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This is the second part of a two-part episode. The first part dealt with the history of the Limp family.

This part will address the myths and legends attached to the mansion, and the haunting

encounters reported therein. The Oh, The boarding house days of the mansion in the mid 20th century saw it dwindle both physically and commercially

Rooms that once saw lavish dinners parties for the upper crust of society, and priceless works of art and

knickknacks now played host to vagrants, outcasts, and the destitute.

The neighborhood, not 50 years ago a posh and affluent area with mansions and parks, was quickly

becoming the sort of gritty tattered-amillion area you wouldn't want to find yourself in

after the sun went down or came up.

It didn't take long for rumors of some odd goings on around the old limp mansion to start seeping

into local lore.

For some, the boarding house was the only decent option for housing they had, but unexplained

knocks, bangs, footsteps, and shadows left them choosing something worse rather

than living in the big rundown mansion of death.

Some residents, whether by choice, necessity or innocence, simply lived with the weirdness.

Such was the case of a resident in the late 50s in a story told to Rebecca Pittman in her book The History and Haunting of Limp Mansion.

A lady had written to relay a tale told by her uncle who had lived there for a time.

He said a resident who was called Mental Mary used to keep little notebooks in which she

would write the activities of everyone she saw, including her own, down to the smallest

detail and time of day.

Whether she shared the notes or he saw them somehow, he didn't say, but he described some entries about a woman named

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