#thenoke

The Floating Head of Roanoke

Today is the 15th anniversary of the appearance of the floating head of Roanoke. We thought we'd commemorate the occasion by reposting an article from the *Roanoke Bell-Union about the event.*

On July 9, 1998, on the edge of downtown Roanoke, a sleepy town just outside of Fort Wayne, on the side of the mysterious Coil Factory (aptly named for the word “COIL” emblazoned on the smokestack), a painting of a head appeared one day.

No one knows exactly where it came from, who created it or why it appeared.

The Coil Factory operates dozens of security cameras, no less than five of which frame this section of the building. Roanoke's heavy-handed anti-anti-vandalism laws promise years in prison and hundreds of thousands of dollars in fines to anyone caught defacing property, so graffiti is rare.

Still, no one thought much about it until some of the old-timers in town got a look at it.

Franklin Willoughby, 79, has lived in Roanoke all his life. He remembers playing outside of the Coil Factory, back when it was still producing coils (The Roanoke Coil Factory was the chief supplier of resistance wire and cooling coil for the Change Detection and Abolition Framework engine, posted previously in this publication. —Ed.). He sent in this photograph he took in back in 1928, along with a note that reads:

Gentlemen,

As I was walking by the Coil Factory yesterday morning on the way to my Tai Chi class, I noticed the defacement of the north side of the property. While the "artist" admittedly did a great job creating a bearded face on the wall, I was appalled at the act of vandalism displayed.

All day, the image stuck with me. I didn't exactly know why, but then I thought back to my youth.

Why I remember that moment is that there was graffiti very similar to this current vandalism, all the way back then in 1928. Now, I am an old man, and I often forget or misremember things. But this — this! It stuck with me. I had such vivid memories.

I looked through my old photos, and through the town records, but there was no evidence leading me to believe I was remembering correctly.

Except one.

I was raised in an old two-bedroom house across the street from the Coil Factory, and my brother and I would often play on the grassy hill butting up to the factory wall (old, even then) to the northeast of the building. One day, after joining my church's scout troop, my mother decided I should have a picture taken in my new uniform. My brother picked up the old Kodak, and I leaned against a pipe.

Here is that photograph.

See that in the corner of that building?

I took this photograph up to the current "installation", and sure enough, it matched up almost to the same spot, and is almost brush-stroke perfect.

I don't know who it is who created this, but he must be quite the historian.

Mr. Willoughby isn't alone in his remembrance. Multiple reports were given to this reporter in the timespan of 24 hours. Three other septua- and octogenarians, residents of Roanoke all their lives, vaguely remember such an occurrence. Yet all four (including Mr. Willoughby) have a hand too shaky or eyes too dim to reproduce such art.

These fundamental questions are left, unanswered:

Who created these paintings in 1928? In 1998?

Who is the man depicted in the paintings?

Why is there no documentation of the vandal in the act?

Perhaps one day, in another 70 years, if the Coil Factory is still standing, this mysterious ruddy figure, complete with ginger facial hair and hardened expression, will appear again.