Once again there’s been a bit of social media buzz about a so-called “Cannibal Tour” here in Cream City. It’s one of several run by a promoter whose tours focus on the grittier side of our local history. The 75-minute outdoor walk promises a gruesome experience following in the footsteps of Milwaukee’s notorious gay killer. But, beyond the promise of a trip through history, the organizers’ pitch is giddy with smart innuendo and glee in our American fascination with horrific gore.
Jeffrey Dahmer’s terror lasted more than a decade from 1978-1991. When it finally ended, it was the height of the AIDS crisis and the story only added to the demonization of LGBTQs. It’s still a sore spot in this town of three degrees of separation. If you’re of a certain age, you probably frequented the same bars and clubs where the killer found his prey. Perhaps you know someone who knew one of them, or even personally knew a victim or Dahmer himself. An acquaintance of mine was his co-worker and recalls a discussion about the price of vats. I was once taken to Fuzzy’s, a South Side bar opened by one of the cops who were subsequently fired because they returned a young man who had managed to escape back to the killer. The bar has since moved out of the city.
I’ve been through Dachau, Auschwitz-Birkenau, the Anne Frank House and Plötzensee Prison (the Berlin site of executions of opponents of the Nazi regime). They all quietly convey a dignity and respect for the dead while, like mirrors, they confront visitors with their own human frailty that allows such atrocities in the first place. One cannot leave these sites without experiencing a profound, introspective disquiet, and contemplating the horrors we are capable of. Ideally, that impact translates to new perspectives and reflection. That, in turn, should dissuade us from even casual discrimination.
The Cannibal Tour doesn’t even pretend to approach that level of commemorating those who perished. Given our daily intake of media mayhem, whether a TV series about fictional serial killers, real news of mass shootings, or wars waged ad nauseam, it should be of no surprise how readily we accept not only the exploitation grief and sorrow but also the inevitability of violence in our lives. Our immunity to moral affront turns such things into circus sideshows replete with carnie hucksters (or predators, as the case may be) beckoning us to take a look for a price. People may protest, but the show must go on.
But, avoiding the causal issues only allows this sort of sensationalism to persist. The Dahmer prison interviews of a quarter century ago hint at the possible triggers of his murderous mental disorder, like dysfunctional, emotionally distant and homophobic parents. The recent film My Friend Dahmer attempted to explore those very issues. Yet only one Milwaukee cinema screened the film. Others, ostensibly in the name of family values, deferred.
Perhaps we should finally have that discussion. Of course, we can’t end cheap thrill tours. But, it may help us address our community’s mental health and domestic violence issues.
