Question: Hi Scott, Today I was thinking about my childhood and reminiscing on the 4 years I went to St. Francis Camp for Boys (1965-68). I decided to go on the web and see what info I could get and ran into your site. Very interesting!! I had no idea about the "Gate" legend(s) previously. I do remember it very well from both my camp days and occasionally driving past it.(There used to be a 'St. Francis Camp for Boys' Sign above it.) I know I have pictures of the camp & gate from my camp days..Finding them is another story! I have always wondered what the final fate of the camp was..I drove by once in the 80's and noticed the water tower was gone, the gate was closed and everything was overgrown. I have a good memory and believe I could identify most of the buildings just by their foundations, (including the elusive chapel). There were 4 camper cabins named for St. Francis locations in Italy: Greccio (ages 7-8), Siena (9-10), Padua (11-12), Assisi (13-14), a large mess hall, auditorium, arts & crafts building, admissions building, Camp office, staff quarters, chapel, pump house, pool building, canteen building, and several storage buildings. Each cabin held I believe 60 campers. If you or anyone have any questions about the camp/gate, I would be glad to assist. Unfortunately, even though I was there 4 years, I never heard of or experienced anything strange.

Coincidentally, I am a lifelong resident of Lake Zurich and am less than 2 miles from Cuba/Rainbow Rds. I did the Haunted House and White Cemetery and Rainbow Rd. House things as a teenager in the 70's. Unfortunately I did not experience anything paranormal at any of them..(Abnormal?..Yes!) ( I do have some interesting info about the Cuba Rd. house.) I have also been down Cuba and past the cemetery hundreds of times at night and have never seen anything odd,,,Just unlucky I guess. One last thing, poster Sammy Marsala was looking for a 'creepy' large old building behind barbed wire he saw once on Halloween on his way to Cuba Rd. I'm confident he is talking about the old Jewel Tea headquarters in Barrington off Northwest Highway on Lake Zurich Rd. 1 mi. S. of Cuba. It has been leveled and now is a nice park. Keep up the Good Work Scott! --Jerry Cullum

Response from Slim Pictures:  I'm so excited to hear from someone who attended the camp! I'd be very interested in walking through the grounds with you this summer or spring if you happen to still live in the area. If you find any pictures you're willing to share, please do keep me posted!

Also, thanks for the additional Lake Zurich information & I am quite curious what information you might have regarding the house formerly at 92 Rainbow Road.

Questions: I emailed you several times last year about your book and you were very kind to send it quickly to me. I now use that as my bible of haunted locations.
All summer long I have been doing extensive archaeological work up and down the Des Plaines area and have found many sites at Robinson. I have the precise location of the Boettcher house (with many artifacts) and two locations for both of Robinson's daughter's houses. I have even met people who knew the Boettcher's personally. This not only helps with the archaeology of the area but helps with the ghost hunting as well. I am hoping that next week brings promising pictures.

I have several questions this year regarding several of the locations. How far along are they with the development of the Rainbow Road house site? I saw the pictures on your site and I am guessing that people should be living in their new houses by now. What a shame! It was a favorite hunting ground for me.
Has anyone ever caught any apparitions at the White's Cemetery location?
Will you be updating your site with updated stories?
Does anyone live in the Stickney mansion? Who could we contact to do an investigation? Have you or anyone that you know ever been inside and recorded or photographed anything? I have looked on the internet and can find nothing but the same story over and over.
My last question is about The Unknown World website and their cable show. Is it still being aired? I live in Chicago and cannot find it anywhere on my Comcast.
Thank you for your time and help and keep up the good work on your end! Thanks --Dan Melone

Response from Slim Pictures: Dan, long time no talk. Sorry about being as ghostly as the stories I write about. I travel quite a bit. I will, however, be in Illinois until the end of January. I found your eMail in which you talk about finding several interesting foundations. I finally photographed some old, somewhat hard to find foundations of a haunted site known as "the Gate," in Libertyville, IL. I would love to see the foundations you've found at Robinson Woods. I've visited the location a lot over the past few months. While I can't say that I've specifically made it a mission to seek out the foundations, I didn think that I'd stumble across it eventually, but haven't yet. If you want to meet up and explore the area soon, let me know.
To answer your other long overdue questions:
* Check out a pretty up-to-date video about the House on Rainbow Road here: slimpictures.com/3ghoststories.htm Though the house is gone and new houses are currently going up in the area, I still think it's a fairly interesting site for ghost research - the actual location where the house was, isn't being built upon (at least not yet).
* As for apparitions at White Cemetery - there are many orbs and mists on film, but I've never heard of any full figure apparitions on film (some pictures have been submitted to me claiming to be of figures, but nothing really solid. I also haven't heard of any interesting video being shot there.
* After a long time away, I've finally been updating my site with stories submitted from readers. I've also made a few small videos with fellow author Mary Czerwinski. I plan to use the web site to further update the book. (it'll all be under slimpictures.com/ghoststories.htm
* Bull Valley uses the Stickney House. No one lives in it. You won't get a chance to officially do an investigation. The best chance you'll have to do anything with permission is by posing as a regular passer-by who has heard the story and would like to look around (very casual). If there happens to be an officer there alone, they may open up a bit, however, they're not actually allowed to. I've been in the front reception room/office. I don't know anyone who's made it further than that. Let me know if you make any progress.
* To the best of my knowledge, "The Unknown World" is still on the air, though I cannot get it either. I've even been a guest on the show once, but never got a copy of the show. Fortunately, they have posted a few videos on YouTube (www.youtube.com/profile?user=MagickTv). Unfortunately, many of the videos aren't about haunted locations and are more about religious rituals - also, the quality is pretty poor.

