Quick Overview
On April 18, 1961, in the quiet rural outskirts of Eagle River, Wisconsin, 60-year-old plumber and part-time chicken farmer Joe Simonton experienced an encounter straight out of science fiction. Around 11:00 a.m., a gleaming silver UFO, described as “brighter than chrome,” landed in his backyard. Three humanoid beings, about 5 feet tall and resembling “Italian-looking” men in dark uniforms, emerged. Through gestures, one requested water, which Simonton provided from his pump. In exchange, he received four greasy, hole-riddled pancakes cooked on a flameless grill inside the craft. The brief encounter ended when the UFO tilted upward, shot into the sky, and vanished, bending a nearby pine tree.
The incident caught the attention of the U.S. Air Force’s Project Blue Book, with renowned astronomer Dr. J. Allen Hynek personally investigating. Laboratory analysis of one pancake revealed it was an ordinary buckwheat pancake made of flour, sugar, and grease, with no extraterrestrial ingredients. Despite this, the Air Force classified the case as “Unexplained.” Simonton, a respected local known for his honesty, faced ridicule that cost him plumbing jobs, yet he stood by his story. The case’s absurdity, aliens trading pancakes for water, made it a media sensation, but its sincerity and physical evidence keep it a beloved mystery in UFOlogy.
The Joe Simonton encounter remains one of the strangest UFO cases, blending domestic simplicity with cosmic oddity. It raises questions about extraterrestrial intentions, human perception, and the fine line between belief and skepticism, all centered around a stack of otherworldly pancakes.
The Sighting
Joe Simonton, a widower and plumber who occasionally played Santa Claus for the Eagle River Chamber of Commerce, was eating a late breakfast at his modest home four miles west of Eagle River on April 18, 1961. Around 11:00 a.m., he heard an unusual sound, like “knobby tires on wet pavement” or a jet engine throttling down. Stepping onto his porch, he saw a silver, disk-shaped UFO, approximately 10 meters wide and 4 meters high, hovering just above his backyard. The craft resembled two bowls joined rim-to-rim, with small exhaust pipes along its edge and a mirror-like finish that reflected the morning sun.
A hatch slid open, revealing three humanoids, each about 5 feet tall, dressed in dark blue or black turtleneck uniforms with snug hoods and helmets. Their faces were swarthy, with dark eyes that Simonton found intense, prompting him to avoid direct eye contact. One humanoid held a shiny metallic jug with two handles and gestured for water. Simonton took the jug, noting it was surprisingly light yet sturdy, and filled it with water from his backyard pump before returning it.
Inside the craft, Simonton glimpsed a flameless grill where one alien, distinguished by red stripes on his pants, was cooking thin pancakes riddled with small holes, about 7.5 cm in diameter. The alien handed Simonton four pancakes, and another touched his forehead in a gesture Simonton took as gratitude. The hatch closed, the UFO tilted 90 degrees, and shot upward with a whoosh, bending a pine tree as it vanished southward. The entire encounter lasted less than five minutes. Simonton later ate one pancake, describing it as tasteless, like cardboard, and saved the other three.
Corroborating Witnesses
While Simonton was the primary witness, others in the Eagle River area reported unusual sightings on April 18, 1961, adding intrigue to the case. Savino Borgo, an insurance agent driving near Simonton’s farm, reported a silver, disk-shaped object in the sky around the same time. A local woman, Phyliss Lorbetske, and her three children also claimed to see an unidentified object flying over the area that morning. These reports, though lacking the detail of Simonton’s encounter, suggested something unusual was afoot in the forested, lake-dotted region.
The Eagle River area had experienced other odd events in the early 1960s, including a power outage and two unexplained plane crashes in February and March 1961, which fueled local speculation about UFO activity. Simonton’s neighbors and local officials, including Vilas County Judge Frank Carter, vouched for his integrity, describing him as a quiet, honest man unlikely to fabricate such a story. However, the secondary sightings were too vague to directly corroborate the pancake exchange, leaving Simonton’s account as the central narrative.
Judge Carter, an amateur UFO enthusiast, took a keen interest in the case and interviewed Simonton extensively, noting his consistency and lack of motive for publicity. Despite this support, the absence of direct witnesses to the aliens or pancakes limited the corroboration, making the additional sightings intriguing but inconclusive pieces of the puzzle.
Investigation and Analysis
Simonton shared his story and one pancake with Judge Carter, who sent it to a civilian UFO research group, which declined to analyze it due to the story’s oddity. Simonton then gave another pancake to Dr. J. Allen Hynek, the scientific consultant for Project Blue Book, who visited Eagle River with Major Robert Friend and two graduate students. The third pancake was sent to a government laboratory through the Air Force’s Aeronautical Systems Division for analysis.
