Joseph A. Citro

books! Books!! BOOKS!!!

2012-01-30T18:44:00.002-05:00

JOE CITRO’S DOWNSIZING BOOK SALE #1

This is the first posting of what may be an ongoing BOOK SALE. As I pull boxes together I’ll post the offerings.

I am not a book dealer, so these may not be listed as a book dealer would list them. They are all from my personal collection. Most are new or almost new. They have been stored on shelves. They are free of mold, odor, and other horrors.

Most are first editions. Some are real collectors items.

Those with stars (*) are slipcased.

TERMS: Buyer pays shipping. In USA that is $3.00 for 1 book, $2.00 for second book. Three books or more $6.00. P&H will not exceed $6.00.

PRICES: Except for my own books, no prices are posted. Please make offers on what you might be interested in. We can horse-trade.

Pleasant questions cheerfully answered.

SALE!

PLEASE NOTE I have a limited supply of my own books, including

Hardcover first edition collectors versions of the following, priced at $50.00 each:

1. Green Mountain Ghosts Ghouls and Unsolved Mysteries.

2. Passing Strange

3. Green Mountains Dark Tales.

I also have a few brand new paperbacks of the following, priced at $10.00 each:

1. Deus-X

2. The Gore

3. Lake Monsters

4. Guardian Angels

6. Passing Strange

7. The Vermont Monster Guide

OKAY, NOW DOWN TO BUSINESS...

WHAT FOLLOWS IS THE DOWNSIZING OF MY COLLECTION.

All HARDCOVER unless noted.

*Night Visions 9 F. Paul Wilson ed

Signed by all

Dark Harvest 1991

Slipcased /P/C copy

*Borderlands 2 Tom Monteleone ed

Signed “to Joe” and by all contributors

Borderlands, 1991

Slipcased, Limited 17/750

*Borderlands 3 Tom Monteleone ed

Signed by all

Borderlands 1992

Slipcased, Limited 425/750

*CUT: Horror Writers on Horror Films Chris Golden ed

Signed by all

Borderlands 1992

Slipcased, limited 52/500

*The Throat Peter Straub

signed

Borderlands 1993

Slipcased /limited # 286/350

*Freak Show F.Paul Wilson ed

signed by all

Borderlands 1992

Slipcased /limited 688/750

*The Black Lodge Robert Weinberg

Wildside Press 1991

HC/numbered/ slipcased

Signed to Joe

*The Armageddon Box Robert Weinberg

Wildside Press 1991

Hc, slipcased

Signed to Joe Citro

*Dead in the West Joe R. Lansdale

Hardcover/ Slipcased 134/274

Crossroads Press 1994

Signed by author, artist, and Neil Barrett (Foreward [sic[). Also signed by artist Steve Bissette “to Joe”

Hc/boxed

Dead in the West Joe R. Lansdale

Softcover

Space and Time Press 1986

Signed by author

Devil’s Auction Robert Weinberg

Owlswick Press Weird Tales Library 1988

HC, dust jacket

Signed to Joe Citro

The Stake (UK edition) Richard Laymon

Headline 1990

HC /dust jacket / 1st

Bone Music Alan Rodgers

Longmeadow 1995

HC w/dust jacket, 1st

Prayers to Broken Bones Dan Simmons

Dark Harvest 1990

HC w/dust jacket

The Resurrectionist Tom Monteleone

Warner Books 1995

HC/dust jacket/1^st

Signed to JAC

Soft and Other Stories F. Paul Wilson

Tor 1989

First Edition

Night of Broken Souls Tom Monteleone

Warner Books 1997

HC/dust jacket/1st

The Ferryman Christopher Golden

CD Publications 2003

1^st edition, limited, signed

Writer of the Purple Rage Joe R. Lansdale

CD Publications, 1994

HC w/Jacket

Night Visions 7 Stanley Wiater ed

Signed to Joe Citro

Dark Harvest 1989

Dust jacket

Masques (#1) J.N. Williamson ed

Maclay and Associates, 1984

HC w/jacket

Masques II J.N. Williamson ed

Maclay and Associates 1987

HC. Silver Jacket

McKain’s Dilemma Chet Wiliamson

Tor 1988

HC w/dust jacket

Second Chance Chet Williamson

CD Publications 1994

Signed to Joe Citro

HC w/ dust jacket (slight tear)

Dreamthorp Chet Williamson

Dark Harvest

HC /dust jacket

Signed to Joe Citro

Has typed insert that seems to be part of a manuscriptI think it’s the original ending.

Garden Matthew J. Costello

Twilight Publishing 1993

Paperback

Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror

Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling, editors

St. Martin’s 1990

Contains my short story “Them Bald-Headed Snays”

Weird Tales

65^th Anniversary issue, 1988

Special Gene Wolfe issue

Paperback

The Dark Descent: Essays Defining Stephen Kings Horrorscape

Tony Magistrale ed Foreword by Joseph A. Citro

Greenwood Press 1992

HC, 1st

Seven Masters of Supernatural Fiction

Edward Wagenknecht ed

Greenwood Press 1991

Through the Pale Door

Frederick S. Frank

Greenwood Press1990

, 1st

Murder By Gaslight

Leonard Piper

Gallery 1991

2011-10-26T14:46:00.016-05:00

By Joseph A. Citro

Being a transcript of an introductory presentation at the Vermont Premier or WHISPER IN DARKNESS (10-20-2011) as a benefit for the Main Street Museum in response to flood damage from tropical Storm Irene (aka The 2011 Flood).

PART I: INTRODUCTION

I very pleased to have been invited to say a few words about H.P. Lovecraft and his writing.

My guess is that most of us here have one thing in common: most likely H.P. Lovecraft caught our attention when we were about the same age. And I’m guessing that is between 12 and 16 years old. Some of us may have lost interest in his work as got older. But I suspect anyone who has experienced his writing, and who has been affected by it, has been — perhaps in some subtle way — changed forever.

Tonight we’re all going to experience H.P. Lovecraft at the same time. The new film version of The Whisperer in Darkness.

First off, I should mention that many people consider The Whisperer in Darkness to be one of the best, if not the very best Lovecraft story. For me, personally, it is one of the two most influential. It may be the first modern alien abduction story. It may be the first piece of fiction to acknowledge the discovery of a new Planet: Pluto (which as you all know has recently been demoted).

Outside of the oral tradition, it is probably the first monster story to take place in Vermont. And it celebrates — if celebrates is the right word — the horrendous Vermont Flood of 1927. In fact, the flood triggered the story in Mr. Lovecraft’s imagination. In it he talks about monstrous unknown entities that had been discovered washed along in the Vermont flood waters. He writes, “What people thought they saw were organic shapes not quite like any they had ever seen before. … [T]hose who described these strange shapes felt quite sure that they were not human, despite some superficial resemblances in size and general outline. Nor, said the witnesses, could they have been any kind of animal known to Vermont.”

∞

It triggered something in my imagination, too. For me personally, on the most subjective level, I give Whisperer in Darkness a lot of credit for inspiring me to pick up the pen and start writing fiction.

Briefly, here’s what happened — my own personal dance with demons.

PART II: MEETING MR. LOVECRAFT IN DUNWICH

It started when I was 11 or 12 years old. I was in the sixth grade. At that time I had been reading Conan Doyle (the Holmes and Challenger stories), Dracula, lots of comics, and piles of pulp-type magazines.

My teacher, Mr. McCarthy, noticed my interest in — to use a Lovecraftian term — my interest in all things eldritch. One day he handed me a book. A thick one. It was The Modern Library’s hardcover edition of Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural, vintage 1942.

Mr. McCarthy said, “You like horror stories. Try this.”

My first thought was, “That’s too big; I don’t want to read all that!”

He opened the book and ran his finger down the contents page, until he stopped at the last title, directing me to page 1031: “The Dunwich Horror.”

“Oh,” I thought, “Just one short story. I can handle that.” (Perhaps I was being too optimistic.)

So after school I raced home and started reading. I was quickly transported. My developing brain had never encountered anything quite like the “Lovecraft Experience”. Today, thinking back, I can almost relive the lost equilibrium of taking “the wrong fork” at the very beginning of the story and ending up in Dunwich.

The notion of a neglected and dying town was not unfamiliar to me: Proctorsville, the next town over, seemed a paragon of stability compared to dreary, deadly Dunwich.

∞

Certain images and phrases rattled me. One example: “Without saying more he rose and strode out of the building, stooping at each doorway.”

Wilbur Whateley — I had never encountered a villain quite like him. So, when he died halfway through the story, it made no sense to me.

And that was just one of the minor ways Mr. Lovecraft threw me off balance.

I can’t say I gave the story a good reading. I had refused to be distracted for frequent trips to the dictionary. Lovecraft’s arcane vocabulary dwarfed my own, but big words and unfamiliar adjectives made me think he knew what he was talking about.

Hey, I was young. . .

Besides incomprehensible words, there were suggestions and nuances beyond the reach of the inexperienced adolescent imagination.

This was my first exposure to “Cosmic Horror”. It tugged at my Roman Catholicism, making me feel as if I had truly visited some forbidden realm. Perhaps I should hide the book, I thought, the stuff I was reading might be… sinful.

Malignant albinos, soul-hungry whippoorwills, cattle mutilations, and poor Dr. Armitage driven to near-madness when he realized the degree of the danger we all are facing.

And then, “The Elmer Fryes had been erased from Dunwich.”

“Erased”? Could Mr. Lovecraft have chosen a more sinister word?

There is a kind of deadly precision in what some might call his verbosity.

∞

To this day I’m not sure what the youthful brain is supposed to do with Mr. Lovecraft’s fiction, but that is when we are most vulnerable to his dark magic.

In my case, I just kept on reading.

When I eventually hit “The Whisperer in Darkness” I knew I was home. And in a very literal way: I lived in Vermont and the story takes place in Vermont. I was familiar with the locations mentioned. My parents had survived the flood of 1927, and occasionally spoke of it. They even had photographs. Some of its devastation was still evident on the grounds of my grandfather’s farm in Chester.

And, after reading the tale, I truly believed the chittering and buzzing I often heard in the woodland crowding our house might have been…

Well… maybe I’d better not even consider that.

∞

But for me the bottom line is that by reading “Whisperer” I learned what was perhaps the most important writing lesson of my life: I did not need to explore distant exotic realms to find true horror. It was here, right under my feet. As Mr. Lovecraft pointed out in "The Picture in the House." "... the true epicure in the terrible ... esteems most of all the ancient, lonely farmhouses of backwoods New England; for there the dark elements of strength, solitude, grotesqueness and ignorance combine to form the perfection of the hideous."

Or, in my more simplistic terms, Dracula’s Transylvanian castle was no more terrifying than Cy Stoddard’s barn.

∞

For all his personal eccentricities and imperfections, H.P. Lovecraft had a unique imagination. It was powerful enough to influence and to guide a whole coven of devotees that included Robert Bloch, Ray Bradbury, and even Harry Houdini. And who can say how many of us, who met him on the page long after his death, have mutated as a result? Steven King, John Carpenter, Gahan Wilson… Steve Bissette.

∞

PART III: THE AWFUL

But there is another contingent of Lovecraft followers. As you know, some H.P. Lovecraft fans — in many cases people who haven’t taken the time to actually read his work — believe that what he wrote may not be entirely fiction. That there may really be ways to transcend the dimensions; there may, in fact, be elder gods. It is all laid out, they say, in the dreaded Necronomicon, which might be a real book.

Quite recently I looked into a case where Mr. Lovecraft seems to have jumped from the fiction onto the non-fiction shelves. I even wrote about it in the book Steve and I did together, The Vermont Monster Guide.

Let me read it to you. It’s only about 300 words long.

It’s call “The Awful”

Known simply as The Awful, this horrifying airborne unknown is spotted around northwestern Vermont, mostly in the vicinity of Richford. Supposedly it was first sighted one evening perched gargoyle-style atop the Boright building at the corner of Main and River streets.

Said to resemble a Griffin, the monstrosity has two gray, 10-foot wings. Its serpent-like tail adds another 10-feet to its dimensions. Its nasty claws inspire instant terror. One of the first men to see it, a sawmill worker, was so petrified he had a heart attack on the spot.

"You can usually hear the thing before you see it,” a recent witness told the County Courier in 2006. “ It makes a pretty weird sound, like a low scream … when it gets closer, you can hear its wings, which sound like fat blankets being shook out."

Other observers swore they witnessed it making off with a screaming infant. But no child was missing, so its unfortunate prey was more likely some small animal.

More sightings followed. One woman spotted the Awful while she was hanging the wash. It scared her so much she hid under her bed for hours.

Lisa Maskell, who grew up in the area, told the County Courier, " When I was about 10 or 11, we saw this thing sitting in a tree near the Trout River … it was huge with large wings and a long, strange beak …” She thought it looked like a pterodactyl. “Big, scary, and fascinating."

As recently as 2006 a citizen of Richford spotted a winged monster swoop out of the sky to snatch a huge black crow. Was it a descendent of the original Awful? Or could it be the same critter still flying, now more than 100 years old?

We may never know. As one witness said, “…the general feeling is we don't bother it and it don't bother us. . . maybe with a few exceptions."

(Is this "The Awful"? Illo by Stephen R. Bissette)

∞

PART IV: THE VERMONT MYSTERY

Okay that’s it. But I’ll tell you the two names that I deliberately left out of the story — H.P. Lovecraft and H.P. Albarelli Jr. And I’ll explain to you why I left them out.

So now I’ll read you the story behind the story. And this is where Mr. Lovecraft comes in.

∞

On October 6, 2006 The County Courier — a small Vermont newspaper out of Enosburg Falls — published an article by journalist H.P. Albarelli Jr.

As far as I have been able to determine, his article contains the first reference ever to The Awful.

His article is presented as fact.

He begins, “In 1925, renowned horror writer H.P. Lovecraft secretly traveled to Richford and Berkshire [Vermont] to investigate a strange phenomenon that was occurring in the two towns. Lovecraft had been visiting friends in southern Vermont when he first learned about odd sightings [of the Awful] in Richford.” End quote.

Now this is startling news to anyone who knows anything about H.P. Lovecraft. The skeptical Mr. Lovecraft as paranormal investigator…? Well… I’m not so sure about that.

But Mr. Albarelli goes on to say, “Locals [in the Richford area] were terribly afraid of a beast they had dubbed ‘the Awful.’ … according to records of old, [it] was a winged creature that resembled” — and here he quotes — “a very large Griffin-like creature with grayish wings that each spanned ten-feet.’

The creature possessed ‘a serpent like tail that equaled its wing length’ and ‘huge claws that could easily grip a milk can's girth.”

Okay, he’s talking about a flying serpent with a 20-foot wingspan and a 10-foot tail.

Now at this point, being a Lovecraft fan and a chronicler of Vermont Folklore, my interest is really piqued. Here we have a local monster, far more sinister than Champ, and I’d never even heard of it! How could I have missed something like this? I figure I’ve got to get to the bottom of things.

First I called the editor of the newspaper, who assured me that the writer, Mr H.P. Albarelli, is a real person with real publishing credentials.

Next I examined the published story itself for internal clues.

Recall that Mr. Albarelli wrote that Mr. Lovecraft visited Richford, Vermont in 1925. The trip occurred while he was “visiting friends in southern Vermont”.

Okay, maybe. But extensive research on Mr. Lovecraft fails to reveal that he had any friends in Vermont in 1925.

It is documented, however, that HPL and his friend Paul Cook of Athol, Massachusetts came to Vermont to visit the poet Arthur Goodenough of Guilford in August of 1927.

Then, in March 1928, he published an essay about his trip called Vermont: A First Impression.

We can reason that if he saw Vermont for the first time in 1927, he couldn’t have been in southern Vermont and Richford in 1925.

The friends of record that he visited here were poet Arthur Goodenough in 1927. And entrepreneur, editor and Vermont secessionist Vrest Orton (founder of The Vermont Country Store) in 1928, after the Vermont Flood.

But as far as I know, no one has found any documentation that he ever went monster hunting into northern Vermont. Or anywhere else.

