I learned of “The Murder Homestead” by way of referral and it struck me as both pretentious while at the same time provocative but regardless I couldn’t resist going there once an emailed photo landed in my inbox…
I’m not entirely sure of precisely what contributory factors may be responsible actuating the maniacal spirit that dwells within the walls of that small, abandoned ranch style home on the hill…perhaps it has something to do with environmental triggers, an unseen supernatural governing force, adherence to “The Paranormal Rulebook” or even the oncoming galactic alignment but what really matters is that the presence of a raw, indelible anger is which unmistakable upon arrival … The events of that night remain speculative and despite importuning my turgid tipster for hard facts, his evasive demeanor provided little in the way of additional information or even the exact nature of the implied disturbance … I later learned that the entire community seems tight lipped concerning the night off bloodshed that transpired back in the mid 90’s and as I was hard pressed to find any record of the incident on the net or local library I stared to wonder how much of this was the product of creative dog wagging …Once inside the diminutive domicile, there was an odd dearth of country warmth that a quant, wood paneled, modestly decorated and rustically simplistic home would ordinarily exude but the mood here was one of blind hostility and rage…the missing sections of carpentering didn’t exactly to validate the temerity of my Tipster or lend additional credence to the verisimilitude of the story but the dark stained floor precisely where he contended it would be at least confirmed he had been inside the house …
The 6 foot 4 inch specter that flashed into solidity without notice expressed little in the way of compunction for his corporeal misdeeds…the reprobate mind of a killer seems to maintain its inverse integrity in death and in some cases it intensifies depending on the environment but this one in particular seemed to draw energy from source as sour and pestilent as the stagnant water festering in the clogged bathroom sink …”I told them to stop making noise” …his rictus grin revealed teeth in dire need of dentistry even in death and he smelled of carrion and rot … he lunged for me from the swirling vortex and I side stepped him with my panther like agility… turning his eyes glowed like 2 Kingston charcoals from a late night summer barbeque and a dark inchor began to ooze from his orifices…”I suppose you think I’m a bad father don’t you?” He asked blithely as his fist smashed into the wood paneling with a deafening CRACK, narrowly missing my face and showering me with splinters as I slid to the floor and rolled to the side in evasion …the entire hallway took on an scarlet glow as he lumbered towards me and I kicked myself upright and away from his stomping boot … “I think you were every bit inadequate in life as you are in death and you penalized your family for it” I curtly informed him as I stopped mid kitchen and stood my ground …this knocked him backwards as if I struck him with a physical blow, the room suddenly regained its natural hue and he took on a gray pallor but resumed his stiff legged lurch towards me. .. “Bad father?” I continued, “You weren’t a father at all were you? …the only time you acknowledged your children is when you got drunk and beat them.”… cracks formed on his face and a chunk of discolored flesh fell from his cheek leaving a gaping black wound, yet he clambered on reaching for me with his outstretched arms and trembling hands …
”When your wife attempted to intervene you beat her too didn’t you?” I crossed my arms and leveled the most judgmental glare I could muster …”Coward!” I accused and as I felt the tingling static charge begin to build and rush up my arm, I held up my hand to watch the tiny sparks play about my fingertips …His eyes no longer burned with Hells energy, now they were just yellowed glassy sunken orbs and more skin flaked from his face as the pilfered bioplasm he siphoned from the nearby cemetery began to lose its already unstable cohesion …”Time to fry ” I informed him and with all the campy theatrics of a Shakespearean understudy, I unleashed a torrent of blinding white fire from my hands that blasted the pathetic ghoul reeling and melting like the Nazis did when the Arc Of The Covenant was opened in “Raiders” … ducking the second wave of searing psyche I threw at him, he ran for the now arrhythmic, pulsating vortex in the living room and dove towards its collapsing nucleus … chunks of flesh sloughed from his decaying hide and slapped the floor as he dove for shrinking portal…the echoes of his tormented screams faded as I sealed the temporal rift and placed a mental padlock on it …
Exiting the house to get photos from the rear and squinting in the afternoon sun, I noticed the shopping cart sitting in the backyard begin to move my direction but stopped when I raised my hand …I realized there must have been some truth to the legend my source relayed to me based on the entities’ reaction to my indictments …or maybe this trickster was simply behaving the way I expected him to? Either way, I seldom fear any sort of attachments or supernatural stalkers when I visit these locations because I firmly believe that I can neutralize them with a blast of “The Force” like The Emperor from Star Wars… whether or not it is all in my head is irrelevant …
The Gargoyle was slightly scorched but remain largely unscathed as it sat menacingly on the doorstep of the charred home …This was my second trip “The Inferno House “in a week and the blackened husk of a home had completely collapsed into a cinder heap of refried rubble the second time around …This site was another tip from an even less credulous source than the prior and as some poor leads in the past may have temporarily stultified this scout as competent, I was taken aback by the smoldering scene before me when I first rolled into the gravel driveway …what would have under any other circumstance constituted a serene country scene with a tree lined backyard and mountains spying over the tree tops was a singed and reeking wreck, symbolic of the darkened souls that lived here before their own incendiary lifestyles engulfed them at the end …
My interest in criminal psychology has revealed a recurring sentiment lamented by law Enforcement, Behavioral Analysts or those who work in the field of Addiction Medicine whenever one illegal drug in particular is involved as I have noticed that many refer to methamphetamine or “meth” as one that “opens the floodgates of Hell” or as being “Satan’s drug of choice” etc. … All religious allegory aside, the the occupants of The Inferno House suffered a hellish demise timbered by the associated addiction, greed, lust, peripheral violence and a general sense of self demoralization…There has always been a dispiriting connotation connected to drug trafficking but there is a certain stigma attached to the procurement and manufacturing of meth that has earned these makeshift labs the dubious distraction of the Hell Harbingers…
The Inferno House would have been an all too typical story had the supernatural aftermath of the blaze not made this one a standout …the highly volatile chemicals required to process this highly potent stimulant are not only a caustic, corrosive biohazard but it is extremely flammable and known explode like napalm at the slightest agitation or exposure to flame but word is that this blaze was intentionally set in opposition the riot gear affected DEA agents pounding on the front door demanding entry …
Before the local Fire Dept. was deployed several witness watched as three humanoid figures strolled from the front door completely engulfed in flames and stood side by side completely still on the grass before the conflagration consumed them…A deafening, high pitch wail coincided with their vanishing and the core fire flashed a little brighter before shrinking to its steady burn and steam billowing hiss from the water jets now concentrating at its nucleus from the hoses of several fire gear festooned combatants …
The smell of burned plastic, charred wood and nondescript chemicals mingled with the mountain air in an oddly pleasant sort of way, but the obsidian stain blackening the center of this property still seemed to smolder albeit the fact that the fire had been completely extinguished for over a week…walking up to the font stop the first time out I kept expecting to see a newly posted Real Estate sign covered with red spray painted graffiti proclaiming: “CARRIE WHITE BURNS IN HELL” …looking inside the front picture window frame, the absolute totality of the destruction became quite apparent as the remaining structural skeleton looked to be teetering on collapse…there was little in the way of discernible features inside the house save for a few plumbing fixtures, heating ducts and the miscellaneous personal tchotchkes scattered about the exterior lawn and crawlspace …
Walking around back for more photos I felt a scratching cold claw grip my sleeveless arm and caught off guard, I jumped at the sight of the soot blackened figure that stood before me …I would have probably let out an audible yelp save for the irony that the fire scotched specter was smoking a cigarette …the cigarette being the sole white colored aspect of this apparition, a black smudge was clearly visible at the filter tip where his lips touched it when he tapped the ash from its end…”Are you the insurance adjustor? You’re a little late” he said in rasping, grating voice…as he threw his head back to cackle at his own inane witticism, his neck spit open and smoke seeped from the gaping, bloodless wound…”I’m just here taking photos…your house?” I asked attempting to regain my composure …”Yeah, you know what they say about smoking in bed” he quipped doubling over to slap his knee thus expelling a multi directional ashen plume …”If you’ll pardon my candor, do you find your present predicament preferable to any legal repercussions you may have faced by admitting the DEA Agents inside?” I asked affecting my best Spock-like timbre …”I’m free ain’t I?” he countered, his voice resonated with a growing agitation…”from where I stand you are every bit the prisoner of your addiction and greed now as you were in life” I pressed …”Are you a cop?” he asked with tangible contempt…”No, just another bad blogger with a camera” I replied emotionlessly …I noticed his head had partially collapsed and his entire form had begun to contort and return to the state of entropy from which it had spawn …”You’re no better than me, who are you to judge me?” his voice warbled as he continued to deconstruct …”I’m not here to judge you, I’m simply making an observation” I responded maintaining my icy demeanor …”Condescending, self- righteous @#$*!”…He was little more than a pile of ashes and a cigarette butt by the time I reiterated that I was not there to judge him …a truck bouncing noisily over a pothole on the nearby road broke the link and returned me to the “here and now”… walking away I resisted the urge to look back for the smoking cigarette butt …
The Old Cemetery is located just outside of Cleveland OH, and while this was a considerable deviation from my planned path, this site was relayed to me from a new and extremely reliable seeming source …
The early morning chill was sobering as I squinted in the rising sun and after draining the last of the gas station 20 ounce coffee, the steam still rose from the empty cup as I dropped into a trash can near the cemetery entrance …There has been many rumored sightings of a young woman roaming these grounds over the years but for some reason there has allegedly been a spike in “EMF activity” lately according to my new protégé and concurrently; an increase in sightings …The morning sun glinted off the frosted tombstones and grass creating a strange kaleidoscope effect in camera’s LED display forcing me to delete and reshoot several shots initially before resigning to the fact that most pictures would turn out this way for at least another 30 minutes…In adherence to my cemetery exploration policy; I policed the immediate grounds for garbage and straightened up some of the monument decorations before returning my attention to the photography at hand …It was a beautiful morning and the quiet serenity and tranquility of the property was a spiritual experience in itself , the photos turned out better than I expected and an auric warmth pervaded the majority of the shots I captured …I did hear some distant weeping a one point but was unable to pinpoint the origin…I will let you draw your own impressions from the photos as I feel they stand on their own …
The historic facts and specific details surrounding the disturbances reported to be occurring at The Old Factory were sketchy so inside access was not pursued but I did stop for a few exterior shots….Hard to believe this industrial derelict was one a bustling hub of production and manufacturing activity a mere decade or so ago but now it has joined the ranks of the Rust Belt like so many others …Legend contends that a second shift foreman (whom died of a heart attack on the job) still prowls the assembly plant floor complete with a hard hat and bull horn barking orders over the now quite machinery ….
More often than not I act on impulses and “hunches” when it comes to deciding which locations to explore…whether or not my intuitive compass is magnetized by a source external to my inherent instinctual barometer is a matter of individual discretion and personal belief systems but I prefer to embark upon these expeditions with an almost fantastical mind set completely open and receptive to subjective suggestion…To some it is an almost reckless abandon and rebellious disregard for the stringent ghost buster protocols to which so many feel strict compliance must be observed … once liberation from this imposed supposition has been achieved, this is when the barriers begin to dissolve (IMO)…the liberation of “nothing to prove” is the ultimate emancipation from the rigors of pseudo-science …this faux science has merely managed to encourage more in the way of false dichotomies and gratuitous cynical skepticism than actual data but I digress…
While Dallas TX was still recovering from the fusillade of 14 twisters that tore through town in early April of 2012, I found myself braving the Tom Landry Highway and exploring the downtown districts …In deference to my intuition; I stopped and took a night shot of one unremarkable building and caught an interesting photo (below)….b
While making my way through the Oklahoma back roads I happened upon a rather surreal scene in a Church yard …the mock-up was evidently erected for the Easter holidays to represent the trials and tribulations of Christ’s Last Supper, betrayal by Judas Iscariot, abuse at the hand of the Roman soldiers, crucifixion and absence from his burial tomb subsequent to his Resurrection…while I understand the intent, the entire effigy out in The Sticks was like “Children Of The Corn” meets “The House Of Wax”….
