“Maybe thirteen was never unlucky for Federal Hill. The house had enough trouble without it.“

Federal Hill is one of the most recognizable historic homes in Kentucky. The large brick mansion in Bardstown is better known today as My Old Kentucky Home, a place associated with Stephen Foster, Kentucky history, and the song that became the state’s official song. But there’s another side. One filled with slavery, disease, sudden deaths, fire, and stories of people who may have never fully left. Even the mansion itself has an odd detail: it was built around the number thirteen. Thirteen original rooms, thirteen windows across the front, thirteen steps between floors, thirteen-inch thick exterior walls, and ceilings about thirteen and a half feet high. It was meant as a tribute to the thirteen original colonies, not a warning. Still, given everything that happened later, the repetition feels unsettling before you even step inside.

Construction began in the late 1700s on Rowan family land. The mansion was completed around 1818. John Rowan became a prominent attorney, judge, politician, and eventually a U.S. senator. But the beautiful home was also the center of a plantation where enslaved men, women, and children lived and worked. Records show more than fifty people were enslaved by Rowan in his lifetime, with dozens living there at certain times. One of the darkest chapters wasn’t war or violence, but disease.

In 1833 cholera reached the plantation. It killed quickly, eight Rowans, and eight enslaved people died within a short span. For a home once filled with movement and life, the sudden emptiness must have been overwhelming. Survivors had little time to mourn before the next sickness struck. That period is tied to many of the stories. that came later: footsteps overhead, shadows moving through rooms. Figures seen and gone in an instant.

Tragedies continued. In 1841 lightning struck, burning the third floor. The house survived, but was damaged. Then in 1855 John Rowan Jr. fell from an upstairs window. He broke his neck and died. With so many deaths, it’s not hard to understand why stories grew of people still moving through the house.

Visitors and staff have described unexplained footsteps upstairs, shadows in empty rooms, the sense of a presence when no one is there. Apparitions in period clothing have reportedly been glimpsed, doors behave oddly, Sounds come from distant rooms. Old houses creak and carry sound, sure. But when you know how many people died there, Every footstep feels different.

The grounds have their own tale. John Rowan died in 1843 and was buried in the family cemetery. He asked not to have a monument, believing that since his parents’ graves were unmarked, his should be too. The family placed one there anyway, and a story developed that the stone wouldn’t stay upright, falling from its base as if still objecting.

The Stephen Foster connection added yet another layer. For generations, visitors were told he visited Federal Hill and was inspired to write My Old Kentucky Home, Good-Night. Historians have since questioned whether he ever set foot there, but the association stuck. That polished image can obscure the deeper, harsher history. This wasn’t just a showplace mansion; it was a plantation.

It was a home where sixteen people died in one outbreak, where fire struck, and a man fell to his death from an upstairs window. Today it’s preserved within My Old Kentucky Home State Park, and its darker history is part of the narrative. The site has hosted Shadows of Federal Hill, an evening tour focused on deaths, tragedies, and ghost stories tied to the house. Thirteen was never meant to be unlucky here. It symbolized the colonies, a proud American idea. But more than two centuries on, it’s hard not to notice. Thirteen rooms, windows, steps, walls, followed by generations of sorrow.

Maybe thirteen was never unlucky for Federal Hill. The house had enough trouble without it.