Please feel free to send any pictures you'd like to share with the wolrd and I'll post them on the site with credit going to you.

I hope to hear back from you soon, but good luck with everything. Also, the compliment that you use my book as your "bible of haunted locations" means the world to me. Thanks a ton!

Dan comes back with an old aerial shot of "The Gate": The Gate is located in the bottom left corner. You will have to zoom in however it will become distorted.

Question: Hey! I was reading other stories about the gate and decided to use Google Maps to see where the "secret path" that others have been talking about leads to...this is what I found...do you have any information on this? - Megan

Response from Slim Pictures:  Nice recon work, Megan. For more info on this, check out Jim MacAyeal's new - just posted - reply to the post about The Gate in Novomber 2004. It does talk about this third path (named the Upper Loop Path)

Question: In your article you wrote, "What caused this orphanage to close may be the answer to why this gate has such a famous reputation. Unfortunately, it is also this answer that is lost in the past."

Please give more info on this.

Response from Slim Pictures:  Basically, that refers to stories getting bigger and bigger the more time has past. Perhaps there was, indeed, a very negative event that happened on that spot. Perhaps it was a death, but perhaps abuse of some sort that was severe enough that the orphanage had to close its doors. It's far from the urban legend of a killing spree, but it may have been that negative event that led to the place closing down and also the hauntings that many have witnessed at the site.

Story/Question: All my life I have been scared of everything! From bugs, to storms, and I will never get over that fear. I have to many stories to tell. But all i have to say now is that I love ghosts! So I purchested a book about Chicago ghost. There I found a story that was very close by to me. Once I read it I had to tell my mom, becuase we can never hear too many storys. After I told her, we did research on it, and went to a place called "Hells Gate."After some research we learned:
In the 1940's this gate had led it's way to an all-girls Catholic school, St.Frances. During a usual day at the school the girls would play outside for recess. While playing recess, as the story goes, the pincipal took four of the girls. During that same night, the principal chopped off the heads of the girls. That same day the parents found out that their girls didn't come home. So they went to the police to have an all night search. Early the next morning the principal stuck the heads on the steaks of the gate. That same morning, as the story goes, a little boy was walkin to school to see the heads on the gate, and the their blood dripping. Then, a couple hours later the police found the girls, but only to find their heads. As the story goes the book said that every Halloween night or/and midnight, the the heads of the missing girls return to the gate, with only the heads on the steaks. There is also blood on the gate. Pople also say that when they go there they find the little boy standing by that very gate.
Now this story sounded awesome! So my mom, and I went to the gate and took pictures, but when we got the pictures back it was too dark, but what we did catch was over a million orbs. A couple days later my friend slept over, and we went there with my mom, and my sister. When we got there, there was a family. They say they go there every night on halloween, and say they they got pictures of the girls on the gate. So this same night me, and my friend were walking up to my mom, and the family by the gate. While standing there all of a sudden there is this hudge manley scream. My friend, and I looked and eachother and screamed, and everyone ran back to the cars. I say that it could have been the crazyed principal. To make this long story short, we kept going back there, and we got a picture of red light, and a face. We also got more orbs, but when we zoomed up closer it looked like a clear face that was smileing, but had very long fangs. On these other pictures there was a little boy. SO SCAREY! When we went back a couple weeks later we turned off the car, and all of sudden it was dead silence until it was sound of children laughing as if it was recess time, and then after that we herd whispering! I WAS SO FRICKEN SCARED! All I know is that there was something out there, and I don't think it wanted us there!

Response from Slim Pictures: 

Story: Hello. These pictures were taken by my daughter and her friends about a week ago. They frequently go to the gate in Libertyville trying to ghost hunt. After hundreds of trips there, they finally saw tons of stuff in one night! Let me know what you think...Enjoy! -Lauren Gille

Enhanced Pictures by Slim Pictures: (right click any images above or below to open in a new window at full size)

Question: Hello Scott; My name is Jocelyn I was just wondering if you could tell me a little bit about "The Gate"
I seem to have a lot of information on it, yet I lack the information about what happened to the Katherine Dodridge Kriegh Budd Memorial Home for Children. Did it burn down and if so why and how many died in it? The stories always mention that something happened and that they think it was burned down but yet they're just not sure. I am trying to do a paper on what happened there I read from your site that there was a school built there after the memorial home incident. I found that most intresting to find out that there was 4 boys heads that were placed on the gate itself. I had never heard anything about that part of it. I am going to have to make sure to put that into my paper.
Please if you can help me out it would mean so much to me. Thanks in advance for all your help. -- Jocelyn

response from Slim Pictures: 

