The Goatman - Staff 4 Fun LF2021

Now that Fall has officially started, rainy and chilly here today, I have already began my conversion into making a pot of homemade vegetable beef soup each week. Currently the middle 50’s, it should drop to he middle or upper 40’s overnight. Only the earliest of leaves have started changing and scant few have fallen. So not quite like that night in 1987, though that was more mid October if memory serves. But maybe it is the temperature change or just thinking of this contest that has jarred a mostly forgotten memory loose. Then again perhaps it is something more.

In what seems to me to have been mid October of 1987, a few of us had gathered at Matt’s for an evening out in the woods. Now Matt lived just a couple miles to the east of Camden, Ohio. Matt, Greg, Lance, Brian, Rodney, myself, Kim, Becca, Traci, Angie and Mary had came to be shown the cabin/shack Matt and Greg (who had taken the nickname Bull) had built. Log walls, stone fireplace and log benches for seating. Not bad but not a permanent shelter by any means. It was probably close to 8pm as we all arrived. Dark because the sun had long set but you could still see in the moonlight. Teenagers in the woods and not a drop of alcohol, hard to believe but true. We all talked, joked told stories and experienced a complexity of human interactions. While not drinking, there was six guys and five girls but of all the mixture only Lance and Traci were dating. Where do the problems begin? When everyone has ideas different from one another as to what sort of pairings should happen.

Seeing that writing on the wall, I opted for none of the above and went for a walk in the woods. Lance and Traci were not far behind me just to enjoy themselves in solitude. The air was crisp and a touch foggy which prevents a frost. A noise through the leaves at a quickened pace in the ravine to the left and ahead of me told me that I had kicked up a deer. From behind me I heard a muffled male voice yell out.

Spinning on my heels, I quickly closed the gap between myself and Lance and Traci...startling them in the process as they didn’t know I was nearby. Together we ran back to the cabin. Matt, Rodney and the rest of the girls were there except for Kim. Bull and Brian were not but came back some five minutes later. Both were cussing me out for how fast I had ran through the ravine. They had went looking for Kim after she went looking for me and hadn’t returned. According to Bull, I had scared her and ran off as they gave chase. So I asked where was she now? No one knew.

Matt and Becca stayed at the cabin. Lance, Bull, Brian and Rodney went in one group. Angie, Mary, Traci and myself in the other group. They were to check the woods and I and the girls to check by the house. Angie and Mary told me what I had already figured out...Kim and Becca had been picking back and forth at each other. They also told me they heard me outside the cabin trying to scare them which didn’t happen. Not that I wouldn’t have, just the thought never entered my mind.

Back at the house was Kim, waiting for one of us to come out to announce she was leaving. And to yell at me for scaring her and running off into the ravine. Again, wasn’t me, which her cousin Traci finally convinced her because I was ahead of them and even farther from where Kim was. The other search party walked up out of the woods, intent on going home as it was going on 11pm.

Back I walked to tell Matt that everyone was accounted for and was leaving. Matt and Becca came running up as I was nearing the halfway point. Becca terrified, grabbed me. They had heard something outside the cabin and stepped out to check. That was when what sounded like fireworks came from the fireplace, rapid and loud. To which I gave Matt a glance but he said that he had no fireworks and it wasn’t pine resin popping either as no pine was used.

A poorly told tale of teenagers in the woods at night. A little tired. A little cold. Easy to brush off as just one of those tales. I did, for many years, and I was there. But time is immutable. Sometimes we are the pebbles in the river that barely diverted the flow, other times we are the rocks that cause the rapids. Perhaps we need to start at the beginning.

CONTINUES

In 1787 the Northwest Ordinance was passed by then President Arthur St. Clair. St. Clair was one of the presidents under the Articles of Confederation. After observing the events of Logan’s Raid on the undefended Shawnee villages and the killing of Chief Moluntha who had flown a US flag, Miami Chief Little Turtle took a break from battling George Rogers Clark (older brother of William Clark of Lewis and Clark) to visit Devil’s Backbone a couple miles to the west of the future downtown Camden, Ohio.

