Lou’s View

By Lou Bernard

I almost missed it. These things tend to come and go, and if I let my attention slip a bit, I sometimes don’t even notice. But the other day, I was thinking about it, and I realized that it’s an anniversary. I’ve been writing a regular column in the Record for fifteen years now.

I remember the night I agreed to write for the Record. I’d already been published in a couple of other outlets, the first of which was a local women’s magazine. And I was talking with Jeannine Lipez, one of the former publishers, at a Millbrook event. I asked if she’d be willing to run some of my stuff, as well, and she immediately agreed.

I figured I’d keep them supplied with a column to use whenever they needed it. So I sent one in, and they used it immediately. I sent another, and they used that one immediately, too, and that’s how I got to have a regular weekly column.

I had to go back and check my scrapbooks to recall which one was my first column. Hell, it’s been fifteen years, and I can barely remember breakfast. So I dug out my old scrapbooks, and found the first one I ever wrote—A November 2010 column called “Reign of the Alley Bird.”

This one pretty much set the tone for some of the weirdness I am known for, and looking back, I’m a bit shocked that I chose this particular topic to lead with. It’s a bit of a minor miracle that they didn’t call it off right there, it’s that strange. It refers to an incident in Renovo from 1881.

I got my information from an old Record article dating back to January 20, 1881. The headline was simply “Alley Bird.” The whole thing involved a mystery man who was seen in Renovo jumping out and frightening people for some reason, dressed in a women’s dress, bonnet, and heavy shoes or boots. He would leap out and scare women and children, and run away if he saw a man coming.

“He is spoken of as the ‘Alley Bird,’” reported the Record,”And he is becoming a terror to nervous women and children.” He had been spotted near the Catholic church, walking along the railroad tracks, and in the alleys between Fifth and Sixth Streets.

“There is much interest manifested by many persons who have not seen the ‘Alley Bird’ to know just whether there is such a character,” the Record said. “If so, what is his object?”

The article called upon two of the local constables to make an effort at catching and arresting him. When I wrote about this for my first column in the Record, I speculated about where he’d come from.

“In that area, at the time, there were several homes and a collection of hotels,” I wrote. “Could the Alley Bird have lived nearby? Was he a transient, staying at a hotel? It seems unlikely that a man dressed as a woman could have run far from his original position without being noticed.”

The Alley Bird appears to have been active for about two years, and then disappeared. He may have killed one of the police officers sent to catch him—Constable Patrick Shelley was found dead in December of 1882, not far from where the Alley Bird was known to lurk. There had been some sort of loud disturbance near Fifth Street, and Shelley’s overcoat was found a few blocks away, as if someone had used it to cover up a dress as they fled.

Nothing was ever proven. The Alley Bird was never caught, and I haven’t found any record of Shelley’s murder being solved. As this was all 1881, it’s safe to guess that all the criminals involved are probably now dead. But this article kicked off fifteen years of my writing in the Record….And I’d like to point out that my reign has lasted way longer than the Alley Bird’s.