∞

Nonetheless, Mr. Albarelli writes — and I quote — “When H.P. Lovecraft returned to southern Vermont from Richford he told friends he was convinced that the Richford locals he had interviewed were” — and here Mr. Albarelli directly quotes Lovecraft. [The locals were] "not in the least mistaken about what they had witnessed."

Supposedly Mr. Lovecraft later wrote — and again I quote — "The Awful became ample sustenance for my imagination" and "over time the creature became the basis for many of my own fictional inventions."

So Mr. Lovecraft is allegedly saying this Vermont creature inspired his eldritch tales. Maybe even the Mi-Go in “Whisperer in the Darkness”.

That’s how Mr. Albarelli quotes Mr. Lovecraft. Trouble is, I can’t find the quote anywhere I look. And one is a little suspect of the diction. Granted, H.P. Lovecraft could be wordy, but the redundancy of saying “fictional inventions” seems a little over the top for a professional writer and editor.

There is also the peculiar use of the word “Griffin”. Remember, Mr. Albarelli claims to have quoted an “old source” — that should read “old unidentified source” — that describes the Awful as looking like a Griffin? The word Griffin simply wasn’t used around here. The “old source” was not being usefully descriptive to compare the appearance of one unknown animal to that of another.

So finally, with all my suspicions in tact, I contacted Mr. Albarelli himself. Essentially, I wanted to know two things:

Number one: Is there a legitimate Vermont tradition of “Awful” sightings?

And second is there proof that H.P Lovecraft really ventured into northern Vermont in 1925?

Now I don’t want to say Mr. Albarelli was evasive. I will say that Mr. Albarelli seemed as if he was being evasive.

He gave me the following information via email.

1. He had purchased an 1888 building up in Richford. For years the building's top floor was used as the local Masonic Temple. (Oh, a Masonic tie-in. This is getting more interesting.)

2. There he found some interesting items, including several handwritten journals. In one he found a mention of “The Awful”. He didn’t tell me whose journals they were.

3. He also found some original letters, all unpublished as far as he knows.

4. One of the letters, presumably penned by H.P. Lovecraft, supposedly validates his trip to Richford and his interest in The Awful. Mr. Albarelli says the letter is from Mr. Lovecraft to a Franklin Country Minister and doctor, a friend of one of HPL’s southern Vermont friends. Hw wouldn’t name the doctor, the minister, or the friend, but Mr. Albarelli assured me the Lovecraft letter is quite genuine.

∞

I have not seen the letter nor the journal. I wasn’t invited to do so. Nor do I know of anyone who has seen the items in question..

I have not found evidence that H. P. Lovecraft visited Vermont prior to 1927.

I can’t find any indication the Awful existed in print or in the folk imagination prior to Mr. Albarelli’s October 6, 2006 article in The County Courier.

So what are we to make of all this?

I guess it all comes down to a simple question: Is the Awful a real-life, three dimensional crypto-critter that stalks the forests and skies of northern Vermont? Or is it a “fictional invention” perpetrated by H.P. Lovecraft? Or H.P Albarelli? Or, quite possibly. . . someone else? But who?

We end with a mystery. Is the Awful the real-life or literary granddaddy of the Mi-Go you’re about to meet in tonight’s film?

Well, we just don’t know. All we can do is wait and see what sort of carrion is washed down with the floodwaters of Tropical Storm Irene.

END

Joseph A. Citro is an expert in New England weirdness. In over a dozen book-length publications—novels and nonfiction—he has guided readers through a dark and sometimes sinister landscape that has traditionally been portrayed with sunny skies, quaint villages, and smiling rustics. Mr. Citro was the first to assemble comprehensive collections of Vermont’s offbeat tales; he then expanded to the other New England states where earlier explorers like Edward Rowe Snow, Alton Blackington, and H.P. Lovecraft left their distinct footprints. He is a popular lecturer, teacher, and media personality. His most recent books include Weird New England and Vermont’s Haunts. His most Lovecraftian tome is the novel Lake Monsters, is being developed into a motion picture. The movie of his short story, “Soul Keeper”, has just been released.

COMMERCIAL INTERRUPTION

2011-08-16T10:07:00.003-05:00

We interrupt this series of blog posts with an important commercial message. The new ebook publication of my novel LAKES MONSTERS has just hit the virtual stands.

It is now available from Crossroad Press and soon will be available everywhere ebooks are downloaded. Oh, and the price is right, too!

Get the jump on this by ordering directly from the publisher

(That's http://store.crossroadpress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=101_22_28&products_id=408)

And yes, this is the book that is now being developed into a movie.

In fact, there is really no downside to this, except that I can't do booksignings.

...And now back to our regular blogging . . .

SECTION 3: ODDBALLS & ODDITIES (PT 2)

2011-08-15T11:01:00.015-05:00

Today I want to continue my experiment in multimedia by showing some of the pictures and photographs that might have appeared in VERMONT'S HAUNTS, had VERMONT'S HAUNTS contained illustrations.

We are still on the 3rd division of the book, the one called ODDBALLS & ODDITIES.

In the previous blog post we covered (1.) Brookline's Man of Mystery and (2.) The Man Who Played Detective.

But a few ODDBALLS & ODDITIES remain:

-The Perfect Vermonter
-The Man and the Moon
-Shooting the Bull
-The New England Fat Men's Club.

So let us continue . . .

THE PERFECT VERMONTER

We all know that anyone seeking perfection would eventuality end up in Vermont. But Divinely Sanctioned Perfection? For that you would have to go to Putney.Here's the dude that started it all.
As one looks at John Humphrey Noyes, probably the first thought that leaps to mind wouldn't be "perfect".

But it was a religious thing. God thought John was perfect. Or at least John thought that God thought that John was perfect. So, essentially, he believed he could do anything he wanted, but it would be God's rather than his will at work.

So he could have the women of his choice (or was that God's choice?)
Hmmm. She doesn't look perfect either, but I guess God knew what he was doing. Perhaps she was John's "inspiration"!

Anyway, John started a religious commune where everybody was married to everybody else. I guess variety and confusion were both God's will. (And with a name like "No Yes" you can see how indecision and confusion might be a part of the head man's makeup.)

John came up with a system of training the young 'uns in sexual activity. For "women of a certain age", young men's accidents were inconsequential. For older men training younger women, it was a matter of knowing when to quit.

Alas, to the non-perfect townsfolk of Putney, it was all an abomination, so John and his commune lit out for New York State where things just kept getting stranger and stranger. There they pioneered such things as "group therapy" and "genetics manipulation", and that's just for starters.

But it was all done in the name of God, so I guess it was okay.

THE MAN AND THE MOON

Bellows Falls, Vermont is known for colorful characters, but usually the list begins and ends with Hettie Green.

But the so-called Witch of Wall Street is not on the top of my personal list of NFEs (Bellows Falls Eccentrics).

Here's my guy. Or at least he's one of these three. See if you can pick him out of the lineup.

Answer next time when ODDBALLS & CONTINUES with. . .

"THE MAN AND THE MOON"

SECTION 3: ODDBALLS & ODDITIES (Pt 1)

2011-07-27T10:57:00.030-05:00

The third division of VERMONT'S HAUNTS is called "Oddballs & Oddities".

It begins like this:

"Some people say you can define Vermont by the character of its people. In this section we’ll define Vermont by its characters, people who live a little outside the constraints of normality. Some might call them kooks, eccentrics, oddballs, or worse. Here in Vermont we just call them neighbors."

The division is broken down into 6 chapters, as follows:

1. Brookline’s Man of Mystery

2. The Man Who Played Detective

3. The Perfect Vermonter

4. The Man and the Moon

5. Shooting the Bull

6. The New England Fat Men’s Club

Today I'll post pictures that go with the first two chapters.

Brookline’s Man of Mystery

Brookline, Vermont is a pretty small place. It is a little difficult to find, even if you know approximately where to find it.Interesting that one of Vermont's architectural oddities should be located there.

Guess which one it is:

Hint: It's the one that looks like a sunken silo.

Its architect was something of an oddity, too.

Question: was he . . .

(A.) the local physician

(B.) the schoolteacher

(C.) someone far weirder

(D.) All of the above

See if you can pick him out of a lineup.

Well, no matter. The big questions are, Who was he? What did he do?

And why is he listed in "Oddballs & Oddities" in VERMONT'S HAUNTS?

While we're pondering those questions, maybe we can get some assistance in Chapter 2:

The Man Who Played Detective

For almost 20 year this town was plagued by a phantom. His crimes could not be stopped.

Here are the scenes of some of those crimes:

When he was in church no one recognized him.

Eventually his escapades led him here:

Here . . .

And ultimately here:

The end?

Not at all.

Then the REAL WEIRDNESS began!

Next time: The Perfect Vermonter

2011-07-24T12:28:00.023-05:00

This is the second installment of pictures chosen to illustrate my newest book, VERMONT'S HAUNTS.

The first section, The Journey Begins, has already been posted.

Now for section 2, called Ghostly Ghettos. These are places where ghosts are said to gather.

Ghostly Ghettos is divided into 3 chapters: (1.) Dead at Dartmouth, (2.) Secrets of Saint Michael's, and (3.) Weird Woodstock

Here are some pictures to illustrate those chapters. First . . .

Chapter 1, Dead at Dartmouth

The "official word" is that there are no ghosts at Dartmouth. I'm not so sure about that.
Maybe they're all hiding here:

Jeez, what is that place, anyhow?

Fact is, I found a lot of weird stuff all over campus. Perhaps the weirdest was concealed in a secret room in the basement of this building:

I'm talking about the so-called "Tomb Room". What do you suppose went on in this hidden and secret place?

Weird, eh? Maybe they don't need ghosts when they have secrets like this.

Okay, now on to Chapter 2, The Secrets of Saint Michael's . . .

A nice Catholic school. Ghosts aplenty, spirits, and more!
When I saw the leaning cross I should have known there was trouble afoot.

In addition to their ghosts and holy spirits, it is said an exorcism took place here. I went up to explore the site.

It was hard to find evidence in that spooky attic.

But from up there I could make out arcane patterns.

Mystical design should mean something, right?

John Coon introduced me to the school's most famous ghost.

That's John, not the ghost. The ghost is in the theater behind him.

There are lots more secrets of Saint Michael's, including a severed arm, a curse, and things that are better left unsaid.

So let's move along to

Chapter 3. Weird Woodstock

(home of two of Vermont's several vampires).

Houses near the bridge are said to be haunted, but what about the bridge itself? Does it cross over to another time? Probably not; it was build in 1969.

The Windsor County Court House exhibits so much paranormal activity . . .

. . . that a sitting judge's verdict was, "Ghosts."

Even the local historical society has historical ghosts.

It's a bit unusual to find a haunted store.

But I guess a general store should have everything.

I supposed it is not unusual for cemeteries to have resident spirits. But Woodstock has something weirder: a cemetery that appears and vanishes, like some deathly Brigadoon.

See it for yourself. Or not.

NEXT TIME: Oddballs and Oddities.

2011-07-16T15:41:00.013-05:00

I really wanted to include pictures in my new book, Vermont's Haunts, but I couldn't figure out how to do it, or even if it is possible, with an ebook.

Plus, I didn't really have any good pictures.

But I came up with kind of a half-baked solution: I'd publish some pictures here in the blog.

The book is divided into 5 sections:

1. THE JOURNEY BEGINS

2. GHOSTLY GHETTOS

3. ODDBALLS AND ODDITIES

4. IT CAN’T HAPPEN HERE

5. WONDERS WILL NEVER CEASE

So in the next series of 5 blogs I'll display one section at a time with relevant pictures.

The first section, THE JOURNEY BEGINS is divided into 5 sections, as follows:

1. The Suicide Glass: An Introduction

Every now and then, weird things can even happen to me.

2. Don’t Open the Window!

You can never tell what might come through.

Lake Champlain, a major "Window Area".

Where everything is turned upside down.

Poor Paula Weldon, lost forever in the Bennington Triangle.

3. Searching for Emily

Emily just doesn't have eyes for me.

4. Ira Allen, Ghostbuster

5. Eddys: From the Other Side

Old photo of the Eddy house, circa 1870.

Note position of the road.

Horatio Eddy in a "Spirit Photograph".

Dr. Beard, Eddy's enemy.

How the Eddy place looks these days.

Next time: GHOSTLY GHETTOS

SOUL KEEPER - A Peek into the Future

2011-03-13T16:41:00.031-05:00

Still having a wonderful time keeping track of the progress of SOUL KEEPER, the movie.

Just for fun, here are a few more pictures from my visit to the set.

(The following images are by Stefan Botchev, unless otherwise noted.)

It all began when Michael Fisher handed the short story to the filmmakers.

(The Sainted Michael Fisher.)

Then followed a big production meeting.

FADE IN: Carl is looking for a little change of scene. Big mistake.

(Then again, you can't blame him.) But there are forces keeping an eye on him.

"Men in Black," perhaps? Will he encounter heroes? Villains? Angels?

NOW REMEMBER...

A look behind the scenes. . .

But what's going on with Carl?

He's in his new digs, but that might not be an improvement.

And he's not planning on leaving.

All may be well, but Carl's a little edgy.

TO BE CONTINUED...

SOUL KEEPER: A History of Horror

2011-03-04T10:37:00.018-05:00

PART TWO: Book to Film

Question: How did a little-known short story like SOUL KEEPER make it to the screen?

Answer: Coincidence after coincidence.

Here is the Reader's Digest version:

After the short story vanished following its appearance in Lovecrafts' Legacy (1990), it remained buried until 2009 when I decided to collect my short fiction in a little book called NOT YET DEAD. With the help of my artist/designer friend Cayetano Garza Jr. (www.magicinkwell.com) we had the book all ready to go just in time for Hallowe'en.

Local filmmaker Michael Fisher picked up a copy, and that was that for a few months.

(Director of Photography Michael Fisher on the set of Soul Keeper)

Around March, 2010 I got a note from Actor/producer/filmmaker Andy Butterfield, asking if I'd be interested in having SOUL KEEPER made into a movie. Apparently Michael Fisher had passed his copy of the book along to Andy and his associates.

Subsequently, I had a meeting at The Daily Planet with Andy, Director Tim Joy and screenwriters Jon Oliver and Ben Hardy (who, for brevity, I'll refer to as Oliver Hardy). The chemistry was good, and we decided to move ahead.

Before I knew it (4-11-10), I had the first draft of their screenplay in hand!

I did some work on the first few drafts because what was essentially my printed material had to find its feet as a visual experience. For me this was a great exercise in the whole mystery of book to movie transformation.

They even offered me the part of the TV preacher. Good sense overcame vanity and I turned it down, saying, "I look too much like the crazy old prophet. I think you want some sort of clean cut fresh faced Bible-spewing nutjob behind the pulpit. Someone all middle Americans, tea-baggers, and Republicans in general can love. That ain't me."

The script went through many drafts and at some point I extracted myself from the writing team thinking the best way to guarantee this project's success would be for me to keep as far away from it as possible.

Enter Tim Kavanagh as producer. Tim's day job is with WCAX, but he has his own production company and is also a talanted actor. Perhaps he is best known for immortalizing the role of Homer J. Simpson in Vermont's entry in the Simpson's Springfield Contest. Also for his TV show, "Late Night with Tim Kavanagh". In fact, that's how Tim and I first met.

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFpXFV6Cc3Q)

With Tim guiding the fundraising the project was soon on safe ground. (And Tim undertook the role of the TV Preacher. After all, he has TV experience.)

For me this has been a great experience. Although I've had several books under film option since I began publishing in 1987, not one of them has made it to the screen. But a young man's dream has become an old man's reality: my story will soon become a movie. It will be made in Vermont, by Vermonters. And a very talented bunch they are!

Here's a special tip of the hat to Michael Fisher, who lit the fuse on what is guaranteed not to be a bomb.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

A few more photos from the set. . .

Make-up artist Rebecca Reil wounds Andy's foot.

Co-star Paul Schnabel waits for his scene. Looks like a nice guy here, doesn't he?

Two directors, Tim Joy
and Michael Fisher (DP)Tim Joy (everything's under control)

SOUL KEEPER 2: A History of Horror

2011-03-01T09:55:00.006-05:00

PART ONE

I have been receiving a lot of comments and questions (all much appreciated) about the forthcoming SOUL KEEPER movie and the short story from which it is adapted. So a few answers are in order.

