A Case of Spontaneous Combustion in Ipswich?

I have a confession to make: summer is not my favorite season. 

I like summer, but not as much as I did when I was a kid. Back then, I spent summer sitting in front of a fan reading the trashy horror paperbacks my aunt gave us. Now, I have to work and be productive, no matter how humid or hot it might be. Sometimes as I trudge to work, depending on the temperature, I feel like I might spontaneously combust. 

Spontaneous human combustion is the belief that people sometimes burst into flames without any external source of ignition. The part about "no external source of ignition" is important. Catching your clothes on fire while using the stove is not spontaneous human combustion. Suddenly and mysteriously burning to death while just reading a horror novel is spontaneous human combustion. 

I first read about spontaneous human combustion when I was a kid, probably in Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious Universe, which my brother owned, but the concept dates back to 1746. That was when the term was first coined by the Italian poet Paolo (Paul) Rolli, a member of the British Royal Society, to explain the mysterious death of Countess Cornelia Zangari Bandi.

On the evening of March 15, 1731, Countess Bandi retired to her bed chamber. After talking and praying with her maid for several hours, she sent the maid away and went to sleep. When the maid returned in the morning, she saw a terrible sight in the middle of the floor: the charred remains of the countess. And there weren't even a lot of remains. According to Rolli, 

Four Feet Distance from the Bed there was a Heap of Ashes, two Legs untouched, from the Foot to the Knee, with their Stockings on; between them was the Lady's head; whose Brains, Half of the Backpart of the Scull, and the whole Chin, were burnt to Ashes; amongst which were found three Fingers blacken'd. All the rest was Ashes, which had this particular Quality, that they left in the Hand, when taken up, a greasy and stinking Moisture (from Wikipedia).

There was a lot of grease and soot in the room, but otherwise not much else was left of poor Countess Bandi, except for her lower legs, part of her skull, and three fingers. It was as if her body had been consumed quickly and suddenly by incredibly high heat. Oddly, the furniture and bed linens had not been damaged by the fire, although they were covered in grease and soot. The fire had cremated Countess Bandi but not touched anything else. 

Because it had only burned the countess, and because its source was never determined, Rolli hypothesized the fire had started inside Countess Bandi. He believed she had been consumed by a fire within her own body, a process he called "spontaneous human combustion." 

Of course, she probably caught fire from either the oil lamp or the candles in the room, but the idea of spontaneous human combustion was more exciting, and the concept quickly spread through the academic world and the general public. As more cases were 'discovered,' certain common traits were seen among the victims. They tended to be female, were often alcoholics, and were also often overweight. It seemed like the alcohol inside of them was spontaneously igniting and then burning the fat inside their bodies like a grisly, greasy, giant candle.

Image from The Irish Sun.

NONE OF THIS IS TRUE. Researchers who've reviewed cases of alleged spontaneous human combustion have always found possible outside sources of ignition, like candles, oil lamps, cigarettes, or space heaters. There is no such thing as spontaneous human combustion. The concept persisted, though, because it's fun (and scary) to think about someone suddenly bursting into flames, and because it also gave people an opportunity to pass moral judgment on their neighbors for being alcoholic and overweight, even after death.  

This blog is about New England folklore, so what does any of this have to with New England? Well, I became intrigued with the idea of spontaneous combustion last year while I was preparing to speak at an event in Ipswich, Massachusetts. Joseph Felt's 1834 book History of Ipswich, Essex, and Hamilton has a chapter titled  "Remarkable Events," which includes a subsection called "Individuals Drowned and Killed." Among those individuals was Betsy Telock, who died at the age of 49 in a mysterious fire:

1814,  Jan.  5th.  Betsey  Telock,  M.  49,  is  burnt  to  death. 

It  has  been  commonly  reported,  that  she  came  to  her  end  by spontaneous  combustion  from  the  inordinate  use  of  ardent spirits.  But  it  is  the  opinion  of  the  gentleman,  who  first  discovered her  body,  soon  after  the  flames  in  her  room  were extinguished,  that  she  caught  her  bed-clothes  on  fire  with  a candle, and  thus  lost  her  life. 

