Grass Valley, CA — Rhode Island Street’s Jory Trebilcock claims to be the great-great-grandson of the legendary “Propeller Guy” from the sinking of the HMS Titanic. If you are unfamiliar with that name, let us clear it up: “Propeller Guy” is the poor soul who, as the story goes, was swept off the deck of the Titanic and tragically met his end by colliding with the ship’s propeller. In a way, he achieved immortality by being the least heroic hero to never make it off the ship.
As you might expect, there is no historical evidence backing up this claim. No records, no old photographs, not even a half-hearted mention in any of those History Channel Titanic documentaries. But that does not faze Jory Trebilcock.
“Who needs proof when you have got a family story this good?” he declares, reclining on his porch and sipping iced tea from a Titanic-branded cup that may or may not have been purchased from a gift shop on eBay.
And just like that, the tale is making the rounds in Grass Valley, where fact-checking has never been as important as a good yarn. In this town, a well-told story might as well be a historical fact.
The Lyman Gilmore Connection
But why stop at the Titanic? In true Grass Valley fashion, this story turns sharply into the absurd with the introduction of Lyman Gilmore, the town’s very own aviation pioneer. You know, the guy whose flying machines never really worked but who still has an airport named after him. Trebilcock claims that his great-great-grandfather was not the only one with a connection to the Titanic disaster. Gilmore, of course, was also involved.

According to this particular brand of family folklore, Gilmore allegedly tried to save the Titanic with one of his experimental flying contraptions. His plan? Fly to the rescue and guide the ship through the icebergs. It all sounds almost plausible until you learn that Gilmore miscalculated his launch time by about 12 hours and missed the boat. Literally.
“We were this close to rewriting history,” says Trebilcock, holding his fingers a millimeter apart as he points to a crayon-scribbled map of the Atlantic on his wall, complete with “iceberg zones” and an ambitious but wildly inaccurate flight path. Naturally, none of this can be verified, but in Grass Valley, anything can seem plausible if you squint hard enough.
Nevada City Chimes In (Uninvited)
Over in Nevada City, where skepticism and pretension come naturally, locals have wasted no time mocking Grass Valley’s newfound Titanic heritage. In the cafes of Broad Street, you are more likely to hear quips about this Rhode Island Street resident’s claim than anything about crystals or goat yoga.
“UFO sightings, Bigfoot, and now this?” one unimpressed resident named Harry Penrose scoffed, adjusting his artisanal leather satchel. “What’s next, Atlantis under Lake Tahoe?”

Back in Grass Valley, the criticism does not bother anyone. In fact, it only adds fuel to the fire.
“At least we have a real claim to history,” Trebilcock says with a smirk, waving his half-empty wine glass in the air. “Besides, we have Propeller Day coming up, and that’s going to blow everything else out of the water.”
Propeller Day: A Festival of Almost-Heroism
Always quick to capitalize on an eccentric legend, Grass Valley is indeed gearing up for its first-ever “Propeller Day” festival to commemorate this dubious Titanic connection. Naturally, it will be held on the banks of the Yuba River, because what better setting for a reenactment of an event that did not even happen? The water will be just as icy as the cocktails.
The festival will feature a “Great Propeller Reenactment,” where locals, dressed in vintage bathing costumes and life preservers, will dive off rickety rafts, aiming to bounce off oversized wooden propellers theatrically. There is even talk of a slow-motion replay for added emotional impact. The winner? Whoever can pull off the most dramatic “fall” without actually hurting themselves.
“It’s what my great-great-granddad would have wanted,” says Trebilcock with a straight face.
But the fun does not stop there. Local vendors will be on hand, offering themed treats like “Iceberg Margaritas” (complete with miniature plastic ships, sinking optional) and “Propeller Punch,” garnished with crushed ice to symbolize both the iceberg and the passengers’ crushed dreams. For the kids, there is the “Unsinkable Root Beer Float,” featuring a mini lifeboat you can race down the river. There will even be pasties on hand, freshly baked with a filling so hearty you could mistake it for shipwreck rations.
Also on the agenda is the much-anticipated “Captain’s Hat Toss.” Participants will attempt to fling captains’ hats (BYOH—bring your own hat) onto a moving scale model of the Titanic, which rumor has it was originally built for the 4th of July parade but quickly repurposed for the festival after someone caught wind of a “marketing opportunity.”
Of course, safety regulations mean the planned “S.O.S. Flare-Off” will actually involve launching glow sticks via homemade trebuchets. Nothing says “commemorating history,” like medieval siege weapons and a well-lit sky.
Naturally, There’s a Bigfoot Theory
For the more intellectually curious, the festival will also host a booth run by Grass Valley’s ever-persistent cryptozoology community. Their theory? Bigfoot was spotted on the Titanic before it sank.
“There is no proof for it,” says one enthusiast named Peran Davy, “but there is no proof against it either.” A Titanic-Bigfoot diorama, complete with howling sound effects, will be on display.

If that is not enough, a Titanic trivia competition will be held in the back of the local Irish pub. The twist? All answers must be delivered while contestants bounce off a giant inflatable propeller mounted on a trampoline—points for accuracy, but extra flair points for dramatic mid-bounce deliveries.
A Legacy of Almost-Success
If there is one thing the Propeller Guy’s family is known for, it is almost making it.
“We are a family of ‘almost-wins,'” Trebilcock explains. His father, Denzil Trebilcock? Dropped the chili pot just before winning the 1983 Grass Valley Chili Cook-Off. His uncle, Jago Penhaligan? Froze on a Jeopardy! question about Nevada City. “It’s in our DNA,” he chuckles, with just a touch of melancholy.

The Titanic propeller incident is the crown jewel in this string of near-misses, though. “Sure, he didn’t make it. But nobody hits a propeller-like Grandpa did,” Trebilcock says, misty-eyed. In Grass Valley, where failure is just as celebrated as success, that is more than enough.
Propeller Guy Merch
Naturally, Rhode Island Street’s finest is not stopping at a festival. He has already launched a line of “I Survived the Propeller (Almost)” t-shirts and bobbleheads featuring a mini version of Propeller Guy perpetually bouncing off the spinning blade. “It’s all about preserving history,” he says, showing off a pair of Titanic-themed oven mitts.
Rumor has it he is also pitching a Netflix docudrama, tentatively titled Titanic: The Bounce. “It’s a mix of Titanic and Jackass,” he reveals with a knowing nod.

And like most of Grass Valley’s strangest stories, this one hails from Rhode Island Street, a place where UFO sightings and cryptozoological research share space with quirky family legends. “This street has its own gravitational pull for weirdness,” Trebilcock says with a grin. “If you do not have a bizarre family story, you might as well move to Nevada City.”
Whether or not his ancestor actually collided with the Titanic’s propeller is up for debate (he probably didn’t), but the story has already taken root. And in Grass Valley, that is all that matters.