Peaceful and pristine under its winter dusting of snow, our cemetery is a much-treasured time capsule. The graves of countless Hanover residents, including that of Eleazer Wheelock himself, serve as reminders of the rich history of the Upper Valley elite.

Appearances can be deceiving. Turns out, the cemetery is much more than a snow covered wonderland for a good--if creepy--afternoon stroll. The local graveyard has proven the ideal playground for many Dartmouth students' less-than-academic endeavors. When the sun goes down, it has a secret side completely different from its image by day--a ragey side.

Jon Kling ’04 knew from day one at Dartmouth that the cemetery had good times in store for him. Every fall Orientation, he and some friends could be found in the cemetery with cameras, surprising unsuspecting couples on their way home to the River. According to Kling, every year about 20 pairs of horny freshmen would make the trek through the graveyard after their first party night in Hanover. A perfect trap for unsuspecting freshmen unable to wait for the comfort of the dorms and unpleasantly surprised to be caught in the act, the land of the dead provided Kling and his camera crew endless entertainment. Convinced that Kling and his buddies worked for a school paper, many of the freshmen feared that their first random Dartmouth hookup would be covered in the next day’s news. Apparently even though it’s not one of the official Seven, the cemetery is a great spot for more adventurous hookups.

Kling also recalls using the cemetery to flee from S&S on a number of occasions. “They can’t drive through there,” he observes, “They can sort of surround it, but not really.” From attempting the Blue Light Challenge to streaking S&S Headquarters during his Senior Week, Kling found himself running through the maze of woods and graves several times, often in the nude. “The thing about the graveyard,” he reflects with a good laugh, “is that it’s full of briars and brambles. When you’re naked, this is a real bad thing.”

Whether naked or fully clothed, and whatever your “crime,” the cemetery can be a good place of refuge. An anonymous ’07 reports passing out in the cemetery after a night of heavy drinking, rather than risking the trek back to his dorm. “I played a little too much pong one night ... and was worried about booting in my room or getting picked up by S&S, so I decided the cool air and a little sleep would help me sober up. When I woke up a few hours later it was foggy and creepy as hell, and I pretty much ran back to my dorm.”

But this all begs the question, why would the cemetery be such a draw for midnight gallivanters in the first place? Well, first off, it can be a good campus shortcut even if you aren’t fleeing S&S. Freshmen can use it as a relatively quick route from the river dorms to FoCo, meaning it’s more heavily trafficked on a daily basis than many students would think. But beyond your daily commute, the general spookiness of the place is certainly an attraction. Students often head to the graveyard for the same reasons people enjoy telling scary stories: it’s a thrill. A game of hide-and-seek among tombstones is far more entertaining than the standard game of your childhood. Creeping up behind someone and yelling “boo” reaches a whole new level of fun.

Kling believes that the lack of cemetery cameras is key to students having so much fun there. When he and some friends attempted to camp out on the Bema, S&S was there right away to send them home after spying the group on the cameras that apparently surround the area. Yet a group of ‘09s reports having had an awesome night camping out in the cemetery last year, where no cameras were watching over them. “We got up early and went back to the dorm before we were found,” said one of the campers.

The cemetery is a well-known destination for smokers on campus. Some students have spent a good chunk of time there for this purpose, under cover of night. Not surprisingly, they have all sorts of tales from their hours among the tombstones, some of which are probably truer than others. One anonymous ’08 headed into the cemetery to smoke up with a friend on Halloween during her sophomore year. In a characteristic haze she remembers, “So I'm beginning to think I'm hearing things ... Then out of the blue I hear this rahhhh screeaam! And something jumps out at me from behind! I scream at the top of my lungs... I turn around and two boys that I've never seen before pop out at me. And one of the boys says, ‘Yo, dude, I got blizunt up on this bizouse.’ And then we're like, awesome, and we light up and we pass around my blunt and his joint and we introduce ourselves to each other and get really high in the cemetery with strangers. His friend boots all over the place. And we became friends forever.”

Treat Ward ’08 reported a séance that she and her friends once performed in the graveyard, in an attempt to bring back the “unholy spirit of Jim Morrison.” Suddenly it began to rain and their candles went out, at which point the group began to hear voices, and a man led them across the graveyard “by the tips of their tongues and the ends of their hair.” They arrived at a tomb engraved with the words, Here Lies the Red Rooster. Then, according to Ward, the man began spanking a monkey on the grave of Jim Morrison himself. Ward claims that she and her friends woke up the next morning, prostrated on the ground, face down in mud.

Whoa.

From late night games of flashlight tag, to the occasional séance and even some fireworks shows, our seemingly tranquil graveyard might not be so tranquil after all. Unbeknownst to many, for years it has played host to student pranks, games, and good, old-fashioned debauchery. So next time you stroll past the expanse of snow-covered tombs, ask yourself what more there is to the scene. Better yet, cause some good-natured trouble yourself. It’s practically tradition--as much a part of Dartmouth’s history as the tomb of Wheelock himself.