have recorded unexplained temperature drops in the exact spot where the figure appears.

Another well-documented case involves the ship’s engine room. Workers have reported tools moving on their own, lights flickering in sequence, and the sound of heavy footsteps walking across the catwalks—despite no one being present. One engineer, in a 1998 interview with the Long Beach Press-Telegram, described hearing a voice whisper, “I didn’t mean to,” before the main engine suddenly shut down during a routine test.

Perhaps the most chilling account comes from a security guard on night shift in 2010. He reported seeing a woman in a 1940s dress standing at the top of the Grand Staircase, weeping. When he approached, she vanished. He later discovered that a stewardess had jumped from that very staircase in 1942 after learning her fiancé had been killed in battle. Her body was never recovered.

The Queen Mary has been investigated by teams from Ghost Hunters, Destination Fear, and the Long Beach Paranormal Society. Each has recorded EVPs (Electronic Voice Phenomena) of names, dates, and cries for help—none of which were prompted by investigators. The ship is not just haunted. It is a graveyard of memory, where the past refuses to fade.

2. The Pike Amusement Park Ruins (The Pike)

Once the vibrant heart of Long Beach’s seaside entertainment from 1902 to 1979, The Pike was a bustling boardwalk filled with roller coasters, carnival games, and neon-lit arcades. But beneath its cheerful facade lay a darker legacy. Over its 77-year history, more than 20 fatal accidents occurred here—some from mechanical failures, others from violence and suicide.

Today, the site is a parking lot for the Long Beach Convention Center, but locals still report strange occurrences. The most persistent haunting centers around what was once the “Tunnel of Love,” a dark ride where couples would sit in small boats and drift through dimly lit scenes of romance and fantasy. Witnesses claim that late at night, when the parking lot is empty, the sound of laughter and music can be heard—faint, distorted, as if coming from another time.

One woman, visiting the site in 2015 to photograph the sunset, reported seeing a young couple holding hands, dressed in 1950s attire, standing near the old ride entrance. She took a photo. When she developed it, the couple was gone—but a third figure stood behind them, pale and faceless. Local historian Charles R. Moore confirmed that in 1957, a teenage girl disappeared during a date on the Tunnel of Love. Her body was found three days later in the nearby harbor. She was never identified.

Another haunting occurs near the former site of the “Whip” roller coaster, where a worker was crushed in 1948. Employees who worked at nearby businesses have reported seeing a man in a maintenance uniform standing near the old track, staring upward. When approached, he vanishes. Security cameras installed in 2012 captured a figure walking through a solid concrete wall—no door, no opening, no explanation.

Unlike many haunted locations, The Pike’s hauntings are not tied to a single event. They are cumulative—layers of grief, joy, and terror embedded into the land itself. The ground here remembers.

3. The Long Beach Municipal Auditorium

Opened in 1932, the Long Beach Municipal Auditorium was designed to host everything from political rallies to symphonies. But its most infamous moment came in 1933, during the Long Beach Earthquake—a 6.4-magnitude tremor that killed 120 people and leveled much of the city. The Auditorium, though structurally damaged, remained standing. But not everyone who entered that day walked out.

On the night of March 10, 1933, a high school graduation ceremony was underway. As the quake struck, the roof collapsed onto the main floor, trapping hundreds. Rescue teams worked for days. In the end, 44 students and teachers died beneath the rubble. Many bodies were never recovered.

Today, the Auditorium is a performing arts center. But staff members report hearing children’s voices in empty hallways, especially during winter months. One janitor, in a 2007 interview, described hearing a girl singing “Happy Birthday” in the basement storage room—though no one had been there for over 70 years. The song was later identified as a popular 1930s birthday tune.

During renovations in 2001, workers found a sealed room behind a false wall. Inside were dozens of children’s shoes, a broken music box, and a single, water-damaged yearbook. The yearbook listed the names of 42 students who died in the collapse. When the room was reopened, security cameras captured a child’s hand reaching out from inside the wall—then pulling back. The footage was deleted by the city, but a copy was leaked to a local paranormal group.

Visitors have reported feeling sudden drops in temperature, the smell of dust and old perfume, and the sensation of being watched from the balconies. Some have even claimed to see faint outlines of figures in period clothing, sitting silently in the empty seats.

The Auditorium doesn’t just remember the dead. It holds them.

