The insidious lunatic who perniciously tampers with children's candy has, over the course of the past few decades, become an image inseparable from Halloween. Each year, newscasters and parental groups repeatedly warn the public about the dangers of treats laced with drugs, apples packed with razor blades, and popcorn balls peppered with ground glass. Their concerns and proactive efforts are well intended, especially in a world of rising violence; however, many have come to question what this image is doing to the holiday itself. As Michael Taft emphasizes, "Halloween acts as a commentary on community continuity and cohesiveness."[1] For the scholar, the event possesses a distinct communal quality. Across the country (and within other nations which celebrate some variation of Halloween), members of the community decorate their homes and businesses and welcome costume-clad strangers with treats and toys. While the festivities of other holidays center around family and friends, Halloween engages the entire community and creates, as Lesley Pratt Bannatyne argues, a civic event.[2] Because of the trust involved in this communal process, it's easy to understand why such fears would emerge: parents and children depend on the honesty of those doling out free candy and those providing treats rely on the integrity of masked patrons visiting their homes and businesses. It is this type of faith which distinguishes the holiday from many others and, according to scholars such as Bannatyne and Taft, makes Halloween a collective affair. Likewise, it is this trust - and the vulnerability it presents to everyone involved - which allows space for fears to develop. It goes without saying that, with the rise in mass shootings and random acts of cruelty, the world is becoming more crazed, but is there any truth behind the Halloween sadist? Within the past thirty years, serious academic scholarship has examined this image, its impact upon the holiday, and its legitimacy.
In 1973, Editor and Publisher reviewed the results of multiple newspapers' attempts to trace the origins of the Halloween sadist and discovered that all of the tales were hoaxes by children or parents to mask other unrelated crimes.[3] The first major academic study occurred in 1985 by sociologists Joel Best and Gerald Horiuchi at California State University. Examining media reports of the Halloween sadist between 1958 and 1983, the scholars discovered that not a single death or serious injury occurred during this timeframe. The insidious lunatic, Best and Horiuchi conclude, is an urban legend over-exaggerated by the press and appearing in mass media during the 1970s.[4] In 2002, Nicholas Rogers arrived at the same conclusion. At the time of his work's publication, only two deaths had occurred on the holiday and, although both were attributed to the Halloween sadist, their validity was quickly dismantled: in 1970, five-year-old Kevin Tostan died after eating candy laced with heroin and police investigation later discovered that the tale had been fabricated by his uncle who had left the drug within reach of the child; in 1974, eight-year-old Timothy O'Bryan died of cyanide poison after eating a tainted Pixy Stix which was later identified as being poisoned by his own father who had recently purchased hefty life insurance policies on Timothy and his sister.[5] Despite widespread news coverage which revealed that the perpetrators of both incidents used the myth as a smokescreen, the two cases only added fodder for the public's concerns. So, if the sadist never existed and growing issues with violence have helped foster fears, what has all of this done to Halloween? Brian Sutton-Smith echoes Bannatyne and Taft regarding the holiday's communal qualities and he laments how the sadist image is slowly chipping away at the civic event that is Halloween, with several towns banning trick-or-treating and/or outlawing haunted attractions and themed displays. Written thirty-four years ago, his sentiments still hold strong today: "These holiday celebrations are our final resting place for trust and security. We cannot give them up and close our door, turn out our lights and snuff out the candles. The heart and future of our nation depends on their continuance."[6]
Works Referenced
Bannatyne, Lesley. Halloween: An American Holiday, and American History. Gretna, LA: Pelican Publishing Company, Inc., 1990.
Best, Joel and Gerald Horiuchi. "The Razor Blade in the Apple: The Social Construction of Urban Legends." Social Problems 32.5 (1985): 488-499.
Roger, Nicholas. Halloween: From Pagan Ritual to Party Night. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.
Sutton-Smith, Brian. "What Happened to Halloween." Parents Magazine 58 (1983): 65.
Taft, Michael. "Adult Halloween Celebrations on the Canadian Prairie." Halloween and Other Festivals of Death and Life. Ed. Jack Santino. Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 1994. 152-169.
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[1] Taft, 164.
[2] Bannatyne, 124.
[3] Bannatyne, 146.
[4] Best and Horiuchi, 492-494.
[5] Roger, 90-94.
[6] Sutton-Smith, 65.
2016: Haunted Farm
2016 was a special year for Haunted Hill. After a decade of absence, the haunt returned to its old stamping ground. It was a return welcomed by the family and neighborhood. While the farm looked vibrantly festive during the day (see those pictures here), it developed a sinister appearance at night.
The Halloween of the Victorian era differed slightly from our modern version. For the Victorians, the holiday was a night of pleasant gatherings, where friends and family members feasted on hand-made treats, recounted ghostly tales around the fireplace, and played parlor games that predicted the future.[1] Costumes, trick-or-treating, and macabre decorations would come decades later in the 1900s.[2] Published in Harper’s Weekly in 1895, this short poem captures the essence of the Victorian Halloween, complete with rustic fires and games of divination.
Now, when the owl makes wild ado
With his sad tu-whit tu-who,
‘Tis the night for erie things,
When shadows from unearthly wings
Born in umbrageous solitude
Gloom the meadow and the wood.
But still around the rustic fire,
In spite of spirits dark and dire,
Is heard a joyful, frolic noise
Of half a score of girls and boys
Over the nut and apple games
Commingled with their mated names.
Others – although the chimney roars
In ancient welcome – out-of-doors
Run to the oat-stack or the barn;
Untwisting, some, a ball of yarn;
Or seeking in the spectral brook
Some telltale apparition’s look.
No end of schemes were there of old
By which love’s tender charms were told;
And still may fairies intervene
To bless the fates of Halloween.[3]
Works Referenced
Bannatyne, Lesley Pratt. Halloween: An American Holiday, an American History. Gretna, LA: Pelican Publishing Company, Inc., 1990.
“Halloween.” Harper’s Weekly 39.2033 (1895): 1069.
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[1] Bannatyne, 111-116.
[2] Bannatyne, 116-120.
[3] “Halloween,” 1069.
2016: Haunted Farm
2016 was a special year for Haunted Hill. After a decade of absence, the haunt returned to its old stamping ground. It was a return welcomed by the family as well as the neighborhood and the entire mood was tinted by the memories of Halloweens past. I normally shy away from daytime photos. In my opinion, haunts thrive in the darkness, where moonlight and shadows create atmosphere. Nothing dismantles that ambiance more than daylight. 2016's theme surprised me, though. The farm looked vibrantly festive during the day. Once night descended, it developed a sinister appearance and the authentic colonial music gave it an unexpected creepiness.
