The “Delco” Devil


The legend of the Jersey Devil is one of America’s most enduring pieces of folklore. Most researchers believe the story had its beginnings way back in the year 1735 with one Mrs. Leeds of Leeds Point, New Jersey. The poor woman was about to give birth to her thirteenth child when, exhausted and nearing her wit’s end, Mrs. Leeds remarked that her latest child just might as well be “The Devil himself.”

In the category of “be careful what you ask for,” Mrs. Leeds’ careless remark would spawn a local legend and become a purported reality. Her baby was born horribly deformed, with the wings of a bat, a horse’s head, cloven hooves, and a tail. People who saw it, the story continued, thought it looked like the Devil himself. One day the monstrosity simply flew across the room, then up the chimney, and disappeared into New Jersey’s desolate Pine Barrens.

The area around Leeds Point soon began to experience the kind of eerie activity that has long come to be associated with the creature. Mysterious livestock deaths and disappearances. Horrible cries in the night. Unexplained hoof prints. The late-night sound of footsteps across farmhouse roofs.

Throughout the 18th century, the monster was known simply as the “Leeds Devil.” But sometime during the 19th century, as larger and larger swaths of the Garden State began to experience the horror, the Leeds Devil came to be known by a new and more appropriate name. . . .


The Jersey Devil.


The year 1909 was to usher in a reign of terror like nothing before or since. According to historians, approximately 100 people in some 30 towns reported sightings of the hideous beast. And, even more inexplicably, the sightings this time were not confined to the Jersey side of the Delaware River. In fact, the very first alleged 1909 encounter with the monster occurred in Bristol, Pennsylvania.

On January 17th, 1909, the Bristol postmaster observed a glowing creature flying over the Delaware River. There were two other witnesses, including a policeman who discharged his gun at the monster, which then flew away. The thing was described as having a ram-like head with curled horns.

Over the next several days, the Devil would reportedly make numerous appearances. Burlington, Philadelphia, Salem, Moorestown, Camden, Millville, Woodbury, Gloucester City,
and West Collingswood were just some of the locales invaded by the flying phantom. In Camden, the monster took a chunk out of a woman’s dog. In Philly, it was chased and nearly stuck by a trolley car. In West Collingswood, New Jersey the monster attacked a group of firefighters who had attempted to squirt it with their hose and chase it from a resident’s roof. The firemen were ultimately forced to flee to safety.

Then, during the 21st of January, Daniel Flynn of Leiperville (today known as Crum Lynne, Delaware County) was startled to observe a six-foot tall monster running on its hind legs straight down Chester Pike! The creature came from the direction of Philadelphia and was last seen heading for the City of Chester. The “devil” had the requisite wings, misshapen head, tail, and hooves, and was also described by Mr. Flynn as having the skin of an alligator.

Sightings of the Jersey Devil soon resumed in that state, with schools and businesses in Millville, New Jersey closing out of fear of attack. Several newspapers posted rewards for the capture of the beast, and the Philadelphia Zoo took the opportunity to post a whopping $10,000 reward for the person or persons who captured the monstrosity alive.

Of course, no one ever collected. Eventually, the reported sightings died down. The last Jersey Devil “flap” occurred during the 1950s. Things have been very quiet on the Jersey Devil front since Eisenhower was President.

But the myths, stories, and legend of the Jersey Devil are very much alive, especially for those folks who live in and around the fabled Jersey Pine Barrens.

The Jersey Devil . . . a whimsical folktale, the product of mass hysteria, or a biological freak of nature? It’s a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. And if you ask my opinion, the people in Jersey can have it! Folks in Delco have enough problems as it is . . . so keep your Devil but keep sending us those wonderful tomatoes.


Boothwyn’s Holy Eggplant




The holy Boothwyn eggplant as seen on eBay


It happened on Sunday, August 12th , 2007. Felicia Teske of Boothwyn was quietly preparing dinner for her and her husband, Paul, a Penn-Delco school bus driver. Little did the couple know that by Monday, August 13th they would suddenly burst onto the national scene, sought after by news organizations nationwide and, eventually, worldwide.

It all began with Mrs. Teske slicing an eggplant she was preparing to fry. The Boothwyn housewife looked at one of the slices, and there it was, plain as day . . . the seeds in the eggplant were unmistakably arranged to spell GOD. Felicia called her husband Paul to the kitchen for a look, and Mr. Teske readily agreed. The seeds definitely spelled out G O D. For Mrs. Teske, a practicing Catholic who had just recently lost a family member, the message in the eggplant slice proved comforting.

Excited by their find, Mr. and Mrs. Teske called Channel 6, Action News, and, almost instantly, the media frenzy began. To preserve the potentially valuable slice, the Teskes put the revered object in a plastic food-saver bag.

So what to do with a slice of eggplant that spells GOD, with a dozen different news organizations calling for interviews? Put the curiosity piece up for sale, of course — on eBay. Price? How about $1,000, plus $20 for shipping?

At last word, Paul and Felicia had received no bids, but have generated a whole lot of interest and discussion. The Teskes were totally unprepared and quite amazed at the attention their little artifact was garnering.

Meanwhile, there’s always hope that, someday, the slice will sell. Florida resident Diane Duser once made a toasted cheese sandwich which was said to have born the resemblance of the Virgin Mary on the toast. She held onto that sandwich for ten years, the sandwich never having gone moldy, and eventually sold her item at auction for a miraculous $28,000 — to the Internet casino company GoldenPalace.com. The casino bought the sandwich as a publicity stunt and as a means to raise money for charity.

So, at a mere $1,000, the Teskes’ heavenly eggplant slice would appear to be a bargain — except, of course, for this recent downturn in our economy.