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A Short Message From the Author
When one of my formerly close friends moved
to Hoffman Estates nearly a decade ago, we could have
done pushups on Shoe Factory Road without worrying
about traffic. Things are much different today.
Subdivisions (the first of which had already
been built at the time) have cropped up all along this
lonely road, which used to be bordered by nothing but
forest and farmland. Now, subdivisions sporting
quaint, English-sounding names like “Beacon Pointe”
and “Haverford Place” intrude on the landscape,
replacing wetlands with water “detention areas.”
Catering to latté liberals and their Hispanic lawn
maintenance crews, $400-$500,000 model homes with
designs like “Summerhill,” “Roseglen,” and “The
Springwood,” have been built over the ruins of
farmhouses. Luxury features, including 3 (no more, no
less) parkway trees and “entertaining-sized kitchen
islands,” can be added for merely an extra $66,000.
A pair of eyesores marked for elimination are
the subjects of this newsletter. Resting no more than
one hundred yards apart, these two abandoned
properties have sparked the imagination of local
children and teenagers for the past ten years. First
known to me as “that cool-looking abandoned house”
and the barn down the street, a host of stories, ranging
from the slightly plausible to the completely absurd,
have grown up there.
As you can probably ascertain from my
description of these facts, I am unhappy with them. To
me, building one subdivision there was enough. Now,
these developers and their saccharine saleswomen are
plotting the destruction of one of the last unique
buildings on that road, never mind the fact that it has
value in the folklore of the community.
Destroying farms and forests, along with any
place the imagination can run free, and replacing them
with economical modularity and sameness―today that
is called progress. g
Your Letters
In subsequent issues, we hope to print your
letters commenting on what you have read. Only the
best (shortest) letters will be published. Please e-mail
your letters to [email protected] and we will try to
publish them.
Contents From the Author 1 Your Letters 1 A Quick and Dirty Guide 2 The Fallen Investigate 3 Personal Experiences 6 Trivia 6
The horrors of the supernatural have been replaced by the
horrors of suburbia.
Page 1 ISSN: 1934-9106
A Quick and Dirty Guide to Shoe Factory Road
The most distinctive feature on Shoe Factory
Road in Hoffman Estates is an old, derelict Spanish
Colonial revival style building. Just down the street, in
the direction of the Poplar Creek Forest preserve, sits an
abandoned farm. Both are rumored to be haunted.
The unique, stone house was at one time the
Charles A. Lindbergh School, named after the famed
aviator and American patriot. According to John
Russell Ghrist, who has written on and researched the
school extensively, the current structure was built in
1929 to replace the Helberg School, named after a
neighboring farmer, after it burnt down.
The Lindbergh School’s first enrollment
consisted of 29 students from the surrounding
community. Their teacher was named Anne W. Fox,
who would be employed there for most of the school’s
existence.
The institution was closed in 1948 when rural
schools began to be consolidated into the modern
Illinois public school system. The stone structure spent
the next 30 years as a residence, until it became
abandoned sometime during the 1970s.
According to the Daily Herald, an archeological
survey of the property in July 1998 yielded pottery
shards that could have been used by Amerindians over
one thousand years ago. The archeological firm that
conducted the survey for Terrestris Development
Company described the shards as “weathered and hard
to classify.”
In 2001, the development company offered to
donate the former school to the village of Hoffman
Estates, but the village board was unable to find anyone
who would shoulder the cost of bringing the building
up to code.
By 2007, the effort to save the building had
gained momentum and a small sum of money had been
raised. In May, the village board debated a plan to turn
the former school and residence into a museum.
According to the Daily Herald, a final vote on the
structure was put off until July, and then extended to
August. As of today, the fate of the old Lindbergh
School is undecided.
The only source of information on the alleged
hauntings of Shoe Factory Road come from the
Shadowlands Haunted Places Index. One entry claims
that the stone house became abandoned after a child
killed his parents. The ghost of the child, who plays
with a knife, can be seen sitting on the steps.
The haunted farm, and its nefarious barn, has
several stories associated with it. One story has the
farmer going insane and murdering his family, burying
them at the middle of a circle of trees. The other has the
family being murdered and hung in the barn by a
mental patient.
None of these stories, to my knowledge, can be
substantiated.
For more information on the Charles A.
Lindbergh School, visit www.lindberghschool.org g
The silo c.2003 with barn.
The stone house and former school c.2003.
Page 2 ISSN: 1934-9106
The Fallen Investigation file 008
“So, explain to me why we’re trespassing on
private property,” Emmer said as Mike, Aurelia, Greg,
and him climbed the stone steps of the abandoned,
chapelesque home.