This account, even though brief, encapsulates the entire concept of spontaneous human combustion. Betsey's neighbors seemed to think that she burst into flames because she drank too much ("inordinate use of ardent spirits"), but she probably caught on fire because she got too close to a candle. Even in 1814 people were skeptical about the idea of spontaneous combustion, and kudos to Joseph Felt for being skeptical, too.

I hope you stay cool this summer and get to spend it reading trashy paperbacks in front of a fan. 

He Wanted Dunkins But Saw Bigfoot Instead

People from Massachusetts are usually pretty reserved, but we’re oddly passionate about Dunkin’ Donuts. The company started in Quincy in 1950, and even though it’s now a global behemoth we still think of it as a local chain. It’s hard not to since there are so many stores in the state. There are approximately 1,050 Dunkin’ locations in Massachusetts – that’s roughly one store for every 6,500 residents. 

I don’t know how many Bigfoots live in Massachusetts, so unfortunately I cannot calculate the ratio of Dunkin’ stores to Bigfoots in our state. But because there are so many Dunkins here, I had a hunch at least one Bigfoot encounter would involve a Dunkin’ Donuts. It just seemed inevitable. A quick search of the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization (BFRO) website confirmed that my suspicion was correct – there was a Bigfoot sighting in Massachusetts that involved a Dunkin’. 

I suspect there are more, but here are the details from the BFRO about the one confirmed case. On a hot July day in 1996, a 10-year-old boy in Rowley was feeling bored. As he tried to think of something fun to do, he remembered that a neighbor had recently told him about a path through the woods that led to a nearby Dunkin’ Donuts. He perked up at the thought, and decided to find the path. Was he planning to buy a donut, some munchkins, or a bagel with cream cheese (which had just been added to the menu that year)? Or perhaps he was going to try an “adult beverage” (i.e. an iced coffee)?

Was Bigfoot seen behind this Dunkin' Donuts in Rowley, MA?
Photo by CD Rasmussen, posted on Google

Sadly, the BFRO report doesn’t specify what he wanted to buy, but it does tell us that he convinced a friend to join him on his adventure. The store was less than a mile away so the boy and his friend thought it was going to be an easy trip, but after walking for a while through the woods they got lost. They could have easily turned back, but they did not. Instead, they showed true Massachusetts grit and forged ahead through the undergrowth, determined to reach Dunkin’ Donuts. 

Suddenly, they heard the sound of large animals moving nearby. Turning towards the noise, the boy and his friend were amazed see three humanoid figures running along a nearby hilltop. The creatures were not wearing any clothes and were covered in tan fur. Years later, the boy (now a man) told a BFRO investigator that the figures were around six-feet tall and had rugged but not ‘jacked’ (i.e. overly muscular) builds. He was unable to make out their faces because they were too far away.

Photo by Mike Mozart from Wikipedia. 

The boy and his friend stood paralyzed with fear, but after the creatures vanished among the trees they ran back to the friend’s house and told his mother what they had seen. I assume she was surprised, but she may not have been. The BFRO investigator notes that several other people have also reported seeing Bigfoot in that same area near the Dunkin’ on the Newburyport Turnpike, so maybe she already knew about the creatures in the woods behind her house.  

The report leaves one important question unanswered – where were the three hairy humanoids running to? The boy didn’t say which direction they were headed, but if they were Massachusetts Bigfoot, maybe they were also going to the Dunkin’ Donuts themselves? It’s just a suspicion on my part.

The Devil's Den in Hemlock Gorge

There are lots of places in New England named after the Devil. A few years ago, I published some lists on this blog. I'm not going to repost the full list today, but I have included a list of the Bay State's devilish places at the end of this post. 

I've been to several of these places, like the Devil's Footprint in Ipswich, the Devil's Den in Ashland, and another Devil's Den in Newbury. Amazingly, though, I've never been to the Devil's Den in Hemlock Gorge, which is in Needham right on the Newton border. I've lived in the Greater Boston area for more than 30 years, but somehow never visited the devilish place closest to me.

