The Talegate Podcast

S1E5 - The Devil's Chair of Cassadaga

November 03, 2020 Harrison the Florida Man & Aaron the Cheesehead Season 1 Episode 8
The Talegate Podcast
S1E5 - The Devil's Chair of Cassadaga
Show Notes Transcript

Cassadaga, The Spiritualist Capital of the World, hosts a sinister secret: The Devil’s Chair. Said to speak to, nauseate, haunt, and even kill trespassers who sit upon his chair, the Devil of the Chair appears to enjoy tormenting his unwitting victims almost as much as he enjoys a good beer. Almost.

Established in 1894, Cassadaga is a spiritualst camp in Florida that has grown into what is now considered, "The Psychic Capital of the World." Cassadaga takes its name from the Seneca Indian word describing "water beneath the rocks." Today, believers and skeptics alike flock to this mecca for mediums to learn of the 9 guiding principles. This area is so grounded in pop culture that the likes of Tom Petty, Bright Eyes, and Gemma Hayes have all written songs naming it and alluding to it's psychic nature. Likewise, the camp has been featured or mentioned in numerous books, shows, and film. 

The Devil's Chair rests in the Lake Helen Cemetery within Cassadaga and is a popular site for Legend Tipping--the right of passage where people (usually teens) sneak into haunted or difficult locations for clout. It is believed that, by offering beer to the chair, the Devil will drink without puncturing the bottles or cans. Other stories suggest that sitting on the chair can cause harm, death, or relay messages to you from the Devil himself!

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THE TALEGATE

Episode 4: The Devil’s Chair


Part 1: Introduction


FLORIDA MAN: Howdy folks, and welcome to The Talegate!


CHEESEHEAD: For those of you just joining us, we’re on a roadtrip across America to uncover the mysteries behind tall tales, fairy tales, folktales, fishtales, & urban legends, one interview at a time.


FM: We inherited a truck from our late Granny May and discovered that the crystal hanging off the rearview mirror was more than decorative. It’s a Dowsing Pendulum leading us to the good folks behind the tales we all grew up with. With that, I’m Harrison, the Florida Man. 


CH: And I’m Aaron the Cheesehead. And today we are parked at the Lake Helen Cemetery, amidst the “Spiritualist Capital of the World,” Cassadaga, in The Sunshine State.


FM: But before we get down to business, what we drinkin’ today, Cheesehead?


CH: Today’s brewskies are called “Lucifer Golden Ale.” It’s Belgian.


FM: You know who else is Belgian?


CH: King Leopold ii?


FM: Yikes. Yea, that guy can Congo to hell. But I was going to say Tintin. Remember when we cosplayed Tintin and Haddock at Dragoncon?


CH: Blistering blue barnacles, do I ever! It was a snowy day.


FM: Can’t wait for Cat Shee to hear that impression and heeeey, It’s always a Snowy day for Tintin. 


CH: Unless you’re French. Anyhoo, this brew’s got a golden color and almost velvety head. 


[Drinks]


FM: Pretty balanced in terms of fruitiness and hops. Plus this one packs a punch.


CH: Lucifer Blonde Ale is a heavyweight, jabbin’ your jaw with 8% ABV.


FM: Just don’t go drinkin’ it all. Not just yet. We gotta save some for our graveside guest.


PART 2: History of the Devil


CM: So what exactly are we doing in the middle of a cemetery with a cooler of beer, because I feel this is just another “Florida Man” headline waiting to happen. 


FM: There’s a legend ‘round these parts, Cheesehead. A ghost story surrounding the very chair we’re sittin’ on. 


CM: Let’s describe this “chair” for our listeners real quick because it is not exactly conventional. More of a bench, really.


FM: It’s basically a very broad armchair constructed of red brick and cement said to be constructed by the Devil himself. Curious ‘nuff, there are other identical brick chairs in this cemetery so I hope we picked the right one.


CM: For photos and more of the Devil’s Chair, check us out on Instagram @theTalegatePodcast. What does it mean to be a “Devil’s Chair,” anyway?


FM: Story goes that if you sit on The Devil’s Chair at midnight, the devil himself may speak to you. And if you leave him a beer it’ll be gone by morning.


