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The mysterious beast that bedeviled New Jersey.
COLEMAN: People were beginning to fear
something more dangerous might happen.
The rampaging tank in the streets of San Diego.
They had nothing to stop this giant tank.
And the mysterious death of our 29th president.
Is it true? Did she try to poison him?
WILDMAN: Within the walls of great institutions
lie secrets waiting to be revealed.
These are the mysteries at the museum.
-- Captions by VITAC --
Closed Captions provided by Scripps Networks, LLC.
Chiriaco Summit, California.
Nestled in the foothills of Joshua Tree National Park
lies this sparkling desert outpost,
now home to the General Patton Memorial Museum.
Named for the great American Army hero,
this institution showcases battle-tested relics
from the military's past,
from World War II radios and gas masks
to pistols and machine guns.
But one imposing artifact looms above the rest.
It weighs approximately 55 tons, approximately 12 feet tall.
It's got a .50-caliber machine gun on top.
This artifact could wreck an entire city.
WILDMAN: It's an M60A3 tank -- a fearsome machine
that's effectively patrolled combat zones for over 50 years.
But there's a dark chapter in this tank's illustrious history,
and it didn't unfold on a battlefield.
What role did an M60A3 play
in a crime that gripped an American city
with white-knuckled terror?
May 17, 1995 -- San Diego, California.
This sun-soaked coastal metropolis
boasts picture-perfect weather year-round,
and this day is no exception.
But early in the evening,
police receive frantic phone calls
from residents in the community of Kearny Mason,
reporting something astonishing.
When the dispatcher put it out on the air,
police officers did race to the scene
to see whether or not what they were hearing was true.
WILDMAN: When police arrive,
they discover the typically quiet residential neighborhood
transformed into a war zone.
And at the center of this destruction,
a massive tank crushing everything in its path.
RAMIREZ: The tank driver made every effort
to almost hit anything near the sidewalks,
and one of them was a fire hydrant.
It let out water over 50 feet in the air.
He drove over traffic lights and power poles
and took all the power out of the city.
[ Sirens wailing ]
WILDMAN: As residents flee from the steel behemoth,
police are mystified.
Where did this tank come from? And who is inside?
RAMIREZ: The tank appeared to be American-made.
But they had no idea why anyone
would be terrorizing this city like this.
WILDMAN: Police use a bullhorn
to plead with the driver to stop,
but the hulking machine shows no signs of slowing down.
And as panic continues to mount,
the iron beast makes a terrifying move.
The tank turned onto Cabrillo Freeway.
WILDMAN: The Cabrillo Freeway gives the renegade driver
a straight shot to the center of downtown San Diego,
just seven miles away.
And as authorities chase the runaway juggernaut,
their thoughts turn
to the tank's potentially deadly fire power.
Police were definitely concerned that there might be ammunition
inside the tank that could be used against the community.
They had nothing in their arsenal to stop this giant tank.
WILDMAN: Who is manning the controls
of this vehicle of mass destruction?
And can authorities stop him before innocent lives are lost?
It seemed like no one knew what the driver would do next,
except commit more destruction.
This was an absolute nightmare.
WILDMAN: Then, as police frantically follow the tank
down the highway, the driver makes a sudden sharp turn.
RAMIREZ: And he collided with the center divider of the freeway.
[ Police radio chatter ]
WILDMAN: After a violent impact,
the massive machine suddenly comes to a complete stop.
[ Indistinct shouting ]
Police officers realized this was the opportunity to strike
because he was totally immobilized.
WILDMAN: Three officers scramble to the top of the vehicle
and pry open the hatch.
Inside, they discover a man in a state of panic.
The driver tried to restart the tank
to remove it from the center divider.
WILDMAN: Police don't know if the man is armed,
or if he'll manage to free the tank.
To stop this rampage once and for all,
they resort to drastic measures.
RAMIREZ: After the driver refused to stop,
one officer shot him through the shoulder.
The driver died soon thereafter.
