"You Do What Now?" Podcast- Episode 1: Carol Frances, Realtor/Exorcist

About: Late 40s, early 50s. Thick Minnesota accent. She has long, curly brown hair that’s turning gray at the temples. She wears a long, flowing black dress and bright, chunky jewelry. She talks with her hands a lot and doesn’t take things too seriously. 

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SCOTTIE: Hello, I’m Scottie Davis, and you’re listening to “You Do What Now?,” a show where we hear from people with jobs you may never have heard of, and might not even believe. Today, I’m speaking with Carol Frances. She’s a realtor down in the wilds of St. Augustine, Florida. She’s been in the biz for 27 years now, selling over 500 homes to hardworking people. But three years ago, she expanded into new territory- exorcism. Carol, welcome to the show.

CAROL: Hi, Scottie, happy to be here.

SCOTTIE: I have to admit, when I was prepping for this episode, I had about a million questions running through my mind. When I was growing up, my mom swore up and down she saw an old guy from like the 70s standing in the middle of the dining room table. But none of us ever believed her because we never saw him. I think a fair number of our listeners probably share a similar story, but you’ve built an entire career off of the exact opposite.

CAROL: That’s correct. I’m what’s known in the industry as a niche seller. I can still sell unafflicted homes with the best of them, but my specialty is clearing out ghosts, or ghoulies, as I like to call them.

SCOTTIE: It sounds like you’re not afraid of them.

CAROL: Oh, no, quite the contrary. I have a healthy respect for those buggers. Some of ‘em can get nasty. Calling ‘em ghoulies helps me remember that while they’re real, they’re only so powerful, and I’m more powerful than any of them.

SCOTTIE: Let’s start at the beginning. Let’s say I’m selling my house, and I have a ghost. I see your name on a -- do you have bus ads? A Who-Ya-Gonna-Call commercial?

CAROL: HA! I thought about that one, actually. You know, those guys never actually put their phone number in the song. I get a lot more action from my flyers. I’m also on the social media. 

SCOTTIE: Okay, so, I see one of your flyers and I give you a call. What happens?

CAROL: Well, first, I come over to assess the situation. Even before we get down to brass tacks with the actual house-selling, we need to figure out how bad the ghoulie is.

SCOTTIE: Do you have some kind of system to determine the badness level?

CAROL: Yep, there are three levels. The most common is the Casper. Bet you can guess where that one comes from, huh? These are the ones that’ll walk through your bedroom at 2 in the afternoon or flick a light on in the kitchen. They’re the ones where you’re like, “Huh? Did I do that?” You get the kind of feeling like you’re being watched, maybe, but they won’t be doing anything to you. Some people even like to keep them around as company. One lady, this old gal, said she’d been haunted by the same little boy for 45 years. She didn’t want to sell, but her grandkids said the time had come, and she was afraid Little Samuel would be lonely without her. That was real sweet. I actually lucked out and found a nice couple who’re super into spooky business. They send me pictures from time to time. I can tell Samuel’s not in ‘em, but I don’t like to harsh anybody’s good time.  

SCOTTIE: That’s really sweet. Did she know for sure his name was Samuel?

CAROL: No, I think that was just a guess. She only had daughters, so I suspect that’s what she would have named a little boy. He popped up a few times when I was there. Once running upstairs with what sounded like a ball, laughing like it was the greatest game in the world. Then he showed up in the bathroom. Scared the peepee right out of me.

SCOTTIE: I’d say I hope he’s happy, but do ghosts...have more than one emotion? I feel like all I’ve ever heard is either you see them and they’re blank-faced like you’re not even there, or they’re invisible and throwing stuff around.

CAROL: That’s a good segue into the second type: Rascals. These guys probably died in an accident in the home. Electrocution in the garage, heart attack in the kitchen, what have you. The key is that they were alive and then suddenly they weren’t. For instance, I did some research on Samuel, who he really was. He died back in 1912 of a fever, poor baby. He was 7. The fever took him so quickly his mama didn’t have time to take him to a doctor.

SCOTTIE: Did the records say all that?

CAROL: The fever, yes. That’s in the death report, which is public record. But the way death works is like a tether. Do you like what you do? You like the radio?

SCOTTIE:  This is a podcast, but yeah, I like the radio.

CAROL: And you like where you work?

SCOTTIE (laughs): Did my producer put you up to this? Yeah, I’ve spent a lot of happy hours here.

CAROL: Do you like what you’re wearing? Tell ‘em now, the out-there people, what you’re wearing.

SCOTTIE: This feels like a parody of some calls I got in middle school. Okay, I’m wearing a white T-shirt, a brown belt, blue jeans, and some brown boots. And my watch.

