🗞️ “The Man From Utica” — A Chateaugay Lake Mystery
(As published in the July 9th, 1895 edition of the Steamboat Dispatch)
“I don’t like the way he carries his hat,” said Pratt Hill. “Fellas what hold their hat like that, it means somethin’s off.”
Nobody knew his name that first week—not the real one anyway. Came up on the noon train from Malone, stepped off stiff as a board, clean shaven, hair slicked so sharp you could gut trout with it. Black coat buttoned wrong—one button too high—gave him the look of a man what was trying real hard not to look like a man at all.
Said he was from Albany, but Pratt said Utica. Old man Washburn at the depot swore he heard him muttering about a warehouse fire downstate, the kind where the books burn before the insurance man can read ‘em.
A slim valise. Bone-white gloves, never worn. And a silver pocket watch, chain double-wrapped, glinting mean as a rattlesnake’s eye.
He booked a room at the Banner House, top floor, lake-facing. No trunk, no fishing rod, no picnic hamper—nothing to do with the lake at all.
Didn’t eat with the other guests. Took his supper cold on the veranda, alone, staring out across the water like he was waiting for it to do something it had no business doing.
Locals figured he was maybe a railroad surveyor. Or worse—a man come up from the bank with foreclosure papers rolled in that little black valise.
But then there was that business with Mrs. Langford’s boy—how he come runnin’ out the woods behind the Banner House babbling about “wires strung between the birches” and “some kinda brass contraption set under the roots.” Took two days to get the boy’s color back.
And nobody but nobody missed the way that fella was always scribblin’ in that little leather book of his. Scribblin’ and watchin’. Watchin’ the steamboat “Adirondack” run its daily routes. Watchin’ the old sawmill. Watchin’ who went up the mountain and who came back down.
“Saw him down at Kirby’s Landing talkin’ with them surveyors. Least, I think they was surveyors.”
—Elias Runnion, barge captain.
Then came the night the company steamboat Gladys B. ran aground on McGregor Shoal. Fog as thick as sheep’s wool and the compass needle spinning like a snake in a skillet. Captain swore blind there was “interference,” something magnetic twisting the needle off true.
And wouldn’t you know it, who’s the first man down at the dock the next morning, boots shined, gloves on, not a hair outta place?
Our stranger.
What’s more, folks started whisperin’ about noises up on Chateaugay Narrows—low thrumming noises, like a beehive made of brass plates and copper wire. Somebody said they saw lights under the water. Under.
Pratt Hill—fool that he is—snuck up one night toward the stranger’s rented skiff. Found it lashed under the dock with something heavy lashed beneath—a crate sealed with pitch and iron staples. The kind of crate you don’t open unless you’re prepared to regret whatever comes out.
When Pratt came back, he wouldn’t talk much except to mutter, “Ain’t no fishin’ gear in that boat. Ain’t no fishin’ nothin’.”
“Ain’t right,”
—Pratt Hill, veteran stage driver, when pressed.
A week later the telegraph lines south of Merrill went dead. All of ‘em. Clean cut. And when the lineman went out to check, he found a length of the wire stripped down, coiled neatly like a copper noose, hung over a tree limb with nobody hangin’ in it—yet.
Then the stranger was gone.
Didn’t check out. Didn’t pay. Just… gone.
Room locked from the inside. Window open. Only thing left was the pocket watch chain coiled like a question mark on the desk—and a scrap of paper with a diagram that no one at the Banner House could make heads or tails of.
Looked mechanical. Or astronomical. Or maybe both. Circles inside circles, lines pointing toward the lake. Symbols. Some Greek. Some not.
Mrs. Kirby had it framed. Hung it over the mantelpiece. Folks laugh about it now. Call it “The Man from Utica’s Map.” Says it’s good luck.
Course, folks don’t laugh quite so loud when the fog rolls in thicker than it ought to. Or when the ferry’s compass jitters.
Or when the Narrows hum.
🗞️ END.
Published by The Steamboat Dispatch Press, Independent Weekly Voice of Upper Chateaugay Lake, East Bellmont, New York.
🕰️ INTERCEPTED TELEGRAMS
(As recovered from the ruined dispatch office at Owl’s Head Junction following the Incident of July 1895.)
