The Ghost

It was dusk dark when the two young boys, playing on the back porch of a dilapidated farmhouse in eastern North Carolina, saw the tall woman with what looked like a long veil – and a pistol in her hand. She walked out of the old house, across the porch, and into a laundry room.

Wayne Lewis
Wayne Lewis

It scared the bejesus out of me,” said Wayne Lewis, whose family lived in the house. “I had no idea who this was. There were always rumors of the house being haunted. It was nothing for our neighbors to say, ‘Who was that walking around upstairs last night with a lantern? ‘”

And we’d say, ‘Nobody.’”

The Cobb-Dail house was located between Farmville and Greenville, right outside Bell Arthur. Decades earlier, during World War I, it had been a mansion, surrounded by a beautiful farm with a windmill and silos. By 1957, however, when the woman with the pistol suddenly appeared, the two-story house was on its last leg – the gas lights and the plumbing has been ripped out and the Lewis family, who were tenant farmers, had to use a privy and got their water from a well, and without saying,  is the same for your home !

One night a friend of mine came over, Lester Earl Tyson, and his mom and dad and my mom and dad were the only ones in the house,” Lewis told me. “They were in the living room talking, like folks did in those days. And me and Lester Earl were out playing on the back porch and in the yard.”

Lewis said he was about 10-years old. Lester Earl, who was slightly younger, lived down the road.

Dad had a ladder leaning up against the house, I went up the ladder but I could see Lester Earl,” Lewis said. Both of them saw the woman with the pistol. “We saw this figure come out of the house. You could tell it was a woman. You could tell that she had a gun in her hand, and she just walked across the porch.”

What looked to Lewis like a veil hung to the floor.

She must have walked three feet from Lester Earl. She was probably eight or nine feet from me. There was a body…dressed in like, a gown, and she walked across the porch, turned, and went into the laundry room. We called it the butler’s pantry but it was really a laundry room.”

Lewis told his parents what they had seen and he was told that a woman had killed herself in that house. Over the next 40, 45 years Lewis told and retold that story at least 100 times, he said. And then he began to doubt himself.

I began to think, ‘Did I really see this?,’” he said, or did he imagine it?

And then, in early 2004, he got a call from his brother, Joe.

Miss Alice
Miss Alice

He said, ‘Wayne, I got somebody I need you to meet.’ I said, ‘Who is it, Joe?’ He said, ‘Well, she’s coming to the family reunion, she’s the sister of the girl who killed herself in the Cobb-Dale house.’”

Wayne Lewis said he told his brother, “Don’t tell her anything, don’t tell her any part of the story.”

Three weeks later Lewis met his brother’s guest, 94-year-old Alice Mozingo Coker, at his family reunion at a church outside Bell Arthur.   They talked at the church and, later, at Bonnie’s Cafe in Farmville.

Lewis said the woman, he called her “Miss Alice,” told him that during World War I her sister, Claira, who was 18, had a boyfriend named Mitchell White who had joined the service.  She loved him and and they wrote back and forth.  She was so afraid he would be killed, but it was Claira who caught typhoid fever and never really got over it.

Claira
Claira Mozingo

One afternoon, as Miss Alice was walking home from school, she said she heard the bell at the farm house ringing an alarm, and she began to run. She said she found her sister laying in the yard. Claira had shot herself. Miss Alice thought the typhoid fever had something to do her sister’s suicide, that and the fact that Claira never got over the fear that Mitchell would be killed. And she couldn’t live without him.

Her last letter to her love, 14 pages, was never mailed, Miss Alice said.

Lewis told me, “I asked Miss Alice, I said, ‘Here’s an important question for you: Where did she shoot herself in that house?’ If she had said she shot herself on the second floor, in the back room, then I would have said, ‘Ummm, maybe I, maybe I have created this thing.’ But she said Claira came out of the house with a pistol, went into the laundry room, shot herself in the laundry room, staggered out, and fell in the yard.”

Lewis said that reaffirmed what he and Lester Earl saw on the back porch in 1957.

I told Miss Alice, I said, ‘She had a veil on that hung to the ground.’” He said Miss Alice told him, “’Oh, no, that was her hair. When she had her hair down her hair would almost hit the floor.’” The photo Miss Alice gave Lewis shows Claira with her hair pinned on top of her head, he said.

There’s no doubt that I saw Claira that night, walking across the porch, carrying a gun,” Lewis said. “No doubt.”

Now here’s my question: Why would a perfectly sane looking man, who worked 42 years for the phone company, go around telling a ghost story?

His answer:

Number one is, it happened, it is real,” Lewis said.

But more than that, he said, he tells the ghost story for people who don’t believe in God, who don’t believe in heaven, or hell, or life after death.

There is something after this life,” he said. “There is another dimension somewhere.”

Postscript: Mitchell White survived the war, and married.

Coming Friday: Billy Goat Gruff

 

He Remembered Hundreds; I Forgot One

Welcome, Donna and Pat

My wife, Donna, and I went on our first cruise, to the Caribbean, on MS Maasdam, a Holland America ship rated to carry 1,258 passengers.

MS Maasdam
MS Maasdam

On the first night, when we went to the La Fontaine dining room to have supper, we were warmly greeted at the entrance by a member of the crew who told us his name and asked us our names.

The next night when we went to dinner – and every night for the rest of the week-long cruise — he greeted us and hundreds of other passengers, by name.

What was his name?

I don’t know. He told me his name but  it went in one ear and out the other.

*  *  *

Do Not Leave Your Luggage Unattended

When we went on a cruise to Alaska, leaving from and returning to Vancouver,   British Columbia, Canada, we encountered a problem.

The round trip plane tickets to Vancouver from Raleigh were expensive and, for about the same money, we could take the scenic route, literally. We could buy round-trip plane tickets to Seattle, spend the night there, take a train up the coast to Vancouver and spend the night there before boarding the ship. So that’s what we did.

On this nine-day holiday we took five suitcases, the heaviest of which weighed almost 50 pounds.

Why?

Truth be told, five suitcases was mostly my wife’s doing.  Donna knew some days would be hot and some days would be cold and she planned on dressing comfortably either way.

Herding five suitcases through a busy, big city airport you’ve never laid eyes on before is not all that easy.  So after we claimed our luggage we piled it up in the middle of an enormous concourse and Donna stood guard while I went looking for ground transportation. A few minutes later we were  in a cab headed for our hotel.  I did not discover my problem until we arrived, got out, and collected our  four suitcases.

No, wait!  Didn’t we have five suitcases?

Oh, yes, we did.  But not now, now we had four.  I had left one suitcase at the airport.  I asked the cab driver to wait while I carried the four bags inside and then I asked him to take me back to the airport — and step on it, please.

When I arrived I rushed back to the last place I remembered seeing the missing suitcase.  And there it was, right where I had left it an hour or so earlier, sitting unattended in the middle of that busy concourse.

Coming Friday: Unforgettable Quotes