1 Chapter 1: The Spirit of Glassboro, Part 1

The summer of 1967 would transform the small peaceful New Jersey town and its residents forever, leaving them terrified by a legend that would haunt them for years to come.

In late June, President Lyndon B. Johnson met with Alexei Kosygin, the Premier of the Soviet Union in an unlikely United States location.Glassboro, New Jersey served as the ideal backdrop for this diplomatic encounter, far enough from Vietnam War protestors in New York and away from the spotlight of Washington, DC.The world leaders met at Hollybush Mansion on the campus at the then Glassboro State College, hoping to improve relations between their two countries.

On the eve of the third and final day of the conference, something went terribly wrong.One of the leaders of the Soviet Political Bureau was found dead in his room.Most of the skin from his body shredded, he lay in a pool of blood and mangled bowels.His teeth were strewn across the Venetian rug, some clinging on to bits of root and gum-line.A large travel trunk was at the base of the bed lying on its side.Something had escaped the trunk by clawing and eating its way out.The corner of the trunk lid ripped away, peeled like a small bomb exploded inside.Blood and a patch of long black hair clung to the carnage of twisted metal. Whatever was inside the trunk had escaped by crashing through the third-floor window, disappearing into the night of the small, factory town.

Speculation ran rampant as to what was in the trunk and who put it in there.Was it militants from Vietnam hoping to stop an alliance between the U.S. and Soviet Union or nationalists from the Arab States or Israel, trying to draw the nations of power into their war?

The conference ended abruptly the following morning on June 25th, toted as a success by the media, referring to the summit as the "Spirit of Glassboro."Little did they know that a spirit, an unimaginable beast, was just unleashed, hungry, on the small New Jersey town.

Since the late 1700's, Glassboro prospered to become one of the nation's leading glass-making towns.Still led by the bloodlines of the Whitney and Stanger families, the large factory in the center of town produced window glass, bottles and hollowware.The two leading families, and their abundance of wealthy offspring, lived in the large manor homes that surrounded Glen Lake while the factory's workers and journeymen lived in the uniform and small homes of the Carpenter and Bowman neighborhoods, much less affluent in many ways.In the months following the summit, rumors and whispers of strange sightings coursed through the houses of Carpenter and Bowman.The teeth of rabbits, wild animals and most often, cats, had been found in the streets and along the town's main road to the factory.The bodies of the victims were never found.Only the teeth were left behind.

As the sun sank below the horizon each evening, the factory fires burned into the night sky, setting an orange, protective glow around the workspace.The surrounding neighborhoods seemed darker, tucked into the shadows of the night and away from the glow of the factory.Glass was produced around the clock. As the families around Glen Lake sat down for their dinner feasts, the town's workers traded positions and the night shift began.Often, both mothers and fathers worked at the glass factory, leaving their children home alone at night, protected only by a locked front door.

At first, most of the missing children were from the blue collar neighborhoods.The frantic panic-stricken parents searched and cried out to the wealthy, police and government families of Glen Lake, often on deaf ears, only to be told that their children ran away in search of better lives, better families.

Month after month, glass production continued and more and more children disappeared, snatched away in the middle of the night.The only evidence left behind in their beds were a tattered sheet and blood-stained teeth on the bedroom windowsill, the window always forced open from the outside.

It wasn't until an unseasonably warm evening in late October, that the matter of missing children was taken seriously by the well-to-do.Jeramiah Stanger and his wife Elizabeth held a harvest ball inviting only Glassboro's elite.Upon returning home after an evening of dancing and drinking wine out of their locally produced goblets, Thomas and Gayle Whitney found their children's nanny dead on the ground in front of the nursery's fireplace, her throat had been slashed.The large bay windows stretched out toward the night sky and the children's beds were empty.Edward and Peter were nowhere to be found, only a few small teeth were left behind on the mattresses.A tuft of long black hair clung to a corner of the windowsill.

The police took the case at once and made finding the children and the perpetrator a top priority.The glass factory ran business as usual.To protect their remaining children, the working mothers and fathers left their children in the care of neighbors who worked the day shift and, in return, the neighbors would have their children watched by others when they went to work.The window glass they made was not strong enough to protect their children from the creature that feasted at night.Shutters were closed, often reinforced with boards nailed on top one another.

Against their best efforts, the police could not locate the missing boys and more and more children disappeared.The light of day revealed splintered wood, missing children, empty beds and of course, teeth.

As more children disappeared, family after family fled Glassboro and soon, the orange light that lit up the night sky from the factory was snuffed out.The factory produced only during the day and the emotional and financial impact took its toll.Frequent deliveries of high-end meats and fashion goods from New York City all but stopped to the homes along Glen Lake.

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