Bigfoot role was big fun for pranksters

Chayse Pirello has the attributes found in every successful person: vision, leadership and, of course, commitment.

One day we’ll probably see Pirello guiding a company or maybe even running the nation. For now, however, the 16-year-old will be known for leading the Loon Lake Monkey Boys.

Pirello was the engine driving a group effort to use a shaggy gorilla suit to convince drivers that the legendary Bigfoot was alive and well in Stevens County.

“This thing’s been through a lot of bushes,” notes Pirello, moments before donning his costume and performing a “Sasquatch Walk” in his buddy Ryan Quaintance’s back yard.

Arms swinging. Head turned. Pirello perfectly mimics that quirky, lumbering movement known the world over thanks to the dubious Bigfoot film shot by Roger Patterson back in the 1960s.

A bit of background is in order.

In Tuesday’s column I told the story of how a Stevens County sheriff’s deputy nabbed a young Bigfoot impersonator and two of his companions one dark night in June. Officer Iain Ashley had been hearing reports since Easter that an apelike creature was prowling Highway 395 near Loon Lake.

The deputy got lucky driving home. Rounding a corner he saw the beast galumphing along the shoulder of the road. In a few minutes the hairy highway hijinks were over.

No laws were broken. It was all harmless good fun. But Ashley wouldn’t release any names because the lads involved were juveniles. So I put out a plea asking the boys to come forward and give their side of the monkey business.

Quaintance, 17, responded with an e-mail. Tuesday evening found me in Spokane Valley, talking Bigfoot with these hilarious kids.

As radio geezer Paul Harvey would say, “Here’s the rest of the story.”

It began early this year, when Pirello obtained a gorilla suit from a friend who obviously didn’t appreciate what he had.

To Pirello, that fake fur represented vast humor potential.

Picking on Stevens County was only part of the ape suit evolution.

Pirello tried it out on friends. He even wore it into the bar/restaurant his grandmother owns. “Some people chased me through the restaurant,” he says. “I knocked over a candy machine. It was crazy.”

Pirello and Quaintance teamed up for a more elaborate stunt. Quaintance drove a couple of girls to a wooded area and pretended to have a flat tire. Quaintance getting out of the car was Ape Man’s cue to leap out of the woods. “One of them was yelling ‘Call 911!’ ” says Quaintance of his victims.

Bigfoot’s first assault on Stevens County began the night before Easter and lasted until dawn. The Loon Lake area was picked because one of the jokers, 17-year-old Brad Burger, has a family cabin there.

The plan was simple yet effective. Spotters in the woods would holler when a car was coming. Bigfoot would then do the walk, which in the glare of headlights probably looked a helluva lot like whatever Patterson filmed. Once seen, Bigfoot would run up a hill and disappear into the wilds.

The basic idea, say the boys, was to breathe new life into the Bigfoot saga.

Dozens of drivers stopped. Some tried to take flash photographs. One motorcycle rider started screaming.

Fortunately nobody went for a gun. That’s the risk with this prank, getting blasted by a yokel looking to make the Weekly World News.

Bigfoot made several appearances near Loon Lake. Pirello says he and five of his buddies all took a turn in the gorilla suit.

On the final performance, Pirello says he spent two hours in costume before handing it over to a friend who was caught by Officer Ashley within two minutes. That 15-year-old boy is on vacation. I haven’t spoken with him so I won’t reveal his identity.

Pirello, Burger and Quaintance, however, all agree that playing Bigfoot in the boondocks was terrific while it lasted.

And Quaintance is glad about one thing. That they didn’t run into the real Bigfoot.

Asked what he’d do if that happened, Quaintance didn’t hesitate: “I’d want to get out of there. Especially if it was mating season.”