Raising the Dead - PMBP

For the Practical Magic Blog party, I thought I’d dabble on a subject raised in the film. I always really loved the part when Jillian and Sally try to raise Jimmy, Jillian’s psychotic boyfriend, from the dead after poisoning him with Deadly Nightshade (classiest of the poisoning substances). Besides being an absurdly bad decision to resurrect someone trying to murder you, the spell looked rather easy, and I've always longed for a Zombie of my very own!


Skip to the 4:00 mark to get to the good stuff.

A closer look at the ingredients that the producers/scriptwriters felt would, in combination, bring life to the dead reveal some pretty standard deep magic materials. Blue sage, Madagoria (Mandrake root), Henbane (another poisonous herb) and lots of beeswax candles are among the decipherable ingredients. Then there is a lot of gesturing, tricks with the tongue and whip cream, and the delightful sticking of needles in the eyes of the dead.

So, I decided to see how much this little song and dance that ends badly for all involved has in common with other methods of raising the dead. In order to do that, I needed to actually find other methods of raising the dead. Luckily for me and every other seeker of the obscure, there is Google.

E-How Method: How to Raise the Dead

Ah! There truly is an E-How for everything. This helpful little gem suggested many paths to follow for emptying out the grave, and with very little overhead needed. For its voodoo method, all that is needed is a puffer fish (the really poisonous fugu) ground up into powder and tested on someone who may or may not die from ingestion (if they do, you can resurrect them next). E-how also suggests you try your psychic abilities after dousing the corpse with animal blood, or perform your own free-style incantation in the garden of good and evil. Loud music and consistent shocking with electrical currents are also viable options. Warnings consist of brain-eating Zombies and making sure the subject is actually dead before you perform any resurrection work on them, as you may just end up killing them and creating more work for yourself.





Randy Demain - Crazy Christian Method

According to evangelist and Youtube-proclaimed whack job Randy Demain, westerners have made this Jesus-commanded act of resurrecting the dead too difficult. Randy proclaims that he raised aUgandan folks from the dead. After being rudely interrupted while in the middle delivering “The Message” to a congregation, Randy was shown to the stiff body of a woman in the tall grass. In his vexation over being interrupted just to be shown some dead woman, he commanded the woman to live in the name of the Lord, because he needed to get back to his congregation. The dead woman abided, was brought back to the compound where she stole money and ran off before being converted.



Witchcraft method:

Surprisingly (or not, if you are at all familiar with Witchcraft), there are no methods for raising the dead that Google can reveal. Wiccans and Pagans almost categorically condemn the idea of violating nature in such a way. But then there is that little thing called Necromancy. Sure, most modern witches don’t touch the stuff, and the very root of the world means black magic. But it’s still a category and perhaps my last best hope for getting that Pet Zombie I’ve kinda always wanted.




Practiced all the way back to antiquity, Necromancy can be found throughout ancient Europe, notably in Greek mythology. The ancient Necromancer was pretty hardcore about his craft, wearing dead people’s clothing and even engaging in a little cannibalism (hopefully only of those they weren’t bringing back to life). They also had strict scheduling policies: bodies could be raised up to 12 months after death. Afterwards only the spirit could be summoned. A classic afterlife warranty program.




In medieval Europe, resurrection was linked with Demonology and Astrology (via Arabic influences), and was practiced by highly-educated members of the lower Christian clergy, not Witches. Offering sacrifices and invoing various demons, these necromantic rites mingled the occult with Christian and Jewish tradition and were considered prayers as opposed to witchcraft by ecclesiastical authorities. The Munich Manual is a Bavarian grimiore of the 15th century that outlines rites and general information on demonology and prayer. It has not been published in modern English.

Burn.

Well, so much for the fantasies inspired by Practical Magic. As far as the Google Gods can say, I will never really be able to get my pet zombie or raise my childhood dog from the grave. So I’ll stick to watching Jimmy Angelov be resurrected only to choke out Nicole Kidman and be buried under the rosebushes. Or I’ll just keep killing and resuscitating house flies. That’s a start, right?




As part of the Practical Magic Blog Party, I'm giving all readers 20% off any purchase through Monday at My October Country's Etsy Store. Just convo me on Etsy with "Raising the Dead" after purchasing to be refunded the 20%!

