Unanswered Questions - December 2020

 

Welcome back to some more unanswered questions, MMers!

• Who is at the bottom of the old well on the abandoned farm in Chesterville? More importantly, why have they kept screaming "Tenon?" for the past twenty years?

If you hear, "Tenon!" coming from the bottom of a well... run!

• Why will Cobbie, the sea monster living in Cobbosseecontee Lake, only show itself at dusk?

• When is it okay to call the feds about aliens invaders? After the first visit? The second? The third? The Herrins out of Patten are on visit #4!

Fifth time's the charm?

• What lived under the bed in Caleb Clover's room? And why did it move to Lucas Cruz's? Has anyone seen Caleb lately?

• Where exactly is that fountain of youth in the Bethel area? Asking for a friend.

• How do you drive a vampire off your property after you accidentally let him in? Lots of garlic, crosses, holy water, and a blessing or two from the local priest doesn't hurt, according to Norman Reed of Brighton.

No visitors or vampires!

Stay safe out there, Maine!

Floque Bonker Madness

Good Morning, Malevolent Mainers. As we all know, the Holiday Season is upon us. In a normal year, you would have nothing to worry about other than making sure the milk and cookies are left out for the fat man. However, we regret to inform you that this Christmas is different. Last year, there were multiple reports of multiple Jack-In-The-Box like toys, dubbed "Floque Bonkers" as seen on their packaging, coming to life and causing pain and confusion to families across the state. Last year, there were six reported sightings in the state: three in Cumberland County, two in York County, and one in Knox County. While this might seem like a low number, we can't ignore the possibility of the "Floque Bonkers" arriving in larger numbers this Christmas morning. 

Here is a mock-up of a "Floque Bonker," drawn by Timmy DeSmith and given to the Portland Police Department on 12/25/20.

Though these "toys" might appear friendly at first glance, we can assure you that they are not. We are strongly encouraging all parents to wake up extra early this Christmas to double-check all of the presents underneath the tree before the kids start ripping and tearing into the gifts. Once opened, there is no stopping the chaos and violence that will ensue when the "Bonker" is released from its wrapping. Though these "springy slaughterers," as coined by Bill Haverford of Kennebunk, didn't result in any murders last Christmas, seven people had to be hospitalized due to the unwelcome guests under various trees across the state. Please reach out and report any sightings this year to us here at Malevolent Maine, and we hope the "Floque Bonkers" don't arrive in greater numbers than last year...though we certainly wouldn't bet on it...

No matter which one you open, you run the risk of having a Murdery Christmas. Stay safe out there, Maine!

Arctic Cat

Welcome back MMers! We know our motto is: We believe you, but this one is a little bit out there. This one comes to us from Martin, an old timer up in Millinocket, he's  been snowmobiling up there for more than forty years. Marty has met a lot of people in his clubs, and on long rides, but one man in particular always sticks out in Marty’s mind. “He never introduced himself” Marty said, “we passed him on the trail one time back in ‘79, we stopped to talk but he didn’t seem interested in anything but our snow machines.” Marty tells us that the man spent a long time studying and asking questions about his Arctic Cat snowmobile. “I walked him through how it worked, he asked me to rev the engine for him, and every time I did he would shake his head. He muttered a lot to himself. Said he liked the idea but the sound was all wrong. Then he just walked off.” 

The Arctic Cat Marty owned back in the day

Marty didn’t see the mystery man again for several years. Although his white hair had grown long and lanky, Marty quickly recognized the man the next time he appeared besides the trail. “He was pretty easy to recognize, he's got this big hooked schnoz, one of his eyes was a bit wonky, and he had more wrinkles than I have now” Marty said laughing. “He wanted to show us his new snow machine, and boy was it a beaut.” It was similar in style to Marty’s Arctic Cat but was larger, and when the odd man revved the engine it sounded much different than your average snowmobile. “He was proud of it that was sure, he followed us down the trail all day, but he was still standoffish, he didn’t introduce himself this time either, didn’t really talk to us except to ask questions, wouldn’t really say where he got the machine or what made it sound like it did. It made this real guttural sound, like a growl, sounded like a howl when it was wide open, only thing mechanical sounding was the reverberation from the straight pipe he had on it.”