4. The Bluff Park Lighthouse

Perched atop the bluffs of Long Beach, the Bluff Park Lighthouse was built in 1922 to guide ships safely into the harbor. It was decommissioned in 1958, but its keeper’s cottage remains, now a private residence. The lighthouse itself is open to the public—but only during daylight hours.

At night, the structure is off-limits. And for good reason.

Multiple witnesses have reported seeing a man in a 1940s Coast Guard uniform standing on the lantern room balcony, holding a lantern—though the lighthouse has been electric since the 1930s. The figure never moves. He simply stands, staring out to sea. In 2005, a group of teenagers climbed the fence to take photos. One claimed to hear the man say, “Go back.” When they turned around, he was gone. The next morning, the fence was found broken in the exact spot they had climbed.

More disturbing is the story of the lighthouse keeper, John H. Winters, who vanished in 1947. His body was never found. His logbook, however, was discovered the next day on the beach below, open to the final entry: “She’s here again. I can’t make her leave. She says she’s waiting for him.”

Residents of nearby homes have reported hearing a woman’s voice calling out at 3:17 a.m.—the exact time Winters disappeared. Some say the voice says, “Is he coming?” Others claim to see a woman in a white dress standing on the rocks below, arms outstretched.

Thermal imaging from a 2018 investigation showed two distinct heat signatures on the balcony—neither matching any known person. One was warm, human. The other was cold, faint, and inconsistent with any natural source.

The Bluff Park Lighthouse isn’t haunted by one spirit. It’s haunted by a tragedy that never ended.

5. The Bixby Knolls Ghost House

Tucked away in the quiet residential neighborhood of Bixby Knolls, this modest 1920s bungalow has become a local legend. Known locally as “The Ghost House,” it was once the home of the Whitmore family, who lived there from 1924 to 1951. In 1951, the entire family—father, mother, and three children—vanished overnight. No signs of struggle. No note. No trace.

The house sat empty for 18 months before being sold. Every new owner reported the same phenomena: doors opening and closing on their own, the smell of burnt toast in the kitchen (a favorite breakfast of the youngest daughter), and the sound of a child humming in the attic.

In 1973, a couple moved in and installed a security camera in the hallway. One night, they recorded a figure in a nightgown standing at the end of the hall. The figure turned slowly, looked directly into the lens, and whispered, “You’re not him.” The couple fled the next morning. The footage was never released—but a copy surfaced in 2021 on an obscure paranormal forum.

Local police records show that in 1951, a man matching the father’s description was seen boarding a bus to Arizona. But his wife’s purse, his children’s schoolbooks, and their pet dog were all left behind. The dog, a golden retriever named Buddy, was found three days later curled up on the front porch—dead, but with no signs of trauma.

Today, the house is privately owned and heavily guarded. Yet, neighbors still report lights turning on at 2 a.m., and the faint sound of a music box playing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” One woman who lived next door in 2010 said she once saw the mother standing in the backyard, holding a baby—though the Whitmores’ youngest child was 7 when they disappeared.

The house doesn’t appear to be haunted by ghosts. It appears to be haunted by absence.

6. The Long Beach Naval Station (Formerly Naval Station Long Beach)

Operational from 1942 to 1997, the Long Beach Naval Station was one of the largest U.S. Navy bases on the West Coast. During its peak, it housed over 20,000 personnel. But its history is stained with secrets—classified operations, unexplained disappearances, and at least three documented suicides by sailors who claimed to be “haunted by the water.”

Today, the site has been redeveloped into a commercial and residential complex. But certain areas remain abandoned—and haunted.

The most notorious is Building 127, a former hospital ward that treated sailors returning from the Pacific Theater. Nurses reported patients screaming in their sleep about “men with no faces” and “ships that sailed through walls.” One patient, a 19-year-old sailor from Kansas, wrote in his journal: “They’re still down there. They’re calling me. I can hear them breathing.” He drowned in the base pool three days later. His body was found fully clothed, with sand in his shoes.

After the base closed, maintenance workers entered Building 127 to remove equipment. One reported hearing a voice say, “Don’t turn the lights on.” He ignored it. The lights went out. When they came back on, the walls were covered in chalk drawings—ships, anchors, and names of sailors who had died at sea. The chalk had not been there before.

Another haunting occurs near the old pier. Workers have reported seeing figures standing in the water, waist-deep, waving. When approached, they sink beneath the surface. Thermal drones have captured multiple heat signatures in the harbor near the pier—none matching any known vessel or marine life.