I can trace the idea for SOUL KEEPER back to something my mother said way back when I was but a lad. I can't remember which of my many pre adolescent existential dilemmas she was responding to, but she said, "We make our own Heaven and Hell."

The notion lodged in my developing writer's imagination. What if that were literally true?

The idea hid away, still percolating, until I began writing for real. I was publishing scary novels from the mid 80's till the mid 90's. During that time I was invited to contribute to a few anthologies of short fiction.

In 1990 Tor Books published Lovecraft's Legacy, a bunch of short stories targeted to celebrate H.P. Lovecraft's Centennial. Editors Robert Weinberg and Martin Greenberg invited me to contribute a story.

"We make our own Heaven and Hell." What if that were literally true?

I was a bit intimidated at the prospect of being published along with such writers as Robert Bloch, Brian Lumley, Gahan Wilson, and F. Paul Wilson, but I gave it a shot, building a grim little tale upon my mother's fatalistic wisdom.

And so Carl Congdon began constructing his own afterlife. He left his wife, ran away, crashed his car and met... was it an angel, a devil, or something worse?

For years the story itself had no afterlife. It was never picked up by other collections and might have vanished forever until I got it into my head to put together a book of my short fiction.

Not Yet Dead came out in 2009. A second printing was released in 2010. Both editions have sold out and -- until there is another printing -- the book will be almost impossible to find. However, it still exists as part of an ebook on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Next time--SOULS KEEPER: The Movie! (With pictures!)

SOUL KEEPER -- My vision of Hell

2011-02-28T09:32:00.010-05:00

Yesterday I went to Shelburne to see my story Soul Keeper become a movie. It was an amazing process to watch. When I wrote the tale, it took, maybe, a week -- two at the most -- working in solitude. The story is ink on paper; the movie is magnificent. It has involved months of planning and a crew of a couple dozen very talented people, working around a single idea: the screenplay.

As I watched director Tim Joy with the actors, technicians, and other support people I realized I could never do this!

Lead actor Andy Butterfield was enduring more pain and inconvenience than I ever did when I brought my version of the story to life.

As I watched the magic on the set I realized I have no place here. The cloistered process of writing is nothing like the collaborative creation of the filmmakers.

One often hears discussions like, "Which was better, the book or the movie?" My vote is that the movie wins hands down. And I haven't even seen it yet!

You can watch the teaser at http://www.vimeo.com/18139813

Here are a few more shots from the shoot. And there will be more to come!

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS? HELL, NO... BUT A FEW PLANS...

2011-01-06T13:40:00.009-05:00

2011 !
This is an effort to predict what 2011 may hold in store.
I've never been one for prognostications; life is far too chaotic and random, while free will and free choice continue to strike me as illusions. But that said, I have some plans and opportunities lined up.
I'll keep updating this blog and Facebook, so we'll see what falls into place. Let's also test the degree that I'm able to dodge the slings and arrows that the universe insists upon hurling at all of us.

MOVIES
First off, I have two (2 !) stories under film option. Though I have little influence or control over these projects, all signals are good as we slide into 2011.
Admittedly I've been through the "movie dance" before. Skipping the tedious detail, let me just say that so far none of my fiction has ever made it to the screen.
All that's about to change. I'm optimistic. Both are Vermont production companies. Both are staffed with brilliant and energetic young people who know exactly what they are doing. They also seem quite invested in the material.
The first in my story, SOUL KEEPER, which appears in my book NOT YET DEAD.
You can get a taste of the film here: http://www.vimeo.com/18139813
Funding is in place for this project and the company, Production Films, will begin casting this weekend (1/8).
The second project is an adaptation of my novel LAKE MONSTERS. The working title is "The Islanders", which, frankly, seems to set the wrong tone. It conjures pina coladas and girls in hula skirts. If a title change is necessary, there is still plenty of time to come up with a perfect one. A bit of the movie -- a sort of preview/teaser -- has been filmed and is going through a final edit as we enter the new year. I'll post it when it's ready. Meanwhile, here are some photos of some on the set stuff.

WRITING
1. New Book
The only writing project I have planned right now is another compilation of Vermont stories along the lines of and GREEN MOUNTAIN GHOSTS GHOULS & UNSOLVED MYSTERIES and GREEN MOUNTAINS, DARK TALES. In other words, more weird stories. If all works out, I will issue it as a limited edition collector's book that I will sell at readings and lectures.
That's what I did with NOT YET DEAD. It went through two printings and is now sold out!
I may be a bit more ambitions with this new book, selling it in a few stores and listing it on Amazon.
Then, like NOT YET DEAD, I will try to post it as an e-book and continue my (so far) feeble attempt at escaping the trap of paper-and-ink publishing.

2. Steve Bissette
My pal Steve Bissette and I have been cooking up another project to do together. Too soon to post details, but It will be along the lines of our earlier books, VERMONT GHOST GUIDE and VERMONT MONSTER GUIDE.

3. More Illustrations
And my last project for 2011 is also too undeveloped to announce. It will involve a number of people who don't yet know they'll be involved. So maybe the best thing to say right now is nothing at all.

PUBLIC APPEARANCES
I hope to continue my commentary series on public radio and will continue to do readings, lectures, and school visits. When and where? I'll get word out on Facebook.
My "Spiritualism in Vermont" lecture, via The Vermont Humanities Council, is still getting booked from time to time in libraries and historical societies. Since my interest in Spiritualism is ongoing, I enjoy making changes and upgrades and inserting new pictures. The next presentation will be in Tunbridge on January 14 at 7:00 pm.
And so it goes . . .

THE ART OF RUSSELL RISLEY

2010-12-16T11:23:00.009-05:00

In the late 19^th and early 20th centuries, people traveling along a certain road in Kirby, Vermont would experience “magic”. In front of a weathered old barn, they’d see a transparent row of ghosts.

Upon closer examination they’d realize they were paintings, life-like works of art rendered with conventional house paint. They’d recognize neighbors, local dignitaries, politicians.

Occasionally people would see themselves.

The scene of this extraordinary strangeness was the Russell Risley farm. In addition to the barn paintings, Mr. Risley carved faces on firewood. Fashioned heads atop fence posts. Transformed ordinary field stones into busts or wildlife. He painted a mermaid above the manure pile and an attractive young woman, perfectly proportioned and perfectly naked.

Apparently Mr. Risley could not stop creating. Every surface inside his farmhouse was covered: Landscapes between pantry shelves. Faces peeking over countertops. Carved animals occupying every room.

Russell Risley was born on that farm in 1842. He lived there most of his life with his two sisters Achsah and Hannah.

None of them ever married. They were timid people and didn’t care much for visitors or the curiosity seekers that arrived to fuss over Russell’s art.

In an effort to keep the uninvited away, Rus kept a hand painted sign on the gatepost of the road leading up to his house. Typically taciturn, it said simply “SMALL POX”.

As a consequence of all this, his neighbors judged him “a tad peculiar”. But Mr. Risley was an eccentric genius, a self-taught artist who studied foreign languages in his spare time, and built wild inventions to make farm work easier.

For example, he created a system of pulleys that whisked him back and forth between house and barn. A similar contrivance transported heavy milk pails.

In addition to dairying, his vast sugar bush contained a system of pipes to carry sap to the sugarhouse -- possibly Vermont’s first tubing system.

Today few people remember the Risleys.

Nor is there much written history. The few accounts I found suggest they were quintessential Vermonters: hardworking, thrifty, and loath to venture far from home.

One neighbor -- quoted in an old account -- said, "Rus Risley was a temperamental old codger. Sometimes he would talk and sometimes he wouldn't, but chances were ten minutes after you left his place he would have your face carved on a piece of wood!"

Today I want to recall this extraordinary artist who worked his magic in an era when no-nonsense Vermonters didn’t place much value in such folly. The result, it seems, is that every single Risley painting and piece of sculpture has vanished from the face of the earth.

But then again, maybe that’s exactly how Russ would have wanted it.

Many thanks to Pat Swartz of the Fairbanks Museum and Carla Occaso for research support.

Risley images from the Joe Citro collection. I am uncertain about who may own these images. Please let me know if I am using them improperly.

And please let me know if you have more!

PIGMANIAC

2010-12-01T15:06:00.007-05:00

Have you heard about Pigman?

My pal Steve Bissette says this about my “Pigman” story:

“This was one of the many previously unknown and undiscovered ‘weird’ tales Joe ‘broke’ during his career as Vermont’s premiere gatherer of ‘tales that might not be fiction,’ and among his most unusual regional monster tales.”

Unusual indeed.

Steve and I worked together on several projects involving the Pigman. Steve provided a color portrait of the critter for my book Weird New England (2005), and an additional rendering for The Vermont Monster Guide (2009), a book we did together.

Today (December 1, 2010), and for a few days more, Steve is selling his cool Pigman art on his website (http://srbissette.com/).

A pig-perfect $mas gift, wouldn’t you say?

For those who may not know the pigman story, here’s the very abbreviated Reader’s Die-jest version.

MEET THE PIGMAN

It all started in Northfield, Vermont in 1971 when a man on an isolated Turkey Hill farm heard animals rooting in his trash cans.

He rushed to the window and flicked on his floodlights. There, at the edge of the illuminated circle, he saw a man-sized figure standing upright.

As the two glared at each other, the man couldn't believe his eyes. The intruder was naked, covered with light, possibly white, hair. And – most terrifying of all -- it had the hideous face. . . of a pig.

Seconds later the abomination bolted into the woods.

Shortly afterwards a cluster of terrified teenagers met the creature behind the high school. They ran into the safety of the gymnasium, white with fear.

Again the description was the same: It was hairy, walked like a man, and had the horrible face of a pig.

Recounting the events later, one of boys referred to the creature as "Pigman." The name caught on.

THE DEVIL’S WASHBOWL

More sightings occurred on an isolated road near what locals call the “Devil's Washbowl”.

There numerous drivers had nighttime encounters with an odd, oversized "animal." It appeared ghostly white in their headlights, darting from tree to tree or dashing in front their vehicles.

One terrified traveler reported that the beast jumped onto the hood of his moving car before it leapt off into the bushes.

ASSAILED BY THE PIGMAN

Another young couple parking at a nearby turnoff claimed that when the boy got out to relieve himself he was seized and brutally smashed against the side of his own vehicle.

His girlfriend heard him yell, felt the impact of his body against the car. The shaky lad swore his assailant was the Pigman. He’d seen it clearly. It was a five-foot-eight to five-foot-ten. It had white hair with that monstrous boar-like face. But he added this detail: the creature's hands were not like those of a man or a pig. It had long claws or talons. To prove it, he displayed livid slashes across his chest and arms.

WHERE’S PIGMAN?

Civilian and police searches revealed nothing and eventually the “Pigman Encounters” ended just as suddenly, mysteriously, and unexpectedly as they began.

A QUESTION

So here’s the question: Why is Vermont’s Pigman so little known? Why hasn’t he been elevated into the National Bizarre Bestiary along with such mystery superstars as Champ, the Dover Demon, Mothman, the Jersey Devil, and the ubiquitous Bigfoot?

Don’t you think Northfield should have its own unique monster? Maybe we could call it something like. . . “Pigfoot.”

(This is Steve's picture. I don't mean it's a picture of Steve. Rather, Steve created it and all the Pigman images).

All images @ Stephen R. Bissette

THE DARK KNIGHTS

2010-11-06T11:06:00.016-05:00

St. Michael’s College in Colchester is named after the angel who booted Lucifer out of Heaven.

But some say the eternal battle between good and evil is still being fought at the school.

For decades there’s been a persistent rumor that an exorcism was performed right there on campus.

In the early 1970s a small group of students entered one of the buildings at night, then climbed quietly to the attic. There they commenced a forbidden ritual – they tried to summon the devil.

First they drew a pentagram on the floor and punctuated each point with a candle. Then – perhaps nervously -- began their Satanic séance.

Thing is, it seemed to work! Something appeared outside the window. A green, glowing ball, like a hideous head, seemed to stare in at them.

Terrified, they ran away.

When word got around, the Edmundite priests investigated. They removed the chalk-inscribed pentagram, dowsed everything with holy water, said appropriate prayers, and locked the attic.

End of story? Well, not yet...

Over the years alumnus Brian Andersen has pieced together a more complete version of the events. He says the trouble started in 1971 or 72, when a visiting Satanist got some students interested in devil worship and the power it might bring them.

A Resident Assistant observed a group of students and outsiders sitting in a circle, a pentagram in the middle, chanting by candlelight.

He broke up the event, and sent the students on their way.

But a few weeks later – when the dorm was shut up for the Christmas holiday -- they were back! The same Resident Assistant heard voices chanting. He grabbed a flashlight and headed up to investigate.

Someone had smashed the lock on the attic door.

While waiting for campus security, he peeked in. The flickering candles illuminated a cluster of crouched figures. At the center of the pentagram was a terrifying sight.

A body! A maimed sheep in a pool of blood. A sacrifice.

This time the priests came down hard. All involved were immediately expelled. The priests then went up to perform if not an actual exorcism, at least a cleansing ritual involving holy water, crosses, and as much as 24 hours of constant prayer.

That’s the story. Is it true? Brian Andersen is convinced that it is. Some people insist the pentagram is still there and the “evil” is still active.

Yet others believe the “Dark Knights” -- as the intruders have come to be called -- were not trying to summon anything. Rather, they were trying to keep something away, to close a portal between this world and some other.

Who can say for sure? But one thing is certainly true: it’s a great addition to Vermont’s Hallowe’en scare stories.

IS WOODSTOCK THE HELLMOUTH OF VERMONT?

2010-10-04T15:28:00.007-05:00

It just might be. I'll be there stating my case the night before Hallowe'en. At the History Center. On Elm Street. Just the
place for nightmares.

Here's the Press Release:

Spooky Woodstock Will Highlight Town’s Darker Side

By Cassie Horner

Special To The Standard

Woodstock may not look like a particularly scary place, but scratch lightly the surface of its history, and behold: the burning of a vampire's heart, sightings of assorted ghosts, a public hanging on the Green, and the robbing of graves by medical students.

In honor of the spirit of Halloween and the darker side of local history, the Woodstock History Center has cooked up Spooky Woodstock, a witches' brew of events Saturday, October 30, beginning at 6 p.m.

Top billing goes to Joe Citro, Vermont legend teller and author of many books including his latest, The Vermont Monster Guide. He will be master of the campfire on the lawn behind the History Center on Elm Street, at 7:30 pm, recounting tales of the supernatural. Tickets for his show are $5; members free. The suggested age range is nine years old and up (Rain location is the John Cotton Dana Library).

The line-up of events for the evening also features a lantern tour to the Green for dramatic reenactments of the legendary burning of a vampire's heart and a public execution -- both from the early 1800s. Students from WUMS/HS will be the stars, following a script they created based on historical documents. There will be two 30-minute tours, leaving at 6 p.m. and 6:30 p.m. from the History Center.

From 6 p.m. to 7:15 p.m., the Dana House and Gallery will be open for visitors to explore a variety of spooky history connected to Woodstock. Spiritualism — communicating with the dead — was a common practice in 19th century Woodstock, as it was in many towns across the country. A docent in the voice of Betsey Pelton Soule, a South Woodstock resident and spiritualist, will be on hand.

Don't forget to look for the ghost expert on the stairs where the Dana House ghost has been seen over the years!

Another docent will portray the character of Woodstock female doctor, Marenda Briggs Randall. She was a spiritualist, feminist and doctor in the mid-1800s. One of the subjects will be the 1829 case of alleged grave robbing by two students who attended the medical school in Woodstock.

And don't miss the fascinating post-mortem photographs projected in the Gallery, representing the 19th century practice of having a loved one photographed after they died as a memorial. In addition, some “spirit photographs,” that supposedly showed the spirits of those who had previously departed from this world, will be projected in the Dana House.

In the Victorian parlor, where historical accounts place the laying out of the dead, a docent will discuss with visitors some of the history of mourning customs. Some of these old customs extended into the latter part of the 1900s.

The aim of the first Spooky Woodstock is to have fun with history. Expect some mild shivers as you catch a view of the past! All of the events are free (donations welcome), with the exception of the Joe Citro campfire talk; tickets will be on sale that evening, $5 each, members free.

