Some people have called Studs Terkel our greatest citizen. And they may be right.
Rest in Peace, Studs. I certainly hope your ashes are scattered as Bughouse Square, as you've requested.
Friday, October 31, 2008
The "Lost" New York Times article
Last week, I was asked to write an article about looking for the ghost of Teddy Roosevelt in teh Congress Hotel for today's edition of The New York Times. They ended up not having room for it in the end (or maybe they wanted me to come off as more of a goofball), so here it is, for you, the Weird Chicago faithful! Roosevelt's endorsement in the Weird Chicago Blog isn't QUITE as big a deal as an endorsement in the Times, but, well, dead guys who want to say their piece have to take what they can get!
WHO WILL ROOSEVELT ENDORSE?
by Adam Selzer
During the second debate, Senator McCain said "my hero is a guy named Theodore Roosevelt." I was a bit annoyed; he seemed to be implying that I wouldn't know who that was. And I ought to know who Teddy Roosevelt was, since I hunt for his ghost a couple of times a week.
I'm a very skeptical ghost hunter - besides running tours of supposedly haunted places, my real job with the Weird Chicago company is doing hours and hours of historical research, trying to get the facts straight on the history behind the ghost stories that we tell. I also go on plenty of ghost investigations, but I never really expect any dead people to show up.
However, I've seen women in black dresses appear and disappear on deserted roads. I've heard giggling children in empty theatres, and gunshots in empty hallways. Enough, at least, to make me keep an open mind.
Most of the scientific (well, pseudo-scientific) theories that seek to explain ghosts revolve around the idea of a jolt of energy, usually at the moment of a sudden death, having some sort of impact on the environment that we perceive as a “ghost.”. Teddy Roosevelt didn't die in Chicago, but, given the man's legendary energy, perhaps he left ghosts of himself all over the world, like a spooky sort of Johnny Appleseed.
The 1893 Chicago hotel that he's rumored to haunt is a relic of the days when hotels were the classiest places in town. Two of the gorgeous old ballrooms are still there, but in the 1940s, the hotel stopped hiring guys like Benny Goodman and Duke Ellington to entertain the guests and replaced them with radios. It was the first step towards the era when hotel ballrooms would have all the class and elegance of airplane hangars. In a way, the hotel itself if a ghost now.
But it has plenty of regular ghosts, too. It played host to more than a couple of murders and suicides over the years, and the security guards have all sorts of stories of ghostly encounters. Most of the guards have heard music coming from the old ballrooms in the dead of night.
The ballroom Roosevelt favored - the one where, in life, he announced he was leaving the Republican party - has been especially "active" lately; strange banging noises have been heard at night, like someone banging loudly on the ceiling, or perhaps even firing a gun. Security is baffled, and our customers think we're faking it.
Given that these mysterious noises started right around the time of the Democratic Convention, and have gotten louder lately, could it be that this is the ghost of Theodore Roosevelt, trying to say something about the election from beyond the grave?
It's hard to guess who Roosevelt would endorse this year. Sure, he was a Republican, and might have enjoyed a moose hunt, but it's difficult to imagine a Harvard-educated New Yorker who felt that big business required big government finding a place for himself in the GOP today.
Furthermore, six weeks after leaving the party in 1912, he was back in the same Chicago ballroom forming the Progressive “Bull Moose” Party, whose platform reads like a template for what the Democratic Party would become a couple of decades later. The guy was a true maverick.
Now, I am normally not the kind of ghost hunter who goes around saying "are there any spirits here who have a message for us?" on investigations. I would feel like a first class ding-dong talking like that. But one October night, as I led a tour group into the dark, empty ballroom, I called out "Colonel Roosevelt, if you're the one making all the noise in here, can you please bang on the wall once to endorse Obama, or twice for McCain?"
There was a short silence. I was about to tell everyone that this is pretty generally what happens when you try to talk to dead guys: you end up standing there looking stupid. Then, lo and behold, the silence was split by one of the room's mysterious noises - a single, deafening BANG coming from above the ceiling.
There’s nothing above the ballroom but an air shaft, and we haven’t found a way to reproduce a noise that loud without causing structural damage. As a skeptic, I imagine we'll find out what's REALLY causing the noises sooner or later; if every other explanation fails, we can always just blame it on swamp gas. But so far, we haven't found anything earthly to explain them, and if someone is playing a hoax on us, it's a good one - this is not one of those "stuff a costume full of deer guts and say you found Bigfoot" sort of hoaxes.
For now, though, it's about the most you can truly hope to find on a ghost hunt: a mystery. And maybe, just maybe, the ghostly noise is the sound of Theodore Roosevelt, bucking his old party once again to endorse Barack Obama.
Adam Selzer of Weird Chicago Tours is the author of Your Neighborhood Gives Me the Creeps: True Tales of an Accidental Ghost Hunter coming September, 2009, from Llewellyn Press. His recent novel, I Put a Spell On You (Random House, 2008) holds the world's record for most Richard Nixon jokes ever in a children's book.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYBODY!
WHO WILL ROOSEVELT ENDORSE?
by Adam Selzer
During the second debate, Senator McCain said "my hero is a guy named Theodore Roosevelt." I was a bit annoyed; he seemed to be implying that I wouldn't know who that was. And I ought to know who Teddy Roosevelt was, since I hunt for his ghost a couple of times a week.
I'm a very skeptical ghost hunter - besides running tours of supposedly haunted places, my real job with the Weird Chicago company is doing hours and hours of historical research, trying to get the facts straight on the history behind the ghost stories that we tell. I also go on plenty of ghost investigations, but I never really expect any dead people to show up.
However, I've seen women in black dresses appear and disappear on deserted roads. I've heard giggling children in empty theatres, and gunshots in empty hallways. Enough, at least, to make me keep an open mind.
Most of the scientific (well, pseudo-scientific) theories that seek to explain ghosts revolve around the idea of a jolt of energy, usually at the moment of a sudden death, having some sort of impact on the environment that we perceive as a “ghost.”. Teddy Roosevelt didn't die in Chicago, but, given the man's legendary energy, perhaps he left ghosts of himself all over the world, like a spooky sort of Johnny Appleseed.
The 1893 Chicago hotel that he's rumored to haunt is a relic of the days when hotels were the classiest places in town. Two of the gorgeous old ballrooms are still there, but in the 1940s, the hotel stopped hiring guys like Benny Goodman and Duke Ellington to entertain the guests and replaced them with radios. It was the first step towards the era when hotel ballrooms would have all the class and elegance of airplane hangars. In a way, the hotel itself if a ghost now.
But it has plenty of regular ghosts, too. It played host to more than a couple of murders and suicides over the years, and the security guards have all sorts of stories of ghostly encounters. Most of the guards have heard music coming from the old ballrooms in the dead of night.
The ballroom Roosevelt favored - the one where, in life, he announced he was leaving the Republican party - has been especially "active" lately; strange banging noises have been heard at night, like someone banging loudly on the ceiling, or perhaps even firing a gun. Security is baffled, and our customers think we're faking it.
Given that these mysterious noises started right around the time of the Democratic Convention, and have gotten louder lately, could it be that this is the ghost of Theodore Roosevelt, trying to say something about the election from beyond the grave?
It's hard to guess who Roosevelt would endorse this year. Sure, he was a Republican, and might have enjoyed a moose hunt, but it's difficult to imagine a Harvard-educated New Yorker who felt that big business required big government finding a place for himself in the GOP today.
Furthermore, six weeks after leaving the party in 1912, he was back in the same Chicago ballroom forming the Progressive “Bull Moose” Party, whose platform reads like a template for what the Democratic Party would become a couple of decades later. The guy was a true maverick.
Now, I am normally not the kind of ghost hunter who goes around saying "are there any spirits here who have a message for us?" on investigations. I would feel like a first class ding-dong talking like that. But one October night, as I led a tour group into the dark, empty ballroom, I called out "Colonel Roosevelt, if you're the one making all the noise in here, can you please bang on the wall once to endorse Obama, or twice for McCain?"
There was a short silence. I was about to tell everyone that this is pretty generally what happens when you try to talk to dead guys: you end up standing there looking stupid. Then, lo and behold, the silence was split by one of the room's mysterious noises - a single, deafening BANG coming from above the ceiling.
There’s nothing above the ballroom but an air shaft, and we haven’t found a way to reproduce a noise that loud without causing structural damage. As a skeptic, I imagine we'll find out what's REALLY causing the noises sooner or later; if every other explanation fails, we can always just blame it on swamp gas. But so far, we haven't found anything earthly to explain them, and if someone is playing a hoax on us, it's a good one - this is not one of those "stuff a costume full of deer guts and say you found Bigfoot" sort of hoaxes.
For now, though, it's about the most you can truly hope to find on a ghost hunt: a mystery. And maybe, just maybe, the ghostly noise is the sound of Theodore Roosevelt, bucking his old party once again to endorse Barack Obama.
Adam Selzer of Weird Chicago Tours is the author of Your Neighborhood Gives Me the Creeps: True Tales of an Accidental Ghost Hunter coming September, 2009, from Llewellyn Press. His recent novel, I Put a Spell On You (Random House, 2008) holds the world's record for most Richard Nixon jokes ever in a children's book.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYBODY!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Carl Wanderer's Last Song
Carl Wanderer stood on the gallows near Dearborn and Illinois, ready to hang for the murder of his wife and a "ragged stranger." As he stood there, reporters asked if he had any last words.
"Not really," he said.
"Come on, Carl," shouted one. "Sing us a song!"
And so he did - he sang "Old Pal," a song popular enough in 1920 that TWO movies would be based on it that decade. It was a ral crowd pleaser - one reporter noted that "he should've been a song plugger," though another said that he should have been hanged just for his voice.
"Old Pal" is one depressing song - as parlor songs were wont to be. Some say it was a love song to his wife, but that was probably just reporters selling the drama. Here are the lyrics:
Old pal old gal,
You left me all alone;
Old pal old gal,
I'm just a rolling stone.
Shadows that come stealing,
Thru the weary night;
Always find me kneeling,
In the candle light.
Old pal, old gal,
The nights are long and drear;
Old pal old gal,
Each day seems like a year.
No one left to meet me,
After all I've toiled;
No one here to greet me,
It's an empty world.
The long night through I pray to you,
Old pal why don't you answer me?
My arms embrace an empty space,
The arms that held you tenderly.
If you can hear my pray'r away up there;
Old pal why don't you answer me?
Some say that they've heard the ghost of Wanderer singing this song in the alley where the gallows stood - I'm almost inclined to believe them just because I don't know how else they'd know how the song goes! Scaring up a good recording of it isn't easy nowadays. It's a heck of a lot better than the song another Chicagoan, Charles Guiteau, sang on the gallows. Guiteau, the forgotten assassin of a forgotten president, sang a song called "I'm a-Goin' to the Lordy" that he had written all by himself. It was even worse than it sounds.
I've spent the last two weeks buried in research for a book on the gallows - look for it early next year (under another name; it's too gruesome to be an "Adam Selzer" book). Some very, very interesting stories - never before published - will be included in the book!
UPDATE:
For more on the courthouse/gallows in Chicago, see
"Not really," he said.
"Come on, Carl," shouted one. "Sing us a song!"
And so he did - he sang "Old Pal," a song popular enough in 1920 that TWO movies would be based on it that decade. It was a ral crowd pleaser - one reporter noted that "he should've been a song plugger," though another said that he should have been hanged just for his voice.
"Old Pal" is one depressing song - as parlor songs were wont to be. Some say it was a love song to his wife, but that was probably just reporters selling the drama. Here are the lyrics:
Old pal old gal,
You left me all alone;
Old pal old gal,
I'm just a rolling stone.
Shadows that come stealing,
Thru the weary night;
Always find me kneeling,
In the candle light.
Old pal, old gal,
The nights are long and drear;
Old pal old gal,
Each day seems like a year.
No one left to meet me,
After all I've toiled;
No one here to greet me,
It's an empty world.
The long night through I pray to you,
Old pal why don't you answer me?
My arms embrace an empty space,
The arms that held you tenderly.
If you can hear my pray'r away up there;
Old pal why don't you answer me?
Some say that they've heard the ghost of Wanderer singing this song in the alley where the gallows stood - I'm almost inclined to believe them just because I don't know how else they'd know how the song goes! Scaring up a good recording of it isn't easy nowadays. It's a heck of a lot better than the song another Chicagoan, Charles Guiteau, sang on the gallows. Guiteau, the forgotten assassin of a forgotten president, sang a song called "I'm a-Goin' to the Lordy" that he had written all by himself. It was even worse than it sounds.
I've spent the last two weeks buried in research for a book on the gallows - look for it early next year (under another name; it's too gruesome to be an "Adam Selzer" book). Some very, very interesting stories - never before published - will be included in the book!
