M.A. Kleen

Long after her death, Harriet Haskell, the beloved headmistress of Monticello Seminary, still lingers in the library that was once her chapel, comforting students and startling skeptics with the scent of lilacs and a ghostly touch. Discover the eerie legacy of one of Illinois’ most devoted educators.

• Harriet Newell Haskell served as principal of Monticello Female Seminary (later Monticello College) from 1867 until her death in 1907.
• The library at Lewis and Clark Community College retains its original stone exterior and stained-glass windows because it was once the Monticello Seminary chapel, Harriet Haskell’s favorite place on campus.
• According to legend, the day Monticello officially changed names in 1971, Haskell’s favorite tree toppled, leading some to believe her spirit protested the transition.
• Staff and students have reported encounters with Haskell’s ghost, including cold touches, the scent of lilac perfume, and sightings of a woman in old-fashioned dress lingering near the main desk.

A popular type of ghost on college campuses is the watchful authority figure. These are former professors, dorm mothers, janitors, and librarians who, according to legend, continue to serve and watch over their students for eternity. While flesh-and-blood adults can be unreliable, disappointing, and often selfish, these wraiths provide an odd kind of security, consistency, and supernatural protection. In their own way, they become unofficial, intangible school mascots, comforting reminders that the past still lingers in familiar halls.

At Dominican University in River Forest, Illinois, for example, a ghostly nun named Sister Gregory is said to watch over dress rehearsals at the campus theater. Sister Gregory Duffy taught theater for decades at what was then Rosary College and even served as a technical advisor for the creators of The Sound of Music. Her presence is still felt by students who report strange sensations and fleeting glimpses during late-night rehearsals.

Among the most famous of these guardian spirits in Illinois is Harriet Newell Haskell, the beloved and respected head of Monticello Female Seminary (later Monticello College) from 1867 until her death in 1907. Her ghost reportedly lingers in Reid Memorial Library at Lewis and Clark Community College in Godfrey, Illinois, which replaced Monticello in 1971.

Captain Benjamin Godfrey established Monticello Female Seminary north of St. Louis near the Mississippi River in 1838, making it the second-oldest women’s college in the United States. Harriet Newell Haskell served as head of the school. Although Haskell was not its first principal, she became its most influential. She oversaw the school through triumphs and disasters, including a devastating fire in 1888.

On that night, she personally directed the evacuation of the ladies’ dormitory, ensuring every student escaped. Undaunted, she nicknamed her students “cinders” and found them temporary shelter to continue their education. She led efforts to rebuild, commissioning renowned architect Theodore Link to design a new Gothic Revival building, complete with electricity, hot-water heating, and even an elevator.

Harriet Haskell was born in Maine in 1835 and enjoyed a long career as an educator in Massachusetts and Vermont. She graduated with honors from Mount Holyoke Seminary in Massachusetts in 1855. When the board of trustees at Monticello Seminary began searching for a new principal, Haskell came highly recommended, though it took three years to persuade her to accept the position in Illinois.

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Hey, Sleuthhounds!

Do you think places can “remember” the people who once lived or worked there? Why or why not?

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Haskell’s dedication earned her students’ devotion. Known proudly as the “Haskell Girls,” they mourned deeply when she died of heart failure in 1907. According to campus legend, her favorite tree fell unexpectedly after her death, prompting the school to memorialize it in a statue that still stands. Some say it fell after the school’s transition to a coed community college.

In 1971, Monticello College became Lewis and Clark Community College, and the chapel Haskell loved, where she had attended regular services for four decades, was converted into Reid Memorial Library. Its stone exterior and stained-glass windows strike a curious note to visitors unaware of its origins.

It is here, in the quiet of the library, that many believe Haskell still resides. Staff and students have long reported unusual encounters. In 2014, Liz Burns, Assistant Director of Instructional Services, told the student newspaper The Bridge, “Years ago, I was walking down the stairs into the library basement, and when I reached the bottom of the staircase. I smelled lilac perfume. I paused, recognized the smell, and said ‘Hello, Harriet’, then suddenly, the smell had disappeared.” Lilac was said to be Haskell’s favorite scent.

Other librarians have felt a soft hand on their arm or shoulder, only to turn and find no one there. At least one claims to have seen her specter in an old-fashioned dress standing near the main desk.

According to author Troy Taylor, a skeptical student DJ once decided to broadcast from the library on Halloween night in an attempt to summon Harriet Haskell’s ghost. Hoping to provoke a response, he invited a professor to read some of Haskell’s writings live on air. The experiment worked a little too well. He ignored the first cold touch on his shoulder, but when it happened again, he was thoroughly spooked. “This time, he tore the headphones from his head and leaving all of his equipment behind, he ran full-speed out of the library!”

There is something reassuring in the idea that the people who looked after us in life might continue to do so after death. Libraries, in particular, seem to attract such stories–perhaps because they are seen as sanctuaries of the past. If ink pressed onto paper can preserve the wisdom of the ages, maybe the volumes themselves can also shelter the spirits of those who cherished them.

When you are alone in a shadowed corner of the stacks, and the faint aroma of lilac interrupts the familiar musk of old books, it is easy to believe that something, or someone, unseen lingers nearby, watching over you from the quiet recesses between the shelves.

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Sources

Earney, Darick. “The Ghosts of Lewis and Clark Community College.” The Bridge (Godfrey, IL) 27 October 2014.

Leslie, Mark. Tomes of Terror: Haunted Bookstores and Libraries. Toronto, ON: Dundurn, 2014.

Maddox, Teri. “School for girls.” Belleville News-Democrat (Belleville, IL) 1 December 2000.

Mitchell, Barbara J. “A Blazing Trail.” St. Louis Post-Dispatch (St. Louis, MO) 21 August 1988.

Taylor, Troy. Haunted Alton: History & Hauntings of the Riverbend Region. Alton, IL: Whitechapel Productions Press, 1999.