Scoring the Dead – Three Film Composers to Start October

A sudden noise in the silence may be a more realistic soundtrack to things that make us dread and jump, but we’ve had plenty of great modern film composers tighten the tension of horror movies and ghostly films. Some of them make their career on haunting the films released around October (obvious geniuses like John Carpenter's theme to Halloween or Titular Bells from The Exorcist; others have dabbled occasionally and gotten it oh-so-right.

John Debney

The Halloween Tree 1993 – This isn’t a terror tale, but any story brought to you by the immaculate Ray Bradbury (Hanna Barbera or not), is sure to please. I watch this film every year as a great romp through the Halloween atmosphere of my past, and of the world’s past. Getting by the films kitsch and just loving it for what it is, great storytelling mixed with decent animation backgrounds and a beautiful score my John Debney makes this an October must. If you like that, dance on through the cemetery to Hocus Pocus, Disney’s 1993 Salem Witch fantasy, which again is pure candy with a whimsical score.



James Newton Howard

This guy cut his teeth early on nail-biters like Flatliners and Alive (a movie I still can’t watch). But it wasn’t until 1999 when he scored The Sixth Sense that he showed up on my radar. His music is utterly haunting, but unlike Debney or Elfman, Howard really utilizes atmospherics more than catchy themes to place the audience in the right frame of mind. His music is streamlined, with just the hint of a theme that asserts itself when ever the supernatural is confronted. The melody is mysterious (which it must be), and just a little sad around the edges, just a touch of grief.



Danny Elfman

Really couldn’t do this list without him. He is Hollywood’s master of macabre melodies, and permanently attached to the hip with Tim Burton. Early works like Batman, A Nightmare Before Christmas and Edward Scissorhands are fun romps that suggest fairytale more than supernatural (and rightly so!). But Elfman didn’t really show up on my radar until 1998’s Sleepy Hollow. Perhaps it’s the combination of Burton’s interpretation of a colonial haunting and Elfman’s atmospheric tension, but this hits all notes for me. Much like Jerry Goldsmith in Poltergeist, Elfman uses innocent sounding melodies and children’s choirs to underscore the sinister. And all the while, he keeps a murkiness to the mood. It’s a score as overcast and foggy as the scenery.



I also give Elfman Kudos for composing the original opening theme to the Simpsons. Here’s a little Halloween rendition he contributed to a later season.


Also, if you are craving something a little less Hollywood, but still fun and atmospheric, Try Nox Arcana. Deliciously atmospheric in the vein of each of the above composers, but their music is open-ended. Warning, you might be accused of listening to a Halloween sound effects album… No shame it that!




Cheers!

~E.

The Haunting of History

Ghost stories and urban legends sometimes mix and become interchangeable, but they’re general makeup is decidedly different. Urban legends often dance around a fantastic but possible situation, usually encompassing a warning for society (ie don’t pick up strangers in your car, don’t be a slut with your boyfriend in the woods, don’t pee in the sink at rich person’s house, ect.). But ghost stories, I feel, are more complex, and tap into something deeper than you garden variety fairy tale or urban legend. More than anything, ghosts are the manifestations of history. Whether real or imagined, the phantom represents something bygone and out of place, a reminder of our history that exists outside the books.

This was brought home to me this week when reading about the discovery at Duffy’s Cut, an area of tracks laid down in 1832 for the Philadelphia and Columbia Railroad. An ongoing project to excavate and investigate the construction and subsequent massacre in this small stretch of woodland Malvern, Pennsylvania has yielded significant and sinister finds. Fifty-seven Irish immigrant laborers were hired to work on the railroad, and all perished within two months, allegedly victims of the cholera pandemic that was sweeping through the area in 1832. Pieces of a mass grave have been uncovered in recent years, with evidence that the dead were killed violently instead of virulently.


The site’s investigators, twin brothers Frank and William Watson, encountered the incident at Duffy’s Cut first as ghost story. Their grandfather, who worked for the railroad, spun yarns about ghosts dancing over the Irishmen graves. Other portions of the event reemerged with inaccurate faces in Malvern’s local folklore, but the ghost stories stayed with the brothers. After their grandfather’s death, the brother’s inherited his papers and began their investigation with the backing of Imaculata University, discovering bones and more evidence of murder than cholera.