Story: Back in Independence some of the pipes sticking out of the ground have dates on them 1884 if I remember correctly. So if that would help in any research im glad to help. Regarding getting back there its not that hard to find but it hard to explain because its way off the main trails. I defiantly remember how to get back there. in fact me and my friend were going to go back there some time soon to photograph what we saw. so ill send those pictures your way some time in the near future.

response from Slim Pictures:  It's always good to find any hard evidence, such as stamped dates. We are definately interested in seeing any pictures you come back with.

Story/Question: A few days ago, a friend of mine e-mailed me a link to the slimpictures website. He said he had been doing research on urban legends for a school assignment when he came upon some information he thought I would find very interesting. He was right. I clicked on the link and it brought me to your section on the supposedly haunted Gate in Libertyville, IL. I was very impressed with the information you provided, and felt compelled to share my own story.

We had, of course, known of the Gate for some time. Our older brothers and sisters knew of it, and perhaps our parents did as well. It was a secret, a mystery; something people, for the most part, tried to avoid. Maybe that’s why it appealed to so many adolescents throughout the years, because the story reached us at a time when the mysteries of the world had (at least, to our thinking) grown small, and the mysteries of ourselves had grown far too large. It reached most of us in high school, during the time in our lives when we no longer asked “why is the grass green?” or “why is the sky blue?”, but rather “what school do I want to go to?”, “will we still be together next year?”, and all those other terribly high school questions. So the story of the Gate and it’s secrets seemed a pleasant diversion, a way to escape our own heads and once again make those innocent “what are clouds made of?” inquiries. To go and explore those secret places of urban legend was fun. It was exciting. It took our minds off the difficult internal questions we wrestled with and turned them outwards once again; escapism in the truest sense.
I wonder if it is that feeling my old friend Justin and I set out to reclaim when we decided to explore the gate that night, one year after high school. That, of course, didn’t cross our minds at the time, as we searched for an inconspicous parking spot in a near-by neighborhood. We thought it was boredom, or sheer madness that guided us that night. But, recalling it now, a year and a half after the events of Easter morning, 2003, I think there might have been another reason. I think we wanted to find the imaginary horrors of the haunted gate to forget the all-too-real horrors of growing up. After all, it is a much easier task to look for ghosts than to worry about what one’s major will be. So we parked the car, zipped up our jackets, lit a cigarette, and set out to find something a little less personal to worry about.
What happened from that point on reminds me of something I once read. I do not remember the context, but the quote stands quite nicely on it’s own. What I read was this: “the price of getting what you want is having what you once wanted.” Very true, I thought at the time. How true, I would soon learn.
The Gate itself was somewhat of a disappointment. No dripping blood, no children's heads, nothing that made our imaginations run wild with possibility. Sure, there was an ominous, imposing quality to the gate itself, but once we were close enough to touch it, we realized the experience was somewhat anti-climactic. We wanted adventure, damnit, and if the Gate couldn't provide it, we would push further, down the path which led to the Des Plaines River Trail. So we walked on, swaggering with the kind of brazen confidence that comes with the realization that an experience wasn't nearly as bad as you thought it would be. We laughed, we yelled, we tried to make each other jump... the night switched focus. It was no longer about a search for the supernatural, it was two old friends walking through the woods at night- talking, joking, remembering the days when this was all we ever seemed to do.
The path we followed, which started at River Road and led through the Gate itself, divided when we reached the Des Plaines River Trail. One could either follow the Trail north, towards Rte. 120, or south, towards 137. We stopped, let out a mutual sigh of disappointment, and surveyed our options. Justin shined the flashlight he had brought back and forth, back and forth, as we half-heartedly debated whether or not to pick a direction and continue walking. We had all but decided to call it a night when Justin's flashlight happened upon a third option... a diminutive dirt path overgrown with branches. This path caught our attention for two reasons. One, because it seemed to barely exist. The path was almost invisible when standing in one place, yet hard to miss if one took two steps to the left. Secondly, it went neither right nor left, as the Des Plaines River Trail did, but