Sinkhole Sam: How This Kansas Cryptid Became a Symbol of Satire

When you think of Kansas, you probably envision golden fields and windmills that go for miles. If you’re simply passing through, driving down the flat highways doesn’t typically drum up exciting stories of legendary beasts. But don’t let these sweeping plains fool you. Kansas is known to harbor it own fair share of mystery lurking beneath the surface. Some of these tales, like the legend of Sinkhole Sam, may just leave you guessing. 

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Notable Encounter: 

The two young men had been out there for hours. Sitting on the bank of a 100-acre drought-dried fishing spot, about 4 miles southeast of Inman, Kansas, they patiently awaited their first catch of the day. But they didn’t mind the wait, though. In fact, coming out here to this sinkhole had been their weekly ritual for years.

For Albert Neufeld and George Regier, Jr., coming out here was a way of having fun and escaping everyday life. Of course, they’d strike out with a good fish or two on a lucky day. But on this breezy October day in particular, the two Mennonite boys would soon witness a creature that would have Kansas speculating for decades. 

As they began wrapping up their afternoon hangout, reeling in their fishing rods and closing up their tackle boxes, something caught the corner of Albert’s eye. It wasn’t usual to see a log or an occasional snake bobbing in and out of the water. But this thing was different. It moved differently from other snakes he had seen. As the creature broke water, though, with its dar, flat head, the boys were stunned to see the rather large snake-like figure. 

As it undulated through the water, they realized the creature was about 15 feet long and 21 inches thick, with a fluted tail, a long fin on its back, and a big Cheshire-like grin that would later haunt their dreams at night. This was definitely not your average Kansas snake. 

With one look, Albert knew he didn’t want this thing, whatever it was, to get any closer. So, he took out his hunting rifle and took a couple of shots toward the figure. At first, he thought he had hit it for good. But as George stood over a little bridge over the sinkhole, he swore it was swimming toward him. So, with haste, they quickly grabbed their belongings and took off, running back home to tell their parents and authorities what they had witnessed. 

But they would later find out that this wasn’t the first time Kansas residents reported seeing a strange figure amongst these sinkholes—in fact, the town already had an affectionate name for it: Sink Hole Sam. 

Is Sink Hole Sam Just a Large Snake? 

With a name right on the nose like this one, it’s hard to drum up much excitement or imagination about anything other than a really large snake. Sure, it probably was a really strange sight for the two young Mennonite men. But that doesn’t necessarily mean they had found a monster terrorizing this part of Kansas. 

While a couple of other residents believed they saw a similar creature, there’s just not much story to go on. Some accounts report Sink Hole Sam being more “worm-like” in nature. However, most of the stories I found involved a more snake-like creature.

Mind you, if you’re terrified of snakes, to begin with, I can see how a 15-foot-long one swimming towards the very spot you were fishing at could be absolutely terrifying.

As far as my research is concerned, though, I haven’t found any other significant encounters with Sink Hole Sam. However, I did find a similar story about two men who had been out fishing at the Big Sinkhole and who also encountered a 15-foot-long creature breaking the surface of their fishing spot. 

However, I couldn’t find their names anywhere, so I’m not entirely convinced that these two stories weren’t somehow mixed together over the last few decades and aren’t actually just one in the same story. Again, I haven’t been able to find much else about Sink Hole Sam witness claims, so take that for what you will. 

What I did find, however, is that the legend behind Sink Hole Sam quickly spiraled out of control, creating a much larger tale that took on a life of its own. 

Snickelhoopus at Large?

Before his passing, Ernest Alva Dewey had been a longtime contributor to The Hutchinson News-Herald for 28 years. 

Throughout his career, which started as a publicist for a traveling circus, Ernest has also served as a printer, book reviewer, political columnist, Sunday feature writer, radio newscaster, literary commentator, and historical reporter. During the peak of his career, he became a well-respected and beloved Kansas resident who offered a plethora of knowledge about a variety of subjects. 