WILDMAN: 23 minutes after this unprecedented wave of terror
was unleashed, the people of San Diego are finally safe.
RAMIREZ: The police eventually identified Shawn Nelson
to be the driver of the tank.
He was 35 years old and unemployed.
WILDMAN: Investigators learned that Shawn Nelson
had served in the U.S. Army in the late '70s, and as a result,
had an intimate knowledge of how to steer a tank.
They determined that on the morning of May 17,
Nelson snuck into the San Diego National Guard Armory,
commandeered an M60A3 tank,
like this one on display at the General Patton Memorial Museum,
and drove off the property.
By the time guards were able to notify the police,
Nelson's reign of terror had begun.
RAMIREZ: By the end of the rampage,
this M60A3 had crushed over 40 vehicles.
Everyone was very fortunate that there were no fatalities.
WILDMAN: But investigators are left with one question --
Why did Nelson do it?
As they dig into the troubled Nelson's background,
they learn that he had sued a local hospital for malpractice.
The hospital, just off the Cabrillo Freeway,
is only blocks from where his mad spree ended.
Some people believe
that the hospital where Shawn Nelson was treated
was the intended target of his rampage.
WILDMAN: But we'll never know for sure.
Today, the size and power of this tank,
which rests outside the General Patton Memorial Museum
in Chiriaco Summit,
serves as a stark reminder
of the day a powerful weapon fell into the wrong hands.
Washington, D.C.
Over 17 million visitors flock here each year,
drawn by some of the nation's grandest architecture
and most esteemed museums.
But hidden in the heart of the city
is one institution that shuns the spotlight,
the Secret Service Museum.
Only the agency's 6,000 employees
and a select number of preapproved visitors
can gain entry to view exhibits
featuring early agency badges, restraints, and weapons.
But one very different kind of artifact stands apart.
MIHM: It's about 18 inches high, 9 inches wide, a foot deep,
and it's about 40 pounds.
May not be that big,
but it's definitely a rather hefty object.
WILDMAN: According to Professor Stephen Mihm,
this shadowy relic
was at the center of one of the most tenacious manhunts
ever conducted by the Secret Service.
The Secret Service view this case
as one of the most dangerous and threatening cases in the 1930s.
WILDMAN: What is this devious machine?
And how is it linked
to one of the most notorious and legendary con men
to ever ply his trade on American shores?
Paris, 1927 --
a hive of creative activity
and a meeting point for the rich and famous.
The French capital is also awash
with criminals, crooks, and con men.
Among the city's smoothest operators
is a charmingly duplicitous 37-year-old Czech immigrant
named Victor Lustig.
Lustig has a reputation of being astonishingly charismatic.
He could entrance people in such a way
that even the strongest, most cynical individuals
get pulled into his confidence schemes.
WILDMAN: Lustig adopts the noble title of "Count"
and develops a practiced aristocratic air
that serves him well during his various cons,
the most audacious of which
includes selling the Eiffel Tower
to a scrap-metal dealer for some $70,000.
But that's small change compared to the daring scheme
the so-called Count conjures up in 1929,
when he shifts his focus to bustling New York City.
He begins to build a criminal organization
that is going to create
a top-notch counterfeit federal currency.
WILDMAN: Partnering with an expert forger named William Watts,
Lustig invests in a printing press,
and his collaborator gets to work on the plates
that will produce the bills.
Watts even makes the paper look like the real deal.
MIHM: By this point, the United States Government
is using special paper
that's got red and green threads through it.
It's impossible to replicate
because only one company in the world makes it,
and it's under lock and key.
So they do the next best thing --
they decide to print those threads.
The plate actually has
both the counterfeit of the original note,
as well as the counterfeit of the paper,
and putting these two things together
creates a really spectacular imitation.
WILDMAN: Using low level associates,
Lustig passes the fake $10s, $20s, and $50s into the system
by making small purchases and pocketing the change.
The scheme is a smashing success.
Over the next seven months,
the enterprise nets almost $700,000.
