Write-Off: My Vicksburg Experience

​When I recollect, only a few things come to my mind right off about living in Vicksburg. Mine is a story I’d like to share about downtown Washington Street from my childhood and then some as a teen.

I grew up during the late 80’s and 90’s as a teenager. I remember the occupied street and how far it has come and improved over the years. My mind tried to piece together all the activities of my past. I had a full week ahead again with many long-forgotten plans that I was feeling nostalgic about, “the good ole days.” My mother had driven me downtown, and there was a crisp cool breeze in the air. The wind didn’t chill me to the core just yet as winter normally would do. The leaves fell to the ground like lazy rain and twirled up in the air. I could smell someone burning wood from the distance.

The streets were absorbed in usual traffic with someone blasting their late 80’s rap music in a green Cadillac Eldorado with shiny rims and dice hanging from the mirror. My mother said, “Come on dear” as she hurried her walk speed toward my grandmother’s place of employment. My grandmother, Shirley Brogdon, worked at T W L department store which turned into Super Ten, then later back into Sears Headquarters. It’s a vertical concrete-faced structure that is known for being the original Sears building. I’m referring to it as the Sears building since it was called that the longest.

It was a sight to see with Mid-Century architecture that had the establishment date of 1930 centered at the top. The shops were full of department stores during that era. Many other stores like the Michel’s Record Shop and the Biedenharn Coca-Cola Museum were bustling. This very building is where Coca-Cola was first bottled in 1894. There were a variety of businesses lined up along the sidewalk with different heights of unique shapes or rectangles like the organically colonial styles kept.

We walked beneath several French New Orleans-style balconies with hanging signs of all different shapes for each business. That made sense because some of the first settlers to Vicksburg in the old days were from New Orleans, or they were Cajun. The streets were once lined with red bricks and had electric streetcars, running folks around from 1899 through 1939. The streets are paved over with concrete now as if the tracks were never there to begin with. Old oil lanterns that lined the sidewalks had long been gone but replaced with newer gas ones. In the distance, a church bell tower strikes the hour, “singing, chime, tinkle, toll,” on repeat.

Mom was bringing grandmother a very late lunch — almost dinner — that she had forgotten to bring. As we hurried along the downtown historic district we crossed Washington Street and reached the adjacent horizontal sidewalk. Looking up across the street there were four windows on each side with a grand one in the middle nearly covering top to bottom of the Sears building. The lower windows were big and lined the sidewalks with women’s apparel on display.

As we entered the huge doorway Grandmother was otherwise engaged as she had a few customers to checkout. My mother, Lora Lee, knew just what to do as she started towards the back of the Sears, the darker part of the store they didn’t use. That area was only for employees now. This is where the mannequins were. I didn’t like the back steps with the old creepy broken mannequins or discarded ones. I couldn’t stand going back there as I usually stayed on the sales floor. My mind faded out like a dream state to mannequins coming alive and walking down the steps towards me in almost a dance or modeling-type mannerisms.

Mom said, “Come on!” As I tried to snap out of my daydream, I took my first step on the stairs. Once I realized they were just silly mannequins and that I was overthinking them, I played on the first five steps but wouldn’t go any higher. I danced around mimicking the mannequins in my daydream.

Grandmother had already come back and received her late lunch from Mom. My grandmother greeted me and wished me a good day. I hugged her and wished her the same. I remember staring at the old conveyor belt that held clothes and wondering if it still worked. Soon after my last thought Mother said, “Time to go.” I was happy to see my grandmother, but even happier to be leaving the back steps of that store.

As we walked out, the sunset drifted over the Yazoo Canal. The lights on the trees were lit and sparkling already as evening fell into darkness. We got in Mom’s Volkswagen Karmann Ghia and traveled home.

​Fast forward but still looking back to when I was a teenager. I had a busy schedule, even then probably more so than now, or so it seemed. My mind goes straight to Friday nights and football games, though it doesn’t end there. I can still hear the crowds roar and see the lights shining down on the football field and the track full with the team, mascots, photographers, and cheerleaders; the band blasting in the background as we started a cheer.

First, my role on the team was a cheerleader, and had a busy schedule just within that activity. It was fun cheering on one of the best High School teams here in Vicksburg. There are two major public high schools here. The mascots were the Gators, and the Vikings, who were rivals. I was friends with peers from both schools. I’m not picking a favorite though I’m sure one could guess it. Each school deserves recognition for having excellent football teams, thus producing some amazing athletes and different talents in the world from both.

As there’s no competition for the success level of the students in my mind, this is about my personal experience and the only one I know well enough to tell. This being said, I went to Warren Central High School. I recall the after-school hours we’d spent just on cheerleading competition practice alone, painting and making signs during the week for the next big football game.