Last weekend we set out to rectify that. Hemlock Gorge is easily accessible by the MBTA Green Line, so Tony and I filled our water bottles, hopped on the T, and were soon at the Hemlock Gorge Reservation. I have to say that this park is worth visiting even if you aren't interested in vaguely Satanic caves. It's situated right on the Charles River and has some nice walking trails, but it also has the enormous Echo Bridge, which was built in 1877 to contain an aqueduct. The bridge is only open to pedestrians and has amazing views from its top. 

We entered the reservation from the northern side. The first thing we passed was this very dramatic spillway, where water from the Charles River flows under Route 9. I'm glad I'm not a fish or a small duck because I would definitely go over those falls to my doom.

Near the spillway was this old stone barn. Since I'm a horror-nerd, at first it reminded me of the Whateley house in H.P. Lovecraft's "The Dunwich Horror," whose windows and doors have been sealed up to contain an amorphous, ever-growing, ravenous monstrosity. A closer look revealed there was indeed an unsealed door and also some open windows, and a sign indicated that the building is used for some type of scientific purpose. 

Sadly, this probably means there isn't a monster inside. I guess that's good news for the neighbors, but the barn has always been a source speculation. For example, when the barn was built in 1839 some locals thought it was going to be used to raise silkworms. That never worked out, even though silkworms are preferable to monsters.

The Devil's Den was just a short walk from the barn. I knew it was a cave of some kind, but I had modest expectations because most caves in Massachusetts are pretty small. That was not the case! It's actually large enough to stand up in, and is located on a steep embankment overlooking a pond. There's also a small, little cave right next to it which is too small to hold a human.

A lot of Massachusetts caves are formed by boulders that were piled on top of each other by the glaciers. That type of cave is called a tallus cave, but the Devil's Den is quite different. It's carved out of solid puddingstone, not formed by assorted boulders. I don't know what geological forces did this, and I'm assuming it was a combination of water and wind. 

Like a lot of weird places we've visited, there was some graffiti in the Devil's Den. Although I'm not a fan of graffiti, I can understand why teenagers would want to leave their mark in someplace named after the Devil. Many of the places we visit are just slightly off the beaten path and are good locations for teens who want to hide their illicit behavior from their parents. At least there wasn't a lot of trash or broken glass in the cave, which was nice. 

This excellent page about Hemlock Gorge says that that local Native Americans may have used the cave to dry fish, but I couldn't find any information about why it's called the Devil's Den. King's Handbook of Newton (1879) only says the following: 

Just across, on the Needham Shore, is the old rocky grotto known as the Devil's Den. This is, of course, to be expected; for poor must be the New-England town that has not its bit of a cavern, consecrated to his Plutonian Majesty. 

As that quote sarcastically notes, you really can find caves or rock formations named after the Devil in many places. But why? I've seen a few theories trying to explain this. One claims that many of these places were associated with Native Americans, and that racist settlers gave them them devilish names because they thought the Native Americans were evil. That could explain the Devil's Den in Hemlock Gorge.

Sometimes there are also legends about particular devilish places that explain how they got their name. The legends might claim a particular cave earned its sinister name because it was used by smugglers or bandits, or that a particular rock formation was literally formed by the action of the Devil (like the Devil's footprints in Ipswich and Norton). Underlying all these legends and place names are old Puritan ideas about good and evil, where things outside the norm (like strange rock formations) were considered suspicious and assigned to the Devil. 

Interestingly, Needham has two Devil's Dens - the one we visited in Hemlock Gorge, and another one in the Town Forest. I think the one in Hemlock Gorge is larger and easier to access, but I'm jealous that Needham has two Devil's Dens. I can imagine it might cause confusion, though, if you're invited to the Devil's Den for nefarious deeds (or just a hike) but the location is not specified. 