MIHM: He's got to be feeling pretty good about this.
WILDMAN: Count Lustig's con seems to be working like a charm.
But little does he know, the authorities are onto his fraud.
It's 1934, and con man Victor Lustig
is producing impressive counterfeit currency
and passing it into circulation with enormous success.
But what Lustig doesn't know
is that his bogus bills are about to cash him out.
In New York, banks begin to find
immaculately produced fake currency among their real bills.
They quickly determine that they are receiving
$100,000 worth of counterfeit notes each month.
Stunned, the bankers alert the Secret Service,
the federal agency responsible
for investigating this kind of financial fraud.
MIHM: The Secret Service reacts with a lot of alarm.
They fear that if this continues to go unchecked
that it'll call into question the actual genuine currency.
WILDMAN: But they have no idea who's behind this enormous fraud.
So agencies reach out to informants
and begin tracking down any leads they get.
After months spent fruitlessly searching
for the master criminal behind this audacious scheme,
one name surfaces -- that of known con man Victor Lustig.
MIHM: But they don't know where Lustig is.
The only thing they know
is that a woman who works as a madam on the Upper East Side
has been known to have a connection with him.
WILDMAN: So the agents tap the woman's phone and wait.
Finally, after weeks of getting nowhere,
Lustig calls in to arrange a meeting.
They realize they have him.
WILDMAN: The Secret Service swoops in
to make the arrest outside the madam's building.
Although he isn't carrying incriminating bogus bills,
agents do find a solitary key tucked into Lustig's wallet.
MIHM: The key goes to a locker in Times Square.
And when they open up that locker,
they find $50,000 in counterfeit notes
of exactly the same vintage
that's been in circulation the preceding months.
WILDMAN: Soon the agents track down Lustig's partner,
forger William Watts.
Inside his apartment, they find multiple printing presses,
including this one at the Secret Service Museum.
It seems law enforcement finally has their man.
But Lustig has one more surprise up his sleeve.
The day before he's due in court,
federal officials arrive at his jail cell,
only to find it empty.
He's gone. It's like the man is a Houdini.
WILDMAN: Investigators canvass the area
and quickly put together what happened.
He took sheets that he had been stockpiling,
tied them together,
and then got out of the window
and slid down the sheets all the way to the ground.
WILDMAN: But Lustig's luck isn't infinite.
27 days later, he is recaptured in Pittsburgh.
On December 9, 1935,
Victor Lustig is sentenced to 20 years in prison.
12 years later, at the age of 57,
the master con passes away behind bars.
In the end, over $2 million worth of his counterfeit bills,
like this one, made their way into circulation.
The printing press in many ways is Lustig's swan song.
It's also this big heavy thing
that ultimately dragged him back to earth.
WILDMAN: Today, this printing press
at the U.S. Secret Service Museum in Washington, D.C.,
stands as a weighty reminder
of one of America's greatest con men
who almost escaped justice.
Surrounded by vast amounts of lush foliage,
this city in a forest is better known as Atlanta, Georgia.
This sprawling metropolis is home to over 400,000 people.
It is also home to an institution
that safeguards the health of the nation,
the Center for Disease Control and Prevention.
Within these walls is a museum
that tells the story of the fight
against some of the world's most perilous diseases and outbreaks.
It features artifacts such as an iron lung used by polio victims,
vials of smallpox vaccinations,
and even an electron microscope utilized to study ***.
But according to staff microbiologist Dr. Claressa Lucas,
among these impressive displays
is an artifact that's easy to miss.
DR. LUCAS: It is a glass jug
that contains approximately a gallon of yellow liquid.
WILDMAN: Despite its mundane appearance,
the contents of this jar
once caused widespread panic throughout the United States.
DR. LUCAS: There was a lot of fear.
Nobody knew if they were next.
WILDMAN: What is this peculiar fluid?
And what role did it play
in one of the nation's most enigmatic medical mysteries?
