Review– Chicago Haunts: Ghostlore of the Windy City

Ursula Bielski’s ghost tours are such a favorite of mine that I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve taken them. It seems like every time I’m in Chicago I drag some unsuspecting victim with me: coworkers, friends from overseas, my boyfriend…pretty much anyone who fails to say absolutely not within seconds of me suggesting it. I know some of the stories so well by now that I could probably tell them myself.

Which is why I expected nothing more than a recorded collection of these old favorites when I finally got around to reading this book. I made the same assumptions that most people make when casually picking up a volume of local ghostlore. You probably know the rules: take the research with a grain of salt, forgive typos, and don’t expect a carefully cultivated voice from the writing.

I really should have known that Bielski would produce something more enduring than this. I’ll never forget how, on our last tour, she took the time to explain that apparitions of murder victims’ bodies are quite common and often speak to some deeper cultural memory of unresolved tragedy, almost bringing myself and others to tears. Her work has always been a far cry from the Eternal Darkness Tour rolling up outside of the unsuspecting Mrs. Harmon’s murder house while she’s trimming her roses (although we did once make a stop at the site of John Wayne Gacy’s former home, where someone was just pulling into the driveway. Do you think they know? Awkward).

What I mean to say is that Bielski’s interest in the macabre goes far beyond voyeurism. She aims to preserve Chicago folklore and educate people about the cultural work ghost stories do without seeking to convert skeptics or appease believers. She believes oral storytelling is important and valid for its own sake. Simply put, she thinks like a historian, and I dig it. In her introduction to Chicago Haunts, she states:

The place of these stories in the popular memory of Chicagoans, from before the turn of the century to the present, is my … greater concern here. This book is a study of community and identity, of urban history, as well as of a larger popular consciousness. It speaks to the notion of neighborhood, both in the geographic and the conceptual sense, but it also engages larger issues of the human experience. Taken together, these accounts address the concerns of many modern historians of gender, class, religion, and ethnicity.

Perhaps even cooler is her intention to base her study off of one previously made by another woman associated with Chicago ghostlore:

The model for my efforts can be found in the writings of … Jane Addams. When, sometimes around the turn of the century, Addams’ Hull House was beseiged by hundreds of women in search of the so-called ‘Devil Baby,’ the progressive leader faced the phenomenon head-on. Refusing to dismiss the tale as meaningless, Addams peered into the myth with a keenly interpretive eye and revealed it as a complex expression of cultural concerns. To a significant extent, it was Addams’ careful investigation of the Devil Baby story that inspired my own methodology, one comprised almost exclusively of respectful and patient conversation.

Bielski’s own refusal to “dismiss the tale[s] as meaningless” garners my utmost respect as a fellow student of the strange. She performs an especially intriguing analysis of the Resurrection Mary myth and how it figures into the popular legend of the vanishing hitchhiker, and also expounds further on Addams’ conclusions about the Devil Baby.

That being said, I felt that Bielski could have gone even further with her analyses in many places. She states that she did not intend it to be an academic book, but, having already taken it beyond the realms of standard expectation for this type of work, she could have kept it rolling and made every section of the book as worthy as those previously mentioned.

Because she initially attempted to make this an “exhaustive” collection of Chicago ghost stories, some of the stories are not as detailed as they could be. Maybe 20 years ago, when she published this book, she didn’t have all the details she knows and gives on the tours now, but compared to some sections, others seem quite sparse and hurried. She eventually wrote two more volumes of tales; perhaps she revisits stories and becomes more thorough in these.

Overall, although I felt she should have written an entirely academic book, Bielski still delivers what I think is one of the best in the genre. She also provides an annotated bibliography for those who wish to do their own research into these stories and historical events. Supporting the interests of people like her is Bielski’s last victory. The preservation of folklore depends vitally on community and inclusion.

 

 

“What You Got Here, It Ain’t For Me”: The Haunting of the Congress Plaza Hotel, Pt. III

“Sometimes places create inhuman monsters.”
–The Shining (Stephen King)

This is the balcony of the Gold Ballroom. If you want to have your wedding reception here, it’s a cool $30,000. Our group had to be let in by a security guard, who has had objects thrown at him and has heard his name called in his ear when doing rounds. The room is vast, the carpet is ugly, and the whole deal gives you the vibe that the room is actually sentient. If only one place in the Congress is actually haunted, I would bet money that the Gold Room is it. Just entering it makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

A recent episode of Empire  filmed here. As one of the actresses sat at these tables during a scene, her body language became tense. After the scene cut, she left the ballroom abruptly and refused to return. When asked what it was that startled her, she said that someone had begun violently tugging on her hair. Allegedly, she is still on the show, but her contract now specifies that she will not re-enter the Gold Room under any circumstances.

A similar story surrounding celebrities revolves around the Congress as a whole. In the early 90’s, the slasher Candyman was being filmed in the Chicago area. One of the top-billed cast, perhaps Tony Todd, was supposed to stay at the Congress during shooting. According to our security guard, the actor spent no more than ten minutes in his room before fleeing back downstairs with his bags. The security guard asked him why he no longer wished to stay there, offering to move him rooms (publicity was understandably important). Visibly frightened, the actor leaned in and told our guide, “What you got here … it ain’t for me.” He would never return to the hotel.