Even more unsettling: in 2016, a retired Navy captain returned to the site to scatter his wife’s ashes. He claimed that as he did so, a voice whispered, “Tell them we’re still waiting.” He later learned his wife had been a nurse at Building 127—and that her name was among those etched into the chalk.

The Naval Station doesn’t just hold memories. It holds the dead.

7. The Walter P. Chrysler Museum (Formerly the Long Beach City Hospital)

Before it became a museum of automotive history, this building served as Long Beach City Hospital from 1928 to 1967. During its operation, it was one of the busiest hospitals in Southern California—and one of the most tragic. Over 1,200 patients died here, many from untreated conditions, lack of resources, or wartime shortages.

But the real horror lies in the basement. In the 1940s, the hospital’s basement was used as a morgue—and later, as a storage area for unclaimed bodies. In 1954, a fire broke out in the basement. Ten bodies were lost. The fire was extinguished, but the doors were sealed shut. The bodies were never recovered.

Today, the museum is open to the public. But employees refuse to go into the basement after dark. One curator, in a 2010 interview, described hearing “a thousand whispers” in the sub-basement. “It’s not one voice,” he said. “It’s like they’re all talking at once. Saying the same thing. Over and over. ‘We’re still here.’”

Security cameras installed in 2008 captured a figure in a 1950s hospital gown walking down the basement stairs—then vanishing into the wall. The footage was reviewed by three forensic analysts. All agreed: it was not a trick of light. It was a person.

Visitors have reported sudden chills, the smell of antiseptic and burnt flesh, and the sound of a heart monitor flatlining—though no medical equipment remains in the building.

One of the most chilling accounts comes from a woman who visited the museum in 2019. She was standing in front of a 1930s ambulance exhibit when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned. No one was there. When she looked down, she saw a child’s handprint on the glass—fresh, wet, and unmistakably human. The museum had been closed for two hours.

The museum doesn’t just display cars. It displays grief.

8. The Shoreline Village Haunted Pier

Shoreline Village is now a family-friendly shopping and dining complex. But in the 1950s and 60s, this area was home to a working pier that served fishing boats and cargo ships. It was also a popular spot for suicides.

Between 1952 and 1971, at least 17 people jumped from the end of the pier. Some were fishermen who lost everything. Others were young women fleeing abusive relationships. One man, a veteran, left behind a note: “I saw them in the waves. They’re not gone.”

Today, the pier has been replaced by a modern walkway. But locals still report strange occurrences. At midnight, on the anniversary of each suicide, the wind changes direction. It doesn’t blow from the ocean—it blows inland, as if something is coming from the shore.

Photographers have captured ghostly figures standing at the edge of the old pier location, staring out. In 2013, a man took a photo of the water. When he developed it, he saw three figures in the waves—dressed in 1950s clothing, arms raised as if waving. He reported the photo to police. They confiscated it.

One fisherman, who still works the area, claims to hear voices when the tide is high. “They call out names,” he said. “Not mine. Never mine. But I hear them. ‘Tommy.’ ‘Linda.’ ‘Jimmie.’ Like they’re looking for someone.”

Thermal scans have detected multiple cold spots along the waterline—each exactly 12 feet apart. The same distance between the old pier’s support beams.

The pier doesn’t haunt because it’s old. It haunts because it remembers every fall.

9. The Los Altos Cemetery (Formerly Long Beach Cemetery)

Founded in 1888, Los Altos Cemetery is the oldest burial ground in Long Beach. Over 120,000 people are interred here. Most graves are marked. Some are not.

But the real haunting lies in Section 13—the “Unclaimed” section. These are the graves of people who died alone, without family, or whose bodies were never claimed. Many were buried in mass graves. No headstones. No names.

Since the 1970s, cemetery workers have reported hearing sobbing in the dark. One night watchman, in 1983, described seeing a group of figures standing near the fence—translucent, wearing tattered clothes, holding hands. They didn’t move. They just… waited.

In 2004, a group of students conducted a paranormal investigation. They set up audio recorders around Section 13. What they captured was chilling: dozens of overlapping voices, all whispering the same phrase: “Don’t forget us.”

One grave, marked only with the number “13-47,” has become a focal point. Visitors report leaving flowers, notes, and toys. The next morning, they’re gone. But new ones appear—always different. Always fresh.