CM: Gone?


FM: Gone. Some claim that their beer cans were sitting exactly where they left it the night before, unopened...only completely empty of its delicious golden contents.


CM: I didn’t know that the Devil was raging alcoholic. Better than a murder, I guess.


FM: Well, other versions state that if you sit on The Devil’s Chair you’ll only have three days to live, so let's think optimistically that this Devil’s just an alchy. 


[Beeping alarm goes off]


CH: What’s that?


FM: My alarm. Means it’s midnight!


DEVIL: [In a horrifyingly raspy voice] Who dares rest upon the Devil’s Chair!?


FM: Howdy Sir, and welcome to the Talegate!


CH: We’re on a roadtrip across America to uncover the mysteries behind tall tales, fairy tales, folktales...


DEVIL: SILENCE!!


[FM/CM react]


FM: Beg pardon, Sir. Didn’t mean you no harm!


CH: Yes, we’re just a couple of podcasters hoping for an interview with yah.


DEVIlL: Ah, just a couple of podcasters, you say? Yes. In that case, I shall grant your wish for 

an interview.


CH: Ah geez, thanks! That’d be real keen. For second there I thought--


DEVIL: In HELL where I banish thee both in three days time for disturbing the Prince of Darkness! For I doth CURSE thee to a torturous eternity within thyne--[hears a cap pop open. Suddenly his voice suctions back to a normal tone] Wait..wait is that ale?


FM: Uh, yea. I uh, tend to drink when I'm scared shitless. Got a whole cooler of it. Want some?


DEVIL: Well now, do not mind if I do. What do we have here, none of that cheap stuff I hope? 

You know, I’m a bit of a connoisseur. If you’re going to be the master of Vice, you might 

as well have some class about it, I say.


CH: It’s called “Lucier.” A Belgian Strong Ale. I hear it’s pretty quality stuff.


DEVIL: You boys know how to flatter me. But were you aware that there is a beer named after me called “Devil’s Chair IPA” by...was it, Red Cypress Brewery, I believe?


FM: Yea, that was a great IPA! They made a beer for Spook Hill, too, another old haunt in Central Florida. But uh, Red Cypress ain’t in business no more far as I know.


CM: Damn shame. Damn shame.


DEVIL: I must admit, you fellows did good here. Spared no expense with these fine beverages. This is top-shelf as far as I’m concerned, which comes as a surprise as I never would have taken you two for men of taste based on looks alone. No offense.


FM: Nah, get that a lot. We’re just glad you like it, Sir.


DEVIL: Ah, let’s forgo the formalities for the time being. You young men have amused me just enough to consider not punishing you to an eternity of damnation and servitude.


CM: Gee thanks, Mr. Devil. That is a pretty swell, er no?


DEVIL: Call me Dev. But, for the record, you were wrong about me.


FM: Ya ain’t actually a murderer?


DEVIL: No. No, you may rest quite assured that I am definetly a murder. But you referred to me as a “raging alcoholic,” [chugging beer] which is simply untrue. I am a functioning alcoholic.


CH: Well I’ll be a sheared sheep in a snow storm. I was about to offer you a bottle opener, but you’re chugging that brew with the bottle still sealed!


DEVIL: [burp] It’s what I do.


FM: That’s amazing!


CH: Well, Florida Man, can I do you for a bottle opener?


FM: No thanks, Cheesehead, I got one right here. Never leave the truck without it.


DEVIL: Cheers to finally having summoners with refined taste in drink.


CH: Here here.


FM: And cheers to you, Dev, for hopefully not cursing us by the end of this whole shindig.


[Clank sound/cheers]


CH: I should describe you really quick for our listeners, or at least describe you as best I can. You are dressed exceptionally dapper, like those kooks who storm theme parks every Spring dressed like extras from Mary Poppins.


FM: Yea, only your face ain’t any one particular thing. You look handsome and brilliant, gross and devious. Like your form is shifting so quickly you embody every human element at once.


DEVIL: Because I am. I am the complete embodiment of the World. Of Freedom. The antithesis of clarity and focus. “Curiosity” incarnate. 