All transcriptions partial. Carbon copies damaged by water, mildew, and suspiciously caustic stains.
STOP TRANSMISSION—STOP— CANNOT REITERATE FURTHER THE UTTER IMPERATIVE YOU REFRAIN FROM ATTEMPTING THE PRIMARY TEST UNDER ANY CONDITION INVOLVING HUMIDITY—STOP—FURTHER, THE LOCAL MINERAL CONTENT POSES UNMODELED VARIABLES—STOP—SHOULD THE OSCILLATIONS SURPASS THE PREDICTED RANGE, WELL—STOP—ONE NEED NOT REMIND A GENTLEMAN OF YOUR ACUMEN WHAT HAPPENED LAST SPRING NEAR ROME (NY)—STOP—REITERATE: NO PRIMARY TEST NEAR WATERFOWL—STOP— REGARDS, SR
Margin note (penciled): “Who or what is ‘Waterfowl?’”
From:[REDACTED] — LOCATION UNKNOWN To:[H.E.C.] — CHATEAUGAY LAKE
YOUR SHADOW LENGTHENS—STOP—THE LINE SOUTH IS WATCHED—STOP—DO NOT TRUST THE MAN IN THE BOWLER HAT—STOP—REPEAT: DO NOT—STOP—CONDITIONS ARE FAVOURABLE BUT ONLY UNTIL THE THIRD DECLINATION—STOP—THE CLOCK IS NOT A CLOCK—STOP—THE COMPASS IS NOT A COMPASS—STOP—YOU MUST NOT ALLOW THE LOCALS TO SEE THE INTERIOR—STOP—THAT WHICH DRIFTS BENEATH THE SECOND CURRENT IS NOT ASLEEP—STOP— BURN AFTER READING—STOP—
From:Malone Municipal Telegraph Office (Internal Note) To:Supervisor, Albany Line
HAD OCCASION TO HANDLE A TRANSMISSION IN CIPHER—STOP—SENDER: UNKNOWN—STOP—MESSAGE CONTENT ABSURD, POSSIBLY CODE, REFERENCING “ROTATIONAL ASYMMETRY OF THE LAKE’S SUBSTRATE” AND “SHEAR OSCILLATION OF THE SPINE”—STOP—INCLUDES SKETCHES OF WHAT APPEARS TO BE EITHER A MAGNETIC ENGINE OR A PARODY OF SUCH—STOP—REQUESTING CLARIFICATION WHETHER TO FORWARD TO ENGINEERING OR POLICE—STOP—PLEASE ADVISE—STOP—
From: S.R. — ALBANY OFFICE To: H.E.C. — BANNER HOUSE (UNDELIVERED)
TRANSMISSION FAILED—STOP— SIGNAL DISRUPTION COINCIDENT WITH OBSERVED MAGNETIC FLUCTUATIONS—STOP—TEST IS PREMATURE—STOP—THE THIRD NODE IS INCOMPLETE—STOP— IF YOU PROCEED, YOU DO SO AT YOUR OWN PERIL—STOP— WE DISCLAIM—STOP—WE DISAVOW—STOP—WE WERE NEVER HERE—STOP—
✍️ ADDITIONAL REPORT:
The broken telegraph keys recovered from Owl’s Head Junction exhibit signs of localized thermal distortion, magnetically induced pitting, and what one investigator described as “a peculiar, intractable greasiness, as though the brass itself were sweating.”
All recovered telegram copies were stored at the Chateaugay Lake Historical Society until September 17, 1924, when the archive basement flooded under unexplained circumstances. The documents have not been seen since.
Summon the usual suspects, pull the lamp low, and pour that sour rye that rattles the teeth. What follows are the Witness Statements Regarding the Man on the Narrows, as collected piecemeal from barroom testimony, loose gossip, and a mold-stained memorandum once pinned behind the counter at Pratt Hill’s Livery. The original ledger entry referenced is preserved—regrettably—at the Shatagee Woods Museum of Unnatural Hysteria, behind glass, with a sign that reads:
“DO NOT TAP ON THE GLASS. THE SYMBOLS SHIFT WHEN AGITATED.”