July 1976 -- Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
During this blazingly hot summer,
retired Air Force Captain Ray Brennan
and almost 4,000 other members
of the veterans' group the American Legion
convene at The Bellevue-Stratford Hotel
to celebrate the United States Bicentennial.
DR. LUCAS: The atmosphere was very festive.
They all knew each other.
This was something they look forward to.
WILDMAN: As the festivities unfold,
Brennan is suddenly struck by bouts of coughing,
high fever, and labored breath.
[ Coughing ]
DR. LUCAS: At first, it didn't really seem like much, you know?
At first, it just seemed like a summer cold.
WILDMAN: But the symptoms are too severe to ignore,
and he is soon rushed to a hospital.
Doctors diagnose the illness as pneumonia
and administer the standard treatment of penicillin.
But the antibiotics have no effect,
and Brennan's condition rapidly deteriorates.
Then, just a few days after the bicentennial,
Captain Ray Brennan mysteriously dies at the age of 61.
Little do doctors know
that he is the first victim of a new and deadly plague.
Within the week,
The Pennsylvania Department of Health
is flooded with reports of a strange pneumonia-like illness,
similar to Brennan's.
Doctors soon determine that all 150 patients
attended the same Bicentennial celebration as Brennan.
While doctors fight to save them,
20 people perish within the following weeks.
People who you had just seen a week or two before,
suddenly you were attending their funeral.
WILDMAN: With no cure in sight,
the task of stopping this mysterious and deadly outbreak
falls to the Center for Disease Control
and its director, David J. Sencer.
And Sencer thinks he knows where to look for answers.
DR. LUCAS: The best clues that they have
is there seemed to be a very clear and concise link
with The Belle-Stratford.
WILDMAN: What is this mysterious illness?
And can it be stopped before it kills again?
It's August 1976, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
A mystery illness
has infiltrated the posh Bellevue-Stratford Hotel,
killing 20 people
who are attending a veterans' conference there.
So, what's the cause of this bizarre outbreak?
A fearful press and public begin searching for answers.
Every theory that could have been proposed
was proposed and entertained at some time.
WILDMAN: Some wonder if toxic chemicals
were accidently spilled in The Bellevue-Stratford.
But because the outbreak seems to have only affected veterans,
and with the nation still in the midst of the Cold War,
others fear it is a nefarious Communist plot.
Bioterrorism was one theory proposed
because there were a lot of veterans
concentrated in one place.
It probably would have made a political statement.
WILDMAN: In the midst of panic and with no confirmed cause,
the media dubs the mysterious illness "Legionnaires' disease."
Under intense media scrutiny,
CDC director David J. Sencer orders his team
to descend upon The Bellevue-Stratford
to search for clues.
DR. LUCAS: The CDC investigators
collect samples from all over the area.
They collect samples of water from the showers.
They collect air samples. They collect soil samples.
WILDMAN: In the hotel's cooling tower,
which supplies the building's air conditioning,
they discover an unusual yellow liquid.
A sample is collected and stored in this glass jug,
now on display at the David J. Sencer CDC Museum.
Scientists begin scrutinizing the samples for clues.
They are checking radioactivity.
They're checking for a chemical volatility.
You name it, it is being done to these samples.
WILDMAN: Then, after weeks of testing,
one scientist makes an incredible discovery.
You know, it's just looking for that needle in a haystack,
and he finally found it.
WILDMAN: Within the mysterious yellow liquid,
he identifies a previously unknown bacterium
and determines it is the source of the deadly disease.
He calls it Legionella after the disease's first known victims,
the American Legionnaires.
CDC investigators conclude
that The Bellevue-Stratford Hotel's
damp, dark air-conditioning system
offered the perfect breeding ground
for the Legionella bacteria.
And when the air conditioning was cranked up
in the sweltering summer heat,
it provided the disease with the perfect means of spreading.
The veterans got sick because the cooling system was on
and as water was being dispersed in a mist
that they could inhale into their lungs.