FM: Why you reckon then that pictures of you are always some red naked dude with a hooves and horns?


DEVIL: Pictures of me aren’t always as you described. At least they weren’t always. The Bible describes me very little. In fact, most holy works describe physical features of their characters vaguely as a general rule, being more focused on messages and motifs. I don’t believe it was until the Middle Ages where my image transformed into that of the cloven-hoofed devil you all know and love today.


CH: Not sure about that “Loved” part.


DEVIL: With little to work with, literary revisionists picked pieces from figures of dead religions such as Pan to craft this hooved, winged, Frankensteinian image of me to scare the free thought out of the indoctrinated. 


CH: One might argue the godfather of your nightmarish imagery links back to Dante’s Inferno who described you as a winged creature with three faces, being that of Judas, Brutus, and Cassius. 


FM: Oddly specific faces.


DEVIL: Dante’s Inferno took liberties, yes, but he never passed it off as factual. It was a known work of fiction. Even if it did help cement my portrait as a horror beyond imagination.


FM: While we’re on that, I grew up pentecostal, a denomination of Chrisian Protestantism abundant in the American South. We was always taught you were the snake from the Garden of Eden. The original antagonist. But then I had a professor fluent in Greek and Hebrew. He said only the New Testament authors tied you back to that creature and that you were never assumed to be the serpent in the original hebrew.


DEVIL: He is correct. But let’s just talk about the Bible for a moment. It was inspired by true events, absolutely, but written and canonized by men who were rarely-if-ever primary sources. I mean, Genesis has two different versions of Adam and Eve, for Pete’s Sake. Was I the serpent? No. Was there even a serpent? Who cares. Humans are, by nature of free will, ferociously curious beings. I mean, look at you two lubberworts? You summed the actual Devil for a silly little podcast.


CH: Hey wait just a moment there, Dev! You...you...well, you aren’t wrong.


DEVIL: Of course I am not wrong. 


FM: So why a serpent then?


DEVIL: Do you love snakes?


FM: Not particularly. I did find 7 different snakes in ‘round my house in a single day once. Two were mating behind the washer and dryer. Actually, Florida cities annually have to shut down parks and such due to poisonous snake orgies like Water Moccasins. They’re pretty sneaky and quite deadly.


DEVIL: Precisely. Snakes are a common threat among men and beasts. I’d wager the only reason the serpent was penned into the narrative by men was to take some of the blame off of themselves, using snakes as a scapegoat. Snakes are scary, who better to carry the blame? 


CH: I never thought about it like that before. Insightful perspective. Serpents do tend to get a pretty nasty rep. Jörmungandr, the foil to Thor in Ragnarok. Medusa in Greek Mythology. The legend of Saint Patrick ridding Ireland of snake rampant infestations.


DEVIL: Yes, because there are soooo many snakes in Ireland. You know now those cold blooded reptiles love temperate islands with an average temperature of 50 degrees fahrenheit. 


PART 3: Evidence and Testimony


FM: Alright, while several legends are so deeply rooted in the past that we have to take these hand-me-down stories with a grain of salt, many of the unfortunate souls who have summoned you here or know someone who summoned you here live in the modern times. Unlike one-sided scriptures, newspaper articles, or police reports, some witnesses have taken to the internet to talk about their experiences with you.


CH: Yah, we live in an age almost dictated by social media so it’s no surprise that much of your legacy still thrives in the digital world.


DEVIL: Wait, people are talking about me? Me and this chair here?


CH: Yep.


DEVIL: Impossible. My ears detect any mention of any of my many names. The Devil, Satan, Mephistopheles, Lord of the Flies, Moloch, Antichrist, King of Tyre, Shaytan, Mara, el Diablo… Why, the very fact that I am summoned here right now is proof enough.


FM: Well, we say “talk” but reckon that’s tad misleadin’. People mostly type on the internet.


DEVIL: On the internet, you say?


CH: Yah-huh.


DEVIL: I see, I see. Might I...perhaps, borrow your internet?


CH: You can’t just borrow the internet. It’s open to anyone with a phone or computer. 


DEVIL: But I possess not a one of these earthly wares. Might I temporarily commandeer one of your cellular devices to gaze upon those who wish to so flippantly speak my name?


