top of page
the Story
Every sighting, every mention, every bit of history...
This is the complete story.

CRYSTAL BEACH

FORT ERIE, ONTARIO

May 5th, 1896

On Saturday, June 27, 1896, New York newspaper, the Buffalo Courier, set on their front page the title, “THAT SARPINT AGAIN,” in large, bold font. Beneath, was a smaller, yet more shocking statement, “PROVED BEYOND QUESTION. The Monster Seen and Described By Reputable People Whose Names Are Herewith Given–This Time It Was at Cloverbank.


I wasn’t able to get a copy of the full article, only this snippet: “The serpent of the great lakes has been seen so many times now, by sane, sober and truthful people, that he who sees it hereafter need have no timidity about mentioning the fact. Since Captain Lina Beecher gave to a Courier reporter such a graphic description of the creature as seen by himself and others at Crystal Beach, some time before the excursion season opened, it was seen at Woodlawn Beach. This fact came out yesterday, the people who saw the snake fearing to say anything about it sooner, as they did not want to be laughed at. Possibly instead of being the serpent of the Great Lakes, it is merely the serpent of Lake Erie, and of this end of Lake Erie at that.


This article is one of many covering Lake Erie cryptid sightings from the late 19th century. This one references a particularly popular story, one that has become one of the lake’s more well known and cited early encounters. Covered in several places, while many papers included only the facts or witness statements, others, like the Buffalo Courier, sensationalized it. Here’s how the tale began: “The hour was sunset. The luminary was already half hidden behind the dark crown of wood on Point Albino [or, put in modern terms, the lighthouse was blocking the sun]. Here and there, a bird was chanting the vespers  (a kind of evening prayer service). The nearer trees, clad in the palest most delicate of green, stood against a background of ancient pines and hemlocks whose foliage was black by contrast, The broad blue lake lay smooth and beautiful, the last of the winter’s ice disappearing far to the eastward in miniature bergs which glistened under the dying sunshine. The tokens of spring were everywhere to be perceived. What more fitting moment for the imperious Serpent of the Unsalted Seas to break of his hibernating dreams in the ooze of old Erie’s bed?


The flowery, overly descriptive language of the Courier continued. This all happened on the shores of Crystal Beach, a place in northeast Lake Erie, in Fort Erie, Ontario, Canada sometime around May 5, 1896. A group of four was out on the beach walking around and enjoying a nice day. They were, however, distracted by something odd. In the distance, the water churned violently; it splashed and bubbled and frothed as if some long forgotten cargo had unexpectedly opened up. No boats agitated the water, passing by. In fact, no watercraft had crossed by since their arrival. Though they hadn’t paid close attention, they were certain no one was in the water. Perplexed, they stood on the sandy shore's edge. 

Up from the water rose a large creature. Though it was too far away to see well, its head had a short snout like a dog and its long body ended in a stumpy, pointed tail. It wavered on the surface of the lake, drifting back and forth, but never dipping below. Excitedly watching, guessing at what it could be, the onlookers stepped into the cool lake. Shading their view with cupped hands, they stared and burned the strange animal into their memories. It could have been anywhere up to 40 feet or 12.2 meters; it was hard to tell, being 400 feet or so away.  No one’s view was cut short, no one stepped away, too enthralled by the unusual sight. After 45 minutes had passed and twilight arrived, the figure suddenly sank back into the water; it vanished as quickly as it had arrived.


According to the Buffalo Courier, these witnesses were not only honest, but very credible, one even a Civil War army officer. Lemmy encounters were old news by the end of the 1800s; old, but still exciting, entertaining, enthralling, even. The paper had published several stories about sea serpents, weird reptiles, and other styles of Lake Erie monster before the Crystal Beach encounter, and would continue to do so afterwards–as it sold them a lot of papers. They had reported on the creature so much that they began to form a sort of guide to its habits: the animal remained deep underwater during the day, only surfacing at dawn or in the evening to hunt and play. After particularly well-selling issues, new sightings and encounters would pop up; they usually included details from the paper verbatim. This was met with much skepticism. The Crystal Beach Creature and its story were held up as the cream of the crop, though. For one reason or another, it seemed more believable to people. If they made it up, why not something… more? The detail of it being dog-like was new. If it was fake, why wasn’t it described exactly as the other Lemmys were? There were no chases, aggression, or feats of bravery. It seemed strange to lie about such a thing. For what or why? They seemed to have no reason at all, except the pursuit of discovery and local awareness.


Several weeks after the Fort Erie incident, in mid-June, there was an announcement: the grand opening of a new, single-line railway between Ridgeway and Crystal Beach. People were excited to go visit and relax by the beach–and perhaps catch sight of the creature. To skeptics’ delight, the railway was owned by none other than Captain Lina Beecher–the very credible Civil War veteran, the main witness and storyteller of the Crystal Beach Creature. Many tourists were ignorant of the connection, or ambivalent, excitedly using the transit station to pay the monster a visit. Many even claimed to have seen the creature themselves while on a trip. Within a week of the railway’s operation, six western New Yorkers had their own story published in the Buffalo Courier, the excerpt at the beginning of this chapter. They didn’t see something at Crystal Beach, though, but at Woodlawn Beach. Coincidentally, one of the six witnesses was the wife of another railway owner; his train took passengers to the Woodlawn Beach amusement park.


Were these sightings legitimate? Or were they concocted for financial gain? Were there real sightings somewhere in between, falling between the cracks of more exciting tales? I’ll let you be the judge.

July 8, 2026 at 3:00:16 PM

Last Updated:

Behavior Information

Comments

Share Your ThoughtsBe the first to write a comment.

Ballyraven and the Ballyraven Wildlife Protection Agency belong to Ballyraven. Do not repost content or share restricted data without permission and SR440-A Paperwork.
 

©2014 - 2024 Ballyraven
This website has been translated and edited for human employees. 

bottom of page