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Places in Massachusetts named after the Devil

Devil's Back, Hull 

Devil's Basin, Newbury

Devil's Bridge, Gay Head 

Devil's Brook, Sharon

Devil's Brook, Stoughton 

Devils Cavern, Amherst (see also Devil's Garden)

Devil's Coffin, Sutton 

Devil's Corncrib, Sutton 

Devil's Den, Andover (now often called Den Rock)

Devil's Den, Aquinnah 

Devil's Den, Arlington (now Menotomy Rocks Park)

Devil's Den, Ashland

Devil's Den, Goshen 

Devil's Den, Hemlock Gorge, Needham and Newton

Devil's Den, Needham

Devil's Den, Newbury

Devil's Den, Oxford 

Devil's Den, Rockport

Devil's Den, Weston

Devil's Dishfull Pond, Peabody 

Devil's Foot Island, Woods Hole

Devil's Football, Hadley  

Devil's Footprint, Ipswich 

Devil's Footprint, Norton

Devil's Garden, Amherst (see also Devil's Cavern)

Devil's Garden, Lynnfield 

Devil's Hollow, Marshfield 

Devil's Hopyard, Shelburne Falls 

Devil's Kitchen, Lynnfield

Devil's Landslide, Wellesley

Devil's Lane, Warren 

Devil's Oven, Sherborn 

Devil's Oven, Westwood

Devil's Peak, Warren

Devil Pond, Westport (now called Devol Pond because it is more family friendly)

Devil's Pond, Rehoboth (sometimes called Sabin Pond)

Devil's Pool, Pelham 

Devil's Pulpit, Great Barrington

Devil's Pulpit, Housatonic 

Devil's Pulpit, Leominster 

Devil's Pulpit, Nahant

Devil's Pulpit, Newbury (historic, may no longer exist)

Devil's Rock, Rochester

Devil's Rock, Sharon

Devil's Rock, Swansea

The Beast of Barrington: the Bay State's First Bigfoot?

Recently, I've seen a few posts claiming that something called the "Beast of Barrington" was the first Bigfoot ever seen in Massachusetts. This idea has even started to find its way into a few books, like John O'Connor's The Secret History of Bigfoot: Field Notes on a North American Monster (2024). 

According to some online sources, the Beast was captured in the western Massachusetts town of Great Barrington in 1765, placed into a cage, and shown to an audience in Cambridge. Maybe the people who captured the creature wanted the professors at Harvard to see it? It's not clear.

What did the Beast look like? Well, according (again) to online sources, it was a bearlike humanoid with a head like a gorilla. That sounds pretty scary to me, and very memorable. You'd think a creature that like would be much better known! The description is also a little strange, because Europeans and Americans didn't really use the word gorilla until the 1840s... 

A 15th century engraving by Martin Shongauer

You can see why I found the story interesting, and also why I wanted to find the original source. My friend David Goudsward helped me find it: the July 4, 1765 edition of The Massachusetts Gazette and Boston News-Letter. 

The Beast in described in an article titled “A Description of an Uncommon Animal Found at or near Great-Barrington.” The author writes that the Beast was being displayed in a cage in Cambridge, where “all whose curiosity lead them, may have a sight of this uncommon creature.” It was supposedly captured by armed men in Great Barrington, where it had allegedly broken into houses in search of food. Strangely for an animal, the creature also had stolen silver, linens, and other “white or glittering” objects, which it seized with its “obscene paws.” I like the phrase "obscene paws." It's very creepy!

Stealing silverware and linens sounds like something a person would do, not an animal, and the article goes on to describe what sounds like a person wearing a costume. “This animal has a power of metamorphosing itself into various forms, such as blackness of face, much resembling that of an artificial mask, also upon a near view, it has been observed to be vested with a kind of robe, having the appearance of the hide of some huge bear. This vestment seemed to be the production of art, rather than nature.” 

I'm going to pull out some key words: "artificial mask," "robe," and "production of art, rather than nature." The article's author is using sarcasm and humor, but he's clearly describing someone wearing a costume. The Beast of Barrington wasn't a Bigfoot or a mysterious animal, it was just someone dressed as a monster or wild man, and exhibited to make money from spectators. 

 Painting of a wild man by Albrecht Durer

To make the point even clearer, the same article in The Massachusetts Gazette describes another fake wild man who appeared in Boston around the same time. This one came from Georgia and seemed to have had a criminal record, because after only “two public exhibitions, he was discovered by several that had seen the effects of his voracious appetite in other parts… Whereupon yesterday morning early he thought proper to remove to some place where he was less known, and set out for Providence, with his companion, a Black lady, who attended him from Georgia.” 

