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Lair of the Beasts: Monster Mayhem

Werewolves in our Midst

By Nick Redfern March 27, 2010

Werewolves in our Midst
© Bob Trate

Alrewas is a large village and civil parish situated approximately five miles north of the English city of Lichfield, Staffordshire and has a population of approximately 3,000. It lies adjacent to the A38 road, which follows the line of Ryknild Street, an old Roman road; and according to the English Place-Name Society the village’s old name translates as: “Alluvial land growing with alder-trees.”

Certainly, Alrewas is steeped in the world of the past: it is home to an All Saints Anglican church, which can be found just off Church Lane, and which dates from the 12th century. Some of the original work on the church can still be seen; however, a great deal of Gothic enlargement is also in evidence, while the church font dates from the 15th century and the pulpit from the 17th century.

And it was within the confines of this pleasant little village that, in the 1950s, a fully-fledged werewolf was said to lurk.

The story comes from a name named Sid Lavender, who, in 1953, was working in the nearby locale of Barton-under-Needwood. At the time, Lavender was twenty-two, and had recently completed a stint in Britain’s Royal Air Force. Lavender was new to the area, and at the time of the incident in question, had only made one friend: another young man who had also then recently completed his military service and who lived in Alrewas.

Unfortunately, beyond identifying his friend as being named Terry, Lavender is highly reluctant to reveal his full name, “on account of that I lost touch with him years ago and don’t want to put words in his mouth.” Nevertheless, Lavender is willing to relate the basic details of the strange story told to him by Terry one winter’s night in a local tavern that has long-stood in Alrewas: the 17^th century Crown Inn.

So the tale goes, Terry was cycling to work on a freezing December morning around 7.00 a.m. when, from a distance of a couple of hundred feet he saw on the fringes of Alrewas what he initially thought was a “tall man in a big, long coat, stood dead still” at the side of the road “where there were trees all around.”

As Terry cycled past, however, his curiosity turned to overwhelming fear: the “tall man” was actually nothing of the sort. Rather, the being was a “furry, black animal stood upright with a big, long snout – like a dog, and with dog-ears: pointed,” says Lavender.

Ominously, as Terry flew past the beast as quickly as his legs could turn the wheels of his trusty old bicycle, he heard it offer a low, guttural growl “as if it was saying to him: ‘just keep pedaling and keep away.’” Perhaps wisely, that is precisely what Terry did, only looking back several times to see that the creature had not moved an inch, aside from turning its head to keep a close and watchful eye on him until he was lost from sight.

That night, which was a Friday, Sid and Terry met in the Crown, and Terry revealed the shocking details of the strange story to Sid – who, at first at least, considered it “a good chuckle and nothing else, really.” It was only after Terry “kept on and on” that Sid realized his friend was being deadly serious with him.

Of course, being young lads, and looking for a bit of adventure on a Friday night, they decided to stake-out the area for a couple of hours – “despite that it was bloody freezing and we could have stayed longer [in the pub] and had a few more pints” – in the hope that the animal might put in a reappearance. It did not. And tactful questions posed to people in Alrewas did not reveal any more data, either. It seems that whatever the beast was, Terry had been the sole witness to its brief and unearthly presence.

A study of the available evidence – or, rather, the unfortunate lack of it – does not provide any further data on sightings of werewolves in and around Alrewas – either before or after 1953; however, if you ever decide to pay a visit to the picturesque little village, take care as you walk its winding lanes, and particularly so if the sun has set and the moon is full.

One final story that may (and I stress the word may) be relevant to the controversy surrounding the werewolves of Staffordshire comes from the Jacoby family, who lived in Leek in the 1970s, and who “for a couple of months” in early 1972 were “constantly bothered by a bloody weird howling every night, outside.” Mr. Jacoby says: “It wasn’t like your average dog: it was more like a wolf like you’d see on the TV in one of them nature programmes. It was the sort of howl you didn’t forget and don’t get from a dog. But I can’t think of what else it was. It did sound like a wolf, but where would it have come from and where did it go?”

The beast of Leek, it seems, was a truly mysterious and elusive creature; unless you know better, of course...

Nick Redfern is the author of many books, including the forthcoming Monsters of Texas and Final Events.