We worked hard, as everyone involved in the entire program did, but we were pulled in many different ways. I remember those bleachers we ran up during the summers, and we ran on the same track as the track athletes did. There were our football games we cheered at and talked the big game up with enthusiasm. So much grandeur and excitement came with the football season. I had a love for sports and being involved in it so cheerleading seemed to be the option for me. Sporting events were such a huge part of my life back then. Cheering on the football team was my favorite. I also attended soccer games, softball, and basketball, and was on the tennis team as well. I really tried to support my friends in their sporting endeavors. I can still smell the popcorn in the hallways from the basketball games. Not to mention most of the clubs we had in high school such as the Honors Art Club. I’m not going to mention all the clubs, just the one I was involved in heavily that correlates.

That was just a small portion of my teenage life here in Vicksburg. It was an exciting time to be a teen and I tried to make the best of it.  

​I was outgoing and spoke to everyone and most all were friendly back. I was like the oddball cheerleader and didn’t really fit into that group as much as I did with the art students. Being a cheerleader was fun it wasn’t my first passion in life then, I must admit. I was more interested in the Arts as my first passion, whether it was drama classes, music, or writing. I spent as much time and took as many art classes as possible in high school. The art room was like my sanctuary where I could be myself and feel the most comfortable. I felt I could escape the rest of my schedule and just be me, whether I was in ceramics or hanging out in the Honors Art classroom.

From an early age, I could sketch, and write short stories, and it was a fun escape from the norms of traditional learning concepts. I remember there wasn’t much funding for the arts and it was in remission or in danger of a reduction in classes. Even then, I wasn’t going to stand by and watch that happen to our town’s art program when it was something that inspired so many of us to succeed and create. I jumped in with every art teacher I could help for the art department. Whether it was something as simple as helping them paint floats or having fundraisers to sell our artwork; or anything to raise awareness for the arts. My peers and fellow art students weren’t going to let our area of expertise diminish either. Many of us did get involved with a hands-on approach to art shows and events, that in my mind saved our way of life. That, in my opinion, shaped our futures for the better as artists and as individuals, no matter what art field we chose. The solidarity was impressive, and we had so much fun doing it.  

​On the weekends, I worked at The Vicksburg National Military Park, at both bookstores for Eastern National. I ran the registers and did some cleaning, but mostly answered questions for the guests visiting the park. There was usually a park ranger with me willing to answer the park questions and they gave guided tours.

One Friday night, closing at the USS Cairo Museum. I recall something eerie happening. I began to clean after my closing duties and the park ranger was outside locking up the gunship and gates. As I was sweeping the museum, I heard a noise come from below the ramps underneath the artifacts area that I was standing on. It startled me and I froze. I remember wishing for the park ranger to come back inside as they’re the ones that did all the checking of the artifacts. I was just trying to sweep.

So, I put the broom down and started towards the ramp to where the ranger would be coming back through. As I walked briskly down the narrow ramp and made my way back around, the T.V. that plays videos turned itself on again when I passed it. The ranger had already timed it to turn off at a certain time every night.

I heard a noise from below the ramp again. “Not tonight!” I thought to myself as I ran up, and around the ramp. Just as I did the park ranger came inside for his nightly duties. He immediately knew something was wrong because of my facial expression. I explained what happened, and he kind of brushed it off with a laugh saying, “This is a very old building.” I told him I left the broom over there as we weren’t supposed to leave any cleaning supplies on the ramp area. I knew this but I was so scared at this point regardless of what he thought as he didn’t experience the noises directly. I just wanted to go home.

He said, “It’s probably just a mouse or something,” even though I’ve never seen a mouse or rat in the building. I told him about the T.V. that he should go check for me. I said, “I don’t go down in that basement.” I asked if he’d go look or get the broom for me and he did.

“I’ll go check for a ghost, as I’ll get the broom for the witch,” he joked. He went to get the broom and as he bent down to grab it up from the ramp, we heard popping sounds this time. He wasn’t joking this time and I could see the look of concern on his face. It was louder than what I’d heard beforehand. I said, “Do you hear that now?”

It sounded to me like there were heavy boots walking towards us on the ramp with heavy foot stomps. The ramp was creaking and popping. He flashed his flashlight and as soon as he did shine it into the dark Museum, we didn’t hear anything else after that. “It’s time to go,” I said. We calmly gathered our things, briskly locked up, and left for the evening. We also never spoke of the incident ever again. It was a unique Museum to work in, to say the least.

