Local Lore

My 7th grade year I played for the Raiders in the Norwalk Pop Warner Leauge. As it was, our coaching staff was comprised entirely of policemen (both state and City of Norwalk). Their other common trait was that they all worked the night shift so our afternoon practices were effectively their morning routines. How our practice was to be that day depended on how rough their prior night was...I remember one of the more brutal practices was when an assistant coach (and Norwalk police officer) showed up to start practice with a busted hand and a mean scowl: "Some motherfucker thought he could take my head off last night...but I put him on his back...now fuckin' start running!!!!!!"

One evening, that same coach pointed pointed to an older man who sometimes came to the field to walk his dog. "That's One-Nut Willy. He's a child-molester that I've arrested eight times". Forever after that, if we saw the man after practice while waiting for our rides home, we circled in a defensive position like Wildebeest calling our to those that strayed from the herd, lest they fall prey to the voracious predator circling about.

It was of course probably entirely a crock or at the least an exaggeration. However, us being twelve-year-olds, we invented an entire backstory for the guy. My own personal telling was that he indeed only did have one "nut", but that he was something like the Headless Horseman, haunting the night to seek out young boys with whose genitalia he might replace his missing testicle.

Once a while on Peachtree here in Atlanta I see what I thought was a a flamboyantly gay/crazy homeless guy, who walks - nay, struts - around in hot shorts and a top hat, twirling a baton. Recently, a girl I met (and an Atlantan of eleven years) told me his name was Baton Bob and he too had a local lore. Supposedly, he was a successful Fortune 500 executive here in Atlanta. Then September 11th happened and he just wanted people to be happy so he walks around like that to cheer them up.

Holy shit. I was double-checking if I spelled "baton" correctly and Google spit out a Wikipedia article for Baton Bob. It's pretty close to the story I was told (except the executive part isn't true). He even has a website: http://www.batonbob.com/. So, it's only on Wikipedia, but supposedly even CNN interviewed him. I checked and One-Nut Willy does not have a webpage.

Certainly the stories told to me were embellished, but the embroidered versions are so much more fun. The enjoyment comes from our affinity as humans for storytelling. Stories are fun to tell, then embellish, and tell again. Local urban legends and perhaps even religions most likely get their start this way. Because the truth is probably much more banal, wouldn't we rather believe the sensationalism of the stories we invent for ourselves? Aren't they so much more interesting?