🕯️ WITNESS REPORTS — SUMMER, 1895
Dick Shutts, Dockhand (Self-Described ‘Maritime Solutions Specialist’)
“Ayuh. Seen him alright. Leastways his boat. Funny kinda rig. Not a skiff. Not a punt. Ain’t like no fishin’ craft I seen neither. Real low in the water, y’see. Had somethin’ rigged underneath—barrel or drum or somethin’… but it hummed. Heard it. Like a bee trapped in a pickle jar. He’d row out to the Narrows, sit dead still. Nothin’. Then BANG—sounded like someone dropped an anvil into the lake. Next thing, he’s rowin’ back calm as you please, flippin’ through some little black notebook like a Methodist countin’ sins.”
Eugene “Old Veritas” Miller, Professional Contrarian, Bellmont Township
“You ask me, weren’t no surveyor. Surveyors don’t run copper wire between tree stumps. Don’t set no brass plates in the shallows neither. No sir. Saw him out there. Telescope, chart, theodolite—cept it weren’t a theodolite, I tell ya. Had too many lenses. Too many joints. Looked more like somethin’ the railroad threw out for bein’ cursed. Fella weren’t measuring nothin’ you can see.”
George Cook, Proprietor, Cook’s Supply and Curios, Merrill
“Sold the man a spool of piano wire. Two hundred feet. Didn’t ask what for. Man pays in silver dollars, 1871 mint. Odd shine to ‘em, like they was minted yesterday or maybe tomorrow. He asks if I carry ‘lithium salts,’ and when I say no, he nods like he expected as much. Then buys a bottle of lamp oil and a compass. Came back next day sayin’ the compass don’t work. I told him ain’t nothin’ wrong with the compass—somethin’s wrong with the lake.”
“Followed him. Not proud of it. Snuck through the sumac when he was fiddlin’ with some sorta crate on the Narrows. Couldn’t get too close—there’s a ring of somethin’ set into the mud. Copper rods, spaced perfect. Like the kinda pattern you’d make to catch lightning… or somethin’ worse. Thing is, I blinked. Just blinked. And when I looked back, the rods was… different. Moved. Rearranged. Look, I ain’t drank that day. Much.”
Mrs. Kirby, Owner, Banner House
“Knew right off he weren’t the usual. Didn’t unpack. Paid in advance. Never asked about the steamboat schedules or the trout hatchery. First day, asked for a table alone. Second day, asked if there was ‘a registry of magnetic anomalies.’ Third day, I find him in the pantry measurin’ the iron nails in the floorboards. Came down that night with a feverish look, muttering about ‘declination nodes’ and ‘sub-lacustrine torsion.’ Wouldn’t eat the stew. Wrote somethin’ in the guest ledger. Still there, I reckon. You seen it?”
📜 THE LEDGER ENTRY — Banner House, July 1895
Preserved today in the Shatagee Woods Museum of Unnatural Hysteria, mounted behind UV-resistant glass.
“Visitors have reported that the spirals appear to rotate if viewed in peripheral vision. The museum denies all responsibility for nausea, vertigo, or transient lapses in spatial coherence experienced while viewing this exhibit.”
🕰️ THE SUB-LACUSTRINE TORSION EQUATION
A Partial Decoding, Recovered From the Banner House Ledger Diagram — July, 1895
It was Abner Percy, with his hands shaking worse than usual, who carried the diagram to Professor Emeritus Lysander Shill, formerly of the Clarkson College of Mechanical Curiosities.
Professor Shill was well acquainted with schemes of dubious repute—having himself been driven from polite academic society for his paper titled:
“On the Measurable Mass of Ghosts and the Practical Applications Thereof.”
Three days he stared at it. Drank heavily. Refused visitors. Then—on the morning of the fourth—he emerged pale, tremulous, and smelling faintly of lamp oil and sulfur, and laid his findings on the table at Pratt Hill’s tavern.
📜 TRANSLATION (Partial):
“Sub-Lacustrine Torsion refers to the rotational shear stress occurring within the aquatic substrate—i.e., the bottom layers of the lake—when subjected to alternating magnetic flux lines interacting with—brace yourself—naturally occurring geological faults in the lake’s limestone bed, which are themselves embedded with anomalously high quantities of ferrous magnetite.”
