<<

64 MIDWESTERN

4

EMERGENT FOLKLORE

In 1971, Fulk Lake, enlarged to ten acres, remained a sportsman’s paradise. Paul Haire, the owner, a complete skeptic concerning the Beast of ’Busco, still showed me the remnants of two thirty-five pound Fulk Lake turtles he had trapped the previous year. His son, Dan, sixteen years old and equally skeptical about monsters, told that he liked living on the farm mostly because of Fulk Lake and that his dad had “one of the best bass lakes in northern Indiana.” Dan rowed me around the murky, muddy lake, darkened and stilled by huge overhanging trees. During our circuit, I saw two turtle heads pop up from the water and began to realize the lake’s suggestive and imaginative potential. Dan rowed to a tree stump where he cut off a length of fishing line, “I caught a turtle with this test line. It’s a thirty-five pound test line, but the turtle broke the line.” With a gleam in his eyes and triumph in his voice Dan proclaimed, “This line is strong enough to hold Michigan Coho but not strong enough to hold a Fulk Lake turtle.”1 In the twenty-two years since the 1949 protofestival, Fulk Lake has marked an indelible stamp on the local imagination, as a specialized folklore continues to flourish. Personal experience stories, conversations, tall tales, practical , folk poetry, folk speculation, and related to the “Beast o f ’Busco” theme now appear in a variety of contexts, through both oral and printed channels. All forms, save for legend, circulate freely and naturally in the area.

Personal Experiences

In relating personal experiences, an individual is likely to dwell on any number of topics, some o f which have been introduced in previous chapters. Jim Kirtley likes to te ll. about the circus of outside reporters at his newspaper office. Lew Geiger’s attention falls on the news people in Columbia City and the folks on Main Street in Churubusco. Local businessmen, even when they have participated in the hunt, may prefer to describe the carnival atmosphere in town. Others concentrate on the turtle quest, freely combining incidents that were separated in time. Or they focus upon one interesting subject such as what happened when the diver, sea turtle, or pump was brought in, how they almost caught the turtle, how the spectators wrecked Harris’ farm, or what their own personal involvement entailed. All fill their stories with specific allusions to these and other shared understandings between teller and audience.2 The most coherent, extensive, and animated personal experience narrations come from those who can verify the legitimacy of Harris’s quest because they were there and saw it with their own eyes. Helen Harris saw the turtle on four separate occasions. Helen anchored the life of family, home, and farm throughout the protofestive chaos. She dismissed the beast hunting activities as “just a bunch of men wanting to do something for sport.” She didn’t pay much attention to it because she had work to do. Still, she experienced four memorable close encounters with the reptilian source of local fascination.

I saw the turtle. Three different times very distinctly. I actually saw it four times, but the fourth time I saw it under the water. That time we had got a rope on one of its hind legs, and we thought THE BEAST OF ’BUSCO 65

maybe we could gradually go towards shore and pull it along with us with this rope—get it up to the edge. We always felt if we could ever get it out of the water, we could then do something. But the turtle broke the rope. We got so close to shore, and that’s what happened every tim e.: Soon as we began to get close to shore, he would try to get away. So he would snap that rope. And so after that happened, I saw him underwater, and you could see this piece of rope was about three feet long, still tied to his back leg, and he was swimming around with it on. Then I saw him another time when I was up near the hen house talcing care o f the chickens. And I happened to look down at the lake, and I saw him stick his neck and head up. And it looked just like a stovepipe with an elbow on. That’s exactly what it looked like from where I was standing. And its head looked like it would be about the size o f a baby’s head, and its neck looked like it would be about the size of a stovepipe. From where I stood that’s the way it looked to me. And then I saw it another time when we thought we had it in a cage. But they failed to make the cage big enough to go over the whole turtle. And they had the one side all in there fine, but on the other side where the cage came, it was right on his back. Well, you know those hard shell backs. You don’t punch anything through them. And we had put rails around it close enough. We thought it would hold till morning. And they was a gonna make another cage larger to put over it, but the next morning, the rails were pushed aside. And the turtle was gone?

Helen Harris’s ambivalence toward the sporting men’s amusement quickly recedes with the beginning of her personal . Her voice shifts from first-person singular to the plural, indicating her participation and solidarity with her husband’s cohorts. Her voice also shifts to third person at the end to distance herself objectively from the men who have ineptly positioned the cage. When the time comes to describe the turtle, like most men, she must rely on figurative speech. Merl Leitch, the Churubusco butcher and grocer, had actively participated in the early turtle hunt while his wife tended the store. I asked if he were one of the original turtle hunters.

I was out there about all the time. Yes. From early in the morning ’til late at night There were about ten or eleven of us had him in a wire fence and we had him a’ coinin’ in muck, you know. We knew we had him, in there because we could see him a little. And we pulled him pretty well to die edge. I think if they’d kept on, of course they was pullin’ a ton of muck along with it, you know. They was pullin’ hard, and somebody spoke, “Well, let’s let him go. We can’t never pull him out” Audi . think if they’d kept on, they probably would of. But he was a big turtle. I have a friend that dumb up a tree and took a picture, a movie of it, and I’ve often said that his head looked as big as a gallon crock and his back looked as big as the top of an old automobile.4

George Wakeman has lived in the area for sixty-one years. He owns a one hundred and . sixty acre farm near Fulk Lake. He saw the turtle when it had been corralled in the “young silo” alluded to by Helen Harris and Merl Leitch.

Yeah, X saw the turtle. He was in about six feet of water, I should judge that the squares on his back were about four inches square. And he had a tail on him, oh, forty-two inches long. This turtle was over four feet across, close to five feet long. Pretty good sized turtle. They brought a seven-hundred pound sea turtle that was not as big as the turtle I seen. He easily ' would have weighed seven hundred pounds—more than that. I only seen him that one time. I was up there when they were building the cage. He was in the dormant stage. This thing they had built of pipe. It was eight feet across and that turtle, his head and tail were stickin’ out of that thing. You’d have to say this turtle was four feet wide maybe seven feet long. That’s my estimation. I seen him in the cage? 66 MIDWESTERN FOLKLORE

Dick Zolman, retired farm worker, also saw It, hunted it, and has formulated his own opinion of the affair.

Zolman: If you want to know all about it just ask somebody who was never out there. You get more bullshit from guys in town who never been there.