UPDATE:
For more on the courthouse/gallows in Chicago, see
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
A Mummy in Lincoln Park
Ever take a ghost tour and notice that every single stop seems to be an "Indian Burial Ground?" If that's all the guide can come up with, you're probably on a b-rate tour. But there are, in fact, PLENTY of burial grounds, Indian and otherwise, that have been built over in Chicago. One estimate puts forth that there could be a million unaccounted-for graves in Chicagoland.
A wave of Egypt-o-mania swept through society in the 19th century; there are several stories of rich travelers going to Egypt, bringing back a mummy (which cost a hundred bucks for a "good specimen") and having an "unwrapping party." Yes, the Victorians were, in many ways, a pretty sick lot. One Tribune reporter, reporting from Cairo, noted that Ramses teeth had lasted 3000 years "without the use of a dentist."
We haven't uncovered any evidence of one of those parties taking place in Chicago YET (just a graphic description of one from NY that was in the Trib), but we DO know that iron coffins, designed to look about like Egyptian sarcophogi and to preserve corpses better than a pine box, were on sale in the city.
Here's an ad "unearthed" by Pamela Bannos:
We know that they were in use in Chicago, because in 1998, one was dug up just north of the Chicago Historical Society, in what is now Lincoln Park - but was once the City Cemetery. Somewhere around the lines of 25,000 people were buried in the Lincoln Park era from about 1844-1866. No one can really guess how many of them are STILL buried there, but it's generally known that quite a few of them (perhaps even most of them) didn't get moved. When the Historical Society dug out earth for a new parking structure, they found partial remains of 81 different people - and one Fisk Metallic Burial Case.
Pamela Bannos has done fantastic research into the history - and remains - of City Cemetery. Click the link to see a page that includes video of the 1998 excavation.
A wave of Egypt-o-mania swept through society in the 19th century; there are several stories of rich travelers going to Egypt, bringing back a mummy (which cost a hundred bucks for a "good specimen") and having an "unwrapping party." Yes, the Victorians were, in many ways, a pretty sick lot. One Tribune reporter, reporting from Cairo, noted that Ramses teeth had lasted 3000 years "without the use of a dentist."
We haven't uncovered any evidence of one of those parties taking place in Chicago YET (just a graphic description of one from NY that was in the Trib), but we DO know that iron coffins, designed to look about like Egyptian sarcophogi and to preserve corpses better than a pine box, were on sale in the city.
Here's an ad "unearthed" by Pamela Bannos:
We know that they were in use in Chicago, because in 1998, one was dug up just north of the Chicago Historical Society, in what is now Lincoln Park - but was once the City Cemetery. Somewhere around the lines of 25,000 people were buried in the Lincoln Park era from about 1844-1866. No one can really guess how many of them are STILL buried there, but it's generally known that quite a few of them (perhaps even most of them) didn't get moved. When the Historical Society dug out earth for a new parking structure, they found partial remains of 81 different people - and one Fisk Metallic Burial Case.
Pamela Bannos has done fantastic research into the history - and remains - of City Cemetery. Click the link to see a page that includes video of the 1998 excavation.
Monday, October 27, 2008
The Murder of Amos J. Snell Part 3: The Aftermath
No examination of the Amos Snell story (ours is the first that we know of in about 65 years) is complete without a few words on what became of the well-to-do family.
In 1901, Snell's son, Albert, was penniless and living in the barn on the property. He was committed to an insane asylum and died in a rooming house a few years later.
Mrs. A.J. Stone, one of Snell's daughter, sued for a share of the estate. Her claim was struck down on the grounds that she was allegedly an adopted daughter (I don't know all the particulars of the trial, but what a horrible verdict!)
One of his daughters married several times, beginning by running away with a coachman at 16. She eventually left him and was forgiven by the family (daughters of rich men who married servants could generally be expected to be kicked out of the family in those days). She was married often, including being married and divorced from the same guy three times. She was eventually known as Mrs. Grace Snell-Coffin-Coffin-Walker-Coffin-Layman-Love-Love. Papers called her The Most Married Woman in the World. The second marriage to Mr. Love appears to have lasted; her name was still Mrs. Love when she died in 1941.
Given the number of properties that Snell owned in life (including most of what is now Milwaukee Avenue, which he turned into a toll road), legal wrangling over the estate went on for years - shares were still being argued over in 1943!
There was a $10,000 reward for the capture of WIllie Tascott offered; the last known attempt to claim it came from Doyle Quigg in 1946. He claimed to have proof that his "grandpappy" had killed Tascott in Florida fifty years earlier, and served on a chain gang as a result. By 1946, though, no reward was really on offer, and no one could prove that the man Quigg's grandfather had killed was Tascott.
In 1901, Snell's son, Albert, was penniless and living in the barn on the property. He was committed to an insane asylum and died in a rooming house a few years later.
Mrs. A.J. Stone, one of Snell's daughter, sued for a share of the estate. Her claim was struck down on the grounds that she was allegedly an adopted daughter (I don't know all the particulars of the trial, but what a horrible verdict!)
One of his daughters married several times, beginning by running away with a coachman at 16. She eventually left him and was forgiven by the family (daughters of rich men who married servants could generally be expected to be kicked out of the family in those days). She was married often, including being married and divorced from the same guy three times. She was eventually known as Mrs. Grace Snell-Coffin-Coffin-Walker-Coffin-Layman-Love-Love. Papers called her The Most Married Woman in the World. The second marriage to Mr. Love appears to have lasted; her name was still Mrs. Love when she died in 1941.
Given the number of properties that Snell owned in life (including most of what is now Milwaukee Avenue, which he turned into a toll road), legal wrangling over the estate went on for years - shares were still being argued over in 1943!
There was a $10,000 reward for the capture of WIllie Tascott offered; the last known attempt to claim it came from Doyle Quigg in 1946. He claimed to have proof that his "grandpappy" had killed Tascott in Florida fifty years earlier, and served on a chain gang as a result. By 1946, though, no reward was really on offer, and no one could prove that the man Quigg's grandfather had killed was Tascott.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
The Murder of Amos J Snell Part 2 - the vanishing suspect
Continuing our story on the mysteirous murder of Amos J Snell in his Washinton Blvd mansion in 1888...
Some believed that Snell's strange sense of foreboding came not from some pyschic feeling, but, perhaps, from some sort of warning from the recently-freed burglar, and that burglar was one of the first men rounded up. But he was found innocent very quickly.
A few days before the murder, Tascott went to a jeweler to have a pearl set in a ring. The jeweler noticed his strange bag of tools and asked if he was a piano tuner.
"Hell no!" Willie replied. "I'm a burlgar!" The jeweler thought he was joking.
A few days later, he bought a set of tiny saws and tools - the kind used by burglars. These very tools were the ones the police said were found on the scene. The night of the murder, a witness described encountering Tascott on the street and, in the process of flirting with him, asking about his bag of strange tools. "I'm a crook," he said, casually. He then showed her some sharp manuevers with two pistols that he carried - proving, the police said, that the two kinds of bullets could have been fired by a single person.
This didn't explain the footprints, or WIllie's alibi (his brother said he had been with him the whole night), but Willie Tascott disappeared. A world-wide hunt ensued, but there was no picture, or even a good drawing, to help anyone identify the guy. Clues and sightings poured into the police station for decades, and several people were arrested around the world on suspicion of being him, but Tascott was never found, and the murder of Amos J. Snell was never solved.
The Snell Mansion was torn down in 1923. Few traces remain on Washington Blvd to indicate that it was ever a fashionable haunt for Chicago's wealthiest citizens.
Some believed that Snell's strange sense of foreboding came not from some pyschic feeling, but, perhaps, from some sort of warning from the recently-freed burglar, and that burglar was one of the first men rounded up. But he was found innocent very quickly.
 The Snell Mansion at the time of its destruction | Evidence that it had been a two-man job was fairly overwhelming: there were two sets of tracks in the snow, and two kinds of bullets in Snell's body. But, when no solution had been found after 10 days, the frantic police decided that it had been the work of one person: Willie Tascott, a young man who lived on Ashland near Union Park before becoming something of a drifter, working for railroad companies all over the country, serving some jail time in Kentucky for robbery, and eventually drifint back to Chicago working odd jobs, including operating the elevator at the Palmer House Hotel, while engaging in some petty thievery here and there. |
A few days before the murder, Tascott went to a jeweler to have a pearl set in a ring. The jeweler noticed his strange bag of tools and asked if he was a piano tuner.
"Hell no!" Willie replied. "I'm a burlgar!" The jeweler thought he was joking.
A few days later, he bought a set of tiny saws and tools - the kind used by burglars. These very tools were the ones the police said were found on the scene. The night of the murder, a witness described encountering Tascott on the street and, in the process of flirting with him, asking about his bag of strange tools. "I'm a crook," he said, casually. He then showed her some sharp manuevers with two pistols that he carried - proving, the police said, that the two kinds of bullets could have been fired by a single person.
This didn't explain the footprints, or WIllie's alibi (his brother said he had been with him the whole night), but Willie Tascott disappeared. A world-wide hunt ensued, but there was no picture, or even a good drawing, to help anyone identify the guy. Clues and sightings poured into the police station for decades, and several people were arrested around the world on suspicion of being him, but Tascott was never found, and the murder of Amos J. Snell was never solved.
The Snell Mansion was torn down in 1923. Few traces remain on Washington Blvd to indicate that it was ever a fashionable haunt for Chicago's wealthiest citizens.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
The Murder of Amos J. Snell Part 1
 | Besides reporting strange things that happen our our tours and investigations, one purpose of this blog is to serve as a supplement to the book. Forgotten for years, we present The Mysterious Murder of Amos J. Snell |
The near-west side in the 1880s had no shortage of villains. E.A. Trask was operating on Washington street, possibly in conjuction with H.H. Holmes. A block to the south had been the offices of the notorious Dr. Thomas N. Cream. A block west of all of this stood the mansion of Amos J. Snell, a local millionare who owned hundreds of houses, including most of what is now Milwaukee Avenue, which he turned into a toll road that made him a fortune. He lived at the Northwest Corner of Washington and Ada (where a vacant lot now stands).
| A millionare with a streak of paranoia, Snell kept a pistol by his bed and was known on several occasions to wake up, grab the pistol, and run off to investigate any strange noises he heard. Usually, it turned out to be nothing but the wind. But in February of 1888, Snell heard a strange noise in his house at 2 in the morning, came down to investigate, and was shot to death by burlgars - who stole nothing. The only clues were scattered views of coaches running by in the freezing street reported by servants, two sets of footprints in the snow, and a bag of tools - the kind used by burglars - left on the scene. |  |
Mr. Snell's paranoia had been brought on by a robbery of his house in 1867, just before his move to Chicago. The day before his murder, he had told friends in a saloon that he was going to have to be careful - one of the 1867 robbers had threatened to get revenge on him, and had just been released from prison. Snell, it was said, seemed terribly troubled that day, and seemed to have a premonition that he was going to die that night. Indeed, that day would turn out to be his last on Earth.
But that old burglar was far from the only suspect - more than 40 people were eventually arrested. One suspect was eventually pinpointed, but never captured.
TOMORROW: The Suspect!
Friday, October 24, 2008
The Ghost of John WIlkes Booth
A few months after his capture and death, John Wilkes Booth was sited in McVicker's Theatre, the Madison St. theatre where he had performed a couple of stints in Chicago. No one said it was a ghost, though - they simply said that it was evidence that he hadn't really died at all. Conspiracy theories of this nature are still going around; for years, a mummified version of the REAL Booth was a big hit at carnivals.
In 1866, a seance to contact Booth's spirit was held in a house on the West side. His ghost came when called (or, anyway, the medium made it SEEM as though he did - these things were pretty generally bogus) and his voice was heard, but he did not appear visually, since "the devil would not permit it."
In any case, the "ghost" gave a whole new version of the assassination story, stating that he fired at Lincoln from the front, but that the President turned his head, which is why the bullet entered from the back. He also stated that he broke his leg not in the jump to the stage but by falling from his horse later (this, in fact, happens to be correct).
He went on to say that he had also planned to kill Vice President Johnson (which, in fact, was someone else's job). He was most emphatically glad that he had killed Lincoln, but equally glad that he hadn't killed Johnson, who he liked very much (which makes sense, since Johnson was probably the most racist president ever; Booth's ghost was sure he would re-establish slavery). He wouldn't support his re-election, though - he argued for McClellan (a Union general who spent most of the early days of the war sitting on his butt, then ran against Lincoln in 1864) or Robert E. Lee as the next President and even mused about a McClellan / Lee "dream ticket."
He was then asked:
Q: "Are you in heaven?"
A: No.
Q: Are you in the other place?
