Fear for thought, part two.

I'm really enjoying the pub chatter over the "scariest version of a given monster" topic of our last post.

Discussing over a few pints our childhood (and in some cases, lingering) fears, detailing that which we viewed through our fingers, from behind sofas, in our bad dreams... this is excellent stuff.

I know you can follow the Recent Pub Talk sidebar languishing over there to your right, or even just head down to the comments section below the post, but I really want to highlight some great commentary and input on this fun topic.

Hallowe'en Spirit admitted that for her, it was "Vampires. Always vampires. Modern incarnations of Dracula in particular. Even Universal's Dracula scared me a little..."

Jules offered, "I also was terrified of both Nosferatu and the scary Frankenstein child with the weird heart thing (yeah, I kinda understand it now, but as a kid it was beyond comprehension). But, if we're talking about "Monster Movies"- then I have to say that the Peanut Twins from "Mothra" have given me more nightmares, shudders, and sleepless nights than any other. And they weren't even the bad guys."

Rest assured Jules, you'll never have to face them here at the ol' S&P.

Fester, always an intelligent, humored and valuable patron of this little place, waxed insightfully about his childhood relationships with our beloved monsters. I hope you don't mind my bringing it from the commentary to the forefront, Fes... what can I say? You put it so perfectly:

"I know what you mean about Frankenstein's creation being family, as it were. I always looked on him as my bigger and somewhat slow brother. Being the oldest brother in the real world, it was nice to have a bigger sibling in my fantasy life. The closest analog to my friend Frankie appeared when Fred Gwynne's Herman hit the TV screen.

"Of the classic Universal Monsters, most were my friends--I was a somewhat strange kid. And for some odd reason, I could see some of my real family in my cinematic kin. Dracula (Lugosi) bore a remarkable resemblance to my grandfather on my mom's side. My paternal grandfather could have been Lawrence Talbot, and my grandma resembled the bride of Frankenstein--in a nice way!- she had dark hair with gray streaks. My dad taught shop in school and he was always wearing a shop coat like Dr Frankenstein. The metal shop was in the basement of the school, and resembled a dungeon like no other classroom. And when he was welding, sometimes the mad labs illusion was complete.

"As far as the scary monsters are concerned, they were all post- Universal critters. I agree that the Frankenstein monsters became really creepy and weird in post World War II. The Frankenstein Conquers the World-era monsters were just too creepy, and few had any shred of humanity. However, for my money one of the creepiest man made monsters was Whit Bissell’s creation “Bob” in I was a Teenage Frankenstein. Man! The first time his face was revealed, I about lost it. Talk about acne from hell!

"Wolf men were a bit more sympathetic. Most of them could not control their urges. And even Michael Landon’s version was just a guy with raging hormones--albeit his raged more than those of most guys! The totally creepy Eddie Quits was frightening before he started getting hairy. He was only augmenting his own sadistic self.

I’ve rambled on enough for one sitting. I’ll turn the time back to you!"

Hell, Fester, that's not rambling -- around here, that's just an avid Hallowe'en & Monster Lovin' Kid's two cents! Amen to all of it, and keep it coming!


Finally (for now), Max (a drunken, severed head) had this to say about the monsters that chilled and thrilled him when he was just un cabeza pequeña:

"The only classic monster to frighten me as a child was the Karloff and Strange versions of the Frankenstein Monster, as seen in photos of the mag FAMOUS MONSTERS. Both men had unusual features that were perfect for putting the monster makeup on, and I was haunted by them. Yet at the same time THE MUNSTERS and MILTON THE MONSTER were my favorite shows on tv! I was enthralled and fascinated with the Universal incarnation of Shelley's immortal creature, seeing it as both a suffering, friendly but unpredictably dangerous being. From those early years to today, this version is to me "The King of All Monsters..."

This is the stuff for which the Skull & Pumpkin was made, the stuff on which it thrives -- friends talking horror, Hallowe'en, and all the other monstery goodness we hold as requirements for a meaningful life...

Thank you Max, Fester, Jules, Hallowe'en Spirit, each and every Autumn Person who comes to talk, listen, and celebrate the darkness by bringing their own special kind of light.

