In certain circles, my father-in-law is referred to as “MacGyver” and it’s with good reason. Armed with a pair of pliers, a roll of duct tape, and some paper clips, there’s very little around the house he can’t fix. His resourcefulness and creatively extend not only to repairing toys and dishwashers, but he’s a bit of a master craftsman as well. So when Dave Purchase stood outside Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion in the late eighties and thought about decorating his house for Halloween, mighty wheels began to turn.
Every year, the scene became more elaborate as new elements and features were added. And as the display grew in scope and size, so did the celebration. The house became famous to neighborhood kids who knew to stop by for a good scare. As soon as one Halloween was over, Dave started to think about the next one. Throughout the year, “MacGyver” would draw inspiration from television shows or a trip to Home Depot. Halloween boxes engulfed the garage as the master continued to create and build. Every major element of Dave’s Halloween was home-made; these were the days before seasonal Halloween stores popped up every September. Dave didn’t buy the witch that stood in front to the castle; he made it—right down to the wooden dowel mounted to an old record player that created a stirring motion inside the cauldron.
Dave’s Halloween started simple: tombstones carved from styrofoam and painted gray planted in his front yard. As darkness fell on Susana Avenue, Dave realized that it was hard to read the humorous epitaphs and so next year Malibu lights were added to the perimeter of the graveyard. Of course, Malibu lights have no place in a haunted graveyard, so eventually they were camouflaged inside fence posts crafted from wood, cardboard, and balloons. Then came a crypt (Chase calls it a “jail”), a “stone” arched entryway, and a coffin that opens and closes with a rotisserie motor.
Given the home-made nature of Dave’s Halloween, the graveyard is designed for aesthetics, not durability. Which brings me to the most impressive thing about Dave’s Halloween: it’s a one day display—set up Halloween day, comes down Halloween night. Traditionally, Dave would start setting up early in the morning and throughout the day a revolving door of friends and family would be by to help. To feed the work crew, my mother-in-law would prepare a big pot what would become known as “Halloween chili.” My first year “on staff” was ten years ago and I’ve taken every Halloween off from work since.
For the Purchases, Halloween has always been a family affair. Jenni’s grandfather, a machinist, was responsible for the inner-mechanism of the coffin. Every year, setting up the graveyard, Dave tells me how his Dad figured out how to translate the circular motion of the rotisserie to mechanic arms that would open and close the lid of the coffin.. There’s a certain reverence in the story that bespeaks Dave’s love for his father and respect for the knowledge and skills that were passed on to to him. I never met Jenni’s grandfather, but every year my sons—his great grandsons—take part in a family tradition that now spans four generations. A few years ago, Dave’s Halloween moved to my front yard. My in-laws had just moved down to San Diego and it was determined that our house would be the next canvas for the Halloween artist. So every Halloween Dave pulls up about 9am and it’s time to get to work. If you find yourself in the neighborhood, stop by during the day and set up some tombstones or stop by after dark and see the full effect.
For most people, Halloween is about putting on a costume, pretending to be someone that you’re not. But for Dave Purchase—in cresting something original while spending time with friends and family—Halloween is about being exactly who he is.
