Jackie Hopper's Pet Rock Cemetery

The Miami News, October 21, 1976

As a concerned citizen, Jackie Hopper, a Detroit tavern owner, did what anybody would do when she heard that pet rocks were going hungry: she built a graveyard awaiting their demise. Having come across an newspaper ad bemoaning the fact that the treasured pets' well-beings were in peril without an adequate food supply, she prepared for the worst and constructed a pet cemetery for the soon-to-be passing stones. Or so the newspaper legend goes.

Hopper told a slightly different story in her autobiography, Passing Through: The Jackie Hopper Story (Yes, even bar owners write books!), stating that one morning a kid had chucked his pet rock through the bar window and came in to retrieve it, claiming to have dropped it. The caretaker of the bar quipped that he was going to start making coffins for pet rocks and Mrs. Hopper encouraged the notion by stating, "You do that. I will make a graveyard."

It was then she began to gather the materials necessary to transform one of the vacant lots she owned across the street from her establishment on Junction and McGregor in the southwest side of the city. Using artificial turf for grass and white cement blocks for a border and tombstones she adorned the graves with candles and flowers.

Expecting nothing to come of the matter, except for perhaps an opportunity for vandalism, she was surprised when all of the major newspaper and television outlets began arriving the following day to cover the story.

Not only was it newsworthy but it became a neighborhood rite of passage for the children to tend to and beautify their rock grave sites. Some children even went so far as to have a sleepover to protect their cemetery.

Adults weren't immune to the fad either. There were traffic jams at the intersection, a slow stream of foot traffic through the bar to drop off flowers and even firemen parked nearby in case a rock needed resuscitation. If that weren't enough, people were calling in to reserve plots for future burials and there were plans to expand the cemetery to other vacant lots owned by Hopper.

Then, nearly six months after it all began, it ended one night in an act of thievery. Some scrooge, or perhaps even the Nain Rouge himself, pilfered the graveyard of all 35 markers and pet rocks and scampered off into the night to revel in his deviancy. The Free Press wrote an article on the matter entitled "Ghouls Get Pet Rocks" but the attention was to no avail, as the culprit(s) were never caught and the cemetery returned to its former vacancy.

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Forewarned (By a Witch Doctor)

The Detroit Free Press, March 9, 1910

Mrs. John Skowerinski was no Rose Veres. Hell, she wasn't even a middling Samantha Stephens but rather a congenial neighbor who came face-to-face with a real life witch named Josephine Gawronski. Mind you, she was neither a witch in the impractical sense of the word; broom, pointed hat, a brood of black cats primping by a smoking cauldron; nor the practical tradition, but one in the metaphysical realm. More simply put, a lunatic.

This was confirmed when Gawronski invited Skowerinski to her home for the sole purpose of attacking, beating and bloodying the unsuspecting woman. Surely, she must have done something to provoke this episode of senseless brutality. Gawronski's reasoning? Skowerinski was a witch who had put a spell on her attacker and inflicted upon her a stomach malady.

As queer as it may sound to the progressive thinker it was a common superstition among our forebearers up until the last 50 or so years. In Mrs. Gawronski's defense she was also a sick woman. Physically ill, that is, with catarrh of the stomach. Not deathly ill but sick enough. Which may or may not have led to her mental afflictions and plans for retribution against Mrs. Skowerinski, but it was a prime mover in the matter.

With the onset and continuation of her illness unabated, she apparently received a diagnosis from a medical doctor but was unsatisfied with his determination. So Jospehine decided that she needed a second opinion and called upon an east side witch doctor who convinced her that she was bewitched. Encouraged to think back to a galvanizing moment before the symptoms occurred she recalled a wedding party a month or so earlier where Skowerinski had secured Gawronski a drink and then possibly wished an incantation against her. To reverse the effects of the spell she would have to accost the witch and draw blood. Which she did. Once completed, for good measure, Gawronski made the poor prone woman chant thrice, "I take it back."

