Perched on the banks of the Alabama River and basking in the glow of downtown lights, Montgomery’s Riverwalk Stadium is one of the Southern League’s crown jewels. Home to the Montgomery Biscuits, and home to the Sun Belt Conference Baseball Tournament every year, its playful name and family-friendly charm hide a much deeper, darker past. Long before fans lined up for biscuits sold from the concourse, the land beneath Riverwalk Stadium bore witness to one of the Civil War’s most haunting chapters — a prison camp shrouded in suffering, loss, and lingering spirits.
Opened in 2004, Riverwalk Stadium cleverly incorporates Montgomery’s historic train shed — a 19th-century structure that once served as a bustling hub during the turn of the century. This preserved relic of steel and brick now frames the first base line, offering shade and nostalgia. But few who enjoy a nice summer evening at the ballpark realize the land it sits on is the site of a former Civil War prisoner of war camp. During the war, this site was occupied by a cotton warehouse. After the Battle of Shiloh in April of 1862, Union prisoners were housed in the warehouse in reportedly deplorable conditions until they were moved to Tuscaloosa in December of that year. More than 200 prisoners died while in captivity at this site.
During the Civil War, Montgomery became a strategic supply point and a Confederate stronghold. Union prisoners were held in makeshift stockades along the riverfront, surrounded by guard towers and barbed hope. Disease, malnutrition, and despair haunted the camp. Hundreds died on the very soil where foul balls now bounce, and biscuits are sold.
Their names were seldom recorded. Their bodies, in many cases, never relocated. And so, the river carries their memories — and perhaps something more.
Local legends have long suggested that the old train shed itself may be a conduit for the supernatural. Stadium staff and night security guards have reported hearing whispers echo through the steel rafters after midnight, voices that vanish into the breeze from the river. According to some ushers people are heard walking on the concourse late at night. Chains dragging and footsteps but there is never anyone there.
Others claim to have seen shadowy figures in Civil War attire standing silently by the dugout, only to disappear when approached. Even some players have quietly shared tales of strange cold spots in the clubhouse or seeing mist drift through the tunnel connecting the clubhouse to the field.
One of the eeriest areas is said to be beneath the stadium — the service tunnels and equipment storage areas near the old foundations of the prison walls. Grounds crew have reported doors slamming on their own, tools disappearing and reappearing in different locations, and a peculiar smell of gunpowder and rot when no one is around.
Long before construction of the stadium. Some historians believe unmarked graves of Union soldiers still lie somewhere under the stadium.
Perhaps the most chilling story involves a season ticket holder who attended every home game for over a decade until passing away in 2015. Multiple fans seated in her old section — Section 103 — have claimed to feel a gentle tap on their shoulder or a chill during close games, especially during walk-off moments. Some swear they’ve seen a woman in a 1940s hat appear briefly in the crowd before vanishing into the aisle.
While skeptics chalk it all up to urban legend and the power of suggestion, the truth remains: Riverwalk Stadium is more than just a charming ballpark. It’s a monument to the layers of history buried in Montgomery’s soil — from the horror of wartime captivity to the joy of summer baseball.
The next time a fly ball sails toward the Alabama River, listen closely. You might hear more than the cheer of the crowd — you might hear the past, whispering just beyond the outfield wall.
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