At the wide-mouthed entrance to the Hall of Dinosaurs, Sabina Lee was stirring a deep pot of bright orange witches brew, ladling it out to visitors who dared try the concoction.
Just inside, a vampire stood deep in conversation with another witch, shifting occasionally to make way for packs of zombies en route to the cheese table and clusters of Romans, clad in togas and laurel wreaths, hopping back in line for another glass of red wine.
Then the announcement echoed across the room: the tour of this most haunted of haunted places was about to begin. Would the crowd — a strange mix of angels and demons, bloodied surgeons and oversexed nurses, and several ashen brides of Frankenstein — line up behind the Tyrannosaurus Rex’s gaping mouth?
This was madness, New Haven style. Thursday night, the Yale Peabody Museum of Natural History vanished into a cloud of smoke, replaced for just one evening with a Haunted Hall Crawl and Costume Ball.
The event, which sold out at 500 tickets, was one of the staff’s latest initiatives to get New Haven’s adult community interested in visiting the museum. Operations Coordinator Patricia Brunetto added that the Peabody is looking for new ways to engage Yale undergraduates, who feel that the location is too far away from main campus to be a frequent resource.
Their plan paid off with a packed house, trick-or-treaters of all ages shimmying awkwardly to Bobby Pickett’s “Monster Mash” and getting creative with costume ideas.
Some of the best included a thorough nod to Impressionism …
… Pop arts meets piracy …
… a reminder to wash that mounting pile of dirty clothes …
… and horned beast-queens and one true detective rudely introduced to the twenty-first century.
The Haunted House Crawl portion of the evening utilized the museum in new and inventive ways, lowering the lights for an Indiana Jones – meets – Night of the Living Dead showdown that surprised even the most poised and mature of museumgoers. Thanks to a few scary twists, screams and shrieks could be heard throughout.
Like in a large elevator, converted to a cell that was home to the most vengeful of prisoners …
… And a real live little shop of horrors.
Attendees also had the chance to meet some slick, slithering, and chocolate-covered friends (or were they foes?), scurrying on their little legs and shaking their long tongues when they sensed danger was near.
”This is for the community,” said Brunetto at the end of the evening.
Around her, a cadre of masked and painted faces laughed and slipped out the front door, almost surprised to find the world still upright. The walk home would be just as long, nary a magic broomstick in sight.