straight ahead, an extension of the path we had come in on, the Path of the Gate. It seemed old and rarely used, and Justin and I are very much road-less-traveled type people. It was, to us, the obvious choice, and certainly we had proven that childish fear held no sway over us, yet... neither he nor myself were eager to abandon the broad River Trail and enter the woods with nothing but a flashlight and a path that scarcely seemed to exist. We became silent for the first time since passing through the Gate. We allowed our ears to adjust to the sounds of the night; we peered into the darkness ahead of us, beyond the flashlight, training our eyes to look for the slightest movement. After a moment, a moment I remember with absolute clarity, I lifted my foot and took the first step towards the Third Path, The Secret Path, The Path of the Gate. After that, things got very weird, very fast.
It's strange how accustomed we become to the sound of our own breathing. Our whole lives we've been listening to our own inhalations and exhalations, every moment of every day. We've gotten so used to it, the only time we notice it is when it isn't there. That was how I knew the sound I had just heard was not a figment of my imagination, nor the typical night noises of spring in the mid-west. I knew I had heard something strange because both myself and Justin stopped breathing. In that brief, rare moment I was able to stretch my hearing to absolute clarity, and what I heard frightened me in a way I had never before experienced. You're familiar with the phrase "scared stiff"? That was us, unable to breathe, unable to move, or speak, or even acknowledge to each other that we were actually hearing something.
Voices, was the thought which first crossed my mind. Very faint, very distant, yet most assuredly voices. Not just any voices either, I realized as I strained my ears near to their breaking point, but the voices of children. I realized they were the voices of children, or at least young people, almost immediately, because they seemed to be speaking excitedly, almost giddy, as hyper-active children are prone to do. I was also given the impression of children because I could not determine any of their sexes by the pitch or tone of their voice, which, therefore, made it hard to pinpoint exactly how many there were.
(Believe me, I am perfectly aware that it is at this exact point where my story turns from one of interesting experience with urban legend to that of cheesy campfire ghost story. I know, but I don't care. This is what happened on Easter morning. If I have retained the slightest bit of credibility, please read on).
Oddly enough, and this I swear to you, I did not at that time make the connection between the voices of children I was rapidly becoming more and more convinced I was hearing, and the urban legend which motivated us to visit in the first place. My first thought, which I held onto for as long as I possibly could, was that there were indeed children on the trail. Not the restless ghosts of children, but real kids, probably out doing the same thing we were- looking for ghosts, nevermind that it's two a.m. Easter morning. It was the way the sound reached us which caused me to doubt myself, which frightened me so thoroughly and gave me chills- it was so ambiguous, so ethereal. Was it one voice or a dozen? Girls or boys? A mile down the trail or around the next bend? I could not tell, and, perhaps most frightening of all, at one point or another it sounded like all those things.
I would like to tell you how long this went on for, but in truth I couldn't. I couldn't even begin to guess at the amount of time we stood there, totally quiet, listening intently to these strange phantom voices. Nor could I presume to know what Justin was thinking about then, or what he thought of the sounds we heard. In fact, I had almost entirely forgotten Justin was there. I had forgotten about everything, except the woods, and the path, and the voices.
What snapped us (for Justin had been as silent as myself, which is a rare thing indeed) out of that weird, almost hypnotic state, and slammed us back into reality was something which frightened me so badly I can not remember what it was. Not in any documentable sense, at least. I remember the voices, which had been fading in and out the entire time we had been listening, remember how they faded down, down, and were gone. I tried to get my ears to follow them, straining, stretching my hearing as far as it would go. Imagine that... listening as hard as you can in near perfect silence, trying to hear the drop of a pin if one were to fall... imagine listening that closely, that quietly, that carefully... that is when the screaming started.
