Haunted Cemeteries Page 4
Decatur, Illinois, lies about 150 miles southwest of Chicago on the banks of the Sangamon River. The land was long populated by Illiniwek Native Americans before a single settler, William Downing, built a log cabin there around 1820. Other Easterners followed. Most of the early burials took place either on people’s own property or at the town’s graveyard, the Common Burial Grounds.
Then, in 1857, the Greenwood Cemetery was founded on ten acres, although the first recorded burial on the grounds had been seventeen years earlier. Other settlers and Native Americans were probably using the property as a graveyard even before that. The cemetery was designed to be a peaceful memorial park, with pathways winding among the tall oaks that dotted the hillsides. The “Beautiful City of the Dead,” as Greenwood Cemetery was nicknamed, soon became the most desirable place to be interred in Decatur. It grew, adding as much land as possible, located as it was between neighboring homes and the nearby river.
The cemetery was heavily vandalized in the 1920s; head-stones, in particular, were overturned and defaced. Normal wear and tear also took its toll. By the end of the next decade, with all the plots sold, no room to expand, and little money for upkeep, the cemetery fell into disrepair.
By the early 1950s, Greenwood Cemetery had become an eyesore. Finally, in 1957, the City of Decatur voted to take over its management, and a corps of volunteers helped clean up the park to restore its beauty. Occasional vandalism continued, however—enough that in 1963 a fence had to be erected to keep hooligans out after dark.
Stories about ghosts in the graveyard have circulated for at least a hundred years. Some of the tales were probably quite believable because they had a basis in historical events.
For example, a part of the cemetery is dedicated to the Civil War dead, including Confederate soldiers who passed away while being transported to Union prison camps in the North. Yellow fever had so decimated one of the trains that when it paused in Decatur to refuel, scores of bodies were literally dumped onto wagons and carted off to the southwest corner of Greenwood Cemetery. The problem was that while most of the victims actually were dead, some were merely unconscious or so weak that they showed no signs of life. They were unable to object when they were dumped into the unmarked mass grave with their comrades and buried alive. Years later, their eternal sleep was disturbed when many of the corpses were exposed during a mudslide following heavy rains. Ever since, the spectres of Rebel soldiers have restlessly wandered the graveyard, clamped in leg irons, shoeless, their torn and bloody gray uniforms dangling from their limbs.
The cemetery is also home to strange blue-white luminous orbs that dart among the graves at the top of one of the ridges. Such glowing, floating spots are called ghost lights and are believed by many to be restive spirits of the dead. So why would they appear at Greenwood? Well, sometime around 1905, a major flood overran the banks of the Sangamon River. Many graves in the lower part of the cemetery were washed away, and when the water receded, bones, half-decomposed corpses, and broken caskets were left strewn over the grounds. With no identification possible and the original gravesites lost, what bodily remains could be collected were reburied in a common grave near the crest of a hill. The baseball-size balls of light that now appear up there are thought to be the troubled souls of those who were swept away during the flood.
Over the course of many years, the cemetery’s late nineteenth- century mausoleum fell into disrepair. The city condemned it for safety reasons, and the bodies interred there were relocated. What the overseers hadn’t counted on was that the place was haunted. Unearthly lights would shine from within the dark, empty hall, and passersby would hear disembodied shrieks and moaning. Eventually, in 1967, the dilapidated structure was torn down and the foundations covered over. Nonetheless, people who walk over the spot where it once stood can feel a definite residual energy emanating from the ground. Ghost researchers have been able to record the unseen force field on electromagnetometers.
There are other ghosts as well. Individual phantom mourners, and sometimes entire funeral parties, have turned up at Greenwood graves.
A short, weathered staircase of five or six steps can be found leading to four identical tombstones on the top of a small rise in the northwest corner of the graveyard. They belong to the Barrackman family: father, mother, son, and daughter-in-law. Often the phantom of a weeping woman wearing a long period dress can be seen on the uppermost stair as night falls. When she’s spotted, the stranger seems to be crying, sobbing in fact, but she never makes a sound.
Was she a member or friend of the Barrackmans? No one knows. Most people aren’t aware at first that she’s a ghost. But if they look at her carefully, it doesn’t take them long to realize they can see right through her. The woman only appears at dusk, never at night, and certainly not in the bright light of day.