Again, although the author is being sarcastic, he's clearly writing about a human who's pretending to be a monster. It's someone performing for an audience - preferably an unwitting one. 

Although The Beast of Barrington isn't the Bay State's first Bigfoot sighting, it is an early account of a fake wild man, which is just as interesting, because there's a long history of fake wild men in Massachusetts. For example, on April 1, 1839, The Boston Times published an article claiming that a wild man captured in Mississippi was going to be exhibited in Boston. The hairy wild man supposedly was over eight-feet-tall with a powerfully-built frame, clawed doglike legs, and hair like a horse's mane.  

Thousands of people waited in line on April 1 to see this terrifying creature, but when they entered the room where he was held they saw only a mannequin with a sign reading "April Fool." Most audience members took the hoax in stride, but a small group of angry young men stormed the newspaper's offices and yelled at the editor. 

In the summer of 1861, concerned citizens reported a wild man roaming through the woods between North Adams, Massachusetts and Stamford, Vermont. He was heard shrieking at night, and people who saw him said he was terrifingly ugly. In fact, an armed posse of Vermont men tried to capture him, but the wild man “so frightened his pursuers by his hideous appearance that they could not shoot straight and he escaped harm” (Bangor, Maine, Daily Whig and Courier, August 19, 1861, quoted in Arment, The Historical Bigfoot). 

When the creature was finally captured, hundreds of curious people lined up to see the monster that had filled them with terror. They saw a strange, almost ape-like being with vacant, glassy eyes and an extremely long beard. Was it a man, or an animal?

In reality, it was just a Williams College student “who assumed the gorilla guise in a frolic which might have cost him his life” at the end of a hunting rifle. The whole thing had been a prank.

The Wild Men of Borneo (Syracuse University Library)

Wild men were also big attractions in sideshows and circuses. The famous showman P.T. Barnum showcased a variety of fake wild men in his circuses and museums, including the What-is-it (played by a series of performers wearing furry costumes) and the Wild Men of Borneo, who were two very short but very strong brothers from the Midwest. The Wild Men of Borneo lived in Somerville, Massachusetts for a while, and spent the final years of their lives in Waltham, with one passing away in 1905 and the other in 1912. 

Fake wild men continued to appear in Massachusetts during the 20th and 21st centuries, although now they're more likely to be called fake Bigfoots. For example, in 1976, an Agawam teenager created a sensation when he put on giant plywood feet and created mysterious tracks in the snow. And during the Snowmageddon winter of 2015, a Somerville man donned a Yeti costume and gained fame as the Boston Yeti. The Boston Yeti returned to the spotlight again this year in January, lured by the heavy snow. 

Hoaxes aren't as exciting as a real wild man or Bigfoot, but they're still interesting. They illustrate what people think - or hope - is lurking out there in the dark woods. Clearly, people think a large, hairy humanoid might be hiding somewhere in Massachusetts. The Beast of Barrington wasn't real, and neither was the Boston Yeti, but maybe someday a real Bigfoot will be captured and fulfill our wild-man dreams.  

The Spirit of Paw Wah Pond

Paw Wah Pond is an eight-acre saltwater pond located in Orleans on Cape Cod. It’s not an ordinary pond – a local legend says it is watched over by a spirit that lives in its depths. 

Even the town historical society used to acknowledge this legend. Near the pond once stood a historical marker upon which was written: “Pau Wah Pond, named for Pau Wah, Chief of the Potonamequoits who drowned herein after Chief Quanset refused marriage to his daughter Wild Dove. Fable says - Cast a pinch of tobacco in the pond and Pau Wah gives you good fishing.” Unfortunately, the marker was destroyed in a storm and was never replaced. 

Photo by Richard Burlton, courtesy of Unsplash.

The name "Paw Wah" can be spelled several different ways, and there are a couple variations of the legend as well. The writer Elizabeth Reynard included one in her book The Narrow Land: Folk Chronicles of Old Cape Cod (1934). According to Reynard, many centuries ago a local Indian chieftain named Pau Wah fell in love with Wild Dove, the daughter of Quansett, who was chief of another local tribe. One cold winter day Pau Wah went to Quansett with offerings of furs, wampum shells, and other valuables and asked to marry Wild Dove. 