If you would like to volunteer for this event, please contact Jennie Shurtleff at (802) 457-1822.

THE MAN AND THE MOON

2010-09-24T17:52:00.015-05:00

Probably you have heard some weird things about the moon.

That it is hollow. That it’s an artificial structure. That there are military bases -- maybe even extraterrestrial bases -- on the dark side that we never can see.

Most of these notions don’t come from astronomers, you can be sure. In fact, it’s difficult to determine just how they got started.

The venerable “Old Man in the Moon” illusion has been around for a long time. The “Green Cheese” concept remains a puzzle to me. And the fact that “moon” rhymes with “June” has become an irritation. (Thankfully, “Moonlight in Vermont” avoids this cliché. In fact, none of the words rhyme.)

But I have to fess up, Vermont may well partly guilty of moon myth making. At least one slightly eccentric Vermonter left his mark in the skies above Bellows Falls during the late 19th century.

“Eccentric” might be the wrong word. In his day Seth Blake (August 21, 1817-June 25, 1904) was a well-liked and influential member of the community.

He was born in Brookfield and learned the printer’s trade in Montpelier. In 1839 he moved to Bellows Falls to work as a typesetter at the Bellows Falls Gazette. In 1844 Seth purchased the newspaper and expanded the business to include books and other printed material.

On August 16, 1842, he married Martha J. Glover of Concord, N. H. Together they had six sons and two daughters.

But even with professional standing and a good family, Seth Blake remained ambitious, destined for bigger things.

Two of his brothers were practicing dentists in Connecticut. Seth apprenticed himself to one of them, Amos Shepard Blake. After mastering the profession, Seth returned to Bellows Falls and hung out his shingle. It read:

Dr. S. M. Blake, Operations on Teeth.

Apparently he also crafted top quality, artful, porcelain false teeth, which were high-tech at the time.

His professional stature allowed him to influence local and even statewide events. For example, he was instrumental in bringing four railroads to town, which contributed tremendously to the area’s prosperity.

Dr. Blake was widely known as a writer and lecturer. During the civil war he argued persuasively and tirelessly for the preservation of the union.

Beyond seeing to the wellbeing of his town, state, and nation, Dr. Blake had some fascinating private interests. It is claimed he was the first to discover the true age of the great pyramid of Cheops. He invented what may have been the first combination lock for safes. And Dr. Blake had excellent eyesight. He was considered to be the best marksman with a rifle in this part of New England; he was known as a "crack shot."

The latter may relate to his greatest interest – astronomy.

Back in 1837 the youthful Seth Blake had observed large spots on the sun. The phenomenon piqued his curiosity, giving birth to a life-long avocation.

Even as a lad of twenty he had some knowledge of optics, so he built his own telescope. Later, when he was more prosperous, he purchased a 76 inch telescope for $225. It was bigger than and superior to most telescopes in the state. He had it mounted in a revolving observatory on top of his house at 75 Atkinson Street.

From there the dentist moonlighting as an astronomer made his first great discovery – a new star. Or rather an old star, one that appeared only intermittently.

Here’s an account from the St. Paul Daily Globe, September 22, 1885.

“Apropos to the new star which has made its appearance, astronomical records show that in the year 940 a bright star appeared and in course of time was lost to sight. Again in 1204 and in 1571 what was supposed to be the same star came within ken. Last winter [Dr.] S. M. Blake of Bellows Falls, Vt. happened to note that 314 years having passed since it last appeared; he supposed that it might be due again about this time. So during the last few months he swept the sky with his glass, and on the 27th of August discovered the newcomer in Andromeda. He foretells that in the next twelve months it will grow so bright as to rival Jupiter and then it will disappear. It will probably not be seen again until more than three hundred years have again rolled away.”

But here’s the thing: Dr. Blake was convinced he had identified the Star of Bethlehem, the same star that the Three Magi followed to where it cast its light upon the manger in which Jesus was born.

Gary Nowak, former president of the Vermont Astronomical Society, tells me that what Dr. Blake actually saw the Supernova in M31 "the Andromeda Galaxy". Of course Dr. Blake couldn’t know what a Supernova was. As Gary explains it, “The supernova is like a giant firecracker going off. Once the firecracker explodes with a brilliant flash, that's it, and there is not much left of anything. Certainly the scattered gas and dust particles from the supernova explosion will not light up again.”

And – though he got a lot of press at the time – Dr. Blake was not the first to discover it. The “first discovery” was credited to E. Hartwig for his August 20, 1885 observation.

But the irrepressible Dr. Blake kept watching the skies, and soon he was to make a most startling discovery.

He first announced it in The Bellow Falls Times on December 15, 1887. And what an announcement it was!

Okay. Now before we go on, remember that Seth Blake computed the age of great pyramid. Discovered a supernova. And, perhaps most important, he had extraordinary eyesight. So, he announced…

A NEW DISCOVERY

The Moon has Been Inhabited

Dr. Blake starts by saying that published pictures of the moon, specifically those that ran in the March 1885 issue of “Century Magazine”, are inaccurate. He doesn’t go so far as to say any photographs have been doctored, but he does assert that he was able to see something no one else had discovered – gigantic structures on the moon! Perhaps the remains of a whole lunar civilization!

“For nearly forty years, with the aid of a telescope,” Seth writes, “[I have] made the study of the moon a kind of specialty, hoping all the while to find some evidence that our satellite has, at some period of the past, been the abode of life and intelligence.”

So, apparently he got exactly what he hoped for.

Dr. Blake admits it requires courage to speak out when other scientists have heralded the impossibility of lunar life, be he goes on to reveal what he saw, and gives precise coordinates so that others can see it, too.

Between the crater Archimedes and the Apennine Mountains he discovered "a vast wall of more than two hundred miles in extent, and a figure suggesting the letter B (for Blake?) with the lower end of the letter unfinished!"

At its top the wall forms a 90 degree angle and extends to the left, in a perfectly straight line, some thirty miles!

“This wall, he wrote, “is arranged in sections, and each section is of the same height, length, and thickness.”

He described the top of these sections as being "oval or domed-shape, and … appear as if covered over with some kind of silicious or glossy substance."

Glossy? Why should that be?”

“To utilize our earth-shine in lighting up the darkness of their long and dreary nights. Behold the great mirrors that send forth their beams of light across their continents and what was once their seas!"

Close to this wall he discerned "a great ship canal," two hundred miles long, six miles wide, and several feet deep, "cut as straight as a line could be drawn, and whose bottom is as smooth as if paved with granite blocks."

He attributed all this oversized construction work to "a race of men far superior in physical power to any type of human family that have peopled this earth since history, or even tradition, began."

And – you might ask -- why was Dr. Seth Blake of Bellows Falls, Vermont the only scientist or astronomer to discover these massive ruins on the moon?

Well, essentially, says Dr. Blake, because they weren’t looking for them. "Their great magnitude being so much out of proportion to anything looked for as a work of human accomplishment is probably the reason why they have not been recognized before."

In short, Dr. Blake believed he had discovered proof irrefutable that the moon had once been inhabited. That the inhabitants, no doubt larger, stronger, and more advanced than mere earthlings, had for some reason vanished. And the remains of their once thriving civilization had been overlooked for centuries simply because no one expected it to be there.

Well, maybe.

Dr. Blake was so certain of his discoveries that he would not even entertain the arguments of skeptics. He challenged them to look and see for themselves. "See all this," he said, "and then tell us who can, that the moon was never inhabited."

Dr. Blake had no explanation for why the moon civilization ended and what caused the water and atmosphere to disappear. He couldn’t even judge when the tragedy occurred.

But the stubborn dentist, who lived to be 88 years old, never withdrew his theory of giant moon men, colossal constructions, and a vast system of canals.

As with his Star of Bethlehem discovery, Dr. Blake received little to no support from the scientific community.

Perhaps, since he first announced his discovery, the moon monuments have continued their disintegration into dust, for they are not visible to any modern telescopes nor were they discovered by our Apollo Astronauts.

Perhaps the final word on this science fiction drama came in 1969 when Dr. Blake’s telescope was in the possession of his grandson, Harry Blake, of Claremont, New Hampshire. Mr. Blake invited members of the Bellows Falls Historical Society to his home to watch mankind's first lunar journey, the Apollo 11 Astronauts on their way to the moon. They all watched the drama unfold through Dr. Seth Blake's telescope.

NOTE: Thanks for all the research help from astronomer Gary Nowak, Bellows Falls librarians Emily Zervas & Sam Maskell, and web wizard Jason Smiley.

GREEN SWAMP MONSTER!

2010-08-18T16:12:00.011-05:00

I recently reread The Hound of the Baskervilles, one of my all time favorite novels. At its core is a family curse: generation after generation threatened by a supernatural beast.
I wondered: Do we have any similar stories here in Vermont?

We do! A tale told to me by my friend Ina Isham, president of The Green Mountain Folklore Society. In fact, her family was the target of the
monster!

As a youngster, Ina’s home was in St. George, not far from Shelburne Pond. Nearby was a vast boggy area known as Isham's Swamp. A fence separated Ina’s dooryard from the inhospitable wetland.

In the early 1940s, when she very young, her father told her the family legend:

A horrible Swamp Monster lived somewhere out there among the trees. It was green like a frog, black spotted, with long mud-colored hair. And it was huge! Big as two plow horses! If Ina wasn’t careful, her father warned, the horrifying creature might dart out of the swamp and carry her away.

When Ina was six years old, her daily one-mile walk to school was a terrifying ordeal. Family members cautioned her to hurry, and go quietly, so she wouldn’t attract the monster’s attention.

But sometimes she became curious and wandered a little too close to the fence. From there she often saw the submerged monster moving under dry clumps of grass protruding from the smelly marshland.

The threat of monster attacks seemed to diminish in winter. Before the swamp froze over, her father explained, the Green Swamp Monster made its way from their swamp to the larger swamps near Shelburne Pond. There it passed the winter with Swamp Monsters from all around.

When Ina was older the true secret of the swamp monster was finally revealed. Her father confessed that the whole story was concocted to keep the children out of the dangerous swamp. He said it was better they be scared to death, than actually dead.

Ina told me, “[Father] had been scared just like me, by his father Irving Isham, who in turn had been scared by his father, Gilbert Isham, who was scared by his father, Amasa Isham, who was scared by his father, who [apparently] started the Swamp Monster story in 1784 when he moved to St George, Vermont, from Connecticut.”

“It’s possible,” Ina says, that “the tale goes all the way back to England.”

Yes, possible, but let’s not forget that the original Vermonters, the Abenaki, had a similar tale. They told of an evil swamp monster who’d call from the depths of the swamp, trying to lure children into the wet darkness where they would drown.

So the story is essentially true: Swamps are dangerous. And monsters are very, very old.

To hear me read this story, click on over to http://www.vpr.net/episode/49227/

The cool monster pictures are by my pal Steve Bissette, from The Vermont Monster Guide. Used with his blessings.

THOSE PUCKIN' PUKWUDJEES

2010-07-21T10:28:00.007-05:00

I keep getting radio & TV inquiries about Puk-wudjees. I wrote about them in 1997, so producers seem to think I'm some kind of "expert". Apparently "Puks" are the newest "paranormal phenomenon" that "investigators" are glomming on to. I guess they're getting bored with ghosts and demons .

I first met the pesky little critters when I was researching my book Passing Strange.
I had found them mentioned in Thomas Weston's History of Middleborough MA (1906). As I recall he doesn't specifically state that they are supernatural or especially malevolent. They certainly were not portrayed as demonic.

My friend Robert Schneck (author of The President's Vampire) tells me "The name appears in some Hiawatha-influenced poetry, but I think 'In the Fairyland of America' by Herbert Quick is the first book to take a longer look at the stories."

That moves their print debut back to 1901.

Although the little Puckers are usually portrayed as New Englanders, there is reason to believe that "Puk-wudjee" or "Pukwudjee" or "Puk-wud-jee" was a co-opted Ojibwa term.

Why?

Who knows. Maybe because "Pukwudgie" is easier to pronounce than "Muhkeaweesug" which, I think, was the local Native American designation for our resident little people.

Harder to explain why they've turned evil and suddenly raised their ugly heads among "Paranormal Groups". Just recently I received two calls from two different producers of the same "Reality show" asking me to talk about them. Supposedly the Puckers are are attacking some family from CT or RI or something.

I said no, of course. At this point the only thing that interests me about them is the similarity of names -- "Puk" and "Puck" -- but otherwise I tend to toss them off as one variant of multiple Native American little people.

I'd love to broaden my horizons. Anyone want to comment on Puk-wudjees or have anything to add?

WEIRD WOODSTOCK: The Final Verdict*

2010-07-15T10:52:00.011-05:00

What do Melvin Douglas, Fred Astaire, and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. have in common?

That's right, they all appeared in Ghost Story, a horror movie filmed partly in
Woodstock, Vermont.

But, I got to wondering, does Woodstock have any real ghosts?

Well, if you can believe the stories, it has as many ghosts as tourists.

In 1970 Polly Billings bought F.H Gillingham & Sons general store. She often worked alone. After hours. In the oldest part of the building. "I never felt as if I was by myself," she told me. "It was as if F.H. was... with me. When I couldn’t get an idea for the advertising copy, he would often help me out."

Thing is, her "helper" died in 1918.

At The Dana House, headquarters of the Woodstock Historical Society,
people have seen a transparent woman wearing a long, brown, satin dress. Sometimes, while completely invisible, she plays the piano.

Former director Corwin Sharp recalls comforting a terrified volunteer who’d encountered the Victorian specter. "She wasn’t making it up," he told me. "She was shaken, white as a ghost herself."

And there’s a little ghost-boy on the stairs. He is presumed to be the ectoplasmic residue of Mary and Charles Dana’s first born - who died at the age of two.

Both Dana House ghosts are easily recognized because of their anachronistic attire. And because they vanish before your eyes.
A beautiful brick colonial house near The Green - and not far from the covered bridge - has tenants who move in... and quickly leave.

Maybe it’s the heating bills. One former renter told me no matter how much fuel they burned they could never get the place above 65 degrees.

The doorknob in the master bedroom sometimes turned of its own accord. Or the door would open and close, though no one was there.

Occasionally they’d find pictures smashed. After hearing a loud crash, the couple ran upstairs, to find a precious Civil War engraving smashed on the floor.

After they’d moved out they heard that their former residence had once been a school in which the lovely young teacher had been murdered by a pale, thin, blond-headed soldier.

Well... maybe. Or maybe not.

Perhaps we can learn the truth in court.

The Windsor County Court House is an psychic battery, highly charged with emotion since 1855. Custodial staff working alone in the building report footsteps, unfathomable utterances, and awful noises. Sometimes, while court is in session, the door to the Judge’s Room will open and close. Moments later, the Witness Room door on the far side of the room will rattle. It’s as if something invisible is crossing the courtroom from one door to another.

A judge who witnessed this phenomenon from the bench looked over at the sheriff and said, "Ghosts."

And I guess that is the final verdict.

THE END (or is it...?)

*For a spoken version of this commentary
please go to:
http://www.vpr.net/episode/49035/

HIS SNAKESHIP

2010-07-03T11:41:00.007-05:00

What follows in my June, 2010
public radio commentary about
BIG SNAKES.
If you'd rather hear me read it, please go to www.vpr.net/episode/48716/

Oversized oddities are at the core of many monster stories. Take a mouse; it’s not too menacing. But imagine polliwog the size of "Champ"!

Interestingly, during the 19th and early 20th centuries, newspapers routinely ran accounts of giant snakes. Editors seemed to compete to see who could report the biggest, especially in places like Vermont, where no such thing should exist. Giant snake stories were so common that their protagonists took on exalted titles, like "Boss Snake" or "His Snakeship."

In the 19th century, one was spotted in the Taconic Mountains of southern Vermont. Mr. T. Owsley reported that it was - and I quote - "as large as a common stove-pipe and about 12 feet long." The Troy [NY] Post pro claimed it was, "The largest snake ever heard of in this part of the world..."
But there’d be more contenders.