But not all of his work was serious business. In fact, he often wrote satirical entertainment pieces as well, where a fellow writer would later describe Ernest’s writing style as having “a flair for the dramatic and a tongue planted firmly in cheek.” 

In one of those entertainment pieces, Ernest wrote a segment in the News-Herald in 1951 titled “A Lot of Strange Creatures Are Lying About the Ozarks Area.” Here, he describes various mythological beings living in Arkansas, Missouri, Oklahoma, and the southeastern corner of Kansas. In this article, he mentions a few creatures you may or may not have heard before, such as the Snawfus, The Ring-Tailed Tooter, the Willipus-Wallipus, and the Ball-tailed Snickelhoopus. 

Oh, and he even mentions the Arkansas Gowrow, a cryptid we covered a couple of years ago on this very podcast. If I’m being honest, as I look at the drawings of both the Snickelhoopus and the Gowrow, I can definitely see the resemblances. 

What’s more, Ernest also mentions the Ball-Tailed Snickelhoopus in another 1952 article for The Salina Journal. Only this time, Ernest touches on an ongoing subject for many anxious US citizens: UFOs. If you remember, in our last full-length episode featuring the Flatwoods Monster, we touched on this very thing. 

But in this specific article, “Flying Saucers or Snickelhoopuses?” Ernest explains that the UFOs people were frantic about were nothing more than the Snickelhoopus family migrating across the country. He also shared that Americans shouldn’t fret because this beast is the least beastly creature around—in fact, it’s actually quite harmless. It just has a penchant for playing tricks on the locals. 

Sink Hole Sam: A Load of Foopengerkle 

But you may be asking, what does any of this have to do with Sink Hole Sam? What do strangely named mythological creatures have anything to do with a giant snake found in Kansas? 

Well, in that very UFO article, Ernest mentions Dr. Erasmus P. Quattlebaum. According to the article, Ernest claims that Dr. Quattlebaum is his scientific assistant. He shares the opinion that the strange lights buzzing around in the sky aren’t UFOs at all but are just how the snickelhoopuses attract their mates. 

I know what you’re thinking. This sounds too bizarre to be true, but follow me here. 

In yet another article later that year, published on November 23rd, 1952, Ernest writes yet another piece for The Salina Journal titled “Monster Turns Out to Be a Plain Old Foopengerkle.” 

Here we are again with the outlandish names. But I promise there is an end in sight. 

In this piece, Ernest goes on to share that he and Dr. Quattlebaum were curious about the sinkhole Sam encounters and decided to head to the witness site to research for themselves what had been causing such a disturbance. 

After hours of exhaustive testing and laborious examination of the sinkhole, they were able to conclude that sinkhole Sam wasn’t what everyone thought it was. No, Sink Hole Sam didn’t exist. But something else did – and it’s name? The Foopengerkle. 

Ernest shares that it is a high honor to be graced with the Foopengerkle’s presence, whether or not people believe in it. In this same article, he shares that “No other scientist can make this statement. The four humanites who have seen this rare species can consider themselves fortunate. They have had an experience to tell their grandchildren. I’ve never seen but two of them myself. I have told my grandchildren, but they don’t believe me either.”

So why haven’t we seen a foopengerkle since? 

According to Dr. Quattlebaum, “One reason the foopengerkle is so very rare is that it is extinct. In fact, it is about the extinctest creature that has ever inhabited the Kansas plains.” 

He then goes on to explain how the Foopengerkle became extinct, what led to it burrowing holes in the bottoms of ponds, and even goes on to share that, although they are typically harmless, terribly dumb, and strive off of a vegetarian diet, because of its extinct nature, it may forget all of these things and warns anyone who plans on visiting the Big Sink Hole to proceed with the “utmost caution.” 

Sink Hole Sam: Kansas’s Favorite Phantom Creature 

What’s wild is that given all of the nonsensical articles written by Ernest Dewey, you would think it would hush the few quiet claims of Sink Hole Sam being an actual entity. 

However, these cheeky articles would only increase the number of tourists begging to catch even the slightest glimpse of Sink Hole Sam. 

