Buckingham Fountain

To understand the hauntings around Buckingham Fountain, one must first understand the magnitude of the tragedy that occurred just blocks away on July 24, 1915 - a disaster that claimed more lives than the Great Chicago Fire and remains Chicago's deadliest single event.

July 24, 1915, began as a day of excitement and anticipation. The Western Electric Company, one of Chicago's largest employers, had chartered several ships to take employees and their families across Lake Michigan to Michigan City, Indiana, for the company's annual summer picnic.

The SS Eastland, along with four other ships, was docked along the Chicago River between Clark and LaSalle streets. By 6:30 AM, thousands of people - workers, their spouses, and excited children dressed in their finest clothes - crowded onto the Eastland, eager to claim the best spots on the ship.

The Eastland had a troubled history. The ship had always been unstable, sitting too high in the water and listing dangerously even in calm conditions. Naval architects had repeatedly warned that the ship was unsafe, particularly when crowded with passengers. But on this bright summer morning, those warnings were forgotten in the excitement of the day ahead.

By 7:10 AM, the Eastland was packed beyond capacity with 2,572 passengers - families, friends, and co-workers in a festive mood. The ship began listing to one side as passengers crowded to the port side. Crew members tried to correct the list by adjusting ballast, but the ship was fundamentally unstable.

At 7:28 AM, without warning and while still tied to the dock, the Eastland slowly rolled onto its side in just 20 feet of water. The disaster happened so quickly that hundreds of passengers below deck had no chance to escape. They were crushed against walls and furniture, trapped in air pockets, or drowned as water rushed in through portholes and doorways.

On deck, hundreds more were thrown into the river. Many couldn't swim. Women's heavy skirts and petticoats dragged them down. Children were torn from parents' arms by the current. Witnesses described the water as thick with struggling bodies, the air filled with screams for help that would haunt survivors for the rest of their lives.

Heroic efforts by nearby workers, sailors, and bystanders saved hundreds. People smashed through the ship's hull with axes and sledgehammers to reach those trapped inside. Tugboat crews and police boats pulled drowning victims from the water. Local businesses opened their doors as makeshift hospitals and morgues.

But for 844 people - 844 mothers, fathers, children, sisters, brothers, friends - rescue came too late. The morgue at the 2nd Regiment Armory became a scene of unspeakable grief as families searched rows upon rows of bodies for their loved ones.

Whole families were wiped out. Twenty-two entire families lost all their members. One woman lost her husband, all six of her children, her brother, and her sister. Another lost her four daughters. The Western Electric workforce was devastated - entire departments disappeared in a single morning.

The disaster received widespread coverage for a few days, but then news from World War I pushed it from the front pages. The Eastland disaster became Chicago's forgotten tragedy, a wound that never properly healed because the city never fully acknowledged it.

Unlike the Titanic or other famous maritime disasters, the Eastland tragedy faded from public consciousness relatively quickly. There was no famous monument, no major memorial, no annual remembrance for decades. The victims' families grieved in private, many unable to speak of the horror they'd witnessed.

But paranormal researchers note that unacknowledged tragedy often creates the most persistent hauntings. When trauma isn't properly mourned, when the dead aren't properly honored, the spiritual wounds remain open. The victims of the Eastland, especially the children who died in their Sunday best on what should have been a day of joy, seem unable to rest.

And their presence is felt most strongly not at the river's edge where the ship capsized, but in the surrounding area - particularly around Grant Park and Buckingham Fountain, where phantom figures in old-fashioned clothing appear on summer mornings, forever dressed for a picnic they'll never attend.

Buckingham Fountain was built in 1927, twelve years after the Eastland disaster, in Grant Park along the shore of Lake Michigan. The fountain was a gift to the city from Kate Buckingham in memory of her brother Clarence.

Designed by Edward H. Bennett and sculptor Marcel Loyau, Buckingham Fountain was inspired by the Latona Fountain at Versailles, though it's nearly twice the size. The fountain uses 1.5 million gallons of water and features elaborate displays where the central jet can shoot water 150 feet into the air.

The fountain quickly became one of Chicago's premier attractions and a symbol of the city's commitment to public art and beauty. Its location in Grant Park, along the lakefront, made it a natural gathering place for residents and tourists alike.

But the fountain sits less than a mile from where the Eastland capsized. And paranormal researchers note that water has long been considered a conductor for spiritual energy. The massive amounts of water circulating through Buckingham Fountain, combined with its proximity to the disaster site, may create a kind of spiritual vortex - a place where the boundary between past and present, living and dead, becomes unusually thin.

The paranormal activity around Buckingham Fountain and the nearby riverfront is extensive and well-documented. Unlike some hauntings that seem random or scattered, the phenomena here consistently point to the Eastland disaster and its victims.

The most frequently reported apparitions around Buckingham Fountain are children dressed in old-fashioned summer clothing from the early 1900s - boys in knickers and suspenders, girls in white dresses with ribbons and bows. They appear most often on summer mornings, particularly in July.

