hobl.main

Once upon a time, it was a rite of passage for Indianapolis teenagers to park their cars at the end of a long, wooded drive off of Fall Creek Road on the northeast side. They traversed the steep, hilly, woods to get a glimpse of the macabre, a glimpse of a woman’s casket, wrapped in blue Christmas lights, kept in the strange house of her mourning husband. Others were so bold as to take a midnight dip in the eccentric millionaire’s elaborate swimming pool or cruel enough to place one of the dozens of cats that lived on the property into the nearby dog pens.