JG: Were you there?

Zolman: There was eight of us the first day. The next day about sixty-five were out there.

JG; Did you see the turtle?

Zolman: I seen it, I went out in the boat and I can’t swim. The turtle was out about ten feet from the shore. He was sunnm’ himself. I wanted to put an oar along side of him to see how long he was. But Harris, he didn’t want to; he thought I’d scare him away. Hell, we coulda lifted him outta there with hooks and pulleys, but he was aftaid to. A ten-year-old kid could of got it. He always had it in his head we were gonna hurt that turtle.

JG: How big was the turtle?

Zolman: I’d say about three and a half, four feet across, don’t know how long, if I coulda got that oar in there, oh, maybe six feet, six and a half. It was an awful big turtle. Big as anyone ever seen. He’s down there now, probably dead covered with mud and tree limbs. That guy could of been a millionaire on that turtle if he played his cards right, but he lost everything. They built a steel trap, I told him to take a rope and push him into the trap, but them dumb goofs wouldn’t do it?

Zolman’s plan for removing the turtle from the lake appears a bit complicated for a child’s execution. Otherwise his text accurately portrays an oft-mentioned theme that Harris would never hurt the turtle. This was both a recurrent source of frustration for Fulk Lake strategists and a real humane preoccupation of Mr. Harris. Zolman’s concluding statement that Harris could have become a millionaire but lost everything is a locally common rhetorical coda appended to any Beast o f ’Busco narrative. The now traditional closing motif expresses the financial interest in profit and loss extremes that would naturally occur to members of capitalistic society. In most versions, the town profits while the individual loses. In Zolman’s narrative, the association of both profit and loss with the same individual heightens a feeling of tragedy. Zolman positions Harris within the familiar American symbolic structure of the Horatio Alger success story to dramatize personal devastation. The historical Harris suffered no such tragedy. He paid his debts when he sold the farm and “broke even” financially. Still, local cannot resist the dramatic possibilities of assigning to Harris an extreme fate. Personal experience stories may occur in natural contexts unlike that of these contrived interviews. When told while eating lunch in a Main Street restaurant, in response to an inquiry from the skeptic, the uninformed, the youngster, or the outsider, none of whom were present at the Fulk Lake festivities, the personal experience may become more fragmented, disjointed, and allied with other forms like the tall tale or the speculative narrative. The following transcript of a barroom discussion reflects both context and text of natural personal experience narration. Many such sessions were witnessed during my THE BEAST OF ’BUSCO 67 stay in Churubusco. In this instance, I had just arrived at the “33 Club” on Main Street. I simply placed my tape recorder on the bar, around which ten men were already engaged in a turtle “hull session.”7 The participants included Frank, a local auto mechanic in his forties; Bill, a bartender, age forty-nine, who lives in the area; and JG, the researcher. Also participating were Lee, age thirty-seven, Bill’s brother, a Fort Wayne truck driver; Sonny, in his thirties, a fanner from the Fulk Lake area; Jerry, in his thirties, Bill’s brother-in-law, a bartender, Bobby, age thirty-seven, a local resident who works at General Electric in Fort Wayne; a Legion guy, a young man wearing an American Legion hat; Bob, age forty-nine, a self-employed construction worker who lives at Green Center, Green Township; and a young man. Earlier in the day I had met Vern, who was bom in Churubusco but has spent many years away from the town. In 1949 he was serving in the Armed Forces and, therefore, was skeptically intrigued by both the turtle hunt and my own investigations. I also had previous acquaintances with Bill, who in past weeks had informed me of Little Turtle lore in the area, as well as Bobby and Bob, with whom I had picnicked on the Fourth o f July.

Vem: Now do you believe there was a turtle?

Frank: No,, hell, no, I don’t believe there was.

Vem: There was no turtle?

Frank: I don’t believe there was.

Vem: Do you believe whatever happened out there?

Frank: I believe somebody got drunk. They might of seen a turtle. I would say that. But big as that son of a bitch was, I don’t know.

Bill: 1 seen it Big as the top of that table over there [points to pool table].

Vem: Bill, you’re lying.

Bill: I would not lie. It would be the last thing in this world if I’d lie to you.

JG: Where did it go to then?

Bill: Where did the turtle go? It was buried down in the muck in that lake, and it laid there.

Lee: He might of seen it. You never know.

JG: Were you out there huntin’ it, Bill?

Bill: I seen a turtle that big [indicates about three feet long with his hands]. I’ve seen a turtle in the southwest Pacific.

Vem: Yeah, that’s ocean turtle.. But it’s not no turtle you’ll see around here.

Bill: I weighed it, and it weighed three hundred and twenty-five pounds. Three hundred twenty five pounds, I seen it.

Vem: Yeah, out in the ocean, but not around here as a snapping turtle. 68 MIDWESTERN FOLKLORE

Sonny: Why, how big a one did you see?

Vem: The biggest one I ever seen weighed thirty-six pounds.

Sonny: I believe that.

JG: We’re talkin’ about a five hundred pound turtle.

Vem: Yeah.

Young guy; Fulk Lake out here ...

Vem: If Oscar came around here

Bobby: Frank was around when the turtle was around.

Lee: He’d probably have a hell o f a head on it.

Young guy: He probably just left the 33 Club, that’s all.

Frank: I remember that turtle they flew in on the airplane.

2-3 guys: Yeah.

Bobby: I can too. One celebration they had they flew it in from Florida.

JG: The turtle stopped in the 33 Club or the guy who saw it stopped in?

Frank: I think the turtle stopped in. The turtle had to drink.

Vem; I’ll tell you what. It was in the Stars and Stripes.

Bobby: I was twelve years old. I was pointing cars out that way. As far as being out there, I was never out there.

Vem: Sonny, did it ever catch your calves or anything out there?

Sonny: (laughs)

Vem: Bobby, when you lived around town here, did you actually think it was out there?

Bobby: A creature that big isn’t hard to believe. There is turtles 500 pounds really. I believe that, yes.

Vem: Frank, do you believe it was that big? Well, between five and seven hundred pounds? Do you believe it was that big?

Frank: Well, I heard it drug a cow in the lake. How much a cow weigh?

Vem: No, it wasn’t a cow, it was a calf.

JG: No, it drug a mule in the lake.

