The Leatherman had Bedford and Katonah on his Wandering Loop

Today, the sighting of a man looking like the 19th century wandering hermit known as the Leatherman would probably elicit a response more closely associated with Leatherface from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Nonetheless, a celebrity surrounded this man that has not been forgotten. “It was like the circus was coming to town," said Dan DeLuca, long time researcher of this local real life legend.

The Leatherman didn't do tricks, and in fact, he hardly spoke. But his appearance usually meant front page news, and his obituary made page one of The New York Times.

The Leatherman was first seen in 1856 in Greenwich and was among the vast army of tramps common to the era. But what distinguished the Leatherman was the precision of his movement.

He traveled a 365 mile route and stopped every 34 days at specific homes along his seemingly preordained journey to nowhere. "People didn't complain," said Mr. DeLuca. "They felt it was an honor to feed him."

At the same time, if the residents sold their homes, they informed the new owners of the routine. A lot like, DeLuca added, "We might identify which neighbor's cat comes by for an extra meal."

Of course, around the facts grew legend, which was magnified by his near silence. On the other hand, the wanderer's early travels had him clearly speaking French, according to the local historian. But as his celebrity grew so did his silence. There were just too many questions for the quiet man. Mr. Deluca also believes the lip cancer that eventually took the Leatherman's life made it difficult to speak.

So a rap on the door and only a murmured thank you came in loud and clear. This especially to newspapers trying to sell the story of a mysterious man clad in a 60 pound leather outfit, which was stitched together from discarded boots.

Using his French speaking tongue as a start, a story emerged that he left France after bankrupting his future father-in-law's leather clothing business. The marriage called off, the broken hearted traveler came to America and walked through Western Connecticut and Westchester and Putman Counties as penance.

Tagged with the name Jules Bourglay, he is buried in Ossining's Sparta Cemetery under that name today. A story Deluca found often in the local newspapers. But the account was typically retracted the next day with no proof of the tale.

The myth thus had no choice but to grow. "Who remembers the retractions - even today," he posed, and the legend grew with peoples' imagination.

What is true is that his reputation was impeccable as an honest man who never hurt anyone. So as the Leatherman's appearance deteriorated, what people knew of his harmlessness did not.

Nonetheless for Mr. Deluca, sifting through the myth has been a painstaking process. He starts with photos and traces the copyright to Washington, DC. The credit established, the lead takes him to newspaper articles, artifacts and stories passed down through families.

It follows then that the easy part is how the Leatherman is so widely known, which means he constantly receives emails from all over the country.

The hard part is all the time spent scanning through miles of microfiche. "We spend hours, days, weeks and years," DeLuca said in the pursuit of information.

Headlines in hundred year old publications are also rare. "A Leatherman passed through here today," DeLuca says might easily slip past strained eyes. Still, from all the research, he will only speculate on the Leatherman's origins.

There were sightings early in the Berkshires, which is close enough to Canada for Mr. DeLuca to believe he was born there. It's also known that his route once encompassed a more northerly trek. Therefore, DeLuca takes the French tongue, and the northerly route as an indication of French Canadian descent.

The researcher further believes, but again cannot prove, that his father was French and his mother was a Native American. At some point, they both died, and the future Leatherman came under the care of his maternal grandfather.

The upheaval resulted in the wandering man who had the survival skills of an Indian and were specific to tribesmen being away from their village on hunting expeditions.

So in between stops, the nomad lived in small natural rock shelters, built fires, preserved food and constructed tools with the expertise of an artisan. When his grandfather died, the northerly route moved south. But the long decades passed certainly hasn’t put a stop to Mr. Deluca’s journey.

He hopes to centralize the artifacts into one location when his book comes out next September. “You’ve got to tie everything together these days,” he said.

The hope then is that the Old Leatherman can finally be put to rest – even though the author knows such a thing is not possible.

He and the Leatherman wouldn’t want it any other way.

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