Editor’s note: Here is the remainder of letters from our readers on their most notable Halloween memories. Due to the significant volume we received, these letters are online only.)
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When I think of the ghosts of Halloween past, I think of my mom, a single mother whose Halloween spirit visited every October, with creative costumes made for her two little girls.
As soon as our town’s Halloween costume contest was announced, she went to work on costumes for my sister and me. The year she turned us into a mouse (my sister) and cheese (me in a box), we were winners. I was only 4, but I protested. Trick-or-treating in a box was not easy.
So the next year, we were much more mobile. She turned us into cannibals with our faces covered in nylon stockings, adorned with soup bones tied on top. Looked great, but we got chased by dogs.
The next year, 1956, was a political year, and Mom made giant campaign buttons for us to wear. We flipped a coin, and I got to be Adlai Stevenson. I was excited, since my mom was a Democrat. My sister felt lower than a candidate ranking at the bottom of the polls.
Unfortunately, I found out that our neighborhood was a Republican hotbed. Dwight Eisenhower got twice as much candy as Stevenson, and at some houses, this sad and forlorn 6-year-old was turned away with nothing at all.
1960 was a memorable year. I slammed my Buster Brown shoe to the floor and insisted that I go as something traditional, like a hobo.
Taking old clothes from my grandpa, my mom made a costume that fit my 10-year-old body perfectly. She took one look at me and decided that she needed to add some straw at the neck to make the look more authentic. Then she carved out a pumpkin, turned it into a jack-o’-lantern and placed it over my head. It was a great addition, but the pumpkin was so heavy and painful that I had to go home early, limiting my candy take.
Although I was a pro with a glue gun, my sewing skills were limited.
When I had kids, they asked to go to the store and buy their costumes. I happily complied with their request. Luckily, they never experienced pain, or loss of candy.
And most importantly, they never got chased by dogs.
— Sammi Maier King, Batavia
Creative use of a vacuum
My mom was a lot of fun, and it was never more evident than on Halloween. In the mid-1950s, one night stands out from all the rest. Mom took her upright vacuum cleaner and set it on our front porch. After removing the dust bag, she put a white sheet over the top of the vacuum and secured it with a rubber band. Next, the cord was fed under the front door and plugged in.
When trick-or-treaters came up the steps, Mom flipped the switch, the vacuum made a scary noise and the sheet flew all over. The kids’ screams were deafening as they tried to escape the “Vacuum Cleaner Ghost.” Then the porchlight was turned on and the candy was distributed.
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A good time was had by all.
— Lynn Gavin Hopman, Northbrook
It pays to keep Mom happy
In 1950s Chicago, trick-or-treating was paradise! We were in elementary school, and we would comb our South Side neighborhood. Sometimes, we would have to stop home to unload our booty and pick up a fresh bag before heading out for more.
Chicago elementary schools would have Halloween parties for the students on Halloween afternoon. We would go home at lunchtime, change into our Halloween costumes and head back to school to party with our classmates all afternoon. Of course, this was just the appetizer for trick-or-treating.
In those days, there weren’t all the easy and carefree fabrics for clothing that are on the market today. Our mothers had to iron most of what we wore to school. I developed a bad habit of not hanging my clothes when I was changing and in a hurry. When I arrived home from school that afternoon, all psyched up to get out and do some serious trick-or-treating, my mother greeted me with a big smile and asked if I had fun at the school party. Of course I did. “Good” she replied, “because you’re not going trick-or-treating.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. What could I have done to warrant such cruel and unusual punishment? When I came home at lunchtime and changed into my Halloween costume, I threw my school clothes on the bed and forgot to hang them up. Well, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Mom.
I watched with great sadness as my siblings headed out the door to go trick-or-treating. Needless to say, I never forgot to hang up my clothes again.
— Rocco P. Lotesto, Chicago
Treat bags with a lot of care
My late sister, Rosann Semkiu, was the most amazing and fun woman at Halloween. Her home in the Kylemore Green subdivision in Des Plaines was the house to trick-or-treat at in the entire neighborhood! She absolutely loved the tradition of neighbors and their children showing up for treats.
While everyone else bought the requisite bags of Snickers (getting smaller by the year), Smarties and miniature Hershey bars, there was Rosann. No throwing in a bunch of candy corn or Tootsie Rolls for her. She assembled treat bags that contained one of each of the above, plus a small toy or puzzle of sorts.