A: Yes.
Q: Is there a devil there?
A: YES!
Q: Does he treat you rough?
A: YES! (the tabble jiggered violently here).
Q: Do you think you deserve it?
A: NNNNOOO!!!
He went on to admit that he was a pretty bad actor (he was fairly eccentric in his portrayals of well known Shakespeare rolls, but the Trib called him a genius), but was just as good as his brother, Edwin (who was widely thought of as the greatest Shakespearean actor of the day), and went on at great length about President Johnson and the type of people who supported him in the form of "automatic writing" before disappearing abruptly.
Seances like these - with knocks on tables, etc - were all the rage around the time of the Civil War. Mediums found all sorts of fascinating ways to fake them, up to and including pulling cheese cloth out of their more nefarious orifices and calling them "ectoplasm." Even the most die-hard believers knew that most of the "mediums" were frauds.
In 1866, a seance to contact Booth's spirit was held in a house on the West side. His ghost came when called (or, anyway, the medium made it SEEM as though he did - these things were pretty generally bogus) and his voice was heard, but he did not appear visually, since "the devil would not permit it."
In any case, the "ghost" gave a whole new version of the assassination story, stating that he fired at Lincoln from the front, but that the President turned his head, which is why the bullet entered from the back. He also stated that he broke his leg not in the jump to the stage but by falling from his horse later (this, in fact, happens to be correct).
He went on to say that he had also planned to kill Vice President Johnson (which, in fact, was someone else's job). He was most emphatically glad that he had killed Lincoln, but equally glad that he hadn't killed Johnson, who he liked very much (which makes sense, since Johnson was probably the most racist president ever; Booth's ghost was sure he would re-establish slavery). He wouldn't support his re-election, though - he argued for McClellan (a Union general who spent most of the early days of the war sitting on his butt, then ran against Lincoln in 1864) or Robert E. Lee as the next President and even mused about a McClellan / Lee "dream ticket."
He was then asked:
Q: "Are you in heaven?"
A: No.
Q: Are you in the other place?
A: Yes.
Q: Is there a devil there?
A: YES!
Q: Does he treat you rough?
A: YES! (the tabble jiggered violently here).
Q: Do you think you deserve it?
A: NNNNOOO!!!
He went on to admit that he was a pretty bad actor (he was fairly eccentric in his portrayals of well known Shakespeare rolls, but the Trib called him a genius), but was just as good as his brother, Edwin (who was widely thought of as the greatest Shakespearean actor of the day), and went on at great length about President Johnson and the type of people who supported him in the form of "automatic writing" before disappearing abruptly.
Seances like these - with knocks on tables, etc - were all the rage around the time of the Civil War. Mediums found all sorts of fascinating ways to fake them, up to and including pulling cheese cloth out of their more nefarious orifices and calling them "ectoplasm." Even the most die-hard believers knew that most of the "mediums" were frauds.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
The Lincoln Funeral Train in Chicago
For many years, people across the country reported seeing the ghost of the Lincoln funeral train at points where it passed by. This is a good way to illustrate some of the theories that seek to explain ghosts as a scientific phenomenon - in theory, the extreme mental energy exerted by the people watching the funeral go by was so intense as to create a "residual" ghost (a term Troy coined back in the early 90s). So in some cases, people who claim to see ghosts may be seeing a sort of video recording created by intense mental energy. One thing that seems to work in favor of this is that these "residual" ghosts don't seem to last forever; the Lincoln train sightings seemed to stop around the 1970s.
Similarly, people used to say that a mental "imprint" was left behind by Highball the Dog, the dog who witnessed the St. Valentines Day Massacre, that caused dogs to go crazy when they walked by the site. I've heard enough people talk about seeing this that I'm willing to believe it may have been true at one point, but whatever energy dogs were reacting to has dissipated into the environment by now. Ken, Troy and I have seen hundreds of dogs go by that site without incident over the years.
Anyway, the Lincoln funeral train did pass through Chicago on its way to Springfield. After a stop in Michigan City, IN, the train brough it around the lake and to a depot near Michigan and 12th (now Michigan and Roosevelt - incidentally, the Democratic convention had nominated McClennan to run against Lincoln on that spot in 1864). From there, the casket was loaded onto a horse-drawn hearse that led it up Michigan Avenue to Lake street, then down Lake to Clark, and from there to the court house (which was on Clark and Washington at the time) where it lay in state overnight for public viewing. This would have put Lincoln about two blocks from the Tremont House, the hotel where he stayed while in Chicago, and barely a block from the McVicker's Theatre where John Wilkes Booth was the theatrical hit of 1862. A couple of blocks in the opposite direction was the Republican Wigwam where Lincoln won his party's nomination in the wild, crazy convention of 1860.
Similarly, people used to say that a mental "imprint" was left behind by Highball the Dog, the dog who witnessed the St. Valentines Day Massacre, that caused dogs to go crazy when they walked by the site. I've heard enough people talk about seeing this that I'm willing to believe it may have been true at one point, but whatever energy dogs were reacting to has dissipated into the environment by now. Ken, Troy and I have seen hundreds of dogs go by that site without incident over the years.
Anyway, the Lincoln funeral train did pass through Chicago on its way to Springfield. After a stop in Michigan City, IN, the train brough it around the lake and to a depot near Michigan and 12th (now Michigan and Roosevelt - incidentally, the Democratic convention had nominated McClennan to run against Lincoln on that spot in 1864). From there, the casket was loaded onto a horse-drawn hearse that led it up Michigan Avenue to Lake street, then down Lake to Clark, and from there to the court house (which was on Clark and Washington at the time) where it lay in state overnight for public viewing. This would have put Lincoln about two blocks from the Tremont House, the hotel where he stayed while in Chicago, and barely a block from the McVicker's Theatre where John Wilkes Booth was the theatrical hit of 1862. A couple of blocks in the opposite direction was the Republican Wigwam where Lincoln won his party's nomination in the wild, crazy convention of 1860.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Resurrection Mary: Mary Bregovy?
If there's one ghost story in Chicago that everyone knows, it's the story of Resurrection Mary - the beautiful girl who hitches rides home from roadways and ballrooms on the south side, only to vanish then the car passes Resurrection Cemetery. And combing through the archives and records to determine who she might be the ghost OF is a popular past-time.
The "classical" answer for the identity of Resurrection Mary is Mary Bregovy, who lived on South Damen and was killed in an auto wreck at Wacker and Lake in 1934 at the age of 21. She was buried at Resurrection Cemetery (though the Mary Bregovy grave that people see there now is a whole different person), and, unlike others, her ghost has specifically been named as haunting the cemetery. Her ghost was reportedly seen by the caretaker wandering among the graves shortly after she was buried.
But few today believe that Mary Bregovy is the ghost who is hitching rides along Archer Avenue - most people who have given the girl a ride say that she's a blond girl in a white dress. Mary B. was buried in an orchid colored dress (though what this has to do with what her ghost would wear is up to considerable debate), and her hair was dark brown.
Furthermore, the story of a vanishing hitchhiker near Resurrection seems to have been current as early as 1932 - in a 1942 scholarly essay on vanishing hitcher stories, one story from "before 1932" was told of a vanishing hitchhiker who was picked up near a graveyard in Summit. There is no graveyard in Summit that I know of, but Resurrection is very close by - close enough so that someone who didn't REALLY know their boundaries and borders could easily think they were in Summit while passing by the graveyard. This means that the story might have already been a couple of years old when Miss Bregovy died.
Here's the photo that ran in the Tribune at the time of her death:
In our podcast, Ray Johnson mentioned that he'd been through the microfilm of the Resurrection Cemetery records, and that there was a handwritten note saying "Resurrection Mary" next to Mary Bregovy's information. So, does this indicate that the cemetery knows something the rest of us don't? Probably not. The files were photographed for the microfilm in the mid 1980s, shortly after the Southtown Economist published a couple of big articles about Resurrection Mary putting forth the proposition (which had been going around for several years by then) that the ghost was of Mary Bregovy. The note was probably added after the articles appeared.
Practically everything you read about Mary Bregovy - that her friends said she loved to dance, that the undertaker remembered her as "a hell of a nice girl," that she was out ballroom hopping the night of her death, etc - came from interviews with her friends and family conducted by that paper for a Halloween article in 1983 and a follow-up with one of her friends a few months later. In these, they gave the name of her school, the names of several of her friends and relatives, the funeral home where the funeral was held - even the location of her original burial plot.
For a whole lot more information on Mary Bregovy and the other theoretical "candidates," check out our Resurrection Mary Roundtable podcast episode!
The "classical" answer for the identity of Resurrection Mary is Mary Bregovy, who lived on South Damen and was killed in an auto wreck at Wacker and Lake in 1934 at the age of 21. She was buried at Resurrection Cemetery (though the Mary Bregovy grave that people see there now is a whole different person), and, unlike others, her ghost has specifically been named as haunting the cemetery. Her ghost was reportedly seen by the caretaker wandering among the graves shortly after she was buried.
But few today believe that Mary Bregovy is the ghost who is hitching rides along Archer Avenue - most people who have given the girl a ride say that she's a blond girl in a white dress. Mary B. was buried in an orchid colored dress (though what this has to do with what her ghost would wear is up to considerable debate), and her hair was dark brown.
Furthermore, the story of a vanishing hitchhiker near Resurrection seems to have been current as early as 1932 - in a 1942 scholarly essay on vanishing hitcher stories, one story from "before 1932" was told of a vanishing hitchhiker who was picked up near a graveyard in Summit. There is no graveyard in Summit that I know of, but Resurrection is very close by - close enough so that someone who didn't REALLY know their boundaries and borders could easily think they were in Summit while passing by the graveyard. This means that the story might have already been a couple of years old when Miss Bregovy died.
Here's the photo that ran in the Tribune at the time of her death:
 | Outside of the fact that she isn't a blonde, and her death may have come too recently, Mary is still probably the best candidate for the identity of the ghost (or at least ONE of the ghosts - some believe that there are several ghosts in the area that we collectively refer to as "Resurrection Mary.") This may strictly be due to the fact that we know so much more about her than we know about most of the alternative candidates that are put forth, but she DOES fit the bill rather well. She died in 1934, right around the time that the first reports of a ghostly girl in or around the cemetery were being reported. Friends and relatives all said that she loved to go out dancing, and seemed to recall that she was out dancing the night that she died. And she was buried in an unmarked "term" grave at Resurrection - before being moved to her current (still unmarked) resting place. Plenty of details about Mary are known - friends described her as "personality plus," a girl who never seemed to be unhappy. School records indicate that she was a good student. Exactly what she was doing on the night of her death isn't known (relatives vaguely remembered she was going dancing or something), but one friend said that she wasn't supposed to be out that night at all, and was out with a couple of "wild boys" who drove like maniacs. We know what she looked like. In contrast, with many of the other candidates, we know very little besides their name. In others we know their age, and often their burial place, but not necessarily the cause of death. |
In our podcast, Ray Johnson mentioned that he'd been through the microfilm of the Resurrection Cemetery records, and that there was a handwritten note saying "Resurrection Mary" next to Mary Bregovy's information. So, does this indicate that the cemetery knows something the rest of us don't? Probably not. The files were photographed for the microfilm in the mid 1980s, shortly after the Southtown Economist published a couple of big articles about Resurrection Mary putting forth the proposition (which had been going around for several years by then) that the ghost was of Mary Bregovy. The note was probably added after the articles appeared.
Practically everything you read about Mary Bregovy - that her friends said she loved to dance, that the undertaker remembered her as "a hell of a nice girl," that she was out ballroom hopping the night of her death, etc - came from interviews with her friends and family conducted by that paper for a Halloween article in 1983 and a follow-up with one of her friends a few months later. In these, they gave the name of her school, the names of several of her friends and relatives, the funeral home where the funeral was held - even the location of her original burial plot.
For a whole lot more information on Mary Bregovy and the other theoretical "candidates," check out our Resurrection Mary Roundtable podcast episode!
Resurrection Mary: Anna Norkus?
Posts about Resurrection Mary always generate bizarre, poorly-spelled emails, but the ones related to this post have gotten WAY out of hand. Many comments are not being published, and some have been deleted.
The facts are these: Anna Norkus died in a car wreck on July 20, 1927, about six weeks shy of her 13th birthday. She was not far from Resurrection Cemetery at the time, but would not have actually gone past it (the roads were different then). Recently-uncovered funeral records indicate that she is buried at St. Casimir Cemetery; though some believe there may have been a gravedigging strike forcing her to be buried elsewhere in a temporary, unmarked grave. She is sometimes mentioned as a candidate for the "real" Resurrection Mary, and her story generates some rather frightening emails.
