Pennsylvania's Green Man, Raymond Robinson, Charlie No-Face

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If you've spent time in Western Pennsylvania, you've probably heard some version of an urban legend about a strange figure lurking along dark country roads, only appearing under the cover of night. Maybe you heard he haunts abandoned tunnels, or perhaps someone told you he's why people honk three times when passing through certain stretches of road. Details of the legend change depending on who's talking, but one thing stays the same: there is, or was, a man out there with no face, walking the lonely roads in the dead of night.

George A. Romero's Night of the Living Dead (1968) was filmed in multiple locations around Pittsburgh​ in Western Pennsylvania.

Not many urban legends can be traced to their origin, but this one can, and it's already nearing a hundred years old. I grew up over 500 miles (~800 kilometers) from Western Pennsylvania and even heard a few stories about it. Legends like this have a way of sticking around—easier with the internet nowadays, but they've always traveled by word of mouth, somehow surviving distance and time.

A man walking the dark road, one foot on the pavement and the other on the gravel. Not a ghost exactly, but not entirely of this world either. They call him "the Green Man." Others call him "Charlie No-Face." And if you drive the roads around Koppel, Pennsylvania, late enough, some say you might just see him.

Sepia-toned artwork depicting a lone figure walking on a dark, winding road surrounded by dense trees. With indistinct facial features, the figure is slightly illuminated, standing out against the dark forested background. A '351' road sign is visible nearby, adding a hint of isolation and eeriness to the scene, evoking a haunting, vintage atmosphere.
The Green Man, Raymond Robinson. Original artwork by J.A. Hernandez.

Where Is Koppel, Pennsylvania?

Koppel is located in northern Beaver County, Pennsylvania, along the west bank of the Beaver River at 40.833402°N, 80.323675°W. It sits 44 miles (71 km) northwest of Pittsburgh by road. The borough is accessible via Pennsylvania Route 18, which connects Beaver Falls, 6 miles (10 km) to the south, and New Castle, 14 miles (23 km) north. Pennsylvania Route 351 runs through the center of Koppel, linking it with Ellwood City to the east and Interstate 376 to the west.

Google Map showing the location of Koppel in western Pennsylvania.
Koppel, PA.

Koppel was established in 1912 and named after Arthur Koppel, a German businessman. Arthur Koppel's company, Orenstein & Koppel, owned over 550 acres of land in nearby Big Beaver Township. In 1917, the U.S. government seized and redistributed most of the company's property to local businesses. Afterward, Koppel became home to several industries, including the Pressed Steel Car Co. from 1919 to 1937 and Babcock & Wilcox during the 1950s.

About 17 miles (27 kilometers) from Koppel, there's a stretch of road known as the "Mystery Mile" on Kelly Road in Industry, Pennsylvania. It's infamous for strange white apparitions and reports of animals turning aggressive without warning.

The area of Big Beaver Township, first incorporated in 1802, lies about 10 minutes by car from Koppel (4 miles / 6.4 kilometers). It later became a borough in 1958 and is now just known as "Big Beaver." By the early 1900s, Koppel, nearby New Galilee, Beaver Falls, and the Big Beaver region were known for isolated roads and a sparse population. Trolley lines once connected up to Pittsburgh, Harmony, Butler, and New Castle Railway—but they stopped operating by the 1930s. Along one of those trolley lines were a few places popular with some kids, at least the daring kids anyway.

But back in the summer of 1919, when the trolleys were still running, something horrific happened at a bridge outside Beaver Falls. It was then that the very true story of this urban legend began.

(Is it an urban legend if it's actually true?🤔)

A Night Drive on Pennsylvania Route 351

You're driving down Route 351 late at night, the engine's hum filling the quiet air, your headlights casting long beams onto the winding, empty rural road. The world outside seems enveloped in shadow, and you can't shake the heavy stillness pressing in. Trees line both sides of the road, their branches stretching overhead, and you focus on the rhythm of the pavement beneath your tires, trying to fight off that dull, creeping feeling of highway hypnosis.

A sigh escapes, and you sit up, trying to blink yourself awake. You reach over, turning down the air a notch, feeling the cool air hit your face. Maybe it's the long day or darkness, but your mind drifts. For a moment, you feel entirely alone. Nothing but you and the road.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see a shape barely lit by your headlights. A man dressed in a green jacket and matching pants walks along the shoulder, one foot on the pavement, the other on the gravel, moving slowly and steadily. His clothes are old and worn, as if he's been walking that way for miles or years.