On July 22, 1878, The New York Times that William Fields of Richmond saw, "two large snakes the color of boa-constrictors." He said they were at least six feet long and as thick as his arm. They raised their heads, opened their mouths, and darted their tongues at him. The newspaper concludes, "Mr. Fields did not stop to interview them."

In that same area, a Dr. Bromley was making his rounds when he saw what appeared to be a rail across the road. But then it moved! The snake, Dr. Bromley estimated, was a good 10 feet long.

Flash forward to the 20th century. Around 1940, Betty Paige of Woodstock was driving home at night. The snake she saw in her headlights extended completely across the road and into the underbrush. She watched it until it got out of the way. Then she did the same thing.

A more recent sighting comes from Bethel, circa 1953. The pseudonymous Lori Kearns was walking along a wagon path near her home. She says, "I saw something up in front of me stretched along the pathway, laying in some sunlight coming through a break in the big maple trees." At first she thought it was an oddly colorful garden hose. But it was way too big and too active! She thought, Glory Be, it’s a huge snake!
A multi-generational Vermonter, Lori had never seen anything like it. Its color was a swirling blend of browns, reds, yellows, and blacks. Greatly puzzled, she tried to compute its size. The snake stretched across the path - a width of at least 5-feet - with perhaps another foot on either side vanishing into the goldenrods. That would make it at least 7 feet long! She says it was as big around as her lower leg, making its girth between five and seven inches. She says, "I have tried looking up photos of the snake... but never found one which looked exactly the same."
But hey, that was way back in the 20th century. Can such serpentine specters be slithering through the Green Mountains today? Who knows? I guess we've got other things to worry about.

The following excerpt is allegedly from the US Government Peace Corps Manual for volunteers working in the Amazon Jungle. It details what to do if an anaconda attacks you.

Related to the boa constrictor, the anaconda is the largest snake species in the world. It grows to thirty-five feet in length and weighs 300 to 400 pounds. There are none in Vermont. Supposedly.

1. If you are attacked by an anaconda, do not run. The snake is faster than you are.
2. Lie flat on the ground. Put your arms tight against your sides, your legs tight against one another.
3. Tuck your chin in.
4. The snake will begin to nudge and climb over your body.
5. Do not panic.
6. After the snake has examined you, it will begin to swallow you from the feet end - always from the feet end. Permit the snake to swallow your feet and ankles. Do not panic!
7. The snake will now begin to suck your legs into its body. You must lie perfectly still. This will take a long time.
8. When the snake has reached your knees slowly and with as little movement as possible, reach down, take your knife and very gently slide it into the side of the snake's mouth between the edge of its mouth and your leg, then suddenly rip upwards, severing the snake's head.
9. Be sure you have your knife.
10. Be sure your knife is sharp.

*These illustrations are by Stephen R. Bissette, used with permission, from THE VERMONT MONSTER GUIDE by Joseph A. Citro and Stephen R. Bissette.

IRA ALLEN, GHOSTBUSTER

2010-04-30T09:40:00.014-05:00

I’m sure you’ve noticed the proliferation of so-called “Paranormal Investigators.” It’s a worldwide phenomenon that can be traced to a TV show, GHOST HUNTERS, that premiered in 2004.

We have at least 3 groups of specter detectors here in Vermont. So I got to wondering who Vermont’s first ghost hunter might have been. So far the outstanding candidate is Ira Allen, brother of Ethan and "Father of the University of Vermont."

In his auto- biography Ira talks about some friends he met in the early 1770s -- a mother with two lovely daughters. He writes, “[They…] used to amuse me by telling… frightful stories [of ghosts and apparitions…] amongst which were many stories [about] an old woman… without a head.”

Now here’s where the ghost hunting comes in. Ira writes, “One evening I challenged the old woman without a head, and all the ghosts, to meet me at any time and place they chose.”

This bravado alarmed Ira’s friends. The young women warned him not to provoke the spirits or there would be supernatural retaliation. And soon.The very next day some of Ira’s hogs escaped. As darkness fell, he went looking for them along a snowy footpath leading deep into the woods. As it got darker, he admits, thoughts of the headless woman crossed his mind. What would he do if he saw her?

Well, he was about to find out.

A little farther along, he says, “to my no small surprise, at about 8 rods distance, I …[saw] the perfect appearance of a woman without a head; her shoulders, waist, arms akimbo, her hands on her hips, woman’s cloths, and feet below were in perfect shape… ; all which I viewed with astonishment.”

Could it be real?

“If the God of nature authorizes apparitions,” Ira wrote, “then there is no flying from them.”

With that he raised his cane and advanced.

He says, “I came within about 30 yards before I discovered the cause…”

He found that a tree had been broken off by the wind, leaving a human-sized stump. Some of its bark had fallen away, creating the illusion of a white dress. Above that, a dappled pattern -- the work of woodcocks -- completed the upper torso. The night made the darker areas invisible, forming, Ira wrote, “the size and figure of a headless woman”

To satisfy himself, he went back to the original spot. From there the headless woman was visible again.

And then Ira Allen writes a line that perhaps reveals the source of a lot of ghost stories.

He wrote, “Had I been frightened and run away, I might, like others, have believed in spectral appearances,”

Vermont's first ghost, busted.

To hear me read this commentary, just go to...

http://www.vpr.net/episode/48493/

...ANOTHER MAN'S CASTLE

2010-04-25T15:37:00.011-05:00

During a conversation with Susan Stebbins on February 18^th of this year, I learned of a tunnel just off Intervale Road in Burlington. Tunnels always capture my curiosity, and because this one was not far from the “haunted” Blue Bridge, I was exceptionally curious. Susan recalled enticing bits of stories about the place, like there was a barred gate in it and that a number of dead bodies had been found inside. But she hadn’t seen the place in many, many years, so she wasn’t able to describe it exactly.

I had to see it for myself.

Because he shares my interest in all things strange and historic, my pal Jeff Stewart (founder of Paranormal Investigators of New England) joined me to see if we could rediscover the thing.

Finding it was easy; Susan had provided excellent directions. Figuring out what it was proved to be the hard part.

It clearly was not one of Vermont’s so-called ancient structures, we could see that right away.

It was in plain sight -- out in the open -- but we approached it with caution.

Peering through the opening we could tell that it extended a good long way under the hill that supports the railroad tracks.

Before entering, we guessed it must have been used for storage – rails maybe -- but it occurred to both of us that there would have been lots of less labor intensive ways to set up a storage shed.

Well, we’ll figure it out…

As we entered, the mystery deepened.

Shining our light toward the end of the tunnel, we discovered that there was a thick gray blanket hanging across the interior, creating sort of an optical illusion that the tunnel ended before it really did – a sort of false bottom.

This put us on guard, fearing we might not be alone.

Jeff called, “Hello” several times before we continued into the tunnel. When we moved the curtain aside it became immediately clear that someone was -- or had been – living here. His protection against intruders was just inside the curtain: a big knife.

We remained on guard until we were sure we were alone.

Then we poked around a bit and found candles, pots, bedding, and books. I could imagine the vanished occupant in this lightless, damp dungeon huddled under a blanket reading mysteries by candlelight.

Not the most hospitable of homes. The place was muddy and wet. Jeff and I agreed that no one could be living there as of our visit on April 23^rd. In fact nothing was living there but gigantic spiders.

Whoever had made his or her home here was a puzzle, but the real mystery was the place itself. Just exactly what was it?

The investigation continues next time. . .

If you know what this is, or have a guess, please leave a comment.

KNOWN BY MANY NAMES

2010-04-22T09:43:00.003-05:00

The elusive Sidehill Croncher (Crevida Scrofa) is known by many names. In other parts of Vermont they are called Sidehill Gougers, Rooters, and, of course, Wampahoofuses (Wampahoofi?) .

The Wampahoofus Trail above Butler Lodge near the Forehead of Mt. Mansfield was so named by Professor Roy Buchanan because of a rock formation that looks like the profile of a Wampahoofus.

Ben Nappi of Milton throws a healthy bit of skepticism into the discussion by calling the animal's entire existence into question. He writes, "My English teacher, Mr. Butts, used to call one of these creatures a Sidey Hill Wampus. If he made a point in class and someone said, "Yeah, but--" he would say "There's no such thing as a 'Yeah But. It ranks right up there with a Sidey Hill Wampus and a Ooch-Ooch Bird'."

Hmmmm. Looks like we better start doing some bird-watching.

A CRONCHER BY ANY OTHER NAME...

2010-04-21T15:28:00.005-05:00

Lots of fun feedback on my last public radio rant.

For example, here's one from Phil Keyes (Brandon, VT)

"Really enjoyed Joe Citro's recent commentary about animals in Vermont with 2 legs longer than the others, so they could stand up on the steep hills of the green mountains.

"My brother confirms the existence of these creatures, but called them by a different name, Wampahoofuses. He was a hut caretaker on Mount Mansfield, and told me all about them!"

Somehow I get the feeling I didn't fool anyone with my April Fools Day antics.

But it's clear Mr. Keyes is not easily fooled.

He adds, "I have spent a good chunk of time on and around Mount Independence in Orwell, VT and can report that [Champ] does not appear to live there, although a few logs have surfaced from the bridge built in 1777, now and then that might give the impression of being [Champ]."

CRONCHER illustrations by Stephen R. Bissette from The Vermont Monster Guide.

CANNED CRONCHERS

2010-04-07T10:30:00.008-05:00

I was delighted to hear in a recent email that my disclosure about
Sidehill Cronchers inspired some intrepid souls to go out monster hunting. If enough adventurers take up the challenge, it won't be long before we have these crypto-critters in the can!

For example:

Hi Mr. Citro,

I am a school librarian and a parent of two boys who are fans of your books. My 9 year old, after reading The Vermont Monster Guide, informed me that he wanted to spend his April break searching for some of the monsters in the book. I wanted to let you know that we traveled to the Chateauguy Wilderness near Bridgewater to look for the most elusive Sidehill Cronchers! Before you say or think another word, attached are photos of what we found. After some exhausting hikes up some very steep hills and logging paths, we determined that it was a Croncher-free day. We did spot some unusual placements of beer cans in trees (not sure what creatures are responsible for them).

Those photos are attached.

We also came upon what looked like a bedding-down spot for a creature, and we took some hair from that spot (photo also attached, and note the supernatural orb that resulted from the flash!).

We spooked ourselves pretty well when we saw all the hair, because it is long and coarse, much like boar hair, and we figured since it was white and dark gray it could be a really old Croncher. With time and reflection, I am now assuming it is skunk hair, and with that in mind, I think we made a very close escape!

Thanks for all of your stories and books and I'll let you know if we find anything else to report.

Your fellow monster hunters,

Kelly and Henry Ahlfeld

My April 2010 Medal for Bravery goes to this fearless pair.

SIDEHILL CRONCHERS

2010-04-01T11:24:00.008-05:00

This is my April, 2010 public radio commentary.
If you prefer to listen to me read it, you can do so at
http://www.vpr.net/episode/48285/

SIDEHILL CRONCHERS

Lately I’ve been getting something of a reputation here in Vermont. People are starting to call me “Joe Citro, The Ghost Guy.” Okay, admittedly I have written a lot about ghosts.

But “The Ghost Guy”? I hate to get typecast like that. So in 2009 I decided to broaden my horizons.

I gave up on ghosts and started looking for. . . monsters.

Now generally we don’t think of Vermont as having a lot of monsters. But as it turns out, our safe little state is home to a whole zoo-full of incredible creatures.

Champ is here, of course, and he, she, or it, has many aquatic cousins. Like Memphre in Lake Memphremagog. And “Elmo” in Lake Elmore. And of course Crystal Lake’s little known “Ms Crystal”.

Then there are the mythical land dwellers. Down south we’ve got “The Bennington Monster”. Up in the Northeast Kingdom, there’s 0ld Slipperyskin. And folks tell me something extraordinarily weird is lurking on Black Mountain in Addison.

But, in honor of this special time of year, I was determined to find something truly out of the ordinary. So I started asking around.

Most people looked at me askance, but I’m used to that.

Finally, I spoke to my friend Howard Coffin, who answered without hesitation and in just one word: “Cronchers”. Turned out Mr. Coffin is something of an expert on Cronchers, having written about them on several occasions.

So today I want to introduce you to a real rarity, Vermont’s so-called “Sidehill Croncher”.

These elusive monstrosities are said to reside within the deep, remote, almost forgotten Chateauguy wilderness near Bridgewater. Considered very dangerous, Cronchers are an unlikely hybrid: part deer, part wild boar.

According to Mr. Coffin’s article in a 1966 The Rutland Herald, “…the Croncher has. . . short tusks, dark dirty brown hair, weighs at least 100 pounds, [and] has hooves with prominent dew claws….”

It seems that Cronchers are well suited to Vermont’s hilly landscape as their legs are shorter on the right side than on the left -- an adaptation that allows them to graze more comfortably on steep hillsides.

Because of this evolutionary peculiarity, they must always travel in a clockwise direction . . . and would fall over if they turned around.

Although they can move at extremely high speeds, people can easily escape them by running straight up or straight down the slope.

The Croncher will not be able to attack because it would have to circumnavigate the entire hill in an effort to catch up.

Possible sightings of Sidehill Cronchers (or Crevida Scrofa) have been reported in Stockbridge, Ludlow, and maybe on Mt. Mansfield.

But make no mistake, these animals are rare, so rare, in fact, that no one has ever seen one.

THE END (or is it?)

SCROLL DOWN TO THE THE ONLY KNOWN PHOTO OF THE TERRIFYING
SIDEHILL CRONCHER

Hibernating Hill Folk

2010-03-18T08:43:00.005-05:00

Submitted for your consideration, the first commentary of my 2010 Commentary Series on public radio. If you prefer, you can listen to it on line. The URL is posted at the end.

Beginning this month I’m kicking off another series of weird Vermont stories, including ghost lore, monster legends, and historical oddities. And today’s tale is an undisputed classic.

It concerns the odd practice of “human hibernation", first publicly disclosed in a December, 1887 issue of The Montpelier Argus and Patriot.

The reporter had discovered information in an old diary written by his Uncle William. The entries focused on the efforts of a wretchedly poor and isolated family of hill farmers from up around Calais. Their problem was how to stretch a meager food supply through the long, cold winter months.

Yankee ingenuity led to a horrifying solution. Somehow they developed a process to literally freeze people alive. Like hibernating bears, they’d sleep the winter away.

This seemingly impossible (and decidedly inhumane) process began by drugging four men and two women. "[O]ne of the men," Uncle William wrote, "[was] a cripple about 36 years old. The other five [were] past the age of usefulness…."

When unconscious, the individuals were stripped and carried outdoors into the freezing mountain air.

Beneath the full moon their noses, ears, and fingers slowly turned white. When their upturned faces assumed a tallowy look, they were judged "ready".

Then they were packed side by side on beds of straw, and boxed-up to guard against predators.

Accumulating snow drifts buried the sleepers for one quarter of a year.

Just as the Green Mountains were beginning to warm up, Uncle William returned to the cabin to witness the sleepers' liberation from their icy crypt. Able-bodied men lifted their stone-stiff relatives into warm baths fragrant with a mysterious hemlock-based potion

Slowly, pallid faces began to brighten. Muscles twitched. Fingers flexed. Vitality returned. The six were carried inside where they were warmed by blankets, fire, and a hardy meal.

After this vivid account first saw print, the story of Vermont’s “hibernating hill folk” quickly spread around the world.

Newspapers, magazines and radio shows presented it as real.

Locally, it imprinted on our folk memory and was frequently confused with fact.

Having grown up in southern Vermont, I recall hearing this strange tale from old-timers who swore it was true.

In his book Inside New England, Yankee Magazine editor Judson Hale relates an anecdote that perfectly illustrates this strange tale's unique position between fact and fantasy. He writes, "I once asked an old Vermont farm couple in the Montpelier area if either one of them truly believed the [story of the hibernating hill folk].

"'Certainly do, the husband answered emphatically and without hesitation.

"Then the wife added, 'The only part I doubt is the thawing out.'"

The End

For your ears only: Listen...!

http://www.vpr.net/flash/audio_player/audio_player.php?id=30417

A SHORT INTERVIEW WITH LOREN COLEMAN

2010-03-11T11:14:00.006-05:00

Here is a transcript of a brief interview I conducted in preparation for the series of blog installments that precede today’s entry.