The old gothic architecture of the building with the neon red “CONGRESS HOTEL” sign glowing at it’s anterior has been a prominent fixture of the Chicago nighted skyline for over a century…it is still clearly visible from Lake Shore Drive against the modern backdrop of contemporary skyscrapers towering overheard…
Upon conducting research for my last article; “Ghosts of the Haymarket Riot”, I was reminded of the 1893 Columbian Exposition/serial killer H.H. Homes (Devil in The White City) and the fact that a notoriously haunted Chicago hotel was built that same year to accommodate the fair visitors and tourists. The Congress Hotel went on to be owned by Al Capone and he even resided there in suite 800… he was alleged to often hold court in one of many of the banquette rooms but I am unsure if the room I visited was one of them. Presidents Grover Cleveland, William McKinley, Teddy Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, Woodrow Wilson, Warren Harding, Calvin Coolidge, and Franklin Roosevelt all were guests or visitors to this historic Michigan Avenue Icon over the years…
The Gold Ballroom is alleged to be the most active while the Elizabethan Room the most historically significant as it has transformed from a stylish 20’s nightclub to an NBC bandstand radio headquarters featuring Benny Goodman as the house band in the mid 30’s… While the notorious Gold and Elizabethan Rooms (Ballrooms) were inaccessible at the time my first visit, I was tipped off by a reliable source that one of the smaller banquette rooms was experiencing a disturbance though specifics were not intimated nor was it recondite as to whether this has been an ongoing situation… The prolific dark energies of that (undisclosed) banquet room was almost overwhelming as I entered the through the double doors into the darkness. The camera flash helped to illuminate the ornate arched ceiling and circling balcony above and the fading, original mural painting overhead looked to be in a pristine state save for some visible chipping and flaking…the stacked chairs leaned precariously aside the white clothed tables, Mylar snowflake decorations sparkled from their fish lines suspended above…the eerie stillness and stale air of the late evening event room belied the still bustling Michigan Avenue just outside the outer congregation area windows…
Fumbling in the semi darkness to swap the SD card in my camera, I felt that familiar hum in my solar plexus and with my usual feigned nonchalance, I turned to confront the pale, waifish woman in 1920′s era flapper garb glaring accusingly at me 10 feet or so away …” Um, Hi” I said (I never have anything pre-written for these encounters) She stood motionlessly grimacing at me…I noticed what appeared to be dried blood on her left temple as I casually began to move towards the door and as I stopped a few feet from the exit to look back she was gone…a stack of chairs crashed to the hardwood dance floor as I exited …
The original Main Chicago Public Library branch was an impromptu addition to my itinerary and once inside I was pleased with it as fortunate happenstance…As some of you know; certain buildings or geographical locations have a certain allure or attraction that hints at the presence of supernatural activity or preternatural energies…whether ore not this perception is veridical as one resultant of super-sensory stimuli is a matter of personal belief as only anecdotal evidence exists but this building hit me hard enough in passing to back-track a half a block get a look inside…
The multi leveled structure hosted a comfortable group of readers..a winding wooden railed staircase led to the second floor where an amiable librarian asked if he could help me…admitting my primary interest was in photographing various aspects of the building more than the wealth of books and multi media reference material it houses, he directed me to the 3rd floor “Tiffany Room” where a lighted dome ceiling mosaic is centered over a small auditorium …a young trio of a pianist, cellist and violinist practiced for what looked to be a recital or presentation under the scrutinous eye of a humorless seeming instructor…the slightly elevating spectator seating was backed by arch shaped windows overlooking Washington St …after a few flash-less photos, I quietly departed while the instructor chastened the pianist for some minor tempo cadence miscues but was much less scornful than I expected based on his general glowering disposition …
Michigan Avenue was not only a gangster battle ground in the roaring 20′s…the Fort Dearborn Massacre Memorial/site at the foot of a bridge crossing Michigan at Wacker Drive was also one of my predetermined target locations…the Fort’s fleeing occupants who were ordered to evacuate in August of 1812 due to the threat of an eminent attack by a force of Potawatomi Indians 500 strong, were subsequently ambushed which left 86 of the 148 soldiers, women and children dead…the fort was burned the next day …A second fort was constructed in 1816, abandoned and re-garrisoned during a conflict with the Winnebago Indians and later; the Black Hawk War…the last of remnants of the fort and satellite buildings were completely obliterated in 1871 by the Great Chicago Fire…
There is a very cold and isolated feeling of despair on that bridge that transcends the aesthetic inhospitably of the wind chilled winter air and frigid water so far below …this is something I had noticed when I have walked that same bridge so many times regardless of the season in the past without giving notice to the plaque inscriptions and wall sculpture on both sides …a street person in the middle of the bridge looked to be engaging people that walked by with whatever panhandling presentation he had concocted and as I do hand out my spare change and odd bills from time to time, I was short on paper tender so I opted to feign a cell phone conversation as I approached him …99.9 percent of the time they let me pass without incident but the sadness this man radiated caused me to make eye contact as I passed …many of these homeless are scam artists that are experts at tugging at heartstrings but the sorrow I felt from this man haunted me for days…if I’m not mistaken, a man was shot and killed point blank on this very bride a few years back during the lunch hour …
North of the Fort Dearborn site and next to the WGN building, is a 26 foot tall Marilyn Monroe statue that has become quite a point of interest as many tourists seemed to be stopping to get photos of themselves between the legs of Marilyn striking that famous pose holding down her steam grate upturned dress…the artist must have felt her true voluptuous physique was incongruent with today’s perception of slender beauty albeit the resurgence of bountiful buxomness thanks to the new Kim Kardashian sensibility of collective pop culture fashion conscience… my peripheral vision kept seeing the nearby bronze statue of legendary Cubs announcer; Jack Brickhouse leaning over to look up Marilyn’s dress…
The Carter Harrison (Sr.) administration saw it’s share of turmoil during his stint as Chicago mayor…The nation’s first prolific serial killer; H.H. Holmes prowled the periphery of the 1893 Columbian Exposition (White City) to prey upon tourists, urban transplants and transients…ironically Mayor Harrison would be murdered by a political anarchist in the foyer of his Ashland Avenue mansion mere days before he was to address the festival crowd during the closing ceremony of the fair and a few months after the three remaining Haymarket anarchists/activists were officially granted a gubernatorial pardon…
The Columbian Exposition Fair that was a gargantuan undertaking of a project, fraught with engineering flaws, architectural adversity, political stalemates, labor deputes and uncompromising deadlines that many doubted could be met concurrent with the scheduled grand opening …Sadly while the unmatched success of the fair was collectively viewed by many as a symbolic epoch in the industrial evolution and a cultural renaissance unilaterally, the social unrest, political upheaval and labor relations tumult that so divided the city and ended his first term a mere 7 years earlier revisited the mayor one last time by way of a lone gunman on Oct 28th 1893 abruptly ending his second term and life at the age of 68… His son; Harrison Carter Jr., would be later elected 1911 for a single four year run…
The old adage about “history repeating itself” while cliche to some, is often a poignant reminder of how current events can so closely parallel those of over a century ago… 2011 saw the “Occupy America” movement and with it the rhetoric that often included references to anarchy, socialist ideology, civil disobedience, economic reform, political unrest and allegations of police brutality. While the Haymarket Riot/Affair/Massacre incident ultimately changed the popular perception of protest organizers to many, a case of simple mis-communication and poor editorial judgement by organizers became the focal point of prosecutorial evidence intended to vilify the labor organizers following the Haymarket disaster ….a single word (revenge!) that was later cited as incendiary was inadvertently printed in bold at the top of number of flyers circulated to announce the organized protest/meeting at Haymarket Square …it was later alleged that this may have inspired the premeditated assembly of pipe bombs and generally served as the catalyst to the violence that transpired on that infamous day in Chicago history and union solidarity…
Mayor Carter Harrison attended the planned “Haymarket Meeting” on Tuesday May 4, 1886 with the implied intention of quelling any resurgent violence in the wake of the McCormick’s Reaper Works factory incident…a volatile clash between striking workers and replacement “scabs”at the company that would later be renamed “International Harvester” erupted in violence with police intervening leaving one worker dead and several injured…Mayor Harrison hoped his presence would help to mitigate the growing animosity between organized labor and the police in the wake of the previous day’s debacle and perhaps even help to usage the growing polarization between organized labor and what they collectively viewed as tyrannical, autocratic local business leaders insensitive to the plight of the common working man and blinded by thier own elitism ans overt avarice…Outspoken Businessmen and entrepreneurs such as Cyrus McCormick and Marshall Field, both staunchly sacrosanct industrialists, were diametrically opposed to what they perceived as these labor activists being little more than mob mentality trouble makers and subversives. The pragmatic and at times hubristic Mayor Harrison steadfastly believed his innate predilection for mediation and arbitration may be able to minimize tensions on both sides of the table and in the instance of Haymarket, he overestimated the calming effect his mere presence would have at this potentially volatile meeting …A standardized 8 hour workday would not finally be adopted nationally until 1939 but the 10-12 hour mandatory workdays in hot factories and absence of healthcare benefits was primarily at the root of the worker objections and the basis for the strike at the Reaper Works plant …
If a single imprudently printed word “REVENGE!” boldly effacing the 25,000 flyers that were distributed heralding the Haymarket Meeting was to blame for the chaos that ensued that fateful May evening is still the subject of speculation and protracted debate…The labor activist/anarchist; August Spies who drafted the flyer, 2 publishers of the IWPA newsprint (International Working People’s Association) and five others would find themselves co defendants in one of the most celebrated civil disobedience court cases of the late 19th century …The May 5th assembly on Des Plaines Ave. drew a crowd of close to 1500-2000 attendees despite the inclement cold and rainy weather …original estimates projected possible crowd in excess of 20,000 strong and few seem to be able to agree on how the meeting may have played out had the weather been more hospitable…
The crowd was relatively sedate during the scheduled speeches but tempers flared when the a phalanx of police began to mobilize and disperse the crowd and in defiance of Mayor Harrison’s directives issued to the police chief in the interest of defusing another potentially volatile situation, the police were reportedly more aggressive and surly than necessary …witnesses describe a wide arching trajectory object with a telltale smoke trail flying in the direction of the police where the improvisational pipe-bomb explosive detonated with a “crack” sending a diameter of shredding shrapnel into in to the advancing police unit…while it is unclear if any of the 7 police casualties were the direct result of the bomb, the stunned police unit immediately opened fire in the general direction of the crowd which in the end resulted in the death of seven police officers, four attendees/civilians and the injury of 60 or more others…most if not all of the 7 police fatalities are theorized to be resultant of confused, misdirected shooting from other police officers firing indiscriminately into the crowd…
An period of over-reactionary panic ensued and hundreds were said to be arrested, detained, beaten, interrogated and coerced into confessions…at first there was an element of public outrage against the “anarchists” in the weeks following the Haymarket incident as the police officials and newspapers labeled the labor activists as seditious union agitators, subversives and even revolutionary terrorists intent on destabilizing the entire capitalist infrastructure … In all, 8 were eventually charged with conspiring to commit murder and inciting a riot based on what is today unilaterally agreed to be completely fabricated evidence…7 were convicted, 4 were hanged, one committed suicide in Cook County Jail’s Death-Row and 3 were eventually pardoned by Governor Altgeld in an act of clemency that irreparably damaged his political career and questionably labeled him as “anarchist friendly”…
The trial itself was a celebrated media circus and public attitudes started to swing in the favor of the defendants even elevating them to rock-star popularity and some, ultimately martyrdom in the eyes of the working class …One of the four that was hung; August Spies (the evening’s first speaker at Haymarket) even cultivated a romantic courtship with an admirer with whom he corresponded and married in prison before his execution in 1887…Another of the Haymarket Meetings’ scheduled speakers; Albert Parsons a member of the labor/socialist party and one of the two publishers on trial responsible for the infamous incendiary “revenge!” flyer turned himself in by walking into the courtroom after returning from Wisconsin where pre-extradition laws insulated him from a prosecution many felt was unjust…Parsons waived petitioning and appealing to the rubric of then Governor Oglesby to request commuting his sentence despite the pleas of many for him to do so and instead insisted on sharing the fate of his colleagues…He is still commemorated today by many for his noble act of self sacrifice in what he viewed as in the best interest of the common working man for which he fought so tirelessly…Albeit a Socialist ideologue Parsons earned his name on “The Haymarket Martyrs’ Monument” in near west suburban Forest Park in the historic and scenic Forest Home Cemetery…His name is etched in the rear of the edifice along with August Spies, Adolf Fischer (Haymarket organizer), George Engel (labor leader who also refused to plea for a commuted sentence) and Louis Lingg (radical activist connected to the bomb making, but did not attend the Haymarket meeting) …
The Haymarket Martyrs’ Monument was the first stop on this dual location excursion …So many times in the past I would be sitting on the traffic choked Eisenhower Expressway, (the “Ike”) one of the main arteries into the city, gazing absent-mindedly into the gothic old cemetery grounds that is literally bordered by the shoulder of the highway and a chainlink fence…The front gate is unremarkable but actually has a monument showroom attached to the front office left of the entrance of in the manicured expanse of the cemetery ground beyond there looked to be an even seeming balance of both modest markers and elaborately confected memorials…the unmistakable trumpeting of horns immediately caught my attention and rolling down my window to pinpoint the source, I noticed a crowd congregating in the southwest corner and giving care not to disrupt the proceedings it didn’t take long to determine this was a Mexican funeral in progress …the 4-5 uniformed Mariachi band members stood off to the rear of the assembled semicircle of mourners and the festive, upbeat tempo of the music seemed to be anything but mournful… in retrospection I was intrigued by the celebratory atmosphere of the interment proceedings, most cultures and popular religions seem to view death as transitory, or spiritually gradient in some capacity (depending on the individual) so why not treat death as a graduation ceremony as opposed to a ritual of termination and life cessation? …
The Haymarket Martyrs’ Monument itself almost has a menacing aesthetic from a distance with it’s shrouded entity with an incapacitated man at her feet…The reaper-esque looking figure was crafted to represent the female incarnation of “Justice” and the fallen figure a worker …the front base of the monument displays the final words shouted by August Spies before they dropped the trapdoor The day will come when our silence will be more powerful than the voices you are throttling today”…an impromptu syllogism that in many ways came to fruition …Assorted union and “on strike” buttons are placed at the base on both sides…the monument was assigned the distinction of a national historic marker in 1997…
The Forest Home cemetery property was purchased from the Pottawatomie Native Americans near the end of the Black Hawk War and is rich with history and legend …accounts of Native Americans returning to the site to visit burial mounds uncovered by archeologists at the site around the turn of century are unconfirmed but nonetheless intriguing…A jail even stood on property prior to expansion endeavors and a narrow wooden bridge over the Des Plaines River connects the original cemetery from the later acquired annex …the statues and markers close to the expressway on the north side all seem to have a tarnished discoloration likely the result of years of soot and pollution rolling off the “Ike”…the row of crypts embedded in a grass topped mound towards the center of the main grounds are all either boarded up or devoid of windows at this point and but the 19th century designs and encircling red-brick road segregating them from the rest of the cemetery are surprisingly well preserved …Forest Home Cemetery is beguiling in its’ stunning beauty and historic significance but it also rife with ominous energies and fleeting phantasms…geographically this area is kind of a threshold between the sedate, predominately safe, bedroom community suburbs and the often mercurial demographic of the near west border towns…census data confirms that there are in fact, more dead people residing in Forest Park Illinois than living …
As planned, I have been plotting more articles featuring sites from downtown Chicago (stay tuned for another couple of haunted hotels and other locations in “The Loop”)…years of working downtown in the past has created a subconscious aversion to making the relatively short trip especially with the implementation of new parking meter rates and surreptitiously placed “red light cameras”…the early afternoon, light weekend traffic made for a pleasant ride save for the sports radio commentary chronicling yet another Bears loss…the Haymarket area is right off the I-90 so I deprived myself of the scenic Lake Shore Drive skyline in favor of convenient accessibility…the low hanging, overcast cloud cover obscured the taller of skyscrapers leaving a little under half of Sears Tower visible nearby…
I felt a sense of nostalgia for these cold Chicago morning/afternoons when as a season ticket holder, many a fall and early winter Sundays were spent at Soldier Field…I quickly shook myself from the reminiscent fugue when I saw my exit rapidly rolling up on the right…city driving is can be tricky but it’s an art once mastered seldom goes extinct by way of disuse and I quickly found myself joyfully tearing around the city blocks with reckless abandon like a seasoned cabbie once again …the site of the riot is almost unrecognizable today but turning the corner under the elevated railway tracks of Lake Street, you can still see some of the original buildings amid those newer and renovated …the Haymarket memorial came into focus and I stopped for a few photos then promptly retreating to my ride before a notorious “parking enforcement official” left an early Christmas card under my windshield wiper…the 2-3 lone pedestrians/joggers/dog-walkers and the limited intermittent pack of cars that rolled by while I was standing near the memorial made it hard to imagine such a large assembly on this spot and the chaos that ensued …Local artist Mary Brogger crafted the bronze impressionistic artwork which depicts a number of featureless effigies supporting a platform on which 3-4 other figures are performing various activities related to labor, activism, enterprise, civil service and the periodic turmoil in between ..the memorial was commissioned by the City of Chicago, The Illinois Federation of Labor History, Chicago FOP and the Chicago Dept. of Transportation in 2004…it sits on the precise spot where the wagon was parked that served as a platform for the Haymarket speakers to address the crowd…
I considered stopping by the Jane Addams Hull House which was close by but elected to save that for another time when I could devote my entire focus on the location it so rightfully deserves..I heard the distinct click-clack of horse shoes on pavement as I settled into my vehicle but it abruptly stopped when I stepped back out to look for a novelty carriage or mounted police officer that would be generally be unusual to see this far west and spotting neither…I also dismissed loud “bang” I heard as a car backfiring ….