​After work was over at the Military Park and the football team had won, I usually turned to my friends for hanging out, which in a small town back then there wasn’t too much to do but ride around with your friends in vehicles. We’d have our own little meet-up spots all over town like the old Del Champs lot which is now the Corner Market parking lot. My group had Hoben’s shop we’d all meet up in front of, but regrettably, it’s no longer there and has since been torn down. We were so silly then but typical teens. I remember talking and joking around, just enjoying being teenagers, never meaning any harm to anyone, nor bothering anyone as far as I know; just your usual teenage drama, I’m sure.

Long-forgotten issues faded with time to real-life lessons. Though many of us had other interesting plans back then other than taking any of that seriously. Like ghost hunting, we could visit those old antebellum homes or an abandoned house in the middle of a field somewhere, no longer standing buildings demolished now and forgotten. It was exciting to some friends at least in the moment, but it’s not recommended nor encouraged now. They had permission before going on someone’s property and everyone knew that. Most of it was family land now that I recall it. Some of them went on to become paranormal ghost hunters.

There are lots of known historical places one can visit like Duff Green, McRaven, or Cedar Grove mansions that all host ghost tours. You wouldn’t have to try very hard to visit a haunted site here in our town. Vicksburg is filled with these types of places, if that’s something you’re interested in pursuing. We have safe ghost tours that are very interesting. Each mansion has its own unique history. We just didn’t have much to do back then, but somehow school always kept us busy with extracurricular activities. I’m thankful to my high school coaches and teachers for my academic learning experiences.

I’m grateful to the VNMP service for getting me interested in our town’s historical value while working at the bookstores, where I got to meet folks from all over the world. Living in Warren County, or more rural areas we were free. Or at least we felt that way. We didn’t have phones to record every aspect of our lives. We had cell phones, but technology has changed tremendously since I was a teenager. I am grateful for having a teenage life without today’s pressures of social norms.

I’m a lover of technology. My cell phone is used and much needed; don’t get me wrong there. The cheering at football games on Friday nights under those lights were some good memories made. I can just remember all those moments better hanging with friends in our sleepy little town, as we did then without the constant videos or phones.

Vicksburg still does have plenty to offer us, I’m convinced. I enjoy our town because it’s filled with good folks that I love. Whether it’s out of necessity or history, Vicksburg gave me a rich soaking in historical lessons and spooky occurrences. And it is necessary to me because it’s where I call my home. That has been my look back so far on my Vicksburg Experience.

About The Author:

​I’m an artist, Bridgette Lee, who’s never been given the chance to write my story until now. I’m more of a closet writer, but I do write music and poetry.

I graduated from Mississippi College with a Fine Arts degree in Graphic Design. My family and friends are still most important and who I chose to give credit to. I reside in Vicksburg and Warren County where I’m raising my daughter Kylie Jade who’s my whole world. My fiancé Frank Harthcock has two children Bella and Conner who are a major support.

To my whole family, this is dedicated in their honor. Love to my mother Lora Lee and her husband Steve Reed. To Chuck Lee, my Father who still resides in Georgia, “You’re the best Dad!” admiration to both my Grandparents who have been married for over 65 years. They are both in their 80s and inspire me still to this day with their love and compassion for life.

Special thanks to Jamie Smith and Jax, for being a part of my life. To author Alexander Steven Brown thanks for always inspiring me to write and share my experiences. Thanks to Teica Paeth-Alberts and her daughter Olivia Alberts for inspiring me and reminding me to keep writing. Thanks to my beautiful niece Mia Garrard for her input.

A tremendous thanks to my neighbors the Bailey’s for their help also. Ann Brogdon who is the video photographer at WCHS thanks for getting the teenagers involved again and keeping their interests. I must give props to the whole art department for getting us involved on the level they did back then and still do. Art teachers if you’re reading this…”Thank You!”

My whole outlook on my town has been one enriched with art, music, or writing, now because of art teachers like them that made such a difference in my life. I went on to do some exciting things such as being a guest judge for The Lions Club art show. I had submissions of my own to the state fairgrounds art shows. I had art exhibits in Atlanta, Georgia. As I got older, I became an art teacher myself. Wine & Design paint and sip classes were all the rage a few years back.

I’m still teaching my private paint classes. I am the admin of a Facebook group called The Vicksburg Experience. Anyone can find me on my Facebook page Designs by B.

I’m still writing music and I’m a vocalist. Currently, I’m a graphic designer and photographer for a musician. I’m working on a fantasy fiction novel series called The Secrets of Black Mountain.

Thanks to all readers for taking the time to read my article. Mississippi and especially Vicksburg has so much talent in its people. A quick honor to all of our musicians for keeping Vicksburg musical. Last note, I feel blessed to live in the great state of Mississippi the home of, “The Birthplace Of America’s Music.”