Screaming? Is that the word? It might be. Or shrieking. Or wailing. Or howling. Then I think back to that night, not to the sound itself, for I could not hope to reproduce that sound, not even in my own imagination. I think back to my reaction to that sound. I remember thinking very calmly, very rationally. What could make that noise? A person? No. Surely not. Certainly not. I felt sure no human being could emit the horrible cry that pierced my ears. A deer? Rabbit? Some animal? If it was, it sounded like no other animal I’ve ever heard, at least none indigenous to this area. It sounded... wrong. That’s the best way I can describe it. It rose up from somewhere deep within the woods, twisting and winding higher and higher, reaching it’s zenith, sustaining, and dying off as quickly as it came. There was no echo. It was in the... pattern, I suppose you’d say, of a tornado siren, but of course they sounded nothing alike. It sounded nothing like anything. Later, after we were far from the Gate, but before rationality had re-asserted itself, Justin compared the sound with that of monkeys being tortured in the jungle. Neither of us have ever heard monkeys being tortured, which is perhaps why that description sounds so much more suiting than any other we’ve tried to use. It is as close to, and conversely as far from, the truth of what we heard as anything could ever be.
It was the assertion of that noise, the tortured monkeys, if you will, that brought us back to reality. This was no vague impression of children somewhere within the forest. This was something within the woods screaming. Screaming at us, for all we knew. It was Justin that made the first move, backing up slowly, away from the trees of the Third Path, back towards River Road. I did not move at first, still very unwilling to react in any way to something which, I felt sure, should not be happening. Then the sound, that horrible wail of the tortured monkeys, came back. It was, without a doubt, louder. And closer. We turned and ran.
At first, when the sound rose up from within the trees, it was clearly audible, but soft. Distant. As we ran down the gravel path towards the Gate, and, just beyond, to freedom, it became terribly apparent that the sound was following us. At first quiet, then growing, rising to meet us, clearly heard over the harsh ragged breaths we drew in as we ran, over the crunch of our shoes on gravel, over the soft yet constant cries of “ohshitohshitohshit” coming from either me or Justin, probably both. We ran, and we heard that terrible cry get closer and closer, and we kept our eyes on the road in front of us, paved and sane and safe. Safety, a hundred yards away... ninety... eighty... and still the howl behind us grew closer, and louder.
When we were no more than fifty yards away I suddenly became terribly, deathly certain that soon we would hear another sound right in front of us, the sound of cold, ancient steel dragging across gravel. Then we would see the giant wrought iron bars of the Gate itself begin to shut- slowly, of course, to mock us. We would run faster, harder, then we ever have, ever could, but it would be too late. We would reach the Gate and it’s mouth would be shut, it’s big metal teeth clenched, smiling it’s bone yard smile. We would have time to turn back, to see the face of the being who’s screams sounded like monkeys being tortured in the jungle, see it right before us, and then...
And then we were out onto the road, down the street, not running, but not exactly walking either. The sound, whatever it was, was no longer close; but we heard it still, from somewhere behind the Gate, somewhere down the path. The lingering cries followed us almost back to the car, growing fainter all the while. As we drove down River Road, we slowed and stopped in front of the Gate. We rolled down the windows and listened. We would do this many times over the next year or so, but on that night, and the others to follow, no distant wails or childish voices reached our ears.
And so we found what we had been looking for. We had found a diversion, however brief, and forgotten about school, about work, about the complexities of women and the uncertainty of our future. Of course, the price of getting what we want is having what we once wanted. We wanted escapism, and we found it. But where had we escaped to? What had we found on that wild night? The question tormented us. It gnawed at our minds, ripping and tearing at the fabric of all we knew to be true in this world. It was as though a stiff breeze had ruffled the curtains of reality, twisting them briefly aside and revealing something huge and strange and alien beyond. Like learning of a twenty-seventh letter hiding in the chasm between A and B. How could we return to any semblance of a normal life after what we had experienced? It all seemed so thin, now... so frail. Thinking back upon it, that was the truly frightening thing. Not our glimpse at the world of the supernatural, but the knowledge that it may have been only a glimpse; merely one facet on the jewel of the unknown. If something haunts that Gate (call it memory, call it spirit, or refuse to name it altogether), then it leads one to wonder about all the other stories that frightened us as children. All those shadow things we were able to, as we got older, place in a box marked “fiction,” and forget, simply because by labeling it thus we could fall asleep without checking under the bed, without worrying about the bogeyman in the closet. But if this story is true... well, the world is full of gates. And now... after this... I can’t help but wonder what’s beyond them.

