I remember the first time I ever saw Bigfoot. It was on 6th July 1975. I was ready for the encounter, poised, still, binoculars around my neck and trusty Bowie knife on the belt of my Kung Fu dressing gown. I was eight years old, and not in Oregon, but in a South Bristol living-room, cross-legged in front of our Granada black and white with its luxurious twenty-inch screen. I was already obsessed with the Abominable Snowman, as it was then widely known, and so got unreasonably excited when my father told me that there was a programme on that coming Sunday evening featuring the Yeti. I was delighted, ringed the entry in the RT for “The World About Us: Monsters! Mysteries or Myths?” about forty times in crayon, and waited for what seemed a century until I found myself, about three feet from the screen, not wanting to miss a thing.
I didn’t miss a thing. I sat rapt. Forty plus years on, of the programme itself I remember little. I’m fairly certain it was Attenborough’s voice, but then it always was. Fleeting images of Nessie, the Spicer Loch-side sighting, the (then) lauded Surgeon’s photo; next on to snowy pictures of various Himalayas, lamas, yeti-scalps and heavily-bearded men in parkas seeing distant dark figures and hearing howls, and then…
I’d never heard of Bigfoot before that. No idea. Footage of foresty vistas, people in Stetsons, folksy-looking log-built general stores with a backdrop of Redwoods and mountains. A gentle camera glide along a woodland path.. suddenly, abruptly silent and shaking as if running… and there it was. Walking away from us, brisk but not bolting, a brief turn to look at the camera and then stepping over lying branches and into the trees. Less than half a minute of actual footage, blurry and jumpy but utterly striking, and to the very young, impressionable cryptozoologist at once hypnotic and, strangely, frightening. As has become the custom, it was shown again in slo-mo, and frozen at the turn: the famous – or infamous – frame 352.
I remember nothing more of that programme, but the single, iconic image remained. It fascinated me. It also slightly terrified me. I had no way of reviewing the moving footage – VCRs were still years away then, British television consisted of three channels which competed to see how early they could go off air – so I had to be content with stills, inevitably of 352, in compendium books which devoted anything up to two pages to Bigfoot, and a sentence or two of that would be about Patty.
Next time I saw her was a few years later, still in black and white, as a brief mention in David (him again) Attenborough’s Fabulous Animals, but Dave perhaps wisely didn’t pronounce judgment on whether or not Patty, or even the wider Bigfoot narrative had any reality to it. I finally got to see her – by then I knew it was a her – in colour, in September 1980 as a part of Arthur C Clarke’s Mysterious World (part 4, The Missing Apemen), in which the Great Sage of Taunton declared himself unconvinced by the footage (bearing in mind this was a man who weekly in the opening titles set up his astronomical telescope on the beach, in broad daylight, so his judgement may be open to question.) I was rapt all over again. By then I had amassed a number of books about Bigfoot, most of which devoted a fair bit of discussion to the Patterson footage. Was it real? Was it a suit? Did Patterson fake it? Did Gimlin help him? Were they both pranked?
All of these questions seem relatively easy to address. In fact, they prove quite the opposite.
* * *
Let’s start with what we can say for sure about the footage itself. The whole duration is about one minute, but even this depends on the film-speed. The context with which we are presented is that Patterson and Gimlin, on horseback and already engaged in a Bigfoot-hunt with a view to filming one to incorporate in a documentary that Patterson wanted to produce, rounded a corner and encountered what they say was an adult, female sasquatch, approximately seven feet in height. The horses shied, Patterson jumped down, grabbed the film camera and ran toward the figure, filming as he ran (hence the jerky initial footage before the figure comes into frame.) This is the beginning of the most familiar section of the film: it runs to around 30 seconds, from initial glimpse of the figure, through the turn, and to the edge of the treeline. There is then more distant sight of the figure’s back as it disappears into the trees. This filmed sequence is the only actual, primary source relating to the whole incident. Everything else is secondary, from alleged footprint casts to the anecdotal evidence of the event itself to the mass of inconsistencies in the accounts of what happened immediately before and after.
The first, most basic question after seeing it is of course if the footage shows a real creature, or a human being in a suit. Even this is not an entirely binary question: however, for the purposes of this we’ll disregard the various theories about Bigfoot being a multi-dimensional entity, and for now take it as read that that it shows a living, sentient entity – by this I mean it is a real thing in the film, and not an animation or puppet, or superimposition on the print. The issue of whether it’s a genuine sasquatch or a costumed actor is one we will address presently.
