The Berry Tavern: A Night in the Root Cellar

Fortunatus Berry couldn't have imagined the horror that would surround his stone root cellar when he built it in 1840.

At that time, the settler from New York was running his tavern in the mining settlement of Gratiot's Grove, just south of Shullsburg, in the Wisconsin Territory.  In fact, he had just constructed the new tavern and root cellar to replace the obsolete structure he built in 1829, shortly after he arrived in Gratiot's Grove.  His business was picking up as the busy route leading to the lead mines directed weary stagecoach travelers past the tavern and inn.  He built the stone root cellar outside the tavern to store food (and maybe drinks) needed to satiate the numerous guests.

The wood cellar at dusk (the root cellar is underground and accessible through a small opening in the back)

Less than a decade later, the tavern would change hands, becoming the Lamar House.  It was during this time that one of the saddest and macabre events in the region's history took place.  In the summer of 1854, a cholera epidemic was sweeping across the Midwest, leaving thousands dead in cities like St. Louis and Chicago.  Cholera reached Gratiot's Grove and the bustling Lamar House via rail camp to stage line and wreaked havoc upon the unsuspecting tenants.  Within days of exposure, eleven guests succumbed.  Among the dead were the local doctor and coffin builder.  With the dead bodies rapidly accumulating and nowhere (and no one) to bury them, the eleven bodies were wrapped in gunny sacks and stacked in the root cellar to await burial amidst the panic and uncertainty of the time.  Eventually, the dead were buried near the tavern in a small, makeshift cemetery.  

In addition to the doctor and coffin maker, there were children who died.  Some of the headstones were later found during road construction, and the cemetery has since been restored near its unknown original location.  

Today, the property is privately owned and undergoing a long process of restoration.  Every year, a fundraiser is held onsite, with music, food, and games.  In 2024, I was offered the opportunity to spend the night in the root cellar.  The idea became a bit of a novelty, with respect to those who perished long ago.  This year, I took the owners up on their offer.

So, after the day's festivities had concluded, and the last of the site had been cleaned up, and the last set of taillights faded into the distance, I prepared for a night inside the dark, musty, and silent depths of the root cellar.  I noticed the moonless midnight sky was awash in stars, a sight I very rarely get to enjoy, living thirty miles from Chicago.  I laid down on a picnic table and looked at space for awhile.  Speechless.

Inside the root cellar, I laid out my bedding atop a single layer of plastic pallet mattresses.  When the light went out, the insects and spiders came alive, but it wasn't anything I couldn't deal with.  I slept well.  I am not superstitious, I do not believe in spirits or ghosts or "negative energies" or anything like that.  

I woke up around 6:00 AM, a little stiff, but well-rested.  I wish I had a lot more to say about my experience to make it seem more sensational, but it was exactly what it was, a complete and rather literal immersion into history, and the kind of unconventional experience I cherish.

Finally, I encourage anyone reading this to visit the Berry Tavern and to support Friends of Berry Tavern.  Good people just trying to keep history alive and well in an increasingly rootless society.