The haunted house industry isn't for the weak of heart.
Halloween aficionados looking to profit from their love for the day invest thousands of dollars and spend months preparing for the haunting season, all while working full-time jobs.
Jerry and Jamie Browne, a married couple in their late 20s, live in a subdivision in Perry, Mich., with their high-energy 3-year-old triplets: Mazzy, Gavin and Chloe. Jerry is a vaccine manufacturer at Lansing-based BioPort Corp. and Jamie does office work in the health care industry.
But on this particular Friday night, Jerry is spreading fake blood onto his ripped T-shirt while Jamie paints dark circles under the eyes of a 15-year-old volunteer playing a radioactive zombie at Phantasmagoria Haunted House.
Inside, blood flows out of a sink faucet, a cast aside disembodied head lies on the ground and something foul grows in the kitchen.
Each year, this is what differentiates the Brownes from everyday business owners. They have cranked up their love for Halloween and become professional haunted house owners with their longtime friend, 28-year-old Ty Paff, a chemistry sophomore.
Jerry has wanted to scare people since he was a child, jumping out at trick-or-treaters.
"It's always been a dream," he said.
Still, it isn't what Paff pictured when he envisioned himself owning a business.
"Did I think it would be a haunted house?" he asked. "No!"
But Paff and the Brownes have come a long way as entrepreneurs. In 2004, their whole operation was run out of their garage. Everything was free, and inside the haunted house was a 16-foot foam castle, miniature cornfield and pet cemetery. About 1,300 people came in three hours.
"We were basically practicing for this," Jamie said. "Our first year, it was a little overwhelming. Now we feel like veterans."
But taking their haunted house from a garage and sticking it in an 8,000-square-foot commercially-leased space has not been easy. Suddenly, the co-owners had to deal with city permits and fire codes.
"The biggest trouble when you go full-scale and start charging, there are all sorts of rules," Jamie said. "Before, we didn't have to worry about code."
The Lansing co-owners spent about $45,000 this year, bringing the project's grand total to $105,000 in their two years of business. That has meant refinancing their home in Perry and taking out loans, Jerry said.
Other frights
Just north of Lansing lives high school teacher Jeff Mewcombe, who leads computer classes at Genesee Area Skill Center in Flint.
At the beginning of each school year, he stands up in front of his class and says, "I bet you guys would never guess what I do."
He's right — they don't.
Come October, Mewcombe runs a haunted house.
With regular full-time jobs, these owners must squeeze in time on the weekends and evenings to manage their fright houses.
"It's a year-round thing," said Mewcombe, who spends an average of three hours each day perfecting his haunted house.
It becomes a huge financial endeavor because, well, a good scare isn't cheap.
In three years, Mewcombe spent $200,000 on a building, insurance and materials. Now, on a busy night, Mewcombe's haunted house could make about $10,000.
"Every year we get more and more into detail," he said. "Most of the money we make goes back into it."
Scary, not rich
In their first year as professional owners in 2005, the Brownes and Paff ended up losing money, even though they made more than $40,000. They hope to start making money by their third year.
"If we were looking to be rich, we definitely wouldn't do this," Paff said.
But many owners say it is worth it when they see the look on their customers' faces.
"The people's reaction to our work is rewarding," said Jennifer Bilski, 29, a 2000 MSU graduate who runs a haunted house in metro Detroit. During the day she works as an assistant editor for a company that produces commercials, but she decided to invest $50,000 this year in her first haunted house.
In seven days, Bilski saw two people wet their pants after a man holding a chainsaw jumped out in front of them.
"They laughed. They didn't get upset about it," she said. "It means we scared them and gave them their money's worth."
