Post by Joanna on Aug 25, 2014 17:09:26 GMT -5
A Mysterious Creature That Haunted Glastenbury
It was a creature whose bloodcurdling cries in the night put the fear of God in those who heard it. Witnesses described the creature that stalked southwestern Vermont as an animal the size of a large dog with a cat-like face. Apparently, the monster lived off small rodent-like animals, or it found the yapping of dogs annoying for numerous people reported their small dogs disappeared or they found them mutilated by some savage animal. The thing also attacked sheep and goats. So goes the legend of the “Glastenbury Glawackus.”
In the cold, snowy winter of 1939, The Hartford Courant published a story about a hunting party that went into the wilds of Glastenbury in search of the creature. It was a headline writer’s dream as the newspaper’s front page read: “Guffaws of Glastenbury Glawackus Greet Gloomy Gang of Gunners.” The search party turned up nothing. “The Glawackus was still loose in the snow-covered hills of Glastenbury Tuesday night, victor over the wiles of the best huntsmen in these parts,” read the January 18, 1939, article. “Until they’re sure, the scientific term Glawackus will be used. The name come from Glastenbury, its habitat, and from wacky, to describe the way everyone feels about the whole thing. The ending makes it sound Latin and authentic.”
The Courant also published a map showing the area of the three big Glawackus hunts and pinpointing bits of “Glawackiana” – areas where dogs and other domestic animals were killed or mauled; areas where the Glawackus heard howling; and areas where Glawackus was seen and “dogs chased something.” The sightings and hunts were confined to the wilderness portion of southern and eastern parts of town. Some believed the creature was a mountain lion that escaped from a zoo in Manchester, Vermont, following the great hurricane of 1938.
“Because the animal is out of its native habitat, the animal is probably restless,” game warden Charles Allshouse asserted, “and might move on and be reported some distance away in a short time. However, it will probably stay around as long as there are enough rabbits to meet the needs of a mountain lion’s appetite.” Others thought the creature might be a lynx.
“I never saw a glawackus,” a New Britain policeman admitted in a January 23 follow-up article, “but I’ll bet that animal over there in Glastenbury isn’t one. I’ll bet it’s a lynx. Four years ago there were two lynx off here in the Pinnacle Mountains. They were mates and nobody caught or killed them. They can have a whole family around these parts by now.”
The lone hunter to see the creature was William F. Bonvouloir of Hartford who was hunting in the wilderness near Diamond Lake when he saw a “beautiful black creature about three feet long with a tail two feet long leap out of the scrubwood in front of them. Bonvouloir brought up his shotgun and cut loose with the right barrel,” according to the Courant article. “The 12-gauge charge bit into a rotted tree stump as the startled cat began zipzagging through the underbrush.” A second shot misfired as the cat “kicked back sprays of snow as it fled into a stretch of green cedars.”
But once a legend is born, it’s hard to resist the pull of a myth. There was a community dance called the Glawackus Ball. An article ran about children making a Glawackus-man in the snow. Hunting clubs made Glawackus targets for members to shoot. Even local poets were inspired.
The Glastenbury ‘lion,’
Or wildcat, where is he?
Perhaps it's some poor tabby
Now hiding in a tree.
But if the great safari
Its big game could not stalk,
Through wood and open landscape,
It had a lovely walk.
The fervor began to die down when hunters killed a large brown dog in July. The headline from July 7, 1939, read “Mysterious Glawackus Is No More.” The dog was taken in a baited bear trap, shot and buried in an unmarked grave. “In a few days the beast was caught and bullets ended its suffering,” read the article. “A few persons witnessed the incident and they decided to bury the animal and say no more about it.”
According to a 1958 piece marking the 20th anniversary: “After that, Glawackus was seen no more and, one by one,” read a 1958 piece marking the 20th anniversary, “Glawackus men admitted that the dog probably was the terrible monster – well, maybe, perhaps. Still others waited until one night when Middletown farmers reported seeing a “strange beast passing through. That, they said, must have been him.”
The bottom line? The legend of the Glawackus sold newspapers and brought some excitement to a sleepy town during a long winter. “It relieved the monotony of a dreary winter,” a July 8 editorial noted. “It provided small talk for uncounted dinner tables just as the subject of the hurricane began to pall. It got any number of ordinarily slothful individuals into the open air ... Now it is dead, but if one knows Glastenbury, it will rise again. It was too useful to remain long buried.”
Sources: Peter Marteka, The Hartford Courant, August 21, 2014, and New England Legends.
