More Trick, Less Treat: A Gilded Age Halloween

SPEAKER_00 0:01

Welcome to Civics and Coffee, a history podcast. The show all about United States history, delivered to you and the time it takes to enjoy your morning cup of coffee. I'm your host, Alicia, a historian trained in United States history with a passion for telling both the known and unknown parts of America's past. So grab your coffee and get ready for some bite-sized history. Hey everyone, welcome back. As of this episode's release date, we are just one week away from one of the best days of the year, Halloween. A night generally filled with candy, games, costumes, and more than a few scares, Halloween is usually cause for major celebration in the United States. From carnivals to parties, trunk retreats to church festivals, we Americans definitely enjoy our spooky season. I usually spend the month of October, and if I'm being honest, the latter part of September, revisiting horror movies from my youth and trying out new scary movies, which usually end up more underwhelming than terrifying. But it hasn't always been fun and games. In the run-up to the 20th century, as the United States continued its technological innovations at a rapid pace, and new millionaires were minted at a dizzying rate, elite Americans found new ways to showcase their wealth. Not only did the rich build and buy magnificent estates to showcase their newly acquired taste, but the top echelons in society also threw exquisite soirees, such as the selective annual Bash, hosted by the Mrs. Astor, or Ava Vanderbilt's now notorious 1883 masquerade ball that upended New York society. During the Gilded Age, Halloween was yet another opportunity for those of means to flaunt their wealth. But what about everyone else? For most other Americans, Halloween was still a bit austere, and had a lot more trick than treat as young people took to the streets to pull pranks on their friends and neighbors. So this week I'm looking at Halloween during the Gilded Age. What did it look like? What was popular? How was it a little different than we might expect? And where did spiritualism fit in? Grab your cup of coffee, peeps. Let's do this. On Halloween night in 1885, a newly hired U.S. Capitol Police officer was patrolling Statutory Hall, the old House of Representatives Chamber, when he heard strange sounds coming from a dark corner. Proceeding cautiously, the fresh faced officer inched closer to the origin of the sound. As he got closer, the officer realized that what he was hearing were moans, and finally coming into vision, just faintly, in a darkened corner of the hall was a spectral figure, a ghost. Terrified out of his mind, the officer drew his service weapon and fired several shots. Little did he know that what he saw was not, in fact, a spectral projection of a ghost, but was his co-worker and fellow Capitol Police officer playing a very bad joke on him. Luckily, the new officer was a terrible shot, and he missed his intended target, hitting the wall instead. The idea that there could be spirits and ghosts or spectral projections was not as crazy in 1885 as we may think it in 2026. Spiritualism was a popular religious movement during the later part of the 19th century, particularly for middle-class Anglo-Saxon Americans. As historian Molly McGarry explains, spiritualism was, quote, popularized in an era when anything seemed possible, when speaking to the dead may have seemed no less strange than communicating across cables or capturing the living on film. Like freezing an image on a photographic plate, the spiritualist's ghost catching was a collapsing of time, the past preserved in the present for the future, end quote. Born of an American form of Victorian mourning culture, spiritualism gave believers, quote, a community of fellow mourners who could take them beyond personal grief and the increasingly domesticated sentimental rituals of middle class mourning, end quote. Spiritualism was also attractive for women in that it gave them access to far greater power than they had before. In an era when women were still carving out a place for themselves in the public square, spiritualism, and specifically the idea that someone could commune with the dead, presented women with the opportunity to engage in public discourse while still maintaining their respectability. As historian Hugh Urban explains, quote, at a time in 19th century America when the right of women to speak in public was hotly contested, transmediumship offered a powerful way for women to find authoritative voice and a public stage to speak out on both religious and social issues, end quote. And while this definitely gave women more freedom and perhaps a bit more courage to speak candidly, it did so at the risk of reinforcing negative stereotypes about women. The idea of mediumship was that a spirit was communicating through a person, and that women were able to do this because they were quote unquote weaker than men, or otherwise passive. Thus, when these women spoke up, they weren't sharing their ideas, which prompted criticism from contemporary women's rights activists like Susan B. Anthony, who felt that women who played into these stereotypes were only holding back the gender. But as historian Anne Broad astutely recognizes, women are not and were not a monolith, and there is more than one way to achieve a goal. Quote, more women stepped beyond conventional female roles because of spiritualism than they would have without it. But spiritualism wasn't just a religious movement. It also became a form of entertainment for some, as well as a product to consume. Because spiritualism as a denomination was so individualized and not tied to any organized faith, practitioners were not ordained. Thus, folks looking to commune with the dead could decide to pay to see famous mediums, such as the later discredited Fox Sisters, or could choose a much more economical option and host a seance in their home. This became much more accessible in the 1890s with the release of the Ouija board. Describing the board for retailers in an advertisement in the National Intelligencer in 1890, the Ouija board was referred to as a quote, most interesting talking board, end quote, that promised to completely blow past any expectations the buyer may have. The ad goes on to explain, quote, it consists of a small table placed upon a large board containing the alphabet and numerals. By simply resting the fingers of two persons upon the small table it moves, and to all intents and purposes becomes a living, sensible thing, giving intelligent answer to any questions that can