Grim Grinning Ghosts

We took the ferry to Salem early on All Saints' Day. I credit myself with holding up the boat so that Alexis and John, who were running late, could board. The ferry had started moving and everything. It was very cinematic as I spotted them from afar: the rush of the water, the roar of the engine, the unfurling of the bridge onto the dock. And then we pushed off and noticed something about New England sailing: bloody cold it is.

These chills prepared us for the real horrors to come in Salem. First horror: The pumpkin festival, boasting a 1,000-pound pumpkin, was cleared out in the morning. In its wake were carnival midway stands serving fried dough. The advertised free hot cocoa also went the way of the witches. And we don't believe we got to meet any real witches, at least not in any back alley.

Salem remains mysterious partially because it's not. It remains a quaint New England town with shuttered inns and cobblestone streets upon which outdoor markets sell their wares. The rocky coast, as you approach over the water, is lined with gleaming white sailboats and houses on the hill. Halloween brings out the occult fairs and the psychic expos.

But the town rakes in commerce year-round on its ten variations on the Animatronic burn-the-witches museum. Visit the witches' dungeon or the witches' cottage. Both will thrill you with the same untold tales of that little-known date 1692. (Yes, to celebrate Columbus' subjugation of Caribbean culture two hundred years before, Salem decided to cart Tituba and her witch brethren off to the stake.)

The museum owners could take a trick from the Haunted Mansion at Walt Disney World. The town proper, though, has this otherworldly feel to it, disconnected enough to satisfy those whom urban life has, yes, burned out. Town Hall hosts dark art shows and the mall sells booths to witch school acolytes. Contrast this with about five stands in the square vending sausage and college a capella groups, and you realize that Salem caters to alternative tastes. Where else would the second oldest cemetery in America attract such a crowd?