WELL READ Magazine February 2025

MOUNTAIN MAGIC with Ann Hite

The Spirit of Lucille Selig Frank

Why would a good fiction writer who writes about haints and sets the stories in Appalachia decide to write a nonfiction narrative about a somewhat unknown woman, who was born and raised in Atlanta? Why wouldn’t this writer just write a historical novel about her? In other words, why rock a smooth sailing boat? 

I am that writer, and Lucille Selig Frank haunted me. No, not like a haint comes a visiting, though often researching her story, I felt like a haunting of sorts was taking place. Her story of how she lost her husband, Leo M. Frank, to a lynching in 1915 right here in the town where I live, Marietta, Georgia, was told to me by Granny when I was just a girl. (If you want to read this part of my journey, go to my July 2024 Mountain Magic Column The Wedding Ring.) 

Granny always said some things were just meant to happen, and me writing Lucille’s story was one of them. The pull was so strong to write this book as nonfiction, I almost believed mountain magic had a say in the decision. But jumping from fiction, where I research like a fool but ultimately can add the parts I am not sure of, to the facts of what happened and only the facts is a big leap for any writer. This could be the reason the book took ten years to finish. 

Many people believe authors who have published books no longer struggle with the confidence it takes to write another book-length manuscript. Ha, let me have a good belly laugh here. With each of my now nine books, I approached the writing with the confidence level of my first book. You see I was one of those who believed once I got my first novel published, I would zoom through the writing of others. My dear readers and writers, this is such a hot-mess of a lie. With each book, I looked around and understood whatever I knew while writing the previous story, didn’t apply to the new one. And this was felt the strongest when I began Lucille’s book. What had I gotten myself into? Someone would surely see what a fake I was this time around. But the more I researched Lucille, the more I examined photos of her, the more I delved into her past, present, and future, the more loyal and driven I became. 

Leo M. Frank’s murder trial and lynching has been written about many times, and the accounts of what happened on April 26, 1913 at The National Pencil Company where Leo was superintendent are easy to locate. Yet, I decided I would begin at the beginning in my research and dig in as if not a soul had every approached the material. This way I wouldn’t miss important, hidden or lost parts of the story. No one had written a book-length manuscript about Lucille Selig Frank. Her story in most cases had been pushed aside, and let me mention how Mary Phagan’s mother, Fannie Coleman, was placed on the back pages of Atlanta’s newspapers at the time. When Fannie agreed only a day after her daughter’s death to give an interview, she wanted to tell other mothers that their daughters were not safe working in Atlanta’s factories. The Atlanta businessmen had no use for this kind of talk. They made their fortunes on the backs of child laborers. 

Lucille was painted as a hysterical woman in the news. A popular view of women in the South in the years 1913-1915. Women were seen as helpless and in need of rescuing. Often people said of Lucille that she was near her deathbed because of the trauma caused from Leo’s arrest, his conviction, and ultimately his death sentence. This is not the woman I found in the letters Lucille sent to the three major newspapers addressing Hugh Dorsey, the prosecutor, and his tactic of threatening witnesses until he got the statements he sought. She stood up against Mr. Dorsey with her mighty pen. Lucille was courageous and strong at twenty-five. How could I not tell this story? 

When Lucille died in 1957—the year I was born—she was cremated. Her last request was for her ashes to be scattered in Grant Park in Atlanta, a place Leo and her enjoyed. After all that happened, she was afraid to have a traditional burial with a headstone. It would surely be desecrated. The events of 1913-1915 were still freshly debated in 1957 and equally so today. 

Lucille never remarried and did not have children, so her sister’s sons were responsible for her last wishes. Lucille’s nephews were told they could not scatter her ashes in Grant Park. So the ashes were placed in the trunk of the car, where they remained until the men decided what to do. One morning just before the sun came up the nephews went to Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta. They buried Lucille’s ashes between her mother and father, Josephine and Emil Selig. This was done in secret with no one else in attendance. There was no marker because she had made it clear she didn’t want one. 

Today I walked the graves in Oakland Cemetery. The frigid weather was bone-chilling. When I came to the plot where Lucille was buried, I stopped and placed two rocks on Josephine’s headstone, one for her and one for Lucille. A small bluish plaque had been placed in between the headstones. Someone was touched by Lucille’s story. On the plaque was an angel with the words “Forever with the angels.” I brushed away leaves and saw Lucille’s name with her birth and death year. For a moment I stared off at the Atlanta skyline in the distance. On the day Mary Phagan was murdered at the pencil factory, the Confederate Memorial Day parade ended its march at this very cemetery in honor of the fallen soldiers. The outgoing governor made a speech in pouring down rain. No one was aware that life for Mary had ended and what would happen to many people in response to her death. 

I have no idea if I did Lucille Selig Frank justice with the book I wrote. The Lord knows I put my whole self into the work. This caused a transformation in my writing. I found a part of me who is willing to fight and preserve a story that reveals a deeper truth. I must believe Lucille was in my office in spirit, cheering me on. 

And this dear readers and writers is the results of a tender act of mountain magic. Always find the courage to speak out for what you believe should be known. I have had many good examples in my lifetime. Lucille Selig Frank is one of those. Let me close with Lucille’s last public statement on the matter of her husband’s lynching. 

“I am a Georgia girl, born and reared in this state, and educated in her schools. I am a Jewess; I am also Georgian, and American, and I do not apologize for that, either. They perhaps are not entirely to blame, fed as they were on lies unspeakable. Their passion aroused by designing persons. Some of them, I am sure did not realize the horror of their act. But those who inspired these men to do this unlawful act, what of them? Will not their consciences make for hell on Earth, and will not their associates, in their hearts despise them?”

Augusta Chronicle October 1, 1915