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 thefallen2@gmail.com 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The horrors of the supernatural have been replaced by the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