In trying to make sense of an array of hundreds of alleged Bigfoot sightings, castings, and other evidence, I spoke with Loren Coleman, an internationally known anthropologist and Bigfoot expert from Maine. Loren is the author of, among other things, Bigfoot!: The True Story of Apes in America, (NY: Paraview Pocket - Simon and Schuster, 2003). And he is the founder and curator of his International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland.
I began with, “Here in Vermont we have Bigfoot sightings that seem to date back at least to 1759. Is there something about Vermont that might make it especially attractive to Bigfoot?”

Loren: There are several factors at work. Traditionally, most of the lore we get from Vermont is Native American and colonial, as there does seem to be a rich history in the state of Windigo folklore and encounters. As the land got cleared and the various First Peoples were displaced, you saw less and less sightings. Now we are back to the Green Mountain State again, and it is "green" because of all those trees. With more forest cover, more Bigfoot may be visiting the state again, as interlopers from Canada and passing through.

Joe: I think most any animal living here in Vermont can occasionally be found beside
the road, dead. Yet as far as I know, no Bigfoot body has ever been found there or anywhere else. What do you make of that?
Loren: Wildlife officers and hunters also tell me that they never find the body of a mountain lion or bear dead in the woods. Why do we find roadkill? Because those animals are not very bright. Yes, deer, moose, raccoons, and a few bear get killed on the roads, but if there are a few intelligent biped hairy hominoids out there, they appear to be too smart to be killed by a run-in with a car.

Joe: There seems to be enough evidence of Bigfoot's reality to convince a jury, but not a scientist. What's the problem?

Loren: Verification for zoology and biology must come with a live capture, and DNA/blood samples -- or a dead body. It's that simple. No body, not proof they exist. I understand that, but, of course, am in the "live capture" camp, as far as proving they exist.

JOE: Do you think Bigfoot has a home, or he/she/it more likely to be a nomad, in constant migration?
LOREN: It seems from the data, in Vermont and Maine (where I make my home), the population of Bigfoot may be very small or only nomads. The number of sightings every year is small. The reports often talk of lean, mobile, fast, male Bigfoot. That sounds like juveniles trying to find food, a mate, and/or a new home.

JOE: Would you care to predict the future? What do you suppose will be the final outcome? Will Bigfoot join Mountain Gorillas in the biology books? Or is it more likely to remain in the realm of folklore and cryptozoology?
LOREN: I sense that a new great ape, probably discovered in Asia or Oceania, will surprise us all in the next 25 years, perhaps on the island of Sumatra. But as far as the classic American Bigfoot, I think it might be another 100 years until they are discovered. We have to be patient. It took 60 to 70 years to discover and capture the first giant panda and the mountain gorilla. Bigfoot will be an even bigger wonder.

More to come. . .

PART 5: THE MARSHFIELD MONSTER

2010-03-04T10:56:00.008-05:00

I’ll conclude the cluster of blog entries with a slightly more recent sighting investigated by Christopher Noel, a writer and teacher at Vermont College.

As an investigator for the national Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization, Christopher has examined many Vermont Bigfoot experiences. “In May, 2006,” he told me, “two thirteen-year-old cousins, a girl and a boy, were visiting their grandparents’ cabin in Marshfield. While they were out on their ATVs traveling along a disused logging road, they were stopped by a fallen tree. As they were turning around, a figure they described as seven feet tall and hairy rose then dashed on into the forest.”

Christopher says, “Seven feet always seems to be a fallback height when describing these things.”

When he interviewed family members, the cousins’ uncle told of another dramatic encounter in the same general area, around 1980: “He recalled that when he was 19 he and a few friends were doing some night fishing at the reservoir. Someone or something in the bushes began throwing large rocks over their heads and into the water. It was as if someone was trying to scare them. This sort of thing has happened in many cases. It is not as if the rocks are aimed to hit anyone, only frighten them. It usually works.”

A MATTER FOR EXPERTS

There are hundreds of additional examples. One is either convinced or one isn’t. Having looked at some of the evidence – anecdotes, castings, hair, even scat – we still gravitate back to the pictures. Did Sanda Mansi photograph Champ? Did the Chittenden team bag the state’s first Bigfoot photo?

The latter is in no way a hoax. It was hushed up and kept pretty much a secret for almost 30 years. No one had anything to gain by concealing what may be the best evidence Vermont can offer about Bigfoot’s existence. We don’t even know why it was hushed up. To protect the photographer from inevitable ridicule? To preserve the Mountain Top Inn’s reputation as a safe vacation getaway as opposed to a preserve for unknown animals?

Mystery wrapped in mystery.

In trying to make sense of all this, I sought out an expert, Loren Coleman, an internationally-known anthropologist and Bigfoot authority in Portland, Maine. Mr. Coleman is the author of Bigfoot!: The True Story of Apes in America, (NY: Paraview Pocket - Simon and Schuster, 2003) and many other relevant books.

I asked him the obvious questions. For example, I said, “I think any animal living here in Vermont can occasionally be found beside the road, dead. Yet, as far as I know, no Bigfoot body has ever been found there or anywhere else. What do you make of that?”

“Why do we find roadkill?” he said. “Because those animals are not very bright. Yes, deer, moose, raccoons, and a few bear get killed on the roads, but if there are some intelligent biped hairy hominoids out there, they appear to be too smart to be killed by a run-in with a car.”

“Would you care to predict the future?” I asked. “What do you think will be the final outcome? Will Bigfoot join Mountain Gorillas in the biology books? Or is it more likely to remain in the realm of folklore and cryptozoology?”

He seemed to ponder the question. “I sense that a new great ape, probably discovered in Asia or Oceania, will surprise us all in the next 25 years, perhaps on the island of Sumatra. But as far as the classic American Bigfoot, I think it might be another 100 years until they are discovered. We have to be patient. It took 60 to 70 years to discover and capture the first giant panda and the mountain gorilla. Bigfoot will be an even bigger wonder.

“Verification for zoology and biology must come with a live capture, and DNA/blood samples -- or a dead body. It's that simple. No body, no proof they exist. I understand that, but, of course, am in the ‘live capture’ camp, as far as proving they exist.”

So the evidence gained thus far, whether anecdotal or physical, isn’t enough. And the “Chittenden Bigfoot Photo”, whether real, hoax, or misperceived shadows, keeps the mystery alive.

More to follow. . .

NOTES: The "Rain of Stones" illo is by Stephen R. Bissette from The Vermont Ghost Guide. Used with permission.

Christopher Noel's book Impossible Visits presents an interesting and controversial take on the notion of Bigfoots in America. Check it out and search for him on YouTube.

PART 4 : MORE RECENT EVENTS

2010-02-26T15:51:00.015-05:00

One day in September, 2003, after dropping his daughter off at Southern Vermont College in Bennington, Ray Dufresne headed north on Route 7, beginning the 125-mile drive back to his home in Winooski.

It was about 7:00 p.m..

When he had reached the highest elevation between Bennington and Manchester, Mr. Dufresne noticed something moving in a narrow, deserted field on his right.

“What the f--- was that?” he said in the empty car.

During a recent interview at his home, he told me, “It was a big black hairy thing, walking strangely. Long hairy arms; the body was huge. It was a lot bigger than me. I’m 220, so this must have been over 270. A lot over. Over 6 feet. Wider. Beefier. I just couldn’t believe it. Must be a man in a gorilla suit, I thought.”

He lost sight of it as it moved east into the woods of Glastenbury Mountain, an area where, over the years, many strange sights and sounds have been reported.

“I kept driving,” Mr. Dufresne said. “There was nothing around. No cars, no houses. It was a desolate place. Now I kick myself because I didn’t go back and investigate.”

“I’m not saying it’s Bigfoot,” he said. “I was never a Bigfoot believer. But I saw what I saw and I can’t change what I saw.”

The truth of Mr. Dufresne’s tale was buttressed when other people reported similar sightings in the same area.

When Ray’s story appeared in the Bennington Banner, San Francisco writer Doug Dorst came forth to report that he had seen a similar creature a week earlier as he was driving toward Bennington College to give a reading. He saw what Ray did not: the creature’s face, which he described as light brown.

Two women -- Sadelle Wiltshire and Ann Mrowicki – said they had also seen the “beast” the same night as Mr. Dufresne. They estimated they’d been as close as 10 feet away.

While everyone admits a misidentification or hoax might be possible, Ray Dufresne says it definitely was not a bear. As a lifelong hunter, he can easily identify a bear. Besides, bears will not walk on their hind legs for any great distance.

". . .it definitely was not a bear. . ."

A hoax is another matter, but “the man in a gorilla suit” solution is pretty far-fetched. And dangerous. Armed men in pickups routinely patrol that isolated area. Any trickster dressed in a gorilla suit would be about as safe as some lunkhead wearing antlers in the woods during deer season.

To be continued . . .

MYSTERIES AND MORE MYSTERIES

2010-02-17T09:53:00.014-05:00

To me, Sarah Vogelsang’s inconclusive analysis of the "Bigfoot" photo is an apt metaphor for the whole Vermont Bigfoot enigma: People repeatedly see something, but they don’t know what it is.

The point seems to be that it – whatever "it" is -- has been surfacing for centuries. While the skeptics, along with most local media, dismiss Bigfoot sightings as nothing but a bunch of ape droppings, the persistence of evidence suggests something really is out there.

Could there be a hidden population in our midst?

Do families of Bigfoots live in little enclaves in the most inaccessible regions of our state?

Or are they migratory, passing through Vermont according to some as yet undiscovered timetable in the manner of catamounts and salmon?

That is all part of the mystery. What we have as of this writing is dots of evidence. And it’s time for those with uninhibited curiosity to connect those dots.

One such dot is an early encounter reported October 18, 1879 on the front page of The New York Times. “Pownal, VT., Oct. 17 -- Much excitement prevailed among the sportsmen of this vicinity over the story that a wild man was seen on Friday last by two young men while hunting in the mountains south of Williamstown. The young men describe the creature as being about five feet high, resembling a man in form and movement, but covered all over with bright red hair, and having a long straggling beard, and with very wild eyes.

“When first seen, the creature sprang from behind a rocky cliff and started for the woods near by. When mistaking it for a bear or other wild animal, one of the men fired, and, it is thought, wounded it, for with fierce cries of pain and rage, it turned on its assailants, driving them before it at high speed. They lost their guns and ammunition in their flight and dared not return for fear of encountering the strange being.”

But even in those days stories of Vermont’s hidden hairy hominids were well known. The article goes on:

“There is an old story, told many years ago, of a strange animal frequently seen along the range of the Green Mountains resembling a man in appearance, but so wild that no one could approach it near enough to tell what it was or where it dwells.

"From time to time, hunting parties, in the early days of the town, used to go out in pursuit of it, but of late years no trace of it has been seen, and this story, told by young men who claim to have seen it, revives again the old story of the wildman of the mountains. There is talk of making up a party to go in search of the creature.”

Note how myth and fact collide in this 19th century accounting.

But it’s facts we’re interested in, and the evidence continues to pile up -- hundreds of examples, sometimes solitary sightings, sometimes clusters -- right up until the present day.

In February 1951 lumbermen John Rowell and a Mr. Kennedy returned to their logging operation in Sudbury Swamp. They discovered a canvas-covered oil drum had vanished overnight. Somehow the 450-pound fuel drum had traveled from a tractor to a spot several hundred feet into the woods. Examining the ground revealed dozens of huge human-like footprints. Mr. Rowell photographed the tracks with his Polaroid. They measured 20 inches long and 8 inches wide. Alas, those photos seem to have vanished.

In the early 1960s, William Lyford, a Plainfield farmer, heard his cows making a ruckus. Heading out to check, he saw a tall, hairy creature standing upright. When Mr. Lyford aimed his flashlight on it, the figure took off running into the darkness, leaving yet another baffled witness.

In the 1970s and ‘80s a series of confrontations began in Chittenden, where the mystery photo was taken. One of the most dramatic involved the pseudonymous Everett Pike. In the spring of 1984 Mr. Pike was wakened by loud screaming in his dooryard. This long-time hunter wasn't usually easy to spook, but he told investigator Ted Pratt, "I just couldn't get out of bed. It was a horrible scream. It lasted five to seven seconds." His terror escalated when he heard something rip his cellar door off its hinges. Whatever it was noisily cased the basement, then fled, leaving a handprint, a footprint, and a broken door made of solid two-inch oak.

When I spoke with James Guyette of Hartland, he recounted his especially poignant encounter of April, 1984. It was still clear in his mind. I suspect such episodes imprint themselves indelibly on the memory.

He says he was driving north on Interstate 91 at about 6:00 o’clock in the morning. When he was within sight of the Hartland Dam, Mr. Guyette spotted a "huge hairy animal-man" swinging its arms as it walked along the roadside about 100 yards away. He says it was tall and lanky, but unquestionably walking upright on two legs. The creature moved down the bank beside the interstate heading west, away from the Connecticut River. Later, when telling his wife of the reality-altering encounter, Mr. Guyette began to weep.

1759, 1879, 1951, 1960, 1984 -- it is easy to relegate all such sightings to the distant past. But that would be a mistake. Such events are still happening on a regular basis. We just don’t know it because local newspapers rarely report them.

For example, Mr. Rowell delivered his Polaroids to the Middlebury newspaper yet they were never published. Noah Hoffenberg, then with the Bennington Banner, is the great exception. He covered a cluster of Bigfoot sightings without ever putting tongue in cheek.

To Be Continued . . .

NOTE: First Bigfoot image is from Loren Coleman's Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine.
The second image is by Stephen R. Bissette from The Vermont Monster Guide.

VERMONT BIGFOOT -- The Photographic Evidence

2010-02-08T14:55:00.013-05:00

PART TWO

Vermont’s oversized hirsute hominid has never gone away, suggesting that if it exists outside the realm of conventional zoology, there must be a breeding pool large enough to sustain a population. He, she, or it is still sighted with alarming regularity, even in populated parts of the state.

Certainly there have been as many Bigfoot sightings as Champ sightings; it’s just that Champ gets all the publicity. And the existing photograph – seemingly of Bigfoot -- though never made widely public, suggests that he, like Champ, is not a hallucination.

The photo itself is almost as mysterious as the image it contains. Its primary investigator, Dr. Warren Cook of Castleton State College, is dead. He was part of an apparent conspiracy to hush up the picture’s existence. During my research I was given a letter from Dr. Cook to Don Cochrane who, in 1987, was working at what today is known as the Mountain Top Inn & Resort in Chittenden.

I phoned Mr. Cochrane on July 21, 2006 hoping for clarification. It was a very brief non-conversation. When I told him what I was calling about he said, “I don’t want to talk about it,” and hung up the phone.

Because of this gothic reception, the mystery deepened. My most direct links to the photo were either deceased or not talking.

Realizing my magazine deadline was becoming near-lethal, I began a series of panicky phone calls. A lot of people in the Chittenden area recalled something about the incident, but no one could give me specifics. Who took the photo? Where, exactly, was it taken? Why was there a cloak of silence over its existence?

When I connected with Roger Hill, Activities and Facilities Director at the Mountain Top Inn & Resort, he recalled a few telling details. “What I remember about the picture,” he said, “was that it was taken on forest service property, near here, which we have a permit to use for skiing and horseback riding. In the foreground the picture shows a couple of stringers running across a stream. That’s the beginning of a bridge that was being built for cross-country skiing. I’m not sure if the photo was taken by Don Cochrane, but he was involved in one way or another. After it was developed it came back and somebody started looking rather oddly at that figure in the background. Some of us wonder what the heck it is.”

There in the trees, as if it had been watching them all along, was what appeared to be the stocky torso and head of a gorilla. Its featureless face seemed surrounded with silvery hair.

Through another series of phone conversations, including chats with former inn owners, I was able to piece together a more complete version of the story. The photo was apparently taken by Don Cochrane in October of 1977, 2.9 miles into the Chittenden woods. He was accompanied by two other men.

No one noticed anything unusual until they examined the developed prints. Not knowing what to make of the puzzle in his picture, Mr. Cochrane brought it to the attention of Dr. Cook. For many years Dr. Cook had actively investigated the possibility that Vermont might be home to a hidden Bigfoot tribe. This photograph seemed to back that up.

