Dear Diary

A journal or a diary can be our best friend, as long as it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. That is. During the nineteen fifties, enormous husband had encouraged her to keep a diary of her own. She was a bit of a social butterfly, often attend lavish parties and meeting fun and interesting people. He thought it would be good to save those stories for posterity, so Norma

started writing down her encounters. Except unlike most people who kept their private thoughts hidden from the rest of the world, Norma had no qualms about sharing hers with almost everyone she met. A close friend of hers named Robert claimed to have seen the diary for himself. He wrote about his time with Norma and the thing she'd allegedly written about. Unfortunately, days after he'd caught a glimpse of it, she died. Ever since then, the circumstances surrounding her death had been

discussed and debated. Was it an accident or was it foul play? Robert wanted to learn more, and he thought the diary would have been a great place to start, But it was gone. It had been full of anecdotes about the people in her inner circle. Politicians, athletes, and celebrities of the time had all graced its pages, some more than once. In fact, rumor had it that her dealings with a pair of brothers were what did her in, and the diary the CIA made sure no one ever

saw it again. The Norma I'm referring to is none other than Norma Jean Mortenson a k a. Marilyn Monroe. Maryland's book of Secrets was known as her Red Diary, and between its covers was a lifetime's worth of trouble for both its author and the men in her life. Her husband, the legendary baseball player Joe DiMaggio, had suggested she start the diary as a way to remember all the amazing actors she worked with in Hollywood. He never

expected her to record state secrets in it. Though Monroe had been involved with President John F. Kennedy, but rumors started to circulate that his brother Robert was also tied to the star. According to certain reports, both men had decided to cut ties with her, and she threatened to go public with their affairs. Of course, they couldn't let

that happen. On top of that, Monroe had recorded details about a White House plot to assassinate Cuban dictator Fidel Castro, which she had learned about from JFK himself, Kennedy's though We're only the tip of the iceberg. In the days and weeks leading up to her deaf Monroe was being monitored by the CIA, the FBI, and even the mob. They had all tapped her phone lines and bugged her

house in an effort to learn what she knew. But the key details were in her diary, including state secrets, pillow talk, and a lot of information that could have put the country in jeopardy had it ever gotten out. Mobster Sam Giancara saw the diary as a way to blackmail JFK and his brother Robert. Some people thought he had killed Marilyn Monroe just to get it. Others still held to the idea that it had been Robert Kennedy who gave her the drugs that inevitably took her life.

You see, Peter Lawford of rat Pack fame had planned on visiting Monroe along with Kennedy the day she died. They were going to have her fake a suicide to get back in the news, which would have enticed twentieth century Fox to rehire her. Except something went wrong. The FBI knew about it. They've been listening the whole time. By the time the authority showed up to estigate her death, the diary was gone. So the natural question is who took it? Did Robert Kennedy take the diary? It's possible.

It's also possible that the CIA finally got ahold of it and burned it to erase any potential threats to national security. Much like the story surrounding Monroe's death, we may never know the truth about the Red Diary. Any proof went up in smoke a long time ago. Mascots aren't just limited to high schools and colleges, towns and cities all over the world have claimed fun and fascinating

creatures as their animal representatives. In a town in New Zealand, for example, a sheep that had disappeared for six years was found hiding in a cave. Its wool had grown so thick and mangy the wily animal had picked up the nickname Shrek. Shrek was eventually caught and sheared on live television. Sixty pounds of wool were auctioned off to raise money for local charities, and Shrek became the town's on official mascots. But not all animals get such a warm,

exciting welcome, though. In one town in Wisconsin, a certain beast has been both honored and feared for over one twenty five years. The town of Rhinelander, Wisconsin, had grown since a new railroad had turned it into a bustling hub of industry in two Ten years later, lumberjacks in the area started telling stories about a strange creature prowling the north Woods. They had the head of a frog

with horns coming out the side. It also bore the face of an elephant, short stubby legs with enormous claws, the back of a dinosaur and a long, spear like tail. They called it the ho Dag. Its diet was made up of snakes, turtles, fish, and the occasional white bulldog. Though few had spotted it up till then, it was Eugene Shepherd who was credited with its discovery. Shepherd and a posse of local hunters banded together and headed into

the woods. Armed with poisoned water, they tried unsuccessfully to take down the creature. Whatever poison they'd mixed together hadn't worked, it seems, so they turned to the next best thing, dynamite. As you'd imagine, that did the trick. The hodag was destroyed. The Wisconsin woods were quiet for the next few years until Shepherd showed up again, this time claiming to have captured a live hodag. He hadn't done it alone, though. Instead of hunters, Shepherd took a few bear wrestlers with

him for assistance. They poured chloroform over the end of a long pole and stuck it inside the opening of a cave where the hodag was believed to be hiding. The fumes filled the cave, overpowering the hoodag until it collapsed. Shepherd and the wrestlers dragged it out and put it in a cage to be toured throughout the state. And the Hoodag was a gruesome looking creature, and it knew it too. It often cried about terrible appearance and it's rotten smell, which had been described as that of dead

buzzards and skunks. Shepherd visited county fairs where he invited spectators into his tent to see it for themselves. Nevertheless, they'd approached the cage and the Hodag would growl or lunge at them, sending them screaming back into the crowd. When he wasn't on tour, he allowed people to see the Hodag at his home, where it would inevitably elicit the same result. News of the creatures spread to the local newspapers before winding around Wisconsin and eventually the rest

of the country. When representatives from the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, d c. Paid Shepherd a visit, the Rhinelander native knew the jig was up. It was time to tell the truth. The Hodag he'd taken to county fairs and displayed in his house hadn't been caught in the woods. It had been made fabricated out of wood and leather. He hooked it up to wires, which he would pull to make the creature move. However, just because one Hodag was fake didn't mean that it had an existed at all, at

least not to Shepherd's fellow rhine Landers. Years later, the town adopted the Hodag as its official mascot, and so did the local high school. The story is about the mythical beast still circulate today. Anytime a fish is stolen off the end of someone's line, or a golf ball goes missing, rhine Landers claim it was the work of the Hodag, a creature whose legend has taken on a life of its own. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided

tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Manky in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.