Sophie Nance was only 28 when she died in 1853. Everyone agreed the young woman was beautiful even in death, so much so that her family planned an unusual way to remember her.

She was buried beside Columbia’s Washington Street United Methodist Church in what’s called a Fisk coffin, a cast-iron burial case that was the cutting edge of mid-19th century technology. Its defining feature is an air-tight sealed viewing window that allows a clear view of the deceased’s face. The Fisk coffin was meant to both preserve the remains from outside elements that would hasten decomposition and allow families like the Nances a chance to keep their loved one close.

And for a century and a half, it worked, making Sophie Nance’s grave one of Columbia’s most unusual, if not macabre, local landmarks. But today, the mysterious woman’s remains are closed off from public view, following an accident that damaged the casket and the woman inside.

”The air pressure had been very effective for well over 100 years, but when it was broken, that didn’t help Sophie’s remains any,” said Michael Broome, Washington Street’s church historian and the chair of its history and records committee.

Church members today know very little about the woman despite her unusual burial, including why she died so young. But Broome believes her husband and two children are buried alongside her (in more conventional coffins), and such a sophisticated burial for the time was something “only the upper-middle class and the wealthy could afford.”

“Evidently she was a beautiful young woman,” Broome said. “Her husband was infatuated with her, as I guess her other friends and family were, and they felt the horror of her loss.”

“She was laid to rest in the cemetery, and I suppose she was in an above-ground tomb, with a viewing plate on the front of the coffin so you could see her face,” he said. “It was sealed, and that’s the way she was interred.”

There she remained for more than 70 years, until a growing Washington Street decided to build an education building over a portion of the cemetery.

“The trustees made an effort to get in touch with families who had loved ones buried in the cemetery, and for families who wanted their loved ones to be moved, we had a contract with Elmwood Cemetery,” Broome said. “So their loved ones were moved, but a lot of the tombs remained.”

One tomb that remained was that of Sophie Nance, whose face remained exposed underneath the new education building. A 1992 article about Nance in Currents magazine said a traveling sideshow offered to take her remains at the time, but “the congregation refused to sell the beauty to such a fate.”

Now in a narrow space below the new building, her unique grave was no longer as visible as it once had been, but she continued to attract visitors who wanted to see the eerie sight and were willing to travel down into the church building’s cellar.

A 2002 story in The State described how the crypt was accessible through a trap door in a broom closet. Below was a view port under a bare 100-watt bulb, with a granite tombstone still propped over the casket recording the dates of Nance’s birth and death. Another story from 1996 indicated that dark, dry skin at the time was still visibly pulled taut over the face, and that with the aid of a mirror, breastbone and ribs could be seen further down the casket.

“I’ve never been down there myself,” Broome said. Because of the height of the cellar, “You’re essentially doing a Marine Corps low crawl all through that area.”

But “for a number of years, researchers and adventure seekers would go under to see the iron coffin,” he said. “School groups would come to see her. There was a class in death and dying at the university that often took groups down there.”

Over time, having such a notable feature underneath the church structure became something of a burden for Washington Street. “Sometimes people would show up unannounced, and we worried about people being able to get out,” Broome said.

Even in the early 1990s, the church had restricted visits to the grave, then-youth ministry director Anne Cherry told Currents. “We stopped that practice because it became a full-time job to escort curious visitors to the grave,” Curry said.

About a decade ago, an incident occurred while a group was under the building to see the tomb. “The viewing plate was struck and cracked, and the seal was broken,” Broome said. “Some unfortunate decomposition started at a very rapid pace, so from what I can gather, there’s now a white mass that was where her face had been.”

After that, the church’s insurance company advised they no longer allow groups under the structure to visit the tomb, Broome said.

When the historian was leaving a service a couple months ago, he was introduced to a couple who had traveled to come to Washington Street, “and the main reason they came was to see the grave,” Broome recalls. “And I told them we just couldn’t do that. … The policy predates my time, but I think it’s a good policy.”