Haunted Archer Avenue: Fairmount Hills by Barek Halfhand
*From 5-09:
The Archer Avenue gates to Fairmont Hills lie between St James Church and The Willow Brook Ballroom along the farthest, forest draped reaches of that famous stretch of Chicago land roadway. There was no predetermined destination when stumbled into my jeep slopping coffee on my lap at 5 am one morning, but knowing that there was a good chance of finding an open pre dawn gate at either St James or Fairmount was a safe bet and traversing the distance before full sunrise to Archer Woods or Sacred Heart being another two off-hour options I have not been to recently pointed me in that direction…As I passed the enigmatic, landmark sign that read Willow Brook Ballroom no less than a half a block on the left the open gates to Fairmount became visible in the waning morning darkness…the last few visits there are indelibly etched in my mind as the unlikely combination of both scenic foreboding …I have in the past always feel literally sick when I got too close to the “Savage Tower” and that morning was no exception ….
Here are the unedited (cropped) photos from today’s visit 5-3-09 (51 total)…. http://s473.photobucket.com/albums/rr97/BarekHalfhand/Fairmount%204/
*From 11-08:
I have featured this location in Misc. Debris if it looks familiar …this afternoon’s cold, blustery weather and periodic snow flurries and my usual lack of weather appropriate attire made for yet another physically depleting afternoon photo shoot…there were some pronounced energy fluctuations in certain isolated spots… this site is apparently featured in a book discovered researching the area that am so drawn to….and an off duty police officer selected this location to commit suicide a few years back …
Here are the unedited photos from today’s visit: 11-20-08 (71 total)… http://s150.photobucket.com/albums/s85/landofhand/Fairmount/
It’s been over a decade since I worked at the Joliet Correctional Center and just returning to the empty main lot reminded me of the dread, insecurity and very real sense of mortal vulnerability that only those that have worked in such an institution can truly relate to… I found the 2009 announcement that the old prison was slated for conversion to a tourist attraction paradoxical as the concept of incarceration itself is antithetical to recreation…I felt less than nostalgic returning to that lot I did so may times over a 2 year stint to complete a project concurrent with the remodel undertaking …Still no word on the ribbon cutting ceremonies for the “Joliet Prison Park” as of the 08/2011 writing of this article, but I plan on including an inside view update to this topic once it does in fact open those massive iron gates to the public …
The Annex was originally constructed as a women’s prison and ultimately ended it’s tenure housing sex offenders that have completed their DOC sentence but have been deemed to still be a public threat by the Illinois Department of Human Services… I was working in the basement of The Annex where the most intense negative presence I have ever encountered near the small square barred doors of the Segregation Cells or ‘Seg“ used to hold the more unruly female inmates to serve a punitive penance for whatever transgression or policy violation they perpetrated …and as my original narrative (below) outlines, rumors of alleged abuse of these women by the “guards” of that period was related to me by a Correctional Officer that served as an escort that particular day …the assignment of one “escort” to a lone contractor was not unusual and at times they were female officers that wouldn’t done me much good had the inmates of this Super Max correctional facility decided to stomp us…There is a certain cold emptiness about the eyes of a sociopath…a complete lack of empathy for others, a remorseless pathology devoid of emotions, a lack of a moral compass and an innate sense of right and wrong that most of us possess even if it is crippled or arrested developmentally …once you look into those eyes you wont ever forget it, the absence of the radiant essence that makes us human is tangible even to those lacking this sensitivity and very obvious when it is missing…
Construction began on the medieval style castle prison complete with turrets and crenelated topped walls of the admin building in 1858 and a workforce of inmates and contractors shared the task …this site housed civil war POWs and criminals by 1860, even though the building wasn’t retrofitted with the basic amenity of running water in the cells until as late as the 1940′s the civil war prisoners were probably better off there than Chicago’s notoriously cruel and unsanitary; Camp Douglas that claimed so many lives…
There have been riots, the murder of a Warden’s wife, rumors of a singing ghost in the prison cemetery that drew thousand of curiosity seekers until the ghost was discovered to be a certain night guard that had a penchant for crooning to himself to stave off the lonely quietude of his post …
The woman’s prison was built in the 1890′s before the inmates were transferred to a new facility in Dwight Illinois and the Annex was converted to a male R & C (Receiving and Classification) then finally in the late 90′s (when I worked there) the annex was transformed into the D Department of Human Services sex offender residency…incidently (and ironically) the new R & C moved back across the street to the main complex and into a small buildings on the north side of the yard where they filmed John Belushi reclaiming his belongings that were cataloged and stored upon his incarceration…that famous scene with Frank Oz was actually shot in a mattress factory and I could still see the silver painted ceiling the director decided was necessary to brighten up the background for the shoot during the remodel …
Over the years the site has housed some famous inmates from celebrated cases, one such case was heralded as the Trial Of The (previous) Century; that being the trial of chilling child murderers Leopold and Loeb…
The famous opening gate scene from The Blues Brothers where “Joliet Jake” and Elwood are reunited on the Collins Street side of the prison wall was sealed shut during my tenure working there …
I didn’t watch too many episodes the Fox series “Prison Break” but I was in fact inside of that tunnel that was an integral part of the escape plot…this tunnel actually served as access to the yard guard tower and a service conduit for plumbing, electrical, voice and data …It is covered by a sidewalk and vents that runs the length of the yard that is digitally removed from most of the yard scenes ….
Most of the “Natural Born killers” prison sequences were filmed at Stateville on the other side of the river and although a large portion was shot at the JCC Annex, most of it was not used save for (I believe) the sequence where Mallory (Juliette Lewis) kills Scagnetti (Tom Sizemore) in solitary confinement …
There have been numerous movies and television filmed at the Joliet Correctional Center including “Red Heat”, “Derailed”, “Let’s Go To Jail”, the shows “Bones”, “Breakout Kings” among others …
I wrote up my experience, working in the basement of the Annex in late 2006, and you will probably notice my penchant for run on sentences is not a recent cultivation…
Quote me: (*edited for spelling, execrable grammar, run on sentences and inadvertent malapropisms )…
January 2007: I have had some instances of an uneasy “bad vibe” sort of feeling in certain places one of which could be easily dismissed just based on the creepy nature of the location but it is the most pronounced to date I can recall. For those of you in the USA you are probably familiar with the Fox series “Prison Break”, this show was filmed in the Joliet Correctional Center in Joliet Illinois (now closed) where I spent a considerable amount of time working as a technician during some of its remodeling . The nature of the work sent me to all areas of the prison (including ones occupied by real inmates not actors!) as well as a satellite building across the street called The Annex that was originally constructed around the turn of the century to serve as a women’s prison …well in the basement of this building there is a row of very small cells with tiny barred doors about waist high that was used as isolation or “seg” (segregation) for the female prisoners that misbehaved (I later found out that there were rumors of these ladies being the victims of regular abuse by the guards of the era) anyway, one day my task at hand led me to this notorious area with a coworker and we noticed one of the small cell doors… As I moved in for a closer look I got this overwhelming feeling of dread or like a “bad energy” is the best I can describe it …it was almost like years of psychic trauma had been hewn into the stone wall of the structure that comprised the building material used to fashion the medieval castle style prison this one was designed to resemble (the beginning of “The Blues Brothers” has a good shot of the main building)…The only way I can describe it is just a negative energy…I looked at my coworker; a very Joe Six-Pack kind guy and said “do you feel that ?” and his response was “yeah I do!”…we didn’t discuss it immediately afterwards and he didn’t bring it up again. It wasn’t until weeks later that I leaned about the lore surrounding that basement being the site of abuse…I have felt this sensation in other environments as well, some of which were simple empty rooms or basements that weren’t aesthetically “creepy” at all and there were many times that I was alone in super creepy places and felt nothing at all…I am especially interested in the stone style bricks in the prison as I believe there may be something to the residual haunting theory, much the way an audio impression can be played back in the case of a phonograph, perhaps psychic impressions can be left on certain materials and all of the construction and electrical work being done (a lot of new electrical conduit nears basement cell area) could have released this “imprint” even louder. Now, have I considered that I may have been feeling an EM field in the proximity of the new electrical work?…yes I have, but I also know that there was something ominous about this sensation, the same as the presence I have felt in the recurring sleep paralysis dreams I have (dark, foggy presence etc.) …
January 2007: “I touched on my theory that certain stone or rock based building materials may harbor the psychic impressions perceived by many of us …I have heard from friends that have visited the Viet Nam Memorial wall in Washington DC have felt something unusual and considering how many grief stricken people have visited this site it may be prime example …I am not sure but think it is made of a type of granite (will Google and report back later) taking this into consideration wouldn’t it also be reasonable to conjecture that graveyards loaded with assorted granite tombstones have been exposed to countless grieving visitors …I kinda of consider this my “Sci-Fi” explanation to some aspects of hauntings but it doesn’t necessarily dismiss the possibility of a spiritual activity…”
January 2007: “Maybe the (Viet Nam) Memorial is a bad example of this idea (I haven’t paid my respects as of yet) nor do I know if my friend has lost someone to that war, but i think maybe when all those names come into focus the sheer volume of them may evoke this as a sort of shock…Also in the case of the tombstone comment I made I didn’t mean the stone was imbued with the spirit of it’s dead sub-dweller but maybe exposed to the psychic trauma of a visiting grieving relative/friend and somehow released by weather, tremors, tidal forces, etc. …”
January 2007: “My theory is; it my be anything from the earths’ own EM field to mild tremors to a nearby train passing, traffic, weather, or even power tools used in construction (as was the case for me in the basement of the Joliet Correctional Center)…”
January 2007: “There’s no disputing it was a stressful work environment but I did spend alot of time in this place (Joliet correctional center) and would often have to walk among killers and other assorted baddies so when I got across the street to the basement of this “annex” building where the old seg (punishment) cells are, with other contractors nearby and with no inmates (at the time) even in the building, I was much more at ease than usual and I was not at all creeped out by the basemen. Lets take a moment to consider the composition of the base structure of the building and the large scale construction taking place. There were alot of additional electrical conduits installed overhead and powers tools humming everywhere, may have been enough to shake the bad energy out of anything even the contemptuous bad energy I felt out of nowhere within the proximity to the tiny cells where I first perceived it…”
