As kids don their witches’ hats and pirates’ hooks, gather up their candy sacks and venture out into the unknown but promising land of (hopefully) generous neighbors, adults stock up on candy, a healthy helping of booze, and carve jack-o’-lanterns to celebrate the ever-infamous night of All Hollow’s Eve. We like to think this night is full of light-hearted spooks and scares, innocent mischief and fright. Many parents, however, seriously fear for their children’s safety, and go more than the extra mile to guarantee, of all things, that they won’t be harmed by a little piece of candy.
The legend of poisoned candy dates back to the 1970s. We’ve all heard stories of that friend of a friend who ate some bad chocolate, became ill, started hallucinating or even wound up six feet under. But could it all just be the result of an urban myth? Many reported cases are difficult to validate and what was thought to be attempted murder via a stranger’s candy bowl might have been nothing more than a coincidence.
The most well-known case of a death by candy occurred in 1974, when a Houston dad wanted to claim life insurance from his 8-year-old son, Timothy. Ronald Clark O’Bryan laced five Pixie Stix with cyanide and then, unspeakably, passed them out to his son and four of his son’s friends; no one ate the candy except for Timothy. He also attempted to give the polluted sweets to his daughter and her friends, hoping that police would never suspect him if enough children were affected. He was convicted of murder and, being a resident of Texas, was sentenced to die by lethal injection in 1984.
Four years prior, in 1970, 5-year-old Kevin Toston lapsed into a coma on Halloween night and died four days later from a heroin overdose. As it turns out, his uncle was an addict with a hidden stash; Kevin’s family sprinkled a deadly dose of it on the child’s candy so the uncle would avoid punishment for possession. The deaths of Timothy and Kevin continue to perpetuate parents’ paranoia about “stranger poisonings” to this day, when in reality, the deaths were caused by the victims’ own family members–not some boogeyman out to target random children in the neighborhood.In 1964, a Long Island housewife was arrested for executing the first truly dangerous Halloween trick by a stranger. Helen Pfeil passed out inedible treats to teenagers she thought were too old to be asking for free candy. The packages were filled with steel wool, dog biscuits and arsenic-laced ant-buttons. Since she meant no malice, she verbally warned these teens and clearly labeled the packages “poison” with skull and crossbones—but that didn’t stop her from pleading guilty to endangering children and later being sentenced to a period of probation.
Since the early 70s, legends have floated around every year, in every community. Joel Best, a sociologist from the University of Delaware, researched major newspaper articles from 1958 to 1989 and found nearly 100 cases of victims who had eaten supposedly poisoned candy. He followed up with calls to the police and relative hospitals, but failed to find any serious reports of a child being killed or seriously harmed from a candy poisoning. Three children’s deaths were followed by autopsies, but reports attributed death to causes other than poison or drugs.
The media continue to instill fear into parents with special programs on potential Halloween dangers and safety tips. The panic associated with many news reports often comes from only premature evidence and unproven claims. Sometimes the children are the ones who evoke the terror, by keeping death-by-candy stories alive. So why does our society get so worked up over these typically tall tales? Easy—Halloween is a holiday for mocking death, living fantasies and having some scary, gruesome fun. Urban legends are an essential part of the classic lore that comes with this time of year. From razor blades in candied apples to needles in chocolate bars, these scary stories thrive, despite the fact that over 75 percent are hoaxes. Or, perhaps more horrifying, the treacherous treats were found before any injury occurred.
And yet, parents will continue to take every precaution possible. In the past, small-town hospitals allowed residents to utilize X-ray machines to inspect their children’s sugary loot; even today, parents insist on checking every single piece of candy earned before letting their child dig in. A more common routine these days has parents taking their kids to shopping malls to trick-or-treat, where businesses are assumedly safer, more secure and under adult supervision. Aside from relieving parents of the fear of questionable confections, they don’t have to worry about other Halloween fears that might come up, such as kidnappers or perverts roaming the neighborhood.
No matter how carefully parents plan out the safety of their children’s Halloween night, the potential threat of poisoned candy never dies. Today, it’s not only about a drug dealer sprinkling treats with cocaine, or worse, a sadistic neighbor experimenting with deadly chemicals. Now, there are rising concerns over taking the proper health precautions. Parents are expected to check all of the candy their kids tote home; but, they might be looking to criticize it for causing cavities or weight gain rather than instant, grisly death. The concern also revolves around children’s allergies to popular candy ingredients, or the potential of certain treats to be recalled. It’s no longer just about toxin-laced sweets, but food-borne illnesses as well.
A certain paranoia comes with this holiday, but it’s all part of the ritual. No matter how spooked parents may be, they still allow their kids to take that risk and collect the candy, as long as it’s pre-packaged and store-bought. This tradition will never die; because, as everyone knows, the best Halloween stories are always more about the tricks than the treats.
Photo by Matt McGee.