The laboratory found the pancake consisted of flour, sugar, salt, hydrogenated oil, buckwheat hulls, wheat bran, and soybean hulls, a typical buckwheat pancake with no unusual components. The analysis disappointed UFO enthusiasts hoping for extraterrestrial traces, but the mundane recipe didn’t fully dismiss the case. Hynek, impressed by Simonton’s sincerity, noted in his report that Simonton genuinely believed the encounter was real. A small fragment of a pancake is reportedly preserved at an Air Force museum, though its display remains unconfirmed.
Project Blue Book officially labeled the case “Unexplained,” but an Air Force psychiatrist suggested Simonton, living alone, might have experienced a vivid dream or hallucination. Simonton rejected this, insisting the encounter was physical and later claiming additional unreported alien visits, which he kept private due to the initial ridicule. The lack of extraordinary evidence, combined with Simonton’s isolation, fueled skepticism, but his consistency and the physical pancakes kept investigators intrigued.
Media and Public Reaction
The story broke in local newspapers and was picked up by national media, turning Simonton into an unwilling celebrity. Headlines mocked the “pancake UFO” story, often misrepresenting Simonton as a simple chicken farmer, though plumbing was his primary trade. The ridicule led to a loss of plumbing contracts, and Simonton later expressed regret for going public, feeling humiliated by the media’s tone. In a filmed interview, he calmly recounted the encounter, emphasizing the aliens’ non-threatening nature and the pancakes’ bland taste, but his frustration with the mockery was clear.
The Eagle River community was split. Many locals, including Judge Carter, defended Simonton, citing his honesty and lack of motive for a hoax. Others saw the story as a quirky rural tale, fitting Wisconsin’s reputation for oddities. UFO researchers embraced the case for its physical evidence and Simonton’s credibility, arguing that the absurdity of aliens cooking pancakes was a hallmark of genuine, unexplainable phenomena. The media frenzy, however, overshadowed serious investigation, cementing the case’s reputation as a cosmic comedy.
Simonton’s reluctance to seek fame and his visible distress over the backlash lent weight to his sincerity. The media’s focus on the pancakes’ absurdity often ignored the corroborating sightings and the Air Force’s inability to fully debunk the case, leaving a complex legacy of belief and skepticism.
Skeptical Explanations
Skeptics proposed that Simonton’s encounter was a hallucination or a dream mistaken for reality, possibly due to his solitary lifestyle. The Air Force psychiatrist’s report suggested a vivid dream could explain the detailed account, especially since Simonton lived alone and had no immediate witnesses. The pancakes’ ordinary composition supported this theory, with some suggesting Simonton might have cooked them himself or found them and woven a story around them.
Other theories included a misidentified aircraft or a prank by locals dressed as aliens, though the isolated setting and the craft’s rapid, silent departure made these less plausible. The corroborating sightings by Savino Borgo and Phyliss Lorbetske were dismissed as coincidental or influenced by local UFO rumors, which were rampant in 1961. The bent pine tree could have been unrelated damage, and the metallic jug’s description lacked enough detail for scientific scrutiny.
Despite these explanations, Simonton’s consistent account, the physical pancakes, and his lack of motive for a hoax challenged skeptics. The Air Force’s “Unexplained” classification reflected the case’s ambiguity, as no definitive evidence disproved Simonton’s story, leaving it a curious anomaly in UFO history.
Impact and Legacy
The Joe Simonton Alien Pancakes Incident remains a beloved oddity in UFOlogy, cherished for its blend of absurdity and sincerity. The idea of aliens trading pancakes for water captured the imagination, offering a whimsical contrast to menacing abduction stories. The case has been featured in books, documentaries, and podcasts exploring Wisconsin’s paranormal history, often highlighting Simonton’s credibility and the physical evidence of the pancakes.
Eagle River has embraced the story as part of its quirky identity, with UFO-themed events occasionally referencing the 1961 wave of sightings. The incident inspired discussions of “ultraterrestrial” theories, suggesting non-extraterrestrial entities engaging in mundane interactions to test human reactions. A preserved pancake fragment, reportedly displayed at an Air Force museum, adds a tangible element to the legend, though its exact location is unclear.
The case’s legacies lies in its challenge to UFO stereotypes. Simonton’s encounter, with its domestic, almost comical details, contrasts with high-tech alien narratives, sparking debates about the nature of extraterrestrial contact. Despite the ridicule, Simonton’s unwavering account and the Air Force’s inconclusive investigation keep the story alive as a testament to the unexplained, wrapped in a stack of cosmic pancakes.