Season 08 Episode 41: The Visitor

but don't wait. Rooms are nearly sold out. Head to Crimewave Atsea dot com forward slash Unexplained to grab your fan coat and lock in your cabin. We'd love to see you on board. The town of Van Meter sits in Dallas County, Iowa, one of many small, once hopeful community out in the wide flat middle of America. Today it is easily missed by those barreling east or west on the I eighty, though, were anyone to pull off the interstate, they may find a history far deeper and

more interesting than they might expect. Indigenous Americans had long made the area their home. Members of the Sac and Fox Nation hunted, fished, and settled along the banks of the Raccoon River for centuries until an eighteen forty treaty come land grab with the U. S Government forced their relocation. Van Meter's first colonial settlement began in eighteen forty seven when brothers Lewis and Daniel Stump built a cabin there,

attracted by the area's natural and geological rewards. Soon another pair of brothers, Levi and James Wright, would become their neighbours, constructing their own cabin on the banks of the Raccoon. Before long, other adventurous pioneers joined them. Isolated cabins clustered into accidental neighbourhoods. A church was built, and in eighteen sixty eight, the newly extended railroad brought the first train

to what was then named Tracy, Iowa. The following year, the budding town of four hundred and fifty people was renamed van Meter, commemorating the early Dutch pioneer Jacob Rhodes van Meter, whose family had been instrumental in the early days of the community. Like many such towns in the middle of the country, van Meter was born from localized industry. First, it was mining. The van Meter shaft was sunk in

eighteen seventy eight. Nearly three hundred feet deep, it tapped a huge seam of coal and was regarded as a model for successful mining nationwide. The traveling out of town were loaded heavily with anthrokite, and in return came prosperity and growth. Van Meter was suddenly on the map. In eighteen ninety three, the mine owners sought to further capitalize on their success, establishing the Plat Pressed Fire and Brick Company.

A factory located near to the mine transmuted the red clay from a mining byproduct to the raw material for quality bricks and tiles. Even when the mine was closed in nineteen o two due to labour shortages and repeated strikes, the factory continued to pump money into the town for decades. Nonetheless, Van Meter never really grew For much of the twentieth century, its population numbered less than one thousand, and the twenty twenty census recorded only five hundred and thirteen households and

four hundred families. It's a limited but relatively dense population for a town covered only one point three square miles. It's a small, quiet place, the kind of town that some might derisively describe as one that epitomizes the flyover States, a place of little importance or standing. They imagine nothing of interest ever happens. But not only would that do an immense disservice to its people, they would be wrong. In nineteen oh three, something paid a visit to Van Meter,

and its brief presence would mark the town forever. You're listening to Unexplained and I'm Richard McLean Smith. Ulysses Griffith was the first person to see the visitor. A local farm equipment trader, the thirty five year old Griffith served on the Van Meter Council and was a member of both the Masonic Lodge and the Modern Woodman Society. He was a highly respected member of the tiny community, considered

trustworthy and solid. In the early morning of Tuesday, September twenty ninth, nineteen o three, Griffith was returning from a long circuit of salesmanship around Dallas County. It had just gone one a m. When he drove his new Model a Ford down Main Street and drew to a brief stop in the town center. Something had drawn his attention

to the roofline three stories up. An unexpected light beaming out from the top of a local business named Matha and Greg, bright enough to cast shadows across the silent nighttime street. Concerned that he was witnessing a burglary in action, Griffith eased the car forward to get a better look. When the unexplained illumination appeared, leaped suddenly from the roof, clearing the entire street before landing on top of the

building opposite. What the hell, he said to himself as he tried to focus in on what on earth he was looking at. The only thing Griffith knew was that whatever he was seeing, it wasn't burglar's because it couldn't possibly have even been human. He tried again to inch closer to the source of the light, but almost as quickly as the brightness had appeared, it was gone. With nothing else to be done, Griffith retired to bed, no doubt, exhausted from the day, but left restless in his curiosity

about its closing moments. The following day, he told several people about his strange sighting. Griffith was well regarded enough not to be dismissed, but in the bright morning sunshine, his uncanny tail generated far more of amusement than anything resembles fear. The following night, in a small bedroom behind his office, Doctor Fred Orcot slept as storm winds buffeted the town and rain spattered against the pine walls outside.

Neither woke him, Yet, just after one a m. He was wrenched from sleep by a beam of intense light shining through his window. Immediately alert, all Cock leapt from his bed and reached for his gun. The light was brighter than any torch he'd ever seen, and the doctor had been awoken by enough nighttime emergencies to know that this was no fellow citizen seeking his help. All Cock rushed outside in his NightWare to confront whatever was making such a blaze, and came face to face with a

sight that stopped him dead in his muddy tracks. Outside, doctor Orcott squinted into the light beyond which he saw, to his horror, a bizarre creature that he later described as being half human and half animal. According to Allcot, it stood eight or nine feet tall, with a huge pair of bat like wings and a sharply protruding face, almost like a beak, and from the center of the creature's forehead jutted a single thick horn. It was this appendage that seemed to be the source of the light.

