"Soul Seekers"

 

Soul Seekers
by
Tracy Duran

She was sitting in a dark room with a few candles lit so that she could imagine. Not sure why he never showed up and she couldn’t understand why he went away for so long. Then the sing-songy whistle comes about in the air again.  Then she hears the singing that always follows. It's always the same song when she thinks of him.

♫I follow the Moskva

Down to Gorky Park

Listening to the wind of change...♫

The drone of the notes helps her meditate to where she sees his face. Just his face in the candlelight. She listens for the song again. The song faded away. It feels like it has been 10 maybe 15 minutes, then she hears it again very softly.

♫The future's in the air

Can feel it everywhere

I'm blowing with the wind of change...♫

She can now see him, sitting on the floor just several feet in front of her with the candles around him. He has his eyes closed tightly and he is calling for her.

“Lizzie, can you hear me?” he says in a hushed, nervous tone.

She tries to speak but she feels choked up. She can’t believe that she is hearing his voice. The music fades along with his image.

It feels like an hour has passed. She's concentrating so intently to have him come back. She thinks of him constantly to try to get her into his mind. Suddenly the whistling starts again. She feels very cold yet electric at the same time. She feels like she has more energy to talk. She's not as nervous as she was before.

"Hiding"

"Hiding"
photo by Tracy Duran
Tracy Duran Collection

I sit in the closet, hiding from the voices. I cover my ears but I still hear them. The voices seem faint and far away. I don't know what to do. The voices come at night when all I want to do is be myself. Free to go about the house. This old house. The house I made together with my husband. The voices, they keep coming. I don't know where he is. I look out the windows of the cupola to see if he is coming home yet I never see him walk down the lilac lined pathway.

I'm frozen with fear; the voices, they seem to get louder. Who are these voices? Why do they invade my mind? My only solace is to think of the music I used to play on the piano downstairs. Chopin's Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 was always my favorite to play, as it was his. I would glide my fingers across the keys without a stagger. He would sit in his chair and read his books taking in the music. Now the piano sits in the dark. The books are now dusty. The chair, it sits empty. I sit in this closet, in the dark, thinking of the song while trying to ignore the voices.

"Just One More Minute"

Just One More Minute
Photo by Tracy Duran
Tracy Duran Collection

At first, no one notices the woman as she walks into the room. One might think she was one of the many lost spirits in this room; however she is the one who actually speaks to the spirits on behalf of the living. She patiently waits in the line to offer her condolences as she overhears the hushed tones and soft cries of grief. She's always had a hard time in these situations since she can feel everyone's emotions. Being empathetic, she can feel the sadness tenfold and it makes her body hurt. She can also feel the emotions of those whom passed on yet those emotions are equal parts happiness and sadness. Happy that they are not in pain and are able to see loved ones who previously passed away. Sad seeing their living loved ones crying for them.

“It's too bad these people don't realize that going to the other side isn't such a bad thing.” she thinks to herself. She is the only one in the room who knows the truth.

Every time she walks into a funeral parlor, she feels and smells what only certain mediums do. She feels the static energy and smells sulphur, reminding her of a burning Fourth of July sparkler. She rubs her arms to try to dissipate the static feeling. She tries to turn her mind off so she is not distracted by the other spirits trying to get her attention. Sometimes she wears ear buds with Procol Harum blasting to help keep the vibes blocked. Wearing earbuds at a funeral is not a good look however. One might think she could ignore anyone in her path but she can tell the difference between the living and the dead. The dead do not blink. While she waits, she keeps the song, “A Whiter Shade of Pale” in her head but she still hears, “She was so young,” “The doctors have no idea why she died; it was natural, if you can believe that,” “I'll bet that she committed suicide but no one is telling us.” She laughs to herself and some people stare at her for the indiscretion.

She gets closer to the person she is here to see, the young lady's husband Jeff. He is sitting by himself in an oversized chair, looking blankly toward the casket with his wife laying within. Some visitors come to him and place a hand on his shoulder. Some lightly squeeze with genuine affection; others offer an uneasy pat. None say a word but he understands their intent. The woman finally finds her moment to approach him.

“Very nice music. Was it Victoria's favorite?” she asks. Throughout the parlor, a soft, somber operetta is being played. Still staring blankly, Jeff says in a whispered tone as if to not disturb his bride: “Una Furtiva Lagrima.” It was one of her favorite songs.”