The late August noon-ish visit to the aptly renamed: “Old Joliet Prison” was nothing short of splendid weather-wise …the sun was bight, the skies were a deep blue with a few billowy white clouds, the temperatures moderate and breezy and the preseason September scents of the approaching Indian Summer reminded me of the anticipatory excitement and apprehension of a new school year this season represented in childhood… the drive there took me through a surreal city of silos, smokestacks and an elaborate oil refinery network of pipes that transformed the suburban outback into a postcard from the Persian Gulf …I’m not sure if the Joliet Park District, Visitors Bureau or Historical/Preservation Society is responsible for the new gate, information kiosks and primary parking lot upgrade including park benches, but this seems to be as far as the “Prison Park” project has proceeded thus far…the buildings appear to be in a growing state of disrepair with broken windows, tall weeds growing through cracks in the concrete beyond the razor wire topped fence and even visible tree saplings sprouting from roof top crevices and crannies peeking over the ledges…the main admin building has several broken windows…I look forward to getting shots inside if the chance arises, the warden’s office is opulent in its ornate woodworking but again I don’t particularly relish the notion of walking that yard or the cellblocks again …the smell is a stale, sour odor that I will never forget …
There was a fairly steady stream of families in cars and couples on motorcycles pulling to the lot for a look, some of which parked and walked around while others were content with a slow drive-by viewing …One particularly imperturbable father repeatedly admonished his son of about 5 or 6 from attempting to scale the fence…one gentleman I noticed walking the north perimeter taking photos as I arrived inquired about the opening of “Prison Park” for inside tours when we crossed paths at the south end near the entrance…I informed him I knew as much as he did and after he shared that he drove from Ohio via Indiana for this visit, I regaled him with my experiences working there and knowledge of it’s history …he rolled his eyes when I brought up the ghost lore associated with the facility and fondly admitted his friends in Ohio have explored The Mansfield Reformatory under pretense of a ghost tour/paranormal investigation but was himself a skeptic albeit an ardent history enthusiast…I elected to forgo intimating my own supernatural experiences there in favor of a more cerebral discussion of the prison based on his reaction and wished him a safe journey home … More often than not I have had to shift gears when I am at a site like this and engage others present for any personal insight or information I can glean by such mild interrogative probing and find myself laughing off such superstitions nonsense right along with them citing it as a necessary aspect of the historic research I was conducting …
The Annex looked the same as it did over a decade ago from the outside …the paint on the bright red fire escape along the west wall was chipping away surrendering to the orange rust beneath, its’ bottom most section still cranked up perpendicular to the base…As I rounded the sentinel Lion statue on the left of the main entrance I realized that the small, wire mesh fortified windows would grant me a look inside the front doors where a double iron gate buffer space separated the outside world from “inside” …knowing that those small isolation cells where almost directly below the armory box to the left, I braced myself for a blast of that searing, soul swallowing negative energy I encountered over 12 years back…I was not disappointed in the least by it’s anticlimactic absence and fired off a couple shots through the windows before turning back to the sun soaked euphoria of the early afternoon and started down the small staircase when the unmistakable muffled SLAM of a cell door rang out from within the cold stone walls of the building …
I wandered around back down a gravel driveway between the Annex and another building that used to be a State Police forensic lab which still looked to be occupied and even had a few civilian (looking) vehicles in the lot …the weeds are rapidly overtaking the exercise yard but the basketball net and rusting weight bench are clearly visible through the double fence line..
I opted to save exploring the quarry for another time (predawn-sunrise) …the rear of the Annex revealed a few old maintenance or storage buildings, a radio repair shop for the entire correctional complex and trailers that looked to serve as additional DHS office space …the field to the east is reverting to a prairie state and at the bottom of a steep summit; a freight train clamored by a rectangular, white track-side edifice with JCC (Joliet Correctional Center) boldly effaced on the front and a newer looking large water tower labeled “Joliet” in a more contemporary italic font…
The empty Supermax facility seemed infinitely more peaceful albeit the indeterminate levels of lingering residual or sentient supernatural activity that may still dwell within …
The gargantuan propellers seem surprisingly graceful spinning in the distance as the wind farms of pastoral north central Indiana suddenly dominate the landscape and have come to serve as my symbolic gateway to The South…If I didn’t view this spectacle as fanatically futuristic I may have been compelled to fulminate over the irony of these immense landscape transformative edifices compared to the energy output of a single conventional fossil fuel/nuclear power plant but I digress…
The aromatic night air changes rapidly as the miles stream by…everything from fertilizer to fern wafts through the opened windows, but the country and mountain purity of this pollution free expanses of the open road are something that you rural folks probably take for granted …
This return trip entailed some new and some return visits …a new site was an antique mall plagued by a cantankerous old spinster the owner hesitantly confided is clinging to some of her worldly possessions purchased legitimately by the dealer at an estate sale …
A tip lead me to the site of 2 failed businesses where growing anxiety over bankruptcy and liquidation evidently lead one to drastic measures of desperation and sadly resignation …
Another new site by a trusted confidant lead me to a shack in the woods that where I literally felt the resident entity glowering in my direction from the rickety wooden porch …the tin roof (rusted) created a hot box effect that baked the hay stored within and created a musty, sour smell…visible holes in the floor called for careful circumvention …
A new twist in one of the return sites was the insight of a local that noticed me in the parking lot (out of state plates are a source of intrigue in this particular area) and while I was not immediately forthcoming as to reason for photographing the cemetery opting to attribute my interest one of historical study, he related an enticing tidbit of local lore associated with the site…The tragic story of teen sweethearts planning on a wedding after graduation turned from a simple postponement of the nuptials to sorrow when the young man’s call to service lead him to the European theater of WW1 and sadly; his death… his body was returned and interred with honors at this site where legend contends that the young woman anguished for months grave side, mourning the loss of her paramour …It is said that the specter of her grieving beside his memorial marker is still a fairly frequent occurrence …the girl herself never married, died young for reasons unspecified and was buried elsewhere downstate ….
The closed down daycare center has a sordid history and I would prefer not to speculate or fill in the blanks that exist on this one …the site has strewn debris and mattresses on the floor with assorted paint cans sitting next to it leaving little doubt that this now abandoned building plays host to huffers and assorted other transients…there is a strange substance splattered on the walls of the kitchen and the cabinet doors are all hanging open, giving the appearance of a temper tantrum …there are still board games neatly stacked on the shelves of 2 of the hallway closets…there is an awful, stale sense of stagnation and putrefaction inside, the basement door hangs wide open, the staircase steep and devoid of handrails …the caliginous cavern below was illuminated only by the faint light of square window of a single outside door leading outward and up via cracked concrete steps…the basement fireplace still bore the remnants of a recent fire and piles of discarded clothing, beer cans and liquor bottles littered the floor …an odd line of wooden chairs arranged like they were intended to accommodate an audience of some sort were situated to the left of the fireplace…the fetid stench of decay rapidly became intolerable and as my discomfort level rapidly rose, a horsefly bit my leg creating a surprising amount of pain for such a small insect …I finished with the basement photos and promptly departed …
This was my 3rd visit to the old creek side mill and the weeds have definitely gained a foothold on the aluminum sided, wooden floored structure…the bottom windows and door are now boarded up and there are now “No Trespassing” signs posted so this edition was limited to outside shots …the is still a dour presence lingering here and whether you ascribe to the ecumenical perception of negative entities as “demons” or not is irrelevant, the discordant nature of those that dwell in shadows is clearly tangible to those with unfiltered sensibilities and unfettered by the blinders of convention …I could literally hear the muffled cackling as I slipped down the bank of the creek next to the north wall, stopping just short of the rushing water…his sense of humor hasn’t changed since 2 visits ago when I almost plunged through the second floor rotted planks …
The old church in the bad section of town was merely a fortunate happenstance and 2 quick phone calls granted me access…the old TV, stoves, oak hutches, 2 upright pianos, standup wooden mirrors and antiquated recording equipment long with other assorted oddities stored inside undisturbed in this less than secured building left me perplexed …a tree branch grew through a broken window from the outside and seemed to be reaching towards the roof in defiance of the entire constitution…I wasn’t able to glean much in the way of site history as I embarked on some post-visit research and phone calls but apparently the church was lead by a particularly pernicious pastor that was accused of “abuse of authority” but my source wasn’t sure of the specific allegations…he was eventually transferred following mounting complaints leveled by the congregation, that again weren’t specified…
The covered bridge was a welcomed diversion from the norm and as this new addition was another referral, the details surrounding the nature of the alleged activity were also sketchy…as promised and by request, the exact location of these “Road Trip” sites will continue to remain undisclosed to prevent the attraction of “ghost hunters” and others looking to glom onto the latest wave of paranormal culture popularity, but the bridge is in fact a known historic site…the legend collectively recollected here relates to a woman battling an ultimately debilitating terminal illness who, as part of her self prescribed convalescent therapy enjoyed spending several afternoons a week at this location…she seemed to find solace by the mountain air and bubbling brook beneath the bridge and the scenic overview from the path leading from the main road …Reports of continued presence at the bridge following her losing the battle against whatever disease she fought are still rumored today but my source disavows any personal experiences here at this site that he himself frequents with his dogs in tow …shortly after my arrival at the bridge an SUV full of teens showed up and much to my chagrin; frolicked in the knee high creek thus depriving me of the solitude I prefer on these excursions.. In resignation I opted for a an insouciant photo session, thus treating the location like more of a tourist attraction than the site of purported paranormal activity …of course after collecting a sufficient amount of stills and videos, I started my ascent to the parking lot as the raucous teens began to grate on my nerves with their high decibel joviality and I was at the time in my then irritated state; lacking the appropriate parlance to request that they dial it down a few notches … In a moment of clarity and terse introspection I realized what a cranky curmudgeon I was becoming by such intolerance as I plodded up the path looking downward at red-dirt soiled shoes. A sudden ”hello” startled me…I returned the greeting as my head snapped back upward just glimpsing the middle aged woman in a sun hat passing me heading downward and the other direction …it wasn’t until I reached the summit and the gravel parking lot moments later that I made the connection and spun around to look back down the path …of course nobody was there ….
