January 10, 1967
Dear Mr. Roger Patterson:
I'm writing to you about a true story of what happened in Wildwood Park,
in the wooded area of Puyallup, Washington. And was sent to Western State
Hospital for it- I'm out now. I gave the Police of Puyallup a taped confession
of my horrifying experience, four different times. The first time was
at about 2:30 in the morning. I awoke without hearing a noise, knew something
evil was outside my tent. I could sense it. As I reached for my rifle
and flashlight, the ground shook as it ran away, very fast. I left my
Honda bike, pack, tent, and moved next to a roadside.
My second time was at a large clearing, when at just before dusk a very
small man-like creature ran around me in a large semi-circle, going into
the woods just before a car came into view.
He or it ran bent over, with his arms almost straight down, having extra
long arms. He or it was a dirty gray in color. Its run was very fast,
and it was light on its feet.
The third time was the time I was just about ready to go to sleep in my
sleeping bag, rifle loaded, at my side. The brush cracking, and something
moving very close in my direction. It was after dark, and I could see
nothing because of the darkness. I moved out into the same open field,
a little over a · hundred feet, the same open field where I watched
the small human-like creature.
The fourth time, and perhaps the closest call I had, was without my rifle,
in the camping area of the park, about 3:15 in the morning. I was awakened
by a growl that sounded like a large dog; the growl wasn't very long,
but scared me plenty. I moved into a shelter a few feet away, and stayed
on my guard the rest of the early morning till daylight. I then slept,
a short distance towards some houses, and was not bothered, except for
the rain, and a few days later I gave a taped confession to the Puyallup
Police Dept. The woman working at the police station was a witness.
I worked for the fair city of Puyallup on the Sanitation Dept, part-time
for close to two years, before all this happened. As I worked I built
myself up after I read a new book by Mr. Ivan Sanderson.
My meeting of these incidents may have been no accident, for I have lived
out in the open much of my life. I've learned to be very sneaky, if I
wish to be. I've enjoyed camping, and living out of doors, more than living
inside. It's my nature, A born woodsman, I've read your interesting new
book, "Do Abominable Snowmen of America Really Exist?" and I enjoyed reading it very much. I like the location of St. Helen's
Mountain area for the possible area of contact with the Sub-Humans, and
perhaps motion pictures. I hope to find out if these creatures are safe
or the possible "Destroyers" which the "Bible" says
there are in Genesis, Chapter 26. If they came to me once, I am sure they'll
come to me again. In the daylight, I hope, so I can get used to their
appearance, and study their nature at some distance. It's only a guess,
but St. Helen's mountain area may be of a hostile ~, because of past events,
etc. It may be that the closer to civilization their area of roaming is
the safer ours may be. It's only a guess. But what happens if they become
too brave? Because of a possible rifle shot, (to scare) in self-defense,
I'm hoping to go into the St. Helen's mountain area, sometime this summer,
alone, if I have to. Because of my Christian family, and training, I feel
I may be able to live through any ordeal with these Sub-Humans. I don't
care to hurt them, or cause alarm to the public, or them. This is the
main reason, why I waited for about three years, before contacting people
who know what I'm talking about. Thank you for your book.
Raymond L. Horn
P.S. I thought you may be interested in my true letter.
December 20, 1966
Dear Roger Patterson
In regard to a story in the Tribune about an investigation in the matter
of the Big Foot stories: I possibly may be of some small help in locating
one of these primitive species of humans. The place where I had a peculiar
and frightening experience occurred between Happy Camp and Orleans, California,
on a detour one night in 1952. I will give you definite directions on
how to find this detour, but would first like to tell the story of what
happened. I even sent this story to "True" magazine, but although
they said it had considerable merit they couldn't publish it, (probably
because they thought I was nuts), naturally.
The story in short
form that I sent them went like this:
I had been reading a story written by Ivan T. Sanderson about a Bigfoot
monster that people had seen in Northern California. As I was reading
the story I suddenly had the eerie realization that I, too, had had a
similar experience. As the story came snaking its way out of my subconscious,
I began to remember more and more of what happened. I had me a bad case
of the jitters as the memory uncoiled.
The first part of the story took me back to 1952, when I had gone down
to Orleans to start preliminary work on a logging operation with two men
by the names of Lee Vlery and Josh Russel.
One evening Josh told me Lee had gone up to Happy Camp, but not having
transportation back, wanted me to take the Mercury and go up and get him.
I had driven the extremely crooked and dangerous road up there, but not
being able to find him started back alone to Orleans.
It had been raining very heavily and after going back a few miles I found
there had been a slide across the road. There was a man with a flashlight
there who told me I could still get back to Orleans by way of a detour
across the river. He said it was a dirt road that went through Bear Valley
and would come out at the mouth of Bluff Creek a few miles below Orleans.
I had been driving slowly down this road for about twenty miles I guess,
sort of daydreaming, when I saw it... dimly in the headlights and the
rain was the shaggy orangutan-like apparition of a human. For an instant
I had the impression the shaggy hair of the creature was a hoary blue
grey in the headlights. An ogre! I remember thinking, but the thing swiftly
back-pedaled off the road and behind a tree. I automatically passed it
off as imagination and drove on by the spot.
