Affiliations and Education
ARIG leaders will offer training classes for “ghost hunting” or paranormal investigation to the local community, particularly around Halloween. The classes range from free introductions to multi-day seminars and hands-on investigations that cost more than $100 per person. Paranormal presentations are given at local libraries, community centers or at a college or university. Small colleges will offer non-credit enrichment or continuing education courses for a small fee. Metaphysical institutions will also offer courses, even degree programs, online. These accomplishments have limited cachet and are not practically useful, though they are advertised as being a springboard to a career in the paranormal. Anyone with an interest can participate; there are no prerequisites or special skills needed. Occasionally a group will provide training and awards certifications for completion of their classes. The American Ghost Society offered a home study course as a prerequisite to joining the society. Some ARIGs find these courses of study to be an asset while others decry such programs, even going as far to label them scams.
Student clubs at major universities will sponsor talks by well-known paranormalists, or a ghost club will be formed on campus. Affiliation with an educational facility is highly desirable by ARIGs even if the institution is not endorsing the actions. A notable example of this was the Paranormal Research Society formed by Ryan Buell in 2001 when he was a student at Pennsylvania State University. The university did not endorse the connection between the club and his later TV show, Paranormal State. But the appearance of an association, as it remained an official student club at the university, was golden for Buell and the producers of the television show.
With few exceptions, ghost investigators are disconnected from the academic community. A university degree from the scant few academic parapsychology programs around the world is not viable for the majority of amateur paranormal researchers as this is their hobby, not a vocation or source of income. The lack of affiliation with professional scientists is a key difference between ARIGs and projects of public or citizen science since this work is not fed back to experts who check and publish these data and results.
There is a spectrum of opinions about the right and wrong way to be a paranormal investigator specializing in ghosts and hauntings. Popularity via the media introduced money and fame into what was previously a hobby. The result was strong resentment and animosity between groups. In the past few years, some groups promoted “paranormal unity,” a ceasing of criticism and hostility between groups and unification under a common goal of research and investigation (Krulos 2015). Rather than minimizing strife, the effort stifled valid criticism of poor methods as ghost/ARIGs embraced an “anything goes” attitude—the opposite of a scientific, logical, or disciplined approach. Animosity between groups for notoriety and respect was greatly amplified by communication on the Internet, local competition for clients, and the frenzy to get the attention of a television production company. These conditions did nothing to encourage adoption of careful research and investigation standards.
4
Seeking Monsters: Bigfoot and Other Cryptids
Cryptozoologists believe there are hidden animals out there that can be found if we increase and improve our search of the wilderness. These mystery animals, called “cryptids,” are the subject of legends around the world. They come to life in many eyewitness accounts, yet are most excellent at keeping themselves out of sight, except when they are dramatically seen—a strange contradiction.
Historical Zoology
Human interest in curious animals has always existed. We can fairly label Aristotle as the first zoologist, at least he tried to be systematic about animals beyond their practical use to people. Early naturalists got things wrong about the reports of animals they heard from around the world. In Willy Ley’s wonderful Dawn of Zoology (1968), he traces the development of understanding about animals. In the Age of Discovery, many European explorers and missionaries repeated stories of strange creatures but did not investigate to judge their veracity (Regal 2011). Naturalists of the 16th and 17th centuries readily considered reports of all animals and “monstrous” humans. These reports were compiled into “bestiaries” from which the information was copied and accepted as representative. As travel became easier, explorers were able to bring back specimens of amazing creatures they had heard about from the natives. The specimens sparked debates about whether such strange creatures were real and where they fit into the order of life.
The New England shores were the location of a rash of sightings of sea monsters in mid–1800s (Loxton & Prothero 2013; Lyons 2009). Mysterious “sea serpents” were the world’s first cryptids studied by scientists (though they weren’t tagged with the name “cryptid” until 1983.1 Rumors of giant squid, octopi and snake-like creatures were around since humans took to the sea. Mysterious underwater creatures were more plausible due to the vastness and poorly explored ocean depths. Sea serpent reports were so frequent and provided by respected officers and sailors that scientists engaged in professional debate about their existence (Loxton & Prothero 2013; Lyons 2009). The study of UFOs followed a similar trajectory into scientific debate after pilots reported unknown objects.