WILDMAN: After further study of the bacteria,
the CDC calls a press conference
to broadcast their findings.
DR. LUCAS: They announce that they have identified a novel bacteria
that was the cause of the Legion fever,
and that Legionnaires' disease can be cured with antibiotics.
WILDMAN: In the aftermath,
federal agencies all over the world
set strict requirements for the cleaning and maintenance
of large-scale air-conditioning systems
to keep such outbreaks from happening again,
and it sets the precedent
for how the CDC investigates baffling pandemics.
DR. LUCAS: This was CDC's first experience with an unknown outbreak.
We learned a lot about how to conduct an investigation
for an unknown agent -- what sort of questions to ask.
WILDMAN: Today, this flask of yellow liquid
reminds us of a plague that panicked the nation
and of the tireless efforts of the men and women
who brought it to an end.
Once considered the furthest frontier,
today Kansas City, Missouri,
sits at the geographical center of the nation.
And at the center of this metropolis
is the Kansas City Museum,
an institution that celebrates
the region's century and a half of history.
On display are Native American handicrafts,
lush turn-of-the-century stained glass,
and colorful books of World War II ration stamps.
However, tucked away safely in the museum's vault
is an item whose muted tone
belies its link to darkness and danger.
The artifact is sleeveless, mid-length, seafoam green
with rhinestone buttons.
WILDMAN: As author Terence O'Malley can attest,
this demure dress is forever connected
to a sinister tale of Kansas City's gangster past.
O'MALLEY: This dress's creator was at the center
of one of the most sensational plots of the Great Depression.
WILDMAN: Who made this dress?
And what role did she play
in the most dramatic crime in Kansas City history?
December 17, 1931 -- Kansas City, Missouri.
It's early morning,
and Paul Donnelly is beside himself with worry.
His wife never returned home from work the previous evening,
and their three-month-old is missing his mother.
Known to friends and family as Nelly Don,
Paul's wife has made millions as a fashion designer.
O'MALLEY: Nelly Don invented the housedress.
WILDMAN: The next day, Donnelly receives a ransom note
demanding $75,000 for Nell's safe return.
It also contains a chilling warning.
O'MALLEY: If the police are notified and if that money is not paid,
the kidnappers are threatening to blind Nelly Don.
WILDMAN: Desperate to get his wife back,
a frantic Paul phones his lawyer.
But the attorney tells Donnelly to take no action
and explains that help is on the way
in the form of his law partner, a former prosecutor
and influential politician named James Reed.
O'MALLEY: James A. Reed was a very powerful
United States Senator from Missouri.
WILDMAN: Reed assures Donnelly
that he'll do everything in his power to bring Nell back safely.
It seems like a daunting task.
But then Reed is struck by a brilliant revelation.
Reed knows that Kansas City
has a very strong subculture of organized crime,
and the leaders of organized crime in Kansas City
know things that are going on
that the police have no clue about.
WILDMAN: Reed comes up with a risky plan --
convince the mob to help track down Nell.
If the plot fails,
and the public learns of his involvement,
it could spell the end of his political ambitions.
But it seems like the only hope.
James A. Reed picks up the phone and calls Johnny Lazia,
the reigning gangster of Kansas City.
WILDMAN: The mob boss denies any knowledge of Nell's whereabouts
and rejects the request for help.
But Reed makes Lazia an offer he can't refuse.
O'MALLEY: Reed tells him, "If you don't find her,
I'm going to expose all of your criminal operations."
WILDMAN: The gangster relents.
O'MALLEY: So Johnny Lazia sends 25 carloads of gangsters
out onto the streets of Kansas City with one mission --
find Nelly Don.
WILDMAN: Lazia's underworld detectives
scour the city streets and make a critical discovery --
Nell's abandoned car.
Inside they find her purse, hat, crumpled checkbook,
and one very troubling item --
a length of rope, speckled in red.
Are the gangsters too late to save Nelly Don?
It's 1931 in Kansas City, Kansas,
when renowned fashion designer Nell Donnelly is kidnapped.
