Restless Spirit: A Ghost Story
by Terry Blair

Here it was, another late night at work. It was after 10:00 p.m. and I was the only one in the building, but the work had to be done...

It wasn't the first time I'd heard the footsteps on the stairs coming up from the basement, or emanating from the stairwell overhead. From my office at the front of the building, I'd sometimes hear footsteps in the receptionist's area. I'd hear toilets flushing throughout the evening, faucets turning on and off, and the running water. You see, Burr was simply trying to tell me it was time for me to go home. He liked to roam around the house late at night and play with the lights and water. After all, it was still his house, or so he thought!

Did I mention that Burr had died years some years previously, and that the six-acre estate north of Evansville, Indiana that houses the national headquarters of the music organization that employed me was once Burr's home? In fact my office was situated in the very room where he had died.

It was an interesting period in my life tempered by the fact that Burr had a sense of humor. For example, each night I'd leave my office and push the chair under my desk. Each morning I'd come into the office and my chair would be turned around as if the sitter had been looking out the window. If I worked too long in the evenings or on weekends, Burr would make his presence known with some noise, or play with the water. It was his way of letting me know that he required some privacy and respect.

Burr also liked to play games with the lights. Many times I'd turn off the lights in my office and walk to my car in the back parking lot; then I'd glance up and the lights would be on. I'd go back in, turn off the lights, walk to my car; then I'd look back and…the lights would be on again! I'd go back in and turn off the lights again, and before I could reach my car, the office lights would be on again! Usually, after the third trip in, I'd simply leave the lights on and go home. Burr must have taken solace in my frustration because the next morning when I'd arrive, the lights would always be off.

Well, back to my original story about it being after 10 p.m. and working another late night... I happened to be on the phone when suddenly a huge crash came from the closet in my office. The closet was filled with old files and I guessed that the accumulating weight must have finally caused the shelves to collapse; I dreaded seeing the mess piled in the bottom of the closet.

I quickly placed my caller on hold and stepped over to check out the closet. As I grabbed the doorknob, I noticed light coming from under the door. That was odd because I never actively used this closet, nor did anyone else. I opened the door to survey the damage but surprisingly- everything was in perfect order. No broken shelves, nothing on the floor, not one thing out of place; absolutely nothing had happened! Only the light was on and as I mentioned, Burr liked to play with lights.

I turned off the closet light and resumed my phone call, a little unsettled because Burr had never done anything like that before. I decided I would quickly finish up for the night and head home, but apparently that wasn't good enough for Burr.

Before I could finish my phone call, something happened that I have never been able to explain. I can rationalize many of the odd things that I observed in this house with the usual explanations like- in an old house with original wiring and plumbing, seemingly strange things can happen with lights and water. The "footsteps" might just be old floorboards and walls popping and creaking with expansion and contraction from temperature and humidity changes, etc. & etc. The crash in the closet…I'm not sure how to explain that. But, the one thing I have definitely never been able to explain was about to happen...

I was leaning back in my chair, still on the phone, when immediately in front of me a piece of paper slowly rose vertically from my desk to a height of about twelve inches, all the while remaining perfectly level to the desktop! The paper then slowly turned over and gently lowered itself back onto the desk- still remaining perfectly level and fitting perfectly into the file from which it had come. Now I was spooked!

Nothing remotely like this had ever happened before, nor to my knowledge has it happened since! I decided I had worked enough for that day. I abruptly ended my phone call, closed the files, turned off the lights, and left the office. Never mind that the lights were on again as I went out the drive!

The next day, life was back to normal; i.e., the lights were off when I arrived and my desk chair was turned around looking out the window. I've never been able to explain the "crash" in the closet nor the levitating paper. I just chalk it up to the fact that it's still Burr's house; he likes his privacy, and he was telling me he had seen enough of me for one night!

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Terry Blair is a past Director of Chapter Operations (1984-85) for Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia Fraternity for men in music, and later served as the organization's National President (1997-2000). He is also active in the National Federation of Music Clubs where he currently assists with the Young Artists program. In his "day job" as a financial advisor, he provides financial planning, investment and insurance services.

Editor's Note:

Terry Blair's wife Starla was my wife's first viola teacher. I first met the couple seven years ago at the Intermountain Suzuki Institute in Snowmass, Colorado where my then 18-month-old son was a student in the first "Pre-Pre-Twinkle" classes offered at the Institute. It was in a condominium apartment my family and I occupied with the Blairs that Terry shared his personal testimony with me, including the "Restless Spirit" story; I can tell you- he is one of the most solidly "grounded" individuals I have ever met. I would say he is a credible witness and that the events he describes in his story are true.

From the moment I heard the story I wanted to publish it in Guitar Sessions, but the "Tales from the Road" column didn't yet exist. Then too, the Blairs changed residences a couple of times and I fell out of touch with them. To shorten the story, the appropriate column and my memory of the tale finally coincided.

In September 2006 while searching for current contact data for Terry Blair, I remembered the name of his former employer in Indiana. I looked them up on the Internet, made a cold call and succeeded in speaking with the current executive secretary of the organization.

When asked the purpose of my query I said, "I edit a monthly webzine for Mel Bay Publications and would love to feature Terry's story about the ghost that haunts your office building in the October issue."

"Oh, that would be Burr," the secretary said excitedly.

"I had forgotten his name," I said. "Have you ever experienced Burr's presence?"

"No, but I would like to!" she answered.

Whether or not you choose to believe Terry's "Restless Spirit" tale, it's still a good dormitory, campfire or condo story.

Happy Halloween!
Stephen Rekas
Guitar Sessions Editor