Goatman

Harold Goatman has been dealing with preposterous images like this particularly gruesome one his whole life. Goatman, Interrupted He may look like a monster, but he says he's just like you or me By Harlan Merriweather A Youthful Indiscretion Harold remembers the night well. Parts of it, anyway. "Me and my buddies stole some beers out of my dad's fridge in the garage," he recalls. "We drove out to the woods in Prince George's County and just partied for a while. You know, just normal teenager stuff." But there was nothing normal about that night. Around midnight, Harold and his friends heard a car pull to the side of Fletchertown Road, near the spot they had been drinking. They peered through the bushes out onto the road and saw an attractive young couple who sought out the secluded road for a romantic interlude. "That's when Chud gets this idea," said Harold. Chud - whose nickname stems from his pear-shaped body and bad skin ("In retrospect, it's kind of a mean nickname, huh?" said Harold.) - convinced Harold to scare the couple with an axe he had in the back of his truck. Harold agreed, and the rest is history. "Urban legend," said Harold. "Not history." One of These Kids is Not Like the Other Harold R. Goatman, now 43, is used to being an outcast, of being judged by his peers. That is because Goatman is different: he, like the rest of the family, has a goat's head. "The other kids could be cruel and, you know what? Looking back, I can't even blame them," said Goatman. "Let's not dance around the issue here - I look like a monster." It is his unique appearance that has given rise to the myth surrounding his name. Shortly after the incident on Fletchertown Road, Goatman turned himself in to police, admitting that he was the one who had threatened the young couple. Charged with breach of peace, Goatman was issued a fine and three years of probation. The case was reported in the police blotter of local newspapers, but by then, it was too late. The story of a terrifying, axe-wielding monster on the loose in Prince George's County had imprinted itself on the consciousness of the community and was quickly spreading across the country. Goatman was helpless to stop it. Goatman at his kitchen table, reflecting on people stuff, like his mortgage, as well as goat stuff, like eating tin cans. A Quiet Life Today, Goatman works in a machine shop just south of Baltimore, not far from Prince George's County. He is entering his tenth year with Rhodes Tool & Dye, and the other employees have gotten used to their unusual looking co-worker and are amused by the legend. "This guy right here wouldn't hurt nobody for nothing," said Phil Compton, 51, a fellow machinist. "Yet we got these kids going out on ghost hunts looking for him. We all think it's funny, but I get it - I mean, I see why it bothers Harry so bad." Bonnie James, 39, agrees with Compton, though she admits that her first impression of Goatman was not a good one. "I feel terrible even saying this now, but when I first met [Goatman], he scared the bejesus out of me," said James. "It's awful the way we prejudice [sic] people in this country, you know, and Phil's right - you couldn't find a sweeter, gentler guy than Harold. Honest." Goatman keeps to himself for the most part, sometimes spending time out of work with his co-workers or catching up with old friends. "I still talk to Chud from time to time, but he's got a wife and kids now, you know? He's all grown up," said Goatman. Goatman, for his part, is single and doesn't expect that to change anytime soon. "I'm sure you can imagine there aren't too many goat-ladies out there. I only know of two of them - my sister and my mom, rest her soul," he said. Goatman's sister, Maggie Goatman, 39, moved to Florida with friends after high school. "It's funny - people don't pay much attention to the fact that you're wearing a skirt if you've got a goat head," said Maggie. "When people make a scene in public, I'm like, 'First of all, it's GoatMAN, not GoatWOMAN, and secondly, it's not even true,' but they don't listen." "It's tough, but I don't blame Harry or nothing," she said. "He was just a kid, you know? I mean, who doesn't do stuff like that when they're young?" Unfortunately, moving away from Maryland has not allowed Maggie to escape the Goatman legend - instead, she simply brought the legend with her. Now the websites report sightings all over the country, in Maryland and Florida. "It never stops," she said. "But I'm used to it. We Goatmans are strong. We've been dealing with hardship our whole lives." Trouble at Home The Goatman family always had trouble fitting in, mostly due to their dated haircuts. When Harold and Maggie grew up, life was hard in the Goatman household. The gentle Harold may look like his father, Phinnaeus, but the similarity ends there. Phinnaeus, who was killed by a heart attack in 1998 at the age of 71, was an alcoholic