Here at Devil’s Backbone many tales were told and would be told about this land. Some say the Miami had a copper mine here. Others say that it was sacred burial grounds. Some say the land is haunted by Miami warriors that died on the cliffs around this time from the skirmishes. But we know Little Turtle was there. Two grizzly murders have happened there Herbert Howard on his farm in 1887. Some say he was looking for the copper mine. And in 1912 Franklin Bourne was found buried in his garden over a year after he disappeared. A farmhand was blamed, but Elwood Davis claimed innocence until the day he died. But more mysterious was the skunk farm in 1908 that started with 72 skunks in cement enclosure. They expected as many as 300 skunks that Spring yet there were only 7 left. The enclosure was fully intact. As a child that played in the waters of Paint Creek there below the highest cliffs, you do feel watched but somehow I have always felt protected.

Some say Little Turtle made a curse upon the land at that time. Or maybe he sought guidance or asked for help from the spirits of the ancestors there. But one thing is for certain, the confederation he led along with Shawnee Chief Blue Jacket started to become unstoppable. And Brigadier General George Rogers Clark was done fighting in 1787. Which was okay, because the Constitution would replace the Articles in 1789, Washington would become President and General St. Clair would become the Governor of the Northwest Territory.

Now rather than retell the entirety of Northwest Indian War (Little Turtle’s War) with the Blackberry Campaign and so on, I’ll point out St. Clair’s Defeat in 1791. The absolute worst US defeat in all the Indian Wars. 1100 Indians: 21 killed, 40 wounded (61 total) vs 1000 US Soldiers: 632 soldiers killed or captured, 264 soldiers wounded, 24 workers killed, 13 workers wounded (933 not counting women and children).

Washington replaced St. Clair with “Mad” Anthony Wayne as commander of the Legion of the United States. Wayne went to the site of St. Clair’s defeat and build Fort Recovery in present day Fort Recovery, Ohio. Along Wayne’s march from Fort Hamilton (Hamilton, Ohio) he named two creeks Four Mile Creek and Seven Mile Creek which flows through Camden. Paint Creek dumps into Seven Mile Creek and I lived along Four Mile Creek. But that is another story.

In building Fort Recovery, Wayne also recovered from St. Clair’s defeat Four cannon, two howitzers and cannonade. This became the northwest corner in the Treaty of Greenville that ended the Northwest Indian War (Little Turtle’s War). But what was the turning point here? Little Turtle conceded leadership to Blue Jacket after Wayne entered the picture. But how did Little Turtle beat St. Clair so soundly? He had help. Tremendous help. Help that he asked for. Help that was summoned.

Not far from the headwaters of the Wabash River at Fort Recovery is the present day town of Portland, Indiana. For decades now, there has been a swap meet of sorts at the Tractor Show and people camp there. For kids it is a festival akin to a county fair. For modern day “horse traders” it is a festival akin to a county far.

It was at one of these Tractor Shows, that my good friend Kevin was told the legend of The Goatman. Now a basic internet search will mention Maryland, Kentucky and Texas in two different places. And there are a few creepy pasta stories based on a Goatman here and there.

Now I have heard a lot of tales. Bigfoot stories here and there. Some say the Shawnee stayed mostly east of Great Miami River, but they also occupied nearly every mound left by the mound builders. There are mounds all over Preble County. There was a village literally in my backyard and my cousin’s next door of either Shawnee or Miami. Plenty of arrowheads and axe heads have been found here over the years. But The Goatman is a story I had not heard until a couple years ago. And certainly nothing here.

But as Kevin was told, this one has a bloodlust can only be sated but never fully quenched. And I know that the grandmother of my grandmother was either a Miami or Shawnee, but is that any protection if I were to try to seek this thing out again. And I say again only because of something Traci said as we walked towards the house that night in 1987, “I really only feel safe next to you like we’re in a bubble.“

THE END

a reply to: Ahabstar

That is really great!

So is this like a melding of a real incident upon the same areas that actual history revolved around?

Or...

Is this a creative story that you intertwined with some real history from the area?


It doesn't really matter.. I'm just curious.


oh btw ... mumble mumble mumble First the Redneck raised the 'staff bar' and then you came along from a whole different direction. Mumble, mumble, mumble.