Needless to say, the catarrh persisted and the witch doctor was summoned once more. Whereupon he proclaimed Mrs. Skowerinski innocent and ordered another woman beaten! That woman apparently didn't come forward to tell her story. Skowerinski did though in the form of a lawsuit. Whereby the gathered raucous anti-witch revelers in support of Gawronski were admonished by Justice Lemke for their beliefs in superstition. He deemed them worthy of a spanking and Mrs. Skowerinski $25 in damages.

L'abeille de la Nouvelle-Orleans, May 19, 1910

Maude Roose: Ruse or Raphael Reincarnated? [UPDATED]

The Detroit Free Press, November 17, 1922 (enlarge)

In the world of art comparing an amateur's rendering on the easel to one of the master painters is akin to matching up skill sets of a little league baseball player with those of the legendary Babe Ruth. Simply put, there is no meting out similarities between the two. Whether it was through hubris or naivete, Detroiter Maude Roose did just that.

Roose, a clerk in her 20s and a resident of the city since 1910, found interest in painting after talking to the master Raphael himself via a medium. She had come upon spiritualism with much skepticism but after being put in touch with her deceased father and grandmother--who forecast a promising future for the young woman--she patiently awaited the rewards of her faith. The grand master was such a gift.

Raphael imparted to her that his early death deprived him of future endeavors he had oft ruminated upon. Some 450 years later his weary spirit had come to her to complete the arduous task. Further masters such as Hals, Rueben and Murillo joined in to aid the tutelage. They even directed Roose to an art store on Grand River and the Hayward studio at 513 Shelby street.

Borrowing from each in her five week stint at Hayward, she completed several works which Raphael dreamed up but sickness prevented, all with the spirit guidance of their ghostly hands. Included were a life sized portrait of "Christ" and "Christ and the Rich Man's Son." Though sometimes tedious to bring to fruition, with the aid of the spirits--and occasionally the public library--she produced marvelous canvases utilizing minimal experience and technique to semi-perfection.

The Detroit Free Press, November 18, 1922

F. Harold Hayward, instructor at the academy which bore his name and a well-versed artisan himself, had no answer for the adept touch of his mysterious pupil--while also noting similarities between the works of Roose and Raphael--simply quipping, "It's a puzzle to me." Being a practical man he discounted the notion of a spook or spirit-hand guiding Miss Roose but could offer no reasonable alternative either. Though he did muse upon one mitigating factor, "She has inspiration." while motioning to the painting of Christ. Divinely inspired? We shall never know.

Even the reporter from the Free Press seemed convinced in a back-handed way, noting that the hand of Christ seemed to be reaching out towards him and touching the ethereal believer within that had long been maligned by academics and the study of humanity at large. The mystery, indeed, was both the question and answer itself.

*     *     *

April 30, 2016

The unfortunate thing about online research is that sometimes the sources run dry. As was the case with this story. Not due to a lack of material but because the parameters of the searches are confined by the available databases.  

The Detroit Free Press Historical Archives through Pro Quest--which I have a free subscription to via my public library--abruptly end in 1922.

Such isn't the case with Newspapers.com but they charge $100+ per year to use and searches are limited to a dozen or so a month. Which is not a feasible expense for me since I have an 8-year-old child to provide for. But enough of my postscript preamble.

A recent post on Wet Canvas provided the impetus for this update. Also shown there is a press photo of Miss Rouse that is selling on eBay which wasn't available at the time of my original blog.

And if you dig deep enough on Google you can find the photo below which was available on eBay a few years back:

Both coincide with the newspaper articles posted above though I've doctored them a little with my minimal photo editing skills and my even less discriminating palette, considering that I am red-green colorblind.

Regardless of our pratfalls here's the "big" update:

The Owosso Argus-Press, May 19, 1923

Six months later Miss Maude was showcasing both her Spiritualism and artwork alongside Charles Whaley, who had some notoriety himself in the movement:

Though he probably didn't get the kind of respect that he desired:

The Owosso Argus-Press, May 28, 1930

As for Maude: whether her career continued or she faded away into further obscurity has yet to be revealed to me. I shall update further when or if the pertinent answers come my way.