It was all packaged in orange and black with a hand-tied ribbon. This is what folks may do for a birthday party favor; however, making a couple hundred of these was quite an undertaking. Not only did the Kylemore kids get this, but kids from other neighborhoods were welcomed with the same generosity and enthusiasm.
My sister sat outside in a lawn chair with her goods in a basket just ready for mini-ghosts, princesses and “Star Wars” characters and commented on each child’s costume. Her goal, as she explained to me, was for every trick-or-treater, when they emptied out their loot, to know exactly where the best Halloween candy/toy came from — the Semkiu home, the lady on the corner.
I know in my heart she accomplished this and undoubtedly made many children a little more excited about looking in their “surprise” bag of candy. I miss her enthusiasm for giving to all children as well as adults.
We know she is in heaven on Halloween making treat bags for everyone, and this memory of her will always be in my thoughts when I throw a Snickers bar in a bag for my Prospect Heights neighbors.
— Nancy Stieber, Prospect Heights
We were free to run
Growing up in the 1950s was simply fun. On Halloween, we found assorted things for dressing up. A scarf or old shirt would do. Maybe our mom bought a costume in a box with a cellophane front so you could see the mask. Those were bought at the dime store. You might be a cowboy or a gypsy or a clown. Maybe even a hobo with your face scuffed with burnt cork to look unshaven. It didn’t matter.
There was no best costume award. It was just the thrill of going door to door in the neighborhood trick-or-treating.
The big find was people who gave the large-sized candy bars, or some who popped fresh corn and bagged it to hand out. You might smell the popcorn from the sidewalk and run to the front door. Some people gave pennies, dimes or apples. Some turned off the lights and didn’t answer. We never egged a house; we just moved along.
Most of all, it was the feeling of being free to run through the neighborhood for treats. We made our own fun and came home with our loot for Mom’s inspection.
It was just one day, not a month. And it was the best, it was enough and we were happy.
— Cynthia Marks, Palos Park
Happy to be a fairy princess
When I was a kid, my mother never had to worry about buying a Halloween costume for me. For seven years, I spent my Saturdays at Herrstrom School in Lincoln Square taking ballet and other classes. Every June, we had a big recital at Lane Tech High School and had custom-made costumes for our numbers.
The fancy outfit would be put away for Halloween, when I was happy to be a fairy princess every year.
— Joyce Porter, Oak Park
Sugared-up after a fun night
Growing up, Halloween was always a very big deal. My brother and I would race home from school and change into our costumes hours before it got dark. The first order of business was meeting with our neighborhood buddies to discuss a strategy for the evening. We’d then break up into twosomes, agreeing to get together again within the hour to compare notes.
Of course. some households were more generous than others, but the one that gave away 5-cent Hershey bars was by far our favorite, followed closely by the one offering popcorn balls. Our bags full, we returned home where our parents sorted through the candy — designating some to be eaten before bedtime, with the remainder going into our school lunchboxes.
I can only imagine how unhappy it made our teachers to have their students amped up on sugar following their big night out.
— Bob Ory, Elgin
An opportunity for charity
It was 1968. I was in Sister Evangelista’s seventh grade English class at Sts. Peter and Paul Catholic Grammar School in the West Pullman neighborhood. Sister, in flowing black habit, had to run a tight ship with a class of 38 students.
“The devil is riding on your back,” she’d say when we got out of hand.
She taught us more than penmanship, grammar and vocabulary. The virtue of charity was one of her favorite lessons.
A few days before Halloween, Sister Evangelista passed out orange cardboard cut-outs and instructed us on how to fold them into little boxes with slits in the top wide enough to fit a coin. The front read “Trick or Treat for UNICEF.”
“Not every child is as fortunate as you,” Sister said. “If you give away an old shirt that no longer fits, is that charity?”
“No, Sister,” we replied. We had heard this story before.
“But if you slip your last quarter in the shirt pocket before you pack it off, that’s charity.”
“Yes, Sister.”
“So, this Halloween go door to door and say, ‘Trick or Treat for UNICEF.’”
