Dr. Jeff Meldrum (1958–2025) was one of the most influential and recognizable figures in modern Bigfoot research. A professor of anatomy and anthropology at Idaho State University, Meldrum built his career studying primate locomotion, foot morphology, and the evolution of bipedal walking, work that earned him respect in academic circles long before he ever spoke publicly about Sasquatch. 

Meldrum passed away in September 2025 at the age of 67 after a brief battle with brain cancer. His death was confirmed by his family and reported widely in academic and cryptozoology circles. 

What set Meldrum apart was his willingness to examine footprint evidence with the same rigor he applied to primate anatomy. 

He focused on:

mid‑foot flexibility

pressure ridges

dermal textures

weight distribution inconsistent with hoaxes

He never claimed Bigfoot was proven, only that the footprint evidence deserved scientific study, a position that made him both respected and controversial. Supporters saw him as a pioneer who brought credibility to the field. Critics argued he was too open to fringe possibilities. But even his critics acknowledged his expertise and his careful, methodical approach to evidence. 

Meldrum authored Sasquatch: Legend Meets Science, co‑edited academic volumes on human locomotion, and maintained one of the largest collections of alleged Sasquatch footprint casts in the world. His work helped shift Bigfoot research away from blurry photos and toward measurable data. 

His passing left a noticeable gap in both the academic and Bigfoot communities. Many remember him as a steady, thoughtful voice who encouraged open debate, careful documentation, and scientific curiosity, even when the topic was controversial. 

What’s your take on Dr. Jeff Meldrum’s legacy - scientific pioneer, too optimistic about the evidence, or somewhere in the middle?

(Interested in sponsoring a story? then send us an Email!) 

One of the biggest red flags in any research field, Bigfoot included, is when one person becomes the only voice that matters. It can become a cult-like environment.

Dr. Matthew Johnson is one of the most unusual and talked‑about figures in the Bigfoot community, not because of hoaxes or scandals, but because of how dramatically his views changed over time.

Melba Ketchum’s name is still one of the most controversial in Bigfoot history.

Her 2012 DNA study promised groundbreaking results… and instead created one of the biggest divides the community has ever seen.

Here’s the quick breakdown of what people still debate:

In this episode of Let’s Find Out, we sit down with Howling Underdog Films, an independent documentary team digging deep into the histories, hauntings, and mysteries that shape our world. Their latest project, “Something is Out There,” takes viewers straight into the heart of the Appalachian Mountains, where old stories refuse to die.

This film explores four chilling legends that have echoed through the hills for generations:

The Cherokee monster Spearfinger, the cursed hunting grounds known as the Body Dump,  encounters with spectral black dogs, and the eerie warnings about whistling at night.

These Appalachian tales are dark, strange, and unforgettable — and Howling Underdog Films brings them to life with atmosphere, history, and a whole lot of mystery.

Tom Biscardi is one of the most controversial names in Bigfoot history, and whether people love him or can’t stand him, nobody can deny that he made an impact. Biscardi came into the scene with big claims, big energy, and a talent for turning the mystery into a full‑blown production. He’s been involved in documentaries, radio shows, expeditions, and some of the most talked‑about events the field has ever seen. His style was pure showmanship, bold announcements, dramatic reveals, and a flair for keeping the public hooked. Even people who don’t follow Bigfoot closely know his name, which says a lot about the footprint he left on the subject.

Fred Bradshaw never tried to become a Bigfoot personality. He didn’t write books, didn’t tour conferences, and didn’t build a public brand. Instead, he did something far more valuable: he went into the woods, followed the sign, and documented what he found with the steady, no‑nonsense approach of a man who understood the land.

Bradshaw was part of a generation of Pacific Northwest researchers who worked long before social media, long before YouTube, and long before the modern “Bigfoot industry.” His reputation came from consistency, field skill, and the respect of the people who actually lived in the timber.

Wes Sumerlin never chased fame, never pushed himself into the spotlight, and never tried to turn Bigfoot research into a performance. He was a woodsman first, a tracker second, and a researcher only because the evidence kept finding him.

Sumerlin had that rare kind of patience you only see in people who grew up living close to the land. He didn’t rush. He didn’t force meaning onto every broken branch. He watched. He listened. He let the woods tell him what mattered.

Bobby Short was one of the most quietly influential Bigfoot researchers of the late 1990s and early 2000s. She wasn’t chasing fame, she wasn’t trying to be a personality, she was trying to preserve the human side of Bigfoot encounters. Her work focused on eyewitness testimony, historical accounts, and the emotional impact of encounters on ordinary people.

Thomas Marcum is the founder of The Crypto Crew Research Team, an organization specializing in cryptozoology and paranormal research.

He’s a Kentucky-based filmmaker, author, writer, researcher, and investigator, whose work bridges mystery, folklore, and raw indie authenticity. As the founder of TCC Research Team, he has built a loyal following by diving headfirst into cryptid lore, paranormal investigations, and regional legends.

Tonight, we’re diving deep into the eerie world of urban legends, and guiding us through the shadows is the founder of Ohio Urban Legends. From forgotten ghost towns and haunted cemeteries to the backroads where people swear something still walks after dark, they’ve built a booming YouTube channel exploring the stories that refuse to die.

We’ll uncover the history behind these legends, the investigations that brought them to life, and the chilling encounters that keep Ohio’s folklore alive and well. If it’s eerie, unexplained, or downright creepy, it’s on the table tonight.

For decades, skeptics have repeated a simple but misleading claim: that the entire Bigfoot phenomenon began in 1958 when a California bulldozer operator named Jerry Crew cast a set of large footprints found around a logging site, prints later linked to Ray Wallace, a man known for carving wooden feet and staging hoaxes.

It’s a tidy explanation.

It’s also completely false.

Don Keating began investigating Bigfoot in 1984, inspired by reading John Green’s work. He quickly became one of the most active field researchers in the Midwest, focusing on what he later named “The Sasquatch Triangle”, a cluster of counties in eastern Ohio known for dense forests and consistent sightings.

 

Keating wasn’t just collecting stories; he was building a regional research infrastructure. He founded the Tri-State Bigfoot Study Group and the Eastern Ohio Bigfoot Investigation Center, creating organized teams long before social media made collaboration easy.

Most Bigfoot researchers chase evidence.

Grover Krantz studied it.

Here are a few fast facts about one of the most respected names in the field:

Every time you dig deep into Bigfoot reports, something strange happens; UFO sightings start popping up in the same places. Not always. Not everywhere. But often enough that researchers have been arguing about it for decades.

In the fall of 1951, while scouting routes for a future ascent of Mount Everest, British mountaineers Eric Shipton and Michael Ward stumbled upon a series of large, humanoid footprints in the snow near the Menlung Glacier. Intrigued, Shipton photographed one of the clearest impressions, placing an ice axe beside it for scale, a move that would immortalize the image and spark decades of speculation.

The footprint appeared to be 13 inches long, with a distinct big toe and arch, resembling a human foot but far larger and broader. The clarity of the print, combined with its remote location and the credibility of the expedition team, gave the photo immediate notoriety. It was published in Popular Science in 1952 and quickly became a focal point in the growing Western fascination with the Yeti, also known as the Abominable Snowman.