Meet the Squonk, Pennsylvania’s depressed, pig-like creature

The Squonk, a cryptid that resembles a wrinkled pig, or maybe a black bear with mange, is rumored to roam the dark hemlock forests of Pennsylvania with low self-esteem.

The Squonk is so ugly — and it’s aware — that it cries itself into a puddle of tears. The Squonk won’t hurt you, per se, but it might haunt your dreams and ooze bad luck if you tried to harm it.

While Pennsylvania has a surprising number of Bigfoot and UFO devotees, and New Jersey and West Virginia have the Devil and Mothman, respectively, the Keystone State does have some lesser-known, unique cryptids — and there’s a handful of people who want to hype up the lowly Squonk.

This weekend’s third annual Squonkapalooza, at a former bottling plant turned artist hub in downtown Johnstown, Cambria County, will feature live music, artists, and more.

“My motto is like ‘Pennsylvania is home, and sadness is all we know.’ That kind of thing,” said Johnstown native Joe Fogle, the festival’s organizer. “For Squonkapalooza, you think about a lot of the issues we have nowadays: health issues, mental issues. The Squonk is kind of a representation of that status.”

That’s why there’s a compliment contest to cheer up the Squonk. Kids are the judges, and the entries are usually songs or poems.

There will be at least two mascots, one of them called “Squonky Tonk Man.” He’s a mishmash of an Elvis Presley and a pig costume, with 3D-printed tears on his face and a fan named Jason who will be sweating inside it.

The Squonk’s origins are relatively murky, of course, but Fogle said it appears to have originated with lumbermen in Pennsylvania’s vast north-central forests. Fogle believes it first appeared in a 1910 book called Fearsome Creatures of the Lumberwoods, With a Few Desert and Mountain Beasts by forester William T. Cox.

“The squonk is of a very retiring disposition, generally traveling about at twilight and dusk,” Cox wrote. “Because of its misfitting skin, which is covered with warts and moles, it is always unhappy; in fact it is said, by people who are best able to judge, to be the most morbid of beasts.”

That one-page mention didn’t vault the Squonk into the cryptid stratosphere, but a few people noticed. Rock nerds Steely Dan mentioned the Squonk’s tears in its 1974 song “Any Major Dude Will Do.” Genesis has a song called “Squonk,” too.

Fogle’s “right-hand man,” Jason Oswalt, wears the Squonky Tonk suit, with a fan in the pig head and one around his neck. He’s not out to scare anyone.

“I’ve been begging him to let me do this,” Oswalt, a Johnstown native, said.

Unlike some Bigfoot festivals — Pennsylvania has a few — that can get into scientific theories and serious discussions about poop or inter-dimensional travel, Squonkapalooza is more about vibes, about embracing the weirdness of it all. To a lesser extent, it’s about bringing some tourists into postindustrial Johnstown.

Towns and communities all over the state have tried, for over a century, to find unique ways to draw visitors. There’s none greater than Groundhog Day, which brings thousands of people out to Punxsutawney in frigid February.

It’s how the town of Mauch Chunk became Jim Thorpe (the town bought the Olympic legend’s remains) or Coudersport came to host the Eliot Ness Fest, even though the famous lawman barely lived there.

Some areas, like the Flight 93 Memorial in rural Somerset County, have seen a tourism boom through tragedy. Johnstown is known for its deadly floods, particularly a 1889 dam collapse that killed more than 2,000 people. There’s a flood museum downtown.

For decades, Johnstown hosted the “Thunder in the Valley” motorcycle show, bringing in thousands of bikers from all over the country. That rally ended, and is being replaced with a smaller event.

Fogle, an artist and cryptid aficionado, said Squonkapalooza isn’t going to change the economy of Johnstown or his bank account. While he and others will set up a booth to sell art, clothing, and other wares, the event is free. The previous two years, he estimated anywhere from 1,500 to 2,000. This year, he’s hoping to see at least 4,000 visitors.

“It’s growing,” Fogle said. “It’s gone from ‘what’s a Squonk’ to ‘hey, that’s a Squonk’ to ‘see you at Squonkapalooza.’”

The Mothman, a strange, flying cryptid of Appalachia that’s said to be a harbinger of doom, is the inspiration, Fogle said, specifically the annual festival in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, that draws massive crowds.

“Mothman is the big one. They bring in 100,000 people down there,” Fogle said. “They bring in actors from the movie (The Mothman Prophecies), too, well, except for Richard Gere.”

Pennsylvania has dother cryptids, including the Albatwitch, a sort of mini-Bigfoot that steals apples. There’s Bessie in Lake Erie and Ray in Raystown Lake.

Over the bridge, in New Jersey, the Jersey Devil & Fable Festival takes place in Asbury Park in May, though this year’s event was postponed until October.

It’s one of the few cryptid festivals Fogle hasn’t attended. He’s focused on making Squonk a thing, mentioning it’s high time for a Pennsylvania brewer to make a “Squonk Tears” IPA.

“We want people to come and have fun and dress up as Squonk,” he said. “And come with a compliment.”

📅 Saturday, Aug. 2, starting at 10 a.m.,📍Bottle Works Ethnic Arts Center, 411 Third Ave., Johnstown, Pa., 🎟️ Free admission: “Squonk After Dark” is $10 (cash bar), 🎶 Live music, local artists, cryptid-themed fun, 🌐 More info: squonkapalooza.com.