Maple Lake is a man made body of water just off of the famous haunted Archer Avenue back roads …the immediate proximity of St James, The Willow Brook Ballroom, Fairmount and Red Gate Woods to Maple/Bullfrog lakes and the long standing albeit less famous legend associated with that placid place in the woods prompted me to add this site to my ongoing coverage of this remote corner of Cook County…
A well stocked lake with a maximum depth of 21 feet and a tidy one mile of shoreline hosts a generous compliment of Bluegill, Channel Catfish, Largemouth Bass, Northern Pike, White Crappie, Yellow Bass, Yellow Bullhead… my 3 recent visits revealed that this is still a popular local fishing destination and picnic grove where you can rent boats, buy bait and tackle or just take in the serenity of this forest vestibule …
If you venture farther down the tree lined tunnel due south you will find the Pulaski Woods grove where this as one highest measured elevations in the County provides a panoramic view overlooking Bullfrog Lake below and a great sledding hill in the winter …the inter connecting network of mountain bike and jogging path jaunts that can be staged from here are seemingly endless and the stone pavilions and picnic tables provide an idyllic setting for family barbeques reunions or even larger scale outdoor company gatherings…
The haunted lore surrounding Maple Lake is somewhat ambiguous and what you will typically find on those Shadow-Prairie/Spooky Illinois websites involves the recurring appearance of a phantom light that sort of hovers above the surface as a red luminescent red ball… spirit lights/bog lights/earth lights have been conjectured to be attributed to everything from ball lightning, sparks created by the friction of the colliding tectonic plates, an elusive species of uber-lightening bugs to some weird phosphorescent swamp gas phenomena and even the work of pranksters with colored flashlights …personally I prefer the more logical explanation over all of the aforementioned posited, to that of the glowing red beacons in reality being the lanterns of decapitated, discarnate souls searching for their heads…
Looking back 20 plus years I remember when Maple Lake was un-gated and the sunset curfew seldom enforced…all night snowmobiling on those chilled, starlit nights around Bullfrog’s bowl shaped field and the heavily wooded trails beyond were an irresistible attraction that anyone with a sled, a hitch, a trailer and a penchant for excitement that a perilous, high performance winter death race gauntlet …An average evening would find many like minded death-sled enthusiasts cross crossing the whitened landscape atop their arctic speed machines with unbridled reckless abandon…
Often these renegade revelers would make fireside pit stops to warm up with the expeditious assistance of blackberry brandy, peppermint schnapps, “Good Ol’ Uncle Jack” or a chilled can of Old Style from a case cleverly concealed in the snow nearby…hardly surprising that more than one of these motorized inebriates would find themselves kissing the broadest bark of a tree or rounding a narrow path corner where there is no predetermined or regulated flow of traffic to meet head on at 70 plus mph with another unwitting sledder and exploding on impact into a maelstrom of fiberglass, skies, engine parts and broken bodies…
My own supernatural experience at Maple Lake also revisits the mid 80′s but transpired in the summer when the quarter mile clay track of Sante Fe Speedway would roar with the open header machismo late into the weekend evenings…one of the rookie class drivers there would often organize post race parties where he would imperiously preside over a seemingly endless supply of cold kegs he would deliver in a station wagon that bore an uncanny resemblance to the “Metallic P” from National Lampoon’s “Vacation”…Racetrack hierarchical etiquette dictated that track veterans or high ranking drivers would drink for free unless of course certain nefarious members of one of the Machiavellian “team demolition” crews showed up and all of the nuances and unwritten draconian codes of driver conduct went out the window…One such party I attended as a peripheral acquaintance of this social circle was held at Maple Lake…
The unchained Forest Preserve entrances of yesteryear created a myriad of liberating opportunities such as romantic rendezvous, camping, underage drinking and of course the aforementioned post racetrack fishing/ keg party combos …these rotating outdoor summer soirées seemed to generally attract a core group of colorful characters and regular attendees, but one particular couple had a penchant for lurid exhibitionistic libidinal performances as the evening progressed and alcohol consumption relieved them of their inhibitions as well as their better judgement…it was a bizarre ritual that perplexed budding armchair psychologists and aspiring voyeurs alike, it was also inevitable aspect of the evening that you could set your watch to…They would engage this odd role playing charade that would often entail the girl flirting with someone else to raise his ire or perhaps they would act out meeting for the first time and take turns initiating flirtatious first contact scenarios…
That evening at Maple Lake it appeared that the gal elected to reprise her role a the precocious provocateur which seemed to be her bailiwick while her bow looked on with a stoic nonchalance and feigned indifference …she would sit next to him engaged in some kind of coquettish seeming conversation then she would abruptly jump up from the picnic table and sashay up to the beer keg when a certain guy was getting a refill and sort of sidle up next to him with a greeting or quipped remark that I was too far away to hear …generally most were aware of this pattern of behavior from these two that excessive alcohol consumption often precipitated and took her with a grain of salt and mild bemusement… “You two are at it early tonight I see” the guy chuckled as he pumped the keg for her while she filled her cup…she would simply smirk then saunter her way back to the picnic table with where her complicit consort would react on queue with a non verbal stare down, a brief hushed but heated verbal exchange or an exaggerated act of repentance by the female that would usually end up with them feverishly groping each other on top of the table or run off just beyond the glow of the fire where they weren’t as visible but would compensate by ridiculously audible moans and guttural exaltation of unbridled carnal lust they would really have to ratchet up to compete with the ever present boom box or car stereo music…
Those that weren’t familiar with the recurrent nature of this couple’s beer buttressed theatrics laughing heartily at the evening’s avant garde performance while most shrugged with resignation at what had become all too cliche…a sudden shrill scream from the woman managed to elicit the attention of even the regulars as this was a new and innovative improvisation to what was usually a tightly choreographed repertoire…this divergence from the usual fare drew even more attention as the panic stricken woman ran back into perimeter the bonfire illumination followed by her disheveled counterpart (yes she was dressed )…
”There’s something standing by the trees ”…the look of shock and terror in her eyes immediately dismissed any speculation that this was merely an additional new component meant to infuse new life into an increasingly stale storyline …”it was just standing there watching us, it’s a demon ” …her boyfriend casually tucking in his shirt behind her shook his head implying he didn’t see anything …”Go look, it’s still there ” her eyes widening as her escalating state of hysteria revealed no sign of compunction for sounding a false alarm or partaking in an elaborate prank…The suggestion to go investigate was accepted with alacrity by 4-5 of us with flashlights in hand as this unexpected excitement was certainly an effective antidote to the banality of yet another night of brew swilling and mosquito swatting …as we approached the small copse of trees 20 or so odd yards away from the shoreline with our lights trained on the area she pointed out, we didn’t see anything and split up to encircle the thicket thus preventing the escape of the alleged “watcher”…as our flashlight beams crossed from opposite sides in our sweeping search grid pattern, they fell on a black, rippling, heat wave sort of distortion towards the center that immediately darted behind the nearest tree when my light fell on it…”did you see that?” I called to the others as I maneuvered to see if I could catch it from another angle, the impenetrable bramble preventing me from moving closer …”no” they replied in unison…”what did you see?” … not wanting to be categorize as prone to similar panic attack precipitated hallucinations we just witnessed by the interactive drama queen, I replied in a subdued tone that belied my growing anxiety; “I thought I saw something, it was probably my imagination” …As we returned to the gathering next the fire I glimpsed back just in time to catch a lithe, dark figure moving at a preternatural pace from the tree patch to the forest border …I said nothing …
The couple had already left and I could see the unmistakable round tail lights of his early 70′s Chevelle SS at a distance lighting up as he braked for the final turn before exiting…I don’t recollect seeing either one of them again the rest of the summer, or ever for that matter…I did in fact run into someone a few years back that was present that night at Maple Lake but he remembers nothing of the incident…
I made 3 visits to Maple Lake for photos/videos to accompany this article in late May/early June of 2011…the first, just at daybreak, the second on a drizzly, overcast afternoon… the final installment took place at a 4am where the surreal stillness of the forest and black water depths of the lake provoked a sense of instinctual vulnerability in me that seldom fails to be a humbling experience…the concept of elemental spirits is often bandied about in some of the more eclectic circles on the net and oddly the gnomes and nymphs of earth and water seemed determined to interject themselves into my active subconscious this time around…the shrouded quietude of the expiring night was only violated by the period rustling and chattering of woodland creatures the earliest of morning songbirds and one particularly ornery goose claiming his end of the lake…as the somnolent veil of darkness slowly surrendered to the easterly orange glow of the coming sun, the headlights of the periodic morning commuters became more frequent and a couple even stopped at the overlook lot to cast a few worms before work or better yet; to kick of a day of playing hooky…the game fish I’ve seen pulled from these lakes are generally paltry and constitute a “catch and release” but the die hard local sportsmen seem to love it nonetheless and by daybreak the overlook lot was more than half full…
The gate to the south entrance corridor was still locked after sunrise so I parked and walked to the southwest end were the boat rental docks and office/bait shop is located…conspicuous by it’s absence was the old pale blue station wagon that had always been a fixture of this place for years back was conspicuous by it’s absence but I figured that time had finally claimed the old land vessel…as I leaned over the fence for some shots of the sun rising over the lake, I heard a vehicle rolling up behind me and much to my pleasant surprise, the light blue station wagon that I always thought was just an inoperable decoy to detour overnight bait shop burglars passed me…the middle aged gentleman driver waved amicably as he rumbled up the narrow drive and parked by the gated docks to start another summer day by the lake like he has so many in the past …
The mosquitoes were relentless on each of the three visits and probably the biggest source of panic I encountered…the disembodied spirits and snowmobile suited specter that roams these woods and shores seemed rather innocuous by comparison to the ravenous, winged vampiric creatures that relentlessly swarm in a blood-lust frenzy …
Bullfrog Lake is just as I remembered it and every bit as tranquil…the bowl shaped topography of the grounds almost form an acoustic shell that insulates the area from nearby expressway traffic and the nonstop sonic roar of air braking overhead courtesy of the flight paths of O’Hare and Midway airports…the view from the Pulaski Woods vantage point is still spacious and airy, the rebuilt pavilion now has gravel deck that is cordoned off by railroad ties facing the woods to the south where a couple of smaller ponds are hidden away…the wet grass and blooming prairie flowers blended pleasantly in it’s rolling aromatic fragrance that culminated at the top of the hill courtesy of a light breeze…an almost synergistic relationship between man and nature may exist on the surface here but there is a very sense of ancient ambivalence and a tangible contempt that gets stronger the farther from the main paths you get once you venture out beyond the perceived safety of the clearings…
I couldn’t seem to pinpoint the copse of trees where 25 plus years ago I witnessed the spacial distortion anomaly and darting shadow apparition…of course they weren’t making much of an effort to conceal themselves earlier that morning when I got out of my car at the overlook alone at 4:15 am…
Here’s the Youtube video:
Haunted Maple Lake
Here are the (compressed to 1MB) photos…some have been slightly sharpened or color enhanced (06-2011) total….b
The 65th Anniversary Of The Naperville Train Crash By Barek Halfhand
April 25th 2011 at 1:03 pm marked the 65th anniversary of one of the worst railroad accidents in American history leaving 43 dead and 125 injured …I arrived in far west suburban Naperville at 12:35pm…
April 25th 1946 started out as cloudy with possible rain but turned to predominately sunny skies by late morning in Chicago with average high temperatures reaching the mid 50′s…but this early Spring weather was probably of little consequence to the commingling Union Station passengers that congregated outside the platforms, strolled the concessions stands or lounged on one the wooden benches in the ornate, vaulted skylight expanse of the Beaux-Arts designed Grand Hall concourse…This historic architectural landmark has been featured in movie such as The Untouchables, Flags Of Our Fathers, The Sting, Silver Streak, Code Of Silence and Raw Deal among others …Those awaiting their train’s departure here were likely transfixed by the suffused sunbeams that would often form intricate geometric patterns on the floor courtesy of the diamond shaped windows above …Some may have mulled over the day’s headlines in The Chicago Tribune or Sun-Times…The headlines for that same late April day the previous year in 1945 was dominated by WW2 headlines…such as heralding the conjoining of two Russian army regiments within the Berlin city limits as an important benchmark in the allied war efforts that hammered away at Hitler’s decimated war machine and now had him huddled in his bunkers…While many mourned the untimely death of President Roosevelt, they felt that the promise of prosperity by way of his New Deal policies even in the face of a war strapped government bankruptcy, would be delivered by FDR’s Vice President and successor: Harry S. Truman as commander and chief and as a sort of curator of FDR political legacy…These latest advances into the3rd Reich’s backyard, the invasion of Okinawa and other recent successful milestones in the War Of The Pacific instilled a hubristic sense of optimism for an immanent end to the war and an economic upswing…
In sharp contrast, the predominate news stories only a year later in 1946 were all related to America’s favorite pastime: Baseball, with only side column mention of the Socialistic Einheitspartei Germany party forming in East Germany…In a city itself swept up in the viral baseball fever and enamored with their Cubs in the wake of the 1st baseball broadcast in Chicago featuring the Cards vs Cubs on April 20th, the newspaper headlines for April 25th was monopolized by stories related to 11 players inducted into the Baseball Hall Of Fame…1946 was the year that brought us “It’s A Wonderful Life”, the first microwave oven and the first car phone…gas was 15 cents a gallon and music of Frank Sinatra, the Ink Spots, Bing Crosby, Duke Ellington, Perry Como and the Andrews Sisters permeated the radio airwaves…born on that year was George W. Bush, Cher, Sylvester Stallone, Tommy Lee Jones, Candice Bergen, Steven Spielberg, Dolly Parton, Freddie Mercury, Susan Sarandon , Sally Fields, Jimmy buffet and Theodore Bundy amongst others …
The transformation of steam to diesel powered locomotives transpiring nationwide by way of Smoke Abatement , air pollution and Clean Air legislation that started as early as the late 20′s had a dramatic effect on all modes of personal and logistical transportation …these new environmental regulatory statutes radically changed the air quality and general tidiness of the Union Station depot loading platforms …anyone that has had any experience related to a coal knows that with it comes a fine layer of soot regardless of efforts to contain, manage or remove it…the passengers that filed in and out of the trains as either daily commuters or transient travelers alike probably welcomed this change …