One of the first issues concerns the speed at which the film should be viewed (here comes a science bit: it is important, but I’ll try to keep it to a paragraph or three, so please bear with me.) The camera that Patterson had hired could operate at several speeds. The slowest practical speed – 16 frames per second – was the most economical as the same quantity of film could glean a number of minutes of extra footage, but at the expense of quality. The highest regular speed – 24 FPS – uses up filmstock fifty percent faster, but the definition is much higher, and is also the most compatible speed with analogue television. Patterson stated that he didn’t know at which speed he had filmed the figure, as in the rush he had just picked up the camera and started shooting. Why it’s important is that the speed at which it’s viewed drastically alters the figure’s gait. According to Dr Don Grieve, Reader in Biomechanics at London Royal Free Hospital who analysed the film in 1971 (along with a reconstruction using a human replicating the sequence), the frame rate crucially alters the physiological properties of the creature’s walking motion: at 16 or 18 FPS there are important differences from normal human locomotion, most notably the time it takes to stride and the corresponding length of arm-swing. Grieve then points out that the gait at 16 or 18 would be extremely inefficient – the metabolic cost would be un-necessarily high as it would overuse the musculature and joints, and thus use more calories than it needed to: animals generally move in as economical manner as possible, conserving energy, and the creature in the film swings its arms too much, and its stride is too exaggerated to represent efficient use of physical resources. He does, however observe that if its physical make-up was sufficiently different from that of a human it may explain why its gait is at such variance. Grieve then makes the crucial observation that if the film was shot at 24 FPS, the gait is indistinguishable from that of a human being walking quickly and in an exaggerated manner. Grieve also confirms that the creature’s height is around 196 cm (6’5”), estimated weight of 127 kg (280 lb) which would render at most a 30 cm (12 inch) footprint, which is well within normal human range, and at variance with Patterson’s estimate of a 7 foot (215 cm), “very heavy” creature. Other discrepancies then start to become apparent.
In his book ‘Bigfoot: The Sasquatch and Yeti in Myth and Reality’, the primatologist and paleoanthropologist John Napier states that the footprints that Patterson cast after the sighting, which Patterson claimed were those of the filmed figure were closer to 15 inches (37 cm) long, which would indicate a much taller creature, at least 7’8” (234 cm) in height with an indicative 53 inch stride: however, the distance between the footprints is only 41 inches (104 cm), whereas a 6’5” humanoid would have at least a 45 inch (114 cm) gap, and given the exaggerated stride of the creature in the film it would be closer to 48-50 (c.125 cm) inches, which largely tallies with Grieve’s estimates. So, the footprints that Patterson presented belong to a supposedly much taller being, but with a markedly shorter step than the one in the film. Whatever their provenance, Napier concludes that the two items – film and prints -do not belong together.
He then draws on his own experience as an anatomist (he started his career as an orthopaedic surgeon) to look at the physical composition of the figure itself. Napier, like Grieve, views the creature’s gait as “grossly exaggerated”, and further says that it looks self-conscious. In spite of the pendulous breasts which seem indicate that the creature as female, there is no widening of the hips and its walk is unmistakeably male. In addition, the size of the upper body would imply that its centre of gravity should be much higher than that of a human – however, the gait indicates that actually it’s in roughly the same place. The creature appears to have a sagittal crest (the conical shape at the top of the head) which in great apes provides an anchor point for additional jaw muscles – and once again is a male trait, almost never seen in females. It also has buttocks, which are uniquely human – and are entirely consistent with both the walk and the centre of gravity. In conclusion, Napier states that the creature has both female and male characteristics, has a superficially simian upper half, a distinctly human lower half and walks like an exaggerated human. The footprints attributed to it don’t match in any way at all. However, despite all of this he stops short of declaring it as an outright fake: in fact, he was the first to coin the phrase “can’t see the zipper”. It was only the footprint evidence which he discounted entirely – further, Napier declared that on balance he did believe in the objective reality of Bigfoot. He just didn’t necessarily buy Patty.
Of course, for every expert there is an equal and opposite expert. Grover Krantz and Jeff Meldrum, both strong academic proponents of the flesh-and-blood bigfoot hypothesis, each found the film convincing (despite in the former’s case initially dismissing it.) Krantz disagreed with most of Napier and Grieve’s objections, finding that in his opinion the centre of gravity and gait were un-human like, and both he and Meldrum felt that the walking motion itself was both entirely naturalistic-looking and furthermore would be, for a human very difficult to replicate. This opinion was further echoed by the evergreen Russian researchers Dimitri Bayanov and Igor Burtsev, who along with Canadian-Swiss Rene Dahinden conducted an in-depth study of the footage. They consulted a sculptor specialising in anatomy, who argued that an extremely detailed costume would do more to betray a hoaxer than to augment them by hindering the movement the actor within could make. They also point out that the upper body seems fluid and coherent, which given the creature’s apparent breadth across the shoulders would seem to mitigate against someone wearing padding: the arms start where the shoulders end, with no obvious indentation or buckling at the joint. Interestingly, there is little attention given to the footprint evidence from the scene – maybe tacit agreement with the Napier that there’s no continuity of evidence there anyway (according to their account, Patterson and Gimlin didn’t cast the prints until later, having left their plaster back at their campsite a number of miles away, which seems to show a strange lack of preparedness. There are quite a few niggles like this in the story.)
