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The Friendly Lady Ghost
By Brad Steiger
FATE :: November 2006
In the 1960s, Sandra and Russell Moore built a very successful photography business in Mississippi, traveling to such outlets as Sears and K-Mart and offering low-priced photographs to their customers.
“The stores loved us, because their sales soared when people explored the merchandise and made purchases while waiting to have their pictures taken,” Sandra told me. “Then, a couple of weeks later when the customers returned to look at their proofs and order their pictures, store sales rose again.”
The Moores’ traveling photography business soon expanded and prospered until it included 23 photographers, a staff of sales personnel, and their own photo finishing plant.
Then, in 1963, the Moores decided to open a studio, a splendid “House of Photography” in a stately old Vicksburg Colonial mansion that they would remodel and modernize. That was when they made the acquaintance of Lucy Fritch, a very friendly ghost.
Sandra said that the three-story house was very much in need of repair: The mansion required wiring for electricity in each of its 14 very large rooms. The wallboards were very rough and very wide—12-inch boards—and covered with plaster, clay, and old 1800s newspapers. Most of the rooms had been wallpapered with a velveteen finish. The attic had windows, but had never really been finished as a third floor. The mansion had a basement that was as large as the main structure, but it had never been finished.
The Moores determined that the six large rooms on the first floor would be their photography studio, show room, display room, and card shop. They knew that they had their work cut out for them, for in each room the ceilings were 14 feet high with large ceiling decorations and elaborate chandeliers. The hardwood floors had been installed with wooden pegs, rather than nails, and each room had a floor-to-ceiling fireplace. There was also an abundance of windows in the rooms, each elaborate portal extending from about two feet off the floor to the ceiling.
A winding staircase led to the second floor, which was laid out in much the same pattern as the lower floor with the exception of a long hallway that led to a balcony with elaborate rails and banisters. This floor with its five bedrooms would be their living area, and they built new bathrooms and a kitchen to accommodate a comfortable lifestyle.
Sandra and Russell worked on their remodeling project for nearly two years, converting the old 1800s mansion to modern living while, at the same time respecting the style of the era in which it had been constructed. Sandra recalled that they had noticed “strange things” happening around them while they were in the process of remodeling the mansion, but they were just too busy to pay them serious attention.
A steady series of haunting phenomena seemed to begin in earnest on the night when J.R., one of the Moores’ traveling photographers from Georgia, was staying over in a second-floor bedroom that had been especially reserved for visiting employees.
“J.R. had retired for the evening when suddenly the door to his room flew open,” Sandra said. “He got up, checked the hallway, found nothing, closed the door, and went back to bed. Then the door flew open again.”
After the door had opened of its own volition the third time, the photographer came to the family room and told the Moores of the strange happenings.
“When we went to the room to investigate,” Sandra said, “we immediately smelled gas fumes. J.R. had lowered the jet too far and it was leaking fumes. We put him in another room, and all was well. Though at that time we couldn’t figure out why the door had kept opening and closing.”
About a week later, around nine o’clock in the evening, while Sandra and Russell and an overnight guest were watching television in the second-floor family room, they heard a baby crying.
Sandra yelled, “Oh, my god! Someone must have accidentally left a baby in the studio!”
The Moores and their guest rushed downstairs and searched all the first floor rooms. They found no baby. Nor anything that could have made such a plaintive, haunting sound ...
Read the rest of this article in the November 2006 issue of FATE
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