Ladies & Gentlemen, This post is going to be rather long but necessary to pass on the story. I have shared this myth of the famed "witches" with my now college-aged sons, among others, who think this was one of the classiest stories/pranks ever pulled...and pulled it several times on numerous friends over a few years (late 60s through mid 70s). At some point in the late 70s, there was a full-page article on the witches, in either the Dallas Times-Herald or the Dallas Morning News, and the author was careful not to give away the ending. Of course, over the years the owner(s) of the towers apparently tired of the numerous cars that cruised the towers' parking lots every night of the week, but especially weekends. As the story grew or spread, it got so that there were so many groups playing the prank on their friends, they began running into each other just from the sheer numbers. But I'll readily admit: yes, I took my friends to see the "witches." And our group got V-E-R-Y G-O-O-D and extremely creative & quite divergent with our renditions of the story, which many kids from U.D., U.T.A., U.N.T., T.W.U., Jesuit, Ursuline, SOC (my school), Sunset (my now wife's school), Adamson & Kimball (our friends' schools), got to experience at our hands. Here was our usual modus operandi: A group of us in a car, usually on a multiple date, or just even cruising with the guys, would always make sure there was one newcomer who didn't know that the witches were just a lifesize set of statues. Having a single newcomer was best, as the other knowing group members would each add to the effect for the newbie as each saw fit, and based on the newcomer's responses at any point. After leaving a movie or dinner, someone would invariably mention "Hmmm, I wonder if the witches are out worshipping tonight." Usually that's all it took to hook the newbie into asking, "What do you mean, witches?" (And usually by then we had them.) Then one of us would usually say, "Oh, you haven't heard about them?" and we'd tell them the (supposed) legend of the owners of the 4 towers at Inwood & Stemmons being "closet" devil worshippers. If it was a Fri. night, we'd say something like, "and they always come out on the Jewish sabbath to worship Satan." On Sat. night we'd say something like "and they always come out on the eve of the Christian sabbath to worship Satan." Sunday's was obviously because it WAS the Christian sabbath. Etc. If the newbie gave us any doubting comments, one of the others would say, "C'mon, Steve, let's go check, and you can prove it to them." Looking at my watch, I'd reluctantly add, "Well, I hadn't planned on it, but I guess we have time" and head my car in the pre-planned direction. Getting there, we'd almost always pass-by going northward on the service road, pass it then turn in right, a fast u-turn south, and head around in a counter-clockwise direction at the farthest outer perimeter of the parking lot, where you really couldn't see the figures. Someone would distract looking too closely with banter about the large light fixtures, which appeared to be large concrete chalices, throwing light upward onto the building sides, as if each was a giant incense burner to the devil. And it did look similar. We did lots of embellishments (e.g.,"Ever notice how there is one tower at each of the 4 compass points?" and such). Well, we'd slowly make it around to the far back side parking lot, still at the farther-most outside perimeter, turn off the headlights, creep forward cautiously & slowly, and I'd usually say "Well, they don't seem to be here tonight." And I would usually comment about a 1940s black car which was almost always there but hadn't yet been spotted. I'd say "They have this sleek black coupe from the late '40s or early 50s, but I don't see it anywhere. Their car is dark, just like they are." If the car was there around back, as it almost always was, then someone else would say "THERE IT IS." (If it was not present, then someone would indicate the direction toward the 3 statues and say "THERE THEY ARE." It never failed to astonish, even if the car wasn't there.) Then I'd slam on the brake from my 5 mph speed, just for mild effect. Motor idling, we'd be silent for maybe 10 seconds, then begin to whisper (again, just for effect) things like "They look like they're vibrating or gyrating" (which was the effect of headlights of vehicles driving past on Stemmons behind the statues, which made them appear to be moving slightly.) Someone would say, "LISTEN...I think I can hear them chanting" (cars on Stemmons going up or down the incline of the freeway bridge over Inwood naturally make low melodic sounds from the tires on the grooved pavement). I'd then slowly turn the car towards the "witches" and, with motor running, stop again, then just watch & listen. Silence & awe on our part was a great persuader, and the newcomer's imagination usually would take over. If they still doubted, I might say "Let's sneak up on them but not get too close." Sometimes the newbie would go for it, sometimes not. If so, we'd get out, sneak very slowly & quietly, get maybe 75 feet away, then hide behind a small bush and whisper. At some point I might say "Be careful and stay back...you never know if they might have a gun under their cloaks." Or if staying in the car was to be the newcomer's choice, I would usually also remain in the car, just the same. (I wanted to appear somewhat reasonable.) Finally, one of us might start screaming and running whole-hog with wildly flailing arms toward the center of the statues, then fall into the middle and lay down, or something similar. Or else, I'd flip on the lights so they shined on the statues and begin screaming myself, hold down the car horn, peel out and "rush" the statues at maybe 45-50 mph, then screech to a halt a few feet away. Or maybe both. Regardless, the effect was ALWAYS a pleasure, as the newbie didn't know what to believe anymore, and was usually somewhat freaked. And, of course, we'd all start laughing, and finally someone would say, "My friend, you have now seen the famous witches of Stemmons Towers. Now share this experience with someone else you know." The whole experience took maybe 5-6-7-8 minutes around the parking lot, so lots of suspense and unknowns and interjection, and the darkness always added a great deal to the overall effect. BTW, the 3 statues were appx. 7 feet tall, looked like hooded monks facing a common center (and each other), were made of stone material like mortar pestils of a rough, dark brown nature with a texture of sack-cloth, and even in daylight at a distance, they looked somewhat real. Experientially, it was a great sham, and we never lost a friend over the gag. Many times the newbie would even be disappointed at the end. But it was always memorable for all.