You grip the wheel, blinking, and slow down as you approach. Who'd be out here at this hour, miles from town?

As you pass him, you catch a glimpse of his face. Or rather… the absence of one. Rough, blank skin stretches where eyes, a nose, and a mouth should be.

You slam the brakes, the car lurching to a stop, the smell of burnt rubber rising as you sit there, your heart pounding. You stare into the rearview mirror, breath caught in your throat.

The road behind you is empty.

Your fingers tremble on the wheel, eyes fixed on the empty stretch of road behind you, scanning the darkness.

Nothing.

A shiver prickles down your spine, and you lean forward, squinting into the darkness. It's then that you remember the stories. The Green Man. Charlie No-Face. You'd heard them once, maybe at some late-night campfire.

You shake your head, fingers tightening around the wheel as you ease the car forward, glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting him to appear again. The road stretches on, empty, silent.

You keep driving, occasionally glancing in the rearview, your skin prickling at the memory of the man with no face.

Legends of the Green Man, Charlie No-Face

Depending on who you ask, the Green Man or Charlie No-Face belongs to different corners of Western Pennsylvania, taking on various forms—but all with a distinctive lack of a face. For nearly a century, stories of him have circulated in towns across the region, particularly around Beaver County and nearby Pittsburgh. Some tales say he's a restless ghost wandering the roads, perhaps a victim of a terrible accident on the road. It's said that he can be seen sometimes along stretches of highway at night. The rural roads near Koppel, New Galilee, and even up toward Ellwood City have all had sightings over the years.

Roughly 8 miles (13 kilometers) from Koppel is Summit Cut Bridge in Darlington, Pennsylvania. It is said to be haunted by the spirit of a "white lady" who reportedly fell onto the railroad tracks below in 1894.

In another version of the legend, he was a factory worker who died in a gruesome accident involving a vat of acid or a lightning strike. According to this version, his skin turned a shade of green. Some stories even say that he glows faintly in the dark and that his ghostly figure appears at the edges of old factory grounds near the old Pressed Steel Car Co. in Koppel.

Yet another version of the legend says he appears in a tunnel near South Park, outside Pittsburgh, in a place called the "Green Man Tunnel." Supposedly, honking three times or flashing headlights near the tunnel will make him appear. Thrill-seekers sometimes still go to the tunnel to see what may occur.

Another version claims that he wanders isolated backroads (or sometimes industrial sites) all over Western Pennsylvania, waiting on a curious driver to pick him up as a hitchhiker. In some of these tales, he accepts offerings of cigarettes or beer and speaks to those who stop. Accounts from the 1950s through the 1970s describe him warning visitors to keep their distance, his voice warped and indistinct, while others recall encounters where he simply stood in silence, staring before slipping back into the shadows.

The legend has so many variations that it's hard to tell where the truth may lie. The stories of the Green Man, or Charlie No-Face, remain alive, and locals still talk about him. Even today, some people traveling the roads late at night even claim that they've seen him.

In many urban legends, there's really no proof of any of it—just stories told by witnesses. However, it just so happens that this urban legend is actually true—well, at least some parts of it, anyway.

The Very Real Story of Raymond Robinson

A spooky figure with no face walking the roads at night sounds exactly like something an old friend of mine named Dwayne would invent while throwing gasoline on a bonfire after dropping acid and having a few too many drinks. But the story of Raymond Robinson—and how he became known as Charlie No-Face or the Green Man—is all too real. Raymond was born on October 29, 1910, and was a regular kid growing up around Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania.

Official correction affidavit for the birth certificate of Raymond Theodore Robinson, dated August 29, 1957, in Beaver County, Pennsylvania. The document corrects his name from Wilford Arlington Robinson to Raymond Theodore Robinson, with adjustments for his parents' names and birth date, confirmed as October 29, 1910.
Raymond Robinson's (corrected) birth certificate.