I was asked the following by a certain four-and-a-half-year-old girl recently in my care:

"Hey Pa, d'you think everyone likes monsters?"

No, kiddo.

But the right people do.

Fear for thought.

Well, finally, a little pub time.

It's good to step back in and rest a bit, bend an elbow and an ear or two (if you have more than two ears it's your own business, but you're certainly in the right place).

So...

While I was away, I had occasion to involve myself in a discussion about scary monsters -- yeah, I know, so surprising -- but the jist was so fun and the moment so brief that I felt like carrying it with me into the ol' S&P, to express my own thoughts and solicit yours on the topic.

Which, to you, is the scariest version of a given monster archetype? In other words, of the many interpretations of the iconic monsters, which actually scared you, or scares you still?

Not necessarily the entire film or TV program or book, etc., but the being, the character, of the given monster?

Now, I must admit that having been an avowed friend of the classic monsters since early in my childhood, I was very rarely, if ever, 'scared' by any of the famous Universal Monsters; they were my buddies, my playmates, and sometimes my confidants and comrades in adventure and fantasy.

You can't really be afraid of the Frankenstein Monster coming to 'get you' when you can see Karloff or Strange's smile underneath that heavy brow, you know? You wanted them to come 'get you' so you could go play together in the castle laboratory.

(Right? All kids wanted that, right? Right).

However, I was plenty creeped out by some non-Universal versions of the classic monsters, so here then are a few of my answers to the aforementioned question...

Now, when I was a little guy, this version of the Frankenstein Monster used to scare the yell out of me:



It is the creature as portrayed by one Charles Ogle for Thomas Edison's 1910 silent film Frankenstein. When I look at it now I see Gilda Radner or Phyllis Diller, but when I was 4 and 5, it creeped me out.

Other than that, I was never frightened of ol' Franky... until sometime in the mid '70s when KTLA 5 (bless 'em) ran the ridiculous, baffling and laughable Frankenstein Conquers The World (1966).
This thing 'coming to get me' gave me nightmares!

You'd have to see the film to know what makes this so damned creepy but I really don't want to do that to you. Let me just say that this is a kind of hybrid of the original Frankenstein Monster's heart, a Nazi scientist, radiation from Hiroshima (not kidding) and the apparent immortal-regeneration powers of the original Frankenstein Monster.

Seriously, this is a giant bio-regen offshoot of The Monster, growing bigger every day because of his intake of protein (they say it a trillion times so it must be so), lingering Hiroshima radiation and his Franken-heart.
It still makes no sense to me, but just try to look at this freak through the eyes of a suburban American child in the '70s:

He's a deformed, retarded Japanese 'boy-made-huge' with horrible teeth who looks like a Pakuni from Land of the Lost and can't speak but for the occasional grunt and roar. Not a terribly PC reason for being scared but a child's fear-trigger is rarely polite -- this utterly foreign (in concept and location) 'Frankenstein' scared me to pieces as a kid. So, personal answer #1, Chaka here is the scariest Frankenstein ever.

Now, this next part is a tiny bit dark, but needed in order to answer the question at hand. I will not be swearing or showing violent gore but little kids and sensitive grown-ups need not continue.

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Next, personal answer #2: the scariest werewolf of all time is Eddie Quist (played by Rob Picardo) in The Howling (1981).

Anyone visiting the Skull & Pumpkin who is over the age of 30 has seen this film, and can't really argue. Pound for pound, human form to wolf form, there is no more perfectly evil, filthy, ravenous werewolf than Eddie Quist.

To begin, the sick freak could not be a lycanthrope at all and still be one of the sickest freaks ever -- he's a serial killer with a psycho-sexual bent and a penchant for stalking his prey in sex houses and the like... I mean, just look at 'im:
Looks like a totally messed up David Cross, doesn't he? He's drug-addled, rabid, smelly, and about to dig into his own temple with his cruddy fingers to remove a piece of his own brain (to give to Dee Wallace while delivering a most memorable bit of classic early '80s horror film dialogue)!

