Did Hunterdon County Have Its Own Rip Van Winkle?
The “Flemington Correspondent” of the St. Louis Globe-Democrat filed this story on May 30, 1895:
(The idea that the St. Louis Globe-Democrat had a “Flemington Correspondent” well, that’s a little eyebrow raising. Anyway, on with our tale.)
“In the Flemington River Valley, two miles from the little town of Ringoes, lives a man by the name of John Stipple, who has slept almost continuously the last thirty years. The case is a remarkable one, and it has puzzled a good many physicians, who have visited the little farm house in which Stipple does his slumbering.”
(Eventually, the correspondent gets to the story of what happened.)
“It was in the winter of 1865. He had married the daughter of a farmer who lived in the vicinity of Copper Hill, and the wedding party, decided to take a sleigh ride on the Flemington River, which was frozen over and supposed to be safe. During the trip Stipple’s horse stepped into an air hole, and in floundering around broke up the ice so that the sleigh containing the bride and groom went into the water. The young woman was saved with some difficulty, and Stipple was at last got out, but he was unconscious and to all appearances dead. . . [H]e was prepared for burial.”
Some friends were playing euchre besides the corpse when Stipple woke up and said, “Whoa there!” Six weeks pass, with Mrs. Stipple holding out hope her husband would recover. Finally, one day Stipple shouted, “Whoa there!” and sat up in bed with his arms extended as if he was driving a horse. Soon, Stipple fell into slumber, and that’s how he laid for another two months. For the next two decades, Stipple would awaken irregularly, sometimes drinking a glass of milk, before he fell back into his slumber.
Occasionally, he would wake, converse with his wife and give advice about the affairs of the farm, but no effort of hers could make him open his eyes…”
Soon, according to the article, Stipple was believed to possess “peculiar power of foresight, clairvoyance.. and hundreds of men and women living within a radius of twenty-five miles of Ringoes” were visiting him seeking advice.” The story basically ended there.
This article would get picked up by newspapers across the country from Maine to California — literally.
Just one problem, which you may have already guessed: It’s most likely a tale spun by an imaginitive writer. There is no John Stipple or his wife, identified as Susie Stipple, in the article. A search of census records, newspaper accounts and HCHS files contain nothing about the Stipples. Two friends that are mentioned in the article don’t appear to exist either. Interestingly enough, the one state where you’d be hard-pressed to find this article about John Stipple is in New Jersey.
And the Flemington River Valley? The Flemington River? A survey of our local papers hardly make mention of a Stipple. Only one does: The Hunterdon County Democrat. It reported in June of 1895:
Where Is the Flemington River.
A special correspondent of the Globe-Democrat” says:
In the Flemington River Valley, two miles from the little town of Ringoes, lives a man by the name of John Stipple, who has slept almost continuously the last thirty years.
This innocent-looking paragraph appears to have created some attention throughout the United States as the Ringoes postmaster is daily in receipt of letters inquiring as to the truth of the statement, and there are a large number of letters addressed to Mrs. John Stipple accumulating in the office. The parties spoken of are not known there.
It just goes to show that people started making up crazy stories long before the internet came along.