by Mark Frost
Joseph died in Washington State in 1904, at the age of 64. According to his doctor, he died of a broken heart.
*IN CONCLUSION
Joseph’s mysterious “pilgrimage” prior to his retreat replicates or echoes the “vision quest” experience of Meriwether Lewis in the “place by the falls and the twin mountains.”
Is it possible that both Lewis and Chief Joseph may have had some sort of congress there--physical, metaphysical or otherwise--with “the Great Spirit Chief who rules above”?
If so, was this a direct encounter or did it require traveling to a sacred place that may have been indicated in the ancient Nez Perce map shown to Lewis?2
JEREMIAH JOHNSON, aka “Liver-Eating Johnson”
THE BURIAL PLACE OF “LIVER-EATING JOHNSON” in Cody, Wyoming
1 All verified. A more profound definition of the meaning of freedom is hard to imagine—TP
2 To these intriguing anomalies, or coincidences, I will add one of my own. According to my research the mysterious mountain man referred to in Captain Wood’s statement as “Liver-Eating Johnson” is the man on whom Robert Redford’s character was based in the 1972 movie Jeremiah Johnson (an excellent movie, by the way).
After a life spent in the wilderness, the real Johnson died in an army veterans’ home in Santa Monica, California, in 1900. His body was returned to Cody, Wyoming, for reburial in 1974—soon after the movie came out, not a coincidence— where the grave site is marked by the memorial shown on the following pages.
One final observation for me: After the surrender of Chief Joseph, Johnson told Captain Ernest Wood that because of the army’s treatment of the Nez Perce, there would one day “come a reckoning.” I believe the nature of that reckoning will eventually be revealed—TP
*** THE TOWN OF
T W I N P E A K S :
*I* OWL CAVE
Moving forward in time, it is important that we learn to distinguish between mysteries and secrets. Mysteries precede humankind, envelop us and draw us forward into exploration and wonder. Secrets are the work of humankind, a covert and often insidious way to gather, withhold or impose power. Do not confuse the pursuit of one with the manipulation of the other.
In some instances, for clarity when the handwriting is obscure, I have typed out the entries for ease of reading.1
-- Still got stores fer three weeks, and there’s game about and fish in the crick. Searched bout five square miles, no luck yet but DB says this work needs patients so we’ll keep at it. Lots of caves about in these hills so we’ll find it sure one day.
-- Found something but we don’t know what. Might could be the mine we think. A deep cave, connected inside to many like passages. Up in the high woods a mile east of camp, at the base of a cliff. Opening’s hid by woods, and there’s rocks piled up at the entrance so it sure seems somebody was trying to hide it. Found one of them queer platforms near the entrance, that’s how we found it. No body on it, but plenty of Injun shit, bundles of sticks and herbs, bones of some small animals. Not so smart, maybe, putting it so close to the cave like at, but what you expect from an Injun. Took most of the damn day to move them rocks out the way so we’re worn out. DB tried to take a compass read to mark the spot--had a hard time with it, the damn needle just spun around. Which to DB meant some kind of metallic deposit nearby, which he said was good.
Nightfall by that time, but tired as we was Denver Bob could not be bothered to wait. Gold fever, I call it, cause I got it to. We fired our lanterns up and Denver Bob went in first. Stank like hell. Followed that cave down a long snaky passage, a hunerd feet in. No gold in the rock, at least not here. Looks like this passage was dug out, though. Axe or chisel, maybe. Real deep dark in here.
Okay. The passage opens into a big ass chamber. Couldn’t see the ceiling by the lantern light, that’s how big. Natural cavern, we think. Bob got real close to the wall with his light on one side, I took the other.
No gold but DB called me over and we both held up our lights. On his side the whole wall’s covered with painting I guess you’d call it. Different colors. Not like one picture, but a whole mess a strange shapes and symbols, kind of primitive. Injun work, no doubt, and they can’t draw fer shit. Don’t add up to any sense we can make of it.
Looks like a bird, maybe, but who know, its like a damn kid’s scribbles. Coulda saved us a lotta trubble if them Injuns learned to write proper English and spell shit out. What the--
-- Damn, something screeched back in there then flue out of dark at us like a bat out a hell. We run all the way out, nearly beat my brains in on the wall once. DB dropped his damn lantern. Felt that thing right behind us breathing on our necks. Got out of there and night was thick on us. Thing passed straight over our heads and we hit the ground. Bird for sure, maybe a bat. DB thought an owl. If it were, it’s the biggest damn owl I ever seen, and I don’t care to see it again.
-- Moved camp down close to a river cause we heard from that cave a real peculiar whistling and what I thought was like moaning. DB thought it were voices and he got spooked. I tole him could be the wind to settle him but I don’t think so. Every time I try to sleep I see that thing’s eyes. Strange cause I can’t recollect seeing em then, but I see em now looking at me when I close mine.