She places her hand on his shoulder and looks toward the beauty in the adorned casket. She says softly along to the haunting music, “The beating, the beating of her heart I could feel, to merge my sighs with hers...”

He slowly puts his head in his hands, then absently reply, “They told me not to play this because it's such a sad song. She always told me it was a good song. I never listened and I never cared. It was her thing, not mine. Now it's all gone. She's just...gone.”

My research history of Leland Hotel

Leland Hotel
Tracy Duran Collection

When history is being written, we have to take it into consideration of what is true and what is storytelling. An account of this or another account of that. He said and she said and so forth. History is rife with stories that we don't know that are true or not. There have been many stories and legends of the Leland Tower. All of us have that story. Either a personal story or the well known, “My dad's uncle's friend's grandmother who knew this gal who knew this fellow who used to work at the Sky Club and had served steak to Al Capone, true story I swear” type of story. Heck, even my Uncle Rusty (Howard) Gates had told us that when he worked at Leland, that he did serve steak to Al Capone. There obviously isn't any proof of that. This was the late 1930's-early 1940's, no cell phones, no video cameras. You could get away with telling tall tales like this. Does this make it untrue? Not necessarily. It is one of those things that you never know. Some folks have the craziest stories from their life. Plus, they are fun stories from folks that are no longer with us. It was very true to the little tiny redhead, with big amber eyes, mouth agape with what she was hearing. Imagining this glamorous type of restaurant on the very top of Leland Tower and a “penthouse” that Al Capone supposedly stayed in, that had tunnels going all sorts of ways in case the police came to catch him.

Jerry Fredricksen
1953

Growing up back in the late 1970's and early 1980's, my father, Jerry Fredricksen (1941-1999) always told my sister, myself and usually any of our friends who were hanging out with us on a Saturday, stories of his childhood in Aurora, Illinois. He had some really neat stories, some though, you kind of figured were him seeing if we were paying attention.

One story in particular, when we would have Oberweis Dairy deliver milk to our home, we would always get regular milk and chocolate milk. One of my sister's friends had asked about the milk delivery since she had never seen that before (she was visiting from out of town via our church) and he told her that the truck had two cows inside and the milk man would fill up the bottles. One white cow for regular milk and one brown cow for chocolate milk. He was a witty guy and we miss him a lot even after all these years.

Little Jerry and his friends
1947

He talked about how he and his friends would walk down the train tracks looking for an adventure of some type. He'd walk across the Fox River to one of the many islands in the middle of the river to look for arrowheads. I became fascinated about the history of our town because of dad.

One of the stories he shared that always intrigued me were the stories of the Leland Tower and the “all mysterious” Sky Club. A nightclub that was on the top floor of this 21 story building.

Sky Club Leland Hotel Coaster
Photo provided by Aurora Historical Society

As an adult I am still amazed with this building and it's history. I lived on the fifth floor in #501, then being one of the first inhabitants to the nineteenth floor in #1901, where Sky Club used to be after the owners, at that time, remodeled. So the family tradition continued. Knowing that where I was staying, sleeping and eating that there used to be people dining and dancing made the living experience that much more exciting. Knowing I was living among history of some sort. Be it my own or any of the other spirits, yes spirits, that reside on that floor and many other floors of Leland Tower.

As the saying goes, there are skeletons in closets. The Leland Tower holds more secrets than anyone will know of. We'll never know all of them yet if walls could talk, Leland willingly goes mute. The building, to me, is one of mystery. You might also believe in the mystery of Leland Tower. There is a mystery revolving around this restaurant/ballroom. There are very few photos, which will be shared here. What I do hope is to give you at least an idea of how awesome this place was.

There is history deep inside of the steel, concrete, limestone and brick. It just needed a guide to bring it out. Someone determined, someone crazy. Well, here you go! Voila, here I am.With many Saturdays of research at the Aurora Public Library, the Aurora Historical Society, along with the help of David Karademas, the current owner of Leland Tower who had guided me to where I needed to go; I was able to locate genuine newspaper articles, ads and photos.  So, grab your favorite drink (for me, if it's early in the day, my favorite, PG Tips tea. If the early evening, make it a pineapple and rum), sit back and imagine you and I talking about Leland Tower. I do hope you'll be able to go back in time with me, back to when Downtown Aurora was the place to be! This is the history of Leland Tower.