the devils that live among us

I just finished reading this book called The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson. It’s two stories of what brings out the best and worst in human beings juxtaposed throughout the planning and execution of the World’s Fair in Chicago in 1893.

The theme of neo-classic architecture and the selection of white to be the color of ALL buildings earned the fair’s grounds the nickname of “the white city.” This particular storyline details the difficulty of designing and building all of the structures in such a limited time, all the while inching toward the ultimate goal of outdoing the Paris Exposition (when the Eiffel Tower was unveiled).

The dark story is what interested me more, though I feel kind of uncomfortable admitting it. In a time when women were just able to move to big cities by themselves, obtain jobs and walk around unescorted, a young physician by the name of H.H. Holmes or Herman Mudgett used this newfound opportunity to become our country’s first serial killer.

It’s hard to believe that there was once a time where women could suddenly disappear, stop writing letters to their families and no one was the wiser to report it. It will never be known how many people Holmes actually killed, though strangely, he was actually caught on insurance fraud when collecting on the policy of one of his business associates (it was eventually discovered Holmes actually killed the man and three of his children).

I find these bastards to be both repulsive, yet strangely intriguing. I really can’t explain why, though maybe it’s the desire to understand what drives that type of behavior and avoid anyone like it (after Ted Bundy, what woman would go near a man’s car by herself, even if he’s on crutches)? What makes someone so twisted to build a fortress that has a gas chamber built in or a basement complete with its own crematorium (Holmes told the furnace company that the kiln was for glassmaking)?

I’m sure most of you have seen Silence of the Lambs and Copycat repeatedly – why? They’re truly disturbing films. I’ve been drawn to From Hell with Johnny Depp, which is a somewhat fictional account of the Jack the Ripper murders. I’ve also read forensic fiction writer, Patricia Cornwell’s non-fiction investigation of the Jack the Ripper murders. As most of you probably know, Jack the Ripper was never caught and has never been identified. His five killings were especially brutal, yet they suddenly stopped after 2 ½ months, which is unusual, as most serials don’t stop until they’re caught or killed.

And even though I find it to be spine chilling to read or watch -- I cannot stop. Thankfully, the nightmares have long since passed.

Then again, maybe that's not such a good thing.