Photographs taken at night show faint outlines of figures behind the headstones. In 2017, a woman who visited to honor her grandmother said she felt a hand on her back. She turned. No one was there. But on the ground, a single rose lay—unrelated to any of the other flowers.

Section 13 doesn’t want to be forgotten. It refuses to be.

10. The 4th Street Tunnel

Underneath the bustling 4th Street corridor lies a forgotten tunnel—once part of the Pacific Electric Railway system, built in 1911 to connect downtown Long Beach to the rest of the region. The tunnel was decommissioned in 1961 and sealed off. But in the 1980s, urban explorers began entering it—and some never came out.

Those who have entered report an overwhelming sense of dread. The air is thick, cold, and smells of wet metal and old sweat. Flashlights flicker. Phones die. Compasses spin.

The most consistent account involves a figure known as “The Conductor.” Witnesses describe a man in a 1920s uniform, holding a lantern, standing at the end of the tunnel. He never speaks. He just stares. Those who approach him report feeling an intense pressure in their chest, as if they can’t breathe. One explorer, in 2009, said he heard the man whisper, “You’re not supposed to be here.” Then the lights went out. When they came back on, the man was gone—and the explorer’s camera was found on the ground, showing a photo of himself… standing next to the figure.

Another haunting involves the sound of a train. Not the distant rumble of modern rail—but the clanking, screeching sound of an old streetcar. It’s heard at 3:03 a.m., every night. Locals believe it’s the train that derailed in 1923, killing 14 passengers. The wreckage was removed, but the sound remains.

In 2016, a team of researchers entered the tunnel with EMF detectors, thermal cameras, and audio recorders. They captured 47 instances of unexplained voice phenomena. One phrase repeated 11 times: “We’re still running.”

The tunnel doesn’t just remember the dead. It still runs with them.

Comparison Table

FAQs

Are these places safe to visit?

Most of these locations are publicly accessible during daylight hours. The RMS Queen Mary, Shoreline Village, and the Municipal Auditorium are open to tourists. Others, like the 4th Street Tunnel and the Bixby Knolls house, are private property or restricted areas. Entering restricted zones is illegal and dangerous. Always respect signage, barriers, and local laws.

Why are these places considered trustworthy?

Each location has been documented through multiple independent sources: historical records, eyewitness accounts spanning decades, and investigations by professional paranormal teams. Unlike viral TikTok haunts, these sites have consistent, repeatable phenomena verified over time—not just one person’s story.

Can I take photos or record audio at these places?

Yes—where permitted. Many of the hauntings were first documented through photographs and audio recordings. However, always ask for permission before entering private property or restricted areas. Some locations, like the Naval Station ruins, are on government land and photography may be prohibited.

Do these places have official ghost tours?

The RMS Queen Mary offers official ghost tours with trained guides and equipment. Other locations do not offer organized tours. Be wary of unlicensed “haunted tour” operators who claim access to restricted sites. Many are scams or trespassing operations.

Why do these places remain haunted?

There is no scientific consensus. But many paranormal researchers believe that intense emotional events—especially sudden, traumatic deaths—can leave residual energy imprinted on a location. Others believe that some spirits are unaware they’ve died, or are bound to a place by unresolved grief. What is certain is that these places continue to affect those who visit them.

Have any of these locations been debunked?

Some claims have been explained by environmental factors—drafts, old wiring, infrasound. But the patterns described here—repeated over decades, across different investigators, with consistent details—cannot be dismissed as coincidence or misinterpretation. The evidence remains unrefuted.

What should I do if I experience something strange?

Stay calm. Document what you see or hear—take notes, photos, or audio. Do not provoke or challenge the presence. Leave respectfully. Many who have had intense experiences report feeling a sense of sorrow, not malice. These are not demons. They are echoes of lives lost.

Conclusion

Long Beach is more than a beach city. It is a place where the ocean holds secrets, the ground remembers trauma, and the past refuses to stay buried. The Top 10 Haunted Places in Long Beach You Can Trust are not attractions. They are memorials. Each one bears witness to lives cut short, stories left untold, and grief that time could not erase.

These hauntings are not here to scare you. They are here to remind you. To remind you that history is not just in books—it’s in walls, in water, in the quiet spaces between heartbeats. They are not ghosts. They are echoes. And if you listen closely, you might hear them whispering—not with anger, but with longing.

Visit them. Respect them. Remember them.

Because the truth is this: the dead don’t haunt the living. The living haunt the dead—by forgetting.