What grabs me is how the ghost story operated as a marker for history. Where other portions of the story dissolved into inaccurate legend, the ghost story served as a historical marker which may in the end bring the closest interpretation of what really happened at Duffy’s Cut.

We see other cases of this in places like Gettysburg, and the plantations of the Old South. The Myrtles Plantation where the slave Chloe, accidental murderess, is said to have poisoned her master’s wife and children before being lynched by her own people. While historians can find so record of such a slave at the Myrtles plantation, the story serves to point out the valid and violent history of the antebellum south, and the realities of plantation life. We see it again at the Joshua Ward House in Salem, MA, where an alleged haunting marks the true history of execution, torture and corruption carried out by a town that turned on its own people.


Even more telling for me is where ghost stories do not appear, the very best example being the Holocaust. While there are vague reports of cold spots, feelings of overwhelming sorrow and fear for visitors of the Nazi death camps (who would not feel overwhelming sorrow there?), there are no popular stories of hauntings and no investigations are conducted there. This is mostly due out of respect for the dead and the sanctity of these memorials. Ghost stories, as well as being markers of history, are entertainment, and we don’t want to trivialize the holocaust by making it a source of amusement. But perhaps there is something deeper. Where such history is remembered and marked, no ghost story is needed. We don’t require a phantom appearance to remind us what happened at the camps and elsewhere to millions of Europeans. We remember well enough already. So perhaps, no matter what you believe about ghosts, their sightings and stories are representations of what we’ve left behind and, from time to time, need to remember.

Eerie on Etsy

I love weird stuff. I especially love weird handmade stuff, which is why I want to focus for a moment on the grand creepiness that can be found via, the handmade mecca of the internet Etsy. A romp through the poisoned garden there can yield some truly freaky finds. Here's some of my recent wishlist items


Hand Engraved Spooky Glass

These four lovelies are a great combo of traditional spooky images with just enough of the grotesque to make them seasonally elegant. I, however, wouldn't wait for Halloween to light up these pretties.


Sleepy Hollow Inn Primitive Sign

This artisan has actually moved off Etsy, but the work speaks for itself. There is no kind of spooky like the classical spooky. These works are a good mix of folk art and heritage that call to mind America's earliest haunts.



Vintage Sheet Music

I don't know about you, but vintage art and photography freaks me out rather nicely.


Boston Cemetery at Dusk
This one doesn't quite qualify for "wishlist" status, since I was able to purchase it. But the artist has a great eye for the sepia-ed macabre. What better subject than historic Boston.


EVIL THOUGHTS Necklace

I'm not sure what I like better, the display photo of the necklace. Sillycuts has fantastic jewelry, though some of it may not be for everyday wear (unless you're part of the goth community). The amount of detail and work is evident and I love the feelings the piece invokes. Both elegant and twisted

Grave Bells and Bombs

Taphophobia, or the fear of being buried alive, is common fear today, though often classified as irrational. Outside of murder and perhaps even the Lazarus Effect, there is little risk of premature burial in the era of modern medicine. Such was not the case in earlier centuries. Cases of premature burial range back to the 13th century and were exacerbated in the 18th and 19th century, where the prevention of such a grisly fate became an area of industry.

Historians credit the repeated cholera pandemics of the 19th century as compounding people’s fears about premature burial. Some of the earliest designs of preventative burial techniques, or safety coffins, were created in the late 18th century, and early 19th century. These early designs fitted coffins with signals attached to the corpse, a bell or a flag, that could be used to alert those above ground that the grave contained a live person. Many of these designs were imperfect, neither taking into account how decaying bodies shift and can set off the signal, nor providing oxygen to the person. Should someone be mistakenly buried, they weren’t likely to live long.

Those living in the 19th century had little left to the imagination when it came to the prospect of premature burial. Historic accounts of 13th century Johannas Duns Scotus, whose disinterred remains were found outside his coffin with evidence of clawing and torn fingers, and the imaginings of Edgar Allan Poe, whose work showed a particular preoccupation with the subject, easily fueled the public’s fear. Living in an era of mourning (One of Queen Victoria’s deepest influences on the period) and less than modern medical advancements, Victorians lived fairly closed to death. Poverty increased this familiarity in Europe and America. In the East End of London (notably during the reign of Jack the Ripper), approximately 50% of children died before the age of five. The many cholera pandemics of the 19th century caused such frequent and supposed “sure” deaths that many where buried alive, put in wooden coffins so expediently that they could be heard kicking to get out, and often left to die.

