Cold case Files: Echoes from the Depths-The enduring legend of the Gowrow and Devil's Hole Cave
- Dennis McCaslin
- Jan 1
- 4 min read
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Deep in the heat of the Ozarks, near a remote and rural community once know as Myrtle in Boone County, a legendary cavern may--or may not- hold centuries old secrets on a "beast" that once merited a half-page entry in the Arkansas Gazette and has been used as a cautionary "boogey man" for people of all ages.
For over a century, tales of the Gowrow have slithered through local lore, blending tall tales, terror, and the timeless human fascination with the unknown. This is the story of a legend that refuses to die, rooted in the rugged terrain of the American South and echoing through the caverns of imagination
.The Gowrow first roared into public consciousness in the late 19th century, a time when the Ozarks were a frontier of untamed wilderness, moonshine stills, and storytellers who spun yarns as thick as the fog rolling off the hills.
.It was 1897 when the Arkansas Gazette published a sensational account that captured the nation's attention.
Little Rock businessman William Miller claimed he had led a posse into the wilds near Blanco in Searcy County, just a stone's throw from Boone's borders. Livestock had been vanishinG with cows torn apart, pigs dragged into the night, and strange tracks led to a cavernous lair by a riverbank.
What emerged from the depths was no ordinary beast: a 20-foot-long lizard-like abomination, armored in green scales, with a massive head crowned by tusks that curved like scythes over its lower lip. Short, powerful legs ended in webbed claws, and a row of horns spiked its back like a dragon's spine.
But it was the tail-a long, whip-thin appendage tipped with a razor-sharp blade-that proved its deadliest weapon, capable of uprooting trees or slashing through flesh with ease.
.Miller's tale unfolded like a pulp adventure: The group ambushed the creature as it surfaced from a nearby lake, its roar-a guttural "gowrow" that shook the earth-freezing them in place. In the chaos, the beast severed a man's leg before the hunters riddled it with bullets.
They hauled the carcass back, intending to ship it to the Smithsonian Institution for study, but mysteriously, it never arrived. Cold Case Files:
Was it a hoax? Editor Fred W. Allsopp of the Gazette later dismissed it as "a great fake," yet the story stuck, illustrated vividly by artist Elmer Burrus and amplified by the era's love for "fearsome critters"-mythical beasts like the Hodag or the Snallygaster that populated American tall-tale traditions
.But Devil's Hole Cave, nestled about three miles northwest of Myrtle in Boone County, elevates the Gowrow from mere newspaper sensationalism to something more tangible, more haunting. The cave's entrance, a deceptive cleft in the limestone landscape, plunges some 200 feet to a narrow ledge before squeezing into uncharted crawl spaces.
Local whispers date the site's eerie reputation to the 1880s, but a pivotal encounter came before 1935, courtesy of resident E.J. Rhodes. Drawn by unnatural commotion from the depths-hisses and rumbles that locals swore were the Gowrow's call-Rhodes and his companions rigged a descent.
Lowering a flatiron on a rope, they felt it yanked taut amid furious snarling. When retrieved, the iron bore deep scratches and teeth marks, as if mauled by something alive and angry. A stone followed, vanishing into the abyss after similar violence. No one dared go deeper.
Folklore collector Vance Randolph, in his 1951 book We Always Lie to Strangers, documented these Ozark exaggerations with a wink, portraying the Gowrow as a nocturnal predator that hatched from beer-keg-sized eggs, with mothers carrying young in pouches like kangaroos. It broke into sheds to devour pets, caused the ground to tremble with its movements, and left a trail of mutilated livestock in its wake.
Sightings were rarely visual-more often auditory, a bone-chilling roar piercing the night-but that only fueled the myth. In one cheeky tale from Polk County, a crafty resident near Mena lured a Gowrow with dried apples, swelling it until it couldn't escape its burrow, then charged admission to gawk at the "captured" beast before staging a dramatic breakout to scatter the crowd.
What makes the Gowrow endure in Boone County isn't just its monstrous form-part alligator, part rhinoceros, part razorback hog-but its ties to the land itself. The Ozarks, with their labyrinthine caves and dense forests, are a breeding ground for cryptids: the shadowy Ozark Howler, with its horned, cat-like silhouette and mournful cry; fleeting Bigfoot glimpses; even rumors of UFOs dancing over the hills.
.Devil's Hole's "devilish" name evokes paranormal undertones—strange lights flickering in the dark, disembodied voices calling from below, whispers of it being a bottomless portal to other realms.
Is the Gowrow a surviving prehistoric relic, a misidentified animal, or simply the product of isolation and imagination? Cryptozoologists debate it as a "fearsome critter," while skeptics point to the region's history of humorous hoaxes.
Today, in an age of drones and DNA testing, the legend persists. Treasure hunters and paranormal enthusiasts occasionally trek the dirt roads off Highway 65 or 7, past Bergman and Wooden Hills, to Self's coordinates around 36.3981 N, -93.1166 W. But the cave remains on private land, its depths unexplored and off-limits, a guardian of secrets.
Modern retellings, from YouTube campfire stories to books like Lenwood S. Sharpe's The Plaid Fairy Book, keep the Gowrow alive, reminding us that in the quiet corners of America, monsters still lurkiing-t just in caves, but in the stories we tell to make sense of the wild unknown.
As the sun sets over Boone County's rolling hills, one can't help but listen for that distant roar. Is it the wind, or something stirring in Devil's Hole? The Gowrow, after all, has always been more than a beast-it's a mirror to our fears, our wonders, and the untamed spirit of the Ozarks.