Dr. Cook submitted it and the negative to a prestigious photographic lab in Los Angeles who assured him the negative had not been tampered with. In a letter to Mr. Cochrane, Dr. Cook wrote, “I think I can assert, without doubt, that whatever caused the image on your negative, it was transitory.”

Dr. Cook and his team had visited the spot to try to identify anything that could have been mistaken for a giant ape. After taking more pictures, they cleared away the bushes within 60 feet of where the image had appeared. “We found no upturned stump, nor stump, or hole of any size to account for the big, black image in your photo.”

In July of 2006 I asked photographer and photo analyst Sarah Vogelsang – who occasionally works with Paranormal Investigators of New England -- to take a new look at the mystery photo. Because we did not possess the negative, Ms. Vogelsang was at a disadvantage. With some frustration, she told me, “I can’t seem to figure it out!” Her cautious conclusion was as follows: “My analysis of the photo, given that it is the only evidence presented at this time, is not enough to convince me that the dark object in the image is a living ape-like creature (assuming that is what we are looking for) due to the lack of highlights, but it is also convincing enough to believe otherwise.”

To be continued . . .

NOTE: The Bigfoot in the portrait resides at Loren Coleman's Cryptozoology Museum in Portland Maine

BIGFOOT IN VERMONT

2010-02-01T20:10:00.013-05:00

VERMONT’S HIDDEN POPULATION

In 1977 Sandra Mansi snapped a photo of what might be Champ, the so-called “Lake Champlain Monster”. In 1979, when she released it to the press – including The New York Times, Time magazine, The Today Show, and hundreds of other media -- the whole world quickly learned about Vermont’s underwater wonder.

Ms. Mansi’s odyssey was dramatized on NBC TV's Unsolved Mysteries and Fox's Sightings. Japanese television produced a 90-minute documentary. Hundreds of books, magazines, and newspapers flaunted the story.

Over the last thirty years Lake Champlain’s elusive critter has become a cryptozoological superstar.

But what nobody knew is that an equally mysterious photograph was snapped that same year. It wasn’t shanghaied by the press; no media exploited it. It never went viral.

Instead, the curious photo was filed away, essentially kept a secret, remembered by only to a few believers and skeptics.

This remarkable “whatzit” was photographed on land, in the depths of the forest, once again raising the question: Are there really monsters in our midst?

Not a new question, to be sure.

For hundreds of years Vermonters have been seeing strange things in the woods. Some of these encounters have been documented – enough so as to provide a continuing ribbon of weirdness starting, perhaps, in 1609 with Samuel de Champlain himself. He heard Native American stories of oversized, hairy men who hid in the dense woods. Monsieur Champlain disregarded the stories as too fanciful.

Perhaps he was too hasty.

Historically, the first recorded encounter came in 1759, witnessed by a man named Duluth, a scout with Roger’s Rangers.

While they were retreating after the raid on the Abenaki settlement of Odanak, near Memphremagog Bay, the men “were ever being annoid, for naught reason, by a large black bear, who would throw large pinecones and nuts down upon us from trees and ledges, the Indians being also disgusted, and knowe him, and call him Wejuk or Wet Skine.”

Wet Skin, renamed “Slipperyskin” by the white settlers, was still around as Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom began to grow. There, during the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries, the towns of Lemington, Maidstone, Morgan, Victory, and Westmore, were routinely harassed by this fearsome oddity. Those who confronted the thing identified it as a bear of tremendous proportions. It terrorized the inhabitants with a series of hostile pranks, including destroying their gardens, frightening their livestock, attacking their children with stones, stealing food, and destroying machinery. All attempts to trap it or kill it were predictably unsuccessful.

But here’s the thing: Slipperyskin was like no bear anyone had ever seen.
Not only was it extraordinarily intelligent, but it always walked on its hind legs, never on all fours.

Recently, researchers have taken a new look at this old tale. Could Slipperyskin have been something other than an uber-bear?

Most likely.

Whatever it may have been, it seemed to be trying to discourage the encroachment of human settlement into an area that had once been its own.

Suspects more tangible than myth include a disgruntled Indian, a hermitical eccentric, or quite possibly what we know today as Bigfoot.

To be continued . . .

Bigfoot image by Steve Bissette from our book The Vermont Monster Guide

BIGFOOT IN VERMONT ?

2010-01-28T12:47:00.005-05:00

In my last post I told the story of Old Slipperyskin, who MAY have been Vermont's first documented Bigfoot. But call them what you will -- Bigfoot, Sasquatch, Yeti, Woods Walker, whatever -- these big, hairy strangers have been with us for a long time. Even Rogers' Rangers had a run-in with one (October 1759).

They have been seen all over the world, with sightings in every New England state. But we're just here to talk about Vermont.

In my next series of entries I'll consider the possibility that we have a resident. . .

BIGFOOT IN VERMONT !

Stay tuned . . .

OLD SLIPPERYSKIN: Vermont's First Horror

2010-01-22T09:54:00.026-05:00

Vermont town histories are full of run-ins with some very odd critters. The story I’m about to share comes from up around Morgan, Maidstone, Lemington, and Victory -- the Northeast Kingdom before it was called "The Northeast Kingdom". This story begins in the late 1700s and early 1800s. . .

The antagonist is a fearsome animal oddity then known as "Old Slipperyskin." The creature was said to resemble a huge bear, but -- unlike any known bear -- it always walked upright, like a man. It was said to have a mean disposition, and sometimes sought revenge against individuals who had offended it. For example, it might fill their sap buckets with stones, trip their traps, or jump out and scare their children.

Sometimes, just for fun, it destroyed fences, tore up gardens, frightened livestock, or flattened cornfields.

Then it had a way of disappearing, some guessed by carefully backtracking in its own prints, leaving a trail that ended abruptly and mysteriously.

In her History of Lemington, Vermont, Marion M. Daley writes: "The settlers came to refer to the bear as 'Slippery-skin' for the reason that he managed to elude every trap that was set for him... Before a hunter could lay his gunsights on him, the old bear would vanish into the woods silent and swift as a drift of smoke.... For maliciousness and cunning, it was claimed he could never be compared, except to humans. He seemed to enjoy himself immensely, frightening people and livestock, kicking over manure piles and throwing stones into machinery left in fields. Where the old bear came from -- and why he eventually disappeared entirely -- is a mystery."

Around 1815, Vermont Governor Jonas Galusha promised to get rid of Old Slipperyskin once and for all. Known as an excellent hunter, the governor entered the Maidstone woods where the beast had last been seen.

Exactly how he had obtained it is a mystery in itself, but the Governor is said to have covered himself with the scent of female bear. Then, rifle in hand, he stalked the pesky critter alone.

Shortly -- with Old Slipperyskin in hot pursuit -- the governor came whooping and bellowing back into camp screaming, "Outta my way boys, I'm bringin' him back alive!"

The hunters scattered and no one thought to shoot.

Some people may think of Governor Galusha as Vermont's very first "Spin Doctor."

Anyway, this story -- hovering between tall tale and historical hyperbole -- has enormous charm, so it's easy to overlook the fact that today we have no idea what Old Slipperyskin actually was.

The core facts seem to be these: it resembled a bear but walked like a man; it was apparently miffed because people were starting to intrude on what for centuries had been its own private domain; it was vindictive, occasionally hostile and -- so it would seem -- highly intelligent.

But the real identity of Old Slipperyskin may not be lost in legend because... sightings of this hairy enigma continue to this very day. Not long ago people were seeing him as far south as Bennington.

On Friday, September 26, 2003, the Bennington Banner reported that a 45 year old Winooski man named Ray Dufresne dropped his daughter off at Southern Vermont College in Bennington and headed home.

On route 7, in the area near Glastonbury Mountain, he saw a giant, a “big, black thing” walking near the road. He said, "It was hairy from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet."

He said the creature had very long arms covered with long black hair.

His first reaction was that it was a joke – someone dressed in a gorilla suit. But there were no cars or houses in that remote location, and anyone playing such a joke would be taking a big chance: lots of people in that rural area carry guns.

Mr. Dufresne is a life-long hunter and says he knows a black bear or a moose when he sees one. This “creature” – he says -- was something else.

A descendent of Old Slipperyskin, perhaps?

Today we have another name for Old Slipperyskin. We call him Bigfoot. Two other people reported seeing him near the spot where Mr. Dufresne had his sighting.

And over the years this classic “monster” has been seen many times in the woods and wilds of Weird, Vermont .

And this is where I'll stop.

Please keep in mind that just by listening to these stories you are helping to keep them alive. The ones I’ve read you tonight have all become classics. Each is a fragment of Vermont’s ongoing character and spirit.

Should you believe them?

Well, I’d like to close with a quote from Charles Fort, one of the first and most influential collectors of anomalous phenomena. He said, “I cannot say that truth is stranger than fiction because I have never had acquaintance with either.”

So in conclusion, what are we to make of all this? Apparently Old Slipperyskin was either this. . .

...or possibly THIS!
. . .or maybe somehing else. . .
YOU DECIDE !

NOTE: The final two illustrations are by Stephen R/Bissette, used with permission. They are from our book, The Vermont Monster Guide.

PART 3: MYSTERIOUS MEMPHRE

2010-01-11T12:35:00.008-05:00

In the interest of kicking the New Year off right, I presented a few of Vermont's venerable weird tales to the Burlington First Night audience. I'm repeating the whole rant here on my blog. In part 3 I consider the Creepy Crypto-creature in Lake Memphremagog. . .

MYSTERIOUS MEMPHRE

To me – and to most people who think about such things – the true granddaddy of all Vermont monster stories is the saga of Champ, the mysterious creature said to live in Lake Champlain.

But here’s the thing. Champ gets a lot of publicity. More than I do. So it’s pretty easy to overlook the fact that we have a second water monster who has been known just as long and who, in some ways, is vastly more mysterious.

Memphre, the so-called “water monster” of Lake Memphremagog, is not BIG NEWS to any of you. But here’s something you may not have considered. Memphre has an odd quality not shared by its cryptid cousins in other lakes. It’s a quality that makes Memphre seem almost... supernatural.

That is, different witnesses describe it in remarkably different ways. We wonder if Memphre is (1.) a “shape-shifter; or maybe it’s an outsized amphibian glimpsed in different stages of its life cycle in somewhat the same way a tadpole look very different than a frog. Or could it possibly be that there are many different species of monster swimming around in the Northeast Kingdom’s great lake?

A few typical sightings – beginning around 1816 -- will illustrate:

In the mid-1800s, Uriah Jewett, Memphremagog's first monster hunter, frequently saw a beast that became known as "Uriah's Alligator." Its name clearly suggests the animal's appearance. In 1935 Dr. Curtis Classen confirmed this diagnosis when an unfamiliar reptile crawled out of the lake looking very much like an alligator. It was 18 inches wide and about 10 feet long.

In August of 1850 David Beebe, while fishing off Magoon Point, was "astonished to behold the head and six feet of body of a huge monster. . . ." Mr. Beebe’s conclusion: it was a giant snake.

In the 1940s, witness Hector Guyon reckoned the “snake” that he saw was 150 feet long! For a while this snakelike version of Memphre was referred to locally as “The Anaconda”.

In 1972, Helen Hicks of Newport saw, "A creature which had… a face somewhat like a horse, with two very red eyes and a body... 75 to 100 feet long…." And in July of 1976, a local fisherman saw what he described as "a seal with a long neck....”

Are you beginning to see the pattern?

No?

Well, there isn’t one, and that's what’s especially vexing about Memphremagog's Mystery Monster. Unlike Champ, who is consistency described more or less as a "water horse," Memphremagog's beast is seen in wildly different ways.

This “Multiple Memphre” phenomenon was first noted over a century ago by an anonymous local poet who composed the following lines:

"Eyes saw the monster, but none saw alike,
He was half serpent, half horse, some said,
While others formed him like a huge long pike
With thick, bright scales and round, not flattened head."

It’s easy to see why the monster became famous and the poet didn’t.

Anyway, recent sightings of the critter only contribute to the confusion.

Bottom line: Descriptions of Memphre are so diverse that at least six distinct categories have been identified: the long-necked seal; the water-horse; the alligator; the "giant fish;" the "living log;" and finally, the snake or serpent.

So what are we to believe? Is Lake Memphremagog the most monster-crowded water in Vermont? Or is there just one Memphre, with a monstrous case of multiple personality disorder?

Oh, and here’s another interesting tidbit:

Memphre is the only Vermont Water Monster ever described as dangerous. Supposedly it frightened the Native Americans in pre-colonial times, then went on to terrorize early settlers. Even today certain senior citizens remember their parents using monster tales to scare children away from the shore.

Legend recalls an Indian who was devoured, canoe and all.

In 1935 Newport mayor Frank Burns disappeared in the lake. Some people insist he was another victim of the monster’s appetite.

In the mid-1960s, some huge, snake-like critter surfaced near Hank Dewey's boat, then chased it all the way to shore!

More dramatically, in 1972, Red Cross director Helen Hicks was relaxing with some friends on a boat. At around 10:00 p.m. she saw, "A creature which had...a face somewhat like a horse, with two very red eyes and a body...75 to 100 feet long...."

Wow!

Then the demonic intruder pursued their boat! For some reason the motor shorted out. And just then, when all seemed lost, the creature submerged, leaving everyone terrified but unhurt.

Happy ending. But stay tuned for the next blog entry: More of Vermont's weird tales....

PART 2 -- Weird Vermont Stories

2010-01-07T14:51:00.003-05:00

Here is Part 2 of my First Night presentation. Another venerable Vermont Weird Tale. This continues from my January 4, 2010 post

2. THE WOODSTOCK VAMPIRE

In October 1890 the most famous - or at least the most long-lived and universally publicized - case of Vermont vampirism was reported in The Boston Transcript and later as a page-one story in Woodstock's own newspaper, The Vermont Standard.

Imagine sipping your morning coffee while reading the following headline:

“VAMPIRISM IN WOODSTOCK”

The story told how, around 1830, a local man named Corwin died of consumption (what today we call tuberculosis). After his body was buried, his brother – also presumably named Corwin -- started wasting away. Common wisdom was that the first consumptive in a family to die was likely to come back as a vampire. His spirit would rise from the cold earth each night to feed upon the life-essence of still-living relatives.

To determine whether the dead Mr. Corwin had returned as a vampire, town fathers ordered his body disinterred. Dr. Joseph Gallup, then Woodstock’s leading physician and head of Vermont Medical College, observed that – and I quote -- "the vampire's heart contained its victim's blood" (though exactly how he was able to determine that with any degree of forensic certainty remains a bit of a medical mystery).

Anyway, there was only one way to stop the spread of evil: an exorcism!

Predictably, most of the town's population and many curiosity–seekers turned out for the event. Some accounts say crowds totaled in the thousands. No surprise there; Woodstock has always been a tourist town.

It is important to note that the stake-through-the-heart approach to dispatching vampires was a European tradition, not practiced by New Englanders.

Here, our methods were different.

Dr. Gallup and his associates built a fire on the village green, heated up an iron pot, and cooked the corpse’s undecayed heart, eventually reducing it to ashes.

Then they buried the pot and ashes in a hole fifteen feet deep. Then, taking no chances, they covered it with a seven-ton slab of granite. Before refilling the hole, they sprinkled everything with bull's blood, which they believed had purifying properties.

Finally, they forced the dying Mr. Corwin to swallow a ghastly homeopathic medicine concocted from some of the bull's blood mixed with some of his brother's ashes.

Unfortunately, we never learn if Brother Corwin survived the disease, let alone the medicine, but after that the town fathers were convinced they had rid Woodstock of vampirism forever.

Although, personally, I wouldn’t bet on it.

I guess that’s not really a monster story either. It’s more of an anecdote about the history of medicine, I guess.

But our monster-hunt is not yet over . . .

Stay tuned for Part 3.

FIRST NIGHT. Part 1

2010-01-04T12:17:00.009-05:00

What follows, in 4 parts, is the presentation I gave at Burlington’s First Night celebration. The theater was full and it was great to see so many of the actual 3-dimensional faces of the people who read my books and listen to my public radio commentaries.

