July 23, 2014 at 2:10 p.m.
A look at local legends (9/24/03)
Dear Reader
Did anyone ever really believe in the Hollow Block monster?
Okay, maybe a few of us wished it were true. But in our heart of hearts, we figured it wasn't.
It's September in Indiana, which means Halloween and Hoosier legends of ghosts and goblins can't be far behind.
Locally, the Hollow Block monster probably ranks at the top of the list.
In case you're below middle age or new to the community, let me fill you in.
The Hollow Block was a flooded pit not far from where the dog food plant is now located on the north side of Portland. An old tile factory — Hollow Block Tiles — had used clay from the pit before going out of business. By the late 1950s, it was under water; by the 1960s, it was a popular place to go ice-skating.
In the summer of 1960, right at the height of popularity for monster movies being cranked out by Hollywood, some local kids thought they saw something rising out of the muddy Hollow Block pond water. They reported it. And grown-ups alternately scoffed and went a little bit nuts. There was media attention and a flurry of speculation.
In the end, the pond was drained and the rotting body of a calf was found. The best guess was that it had become bloated and distended and floated to the surface, spooking those involved.
That would be the end of the story. Except that this is September and Halloween seems just around the corner.
While the Hollow Block faded into obscurity and Hollywood fads moved from monsters to beach parties, other local legends began to pop up.
If you're the right age, you've heard of "the green eyes." They could be found at a particular point east of Portland in the direction of Fort Recovery.
In fact, they could be found at a spot that was convenient for young lovers to pull over and park on their way home after a pitcher of 3.2 beer at the Fort.
If they could be found at all. Most searches for the green eyes were the equivalent of a snipe hunt, with nothing to be found and lots of folderol in the looking.
And even if you never went looking for the green eyes, you may have heard the ghost scream.
It was to be heard routinely on the U.S. 27 bypass around Winchester.
Roll down your windows on a warm night, listen carefully, and you'd hear the whine of what was purported to be a woman who didn't want to sell her land to allow the bypass to be built.
The fact that it was just the sound of concrete pavement when we were used to asphalt never discouraged anyone from passing the legend along.
The good news is, as we move into the 21st century, our penchant for making up stories of the supernatural, local legends, hasn't faded a bit.
Ask any teen-ager today about "blood road" and you'll learn about a section of Jay County pavement that looks red in your headlights when you're driving on the right sort of night with the right sort of friends.
There may be a dozen different practical explanations for the phenomenon.
But who cares?
After all, it's fall in Indiana. Halloween can't be too far away. Why spoil the fun?
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Okay, maybe a few of us wished it were true. But in our heart of hearts, we figured it wasn't.
It's September in Indiana, which means Halloween and Hoosier legends of ghosts and goblins can't be far behind.
Locally, the Hollow Block monster probably ranks at the top of the list.
In case you're below middle age or new to the community, let me fill you in.
The Hollow Block was a flooded pit not far from where the dog food plant is now located on the north side of Portland. An old tile factory — Hollow Block Tiles — had used clay from the pit before going out of business. By the late 1950s, it was under water; by the 1960s, it was a popular place to go ice-skating.
In the summer of 1960, right at the height of popularity for monster movies being cranked out by Hollywood, some local kids thought they saw something rising out of the muddy Hollow Block pond water. They reported it. And grown-ups alternately scoffed and went a little bit nuts. There was media attention and a flurry of speculation.
In the end, the pond was drained and the rotting body of a calf was found. The best guess was that it had become bloated and distended and floated to the surface, spooking those involved.
That would be the end of the story. Except that this is September and Halloween seems just around the corner.
While the Hollow Block faded into obscurity and Hollywood fads moved from monsters to beach parties, other local legends began to pop up.
If you're the right age, you've heard of "the green eyes." They could be found at a particular point east of Portland in the direction of Fort Recovery.
In fact, they could be found at a spot that was convenient for young lovers to pull over and park on their way home after a pitcher of 3.2 beer at the Fort.
If they could be found at all. Most searches for the green eyes were the equivalent of a snipe hunt, with nothing to be found and lots of folderol in the looking.
And even if you never went looking for the green eyes, you may have heard the ghost scream.
It was to be heard routinely on the U.S. 27 bypass around Winchester.
Roll down your windows on a warm night, listen carefully, and you'd hear the whine of what was purported to be a woman who didn't want to sell her land to allow the bypass to be built.
The fact that it was just the sound of concrete pavement when we were used to asphalt never discouraged anyone from passing the legend along.
The good news is, as we move into the 21st century, our penchant for making up stories of the supernatural, local legends, hasn't faded a bit.
Ask any teen-ager today about "blood road" and you'll learn about a section of Jay County pavement that looks red in your headlights when you're driving on the right sort of night with the right sort of friends.
There may be a dozen different practical explanations for the phenomenon.
But who cares?
After all, it's fall in Indiana. Halloween can't be too far away. Why spoil the fun?
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