Iowa: It's Weirder Than You Think

 

People who’ve never been to Iowa think the entire state is just corn, soybeans, and pork tenderloins.

 

That’s because Iowa has spent decades hiding its weirdness from the rest of America like some kind of agricultural cryptid.

 

This is a state where pigs outnumber people, where sliced bread first showed up and people reacted like cavemen discovering fire. Iowa accidentally helped invent the computer. One town became an island because the Mississippi River basically shrugged and said, “Figure it out, nerds.”

 

There’s a crooked street that looks hammered, the world’s largest truck stop, and a literary city filled with writers wearing sweaters in July and pretending their student loans are part of the creative process.

 

Also, Iowa used to belong to France, which feels impossible after you’ve watched somebody eat a pork tenderloin the size of a hubcap while washing it down with ranch dressing and barbecue sauce.

 

The best part is that Iowans barely react to any of this. They might casually say, “Yeah, we got more pigs than people,” before changing the subject to Casey’s breakfast pizza.

 

It’s deeply unsettling behavior.

One Kiss Under These Wings And You're Done

 

The Black Angel rises out of Oakland Cemetery in Iowa City—ten feet tall, solid bronze, dark as a storm rolling in. Her wings are raised, her head tipped downward, like she’s watching something you can’t see. Or waiting for it.

People will tell you all kinds of things about her. She moves. Cries at midnight. If you kiss under her wings, you’ll be dead within a year.

It might be nonsense. Maybe not. Either way, nobody walks up to her like she’s just another statue.

People don’t understand that she didn’t start out that way.

When the statue went up in 1913, it was bright bronze. It was commissioned by Teresa Feldevert after the deaths of her son and husband. She wanted something permanent that would hold their memory in place.

Something Is Watching in Okoboji Lake… and People Won’t Talk About It

Lake Okoboji Serpent

If you’ve ever dipped your toes in West Okoboji Lake, you’ve probably felt that little jolt when something brushes against your ankle. A strand of seaweed, maybe a fish, or… something else.

 

Something long. And scaly. And watching.

 

The locals will tell you it’s probably just the Okoboji Serpent. Then they’ll smile, like they’re kidding, but maybe not.

 

Ever since white settlers arrived in the Iowa Great Lakes region, there’ve been whispers about something big—very big—lurking beneath the blue-green waves of Okoboji. Something that leaves waves when there’s no boat, casts shadows longer than any muskie, and with a head like a horse, a neck like a garden hose, and a tail that goes on forever.

The Strangest Creatures Ever Seen in Iowa (Real Sightings, Real Places)

The Van Meter Visitor

It usually happens fast.

 

A shape crossing a road. Something moving where nothing should be. A second too long to be a mistake.

 

Then it’s gone.

 

Most people don’t report it. They tell a friend. Maybe a neighbor. Then they stop talking about it.

 

But the story doesn’t go away.

Has Bigfoot Been Spotted In Iowa? The Strangest Sightings On Record

 

Most people don’t think of Iowa when they think of Bigfoot.

 

They think of the Pacific Northwest. Giant pine trees. Fog. Mountains. Hairy creature stomping through the woods of Washington or Oregon.

 

Iowa gets left out of that conversation. We’re supposed to be cornfields, small towns, and tractors rolling down two-lane roads.

 

That’s what makes the stories fun.

 

Over the years, stories have leaked out about Iowans seeing something big, dark, hairy, and not quite right. It’s not just campfire talk either. Some of these stories made the newspapers and TV. Regular people went on record, saying they saw something they couldn’t explain.

 

Bigfoot made a front-page appearance in the Des Moines Register in August 1977. Their source was Cliff LaBrecque, a self-styled Bigfoot specialist who said he’d spent twelve years tracking the creature through Iowa.

Iowa Barely Noticed The First Plot To Kill John F. Kennedy

 

Watercolor drawing of a public domain image from Wikipedia

A plot to kill President elect John F. Kennedy in December 1960 barely got a mention in the Des Moines papers.

 

The Des Moines Tribune reported the story on page 7 in the December 16, 1960 issue. Headline: “Plot to Kill Kennedy, Man Seized.” The December 19 issue of the Des Moines Register buried the story on page 9, lumping it in with an article titled, “Kennedy Sets Talks On Bills.”

 

The Iowa City Press-Citizen was the only paper to run the story on the front page. It was one small column wedged between an article on the plane crash in New York and Christmas for missing airmen. The tiny headline said: “Hold Man In Death Plot On Kennedy.”

 

The story that claimed the front page that week was the crash of two airliners in New York, which claimed 126 lives. The Kennedy story faded into the background.

 

And yet, what happened in Palm Beach that week could have blown the entire decade apart.

 

The man at the center of it didn’t look like a villain out of central casting. Richard Paul Pavlick, 73, was a retired postal worker from Belmont, New Hampshire. The guy you’d expect to argue about stamps, not wire a car full of dynamite.

 

But he’d convinced himself Kennedy was dangerous. Too rich. Too Catholic. Propped up by “big money.” Pavlick decided the country needed saving.

 

So he bought explosives.

 

Not one stick. Not a little bundle tucked under a coat. Authorities later said there was enough dynamite in his Buick to level a building. He rigged it with blasting caps and a detonator. The plan was simple and horrifying: park close to Kennedy, hit the switch, and die along with him.

 

This wasn’t Dallas. No rifle. No long distance.

 

It was going to be a suicide car bomb in broad daylight.

 

Kennedy was in Palm Beach in December 1960, staying at his father’s estate and easing into the role of president-elect. He hadn’t taken the oath yet. The inauguration was still weeks away. Security was present, but nothing like the wall of protection that would surround presidents after 1963.

 

Pavlick followed him.

Great Eagle Hearse Stops in Des Moines 1913

On the stranger side, the Great Eagle hearse from San Francisco made a stop in Des Moines in September 1913. The vehicle was carrying the body of Michael Moran whose last wish was to travel the continent one final time. The hearse was accompanied by undertaker R. H. Hambley; W. A. Peck, sales manager for the United carriage company; and R. A. MacBride, a Des Moines Undertaker.