Monday Mysteries: The Thurber House Hostage

By: Regina Fox

The year is 1868 and the Ohio Lunatic Asylum, located just north of East Broad Street, has just burned to the ground, killing around half a dozen people. In its place, the building that will come to be known as Thurber House is built, obtaining the address of 77 Jefferson Avenue.

Fast forward a few dozen years to 1913 when James Thurber and his family move in. Thurber attends the Ohio State University and will go on to become a famous humorist and cartoonist, creating works such as The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and “The Night the Ghost Got In.” The latter is a short story inspired by a paranormal experience Thurber claimed to have had in his own home.

Below is a fictional representation of what Thurber experienced that fateful night, and of the research he subsequently conducted.

“Do you hear that, Will?” James asked his brother. “I think I hear footsteps in the dining room.”

Will shrugged off James’ comment with a grunt.

“Hearing things again, James?”

Ever the intellectual, James maintained a healthy skepticism when it came to the strange creaks and groans of his house, but his curiosity was insatiable. He walked to the doorway at the top of the steps and craned his neck.

Were those feet on the stairs?

Clap, clap, clap

James’ breathing went shallow as he felt the phantom steps close in on him. He slammed the door before the presence reached the top.

To James, this was an unnerving and extraordinary experience. To Harold, this was just another anniversary of his death.

Thirty-two years before the Thurbers moved in, Harold Shaub walked through the front door of 77 Jefferson Avenue to find his wife, Rose, with another man. He couldn’t bear to look at her—not like this.

Harold put his palms on his temples and looked down at himself. He could hardly see his toes over his pudgy belly. His clothes were unkempt and he could smell his stinking breath caught in his facial hair.

Harold knew what he had to do.

He raced upstairs and with one pull of the trigger, was gone from this realm, joining the restless, roaming spirits of the Ohio Lunatic Asylum.

Henceforth, Harold spent each anniversary of his death retracing his last few steps, trying to find his final solution to leave the Thurber House.

Clap, clap, clap go his ghostly shoes up the stairs.

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