King's Arms Tavern

A reconstructed 18th-century tavern on the site of the original, which was one of Williamsburg's most genteel establishments. Frequented by George Washington and Thomas Jefferson.

On February 6, 1772, an enterprising businesswoman named Jane Vobe opened a tavern on East Duke of Gloucester Street, advertising her new establishment as "opposite to Raleigh, at the Sign of The King's Arms" in the Virginia Gazette. The tavern quickly earned a reputation as one of Colonial Williamsburg's most refined dining establishments, attracting Virginia's gentry including George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Patrick Henry, and Colonel William Byrd. Washington often "supped" at Mrs. Vobe's whenever attending the General Assembly and held membership in a private "Club" there. During the Revolutionary War, the tavern served as a gathering place for military officers including Major General Baron von Steuben, and secret meetings about independence reportedly took place within its walls.

The original building was constructed in three stages, with the earliest east section featuring a massive vaulted cellar. Jane Vobe ran the establishment until Virginia's capital moved to Richmond in 1780, causing her to lose business. She relocated to Chesterfield County and died on December 8, 1786. The current structure is a reconstruction that opened March 1, 1951, built by the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation based on archaeological excavation of the original foundations.

The tavern's most famous ghost is a woman known only as "Irma." According to one account, Irma was among the first live-in managers during the 1700s, killed when a devastating fire—sparked by a dropped candle—ravaged the building. An alternative version places her in the 1950s as a Colonial Williamsburg employee who suffered a fatal heart attack in her upstairs room. Workers reportedly discovered her body after not seeing her for days, peering through her keyhole to find her deceased. Whatever her origins, Irma's spirit remains active.

Irma is most notorious for her habit of extinguishing candles throughout the tavern. Whenever flames mysteriously snuff out, staff immediately attribute it to Irma's protective presence—perhaps reliving her traumatic death by fire. In a more unsettling phenomenon, servers have reported blowing out candles at closing time, only to find the entire room lit up again moments later. When they rush upstairs to investigate, the candles are inexplicably snuffed out once more. Former Assistant Manager Jeffrey Pilley experienced random intense chills on various nights; once, when the chills became unbearable, he shouted "Irma leave me alone!" and they ceased immediately. Pilley also discovered windows mysteriously closed and locked that he had come to secure, with no one else present who could have done it.

Staff members have developed rituals to appease the spirits. "A lot of the servers and staff say that you have to really greet the ghost and acknowledge them. If you don't, they will cause a little bit of mischief," explained one employee. Workers now bid Irma goodnight every evening before closing, acknowledging her presence to remain in her good favor.

Another spirit haunting the King's Arms is Gowan Pamphlet, one of America's first ordained Black ministers. Pamphlet was enslaved by Jane Vobe and worked at the tavern, where his exposure to "newspapers, almanacs, and broadsides" likely enhanced his literacy. Beginning in the late 1770s, he conducted clandestine worship meetings that evolved into the First Baptist Church of Williamsburg, officially recognized in 1793—the oldest Baptist church founded by Black Americans. His congregation grew from 200 members to 500 by the time of his death in 1807. Pamphlet gained his freedom in 1793 when Jane Vobe's son David Miller executed a deed of manumission.

Guests and staff have heard softly sung spirituals echoing through empty rooms, attributed to Pamphlet's lingering presence. Several witnesses report encountering "a flamboyant Black man with a reassuring smile" whose appearance induces feelings of calm rather than fear. His benevolent spirit seems to continue the pastoral ministry he pursued in life.

According to legend, in 1778, two young gentlemen fought a duel over a woman who dined at the King's Arms. The loser died in the tavern's parlor, his blood staining the floorboards—stains that allegedly refuse to stay clean despite repeated scrubbing. His spirit reportedly appears at sunset, the time of his death, wearing bloodstained colonial attire, clutching his chest and calling out for someone named Catherine, forever waiting for a love who never returned.

The ghost of Jane Vobe herself may also linger. The proprietress has been spotted in period dress, checking table settings and supervising invisible staff. Diners report feeling scrutinized, place settings mysteriously correcting themselves, and hearing a woman's voice declaring "That's not proper." She becomes particularly active when modern service falls below her exacting colonial standards.

Paranormal encounters continue to multiply. A hostess observed a woman in period attire standing behind her in the restroom mirror; when she turned, the space was empty. Another hostess and pantry worker witnessed a colonial-dressed woman pass through a doorway before vanishing instantly. A third hostess felt a gentle shove at the top of a stairway that sent her skidding down—though she emerged unharmed. Visitors have reported bathroom door locks mysteriously unlatching on their own, and one employee's coworker returned from closing duties to find their flat tire had been completely changed during the 25 minutes they were inside—with no human explanation.

Today, servers in 18th-century attire and strolling musicians create an atmosphere where the line between past and present blurs. Whether the spirits are Irma watching over her candles, Gowan Pamphlet continuing his ministry in song, Jane Vobe maintaining her standards, or the unnamed duelist awaiting his lost love, the King's Arms Tavern remains one of Colonial Williamsburg's most haunted establishments—a place where the genteel ghosts of Virginia's colonial past dine alongside the living.