Particular confusion (and heated debate, oddly enough) centers around the exact identity of the other victim of the crash, a man in his 50s whose name is variously given in newspapers as Adam Lepinski, Adam Lepeicki, and Adam Levinsky. I have received MANY emails demanding in no uncertain terms that I state that the person in question was one Adam Litewski, who died July 27 and was buried at Resurrection on July 28. My own research indicates that the Adam Litewski who died that day was not in his 50s in would certainly not have been in the car with Anna Norkus; indeed, he was not even born yet at the time of the accident. He was stillborn a week later.
In fact, according to the Illinois death index, the man was named Adam Lewieki. A 54 year old man who was born in Lithuania (like Anna Norkus's family) now working as a real estate agent in Chicago, residing at 3456 Auburb Avenue, Lewieki is listed as having died in Summit on July 21, 1927, the day after the accident (at the time the newspaper articles on Norkus were written, he was still alive, but in critical condition). He was buried at Resurrection the next day, July 22nd.
His actual identity, of course, has little to do with the Resurrection Mary story, so the fact that it generates so much heated controversy at all confuses me somewhat.
On the surface, Anna seems like a poor candidate for the identity of the ghost. Her recently-discovered funeral record (credit there goes to Ray Johnson, the Haunt Detective), she was about six weeks shy of her thirteenth birthday, and was definitely buried at St. Casimir, not Resurrection. If there was a gravediggers strike at St. Casimir which forced her to be buried in a temporary grave at Resurrection, no evidence has been uncovered, and it wasn't mentioned in her burial records. Witnesses have always described Mary as older than that.
However, there are also stories about a younger girl being hit by a car on Archer - people say that they've crashed into her, then get out to help to find no one there.
The facts are these: Anna Norkus died in a car wreck on July 20, 1927, about six weeks shy of her 13th birthday. She was not far from Resurrection Cemetery at the time, but would not have actually gone past it (the roads were different then). Recently-uncovered funeral records indicate that she is buried at St. Casimir Cemetery; though some believe there may have been a gravedigging strike forcing her to be buried elsewhere in a temporary, unmarked grave. She is sometimes mentioned as a candidate for the "real" Resurrection Mary, and her story generates some rather frightening emails.
Particular confusion (and heated debate, oddly enough) centers around the exact identity of the other victim of the crash, a man in his 50s whose name is variously given in newspapers as Adam Lepinski, Adam Lepeicki, and Adam Levinsky. I have received MANY emails demanding in no uncertain terms that I state that the person in question was one Adam Litewski, who died July 27 and was buried at Resurrection on July 28. My own research indicates that the Adam Litewski who died that day was not in his 50s in would certainly not have been in the car with Anna Norkus; indeed, he was not even born yet at the time of the accident. He was stillborn a week later.
In fact, according to the Illinois death index, the man was named Adam Lewieki. A 54 year old man who was born in Lithuania (like Anna Norkus's family) now working as a real estate agent in Chicago, residing at 3456 Auburb Avenue, Lewieki is listed as having died in Summit on July 21, 1927, the day after the accident (at the time the newspaper articles on Norkus were written, he was still alive, but in critical condition). He was buried at Resurrection the next day, July 22nd.
His actual identity, of course, has little to do with the Resurrection Mary story, so the fact that it generates so much heated controversy at all confuses me somewhat.
On the surface, Anna seems like a poor candidate for the identity of the ghost. Her recently-discovered funeral record (credit there goes to Ray Johnson, the Haunt Detective), she was about six weeks shy of her thirteenth birthday, and was definitely buried at St. Casimir, not Resurrection. If there was a gravediggers strike at St. Casimir which forced her to be buried in a temporary grave at Resurrection, no evidence has been uncovered, and it wasn't mentioned in her burial records. Witnesses have always described Mary as older than that.
However, there are also stories about a younger girl being hit by a car on Archer - people say that they've crashed into her, then get out to help to find no one there.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Resurrection Mary: Mary Miskowski?
(new info added December, 2011)
For a time, the best candidate for the "real" Resurrection Mary was Mary Miskowski.
According to witness accounts Troy Taylor, my colleague from my time with Weird Chicago, gathered very recenty, Mary Miskowski died on or around Halloween, 1930, at the age of 18 or 19, having been hit by a car on 47th street while going to a Halloween party, at which she was dressed as a bride in her mother's old wedding dress. A blonde herself, she would have matched the traditional description of Mary - a teenage blonde girl in a white dress - far better than most other canditates (Mary Bregovy was a brunette, and Anna Norkus wasn't quite 13).
Finding solid information about Mary Miskowski was tough - Troy's best information came from a woman whom Mary used to babysit. Variant spellings of her name make it hard to pin down records about her. Here, though, is a census record of her family that would have been taken shortly before her death in 1930. Mary was said to live at 4924 S. Damen - according to the Ward maps from 1930, this census record came from exactly the right block.
This backs up the stories Troy was told indicating that she was old enough to be on her own, but still living with her family. The census shows that she was living at home at age 19.
Stories of her death, however, were harder to verify - no Mary Miskowsky (or Miskowski) is listed as dying in Illinois between 1916 and 1950 in the Illinois Death Index. When I started digging into the files, I half suspected it would be one of those times where it turns out the subject not only didn't die in 1930, but still hasn't died yet - or, at least, didn't die until a few years back.
The death index lists a Mary Muchowksi as dying on November 5, 1930 - people familiar with digging through census records and stuff will know that for a record for "Miskowski" written in cursive to be typed in as Muchowski would hardly be unlikely (especially if they forgot to dot the i - just look at it above).
November 5 would be a few days after Halloween, but pretty close to it, as well. Her death does not appear to have made the papers, as Mary Bregovy and Anna Norkus's did, though, which may be why it wasn't until the recent stories have come to light that her name has been considered seriously as a candidate.
Research by Ray Johnson, the Haunt Detective has now indicated that the name in the records was not a misprint, and that a woman named Mary Muchowski, age 67, really did die that day, which left the fate of the Mary Miskowski above an open question for some time.
One woman in Chicago named Mary Miskowsky married a man named Roy Jensen in 1937. THAT Mary Miskowski died just a few years back, but her parents' names were not John and Helen, indicating that she's not the Mary Miskowsky from the 1930 census.
New information added here December 2011: The fate of the Mary Miskowsky in the census has now been solved - according to a couple of obituaries (hers and her father's, from 1963), Mary Miskowsky married a man named John Sutko, with whom she had three children, and died in 1956. She was interred at Evergreen; John died in 2003.
This DOES raise another question - why did the woman (and her cousins) so vividly remember Mary Miskowksy of S. Damen dying in 1930? Were they mistaking her for someone else? There were a number of car accidents around that time, including a boy who was hit by a car and killed on the 5400 block of S. Damen on October 30, 1930, not far away from Mary Miskowsky's house. The funeral record book that contains Anna Norkus's funeral information also lists a funeral for a young man who was murdered in 1929 barely a block from Mary Miskowsky's house.
Here's Mary's obit from 1956. The parents and siblings listed here match the ones in the 1930 census exactly:
For a time, the best candidate for the "real" Resurrection Mary was Mary Miskowski.
According to witness accounts Troy Taylor, my colleague from my time with Weird Chicago, gathered very recenty, Mary Miskowski died on or around Halloween, 1930, at the age of 18 or 19, having been hit by a car on 47th street while going to a Halloween party, at which she was dressed as a bride in her mother's old wedding dress. A blonde herself, she would have matched the traditional description of Mary - a teenage blonde girl in a white dress - far better than most other canditates (Mary Bregovy was a brunette, and Anna Norkus wasn't quite 13).
Finding solid information about Mary Miskowski was tough - Troy's best information came from a woman whom Mary used to babysit. Variant spellings of her name make it hard to pin down records about her. Here, though, is a census record of her family that would have been taken shortly before her death in 1930. Mary was said to live at 4924 S. Damen - according to the Ward maps from 1930, this census record came from exactly the right block.
This backs up the stories Troy was told indicating that she was old enough to be on her own, but still living with her family. The census shows that she was living at home at age 19.
Stories of her death, however, were harder to verify - no Mary Miskowsky (or Miskowski) is listed as dying in Illinois between 1916 and 1950 in the Illinois Death Index. When I started digging into the files, I half suspected it would be one of those times where it turns out the subject not only didn't die in 1930, but still hasn't died yet - or, at least, didn't die until a few years back.
The death index lists a Mary Muchowksi as dying on November 5, 1930 - people familiar with digging through census records and stuff will know that for a record for "Miskowski" written in cursive to be typed in as Muchowski would hardly be unlikely (especially if they forgot to dot the i - just look at it above).
November 5 would be a few days after Halloween, but pretty close to it, as well. Her death does not appear to have made the papers, as Mary Bregovy and Anna Norkus's did, though, which may be why it wasn't until the recent stories have come to light that her name has been considered seriously as a candidate.
Research by Ray Johnson, the Haunt Detective has now indicated that the name in the records was not a misprint, and that a woman named Mary Muchowski, age 67, really did die that day, which left the fate of the Mary Miskowski above an open question for some time.
One woman in Chicago named Mary Miskowsky married a man named Roy Jensen in 1937. THAT Mary Miskowski died just a few years back, but her parents' names were not John and Helen, indicating that she's not the Mary Miskowsky from the 1930 census.
New information added here December 2011: The fate of the Mary Miskowsky in the census has now been solved - according to a couple of obituaries (hers and her father's, from 1963), Mary Miskowsky married a man named John Sutko, with whom she had three children, and died in 1956. She was interred at Evergreen; John died in 2003.
This DOES raise another question - why did the woman (and her cousins) so vividly remember Mary Miskowksy of S. Damen dying in 1930? Were they mistaking her for someone else? There were a number of car accidents around that time, including a boy who was hit by a car and killed on the 5400 block of S. Damen on October 30, 1930, not far away from Mary Miskowsky's house. The funeral record book that contains Anna Norkus's funeral information also lists a funeral for a young man who was murdered in 1929 barely a block from Mary Miskowsky's house.
Here's Mary's obit from 1956. The parents and siblings listed here match the ones in the 1930 census exactly:
I've blocked out a few names because I tend to get really unpleasant emails about Resurrection Mary and don't wish for her surviving family to be hassled. The names of her kids and her sisters' married names aren't really relevant here. In any case, this firmly establishes that at the time of Mary Miskowsky's death, she was much older than the ghost is said to be, and she was interred at Evergreen, not Resurrection, and can be eliminated as a candidate. No cause of death is listed, but she would have been 45 years old, and was certainly not killed en route to a costume party in 1930.
For a whole lot more information, check out our Resurrection Mary Roundtable podcast episode!
Saturday, October 18, 2008
It's baaaack: The Florentine Noise
Tonight marked the third time I've heard the mysterious "BOOM" sound (alias the gunshot) in the Florentine Ballroom. Each time it came from a different place - first the hallway, then the roof, and this time from the back wall, somewhere above the back door.
This time, though, we were accompanied by a security guard. It came loud enough to scare the crap out of people - at least, those who knew it wasn't me. When I told the guard I hadn't done it, he looked a bit shocked and ran off to investigate the back wall on the assumption that someone or something must have been there. Nothing was. He came back looking spooked.
"Man," he said, "I thought you were full of crap the first time you said you heard this!"
The noise came back a couple more times while we were there tonight, loud enough each time to be quite a shock - I think many customers still think we're setting them up. In fact, a couple of people tonight told me they assumed we were, until they noticed that the guard seemed genuinely freaked out. We don't have the resources to rig things like this up in commercial ballrooms, folks.
As we left, the guard was telling another guard about and told him to go up to the room for himself.
"$%^& no!" he replied. "I'm not going up there alone! I'm not stupid!"
I'm still not claiming this as proof of the paranormal (I never do that with anything), but something odd is going on in that ballroom. We've been coming here regularly for some time now in all seasons, but we'd never heard this noise before, and neither has security. I'm starting to think of that Dickens book where the servants all think the house is haunted because of the noises it makes, but it turns out the house is just falling apart. I really hope that the Congress isn't doing that!
I'm organizing all the posts about the phenomenon under the tag "gunshot," although it's sounding less like a gunshot to me now. I started taking video after the first noise came up tonight, so I got some more examples of it. Not sure it's worth blogging, though, as it's not THAT different from the first video.
This time, though, we were accompanied by a security guard. It came loud enough to scare the crap out of people - at least, those who knew it wasn't me. When I told the guard I hadn't done it, he looked a bit shocked and ran off to investigate the back wall on the assumption that someone or something must have been there. Nothing was. He came back looking spooked.
"Man," he said, "I thought you were full of crap the first time you said you heard this!"
The noise came back a couple more times while we were there tonight, loud enough each time to be quite a shock - I think many customers still think we're setting them up. In fact, a couple of people tonight told me they assumed we were, until they noticed that the guard seemed genuinely freaked out. We don't have the resources to rig things like this up in commercial ballrooms, folks.
