Episode #8: The Legend of the 1893 Bridge

We moved to this area in the summer of 1969, when I was going into Jr High school but I did not know of the legend until a year or two later. We lived about 5 miles south of where this bridge was located and it spanned a very large mostly dry run-off creek. The bridge was on a county road that was not paved, rather an old dusty gravel road, which like most roads in the area in those days. When it was still or very little breeze, the dust would hang in the air like a fog after a car and especially after a truck traveled down the road. 

The first year or so that we lived here I would ride the school bus to and from school as we lived about 3 miles from it. The route I was on took over an hour to complete and most of the trip was up and down these rough and ragged old county gravel roads and by the time we got to school it would be packed full with a load of loud kids. At the end of the ride I would have to change busses to get on another one that would transport us from the high school campus to the Jr High campus which was another 7 miles away. At least this trip was on a smooth paved Farm to Market road.

The buss would traverse this rusty old iron truss bridge every day, so I knew of this bridge, I just did not know the story about this bridge. That old rattle trap of a school bus had no air conditioning and was hot as an oven in the late summer and early fall so we always had the windows down so it really rattled as we traveled up and down those rough old roads. I was freaking scared to death to cross this bridge as the bus looked too wide to make it across the bridge and old Leonard (the bus driver that always wore a goofy kind of mashed down cowboy hat) would drive across like it was 4 lanes wide and trying win a NASCAR race, never slowing down. There was a bump when we entered and exited the bridge. The creek it crossed was dense with trees on both sides and the bridge was hard to see as they were tall and full of bushy limbs and leaves that would cover it. The creek it crossed was deeper  than it was wide with a lot of exposed tree roots and big red rocks along the edges and if (in my mind) we somehow went off I knew we would be in for big trouble. 

The original story I heard about this was that there was an ogre that lived under that bridge. It was way out in the country without many folks around with lots of trees, birds, small rodents, and small pockets of water that held runoff rain water. Everything an ogre would need. But honestly, how juvenile is the idea of an ogre? 

So then the story changed to something a little more believable, that of a creature that was half man and half goat. That's right it was now a Goat Man! Now I had it on good authority from a few friends of mine that we will call maybe... Steve, Virgil and Craig (not their real names 🙄 of course) saying they went to the bridge late one Saturday night to check the story out. They got out of the pickup and walked down the embankment to access the bottom side of the bridge. As they walked around the creek bottom which was mainly dry, they heard a noise and turned turned around quickly and saw a pair of blue-white glowing eyes staring back at them. Instead of investigating this discovery they decided now was the time to run. As they ran they could hear growling noises behind them, they looked around and the eyes were bigger and higher off the ground and getting closer. Once they get to the embankment near the bridge they scrambled up and jumped in the truck and quickly drove away. 

As they were speeding down the dusty gravel road they looked back and saw the glowing eyes through  dust trail they were leaving. They were getting bigger, brighter and closer than ever, almost catching up to them. As the story goes, they slow down to take a sharp corner and then hammer on it to get away. A few minutes later they look back and there was no sign of the Goat Man. They had successfully escaped!

I also heard that one or more of them, may or may not, had access to some Coors or Schlitz which probably has no bearing on this alleged siting or the subsequent get away. The Goat Man legend lived on for a few more years in the area after this reported event, but like most rural folklore goes, it just simply faded away except the from memory of those of us that lived in the area at that time. 

Anybody that was new to the area, the trip to the 1893 bridge was a must see. When I was still in high school and started dating Carol Ann, you can bet we made a couple of trips to not only see the bridge but to look for evidence of the famed Goat Man, but no luck. And of course the first time I would  take anyone out to the bridge, it had to be dark and I had to drive very slowly across the bridge. I then would feign car trouble about halfway over the creek. Trust me, it was big fun!

Decades later the county made improvements to the road and as a result removed the bridge and replaced it with a boring run of the mill concrete paved bridge over the creek. The 1893 iron truss bridge was moved to the Callisburg park where is was re-floored with new wood and painted and now serves as a foot bridge only for pedestrian purposes which is less than a mile from my house.

As footnote to the story, I have walked that bridge many, many times since they installed it at the park and you can rest well at night knowing I have seen no evidence that the Goat Man made the move from that county road to Parkhill Park.

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