West bound passengers of the Advance Flyer and Exposition Flyer probably marveled at the sleek, streamline new designs of diesel locomotives and assorted cars that consisted of a varying combination of state-of-the-art sleepers, coach, dining and cargo cars of the Burlington Northern and Quincy Railroad that was the Amtrak equivalent of the day…the trains were reported to have disembarked almost simultaneously at 12:35 pm from Chicago on different tracks leading from the main depot were they would later converge on a shared railway somewhere before Halsted Street and accelerate to speeds often in excess of 80-85 miles per hour with only a buffer of mere minutes between them…The Advance Flyer was en route to Omaha Nebraska followed by The Exposition Flyer which was heading towards San Francisco CA. and both of their almost capacity passenger compliments included armed forces servicemen returning from the European theater…There were not scheduled stops in Illinois so the city scape probably transformed rapidly from metropolitan to suburban main street stations and even a few remaining spotted rural scenes beyond Clarendon Hills and Westmont, but surely the specter of urban decay and the gang graffiti of inner city plight we Chicago bound Metro Rail commuters try to ignore was not a scenery spoiler for these travelers of yesteryear …
At some point crew members aboard the Advance Flyer observed an unidentified object ejected from the underside of one of the carriages as they approached the Naperville city limits and the engineer was forced to make an unscheduled stop at the Loomis Street station to check for damages and conduct an impromptu safety inspection…the engineer of Exposition Flyer speeding along a disputed excessive speed speed 80 plus miles an hour did not see the red warning light and by the time he did visually identify the impeded train and frenzied flag waver ahead, the indefatigable leviathan juggernaut slammed into the last car of the Advance Flyer with such velocity, impact and unimaginable force that it literally split the last car in two up the middle…what followed was a scene of confusion, shock, devastation, carnage, twisted metal wreckage and the tumultuous caterwauling of pain and cries for help …
The momentum of the Exposition Flyer did not stop at the rear car, it tore savagely through the next car and buckled the following before derailing and tossing the remaining coaches to their sides like a model railroad hit by a basketball…bodies, blood and gore was intermingled with the twisted metallic mess and before the dust, smoke and snowflake like pieces of the train’s insulation could settle, people poured from businesses, stores, factories, homes and even the nearby North Central College to assist with the frantic search and rescue efforts…many of the N.C. College students arrived on the scene with dorm mattresses in tow to serve as stretchers …ambulance raced back and forth to ferry the injured to what then were the closest hospitals located in Wheaton and neighboring Aurora …the Kroehler Furniture Company factory served as a temporary triage …the dead were lined up a row along the front yards of houses adjacent to the tracks before the 3pm bell of a nearby elementary school and curious youngsters racing to the scene triggered a harried effort to relocate the victims and the body parts strewn on or near the tracks to the to Kroehler building which now also doubled as a makeshift morgue…The most consistent count that I have been able to ascertain through hours of internet and library searches stands at 43 dead and 125 wounded…the point of impact, the scattered debris and the few trailing cars of the Exposition Flyer that remained on the tracks started at the Loomis Street crossing and extended almost as far back to the Saints Peter and Paul Cemetery which is also rumoredto be the site of supernatural disturbances in addition to that block long stretch of railroad tracks, the historic Kroehler Furniture Company building (5th Street Station) and the houses nearby…
I stopped along the way to get some shots of the North Central College buildings and a huge cathedral near the Loomis Street crossing destination where I was fortunate enough to find a parking spot nearby …I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the freight and commuter trains rumbled by as frequently as every 10 minutes or so and as I made my way to the lowered crossing gate for some shots of the steel stampede streaming by, I noticed an elderly gentleman sporting a jacket with a some type of classic railroad enthusiast insignia …I crossed to the corner where he was reverently observing the passing freighter and as soon as he noticed the camera he proceeded to ask me if I was “so and so” that he was supposed to meet there to commemorate the anniversary and discuss his collaboration on a book about the crash that was already in already in the works …this lead to a lengthy discussion about the accident and the joint writing endeavors to which he was aspiring…he conceded that tracking down survivors of the crash or their relatives was proving to be a daunting task but felt confident in 2012 as a firm publication objective…being the affable history buff he comported himself to be, I took the opportunity to collate the facts I had surrounding the crash since there are many inconsistencies and conflicting reports on the net …
Surprisingly I had the majority of my facts straight and the last thing I confirmed was the actual crash time as 1:03pm which he also validated but with a chuckle reminded me that since daylight saving time was not in effect in 1946, the actual wreck time would be 2:03pm …Even though I implied that my interest was more history related, he intimated one particular past crash anniversary date when he returned to this site and there were what he described as “Occultists” lingering about the area claiming that the spirits of the departed passengers hover overhead every year … “One of them was holding these thin sticks or wires” he said…”dowsing rods?” I offered, “yes and they were moving back in forth in his hands in a way that still spooks me” …”I try to stay away from that sort of thing and not think about it” he continued, “ I have had a few things happen to me that I couldn’t explained and…and I just prefer not to think about it” shrugging it of with a insincere chuckle before changing the subject …I think many just prefer “not to think about it” the more I try to nonchalantly interject supernatural related subjects into conversations with people not involved with it (or obsessed with it )…
I thanked him for his sharing his acumen regarding railroad history and decided to make my way across the tracks to the 5th Avenue Station (the Kroehler Furniture Company factory building) and down the street westward to the track-side cemetery before doubling back at 2:03pm that was the actual 1:03pm of 1946 (ugh) …
There is a sort of mall mezzanine hallway between offices on the 1st floor of the 5th avenue Station with an assortment of reality offices, interior design showrooms, indeterminate businesses and restaurants …at the far end of the hallway was the leasing office for the loft and studio apartments available for rental, the overhead ceiling is unusually low and the visible pipes and wiring infrastructure just overhead added to the cluttered sense of claustrophobic confinement…and while many elect to take the day after Easter Sunday off, there was a highly unusual crypt like lifelessness about the place even for a post holiday …
The Saints Peter and Paul Parish Cemetery less than a block east of the crash site is an odd little island surrounded by homes, the Columbia St. overpass and of course the railroad tracks …there are many graves dating back to the mid 1800′s and a strange stone edifice with a Madonna statue perched in an upper promontory, and a concave chamber below…my guess is that is intended to represent Christ’s burial chamber in Jerusalem…the cemetery seems bedeviled by the relentless man-made seismic activity endemic to property adjacent to freight routes this active…the ground rattling railway reverberations literally shakes the ground beneath your feet at least every quarter to half hour…the warning horn wailing from the locomotive is literally loud enough to wake the dead, or so it is said….
Here’s the related YouTube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HP07PIliT20
Here are the (compressed to 1MB) photos…some have been slightly sharpened or color enhanced (4-25-2011)85 total….b
Far west suburban Downers Grove is one of many of the main street revitalization projects designed to help reinvigorated the existing classic storefront shops that languished economically in the early 90′s with the inception of the Wal Mart superstore model by way of the addition of specialty shops, concept bar & grills, and of course “Starbucks… The Downtown Cemetery lies at almost the epicenter of this now bustling Main street business district who’s side streets are now dotted with new condos and remodeled Victorian style homes that are common along the metro railway that acts one of the main commuter arteries connecting downtown Chicago to the suburbs, some of which east of this location are even Franklin Lloyd Wright designs …The economic invigoration efforts of the early to mid 90 ‘s included transforming the building adjacent to the cemetery that sat closed after serving a short tenure as a now defunct printing company into a bi level state of the art micro-brewery with seating on both floors that entertained a south view of the historic cemetery nestled between buildings next door…I remember the rumors of bar patrons catching glimpses of luminous apparition meandering among the stone markers by squinting through the windows into the darkness below when I used to visit this establishment periodically in the late 90′s and I of course wrote it off to one too many of the proprietary home elixirs peddled there much the way I remember dismissing the sensations of uneasiness I often felt there …
There was also rumored to be the recurring spectral appearances of what was reported to be a woman wearing turn of he century period clothing wandering the 1st floor isles between tables and disappearing after ignoring the challenge of the startled closing staff member …
Founders Hill Bar and Grill closed in 2004 and the building was subsequently purchased and reopened under new ownership/ management and is still in business today as Emmett’s Taverns( pictured below) …less than a quarter of a block south of the cemetery is of course, the train station that was the site of a horrific train accident that claimed several lives and is rumored to also be the site of intermittent paranormal activity as well…Also rumored to be haunted is the historic Tivoli Hotel, Theater and Bowling Alley that is still the focus of controversy because the hotel caters to transients and is considered to attract an unsavory element to the area that local residents and the area Chamber Of Commerce agree serves as a deterrent to attracting new business investors and residents to fill the multi tenant upscale condos that sit unoccupied as a result of the sputtering economy …
I opted for a predawn/sunrise visit as I seem to experience more “positive hits” during that time frame…Often the sites I select to photograph are dictated by a quixotic work schedule that can be shaped and altered by any number of a confluence of events and circumstances that can lead me to change my plans 15 times before noon, but things have been slow lately so this was one of those occasions that I got up at 4 am for the exclusive purpose of venturing out into the night air with my camera …The 4:30am mist that peppered my windshield as I rolled down the quiet suburban side street reminded me there was rain predicted for the morning commute, but aside from adding some orbs to the flash photos; it did not prove to be a hindrance, although the penetrating chill reminded me that the black hoodie that I favor would have been better suited as an under garment to a heavier coat … The holiday lights and decor that is already draped on the trees poles and storefronts a week before Thanksgiving looked to be a testament to the pre holiday jitters the local retail and special store merchants must already be feeling …
The Bar that was originally named “Founder’s Hill” as a homage to the historic cemetery next door was now one of the 3 Emmett’s Taverns that have sprouted in the Far West Burbs, but the familiar visage of the huge metallic vats that dominate the front windows became visible as I crossed the street from a vacant parking lot that likely be filled to capacity a few hours later …
The amber glow of the holiday lights created an ambient mood for the initial shots of the tavern and the rain streaked streets provided a colorful neon and stoplight collage below…The Downtown Cemetery seems oddly juxtaposed between buildings and even the plaque annotations affixed to the flagstone staircase did not seem to validate the visual contradiction that this preserved patch of history purveyed …as the downtown district continued to slumber the cemetery’s sole live occupant seemed surprisingly unabashed by my sudden incursion but bolted back to Bunny land when I got to close …I seemed to be more drawn to the tavern building than the cemetery but I invoked my standard resolve to focus on the film and not the phantasms …
The train station was about a half a block south but I elected to drive there because the light sprinkle was becoming more of a steady rain at this point….the frequency of overnight freight trains along this corridor of the Burlington Northern railway was kind enough to accommodate me with a lengthy freighter to add to the new Photobucket album…
And as the roaring locomotive shook the ground as it angrily lumbered by followed by a burden of everything from stacked containers on flatcars, tankers , hoppers, car carriers to classic box cars, I had to wonder what a train wreck must have been like on that fateful April of 1947 evening when the wreck claimed 2 lives and injured 34 as the Zephyr passenger train derailed following a collision with a tractor trailer and, crashed into the station…a station that sits on the same set of racks nine miles west in Naperville, Ill., where 45 persons died the previous April of 1946 in a collision of two Burlington passenger trains….
The predawn activity in the train station was limited to the first of the early AM commuters that I passed a block or so north walking the opposite direction pausing for shots of the storefronts that added to the neon sheen of the rain slicked streets ..she glanced in groggy confusion as she accepted the jumbo coffee the cheerful to the point of annoying concession stand employee handed her and was probably still wondering how I made it there so fast as she upended she last of the Mocha Grande before disembarking from the train and spilling into the Union Station platform and the sea of humanity that awaited her that hemorrhaged from the street level exits and dissipated into the city streets of Chicago only to repeat itself in reverse starting as early as 2:30 pm that afternoon …
The Tivoli Theater/Bowing Alley/Hotel looked to have been the focus of some recent remodeling or renovation efforts as the old style pained windows and blinds that were yellowed with age were replaced with a modernized and probable “green” model…this and the painted, repaired or replaced facade seemed to belie the “flophouse” enigma that I recalled as providing the town’s sole seedy element…The “YES WE’RE OPEN “ sign in the barber poled, next door shop window darkened by obvious overnight closure provided a comedic reprieve as I visualize a Vitalis doused , cantankerous old barber turning off the lights, locking the doors and once again forgetting to flip the sign in the window for the millionth time in the eons he has probably worked there…
The history is rich within the tapestries of this old classic railway suburban town and it is hewn into the stone and fabric of these streets both visually and energetically …one wonders if the paradox of modernized nostalgic antiquity that is preserved here with such a fragile balance today in 2009 will prevail in 2109?….
History
Downers Grove was founded in 1832 by Pierce Downer, a religious evangelist from New York. Its other early settlers included the Blodgett, Curtiss, and Carpenter families. The original settlers were mostly migrants from the Northeastern United States and Northern Europe. The first schoolhouse was built in 1844.
During the American Civil War, 119 soldiers from Downers Grove served in the Union Army; at least one of these was interred in the cemetery downtown. There was an abolitionist presence in the village, and some of the older homes are thought to have been stops on the Underground Railroad.
The Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad was extended from Aurora to Chicago through Downers Grove in 1862, boosting its population. The town was incorporated in March 1873. Its somewhat unusual spelling (“Apostrophe-free since 1873″) remains a minor historical mystery.
In April 1947, a Burlington Railroad Nebraska Zephyr passenger train wreck killed two people, including the engineer. The eastbound streamliner struck a large piece of farm equipment which had become loosened from its flat car, and was protruding onto the adjoining track from a westbound freight. Part of the train crashed through a wall of the Main Street Station.
The construction of two major toll roads along the village’s northern and western boundaries, I-355 in 1989 and what is now referred to as I-88 in 1958, facilitated its access to the rest of Chicago metropolitan area. Downers Grove has developed into a bustling Chicago suburb with many diverse businesses, including the headquarters for Rossi, FTD, The Travelers Companies, Lovejoy, ServiceMaster, Sara Lee, Swift-Eckrich,[4] Arrow Gear,TMK IPSCO,[5] Magnetrol,[6] Spiegel and Butterball.