There are two other adult female phantoms at Green-wood. The first, nicknamed the Greenwood Bride, is always seen in a wedding gown. According to legend, on the night she was to elope with her boyfriend, he was murdered and thrown into the Sangamon River. Distraught, the young woman drowned herself the next day where his body had floated ashore. Her parents, blaming themselves for not having given their daughter permission to marry, buried her in what would have been her wedding dress. It’s the same frock in which her apparition now appears as it aimlessly roams the cemetery. It’s impossible to approach her, though. If you try, she instantly disappears.
The other woman who haunts the cemetery is said to be a witch, and supposedly she can cast spells from beyond the grave. If an expectant mother wants her child to be a girl, all she has to do is lay candy on the old crone’s grave. If the mother-to-be brings red roses, she’ll have a boy. The sorceress doesn’t stay in her grave, however. If you sneak into the locked burial grounds at night, it’s very possible that Hilda, as the witch is known, will chase you out or hurl stones at you.
She’s not the sole spectre at Greenwood Cemetery with a good pitching arm. One of the most frequently seen spooks is a little boy who’s always dressed in torn, oversize overalls. He also limps. He’s been known to toss things at visitors to the graveyard, and people can feel the blows. The boy stays inside the cemetery, but he throws stones at cars as they drive by. Some vehicles have had their windshields cracked by the rocks.
Such reports of ghosts assaulting humans are very, very rare. In most cases, spectres don’t seem to be aware that living beings are in their presence. The spirits simply go about their business.
Which makes the ghost of the little girl at Greenwood Cemetery all the more unusual. If you go to the graveyard, you don’t have to worry. Most of the time she keeps to herself or hides behind her tombstone. Frequently she’ll be caught filching flowers from other graves and taking them back to decorate her own.
But who’s to blame her? She only wants to make her final resting place pretty. Wouldn’t you?
Chapter 6
Six Feet Under Chicago
It’s safe to say that Chicago can lay claim to having the largest number of haunted cemeteries located in a single metropolitan area anywhere in the United States, perhaps the world.
Why stop at five or six haunted cemeteries when there are at least eighteen more graveyards with fantastic ghost stories located within a couple of dozen miles of the Loop?
Rosehill Cemetery dates to 1859. With 350 acres and more than two hundred thousand interments, it’s one of Chicago’s largest burial grounds. Two regular haunts are the ghosts of Richard Warren Sears, cofounder of Sears, Roebuck and Company, and Civil War–era real estate tycoon Charles Hopkinson. Sears’s apparition, always elegantly attired, manifests close to his tomb. Hopkinson is never seen, but folks hear rattling chains and the sound of groans near his mausoleum. For many years the spectre of Bobby Franks, the 1924 murder victim of Leopold and Loeb, also showed up, usually close to his family crypt. His visitations stopped after the death of his killers. Folks say that other ghosts from the graveyard sometimes wander out to visit the nearby Fireside
Restaurant & Lounge. Finally, a night caretaker at Rosehill Cemetery reported a very creepy incident that only occurred once, back in 1995. He spotted the spirit of a woman floating by a tree, and then a moment later she vanished. The next day the graveyard received a call from a woman saying that the ghost of her aunt had appeared to her the previous evening. The spirit maintained she was buried in Rosehill Cemetery but, because there was no headstone, the grave had been lost. Perhaps the timing of the two events was coincidental, but then again . . .
Located on the north side of Chicago, Bohemian National Cemetery was established in 1877. There are several anonymous ghosts there, all dressed in 1920s clothing. There’s also a period phantom black car. The apparitions are seen both day and night. Some people think a stretch of Bryn Mawr Avenue outside the burial ground is cursed, because an unusually large number of traffic accidents occur there.
For many years at the turn of the twentieth century, Capt. Herman Schuenemann would load a boat with pine trees in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula as the December holidays approached and then sail down into the Chicago River. He’d dock by the Clark Street Bridge and sell the conifers directly from “The Christmas Tree Ship,” as his vessel came to be known. People even started to call him “Captain Santa.” On November 23, 1912, his ship, the Rouse Simmons, sank in a gale on Lake Michigan. His widow, Barbara, and two daughters continued the business until rail transit made it unprofitable. Barbara is now buried in Acacia Park Cemetery in Norridge, and visitors to her grave smell the distinct scent of fir trees. Also, similar to the legend of the phantom ship known as the Flying Dutchman, the Rouse Simmons is sometimes spotted out on Lake Michigan.