The man and whatever this other thing was stood only a few yards apart as the rain continued to lash down. Scared for his life, Allcot raised his pistol and fired five times at close range, but the winged creature showed no sign of impact or injury. It merely stirred in passively watching, still emanating its strange light. Doctor Orcott beat a fast retreat, diving back into the relative safety of

his office. Understandably terrified, Alcott hurriedly barred the door, then rushed around, securely locking every window of his office and home. By the time he returned to the one facing the street, there was no sign of the strange entity. Alcott shivered in his damp night clothes as he secured the last of the windows. He spent the rest of the night

trembling in bed, his pistol right beside him. The next day, doctor Orcott told several people about his nighttime encounter, and, in the way of all small intimate communities, word quickly spread. Some people scoffed, worried what it meant for the health of the town that the local doctor seemed to have gone crazy. However, had caught wind of Ulysses Griffith's sighting just twenty four hours earlier, and they began to wander two pillars of the community, each with an outlandish story

what on earth was happening in Van Meter. One person who treated the doctor's tale with special incredulity was twenty six year old Clarence Done, known as Peter to his friends. Done was a man on an upward trajectory in van Meter. Later in life, he would go on to manage the town's bank before becoming town treasurer, mayor and head of

the school district. On the evening of Thursday, October one, nineteen o three, however, Done was still a cashier in the bank he would one day run, but as a committed member of the community and a loyal employee, he felt a responsibility to protect both his town and place of employment. Was convinced that Griffith and Orcott had misconstrued criminal activity in van Meter. Because the strange sightings had

been made around the same time each night downtown. It made sense to Done that they were simply part of an orchestrated plot by thieves to rob local businesses, and so one night, instead of clocking off for work, Done armed himself with a shotgun full of buckshot and settled down in the middle of the bank's small foyer and waited for the robbers to appear outside the bank. It was an overcast night, and the shadows were in constant flux as the clouds shifted across a bright half moon.

Clarence Done was on edge. After all, it's no small feat preparing to face thieves in the night with no knock of just how dangerous they might be. For the first few hours, at least, he took solace in the presence of all the townsfolk, still going about their day in the street outside, heading home from work or evening drinks. But as midnight ticked past, both the dark and the silence of the night settled deeper. Done gripped the gun

tighter in his hands. It had just gone one when Done was suddenly distracted by a strange rustling at the front window. He raised his gun, only for the noise to then change to something far more disturbing. He later described it as a gurgling, choking sound, as if some person or other animal was gasping for air. Just then, from only meters away, a bright light struck through the window. It landed first on Done, dazzling him for a moment before swinging left and right like a spotlight from a

watch tower. As his eyes readjusted, Done saw, to his immense alarm the shadowy bulk of an inexplicable creature beyond the glass. Then the light swung back round and fixed once more Undone. In a panic, he raised the shotgun

to his shoulder and fired. Though they were separated by the window pane, the shot was practically point blank, with a deafening blast, The shot shattered the glass and ripped the wooden sash free, But just like doctor Orcott's bullets, the buckshot seemed to have no effect on the creature at all. Stunned by what he had seen, Done none the less righted himself and rushed to the door, But in the seconds it took him to spill outside, the

winged figure had already disappeared. He scanned the street, but saw nothing. Whether he thought to look up in the air or not, we shall never know. Understandably, Shaken and well passed the limit of what company loyalty could demand, Done went home to his family. Six hours later, at the first light of dawn, Dun returned to the bank, determined to find evidence of the strange thing he'd encountered.

He arrived to find the remains of the damage he'd caused, half spilling out into the street, but there was no blood to be seen anywhere. Then, finally, imprinted in the mud at the base of the boardwalk, he apparently found what he was looking for, a three toed track bird like in configuration, only much much bigger than any bird he'd ever seen before. Dun made a plaster cast of the claw marks and displayed it to anyone who would listen.