Industry and redesigns to prevent being buried alive ran through into the 20th century. Aristocrats and wealthy businessmen often financed elaborate devices to save them from the terrible fate. Safety coffins also spawned special burial vaults that could be opened from the inside by those trapped within. One created for businessman Martin Sheets of Indiana in 1910 was wired with a telephone inside, so he might call his relatives to open the vault should he be mistakenly entombed. The coffins themselves developed varied designs throughout the period, including ones where a tube leading down to the casket could deliver air to the imprisoned beneath and the smell of decay to the local pastor, who would be obliged to check for evidence of death. Other designs included a window and trapdoor that would give evidence of decay, and then drop the corpse down into the grave.

Though the fear is diminished today, there are still commercial solutions within the funerary business to allay the fears of any customer. If you are worried about being buried before your time, arrangements for an alarm system, probably more automated than its ancestors, can be installed.




While Victorians were concerned with being trapped in the grave, equally disturbing was the need to protect what was in the grave. Grave robbing, or more accurately, body snatching, was a problem in the 18th and 19th century. The burgeoning medical field needed a supply of study cadavers, but cutting up the human body was sacrilegious and decidedly illegal. Body snatchers, or ressurectionists, could make a good living off supplying medical schools with the dead for dissection. Demand and methods used to prevent body snatching led to murders, as ressurectionists were paid more for fresher corpses. The result was the Anatomy Act that was passed in 1832, allowing for dissection in Great Britain, before that supply was dependant on executed criminals.
The US took a different approach to deterrence, developing a grave torpedo. Post civil war, the number of medical colleges in the US nearly doubled and the competition between these programs increased cadaver demand, but the US was not the UK, and supplies were still satisfied by either by the legal use of executed convicts, or the black market. The public outcry spawned the grave torpedo, essentially a spring activated bomb buried with the coffin.

Filled with lead balls and gunpowder, moderate disturbance of the grave triggered the torpedo, and the body snatcher might find himself on the dissection table. Patented in 1881, the grave torpedo was in use until laws relaxed in the US and legal cadavers met the supply of the growing medical education market. But there is no telling how many bombs might be buried in 19th century graves across the U.S. Tread lightly.

Food for the Dead – Vampires in Rhode Island

The first case of New World vampirism I was ever exposed to was that of Nellie Vaughn, who died of pneumonia in 1889 at age 19. The loose facts of this case were given in the book The New England Ghost Files by Charles Turek Robinson; the entry mostly revolved around Nellie’s ghost supposedly haunting the West Greenwich Cemetery where she is buried.

The account depicts the classic ghost rendering of a woman dressed in fashion from another period, interacting with visitors to the graveyard and generally behaving oddly before evaporating. The proposed impetus for the haunting is that Nellie was at the time of her death believed to be a vampire, and the ghost is trying to clear its name. The engraving on the headstone “I am watching and waiting for you”, adds an extra, sinister element to the atmosphere. But ghosts aside, there is actual history surrounding Nellie Vaughn, and what’s most interesting is not just that the accusation of vampirism is false; it’s also a case of mistaken identity.

Three years after Nellie’s death, in rural Exeter, Rhode Island, Mercy Brown, also age 19, died of Tuberculosis and was buried on the grounds of the Exeter Baptist Church. She was the third member of the Brown family to die of consumption in a handful of years. Both her mother Mary and sister Mary Olive had died in preceding years. At the time of her death, Mercy’s brother Edwin was suffering from the endemic disease. Prior to global acceptance of a vaccine in the 1940s, it was not uncommon for consumption to wipe out large portions of or sometimes entire families.


Though it was understood by the 1880s that TB was a contagious disease, it seems the folklore of Rhode Island won out in the case of Mercy Brown. To these good country folk, consumption was more of a spiritual disease, and when the sickness began working its way through a family, blame was placed on the already dead members of the family as opposed to the germ. Those already taken down were believed to be sapping the life force of those still living, causing their consumption from the grave. It was decided that this was what had killed Mercy, and what was now killing her brother Edwin, a literal vampirism.