Consecrated in 1859, Calvary Catholic Cemetery in Evanston is the oldest existing burial grounds established by the Archdiocese of Chicago. It’s unknown who the cemetery’s ghost is or why he haunts the place, but people call him “Seaweed Charlie.” The reason is simple: The spectre is always covered with strands of kelp. The phantom crawls from Lake Michigan, crosses Lake Shore Drive, and enters the graveyard.
Archer Woods Cemetery, also known as Mount Glen-wood Memory Gardens, West, is located in Willow Springs. Many visitors have said that when they were leaving the graveyard, they spied a white, diaphanous female apparition floating among the trees near the gate. Nicknamed the Sobbing Woman, the spectre often cries loudly as people pass. Interestingly, folks never see her as they enter the cemetery—only on their way out.
Another cemetery in Willow Springs, Fairmount– Willow Hills Memorial Park, is more often referred to by the shorter name Fairmount Cemetery. Unfortunately, its ghost story is short on specifics. Supposedly a white mausoleum belonging to a former mayor once stood on a hill on the grounds, and ghostly music emanated from inside. The tomb was removed years ago, but now a nameless spectre sometimes appears in its place.
St. James at Sag Bridge is located at the southern end of Archer Avenue, the same road that Resurrection Mary hitchhikes outside of Justice, about nine miles away. (See chapter 1.) The church’s cemetery was consecrated in 1837, making it one of the oldest haunted graveyards in Greater Chicago. Ever since 1847, the ghosts of hooded monks have been seen emerging from the woods opposite St. James Church, crossing Archer Avenue, and passing into the cemetery, alone or in procession. People have heard the sound of their Gregorian chanting even when the spectres weren’t visible. A ghostly Woman in White, a phantom horse, and a spectral carriage started to appear outside the cemetery gate in 1897. In some versions of the old wives’ tale, both the woman and carriage disappear before she’s able to board; in other variations, the coach makes it through the gate, the woman gets in, and then the apparition dissolves. Legend says that back in the 1880s the woman was eloping with the priest’s assistant—a forbidden love—but as he helped her into the carriage, it toppled over, crushing them both. They’re allegedly buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in the churchyard. Finally, there are reports that the entire graveyard occasionally seems to be undulating, as if the ground were breathing.
About half the Robinson Woods Forest Preserve—250 acres—once belonged to the family of Alexander Robinson, a chief of the Potawatomi, Chippewa, and Ottawa tribes. The federal government gave him the land in 1829 for his work as an intermediary between the Indians and settlers after the 1812 Fort Dearborn Massacre. Robinson sold off some of the property before his death in 1872, purportedly at the age of 110. The remainder was purchased by Cook County from his heirs in the 1920s to create the preserve in Norridge. One acre containing the graves of Robinson, his wife, and several kin was set aside. The site is marked by a jagged, upright granite boulder. Trail walkers and motorists passing by the forest have seen bits of light moving from the gravestone to the Des Plaines River—the path the Robinsons would have taken to collect water when they lived there. Some visitors hear wood being chopped or the faint sound of tom-toms. There is also a strong scent of lilacs near the marker, and now and then ghostly faces peek out from behind trees.
The Catholic Church, in particular, makes an absolute distinction between holy apparitions and secular ghosts. This is a story about the former. In 1981 and 1982, six children in Medjugorje, Bosnia and Herzegovina (then part of Yugoslavia) declared that they had seen the Blessed Mother. In 1990, Chicago resident Joseph Reinholtz traveled to Europe to ask one of them, Vicka Ivanković, to pray over him because his eyesight was failing. Once back in the States, his vision was restored. On a subsequent visit, the young woman told Reinholtz that, to thank the Lord, he should pray at a crucifix near a tree. He found a three-branched tree resembling a cross in Queen of Heaven Cemetery in Hillside and started vigils there; for the next two years he claimed to have angelic and Marian visitations. Many supplicants who later visited the site say they were cured of their ailments, and there often seems to be an inexplicable aroma of roses in the air. Some people who have taken photographs of the tree maintain that blurred images in the prints are, in fact, angels.
