Sam Anderson

Things wouldn't stop coming up. I took breaks from the loop because my daughter was visiting for Christmas. Because I got a nasty head cold. Because my beloved wiener dog, Walnut, suddenly lost the use of his back legs, and we thought he was about to die. He got better.

Things wouldn't stop coming up. I took breaks from the loop because my daughter was visiting for Christmas. Because I got a nasty head cold. Because my beloved wiener dog, Walnut, suddenly lost the use of his back legs, and we thought he was about to die. He got better.

One evening, at the end of a particularly grueling 20-mile walk, my wife picked me up in front of a public library, and we went out for Thai food. She liked to call me the old pleather man. Yet, over many weeks, after maybe 100 miles of walking, my domestication started to wear off.

One evening, at the end of a particularly grueling 20-mile walk, my wife picked me up in front of a public library, and we went out for Thai food. She liked to call me the old pleather man. Yet, over many weeks, after maybe 100 miles of walking, my domestication started to wear off.

One night I came home after a few days on the road, after not changing my clothes, and everyone in the house stiffened. My smell was like I'd brought a whole other person home with me, someone none of us had met before. One Tuesday in mid-January, I reached a man-made lake the old Leatherman never would have seen.

One night I came home after a few days on the road, after not changing my clothes, and everyone in the house stiffened. My smell was like I'd brought a whole other person home with me, someone none of us had met before. One Tuesday in mid-January, I reached a man-made lake the old Leatherman never would have seen.

In his time, it was a river winding through a town, until they dammed it two years after his death to provide drinking water for New York City. Today, it is the East Branch Reservoir. When its surface is low, you can still see the old foundations of flooded buildings. I walked on its shore over honeycombs of dried mud. The water was frozen.

In his time, it was a river winding through a town, until they dammed it two years after his death to provide drinking water for New York City. Today, it is the East Branch Reservoir. When its surface is low, you can still see the old foundations of flooded buildings. I walked on its shore over honeycombs of dried mud. The water was frozen.

Way out in the distance, on the surface, I noticed tiny shapes moving. Ice fishermen. I stepped out, cautiously, arms spread, and stood watching a man drill a fresh hole in the ice with a bright orange auger. When he was done, I asked him if he'd ever heard of the old Leatherman. Of course, he said. Everyone knew about the old leather man. Used to walk around, sleep in caves.

Way out in the distance, on the surface, I noticed tiny shapes moving. Ice fishermen. I stepped out, cautiously, arms spread, and stood watching a man drill a fresh hole in the ice with a bright orange auger. When he was done, I asked him if he'd ever heard of the old Leatherman. Of course, he said. Everyone knew about the old leather man. Used to walk around, sleep in caves.

Back in those days, the man said, that kind of lifestyle wasn't so unusual. People were more comfortable outside. In fact, he told me, even when he was young, growing up right near this reservoir, there were people who lived like that. One of them slept in the woods near his family's house. An alcoholic, friendly and harmless. He remembers going out as a kid to give the man bacon.

Back in those days, the man said, that kind of lifestyle wasn't so unusual. People were more comfortable outside. In fact, he told me, even when he was young, growing up right near this reservoir, there were people who lived like that. One of them slept in the woods near his family's house. An alcoholic, friendly and harmless. He remembers going out as a kid to give the man bacon.

On my walks, this kind of conversation was surprisingly common. I would ask people about the old leather man, and they would end up telling me about some other figure who once lived on the fringes of society. One woman told me about a guy named Footsie who used to walk around Watertown, Connecticut back in her father's time.

On my walks, this kind of conversation was surprisingly common. I would ask people about the old leather man, and they would end up telling me about some other figure who once lived on the fringes of society. One woman told me about a guy named Footsie who used to walk around Watertown, Connecticut back in her father's time.

Several people mentioned the tragic life of Sarah Bishop, a young American who was kidnapped during the Revolutionary War by British pirates, only to escape and live the rest of her life alone in a mountain cave. I heard about mythic figures, the Witch of Good Hill, the Green Lady of Burlington, some of whom still haunt the places where they died.

Several people mentioned the tragic life of Sarah Bishop, a young American who was kidnapped during the Revolutionary War by British pirates, only to escape and live the rest of her life alone in a mountain cave. I heard about mythic figures, the Witch of Good Hill, the Green Lady of Burlington, some of whom still haunt the places where they died.

Haunting, I think, is a nice metaphor for the social dynamics here. An in-group is haunted, more or less permanently, by the people it chooses to exclude. They hang around like obtrusive thoughts. And in the old Leatherman's time, New England was a deeply haunted place.

Haunting, I think, is a nice metaphor for the social dynamics here. An in-group is haunted, more or less permanently, by the people it chooses to exclude. They hang around like obtrusive thoughts. And in the old Leatherman's time, New England was a deeply haunted place.

After the Civil War, especially during the Depression of the 1870s, there was a widespread public panic about so-called tramps, unemployed men roaming by the thousands, begging, hopping trains, looking for work. The rhetoric in the newspapers about, quote, robbery, incendiarism, intimidation, rape and murder will sound familiar to modern readers.

After the Civil War, especially during the Depression of the 1870s, there was a widespread public panic about so-called tramps, unemployed men roaming by the thousands, begging, hopping trains, looking for work. The rhetoric in the newspapers about, quote, robbery, incendiarism, intimidation, rape and murder will sound familiar to modern readers.