A powerful politician named James Reed vows to get her back.
To locate Donnelly, he enlists the help of a local mob boss
and his army of underworld henchmen.
So, can the gangsters find Nell before it's too late?
Poring over the clues left in Nell's abandoned car,
Lazia's men discover that the red splatter on the rope
is not Nell's blood, but paint.
Then one of the mobsters realizes the red rope
may be the key to uncovering the culprits.
One of the gangsters remembered
that a local gas station had recently been painted red.
The gangsters go to the gas station,
and they corral the owner, and upon threat of death,
force him to give up
who he had recently provided the piece of rope to.
WILDMAN: The coerced owner helps the mobsters
track the suspects to their hideout, a rundown farmhouse.
But when they storm the building,
they find Nelly tied up and only one man left to guard her.
O'MALLEY: The kidnappers had heard
that big boss Johnny Lazia was after them.
That scared them to death,
and they just scattered in multiple directions.
WILDMAN: Adhering to the criminal code of honor among thieves,
the mobsters release the remaining kidnapper
and rescue a relieved Nell,
and she returns home, thrilled to see her young son.
Sensational headlines across the country
report on the remarkable rescue
and the unlikely band of heroes responsible.
With Nell's help,
authorities identify and track down the perpetrators.
They're put on trial and convicted,
with James A. Reed acting as a special prosecutor.
In the wake of the case,
many are left wondering why Reed risked his political career
by associating with gangsters in order to help the Donnellys.
In a surprising twist,
it seems Reed's quest to free Nell
was driven by love.
James A. Reed was romantically involved with Nelly Don
and was in fact the father to her child.
In 1932, Nell Donnelly divorces her husband Paul
and marries Reed, the man who secured her freedom.
Despite the tragic event of her kidnapping,
Nell does not let her business suffer.
By 1947, she turns Nelly Don Fashions
into the largest company of its kind,
posting $17,000,000 in annual sales.
And this dress in the Kansas City Museum
is a reminder of one of the most daring and unlikely rescues
of the 20th century,
and the man who risked it all for love.
Portland, Maine,
with its exquisite Victorian-style architecture
and world-famous lobster,
this city offers a taste of the classic New England experience.
But alongside the town's traditional
and historic buildings
is one space that's anything but conventional,
The International Cryptozoology Museum.
Here, visitors can marvel at models of fantastical creatures
that have allegedly stalked and haunted the American landscape.
But among these ghoulish beasts is a seemingly benign artifact.
COLEMAN: The artifact is 20 inches long, 8 inches across,
all white except for these two darkened shapes at each end
that look like exaggerated C's.
WILDMAN: According to museum director Loren Coleman,
some believe this simple piece of plaster is evidence
of a series of fearsome and shocking encounters.
COLEMAN: This artifact is linked to a creature
that is as mysterious as it is terrifying.
WILDMAN: What is this object?
And does it really prove the existence
of an elusive and ghastly beast?
January 1909 -- Trenton, New Jersey.
In the early-morning hours of a cold, wintry day,
a respected city councilman named E.P. Weeden
is startled awake.
All of a sudden, he hears this flapping noise.
[ Wings flapping ]
WILDMAN: Outside his second floor window,
Weeden sees a curious set of hoofprints,
similar to those made by a horse.
COLEMAN: What's really weird about the hoofprints
is they aren't supposed to have horses going across roofs.
WILDMAN: Over the next several days,
others report seeing similar tracks,
and based on these impressions,
this plaster cast, now on display
at the International Cryptozoology Museum, is made.
Over 1,000 people between Trenton, New Jersey,
and Bristol, Pennsylvania, reported seeing hoof prints.
WILDMAN: No one has laid eyes on the creature
until January 17, 1909.
Bristol, Pennsylvania.
Police officer James Sackville is patrolling the streets
when a pack of dogs in the distance
begins frantically barking.
COLEMAN: He sees off in the distance
this shadowy figure which he can't quite make out.