be propounded, end quote. And should anyone be skeptical of such fanciful promises, the ad closed with the foolproof guarantee of testing by the U.S. Patent Office prior to distribution. The board was partially inspired by the planchette, a device previously used by spiritualists to communicate with the deceased. Initially developed by Alan Kardeck, the device described as either a heart-shaped or shield-shaped piece of wood with a hole at the top to hold a pencil, the planchette first arrived in the United States in 1858, where it became incredibly popular, selling over 200,000 units in its first year alone. Its popularity continued throughout the 1860s as the device was sold primarily in toy and bookstores before being repurposed for the Ouija board in the 1890s. As Hugh Urban shares, quote, Together, the Planchette and the Ouija board helped introduce spirit communication to a much broader audience of ordinary customers, muddying the boundary between spiritual phenomena and popular commodities to be enjoyed in middle-class living rooms, and opening the door for a new mass audience to begin experimenting in mediumship. It was thanks to the rise of magazines like Harper's Weekly that more Americans were learning about things like the Ouija board and deciding for themselves if they wanted to engage in a bit of mischief. Publications such as Harper's Weekly helped influence the culture and over the course of the Gilded Age transformed Halloween into a night of parties and fun. While many members of the elite enjoyed their masquerade balls, other communities, such as Salt Lake City, Utah, who in 1885 announced its first public celebration of Halloween, chose more moderate celebrations, such as a benefit to raise money for the local church. But Halloween during the Gilded Age was known much more for its tricks than anything else. In 1879, youngsters decided it would be a hoot to lay what appeared to be a body across a set of train tracks. As told by the Cincinnati Daily Star the following morning, quote, the engineer of the passenger train saw the man on the track in time to check up. He got off his engine and went forward to pull the fellow out of danger when he was greeted with the shouts of about 200 boys. Strange to say, the engineer never cussed a word. It reminded him of when he was a boy and practiced the same tricks. And this terrifying disruption was just the tip of the pranking iceberg. Young adults were creative in their efforts to haze their neighbors and fellow community members. Their tricks included everything from tying adjacent apartment doorknobs together to opening gates to let out livestock. One set of teens even decorated a teetotaler's porch with beer signs and stacked a bunch of kegs into a pyramid. The trickster side of Halloween hijinks is largely thanks to our Irish and Scottish friends. As immigrants continued to pour into the United States, they brought their traditions with them. And well, the Irish and Scots love a good prank to celebrate all Hollows Eve. As communities expanded with increased transportation, so too did the holiday pranks. But not everyone enjoyed the jokes. And some tricks went too far, causing injuries, including in Kansas City, when young kids waxed streetcar tracks that led to two cars colliding and injuring one of the conductors. Or in 1888, when a group of young teens thought it was a fun idea to explode pipe bombs. Other gags weren't physically harmful, but were a nuisance all the same, like in 1894, when an estimated 200 youths used sacks of flour to attack residents in Washington, D.C. I am betting anyone who's listening and has had their house teepeed is feeling a little lucky right now. Am I right? Perhaps unsurprisingly, some community members grew tired of the danger posed by said pranks and fought back. In Arizona, when another rowdy group of would-be pranksters stretched a piece of string or wire low across a sidewalk to trip unsuspecting walkers, an angered neighbor responded by pulling a gun and shooting and killing one of the youths. This escalation created some concern in communities throughout the country, and there were several areas who considered canceling the holiday altogether. In fact, pranking grew to become so pervasive and so damaging that it motivated communities to eventually reframe the holiday to give youngsters something to do, which eventually turned into trick-or-treating. But that comes later. By the time the Gilded Age gave way to the Progressive Era, Halloween started to look a little more like what we know and love today. Thanks to the proliferation of magazines like Harper's Weekly, Halloween slowly transitioned into a night for fun rather than a time of somber reflection and observing of old world traditions. Access to mass printed media that promoted things like parlor games, decorations, and recipes helped inspire Americans in the middle and upper classes to spend their Halloween nights engaged in masquerade balls where they could enjoy music and dancing. And for those who could not afford such luxuries, well, there was always the good old prank. And a bit of a teaser for next week's episode. If you're a longtime listener, you know that I have covered, let's just say, pop culture stuff during spooky season. And while I don't want to give the topic away, I will say I am going to deviate away from the Gilded Age next week for the Halloween special. I hope you all like it, and I apologize ahead of time for what I am sure will be plenty of nerd shining through. And before I sign off today, I do just want to say a big thank you to each and every one of you who keep coming back every week, twice a week, to enjoy this quarter of the History Internet. If you've been enjoying the show, please consider a rate and review. It seems silly, but they say it helps with boosting the show's visibility so that more fantastic history folks can find and start listening. And it goes without saying that seeing your encouraging words helps bring joy to my heart and keeps me going when it feels like I'm on a wee bit of a crazy mission. Lastly, this show is possible because of you, so if you ever want me to cover a topic, let me know. You can find me through most of the social channels or through ye old website at www.civicsandcoffee.com. Thanks, peeps.

unknown 15:22

Bye.

SPEAKER_00 15:22

I'll see you next time.

unknown 15:23

Bye.

SPEAKER_00 15:25

Thanks for sitting down with me as I explored this chapter of American history. If you liked what you heard, be sure to subscribe and share with your friends. I look forward to our next cup of coffee together.