Sasquatch Chronicles Blog

In the 1970s, Washington State University anthropologist Grover Krantz, shown here with the so-called “Giganto” model, was among those who made a scientific case for Bigfoot’s existence.

In 1972, you could dial BIG-FOOT (244-3668) in Portland to report sightings of the Pacific Northwest’s lumbering forest phantom.

You could also supposedly submit tips and request information by writing to “BIGFOOT, Portland, OR.”

Curious about the state of the search for Sasquatch in 2015, I tried the phone number a few weeks ago, using the now-required 503 area code.

I also sent my business card and a note to the address. The snail mail landed back on my desk a week later. “Return to sender,” the U.S. Postal Service stamp read. “Insufficient address.”

My co-worker Rosie, who sorts the newsroom’s mail, also wasn’t amused. She scribbled a skeptical note on the envelope after seeing the address: “Joe — Really??”

Yes, Scully. Really.

Sure, I might as well have been writing to Santa Claus (except that letter probably wouldn’t have been thrown back at me). But there was a time when Sasquatch was more than a pop culture novelty starring in beef jerky commercials and inspiring the name of an annual indie music festival.

Bigfoot was big news. Hard news. Even political news. He was the original hairy, smelly hipster.

Flipping through The Oregonian archives, it’s amazing how seriously the press treated the ‘Squatch beat back then.

In the 1970s, Oregon’s newspaper of record printed more than 100 straight-faced stories of sightings, giant footprints left in the mud and annual summer hunts for one of the towering, ape-like creatures. (Footnote: The trackers always emerged from the wilderness with little more than what they claimed were Bigfoot fur clumps and poop.)

Still, anyone gazing at the uninhabited Cascade Range, believing a missing link with elongated arms walked in the shadows, was bound to get goosebumps reading the stories.

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