No, it's not Arafat vs. the Montauk Monster. It's a Plum Island visitor enjoying sunrise and wondering if he'll get to see Lab 257. (Photo: Flickr)

Plum Island is a part of Southold, New York in Gardiners Bay, off the eastern end of the North Fork coast of Long Island. Since the beginning of the Cold War, the island has been the site of a military base and an animal disease center that shall forever be known as “Lab 257.” When Lab 257 was fully operational, access was limited only to select scientists and special guests. Speculation was that bizarre animal experiments were conducted there. Lab 257 is where some people believe the Montauk Monster originated. But those glory days are (allegedly) long gone. Plum Island is up for sale, reports local WCBS TV.

Plum Island – What can you do with a local legend?

The General Services Administration is currently taking community input as to what should be done with Plum Island. Some feel it should be made into a federal park and nature preserve, as many different bird species nest on the island. But concerns exist over Lab 257, particularly from a Homeland Security point of view. Pathogens that could potentially kill humans – and destroy scores of livestock – were once produced there. Furthermore, the island is not well-protected. Thus, some have argued that Lab 257 should be moved to Kansas and reopened for biological experimentation. Yet, as U.S. Rep. Timothy Bishop (whose district includes Plum Island) told local media, the sale of Plum Island would garner $50 million to $60 million. The costs of relocating Lab 257 would be significantly more, more than $650 million. Armed forces loans would be necessary. Bishop believes Plum Island facilities should go back into use rather than opening the “Pandora’s Box” of decommissioning and moving Lab 257.

The Montauk Monster – a product of Lab 257?

The rumor circulated along the small coastal towns of New York is that the Montauk Monster was a product of Lab 257. The Montauk Monster is likely just a decayed seal carcass or perhaps a large deceased raccoon, but the stories swirling around Plum Island and Lab 257 sound much more fun. One set of fishermen allegedly found the beast and gave it a proper Viking funeral, complete with at-sea immolation and the Montauk Monster secured in a child’s flotation device. Whether it’s all true matters very little. Such stories are what splash local color across the cultural landscape. Stories of Lab 257 on Plum Island may stretch the truth, but clearly some work with infectious disease has occurred on the premises. That’s enough to entertain generations of kids around the campfire on a summer evening.

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No, that’s not it. It much simpler than that, and much more sensational. The Montauk Monster continues to grab headlines! Happy July 4, you charred raccoon… or whatever you are… I can understand that the creature has its image to think about. And considering how much the paparazzi pay for photographs anymore (Where’s TMZ when you need them?) – it’s a great way to earn some spread and stay ahead of bill collectors. I had the unfortunate occasion to come into contact with bill collectors years ago, and each of them struck me as the type of people who would jump at the chance to set up an automatic deduction with a dried rat dog. If the Montauk Monster needs money to beat back the freaks, I say a payday loan (or payday loans) pave a great path. But once the public discovers the creature’s history, perhaps they’ll realize that all of this (except the payday loans part) is dumb-butt stupid.

Ancestral history – Um, OK

Russell Drumm writes in the East Hampton Star that the Montauk Monster is not a fluke. In fact, it’s history may date back 100 years, when a strange creature was discovered in a Montauk fish trap. The Star reported on it then, too, he says:

Great excitement has been caused by the finding, in a fish trap off Montauk, of what is declared to be a sea serpent measuring 22 feet in length, having a neck six feet long and a tail about eight feet. It is considered the greatest discovery of the kind ever made on the east end of Long Island, and seems to prove beyond a doubt that the sea serpent is not a myth, as everyone supposed, but a verity.

Verily, ’twas a verity. Aliens are among us, and we don’t need Rowdy Roddy specs to see them.

A ceremony worthy of Beowulf

Then there’s Camp Hero on Plum Island. Rumors have been spread about bizarre animal experiments that involve time travel, but the reality of the situation is that veterinarians have trained there. What about the guys who found a dead raccoon around Shelter Island? Reports indicate they put it in a child’s floaty and lit the beast on fire, Viking funeral-style. Post-immolation, it washed up on shore at Montauk, in front of Surfside restaurant. That seems plausible, and fun. A cell phone picture of the carcass has filled cyberspace with Montauk Monster fever. The symptoms are a fascination with the bizarre and a total inability to pee straight.

Sliced by a vorpal blade

Was there really a caravan of giant walrus cows in the Montauk marina? It was the summer of 1998. Back then, the creature turned out to be a manatee over 1,000 miles off course. How did it get here? Was it spirited away to Montauk by the ghost of Rod Serling? Was Miyazaki-san involved? East Hampton fisherman Stuart Vorpahl (like the vorpal blade that killed the Jabberwocky?) remembers a strange encounter he had there. “At Oyster Pond bend in Montauk, a big rotten mess on the beach. It could have been a squid, but who knows? That was 40 years ago, if it was a day,” he recalled. Whatever the case, he claims the thing he found had eyes the “diameter of a soccer ball.” Unfortunately, no photographic evidence survived the meeting.

1909 – The Year of the Serpent

The newspapers raged over the topic. Sea creatures grabbed headlines in The Star, The Brooklyn Eagle, and The Suffolk Times, writes Drumm. Everyone was weighing in with their ideas as to what the next strange creatures discovered in the area was. Oarfish, not a serpent. Or perhaps a whip-tail shark. “Experts” appeared and floated their theories, which served only to whip readers into a frothy state of suspicion. What are newspapers for, anyway? The fisherman I cited at the beginning of this story was inundated with requests for photos, but he had none to give. Following the trail, The Star used their journalistic moxie to discover the following:

The fish is no longer on exhibition, because John Barre, who found it, thinks that the people are making more money out of it than he is, and so he has placed the serpent up in the garret of his house and now anybody who wants to see it or take pictures of it must pay his price. The figure quoted for taking pictures of it was $25.

A heft sum in those days, but Mr. Barre knew how to milk a cash cow. If payday loans had existed then, people would have used them to reserve their sports in line. Think of all the payday loans that would have circulated. What a miracle this think commerce is… Related Video: