As relationships progress, you inevitably discover new things about your significant other. Well, before October rolled around, not only did I become acquainted with my boyfriend’s love for haunted houses, but I learned that this year, he’d be making me visit one.
I enjoy a good horror film, and I’m a dark ride fanatic, but I’ve shied away from haunted houses. For me, they cross into more vulnerable territory — I can’t press fast forward, nor am I confined to the safety of a Doom Buggy.
But having no say in the matter, I persuade my boyfriend to take a pre-visit, lights-on tour of one of his favorites (and one I’m well-acquainted with as a born-and-raised West Sider): The Dent Schoolhouse. And the staff is gracious enough to give us a private visit.
Lights on
Terry Rook, who has worked at the Dent Schoolhouse for a quarter of a century, greets us near the outdoor queue area. Rook gives us a brief history of the nationally ranked site. Dent was a real schoolhouse, built in 1894, and was also a machine shop and private residence throughout its existence.
We start off by touring a staff reception area, stuffed costume closet and makeup room on the building’s upper floor; a whiteboard lists the dozens of staff members’ positions for the night, and the makeup room is filled with retired masks and all the tools you could ever want for making fake wounds. Near the manager’s office, I spot racks of out-of-circulation haunted house-focused magazines they’ve used for inspiration.
Rook then takes us scene-to-scene, showing us the behind-the-scenes of the scares that the attraction’s varied environments and 60-70 actors help facilitate: piped-in smells, painstaking attention to world-building details, compressed air-powered jumpscares, a handful of Easter eggs (I’m not revealing anything). He also shows us sets of interconnected hallways that can take actors between scenes or hide them for scares via seemingly innocuous holes in the walls. Something that caught my eye? Harnesses (four total!) for actors who deliver their scares from above.
He also dives into some scare methodology, much of which is designed to totally disorient guests. I was especially fascinated by intentional shifts from brightly lit spaces to dark ones, leaving no time for your eyes to adjust. Rook also points out that different thematic elements, from gore to clowns to evil teachers, will have varying degrees of scariness for guests.
“We run the buffet,” he says.
I notice that I’m already on edge; Rook assures me there’ll be no scares on the tour (although he does take the opportunity to jump scare me when I lean in to observe the details on a hanging dummy — well played), yet I’m still peering around every corner.
“I’m embarrassing myself,” I whisper to my boyfriend.
“You are,” he teases, audibly.
Legend holds that school custodian Charlie McFree was responsible for a series of student disappearances throughout the ‘40s and ‘50s (whether this legend is total fiction is somewhat inconclusive, according to Rook, who has done his own research). You find out what happened to these children on your visit — I walked through scenes liable to make me queasy just thinking about them.
Before we conclude, as speakers come to life with spooky ambiance ahead of Dent’s opening for the night, I ask Rook what advice he’d give to (very) wary folks like me.
“Know where you’re going,” Rook says. “This is one of the safest haunts in the nation, and we’re a no-touch haunt. So if you’re very on edge, know that you’re safe.”
Lights off
An hour before we’re scheduled to experience Dent for real, I’m picking at my Ron’s Roost. I’m terrified. My boyfriend, while reassuring from the get-go, also says it’s not too late to turn back.
About three hours later, after standing in Dent’s infamously long line, there is no turning back. There were totally unphased 8-year-olds in line; I’m sure I can handle it.
And I do handle it. Loudly. To the couple walking behind us, I’m sorry.
I screamed in a way (and pitch) I didn’t recognize. While I tried to make a mental tally of the jumpscares during the tour, I still got got. I knew what to expect in some places, but with the lights off, and new sounds and smells added to the mix, it was a whole different playing field.
But I also discovered a new type of exhilaration. My glass-shattering screams were more often than not followed by my own cackles (and my boyfriend’s). I went from being totally freaked out to instantaneously remembering it’s all fake. And I think some actors had just as much fun — a few vocally encouraged me to scream louder. I delivered.
My much more stoic boyfriend had a blast too, as we alternated forcing each other to go first into each room (I usually won out).
My boyfriend thinks that I wouldn’t have made it through without the tour, and I can’t say I disagree. With this being my first experience, I was very lucky. I had a spectacular tour guide, a talented team ensuring I was scared and someone beside me to make sure I didn’t get too freaked out.
And so my own advice? Take the lights-on tour, if you can. Know your limits, but don’t be afraid to push them. And, if you’re lucky enough, go with someone who’ll let you bury your face in their WEBN t-shirt as you conquer your fears, room by room and hand-in-hand.
The Dent Schoolhouse, 5963 Harrison Ave., Dent. More info: dentschoolhouse.com.
This story is featured in CityBeat’s Oct. 15 print edition.
This article appears in Oct. 15-28.