Char Man Urban Legend: California, 2006

Summary

Sightings Podcast Episode Summary: "Char Man Urban Legend: California, 2006"

Release Date: October 28, 2024 | Hosted by McLeod Andrews and Brian Sigley | Presented by REVERB | QCODE

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Introduction to the Episode

In this gripping episode of Sightings, hosts McLeod Andrews and Brian Sigley delve into the eerie urban legend of the Char Man from Ojai, California. Skipping over the introductory advertisements, the episode immerses listeners in a tale of tragedy, fear, and the supernatural, followed by a deep exploration of the nature and impact of urban legends.

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The Legend of Char Man

Origins of the Legend

The legend of the Char Man is rooted in the devastating Great Fire of 1948 in Ojai, California. As detailed by McLeod Andrews at [01:47], the fire consumed over 30,000 acres, threatening countless lives. Amidst the chaos, a tragic story emerged:

McLeod Andrews [04:10]: "He became something more than human, something worse than human, something known as Char Man."

According to the legend, a man attempted to rescue his wife from their burning cabin but was thwarted by the relentless flames. The repeated attempts to save her culminated in his transformation into the vengeful Char Man, forever seeking retribution.

Personal Account: Bobby Parsons' Childhood

Bobby Parsons, the protagonist of the story, recounts his harrowing childhood experience with the Char Man legend. At 9 years old ([08:45]), Bobby's older brothers dared him to stand on the Old Creek Bridge and scream "help me" to summon the Char Man—a rite of passage in their community.

Bobby Parsons [09:30]: "I was terrified the first time I found myself staring at an inferno. But instead of killing me, it empowered me."

As a result of this traumatic event, Bobby developed a profound fear of fire and the woods, leading him to internalize his fears and adopt a tough exterior. This facade eventually landed him in prison at 19 years old ([17:15]), where recurring dreams of the Char Man intensified his fears.

Later Experiences: Firefighting and Encounters with Cotton

Seeking redemption and a way to overcome his fears, Bobby joined a conservation camp to fight wildfires. His prowess in firefighting not only helped him manage his fears but also earned him a spot in an elite hotshot crew. Years later, encountering Cotton, a fellow Ojai native, reignited the legend:

Cotton [19:45]: "He looked like a man, Cotton said, but its eyes were black. Pitch black, like the night."

Cotton shared his own unsettling encounter with the Char Man, further blurring the lines between legend and reality.

The Final Confrontation

Driven by unresolved fear, Bobby decides to face the Char Man once more. Standing alone on the bridge ([30:55]), he confronts the apparition:

Bobby Parsons [32:20]: "I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness, just like I felt for the victims of the wildfires I fought each day."

Instead of reacting with fear, Bobby offers an apology, which seemingly pacifies the Char Man. This confrontation marks the end of Bobby's nightmares, symbolizing his triumph over fear and the legend itself.

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Discussion on Urban Legends

Nature and Evolution of Urban Legends

Post-narrative, McLeod and Brian transition into a discussion about the fluidity and personal nature of urban legends ([23:12]). They emphasize how such legends evolve with each retelling, tailored by individual experiences and cultural contexts.

Brian Sigley [24:11]: "They just personalize it in a really weird way."

Comparison with Other Legends

The hosts draw parallels between the Char Man and other well-known legends like Bloody Mary, Bunny Man, and Goat Man, highlighting common elements such as specific rituals to summon the entity and settings that amplify fear (e.g., bridges, bathrooms).

McLeod Andrews [24:33]: "Candyman or Bloody Mary, where you'd go into the bathroom and look in the mirror and say the name five times..."

Social and Psychological Underpinnings

McLeod and Brian explore the psychological motivations behind urban legends, such as testing courage during adolescence and processing societal anxieties. They suggest that these stories serve as a mirror to collective fears, often rooted in real-life threats like the omnipresent wildfire hazard in Ojai.

Brian Sigley [31:33]: "Maybe some element of trying to process social anxieties in a weird way."

