Camp O'Rear and the Legend of the Zilabu
Camp O'Rear is situated just off Highway 257 (Curry Hwy) a few miles outside of Jasper. It is traditionally considered a primitive campground for the Boy Scouts, but looking at recent pictures of the place I don't recognize much of it. The old dining hall has been gussied up almost beyond recognition, and according to the Boy Scouts of America: Black Warrior Council official website, the dining hall has a kitchen and bathroom. It had neither when I was last there, unless a dirty sink and a ramshackle counter qualify as a kitchen. Furthermore, a new building called the "Troop Lodge" on the official website is likewise new to me. Other than that, however, the rest of the place is easily recognizable and brings into my mind's eye a flood of childhood memories. The swinging bridge over Black Water Creek is still intact. The Rock House is still the same shell of a former dwelling built into an overhanging cliff. According to a current map of the place, at least some of the "Adirondacks" (lean-to shelters) still remain, although surely after all these decades they've been repaired. At least one of the campsites still bears the name I remember from way back when: Eagle's Nest. If the other campsites ever had official names, I never knew them.
It was sometime circa 1977 or 1978 when I first camped at Camp O'Rear. I was in the "Royal Ambassadors" (the RA's as we called ourselves) through our church, First Baptist Church in Jasper, Alabama. I remember the father/son camp outs that were held at least once a year, and it was during one such camp out that we 2nd or 3rd grade boys first heard the "Legend of the Zilabu." To be fair, I'm spelling it phonetically. I mean, it could be Zillahboo for all I know. No official spelling exists since both the word as well as the legend were completely fictional (and possibly invented right there on the spot for the very first time). Legend has it, the creature is 1/2 zebra, 1/2 deer, and 1/2 caribou. Wait, that's not exactly mathematically correct!?! Our elementary math skills were likely being put to the test to see who'd be the first to call out the error. No one did from what I remember. As the night bore on, however, the creature morphed into something more akin to Bigfoot, a werewolf, or Dog Man. Now that made perfect sense! My brain envisioned Bigfoot, because there was a big, glossy poster in the library of my school, Farmstead Elementary School, featuring none other than the creature itself. For those in the know, this picture was a still frame from the famous 1967 Patterson-Gimlin Film. It absolutely fascinated me then, and to this day I'm in the club of Bigfoot believers.
Well, to continue, no R.A. camp out was complete without a Zilabu hunt. Every year that passed always involved a Zilabu hunt. It always started at the dining hall, then down the hill to the swinging bridge, then over Black Water Creek to the other side, and on a 1/2 mile or so to the first lean-to shelter. And just like that, on cue, a growling roar would commence from way up on the hill, followed by the predictable crying, screaming, or pants wetting from the youngest boys. "BANG!" Then began the rock throwing, and that mean ol' Zilabu would always precisely hit the tin roof of that rickety lean-to shelter. On most occasions the Zilabu would come roaring down the hill, and then the chaotic running back to the swinging bridge in a terrified frenzy would begin. We all ran en masse like a herd of gazelles or zebras on the African savanna just as we saw on the then popular TV series (Mutual of Omaha's) Wild Kingdom. Although I don't remember, surely our leaders had enough foresight to post at least one adult at the swinging bridge to prevent us panicked boys from running haphazardly across that obstacle and possibly falling into Black Water Creek in the dark of night. Thankfully no such accident ever occurred during my camp outs. Perhaps this is why at least some of the Zilabu hunts did not involve the swinging bridge, but rather an excursion to the Rock House.
A bit more about the Rock House.
The Rock House, as mentioned earlier, was literally built under an overhanging precipice from the rocky cliffs that were prevalent throughout the property. We all heard the tale of how "Rufus O'Rear" was a hermit who once lived in this cliff dwelling. Which Rufus O'Rear (there were quite a few) was never made clear. Whether or not he was really a hermit may or may not have been true. Furthermore, he may or may not have actually set up residence at the Rock House. I can find no proof one way or the other, but the stories we heard were rock solid evidence to our youthful ears! Oh yes, we heard (and would swear as evidence) that Rufus O'Rear was ran off by none other than the Zilabu. Some wild accounts claimed that the Zilabu either killed Mr. O'Rear or, even more grotesquely, actually ate him whole!
Proof that Rufus O'Rear donated the property that bears his name is not disputed, although little information is readily accessible on the internet. I did find a link to an article, "Big Camp Grounds Given to Scouts for a Long Term," from The Tuscaloosa News dated Aug. 24, 1922. Among the various features of the property, the Rock House was specifically mentioned: "a beautiful house built of stone, built into the side of a high bluff, . . . will be used as a library and hospital." So . . . I guess the Rock House must have once had some sort of habitable functionality after all.
As we Royal Ambassadors grew older, many of us ended up in Boy Scout Troop 126, also sponsored (at least then) by First Baptist Church. The camp outs at Camp O'Rear were much more frequent, naturally. Odd as it seemed to us, the myth of the Zilabu didn't seem to be common amongst the other BSA troops in town. Funny that! Seriously, how could they not know of the malevolent entity that lurked the dark woodlands of Camp O'Rear? Surely they had to be told!
By the age of 12 or 13 we all stopped believing in the myth of the Zilabu, especially when we ourselves were actively pranking the younger boys and devising new ways to terrorize them. Besides, new myths about the supernatural were to be had, especially the varied tales about Cry Baby Hollow. It wasn't until we were older and living in the internet age that many of us curious spook hunters would learn that practically every town in the South had their own unique take on the Cry Baby Hollow tale. In Hartselle, Alabama, for example, a legend exists about Cry Baby Bridge. But I digress as I tend to do . . . . oh yes, Camp O'Rear.
I'm delighted to see the small improvements that the Black Warrior Council has made to Camp O'Rear. Even replacing the decrepit cattle gate with a proper metal gate is progress, particularly now that it announces "Boy Scouts" in large, white, metal letters. I wish we had been lucky enough back in my day to have a "Troop Lodge" to camp in, although the term we use today would be glamping, not camping. See, I'm not in the least annoyed by progress no matter how much I tend to wax nostalgic. Hopefully all the youth of Walker County and nearby will have the opportunity to camp at Camp O'Rear, not just the Boy Scouts. They too should have their chance at making lasting memories. And, yes, they too should cower by the camp fire light when hearing the legend of the Zilabu.
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