On that cloudy fall day, the most residents of Van Meter, like millions of other Americans, were well distracted because October one, nineteen o three, just happened to be the day in which the first game of the modern Baseball World Series

took place. All ears were turned to radios, temporarily deaf to the growing anxiety of those few in Van Meter who knew something very strange should come to their town soon, though everyone would have reason to listen later that evening, a few hours after the Pittsburgh Pirates had beaten the Boston Americans in the first game of the World Series. The citizens of Van Meter slumbered under a light fall drizzle in a room above Fisher and White, the town

hardware store. The proprietor, mister White, was woken from sleep by a loud, scraping noise outside. His startled, he reached immediately for his gun, instinctively worried that a robbery might be taking place, But then a whole other, terrifying thought entered his mind. Had the creature now come to pay him a visit. Gathering his thoughts, he decided against rushing outside or firing indiscriminately as others had done, and instead quietly made his way to the casement window, gently slid

it open, and peered out into the dark. At first he saw nothing, but as its gaze landed on a telegraph pole at the corner of Main Street, he saw, with a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach, standing on top of it, statue like was the exact same creature that he'd heard so much about over the previous days, And, just as Peter had done had reported the night before, a light seemed to be emanating from

its head, ringing pendulously up and down the street. Mister White steadily took aim when suddenly the light landed right on his face. Without thinking, the shopkeeper pulled the trigger, but once more, the gun had no effect on the visitor, as it would later be named. Instead, it seemed as if the shot had merely served to wake it up. To mister White's horror, it then began to slowly descend

the pole down to the street. At this point. In some tellings of the tale, mister White was said to be rendered almost insensible by a putrid smell emanating from the creature, after which White claimed to have no further

memory of the evening's events. If that all sounds a little bit far fetched, it's worth knowing that, incredibly, there was another witness to this event across the street from mister White and its hardware store, Sydney Gregg, just happened to be gazing out of his window when he saw White appear with its gun. After hearing shots, Greg frantically scanned the street to try and see what an earth mister White had fired at that's when he too saw

the same shadowy form sliding down the telegraph pole. Greg described its movements as parrot like and that it used its elongated, beaked appendage for extra traction. He estimated the thing to be at least eight feet tall, and, like other witnesses, was amazed by the sprawl of featherless wings that stretched out from its back. When the creature got to the ground, it beat its wings once with a whip crack of air. Then it swept its bizarre light

around once more. It was as bright, Greg said, as the headlights on the brand new automobiles he sometimes saw around town. The young man watched dumbfound it as the creature loped down Main Street, hopping like an injured kangaroo. Greg continued to watch with terror as it stopped right outside its property, less than a dozen feet away and only a single story below him. Then it turned to

face him. Greg had just enough time to feel the rush of fear before the early morning mail train came ripping along the tracks parallel to Main Street and spooted the animal. The creature dropped quickly to all fours and started to run, then popped out its wings and took flight Sydney. Greg kept his eyes firmly fixed on the creature's dimming light as it flew off toward the old

coal mine on the edge of town. By the time in Friday October two dawned, heavy and humid, van Meter was a wash with anxious rumors, not least of all because there'd been rumblings about strange goings on at the mine for some time. The van Meter Brick and Tile Factory was situated close to the now defunct mine shaft for the past few days. When the factory day crew returned from their shift, they brought tales of ominous sounds

emanating from the mouth of the pit. One worker described it as though Satan and a regiment of his imps were preparing for battle. So when Sydney Gregg revealed that he'd seen the creature flying off in that direction, it was easy to draw a connection. The people of van Meter began to wonder if the mine that had once served so well as the beating heart of their town had now become the nesting place for something hell bent

on attacking it. The following night, the brick and tile factory's chief operator, J. L. Platt, was working a late shift when at some time around one a m. He heard the strange noises again emanating from the edge of the mine shaft. Like many of his men. He'd heard the noises several times during the previous days, but this

was different. No longer faint as they had been before, the noises now sounded much closer, as if whatever was making the rattling, gasping, growling sounds was no longer in the bowels of the mine, but just below the surface. Platt peered into the open mouth of the shaft, only able to see a few feet before darkness and the twists of the seam obscured things. Suddenly, without any warning,

something large burst from the mine. It all happened too fast and hectically for Platt to notice any details other than its gigantic size and its odd half human shape. As Platt recoiled, stumbling away and blinded by a bright light, he then saw another smaller figure emerge from the shaft before shooting up into the sky. As it happened. J. L. Platt wasn't the only witness to the sudden appearance of two creatures escaping the mine, with the brick and Tile

factory only a few hundred yards away. Having heard the commotion, more than a dozen colleagues came rushing over to investigate, just in time. To see the creatures disappear into the night. Many of them later reported the now familiar features illuminated horns, beak like faces, and those broad bat like wings. Astonished by what they'd say, the men promptly stopped work and went straight home to report their sighting, and, as is so often the case when a community feels under threat,

a posse soon materialized. As a heavy rain began to fall, the men of van Meter gathered on main Street, many of them armed with rifles and shotguns, and promptly set out together for the mine. In their wake, the remaining people of van Meter turned on all the lights around town, both in solidarity and out of fear. Walking out into the surrounding scrub in the dark, their backs turned to the lights of home, the men must have felt like

ships sailing out into the night. It wasn't long before the posse reached the old mine, where they formed a loose curve around its entrance. The plan was to either trap the creatures inside or keep them out if they were still yet to return. As the hours passed by, the men grew more nervous and disheartened as the cold rain crept through their oilskins and soaked their clothes steadily. One by one, many in the group grew bored and

headed back to bed. By the time dawn broke just after five forty five, only a handful of the makeshift company remained at their post. Just then, someone shouted out in alarm, pointing to the sky, and there, against the weak dawnlight, a peculiar figure could be seen coming towards them. Behind that a smaller iteration of the same thing, just as Platte had reported stealing themselves. Each of the men grabbed their weapons, and, taking aim, fired at the approaching duo.