Downers Grove, IL Train Derails & Crashes into Depot, Apr 1947
Posted August 4th, 2009 by June
Illinois Wreck Claims Lives Of Two
34 Hurt as Zephyr Derails, Crashed Into Suburban Station.
By The Associated Press.
Chicago, April 4-Two passengers were killed and about 34 persons were injured when the Burlington railroad’s speeding Pam City Zephyr was derailed by a tractor and crashed into the railroad station at suburban Downers Grove last night.
The tractor had fallen off a westbound freight train that had just passed on an adjoining track and into the path of the stainless steel streamliner, eastbound from Minneapolis to Chicago.
The crash in a flash of flame and shower of falling bricks ripped up three sets of tracks nine miles east of Naperville, Ill., where 45 persons died last April 25 in a collision of two Burlington passenger trains.
Several eyewitnesses said they saw “a tremendous ball of fire” as the Zephyr left the rails.
The diesel train, which the Burlington said was traveling at its usual 75 miles an hour clip through the suburb 21 miles west of Chicago, smashed into the side of the unoccupied brick depot, partially wrecking it.
Police said the crash occurred at 11:41 p.m. The Zephyr was due in Chicago at 12 p.m. It left Minneapolis at 5:10 p.m.
The dead passengers were identified by police as Lloyd W. Wright, 48, of Oak Park, Ill., and Edith Hettand of Minneapolis.
Most of the injured were taken to hospitals at nearby Himsdale and Aurora. Three were reported in serious condition.
The Zephyr’s engineer, Clarence Thurston, 67, of Aurora, Ill., was trapped in the cab.
The Downtown Cemetery Update Part 1
By Barek Halfhand
This first of two planned updates entailed both a day a night return visit to downtown Downers Grove…. and while this night trip transpired in the late evening as opposed to the 4am predawn of last time around, the unseasonable cold and caliginous quietude of that stone blocked, cast iron gated plot of land known as Founder’s Hill still managed to evoke a sense of isolation and solitude…a precipitant,
penetrating gloom even amid the chattering of cold impervious smokers that flanked the vestibules of both the Micro brewery next door and Irish pub across the street …Samuel Curtiss probably wouldn’t recognize the land surrounding this portion of his sheep pasture he donated to appease the need for a village cemetery in the mid 1850′s for which he was later recompensed the tidy sum of $15.00 USD …
While suburban nightlife may seem sedate by Chicago’s Rush Street standards, the vivacious vibrancy of this mid week, main street permeated the darkened space beyond the short flight of stairs with laughter, car horns and the concussive thump of over-amplified bass speakers from passing vehicles that an un-gloved hand could literally feel on the most remote of smooth granite slabs from the street…
An uncharacteristic lapse in my street wise, self defense oriented, heightened senses found me startled by a lone middle aged man cutting through the cemetery as I blocked the sidewalk contemplating my next photo …I stepped aside with a brusque “excuse me” and he passed without comment, eye contact or any break in cadence that would imply acknowledgment, his face fixed in a dour, phlegmatic scowl …oddly as he passed into an area deprived of streetlight illumination at a steady pace, I continued to track his progress based on that pace and estimate his reemergence into visibility near the park but he never did reappear …
The Tivoli Theater and hotel is another story altogether and I was surprised to see Poi Dog Pondering on the marque thus confirming the rumor that the classic cinema would indeed be adding select music acts to it’s 1,000 seat venue fare…The hotel, bowling ally and the theater are reputed to be the site of supernatural activity, the reports of which have varied and changed with the passage of time, but that is for a future update…I did get some shots of the basement bowling ally during the the day as unrelated circumstances brought me back to the area thus enabling me to secure some sunlit shots…My own (questionable) sources have in fact informed me that the bowling ally has experienced a few unexplained gutter balls scaring the overnight cleaning crew by slamming into the lowered pinsetter gate over the past decade…the escalation of this and other unspecified supernatural occurrences are evidently concurrent with remodeling work performed on the hotel and resurgent during the those time tables …
The sun-drenched, late morning cemetery revealed that the adjacent park to the west is the site of a new
band shell project and with it, more ground shaking construction machinery and workers …the annual summer “ Heritage Festival” held here has been legendary in the past and hopefully the assembly of this new band-shell will dispense with the rumor that commission of the yearly event had been suspended pending resolution of financial issues…alas it would appear that no community is immune the effects of this troubled economy, even those in affluent Du Page County it would appear….
This installment includes photographic anomalies from
Bachelor’s Grove, Holy Sepulchre, Burr Oak, The St Pascal Friary Demolition, several road trips and much more….b
I feel that this thread should be prefaced with a cautionary desecration advisory for those of you not familiar with this haunted site and the details surrounding the tragic murder of the Grimes sisters and may find it upsetting…I assure you it is not intended to sensationalize the events that have propagated this legend, the continued paranormal activity reported there or exploit the plight of the family that owned the property as a consequence of their front yard being the location of a horrible discovery near the end of their driveway…I report the facts as I understand them by the research I have conducted, witnesses I have interviewed, stories I remember from my youth and my own journeys to the “House On German Church Road” starting as a child in the mid 70′s …
The lot at the corner of German Church and County Line Roads is still vacant today… the tiny swimming pool bath house is the sole structure remaining aside from the pile of rubble where the house stood and was finally razed in what was almost an effort erase the enigma associated with this property …a plot of land that is surrounded by upscale housing in what is considered one of the most affluent areas in the U.S. yet remains conspicuous by it’s continued vacancy…I remember this area growing up in the Chicago suburbs as being a place where pristine snow covered fields were the choice destination of snowmobilers and countless acres of paths, trails and even an abandon prison farm provided those of us with dirt bikes as much adventure as our gas tanks would permit …
At the farthest reaches of one of these prairie pathways that now has succumbed to the forces of progress and the bulldozer’s blade long ago was an old house that someone had left furnished complete with a vintage ‘55 Buick the basement garage …Some contend that the woman that lived in the house was so distraught by the bodies being discovered at the edge of her property that she was institutionalized following a PTSD related breakdown and her husband moved across the street leaving the home in stasis in the event that she returned to him (and evidently their children as the discarded toys I remember strewn about the abandon house implied) …
Some theorize the house became haunted following the murders, and as this became a popular Halloween and thrill seeking destination for kids back then, the paranormal activity alleged to occur at this site was also confounded by irrepressible imaginations of those that mustered up the courage to visit this site that was legendary even back in the 70′s …I can remember the house before it was set ablaze by vandals but never went inside although I did in fact explore the basement garage that sat below the charred remains of the house and became a makeshift crypt for the family Buick … Being the precocious prepubescent that I was, I of course was often the first to venture undaunted into these places as my friends hung back waiting for me to test the waters as point man …the apprehension I experienced at this location in particular was always tangible as I made my way up the gravel driveway stepping over the chain hanging between two rusted posts, leaving my friends and the relative visible safety of German Church Road behind …the expression that surely would have belied my feigned nonchalance as I marched defiantly up the ascending and curving gravel grade beyond the sight of my co adventures was likely one of rapidly diminishing confidence…as the house came into site I was stopped n my tracks by the sound of a sort of whimpering coming from a indeterminate direction …needless to say my friends didn’t wait for an explanation when they saw me uncharacteristically running down the hill at a hastened pace…I told them I heard someone talking and quickly retreated without notice …it would be several years before I returned to the site that by then had been claimed by vandalism and arson …
Some of the stories that are on the net I can collaborate as far as what rumors where filtered down to us from older siblings …many contend that they would often spot a gaunt looking man wandering the grounds that some believed to be the property owner, while some of the more spectacular claims made included the spectral sightings of the sisters lying just as they were left on the side of the road, discarded like refuse on that cold January night…some claim to see girls consistent with the age of the sisters peering over the guardrail as they speed along that still wooded stretch of road and often there are reports of the two being spotted solemnly wondering between the tombstones in the nearby cemetery behind the Lutheran Church that is the street’s namesake and a stones throw from the cul-de-sac where the bodies were discovered …they reports vary but most claim they are spotted from a distance and vanish behind the tombstones when someone approaches thus disappearing completely when the inquiring church elder, attendee or maintenance guy got too close ….
Any crime involving child victimization is heinous and abhorrent, but here is something even more sinister when the act of aggression is that of a sadistic, sexually predatory nature …the only possible reasoning for those that believe there is a higher power allowing this type of atrocity to occur without intervention is that it reminds us not to take our little ones for granted and perhaps hug them a little tighter before they leave to go out with friends or to the movies…it at least provides us with an added incentive for reiterating to our kids just how important it is to avoid situations and scenarios where they could become yet another of the many missing, exploited or worse in an endlessly growing statistic…Loretta Grimes must have replayed those last few moments that she saw her daughters alive during the guilt stages of her grieving …it is natural for parents to blame themselves or attribute the fate of their child to a discretionary failure or momentary lapse in judgment … perhaps if more perennial recitations pertaining to the inherent dangers of “strangers” were added to dinner table conversations the child would have not have been so easily lured into the state of comprised security that lead to such tragic consequences …anyone who is a parent has at some point abdicated authority in favor of being a “pal” to their child or as a means of exhibiting trust, but there was not nearly the frequency of these sort of crimes back in 1957 …the similarities between the Grimes Sisters and the Schuessler-Peterson murders involving the discovery of three young boys murdered and dumped naked in a ditch on the city’s northwest side less than two years before in ‘55 seemed to mark the end of the assumption that the relative safety of a “good neighborhood” would shield children from the most insidious of transgressions …crimes of this nature are not that of an aberrant, uncontrollable urge or perverted passion, but that of anger, violence and degradation as all predatory crimes are, but when the object of this unconscionable act is a child, the veil of darkness associated with the crime scene, the surviving relatives, even the investigating law enforcement personnel can linger on indefinitely …I have heard reports from other “sensitives” that they can still feel the preponderance of residual evil emanating blocks away from the property where the Gacy house once stood …a small plot of land that also stood vacant for an while following it’s demolition and excavation of 27 young men and boys back in the 70′s …The Grimes murder remains unsolved and the term”cold case” is the worst of puns in this instance, yet is still refereed to as such albeit the fact that it is presumed the girls likely died from prolonged exposure and hypothermia and not as the direct result of the brutal injuries they sustained at the hands of a monster …
This became a national headline story that even prompted Elvis Presley to issue a statement urging the girls to return home if the were in fact runaways as contended by police during those agonizing weeks while they were missing between December 28th, 1956 and January 22nd 1957 …Patricia (13) and Barbara (15) Grimes departed their home on the 3600 block of south Damen Avenue that ironically was only a few doors up from a home on the 4100 block where one of the reputed “Resurrection Mary” candidates (Mary Bregovy) resided until she was fatally injured in a car accident in the mid 30′s…
“Love Me Tender” enjoyed an extended run at the Brighton theater on Chicago’s south side and as Barbara and Patti were fanatical Elvis fans, this would have been their 11th viewing of that film and what they pledged to be the last …they were spotted in line getting popcorn around 9:30 pm and then again at 11:00 pm at a bus stop …what happened next is purely speculation to this day …Loretta Grimes grew anxious when 11:45 pm arrived and her daughters failed to return …she promptly dispatched her 17 year old daughter (Theresa) and 14 year old son (Joey) to the Hoyne Ave. bus stop where three late service scheduled stops failed to produce their siblings …
The month of them missing was already a media circus and reporters camped in front of the grimes home hoping to catch a glimpse of the distraught family members or get a highly coveted exclusive interview or photo…the ensuing nightmare that followed was an endless stream of alleged sightings from all over the Chicago-land area by train conductors, motel clerks, mysterious calls to the homes of classmates in the middle of the night and even claims of visionary dreams …
At one point Loretta received a ransom note demanding $1,000 to be delivered to a downtown Milwaukee Catholic church that left the poor woman waiting in a parking lot with the money and the promise of the girls safe return that never came to fruition… as if the depravity of robbing a woman of her children was not enough, a scheme to extort money from her only added insult to the open wound of an injury…the ransom note was eventually traced to a mental patient…then there was the call from a man claiming to have had a “dream” that the girls would be found near 81st and Wolf roads in what was then a park in southwest suburban Willow Springs and when the girls where discovered less than a mile away the prognosticator was identified as a 53 year old Walter Kranz; a steam fitter working part time as liquor store clerk where the call was traced ….he was questioned extensively as a person of interest and later released after he was said to have been interrogated numerous times at the Englewood police station and administered a polygraph test, the results of which were unspecified… nor was it disclosed if he was later released because of lack of sufficient evidence to detain him or if he was exonerated of the crimes through a substantiated alibi and the results of the lie detector test… Walter Kranz and Rolando Cruz are in my opinion perhaps the most visceral and salient examples as to why so many do not come forward with psychic visions that may assist in a murder/missing person(s) investigation as the fear of implication by over zealous, skeptical, unscrupulous or pressured investigators/prosecutors may name them as a suspect, offender or accompli by association…
Cruz was originally convicted of the murder of 11 year old Jeanine Nicarico of Naperville Illinois, in the neighboring county of Du page when he related dream visions he had about the killing and he actually served jail time before a new trial revealed suppression of evidence and criminal misconduct by county prosecutors and state investigators that ultimately freed Cruz , indicted the offending prosecutors and investigators that were later acquitted and solidified the case against serial killer/rapist/scumbag Brian Dugan whom now resides on death row following an almost personal seeming campaign by States Attorney Joe Birkett…a personal seeming vendetta he continued even after his unsuccessful gubernatorial bid a few years back that many claimed was at the root of his allegedly feigned indignation of the botched case that left such an indelible stain on the County Court system even today…the retrial of Dugan and ultimate death sentencing last year resurfaced the memories of the horrid crime and revealed more details pertaining to the officious misconduct in the Cruz conviction, but I digress …
When the gruesome discovery was finally made by a passing motorist and his wife that January 1957 morning after noticing what appeared to be a couple of unclothed store mannequins on the side of the road he was horrified to find that they were indeed human remains …the pair proceeded directly to a local police station (assuming Willow Springs as affluent Burr Ride was unincorporated Hinsdale or Lyons Township back then) where the wife whom was so beset with emotional trauma following the discovery that she had to be carried back to the car …what was to follow was a crime scene trampled by law enforcement officials from numerous local, county and state agencies and from numerous surrounding municipalities …the FBI’s involvement was never disclosed but many claim that this investigation was botched the moment the girls left for the movies that fateful night ….