*     *     *

August 1, 2017


It's hard to believe that it's been a solid year and a quarter since I last updated the story but since that time I have purchased both a Detroit Free Press and a Newspapers.con subscription (the latter cross-cancelling out the other) and not only do I have a minor update on Maude Roose, with the prospect for many additional developments, but also several leads to other so-called spirit painters from the Detroit area.

Detroit Free Press, November 27, 1927

She joined Vaudeville in 1927! Or at least was set to. I've yet to get around to a follow-up but will in due course. Having briefly browsed other articles she is listed in many Spiritualist advertisements around that time as well so it's likely that more interesting things will be gleaned from the archives. I shall update the blog with further related articles very shortly. Other photos of Roose appear on this post.

Detroit Free Press, February 21, 1928

In this article that I just found the supposed "girl with the radio mind" was double-billed with a Russian ballet which the theater thought would be a clashing combination. Miss Roose, of the opinion that her week-long show would open the world of Vaudeville back up to her after she apparently performed and failed there previously, sought to sue after her cancellation. Whether or not she won the suit she always had the editorship of the Psychist Almanac to fall back on.

Ghost Story #9: The Gambrinous Goblin

The Detroit Free Press, April 5, 1864

Partakers in fire water and firemen are often joined in the realm of calamity but it's seldom that they are congregated together to witnesses a spectral sifting. While moonlighting at the bottling plant on Cass Street one of the firemen from Engine House #1 claimed to have seen a friend who had recently died.

Following a brief embrace the ghostly figure helped himself to a stiff libation from the bottling supply. After quickly tossing back the contents he grabbed another to quench his thirst further. Upon draining the contents of the second vessel and reaching for a third the concerned friend proceeded to cut off his erstwhile mate. He grabbed the bottle and turned to set it aside. Upon return to his former stance his pal had disappeared.

The story was a belly wrecker back at the station but the man held true to his recollection. As proof, he rested his laurels on the empty bottles that remained in the bottling cellar, neither able to retain liquid nor curtail a dead man's thirst for the good things of this world.

G. W. Hurley: The Second Christ of Detroit

The Afro American, October 11, 1930

Oh, those Spiritualists! I'd never heard of this sect until Thomas Bradford's story crossed my path and I just assumed that it was a generic term for religionists. But no, it was/is a religion based upon the Bible's teaching interspersed with a belief for communicating with the dead. Among it's proponents were none other than Henry Ford, Thomas Edison and Arthur Conan Doyle. 

One of its teachers was G. W. Hurley, a black Detroit transplant via the Deep South, who called himself the "Second Christ." Hurley, dissatisfied with his earlier church involvements, formed the Universal Hagar's Spiritual Association in 1923. He offered to openly debate any religious leader on the merits of his claims and seemingly nobody took him up on that offer. In response to a Protestant clergyman's rebuke of Spiritualism, the self-anointed prophet Hurley declared Protestantism a religion based upon black magic and witchcraft and that history proved his claim. 

The Afro American, September 12, 1936 (enlarge)

The prophet also had run-ins with a New York City based prophet named Father Divine, who like Hurley, numbered his followers in the hundreds of thousands in multiple states. Whereas Hurley staked claim to being the Second Christ Son of God, Divine strove higher and deemed himself God.

The Afro American, May 20, 1939

The rift deepened when Divine set up a church (he called it extending "his heavens") on the outskirts of Detroit (Highland Park) in 1936. Hurley predicted oblivion for the "little man" and that the prophet would die within 9 years due to a covenant with an evil spirit. While the claim was a bold leap of faith it was off by both methodology and mathematics, as "God" would live some 17 years past the decree's expiration date. Hurley himself wouldn't live to see the prophecy proven wrong as he died two years shy of his prediction in the summer of 1943.