Chatawa: Some Kind of Monster
A Hamlet, A Business, A Cryptid, A Fascination
This piece was written on Halloween. It’s no longer Halloween. For the purposes of anyone who’ll end up reading this, pretend it’s Halloween! (Which is a fun way to approach the rest of today, no?) This post was written quickly, then suffered from my recent, strange case of not so much writer’s block as “hit send to publish block,” a problem that I’m trying to address, like, you know, today.
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Three years ago today, I shuttered a business called Chatawa.
It was named after Chatawa, MS, located four exits north of the Louisiana border in rural Pike County, MS. This business, a bar, intended to blend the best elements of drinking culture from St. Louis to Memphis to New Orleans, featuring beers and spirits from those regions, augmented by a small carry-out operation. Over time, I’d daydreamed of growing the St. Louis-based business into one with outposts in Memphis and New Orleans, too; assumed that process might take some (well, many) years. The first third of that work came into being after a half-year of build-out and licensure, but I’d made some mis-steps along the way, not limited to flipping on the lights during the wicked Delta variant wave of Covid. Dag.
Won no small amount of good press during those three-months of activity on Morganford Road; admittedly, much of that was tied to the restaurant sharing our footprint and remaining on-site today. But my run was short, as I saw about a thousand-dollars exit my self-funded venture during every week’s operation. Once the closure was announced, business inevitably picked up and my offer of letting a St. Louis musician/pal buy everything left on the back bar for $75 offered him less value than we initially thought (though he still walked away with wild mix of Mississippi River corridor spirits; hope you enjoyed Ryan!).
Opening that place was probably in the five goofiest decisions I’ve made, which made the last day of business so vivid. We were slammed! Sales were through the roof! We were a… success? Finally! Within two hours of last call, I hopped on a jet plane, went to New Orleans and cemented the idea that I’d become a resident. Which I’d eventually do, of course, locking in another of my worst-ever plans. Sometimes, you’re just on a roll, eh?
Since then, I’ve blasted up-and-down I-55 a couple of dozen times, always seeing the Exit 4 Chatawa signs and feeling a sense of… well, something that’s hard to articulate. I’ve thought of trying to shake the name from my system by ignoring it, or, conversely, by launching a writing project with the same name, one that I’ve not yet pulled the trigger on. Maybe someday. If nothing else, that’d be a cheaper experience.
Loved the name of Chatawa the second I first heard it and I’m kinda stuck with that reality even today. If you’re new to the name, here’s a li’l primer: Chatawa is less of a town and more of a statistical area, in which dozens of homes are scattered across several square miles of twisting, forested roads. There’s a mostly-dormant race track nearby, as is the Lynyrd Skynyrd Monument, which draws a few dozen devotees of the band on a daily basis. There’re some Christmas tree farms, fitting into the region’s reputation as a timber hub.
And there’s a namesake cryptid, too.
One that’s living/lived in those woods. Or so people say.
The Chatawa Monster was the mascot of Chatawa, the business, and is probably the most-known ambassador of the town outside of that corner of Pike County, MS. The hamlet’s Wikipedia page does a fine, li’l job of describing the well-documented creature-slash-legend: “The Chatawa Monster is a cryptid that is said to inhabit the swamps around Chatawa. The monster is reportedly responsible for strange claw marks on trees and unexplained missing chickens, and it is said to resemble Bigfoot. Tradition holds that the Chatawa Monster escaped from a wrecked circus train near the Tangipahoa River. Other sources claim the monster was an escaped monkey from the local Kramer's Lodge or a story created by older students at the nearby St. Mary's Institute.”
A few years back, my pal Hap and I sat around a campfire outside his house, hundreds of feet from the nearest neighbor. We were enjoying some apple brandy (but not too much, really!) and we heard a sound nearby: a strange hiss, non-human. Nor was it an animal, as nothing scooted away from us, or made another noticeable sound after we both fell into a sudden, uncomfortable quiet.
Wouldn’t presume to guess as to what we heard.
Nor would I presume that a Swedish media team would find their way to southern MS to create a seven-minute film about the Chatawa Monster. But this is, if nothing else, an unpredictable world. Here is Johan Thurfjell’s video creation:
If you’ve made it this far, you’re indeed a pal.
Happy Halloween from New Orleans (a spooky, li’l town only 80-miles removed from the woods captured above).
And Happy Anniversary to Chatawa, version 1.0. Hardly knew ya, but surely loved ya.
-30-
Good read and memories, and very cool video. Which interviewee is your friend Hap?
Thanks for re-contextualizing the place for me. In Catholic circles in Mississippi, Chatawa is synonymous with the nuns/retreat center that used to be there. "Going down to Chatawa" was a ladies church retreat weekend.