Reporters and tourists alike flocked to Inman, Kansas, with their binoculars and cameras in tow. But it wasn’t just surrounding states that had heard the news. By 1953, newspapers from Eugene, Oregon, to Panama City, Florida, had picked up the sensationalized stories. 

Even the late Mil Penner, whose family had farmed this exact area since 1874, even described in his book, Section 27: A Century on a Family Farm, that he came “home from church one Sunday afternoon to a startling sight [when he noticed] Dozens of Desotos, Chevys, and Nash Ramblers were parked at the edge of the Big Sinkhole. 

[It was here] where folks were hoping to catch a glimpse of the thirty-foot foopengerkle spotted earlier in the week by a neighboring farmer.” Penner mentioned that “every single car window was rolled up just in case they got their wish.”

But Sink Hole Sam never showed up again. Whether it was due to total extinction, stage fright, the drying up of the wetlands, or the lack of proof that the thing even existed, we may never know why. 

Eventually, tourism dollars halted, and fewer people believed in Sam’s major debut. By the late 1950s, his name had dwindled to only a hushed whisper. Different news took to the papers, and the legend of Sink Hole Sam began to whither away. 

That is until about a decade later when a new fishing spot claimed to be Sink Hole Sam’s latest abode. Only this time, it seemed that Sam dropped his “sinkhole” title as he took up a new residence at Kingman State Lake. 

Kingman State Lake’s Newest Resident 

If Sink Hole Sam and the foopengerkle are one and the same, then this creature not only changed its dwelling place but also took to new eating habits because, apparently, livestock mutilations near Kingman Lake in the 1960s had grown at an all-time high. Perhaps one of the most notable stories involves a 10-15 foot-long snake killing a calf and then dragging it back into the swampy area. 

Because of the growing livestock mutilations in the area, the beloved Sink Hole Sam quickly became something to fear. And something to hunt. 

Unlike the comical and imaginative worm-like Sink Hole Sam stories Dr. Seuess would be proud of, this Kingman Serpent, as it had been more aptly named, had a lot more witness statements about its predatory nature. 

For one, several farmers, like Raymond Dunbar, had spotted the serpent near their pastures and would watch it slither back into the swamp. Another farmer, Bill Milford, had been chasing cattle on horseback when a giant snake tripped his horse, knocking him over. 

Not to mention, an unnamed truck driver had reported seeing the snake slithering across the road. What makes his encounter so notable is that he claimed to suddenly slam the brakes because he was afraid that, given the size of the snake, it would cause significant damage to his truck had he hit it straight on. 

Because of all the havoc wreaked on their farmland, many Kansas residents forged a monster hunt to catch the monster once and for all. With all their shotguns and pitchforks in tow, they unfortunately never caught sight of the serpent-like beast again. 

Of course, they saw many common native snakes during their excursion—like the gopher snake, which is said to be the longest native Kansas snake, with lengths of approximately 89 inches. But even with this size, no one ever saw anything that remotely resembled their monster. 

Whether or not Kingman Serpent and Sink Hole Sam are one and the same – one thing’s for sure: whatever this thing was, it was good at hiding when it knew all eyes were searching for it. 

Sensationalism: Bad Reputation or Good Business Exposure?

It’s evident that much of the Sink Hole Sam lore is a bit more comical and imaginative than the Kingman Serpent, who terrorized Kansas farmers. But regardless, zany stories like this can surely draw large crowds and bring positive awareness to small towns. We’ve seen over and over again that these very stories can be transformative for small-town communities.

But I want to add that sometimes wild claims like these can cause more harm than good. Despite all the tourism dollars and putting this area of Kansas on the map, the Neufeld family wanted nothing more than all of this nonsense to go away. 

According to Albert’s brother, Dr. Edward Neufeld, a retired psychologist, was only 16 years old when his brother’s infamous Sinkhole Sam encounter blossomed. But this kind of attention wasn’t something the Neufeld family desired. As Dr. Neufeld would later share, “Our family was embarrassed by the whole thing.” 