So that’s the story of my experience at the Gate on a cold Easter morning in 2003. However, I was never content to accept the disappearing coin as real magic, and so since then I have attempted, in my free time, to find out if there is any validity to the urban legend of the Gate. I began the very next day (and I stress it was during the day) by returning to the Third Path we discovered on that night.
We followed it back through the woods, straight back, wondering where it would lead, and what we would find. I remember seeing nothing but trees, and then, springing up almost out of nowhere, was a lamp post. How surreal it was, to be walking along a dirt path through a forest and suddenly come upon an old lamp post nestled between the trees. I don’t know what era that lamp post is from, but it looked ancient in the dim light of sunset. Certainly it was like no other street light I’ve seen over my twenty years.
We walked on, eventually coming upon the foundation of a building. Cement lain into the ground outlined what once, I imagined at the time, must have been the orphanage, or summer camp, or school, or whatever it was. A little beyond was the foundation of another, smaller, building, characterized both by a similar cement foundation and a few rusted pipes which jutted up from the earth. It was so exciting, to see these things; the first absolutely true, undeniable piece of evidence in proving, as much to ourselves as anyone else, that there might be some validity to the urban legend of the Gate. There was a building back there, right at the end of the mysterious path through the trees, right where we had been looking the night before. Seeing those ruins, I realized two things: one, that there was indeed a chance, however slight, that Justin and I were not crazy after all, and two, that this was a mystery which begged to be solved.
My next step was to inquire about the building formations at the Independence Grove Forest Preserve office, since the Gate and whatever lay beyond was on LCFP property, as you noted in your article. The land, I learned, was purchased in the 80’s from the Archdiocese of Chicago, which had previously operated Camp St. Francis on the site, under the management of the Chicago Catholic Charities. They were also able to tell me that the buildings themselves had been on the property since 1925 until they were demolished in ‘79, as you know. Unfortunately, that was all the information they were able to provide me with.
I then took my search to the Chicago Archdiocese itself, where I was informed that all the information they had on the site was published in a book called The History of the Institutions of the Archdiocese of Chicago, available in most Chicago public libraries. It is from this book that the bulk of my knowledge has come, despite the fact that what I learned only served to bring more questions to light.
From the book I learned, as you know, that the 200 acre property was first used for the Katherine Kreigh Budd Memorial Home for Children, built in 1925. The site was used as a school and residence for a hundred orphaned children and managed by the Sisters of Mary of the Western Province of the Protestant Episcopal Church. In 1939, the land was purchased for $25,000 by Bishop Bernard Sheil, vicar general of the Archdiocese, who turned it into the CYO Boys’ Camp. In 1955, Chicago Catholic Charities turned the camp into the St. Francis Camp for Boys. The camp closed in 1973 due to “problems of aging facilities, a shortage of capital funds, and decreasing staff.” The following year, the camp re-opened on a smaller scale (89 acres of the land originally purchased) and became Camp St. Francis, which served girls age 6 to 13 under the direction of a Ms. Nancy Howe. The final piece of information on the site reads as follows: “In October 1979, Camp St. Francis, which had been functioning on a shoestring budget, was closed and demolished, leaving 89 acres of beautiful fauna to roaming wildlife.
So that is what I’ve learned of the Gate thus far, information which is widely available and which you yourself have acquired (though I would be interested in hearing of your sources). Most every bit of trivia concerning the site is laid out in the History of Institutions, from who ran the property to how much was paid for it to why it was closed, during all it’s incarnations. All, that is, except one. In your writings on the Gate, you posit that “what caused this orphanage to close may be the answer to why this gate has such a famous reputation.” I believe my findings in that book may help support that claim, although only in theory. You see, the one portion of the History article which does not provide specific information is on the closing of the Budd Home. It was one specific passage which caught my eye, both for the vague information given and the oddly passive voice in which it was relayed. The passage begins by explaining that the site was used as both a residence and school “until the mid-1930s, when the decision was made to sell the land.” I had to stop and re-read the information: “mid-1930s”? “The decision was made...”? This provided a sharp contrast to the specificity of all the other information provided, and gave me another straw to clutch at. Like yourself, I concluded that if anything had indeed happened on the site during it’s 79 year history, it would have happened during that mysterious period of time known as “the mid-1930’s, when the decision was made to sell the land.”
At that point, I felt had made excellent progress. I’d discovered that, yes, there was indeed a school, orphanage, and day camp on the site. So the basis of the mystery was founded on fact. And while I had not discovered what, if anything, actually happened to give the Gate it’s haunted reputation, I had narrowed my search from one which spanned 79 years, to one which spanned a decade. Less then that, depending on how seriously you took the “mid-” prefix. However, it is at that point that I became stuck, at a loss for where to look next, or who to turn to for answers. I went to the Warren Newport Public Library, intent on studying a decade’s worth of microfilm if need be, and was pleasantly surprised to learn that the Chicago Tribune’s entire news database is available online. I tried every combination of words and phrases connected to the Gate that I could possibly think of, but not one article was brought to my attention. It is at this point that my research has grinded to a halt. If a murder did occur, even just one, surely it would have been reported in a newspaper like the Tribune. I feel a bit better about my inability to find out anything via newspaper database after reading your story on the Gate: “Libertyville has been mostly successful in hiding unnatural deaths from just twenty years ago,” and “catching wind of it is often a difficult task.” Still, I feel there must be some way to discover the truth behind the mystery of the Gate. With all due respect, I refuse to accept the notion that the answer is “lost in the past.”
But where to look next? I’m out of ideas, which is why I’ve chosen to write to you. Based on what I’ve read on slimpictures.com, I’ve developed a great deal of respect both for your narrative style, and the critical approach you take to such outlandish subjects. What I’ve read is not the writing of someone who seeks to scare the superstitious with camp fire ghost stories (sort of like my own tale), but someone who is interested in the power of myth and legend as re-occurring themes in our lives. Which, now that I think on it, begs another question. If there was no murder at the Gate, and thus, presumably, no haunting, what was it that frightened Justin and I that night, and sent two twenty year olds running off like frightened children? Conceivably, I suppose, the sound could have been made by some sort of animal; but then, why did it have as powerful an effect on us as it did? Could it be that some stories strike so resonantly within humanity that they gain a real physical power over us? Could the story of the Gate have caused me to hallucinate everything that happened that night? And if so, are the power of legends given by us, the story-tellers and believers, or are they taken by the stories themselves? These are things, in my opinion, worth thinking about. To even begin to tackle such subjects, I must know if what happened is real, in the historical sense. To do that, I must find out whether or not the heads of children were posted on that ancient gate... I must find out whether the power lies in the story or in the truth behind the story. And for that, I am asking your help.
Sincerely,
Sean Ellis Dotson