I mean good Job Greg!
Johnny

PS.. you got a PM Dude

a reply to: JohnnyAnonymous

The evening in the woods - true...and there was a freak out among some. Edited for length was that none of hung out as a large group like that again. In fact Lance, Angie, Mary, Rodney, Brian, and myself were ever grouped together one time since then about five years ago. The following week a different friend also named Brian died in my hands while giving him CPR. Strange but true.

Little Turtle at Devil’s Backbone - true, at that particular timeframe embellished, but possible.

Ritual to summon the Goatman while there - made up, but legend has that he placed a curse of swift death on anyone disturbing the bones of those buried.

The deaths on the same farm decades apart - true.

Battles mentioned and names mentioned in conjunction - true.

All locations - true.

A story of The Goatman told in Portland, IN - true, it is where Kevin heard it and told me a few years ago. But it was never specified that he roams this area and is an embellishment by Kevin and me to give his oldest son a “ghost story”

The Goatman roaming around that night in 1987 - embellishment...or maybe just conjecture to add to a created local legend.

My being sanctified in the waters of Paint Creek - embellishment, I actually was walking across rocks looking for fossils when one shifted and I did get quite wet after going in the ankle deep water.

Indian village in my backyard and next door - true. My uncle (my cousin’s father) found many arrowheads there over the years.

a reply to: JohnnyAnonymous

Another piece of trivia dropped was the discussion of Fort Washington in what was Losantiville (Cincinnati) that was surveyed and laid out by John Symmes. The old fort stood on the block surrounded by Ludlow, Third, Broadway, and Fourth streets. The name of the Losantiville literally meaning “City across from the mouth of the Licking River”

That John Symmes was the uncle of the John Symmes that created the Hollow Earth Theory who lived just south of Hamilton in present day Fairfield. Commodore (later Admiral) Perry believed in the HET so much his expeditions to the North and South Poles was to look for the entrances.

Wow! Great story.

Great Story.....many flags!

a reply to: AccessDenied

One thing I tried to do was tell it from the prospective of a secondhand ghost story around the campfire to a younger audience of say ten year olds on average. One to lower the detailed length of the night in the woods. And two, to lower what I knew was going to be a two post story to keep it from going three or four posts.

I kinda feel like I am cheating the reader here, as this is an older more sophisticated audience, but I also know that no one really wants to read a longer story in this format. So sounds, smells, pacing cadence and dialogue to induce a stress were all glossed over.

a reply to: Ahabstar
Was a really cool read. Perfect for the time of year as well, IMO.

a reply to: TNMockingbird

More trivia. I was along the banks of Paint Creek today out doing some geocaching. When I was reminded of a spot I should place one in view of a tunnel that goes through the hill of the old flood plain across a farmer’s field. That tunnel was part of the Underground Railroad as means to not be silhouetted on the hill top. This is a couple miles upstream from Devil’s Backbone.

If JohnnyAnonymous ever read the Haunted Ohio series of books by Chris Woodyard he’d make me give him guided tours of the area.

I love a historic story, and yours melded with a 'ghostliness' is wonderful!!! Well done. Left me wanting more. Will there perhaps be a sequel in the future? Please?

a reply to: argentus

There are quite a few places around here with some local lore. Long before The Blair Witch Project (itself loosely based on the Bell Witch story that even gave Andrew Jackson the willies) there was an abandoned house in the woods we called The Witch House. Spooky place but not a lot of story there.

Lots of Underground Railroad stops in the area. Lots of Indian Mounds as well from the Adena, Hopewell and Fort Ancients that was later claimed by the Shawnee when they moved here. Various evidence of old homesteads here and there. Always interesting walking through the woods and encountering old hand dug wells or dams as evidence of settlers that had lived in the area at one time or another. Plat maps of towns that no longer exist and all but erased from memory of anyone living.

a reply to: Ahabstar

I grew up in the sticks also. Yours sounds fascinating! To be a part of living history of a place is pretty amazing. ;o)

a reply to: Ahabstar

Thanks I enjoyed that. I've always wanted to have a spooky/supernatural experience in the woods. However they are few and far between where I roam and those that do exist are so small you can always see from one side to the other. I never feel more alive than when when I'm scared out of my mind.