The break between acceptance and rejection of monsters began in the mid–19th century when fossil finds of prehistoric sea reptiles captured the public interest. Lyons (2009) details the extensive interest of the “gentlemen scientists” at the time who argued not only about the reality of sea serpents but about the process of how they should be examined. Some scientists, like Louis Agassiz, thought we would find a living representative of these creatures. Trailblazing geologist Charles Lyell privately collected sighting reports of sea serpents. If such beasts were found, he believed it would lend support to his theory of steady-state geology called “uniformitarianism.” The predominant British scientist of the mid–19th century, Richard Owen, was skeptical of sea serpents because the evidence was solely from eyewitness reports, lacking any modern existing physical remains. Owen disregarded the testimonials collected by scientific committees and individuals, even experienced seamen. He argued that a corpse was needed for absolute identification. Otherwise, it was just myth and legend. As the great scientists of the time like Owen, Charles Darwin, and Thomas Huxley didn’t accept unsupported tales, the tide turned away from belief in fabulous beasts. The phase of “romantic zoology”—animals described by folklore—was over, until the mid–20th century when the field of cryptozoology was officially established.
As we note several times, interest in unusual phenomena of all kinds occurred in postwar time (Regal 2011) and some key figures popularized the idea of undiscovered monsters. The father of cryptozoology is widely agreed to be the late Bernard Heuvelmans, a French/Belgian Doctor of zoology. As a professional, he encouraged amateurs to research descriptions of unusual animals. He took established science to be too stuffy and limiting (Regal 2011) but professed a desire for a high scientific standard in the field. His volume, On the Track of Unknown Animals (1955, 1958 in English), was inarguably the most influential cryptozoology book, considered the “Old Testament” of cryptozoology (Sykes 2016). Along with Heuvelmans, cryptozoology was popularized by Ivan Sanderson, a nature writer who studied zoology but never obtained a doctorate degree. Sanderson wrote for popular men’s adventure magazines and was a pioneer in nature programing on television (Regal 2011). Heuvelmans and Sanderson worked together at times with the former wishing for scientific credibility for the field and the latter creating splashy and exciting stories. Sanderson went on to publicize other topics considered “unexplained” including UFOs and hauntings, but his scholarship was sloppy (Regal 2011; Naish 2016). A notable example was his failure to identify an outrageous hoax in 1948, declaring that large three-toed footprints found on a Florida shoreline were made by an out-of-place, 15-foot-tall penguin.2
Bigfoot is America’s most popular cryptid. Before that term was invented, the Yeti (“abominable snowman” or more accurately trans
lated as the “hairy man of the snows”), of Asia, was a pop culture icon (Loxton & Prothero 2013). First brought to Western attention decades earlier, a photograph of a series of alleged Yeti tracks taken by Eric Shipton in 1951 made international news (Buhs 2009). Throughout the 1950s the quest for the Yeti was pursued by explorers, wealthy adventurers, and scientists (Sykes 2016; Loxton & Prothero 2013). A few primatologists and anthropologists were eager to examine the evidence that a relict human-like species still existed and did so with the support of benefactors such as Texas oil millionaire Tom Slick. Investigators were presented with “the Pangboche hand” taken from a monastery in Nepal and a scalp supposedly also from a Yeti, both of which turned out to be of mundane origin (human and known animals) (Regal 2011: 32–53). Sanderson published Abominable Snowman: Legend Come to Life in 1961. Sanderson also supported amateur research and had an anti-science streak, feeling that mainstream scientists did not pay enough attention to these claims and real investigators should be independent of universities (Regal 2011: 3).
The 1950s were the Yeti’s golden age which likely contributed to the rise of Bigfoot. The North American version of a hairy bipedal ape-man mixed the exciting characteristics of the Yeti with stories of wild men from Native mythology. It is not at all clear if the hairy giants described in myths refer to the same creature we today call Sasquatch or Bigfoot. Teacher and amateur folklorist John Burns collected tall-tale-like stories in British Columbia in the 1920s about what he called “Sasquatch,” an anglicized word from the Coast Salish natives describing legendary entities (Loxton & Prothero 2013). The term “Bigfoot” was created in 1958 when a newspaper reported on the footprints attributed to the creature in Bluff Creek, California. The indigenous-sounding word “Sasquatch” was used by some researchers to neutralize the derogatory connotations of “Bigfoot.” Both terms merged in the public mind to refer to the cryptid of the Pacific Northwest, but sightings of bipedal hairy ape-like beings eventually were reported from almost every state in the Union (not Hawaii, though give it time). The creatures were of the classic Bigfoot description or of some slightly unique variation, often described with regional monikers such as “swamp ape” (southern U.S.), “skunk ape” (Florida), “Fouke monster” (Arkansas), “Momo” (Missouri), and the “Ohio Grassman.”