All before turning into... this:
Loooooook at that snarling, salivating, psychotic beast. Matted, filth-caked, wiry-haired, mangy, stinking, sweaty, bloody, beady-eyed evil that also happens to be like 12 feet tall, I swear. Okay, maybe more like 7 or 8. Point is, standing below it, you won't care about the exact height. Not for very long, at any rate.
I don't know how to put it any better -- the irredeemably evil Hell beast you see above? In his OFF TIME he's a serial rapist-killer-self-mutilator.
Can't tell me any other werewolf even comes close in pure terror. Oh, the beast from An American Werewolf In London could shred him to ribbons in short order, but for pure scariness, look no further than Eddie.

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Vampires have never scared me. I take that back -- suave, intelligent, dashing Count Dracula-type vampires have never scared me.

But their less civilized, more barbaric, animalistic brethren have always been frightening to me, and even now, the idea of some lumbering, groping night thing casting about for warm blood (human or otherwise) in the dark forests of eastern Europe is unsettling... especially this late at night.

Vampires, Zombies & Monster Men (1975) was a book my cousins had when we were young. In it resides a painting whose subject is, to my way of thinking, a nigh-perfect example of the latter type of vampire. I give you personal answer #3, my scariest Vampire, The Phantom of Croglin Grange:
Now, this is a UK legend, not eastern European, but still... to a kid it all wraps into one. Besides, the bald, pocked, pointy-eared thing reminded me so immediately of another terrifying vampire:

Yes, Nosferatu (1922)'s Count Orlock might have been a 'Count' but he was no Lugosi lover man; Orlock was an animal, a fiendish plague rat on two legs, whose infectious bite destroyed not just your life but your soul.
This look was borrowed (some would say simply ripped off) and enhanced for the classic teleplay of Stephen King's Salem's Lot (1979)...

Here, Reggie Nalder plays the big-fanged, balding, berobed bastard bloodsucker Barlow. His demonic eyes and craggy, ancient features are nearly as terrifying as Orlock's.

So, what say you? Which versions of classic monster archetypes have ever scared you?

I'd love to discuss... next round's on the house.

DDSP!

Just chow'yun the fat.

I've been so busy picking up some much-needed Winter work that I've been unable to put together any decently Hallowe'en-ish posts this week.

I hate that.

Turns out it may be another few days before I can get to it, which bugs me because I love hanging out here.

BUT...

With the beautiful opening ceremony of the Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver, I thought a brief but fun post would be this glimpse of an old, obscure set of ooky spooky trading cards:

Monster Olympics, UK, circa early '80s

It is a relatively rare and odd set... this first set only had 18 cards, and a second reportedly had some 50 cards, but neither set was officially released in the U.S. and not being a big card expert, I can't say much more than "COOL!" and "I would love to see a real Monster Olympics!"

I wonder what a battle between the Slimeball and the Creature From The Pit would be like...

Images and information were culled from the remarkable (and remarkably organized) Monster Wax site. Please go there, dig through memories upon memories.

At any rate, just a little Olympic sumthin' to tide you over.


Enjoy your Valenti -- actually, it's Chinese New Year.

Happy Year of the Tiger, everyone!

Gong Xi Fa Cai!


That's Mandarin for Dumdumshrekpop!

The art that scared me just right, the sixth part.

Once again, it's time to get a gander at some spooky sketches!

Do you all recall the popular series of posts about creepy artwork we loved as kids (and still do)?

Well, I was going through some old books (moving them from one shelf to another, actually) and noticed a title I'd entirely neglected which unquestionably deserves a place of honor on the list of spooky illustrations that shaped my little mind.

Originally published by Random House in 1963, Ghosts and More Ghosts is a superb collection of Robert Arthur's creepy, funny short stories. It seems to have been geared toward the juvenile market, but there are some real gems in here. The above is my own copy from many, many years ago, the first paperback Windward Books edition from 1972.

The cover and the illustrations that grace the title page of each story were the work of one of the 20th Century's most prolific and unique artists -- Irv Docktor (1918-2008).

Docktor created numerous album covers, playbills and advertising images for theatrical productions, and thousands of illo's for hundreds of books... and I happen to find particular delight in the little vignettes he created for Ghosts and More Ghosts.

