Scaring up some Halloween fun

Ever hear the story about the hatchet-wielding murderer in McNutt Quad? Or about the woman who wanders the halls of La Casa? Maybe someone's heard the tale of the deceased doctor who roams the house on campus where he killed himself, now the site of the Career Development Center. Oh sure, it happened … or so they say.\nTuesday evening, the Department of Folklore and Ethnomusicology led more than 70 spectators on its first annual Ghost Walk around campus, exploring all the legends and tales of those who once lived and worked at IU.\n"Ghost walks aren't just (for telling) ghost stories," said Ruth Aten, the administrative coordinator of the Department of Folklore. "In a ghost story, a lot of history is brought out."\nAten, along with department Chairman John McDowell, folklore Professor Emeritus Linda Degh and folklore Professor John Johnson, led the ghost walk adorning cloaks and toting lanterns, with Johnson dressed as Detective Sherlock Holmes. \n"Absolutely nothing that happens tonight is made up," McDowell said. "It's perfectly real."\nBefore the walk the professors warned the onlookers to leave their skepticism behind in this time of the year when the thoughts turn towards the dead. They explained that the spirits that remain are people who have simply "changed substance."\nAs the evening turned dark, the walk began at 7:30 p.m. at the Department of Folklore and Ethnomusicology building. McDowell told the story of a the former IU professor, Richard Dorson, who died in 1981. From McDowell's ground floor classroom he claims that he and his students would hear strange noises and steps coming down the stairs where Dorson had worked.\nAnna Richardson, a senior, told the story of the Career Development Center, 625 North Jordan Avenue. It is said that the house was once owned by a doctor. In a time when abortions were done behind closed doors, the doctor performed them in his basement. But the procedures were unsanitary and many women died. He disposed of the aborted fetuses in the basement oven. Later the doctor hung himself from the circular staircase in the house. Students who have worked in the windy passes in the house, claim that they have seen the image of the doctor wandering the halls or have heard crying in the basement.\nNext the walk gathered on the lawn in front of the Latino Cultural Center, where Lillian Casillas, the director, spoke from the stoop. La Casa, as the center is also known, was owned by two families before it was donated to the Student Foundation. Casillas said the first supernatural experience came in the early 1980s when the swim team lived on the second floor of the building. Occasionally, students would see a woman walk up and down the halls. And for no apparent reason, a staff member could not get her dog to come in the house without going berserk. \n"I've seen typewriters running on the second floor when there's no one there," Casillas said. "In the attic, the light would go on and off for no reason. The electric company hates me because they've searched the attic (so many times). Since it's an old house, I thought there was a short." \nBut they found nothing.\nYears ago, when students stayed in the residence halls during Thanksgiving break, two women were rooming together in McNutt Quad. The studious student came home early Friday night to study and go to bed. The less moral student stayed out late. Or so her roommate thought. \nBefore the more studious roommate fell asleep, she said she heard a radio newscast reporting that a hatchet-wielding madman was on the loose. When she heard scratches and thumping on her door, she feared the murderer, so she barricaded it close with her dresser, and nervously fell asleep.\nIn the morning she heard the sounds of police officers outside of her room. What she found when she opened the door was her roommate lying in a pool of blood -- her fingernails worn to stubs. Some say she went crazy. Others say the school quietly paid her off for her silence. Either way, the hatchetman was never found … at least, that's what they say.