FM: Type your name.


DEVIL: Type my name.


FM: And yea, let me find a local forum for ya and, uh, boom shakalaka! There ya go.


DEVIL: I see not the mentioning of my unholy title anywhere upon this illuminated manuscript.


CH: That’s because you have to scroll, don’tcha know?


DEVIL: Scroll? This is far less intuitive than any scroll, I tell you. Forgive me, for I know little of these mechanical totems of technomancy. I understand the concept behind them of course, but I quite often become lost in the nuisance.


CH: There’s always a learning curve, believe you me. It’s why they call them smart phones.


DEVIL: Is that a slight to imply I, Beelzebub, Lord of all Wickedness, lack the intelligence to operate this...this self-proclaimed “smart” phone? For if so, I shall CURSE YOU TO THE ENDS OF DAYS!!!!


CH:  No No No, Sorry. They’re called “Smart” phones only because they allow for applications and internet usage as opposed to being glorified walkie-talkies. It’s no biggie. Just use your pointer finger there to scroll down the page.


DEVIL: I am hearing what you are saying, uh, what was it again?


CH: Cheesehead.


DEVIL: Cheesehead, but as you can see it is simply not working. This device must be faulty. Manufacturer's error perhaps. I have attempted numerous times now to command the screen with my clawed digits, as your very own eyeballs can attest. 


FM: Yah, but you seem to be more scratching the screen with your nails than scrolling the page.


CH: Hope you got one of them screen protectors.


FM: Sure don’t!


DEVIL: Nonsense, I performed precisely as instructed! I shall attempt this one last time, so help me, and it had better work before I RAIN FIRE AND BRIMSTONE UPON YOOOOOooo-ooh, there we go. Nevermind, I got it. Hah, Learning curve, like you said.


FM: Jumpin’ Jesus.


DEVIL: What? Jesus?? Where? Who invited Him??


FM: Figure of speech, Dev. Just chill.


DEVIL: “Just Chill.” Have you read Revelations? Just chill--you just chill. Ah, I believe I have found mine name on the internet at last, there it is right there. Oh, isn’t this exciting? This fellow who appears to be named DrunkCrunkle6669 states, “I passed out on the Devil’s Chair one night, and by the time I woke up, what remained of my 6-pack had been drunk completely. Oddly enough, none of the cans had been removed from their plastic rings.” 


CH: Nice touch, leaving the rings intack. That’ll spook ‘em for sure!


DEVIL: Ah, but hold the phone, as the youths say, for one Chodemuffin182 doth replied, “dat probs jus yo drunk azz dun drank dem beerz.” Well, that is entirely incorrect, Twas mine drunk azz dun drank dem beerz! How dare this Chodemuffin bequeath credit to DrunkCruncle6669 for mine own handy work! 


FM: Can’t take what they’re sayin’ too personal, Dev. Chodemuffin is more than likely just a troll.


DEVIL: Ah yes, that explains it. Trolls are vile, nasty creatures, though I do delight in their destructive nature. Oh, look here, boys! SK8RGRL…


CH: Ah, that’s “Skater Girl.”


DEVIL: Very well them. Skater Girl wrote, “I grew up with the rumor that if you sat in the Devil’s Chair, you would die in three days.” Yes, quite likely if you don’t arrive with an offering of good spirits, but I digress. Skater Girl continues in saying “I know a kid from school who was dared to sit in the Devil’s Chair one night and he did pass away, which only adds to the rumor’s credibility.” 


FM: Yikes.


DEVIL: Do not “Yikes” me. He summoned the Devil without any offerings whatsoever. That’s on him.


CH: Some of the comments I read claimed that some people experienced crippling anxiety attacks upon sitting on your chair.


DEVIL: Weirdos. Twas none of mine doing. Sounds like they just need to go to the doctor and get checked.


FM: I read some comments that a dark figure is said to be seen time to time sittin’ on the chair scarin’ off anyone dumb enough to come closer, that and others speculate you’re just sittin there ‘cause you’re lazy.


DEVIL: Lazy? How dare they! Being Lord of Darkness is hard work after all. Is it a sin now to partake in a brief moment of relaxation after a long day’s labor? And before you search for your own ill-informed conjecture, the answer is no. 


