By Roberta Clayton
Joan Beane lived in Rockingham, North Carolina, for a couple of decades in an upscale development called Weatherstone. Neighbors of her nearby lake house got together each year when she invited them to “Join us for a bloody good time at Count Dracula’s annual dinner party. Costumes encouraged, and please bring treats for the little goblins.”
She was celebrated by Rockingham’s lifestyle writer C. K. Craven in the following published poem:
Weatherstone Joan lives at the end of the road,
Where the trick-or-treaters thought they should go.
But once they got there,
Up stood their neck hair,
When the Ghoulies all started to show!
A skeleton arose and a vampire appeared,
Out of nowhere, or so it would seem.
And “dead people” were seated,
As if about to be treated,
As dinner guests of Ms. Joan Beane.
Some kids were frightened, while others were amazed
By the appearance of the monsters on site.
But there were decorations galore,
And candy and more
For the children and parents alike.
The “haunted” house was well-adorned
With a combination of goblins and ghosts.
Rooms were decorated,
The event well-orchestrated
By Ms. Beane and her cadre of hosts.
She’s been doing this for 20 years
And her expertise is readily apparent.
Kids are intrigued but still scared,
Even if they are paired
With a sibling, a friend, or a parent.
Back in the depths of Old Weatherstone
Is the “haunted house” of Ms. Joan Beane,
So, if you should dare
I’ll see you there,
(If you’re brave enough) NEXT Halloween.
Joan moved some years ago to Fuquay-Varina, in one of the neighborhoods where parents bring their little ones from areas with no sidewalks. They walk with them, teach them to say thank you, and help them learn to be appreciative and polite. Joan’s home is a showplace in every season, but Halloween is her favorite. She spends three figures on the candy alone, plus the cost of big boxes of batteries, and new displays from time to time. In 2024, she welcomed over 240 children at her door.
Her own memories fuel this creative passion. “When I was a child, the retired colonel and his wife across the street from us would have us come in at Halloween and go around the table for treats and have a cup of warm apple cider. That was the only house I remembered and of course, that was why. And I think that influenced the way I do Halloween.”
Joan’s home sits at the border of a common area, making it an extra treat to enjoy a row of almost a dozen inflatable, lighted figures that line the path. Bones hang and rattle over her doorway, and a sign on the door invites you to “Come in for a spell.” Witches are seated on the porch. Motion-activated figures flash their eyes and cackle among other startling things. A coven of witches surrounds their cauldron, and at the bottom of the path a zombie hangs on a fence that crackles and flashes as though he were being electrocuted. Some years the upstairs window shows figures trying to escape flickering flames.
But the heart of the display is the dining room scene, featuring a table surrounded by life-sized guests enjoying fiendish fare together. A fortune teller points to her cards and reminds you after her spiel, “Five dollars!” The butler stands by with a tray of ghoulish goodies. And you might spot a bowl full of remote controls that turn everything off and on. A young woman dressed in filmy white gazes out the window at the passers-by, with vacant eyes that flash red in her distress. Everything is in place early on, because this is Joan’s creative masterpiece. But that dining room window will be kept veiled until October officially begins. After that, peep and gaze and speculate on that scary, but sociable, scene as long as you wish. It’s the time of year when looking into someone’s windows just might be exactly what is intended.
These displays not only have voices, movements and brains, but surgeons to perform minor miracles to keep them “alive.” Joan has called upon friends to investigate the ailing spooks and make repairs. One figure needed its gears realigned. Another required resoldering. And some had too much glue, or not enough. All the batteries are tested and packed away according to the hours of use they have undergone. Like all minor electronics, the figures can also be finicky for no apparent reason.
Part of the fun is the scale of the displays. The two-headed cat was an enormous surprise when Joan first set it up, larger than she had imagined when she ordered it. Most of the figures are life-sized. But there are also inside displays that include miniature villages and scenes complete with tiny lights. A rather small witch in the half-bathroom startles guests with her large voice. Of course, the guests had presumed they were alone! Little rats and skeletons and skulls, draped veils of cobwebs, and funny signs keep visitors vigilant. A witch has slammed into the porch, reminding us, “Don’t drink and fly.” Perhaps the most subtle scene is the tree out front with a face that is carefully camouflaged.
Joan orchestrates everything because it is her delight to do so. It takes not only time and money and batteries and remotes, but a creative flare beyond the usual. The children thank her. During Covid, the treats were sent sliding down a six-foot pipe to a hand that offered them to the little ones out front. One treat they will never receive from Joan is bubble gum, which she abhors. She fondly recalls specific interactions with little ones. She used the hidden microphone to have a witch call to a frightened child, “Come back, little ballerina!” Another time she was wearing a ghillie suit with a spider on her head and heard a child proclaim, “Mommy, the spider is eating that lady.”
How about you? Was there someone like the colonel in your neighborhood who went the second mile to help you make holidays magical? As I sit on my porch dressed as a green witch, handing out treats, I remember the creativity that went into some of our costumes. Once I made a cardboard phonebooth and carried an old black phone. (What’s a phonebooth?” some may ask.) My daughter and her friend stuck their heads through a white tablecloth on a cardboard table to create a monstrous meal being served. Neither of these ideas made moving around easy, but the challenge was to create something unusual. So many characters are unfamiliar to me now. But, yes, there are still the cowboys and spacemen, the ballerinas and princesses.
Joan grew up with three brothers and a sister. She was the fourth child in the family, and I correctly pegged her as a tomboy and a tease. She raised three sons and a daughter of her own. After 25 years as a widow, she creates a wider community of fun with displays for Christmas, Easter, Valentine’s Day and others. But, of course, Halloween will always be her favorite. Family members suggested that she consider one of the communities built for those 55 and older. Her reply? “What am I supposed to do for Halloween? Forget it!”