As we left, the guard was telling another guard about and told him to go up to the room for himself.
"$%^& no!" he replied. "I'm not going up there alone! I'm not stupid!"
I'm still not claiming this as proof of the paranormal (I never do that with anything), but something odd is going on in that ballroom. We've been coming here regularly for some time now in all seasons, but we'd never heard this noise before, and neither has security. I'm starting to think of that Dickens book where the servants all think the house is haunted because of the noises it makes, but it turns out the house is just falling apart. I really hope that the Congress isn't doing that!
I'm organizing all the posts about the phenomenon under the tag "gunshot," although it's sounding less like a gunshot to me now. I started taking video after the first noise came up tonight, so I got some more examples of it. Not sure it's worth blogging, though, as it's not THAT different from the first video.
The Murder Castle - Today! (or, Good Grief - MORE H.H. Holmes)
NOTE: this site has been replaced by a much bigger, more detailed one that I wrote after a trip into the basement of the post office with the History Channel in June, 2012. CLICK HERE for the new one!
The murder castle of H.H. Holmes was torn down in 1938. There were rumors that it was haunted while it was still standing, and a few stories now circulate about the basement of the current building on the grounds.
The government bought it in order to put up a post office on the site. This one, to be specific:
INotice the fallout shelter sign on the door - apparently, nowadays people go to the basement to LIVE (at least in theory). t doesn't occupy the EXACT same footprint - the left hand side of the building would have been in the middle of Wallace Street in the Murder Castle's time - but it does occupy a portion of the grounds. The drugstore Holmes ran would have been on the right hand side, possibly stretching into the empty space besides the station. Dr. Holden's pharmacy, the other drug store Holmes took over, was across the street (in what is now an Aldi parking lot). As far as we know, not a bit of structure from either building remains, though I suspect we might find some foundation if we dug the place out. I don't think they'll be letting us do THAT anytime soon, though (update: the basement below IS said to be partly original - we'll have a full report late in 2012).
Here's a diagram showing what overlap there was, based on overlaying three versions of the Sanborn fire insurance maps. The "Castle" is in blue:
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As you can see, there's SOME overlap, but not a lot. The mysterious gas tank said to be used for cremations was well away from the post office itself. But I always say that if someone can come back from the dead, surely they can walk down a hall, too, right? Check back on this site for photos soon.
I DID just have a woman on the tour who lived near the castle when she was young - when it was still standing. She said remembered feeling spooked by the place - enough so that she'd cross the street so as not to walk by the site - but didn't know why until decades later.
Friday, October 17, 2008
E.A. Trask: H.H. Holmes realtor?
One of our trickiest tasks over here at Weird Chicago is tracking down the buildings in Chicago that were owned or leased by H.H. Holmes. We've located a handful of them (our findings are in our book), including several on the North side, clear on the other end of town from the infamous murder castle. But tracing the guy is difficult, as he was VERY adept at covering his tracks, and operated under more aliases than we'll likely ever know.
Currently, we've been investigating a fellow named E.A. Trask who may, just MAY, have been Holmes' realtor, the guy through which he leased some of the buildings. Like Holmes, Trask was a well known swindler in Chicago (Holmes was famous around town as a swindler before the World's Fair even started). His big claim to fame was selling lots of land on the shores of Lake Michigan near the Calumet River (buyers wouldn't find out until they saw the land for themselves that the plots were underwater), then was sentenced to 18 years on jewelry swindles. He died in prison in Joliet in 1896 (about a month after Holmes was executed).
So, what's the connection to Holmes? Well, several newspapers in 1895-96 reported that Holmes and Trask had worked together; one witness, in fact, stated that Holmes was a nightly visitor at Trask's office (where the 1200 block of W. Washington is today) in 1890-1891. It wouldn't have been very far from the A.B.C copier office Holmes kept at the time. Could they have been working out real estate deals?
It's within the realm of possibility, but it's more likely that the connections are nonsense. Newspapers of the day LOVED to play "connect the dots," making it look as though every criminal knew every other criminal in town. Most of the time, this was based entirey on hearsay. But who knows? We'll keep you posted!
COMING NEXT WEEK - a series on the girls thought to be Resurrection Mary, including census records, pictures, and NEW evidence never before talked about!
Currently, we've been investigating a fellow named E.A. Trask who may, just MAY, have been Holmes' realtor, the guy through which he leased some of the buildings. Like Holmes, Trask was a well known swindler in Chicago (Holmes was famous around town as a swindler before the World's Fair even started). His big claim to fame was selling lots of land on the shores of Lake Michigan near the Calumet River (buyers wouldn't find out until they saw the land for themselves that the plots were underwater), then was sentenced to 18 years on jewelry swindles. He died in prison in Joliet in 1896 (about a month after Holmes was executed).
So, what's the connection to Holmes? Well, several newspapers in 1895-96 reported that Holmes and Trask had worked together; one witness, in fact, stated that Holmes was a nightly visitor at Trask's office (where the 1200 block of W. Washington is today) in 1890-1891. It wouldn't have been very far from the A.B.C copier office Holmes kept at the time. Could they have been working out real estate deals?
It's within the realm of possibility, but it's more likely that the connections are nonsense. Newspapers of the day LOVED to play "connect the dots," making it look as though every criminal knew every other criminal in town. Most of the time, this was based entirey on hearsay. But who knows? We'll keep you posted!
COMING NEXT WEEK - a series on the girls thought to be Resurrection Mary, including census records, pictures, and NEW evidence never before talked about!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
H.H. Holmes in the Loop
One of our ongoing tasks here at Weird Chicago is getting to the bottom of the whole H.H. Holmes story. There's a lot we don't know about him, and what we DO know tends to be based on hearsay and speculation. Some of it is probably nonsense (in particular, I rather doubt that he had a rack in the basement of the murder castle with which he planned to "create a race of giants," which is a story that goes around a lot. The guy WAS a doctor. He was a maniac, but he wasn't an idiot).
We're never going to know the whole story of the guy - he was AWFULLY good at covering his tracks, and we'll never know what all of his aliases were - or, therefore, where all his buildings were. The infamous "castle" wasn't the only building he ever used; ghere's a whole section in our book about his north side haunts (one of which is a regular stop on our tours). He must have been a really busy guy, given the multitude of businesses he ran and schemes he hatched. Of course, he wasn't always a hands-on manager; he appears to have been seldom-seen at the candy store he owned.
But he was a regular at his office in the loop.
For a time, he ran a downtown business called the A.B.C. Copier company - the A.B.C. copier was a device for copying architectural drawings. It may have been an odd device - it involved gasoline - but it worked as advertised. Naturally, though, Holmes couldn't resist using it for swindles. He bought his interest in the company with worthless notes. Besides selling the device, he sold "territories" for perspective ABC Copier entreprenuers. He re-sold the territories as often as possible. When the business failed, Holmes ditched the offices, stealing 50 gallons of glycerine (which he probably used to make nitroglycerine) in the process.
One of the stenographers was Katie Durkee, whom Holmes claimed to have murdered in his "confession." A bit of a hitch here was that Durkee was still alive; when she read the confession, she marched to the nearest person who would listen to state that she had never been killed "by Holmes or anyone else." Holmes partner in the business accused him of murdering Gertrude Conner, the sister of Ned Conner, who worked at the castle. Workers excavating the castle cellar in 1895 thought they found her body, along with those of Julia, her sister-in-law, and Pearl, her niece. When the partner accused Holmes of the murder to his face, Holmes replied "Bah! What makes you say that?"
The whole "gang" from the castle seemed to be involved with the business. Patrick Quinlan, the janitor of the murder castle (and a probably Holmes accomplice) also worked at the copier company. One of the Williams girls (Minnie, one of Holmes wife, or Anna, her sister) was also thought to work there.
The office of the company was in Custom House Place - a bit of a levee district that is now Printer's Row. Specifically, it was in the Monon Building, the world's first modern 13 story skyscraper at what would now be 436-444 S. Dearborn, across from the still-standing Manhattan building. It was torn down in 1947 to make way for Congress Street to expand.
The location gave Holmes easy access to the multitude of nearby whorehouses, but given his numerous wives and girlfriends, it seems hard to believe that he had TIME for whoring. The office there was most active around late 1890 through 1891, when the business went under. By this time, Holmes had indisputably started on a much more profitable means of raising money - swindling people out of their property, killing them, collecting their insurance money, then selling the body to medical colleges.
We're never going to know the whole story of the guy - he was AWFULLY good at covering his tracks, and we'll never know what all of his aliases were - or, therefore, where all his buildings were. The infamous "castle" wasn't the only building he ever used; ghere's a whole section in our book about his north side haunts (one of which is a regular stop on our tours). He must have been a really busy guy, given the multitude of businesses he ran and schemes he hatched. Of course, he wasn't always a hands-on manager; he appears to have been seldom-seen at the candy store he owned.
But he was a regular at his office in the loop.
For a time, he ran a downtown business called the A.B.C. Copier company - the A.B.C. copier was a device for copying architectural drawings. It may have been an odd device - it involved gasoline - but it worked as advertised. Naturally, though, Holmes couldn't resist using it for swindles. He bought his interest in the company with worthless notes. Besides selling the device, he sold "territories" for perspective ABC Copier entreprenuers. He re-sold the territories as often as possible. When the business failed, Holmes ditched the offices, stealing 50 gallons of glycerine (which he probably used to make nitroglycerine) in the process.
One of the stenographers was Katie Durkee, whom Holmes claimed to have murdered in his "confession." A bit of a hitch here was that Durkee was still alive; when she read the confession, she marched to the nearest person who would listen to state that she had never been killed "by Holmes or anyone else." Holmes partner in the business accused him of murdering Gertrude Conner, the sister of Ned Conner, who worked at the castle. Workers excavating the castle cellar in 1895 thought they found her body, along with those of Julia, her sister-in-law, and Pearl, her niece. When the partner accused Holmes of the murder to his face, Holmes replied "Bah! What makes you say that?"
The whole "gang" from the castle seemed to be involved with the business. Patrick Quinlan, the janitor of the murder castle (and a probably Holmes accomplice) also worked at the copier company. One of the Williams girls (Minnie, one of Holmes wife, or Anna, her sister) was also thought to work there.
The office of the company was in Custom House Place - a bit of a levee district that is now Printer's Row. Specifically, it was in the Monon Building, the world's first modern 13 story skyscraper at what would now be 436-444 S. Dearborn, across from the still-standing Manhattan building. It was torn down in 1947 to make way for Congress Street to expand.
The location gave Holmes easy access to the multitude of nearby whorehouses, but given his numerous wives and girlfriends, it seems hard to believe that he had TIME for whoring. The office there was most active around late 1890 through 1891, when the business went under. By this time, Holmes had indisputably started on a much more profitable means of raising money - swindling people out of their property, killing them, collecting their insurance money, then selling the body to medical colleges.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
H.H. Holmes on the Record
The murderous H.H. Holmes of Murder Castle / Devil in the White City fame had countless aliases - H.H. Holmes is only the best known of them. Tracking down his other names and activities has been one of our biggest jobs here at Weird Chicago.
Very little of him exists in the public record that we can be sure is actually him. The most certain include these two:
A census report from when he was 9, under his real name - Herman Webster Mudgett:
A bit more interesting is one from 10 years later, when he was living with Clara Lovering, his first wife (as far as we know - he married a handful of women, including, most likely, some that we don't even know about). His age here is listed as 22, meaning he'd aged 13 years in a decade. Either he was lying (as he often did) or the census taker was wrong (as they often were).
He left her in short order, but remained married to her, at least on paper, all his life, and apparently even visited her in 1895, shortly before his arrest.
Of course, the census form that would be MOST interesting would be the one from 1890, but that one was destroyed in a fire and only exists in fragments.
Very little of him exists in the public record that we can be sure is actually him. The most certain include these two:
A census report from when he was 9, under his real name - Herman Webster Mudgett:
A bit more interesting is one from 10 years later, when he was living with Clara Lovering, his first wife (as far as we know - he married a handful of women, including, most likely, some that we don't even know about). His age here is listed as 22, meaning he'd aged 13 years in a decade. Either he was lying (as he often did) or the census taker was wrong (as they often were).
He left her in short order, but remained married to her, at least on paper, all his life, and apparently even visited her in 1895, shortly before his arrest.
Of course, the census form that would be MOST interesting would be the one from 1890, but that one was destroyed in a fire and only exists in fragments.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Florentine Room "gunshot" VIDEO and investigation
Yes, we do occasionally have weird, ghostly things happen on our tours!