CH: Gotta take your word on that, boss.


DEVIL: As you should.


PART 4: The Legend of the Devil’s Chair


FM: While the urban legends surrounding the Devil’s Chair are certainly ominous, some do meet these dark tales with skepticism. For instance, another group of students from Stetson claim to have tried sittin’ on this here chair one halloween night only to find the road leading to the cemetery blocked by mysterious figures. They speculated that these folk were local mediums tryin’ to commune with the dead.


CH: I mean, they’re mediums. Communicating with the dead is kind of what they do.


DEVIL: To set the record straight, I do not haunt this particular chair. Or any chair, for that matter. I simply tend to make appearances when my name is invoked. Fact of the matter is that this chair just happens to be a hotspot for invocation. 


FM: That checks, because, according to my research, this graveyard here is blocked from the public every Halloween by guards appointed to keep out dingdongs like curious college kids.


CH: And according to Louis Gates, a Cassadaga medium and folklorist, the legend of the Devil’s Chair is just a ghost story made up by children, or perhaps by teens and adults to scare children. He explained in Weird US that the chair’s origins date back to the 1920’s when a man lost his wife abruptly and visited this cemetery to sit beside her grave on a darn-near daily basis. Because of arthritis and age, this became increasingly difficult for him so he constructed this chair and its siblings for mourning folk to find confort.


DEVIL: As I am reading here, one commenter even alleged that the man who paved the chair passed away on it, perhaps making it haunted in its own right. I have never seen the man myself, but I likey wouldn’t if he ended up on the other side of the Afterlife.


FM: You, the Devil himself, said you don’t personally haunt this place, so why you reckon so many rumors persist?


DEVIL: You mentioned before that this is indeed a Spiritualist Camp. This is their home, their livelihood, and they take their practices very seriously. Then along comes some caravan of inebriated college freshmen reaching into mommy and daddy’s pockets to fuel their empty sacks with Liquid Courage. I have a mind to nominate Casadega’s own locals for scaring off much of the riff raff.


CM: I gotta agree with yah there. What you’re referring to is called “Legend Tipping,” a term coined in the 1970’s regarding a youthful rite of passage. It’s become so prevalent here that visitation to the graveyard is prohibited after dark. It’s even patrolled by police and locals from time to time.


FM: Yea, seems less an example of the occult and more an example of a rightfully pissed off neighborhood.


DEVIL: Which begs the question: how did you two sneak in here after dusk?


CM: At first, we just asked permission only to be promptly declined and told to scram. But then 

one of the mediums noticed our Granny May’s pendulum hanging off the truck mirror and had a sudden change of heart.


DEVIL: Well, that’s fucking weird.


FM: Yea, I mean...come to think of it, it kinda was. But it worked nonetheless


PART 6: Farewell


DEVIL: Look, I hate to be that guy, but some knuckle dragging simpleton in Chicago is trying to summon me and I’d hate to keep the doomed little soul waiting.


CH: Ah, hopefully they at least brought you some good beer. Before you go and speaking of doomed souls, I gotta ask: how’d we do? Did we pass the Devil’s Curse?


DEVIL: FIIIIIIIIIIRE!!!


FM: Like fire and brimstone??


DEVIL: No, no as in this shit’s FIRE. Seriously, my boys, lest we be so dramatic? Consider the curse lifted. And hey, if you ever stumble upon another Devil’s Chair, do hit me up! 


CH: You mean, there are other Devil’s Chairs?


DEVIL: Surely you jest. They’re literally everywhere! One could practically trip over them. In fact the little imp trying to summon me to the Windy City sits upon one now.


CH: Good to know. We’ll keep a look out for you later on down the line. And for you folks at home, thanks for listening!


FM: Feel free to shoot us an email at thetalegatepodcast@gmail.com and follow us on Instagram @TheTalegatePodcast for photos, cast info, updates and more!


CH: Be sure to return in two weeks for our next episode.


FM: See ya later, Talegaters!


DEVIL: IN HELL! I kid, kid.


[Poof cloud sound as Devil vanishes]