With knitted brow and a pit in my stomach, my thick, cat-eye glasses slipped down my nose. I was painfully shy, the kind of kid who crossed the street to avoid saying “Hi” to a neighbor. The thought of knocking on someone’s door and asking a grown-up for money scared me to death. But Sister Evangelista was right. Charity would take courage.
Begging for candy and money on Halloween didn’t sit well with me, so I decided to go the day before. Still in my school uniform — plaid skirt, brown vest, white blouse and matching tie snapped around the Peter Pan collar — I headed down Morgan Street.
With my legs shaking, I walked up the steps to the first house. “Trick or treat for …”
“Halloween’s not ‘til tomorrow.” Old Mrs. Sullivan slammed the door in my face. My heart raced. This was a terrible idea. But I forced myself up to the next house and the next.
“Trick or Treat for UNICEF.”
To my surprise, most households had spare change to drop into my box. By the time the streetlights flickered on telling me to go home, it was almost full.
I don’t remember my costume that Halloween or how much candy I collected. I remember the lesson of charity.
Thank you, Sister Evangelista.
— Laura Rybka, Hinsdale
That’s a very firm ‘no’
Halloween has always been celebrated in my home, even today, with vintage bubble plastic witches and ghosts from the early 1970s attached to my home’s upstairs patio railing. The front step’s railing has orange and black plastic pumpkins, and a Halloween flag blows gently in the mild October breeze.
Yet it was the week of Halloween in 1967, when I was in the fourth grade at my Catholic grade school, that really stands out in my memory. My classmates were abuzz about costume choices and trick-or-treat routes through our town when one of my classmates and nearby neighbor bravely raised her hand and innocently asked the question to our elderly lay classroom teacher. “Do we get Halloween off?” she asked. The response was immediate and a most resoundingly “No!”
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Silence befell our orderly classroom.
In third grade, our very young and enthusiastic nun held a classroom party complete with pumpkin cookies from a local bakery. Well, that was that. No more Halloween parties for the rest of our grade school years. Yet, that did not dampen our enthusiasm for this fall holiday.
Halloween will always represent cherished childhood memories, despite one adult’s rather surprising response.
— Madeline M. Spurck, Blue Island
Fun and safe with Dad
Halloween has always been a very enjoyable time of year for me. The pretty fall colors, the smoky scents, the gorgeous play of light and shadows in the streets and along the sidewalks. Driving along and seeing all the Halloween decorations outside of homes keeps the fond memories of trick-or-treating close by.
When my brother and I were kids, we would go out along the streets and neighborhoods with our dad for trick-or-treating. One year, he dressed up as Dracula, which made it even more fun, though our one neighbor whom he frightened might have had a slightly different view.
There was no curfew back then. We could be out and about for a good while after dark. Going through our neighborhoods, we knew the homes that would have the really good treats; there was anticipation in going to those homes.
Even though it was very dark, it always felt so fun and safe being with our dad as well as with kids in the neighborhood. My brother remembered how after we arrived hime, our parents would take a piece of candy out to test it, to make sure it was “safe,” which was a funny thing. I remembered how in looking through our bags the next day, they always seemed mysteriously lighter.
We all enjoyed that night in our own way. Pictures were taken of us in costumes. It’s still a very enjoyable thing to watch kids go through the neighborhood trick-or-treating while I munch on favorite Halloween treats and take in a scary movie or two.
— Mandy May, Skokie
Prompted for a trick
My brother, sister and I walked down our street with our paper bags to go trick-or-treating. When we approached one house, a woman opened the door and told us that we must do a trick before we could get a treat. The family was seated on a long couch in front of the TV, which was turned down low. I stood there trying to figure out what I would do. I didn’t know any tricks.
As they all looked up at me, I sang “You Are My Sunshine.” It was my favorite song at that time. I was about 7. I received treats and applause.
A fond memory.
— Pat Sheridan, Chicago
A sleepy trick-or-treater
This happened in Oct. 31, 1977. I was very pregnant with my third child, due any day. My sister-in-law came to pick up my two boys, ages 3 and 2, Since we live on 26th Street, the trick-or-treating happens right on the strip.
My sister-in-law had her sons, and she was hand-holding my 2-year-old. But as she walked, it was hard to pull him. She stopped and removed his mask, and my son was sleeping! That’s why she could not pull him.
I gave birth to my third son on Nov. 3, 1977.
