The bizarre phenomena of White Cemetery are immeasurable. A vast array of wonders has been reported by visitors to this site, including the sound of leaves crunching under invisible feet and tombstones toppling for no apparent reason. Most common is the sighting of white orbs of light that linger over tombstones before floating off into the night. Sometimes, these shimmering balls are accompanied by luminescent figures that ease in and out of the cemetery through the iron fence, sending frightened witnesses to the local authorities to report UFOs and extraterrestrial visitors. Local teens have a different, more traditional take on the White Cemetery phenomena. The lights and shadows, they say, are just a few of the many phantoms of Cuba Road.

For Chicagoland ghosthunters, Cuba Road is the single most notorious haunted site north of southwest suburban Bachelors Grove Cemetery. In fact, the road shares not only the intensity of Bachelors Grove, but many of the same phenomena. Along with flashing lights and phantom cars that echo those reported at the Grove, this is the land of the other “magic house,” one of two in the Chicagoland area that appear and disappear as baffled witnesses look on. Like its sister house nestled (sometimes) in the woodland path to Bachelors Grove, the house on Cuba Road is said to have actually existed at some point in the past. While the fate of the Bachelors Grove house is not known, however, locals insist that the house on Cuba Road burned to the ground in a mysterious fire.

Cuba Road’s so-called ghost house has at least one occupant, according to eyewitnesses who have seen her: an old woman who wanders the road outside the spot where the house has been seen. Whoever this woman is, she is not alone in Cuba; translucent cars piloted by invisible drivers motor past, sometimes turning into White Cemetery and disappearing. On summer nights, a mysterious couple walks arm and arm along the deserted stretch of roadway, vanishing into the horizon. 

Most compelling of all the Cuba Road tales is the one tied by Arlington Heights historian Bev Ottaviano to the gangster era, when Chicago hoodlums would grab some R&R in the lake-studded regions surrounding Barrington and Lake Zurich. In those good old days, the free-wheeling, fun-loving goodfellas descended on the sleepy towns, fishing and sunning with the rest of the 9-to-5 world, though their dinner attire was, perhaps, a bit flashier. But gangsters they were, and fear coursed through these towns when the boys from Chicago came up to play. Some of that unease lingers in the story that warns of a cigar-chomping Mafioso who appears in the rear-view mirror of drivers turning on to Cuba Road. The specific identity of the passenger remains unknown, but his occupation is apparent.

Though Cuba Road is the star of every north suburban fright night, another minor highway has lately been featured. Rainbow Road, who intersects Cuba, boasts a classic haunted house, complete with gossip: the decaying mansion, locked behind an iron fence, is rumored to have been a notorious sanitarium. Many a fun-loving teenager has gotten more than he bargained for in snooping around this off-limits site. A group of Fremd High Schoolers drove along Rainbow one night with the intention of breaking into the crumbling estate but, as they were rattling the gates, attempting to shake loose the rusted lock, they heard a sound like a baseball bat smashing into something. Racing back to their car, they found a huge dent in the side. Another team of pranksters? 



Perhaps.

Still, this lively assortment of phenomena has been luring suburban teenagers to Cuba Road and Rainbow Road for decades, inspiring all manner of dares and double dares. Those up to the challenge often reap rewards in the form of unshakable chills and timeless stories for their grandchildren. One Fremd student, a veteran Cuba Road adventurer, re¬members her own initiation into the wonders of White Cemetery.

We were fooling around—like typical teenagers—when I was dared to run around this tree that was about fifty feet from the car and come back. I am so freaked out about things like that, but I did it. As I was running back to the car, I stubbed my foot right into a gravestone. That night, not long after, we went back to that grave, and against the grave was a wooden cane leaning against the headstone around where my foot hit it.

Unbelievable? Maybe. But a classmate and a thousand other wit¬nesses yet believe:

One night I was driving past the cemetery, and I saw police lights, blue and red, flashing over the hill not more than 200  yards ahead of me. When I reached the top . . . nothing. Not a car in sight and everything as calm and still as could be.

No one on the road but me.