The "gunshot" noise we heard a few weeks ago in the Florentine Ballroom came from the service hallway outside of the ballroom. But on Friday night, October 10, we were hearing several loud noises in there - some were big "boom" noises, others sounded like footsteps above the ceiling; it sounded as though someone were walking around on the ceiling dropping heavy objects. It's not exactly the same as the "gunshot," but it's a pretty good example of what's been happening in there. You can hear an example in this video clip - listen to the people think that Hector, the driver, must be playing a prank. The "boom" comes about six seconds in:
Even after talking to security, who said the surrounding area was deserted, I assumed that there must be someone on the floor above the place doing construction, or that perhaps there was some sort of issue with the pipes. Water heaters and furnaces can make noises like that, and I sort of thought something like that must be above the room (though the furnace is actually a couple of floors below it). The next night, though, one of the guards took us up to see exactly what's above the Florentine Room. Here's what's on the other side of the arched ceiling:
We'll ignore the "orbs" and focus on the fact that it's an airshaft - there's nothing above the ballroom but sky. We went back down to the ballroom so the guard could bang around on it, making as much racket as possible. His best efforts sounded like dull footsteps from the ballroom - nothing like what was heard the night before, or on the night of the "gunshot." The pipe-like things visible are actually ladder-like things; you can see in the video where there used to be a hatch in the ceiling (at least, we think that's what it was - it's not a door at all now).
So, well, it's a mystery. This isn't exactly the same sound I heard the night we heard a "gunshot" noise in the hall - there were actually a dozen or so noises this particular night of varying intensity. Some sounded like footsteps, some sounded like someone dropping something really heavy onto the ceiling - but we now know that dropping something heavy on the ceiling wouldn't make anything LIKE this noise. I never say flat out that something is actually "paranormal" in origin, but no theory explaining the noises has really held up.
NOTE: In the video, I mention that, according to security, the piano in the room has been known to play itself. Only one of the guards ever claims to have seen that happen, but almost all of them have heard music coming from the room in the middle of the night.
Some more on the "boom" is in this ebook:
The "gunshot" noise we heard a few weeks ago in the Florentine Ballroom came from the service hallway outside of the ballroom. But on Friday night, October 10, we were hearing several loud noises in there - some were big "boom" noises, others sounded like footsteps above the ceiling; it sounded as though someone were walking around on the ceiling dropping heavy objects. It's not exactly the same as the "gunshot," but it's a pretty good example of what's been happening in there. You can hear an example in this video clip - listen to the people think that Hector, the driver, must be playing a prank. The "boom" comes about six seconds in:
Even after talking to security, who said the surrounding area was deserted, I assumed that there must be someone on the floor above the place doing construction, or that perhaps there was some sort of issue with the pipes. Water heaters and furnaces can make noises like that, and I sort of thought something like that must be above the room (though the furnace is actually a couple of floors below it). The next night, though, one of the guards took us up to see exactly what's above the Florentine Room. Here's what's on the other side of the arched ceiling:
We'll ignore the "orbs" and focus on the fact that it's an airshaft - there's nothing above the ballroom but sky. We went back down to the ballroom so the guard could bang around on it, making as much racket as possible. His best efforts sounded like dull footsteps from the ballroom - nothing like what was heard the night before, or on the night of the "gunshot." The pipe-like things visible are actually ladder-like things; you can see in the video where there used to be a hatch in the ceiling (at least, we think that's what it was - it's not a door at all now).
So, well, it's a mystery. This isn't exactly the same sound I heard the night we heard a "gunshot" noise in the hall - there were actually a dozen or so noises this particular night of varying intensity. Some sounded like footsteps, some sounded like someone dropping something really heavy onto the ceiling - but we now know that dropping something heavy on the ceiling wouldn't make anything LIKE this noise. I never say flat out that something is actually "paranormal" in origin, but no theory explaining the noises has really held up.
NOTE: In the video, I mention that, according to security, the piano in the room has been known to play itself. Only one of the guards ever claims to have seen that happen, but almost all of them have heard music coming from the room in the middle of the night.
Some more on the "boom" is in this ebook:
Monday, October 13, 2008
Murderous Superstitions
(WARNING! THIS ONE IS PRETTY GROSS)
In 1888, the Tribune had a great article about strange superstitions that were widely believed by muderers. These included:
"The Corpse Candle" - some murderers (primarily in Germany) believed that if you made candles from the body of a murder victim, the light would make the murderers invisible. It was also thought that it could turn the body into a sort of sleep-walking zombie, like in "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari."
"The Dead Man's Hand" - apparently, at this time it was popular for criminals to carry a "dead man's hand" - an actual , dried and withered hand of a person who had died a violent death. It was said that these hands had the power to put people to sleep. A variation of this was to carry a dead man's hand that was holding a lighted candle, with the belief that the light the candle shed could only be seen by the person carrying the hand. More than once, it was noted, it ended up having the reverse effect, and the light shed on the criminal caused him to be caught.
These were primarily European customs, but Chicago police had to keep an eye out for them, as many of the immigrants around the city who were coming from Eastern europe brought their supersitions with them. Superstitions from all over the world were being thrown together into areas that were heavily populated by recent immigrants, such as the near-southwest area around Hull House. This is part of why the "devil baby" story caught on so quickly in 1913, and gives you some idea of what Jane Addams was up against when she started Hull House. Most of the people had no idea that their superstitions were local beliefs, not facts that everyone in the world grew up knowing. Addams was adamant that clinging to superstitions was a major roadblock keeping these people from succeeding in America, but for many, one of the hardest parts of becoming an American was letting go of some of those folk beliefs - one reason that so many seemed so desperate to believe in the devil baby was that it gave them a new reason to cling to their old superstitions. In a weird way, the story that the devil had been born in the neighborhood gave people hope.
Coming tomorrow: The Ghostly Gunshot in the Florentine Ballroom - caught on film?
In 1888, the Tribune had a great article about strange superstitions that were widely believed by muderers. These included:
"The Corpse Candle" - some murderers (primarily in Germany) believed that if you made candles from the body of a murder victim, the light would make the murderers invisible. It was also thought that it could turn the body into a sort of sleep-walking zombie, like in "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari."
"The Dead Man's Hand" - apparently, at this time it was popular for criminals to carry a "dead man's hand" - an actual , dried and withered hand of a person who had died a violent death. It was said that these hands had the power to put people to sleep. A variation of this was to carry a dead man's hand that was holding a lighted candle, with the belief that the light the candle shed could only be seen by the person carrying the hand. More than once, it was noted, it ended up having the reverse effect, and the light shed on the criminal caused him to be caught.
These were primarily European customs, but Chicago police had to keep an eye out for them, as many of the immigrants around the city who were coming from Eastern europe brought their supersitions with them. Superstitions from all over the world were being thrown together into areas that were heavily populated by recent immigrants, such as the near-southwest area around Hull House. This is part of why the "devil baby" story caught on so quickly in 1913, and gives you some idea of what Jane Addams was up against when she started Hull House. Most of the people had no idea that their superstitions were local beliefs, not facts that everyone in the world grew up knowing. Addams was adamant that clinging to superstitions was a major roadblock keeping these people from succeeding in America, but for many, one of the hardest parts of becoming an American was letting go of some of those folk beliefs - one reason that so many seemed so desperate to believe in the devil baby was that it gave them a new reason to cling to their old superstitions. In a weird way, the story that the devil had been born in the neighborhood gave people hope.
Coming tomorrow: The Ghostly Gunshot in the Florentine Ballroom - caught on film?
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Inez Clarke: The Ghost a Girl That's Never Been
 | It's one of the most famous ghost stories in Chicago: Inez Clarke, the poor little girl who was locked out of her house in an electrical storm (or something like that) is, to this day, haunting Graceland Cemetery, around the spot where she is immortalized by a statue in a glass case. The statue, it is said, disappears now and then, and the ghost of poor Inez is seen playing around the graveyard, especially during storms. There's one big problem, though: there was never any such person as Inez Clarke. Cemetery officials at the time this blog post was originally written stated that the person buried there was one Amos Briggs, and that the statue was jsut an advertisement for a sculptor. |
This is not a new issue in the ghost hunting world - there are plenty of ghosts of people who never existed (or who aren't actually dead yet) being hunted out there. Similiarly, plenty of people have spent time investigating the vacant lot where a haunted building once stood, not realizing that the real building is still standing across the street. Quite a few people spend a LOT of time getting the ghosts of kids killed in long ago train accidents to push their cars over railroad tracks - but some research would generally tell them that there was never any such crash on the site.
I always feel like a real grinch when I have to write this sort of "debunking" stuff, but there's no point in looking for ghosts that we know aren't real - there are a lot of sites out there that aren't haunted, but were said to be so that ghost tours would have an excuse to go there. Believe me. One of the reasons we left the company we used to work for to form Weird Chicago tour was so that we could start SAYING that certain places weren't actually haunted. At least I'm not blaming ghost sightings on swamp gas.
One of the underlying things to remember about any ghost story is that it's impossible to know whether it's true or not, but Inez is probably the best example of a ghost story that we KNOW isn't true in Chicago.
In 2007, the Sun Times ran a big story about it pretty conclusively proving that Clarke never existed (it involved some pretty hardcore proof - signed affidavits and everything!) The piece alleged that Ursula Bielski had invented the story (or at least spread it around without doing her homework), but this was sort of unfair. The story had been going around for years, and it's far from the only story going around where the available info is pretty scant. That's ghost stories for ya.
However, the cemeter's story never quite rang true for some: after all, if there was no Inez, why did the name "Inez" appear on the statue, and why did the plaque beneath say "daughter of M.C. Clarke?" John J. Binder, a local author, was able to establish that they were partially right - the girl was Inez Briggs (the name "Amos" probably came from a hasty transcription of the name "Inez" - write them both down in sloppy cursive and you'll see how the mistake could be made at once). "Clarke" was her mother's married name. The death certificate for Inez Briggs says that she died of diphtheria, and that she lived in what is now Uptown.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Tour Report!
We interrupt this month of historical posts for a report on tonight's tour....
An interesting night - the loud noise in the Florentine Ballroom was back, but it wasn't the same noise I heard before - it was coming from the ceiling, and sounded like someone dropping hammers and tools on the roof. However, there was no construction going on, and the only thing above the domed ceiling is a blank space. Security told me "You think that's scary? Come here at three a.m.! There are footsteps, noises, cold chills, you name it!" They've been telling us this since we started investigating the place two years ago, but I never experienced any of it until a couple of months ago.
There was also some weirdness going on outside the location of H.H. Holmes' glass bending factory (which was thought to be used more for cremations than glass bending) - which has had its share of strange nights lately. Last week we pulled in to find three hawks with dead birds in their mouths outside of the place.
But most interesting to me tonight was the crowd - a good portion of the group was composed of senior citizens. One of them had her high school prom in the Gold Ballroom in 1936. Another grew up near the murder castle sight (while it was still standing - it stood until 1938) and told us that she always got spooked walking by the spot, but never knew why until she read Devil in the White City.
We filmed part of the tour tonight for an upcoming youtube commercial, so we actually DO have recordings of the noises in the Florentine Room tonight!
An interesting night - the loud noise in the Florentine Ballroom was back, but it wasn't the same noise I heard before - it was coming from the ceiling, and sounded like someone dropping hammers and tools on the roof. However, there was no construction going on, and the only thing above the domed ceiling is a blank space. Security told me "You think that's scary? Come here at three a.m.! There are footsteps, noises, cold chills, you name it!" They've been telling us this since we started investigating the place two years ago, but I never experienced any of it until a couple of months ago.
There was also some weirdness going on outside the location of H.H. Holmes' glass bending factory (which was thought to be used more for cremations than glass bending) - which has had its share of strange nights lately. Last week we pulled in to find three hawks with dead birds in their mouths outside of the place.
But most interesting to me tonight was the crowd - a good portion of the group was composed of senior citizens. One of them had her high school prom in the Gold Ballroom in 1936. Another grew up near the murder castle sight (while it was still standing - it stood until 1938) and told us that she always got spooked walking by the spot, but never knew why until she read Devil in the White City.
We filmed part of the tour tonight for an upcoming youtube commercial, so we actually DO have recordings of the noises in the Florentine Room tonight!
Friday, October 10, 2008
Jack the Ripper
The Tribune, like most papers, followed the Jack the Ripper case closely, printing every rumor (including the stories about a an American suspect named Mr. Tumblety who is now thought to be among the strongest suspects).
This is the first article ever in Chicago on the subject, from Sept 2, 1888:
By this time, of course, H.H. Holmes had been in Chicago for at least three years, and had probably already killed more people than The Ripper ever would.