Possible Origins of Char Man

Investigating the historical accuracy of the Char Man legend, the hosts note that while the Great Fire of 1948 did occur, there were no reported fatalities directly linked to the event. Instead, a police officer interviewed ([35:23]) proposed that sightings might have originated from an elderly man with severe skin cancer, misinterpreted by frightened teenagers.

Brian Sigley [35:32]: "There was an elderly man who had some kind of really bad skin cancer... started making up all these horrible stories."

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Conclusion

The episode concludes with McLeod and Brian reflecting on the enduring nature of urban legends and their ability to adapt to contemporary fears and societal changes. They invite listeners to share their own experiences and theories, fostering a community of supernatural enthusiasts.

McLeod Andrews [36:03]: "Did you grow up in Ojai? Have you seen a sizzling dude in the woods? Tell us on Instagram."

Teasing the next episode's focus on a New England alien story, they leave listeners eager for more spine-chilling tales.

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Notable Quotes

• McLeod Andrews [04:10]: "He became something more than human, something worse than human, something known as Char Man."

• Bobby Parsons [32:20]: "I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness, just like I felt for the victims of the wildfires I fought each day."

• Brian Sigley [24:11]: "They just personalize it in a really weird way."

• Brian Sigley [35:32]: "There was an elderly man who had some kind of really bad skin cancer... started making up all these horrible stories."

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Final Notes

Sightings continues to unravel the mysteries of the supernatural, blending firsthand accounts with thoughtful discussions. To stay updated, subscribe on your favorite podcast platform and join the conversation on Instagram @sightingspodcast.

Transcript

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[McLeod Andrews]

Campfire stories have a way of weaving themselves into the fabric of our childhoods, blurring the lines between thrilling tales and chilling truths. But what happens when these tales, whispered among flickering flames, become a haunting reality? Some legends, it seems, are far more sinister than campfire smoke. Welcome to Sightings, the series that takes you inside the world's most mysterious supernatural events. I'm McLeod.

[Brian Sigley]

And I'm Brian. And today we're running as fast as we can from a terrifying urban legend.

[McLeod Andrews]