CAROL: It’s a nice outfit. That’s a make-or-break in the realtor business. The reason I say all that is, if you died right here, right now, this would be it for you. You’d pop up next to someone in the break room wondering why your watch isn’t ticking anymore. As soon as you crossed some perimeter -- maybe the threshold of the front door, maybe as soon as you hit the sidewalk -- poof! You’d reappear back here some other time.

SCOTTIE: That’s...something to think about.

CAROL: That’s why I tell my girl friends to always wear their finest, even if it’s to the corner store. Can’t have Death picking you up for your last date in your sweatpants. Anyway, where was I?

SCOTTIE: Rascals. And Samuel.

CAROL: Right, Samuel. I knew from his death certificate he died of a fever, and I knew he died at home because he wasn’t around haunting some hospital. I also know from the laughter that he could talk, but he didn’t want to.

SCOTTIE: And Rascals do want to?

CAROL: Honey, Rascals never shut the heck up! They’re the ones that are throwing pots and pans and shaking your bed in the middle of the night. They’re the moaners and the screamers and the ones that’ll blow your damn eardrums out with the boo-in’. Caspers, I can take all day. Rascals are just a headache. Also can’t spell worth a damn. I can’t tell you how many notepads I’ve wasted because one of those idiots pushed the planchette -- the thing on a Ouija board -- over the wrong letter.

SCOTTIE: Are Rascals what we usually see in movies and TV?

CAROL: They’re the creme de la creme for ghost-hunting shows. Most of those are crap, by the way. I took a film crew with me once. Oh, I was so excited. I’ve always dreamed of having my own show. I was gonna call it “Carol-voyiant”- get it? Like clairvoyant? Five squirrelly little guys, half a dozen facial hairs between ‘em, staring straight at a Casper. BIG, fat old guy, just massive, like a hippo with a combover. I even pointed right at him, like, “Hey. Look. Right here. Here’s your ghoulie.” Nothing.

SCOTTIE: I’m going to hang onto that mental image for the rest of my life.

CAROL: Please do. Sometimes I’ll be drifting off to sleep and start laughing.



SCOTTIE: Can you talk to any of them?

CAROL: By and large, not really. Some Rascals like to whisper. In the beginning, I used to record them, try to figure out if I could help move their spirit onward to our Heavenly Father. Nine times out of ten, it’s just mumbles. Or profanities. I’ve turned white as a ghost at some of the things that come out of their unholy mouths. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

SCOTTIE: Unholy. Are you religious?

CAROL: Absolutely. I believe these are spirits that are trapped between Heaven and Hell. They’ve all got their reasons for being here, and I’ve got mine for getting them where they’re supposed to go.

SCOTTIE: I’m curious, from everything I’ve heard and read, you’re an extremely successful exorcist. Why not team up with another priest and rid the country of spirits full-time?

CAROL: HA! When ghoulies start leaving me money for my services, I’ll take the leap. Until then, I’ll take my commission.

SCOTTIE: So then, last but not least, the third level.

CAROL: Just give me a second.

*sound of unzipping purse*

CAROL: Here, give me your hand.

*sound of a bottle being uncorked and water splashing*

SCOTTIE: What is this?

CAROL: Holy water. I carry some with me wherever I go. I bet 10 to 1 this nice radio building doesn’t have any ghoulies, but who knows what was here before.

SCOTTIE: Oh, we built this place in 2004.

CAROL: Well. You can never be too careful. (big breath) Now that you know how I feel about Rascals, I can say without a doubt in my mind that I’d take 50 Rascals in a single house than one Lucy. I named them for the big one, the name I’ll never say. I gave them that name so I can tell myself it’s okay, it’s just a little Lucy, what’s a Lucy ever done to anybody?

SCOTTIE: Is that a dem-

CAROL: DON’T! Honey, don’t ever say that word. I’m not overly superstitious, but a Lucy will be the end of me, as sure as the nose on the end of my face. As long as I’m in this business, I wear my best clothes each and every day, because I never know when I’m not going to walk back out of a house.

SCOTTIE: I’m sorry.

CAROL: Don’t be, just -- 2004,1904, whatever. Lucys aren’t tethered like the others. They can stick to you like a poppy seed between your back teeth. You won’t know it, not for a while, but you’ll feel something niggling at you, invisible to everyone else, but that discomfort grows and makes it hard to eat and talk and sleep. You jerk awake in the night and you can feel it sliding around inside of you, wrestling with the very core of you to exert control. Once a Lucy takes hold, that’s it. They’re almost virtually impossible to shake. I’ve only interacted with a few. The worst one, well...the family cut their losses and left the house to rot.

SCOTTIE: That’s....that’s unsettling. I’ve...um...I’m sorry, I wasn’t really prepared for this, um, calibre...

CAROL: Let’s not dwell, now, honey. Lucys only have as much power you give them, so let’s not give them any more. Ask me one of your other questions.

SCOTTIE (audibly nervous): Okay, um….what, um, what was your first ghoulie?