Sketch of the old man

But this wasn’t the last time Marty saw the strange man, “After he parted way with us that second time, didn’t even say bye, I didn’t see him for another couple years. When I did I was riding solo along the trail and I saw smoke in the distance. It was the strange man’s snow machine and he wasn’t anywhere nearby. Being the good guy I am I stopped and gave it a look see. But the insides of that thing weren’t like anything I’ve ever seen before, I popped the hood and under a sheet of metal there was hardly any metal parts, it was mostly this kind of fleshy stuff. It was warm to the touch and felt just like skin. If I held my hand against it for too long, I could feel this rapid thumping in it, almost like a pulse but faster than any living creature should have. As I held my hand there it gave a growl like I had heard when he was riding it the few years before. Scared the bejesus out of me, sounded like a cougar or one of them lions from National Geographic. Then I heard a shout behind me and I stepped away from it. There was that man coming down the hill with what looked like a doctors bag, and a bunch of tools under his arm. He shouted at me again, told me to get the hell away from his Arctic Cat, and I didn’t need more motivation to get the hell out of there, so I booked it.”

Like we said, this is a weird one, one that is hard to wrap our heads around, but it is our duty to give our readers the benefit of the doubt. Marty says he hasn’t seen the man since, but the look and feel of the engine of that snowmobile still make him nauseous to this day. Who was this man, what did he do to create that snowmobile, has he done anything else as weird or frightening, is he still out there? If you see a man like Marty described, please avoid him or approach with extreme caution. Stay safe out there, Maine!

The Ambassador's Final Ride

All aboard, MMers! We've got a story for you about Maine's deep history of rail roads. This one is a little gruesome, so prepare yourself.

Central Maine Railroad

Maine has a rich history of trains. It may not seem like it nowadays, but the in the late 1800s/early 1900s train tracks crisscrossed the state.  The famous Boston & Maine brought thousands of people to the state. A little less familiar is the Maine Central Railroad which ran from Waterville to Portland along tracks known as the Low Road. Our story comes from 1921 and deals with a train, the Ambassador, full of passengers coming to Waterville to enjoy the Opera House and Colby College's football from points south.

Unbeknownst to the the passengers one person on the train, Edward Clarence, had advanced leprosy. Discovered thirty miles south of Waterville, the conductor immediately made the decision to lockdown the passenger cars. The train continued into the Waterville station where the conductor, Thomas Granger, informed the operators of the infection. Doctors were summoned, but no one was allowed on or off the train. 

In the end the entire train was quarantined. The goods carried in the boxcars were unloaded and the cars were unhooked. Then the passenger cars with all of the passengers and all of the employees were transported to a distant section of the rail yard. There, they were locked in, under guard from the Waterville police.

The fear of spread, kept everyone under lockdown. If leprosy were to infect the surrounding towns, it would be catastrophic. So despite the please of the passengers, they were kept under watch while the infection ran its course.

The crew of the Ambassador, 1921

Edward Clarence was the first to succumb to the disease, but by then he had already infected many of the others. Leprosy generally takes between one and five years to kill its victims, but the passengers on the Ambassador didn't have to wait that long. Soon the food and water supplies ran out. That's when things got really awful.

Robin Thatcher, Professor of American History at Colby College in Waterville, and author of The Day the Trains Stopped: A History of the End of the Line for Railroads in Maine sat down and talked with us about the Ambassador Incident.

"When the food and water ran out passengers went mad. Combine that with the leprosy coursing through their veins and their fear of the inevitable end, and things got out of hand. That's an understatement. The people started smashing the windows of the train. The police - these were Waterville police, remember. They were used to some drunk college kids or the occasional car crash, not something like this. They kept boarding up the windows. Then some of the calmer heads on the train tried to stop the rioting. That's when the mob turned on each other."

In her book, Thatcher describes how the passengers of the Ambassador "began tearing each other apart." Using whatever they could find to use as weapons, including their own hands and teeth, a violent battle tore through the cars. The attacks raged for three days and nights. The policemen endured listening to the horrible screams of the wounded and dying. One officer was reported as saying, "This is what Hell sounds like. I will hear this forever." Finally, after three days the cars grew quiet.

They remained locked up for two months. When the boards were finally taken off and the door unlocked, what they found was worse than anyone could imagine.

"They had started to eat each other," Thatcher explained. "In the end, with no food or water, they had turned to the one thing they had - each other."

Site of the old rail yard

In the end, every passenger on the Ambassador died. After a year of further quarantine, the bodies were finally returned to the families. The Ambassador was burned in a farmer's field not long after the bodies were removed. Thomas Granger, the conductor, remained in the engine's cab the entire time. It was determined that he was the last to die so dehydration. Soon after the popularity of the rails declined tot he point that many shut down for good. The horribly tragedy of the Ambassador Incident was soon swept under the rug and everyone did their best to move on from it.

But workers at the rail yard claimed for years that they could hear screams, especially at dusk, right before the sun set. Even now, when the rail yard is long gone, visitors still hear screams of rage and pain. Reports of "lunatic sounds" come in at all times of the year. Perhaps the spirits of those who died on the Ambassador's final ride linger close to the spot of the tragedy.

Stay safe out there, Maine!