So if you're brave enough, journey with us to Ojai, California, where one fiery myth casts a long shadow. They say he roams the night, a smoldering figure born from tragedy. But is the char man merely a campfire tale? Or does he lurk in the shadows, waiting to be summoned? Find out on this episode of Sightings. Let me tell you a story. Ojai, California, 1948. The Great Fire, as they called it, was roaring across the valley, eating everything in its path and leaving nothing but ash in its wake. Some say it first sparked near the Pool, a wheeler resort, when a butane pipe burst. Others say it began when the flames of hell breached the rocks and the hills outside of town. Whatever the cause, more than 30,000 acres were soon ablaze, with 1500 firefighters risking life and limb to quell the inferno. Most of the townspeople of Ojai managed to evacuate to safety. But not everyone see. Out past Old Creek Bridge, there was a cabin. And in this cabin lived a man and his wife, a pair who, unlike their Neighbors down the hill failed to hear the warning sirens or smell the smoke before the flames were licking at their doorstep. It's said that the man tried to save his wife, but the front of the cabin became a wall of heat, blocking his path to her. And as he tried over and over and over again to get into that cabin to reach the wife he loved so dearly, he was burned so bad that the skin melted right off his body. And as he lay on the boiling dirt, unable to move, he could only listen as his wife screamed, help me. Help me. From inside the cabin as she was slowly consumed by the flames. And hearing that turned that man's mind into an inferno and his heart to ash. Fueled by remorse and rage, he became something more than human, something worse than human, something known as Char Man. Now he wants revenge. My name's Bobby Parsons. And if you were raised in Ojai like I was, I'd bet you learned the story of the char man when you were a teenager. It's a rite of passage here, an all in good fun mashup of spooky campfire stories and late night dares. But for me, well, learning the legend of the char man wasn't quite so innocent. I grew up the youngest of three, which made me the constant punching bag of my older brothers. And once they became teenagers and learned about char man from their friends, they decided to use his story to scare me out of my wits. So they took me into the hills and rehashed the legend, which suggested that if you stood on old creek bridge and shouted, help me. Help me. Then you'd see the horrifying creature for yourself. That my brothers said was the only way I'd become a man. I was 9 years old at the time, so I felt like I didn't have one say or another in the matter. And sure enough, I found myself standing on that bridge in the middle of the night with nothing around for miles but my two idiot brothers waiting with our bikes. And they reminded me that if I didn't do it, didn't cry out and glimpse the horror for myself, then they'd never, ever, ever let it go. And look, I'd be the first to admit I was a total wuss as a kid. So I didn't have much cour. Despair at that moment. All I remember is that I was so scared, I couldn't even speak, Couldn't even mouth the words. So I just closed my eyes and hoped to pass out from the sheer stress of it all. But before that could happen, I heard it a Scraping sound on the old rickety wood of the bridge. And I felt something, a presence almost getting closer. Closer, but how? I hadn't said anything, hadn't cried for help, hadn't summoned the char man. But I didn't dare open my eyes to see what was beside me, even as I felt the baby hair on my left arm begin to singe and I was too terrified to move, to recoil, even as my arm felt like it was fully on fire, like I was standing next to a being made of pure flame, until wham. I hit the ground hard. And I opened my eyes to find my brothers standing over me, laughing and pointing at my crotch because I'd peed my pants. But right then I didn't care about that. I was worried about my arm, which throbbed with pain. And I screamed at my brothers to show me the lighter. One of them had to be hiding, but they looked at me like I was crazy and said, they just tackled me. That's all. It was just a stupid scare. So from then on, I was terrified of fire and the woods and the thought that something else was on the bridge with me that night, it messed me up real good. And I kept having dreams of that bridge that night. And though I could never actually see him, the char man, I could feel him and his disturbing warmth beside me. This continued well into my teens, terrifying me each night. But by day, I tried to play the tough guy. So I got in fights, got into shit. And even though the dreams eventually faded, my macho overcompensation didn't. And by 19, I landed myself in prison. I don't want to get into what caused it, other than to say I screwed up good and was looking at 10 long years. And as the days ticked by in my tiny cell, that dream started up again, of that bridge, that thing. And it started getting to me, feeding on my fear, driving me crazy. And I wanted a way out. Needed a way out. I'd give anything for it. And you know what? Turns out? Fate has a pretty wicked sense of humor. So for any of this to make any sense, you need to understand there's these things in the prison system called conservation camps, where the state reduces sentences for assistance with things like disaster relief. And in California, that usually meant wildfire fighting, which was definitely not my gig. But like I said, I'd give anything for a way out, even if it meant facing my fears. So I sucked it all back and went out into the wilderness. And, yeah, I was terrified the first time I found myself staring at an inferno. But instead of killing Me. It empowered me. Because it turns out I was actually good at this whole firefighting thing. So day in and day out, I braved the woods, fought the flames. I saw how these fires ravaged people's lives, and I learned firsthand what empathy really was. And then, as my dreams of Char man faded like smoke on the horizon, I realized I'd beaten my fears. Or at least beaten most of them. Because even though I'd learned to fight fires like a pro, the thought of that bridge still terrified me. And that fear, All I could do was ignore it, forget it, bury it, and it would have to stay buried forever. A few years later, I'd earned my early release. And wouldn't you know it, I decided to keep working on the front lines, fighting wildfires. I joined a hotshot crew, the best of the best out there, and battled blazes across the state each fire season. Before I knew it, a few more years had passed, and sure enough, my thoughts of that bridge stayed buried and never surfaced once. Then I met Cotton. He was a new recruit in my crew, and like me, he grew up in Ojai. So one night, after handling a brush fire near Chico, we all got to drinking, and Cotton got to talking about Ojai. And then he did it. He brought up the char man. Suddenly, that bridge came rushing back to me, that creeping fear. And I did my best to hide it, even as Cotton said that next time we're down in SoCal, we ought to stop in Ojai, show the boys old Creek bridge, and see if the legend was true or not. I didn't say anything during all this, of course. I just stared down into my beer as the guys oohed and ah. And had a good time with a silly teenage legend. But sure enough, the next week took us down by Santa Barbara, just up the coast from Ojai. And since I was jockeying for crew leader, the guys looked up to me. So I couldn't wuss out on the trip. They planned to