Another of the fascinating rooms we were able to view was this nondescript upstairs banquet hall where Al Capone used to play cards. Capone had a well-known fear of being shot from behind, so his favorite seat in this room was up against the wall, which he knew had three inches of concrete behind it. The door to this room is very oddly placed; when you enter, your tendency is to turn to the left to face the majority of the rectangular space. If you were entering with the intent of doing harm to Capone, you would likely have your back turned to him, at which point it would probably be too late for you. That is, if you made it that far. The room also has several large windows with a balcony where Capone’s men would look out on the street to warn him of approacing danger.

I believe the ghost stories surrounding Capone the least. The Windy City already has a sizeable claim to the gangster, but he died in Miami Beach from refusing to take his syphillis medication. Is it logical that Capone would return to– well, haunt– his favorite haunts? Maybe.  Although I highly doubt it, this was a unique piece of history without the ghost lore.

So, too, was the nearby Florentine room, where Capone had his parties. I confess that it was around one in the morning by the time we reached our last stop and I was more interested in starting the three-hour drive home than I was in a piano that allegedly plays by itself. At this point I had been awake for almost 20 hours, so if I’d heard the laughter of any drunk flappers, I might have had to put it down to sleep deprivation.

Did I see or hear any ghosts at the Congress hotel? No. Did I see lights go off by themselves and experience some heightened alertness in rooms that contain a lot of history? Yes. I remain firm in my assertion that things have a logical explanation most of the time. But what we can’t explain is how drastically we are affected by the stories of those who have come before us. I think that’s what I’m into the ghost hunt for.

Perhaps the last thing you’re wondering is if I’ll stay at the Congress next time I’m in Chicago. The answer is HELL NO.

-N

Review: Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places

Why didn’t I pick up this book sooner?  I’ve been writing papers about how (albeit fictional) ghost stories are inextricably connected to societal fears and anxieties for what seems like forever now … okay, to be honest, probably only a year. But still!

This read made my devilish little pseudo-skeptic’s heart happy. Dickey addresses how America deals with its numerous tragedies and white guilt by concocting stories of literal hauntings; he deals especially with the treatment of marginalized people in the U.S. As someone who is, put politely, obsessed with this topic, I didn’t think I would really learn anything from this book. I was so wrong! Among my favorite subjects were the gender politics behind the demonizing of Sarah Winchester and the disapproval of the female-dominated Spiritualist movement. If you’re into thanatology as well, Dickey also briefly acknowledges the history of our funerary traditions and our anxieties surrounding the dead body. Fitting, since I recently found out that he’s a member of The Order of the Good Death, a society founded by practicing mortician and death positivity advocate Caitlin Doughty. Its members are scholars, artists, writers, and morticians who work to revolutionize the death industry. Swoon.

His vast exploration of America’s ghost tales is well-organized and interestingly broadens from the domestic sphere to civic hauntings and even cursed cities. This impressed me, since explaining the ghost lore of an entire country is a particularly daunting project, and also helped me compartmentalize the reasons for the generation of stories in different locations. Dickey is clearly a fan of Shirley Jackson and makes multiple sly references to The Haunting of Hill House throughout his book, which I enjoyed as a friendly nod to other haunted-house enthusiasts. At times, certain references took the heaviness out of a text that addresses the horrors of American history.

There was an understandable bitterness in Ghostland, not only toward our exploitation of indigenous people and people of color, but toward the fact that this exploitation can sometimes continue through the way we structure our ghost stories, either omitting the reality of the tragedy because we see it as verboten, or making a buck off of embellishing the gory details of someone else’s suffering. However, at times, the tone came off as looking down on all ghost hunters and legend trippers. We’re not all vandals, and we don’t all believe that everything we see or hear is a ghost! In fact, some of us, like me (and I think like Dickey himself) tend toward disbelief, finding only one or two absolutely inexplicable cases in our lifetimes. I think this was truly what the author was going for, but that point got lost behind the horror of many thrill-seekers’ behavior. If the book was lacking in any area, I wished Dickey would have explored the possibility of people using some types of ghost stories as a positive cultural influence. I think this exists, and I believe legend tripping can have its benefits if done respectfully: it’s how some of us learn to cope with death and mystery, for one thing. And it’s how some of us (again, maybe like Dickey, but I’m mostly talking about myself) cut through the facade of the “this-great-country” speech and get down to the truth of history and the naked acknowledgement of our inner struggles. When it comes to discerning cultural truths, I find ghost lore as transparent as an apparition.

Although this is a history-driven book, it is peppered with some harrowing tales of spirits. It doesn’t matter that Dickey pretty much systematically lays out the legends and subsequently disproves them as mere tall tales– because, as he says, “the ghost is too important” to us. This is a must-read for any fan of horror or the supernatural. Despite their impossibility, these stories still chill.