Quansett looked at the offerings. He looked at Pau Wah. Then he refused the offer, saying his daughter was worth more than anything Pau Wah could ever give him. Pau Wah stormed off, angry and humiliated. 

Days later he returned to Quansett’s village, this time with a band of warriors, intent on stealing Wild Dove by force. Pau Wah and his warriors fought fiercely, but they were defeated by Quansett and the men in his tribe. 

Pau Wah fled alone into the snowy woods, accompanied only by his faithful dog. He had been humiliated in battle and knew that he was now a pariah. No one would come to help him. He ran for hours, until he came at last to an isolated frozen pond. Here, he thought, he would be safe from his enemies.

Pau Wah built a wigwam on the frozen pond, and then cut a hole in the ice to fish. Unfortunately, in his duress he forgot one crucial thing. He neglected to give an offering to Niba-nahbeezik, the spirit who controls lakes, rivers, and ponds, as one should always do. Niba-nahbeezik was offended by Pau Wah’s oversight, and vengefully made the ice under his wigwam collapse. Pau Wah, his wigwam, and his dog all sank instantly to the bottom of the cold, icy pond. 

Pau Wah sank too quickly to realize what happened – and apparently too quickly to die. He and his dog are supposedly still alive, and they live in their wigwam at the bottom of the pond. Pau Wah spends his days controlling the pond’s fish, and wishing he had some tobacco to smoke. Therefore, if anyone goes fishing at Paw Wah pond, they should throw some tobacco into it as a gift and say “Pau Wah, Pau Wah, Pau Wah, give me fish and I give you tobacco.”

The name Pau Wah (or Paw Wah) is probably a variant of the Algonquian word powwow, which means shaman or sorcerer. (Powwow is also used these days to refer to a Native American gathering with ceremonial dances.) If Pau Wah was actually a powwow, his magical prowess might explain why he is still alive under the pond. It might also explain why Niba-nahbeezik was so offended. As a shaman, Pau Wah should have known not to forget an offering. It might have seemed like a deliberate snub to the spirit. 

A local historian named W. Sears Nickerson offered up a slightly different version of the legend. According to Nickerson, Pau Wah was actually a powwow named Pompmo, who was the son of Pekswat, a well-known chieftain. Pompmo never tried to abduct Wild Dove and did not flee into the woods. Instead, he successfully wooed and married an unnamed woman, had children, and lived to an old age. 

Pompmo met his death the same way, though. He and wife lived on the shores of a saltwater pond. One cold winter, Pompmo and his wife moved their wigwam onto its frozen surface so they could fish through the ice. According to Nickerson: 

“…Cape Cod salt water ice has a reputation for being treacherous, and one stormy night with a sweeping, high tide accompanied by a warm rain, a regular January thaw set in and caught him napping. When morning broke, every vestige of ice was gone from the pond, and old Pompmo, his wigwam, and his wife were nevermore to be seen in this life” (Delores Bird Carpenter, Early Encounters: Native Americans and Europeans in New England. From the Papers of W. Sears Nickerson, 1994).

Pompmo’s spirit became restless and bored in the afterlife, so he came back to the pond where he lived so much of his life. If you want to catch any fish in his pond, you should toss some tobacco into the water and say, “Paw Waw, Paw Waw, I give you tobacco. You give me some fish?”

Are either of these stories true? Is it even an authentic Native American legend, or was it made up by white folks? There are a lot of fake Native American legends out there, unfortunately, and this could be one of them. Still, I do like the story, particularly as we've had a lot of cold weather recently. 

I’m not sure if the legend is true, but if you go fishing at Paw Wah pond you may want to bring some tobacco, just in case. Don’t throw in a cigarette or cigar, which might kill the fish. Just a tiny pinch of plain, organic, untreated tobacco will do. Maybe Pau Wah, or Pompmo, or even Niba-nahbeezik himself will accept your offering and send you some fish.

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A special thank-you for my friend David Goudsward for sharing the Nickerson information with me!