P.S. I do have a couple possible ideas on how to continue the search, but they are very iffy ideas and I would have no idea how to pursue them. For instance: would there be records somewhere of the exact date the orphanage shut down? Would there be a record of why? Would it be possible (and this is a definite long shot) of tracking down any of those hundred orphans who may still be living? I know these are shots in the dark, but, hell, if I knew how to find this information myself I’d be a journalist instead of a college drop out. Thank you for your time.

Response from Slim Pictures: Wow. (a video response is coming soon)

Response from Jim MacAyeal:  Dotson's letter was the first real and more comprehensive account of The Gate in Libertyville that I had read. He had not only discovered and detailed the Upper Loop Path (called the Third Path in his letter) but he also speaks of building foundations. He goes on the account the history of the Budd Memorial Home and found the best history documentation available (History of Archdioses of Chicago Organizations). I applaud his submission and rather than repeat what he said, I shall add to it.

The Budd Memorial Home was originally owned by the Episcopalian Church and operated by the Sisters of St. Mary of the Western Province of the Protestant Episcopal Church. It officially opened June 25, 1926. It was dedicated in June 1928, two years after it opened.

Doddridge Farm, the area beyond the Home itself, was an impressive 18 building camp with running water, lamp posts, a 1200 foot well and water tower, electicity, paths and roads. The Episcopalian Church used the site for large social funcions as well as housing 100 orphans in the long rectangular dormitories. Also on site was a sizable pool (30 x 70 feet) and shower/locker area. In these early days it must have been something to see. Notable speakers and charity dance events on a large scale happened regulalry. Retreats for clergy and parishoners all over Illinois happened annually.

The 1930s, as anyone can tell you, was the era of the Great Depression. The Episcopalian Church had done as best they could to run the facility but in August 1936 it was announced that the land would be leased to the Chicago Council of the Boys Scouts of America. The trustees that decided this also stated that there was a greater need to address the youth of today who are underpriveledged (in Chicago) and that diocesan activities no longer had priority. The Scouts had the land lease-free until Jan 1, 1938 when they had the option to renew for 10 years for some amount of money. The Scouts declined.

On January 4, 1940 the land was officially transferred to the Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago to be run as a Catholic Youth Organization Camp. Bishop Bernard Sheil was in charge of this and fully intended to utilize the entire area. In late 1940 the camp gained national attention for taking in orphans from the war in Euorpe. More buildings, more paths and roads were built. 500 were now able to stay at the camp.

When Bernard Sheil was denied being a Cardinal in 1953 he stepped down and disbanded the camp. He took all of his records with him. Catholic Charities and a Brown Franciscan Order took mutual charge of the site and re-named it the St. Francis Camp for Boys. This period of time is the longest ownership of the camp. They ran things until 1975 when the Franciscan Order pulled out and moved north into Wisconsin. Charities ran the camp for girls on a limited basis until it was sold in two parts to the Lake County Forest Preserve. The area south of the camp, where Independence Grove is now, was a gravel pit and went for $460,000. The camp and woods itself went for $728,365. Construction on the site to build Independence Grove did not begin for five years.

For a multitude of reasons I began researching Doddridge Farm a few years ago. It is a painfully slow process and the sources of information are scattered. Unfortunately the only access people have to Doddridge Farm is the Des Plains trail that Dotson mentions. Walking around the woods looking for hydrants, lamp posts and building foundations is off limited. It is now a forset preserve per se and cannot be "explored." That being said, Dotson did in fact discover the path which does in fact continue in the direction west from the Gate past a fence and into the woods. That path divides and one could continue West or start walking Southwest. The West path is actually a loop, and it turns around and heads back and reconnects to the Southwest path. The Southwest path ends in a smaller loop. Other paths intersect and lead west or east. One will find buildings and other remains of the camp along these little streets.

If you simply walk through the Gate and walk to the Des Plains trail look to your left across the open field. There is a cluster of old trees in the distance all by themselves. That was the location of the Budd Home. Those trees were planted when the house went up. When you get to the Des Plains trail intersection and you can go either North or South, go South. (straight ahead past the fence is the Southwest path mentioned). You will see a fire hydrant on your left. Look very carefully on the forest floor past the hydrant as you walk. You should see at least three building foundations. When you get to an odd left curve in the path, look carefully through the bushes to the right. That is the swimming pool.

If you are truly brave, beyond the swimming pool through the woods southwest (no path here) is the well and water tower base. I ask anyone who claims to have psychic abilities to be able to even appraoch it. It is here that I have concluded that a terrible thing happened. It is also where I too heard "screams". The screams sounded unreal, like bizzare dogs fighting or something. And yes, those screams follow you. What really scared me was this happened to me in broad daylight. I actually thought it was a pissed off racoon or something, or a dog. But the sound came from a low grassy area where there was nothing. Nothing. I was alone, and I ran south to my parked car, afraid. I had been videotaping all the remains of Doddridge Farm that I could find. No, I didn't pick up anything on the videotapes. But at least I can re-view the footage without having to go there. --Jim MacAyeal, Libertyville, Il.

Response from Slim Pictures: Jim, I am curious, how did you first find out about Doddridge Farm and why did you start researching it? Apparently you've also heard about the screams. Have you encountered them yourself?