CAROL (immediately back to normal): I remember it like it was last Tuesday. I was still working up in Minneapolis, and I got a call about this gorgeous three-story out by Lake Harriet. I’d been eyeing it for years, just waiting for it to sell, and I was pleased as spiked punch. I go over, ready to wow ‘em, and the instant the owner opens the door, she crumbles. She says, “I’m so sorry, I can’t do this today.” And I’m like, “You can’t let me in this fine home to even take a look?” And she says, “No, something’s happened.” I look over her shoulder and the whole bottom floor looks like a tornado stopped by for afternoon tea.

SCOTTIE: Were you scared at all? What did you think had happened?

CAROL: I thought she was a hoarder! All these years, this mysterious beauty tucked away in the trees, and this cute little old lady’s a dang hoarder! But she was so shaken, I couldn’t just leave. I asked her what happened. She didn’t want to tell me at first, but I have my ways. She told me that not two minutes before I got out of my car, the entire house just exploded. Books, vases, couches. All her furniture, photo albums, caput!

SCOTTIE: You’re kidding! Did you think it was a ghost then?

CAROL: I’m sorry to say this, may God rest her soul, I didn’t believe that poor lady right off the bat. I thought, “What a weird excuse for not cleaning your house up before a realtor arrives.” She could have had said anything. Robbers, a party. Raccoons, even! Lord knows I’ve crossed paths with some energetic raccoons. 

SCOTTIE: What made you change your mind?

CAROL: Well, I had already driven all the way out there. As soon as I walked in, I could feel it. A chill in the air. Not a big one. Kind of like when you’re in the shower and you’re swaying side to side, and then one shoulder gets a little shiver before it goes back under the water. I had the same sensation many times as a child, but this was the very first time I put two and two together as a grown woman. That, and that jerk Rascal popped up not 10 feet from us and scared the living jeebus out of both of us.

SCOTTIE: WHAT? What did it look like?

CAROL: She was young. Couldn’t have been older than maybe 14, long, scraggly dark hair hanging over her face. She looked mad, caught-her-boyfriend-cheating-and-she’s-good-with-prison mad. The painting next to her flew off the wall without her even moving. The owner and I screamed bloody murder and ran right outside. She -- the owner -- she’s wailing about how this b-- can I curse?

SCOTTIE: Yeah, go ahead.

CAROL: How this B-I-T-C-H has been terrorizing her for years. Says it’s the former neighbor’s daughter who got murdered in her yard some ten years back -- probably by some jealous boyfriend who hopefully is in prison -- and they moved away because they couldn’t be around anymore. This girl’s been a menace since day one! And you better believe I was not going to let this poor, little old woman get bullied by some prepubescent poltergeist!!

SCOTTIE: Whoa. So this wasn’t a Casper easing you into it, this was a real fighting spirit.

CAROL: You bet your bottom. I didn’t know what I was doing at the time, but I stomped right up those stairs, stomped past all the crud she’d blown off of the walls and the shelves, went into the kitchen, and I lit up a spice jar of sage like a Fourth of July sparkler. Ha, actually, I mixed it up and grabbed oregano first. But THEN I lit up the sage, and I marched around, waving it and yelling, “BEGONE, VILE SPIRIT! BEGONE!”

SCOTTIE: ...and did that work? You saged the house and she disappeared?

CAROL: Yes. Well, that and the priest I called in. Even then, it took him a few tries. We thought we got her the first time, but she was sneaky. Waited until another couple was just about to sign the paperwork and then broke every window in the place. We got her, though. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...also shame on you. That’s not very nice.

SCOTTIE: So, after that, were you just hooked?

CAROL: Oh, my. I can’t tell you the high from banishing an annoying ghoulie. They think they own the place, but no, sir! The only people who own it are my clients, and then whoever buys it off of them for the highest bid. 

SCOTTIE (laughs): Yeah, I wouldn’t try to take you on, that’s for sure. We’re just about at time, but for our listeners at home, if they have a house guest they can’t seem to shake, what should they do?

CAROL: The five Bs. First, burn sage. It goes all the way back to Native American rituals and cleanses the space. Second, banish them with your words and pretend they’re not there. The less aggressive ghoulies will know they’re not wanted and will lose interest without your attention. Third, buy white roses. White roses literally suck negative energy out of the house. As soon as they dry up, throw them out A-S-A-P. Fourth, bless your house with Holy Water, available at your nearest church, with permission, of course. And fifth, by golly, call Carol Frances, exorcist-realtor extraordinaire. 

SCOTTIE: Welp! You heard it here first. The best in the biz. For Carol’s contact info and more information, you can check out our website, youdowhatnow.com/tellmemore. Carol, thank you so much for coming on. “You Do What Now?” is brought to you by the offices of Dr. Highland Westman. Dr. Westman specializes in the rehabilitation of cows that have been tipped over by local youth. “We don’t just help cows up, we help cows get through it.”