visit the hills outside of town, the bridge outside of town. So I felt my heart fall into my stomach as I realized that I was about to meet the char man again, whether I wanted to or not. There were five of us in the cab of Cotton's Ford F150. And as he drove, Cotton told us his version of the char man legend. Like the version my brothers and I learned, Cotton's story started with the Great Fire of 1948. But in his story, it wasn't a husband and wife in that cabin in the woods. It was a Father and son. And as the flames whipped through the hills, they destroyed the cabin, killed the father and burned the son. But the son didn't die. Instead, his body was left completely charred, and he was driven insane from the pain. So in the aftermath of the fire, he hung his father's body from a tree and stripped all the burned skin from it before fleeing into the hills, past Old Creek Bridge, where he's hidden, demented and charred ever since. So Cotton said, it's become sport among Ojai teenagers to stop their cars on the bridge at night and scream, help me into the wilderness. And some have claimed that a figure will come running at them from the woods. A horribly burned man who glows orange from the flames that emit from the cracks in his skin. And the legend goes, if you can't flee quickly enough, the Char man will start attacking your car windows. And if he's successfully able to break through, he'll drag you into the night and skin you alive. Of course, the other guys in the car thought all this was a load of bull, but Cotton told us he'd actually seen the Charman for himself, real and in the flesh. He said it happened back when he was a teenager. He and a buddy got drunk one night and drove out to the bridge. They parked smack in the middle of it, cracked a fresh beer, rolled down the windows, and started calling out for help. He said it was just a game for them. They started with a whisper, then got louder, louder, louder, until they were shouting with abandon out into the night. But nothing happened. No glow appeared in the distance, no cries came from the trees, and nothing came scraping at their windows, trying to pull them out into the darkness. So after a while, the boys gave up. Cotton grabbed his keys, cranked the ignition, and as soon as the headlights blasted to life, the boys froze. Something was standing on the bridge right in front of their car. A bandage clad figure staring at them. It looked like a man, Cotton said, but its eyes were black. Pitch black, like the night. And those black eyes just stared at the boy, who were too scared to move. Until all of a sudden, the figure clenched its fists and its whole body caught fire like a human torch. And then, Cotton said, the thing opened its mouth and screamed something awful. And without even thinking, Cotton slammed the car in reverse and they got the hell out of there and never looked back. Now, the other guys in the car seemed unsettled. A few tried to laugh it off, but I could tell they were straight up spooked. But me, I knew Cotton was bluffing. He'd Just made the legend his own. Or had he? Who was I to say what Char man really was? I hadn't seen him. I just felt him known he was there, and he'd haunted my dreams ever since. Soon enough we were on Old Creek Road and driving out into the hills above town. I knew the road well and knew the bridge would appear any moment, and right on time it did. It was an old wooden thing and I was amazed that it was still standing since I last saw it as a kid. But there it was, and Cotton pulled the truck right up onto the middle of it and turned off the ignition. He told us that since he'd already seen the Char man, he was going to leave the truck and wait down the road. The rest of us were to stay in the car, then say, help me, Help me. Soft at first, then louder and louder and louder, until still, if we were lucky, we'd see the Char man for ourselves. Then, with an ominous salute, he disappeared into the dark. The other guys looked at one another, skeptical. One asked me if this whole thing was bullshit, and I said of course it was. But another suggested that since we drove all this way, we might as well put the legend to the test. So we rolled down the window and on the count of three, the other guys started saying, help me, help me. Slow and quiet at first, then louder, louder, and as the guy's shouts reached fever pitch, screaming full blast into the night, the truck shook and I swear you could hear a pin drop in there. And we all looked around, scanning the dark for something, anything, when wham. A flaming hand smacked the driver side window and everyone, all full grown men, straight up, screamed. And in reply we heard laughter, a very human snicker with a voice I knew all too well. It was Cotton, of course, and with a sly smile he held up a fire resistant glove that was still sizzling from the lighter fluid he doused it in. Everyone got a good laugh out of that, and of course Cotton readily admitted that his story was a bunch of bullshit. He'd seen nothing at all on this bridge back when he was young. But as that fear still coursed through my veins, I got to wondering what I'd experienced on this bridge then. Had it all been in my head, a fever dream of a terrified 9 year old? Or had something really, truly happened back then? And worse, would it keep haunting me for years to come? So as Cotton got in the cab and turned the ignition, I told him to wait, that there was something I needed to do. I needed to end this once and for all. A Few minutes later, I found myself standing alone in the dark. Cotton and the others had retreated down the road and were told to give me five minutes before coming back. So with the clock ticking, I sucked back my breath and walked out onto the bridge just like I had some 20 years before. And I could feel myself shaking as I planted my feet right in the center of the wooden planks. Then I closed my eyes and waited. I knew I didn't have to say anything. That if the char man was indeed real, that he'd have no trouble finding me here. And I didn't know what I expected to get from this other than confirmation I wasn't crazy or a way to put my fears to rest. But as the seconds, then minutes, ticked by and nothing happened, I began to suspect that everything, all 20 years of it, had been in my head. And I was just about to open my eyes and walk away when I heard it. That familiar, terrifying scraping sound on the rickety wood of the bridge. And I felt a presence, a warmth growing ever closer. So I did what I had been too afraid to do 20 years ago. I opened my eyes and there he was, standing right in front of me. The char man. He was a portrait of pain with a blackened and charred face. Blistered flesh hung like rotted cloth from his cheeks and forehead, with glowing embers smoldering in the cracks of the skin that remained. His nose was a gaping hole, his ears charred nubs. His eyes pure vivid flame. And they stared deep into mine with a burning intensity I'll never forget. And despite the horror standing before me, I didn't feel any fear. Instead, I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness, just like I felt for the victims of the wildfires I fought each day. So I did the only thing I could think to do and said to words, I'm sorry. And the char man seemed to consider that for a moment. Then he slowly retreated back into the night until the faint glow of his charred skin vanished into the dark. And as I stood there alone on that bridge again, I felt lighter somehow, because I'd faced my fears and come out on the other side. And the Charman hasn't haunted my dreams since.