At eight years old, he and some friends wandered near the Wallace Run trolley bridge, a favorite hangout, with a dangerous catch: it carried 22,000-volt electrical lines. In fact, less than a year earlier, a boy had been fatally electrocuted on that very bridge. But even with that knowledge, Raymond accepted a dare to climb up and take a closer look at a bird's nest on the bridge. And, in an instant, 22,000 volts tore through him.

Newspaper clipping from The Daily Times, dated Saturday, August 16, 1919, with the headline 'DOCTORS MARVEL.' The article describes young Raymond Robinson's severe injuries after an electrical accident that left him with extensive burns, missing eyes, and damaged arms. Despite his injuries, the boy is noted to be in good humor. The article mentions Raymond as the second local child injured by high-voltage lines, referring to a similar fatal incident a year prior.
Article from The Daily Times - August 4, 1919, about Raymond Robinson's accident.

Shockingly, Raymond Robinson's didn't die. His injuries were quite severe, though. He lost both eyes and his nose, and his left arm was burned off at the elbow (though some stories say it was his right). His upper body was heavily scarred, and doctors didn't expect him to pull through. Somehow, though, he lived.

A black-and-white photo of a young Raymond Robinson standing outdoors in a garden. He is wearing a dark sailor-style outfit with short-cropped hair and a serious expression. Trees and foliage are visible in the background.
Supposedly, this is a photo of young Raymond Robinson taken shortly before the accident.

After the accident, Raymond spent most of his days indoors. Back home in Koppel, he lived with his family and spent time making doormats, wallets, and belts by hand. As you can imagine, he was permanently scarred and tended to wear dark glasses and a prosthetic nose to try and deter gawking—but it didn't help much. So, he avoided going into public as much as possible.

A 1905 postcard showing people gathered near The Bridge at Morado Park in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania. The image features a stone bridge with an archway surrounded by trees and foliage. Several women and children are standing or sitting near the water below the bridge.
I managed to locate and acquire a 1905 Postcard of The Bridge at Morado Park, Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, which may have been the site of the accident.

However, when night fell, he craved fresh air and nature. He started walking in the woods by himself at night, and later, when he was older, he'd grab a walking stick and set out along Route 351, one foot on the pavement and the other on the gravel to stay oriented on the road. The isolated roads let him walk for miles. Eventually, people noticed. Word spread, and soon enough, local teenagers would drive along Route 351, hoping for a glimpse of "Charlie No-Face"—the man you'd only spot in the glow of headlights. Raymond often wore green clothing, which is how he picked up his other nickname, the "Green Man."

Black-and-white photo of a teenage Raymond Robinson (center), later known as 'Charlie No-Face,' standing among other teenagers. He wears a dark zip-up sweater and holds an object in his hands. The group appears to be gathered at night, illuminated by a dim light.
Raymond Robinson as a teenager, along with other local teens.

Occasionally, people stopped to talk to him, brought him beer or cigarettes, and even took photos with him. Some were kind, others just looking for a scare or a laugh, and others were downright cruel. He was struck by cars more than once, but he kept on taking his walks. His family worried, especially his mother, who often sat up until he returned. Relatives grew frustrated by the cars honking outside their homes, with people calling for "Charlie" like he was some sideshow attraction.

Black and white photo of Raymond Robinson, also known as 'Charlie No-Face,' wearing a cardigan over a white shirt. His face shows severe disfigurement from childhood injuries, with missing eyes and nose. He stands, possibly on a dark road.
Raymond Robinson.

Over time, his story morphed into local legend, with tales of the Green Man haunting tunnels or abandoned sites—most likely by way of the old "telephone game" problem. By the '60s and '70s, landmarks along his usual path became known as "Charlie's Rock" or "Charlie's Tree" and became spots where people stopped, hoping to see him. Everyone who encountered Raymond Robinson for any length said the same thing about him: he was incredibly kind.

In his later years, Robinson had to stop his walks and eventually moved into the Beaver County Geriatric Center. On June 11, 1985—almost 66 years to the day of his accident—he passed away at age 74. He was buried in Grandview Cemetery, near the Wallace Run bridge, the place where it all began.

When you can trace an urban legend back to its roots, it's pretty strange to see how fact and fiction dance around one another. For Raymond Robinson, what began as a simple desire for peace and fresh air spiraled into something larger than life, a tale that took on a life of its own. It does make one wonder...what other urban legends are true? And where, in truth, did they begin?

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