OLD SLIPPERYSKIN & MUSIC OF THE SPHERES

Aug 18

By Joseph A. Citro

OLD SLIPPERYSKIN

Vermonters are always seeing weird stuff in the woods. Leprechauns near Montpelier. Black panthers and tawny-colored catamounts just about everywhere. The terrifying Bennington Monster. The mysterious Goonyak. And, of course, Champ and Memphre, our lovable twin underwater cryptids

Even the state's earliest settlers recorded visits to Vermont's

Elusive Zoo. Town histories are full of run-ins with some very odd critters. One notable example was repeatedly encountered in the townships of Morgan, Maidstone, Lemington, and Victory in the late seventeen and early eighteen hundreds.

This fearsome oddity came to be known as "Old Slipperyskin." The creature was said to resemble a huge bear, but unlike any known bear, it always walked upright, on its hind legs. It was said to have a mean disposition, and sometimes sought revenge against individuals who had offended it. It would fill their sap buckets with stones or by terrifying their children. Sometimes, just for fun, it destroyed fences, tore up gardens, frightened cows and sheep, and tromped down corn fields.

Then it had a way of disappearing by carefully backtracking in its own prints, leaving a trail that appeared to end abruptly and mysteriously.

In her History of Lemington, Vermont, Marion M. Daley tells us: "The settlers came to refer to the bear as "Slipperyskin" for the reason 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…. [It] is told he squeezed the sap out of the maple trees when he felt inclined. 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," Ms. Daley concludes, "a mystery."

Mystery indeed. Or folk tale? Or maybe something else?

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

Gov. Galusha – so the story goes – had covered himself with the scent of female bear. Then, gun in hand, he stalked the pesky critter alone. Shortly, the governor came whooping and bellowing back into camp screaming, "Outta my way boys, I'm bringin' him back alive!"

Old Slippery Skin was hot on his tail. The hunters scattered, and no one thought to shoot!

These stories – hovering between tall tales and historical hyperbole – have enormous charm, so it's easy to overlook the fact that today we have no idea of what Old Slipperyskin actually was.

The core facts seem to be these:

1.) It resembled a bear and walked like a man.

2.) It was apparently miffed because people were starting to intrude on what for centuries had been its own private domain.

3.) 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. Some might be surprised to learn that Vermont sightings of this hairy, bipedal enigma continue to this day. And in various places all over the state. And possibly this manlike bear's true identity may be something far stranger than a bear… or a man.

It has been called Wejuk, Wild Man, maybe even the Bennington Monster. Today, this formidable creature is more commonly called by another name; we call him Bigfoot.

MUSIC OF THE SPHERES

In their History of Ryegate, Vermont, Edward Miller and Frederic Wells write, "If all the tales and traditions which [linger] among the hills of Ryegate and Barnet had been gathered, they would form a volume, which in humor, pathos, and appeal to the deepest emotions of the heart, would be hard to surpass."

They then set about to prove it with a unique tale from the early 1800s. The events involve a young woman named Elizabeth McCallum, the 14-year-old daughter of two of the area's original Scottish settlers.

Young Elizabeth was a great favorite in the village, known for her good manners and cheerful disposition.

One bright summer morning her father sent her on an easy errand to the home of a neighbor, Dr. John McNab, who lived to the east, not far from the Connecticut River.

Because the McNab place was several miles away, on the other side of a thickly wooded area, Elizabeth was permitted to take her favorite horse. It was a lovely July morning and Elizabeth was delighted to have this errand to do. She set out with a smile on her face.

Some hours later, when at last she arrived at Dr. McNab's house, she was in a state of agitation and wonder. Something strange and marvelous had happened in those woods. She was able to describe the spot with precision – it was a place Dr. NcNab knew well.

Elizabeth told how, when she approached that particular spot – virtually in the middle of nowhere – her progress was arrested by an unfamiliar sound. It was music, she insisted, strange and beautiful music. It seemed to come from every direction, from all around her, filling the air, enveloping all other sounds. She and her horse stopped and remained very still, listening in amazement. When at last the beautiful music faded away, they continued east.

John McNab and his family were quite taken by this fascinating account from so trustworthy a young woman. But he was puzzled; he could offer no explanation as to what she had heard or where such sounds might have originated.

Elizabeth stayed for lunch and some conversation. About mid-afternoon she mounted her horse and set off along the same trail, returning home.

That evening Elizabeth's parents, John and Ellen McCallum, were ill at ease. Though it was a warm, pleasant evening, all was not right. Their daughter should have been home hours ago. Now it was after eight o'clock; nighttime was descending rapidly. And still Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen.

As darkness thickened, waiting became impossible. Mr. McCallum summoned a few of his nearest neighbors. Everyone grabbed lanterns and set out along the darkened path toward the McNab place.

Within an hour they found the horse, without its young rider.

Then they found Elizabeth. She was lying beside the trail, not far from the grazing animal. The young woman was dead. No marks or bruises could be discovered on her body. There was no blood and no broken bones. In fact, there was nothing nearby nor on her person that could give the searchers any clue about how she had met her end.

Later, John McNab and his wife told Mr. and Mrs. McCallum about the music Elizabeth said she had heard. Recalling Elizabeth's description, Mr. McNab was able to tell that her body had been discovered lying dead at the exact spot where she had heard the mysterious melody.

Today her gravestone says she died July 26, 1812. It says nothing about the mysterious music.

The town history attributes her death to “falling from a horse.”

I can’t help but wonder if those mysterious melodies can still sometimes be heard, echoing in the forests around Blue Mountain?

Joseph A. Citro is a Vermont author and folklorist known for collecting New England’s ghost stories, legends, and strange-but-true lore. His most recent book is The Vermont Ghost Experience, available at local bookstores or wherever books are sold. You can also ask your local library to order it for your enjoyment and the enjoyment of other library patrons. In Passing Strange, Citro shares folklore with a curious eye, a storyteller’s warmth, and just enough mystery to make you look twice on the ride home.