-- Woke up and Denver Bob was gone. Just cleared out during the night, I think. All his gears here, including his rifle, and he never went nowere without that Spencer. Figure I’ll hold it for him. Fuck this shit. Still got my compass and I know the trail. Heading back for Spokane pronto.2
ARCHIVIST’S NOTE
This journal was discovered buried in the stacks of Spokane’s Masonic temple. According to their records some loggers came across it at an abandoned campsite in 1879, in a saddlebag on the desiccated corpse of a starved mule. No human remains were found at the site. A Spencer rifle with the initials DB carved on the stock was in the saddle, but it’s since been lost.
The “Yakima map” referred to in these entries was not found. There’s no name on the journal, but one Spokane local recalled seeing that saddlebag on a horse belonging to a man named Wayne Chance, a lowlife drifter from out of the territory who often traveled in the company of another man known as Denver Bob Hobbes. Neither man was ever seen again, which was judged as no great loss to the community.
The cave referred to is now known to me as Owl Cave, in the mountains east of Twin Peaks, part of what is now Ghostwood National Forest. It had long been known to native people, but as Lewis never mentions it this appears to have been the first discovery of it by settlers. Geologically, it is part of an extensive chain of lava tubes related to long-dormant volcanic activity in the local mountain chain. To this day, much of it has never been explored.3
Why the journal ended up in a Masonic lodge--as opposed to a local library or historical society--is uncertain. Masons established an early presence in the region, which, as in many other places down through the centuries, led to whispers of their participation in strange, ancient rituals. Perhaps they were making investigations of their own. Interestingly, the symbol most often employed by the Masons’ nemesis “lodge”--the aforementioned Illuminati--is the owl.4
1 The Archivist’s focus now shifts to the history and development of the town itself. The following excerpts appear to be taken from an original handwritten journal. Its author and the incident discussed I can find no other verification for, although it appears to be the work of a base and criminal character. New entries are not marked by dates, merely preceded by a dash. The page and ink both authentically date from the period around 1875–80—TP
2 I find a reference in Agent Cooper’s original case notes to a similarly described location near Twin Peaks called Owl Cave—TP
3 Another indication that the Archivist has personal knowledge of the area—TP
4 This is confirmed, and the image depicted is authentic—TP
*2* Logging Mania
With the arrival of “civilization,” inevitably, the exploitation of the land by its new inhabi
tants commenced.
1 2
* The Night of the Burning River; man-made calamity or ancient curse?3
1 This appears to be an early editorial from an unidentified newspaper, most likely the Spokesman-Review from Spokane, but no author is identified, and neither is the paper—TP
2 The Packards and Martells were two of the prominent founding families of Twin Peaks—TP
3 I have verified from other existing records that the event detailed above did in fact take place outside the then-unincorporated town of Twin Peaks on the night of February 24, 1902. The logjam on the river caught fire, spread onto land and the death count later rose to eight, as two victims died from complications a few days later—TP
*3* Andrew packard
The following story was published in the town’s first biweekly newspaper, the Twin Peaks Gazette, in May 1927.
1
2
ARCHIVIST’S NOTE
As to the veracity of Andrew’s encounter with this alleged “Bigfoot”-like humanoid, I offer no encouragement or confirmation. It probably sold a lot of newspapers. The Northwest would soon afterward become known as the home of the myth of Bigfoot, a reclusive giant usually offered up as some remnant of a “missing link” between humans and primitive man. Native people of the region, and for that matter around the world, tell many stories of such creatures, usually describing them as demonic beings like the wendigo of the Algonquian peoples or, in Asia, the yeti. Sightings continue periodically to this day.3
Much later in life, Andrew’s path would take a strange and drastic turn toward the malfeasant, which may throw some shade on this youthful encounter, but let’s reserve comment for the moment.
As for Scoutmaster Dwayne Milford, he also went on to a prominent local career. He worked for many years in the town pharmacy founded by his family and, after the death of his father, took over as owner and pharmacist shortly after World War II. This is far from the last we will hear about either man.4
The following excerpt was discovered among the personal papers of Andrew Packard, following his first “death” in 1987. This correspondent can verify, from personal experience of this individual, that the handwritten section across the top of the page was penned by Packard himself.5
1 There is a similar location in Cooper’s case notes, a place called Glastonbury Grove. I have also checked all geological source maps and there are no known oil reserves in the area described—TP
2 I can confirm that Andrew Packard was indeed a Twin Peaks High School sophomore that year. He came from a prominent local family, often referred to in local accounts as one of the “first families of Twin Peaks.”
The Packards had founded, in the late 1880s, and still owned the biggest sawmill in the area, the Packard Mill, which was referenced earlier in the story about the “burning river.” By the time this story was published, and for decades to come, the Packard Mill would be the largest employer in the township.
Andrew was by all contemporary accounts considered an upstanding, reliable individual. He would later serve for decades as president of the Packard family business, and take many prominent roles in community organizations, including the Rotary, the Chamber of Commerce, the Optimists Club, the Elk Lodge, and—interestingly—the local Masonic Lodge—TP
3 The majority if not all of which, needless to say, turn out to be false or outright hoaxes—TP
4 According to town records, beginning in 1962, Dwayne Milford began serving 14 consecutive two-year terms as the mayor of Twin Peaks, a pillar of the community by any definition—TP
5 Noted that the Archivist claims to have known Packard well enough to recognize his signature; a first. I have also looked into this curious “first death” reference and initial results were unsuccessful, but let’s see if it surfaces again—TP
*4* PRIVATE DIARY ENTRY ANDY PACKARD JUNE 21, 1927
We examined the footprints in the mud, and I took my photographs. Scoutmaster Milford, looking off into the woods, now told me a story about a camping trip his younger brother Douglas had taken in the same location six months ago.
