The Miracle on Black Mountain, 1981
By Bernie Marvin
Recently, I wrote a story about a miracle rescue performed in July 1981 near the old O'Shaughnessy Campground off the Chippewa Trail in North Haverhill.
The area was a popular but rough-hewn campground because it lacked splendor and because the O'Shaughnesses gave their customers a down-to-earth, New Hampshire-type camping experience. No frills. No glamour. Just woods, rocks, dirt, and tents.
After it closed as a government work program area, John O'Shaughnessy purchased the 25-acre property in 1962. Under his ownership, he converted the historic barracks and grounds into private camping areas and a seasonal retreat known as Limekiln Camp.
The camp sits at the end of Limekiln Road, at the base of Sugarloaf and Black Mountain, and borders thousands of acres of state and National White Mountain Forest.
I chose the story of Limekiln Camp because it was part of a "Memories" program on WYKR-Radio to celebrate the station's 50th anniversary, after Gene Puffer, his brother Harold, and others activated it and established the popular station in 1976.
In July of 1981, I was a cruiser operator with the Haverhill Police Department. It was Fourth of July weekend, but instead of celebrating, more than 300 of us—local police, National Guardsmen, CAP, and many volunteer search teams—were caught in a race against time on the steep, dense rocky terrain of Black Mountain in North Haverhill.
A 12-year-old autistic boy named Kevin Barker had wandered away from the O'Shaughnessy family's Lime Kiln campgrounds off Lime Kiln Road. He had been missing for three grueling days. Heavy rain had washed away his footprints, and we were told by the family that Kevin feared uniforms and would actively hide from searchers or anyone else who came near him. The tension on the mountain was heavy, and time was running out. Three days in the wilds of New Hampshire for a city kid gets about as close to a catastrophe as possible.
We had to find him, and everyone searched from early dawn to late at night, sometimes overnight, hoping for a clue as to where this kid might have run off to.
At that time, a Boston firefighter living in Marshfield, Massachusetts, named Jack Brignoli heard the news on TV. Jack had an autistic son of his own. Driven by a powerful instinct, he drove over four hours through the night and arrived at our base camp at O'Shaughnessy's around 11 PM to join the search.
The next morning, around 8:00 AM, Jack's unique understanding of autism changed everything. He knew that an autistic child might not cry out standard words for help. Following a faint, unusual sound near the summit, Jack found Kevin resting on a rock ledge—scratched and bitten by bugs, but alive.
I was standing there on the search line with my two young boys, Bernie and Spencer. Polly was home in the middle of putting together another 200 sandwiches with others to help feed hungry searchers. It was a busy time for many families associated with this huge community effort to find this missing child.
I distinctly heard those sounds and remember it well when the radio suddenly crackled to life over our searcher's channel. The words came through: "We got him!"
Instantly, a massive cheer came across the area. The relief was overwhelming. Because the terrain was so rugged, a New Hampshire Army National Guard helicopter flew up to the summit, loaded Kevin safely, and flew him down to Dean Memorial Airport to be checked out, then taken to Cottage Hospital by ambulance.
After three days of intense stress, we celebrated with a huge cookout right there at the campground base at noon. We all met Jack, Kevin, and his incredibly grateful family.
Once the cookout ended, we all quietly returned to our regular shifts and work schedules. For 45 years, I haven't spoken too much about that search and rescue. But as we celebrate 50 years of our local radio station bringing this community together, I wanted to share this memory to remind us of what we can achieve when a community refuses to give up hope.