Vem: No, the mules were out there to pull it out THE BEAST OF ’BUSCO 69

Bobby: What John wants now is the facts___ I do believe there was a 500 pound turtle. I believe that.

Vem: He didn’t go broke on that He made more money on that, Frank, than you make in that garage.

Frank: I told you there was only one turtle there, and that guy found it.

Vem: That was the most fantastic turtle I ever seen.

Legion Guy: Well, the guy that owned that farm was a Nazarene, wasn’t he? And a Nazarene won’t he. He was a holy fella.

Vem: Now do you think that turtle was out there, Frank? No kiddin’ now.

Bob: It was possible,

Frank: They said it was. It had to be. He just said they never lie.

Vem: Yeah, what about your thinkin’, yourself, your honest-to-God self?

Frank: I seen a lot of people out there. I saw ’em drain the lake.

Vem: But do you think that turtle was out there?

Frank: Which one?

Bob: Now it was someplace out there. Where did it go?

Vem: This man is trying to find out if Oscar was real or not.

Bob: Well, I believe in big monsters like we had those dinosaurs and elephants and you know\

Legion guy: Well they never found that monster over there in Ireland. They swear up and down that they seen that. I think that’s where this story derived from. They’ll have Loch Ness Monster Days over there.

Frank: If that guy was smart he could of made a fortune out of that, but he let thousands of people on his farm, tore everything up before he got wised up.

Vem: He made money off it though, Frank.

Frank: No, he didn’t.

One guy: He didn’t make a penny.

Bob: He lost his ass.

Another: No.

Frank: He didn’t make a penny. He lost his ass. I know, I worked on his cars and everything else.

■ Bob: He went bankrupt 70 MIDWESTERN FOLKLORE

Frank: He lost his butt. He don’t live here no more. He moved off.

Vem: I don’t think the damn thing was there. I don’t care what everybody believes. I know it wasn’t there. There couldn’t be no possible way for it to be there.

Frank: That turtle even ate a fish trap in there.

Bob: How could a turtle dig himself so deep in there? How could it breathe?

Vem: It couldn’t, Bobby, it couldn’t. This turtle could hibernate under water, and it stores up energy and heat.

Bob: But as Frank said, they drained that lake dry.

A passer-by mentions “Oh, they’re just shootin’ the bull.” During this “bull session,” participants reveal very little direct experience of the 1949 events. Instead, the tape recorder captures much indirectly acquired traditional information and derivative word play. Through rapidly fired interrogations and confrontations based on what they have heard, they assert, speculate, argue, and about the town’s unending conversation topic. The bull session hovers around the brink of genuine tall tale performance, but the social situation is not appropriate for this. There are too many participants with too many different agendas. More importantly and more generally, one agenda does unify the social actions of the 33 Club talkers. Through their performative focus on the Beast of ’Busco, they demonstrate and remake the social ties that bind them as community.8 Viewed as isolated texts, their apparently fragmented, individual expressions suggest hut do not manifest much plot or narrative movement. In this sense, their words often fall into the folkloric category of “windies” or “tall lying.”9 Underdeveloped tall tale motifs are perpetuated about the turtle’s size, the captured or eaten cows, calves, or mules. Additionally, the session counts as the singular time when I heard anyone mention both that Oscar had devoured a fish trap and that he visited the 33 Club for an occasional drink. Still, a broad perspective on the communicative event discovers the main ingredients of the Beast of ’Busco legend fully evident, including the capitalistic coda, which informs the capstone debate about the fate of Gale Hams,

Tall Tales

The 33 Club session hinted at a tall tale tradition which persists in contemporary contexts. The following story represents, perhaps, the most artistic and certainly the most imaginative folklore performance witnessed during my field work. I had been in town a few days and had publicly revealed my intention to research the origin and development of Turtle Days. It was late Friday night. I was standing at the comer of Main and Line, attempting to absorb a sense of Churubusco night life when I was approached by an impressive, articulate, authoritarian, solemn figure whom I shall call “Philosopher.”

“Are you the gentleman who’s doing research on our turtle? “Why yes, I am. I’m trying to contact as many people who know something, anything, as I can.” “Have you found much?” “Well, the last few days I’ve been in die Truth office going through old newspapers trying to fill in as many of the facts as I can.” THE BEAST OF ’BUSCO 71

“Well, I think I may have something that yon may not have found in your research.” “Oh, yeah, what is it?”

He introduced himself. We conversed cordially for a few minutes. Then he began.

Well, John, the only contribution that I can make in your research on Oscar, the turtle, comes from the time that they had actually physically captured this turtle out there atFuIk’s lake. And as you know in your research, they had made nets out of inch hay rope, and this turtle had busted through, busted these nets. And they had tried to grab the turtle with divers holding on to him. And he eluded them. This particular time they managed to get this turtle cornered, and somehow they got a long chain on him and attempted to pull him out of the lake. They tried tractors, but because of the steep ground, the tractors couldn’t get enough traction, so they decided to bring in a team of mules. These sure-footed beasts, they felt, would be able to get footing on the side of the hill. Now in your research you undoubtedly have established the fact that the bottom of the lake is a muck type of bottom, and the best way I can describe that to you is a kind of sloppy mud. Without a doubt, you’ve walked through mud puddles in barnyards, where there’s been mud, with your boots on, and, as you know, when you take a step, it creates a suction so that when you start to lift your foot it has a tendency to pull your boot off. Well, this is basically what happened with this turtle. When they started pulling this turtle out, this turtle started burrowing down in this mud, and he used nature’s forces of that suction, and he kept burrowing, and those mules kept pulling, and, John, he ended up pulling that team of mules into that lake. It ended up that that was the first piece o f ass that that turtle had in over one hundred years.10

