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| Touch Her and Die: The Black Angel of Oakland Cemetery |
The cemetery is quiet—too quiet.
Moonlight glints off rows of weathered headstones, catching on the dark figure that towers above them all: a winged angel, her eyes cast down, her bronze skin black as night. They say she was once golden. They say she turned black after a sin too terrible to name.
And if you touch her, you’ll never live to tell the tale.
This is the legend of the Black Angel of Oakland Cemetery, one of the most haunted statues in America—and one that has watched over Iowa City’s dead for more than a century.
The Legend
Locals will tell you she’s cursed.
The Black Angel Statue stands in Oakland Cemetery, a sprawling graveyard on the edge of Iowa City, just a short walk from the University of Iowa. Towering nearly nine feet tall, her outstretched wings and solemn gaze are striking in the moonlight—but what draws people most isn’t her beauty. It’s her color.
The statue wasn’t always black. When it was erected in 1912, she gleamed like gold. But over the decades, her bronze surface darkened, turning first green, then brown, and finally a deep, eerie black. The change was natural—oxidation caused by rain, wind, and time—but few around Iowa City believed in simple chemistry.
They believed something far darker had happened.
By the mid-1900s, the Black Angel had become a story told in whispers. They said the statue turned black overnight after the woman buried beneath it committed an unforgivable sin. Others claimed it darkened the moment lightning struck her wings—or that she took on the color of the souls she judged unworthy.
The curse, they said, was simple: touch her, and you’ll die within a year.
For generations, teenagers from the University of Iowa have dared each other to sneak into the cemetery after dark. The bravest—or the most foolish—try to kiss the statue or climb into her arms. Some say the angel’s eyes glow faintly when she’s angered. Others swear her wings twitch, as if ready to take flight.
No one stays long enough to find out what happens next.
Oakland Cemetery After Dark
Oakland Cemetery doesn’t feel like an ordinary graveyard. The paths twist beneath oak trees older than the city itself, their branches heavy with moss and shadows. During the day, it’s peaceful—a historic landmark dotted with Victorian monuments and ornate headstones. But at night, the wind seems to shift.
The rows of graves blur into darkness, and even the distant lights of the university can’t chase away the sense that something ancient lingers here. Every footstep crunches louder than it should. Every gust of wind sounds like a whisper. And at the center of it all stands the angel—watching, waiting, silent.
The True Story Behind the Legend
As with most great legends, there’s truth buried beneath the myth.
The Black Angel was commissioned by Teresa Dolezal Feldevert, a Bohemian immigrant who moved to Iowa in the late 1800s. She worked as a nurse and midwife, helping deliver children into the world. But tragedy followed her like a shadow.
Her young son, Edward Dolezal, died of meningitis at just eighteen. Grief-stricken, Teresa commissioned a statue in his memory—a bronze angel with downcast wings to mark his grave. The sculptor, Mario Korbel, created the monument in Chicago, and it was transported to Iowa City in 1912.
At first, the angel shone like sunlight. Visitors described it as radiant, even comforting.
Years later, when Teresa remarried and lost her second husband, Nicholas Feldevert, she had his ashes buried beside Edward’s grave. She later joined them herself, her urn placed beneath the angel’s feet in 1924.
Sometime between her death and the mid-century, the angel’s color began to change.
To scientists, it was nothing unusual—the reaction of bronze to oxygen and acid rain. But to a town already steeped in superstition, it was an omen. A pure statue darkened by sin. A mother cursed for her sorrow.
The story grew with every generation, each telling darker than the last.
The Curse of the Black Angel
They say the angel’s blackened color represents a soul tainted by sin. Some claim it reflects Teresa’s secret guilt—a hidden affair, or worse, that she’d turned away from God. Others whisper that she cursed God after her son’s death, and that her defiance stained the statue forever.
The most common version is simple: anyone who touches, kisses, or disrespects the statue will die within a year.
One story tells of a college student who climbed into the angel’s arms as a prank and was found dead weeks later. Another claims a group of teens who touched her during a full moon all met accidents before the next Halloween. Whether these tales are coincidence or curse, no one can say—but they’ve kept thrill-seekers flocking to the cemetery for decades.
Even during the day, there’s something unsettling about her. Her eyes seem alive—too human. Her wings stretch high enough to cast long, skeletal shadows across the grass.
Some say she moves when no one is watching. Others claim she glows in the dark, her skin reflecting not moonlight but something colder, like the memory of lightning.
Modern Sightings and Paranormal Reports
In recent years, the Black Angel has become a favorite among ghost hunters, folklore researchers, and YouTube explorers. She appears in nearly every list of America’s “Most Haunted Cemeteries.”
Local paranormal groups have investigated Oakland Cemetery many times, often reporting sudden temperature drops, camera malfunctions, or the feeling of being watched. A few even captured faint whispers on EVP recordings—soft, female voices saying words they couldn’t understand.
