215 S Prospect Street
(#56 West Side Tour)
Written February 2020
By current owners of the Fiddick House
People often ask us if the John Fiddick House is haunted, and I would have to say no. There are no ongoing strange occurrences or bumps in the night. There were two incidents though, that reinforced our belief that our spirits are most likely to visit people and places that they loved in life.
When we first moved into our house, it hadn’t been lived in for more than 20 years. It had no heat all that time so the house took almost 2 years to dry out, it smelled damp and musty. We had been living in it for about six months, it was March and gloomy and cold. I spotted bare root rose bushes at Walmart, and I impulsively bought some, even though the ground was still frozen. They were really just green stems with a root ball and no sign of leaves yet. I put them in cold storage to wait for spring.
An old photo shows that Mrs. Fiddick was certainly into her gardens. The property had been filled with boxwood hedges, trumpet vines, garden beds and a birdcage style metal gazebo that stood on the lawn in front of the north parlor, likely sporting climbing roses. Being a gardener myself, I was looking forward to putting her gardens back. I suspect Mrs. Fiddick was also looking forward to that, because that afternoon, for two hours, in a house that had only smelled of decay, the north parlor smelled so strongly of roses that I went looking for what could be causing it. I never found anything that explained it, and the fragrance was nowhere else in the house.
Mr. Fiddick was a very social guy. He had added the third floor in 1883 for dancing and larger gatherings, so the Fiddicks entertained guests from time to time. After two years in the house, we finally hosted our first real party. It was New Year’s Eve and guests were about to arrive, so I did a final check of the bar that was set up in one of the parlors. As I was walking back down the hall past the stairway and towards the kitchen, out of the corner of my eye I saw a man standing on the stairs looking towards the front door. he was dressed in a white Victorian style shirt with a high collar and looser sleeves, and dark vest and trousers. He had light hair and mutton chop facial hair. We have a photo of John Fiddick and I’m pretty sure it was him. As I focused on him, he faded from view. I didn’t feel frightened though, I assumed he was letting us know he was happy his house was coming back to life.
As we continue to work on the grand home that the Fiddicks built, those two incidents encourage us. It never hurts to have people rooting for us on the other side, and we won’t be bothered if it happens again.