— Elena Duran, Chicago
Always a fun time with Dad
Halloween was one of my dad’s favorite times of year. His costume was a gorilla chest and belly with bald head and glasses. Dad went trick-and-treating to the neighbors, and when they realized it was him, they were hysterical and gave him a treat and sometimes a trick.
When my sister and I would drive with him, we all wore funny/scary face masks. At stoplights, we would turn our heads, and drivers, passengers and pedestrians would do a double take and laugh.
One year on Halloween in the 1970s, my mom’s brother dropped off his 4-year-old son at our house for the day. My dad dressed him up with his costume and big clown shoes and drove to Turnstyle where my sister worked. All employees were dressed up. We surprised her and had a “boo-tiful” time.
Our sweet mom did not participate in his antics but enjoyed giving treats to the children — and the parents. Who does that?
Rest in peace to the best and funniest parents and uncle!
— Judy and Sue Lazar, Niles
Throwing ‘funnies’ at the door
I remember Halloween from my early years while growing up on the Lower West Side of Chicago. During the late 1950s and early ’60s, door-to-door trick-or-treating was very popular. If someone refused to answer their door, confetti cut from the colorful newspaper “funnies” would be thrown by the door. The oldest of the kids amused themselves by filling an old sock with flour to make a club, which would release the powder when one got hit with it. Throwing raw eggs was another popular pastime.
We made our own costumes, and burnt cork would create a washable makeup for creating what is known as “black face” before it was no longer socially acceptable.
The highlight of the evening was a bonfire at the public school yard at Cermak and Oakley. Scrap wood would be piled in the school yard open space area, which had a gravel base. A homemade scarecrow dummy would be placed at the top before lighting. This was supervised and sponsored by the school.
It was a delightful end to our evening.
— Arnold Krinski, Mundelein
A tiger suit made with love
Generations ago, before many housewives went to work, women were very handy domestically. Until the men started to participate, many mothers did it all: cook, clean, shop, launder and sew.
Nowadays, though, the latter chore has largely been dropped. Who sews anymore? But when I was trick-or-treating, many women lovingly tailored costumes for their kids. The less ambitious fashioned outfits from spare clothing and various household items. At the bottom of the scale were the cheesy prefab nylon wraps with plastic masks. You bought these under the cover of darkness in the dime store.
The conservative second approach served most of my door-to-door career. For the 1959 debut, however, Mom sprung for fabric and a kit for a tiger suit at Sears Sewing Center. Clothes-making is a time-consuming process, but here by the 31st, anyway, we were ready.
Then on Halloween afternoon, disaster loomed: rain. At 4 p.m., we stood grimly assessing the drizzly and desolate scene outside. She looked at me in the outfit she’d slaved over, knowing that next year it wouldn’t fit. Go or no go?
Tough call, but we plunged, heading up the street and down, me holding my little paper shopping bag in one hand and my tail in the other to keep it from dragging on the soggy pavement.
Sadly, there was almost nobody to witness the sight. I’d enjoy better holiday weather and candy hauls later, but with Mom sewing, I probably never looked better.
— Tom Gregg, Niles
Tooting my own horn for fun
Back in 1992, my kids were out scouting the neighborhood for good trick-or-treating destinations. I thought this was a good time to join in on the festivities and come up with a costume. I found a large box in the basement, cut a hole in the front for an oval shaped loud speaker, cut a couple of additional holes in the top for two old radio vacuum tubes and slipped it over my head. Great costume! Because the loud speaker was taped in front of the box, the only way to see out was through two side holes I cut out.
I proudly ventured out onto the front sidewalk. My daughter and friend were coming from the opposite direction, and my princess-clad daughter exclaimed, “Ohh my God, Dad!” My wife videoed the whole encounter, and we will send it to the kids again this Halloween.
This year, like last year, I’m taming it down a bit. I’m taking my 12-foot-long alphorn out in front of the house, donning my lederhosen (leather pants) and serenading kids and neighbors with alphorn melodies. Kids and parents alike enjoy giving the 12-foot horn a toot (antiseptic spray for the mouthpiece is provided between each use).
So, if you think you’re hearing a moose in distress, it’s just us folks in Park Ridge having a blowout of a good time.
— Russ Haak, Park Ridge
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