[Brian Sigley]

Sightings will be back just after this.

[James McComb]

I'm James McComb reporting live from home in my bathrobe and slippers. Tonight we're talking Dunkin Poehler peppermint coffee. Gene's here with the latest. Uh, Gene, do you copy?

[Brian Sigley]

The home with Duncan is where you want to be.

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[McLeod Andrews]

Welcome back to Sightings. I gotta say, I'm really excited to talk about this one. I feel like I have more of a personal connection to this type of story than maybe some of the other legends we've talked about, because this is an urban legend, which I imagine has to have afforded you some creative flexibility, Brian.

[Brian Sigley]

It sure did. And I guess that's the beauty of urban legends. They're this framework, almost more than the story itself, that each teller can make their own, and it's always evolving.

[McLeod Andrews]

Yeah. And this was our first urban legend on the show, so. So what I'm trying to do, I'm trying to wrap my head around what differentiates this from other sightings we've discussed. You know, I'm trying to put my finger on it, but there's something about this type of story that, for me, kind of gets to the experiential, emotional, just very human heart of all sighting stories.

[Brian Sigley]

Exactly. And because it seems to be such a fluid format, I guess told more among friends or around the campfire than other stories, the content really changes based on who's telling the story. And that's what makes it feel so personal, because it's always told from the perspective of, oh, my friend did this, or someone I knew who knew someone who knew someone. It just personalizes it in a really weird way.