Just take a look:

Footsteps Invisible

Mr. Milton's Gift

The Rose Crystal Bell

The Marvelous Stamps From El Dorado

The Wonderful Day

Don't Be A Goose

Do You Believe In Ghosts?

Obstinate Uncle Otis

Mr. Dexter's Dragon

Hank Garvey's Daytime Ghost

I think Do You Believe In Ghosts? is the truly scary story in this collection. The others have their own levels of creepiness, and some are very funny fantasies, but Do You Believe...? is just as effective to me today as it was 30-odd years ago.

So much to see in Docktor's work here. So many things loaded into each scene, yet there's never a feeling of clutter or chaos... just right.

By the way, I apologize for any blurriness -- most of these books are old enough that I really don't want to smash them into a flatbed scanner, so I just open them and snap the pictures. Most of the time it works pretty darn well, but even when it doesn't quite work, at least the book is still in good shape. There's nothing worse than having a brittle yellowed paperback cover snap off in your hands!


Irv Docktor was a really fascinating fellow, and clicking his name back at the beginning of this post will take you to the tribute website his daughter created for him when he passed away in 2008. It's very worth gawking at (there's some good English for you!). You'll recognize many of his works, trust me.


I'm glad I saw this book and remembered to add its imagery to the walls of our humble public house.

A few for Feb-boo-ary.

Skeleton Musicians, James Ensor, 1888

Come in, come in.

I'll get the fire going, light the sconces.

So sorry to have been away these past four days, but some good mid-Winter work came my way. You know how it goes in the lean months.

But now I have some time to relax for a bit, and while perusing the ol' place I realized I needed to update our jukebox to some February tunes...

Of course, the playlist will always begin with the official theme song of the Skull & Pumpkin, Vince Guaraldi's The Great Pumpkin Waltz.

And as mentioned some months ago, Guaraldi's Heartburn Waltz is going to remain in rotation through February.

Then, we have what might seem like an odd choice for February (or as we used to call it, the Valen-time).
You can certainly just believe that it's the classic motif from Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, but really it's the theme from Dracula, which debuted at New York's Roxy Theatre on Friday, February 13th, 1931 (yes, Friday the 13th!). Its Valentine's weekend release prompted Universal to present it as 'the strangest love story ever told', 'the story of the strangest passion ever known', and so on. Universal would use the same music to open The Mummy (another strange love tale of a bond across time and distance) in 1932.

I decided another classic Universal horror theme was in order, but one which would lend itself to Lovey Dovey Month. The opening theme from The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) is one of the most memorable pieces in brilliant film composer Franz Waxman's long and prolific career. That unforgettable three note motif signals to all Monster Kids that a girl has entered the clubhouse; a pretty girl with stitches, Frankie's girlfriend, and a welcome, refreshing addition to the Monster Club.

And then come two unabashedly passionate love songs with a slightly monsterish edge.

As Long As You're Mine is the very passionate duet from the record-breaking Broadway hit musical Wicked. This love song from the 2003 original cast recording is sung by Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West (Idina Menzel), and her unlikely lover Fiyero (Norbert Leo Butz. Yes, that's his name).

There Never Was A Love Like Mine, Francesca's love song to Felix Flanken in Mad Monster Party (1967) has been heard on the S&P's jukebox before, and disappeared for a time. I thought it would be nice to bring it back for this month; Maury Laws' great composition, Gale Garnett's memorable voice, and like the previous song, it ends in Mine. I like saying 'mine'.

The next piece is another that might seem odd at first glance, but I think Nino Rota's The Immigrant, from The Godfather II (1974), is not only a beautiful work on its own, but given that it deals with the arrival of a future mob boss to America, it puts me in the mind of mobsters, Capone, and a certain Massacre on a certain February holiday.

I know. How romantical, capiche?

Last comes the other 'always in rotation' piece of music, Pumpkintime, the Angor-Higbie Quintet's 1986 anthem for Autumn.

So enjoy the new sounds at the ol' S&P.

I'll be back later with a new chapter in the 'art that scared me just right' series.

Stick around, help warm the place.


I'll be back soon.

Drawn to it.

A relatively brief personal aside for those of you hanging out tonight...

In cleaning up a few things in the basement Laboratory, I discovered a cache of artwork from my earlier years.