Arlington Cemetery in Elmhurst has been family owned and operated since 1901. The graveyard is known among paranormalists for its ghost, which is seen hitchhiking on North Avenue outside the burial ground. No one knows why, but the spirit is sometimes dressed like a clown. The ghost has never been identified, so it’s uncertain whether the person is interred there.
One family has owned and operated Clarendon Hills Cemetery in Darien since 1925. Its ghost is a man covered with blood. He stumbles out of the cemetery and wanders toward nearby houses before suddenly disappearing. Strange lights have been reported inside the cemetery at night, and people have also heard screams coming from inside the gates.
Two phantoms haunt Mount Auburn Cemetery, which is in Stickney close to Midway International Airport. One spirit is a woman who materializes on the west side of the graveyard. The other apparition is an entire house! The building has shown up all over the burial ground but only for a few brief moments at a time.
St. Casimir Catholic Cemetery has just one ghost, but he’s a doozy. The spectre looks exactly like the stereotypical image of a vampire: pale skin, fangs, and a cape. He’s usually seen near the front gates, but the phantom has also ventured off the property. For example, he’s been spotted standing at the intersection of 111th Street and Kostner Avenue. If anyone stares at him though, he instantly vanishes. People passing by the burial ground have also reported inexplicable growling noises coming from inside the fence.
Founded in 1855, Mount Olivet Cemetery is the oldest Catholic burial ground on Chicago’s South Side. It doesn’t have a ghost, but for a time in the 1980s the highway outside the cemetery gates was considered cursed. A disproportionately large number of accidents took place there, but the crashes stopped when the fencing was replaced. It’s been theorized that, at certain speeds, vehicular headlights reflecting off the fence caused a strobe effect, disorienting drivers. Of course that hasn’t stopped ghost aficionados from referring to the old railing as the “Hungry Fence.”
Mary Alice Quinn died of a heart condition in 1935 at
the age of fourteen, but she was already credited with performing miraculous cures. Her parents feared her grave in Holy Sepulchre Cemetery, also on the South Side, would be overrun with curiosity seekers, so they placed a pseudonym—REILLY—on her headstone. The location of her grave soon leaked out anyway, especially after her apparition started appearing all over Chicago’s South Side. The spectre continued to manifest through the early 1940s. Even today, many people swear they were healed after visiting the girl’s burial site, and more folks encounter the unmistakable scent of roses near her grave. Even people who know nothing about the little saint smell the fragrance. The flowers’ aroma can be detected year-round, even in the dead of winter.
Calvary Cemetery is a Catholic graveyard located in Steger, which is about thirty miles south of Chicago. The ghost of a young boy rides his bicycle on Steger Road outside the property. The spirit seems oblivious to traffic as he crisscrosses the street. It’s unsure whether the young man is buried on the cemetery grounds.
Remember the story in chapter 1 about the hitchhiking ghost near Waldheim Jewish Cemetery? In 1984, Benjamin Lecjar Sr., longtime owner of the Melody Mill Ballroom, told the Chicago Sun-Times that he had always heard the phantom hitchhiker asked to be let off at Woodlawn Cemetery in Forest Park, not Waldheim Cemetery. The entrances to the two graveyards are at most a few thousand feet apart, so it’s not surprising both versions of the urban legend exist.
But that’s not the most famous haunting at Woodlawn. On June 22, 1918, the Hagenbeck-Wallace circus train was sitting on the tracks outside Hammond, Indiana, with an overheated axle. About 4 a.m., an empty troop train, its engineer fast asleep, slammed into the back of the twenty-six-car circus train, crushing the caboose and three rear sleeper cars before landing on top of a fourth. Eighty-six people were killed upon impact or in the resulting fire. Another 127 were injured. (None of the circus animals died in the collision.) According to the Chicago Tribune, fifty-three of the deceased were buried in Woodlawn Cemetery in a plot the Showmen’s League of America had recently purchased. Forty-eight of them, unidentifiable, were interred in a mass grave. That section of the graveyard is now known as “Showman’s Rest,” and it’s surrounded by five granite elephant statues. Visitors to the burial ground have reported hearing the forlorn cry of pachyderms coming from the area of the graves.