Places maxvaughn Wants to Go

Chicago’s incendiary role in the labor movement.

Small and slightly hidden, the American Writers Museum is preserving the legacy of America's finest authors.

In a grove of fast growing walnut trees outside Paris, Illinois, a marker shares the story of a fictional road building culture.

Julia Buccola Petta's body was peculiarly well-preserved when it was exhumed six years after her death.

A strange rock in Chicago marks the spot where a tree once stood in honor of the 18th President.

The original vault that held the president's remains still stands, empty, not far from where he was finally buried.

Chicago was once a major hub of film production, but being silent film you don’t hear much about it.

This cemetery is all that remains of a school for "wayward" girls.

A historic beacon built in the aftermath of the worst maritime disaster on the Great Lakes.

To find the "unicorns of the deep" you've got to go downstairs.

A goddess-topped water fountain in Chicago was created thanks to the dreams of a thirsty newsboy.

No one knows how many bodies are in this vault in a Chicago public park.

Spanking machines, fake goats, and more devices of humiliation are on display in this museum of fraternal initiation devices.

This landmark of the Chicago silent film industry may not be in the picture business anymore but it still stands proudly.

A plaque marks a former safe house on the secret route, now hidden next to a McDonald's.

The final resting place of up to 6,000 Confederate soldiers, the largest mass grave in the Western Hemisphere.

The iconic Chicago sculpture hides a beautiful and easily overlooked plaque on the backside.

A strange and haunting monument of unknown origin in the historic Graceland Cemetery.

Home to a protest movement, a bombing, and a dramatic change in labor history.

When you visit his grave, be sure to rub the Great Emancipator's nose for good luck.

First planned industrial community in the United States.

Cemetery featuring rare glass-fronted columbarium.

Chicago's North Park Village was once the largest municipal sanatorium in the country.

Each of these gorgeous, intricately decorated rooms is painstakingly crafted to the scale of 1 inch: 1 foot.