Haunted locales and mid-summer practical jokes

By the third night of summer camp, Jimmy Moore had convinced us we should look for the secret haunted mine.

As the crickets chirped outside our wood cabin - the little blockhouses looked like small army barracks painted brown - we lay in bed listening to Jimmy's tale. A cave-in buried a miner alive several years before; rather than dig out his body, the company closed the mine. His angry ghost roamed the tunnels, waiting for his comrades to return.

A half-moon shined over the jackpines, bathing the cabin's interior in a bluish glow.

"It's not far from here," Jimmy said. "We walked by it yesterday on our hike. Look, we don't want to be boring like those guys in Alpha Quad."

"What if we get caught?" said Joey Durham, the youngest in our cabin of 10-year-olds.

"They'll never know that we left," Jimmy said.

"Which means they'll never know where to look should the ghost get us," I said.

Joey pulled the wool blanket over his face.

• • •

Though most think of Halloween as the time to search for spirits, much hunting occurs in summer. It's simply a matter of being warm.

And as the summer's heat melts us into sluggish creatures during day, the relative coolness of night reinvigorates our senses. Take a drive by Iowa City's Oakland Cemetery this month, for example, and you'll probably find someone looking for the Black Angel's spirit.

According to one legend, the ghost can be seen as a glowing shape walking through the cemetery. She watches people who approach the statue of the Black Angel, an 8-1/2 foot high copper monument that since has darkened. With the Black Angel is a smaller statue of a girl set upon a column. If you walk near the girl, she will stare at someone in your group until you leave.

• • •

We slipped quietly into the woods behind our cabin, careful not to stampede through the weeds and bushes lest the camp counselors hear us. Once we were far enough away so the cabins' silhouettes no longer could be seen in the moon glow, Joey snapped on his flashlight.

"Turn that off!" Jimmy hissed.

"I can't see where I'm walking," Joey said.

"If you leave that on, you'll scare off the ghost."

"Maybe that's his plan," I said.

• • •

Oakland Cemetery isn't Iowa City's only haunted spot. You also might see people staring up at the fourth floor of Currier Hall on a warm summer night.

According to one tale, three dorm mates fell in love with the same man at the University of Iowa and committed a triple suicide. Whenever roommates in Currier Hall argue, the victims' spirits now appear to encourage friendship.

In a variation of the myth, a stern-faced older man haunts the E300 section. He allegedly is the father of a former Currier Hall tenant.

• • •

What does this ghost look like?" Joe said.

"Like a miner," Jimmy responded. "He stands six-foot-six and weighed two-forty-five. Kinda broad at the shoulder."

I suppressed a laugh. "And narrow at the hip, right?"

Jimmy elbowed me in the ribs.

And then a twig snapped.

Except it wasn't from any one of us.

• • •

North Liberty also has a haunted cemetery. Though no one has been buried at Green Castles for years, people visiting it on balmy nights often report freshly dug dirt around many of the stones.

Some even have seen a witch in black with long dark hair. Appearing to be about 17 years old, she talks to young children.

• • •

"What was that?" Joey said.

"Just a deer," Jimmy said, "walking the woods."

"Don't they sleep at night?"

"Maybe it was a wolf," I said.

• • •

Despite the famous horror movie, not many Iowa cornfields are haunted. The closest is in New Providence near Reece Park.

A young woman allegedly killed herself in the field. Some nights you can hear her screaming.

• • •

Northern Minnesota's jackpines rise far taller than corn. Walking beneath them, the boughs block all moonlight. Catching sight of eyes staring upon you is difficult.

But as your neck prickles, you can feel something is out there.

When something grabbed our ankles, we screamed, then while trying to run, tripped, skinning our arms and chins.

My hand fell on Joey's flashlight. Flicking it on, I swung the cone of light over four pairs of eyes. They rose, laughing.

It was Alpha Quad.

• • •

And how many in Oakland Cemetery have been creeped out by another pair of kids lurking behind a tombstone, deciding since they saw nothing to pull a prank of their own? Or to crouch amid the stalks and scream at the unsuspecting in Reece Park?

Should you decide to find out this summer, just be sure to keep your flashlight on at all times. And make sure you let someone know where you've gone - just in case.

(originally published July 6, 2003)