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Southern house has some spirits

By RONDA RICH
Contributing Writer

Accidentally, I ran across intriguing trivia: There are documented to be around 225 haunted houses in America and almost half of them are in St. Francisville, Louisiana.

“St. Francisville?” I muttered to myself. It was hard to believe. I was there recently, taking a quick tour of the small town that sets about a mile away from the Mississippi River.

It is notable for its lush greenery and quaint houses, of which many are shotgun houses (you can stand in the front door and shoot straight out the back door).

It was the first, though, that I had heard of any hauntings. I was also surprised to learn that the respected Smithsonian keeps a list of the “most haunted” houses and that St. Francisville’s Myrtles Plantation tops the list.

Though I didn’t encounter any in St. Francisville, I do have my own haunted mansion story.

When visiting Charlotte, N.C., I often stay at the Duke Mansion, once the 20,000-square-foot home built by James Duke of American Tobacco, Duke University and Duke Power. He wanted his daughter, Doris, to experience the charm of Southern society so they moved there in 1915. It is now an elaborate bed and breakfast.

The first time I checked in, the manager said, “You will be in the suite that was once Mr. Duke’s room.” She paused. “But I must warn you, Mr. Duke haunts that room. Several of our guests have reported occurrences.”

That’s all I needed to hear. The adventurous side of me was all set for it. All for naught, though. Mr. Duke ignored me during my initial stay in the second floor suite.

The next time I stayed there, I was out dining with a friend when I ran into an old buddy, Stan, who is a former Hollywood stuntman famous for his work in movies like “Smokey and The Bandit,” “The Sting” and others. When Stan learned I was staying at the Duke Mansion, he asked if he could drive me back.

“I’ve always wanted to see that place,” he explained.

So, I gave him the tour including my suite where we plopped down on the swing on the screened-in porch and talked while inhaling the fragrance of the surrounding magnolias.

“This was Mr. Duke’s room,” I explained. “Supposedly, it’s haunted but I’ve never seen anything. I wish I would.”

“Maybe you will.”

Did you know that ghosts can hear?

A couple of hours later, I was awakened by the sound of a chain sliding loudly against the lock on the door. I turned the light on to discover that there wasn’t a lock on the door. I shook it off and settled back down to sleep. Minutes later, I was reawakened by the loud shuffling around of papers on the desk. Again, I turned on the light but there were no papers, just my laptop.

“Okay, I got it,” I said to the empty room. “You can leave me alone now.”

I snuggled back under the down comforter. Within moments, I felt a warm breath blowing against my cheek as if someone was leaning over me. I sat up and, aggravated, shouted out, “Please go away! Now!”

By this time, I was getting edgy but I tried to calm down and go back to sleep. An hour later, around 3 a.m., the CD player came on, although it wasn’t programmed to turn on. That was it. I stayed up for the rest of the night, watching television. My adventurous side had turned to misadventure.

I don’t know how to explain it. All I’ll say is this: If you ever stay in Mr. Duke’s room at the mansion, don’t start a conversation with him.

He likes to stay up all night, talking.