The Witches of Salem, the Angel of Hadley, and the Friends of Philadelphia

Throughout 1992 and into the early months of 1993, Salem, Massachusetts, has observed the tercentennial of the witchcraft trials. Arthur Miller helped open the formal commemoration in November 1991 by unveiling the winning design for a monument to the victims. The Crucible was staged near Salem's Essex Institute, where Miller had done research for his play. While the town officials insist that the observance is not a celebration but a meditation on human rights and due process, the anniversary has inflammed persistent questions about modern windfalls from an old tragedy. To avoid charges of exploitation, Salem left card-carrying witches off its tercentennial committee, prompting the official S tate Witch, Laurie Cabot, to blast the town for perpetuating a hate and violating the witches' civil rights. Others have blasted the town—and the witches—for glamorizing a debacle to lure cash. Witches ride along with the law on the logo of police cars. Visitor brochures list more psychics than medics. As its mayor joyously noted, Salem expected its tourist rate to double during the tercentennial, bringing more than a million sightseers into a Northeast weakened by recession. Three hundred years ago, in the economically depressed backwoods of Salem Village, rumors of voodoo, sorcery and sexual misconduct incited the frenzy that stopped only after more than 150 persons were imprisoned and at least 23 individuals died for the crime of witchcraft. By medieval and Renaissance standards of religious paranoia and persecution, the Salem hysteria was remarkable for its brevity, yet Salem still remains the symbolic capital of witchcraft on the map of European and American history. Even Salem's founder Roger Conant, born in 1592, now has to share his centennials with the devil.