Most of these analyses were completed in the 70s and 80s. What the researchers lacked then was what we today have in abundance: computers, image tools of which they could have only dreamt, and the internet. Search on “Patterson bigfoot” and you will find dozens – if not hundreds – of copies of the sequence, each with its own take on the action. Some have forensically examined every frame in extreme close up, especially 352, and have observed a host of details, some of which the viewer may even be able to see too, given enough squinting, contrast-adjustment and (dare I say) wishful thinking. The Zapruder film of Kennedy’s death aside, it’s probably the single most analysed moving image in the history of Forteana. And like Zapruder, there have been brief (very brief) apparent breakthroughs: for a while, there were those that swore the figure was carrying a baby on its front, that there was another figure in the forest.. until others declared that there was no such thing. To this day the discussion continues about the figure in the film. There are plenty who continue to pronounce it fake, with an equal number challenging them to point out “the zipper”. So: could it be a suit?
Patterson was well aware of the two most detailed descriptions of the creatures, those of Albert Ostman and William Roe, both had been published no more than a dozen years before Patty, and both of whom had observed female Bigfoots, in the former’s case as part of the family that ‘kidnapped’ him. Each gave descriptions which tallied except regarding the width of the hips (Ostman stated they were very wide, Roe that they were not in comparison with the rest of the torso: Napier suggests that Roe’s sighting may have been a more juvenile female.) Roe and Ostman each had their alleged encounters in British Columbia, approx 300 miles apart, Patterson’s was around 700 miles to the south in Northern California. The figure in the Patterson film is generally consistent with both these descriptions, the hip width conforming more with Roe’s sighting, again either because it’s an actual animal of the same species, or because Patterson ensured that the suit conformed to these parameters to lend it some credibility in the form of consistency.
The possibilities and practicalities of such a costume even existing in the mid-60s have been discussed for years. John Chambers (Planet of The Apes) has been mooted as someone with the technical abilities at that time, though he himself strenuously denied having made it, and went as far as to say that if it was a suit it was technically highly accomplished, and would have to be tailor-made. Philip Morris, a North Carolina costumier, claimed to have sold Patterson the suit in 1967, suggesting the actor inside wear American Football shoulder pads beneath. He could not, however, provide any evidence to substantiate this claim, and in fact when challenged to recreate the suit (and the footage) for National Geographic he fell somewhat short, and has subsequently become quiet on the whole issue. There have been other attempts to recreate it: in 1998 the BBC’s X Creatures used a suit that looked more like Keith Harris’ Cuddles the Monkey than Patty, with a walk even less convincing (but still enough for presenter Chris Packham to pronounce the original as fake, but as he started off by stating he doesn’t believe in Bigfoot anyway, why would he do otherwise?) What is for sure is that if it is a suit, it’s a very sophisticated one, which had to account for ease of movement as much as convincing appearance (per the opinion of Nikita Lavinsky, the sculptor, above.) Such a costume would be impossible for an actor to don single-handedly. With each improvement in technology there is the hope that the image will yield some telling detail in one way or another: but at the time of writing that remains as elusive as the creature itself.
So, we need to look at the other evidence surrounding the incident. Unfortunately, the most vocal proponent of the movie, Roger Patterson himself, had passed away in early 1972, to the end maintaining that the movie was not a hoax. The fact that Patterson had written a book about Bigfoot when it was still a strictly local phenomenon, was trying to raise money to make a documentary about Bigfoot, and was incredibly fortunate to have a loaded camera ready when they stumbled upon a Bigfoot not too far from where they were camped could be seen as suspicious, didn’t deter him from pronouncing its authenticity. The only other identified participant, Bob Gimlin, utterly refused to talk about it at all until about ten years ago, and if truth be told hasn’t said a whole lot since then. What he has said is that he believes that he didn’t participate in a hoax – which opens up four possibilities.
It was a hoax, and both Patterson and Gimlin were complicit (so Gimlin is lying.)
It was a hoax, which Patterson arranged, and Gimlin was duped.
It was a hoax, and both Patterson and Gimlin were duped.
Or.. it wasn’t a hoax at all.
To take them one by one.
