The truth about the Crossett Arkansas Ghost Light

September 16, 2012

I don’t tell many people about this story because most don’t want to believe it and think I am some sort of a nut. My name is Big George Whitlow and I was born in northeast Louisiana in a small paper mill town of Monroe in 1948 in the year of our Lord. I went to Neville High School, the north side reformatory for the rich kids from 1963-1966. We were not rich by any means. Daddy, Major George Wesley Whitlow was a cop and Momma, Johnnie Claire White Whitlow owned a second hand junk store called “The Pickers”. I played football for Coach Bill Ruple, Charlie Brown, and Buck Stewart. We were the mighty fighting tigers from tiger land and I was the best defensive nose tackle ever invented. Although, I did pick up a fumble and almost scored a touchdown for the other team. “Run Whitlow Run - Stop Whitlow Stop!”

Upon my arrival at Neville, I began to hear rumors about the Cosset Arkansas Ghost Light that was 53 miles north of Monroe. On several occasions I double dated with our other tackle in my candy apple red 57 Chevy convertible. We usually had the top down and drank a few 6-packs of ice cold Falstaff beer. The site is located a few miles from the Crossett Airport. If you take the first left past the airport and drive about 3 miles, then make a U-turn, and park, you will be on the old railroad track tram. The tram is very long and goes up and down hills but is very straight. It shows up on satellite images of the earth.

The Crossett Ghost Light captured on video

The Ghost usually appeared on nights with a full moon and many bright stars. Legend has it that the ghost was an old man who had too much whiskey and fell asleep on the railroad track. A danged ole train came along and ran over him and, he flipped his head. He is known to come walking along the tram swinging a kerosene lantern looking for his head. I have seen the light from the lantern maybe 50 times. It always appears about a mile from our car on the left side of the road about waist high. You can clearly see the lantern swinging about waist high as the steps on the gravel at a steady fast pace. The lantern always come on and then goes off frequently as the ghost walks closer towards the car. The ghost usually makes figure 8 spirals as if putting on some sort of a light show demonstration. The lantern often changes locations from the left side of the road to the 20 foot high treetops along the right side of the road.

Since I graduated from Neville in 1966, I was in the USAF until 1983, taught science and math at Caldwell Parish High School as a substitute teacher in Columbia, Louisiana till 1984, and worked for the Louisiana DEQ until I retired in 2001. After my retirement I founded Whitlow Smoke School Nation and we travel across 20 states to conduct EPA Method 9 Visible Emissions Training and Certification at 100 locations. I guess I am semiretired. Over the past 10 years, I have been fascinated by the Crossett Ghost and frequently visit the site during our off season in November and December.

On Halloween night, October 31, 2001 I made the trip with my no brother good law Little Joe from Illinois. The night was full with a million points of light as we peered up through the open convertible top. We were sitting along the old tram in the usual spot in my new 1988 Cadillac Brome Convertible sipping on a fifth of Jim Beam Red Stagg Black Cherry whiskey when the lantern appeared under the full moon. As usual it came up about a mile down the road on the left, walked toward us, and put on the figure 8 light show. Then it moved to the other side of the road in the treetops and danced. Then it vanished in thin air. It came back about 5 minutes later and was just about half a mile from us. There was another pickup truck about 30 feet in front of us. There was an emblem on the side of the door which read, “Alif & Aarons’ towing and recovery”.  The ghost walked 5 foot from his door and the guy opened the door. The ghost kept walking toward us. I felt a touch of fear for the first time and had another quick shot of Jim Beam. My no brother in law Little Joe was shaking so bad the Cadillac was vibrating. He turned up the bottle and sipped a long time.

Then it happened. The falling star came out of the big dipper and fell to earth zigzagging and stopped 30 feet above the car and hovered. I had always suspected the Crossett Ghost lamp was associated with a colony of Martians living there in another dimension. I guess I was always right as usual. I am perfect in every way and I never make a mistake. To know me is to love me. I must be a hell of a man. I am not egotistical- I don’t even know what that means.

This was a close encounter of the third kind. The UFO hovered above us as its running lights were flashing around like the ones inside of the New Orleans Saints Superdome. Then we heard a loud noise as if someone was opening a mayonnaise jar. Joe and I tried climb up and jump over the doors of the convertible, but we were frozen there in suspended animation like a suicidal deer in the headlights. A ramp opened on the flying saucer and 6 midget green ugly Martians came out after us. One of them pointed a finger at me and I floated out of the Cadillac and went up to ramp. I looked back and Little Joe was floating right behind me. We were screaming.

We landed gently on x-ray tables on opposite sides of some medical room on the space ship. They probed us, took several x-rays and put us in some sort of a washing machine thing and gave us an MRI. Then the ramp closed and we took off to Mars. We stayed there 6 months teaching English lessons to the Martian children. Then they put us back on the spaceship and returned us to Crossett. I looked at the clock on the dashboard of the Cadillac and only 2 minutes had passed. The Martians had drank the rest of the Jim Beam plus the other 3 fifths we had in the back seat. And that is the way it was. This is a true story.

For more exciting true stories go to our web site and click on “smoke school and family stories”. You can also click on my novel “Blue Bayou Days, The Summer of 61”. This family novel is about my alter ego 11 year old Skeeter Hayden, a left handed, side armed, submarine throwing  pitcher for the Monroe Louisiana Police Dept. little league team. During a family picnic with Dizzy Dean, Sweeter struck out both Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle. In the novel Skeeter meets up with Elvis at the July 4th picnic and JFK after a surprise weather related landing of Air Force One at Selman Field Airport. At the end, Skeeter followed his dream and pitched for the New York Yankees. The moral of the story is “a quitter never wins and a winner never quits”. Thanks for coming, yawl have a nice day. Yawl come back no, ya here.

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