But that family embarrassment didn’t stop Albert from carrying on his eye-witness statement. All this publicity only heightened his story because he often shared his encounter at bedtime and around campfires with the younger members of his family. 

According to Albert’s son, Brian Neufeld, “Sinkhole Sam was always described as being longer than a man is tall, but my dad liked to say, ‘the more people who saw Sinkhole Sam, the bigger he would get.” 

It’s interesting, isn’t it? 

Legends like these thrive off of the belief in them. Whether it’s the thrill of a good monster hunt, creating lifelong careers out of reverence for these beings, or simply fun articles to write about, cryptids truly bring a lot to the table. 

For some, these stories can carry bad reputations, second-hand embarrassment, or 

unintended harm. You never know how specific stories may paint someone in a bad light and bring more ridicule than respect. With this, many people would love for these legends to be put to rest. 

But for others, these stories offer excellent business exposure. Cryptids sure have a knack for turning sleepy towns into thriving communities. 

Imagine being the first person to document an unknown species. Bringing awareness to something undiscovered or even sharing a special bond with a small group of people can create a sense of pride and purpose. 

Who knows if Sinkhole Sam is a cryptid, a misidentified large snake, or a member of an unknown worm species? Who knows if the large snakes that caused Kingman County misfortune in the 1960s can be traced back to Sinkhole Sam? And who knows if we’ll ever have another foopengerkle encounter. 

But I think no matter what, we can lean on the words of the late Mill Penner, whose family has farmed this side of Kansas for over a century, when he said, “Whether the story of Sinkhole Sam is true or not, I know one thing for certain: the legend is real.” 

Is Sink Hole Sam Fact, Folklore, or Fraud? 

So, where do I believe Sink Hole Sam falls on a scale of Fact, Folklore, or Fraud? Well, for Fact, I’m giving it 0%. 

Given the wild, zany, and far-fetched stories from a cheeky newspaper columnist, I’m not sure we can take much to heart with the outrageous claims.

Couple that with the fact that Kansas is known to have large snakes in the area, and I don’t think it’s very credible that this creature is cryptid-like.

For Folklore, I’ll give this one about 40%. 

Real or not, Sink Hole Sam is a piece of Kansas folklore. You can find plushies and t-shirts on Etsy, and it even purchases its own MetaZoo trading card. Which, looking at it now, kind of does resemble the sandworms from Beetlejuice. If there’s this much love around the legend, given its minimal sightings, then we have to assume the folklore will continue for decades to come. If nothing else, it’s a great conversation starter that blends the history and mystery behind the state of Kansas.

And, of course, that leaves Fraud at 60%. 

That being said, I don’t necessarily believe the legend behind Sink Hole Sam was intended to be a hoax, but more of a misidentification that quickly blew out of proportion. We can credit much of its growing popularity to the late Ernest Dewey and his satirical writings. 

If you didn’t know much about his previous work and had no idea sarcasm played a massive role in his writings, it would be easy to read one of his articles and start drawing wild conclusions. And I don’t think he even meant for his fictitious names, fictitious doctor, and fictitious research to cause such an uproar.

I’m sure he thought a few people would chuckle to themselves as he wrote of ring-tailed tooters and snickelhoopuses and then carry on with their lives. His job was to write entertainment pieces.

But if we take the very literal Google definition of fraud, it says, “wrongful or criminal deception intended to result in financial or personal gain.” 

Now, do I think Ernest was criminally writing these pieces to hurt people? Absolutely not. Do I think he was wrong in writing light hearted pieces that most people wouldn’t even give a second thought to? Not really. I mean, satirical pieces aren’t meant to be taken “in earnest,” as they say. 

But I do think these pieces contributed to much of the growing interest from tourists across the country. Newspapers were where most people got their news from in the 1950s, so, of course, anything written in them would be taken to heart. But that does leave us with a popular term we’ve previously discussed on this show: yellow journalism, which focuses on more sensationalism rather than facts. I mean, after all, nothing sells papers like headlines about Flying Saucers, Strange Creatures in the Ozarks, and drought-dried sinkholes. 

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