[McLeod Andrews]

Yeah, it's deeply individualized. And I think about urban legends I heard growing up, like Candyman or Bloody Mary, where you'd go into the bathroom and look in the mirror and say the name five times, and then they'd appear behind you or something like. That's the one that I remember. And you dare each other to do that. And, I mean, I'm sure someone who grew up somewhere else heard a different version of those same stories.

[Brian Sigley]

Yeah, I remember my dad used to tell us urban legends on road trips. You know, things like the hook man or the killer hiding in the backseat of a car waiting to pounce on you. And all of these feel somehow grounded in modern life, which is why, I guess, they're urban legends. And they most often involve teenagers. They seem to be kind of the target audience for this kind of thing.

[McLeod Andrews]

Which is, it just strikes me, this fascinating impulse we have to scare each other, to test each other and to test ourselves, which is really in line.

With the teenage age, you know, where.

You'Re trying to develop a sense of identity, where you're trying to test boundaries and test your own courage and feel strong or find strength.

[Brian Sigley]

Yeah, yeah. And personally, I know that the stories that stuck with me growing up were the ones where you had to do something, so to speak, to summon the legend, like Bloody Mary, which you mentioned, you have to go into the bathroom by yourself, say that your name and summon her basically. Or Char man, where you're supposed to stand on the bridge and shout help me to draw him out of the woods. There's something terrifying about the act of actually doing it, which is probably why these stories are so popular.

[McLeod Andrews]

You know what it is? It's like a battle with your own imagination or like the tiny, tiny chance that the story could actually be true and something could truly be coming for you. It's like in all probability it's not real, but on the just faintest whiff of a chance that it is, you're dead.

[Brian Sigley]

Yeah, that's it.

[McLeod Andrews]

So, I mean, I don't at all believe in Char man or Bloody Mary or Candyman, but I still hesitate because of that sort of risk, reward, imbalance. You know, if you asked me to walk out alone at night onto this bridge and cry out, help me. It's like, it's like this inevitable game of chicken we play within ourselves where we're both the antagonist and the hero simultaneously trying to push the bounds of how much fear we can generate within ourselves, how powerful is our imagination. And all the while challenging ourselves to discover how much adrenaline spiked panic we can master. You know, it's like a psychic workout where we, we pit our imagination against our willpower in this internal grudge match.

[Brian Sigley]

Oh, wow, that was steep, McLeod. I agree. And I feel like it's all rooted in that kind of primal fear of the unknown. And as we've seen through a lot of the stories we've talked about, Char man isn't the only one to do it. It's certainly not the only urban legend to do it. In fact, there's a whole bunch of other terrifying supernatural men who have been scaring people for decades. An obvious one that I think has come up in the last 10 or 20 years thanks to the Internet, has been slender, you know, but have you heard for instance, McLeod of the Goat Man.

[McLeod Andrews]

I want to. I've not heard of the Goat Man. I just love goats. I think they're hilarious. And the sound.

[Brian Sigley]

I would really hope that Goatman doesn't make that sound, though, because that's the least scary sound.

[McLeod Andrews]

Well, I guess anything's scary when you're being ripped apart.

[Brian Sigley]

Yeah. You know, but. So Goatman's from Maryland. He's this allegedly hairy creature with a human face who reportedly stalks the woods and eats dogs. So maybe it's terrifying for those dogs.

[McLeod Andrews]

Yeah.

[Brian Sigley]

What about Bunny Man? Have you heard of Bunny Man?

[McLeod Andrews]

Are you kidding me? Are these real? I mean, my mind immediately goes to Monty Python and the. Holy crap.

[Brian Sigley]

Well, Bunnyman is a Virginia urban legend outside of D.C. and it's about this dude in a bunny suit.

[McLeod Andrews]

Okay, that is genuinely terrifying. I'm sorry.

[Brian Sigley]

Even worse, he attacks people with a hatchet or an axe. You know, the weapon changes depending on who's telling the story, but it's this murderous dude in a bun. And a lot of these stories, like Bunny man, also happen to center on a bridge. In this case, it's Bunny Man Bridge, you know, which is kind of similar to how the bridge in Ojai is now known as Charman Bridge.

[Ryan]

Whew.

