There is a duality associated with the Peabody Estate (tomb) legend,
and most that grew up in the Chicago land area are at least vaguely cognizant of it as some of the lore is apparently founded by fact while much is the result of fabrication and the added embellishments of countless retelling the artistic license of childhood narration permits (insert wise crack here) ....
Recent research has nudged the sublimated memory to the surface of a tale an older kid in the neighborhood used to spin about getting chased by monks on a surreptitious night visit to the grounds to catch a glimpse of Mr Peabody laying in state immersed in a preservative and encased in a glass coffin ... Another axiom associated with this legend purports a huge cache of gold buried beneath the Portiuncula Shrine replica that many still believe houses the body of the Peabody patriarch. When in fact all human graves have been relocated to a local catholic cemetery and only the equestrian graves remain...the legend portends that if caught on the grounds by the residents Franciscan Friars or Monks of the day you were forced to kneel on the pebble surfaced cement or the hard stones that landscaped the rear of the shrine where a cross faced by a makeshift alter still resides on a flagstone platform in a conspicuous state of disrepair on this in contrast to the chapel’s pristine maintenance and the meticulously manicured lawns beyond ...
While one may find mirth in visualizing a squad of vigilant twilight sentinels comprised of seemingly agile, robed Franciscan friars wearing the tradition garb with perhaps the exception of tennis shoes, chasing and apprehending a group of fleeing terrified teens, then issuing their own version of punitive retribution for the transgression by forcing them to kneel on gravel and pray in abject penitence as an alternative to police notification, these portended tales more often than not dissuaded thrill seekers from attempting the perilous trek through the dark surrounding forest, sprawling grounds and depending on the route selected; the potential for traversing the spot where Francis fell from his favorite steed while participating in a fox hunt in his own back yard ...at least three of his prized equestrians are still buried to the east of the main hall where the wooden crosses that stand today are probably replacements based on the absence of visible weathering the untreated looking wood will inevitably display...
The spectacle of these crucifixion capable sized crosses casting moonlit shadows along the narrow strip of land between them and
where the woods abruptly terminated in favor of the sprawling plush summer grass must have been a daunting sight for those that emerged from the southeast path along a lake that Pottawatomie Native Americans probably fished as this property’s original residents ...But when the oppressive enormity of the Gothic structure beyond came into focus, full appreciation for the Tudor Revival styled construction exclusively fashioned by renowned Chicago architect Benjamin Marshall was probably neglected by the ill informed tomb searching, thrill seekers of the day...The memory of these stories alone from our older siblings or neighborhood kids with a penchant for yarn spinning are cherished with a nostalgic reminiscence that mitigates any lingering contempt I may have held for those responsible for perpetuating some of these fallacious tales in retrospection...Paradoxically; all of these years later credible seeming adults that have recounted their adolescent misadventures online and while some have mentioned being chased by monks or other nondescript pursuers, the contemporary consensus seems to be that those that were actually caught were set free following a simple admonition for trespassing on the property and a promise for more severe consequences if they returned ...
This popular local legend and the activity purported to be occurring at the abandoned house that overlooked the site of where the Grimes sisters were discarded where those that seemed to figure most proximately in my memory growing up in the area as Resurrection Mary was considered something too scary and real to even discuss back then and to some degree that has not changed ... Some tantalizing details that have up until recently eluded me, include a disclosure a Du Page County Forest Preserve ranger that was reinforced by a corroborative source that served a stipend as an Estate curator and resident replacement following a requested reassignment by the Ranger that lived there an overnight security solution of that time ...the recurring experiences of the sound of a bouncing ball and the continual sighting of a boy of 8 or 9 with curly brown hair by both the curator and his assigned predecessor ...some of this information has been garnered but not excerpted from a book by Richard Crowe... There has been speculation that Mr Peabody had an affair with a servant and the resultant illegitimate child may be the specter bouncing the ball in that cavernous vacant wing of the estate darkened by night and long forgotten secrets ...There is a covert passage concealed by a section of paneling in the study that I must have walked past obliviously the several times that I was inside, but there are conflicting reports online as to where the spiral staircase leads from the study...some say a bomb shelter in the basement, some contend to a sort of “panic room” should the labor dispute related tumult that was transpiring over coal mining regulatory issues become severe enough to lead a disgruntled employee to the CEO’s driveway ...Another theory points to this passage being utilized by My Peabody as discreet access to the servant’s quarters further fueling the rumors of a tryst that produced a love child not to mention a rather sordid addendum to the estate diary...there is not much information about the second marriage but considering that he named the main residence “Mayslake Manor” after his first wife “Mae”, one wonders if his second marriage was premature and made in haste by a grief stricken man terrified by the prospect of being alone or if the second wife was more of a business relationship, the first marriage to Mae had produced a son (Jack) and heir apparent to the Peabody legacy
The famous photo of Mae Peabody alone possesses a quality that seems to transfix those that view it, this radiant woman was undoubtedly an integral part of the formula that helped to defined the F. S. Peabody that forged an empire as the coal mining mogul he became ...her passing may have compromised the fastidious foundation he institutionalized into his work and personal life and this may have contributed to the alleged infidelities that occurred during the discourse of his second marriage and adversely affected his health that subsequently lead to his demise on that August morning along the southern banks of the lake with his favored horse “Dunbar” grazing solemnly nearby ...Again, some of this is simply the result of speculative musing and hypothetical conjecture based solely on unsubstantiated internet heresy by myself and others, I stress this to divert the summation that this is all simply more Halfhand Revisionism in action, when much of it is formulated on the collective suppositions of others that have researched this subject...