Never in my career as a folklorist have I been so devastatingly victimized by a tall tale. I had swallowed every sentence up to the penultimate. In my research I, indeed, had encountered either an analogy or equivalent to every element in the narrative body. The “Philosopher” had presented a rigidly serious persona, at no time betraying his wickedness of purpose with any indication of levity. He spoke slowly, gravely, almost pompously, impressing me with his display of detailed knowledge while exploiting my own vanity in being judged a worthy researcher. Then he let the wind out of my sails. I had just completed participation in a classic folklore event: the greenhorn city boy done in by the cunning countryman. Then I realized that I had not brought my tape recorder with me. Thus this gem of folkloric artistry would fade from my already overtaxed memory. For weeks, thereafter, I implored the “Philosopher” to retell his story, and for weeks he refused, knowing, as every expert tail-tale teller does, that the story works only once per person. In desperation, I finally appealed to the “Philosopher’s” Munchausen instincts. Why not record the story so that upon my return to the Indiana University Folklore Institute I could deliver a formal talk about my research. Then, at an appropriate moment, I would confirm the possibility of a gigantic turtle’s existence by playing his taped narrative? The “Philosopher” could thereby notch a generation of folklorists on his fabulatmg gun. He agreed. This induced artificial context resulted in the above-recorded story, which, according to my memory, is virtually identical, if not superior, to his earlier version.11 And several months later, every last person at an Indiana University Folklore Club meeting was duly duped. Tall tales occurred in other natural contexts. On July 6,1971,1 was sitting at the lunch counter in Pat’s Cafe eating an Oscarburger and contemplating upon the enormous antique swivel gun hanging on the opposite wall. (“The gun’s so heavy a man can’t fire it unless it’s on a tripod.”) A man walked in, sat down beside me, and ordered a coffee. I asked him if he knew about Oscar. He answered in clipped sentences with long pauses between 72 MIDWESTERN FOLKLORE Pat’s Cafe CHURUBUSCO r INDIANA

Home of the Delicious OSCARBURGER In Honor of

BEAST BE BUSBD Who Made Churubusco World Famous In 1949

Thank You For Your Patronage - We Hope You Have Enjoyed Your Visit With Us As Much As We Have Enjoyed Having You.

PAT AND VERNA CROOKS

Closing Day Menu Cover. Pat’s Cafe 1937-1978. THE BEAST OF ’BUSCO 73 each. ifI never saw Oscar, but I read about him in Stars and Stripes.. . . You know there’s seven different meats in a turtle-----Yeah, they finally got that turtle____ Harris shot him. ... Took only one shot.... That’s what he shot Oscar with.” He pointed to the swivel gun, arose, exited, and I never saw him again.12 Every year the American Legion drives a turtle-shaped automobile in the Turtle Day Parade and in similar events throughout the state. On July 13, 1971, while attending an American Legion bingo party, one of the women, who takes great pride in the Legion turtle, explained how she relates the events o f 1949 for the benefit of her children:

I’ve always told the children that the Legion turtle is Oscar, They finally caught it, killed it, and put the shell over a car. And now the Legion uses it in parades.13

Many Churuhuscoans would tell me that whenever they leave town to travel within and out of the state, other people, upon learning of the traveler’s ’Busco origins, would immediately remark, “Oh, that’s the town with the big turtle.” Some, who often leave for work or travel, encounter jibing and teasing because they come from the town with the big turtle. Such situations provide another context for tall tale telling. Evan Morris lives on the outskirts of Churubusco and is now retired from his work at the Fort Wayne General Electric plant. Morris describes his aggressive, strategic use of the tall tale in this manner.

The guys at G.E. used to kid me so much about the turtle because I was from ’Busco, so I started to tell my own stories to kid ’em back. I told ’em that I was out there at the farm and had the whole place roped off. I was sellin’ pop, ice cream, and candy, and chargin’ admission at the lake. And I had a pretty good business going. I told ’em that Harris’ turtle was so big that when he caught it, he used it for a rowboat. He just set right up on top of Oscar, he put an ear of com on the end of a fish pole and put it out from Oscar’s head. And he steered him around the lake. Turtle took him wherever he wanted to go.14

In similar situations, Pay Isay adopts a similar strategy but tells a different story.

The fame of Oscar the turtle spread about the state fairly well. And I’ve gone to numerous meetings, conventions, insurance conventions, and they find out that I’m from Churubusco: “Oh, Churubusco, That’s the town with the big turtle. Did they ever catch that turtle?” I always tell them that I was familiar with it, that I wrote the liability insurance on that farm, and I give ’em a story. I always climax it with the story of the sunken road. They drained the lake, and it filled up again. And then, some while after that time, the road a couple of hundred feet from the lake sank. It was impassable for a couple of years. The turtle was tunneling under the road. The turtle moved on to other areas. The road collapsed; the road fell in.15

A second narrative category corresponding to the Truth’s tales about liars is suggested by the following stories. Both build on the local lying reputation; both conclude with someone something to the local who was involved in the 1949 affair. This first story comes from the repertoire of the “Philosopher.”

This I read in a Fort Wayne newspaper, so I’m positive of it Gale Harris was subpoenaed for jury duty. And in the process of questioning on the witness stand as to his qualifications for jury and so forth, the prosecutor got real serious and said, “Mr. Harris, you realize, of course that you are under oath and that any testimony you give must be the truth?” Mr. Harris answered, “Yes sir.” And he said, “Now, was there a turtle?”.16 74 MIDWESTERN FOLKLORE

The “Philosopher,” incidentally, uses banking checks which bear his name and his address, “Turtletown, U.S.A.” He is also a card-carrying member of the Little Egypt Chapter, International Association of Turtles. His official membership card, authorized by the Imperial Turtle, certifies that he is “a member in good standing and will remain so as long as he continues to give the password when asked by a fellow turtle.” The reverse side contains the common . The second tale comes from another star narrator, who also has appeared earlier. Here Lew Geiger tells what appears to be a personal experience story.

I bad an operation in ’64. The doctor found out I was the one who started the turtle story, and he watched it close, he didn’t forget nothin’. So I asked him for a little somethin’ to eat. I was constantly getting hungry a couple of days after I had the operation. I says, “Doc, couldn’t I have a little beef broth for dinner.” I hadn’t had a thing for two or three days. Old Doc, he turned around, and he pointed his finger at me, and he said, “You’re the god damnedest liar in this world, and I got you right where I want you, and I’m gonna starve you to death.”17

A good liar takes comfort from his or her reputation. However, when most of a town has such notoriety, precautions must be taken. The Main Street barber shop has a shovel standing in its corner for use “whenever it gets too deep in here.” One day, while I was sitting on the Main Street liar’s bench, also known as the “town board” and the “University Club,” I heard a tapping on the barbershop window behind. I looked around to see one of the barbers standing there with a gigantic ceramic frog in his hands. I immediately went inside to encounter another form o f folkloric lying, in this case through a combination of , practical joke, and art object. The barber with the frog said, “This one played with Oscar.” He put away the frog, reached into his pocket and pulled out two miniature ceramic turtles.