[McLeod Andrews]

Oh, man. You know, it's fascinating that it's a bridge, you know, that it's always a bridge, because there's a lack of escape. There's this kind of. It narrows the playing field, so to speak.

[Brian Sigley]

Yeah.

[McLeod Andrews]

Or like a bathroom, a confined space. It always involves kind of no escape or limited escape.

[Brian Sigley]

Yeah, interesting thought there.

[McLeod Andrews]

Which maybe just that amps up the fear, which is the whole point. But anyway, this story was Char, man. Let's talk Char Man. Is there any actual record of this, or do we know where the legend came from?

[Brian Sigley]

So, yeah, the first real appearance of the Char man seems to be around 1961, where a son told his mother this story, which involved a dude who was burnt to a crisp in the fire. Ojai fire of 1948. And he now allegedly hid in the ruins of his house. He's covered in bandages. People spot him. He didn't really do anything, but that was the first time that, you know, I guess people were circulating. There's this weird guy in the woods who is Charman. The versions that we heard in the story that you read were a more aggressive Charman. I guess the first one, which we mentioned was about the fire hitting a house in the hills. It was a man and a wife. The man managed to escape the house, but the wife did not. He hears her yelling, help me. Help me. But he couldn't save her. And that torment of not being able to save her while being horrifically scarred himself turned him somehow into the Char man. And then the other version was the kind of the variation of that, which was that the man survived, but his father died. The guy got horrifically burned and went insane. He skinned his father to remove all the burn scars, hung him from a tree, and then when the police officers arrived and were like, whoa, what the heck is going on here? The dude attacked them and ran into the woods and then became Char man.

[McLeod Andrews]

Wow.

So, I mean, obviously, these can't all be true, if any of them are at all. Was there even a fire in 1948?

[Brian Sigley]

Yeah, there was a fire in 1948, but there was no record of anyone actually dying in that fire. But I can see how, you know, a giant fire in 1948 would provide the kindling, so to speak, for a compelling legend.

[McLeod Andrews]

I see what you did. There I am.

[Brian Sigley]

Look at me.

[McLeod Andrews]

I love it.

[Brian Sigley]

Yeah. I'm wondering, McLeod, though, why do you think that we have all these different versions of the story, but why do you think it became a thing at all?

[McLeod Andrews]

I find it really fascinating that, I think in all of these stories, whether it's Bloody Mary or Char man, maybe not Bunny man, which I've just now learned about, or Goatman, who I guess is just a monster, but they're all people. They're all based on people who have suffered horribly traumatic physical anguish. And I think part of it is it's the thing we fear most. It's sort of the thing, this unknown, horrific event that we, God forbid, should ever happen to us.

[Brian Sigley]

You know, I wonder if there's also some element of trying to process social anxieties in a weird way. Like, I'm thinking of Ojai, California. That's fire country. And these people who live there kind of live under this common, constant threat of wildfire. So is. Is Char man a way of rationalizing.

[McLeod Andrews]

That fear or testing yourself against it so that you can kind of keep. Keep upping your resistance to it? It's like micro dosing a poison kind of.

[Brian Sigley]

But. But in the case of Charman also, it kind of. In terms of setting, it kind of hits on some of the greatest hits. You already mentioned a bridge. The bridge is kind of this symbol of a passageway between this life and the next.

[McLeod Andrews]

That's a great take on the bridge.

[Brian Sigley]

And then also, I think, another element that comes up a lot in urban legends are either the forest, which I guess could stand in for kind of the unknown, or the idea of, like, a dangerous wild man, so to speak.

[McLeod Andrews]

Right. Who's outside of the social norms kind of.

[Brian Sigley]

You know, in this case, it's a crazy dude who's burned really badly. And, you know, I guess when you combine bridge and forest like we have in Char man, it just equals this. The right climate, so to speak, for a legend like this to kind of spread bring up.

[McLeod Andrews]

Yeah.