As The Friary stands at the polar opposite end of the property from Mayslake Manor and in an effort to maintain a focus this will be broken into two separate updates as the friary was not revisited on this particular occasion but I will added to this same thread at a later date ...
A previous New Year’s resolution granted me yet another headache free New Years Day ...the single digit frigidity of the predawn morning was humbling but was oddly idyllic in conjunction with the icy brilliance of the bejeweled Blue Moon that beckoned from above ... I neglected to consult the web for winter holiday hours of accessibility, so consequently and much to my chagrin the main entrance to Mayslake Manor was gated securely with no noticeable posted hours of admittance visible thus confirming my suspicions that the hour before sunrise and hour after sunset summer rules did not apply especially on an extremely cold holiday ...and while I had my heart set on the estate, I reconnoitered the Dog Park lot adjacent to the friary to the southwest but elected to make the intrepid trek through the woods back to the estate as opposed to simply starting with the visible and much closer friary partly because I was already psychically attenuated for that location but mostly because I already had the first half of this composed before ahead of time ...I had to stop and decide if I really wanted to go through with this unexpected extension to the excursion as the deleterious effects of the cold started to become noticeable early into the walk down the path leading back northwest almost following the beaming lunar lamp that still shined obstinately even as it declined into the westerly horizon and competed with the increasing orange hue that threatened from just below the tree tops to the east ...
A detour through the virgin snow and waist high, indigenous prairie weeds that grow along the path between a fenced off picnic area and the stately oaks that bordered the woods along the southern rim of the property proved to be even more of an difficult jaunt than it appeared ... the deceptively deep snow and my well insulated but less than snug fitting snowmobile boots made this part of the journey like walking in quicksand and as the sub-zero temperature stung my unprotected face, I comported myself to forge ahead defiantly ...I had to laugh when the unfrozen creek at the bottom of the western slope of the field revealed an unfrozen, rapid flowing creek that while relatively slender width wise, seemed like an amazing feat of athleticism to jump in my boots, layered clothing, camera in tow and the banks on both sides being completely snow caked ...there were several circular bon fire remnants of almost identical diameter and interspersed at amazingly consistent space intervals on both side of the creek that dotted the landscape visibly as far as I could see coming and going ...This was the fist time I have ever approached the lawns of the manor from the emerging path the lead uphill towards the rear of the stationary Shakespearean stage and there I discovered 3 more of the wooden crosses that must represent even more favored horses from the Peabody corral, bringing the actual count to six unless some of these markers represent the final resting place of his demised hunting dogs as well ...
The arrival at the main building would have seemed much more triumphant had I been met by a servant at the front door and lead promptly to the Great Hall or Study for a fireside cup of Earl Grey tea and some “lively’ conversation with Francis and Mae ...I had to settle for just the conversation....

