Hearing, but not seeing, just makes it scarier

A scream in the middle of the night — then another, then another — caught the attention of the Mansfield area in August 1907, and then held it because nobody could figure out for sure what it was.

First mention in the News came on Aug. 15 after a group of about 15 men, armed with guns, spent several hours combing the woods just northeast of town, trying to find the source of the “terrifying noises” that had residents all shook up.

The report of the incidents seemed straightforward enough, although the News insisted on covering them with more than a hint of sarcasm. The explanation as a hoax was never far off, and the stories that stretched through Aug. 21 included a series of such phantasmagorical creatures as cyasticutis, whangdoodle, malacopodia, pleisiosaurus, jabberwocky, kinkajou (real but equally outrageous) and, when all else fails to solve the mystery, a sick cow.

The only thing never mentioned that would have guaranteed howls of derision was that the whole strange story was taking place on or near a spot long known for eeriness — Spook Hollow (see my column, May 4, 2014).

The people living along or near Ashland Road had reported hearing the nocturnal “roar of a wild animal, not unlike a lion” that came with “startling suddenness and in nearly every instance has seemed so near that the person hearing it has been impressed with an idea that the animal producing the noise would be able by a single leap to land upon them.”

They also heard the tone turn to a “pitiful whine” and then an “angry growl” but most disturbing was the loud, prolonged roar. This might suggest a wildcat of some sort, but bobcats, lynx and cougars had long left this part of the state, chased off by increasingly crowded humans, many waving guns.

Whatever it was, the creature (or creatures) were elusive. One woman heard the loud roar in her back yard but saw nothing. A man and his wife were crossing a small foot bridge and were startled by a roar that seemed to come from beneath the bridge — they fled, not waiting for a glimpse.

The next day’s article described the situation as “little short of a panic” with residents keeping their children inside after dark. They did report quite a few chickens missing at dawn.

The initial posse was led by former sheriff Barney Pulver, who had purchased the John Sherman farm off Ashland Road Hill after the senator’s death. They found nothing. A second party, “heavily armed, went out the next night, concentrating on a nearby swamp, “where there is an abandonded brick yard and which is grown up with underbrush.”

A woman reported to Pulver that she was seeing something in her yard, and just as the men approached “they were startled by a scream, and it is stated that the woman claims that the animal passed close to her feet and went into the cellar.” She thought it was “rather long and slim.” Nothing was found, but a News cartoonist added his impressions to the next story.

Pulver said he would go out again but felt he was in more danger from shotguns of other members of the party than he would be from the wild animal itself.

The panic seemed mostly confined to the Spook Hollow area, although no murdered Indians, floating wagons or prehistoric forts arose from the mists to join the commotion. However, one report did say the roars seemed to be traveling to the southeast of Mansfield.

My theory is the beast was seeking sanctuary in another place between Bellville and Butler long known for its weirdness — Wildcat Hollow — where people today still claim to hear screams. But then, I hear bobcats are making a comeback.

Another small detail never mentioned in the stories was that on Aug. 12, 1907, the Gentry Bros. Famous Shows set up for two appearances at the Fourth Street fairgrounds. It included “100 new animal acts by 500 new animal trainers.” Maybe one of those novice trainers lost one of his charges who spent the rest of the month crying for its mother in the middle of the night. Awww – poor (noisy) baby.

Peggy Mershon is a retired editor for the News Journal where she also wrote columns on genealogy and antiques. Contact her at marwelmer@aol.com.