and was often abusive toward Harold and his sister. "But it was Mom who got the brunt of it before she died," said Harold. Harold's mother, Denise, died of ovarian cancer while Harold was still in high school. "In a way, it was like a mercy killing," said Harold. "Dad was brutal, just brutal. And it wasn't gonna get no better for her. She didn't have anywhere to go, either. She was stuck." Harold only stuck around until Maggie graduated high school, when they both left their father's home - and his life - for good. Neither sibling ever talked to him after they moved away. Maggie didn't even attend his funeral, but only because she couldn't afford to take the time off and fly from Florida. "I can't help but feel a little bad, you know?" said Maggie. "I mean, he was my father. But he was awful to us - a real monster. It's funny, Harold gets all the publicity, but the only Goatman who was ever actually a monster was my dad." The Believers One of the men stood on the east end of "Crybaby Bridge," named for the phantom cries of babies some visitors claim to hear in the night. The man wore a pair of night vision goggles though it was just past noon as he held out a black box with two antennae shooting straight out of the top of it. "Are you picking up anything?" he shouted to his partner, who was slowly climbing to a dry patch under the bridge, aiming a noisy little meter at different spots under the bridge. "Not yet," came the muffled reply from under the bridge. The man on top of the bridge looked at the reporter. "I bet you it's this damn humidity. You never get good readings when it's so humid," he said. The men are Thomas Marx and Douglas Peppers, ghost hunters and self taught parapsychologists. They are just two among many skeptics who doubt Harold Goatman's tale of woe. "Look, we've heard it all before," said Peppers, 44, who works at an Orange Julius in Annapolis to support his ghost hunting hobby. "Everyone says he's this nice guy or whatever, but come on. The guy's got a [expletive] goat head. Who are you going to believe - some monster who stalks teenagers in the woods or scientists like us? I mean, look at all of this equipment. Look at all of the buttons and dials on this meter. It doesn't lie, my friend." Amateur cryptozoologists aren't the only doubters. Scores of teenagers in the Prince George's County area claim to have been victims of Goatman. "That guy's full of crap," said Jim Winther, 19, who lives near Fletchertown Road. "Me and some other kids from school were out there one time, just minding our own business or whatever and then - Boom! Goatman's on the hood of our car, swinging an axe at us." Winther is adamant that he was attacked, though he concedes that he can't be sure it was Harold Goatman he saw. "Either it was him, or there's other Goatmans [sic] out there, too," said Winther. "Guess that means he's lying to cover his own butt or cover someone else's butt. Whatever it is, I ain't ever going back to that bridge without a gun, that's for damn sure." Marx and Peppers are familiar with Winther's story and said that he is not alone. "We got a whole case file on this at home, and there are dozens of kids with the same story. Dozens," said Marx, 42. "Well, maybe not dozens, but a lot. Probably 8 or 10. At least 6 anyway." Trying to Move On As he approaches middle age, Harold is losing hope that he'll ever shake the "monster" label. "Of course I'm sick of it, but what are you gonna do?" he said. "I was a pretty good kid, but I made this one mistake and it's followed me my whole life. It's like everybody else gets a second chance, but I barely got a first chance. Know what I'm saying?" Despite the injustice, though, Harold has accepted his situation and intends to make the best of it. "Look, I know that kids are gonna follow me around in their cars, shouting at me - all that noise - until the day I die. But it ain't my fault, and I can't do nothing about it, so why worry about it?" he said. "If they were, you know, threatening my life or something, that'd be one thing. But, honestly, it's just a nuisance. I can handle that. Believe me, I've handled far worse." Maggie continues to urge Harold to move to Florida to live with her, but Harold won't hear it. "If he was down here, at least he wouldn't have to deal with stuff like college kids driving out to Prince George's on spring break to look for him," she said. "He's never gonna escape all of it, just like I never have, but at least he'd be able to get out of ground zero." Harold understands his sister's plea, but isn't ready to surrender to the pressures yet. "Maggie's a sweetheart and, who knows, maybe it would be better to deal with this together, like a team," he said. "But this is my home, you know? I'm not gonna let some stupid legend scare me away from my home. They've done just about everything else they can to a guy, but they're not gonna get me running."