8 case files, newest first.
At about ten on a Sunday night in October 1894, one brilliant fireball crossed Arizona Territory. Flagstaff saw it burst over the Elden mountains, Mesa “just this side of Superstition,” and Globe felt a detonation that “shook the earth.” Mohave County had it hit Wallapai mountain, and Tucson called it “the first dispatch from Mars.”
Forty years after the Hydesville rappings, Margaret Fox Kane stood on the stage of New York's Academy of Music and made the famous raps with her toe joint. A year later she took the confession back.
Our first monthly archive pack: eight period newspaper reports from 1888 to 1938, each paired with what came later. That might be a confession, a debunk, or the reason it's still open. It runs from a Phoenix fireball to a New Zealand ghost scare.
On the night of 1 April 1897, thousands in Kansas City watched a moving light the wire called an airship. Flagstaff reprinted the dispatch a week later. Two weeks after that, it printed a cocktail recipe for seeing one.
A golden-trailed fireball crossed the Salt River Valley at dinnertime on 6 October 1906 and broke up with a boom. Callers feared an explosion, the Weather Bureau observer timed it with his watch, and Tucson and Phoenix each said it passed right over them.
In the winter of 1905, Christchurch papers reported a masked man in a luminous coat frightening women at night. By October the scare had reached the Hutt, where a local paper investigated one sighting and found an old white cow in the moonlight.
For a couple of years, a 'tiger' was blamed for killing sheep in South Australia's south-east. When a shooter dropped a large canid in August 1895, the local experts called it a European wolf. A modern historian says wildlife experts now think alpine dingo.
During the 1897 airship wave, a Kansas rancher's story of a craft that lassoed his heifer became one of the era's best-known yarns. Kansas City's Journal treated it as comedy within days; a 1943 item quoted the local editor saying it was invented.