“We’re not trespassing,” Mike shot back as he
took the lead and entered through the open door and
into the narrow hallway. “Obviously no one owns this
place.”
“Man, there was clearly a sign back there,” Greg
said as he glanced over his shoulder at Shoe Factory
Road, only a sliver of which could be seen through the
rotting doorframe.
The interior of the house was small and poorly
lit. The aroma of mold and mildew hung thick in the
air over the carpet and emanated from the peeling
wallpaper. With every breath, The Fallen inhaled
hundreds of noxious spores.
As Emmer and Aurelia poked around the
interior, Greg pulled Mike into a small room off to the
side of the main hallway. The colorful, infantile
wallpaper seemed to indicate its previous use as a
nursery or a child’s bedroom.
“Do you really think we’re going to find
anything here?” Greg whispered as though it was
possible to obscure his voice in such a tightly enclosed
space. “We could be arrested.”
“No one ever said this was going to be safe,”
Mike replied. “Besides, we have to explore every
possibility. They could have hidden this astral portal
anywhere, but they couldn’t hide the fact that it would
still be a magnet for the supernatural. There’s no way
to find it other than to investigate every single rumor of
supernatural activity in the state.”
“So, whoever it was that created it hid the portal
in plain sight?”
“Exactly. If you want to hide a black marble,
put it in a pile of a hundred black marbles.”
“There’s got to be a better way,” Greg
countered. “It would take forever to look into every
possible rumor of a haunting. We can rule some of
them out. Like this one.”
“We can’t be sure,” Mike said dismissively. He
forced his way past his friend and joined the rest of the
group further down the hallway.
“I don’t know what you guys were hoping to
find here,” Emmer said when Mike appeared by his
side, “but all I see is a bunch of dirty carpet and spider
webs.”
“Why don’t we check the basement and then
move on to that barn?” Mike suggested. “There’s
supposed to be a group of dead trees that forms a
pentagram on the property. Maybe that’s what we’re
looking for.”
“You guys are nuts,” Emmer chuckled as he
pushed his way past and carefully climbed down the
narrow staircase to the basement.
The stairs were lit by sunlight that streamed in
through a side door, so Emmer turned off his flashlight.
Bits of broken plaster, wood, and wiring had already
been ground into the spongy carpeting by whoever had
been there last. He was forced to turn on the flashlight
again once he stepped onto the basement floor.
The basement was nothing more than a vacant
Page 3
Attempts to build a kibbutz at the location have failed.
ISSN: 1934-9106
square filled with piles of debris. Graffiti covered the
cement walls. Greg moved closer and inspected the
neon markings.
A large, yellow Latin Kings crown was
intermixed with professions of love, as well as the
occasional misspelled proclamation such as “we
warned u not 2 com down,” “northwest syde 4 lyfe,”
and “take notice: this property belongs to Clan
Exodus.”
“Most of this is just gang related,” Greg said.
“Nothing genuinely occultic.”
Mike dangled a quartz crystal from a black cord
clenched in his fist, but it didn’t move. “I’m not getting
anything,” he replied with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go
check out that barn.”
Aurelia coughed. “Please,” she said. “My
asthma is starting to act up. This dust is horrible.”
Without waiting for the others, she climbed back up the
stairs and exited through the side door.
After a few minutes, the quartet stood under the
shade of the trees alongside the slab rock dwelling.
They quickly marched across the road and towards the
abandoned farm located no more than one hundred
yards away. A teetering, two-story house, the side of
which had been painted orange by the setting sun,
greeted them. A large barn and a cement silo stood at
the end of the gravel driveway.
“That must be the barn,” Mike announced as he
approached the gaping, weed draped entrance. “The
barn of death.”
“I hope it’s not the barn of death,” Greg joked,
“because we’re the only living things around here.”
“Heads up,” Emmer shouted as the grinding of
gravel under the wheels of a car told him they were no
longer alone. A sleek, white Ford Explorer crawled up
the driveway.
“Son of a―” Mike cursed. “Wait a minute.
That’s not the P.C.P.R.S.. Who the Hell is that?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” Greg said as
the sport utility vehicle stopped a few feet away and the
doors swung open. Two men and two women, all
middle aged and wearing white sport coats and pants,
climbed out. The only color in their wardrobe belonged
to the black sunglasses that covered their eyes. “Looks
like the circus is in town,” he added.
The two groups squared off and faced each
other like characters in a Leonard Bernstein musical.
Mike opened his mouth to speak, but one of the women
in white cut him off.
“Good evening,” she said in a deep but pleasant
voice. “What are you kids doing out here?”
Offended by the woman’s use of the word
‘kids,’ Greg sneered. “We’re on a play date,” he shot
back.