Here are the unedited (compressed) photos of my most recent trip to Mayslake Manor ....01/2010 ( 136 total)
http://s831.photobucket.com/albums/zz232...%20Update/



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A sun drenched, mild mid February afternoon brought me back to the Mayslake/Peabody Estate to complete the Friary edition of the site update...on a day with highs in the upper 30's it seemed like a comparably temperate climate as I flashed back to the frost bitten, sunrise sojourn through the fields and sparsely wooded east side of the property to bypass the locked front gates of Mayslake Hall...one wonders if the frigid cold winter and excessive snow fall of 2010 will be attributed to “global warming” or if now our carbon footprints will be the catalyst for the next ice age...either way I suspect the unpredictability of Chicago winters will defy any or all regulatory efforts to stave off the inevitable cataclysmic consequences of our evil, imperialistic ways...the direct sun was a welcomed warmth as the dampening depth of the snow crunched underfoot when I departed the well traversed path that circles the outer parameter the lake...I have had little luck pinpointing the original location where Mr Peabody expired while participating in a a fox hunt on the south side of the lake and the subsequent original site where the replica of the Portiuncula Chapel was constructed in memoriam, but I shall endeavor to continue research on that in the future ...

The history of this property is certainly not restricted to the relatively contemporary Eurocentric
cultural heritage, but as early archival records and archaeological evidence indicates; there where as many as 50 Potawatomi villages in the area between the mid 1700's and mid 1800's and one is described as “near Mayslake in Oak Brook” ...these homogenous, interwoven Native Americans
managed to maintain a relatively peaceful and symbiotic coexistence as fur traders
with the early settlers, many of which intermarried with the migrant French, English, Scotch and Irish while the primarily ”purebred” tribes consisting of Potawatomi, Chippewa and Ottawa were forcibly relocated to reservations west of the Mississippi by way of Andrew Jackson’s “Indian Removal Act” ...the decedent lineage of the “Metis” families (French for “mixed blood”) became the sole remaining Native Americans in the area by that late 1800's...

The future of the enigmatic red bricked building at southern most end of the Mayslake property remains uncertain ...following the Franciscans vacating the premises in late 1991, and following it’s acquisition by the Du Page County Forrest Preserve, it has been at the epicenter of litigation...at present a morass of legal wrangling has stymied all proposals including those
pursuant to the ambitious 12 Million dollar renovation plans to convert the facility into a 93 unit assisted living center by the Du Page Housing Authority... a project that remains contingent on the resolution of a quagmire of zoning restrictions, revamped regulatory commissions and the continued exorbitant expense of heating, grounds maintenance and vandalism prevention measures...the adjusted cost of which is estimated to be well over $60,000 a year, plus it has already been the recipient of several preservation oriented grants, bonds and provisional incentives to reinvigorate the aging, dilapidation besieged behemoth of a building ...there has even been proposals for low income, studio style apartments but that was quickly squelched by local zoning commissioners in the wake of a torrent of protests from the adjacent wealthy subdivisions ...little has been reported in the way of recent updates ...
The building was built entirely by hand by the industrious Brothers of the Franciscan Order over the course of 17 years between 1950-1967 ...following the purchase of the entire estate by The Franciscan Order of the Sacred Heart for $450,000 in the wake of Mr Peabody’s death in 1925,
the original seminary was built on the west side of the property between 1925-27 and was demolished in 1992 ...

Incidentally one of the most recent documented cases of stigmata was that of Franciscan; Saint
Padre Pio ...and as members of this order have been alleged to have the most reported instances of visions and stigmata, the highest concentration of Padre Pio’s exhibition of this occurred during the time frame of the Franciscans acquiring the Peabody property...

The St Paschal Friary is an almost symbolic edification of the changing ecclesiastically institutionalized secularism that sub denominated Catholicism in favor of more archdiocese
concentric ordination ...the blue tarp that is draped precariously over a large portion of the southeast wing’s roof is as unlikely to prevent water saturation as efforts to cling to antiquated theosophies will prevent the ebb and flow of religious modernization ...this building is the is the ultimate iconoclastic religious relic ....

The tracks of a big wheeled, off road vehicle systematically compacted the snow in circular, concentric patterns on the friary’s north lawn...the efforts to meticulously flatten and compact the snow on the stately, hickory and oak dotted stretch of land that overlooked the lake to the north struck me as bizarre ...I thought back to my pervious trip and to the multitude of inexplicable and almost identical in diameter bonfire remains that I encountered as I plodded through the fresh powder padded fields en rout to Mayslake manor as the sun rise pursued me from the east...

My annoyance at the prospect of having my photos tainted by the tread marked landscape was quickly replaced by relief after a mere hundred or so yards of quicksand-like deep snow suddenly transformed into an easily traversable hike across the tractor flattened winter landscape...I elected to make an approach from the northwest as the past summer visits denied me exploration of the overgrowth that strangled the western portion of the property beyond the flight of stairs and Stonehenge like monolithic benches that lined the edge of the western driveway and terminated at a rather steep decline into the thicket below ...
As anticipated; the winter stripped underbrush was now visibly accessible save for assorted burr hitchhikers and thorn pricks...the bottom of the staircase revealed a concrete wall and what proved to be a boarded up doorway next to a long inoperative water fountain and PA speakers ...