One paranormal vlogger claimed that her equipment shut down the instant she touched the statue’s base. Another visitor described returning home to find hand-shaped smudges on her car window—prints that didn’t match her own. Ghost tours now include the Black Angel as their finale stop, with guides warning: “You can take pictures, but don’t touch her. That’s when she notices you.”
TikTok and Instagram are full of short clips showing visitors daring each other to approach her. Some swear the air turns heavy. Others claim their flashlights flicker. And every now and then, someone insists that for just a second—they saw her wings move.
Symbolism and Fear
The power of the Black Angel legend lies in its contradictions.
She was built to symbolize comfort, yet she inspires dread. She was meant to honor love, yet she represents death. Her darkness could be explained by science, yet no one truly wants it to be that simple.
The statue stands as a reminder that beauty, grief, and fear often live side by side.
Her blackened bronze isn’t proof of evil—it’s proof of time. But we don’t fear time; we fear what it takes from us. The statue’s transformation mirrors our own relationship with death: how mourning can become myth, and how love can harden into something people no longer understand.
For Iowa City, she’s become more than a memorial. She’s a mirror—showing each generation its own reflection of fear.
Similar Legends Around the World
The legend of the Black Angel isn’t unique—but it might be the most famous of its kind. Across the world, other angels and graveyard statues have inspired their own dark myths.
The Black Aggie (Maryland/Washington, D.C.) – The most famous “sister statue” to the Black Angel once stood in Druid Ridge Cemetery in Maryland. Modeled after a mourning angel, it was said to curse anyone who sat in her lap or spent the night near her. Locals swore her eyes glowed red after dark and that the spirits of the dead gathered at her feet each night. After decades of vandalism and fear, authorities finally removed the statue in 1967—though visitors claim the area still feels heavy, as if the angel never truly left. She now rests in the National Museum of American Art’s courtyard, but even there, some say her gaze follows you as you walk past.
Weeping Angels (Global Folklore) – Found in cemeteries across Europe and the U.S., these statues are said to move when no one’s looking or cry tears of blood before a death. The 2007 Doctor Who episode “Blink” revived the archetype, introducing millions of new fans to the terror of statues that stalk you the moment you blink. But that idea is older than television—Victorian mourners once left flowers and offerings at angel monuments, believing they could intercede for souls trapped between worlds.
The Bronze Lady (St. Paul, Minnesota) – In Minnesota’s Oakland Cemetery stands another ominous figure known as the Bronze Lady. Locals claim that sitting in her lap or mocking her expression invites tragedy. Teenagers once dared each other to stare into her eyes beneath a full moon, but few ever did it twice. Over the years, caretakers have reported hearing footsteps circling her statue long after the cemetery gates have closed.
The Angel of Grief (Rome & Replicas) – The original Angel of Grief, sculpted in 1894 by William Wetmore Story, shows an angel collapsed in sorrow. The design became so popular that dozens of replicas appeared in American cemeteries—each surrounded by rumors of movement or mourning. Many believe the Black Angel was inspired by this design, though her version carries no comfort—only judgment and endless loss.
The Black Madonna (Europe) – Not every dark statue is feared. Across Europe, icons known as Black Madonnas—ancient depictions of the Virgin Mary with darkened skin—are revered as sacred symbols of endurance and miracles. Unlike the Black Angel, they’re worshipped, not avoided. Still, both share something powerful: they remind us that darkness can be divine—or damning—depending on who’s looking.
These legends prove one thing: we don’t just build monuments to the dead—we build myths around them.
Why the Story Sticks
The Black Angel’s legend endures because it speaks to something deeply human.
In college towns like Iowa City, where youth and transience define daily life, the Black Angel looms as a reminder of mortality. Students confront her just as they’re stepping into adulthood—a gothic rite of passage where curiosity collides with superstition.
She’s a story that shifts with every generation. To the older locals, she’s a curse. To college students, she’s a dare. To ghost hunters, she’s evidence. And to historians, she’s a tragedy cast in bronze.
In truth, she’s all of them.
The angel’s gaze never changes. It’s our own that gives her power.
Final Thoughts
Maybe the angel never cursed anyone. Maybe the only curse is the way we see her.
Each visitor brings their own fear to Oakland Cemetery. Some see sin. Some see sorrow. Others see nothing at all—but still hurry away when the wind begins to stir.
The Black Angel doesn’t move. She doesn’t glow or whisper. She doesn’t need to. Her presence alone is enough to remind us that even beauty can decay—and that every story we tell about death says more about us than about what lies beneath the stone.
So if you ever find yourself in Iowa City on a moonlit night, walk quietly through Oakland Cemetery. You’ll know when you’ve found her. And if you do, remember: the bravest thing you can do might be not to touch her.
More Legends You Might Enjoy
- The 100 Steps Cemetery: Indiana’s Scariest Urban Legend
- Sit in Her Lap and Die: The Terrifying Story of the Black Aggie Cemetery Statue
- Stull Cemetery: Kansas’s Scariest Urban Legend
- Dial “999-9999” at Midnight… And Your Wish Will Kill You
- The Witch of Yazoo
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