Bigfoot-like creatures are reported all over the world: the Yowie in Australia, the Almasty in Russia, the Yeti in Asia, and the Yeren in China. Speculation exists among Bigfoot researchers (a few of whom have scientific credentials) that “hairy men” the world over are of separate genus or species than each other and different from that of Homo sapiens. They are described, more or less, as human-like, creating an ethical question regarding attempts to kill the animal to provide a biological specimen to unequivocally answer the question of its reality. The study of cryptids thought to be related to humans (man-like apes or ape-like men) has been called “hominology”—a field coined in Russia where it was taken seriously in the late 1950s and 60s (Sykes 2016; Gordon 2015).
As Owen stated for sea serpents, any new animal must have a specimen to be formally described. We have no cryptid remains that have been confirmed to be something identifiable as “new.” Cryptozoologists suggest reasons why we have no Bigfoot body. For example, they counter that the species is too rare, too smart to be caught by cameras, that the dead bodies are buried or decompose too fast to find. These excuses become more absurd every day as we spot extremely rare animals on trail cameras in remote areas of the world, find remains that can be tested and compared with a known collection of DNA samples, and can even extract DNA traces from secondary sources in the environment such as metal objects, half-eaten food, water, and blood-sucking insects.
P-G Film
The watershed moment for Bigfoot was the Patterson-Gimlin film of 1967, known to Bigfooters as the “P-G” film. The iconic film of a hairy, ape-like creature with breasts striding across a creek bed, and then furtively looking back before continuing purposefully on her way, was well-marketed by the filmmaker, Roger Patterson. Everyone is familiar with the ubiquitous image from frame 352 of the P-G film. This controversial film remains the key piece of Bigfoot evidence, highly disputed to this day as depicting either a genuine Bigfoot or someone in a big suit. The P-G film inspired many to become interested in Bigfoot and cryptozoology in general. About 80% of participants at a Bigfoot conference considered the film a depiction of a genuine Bigfoot (Bader et al. 2010). If it’s a man-in-a-suit hoax (which is what scientists and some pro–Bigfoot researchers conclude it is), it’s a great one, having lasted many decades without a solid debunking. No one has been able to convincingly reproduce the film clip. In one popular hoax claim, the suit was supposedly worn by Roger Patterson’s associate Bob Heironimus and designed by costume maker Philip Morris (Long 2004). This version is disputed by Bigfoot advocates and, most importantly, the suit was never found.
The P-G footage compels many researchers to keep looking for “Patty” (the name given to the celluloid-captured Bigfoot) and her kin. The film has been stabilized, analyzed and criticized countless times. With no new input of information, however, the film is a dead-end as proof of Bigfoot. Like trying to enlarge a grainy photograph, you can’t claim details where none were originally recorded. It is amazing how two sets of viewers can look at the same piece of film and either see an obvious hoax or certifiable real animal when it can’t be both. The P-G film was brought to the eminent scientists of the time for review. Almost none found it to be compelling as proof of Bigfoot. However, in 1968, Sanderson and Heuvelmans examined a body of what was claimed to be a wild man encased in ice. They found it compelling as evidence and the Smithsonian Institution was interested in obtaining it for study, but eventually the “Minnesota Iceman” was concluded to be a hoax. The various hoaxes of sightings, footprints, and now a faked body had sullied the reputation of Bigfoot and man-like monsters. Derision towards scientists interested in the topic and the overly enthusiastic claims from amateurs soured academics in general on the topic of anomalous primates (Regal 2011).