Although both brothers had worked with the Boy Scouts for years, Douglas no longer served as a scoutmaster. Scoutmaster Milford told me the reason was that Douglas had recently been asked to leave the scouts after an unseemly incident--having to do with said camping trip--which Scoutmaster Milford said highlighted a “lamentable defect” in his brother’s character. It was no secret among scouts that the Milford brothers had a complicated relationship, so I listened and asked no questions.
Earlier that year, Douglas came back from said camping trip with a wild story about having encountered what he called a “giant” in the forest. Given that Douglas had always been prone to “fanciful and chronic exaggeration,” this latest example of a “tall tale” was discounted by Dwayne and everyone else.
That provoked greater protestations from Douglas, including an even more outlandish claim that on the same trip he’d also come across a “walking owl” that he told Dwayne was nearly as “tall as a man.” Douglas also swore he’d captured photographic evidence of both creatures, but it turned out the film in his camera had been prematurely exposed. He blamed this on the darkroom at the Milford family pharmacy, suggesting that it was Dwayne’s fault for improperly mixing the chemicals.
Douglas also said having the pictures didn’t really matter because he had a photographic memory--which Dwayne confirmed; his brother does have near total recall--and remembered every last detail. In the weeks that followed, Douglas would sometimes vanish from home for days. Dwayne believed his brother might have been sneaking up to these woods again.
The next month Douglas brought this incident up at a Regional Scoutmaster Council in Spokane, interrupting the proceedings and demanding that unless the scouts launched an all-out investigation into the matter he would bring it before the National Scoutmaster Council. Dwayne tried to calm down his agitated brother, but sadly the evening ended with Douglas decking Dwayne with a right cross, at which point he was removed, kicking and shouting, from the Scout Hall.
This was followed by the council passing a unanimous motion to strip Douglas of scoutmaster rank and expel him from the organization. The resulting “brouhaha” brought deep consternation to the eastern Washington scouting community--not to mention within the Milford family--and all there agreed to strike it from the minutes of the meeting.
Scoutmaster Milford then confessed to me that since this episode, he and his younger brother had barely spoken. He told me Douglas had always been the “black sheep” of their family, showing no interest in the family business and flunking out of pharmacy school in Yakima, but sucker-punching his brother in front of twenty-three members of the senior regional council represented a new level of rebellion. Since that incident, Dwayne said that his brother’s life had continued to spiral downward; Douglas was now managing a pool hall down by the river flats on the wrong side of town, where he’d “shacked up with a fallen woman,” and I think I have a fair idea of what he meant by that.
But now, after what we’d witnessed ourselves, Scoutmaster Milford wondered if he’d judged his brother too harshly, and it was clear this weighed on him. Either that or, he said, maybe Douglas had followed us into the backcountry and staged the incident for spite, which, he allowed, “I wouldn’t put past him.”
I said that unless Douglas had figured out a way to broad jump 15 feet 12 times in a row while wearing size 22 shoes, I didn’t see any way he could have staged what was in front of us.
I also added, for what it was worth, that whatever I had seen in that flash of lightning standing beside the burning fir tree, I did not believe it was his brother wearing a pair of stilts.
*5* DOUGLAS MILFORD1
Many in town to this day believe it was no phantom “Bigfoot” in the woods that derailed the life of Douglas Milford, but the demon rum. Anecdotal evidence from residents during this period frequently mention Douglas and booze in the same breath, and this was during
the height of Prohibition to boot. For a while there in the late 1920s, to state it more plainly, the younger Milford brother became the town drunk.
Douglas left Twin Peaks after the crash of ’29 when the Depression hit, riding the rails, drifting from city to city, a man without a home, a family or any apparent purpose, a not uncommon fate for the rootless during that dire decade of the 1930s. Little is heard from Douglas until he next turns up in San Francisco, where he enlisted in the Army the day after Pearl Harbor in 1941. He spent the war years in a quartermaster’s brigade in the Army Air Corps, island-hopping across the Pacific as the Allies turned back the tide against the Japanese.
In November of 1944--although his records throughout the war are frustratingly incomplete--it appears that while stationed on Guam, now-Sergeant Douglas Milford was brought up on serious charges of black market trafficking of stolen Army property, primarily liquor and cigarettes.
But rather than endure the normal protocol of a court-martial, it appears D. Milford accepted instead an offer to “volunteer” into a special detachment stateside.2
After vanishing from the ranks in the Pacific, he next turns up as a buck private in Alamogordo, New Mexico, at the White Sands Missile Range in 1945.3
What exactly he was doing in this “special detachment” remains unclear, but one theory rises above the others. Although their existence has never been acknowledged, this may have been the unit assigned to various hazardous duties around the Manhattan Project, bearing the risk of possible radiation exposure.4