“How can you determine the sex o f a turtle?” "I don’t know.” “You turn them over.”

He turned them over to reveal that each tiny turtle had on its underside a perfect set of ceramic genitalia. Again, I had been taken.18

Poetry and Speculative Hoaxing

Nedra Krider supplied me with an advance copy of the most recent turtle poem, which she had composed in the summer of 1971. Mrs. Krider wrote the poem for publication in a future Chamber of Commerce promotional brochure. Her purpose, as she explained, was to provide young people, newcomers, and potential residents of Churubusco with a capsulated summary of the key elements of the great turtle hunt.19

The Legend of Oscar, the Beast of ’Busco

A robin sang in a Maple tree And old Fulk Lake was as quiet as could be

A couple sat in a small row boat THE BEAST OF ’BUSCO 75

And in a field near by stood a fat old goat—

“Suppose there’s a fish anywhere in here?” Surely there must be one here somewhere!”

When all of a sudden a big head arose And there was a turtle sticking up his black hose.

“Wow, he’s as big as our dining room table— By golly, he is— You’re sure right there, Mabie!”

"What shall we do?—He’ll tip us out!” So they hurried to shore and began to shout.

Now that was way back in ’49 And from then on, we’ve had a time.

Soon everyone knew it back in town Then people came from all around.

Poor Gale Harris almost sweat blood For old Mr. Turtle went down in the mud.

People crawled over his fences and land Even pulled up some fence posts by hand.

Two good tractors he used to drain— But before he made it—it started to rain,

Even the policeman—Remember Pete Green Many a time was called to the scene.

A hot dog stand was put up nearby And turtle soup was sold—not too high

A newspaper reporter fell in the lake But he loudly declared he was scared by a snake.

Oscar made the papers— ’Busco got on the map But some folks still question who took the rap.

And would you believe—the Cincinnati Zoo Came clear here—offered big money too.

But the town folk figured with Oscar so near They’d start their own zoo and keep him right here.

They sent for a diver—he came from afar He even hitched some of his gear to a car.

But though he dove down—way down in the deep, He couldn’t find Oscar—said “He must be asleep.”

But not until later—and summer most over Did people give up their dreams of “green clover.” 76 MIDWESTERN FOLKLORE

“The Beast o f ’Busco” they called him then Now it’s “Oscar the Turtle”—remember him?

Now years have passed, many have lamented But that’s how “Turtle Days” were first invented!

In this work, content is everything. The poem is effective to the extent that it condenses into a brief space the attitudes and events which persist in current tradition. With the demise of the Fulk Lake hunting expeditions, one would expect the hoax to disappear. For the most part this has happened, except for an occasional hoax-like bit of newspaper speculation, whose motive it is to publicize the coming Turtle Days celebration.

Was Oscar the Re-Incarnation of Little Turtle?

No wonder they never found Oscar, the Beast of ’Busco. They were hunting a haunt. For such is the theory advanced by J, Tide Cook, general chairman of the Turtle Days celebration coming up here August 1, 2, and 3. The annual event celebrates the hunt for Oscar, supposedly a giant turtle sighted on the bank of Fulk’s Lake by the farm owner at that time, Gale Harris, The event brought national fame and a flood of visitors throughout the year 1949 when the active hunt for Oscar was being pressed. But Oscar was never found. The consensus of opinion of the many visitors was perhaps best expressed by the Indianapolis Star reporter who began his feature story on Oscar with the words, “I saw the Beast of ’Busco—I Think.” But to the rank and file Churubusconian, those are fighting words. Of course Oscar existed—and probably still does. He just grew wary from all the commotion and his narrow escapes and just isn’t taking any chances or showing himself again. Mr. Cook’s theory bridges the gap between the “spoofers” and the “proofers,” He explains Oscar’s appearance in this manner: “Oscar is really the ghost or the reincarnation of Little Turtle, the famous Indian chief of the Miamis who was want to roam the area one hundred and seventy years ago. Handing defeat to the White Man was an old trick of Little Turtle. Twice he defeated General Josiah Harmar, and the defeat of General Arthur St. Clair is known to every schoolboy as the greatest defeat ever inflicted by the Indians on the White Men. But says Cook, “Little Turtle was a peaceful man who hated war and what is more peaceful than a turtle, yet more invincible, for the great Indian to choose as his form of reincarnation?” “So let’s not worry about such a petty detail as finding the flesh,” says J. Tide, “it’s the spirit that counts, in a way. Let’s honor Oscar for what he is, not just a hollow shell, but the spirit of Little Turtle come back to his happy hunting grounds,20

While the theory is attributed to Mr. Cook, Turtle Days chairman in 1957, the artistic expression is that of Truth editor, Jim Kirtley, who here reveals his presence through what everyone would recognize as Kirtley’s personal formulaic signature: “I saw the Beast of ’Busco— I think.”

Legend

Both factual and fictional arising from the protofestival are too familiar, too fresh, and often too playful to permit the formation of fabulous legend. However, modem legend processes are evident beyond the local periphery, where partial knowledge o f the esoteric tradition, limited contacts with Churubuscoans, occasional mass media information, and Turtle Days Festival publicity emanating from Churubusco have stimulated the outsider’s imagination. Hence, the creation of contemporary about THE BEAST OF ’BUSCO 77

the “Beast of ’Busco.”21 Two examples from the Indiana University Folklore Archive . illustrate the new development. The first was reported from Indianapolis in 1961.

The Beast of ’Busco

The Beast of ’Busco is supposedly in a lake in Churubusco, Ind. This town is 20 miles NE of Fort Wayne, Ind. This animal is a turtle 19 feet in diameter. The story goes that a small boy was out playing on the lake and the turtle came up on the shore. When people came looking for the boy, all that could be found were his shoes and a few pieces of clothing. Foot prints were found near the remaining clothing. They were turtle footprints about 6 to 8 inches. Residents nearby say they hear weird noises when the moon is out No one has ever seen this animal. Some claim they have seen him or something that resembles him.22

Churubusco Turtle Story

There once was a couple of turtle hunters in a boat snaring turtles in a North-Central Indiana lake. It seems as though they spotted an extremely large turtle, snared it, and as the turtle was swimming into the depths, one of the hunters got his leg caught in the snare rope and was dragged overboard into the depths also. Today, over thirty years later, it is frequently reported that a large turtle was seen swimming along the bottom of this lake dragging a snare rope and human skeleton along behind.23

This second legend, reported to be widely believed in tire 1930s and 40s in Indiana, was recorded in Kokomo in 1967. It is no surprise that both legends fail to specify the lake’s name. Both, in keeping with contemporary American legendary, focus on a human tragedy, emphasizing the element of supernatural horror. Ronald Baker’s Hoosier Folk Legends includes a Beast of ’Busco legend collected in 1970 from a Terre Haute college student, who knows enough to locate the scene at Blue Lake. Here the narrator transforms the turtle into either a sea serpent or a humanoid “Big Foot” type creature.