Reply from Jim: Hello Scott. Thanks for the kind reply to my submission to the Gate emails and postings.
I am a television producer for a high school district up here in Libertyville/Vernon Hills. A few years back I thought it would be an interesting idea to assign a short "historical documentary" project to my students. It was supposed to be an easy type of assignment: Do a little research, find an old photo or two, interview a local historian or older esident, and slap it together in I-Movie. To demonstrate this assignment, I chose to do a small piece on the Gate. I was amused by the notion that this place was haunted because I grew up in Libertyville and I had never heard of it. I figured the rumors began after Friday the 13th movies began coming out in 1980. My short demonstative documentary was supposed to be angled at finding the whole thing ridiculous. I have changed my mind on that matter.
I don't want to repeat my posting and such, but yes, I encounted those screams. I have also felt at times that there is some kind of heavy feeling, especially in the woods west of the site, east of the Des Plaines. I can tell you now that I do not believe in hauntings. The concept of spirits stuck on Earth for whatever reason just doesn't jive with my way of thinking. I work as a volunteer in my parish and consider myself a pretty good Catholic. But there is something. I cannot tell you what it is. In my honest opinion I feel drawn to the place with an almost love for it. I have never cared about old abandoned anythings or hauntings. Doddridge Farm is a spiritual powerhouse. It was a Christian site for 53 years. It had a chapel on the property somewhere and that is actually the latest thing that I have been focusing on. I am trying to find traces and location of that Chapel.
There is also another path, visible only in a photograph I have from the air in 1963. It starts at the north edge of the camp and goes west to the river, then south and east. I can barely make it out on Google Earth. By the way, look at Google Earth and click on Google Community. I have posted an overlay on the site from 1959.
I love the place and I don't know why. Like I said before, it is a spiritual powerhouse. I'm either obsessed or I feel like it is some kind of entity, a kindred spirit so to speak. Who knows. I can't see myself stopping the research and exploration any time soon.
Take Care and thanks for the reply! Jim MacAyeal
PS: Please exercise caution people were arrested a month ago for tresspassing around the Gate.Reply from Slim Pictures: Jim, Wow - this is my first venture into the wold of Google Maps and it's blowing me away!
I did find the 'i' icon that leads me to your post about the gate and the 1959 overlay, however I can't seem to pull it up. The link on the post that leads to GoogleMaps seems to be dead and the downloaded link that seems like it would allow me to see it in GoogleEarth simply takes me back to the same current view of the land. Is there something I'm missing or doing wrong?
Lastly, yes, I do try to remind people as often as possible no to trespass or take any actions to put themselves in harm's way, so I will make sure to make it clear that this Upper Loop Path is actually off limits.

Question: Has anyone ever caught any ghostly images at The Gate in Libertyville?

Response from Slim Pictures:  I would almost guarentee that someone has caught ghostly images on film at the gate. In fact, someone just eMailed me saying that they shot some film there a few weeks ago and they got some odd results. I am still waiting for the scans to be eMailed to me. Once they are, I will definately display them on my site.

Question: Got your book and have been reading it -- very interesting!  I'd love to find out how you managed to find out about the Libertyville Gate -- 'cause so far our research hasn't provided too much. 
 
I've also looked at some of the pictures and video from the CD-ROM.  I can't wait to take it home and see the rest.  Very interesting.  --Blake Cahoon, Amethyst Moon Bookstore in Zion, Il & www.amethystmoon.com

Response from Slim Pictures:  I'm glad you're enjoying the book.  Some of the research came from Ursula Bielski's "More Chicago Haunts," which is a good book, but can't compare to her original, which I saw you guys carry.  When I lived back there I was in the unique position to give speeches about haunted sites near to where the sites actually were.  Often after a speech people would come up to me telling me of their experiences.  When giving one speech in Libertyville, a man came to me and told me that when he bought an older used car, a sign was left in the trunk.  The sign was for the orphanage that was back in that area.  It also helps that my family was among the first to settle in Lake County, so after all these years, the family has accumulated quite a bit of local history knowledge.

Question: Scott, I read your story about a hanging ghost in an upper window of the Chicago Water Tower. It supposedly involves the worker who remained on his job protecting the Chicago water works during the October 8-9, 1871 Chicago fire & hung himself rather than die by fire.*

Do you have any information on the name of this heroic worker? Or possibly a source that has not been searched for it?

Should you not have this info, & i discover it through your assistance, I'll be glad to share it with you. --Walt McElligott, author

Response from Slim Pictures:  Walt, you can rest assured that I would have definitely included such information had I known it.   The trouble is, even though we're only talking about something a little over 100 years old -a blink of an eye, historically speaking- the amount and detail of information that gets reported is night and day compared to current news.   The other aspect that makes the worker's identity hard to decipher is the possibility that it isn't true at all.   A great thing about urban legends, which is nothing but frustrating to historians to be sure, is that sometimes it's easier to come up with a story to explain why something is seen instead of finding the truth.

If you are able to find the information, it would be an amazing coup.   I would certainly publish your findings on my web site and in future printings of my book, giving you full credit of course.   Not only that, but if you find the story to be true, we (mostly you) would be responsible for posthumously crowning a Chicago hero and that would be quite amazing.

Thanks for writing, Scott Markus