There were prescribed measures for defeating this kind of vampirism, but evidence was needed first. George Brown and several other townspeople exhumed the bodies of Mary, Mary Olive and Mercy in March of 1892 (Mercy had been buried in January). Both mother and sister were in advanced stages of decomposition, but Mercy’s body showed little signs of it (hardly surprising since she was buried in winter and exhumed before the spring thaw).

Folklore states that the body had turned over in the grave, and the most telling evidence was that there was still blood in Mercy’s heart. It was concluded that she was a vampire, and responsible for her brother’s illness. To save Edwin, George Brown had Mercy’s heart cut out and burned on a stone. The ashes were then mixed with water and fed to Edwin. This was believed to end the vampiric hold Mercy had on the family. She was again buried in the church yard. Edwin followed her two months later.

In 1967, a Coventry school teacher told his students about the case, possibly without mentioning names or specific places. It’s likely that the students, in trying to locate the vampire’s grave, decided that Nellie Vaughn’s grave fit the bill (due to the sinister interpretation of the headstone engraving). Reports of ghostly activity vary, including no grass growing near the stone. This is hardly surprising considering the amount of traffic the grave receives thanks to the local vampire legend. The cemetery is now a hub for occult activity and vandalism. Because of repeated attempts by visitors to exhume Nellie’s body, her stone was removed. Area historians, caretakers, town officials and law enforcement do what they can to discourage interest (since it so often leads to vandalism) and to correct the inaccuracies in local history.

Mercy Brown’s grave is also frequently chipped and scarred, with objects littering the area around the stone. Her story is well publicized now, reported on by Yankee Magazine, and the subject of an (excellent) book by folklorist Michael Bell of Vampire Grasp (see Food for the Dead: On the Trail of the New England Vampire). Even more fascinating, Mercy isn’t the only Vampire in Rhode Island. There are other cases, even outside the New England area. Given the deeply rooted superstitions of rural America, there may be vampires everywhere in our country.

Amun Her Kepesh-ef of Egypt and Middlebury, VT

A lot of us have beheld Egyptian royalty, usual on display at a traveling or permanent museum exhibition. But most have never seen the final resting place of any of the Egyptian monarchy, Unless you’ve visited the West Cemetery in Middlebury, VT. While some pharaohs and their progeny are allowed to remain in their tombs, others lie in state under thick glass, viewable for admission.

But in the 19th century, archeology had more in common with grave robbing than it (arguably) does today. Many of ancient Egypt’s relics were plundered from tombs and sold in the West to museums, university, collectors, or anyone else who would pay. Henry Sheldon, the eccentric collector and founder of his own Vermont museum and house of attraction, was such a man. He became the owner of the mummified body of two-year old Amun Her Kepesh-ef (not to be confused with the second child of Nefretiti by the same name).

Purchasing the mummy sight-unseen in the 1890s, Sheldon was reportedly so disappointed with its condition that he never displayed it, but sent it to his attic archive where it wasn’t discovered until well after his death in 1945. It was discovered after years of fluxuating Vermont weather had caused the body to decompose. The then-curator of the museum George Mead had the remains cremated and given a “Christian Burial” in his own family plot in Middlebury. The headstone bears both the Christian cross and Egyptian ba and ankh. Mead was clearly playing both sides of the spiritual fence here.

In researching, Mead discovered that the King’s tomb had been raided by grave robbers in the mid 1800s, before archeologists could unearth it, and the child’s body had been pawned throughout the antiquities circuit until it reached Paris, and then to the United States. His father, Sen Woset III, ruled during the 12th Dynasty during the middle Kingdom some 4,000 years ago. The tombstone indicates that the child died in 1883 B.C, which was about six years before his father became Pharaoh. His mother is not officially listed as one of Sen Woset’s consorts, nor Kepesh-ef as one of his children, perhaps because he was born and died before his father’s reign. The tombstone reads.

Amun Her Kepesh-ef
2 Years Old
Son of Sen Woset III, King of Egypt and Hator Hopte
Died 1883 B.C.

And if you want to see it, you can just visit rural Vermont. No visa required.