WILDMAN: Suddenly, the strange figure lets out a piercing scream.
[ Creature screeches ]
Then it leaps up and flies away,
giving Sackville a glimpse
of the creature's gruesome features.
It has wings that are leathery, has hair all over its body.
Has a face that looks like a giant deer or a horse.
And then hooves that came down to a point.
And it was said to have horns and a forked tail.
WILDMAN: Others report similar sightings,
and soon, residents begin to fear
that this creature has an appetite for flesh.
COLEMAN: There certainly was a lot of evidence
that this creature was killing animals, livestock, pets.
WILDMAN: The public flies into a panic,
and the media soon dubs it the Jersey Devil.
COLEMAN: Schools were closing.
Guards were placed at businesses.
People were beginning to fear
something more dangerous might happen.
WILDMAN: So, what is this bizarre beast
that is terrorizing the good people of New Jersey?
It's 1909.
Dozens of residents of New Jersey and Pennsylvania
have reported seeing a vicious winged creature
that is said to have an insatiable appetite for livestock and pets.
So, what is this bizarre beast
the press is calling the Jersey Devil?
Based on the physical descriptions
and the strange rooftop location of its prints,
an expert from the Smithsonian Institution
suggests the creature is the sole survivor
of a species long thought to be extinct --
a pterodactyl.
But for many, this explanation doesn't fly.
COLEMAN: They never could quite explain
how something from 65 million years ago still existed.
WILDMAN: And pterodactyls had webbed feet, not hooves.
So many begin to wonder if the Jersey Devil
is nothing more than an elaborate hoax.
Then, at the end of January, a man named Norman Jefferies
announces that he is in possession of the elusive beast.
The manager of a Philadelphia museum,
Jefferies claims it was captured by local farmers
after a terrific struggle.
And having acquired the creature,
he offers the public a glimpse for a small fee.
COLEMAN: It became a sensation.
Hundreds of people came to see this.
WILDMAN: But unfortunately for Jefferies,
among the enthusiastic crowds
are several university professors,
who eagerly examine this seemingly new species
and draw their own conclusion.
And they actually discovered it was a hoax.
Norman Jefferies' creature was a kangaroo,
with wings that had been glued onto it.
WILDMAN: Jefferies is exposed as a fraud.
But many in the public are still bewildered.
What left its prints on countless rooftops
across hundreds of miles of country.
And what was it that several credible witnesses
actually encountered?
COLEMAN: Here's a creature that left footprints like a horse,
but wasn't a horse.
It flew around like a bird, but it wasn't a bird.
What was the Jersey Devil of 1909?
It remains a mystery.
WILDMAN: Sightings of the Jersey Devil persist throughout the years,
but never again on the same scale.
Today this hoofprint plaster cast, now on display
at the International Cryptozoology Museum,
is haunting evidence of a devilish creature
that may still be lurking in the wilds of New Jersey.
Duluth, Georgia.
This large suburb of Atlanta was once a major railway hub
centered around the manufacturing
and processing of cotton.
Today, it is home to the Southeastern Railway Museum,
a sprawling 35-acre estate
that celebrates the incredible machines
that once drove the economy of our nation.
Here, visitors can marvel
at an intricately detailed miniature-train set,
gaze upon a century-old fire engine,
and even step inside an antique U.S. Postal Service train car.
But there is one artifact on display
that carries an ominous secret.
It is 73 feet long.
It weighs 165,500 pounds.
It's about 9 foot high.
WILDMAN: According to museum preservationist Stuart Caul,
this railway car, named the Superb,
played a key role in the first journey of its kind.
But this historic voyage is shrouded in mystery.
Wow. you can't explain it.
WILDMAN: What monumental journey did this train car embark on?
And how did it descend into tragedy?
1922 -- Washington D.C.
President Warren G. Harding has successfully guided
the United States out of a postwar recession.
But in April, the popular president
finds himself ensnared by a brewing controversy.