Well, rediscovered, really -- I knew I had them, and remember creating each of them -- I just sorta forgot that I had put them where I found them... and hadn't looked at them in a good, looong while.

I won't bother posting all of them; a lot of it is really personal (art, personal? go on) and not necessarily interesting to anyone else.

But there are some I find very impressive for the 12, 14, 16 year old I was when I set down to scribbling them.

Certainly my personal tastes and influences will shine through...

Aslan, from the Chronicles of Narnia, 1982.

What good is drawing monsters if you can't do it in school wasting valuable
educational time? A 'study' for a werewolf costume, sometime in
Autumn of 1980. I was 12.

Five years later, a Junior in high school, and I'm still scribbling instead of taking notes.
This Sasquatch was done during Mr. Merritt's Business Law class
one sweaty afternoon in the Spring.

Some time in 1986 I inked what I intended to look like a mad doctor's journal/sketchbook.
I made this monster not long after, and it found its way into Hallowe'en at Grandma's house.

A distinctly Bradbury-esque Martian, created during a memorable
three week stay in Reno, August 1983.

The following Winter, and aliens are still on my mind. Apparently at 15
and 16 I thought aliens were required to have one shoulder up high, and be all
windswept and sad when observing us. Like if Iron Eyes Cody were
from Gleep Glorp.

A monsterbot from 1982. Can't explain the fangs, sorry.

1983 saw me in a rather post-apocalyptic mood. A Mad-Max-Meets
Middle Earth attempt called Survival of the Fittest; it seems
the least fit was the most worth coloring.

Uncle Creepy, 1984. Watercolors rock.

Some kind of wolf creature, crouched and waiting for someone or
something at the end of an alley or someplace... Summer 1985.

Pretty much my 16 year old take on the famed cover art from Uriah Heep's 1982
album Abominog. Blood spattering is so effective for a horror kid.
Again, watercolors rock.

Lastly...

My favorite drawing from my '80s days. A Poe-ish revenant, Bosch influenced,
pure classic terror. 1984.

Detail:

Love the look -- the blurry, sketchy 'you can't win' insistence/near-smile of Death.

Such a curious thing, looking at handmade snapshots of a certain time in your life. Impressed with your past self, wondering why you were incapable of recognizing that you didn't stink at it, that you only thought that way because any time you did something no one else could or hadn't tried, you got teased.

It happens like that sometimes... for everybody, at some point.

Thank God I had parents who always talked me through such times, and encouraged uniqueness and expressing myself through my scribblings.

I think these ought to hang here at the ol' S&P. They were good, are good.

They fit the decor, that's for certain!



Anyone have any of their own they'd like to share?

Hallowe'en 1941

If you like looking at old photographs, regardless of theme, subject or composition, I imagine by now you've discovered that the photo archives of LIFE Magazine have been available, searchable, via Google Images since last year.

Who hasn't looked for these yet? Well... I hadn't.

William C. Shrout took these (and numerous others found here) in 1941.

Yeah, they're mostly posed, and almost too perfect.

But it's Hallowe'en in 1941... when I doubt any of these kids had to worry about razors, violence, or cowardly fundie neighbors griping about devils, witches, skeletons and this "evil" night.

Carefree, that is, only for another month or so -- on December 7th of that year, they will learn how terrifying the real world can truly be.

But for now, it's Hallowe'en 1941, and they are carefree and happy.

Such amazing imagery. The costumes, their shoes and hats, the decorations... *sigh*.

It's not nostalgia, really; I didn't show up screaming until 27 years later.

It's just Americana. Pure Americana.











Sure, there are giant lights placed just so among tree and tombstone, but those kids still must have felt pretty spooky walking through that cemetery at night. What an image. Click it, see it larger. Go on.

I want to be there. So deeply do I long to be there, just once, just for one real 'way back when' Hallowe'en.

Bradbury had a story along those lines... must go dig it up.

Some folks are unsure about Hallowe'en in this day and age. We Autumn People know that this year, and every year we are around, we'll make sure that something wicked does our way come.

Looking at these images, everyone can know that in 1940's America, something wicked that way went.


ZOM-beeeeee!