FIRST NIGHT 2010
PART I

Thank you for joining me on this very busy evening. The end of another year. . . can you believe it?

I realize that lately I’ve been getting something of a reputation in this state. People are starting to refer to me as “Joe Citro, The Ghost Guy.” While I’ve been called worse things, I have to admit I have written a lot about ghosts.

But “The Ghost Guy”? Jeez, I’ll be a ghost soon enough!

To tell you the truth, I’m getting a little sick of ghosts. Last year, as some of you know, I tried to become “Joe Citro, The Monster Guy.” I collected a bunch of Vermont monster stories and published them in a book – beautifully illustrated by my friend Steve Bissette – called The Vermont Monster Guide.

I was surprised to discover that our old pal Champ is not alone. Our seemingly safe little state contains a whole zoo-full of monsters. (You might keep that in mind as you head home tonight.)

While ghost stories display an almost infinite variety, they are truly stories. They have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Monster stories are often a bit more simple. In fact, they are generally limited to two basic scenarios:

I saw a monster and I ran away. Or. . .

I saw a monster and it ran away.

I surprised even myself that I was able to collect over 60 Vermont monster stories, most of them with a bit more complexity.

Anyway, now that I’m “Joe Citro, the Monster Guy,” I’m going to ignore ghosts altogether. This will be a ghost free evening. Spirit free. And, as my contract says, alcohol free.

What I want to do is read you a couple of Vermont stories that are the undisputed classics of Vermont weirdness. These are the venerable tales that have been told since our granddaddy’s days, and even before. They have been told over and over and over again.

1. THE HIBERNATING HILL FOLK

In recognition of this time of year, and the arctic temperatures we’ve been enduring lately, I give you this first little chiller.

Long before they began enjoying the luxuries of Caribbean vacations and second homes in Florida, certain Vermonters discovered a novel method of passing the long, grueling winter months -- they slept through them.

For over a century, whispered tales of the “hibernating hill folk” have echoed through the Green Mountains. The specifics of this peculiar practice were first publicly revealed in December, 1887 on the front page of the state’s largest newspaper, “The Montpelier Argus and Patriot”.

The reporter’s apparently self-protective byline was simply “A.M.”. His article made public certain “information” from his deceased uncle’s diary. This “Information” -- then as now – seems unbelievable, even. . . horrifying.

Uncle William, “A.M.” wrote, had witnessed the techniques used by a wretchedly poor family of hill farmers to get their elderly and infirm relatives through the winter without putting a drain on the family’s meager food supply.

Their system was a hybrid of Yankee ingenuity, old-time folk medicine, and sheer gothic horror. Somehow, they had developed a procedure to literally freeze people alive. Like hibernating bears, they’d sleep the winter away.

“A.M.” verified his uncle’s bizarre claims. “I have been to the place,” he wrote, “and seen the old log house where the events . . . took place, and . . . talked with an old man [whose] father was one of the parties operated on.”

Although the chemical concoction’s specific ingredients were not recorded, the process was thoroughly described. It began by drugging four men and two women, "one of the men," Uncle William wrote, "a cripple about 36 years old, the other five past the age of usefulness…."
The unconscious family members were then stripped naked.

Under the frosty glow of the winter moon they were carried outdoors and packed side by side on straw beds encased within a ten-by-six foot wooden box.

Uncle William watched in horror as their noses, ears, and fingers slowly turned white. He saw their ghastly upturned faces assume a tallowy pallor.

When the overseer judged them "ready," helpers placed cloth over their heads and packed more protective straw around them. Then they sealed the box to guard against predators.

Shivering from the cold and quaking from the horrid sight before him, Uncle William ran into the cabin, no longer able to endure the nightmare.

In the weeks that followed, twenty-foot snow drifts buried the sleepers for a quarter of the year.

What Uncle William had witnessed turned out to be more than a crude, perhaps merciful, form of euthanasia. Because -- four months later -- his May 10th diary entry revealed an unexpected outcome.

Just as the Green Mountains were beginning to warm up, Uncle William returned to the cabin to watch the sleepers' liberation from their icy crypt. Able-bodied men lifted their stone-stiff relatives into log troughs. Women poured hot water and a hemlock-based potion over them, creating a fragrant, steaming bath.

Slowly, pallid faces began to brighten. Muscles twitched. Fingers flexed. Vitality returned. Carefully helped from their baths, the six were carried inside.

Warmed by blankets, fire, and a hardy meal, the sleepers slowly revived after their long winter's nap.

The printed version of this remarkable story hibernated for almost half a century. Then, in 1939, Elbert S. Stevens of Bridgewater, Vermont brought the original clipping to the attention of Bob Wilson of The Rutland Herald. The story was soon picked up by The Boston Globe, Yankee magazine, The Old Farmer's Almanac, and numerous books, periodicals, and newspapers from all around the world.

It was a sensation. By the early 1950s Vermont was big news. Vermonters, on the other hand, were portrayed as having a dark secret. The primitive ritual, and the “operator’s” apparent indifference to human life, cast the state in an unsavory light.

Yet, because the story's grim details seemed like the product of a horror writer's imagination, many dismissed it as an especially grisly mountain myth. At the same time, earnest individuals -- including some scientists -- believed it. After all, it was. . . possible.

Researchers like Doctor Temple S. Fay of Philadelphia suggested this arcane Vermont "folk medicine" might someday be used to treat cancer and heart disease. Experiments at the University of Toronto buttressed the story when researchers demonstrated that a dog could be kept alive after freezing. The American Medical Association disclosed recent experiments in which humans were frozen, suspending all bodily functions for hours. An Illinois newspaper reported, "A man was restored to life after having been frozen in an unconscious sleep for five days and nights...."

Even today the University of Vermont receives occasional inquiries from cryogenics researchers about the techniques used by our primitive practitioners.

So the question remains: Had a semi-literate Vermont hill family stumbled on a stupendous medical discovery? Or, as the story jumped from publication to publication, had there been some misinterpretation, misquotation, or just plain mischief?

The original article and subsequent retellings describe Vermont's cryogenic events so vividly and convincingly that the story has taken root in our folk memory where it is frequently accepted as fact.

Having grown up in southern Vermont, I recall talking with old-timers who swore the tale was true.

In his book Inside New England, “Yankee Magazine” editor Judson Hale relates an anecdote that perfectly illustrates this strange tale's unique position between fact and fantasy. He writes, "I once asked an old Vermont farm couple in the Montpelier area if either one of them truly believed the 'Frozen Death' story.

"'Certainly do, the husband answered emphatically, without hesitation.

"Then the wife added, 'The only part I doubt is the thawing out.'"
#
Well, no monster there, but the events described are truly monstrous.

Maybe this next one will bring us a little closer to what we’re looking for. I give you another “Vermont Classic.”

…To Be Continued. . .

Or whatever we're going to call it...

2010-01-02T10:28:00.017-05:00

Happy Twenty-ten, or two thousand ten, or whatever we're going to call it.

2010 ! WOW!

I admit I've been a terrible failure as a blogger. So terrible, in fact, that I can't make a reliable New Year's resolution to do better over the next twelve months.

However, I gave a reading on New Years Eve at Burlington, Vermont's annual First Night celebration, and later today or tomorrow I'm going to post it here. It's a brief collection of Vermont's venerable weird tales.

Also, while I was NOT working on my blog, I did manage to get two books published in 2009: The Vermont Monster Guide (wonderfully illustrated by my pal Steve Bissette), and NOT YET DEAD, a long overdue collection of my short fiction. They are published by University Press of New England (UPNE) and Bat Books, respectively.

You can see a lot about the Monster Guide at Steve's blog;
just go there ( http://srbissette.com/) and click on the book cover.

Stay tuned. . .

HAUNTED HELL

2007-02-25T16:02:00.000-05:00

"We may have to fight dead men and devils
before we get fairly hold of it."
-Daniel P. Thompson:
May Martin, or The Money Diggers

An area as remote, sinister, and alluring as Hell’s Half Acre often attracts more than tourists or treasure hunters. Representatives from “the Dark Side” will routinely take up residence as well. Some have been there since the beginning of the Money Diggings, some wandered onto the scene years afterward.

Their otherworldly presence seems to confirm one of the laws of supernature: Where there's buried treasure you’ll find ghosts. (In fact, in most cases the ghosts are easier to find than the treasure.)

One of the most gothic elements associated with Bristol is the belief that a murdered boy and his sidekick, a demonic hound, hold an eternal vigil in the lightless bowels of the mine shaft. They are preternaturally compelled to forever guard against would-be treasure hunters. Franklin S. Harvey wrote, "As these patient toilers hewed their way through the ledge and drew nearer to the object of their search, they could hear the boy sign and groan . . ."

Mr. Harvey tells us that as a lad, he was often present when the phantoms were disturbed. "I can't say I ever heard the howls and groans," he wrote, "but who is to dispute the statement of a dozen gray-haired men, all of whom were ready to say they did hear them?"

This respectful attitude – the will not to contradict -- may account in part for the persistence of ghost tales. And perhaps treasure tales as well.

Over the years the saga of the ghost-boy and his hell-hound has evolved a bit. Though they continue to appear in local folklore, their story a some point began to take on less sinister and far more poignant tones.

Today the boy and his dog are truly sympathetic characters.

In the modern telling, a Bristol boy and his loyal dog set out for a pleasant hike one fine fall afternoon. The lad whistled happily as the dog, its pink tongue dangling, loped along at his side.

Exactly what they were up to is not important and probably changes with the teller of the tale. Let’s say they were gathering spruce gum.

In the vicinity of the abandoned diggings the boy’s curiosity clicked in. Maybe he’d just have a look at the abandoned cavities on Hell's Half Acre. Probably, way in the back of his mind something subtle clicked. It was that same notion that had clicked in Uncle Sim some years before: maybe, just maybe, a fortune in silver lay beneath some long-overlooked rock or below one of the many rotting wooden platforms.

Maybe . . .

That evening the boy didn't return home.

His worried parents stared at the darkening acres around them. Their shouts were answered only by echoes. Before all light was lost the father organized a search party. Men with torches and lanterns crisscrossed the woods. They cried the boy’s name. Then the dog’s. But to no avail.

Sometime months later, after the deep snows of the next winter had finally melted, a local man wandered through Hell's Half Acre. Minding the pits and outcropping he moved carefully, with his eyes scanning the ground.

There was something out of place among the ledges and pits and caves and rubble: the skeleton of a dog stretched flat near the dark opening of a shaft.

I suspect the man never had to look into the pit to know what he would find there. Intuition allowed him to fill in all the blanks: The curious boy had wandered too close to the opening. He’d slipped. Fallen. Slid 50-feet to the shadowy bottom. There, trapped, alone, and terrified, he had died.

His dog, refusing to desert him, waited by the threshold his young master would never cross. In time he died too, a loyal companion till the end.

And nature took its course.

Then came supernature.

Till this day when the moon is right and the shadows are long, Bristol folks and uneasy outsiders swear they sometimes hear "something". Is it the wind? The woodland sounds of wildlife? The rumor of a crowd of searchers long one? Or is it faint cries? Cries for help? Or the unearthly wail of a dog?

Yeah, it sounds far-fetched to me, too. But enough people have heard the unexplained sounds to embed the story in our folk-memory.

I'm sure most of the holes were never named, but one particular excavation in Hell's Half Acre, the westernmost, has come to called "The Ghost Shaft of Bristol Notch."

©2007 by Joseph A. Citro

NOTE: The drawing of the skeleton dog is from The Vermont Ghost Guide by Joseph A. Citro, illustrated by Stephen R. Bissette. Many thanks to my pal Steve for allowing me to reproduce the picture here. Be sure to check out Steve's blog at http://www.srbissette.com

http://www.amazon.com/Vermont-Ghost-Guide-Joseph-Citro/dp/1584650095/sr=8-1/qid=1172441110/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-3363192-8202561?ie=UTF8&s=books

BRISTOL MONEY-DIGGINGS: TRUTH VS. FACTS

2007-02-20T16:28:00.000-05:00

“Twas after the French and Indian Wars,
As men with their precious haul
Were carrying metals and gems as loot
To Quebec and Montreal…”
--Leo Leonard Twinem A Ballad of Old Pocock

So where is the truth in all this treasure-digging business?

Admittedly, it’s a terrific story, but what, if any, are the facts behind it?

Can there be a real-life treasure in Bristol just waiting for some lucky prospector to come along? Or maybe it’s gone; secretly unearthed and covertly stolen away? After all, it would make sense not to publicize such a find. Imagine the risk.

But no such find is on record, and today the truth, like the treasure, is impossible to unearth.

Were any of the treasure-diggers real?

Apparently so. The holes are there to prove it.

And Bristol newspaperman Franklin S. Harvey claimed personal recollections of Uncle Sim Coreser, who was responsible for the Big Dig of the 1840s. Mr. Harvey recalls the last time he saw Mr. Coreser, circa 1860, when the old man returned to the site alone: "He had a few tools and was digging and prying around in his feeble way among the loose rocks. I pitied the poor old man, and freely forgave him for all the awful frights he had given me during my boyhood; for hiding behind a rock and growling like a bear; for telling me bloodcurdling stories that made my hair stand on end; for ridiculing my odd and bashful ways; all doubts I may have had of his present or former sincerity were scattered in the winds."

Uncle Sim put in his time at the site – some 12 years -- but neither he nor his crew found a thing.

It seems to me the real key to the story's legitimacy lies with the original excavator, Senor DeGrau.

Mr. Harvey claimed he had spoken with reliable people who remembered the original Money-Digger. “He cannot be called an impostor,” Mr. Harvey wrote, “for he asked no favors of anyone."

Given that he existed, dug, and did not find what his prize, his story is still improbable. It is unlikely to me that a band of roving miners -- Senor DeGrau’s father and his companions -- traveling randomly through primitive New England, would just happen to make the needle-in-a-haystack discovery of a rich silver mine while passing through Pocock, Vermont.

The story’s credibility gets more flimsy when we realize silver, like Spaniards, is not native to the Green Mountain State.

Then again, maybe somebody brought it here.

Is it far easier to suppose DeGrau and company hid something in the wilds of Bristol, then later returned to reclaim it. The fact that he was Spanish could provide a clue as to what his "treasure" might have been.

New England folklorist and historian Edward Rowe Snow speculated about this very possibility. Without getting into a confusing and convoluted blow-by-blow of the history of the Spanish ship Santa Elena y Senor San Joseph, suffice it to say that in November, 1752 she was on her way from Honduras to Spain.

The hold was loaded with treasure, including 40 chests of silver. On November 24th problems at sea forced the ship to put in near New London, Connecticut. Requests for aid and repairs were met with deceit and thievery. While at anchor most of the treasure disappeared.

What happened to it remains a mystery that will never be solved. However, it is possible that thieves, carrying an unspecified amount of silver, made their way north, eventually unburdening themselves in the wilds of Bristol before continuing on to Canada.

If that is so, then the Spaniard DeGrau may have been the one remaining member of a pirate band who returned to Vermont in 1800 to reclaim his ill gotten gains.

Though the prospect is admittedly remote, the scenario is within the realm of possibility - as possible, perhaps, as a productive silver mining and smelting operation in colonial Pocock.

The power of this solution is diminished a bit when we consider that several Vermont towns in addition to Bristol - including my hometown, Chester - boast essentially the same story of lost silver and wandering Spaniards.

But here treasure-seeker mentality clicks in: There were at least 40 chests of silver. Maybe different Spaniards deposited chests at different locations, thus accounting for many of Vermont’s, and New England’s, treasure tales (most of which involve Spaniards and buried loot).

In any event, this colorful tale does accomplish at least one thing: it introduces the concept of high seas piracy to the only New England state without a seacoast. So if DeGrau was a pirate, he was a rarity indeed.

True? Fact?

False? Fraud?

Does it really matter?

The Bristol story seems to reveal certain truths about the human character. Somewhere in the human psyche there must be a longing for the unique romance supplied by buccaneers and buried bounty. And, for even the laziest among us, the promise of instant wealth can inspire a lifetime of backbreaking labor and repeated disappointment.

Truths of a sort, without any facts to back them up.

©2007 by Joseph A. Citro