A square hole in the concrete slab under the staircase almost mocked me with the darkness it exuded ...the flash of the camera exposed a small room with what appeared to be tightly sealed off doorways...one leading south in a probable tunnel to the garage and one to the left, that likely intersected with the boarded up outer entry and back under the pavement overhead to the main building in what I in visualized as an elaborate network of underground catacombs and secret passages... my imagination requires little in the way of provocation to construct such elaborations ( no really) ...when I walked up to the square foot opening in the wall, an almost paralyzing apprehension built up inside of me as my arm crossed over the concrete threshold separating the inside from the out...I felt a gust of putrescent air rush past my shoulder with an almost audible moan...the flash from the camera lit up the black void long enough to confirm the narrow space beyond was also subject to a concerted effort to seal off all of the interconnecting passage ways as described above...the nail secured inner doors and spot weld fortified connecting door leading to the south in the general direction of the parking garages, left me a quandary as to where the stale, crypt like air could have originated but the view I had was limited and a good portion of the room was obscured by this limitation...I actually stumbled back away from the gaping hole as I remembered that I experienced the same fetid, inexplicable groan of exhalation when I crouched down to get a shot of the basement in the courtyard from a small circular hole in a boarded window last summer ( now patched ) ...I followed the outer lower level wall along the entanglement of vines overgrowth until a snow caked ramp led me to street level in between the garage and the main building ...further exploration of the rear of the garage and some careful circumnavigation of spike tipped bushes unveiled a two story chimney incinerator that I was unable to open for inspection because the cross bar latch seemed to be pounded in to immobility by a hammer flattened iron sleeve thus locking the free end of the latch bar in place

As I skirted the evergreens that were once decorative adornments to the rear of the garage but now struggled for distinction among the reclamation efforts of the prairie vegetation, I discovered a short but steep flight of powdered steps along the side of the incinerator structure... stairs that spilled out into an open patch of grassland to the rear and opened bottom portion of the chimney stack ...the scorched, blackened brick interior retained the carnal stench of countless refuge infernos, but even the burned remnants of the last incendiary cinders that once smoldered were now symbolically doused by the squared mound of snow that flaked it’s way down the open flue ...

As I coursed my way back along the back of the rear if the evergreen lined garage, I noticed that every possible window, door, hatch and vent had been effectively barricaded...as I rounded the southeast end of the virgin snow depth that rudely packed my ankle length, side zip business-man style boots, I longed for my snowmobile footgear that I wore last time around ...and while those boots resemble an Ace Frehley costume accessory, they were well insulated and water tight...

Almost all of the lower level door windows were boarded up and while there were some signs of recent vandalism by way of broken windows on the first floor, many of those that remained un shattered were plywood plated from the inside ...contrary to common sense; I found myself wondering if this was intended to circumvent something from escaping from within as much as it was a preventive measure against an illicit entry as I proceeded under the arched passage leading into the courtyard in the center of the main building ...the last time I was here was a night visit and the pervasive darkness of the courtyard and intermittent interior lighting created an eerie, shadow shifting translucent effect when intermixed with the headlights streaking down Rt 83 that bled through from the north facing windows to the 4 stories of narrow windows facing the south end of the courtyard ...

The howling winds of that summer night provided a cacophony of creaking, cracking, whistling, moaning and tarp flapping sounds ....the stillness and light drenched afternoon of this visit did little to help diminish the growing unease or abate the closed in sensation that the outer walls incurred ...sensations that were already welling up inside me as soon as I passed under the arched buttress that seemed like a line of demarcation that separated the relative security of the exterior from the dark oppression dwelling within ...the acoustically isolated quiet was instantly shattered by a concussive thump when a huge slab of sun dampened snow slid from the steeply slanted roof and landing at my heals ...an insidious, cackling laughter echoed from a gaping hole in a fiberglass ceiling-ed basement addition that extended into the ground at about waste level...I continued to shoot off the camera in defiance until I was beset by a sudden loss of equilibrium and nausea...the vexing snicker followed me past the arch as I hastened a my unsteady retreat ....

Here are the unedited (compressed) photos from my mid February 2010 visit (181 total) ....b
http://s994.photobucket.com/albums/af68/...%20Friary/





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