Through the 1970s, the field of Bigfootery was a mix of passionate amateurs and credentialed scientists—people like anthropologist Grover Krantz and the eccentric Rene Dahinden who gave up everything including his family to find the creature for himself. Krantz and Dahinden often clashed, verbally and physically. As with the ghost-seeking community, money was often at the root of the disputes. Regal (2011) and Buhs (2009) provide detailed chronicles of the several scientists and array of very serious amateurs that examined the evidence for Bigfoot, some of whom dedicated their lives to the search for proof. Both sources reveal the tension between amateurs and professionals and their uncertain roles in the Bigfoot quest. That tension continues today with the increased popularity of cryptozoology as a topic and Bigfoot as America’s iconic monster.
Champ
A distant second to Bigfoot’s popularity as America’s favorite cryptid is Champ, the monster of Lake Champlain, the best-known lake monster in the U.S. (Radford & Nickell 2006). Lake monsters are found all around the world and are generally compared to the iconic Loch Ness monster, Nessie. However, the tale of a monster in Lake Champlain, Vermont, originated long before Nessie surfaced. The first report is from 1808 of some strange creature in the water.3 “Champ” surfaced in the public eye in 1980 when Sandra Mansi publicized a photograph she had taken three years earlier. This photo was controversial, never verified as evidence of an animal of any kind and later was plausibly recreated as a floating log by Radford and Nickell (2006) in their book Lake Monster Mysteries. Lake and local sea monsters continue to be exploited as tourism gimmicks. There remains little convincing scientific evidence of mystery animals in U.S. waters (or anywhere else) but that does not stop the locals from promoting their monsters for visitors. Lake monster enthusiasts will camp out or even live along the lakeshore poised with binoculars keeping a watch for anything unusual in the water. With Lake Champlain being the top location for monster spotting in the U.S., th
ere are those who have established themselves in the media eye as “experts” and formed their own projects, such as Dennis Hall’s Champ Quest, to discover proof that there is a genuine unknown animal there. Krulos (2015) states Hall and others are afflicted with “lake monster fever,” banking on an American Loch Ness monster. Lake monster hunters equip boats with waterproof audio and video equipment—deep water cameras, sonar scopes, and hydrophones—to capture evidence of an unusual animal. Unfortunately, as with Bigfoot (over)enthusiasts, some will resort to making up “facts” about an animal that has never been located. Hall himself claims to have seen Champ many times. Others obtained underwater sounds they claim are from an animal using echolocation. Amateurs’ enthusiasm for Champ’s existence looks to some of the public like science-based research.
Crypto-Media
Bigfoot, Yeti and other water and sky monsters were given wide exposure through popular magazines, comics, movies, games, cartoons, and TV shows. As first occurred with UFO enthusiasts, homemade newsletters were written and distributed to a sub-community of Bigfoot enthusiasts beginning in 1969 with the Bigfoot Bulletin (Loxton & Prothero 2013). This outlet provided a means for collectors of such accounts to catalog and share news clippings and help to grow the body of sightings data and support that these creatures were widespread. The popularity grew into meetups, conventions, and a cultural explosion in Bigfoot popularity. After the surge in popularity of Bigfoot and monsters in the 1970s (Bigfoot even appeared on the popular television show Six Million Dollar Man), cryptozoology was largely relegated to children’s entertainment and comedic programming. The TV show Monster Quest (2007) was the first series to chronicle rather slap-dash, overly-dramatized investigations of mystery monsters. The show also popularized more obscure creepy cryptids as potentially real such as the Mothman of Point Pleasant, West Virginia, and the Dogman, an American werewolf in Michigan. Monster Quest secured a new footing for cryptozoology on television but monster hunters became stars with Animal Planet’s ratings winner Finding Bigfoot (2011). As with Ghost Hunters and its many copycats, Finding Bigfoot was a semi-scripted “reality”-type program where a set team of investigators talked to local eyewitnesses then did their own night-time excursions. The promise of the show’s title has yet to be fulfilled, but the investigators insist Bigfoot is just of our their reach every time. Critically panned, and a fine example of how not to do an investigation, the show is beloved by Bigfoot believers but seen as a joke by active cryptozoological researchers. Perhaps the terrible portrayal of paranormal investigation on TV compels others to attempt to do it better; Finding Bigfoot, like Ghost Hunters, certainly prompted a wave of individuals and teams to get out “squatchin’” (looking for Sasquatch) all over North America.
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