And, at the same time, a man named Dr. Thomas Neil Cream was in Joliet Prison - he had murdered several people in his office, near where Madison and Racine meet today (or within a block or two of there, anyway). He would eventually be released and drift over to London, where he'd kill again, and utter the words "I am Jack The..." just before the trap sprung on the gallows. There are those who say that Creame was actually NOT in prison in Joliet in 1888, but had been replaced by a double, and was, in fact, in London, committing some of history's most famous murders. More on him is in the Weird Chicago book!
This is the first article ever in Chicago on the subject, from Sept 2, 1888:
By this time, of course, H.H. Holmes had been in Chicago for at least three years, and had probably already killed more people than The Ripper ever would.
And, at the same time, a man named Dr. Thomas Neil Cream was in Joliet Prison - he had murdered several people in his office, near where Madison and Racine meet today (or within a block or two of there, anyway). He would eventually be released and drift over to London, where he'd kill again, and utter the words "I am Jack The..." just before the trap sprung on the gallows. There are those who say that Creame was actually NOT in prison in Joliet in 1888, but had been replaced by a double, and was, in fact, in London, committing some of history's most famous murders. More on him is in the Weird Chicago book!
Thursday, October 9, 2008
A Night at the Whitechapel Club - Part 4
(concluding our series serializing an article on the mysterious whitechapel club from 1890)
"To our patron saint and president," says the chairman, raising his glass of punch.
Then the health of Jack the Ripper is drank. It is drank until hte framed panel containing the club's charter from the state of Illinois - the object: social reform - shakes with the acclaim.
Dr. G. Frank Lydston or some other medical celebrity who happens to be a member reads a paper on "knives." The knives he tells about are the sort with which Jack the Ripper carves up his victims. Cheers and an orgy follow.
Billy Mason, the congressman, an "inert" member - because he cannot be an active one, owing to his residence in Washinton during the winter - tells a story. He is in the city of his constituents over Sunday, and he improves his fame this saturday night. He tells a good story, and applause for four minues succeeds.
The lights that shine with ghostly glare thorugh the skulls eyes are turned down to stars. A member has been struck by the puch - the Whitechapel punch. His head hangs over his breast. The Whitechapel death-chant is sung:
"Flee as a bird to the mountain
Ye who are weary of sin."
Prof*. Steinbach plays "Peace and War" on his zither. The club goes wild over it.
Then songs, stories, repartee and jokes follow until 5 o'clock comes and it is announced by the purveyor that it is time for its members and guests to turn into the nearst Turkish bath house.
NOTE: it was probably on the night of this article that the club wired Chauncey Depew, New York senator, with the phrase "When may we see you on the dissecting table?" He replied "I am at your service when ordered and quite ready after today's events to contribute my body to Chicago science." Dr. Depew visited the club a year later, and remarked that the problem with Chicago was that the buildings were too tall.
* - piano players at the time were often called "Professors."
"To our patron saint and president," says the chairman, raising his glass of punch.
Then the health of Jack the Ripper is drank. It is drank until hte framed panel containing the club's charter from the state of Illinois - the object: social reform - shakes with the acclaim.
Dr. G. Frank Lydston or some other medical celebrity who happens to be a member reads a paper on "knives." The knives he tells about are the sort with which Jack the Ripper carves up his victims. Cheers and an orgy follow.
Billy Mason, the congressman, an "inert" member - because he cannot be an active one, owing to his residence in Washinton during the winter - tells a story. He is in the city of his constituents over Sunday, and he improves his fame this saturday night. He tells a good story, and applause for four minues succeeds.
The lights that shine with ghostly glare thorugh the skulls eyes are turned down to stars. A member has been struck by the puch - the Whitechapel punch. His head hangs over his breast. The Whitechapel death-chant is sung:
"Flee as a bird to the mountain
Ye who are weary of sin."
Prof*. Steinbach plays "Peace and War" on his zither. The club goes wild over it.
Then songs, stories, repartee and jokes follow until 5 o'clock comes and it is announced by the purveyor that it is time for its members and guests to turn into the nearst Turkish bath house.
NOTE: it was probably on the night of this article that the club wired Chauncey Depew, New York senator, with the phrase "When may we see you on the dissecting table?" He replied "I am at your service when ordered and quite ready after today's events to contribute my body to Chicago science." Dr. Depew visited the club a year later, and remarked that the problem with Chicago was that the buildings were too tall.
* - piano players at the time were often called "Professors."
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
A Night at the Whitechapel Club - part 3
(continuing a serialization of a Tribune article on The Whitechapel Club fro 1890, just after Chicago was chosen as the World's Fair location).
The Whitechapel Club meets at 12 o'lcokc sharp at night. Lights which have been shimmering through the eyes and noses of skulls are turned out. The roll is called.
"Bing!"
"Bang!"
"Bung!"
Sudden noises startle the guests. They are the responses of members to their names as called by the Secretary. Each member has a number, and he answers when it is called by exploding a torpedo.
The president stands in a corner. He is a life-size effigy f Jack the Ripper, after the scene of whose murders the club is named. The Vice PResident presides, sitting at the corner of the triangular table which fills the center of the room. The secretaty, Charles Perkins, clerk of Judge Collins court, sits on his right.
"The King's taster will now enter!" says the President.
Henry Koster, the club's purveyor, enters. He dips out a brimming glass of the punch which fills the large, snake-wreathed bowl, the largest ever cast in America. He puts it to his lips and drains it.
"If the king's taster lives two minutes," says the presidetn, "the club will proceed to business."
The king's taster lives and the club proceeds to business.
The window curtain shade is drawn down by a string.It contains in plain printed letters the program for the evening. Just enough of the program is exposed to reveal with is to occurr next.
"We drink!" the members and guests read in glowing letters.
And they drink.
Down comes the curtain another notch.
"We drink again!" it reads.
And the members and guests drink again.
The curtain falls another half-inch. A comic poem is to be recited by some theatrical celebrity who is present. He recites it, and the club-rooms echo with cheers for three minutes after he sits down.
The curtain falls another half inch...
TO BE CONCLUDED TOMORROW!
The Whitechapel Club meets at 12 o'lcokc sharp at night. Lights which have been shimmering through the eyes and noses of skulls are turned out. The roll is called.
"Bing!"
"Bang!"
"Bung!"
Sudden noises startle the guests. They are the responses of members to their names as called by the Secretary. Each member has a number, and he answers when it is called by exploding a torpedo.
The president stands in a corner. He is a life-size effigy f Jack the Ripper, after the scene of whose murders the club is named. The Vice PResident presides, sitting at the corner of the triangular table which fills the center of the room. The secretaty, Charles Perkins, clerk of Judge Collins court, sits on his right.
"The King's taster will now enter!" says the President.
Henry Koster, the club's purveyor, enters. He dips out a brimming glass of the punch which fills the large, snake-wreathed bowl, the largest ever cast in America. He puts it to his lips and drains it.
"If the king's taster lives two minutes," says the presidetn, "the club will proceed to business."
The king's taster lives and the club proceeds to business.
The window curtain shade is drawn down by a string.It contains in plain printed letters the program for the evening. Just enough of the program is exposed to reveal with is to occurr next.
"We drink!" the members and guests read in glowing letters.
And they drink.
Down comes the curtain another notch.
"We drink again!" it reads.
And the members and guests drink again.
The curtain falls another half-inch. A comic poem is to be recited by some theatrical celebrity who is present. He recites it, and the club-rooms echo with cheers for three minutes after he sits down.
The curtain falls another half inch...
TO BE CONCLUDED TOMORROW!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
A Night At the Whitechapel Club - Part 2
(continuing a serialization of a Tribune article on The Whitechapel Club fro 1890, just after Chicago was chosen as the World's Fair location).
The room is triangular. Long, narrow tables run through the center spaces. But this goes for little. It is the walls that give The Whitechapel Club a distinctive character. There one finds the rope that hanged the three Italians who did that ghastly murder on the west side*, and the handcuffes that safeguarded Burke on his unpleasant journey from Winnipeg jungle against the chandelier; the walls are dark with pictured crims - Japanese and others - and the ceiling flares down with synchromatic wickedness.
The fireplace glows with a whimsically drunken light; there is an inspiring facetiousness in the gurgle of the emptying brandy bottles.
For it must be admitted that the Whitechapel man drinks now and again. The punch is brewed in a Japanese bowl that fancies forth the old Goddess of Death. And then it is turned out - the punch, of course - into skulls, fashioned as cups. The king cup of the all is made from the cranium of "Bad Charlie." A few years ago he was lynched in Wyoming.
And why?
Incidentaly, he had murdered a woman and three babies, an a few men who thought they recognized a breach of ettiquette in the affair shot him down on the windy, gray-grass plains.
There is a rack in the Whitechapel Club. It lies along the western half of the alcove. There one stumbles on pipes and tobacco. Clay pipes, mark you, and the long-stemmed church wardens. The Hon. Chauncy Mitcheli Depew** smokes just such a pipe as this when he loafs over his 5 o'clock cigar in his offices in 42nd street.
In the Whitechapel Club are merriment and good-fellowship and the quaint, irritating microbe that sets the brain of wit and kindliness afire.
There are no strangers in Chicago, for every one who is worthy of being alive in Chicago at all is at home in Chicago. An in this sense it goes without saying that Chicago is the "Whitechapel Club"
* - this refers to The Trunk Murder of 1885 - see our book!
** - Depew was a NY senator who worked HARD to get the fair in New York, not Chicago. The meeting this night would be the night they sent him a telegram to rub his nose in Chicago's victory....
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW!
The room is triangular. Long, narrow tables run through the center spaces. But this goes for little. It is the walls that give The Whitechapel Club a distinctive character. There one finds the rope that hanged the three Italians who did that ghastly murder on the west side*, and the handcuffes that safeguarded Burke on his unpleasant journey from Winnipeg jungle against the chandelier; the walls are dark with pictured crims - Japanese and others - and the ceiling flares down with synchromatic wickedness.
The fireplace glows with a whimsically drunken light; there is an inspiring facetiousness in the gurgle of the emptying brandy bottles.
For it must be admitted that the Whitechapel man drinks now and again. The punch is brewed in a Japanese bowl that fancies forth the old Goddess of Death. And then it is turned out - the punch, of course - into skulls, fashioned as cups. The king cup of the all is made from the cranium of "Bad Charlie." A few years ago he was lynched in Wyoming.
And why?
Incidentaly, he had murdered a woman and three babies, an a few men who thought they recognized a breach of ettiquette in the affair shot him down on the windy, gray-grass plains.
There is a rack in the Whitechapel Club. It lies along the western half of the alcove. There one stumbles on pipes and tobacco. Clay pipes, mark you, and the long-stemmed church wardens. The Hon. Chauncy Mitcheli Depew** smokes just such a pipe as this when he loafs over his 5 o'clock cigar in his offices in 42nd street.
In the Whitechapel Club are merriment and good-fellowship and the quaint, irritating microbe that sets the brain of wit and kindliness afire.
There are no strangers in Chicago, for every one who is worthy of being alive in Chicago at all is at home in Chicago. An in this sense it goes without saying that Chicago is the "Whitechapel Club"
* - this refers to The Trunk Murder of 1885 - see our book!
** - Depew was a NY senator who worked HARD to get the fair in New York, not Chicago. The meeting this night would be the night they sent him a telegram to rub his nose in Chicago's victory....
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW!
Monday, October 6, 2008
A Night in the Whitechapel Club - Part 1
One of the most bizarre famous social clubs in the history of the city was The Whitechapel Club, a morbid club for news reporters whose headquarters featured body parts, a coffin, and all sorts of grisley stuff.
In 1890, the Tribune ran a GREAT article called "A Night at the Whitechapel Club" that I'll be serializing here. It came JUST after Chicago had been announced as the location of the World's Fair.
WITH SKULLS FOR BOWLS
A Night in the Suddenly Famous WHITECHAPEL CLUB
How Convival Spirits Drink Their Punch In Honor of Their Patron Saint, Jack the Ripper
- Emblems of Wickedness Thrown From the Walls - Startling Roll-Call of the Members -
Proceedings Cut Short Promptly at 5 a.m.
Within the last few days the Whitechapel Club of Chicago has drawn itself the eye of the Nation. Chauncey M. Depew and Roswell P. Flower have wired it weird congratutions over the location of the world's fair.
I.
And this is the Whitechapel Club!
One turns out of Clark street into a misty, muddy alley; barrels and rubbish clutter the way; then there comes LaSalle Street.
One blunders over the car tracks and dodges flickering cabs and finds one's self once more in the dark and dingy alley.
A few steps more; this is Calhoun place. On one side is the basement den where the messengers do congregate; on the other shine the lights that "burn o' nights" over the Whitechapel Club.
One might almost imagine one were in the dark depths of Berner's court in London, where in months gone by Jack the Ripper carries on his investigations in the phsyological vein.
