Enter: the Rialto Theater.
On January 17, 1974, theater manager Joseph Siciliano’s naked, mutilated body was discovered in the Harmony River after a dispute with Phillip Newcombe, the Rialto’s owner. Under the management of Newcombe’s grandson, who developed a strange obsession with the “Espiritus Demonicus” cult, the theater shut down in 1983 to be used as a private dormitory for human sacrifice and demonic worship.
Now, MISSING posters line the walls of the entrance, along with gory photos of a “Murder Prom” in 2012, the “Zombie Apocalypse” of 2014…
Enter: 20 years of Halloween memories at the DuBois Family Haunted house.
To detail its penultimate year (see my 2023 article), I visited 721 Crestbrook Avenue last October. Never had I expected a 5-dollar experience in a tent behind someone’s house to be so authentically terrifying – and, as I discovered upon speaking to Brian DuBois himself – so passionately well-crafted and thought out.
This year, the winding hallway, which held the waiting line for the house, was decorated with movie posters and a toll booth to resemble the Rialto – a fictional theater crafted for 2016’s Broadway Musicals theme. DuBois – a published author with 10 horror novels and a forthcoming memoir reflecting his 20 years of scares – has carefully curated backstories for every house’s concept. This year’s theme was “A Nostalgic Revisit”, where DuBois let his children pick their favorite past rooms to update and recreate. From Bloody Mary’s disheveled bathroom to a Victorian wedding chapel and butcher shop, there was something there for everybody.
“I don’t have a favorite theme, a favorite room… I like when it works. This year, more than any other year, every single room is clicking and coming alive exactly the way I envisioned them,” DuBois said.
DuBois and his family began decorating and reconstructing the house on August 1, using only props purchased and created for previous themes.
“We also have an off-site storage unit where it’s just skeletons and mannequins. I have an entire one-car garage that’s just skeletons and mannequins… It would be hilarious [if someone tried to break in].”
Over the past 20 years, he has garnered thousands of relics, which he stores under the house and in a shed; going through old units filled with eerily realistic corpses, dead animals and DIYed shacks made from rotten wood, this year’s construction process was both a nostalgic experience and a daunting creative endeavor.
In its six-day run, 1600 visitors came to the house, with 310 coming on Halloween night alone. Since its beginning, though, DuBois has never made a profit; having promised himself never to raise the admission price past $5, Dubois cites his pure love of “haunting” for his work.
“I’m not closing because I have to. It should be a business, but I don’t want to run [one], because every time I get an extra cent in my pocket, I’m going to spend it on a [scary] mask or something.”
On November 1, the final scream echoing down Crestbrook Avenue marked the end of an era. Though the DuBois Haunted House will not return next year, 20 years of memories (and perhaps ghosts) will live indefinitely within its visitors.