In a city that was still reeling from a similar crime a few years earlier that left many in the Chicago area catatonic in the grip of fear and a killer still at large in 1958, the consensus among those closely monitoring the investigation was that assigning Lt. Joseph Morris to head the special police unit assigned to this case as well, must have seemed like a bad choice …a haphazard search of the crime scene and wooded ravine flanking the banks of Devil’s Creek (much of which remains wooded today ) yielded no clothing or clues and as Lt. Morris vowed not to make the same mistakes they did in ‘55, ostensibly it looked to be repeat performance of the disorganized, poorly orchestrated, uncooperative undertaking that was the hallmark of the Schuessler-Peterson CSI …The scene on that day on the northwest side was apparently an effort that seemed almost adversarial by the competing factions comprising the assembled task force of 162 officers from mixed departments and municipal law enforcement agencies that searched the Robinson Woods for clues after a lunch breaking salesman spotted the boys along a forest preserve creek bed that day …
The autopsy performed on the girls itself was inconclusive as far as gleaning additional clues or useful forensic evidence by mid 1950′s conventions save for the reluctant admission by the three experienced pathologists that the older of the sisters (Barbara) was sexually assaulted …there was also confirmation of the injuries the reporters had noticed at the crime scene but claimed that none of the injuries suffered were life threatening and the girls likely dies from exposure after being left unconscious on the roadside the night they vanished on Dec 28th …the preserved state of the bodies and the fact that they went unnoticed mere feet from a well traversed roadside, just beyond the guardrail, was attributed to the steady snowfall and consistently frigid temperatures that prevailed for the month they were missing…whether this information was intentionally deceptive, convoluted or erroneous is unknown as it is was often a common tactic to intentionally falsify details related to a crime to help screen out the steady stream of bogus leads and false confessions…This often accompanies celebrated cases where national notoriety is a potential and thus a motivation for false confessions by whack-balls and nut-jobs alike even when the fame acquired would be that of a nefarious nature (I feel like I’m describing aspiring para-celebrities for some reason)…
As the media circus escalated and the city that was swept with paranoia, suspicion and conjecture reverted to the panic stricken state it was struggling to overcome…the investigation intensified and became even more bizarre and complicated…there was even a Chicago Tribune newspaper sponsored contest inviting readers to mail in their theories for a $50 prize if it was posted in the edition that it was featured…but as repulsive as media sensationalization can be, the outpouring of sympathy from the community came to the rescue of the now destitute surviving Grimes family members and rallied to raise the funds required to pay off their Damen Avenue home …very little information is available about the father (Joseph Grimes) aside from being “ a husky truck driver that broke down and sobbed upon identification of the bodies …but as divorce and single motherhood carried with it the stigma of marital discord and the connotation of infidelity back in those days, this may be the reason that the father’s role in this ordeal is not mentioned or largely suppressed …I have yet to notice a reference to Loretta as a widow in my research endeavors thus far …the girls were buried at Holy Sepultre; the site of “The Miracle Child” and the subject of a few of my past threads…I will visit their grave sites when I return there in the early spring …
The investigation intensified as the outcry from the public and governing officials demanded resolution…in all, it is stated that close to 300,000 people were questioned and up to 2,000 were seriously interrogated and the interrogative methods employed back then back were said to make Guantanamo Bay look like and all inclusive stay at “Sandals”…The search for the killer(s) headed by Lead Investigator Harry Glos produced a narrowed down list of unsavory suspects one of which was a drifter from Tennessee named Edward L. Benny Bedwell who was a dishwasher at a restaurant on west Madison street where the transient worked periodically for meals …his resemblance to Elvis by way of sideburns, duck tail style haircut and the description of the two girls that claimed to be sisters he was seen with following the disappearance was enough to subject Bidwell to an interrogation where civil rights where not as much of an immediate concern as the extraction of a confession which they where able to elicit presumably by brute force…but the culpability of Bidwell’s admission of guilt was scrutinized by the State’s Attorney and ordered released only to be immediately scooped up and extradited to Florida on a warrant related to rape charges involving a 13 year old girl there that bore striking similarities to the Grimes case, but the accuser in Florida managed to escape after being held captive for several days…this M.O. and the startling revelation released by the pathologist confirming that Barbara was in fact molested and the opposing viewpoint of lead detective Glos that the weather conditions that created the layer of ice around the still warm bodies of the girls could have only occurred if they were dropped off over a week later around January 7th as conditions and cumulative precipitation prior to that would not have created this ice layer around the bodies…this was concurrent with a scenario that the sisters were held captive then murdered, consistent with the Florida allegations…he escaped conviction on a technicality there and was jailed years later on a weapons charges, he died shortly after his release in 1986….
Police Captain Ralph Petaque netted the other of the more likely suspects in 17 year old Max Feig …details surrounding his implication as “a person of interest” is unclear but, but through the notoriously persuasive techniques of he day, the 17 year old voluntarily took a polygraph examination that was later ruled as inadmissible because it violated the laws governing juveniles and the administration of lie detector testing…the results of the polygraph were never disclosed but not unlike Bidwell there were accusations of a coerced confession thus necessitating the boy’s release …he was sent to prison just a few years later after he was convicted of the violent murder of a young woman… time passed and hopes where dashed as the Schessler-Peterson murders were deemed not connected by it’s eventual resolution in 1994 and relationship to the murder of the Brach Candy heiress: Helen Vorhees Brach…Loretta Grimes died in 1989 and was described as despondent and spiritually depleted woman …rumors and theories continue today, and some of the prospective scenarios have included an attempt to force the girls into a white slavery/prostitution ring and even disputed claims that the girls were known to frequent an Archer avenue tavern where they supposedly would often entice older men into buying them drinks and this ultimately lead to their demise …these allegations are still angrily denied by childhood friends and acquaintances of the sisters contending that they simply met with foul play by forced abduction or by consenting to a ride by a stranger with sinister ulterior motives…as the case grows colder the likelihood of resolution wanes and closure for the family lessens with each passing year …
The vacant property on that corner is like a dark void amid the contemporary, upscale houses and the wooded, spacious lots, some of which overlook Devils Creek…from the elevated perspective and foliage veiled vantage point of the hill where the old house stood, one can almost imagine how a displaced soul must feel gazing into the warm, ambient glow of the domiciles below harboring the life energy that burns as brightly as the illumination provided by the flickering televisions and interior track lighting visible though the patio windows …this feeling is compounded by the cold and darkness adding to the already fantastical, self imposed mind set…a mid set some of us that obstinately reject the “ghost hunter” methodology strive to achieve when we embark on the solo excursions that have become the preferred mode of investigation for those of us that are reverting to a scaled down and bare bones technique…a technique that has liberated us from being burdened and limited by elaborate and yet-to-be-proven useful gadgetry in favor of an unencumbered, distraction free, sensibility oriented session …I feel there is plenty of room for both investigation types in this field and I am not going to tout one as more credible than the other, though I still don’t understand if some of my counterparts are looking for EMF variables as proof of paranormal activity or as proof of hallucinations by those that report it, but hopefully once they decide they will let us know ( lol ) ….
The latest trips to this complicated site incorporated both a night and a following day visit …The night visit was relatively sedate save for the uncharacteristic apprehension I had to scale the steep embankment beyond the guardrails where the old house once sat and prime corner lot real estate remains devoid of development…looking up over the summit of the grade, the skeletal tree tops where clearly visible by the ever present orange glow provided by the nearby network of highways and the close proximity to the city and this is often visible when I experiment with the longer exposure and high ISO camera settings …the elevated expanse of this plot of land that still haunts my memories remains in the state of stoic stasis I remember from the spring of ‘08…the usual tactic of photographic distraction served as an adequate shield when the growing anxiety from the sudden energy shift I felt caught me off guard as I made my way into a clearing for a better landscape shot …I did not feel the compulsion to retreat that I have in some of my past escapades but the comfort level here was “tolerable” at best…
The weather was not as limiting or physically debilitating as my recent freezing, predawn voyage to Peabody Estate, but the prolonged glove-less exposure quickly rendered my fingers to a stinging, inoperable numbness that made the trek back to the Jeep parked a quarter of a block away a welcome intermission to the nearby Trinity Cemetery stage of the visit that is endemic to the lore associated with the legend of this site…
The still-warm engine thawed my frigid digits as I splayed my hands in front of the dashboard vents …the ride to the cemetery was brief but elongated by the continuation of my “warm up” session…and as I sat in the church parking lot facing the darkness beyond the line of tall evergreens that bordered the parking lot and the cemetery, I realized that it was more of a matter of procrastination than a reprieve from the cold that kept me in the car …the hesitation was quickly replaced by an adrenaline rush exhilaration that solitary expeditions to night darkened cemeteries often provide by way of aesthetic creepiness alone …I look forward to analyzing these photos from the night visit, but the return I made the following afternoon revealed a startling discovery that the route I took along the muddied banks of “Devil’s Creek“ on my ‘08 previous trip must have denied me …The commencement of the day trip was academic retracing the steps from the night before, starting at that infamous forested stretch of German Church Road where the bubbling trickle of the creek can be heard from the spotted unfrozen patches below the steep drop protected by the iron rails on both sides of the road …the surreal beauty of this rural oasis will be forever tainted by the residual imprint of unspeakable brutality that robbed those poor young souls of their lives …lives they barely had a chance to experience by an act so heinous that this area along “Devil’s Creek” is said to be indelibly cursed …
The rubble from the demolition of the house, the still-standing bathhouse, the rust hinged, wooden gates are all still there as the light of day confirmed this just as I remember them …I noticed what appeared to be a monolithic stone structure perched on a jutting promontory above the shore of the creek from the vantage point behind the bathhouse where the creek gently curves east before it resumes is southerly flow back under the road where I started …as I drew closer easing my way down the snow covered slope, the outline of an underlying structure built into the side of the hill became visible …it appeared to be a hut or shack of sorts fashioned out of cobblestone and flagstone to form fit a hollowed out space dug from beneath an overhanging cliff …they fortified this space with an stone cemented arch ceiling that still supports a tree and partially exposed root system above …sort of a stone cottage/cave complete with windows, a door-less front entrance, a fireplace, shelves and stone slabs benches …the charred remnant of a fire, pop cans and a few other items left behind hinted at recent activity …activity that evidently included pot smoking …At first I surmised that this was likely the result of surplus landscaping or construction materials from the new subdivision as the back yards of some of the new houses end at the creek bed…and although this structure seems to be on the property of the abandoned lot on the other side, it isn’t unfathomable that this was the collective efforts of the new neighborhood’s fathers to make a sort of playhouse for their kids while forming new friendships etc …yet closer inspection lead me to conclude that this concave cottage likely predates the new subdivision by a considerable margin, but I stand undecided at the present pending inspection from some of my more construction savvy cohorts ..Devil’s Creek winds for a considerable distance and is flanked by woods on both sides all the way to the next major thoroughfare north and for an indeterminate distance south until it undoubtedly terminates as a tributary to the Des Plaines River as the Google Earth renderings are inconclusive …there many rumors and hearsay associated with how this tiny stream earned it’s name, but that is for another thread ….
German Church Road, Devil’s Creek, The Grimes Sisters and Trinity Cemetery:
Another famous haunted Chicago-land location…this installment includes motion video and seasonal photos from 5 plus years of ongoing site coverage …
The site of a horrifying discovery that paralyzed Chicago with fear, captured national headlines in 1957 and remains unsolved today … German Church Road, Devil’s Creek and the vacant lot beyond have withstood the test of time as a legendary haunted location ….b