But outside it is all imagination; inside it is all reality.
For inside one finds all the weird horros that took their birth in the odorous slums of Whitechapel.
Skulls of murderers lie on the table, and out of them "Whitechapelians" drink buoyant punches, as Byron did of old. And, bu the way, Byron was the first and charter member of the club. In a spiritual sense, of course, for Byron was nothing but spirituous.
And so one enters the swinging, glazed doors of The Whitechapel Club...
(coming tomorrow, the article continues! See also: The Weird Chicago book!)
In 1890, the Tribune ran a GREAT article called "A Night at the Whitechapel Club" that I'll be serializing here. It came JUST after Chicago had been announced as the location of the World's Fair.
WITH SKULLS FOR BOWLS
A Night in the Suddenly Famous WHITECHAPEL CLUB
How Convival Spirits Drink Their Punch In Honor of Their Patron Saint, Jack the Ripper
- Emblems of Wickedness Thrown From the Walls - Startling Roll-Call of the Members -
Proceedings Cut Short Promptly at 5 a.m.
Within the last few days the Whitechapel Club of Chicago has drawn itself the eye of the Nation. Chauncey M. Depew and Roswell P. Flower have wired it weird congratutions over the location of the world's fair.
I.
And this is the Whitechapel Club!
One turns out of Clark street into a misty, muddy alley; barrels and rubbish clutter the way; then there comes LaSalle Street.
One blunders over the car tracks and dodges flickering cabs and finds one's self once more in the dark and dingy alley.
A few steps more; this is Calhoun place. On one side is the basement den where the messengers do congregate; on the other shine the lights that "burn o' nights" over the Whitechapel Club.
One might almost imagine one were in the dark depths of Berner's court in London, where in months gone by Jack the Ripper carries on his investigations in the phsyological vein.
But outside it is all imagination; inside it is all reality.
For inside one finds all the weird horros that took their birth in the odorous slums of Whitechapel.
Skulls of murderers lie on the table, and out of them "Whitechapelians" drink buoyant punches, as Byron did of old. And, bu the way, Byron was the first and charter member of the club. In a spiritual sense, of course, for Byron was nothing but spirituous.
And so one enters the swinging, glazed doors of The Whitechapel Club...
(coming tomorrow, the article continues! See also: The Weird Chicago book!)
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Weird Chicago The Book: "Advertisement" Outtakes!
We made about 50 "comic book ads" for Weird Chicago, the book. Here are a couple that I don't think are in the final version!
The Strangest Thing at the Congress Hotel?
And one more entry on the Congress before we move on...
In the closets behind the balcony o the Gold Ballroom, on the first investigation we ran of the place in 2006, we came across something that looked like a hand jutting out of the all. There was too much debris in the way for us to get close to it, but we took several photos and found that the thing actually didn't just look like a hand, there were actually four fingers and a thumb!
Now, there are several theories here:
1. This is The Hand of Drywall Dave, a worker who was walled up inside the place (an apocryphal story that we've never been able to verify)
2. It's Jimmy Hoffa (this is Willy, our driver's favorite theory)
3. It's the ghost of Congress Hotel regular Theodore Roosevelt, carrying a big stick.
4 (and most likely). It's a glove plastered over by a contractor with a weird sense of humor
In the closets behind the balcony o the Gold Ballroom, on the first investigation we ran of the place in 2006, we came across something that looked like a hand jutting out of the all. There was too much debris in the way for us to get close to it, but we took several photos and found that the thing actually didn't just look like a hand, there were actually four fingers and a thumb!
Now, there are several theories here:
1. This is The Hand of Drywall Dave, a worker who was walled up inside the place (an apocryphal story that we've never been able to verify)
2. It's Jimmy Hoffa (this is Willy, our driver's favorite theory)
3. It's the ghost of Congress Hotel regular Theodore Roosevelt, carrying a big stick.
4 (and most likely). It's a glove plastered over by a contractor with a weird sense of humor
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Gangs at the Congress Hotel
Few of the older hotels in town have never had a murder - most of them have played host to at least one. The Drake had the "woman in black" murder that we wrote about here a month or so ago. There was a really grisly stabbing at the Palmer House in the early 70s that remains unsolved.
But the Congress has played host to a really inordinant amount of killings. We find out about more of them all the time - in fact, we're always finding out strange things about it. One time there was a big party in the Gold Room in which a woman spoke at great length about how apples are evil. Another night in the 1920s something called a "Pagan Ball" was held there. And one time, Jane Addams of Hull House made a speech about Archer Avenue, home of Resurrection Mary, in the haunted Florentine Room - a regular Tic-Tac-Toe of Chicago ghosts!
Today, we're reading up on how the Congress figures into gangland history. It was not, contrary to what some websites say, ever owned or lived in by Al Capone. Oral tradition has it that he played cards in a room near the Florentine Room, though, and a mysterious phone call made to him in Florida from the Congress Hotel half an hour after the St. Valentine's Day Massacre shootings led to some arrests in the case. Capone certainly held meetings there, and once even had a guy held prisoner there for awhile (depending on who you believe)
It is not, however (and we've made a mistake here ourselves in the past) the hotel where the Dillinger gang was caught in 1933. That congress hotel was in Tucson. Chicago papers didn't always specify this, which led to some confusion.
THe most recent gang story there comes from 1993, when leaders of several street gangs held The National Gang Peace Summit a the Congress. It clearly wasn't THAT successful, but no one was killed or anything. About 300 gang members gathered there, and the hotel was said to be "unfazed" by them.
So gangs have a long history of influence at the place. That one of them fired the a gunshot in or near the Florentine, the ghost of which we may have heard on two separate tours (so far), is hardly impossible.
But the Congress has played host to a really inordinant amount of killings. We find out about more of them all the time - in fact, we're always finding out strange things about it. One time there was a big party in the Gold Room in which a woman spoke at great length about how apples are evil. Another night in the 1920s something called a "Pagan Ball" was held there. And one time, Jane Addams of Hull House made a speech about Archer Avenue, home of Resurrection Mary, in the haunted Florentine Room - a regular Tic-Tac-Toe of Chicago ghosts!
Today, we're reading up on how the Congress figures into gangland history. It was not, contrary to what some websites say, ever owned or lived in by Al Capone. Oral tradition has it that he played cards in a room near the Florentine Room, though, and a mysterious phone call made to him in Florida from the Congress Hotel half an hour after the St. Valentine's Day Massacre shootings led to some arrests in the case. Capone certainly held meetings there, and once even had a guy held prisoner there for awhile (depending on who you believe)
It is not, however (and we've made a mistake here ourselves in the past) the hotel where the Dillinger gang was caught in 1933. That congress hotel was in Tucson. Chicago papers didn't always specify this, which led to some confusion.
THe most recent gang story there comes from 1993, when leaders of several street gangs held The National Gang Peace Summit a the Congress. It clearly wasn't THAT successful, but no one was killed or anything. About 300 gang members gathered there, and the hotel was said to be "unfazed" by them.
So gangs have a long history of influence at the place. That one of them fired the a gunshot in or near the Florentine, the ghost of which we may have heard on two separate tours (so far), is hardly impossible.
Friday, October 3, 2008
And yet ANOTHER Congress Hotel murder story!
Still another murder took place back in 1908, when the Congress was still known as The Auditorium Annex.
This one took place out in front of the theatre at 6 o'clock on the evening of January 3rd, as countless Michigan Avenue spectators looked on. The whole thing was the result of a love triangle involving Mrs. Ruby Rishzak, her husband, William, and Charles Gilbert Brockett, who was a floor walker at some department store on State with whom Ruby was having an affair. Brockett shot Ruby, then shot himself in the head. He died two hours later, but Ruby survived.
Exactly what happened was hard to determine. Some said that the shooting came about because Ruby said she was going back to her husband, but one neighbor said she had claimed that "they would have to ship me away in a box" to get her back to her husband. She had left him some time before, but emerged periodically to say she didn't have enough to eat until he agreed to pay her $30 a month.
And Brocket had certainly taken steps to make it look like a suicide pact. In his pockets were several notes, including one requesting a masonic funeral (which was granted), and one reading "put Ruby and I side by side. We choose to die together. Our acts are one of love."
However, Ruby and her husband reconciled while she was in the hospital. The newspapers, meanwhile, had a regular field day talking about "The ruby red blood of Ruby Pishzak." Outside of a general refusal to talk about sex, taste was a concept somewhat unknown to newspapers a century ago.
This one took place out in front of the theatre at 6 o'clock on the evening of January 3rd, as countless Michigan Avenue spectators looked on. The whole thing was the result of a love triangle involving Mrs. Ruby Rishzak, her husband, William, and Charles Gilbert Brockett, who was a floor walker at some department store on State with whom Ruby was having an affair. Brockett shot Ruby, then shot himself in the head. He died two hours later, but Ruby survived.
Exactly what happened was hard to determine. Some said that the shooting came about because Ruby said she was going back to her husband, but one neighbor said she had claimed that "they would have to ship me away in a box" to get her back to her husband. She had left him some time before, but emerged periodically to say she didn't have enough to eat until he agreed to pay her $30 a month.
And Brocket had certainly taken steps to make it look like a suicide pact. In his pockets were several notes, including one requesting a masonic funeral (which was granted), and one reading "put Ruby and I side by side. We choose to die together. Our acts are one of love."
However, Ruby and her husband reconciled while she was in the hospital. The newspapers, meanwhile, had a regular field day talking about "The ruby red blood of Ruby Pishzak." Outside of a general refusal to talk about sex, taste was a concept somewhat unknown to newspapers a century ago.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Another Congress Hotel murder
The sheer number of people who've died in this hotel just baffles me.
This one took place in 1950 and involves the Superintendent of Service at the hotel and the credit manager. The two of them went to a guy's room to ask him about $104 that he owed the hotel. The gues, 25 year old John Raymond, told them to wait for a moment while he got his credentials. What he actually got was a pistol - he shot both of them to death, then killed himself.
Those who follow the blog remember the "gunshot" that was heard in a deserted hallway during a recent ghost tour that went there. This probably wasn't a ghostly echo of this particular one, since this was on a regular guest floor, but there have been a LO T of guns fired off in that place. We'll be examining a bit more of this once-grand hotel's sordid history over the next few days!
This one took place in 1950 and involves the Superintendent of Service at the hotel and the credit manager. The two of them went to a guy's room to ask him about $104 that he owed the hotel. The gues, 25 year old John Raymond, told them to wait for a moment while he got his credentials. What he actually got was a pistol - he shot both of them to death, then killed himself.
Those who follow the blog remember the "gunshot" that was heard in a deserted hallway during a recent ghost tour that went there. This probably wasn't a ghostly echo of this particular one, since this was on a regular guest floor, but there have been a LO T of guns fired off in that place. We'll be examining a bit more of this once-grand hotel's sordid history over the next few days!
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
OCTOBER BEGINS with Adam The Whistling Ghost
One thing we don't focus on too much here is ghosts of private homes. One simple reason for this is that there are just too many supposedly haunted houses in Chicago. Another is that we rarely have any way to research them, and certainly can't bring them onto tours. A third is that we don't want people harassing the owners of haunted houses, which can certainly happen.
But the story of Adam the Whistling ghost is old enough that I suppose it's fair game.
Adam was an apparition seen around a private home on Hudson Avenue in Old Town and reported in the Tribune back in the 70s. The two owners of the house started hearing the ghost, which they called "Adam" calling their names as soon as they moved in.
The two owners never SAW the ghost, but two of their friends said they did - and so did their three-year-old son, who said that the ghost taught him how to whistle. When his parents heard him whislting and asked where he'd learned it, he said it was from "Adam, the man in the basement, taught me."
One of the friends saw him during a party - and didn't realize it was a ghost. he thought it was just a weird guy who sat on a chair, staring at him in a way that made him want to punch him out.
THose who saw the ghost agreed that he was a man in his late teens wearing denim pants and a sport shirt, though they differed on whether his eyes were blue or brown.
But the story of Adam the Whistling ghost is old enough that I suppose it's fair game.
Adam was an apparition seen around a private home on Hudson Avenue in Old Town and reported in the Tribune back in the 70s. The two owners of the house started hearing the ghost, which they called "Adam" calling their names as soon as they moved in.
The two owners never SAW the ghost, but two of their friends said they did - and so did their three-year-old son, who said that the ghost taught him how to whistle. When his parents heard him whislting and asked where he'd learned it, he said it was from "Adam, the man in the basement, taught me."
One of the friends saw him during a party - and didn't realize it was a ghost. he thought it was just a weird guy who sat on a chair, staring at him in a way that made him want to punch him out.
THose who saw the ghost agreed that he was a man in his late teens wearing denim pants and a sport shirt, though they differed on whether his eyes were blue or brown.
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