Witnesses describe seeing these children playing near the fountain or running through Grant Park, laughing and calling to each other. They look completely solid and real until viewers notice their clothing or the strange, slightly faded quality to their appearance - as if they're not quite in focus with the rest of the world.

When approached, these phantom children often turn and smile at witnesses before fading away. Some reports describe them holding hands with adults dressed in period clothing, families frozen in time on their way to a picnic that became a nightmare.

Park workers and police officers patrolling the area in early morning hours have reported hearing children's laughter and the sounds of playing when the park is empty. Some describe the heartbreaking experience of hearing a child crying, searching for the source, and finding no one there - just the echo of grief from over a century ago.

One recurring apparition has been reported so frequently that paranormal researchers have given her a specific designation. Witnesses describe a woman in her thirties wearing an Edwardian-era dress and hat, walking through Grant Park with an expression of desperate urgency.

She appears to be searching for something - or someone - calling out names that witnesses describe as old-fashioned: "Willie! Bessie! Mary!" Her voice sounds distant and echoing, as if coming from underwater or across a great distance.

When people try to help her or ask what she's looking for, she looks through them as if they don't exist, continuing her frantic search. In some accounts, she's seen walking toward the fountain, her hands outstretched as if reaching for children just beyond her grasp.

Paranormal researchers believe this is the ghost of one of the mothers who lost children in the Eastland disaster, eternally searching for the little ones swept away from her in the chaos and terror of that morning. Her inability to acknowledge living witnesses suggests she's trapped in a loop, replaying her worst moment for eternity.

Along the Chicago River, particularly near where the Eastland capsized (now marked by a plaque on the riverwalk), witnesses report seeing crowds of people in period clothing gathered along the riverbank. These phantom crowds appear most frequently on July 24th - the anniversary of the disaster - but have been reported at other times as well.

The figures appear to be waiting, talking excitedly among themselves, gesturing toward the river as if watching for approaching ships. Some witnesses have reported seeing them wave and then suddenly disappear, as if blinking out of existence all at once.

People walking the riverwalk late at night have reported hearing sounds that seem to come from 1915:

• Excited conversation in period slang and accents
• Children's voices asking "When will the ship leave?"
• A woman singing a song popular in the 1910s
• The sound of a ship's horn, followed by screaming

These audio phenomena are particularly disturbing to witnesses because the sounds build in excitement and then suddenly cut off or turn to chaos - as if replaying the moment the celebration turned to disaster.

Perhaps the most unsettling reports around Buckingham Fountain involve figures that appear to be soaking wet, standing near the fountain or along the lakefront paths, dripping water that leaves no puddles.

Witnesses describe these figures as wearing old-fashioned clothing that clings to their bodies as if waterlogged. Their hair hangs in wet strands. Water streams from their clothes. Yet when observers look down to see the puddles that should be forming at their feet, there's nothing there.

These dripping figures never speak or acknowledge witnesses. They simply stand, staring at the fountain or toward the lake, as if trying to comprehend something. Some witnesses report an overwhelming feeling of sadness and confusion emanating from these spirits.

In a few particularly disturbing accounts, witnesses have described seeing these figures reaching toward the fountain's water as if drawn to it, or seeing them walk into the fountain's pool and vanish beneath the surface - souls that drowned decades ago, perhaps seeking the water as the last thing they remember.

Beyond specific apparitions, many people report a general sense of sadness and oppression in the area around the fountain and riverfront, particularly during summer mornings. Visitors describe:

• Sudden, overwhelming feelings of grief or panic with no identifiable cause
• A sense of being watched by many unseen eyes
• Difficulty breathing, as if the air is too heavy
• An urge to leave the area immediately, despite the beautiful setting
• Hearing whispers or crying on the edge of perception
• Seeing movements in peripheral vision that disappear when looked at directly

Sensitive individuals and professional psychics who've visited the area describe it as "spiritually heavy" - a place where the veil between worlds is thin and the weight of tragedy presses down on the living. Some report feeling as if they're standing in two times at once, seeing the modern park overlaid with images of the disaster scene.

Interestingly, these feelings of oppression often lift suddenly, as if walking from one room into another. The boundary seems to be roughly defined by the fountain and the river, with the strongest activity concentrated between them.

The fountain itself seems to be involved in paranormal activity. Maintenance workers and park staff have reported:

• The fountain running when it should be turned off, particularly in winter when it's drained
• Water pressure fluctuations that don't correspond to mechanical issues
• The fountain's lights creating patterns that aren't part of the programmed displays
• Electronic equipment malfunctioning near the fountain - cameras draining batteries, phones freezing, recording devices picking up static or voices
• Electromagnetic field anomalies detected around the fountain and along the path to the river

Some paranormal researchers theorize that the spirits of drowning victims are drawn to the fountain's water, seeing it as a connection to their final moments. Others suggest that the massive volume of circulating water creates a kind of energy that allows spirits to manifest more easily.

Whatever the mechanism, the fountain appears to be a focal point for the paranormal activity in the area, serving as a beacon or gathering place for the restless dead of the Eastland disaster.