And this one in particular brings kind of nature into the mix a little bit. It's very cool. But the thing that my brain kind of keeps coming around to with just the term urban legends is that word legend. It's sticking with me because a legend indicates a story with historical context, if not truth, that it's based usually on some event or some vibe of the time and, you know, which causes us to wonder what really happened. And, you know, urban legends, I think, are just sort of modern history or more recent history. So it begs the question for me, is there anything else to this, any evidence or facts around this besides the fire?

[Brian Sigley]

There are corroborations that this is a thing and that there's. People are seeing something, theoretically. There was an article in the Ventura County Free Press in 1967, and its title was the Char man maybe lurking out there Somewhere in the Ojai Valley. Now, it's more of an article that's about the fact that the urban legend exists, but it does comment that, like, kids are theoretically seeing something and teens are becoming obsessed with it. It noted in the article that, like, 60 teenagers were spotted in one place looking for this thing on one night. Of course, the article did end with the line, though, you know, no one ever actually found any supernatural being, but. But I love this line. Many found a convenient haven for parking and romancing.

[McLeod Andrews]

Well, yeah, I mean, I guess they go together a little bit, don't they?

[Brian Sigley]

Yeah. Yeah. Now, there is a police officer from Ojai who was interviewed at some point and gave an explanation for what Char man could have been. He said that back in 1961, the police got a report from teenagers who were parked out on this remote road that they were approached by, quote, an awful looking creature that looked badly burned and deformed. Now, once more and more and more, people are like, I'm seeing something. I'm seeing something. They did mount an investigation and they found something, an explanation, theoretically, for this. So there was apparently, and this is kind of sad, an elderly man who lived alone in the rural part of Ojai with his dog near where all these sightings happened. And he reportedly had some kind of really bad skin cancer that made his face look badly deformed or I guess burned, essentially. And these kids just happened to see him in passing and imaginations took flight and they started making up all these horrible stories about him being burned and him being a monster and all this stuff. And I think it just all kind of took on a life of its own from there.

[McLeod Andrews]

Right.

I can imagine if this guy was real, him maybe at some point yelling at some kids because he's just tired of being bothered.

[Brian Sigley]

And it's a shame that this guy had to deal with that and that this happened to him, if this is true at all. But I can see how this just kind of spiral.

[McLeod Andrews]

Yeah, absolutely. Well, I mean, I think, you know, we could talk about this all day over a couple glasses of bourbon, I think. But I think this is probably as good a place as any to wrap things up. But listeners, we want to hear what you think. Did you grow up in Ojai? Have you seen a sizzling dude in the woods? Tell us on Instagram citingting tytingspod or.

[Brian Sigley]

Leave a comment on Spotify. It's the place to be to discuss theories and let us know what you think about the show. And as always, if you like what we're doing here, leave us a five star review and tell your friends about us.

[McLeod Andrews]

And Brian, I want you to tell me what we're talking about next week.

[Brian Sigley]

Well, it's a bit less of a mystery, I will give you that. But I will say in terms of concrete details that we are heading to New England and that you'll want to keep your eyes on the skies for this one.

[McLeod Andrews]

Oh, I know where you're going.

[Brian Sigley]

No, I'm not. It might be an alien story.

[McLeod Andrews]

Okay, I love alien stories. I'm sorry I'm giving you a hard time.

[Brian Sigley]

No, it's a fun one. It's a good one. So we hope you guys come back and listen with us next week, same time, same place, here on Sightings. See you all then.

[McLeod Andrews]

I like Men in Black.

[Brian Sigley]

Sightings is hosted by McLeod Andrews and Brian Sigley. Produced by Brian Sigley, chase Kinzer and McLeod Andrews. Written by Brian Sigley. Story music by Madison James Smith Series music by Middle Bain Mixing and mastering by Pat Kickliter of Sundial Media. Artwork by Nuno Sernatus. For a list of this episode's sources, check out our [e-mail] Sightings is presented by Reverb and Qcode. If you like the show, be sure to subscribe on your favorite podcast platform so you're first to hear new episodes every week. And if you know other Supernatural fans, tell them about us. We'd really appreciate it.