There is a Lake in Churubusco, Indiana called Blue Lake. One time two old guys were out there fishing and saw what they believed to be a huge sea monster. The noise that it made was kind of a sucking sound. The people in the town formed a vigilante group to investigate and to keep watch on the lake at night. They found large footprints around the lake and felt that whatever it was walked on two legs. The men patrolled the lake at night and would hear these strange noises, but they didn’t see anything. During the day they would find fresh footprints. There was always someone who reported that they had seen the monster. Some said that it was a hairy thing that would come out of the water, kill small animals, and return to the water. Others thought it a great sea serpent Many who discount the monster story believe the tracks belong to a huge turtle that lives in the lake. Every few years the tracks are found, and the search begins again. The last time the “Beast of ’Busco” stories kicked up again was in 1967T4

The text’s emphasis on tracking incorporates a typical feature of “Bigfoot” lore. It shows some minimal familiarity with the town’s esoteric tradition, but like the previous renderings from informants outside of the local main stream, its narrative style prefers the supernatural or fantastic elements that create a feeling of mystery and excitement. If Von Sydow’s legendary categories can be applied to Jansen’s social constructs, one could conclude that the local esoteric tradition expresses itself through memorate while a developing exoteric traditions will appear as fabulate.25 78 MIDWESTERN FOLKLORE

The Legend and its

In 1974 the Kappa Delta sorority produced a forty-eight-page commemorative booklet to celebrate the silver anniversary of the great turtle quest.26 This document is currently the primary literary vehicle for transmitting a historical consciousness about the Beast of ’Busco legend within the community. Page one, the dedication to Gale and Helen Harris, carries their photographs along with a six-hundred-word text written by Helen Harris, titled, “The Beast of ’Busco.” Helen Harris’s text, scrupulously consistent with her recorded oral testimony three years earlier, relates the 1949 history from a personal perspective that emphasizes her distinction between “our own private project” and the public commotion that disrupted the normal life of her family. Her firm conclusion enhances the traditional capitalistic coda with a statement of moral value:

Although we didn’t profit by this experience, we are thankful the town of Churubusco did and that they have a nice park. We are grateful to the people that did have confidence in us. We know and God knows we were telling the truth, so it doesn’t make much difference what the public thinks.

Among other highlights can be found an essay on “Pursuit of the Beast of ’Busco,” a thoughtful article explaining Oscar’s appeal to the imagination by Terry Doran, a young Fort Wayne media personality who will occupy the stage in this book’s final chapter. Of interest at this point is that Doran’s article describes his first involvement with Churubusco in hosting and directing a Beast of ’Busco special on his “Theatre for Ideas” community discussion television program in 1974. For the most part, the booklet concentrates on the presentation of historical nuggets extracted from earlier newspaper accounts of tradition and history. The extracts include: “How Churubusco Got Its Name,” “Marvin Koontz, Churubusco’s Own Jesse James,” “Jesse James’s Mother Taught in County,” and nine features on Oscar. The most important of these is “1949 Turtle Hunt Log” because it remains the most frequently reprinted item from the anthology. The other extracts, taken from Fort Wayne and Indianapolis newspapers, explore dramatic or colorful incidents from the turtle quest. Two historical poems are included, a reprint of Nedra Krider’s “Beast of ’Busco” and Joan Gaff’s “Good Old Oscar.” Seven pages filled with photographs chronicle the Turtle Days queens from 1950 to 1973. Images of past Turtle Days parades, announcements for the 1974 Turtle Days, and copious advertisements for local businesses round out the booklet. The park and school also receive appropriate attention. The anniversary booklet elaborates the town’s essential legend, but it also displays the community’s assets to their best advantage. For Oscar is community metaphor and object of faithful devotion.27 The editor’s note on page two obviates the issue:

Oscar, the Beast of ’Busco—Legend or ?

Aren’t we lucky the Harrises saw Oscar back in ’49 and brought so much fame to our town. Have you ever thought what the town would be without the Turtle and Turtle Days? Would we have a park? A scout building, or even such a wonderful school? If we take a close look around us at other communities our size, we can sure thank our lucky stars that Oscar picked Fuiks Lake for his big debut! I just don’t see how anyone can doubt, ,. OSCAR, THE BEAST OF BUSCO. THE BEAST OF ’BUSCO 79

The silver anniversary booklet becomes a useful text for introducing new members to the community. Moreover, it helps both new and old to confirm or correct fragmentary oral traditions that sometimes lack coherence. Furthermore, it assists all to construct a public memory that represents the ideals of small-town America.28 This internal community literature has external counterparts. In capturing the attention of the nation, Churubusco attracted die interest of three distinct discourse communities. This interest assumes literary form in three distinct interpretive spheres: academic zoology, academic folkloristics, and popular culture. Each orients its discourse to Churubusco in a singular manner. In the zoological literature, the earliest text concerning Churubusco appears in Giant Reptiles, a well-written, popular herpetological survey of both the biology and folklore of dinosaurs, crocodiles, turtles, lizards, and snakes. The authors, Sherman Minton, Professor of Microbiology and noted herpetologist at the Indiana University Medical School, and Madge Rutherford Minton, his wife and scientific assistant, skillfully blend chapters filled with zoological information and speculation (his work) with others devoted to humanistic tradition (her writing). Minton’s chapter on “The Big Freshwater Turtles” begins its account of the Beast of ’Busco auspiciously.

