Was It Real? The Choccolocco Monster and Alabama’s Wildest Urban Legend

In the late 1960s, the quiet roads of Choccolocco, Alabama, became the stage for a mysterious figure that gripped the imagination of locals and cryptid enthusiasts alike: the Choccolocco Monster.

Described as a towering, hairy humanoid with glowing eyes, this creature startled motorists and sparked a flurry of speculation before being revealed as a hoax.

But its story is more than a simple prank—it’s a window into Alabama folklore, media frenzy, and the enduring allure of the unknown.

In this comprehensive exploration, we’ll delve into its detailed history, eyewitness accounts, extensive media coverage, comparisons to other cryptids, and a robust analysis of what it could have been, rooted in Alabama’s wildlife.

What Does the Choccolocco Monster Look Like?

The Choccolocco Monster was no subtle specter. Witnesses described it as a bipedal creature standing between 6 and 7 feet tall, cloaked in dark, matted hair that gave it a shaggy, unkempt look.

Its broad shoulders and long, swinging arms evoked comparisons to Sasquatch, while its hunched, “hump-backed” posture added a menacing twist. Perhaps most chilling were its eyes—often reported as glowing red or yellow in the glare of headlights, amplifying its otherworldly aura.

A 1969 article in the Anniston Star noted its “shaggy” coat and “ape-like” build, with some witnesses likening it to a bear standing upright. Others mentioned a skeletal, almost costumed appearance, hinting at the hoax to come.

Variations existed—some saw it as leaner, others bulkier—but the core image persisted: a dark, hairy giant that loomed out of Alabama’s shadows.

Behavior

Unlike cryptids known for elusive wandering, the Choccolocco Monster had a flair for the dramatic. It favored roadside ambushes, leaping from the woods to startle drivers before retreating into the night.

Witnesses consistently reported its sudden appearances—often at dusk or after dark—followed by a swift disappearance that left no trace. One motorist, quoted in the Anniston Star (1969), recalled, “It jumped out like it wanted to stop us, then ran off faster than anything I’ve seen.”

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This hit-and-run tactic set it apart. It didn’t linger, pursue, or attack—just scared and vanished. Some speculated it was territorial, others playful, but its behavior suggested intent: to shock, not to harm. This pattern fueled both fear and curiosity, keeping Choccolocco abuzz with monster talk.

Habitat

The creature’s domain was the Choccolocco Valley in Calhoun County, Alabama—a region of dense pine forests, rolling hills, and meandering creeks. Choccolocco itself, an unincorporated community, sits near the Choccolocco Creek, surrounded by thick woodlands ideal for concealment.

The nearby Choccolocco Wildlife Management Area, spanning 56,000 acres, offers a sprawling mix of hardwood forests, wetlands, and open fields—a perfect hideout for a creature, real or staged.

Sightings clustered along rural roads like Alabama Highway 9, where woods met pavement. This liminal space—wild yet accessible—may have drawn the monster (or its creator) to the edge of human activity, amplifying its impact on unsuspecting travelers.

The Choccolocco Monster Sightings and Witnesses

The Choccolocco Monster’s reign peaked in 1969, with a string of sightings that electrified the community. Below is a comprehensive timeline of key encounters, sourced from historical accounts:

These accounts, pieced together from Anniston Star reports and local lore, show a surge in activity through 1969.

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John Carter’s 1968 sighting kicked things off, followed by a wave of motorist encounters. Teenagers added eerie details—grunts and glowing eyes—while residents like Mary Ellis reinforced its fleeting nature. Neal Williamson’s 2001 confession tied most incidents to his prank, though some locals argue earlier sightings remain unexplained.

Media Coverage

The Choccolocco Monster’s story unfolded across decades, fueled by robust media attention that ranged from serious reporting to national mockery. Here’s an in-depth look:

• 1969 Anniston Star: The first major coverage came in a series of articles throughout 1969. An early piece (June 1969) described “a shaggy, hump-backed creature” terrorizing drivers, quoting witnesses like John Carter: “It was no man, no animal I know.” By August, the paper ran follow-ups, noting “dozens” of sightings and a growing local panic. These reports, republished in 2021, remain the primary source for the monster’s early fame.
• Birmingham News (1969): This regional outlet picked up the story late in 1969, calling it “Alabama’s own Sasquatch” and speculating on bear sightings gone wild. It interviewed a game warden who dismissed it as “kids or a prank,” foreshadowing the truth.
• Local Radio (1969): Stations like WHMA in Anniston aired witness calls, with one caller claiming, “It’s real—I saw it run faster than a deer.” These broadcasts spread the tale beyond Calhoun County, amplifying its reach.
• 2001 Anniston Star: The bombshell came in October 2001, when Neal Williamson confessed to the hoax. The article detailed his costume—a cow skull, sheet, and dark fabric—and how he’d scared drivers “for fun.” It quoted him: “I never thought it’d get this big.” This revelation shifted the narrative from mystery to mischief.
• The Daily Show (2001): Comedy Central’s The Daily Show seized on the confession, airing a segment that mocked the “redneck Bigfoot” and Choccolocco’s brief infamy. Correspondent Mo Rocca quipped, “Alabama: where even the monsters are hoaxes.”
• Wikipedia (2004): A page launched in 2004, summarizing the sightings, hoax, and media buzz, ensuring the monster’s digital immortality.
• Modern Retrospectives: Books like Alabama Lore (Wil Elrick, 2018) and podcasts like Strange Alabama (2020) revisited the tale, blending nostalgia with analysis. Elrick called it “a perfect storm of fear and fun.”