Suddenly, without warning, the car went into a violent and unreasonable
skid. I brought the car back under control, but for some reason glanced
into the rear view mirror. In the dim light of the taillights and license-display
bulb, I thought I could see a savage looking face looking through the
rear glass. I continued on, and when I looked again there was no face,
so again concluded it was imagination.
I had gone another quarter mile I guess, when across the road was a small
six-inch sapling- I stopped the car. and got out, intending to drag it
aside if possible. Suddenly I heard the swift thud of flying feet of something
coming down the road. Reality was upon me and I remember cursing myself
for not paying attention to what I had previously seen. It was the shaggy
human-like monster I had seen in the headlights.
It at once started circling around me, snarling and acting very menacing.
It kept this circling up for some time and once came up quite close, and
I could see its face reflected by the headlights much better. The eyes
were round, and rather luminous, the hair on top of its rather low and
rounded head pretty short. Its eye teeth were far longer than a human's,
also the chest and upper part of its torso was rather bare of hair, and
also leathery looking. It wasn't too tall- not much more than my own 5
feet 9 inches, although it had a stooped, long armed posture.
Then it suddenly changed tactics- it would stalk off down the road but
would come charging back, like a bat out of hell, when I started toward
the car. The hour was late, the thing was becoming more and more menacing,
and I was almost paralyzed by this time, paralyzed by fear.
Suddenly a plan of escape, born out of desperation, popped into my mind.
Since the monster seemed to think I couldn't get away, why not, when it
went down the road again, playing cat and mouse, try and get in the car
and smash through the sapling. This I did, and sprang for the door of
the car a dozen feet away. No sooner was I inside when there it was, trying
to claw through the window. I jerked the car into gear, floored the accelerator,
and can vividly remember the wet sapling glistening whitely in the headlights
as the car slashed it aside.
I remember then the scream of rage and frustration it then gave. It was
a curious trumpeting sound like the scream of a stallion and the roar
of a mad grizzly. (I can imitate this scream myself pretty good, as I
often practice it when off alone in the woods.) The car then felt as though
it were being held back by something half riding and attempting to stop
it, but the powerful Mercury proved too much for it, and after a couple
of hundred yards I felt no more resistance.
To top this unbelievable experience off, believe it or not, I promptly
forgot the whole experience. Then and there it went out of mind. Not even
the next day when Lee asked me if I had seen anything unusual on that
road last night did I remember. (He had come later from Happy Camp with
another man he hired to take him to Orleans.)
A few days later an incident happened that should have brought the experience
back but didn't, Lee noticed a big dent in the grill of the car and asked
me how it got there. I told him I didn't know. Incidentally, Lee told
me that something had tried to push them off the road, when they came
through on the detour. He said there's something strange going on around
here and let the matter drop.
Not until I was reading Sanderson's article in 1959 in "True" did I start remembering, oddly enough.
Was this a trick played on me by a man in a monkey suit? I don't think
so. Anyway I went back down there in 1959 looking for it.
Walk that detour alone, at night, equipped with a .44 magnum, a flashlight,
and a camera and you might have an experience. I've been thinking of it.
J. C. Orr
September 1, 1966
I am responding to your advertisement in the current issue of "Popular
Science" and am enclosing a check for two of your books.
My first encounter with physical evidence that aroused my interest in
this matter occurred some ten years ago in the rough and ~-note valley
of the North Fork of the White River above Lake Wenatchee. Found these
huge tracks on a sand bar unlike anything I had ever seen before; about
16 inches long with the second toe imprint longer than that of the first
(or big toe). I started through the library searching for an answer then,
and have continued my research ever since. The best source is without
doubt written by Ivan Sanderson on "Abominable Snowmen" with
which I'm sure you are familiar and may even be the source of information
for your own publication.
However I would like to personally correspond with you regarding any personal
information that you may not have included in your book and as to where
I might find other sources of information that I may not have previously
known about. It is indeed a fascinating subject.
For your further information my uncle (a former timber cruiser) and his
college-aged son just last summer ran across Sasquatch tracks in the Cascades
just north of Stevens Pass that still had water filling them as it crossed
the mud near a creek. (These were about 18 inches in length; he has the
exact measurements at his home in Wenatchee.) It was going the same way
on the trail as they were and he quite frankly admitted that they proceeded
with cautious steps around comers from that point on.
Also heard of a sheep herder on the Olympic Peninsula encountering one
last summer and of course the news services made great sport of that as
is usual. Have no knowledge of the name of the man as I got the story
second- or third-hand.
Am enclosing a news item you may not have seen from the "Spokesman
Review," August 16, 1966, which should be of interest to you.
Zarol R. Johnson
Letters & photo
are copyrighed the late Roger Patterson found folded in one of Krantz's
library books obtained from a bookstore in Port Townsend, Washington shortly
after Grover passed away on 14 February, 2002. ...Bobbie Short
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