..was Gimlin complicit? If he was, then it’s perfectly possible that there were multiple takes of a man in a suit, with all day to get it right, the only risk being someone else catching them at it (or indeed a real, short-sighted randy male bigfoot..) There could have been other people there, even, besides the three (Patterson, Gimlin, and whoever was in the costume: there are those who have claimed it was them, such as Bob Heironimus.)
..or, if Gimlin wasn’t complicit, it would have involved a lot of set up, an actor in a (presumably) hot, uncomfortable suit sitting around for hours with or without assistance (a suit at least good enough to be convincing to the naked eye of an experienced woodsman, so probably intricate to get into and nigh-impossible to get into alone), located in a very remote area, just waiting for Patterson and Gimlin to come ambling round the corner and with no trace of anybody else, if indeed anyone else was there. Not impossible, but a one-take deal. It has been suggested that Patterson’s insistence that if they encountered one they must not shoot it has been cited as evidence that he didn’t want Gimlin accidentally and unknowingly injuring an actor.
..or, maybe neither were complicit, and both were pranked by a third party – but see above for the logistical likelihood of that with the added lack of guarantee they’d even go anywhere near there (see also long lines of prints found in snow miles from where anyone could be sure to see them before they melted – time-critical hoaxing relies entirely on reaction from an innocent party otherwise it’s utterly pointless.)
..or, it shows a female bigfoot walking away from the camera.
There are other issues with the back-story. The timings, for a start. The period from film capture to first screening is an impressive 48 hours (it was shown in local theatres in Washington state two days later.) The footage was claimed to have been shot at around 1.30. The pair then claimed to have tracked Patty on horseback for somewhere between a mile and three, then back to the campsite to get plaster, back to the sighting-site, cast the prints, back to the campsite, but then still managed to get around 50 miles south by 6.30 to ship the film for processing. This would have been a very busy five hours. In addition, it was a Friday evening. This is important as they were using Kodachrome II film, which could only be processed at certain laboratories. Patterson stated that he had shipped the film to his brother-in-law in Yakima, Washington, a distance of around 600 miles so could only have been couriered by plane: the nearest lab to Yakima was a further 150 miles away in Seattle – which didn’t process at weekends. In fact, the only lab at all likely to have been able to turn it around this quickly was Kodak’s main one at Palo Alto, twice as close and in completely the opposite direction. No lab has ever come forward to admit having processed the film. The brother-in-law, Al DeAtely, remained very vague about details. It has been pointed out that if in fact the footage had been shot days or even weeks earlier all of the timeline issues become redundant: but why obfuscate when it opens up yawning gaps in the story? There is a tremendously detailed and closely-argued discussion concerning these details and discrepancies on the Fortean Times forum.
What is indisputable is that the image had embedded itself into mainstream culture. Bigfoot had stopped being a local legend. Bigfoot had gone global. The most obvious evidence for this came about when Bigfoot made a couple of cameo appearances in ‘The Six Million Dollar Man’, looking very like the Patterson figure. The footage has been used to advertise cola, lampooned by the Goodies, recreated by The Simpsons. Patty – frame 352 especially – has become her own archetype. The outline adorns T shirts, necklaces, onesies.. her silhouette is immediately recognisable, the emblem of many Bigfoot research organisations and indeed cryptozoology as a whole. For all of the miles of blurry footage that has followed, Patty is still the recognisable one, as iconic as Marilyn’s skirt being blown up by the air from a grating or King Kong swatting at bi-planes.
All of this does demand some sort of conclusion. In all honesty, I don’t know what the Patterson film is portraying. It could be an extremely clever fake: equally however I am quite willing to accept that Patterson was a chancer par-excellence who just managed as much by luck as judgement to capture a live one on film, and simultaneously to produce perfect alleged cryptid footage – detailed enough to lend at least cursory credence and scrutiny if taken on trust, but not sufficiently clear, sharp and triangulated to provide solid evidence. The movie itself is of interest as an example of ambiguity: like the Shroud of Turin, in many respects the actual nature of the figure portrayed is only half the story: the medium in which it’s pictured is as important. The fact that it still divides opinion and defies definitive debunking fifty years on, despite the marches technology and analysis have made, is in itself remarkable. Even if it is one day proven to be fake unequivocally, it will still be as Fortean an artefact as a FeeJee Mermaid. Personally, I tentatively believe in the objective reality of Bigfoot (or at least one of its global analogues): I don’t immediately believe that Patty is an actual example of one, however, but I’ll be pleasantly surprised if after all these years it is proven to be so. Even if it’s not, it’ll still be fascinating in itself as an amateur film that can keep people guessing for half a century. And that’s Forteanism at its very essence.
first published in Fortean Times, issue 360 (Dec 2017)
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