THE BEAST OF BOGGY CREEK: The True Story of the Fouke Monster by Lyle Blackburn Read Free Book Online Page B

He remembers the situation well. He told me that the official stance of local law enforcement was to take the “monster” reports seriously, but at the same time try to downplay the incidents in an attempt to minimize the madness. “A lot of the stuff that was reported to us never made it to the media,” he told me over the phone one afternoon. “We tried to downplay it because every time something would come out, the place would be loaded down with people with guns wanting to go in and try to find it.”
    Along with the hunters and their guns, people showed up with tape recorders and cameras trying to capture the monster’s scream on tape or snap a photo to finally prove its existence. Perhaps not surprisingly, with all the fuss in the forest, the monster stayed out of sight, effectively avoiding the hunters but also casting doubts as to whether there was really anything to the stories.
    During this first wave of monster mayhem, only a few enterprising locals attempted to make good from it. Willie Smith, who owned the Boggy Creek Café at the time, created casts of the three-toed prints found in his bean field and sold them to monster enthusiasts eager to purchase any kind of souvenir during their visit. To increase the appeal, the casts were autographed by both Smith and Smokey Crabtree. Since there were not many places to stop for a bite around Fouke, the Boggy Creek Café was a perfect outlet for Smith’s enterprise.
    One particularly industrious young man, Perry Simmons, who was 15 at the time, made himself a tidy profit by giving tours in and around the house where the Ford incident took place. Just after the report hit the papers, people began to line up in cars along the street trying to get a look at the house, which was owned by his stepfather, Joe Simmons. As will happen when sightseers drop by unannounced, the property was being overrun, and in some cases people were entering the house without permission. To keep people out, a barbed wire fence had to be installed, but that only made it even more of a spectacle. At times, there were an estimated one hundred people gathered on the street to see the house for themselves.
    Recognizing a perfect business opportunity, Perry posted a sign that announced “Guided Tours for $1” and in no time he was taking in money to give curious folks a peek in the house and a look around the field behind it. It became something of a residential carnival attraction. People offered as much as $5 in their excitement, as if they were going to actually get a glimpse of the monster itself. In fact, people were so overcome by monster fever that when passing through the vegetable garden in back of the house, they noticed trampled corn stalks and believed that the monster must have surely been the culprit. Perry simply smiled, knowing that in reality raccoons had done the damage. But it just didn’t seem right to spoil the fun. After all, people were paying good money for a close-up look at the mystery.
    Of all the events, the Ford incident became the cornerstone of the monster craze. Not only had it been the first of the reports in the 1970s, but it had the most substance to it: prolonged monster scuffles, a hairy paw, gunfire, and a trip to the hospital. Despite alternative explanations proposed by news reporters, there was still no refuting the fact that something strange went down at the house. And as far as the public was concerned, a monster was the best explanation. The subsequent sightings only served to back up this conclusion.
     

    1971: The creature is spotted by a law enforcement official as it ran in front of his patrol car.
     
    Law officials were not prone to dismiss the whole affair either, and for good reason: one of their own had seen it with his own eyes! According to H.L. Phillips, a Deputy Sheriff by the name of Robinson nearly hit a creature fitting the description of the Fouke Monster as he was patrolling in his car one night. In the official report filed with