In layman’s terms:
“The bottom of the lake twists.”
Twists. Not metaphorically. Not as a poetic flourish. But mechanically.
🕳️ KEY EQUATION COMPONENTS:
∆Ψ = (Θ•µ) ÷ f(t)
(Change in torsional wave energy equals the product of angular momentum and magnetic permeability, divided by a time-dependent harmonic function.)
f(t) shows an unsolvable denominator at 2.1 Hz, circled three times in red ink.
The margin note simply reads:
“DO NOT MATCH THE FREQUENCY.”
💀 THE CLINCHER:
When asked—trembling—what would happen if the harmonic coupling matched the lake’s natural torsional frequency, Professor Shill simply muttered:
“The lake will forget that it is water.”
Pratt Hill said it best:
“You twist a rope hard enough, it’ll fray. Twist a lake… hell, I dunno. But somethin’ comes loose.”
🛑 AND THEN—
The tavern windows shuddered. Every compass on every steamboat swung west without warning. The bottles behind the bar began to hum. Somewhere far off, from the direction of the Narrows—
A sound.
Not thunder. Not wind.
A deep, low vibration.
As if something vast was shifting.
Twisting.
Turning.
Beneath.
TO BE CONTINUED…
(In the next edition of the Steamboat Dispatch, should the Narrows allow.)
🏛️ SHATAGEE WOODS MUSEUM OF UNNATURAL HYSTERIA ARCHIVAL RECORD
ITEM NO. MUH-1885-CLN-042
ACQUISITION DATE: JULY 29TH, 1935
ARCHIVE TITLE: “The Sub-Lacustrine Torsion Equation and Its Consequences Upon the Structural Integrity of Chateaugay Lake”
🔍 EXHIBIT DESCRIPTION:
A recovered document of significant esoteric and possibly hazardous content, consisting of a ledger entry from the Banner House, a hand-rendered torsional diagram, and the deciphered translation and commentary of the disgraced Professor Emeritus Lysander Shill (formerly of the Clarkson College of Mechanical Curiosities).
Stored under double-paned quartz glass with Faraday cage containment, due to anomalous interactions recorded on July 31st, 1895.
📄 TRANSCRIPTION OF PRIMARY LEDGER ENTRY (BANNER HOUSE, JULY 1895):
“Sub-Lacustrine Torsion refers to the rotational shear stress occurring within the aquatic substrate—specifically the limestone and magnetite-bearing sedimentary folds—when subjected to alternating magnetic flux lines originating from both natural anomalies and artificial constructs.”
“If the harmonic oscillations match the natural torsional frequency (specifically 2.1 Hz), mechanical decoupling occurs between the lake’s fluid surface and the geological bed—which, to use layman’s terms, causes the lake to “forget that it is water.””
📝 AFFIDAVIT (Forged but Convincing)
Professor Lysander Shill
“I, Professor Lysander Shill, having resigned under duress from the Clarkson College of Mechanical Curiosities, do hereby certify that the Sub-Lacustrine Torsion Equation is both theoretically sound and functionally catastrophic when improperly applied. The Chateaugay Lake substrate demonstrates anomalous rotational shear potential, sufficient to induce phase decoherence in aqueous and subaqueous states.”
Signed (with trembling hand), Lysander Q. Shill, Esq. (Unlicensed)
🏛️ FOOTNOTES:
Visitors are cautioned that the diagram exhibits peripheral optical drift; staring at the center point for longer than 12 seconds may result in nausea, vertigo, or the sensation of being “unmoored from terrestrial certainty.”
The copper rods from the Narrows Incident remain in storage crate MUH-1885-CR8. They hum faintly when the humidity exceeds 78%.
The crate beneath the Banner House dock has never been recovered. Dredging attempts were suspended after the lead diver reported “hearing his own name spoken backwards in a voice not entirely external.”
Compass needles at Kirby’s Landing continue to display anomalous behavior during high fog conditions.
🚨 FINAL NOTE:
The Museum disclaims all responsibility for temporal anomalies, magnetic dislocation, or existential unraveling experienced while reviewing this document.
What mysteries of Chateaugay Lake haunt you?