THE HAUNTING OF CURRIER HALL

     Located at the north end of the University of Iowa's campus, Currier Hall dormitory has been home to students for nearly a century now. Most of what happens in this building is of the mundane college sort: students study, sleep, relax in the commons areas and consume alcohol, all in the pursuit of higher education. But there is more going on in Currier than is immediately apparent. For years, its inhabitants have noticed strange happenings in the form of doors locking or unlocking themselves, drafts where there are no windows and other poltergeist-like activity. In addition, students have said they've heard low, spectral female voices coming from nowhere. But these phenomena are not reported widely throughout the hall; rather, the fourth floor of Currier appears to be the locus of these otherworldly happenings. So what horrible event transpired in Currier Hall to send shuddering ripples through the years to frighten students even today?

     As with most ghost stories, the actual origins of the haunting of Currier Hall are somewhat shrouded in legend. But the best explanation for the source of these phenomena is what happened to three coeds shortly after the hall was built in 1912. Currier was initially an all-women's dormitory and sometime early in its history, three women came to share the same room and became good friends (we shall call them Sarah, Mary and Angela for lack of historical data). They were always together, and soon bonded like sisters.

     One spring evening, Mary and Angela were studying in their room, when Sarah came back from doing research at the library. Sarah was whistling and beaming with delight. Her roommates asked her what the occasion was. Had she met someone special in the history section? Sarah would not say. As much as Angela and Mary pleaded, Sarah would divulge what had happened that evening. As close as the three women were, this put a strain on their otherwise open relationship.

     A couple of weeks later, it was Angela's turn to be mysterious. She, too, came home one night radiating love, but would say nothing to her roommates about who she had met that was so special. Their relationship was damaged even further until Mary, too, met a mystery man. Now the women laughed at their folly, and decided that one secret apiece would be all right. This new commonality soon bound their friendship tighter than ever.

     One night, near the end of the spring semester, Mary, Angela and Sarah took a break from their studying for final exams and walked in the cool evening air toward the Old Capitol. The three chatted for a while on the Pentacrest, then began to walk back to Currier when they saw a young man coming toward them.

     Sarah asked him, "Henry, are we still going dancing on Friday?"

     Angela said, "I got the flowers you sent, Henry. They're beautiful."

     And Mary chimed in, too, telling the man how romantic last Saturday was.

     The man apologized, explaining that he was late for a discussion group, and beat a hasty retreat.

     The three women knew instantly what had happened. Henry had been seeing all three of them, making them promise not to reveal his identity to the others. Distraught and overcome with grief, Mary, Angela and Sarah returned to Currier Hall and jointly committed suicide over what they took to be an insufferable injustice. It is said that they either hung themselves or drank poison, but it is agreed that they all took the plunge at once-in their room on the fourth floor of Currier Hall.