CAUL: President Harding wound up with this big headache,
which was known as the Teapot Scandal.
WILDMAN: The Teapot Dome Scandal involves allegations
that several of Harding's top aides
leased federal oil reserves to their cronies
in exchange for kickbacks.
And it seems the burgeoning scandal
may tarnish the President's standing with the public.
But President Harding's wife and First Lady, Florence,
has an unorthodox idea
to salvage her husband's reputation.
She proposes taking the President to the people
by train.
CAUL: They would go on this journey
from the East Coast to the West Coast.
He would make stops along the way.
He would shake their hands, speak to them,
tell them everything was going to be fine.
WILDMAN: And on June 20, 1923, President Harding and Florence,
as well as their entourage, embark on their journey
aboard their own personal railcar, the Superb.
CAUL: The Superb was his home away from home.
It was basically known as a palace car.
WILDMAN: But as Harding makes his way from state to state,
the rigors of the journey begin taking a toll on the president.
It was grueling, but his health was not great to begin with.
WILDMAN: Weeks later in Seattle,
Harding's health takes a drastic turn for the worst.
The pained president hurries through a speech to supporters
and is quickly rushed to the Superb.
CAUL: He was complaining of chest pains.
He was complaining of indigestion.
He said he was very, very tired.
WILDMAN: But the President's doctors
cannot identify the cause of this vexing illness.
Then, six days later in San Francisco,
Florence attends to the President as he rests,
when suddenly, Harding loses consciousness.
CAUL: About 7:35 in the evening, he died.
WILDMAN: Harding's staff is rocked by the sudden death.
Doctors looked at him, and they were saying,
"Well, what is it that actually killed the president?"
WILDMAN: To determine the cause of his demise,
Harding's doctors prepare for an autopsy.
But they face a stern and unexpected obstacle.
Florence said, "No, there will be no autopsy."
WILDMAN: The First Lady orders the President's body
to be immediately embalmed and placed in a casket.
And by morning, his remains are loaded onto the Superb.
And when Florence returns to the Capital,
her actions draw further scrutiny.
CAUL: When she got back to the White House,
she got a bunch of his personal files
and threw them in the fireplace to burn them.
WILDMAN: When news of Florence's erratic behavior spreads,
some begin to wonder if the widowed First Lady
has something to hide.
August 1923 -- San Francisco.
While traveling the nation on a speaking tour,
President Warren G. Harding suddenly dies.
But when his wife, Florence,
refuses to allow his body to be autopsied
and then burns a vast collection of his records,
many begin to wonder if Harding really died of natural causes,
or was there something more sinister afoot.
Little more than a year after President Harding's death,
Florence dies at the age of 64.
Then in the following years,
a book is published that reveals shocking details
about the secret side of the President's life.
Harding had been conducting several adulterous affairs.
CAUL: A book claims that President Harding,
with one of the ladies, fathered a child.
WILDMAN: Then a series of letters written by the President is discovered,
revealing he was being blackmailed
by a different mistress for over $25,000.
With these stunning details coming to light,
some begin to wonder
if Harding's sudden and mysterious death
came at the hands of his jilted wife.
People thought that Florence was out for revenge.
WILDMAN: While traveling aboard the Superb,
could Florence have done the unthinkable and poisoned him?
CAUL: At this point in time, the public were all now saying,
"Oh, my God, is it true?"
"Did Florence try to kill the president?
"Did she try to poison him?
Did she try to do something else to him?"
WILDMAN: But with Florence's passing in 1924,
she took the secrets of what really transpired
aboard the Superb with her to the grave.
Who knows what actually went on at that time?
Everything is behind closed doors.
WILDMAN: And today, this palatial train car
at the Southeastern Railway Museum
is a testament to a momentous journey
undertaken by our 29th President
and the air of suspicion that surrounded his death.
From a bulldozing behemoth to a counterfeiting con man,
an enigmatic outbreak to a cloven-hoofed creature...
I'm Don Wildman, and these are the "Mysteries at the Museum."