The blast was loud enough to be heard all the way back in Van Meter, but the teachers didn't flinch and responded with their own unearthly noises As they drew ever closer to the mine. The men took aim and fired again, but could only watch, bewildered and impotent, as both creatures casually proceeded through the hail of bullets and disappeared once more into the mine. With nothing else to do and understandably unwilling to give chase into the darkness of the mine, what was left of the Van Meter

posse dispersed. Most returned to town while an unlucky few had no other choice but to go to their Saturday shift at the factory, and no doubt kept a wary eye on the mine shaft throughout the day. Back in Van Meter, it was decided that the only reasonable response was to wall up the mine as quickly as possible, in the hope of trapping the visitors in their burrow forever. It's not known if the townspeople manage this feat before another

night set in. H. H. Phillips, the local postmaster, who published an account of this strange event in the Des Moines Register, does not go into detail on the attempted barricade, so we are left to wonder whether the visitor was trapped or whether it had the chance to fly free along with its companion. And what of that companion? Was it a mate or an offspring? Could it be there was even a breeding population somewhere out in the flatlands

of Iowa. The van meet a visitor is treated, like most small town monsters, as a gimmick, a tourist trap, and a chance to celebrate and sell the quirks of those small towns they come from. Since twenty thirteen, has hosted the annual than Meet Visitor festival with walking tours, games and lectures on crypto zoology. It's a way to remember the law while presenting it as a safe, half humorous nod to a more credulous era in American life.

But no amount of marketing can fully defang the legend of the Visitor, because that week in late September and early October of nineteen o three is far from the only time that something odd has flown through the local Midwestern skies. For centuries, the Indigenous people of the Upper Midwest shared tales of the thunderbird, a giant avian creature that could create thunderstorms and fire lightning from its eyes.

Though tribal traditions differ, those features remain consistent, and perhaps it is worth remembering the unexpectedly vicious storms that came to van Meter on almost every night of that fateful week in eighteen ninety, thirteen years before the Van Meet visitation, townspeople in Independence, another small Iowan town, claimed to have seen something large with wings, horns, and an alligator shaped

snout on the outskirts of town. When confronted, it made a terrible rattling, roaring noise, and its eyes gave off electrical light. In the states neighboring Iowa, sightings of oversized flying creatures were even more common. In eighteen sixty eight, an eight year old named Jemmy Kenney was said to have been killed by a huge bird. The boy was snatched from his school yard in Tipper County, Missouri and dragged into the air before being dropped to his death.

His teacher described the bird's talons as having torn into the child's flesh. Over a century later, in nineteen seventy seven, a similar terror would strike ten year old Marlon Lowe in Lawndale, Illinois. This time, the boy was attacked by what were described as a pair of nine foot bird like things. As his horrified mother watched screaming. Marlon was dragged thirty feet before being dropped. This time, however, thankfully,

the boy survived. Tales of similar encounters are so numerous over the decades they've given rise to a whole specific category of cryptid becoming known as Ioware dragons. Back in van Meter, there are some who still don't consider that strange week of nineteen o three to be the end

of things there either. In nineteen eighty, a man walking his dog by the old mine claimed to have seen what he described as a large winged man flying out of the shaft, and as recently as two thousand and six, the local pastor, driving back from Colfax, about thirty miles from Van Meter, claimed he was followed by a flying dragon like creature which hovered above his car for a short time before flying away at the edge of town.

To this day, many questions remain, and with so many recorded encounters that stretch back centuries, there is one, perhaps that are nerves above all others, the possibility that the people of Van Meter got it wrong when naming their local monster. It isn't it that is the visitor. It is us. This episode was written by Neil mac robert

and produced by me Richard mc lean smith. Neil is the creator and host of his own brilliant podcast called Talking Scared, in which he discusses the craft of horror, writing with every one from to Nanaeve Do to the god of horror himself, Stephen King, I can't recommend it highly enough. Thank you as ever for listening. Unexplained as an Avy Club Productions podcast created by Richard mc lean smith. All other elements of the podcast, including the music, are

also produced by me Richard mc lean smith. Unexplained. The book and audiobook is now available to buy worldwide. You can purchase from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Waterstones, and other bookstores. Please subscribe to and rate the show wherever you get your podcasts, and feel free to get in touch with any thoughts or ideas regarding the stories you've heard on the show. Perhaps you have an explanation or a story

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