BACHELOR'S GROVE: THE MOST HAUNTED CEMETERY IN THE CHICAGOLAND AREA: a graveyard review

Once upon a time, the Midlothian turnpike continued a few yards down into a wooded area that eventually dead-ended at a tiny cemetery that is mostly hidden from view today, but too many teenagers parked their cars down here for make-out sessions. Too many Wiccans parked down here for midnight ceremonies. Too many Satanists parked down here for animal sacrifices. And then, there was just the group of kids who liked to park down here, get drunk, and deface graves.

Now, if you want to head down to Bachelors Grove, you have to park at the forest preserve across the street, then cross a fairly busy road, and then take the short path that was once a part of the turnpike through the woods to the chain-link fence that marks the cemetery. On the way down, you’ll notice one thick branch hanging over the path. Do you remember, from when you were a kid, the story about the boyfriend being hung upside down over his car so his girlfriend could hear his fingernails scraping the roof? This is where the urban legend started.

At the end of the path is where another urban legend found its beginning. Do you remember the story about the mental patient with the hook for a hand? Once again, this is the place where the story started. This is not to say that either story is true, of course, but this is where these stories were first told.



When you first set foot into this boneyard, you will first notice that everything is overgrown. There are no caretakers, and no one has been buried here for quite some time. Dead trees are everywhere, and some have even fallen over cracked tombstones. In fact, more than a few graves have been knocked over, concealing the names of those who have been buried here presumably forever. It doesn’t look like anyone has an interest in taking care of this place.



Need more evidence? Turn left and go to the double grave near the back of the fence. Notice anything? Someone has been digging in this grave, and no one has bothered to fill it in. In fact, the grass is already beginning to grow over the missing divot.



Take a look around at some of the stumps, and you’ll see melted wax from candles. These are from the regular Wiccan visitors. If you find the bones of small animals, they’re from the Satanists.

Through the fence at the very back, straight ahead from the opening gate, there is a hole through which you can step through and look across the tiny loch at the highway beyond. The surface is usually scummed over, so it is hard to tell exactly how deep it is. The mob knows, though; this was a popular body dump for them back in the day, or so the legend goes. It is also here that the two-headed ghost wanders, along with a ghostly farmer/horse team. No one can explain the former, but the latter apparently was dragged to his drowning death when his horse spooked and pulled him into the loch.



These are not the only haunts to hang around Bachelors Grove. There is the usual lady in white, a ghostly house, and back when you could still drive down here, some people reported crashing into a ghost car.

Are these stories true? Who knows? One might even point out that it doesn’t matter. This is one of the spookiest graveyards the Chicagoland area has to offer. Just be sure to not get caught here at night. No, not because of ghosts, but because of the police. They patrol the cemetery on a regular basis to keep vandalism down, and you don’t want to be caught by them after hours.

But if you want to come down sometime in the day, bring a camera. Most people wind up capturing mysterious images on film.



Bachelors Grove Cemetery
143rd St. and the Midlothian Turnpike
Midlothian, IL 60445

GRACELAND CEMETERY: A GREAT PLACE TO VISIT, BUT YOU PROBABLY WON'T BE BURIED THERE

[NOTE: I'm fairly certain that no one has ever done a review of a cemetery, so I hope this is the first of a new . . . subgenre, I guess? If anyone has heard of someone reviewing a boneyard, let me know. So far, I only have two of these pieces. Enjoy!]



It’s an unusual place for a cemetery. In fact, driving by, you wouldn’t believe that there’s a boneyard at the corner of Irving Park and Clark. The walls are high, so unless you’re in an SUV, you won’t be able to see any of the towering graves within.

But Graceland Cemetery is there, and it is the grandest graveyard you are ever likely to see. The people who are buried here have no interest in plain stones, and they would never settle for a mere plaque in the ground. No, these are probably the richest corpses you will have ever heard of.



Grecian pillars reach for the sky. Gray pyramids stand as the opening to mausoleums. Some graves are so elaborate that they have benches for weary wanders to rest upon. Life-sized statues, some who look suspiciously like Caesar, rest in positions of thought as grave markers. There are even crypts leading down into the ground. It’s easy to think you’ve entered another world upon driving through the gates to this place. In fact, if you stand on the island with the mausoleum on it and peer out over the pond, you can see what looks like ancient Greek ruins poking out from between the strands of a willow tree.

It isn’t hard to see why so many horror stories have come from this place. There are rumors of a green-eyed monster who stalks the graveyard on full-mooned nights. There is the requisite lady in white, in addition to a large grim-reaper-type statue; the rumor is, if you stare into his face under the hood, you will see how you’re supposed to die.



The most well-known story, though, is about the statue over the grave of a little girl. On rainy nights, the statue has been known to move around the graveyard of its own free will. It became such a common occurrence that the caretaker took it upon himself to put a glass case over the statue in the hopes that it would wander no longer. This plan did not work, and it is still common to find the glass case empty on wet evenings.

Who is buried here? The richest people in Chicago, of course. Some of the pioneers who helped found the city. Notably, Allan Pinkerton, the very first private detective in history. He died of an infection he received when he stubbed his toe on the way to his outhouse one morning. His grave now resides in Graceland, a triangular testament to his life.

Other “residents” of this graveyard include Augustus Dickens (brother of Charles), controversial boxing champ Jack Johnson, George Pullman (the inventor of the Pullman Car), Phillip Armour (of Armour Hot Dog fame), Edith Rockefeller McCormick (daughter of John D.), Charles Wacker (you’ve probably driven on the street named after him), John Jones (the first African American to hold an elected office—County Commissioner), and John Kinzie (the first permanent white settler of what would come to be known as the city of Chicago).



If you’re free for an afternoon and don’t mind a trip into the city, you might want to consider wandering the grounds of this cemetery. Death has never looked quite so beautiful, and you will while away the hours in the presence of gravestones that were meant to be more than just a place to mark where a corpse resides.

They were meant to be art, and nothing less.