This coverage evolved from earnest intrigue to skeptical humor, reflecting both the era’s fascination with cryptids and its eventual deflation. The Anniston Star’s dual role—breaking the story and busting it—anchors its legacy.

What Could It Be?

Was the Choccolocco Monster more than a prank? Let’s dissect the possibilities, focusing on real animals from Alabama and the hoax evidence:

1) Black Bear (Ursus americanus)

• Description: Common in Alabama’s forests, black bears grow 5-6 feet tall when standing, with dark fur and a bulky frame.
• Pros: A bear rearing up could mimic a humanoid shape, especially in low light. The Choccolocco Wildlife Management Area hosts a healthy population, per Alabama DCNR records.
• Cons: Bears don’t leap at cars or vanish swiftly—they lumber. The “hump-backed” look and glowing eyes (likely headlight reflections) don’t fully match, and no bear tracks were reported.
• Likelihood: Moderate, but undermined by behavior mismatch and Williamson’s confession.

2) Coyote (Canis latrans)

• Description: Widespread in Alabama, coyotes stand 2-3 feet tall with reflective eyes and a lean, furry build.
• Pros: Their eyes glow in headlights, and a large specimen might startle at a glance. Coyotes thrive in Choccolocco’s woods, per 1960s wildlife surveys.
• Cons: Too small and quadrupedal to match the 6-foot, bipedal figure. No witness described a canine shape.
• Likelihood: Low—size and stance rule it out.

3) Feral Hog (Sus scrofa)

• Description: Abundant in Alabama, these hogs can reach 5 feet long and 3 feet tall, with bristly hair and a humped back.
• Pros: The “hump-backed” trait aligns, and hogs roam forests near roads. A startled hog could bolt quickly.
• Cons: Not bipedal, too low to the ground, and lacking the height or humanoid silhouette reported.
• Likelihood: Very low—appearance doesn’t fit.

4) Eastern Cougar (Puma concolor couguar)

• Description: Once native to Alabama, this big cat stands 3 feet at the shoulder with a sleek, tawny coat (though rare melanistic variants exist).
• Pros: A dark cougar could move fast and startle drivers, with reflective eyes adding to the scare. Sightings persisted into the 20th century, per Alabama folklore.
• Cons: Extinct in Alabama by the 1960s, per wildlife records, and not hairy or humanoid.
• Likelihood: Unlikely—timing and traits don’t align.

5) Hoax (Neal Williamson)

• Description: Williamson’s costume—cow skull, sheet, dark fabric—crafted a tall, eerie figure for roadside scares.
• Pros: Matches every sighting: height, behavior, location, and timing. His 2001 Anniston Star confession detailed the prank, backed by no conflicting evidence.
• Cons: Some claim pre-1969 sightings (e.g., John Carter’s) predate his involvement, but no hard proof exists.
• Likelihood: Near-certain—the simplest, most evidenced explanation.

6) Unknown Cryptid

• Description: A hypothetical primate or humanoid creature hiding in Alabama’s wilds.
• Pros: Fits the Sasquatch mold—tall, hairy, bipedal—and echoes local White Thang tales. Forests could conceal it.
• Cons: No fossils, tracks, or DNA. Williamson’s hoax explains the surge without gaps.
• Likelihood: Slim—speculative at best.

Williamson’s prank reigns supreme, but Alabama’s wildlife offers tantalizing “what-ifs.” Bears and coyotes could spark confusion, though behavior and physical mismatches favor the hoax.

Comparisons to Other Cryptids

The Choccolocco Monster shares DNA with other American cryptids, blending regional flavor with universal traits. Here’s a detailed comparison:

Analysis: Like Bigfoot, the Choccolocco Monster taps into the “wild man” archetype, but its roadside antics align more with the Fouke Monster.

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The Skunk Ape’s suddenness mirrors its scares, though Choccolocco lacks the stench or swampy vibe. Momo’s ape-like frame fits, but its Missouri rivers contrast with Alabama’s dry hills. The hoax sets Choccolocco apart—most peers remain unproven mysteries.

Conclusion

The Choccolocco Monster blends terror, trickery, and Alabama charm. Its 1969 heyday—fueled by vivid sightings and breathless media—ended with Neal Williamson’s 2001 confession, revealing a teenager’s cow-skull caper.

Yet its echoes linger, blending into the state’s cryptid tapestry alongside the Alabama White Thang. Hoax or not, it proves folklore’s power: a simple scare can outlive its maker, haunting Choccolocco’s backroads forever.