Until about 1960, we had monsters in Indiana every summer. Usually they were big snakes “as big around as a nail keg" or that “left a track as wide as a truck tire.” Sometimes they w ere four-footed beasts that roared, screamed, left huge pug marks in the dust, or made off with dogs or livestock. But the monster of 1949 was a turtle. The story really began in the summer of 1948 when Gale Harris, a fanner living near the town of Churubusco in the northeastern part of the state, looked from the roof of his bam over the waters of nearby Fulk’s Lake and saw “what looked like a submarine on top of the water. When 1 looked closer I saw it was a turtle.” There were no further sightings until about the first of March, when the turtle was relocated and described as being “as big as a dining room table,” covered with moss, and estimated as weighing 500 pounds,I 2’

The narrative then relates highlights of the now familiar chronology, following Minton’s sources from The Indianapolis Star and concluding with a rhetorical strategy of traditional legendiy, that is, an account of his own personal experience at Fulk Lake.

I didn’t get personally involved in the hunt until about mid-summer. My strategy was simple. If there was a big turtle in the lake, it had standard snapping turtle instincts and physiology and was probably spending most of its time in comparatively shallow water. I would use a face mask (a comparatively little known gadget in Indiana in 1949) to locate the turtle. I had no illusions about my ability to drag even a 30-or 40-pound reptile out of the lake single-handed, but I hoped to dive down and hook a float on a strong, thin line to some part of the creature’s anatomy, so it could be tracked and eventually captured. When I got to Fulk’s Lake, I found its seven acres dotted with a formidable assortment of traps, some of which looked capable of catching and holding a small submarine. Mr. Harris, the diver, and a couple of other never-say-die turtle hunters were scanning the water without too much enthusiasm. The diver’s rubber suit and metal helmet resting on a rough bench gave a slightly unreal touch to the scene. It took about 15 minutes for me to realize that I wasn’t going to be the hero of Churubusco either. The lake was colder than I’d counted on, the water was the color of strong, murky coffee, and there were enough water weeds to hide an aircraft carrier. I spent the rest of the day swapping snake and turtle stories with the other hunters. By September, Mr. Harris was a frustrated and unhappy man. His farm looked as though the Sixth Armored Division had been holding maneuvers there, and the turtle was still at large. In a last desperate move, he tried to drain the lake. This was ill-advised, for Fulk’s Lake, though small, was an old glacial pothole and very deep. The drainage efforts only created a wide margin o f almost bottomless muck in which two turtle hunters became entrapped and nearly lost their lives. That was the end of the search for the “Beast o f’Busco.” There are those who believe it still lives in Fulk’s Lake or one of the other 80 MIDWESTERN FOLKLORE

lakes in the area, but no one has seen it for a long time, and today inquiries about giant turtles are usually met with looks of blank incomprehension or wry smiles.30

Minton’s dramatic rendition conforms to the legend’s structure and style while it conveys the comic spirit associated with the American pantheon of fearsome legendary creatures. Surprisingly enough, his account assumes a larger importance as a document in the scientific literature where it becomes an interesting evidentiary case for subsequent zoological speculation. Pritchard’s thorough Encyclopedia o f Turtles cites Minton’s Beast of ’Busco narrative as evidence for estimating the size and range of the alligator snapper in the United States. While the range of the species is confined to the Gulf of Mexico drainages of the Mississippi valley, Pritchard observes that reports of record-size alligator snappers come from states like Illinois and Indiana at the northernmost extremities of the alligator snapper range, where these turtles are rare. Pritchard then summarizes Minton’s Churubusco text, mentioning the estimated weight of five hundred pounds and size “as big as a dining room table.” Then he speculates, “It seems possible that this turtle had, over a great many years, wandered up the Mississippi River and finally reached Northeastern Indiana via the Wabash River.”31 In his 1989 monograph on The Alligator Snapping Turtle, Pritchard begins with the admonition that science knows about the population structure of the alligator snapper largely through experienced but unscientific observations of hunters and trappers, whose wisdom “remains in the form of verbal tradition,” which cannot be accepted verbatim but requires comparative and critical analysis?2 The Minton text is again cited with the observations that the turtle was never actually caught and that there are no other turtle species so large in Indiana. Pritchard further elaborates the upstream wandering hypothesis, regarding it as a reasonable and sustainable position given the current status of herpeto logical research?3 It may come as no surprise that Pritchard’s work is currently read and carefully considered in Churubusco, a matter that will occupy the final chapter. Academic folkloristics now constitutes a body of literature available to the community as a possible source for further community recreation of its recorded tradition. My essay i “The Protofestival: American Guide to Folk Behavior” retold the events of 1949, appearing as the lead article in a special issue of The Journal o f the Folklore Institute, edited by Richard Dorson and entitled “Folklore in America versus American Folklore.”34 The work is unknown in the community. My doctoral dissertation, subtitled “A Case Study of Turtle Days in Churubusco Indiana,” received an immediate literary response upon my delivery of a hound copy for community review shortly after its defense in 1979. Within one week, . the work was reviewed in the Tri-County Truth by editor Jim Kirtley?5 The review, appearing on the front page, accompanied by my smiling photograph, was titled “Churubusco, ‘Oscar’ Topics of IU Doctoral Dissertation.” The article began: “Remember John Gutowski?” Kirtley then refreshed his readership on my summers spent in town in 1970 and 1971, explained the nature of a dissertation defense, then proceeded to the manuscript.

We started reading it and found we couldn’t put it down until we had finished it. For it not only was a detailed history of Gale Harris’s hunt for “Oscar” and of Turtle Days, but also a penetrating analysis of the town itself, its history from Chief Little Turtle’s day to the present time, complete with such legendary characters as Marvin Kuhns, Uncle Sam and Rosebud Slim. It was written in a warm, friendly style. THE BEAST OF ’BUSCO 81

Although we were up to our ears in turtle tales back in 1949 when we covered the hunt for “Oscar” for the Truth, we discovered that we had forgotten many things, as John’s detailed reporting brought it all back to life again. Quotes from scores of area people are related in his story. If you had anything of significance to say to John and his tape recorder, you are probably quoted in the work. It is also illustrated with many local photos of 1949 and of the present day.

Kirtley then relates biographical background with references to my wife, son, previous careers, and the publishing possibilities for the manuscript. The article concludes:

If John gets his book published, it surely is one I will want to buy, for it not only is a complete account of Churubusco’s most exciting days, but also a pretty good history of the town and a description of how it was in the 1970’s. It’s our “Roots.” And, after reading the dissertation, we’re convinced that John Gutowski believes in “Oscar,” too!

Kirtley’s reading of my manuscript clearly exhibits the community values he has long championed as the town’s public literary voice. I am edified to know that Kirtley recognizes my work as an accurate representation of community life, history, and tradition. That the writing can be described with the words warm and friendly supports the conclusion that the work compares with Roots, a topical reference to the classic affirmation of African-American identity. This tells me that my manuscript has the intended value of a document o f the collective representations that it describes and analyzes.36 “Oscar the Turtle, the Beast of ’Busco” merits a full chapter in Richard Dorson’s Man and Beast in American Comic Legend?1 a presentation of the ten top creatures of American legendry and an indicator of Oscar’s emergent iconic stature in American folklore. For Dorson, the Beast of ’Busco is an exemplary expression of the American imagination. The text basically synopsizes the legends, tall tales, and protofestive history gleaned from my dissertation. Coffin and Cohen’s standard reference work, The Folklore o f American Holidays?* originally published in 1984, is now in its second edition. It contains over 525 items associated with 120 American holidays and festivals. The editors set two criteria for selection corresponding to the two elements in the word folklore. For the folk oriented dimension, they ask, “Would this festival continue to be celebrated if there were no legal or commercial reason to celebrate it?” For the lore, “Is the event creating, or has it in the past created, its own set of traditions, with associated legends, anecdotes, superstitions, foods, and the like?” They include Churubusco’s Turtle Days, representing it with a historical summary and five texts from my dissertation. Dick Zolman’s personal experiences, Hannah Hyndman’s ballad, tall tales, and legends appear with explanatory notes.39 Of interest from the Churubusco perspective is a Sunday book feature appearing in The Philadelphia Inquirer on July 3, 1988.40 The topic is the book’s phenomenal success as well as its fascinating content. The article opens with a surprising tribute:

The legend of Oscar, the monster mystery turtle, has something in common with the book that tells its story. Both seem to be growing prodigiously. Oscar is the Loch Ness Monster of Churubusco, Indiana. The book is The Folklore o f American Holidays.

The feature proceeds to interview the book’s editors while surveying its contents for human interest items. Editor Hennig Cohen, professor at the University of Pennsylvania, ■ explains that most of the selected items are American versions of European festivals or 82 MIDWESTERN FOLKLORE ancient seasonal celebrations, but that he prefers the home grown originals like the Philadelphia Mummer’s Parade. Yet his favorite genuine American original is not from Philadelphia, but from Churubusco—Turtle Days. A substantive revisiting of the Beast of ’Busco traditions highlights the review. A dissertation, a scholarly journal article, prominent recapitulation in two major books on American folklore immortalize the legend of Oscar the Turtle in esoteric scholarship. Churubusco’s marvel, now on the map of academe, easily moves to the open, inviting realm of popular culture. As America approaches the twenty-first century, the popular appeal of monster stories continues undiminished. A sure test that a folkloric monster has popular potential is its acceptance into juvenile literature. This happens in Alan Garinger’s 1991 Water Monsters. One of the “Great Mysteries, Opposing Viewpoints Series,” Garinger’s book includes a lively version of the “Beast of ’Busco” legend. It also provides an interesting appendix enumerating water monsters on a state by state basis. Wisconsin tops the list with monsters from thirty-five lakes and one river. Garinger judges the Boreal forest belt of the northern hemisphere a perfect environment for cryptozoological sightings, “a land of monsters.” He also warns the reader that “anyone who lives in the continental United States is no more than 150 miles from a suspected monster habitat and probably ; closer.”41 Daniel Cohen’s The Encyclopedia of Monsters, first published in hardcover by Marboro Books, appears in 1991 as an Avon Books paperback. The front cover announces . an indicator of popularity: “First Time In Paperback.” The cover also beckons the reader with the words “COMPREHENSIVE*AUTHORITATIVE*FASCINATING*BIZARRE: ' True histories and ancient folklore.” In eight chapters, Cohen surveys humanoids, land monsters, monster birds and bats, phantoms, river and lake monsters, sea monsters, visitors from strange places, and weird creatures in folklore. The “Beast of ’Busco” leads off the chapter on river and lake monsters.

A large pond on a farm near the city of Churubusco, Indiana, is reputed to be the home of a monster turtle, sometimes known as Oscar, and more ominously as the Beast of Busco. In 1948 the owner of the pond noticed that there were fewer fish than usual and that ducks resting on the pond sometimes disappeared mysteriously. The cause of these disappearances was a gigantic snapping turtle. The largest of the snapping turtles, the alligator snapper, has been known to weigh up to two hundred pounds, and is strong enough to break a broomstick with its homy jaws, or snap off a finger. But this snapping turtle was much bigger, though accounts differ as to size. Some say it was as big as a pickup truck. Turtle hunts were organized, and the men went at the pond with baited hooks, traps, and guns, but were unsuccessful in their efforts. The farmer who owned the pond, however, studied the monster turtle’s habits, and one day while it was sleeping he slipped a rope or chain around its middle, attached die other end to four strong horses, and tried to pull Oscar out of the pond. The horses pulled and the turtle dug its claws into the mud. The contest finally ended in a draw when the rope (or chain) broke. Oscar slipped back into the murky waters of the pond and was never seen again. Some say he died from the exertion, and others insist that he is just hiding and waiting, for turtles live a long time and can be very patient.42

The broadest based popular literature confirms majority experience through the repetition and intensification of formulas for the purposes of entertainment and instruction.43 Here Cohen skillfully popularizes universal monster and quest formulas, informing his audience of a local happening through the appropriate vehicle of literary THE BEAST OF ’BUSCO S3 legend. Yet some things do not fit. While the universalized legend works with a generalized farmer protagonist, the folk would require that the human hero be specified by name. The folk would appreciate the traditionally identifiable references to Oscar’s diet, pickup truck size, broomstick snapping capabilities, and the pulling contest with the horses (or mules); they would expect these motifs to appear in a comic context as tall tale or exaggeration. In Churubusco, the “Philosopher” would tell it a bit differently. Still, the popular author has neither the resources nor the restrictions of an interacting community; consequently, he makes the most of his traditional material.

Plate 10. American Legion Oscar at Old Settlers Day parade in Columbia City. Columbia City Commercial Mail photo, 1962.