Page 4
The side of the house.
ISSN: 1934-9106
“What do you care what we’re doing?” Aurelia
asked as she dug her fists into her brawny hips. The
slim, black bracelets on her forearms slid down and
bunched together angrily.
“Why don’t we just cut to the chase,” one of the
men, an older gentleman with silvery hair, replied. A
Rolex Daytona watch, one of the most sought after
watches in the world, dangled from his wrist. “We
know who you are and what you’re trying to find.
We’ve been shadowing you for quite some time.”
“You’re probably the ones who’ve been tipping
off the P.C.P.R.S.!” Mike spat.
The man grinned. “Naturally. But now we feel
we must come out and absolutely forbid you from
continuing your search. What we’re looking for is too
valuable to fall into your hands."
“Excuse me?” Aurelia interjected venomously.
“What the hell is wrong with you people?”
Emmer cut in, referring to the entire ensemble. “You
don’t actually believe the shit that he says, do you?” He
thrust a bony thumb at Mike, who returned the favor
with an irritated glare.
“Thanks, Emmer,” Mike responded. He turned
back toward the pristinely clad interlopers. “And how
do you plan on using the portals if you find them?” he
demanded.
“To spread the word of God, of course,” the
silver haired man said. “Once we have unlocked the
secret, all will be witnessed. We shall spread Christ’s
message of love and obedience everywhere, and we will
not let the sacred portals fall into the hands of evil.”
“Knowledge is only evil to tyrants,” Mike
snapped back.
Before anyone could respond, a sharp siren cut
through the air and a police cruiser pulled up behind
the SUV.
“I thought I smelled bacon,” Greg muttered.
The blue uniformed officer and his partner
strolled up the driveway. The shorter of the two spoke
into his radio before addressing the crowd. “This is
private property,” he announced after a brief exchange.
“Can I ask what you’re doing here?”
“Sorry, officer. We were just telling these kids
to leave. It looked like they were about to cause
trouble,” one of the women in white said with a smile.
“Especially this witch,” she whispered.
Aurelia balled her hands into fists and sneered
at the woman. With the growing redness in her face the
only warning, she sprang at the woman in white.
The policeman was quick to react, and
intercepted Aurelia before she could do any damage.
His partner quickly handcuffed her and ordered the
rest of The Fallen to put their hands above their heads.
The group reluctantly complied.
A short time later, through the police cruiser
window, Mike saw the silver haired man smile at them
as they were carted away.
“Nice going,” Emmer whispered. “How are we
going to get out of this mess?” He received an elbow to
the ribs from Aurelia in response.
To be Continued…
Page 5
A video still of the interior of the house showing the
child’s wallpaper. Courtesy of The Fallen Archives.
The silo shows where the haunted barn once rested.
ISSN: 1934-9106
True! Amazing! Unbelievable! Personal Experiences
Me and some of my friends snuck into the old
stone house on Shoe Factory Road one night during a
break in American Idol, ‘cause like, you know, what
else did we have to do?
We dared each other to go into the basement
with only a small flashlight. It was soo scary, but I went
first. I don’t think I lasted one minute, LOL! There was
like a thing in there that squeeked at me! I never heard
any animal sound like that, so like I screamed and ran
out, lmao.
Raschelle, 15, Hoffman Estates
I attended the Lindbergh school in the early
1940s and we never would have imagined what would
become of the building. I used to hang my coat right
inside the door. I don’t know what all the fuss is about;
it’s just an old schoolhouse.
Larry, 74, Lake Zurich
Trivia
In this new section, tough questions will be asked. It
is up to you to uncover the clues and determine the solutions.
Sometimes you will find the answers buried in the current
issue; other times you will need to go to the location itself.
The answers to this month’s questions will be posted in next
month’s issue.
1. What is the most pretentious name for a home
design: a. “Summerhill” b. “The Linden” c.
“Moraine” d. “Wildmeadow”
2. What was the full name of the old school before
it became the “stone house”?
3. What is the name of the local historian who has
written most extensively on the old school?
4. Why is (was) the old barn considered to be
haunted?
5. What is the current population of Hoffman
Estates?
6. What is the term for the process of cities
gobbling up surrounding farm and woodland?
7. According to Trent Brandon’s The Book of Ghosts,
what type of ghost is the child of the stone house
(hint, it’s not “the forgotten child”)?
Go out and explore, and good luck!
Answers to last month’s questions:
1. Clarksdale 2. 2001 3. Confidence artists 4. 600E 5.
Robber 6. John Hayward 7. Not very much
Page 6
Will yet another $450,000 home sit here one day?
The stone house as it looks today.
ISSN: 1934-9106