Happy 4th of July!

Ah yes, S&Pers!

It is the hot, sunny day and warm, firework-poppingy night when we celebrate how diverse, bizarre, messed up, wonderful and unique this little Noble Experiment called America has always been.

We here at the Skull & Pumpkin salute America, the American Dream, and the small but vocal group of American Citizens who hold dear their freedom to celebrate the darker side of life, who have a leg up on everyone else when it comes to dealing with fear, darkness and death... simply because they explore it all the year 'round.

God Bless America!

Shuffle ever onward, American Troops of Hallowe'en Love!

HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!!!

P.S. Watch this space for a special announcement coming very, very soon. You will soon be able to have some homemade, handbuilt Skull & Pumpkin goodies direct from the October Country... details will come in a few days.

Onward!

 

DDSPatriotic!

Monsterpaloozin' my mind: The Ghoul Goes Western Electric, pt. 4

"... they're coming to get you, Barbra."

Here's another slice of the wonder that is Monsterpalooza -- and why this past show may have been the best yet.

 'Monsterpalooza '13' sign created by Mad Miranda and Your Humble Pubkeep.

Now, you can't have been loyal S&Pbrains this long and somehow missed that your Humble Pubkeep is a fanatic for the films of George Romero, and most especially his original 1968 masterpiece, Night of the Living Dead.

I've only written about it like a zombillion times.

I believe I have coined the phrase RomZoms to distinguish Romero's creations from the rest of the films/tropes/mythologies of zombiedom.

But we'll let future scholars argue over it another day, because tonight, I have a tale to tell.

Onward...

On Friday night, the first night of the 'palooza, we all attended a very fun panel discussion called Ladies of the Living Dead, featuring original cast members Judith Ridley (Judy), Judith O'Dea (Barbra) and Kyra Schon (Karen, the body at the top of the stairs, and other stand-in parts).

Historic.

L to R: Ridley, O'Dea, and Schon.

Led by documentarian (Autopsy of the Dead) and Night of the Living Dead expert Jim Cirronella, the discussion was essentially a room full of zombie geeks asking questions I am sure these ladies have fielded a thousand times a year for decades... but it was just so much fun!

Now, I knew months before that they would be there -- it was in fact a fairly historic moment for Night fans, since the three of them had never attended a convention at the same time -- and a thought hit me that I should do something to mark the occasion.

Do you remember this t-shirt?

This shirt was given to me by my Mama in 1988. I wore it for a year straight, it seems, and on every Hallowe'en since; if I include the extra Hallowe'en I gave the neighborhood during the September 2004 taping of the HGTV Extreme Hallowe'en special (and I do!), that makes 25 Hallowe'ens I have worn this very shirt!

I brought this special shirt with me to Monsterpalooza. I thought maybe I'd have Kyra Schon sign it, since she's on the damn thing and it is so cool.

Almost as we were heading out the door to make our way to Burbank, I thought "Wait, no Sharpie or paint pen is going to write on this threadbare shirt -- the white area is too washed out now, the black is... well, too black to see any writing. A silver or gold or even white paint pen would simply soak through and never hold up. What do I do?"

And I ran down to the dungeon laboratory and opened a drawer of painty things. There, laying atop the mess as if in wait for this moment, was a bottle of bright green slick fabric paint, with the tiny pen applicator tip.

Too perfect.

Come Sunday morning, the lovely V and I were at the show early, to turn on the Raybot and make sure he was working, and get ol' Eddie Van Bone at least looking good, if not moving at all (ugh, hard drives!).

And V said, "Now. Now is the time to get her to sign the shirt, before the doors open and the lines form. She might be at the table already!"

We walked to the celebrity table section, and sure enough, Kyra, Judith and Judith were all there, just about ready to begin one last long day of monstergeekery and autographs and pictures.

Judith O'Dea looked up at us first, with her big smile and friendly eyes, and immediately began talking to us like we'd known her for years. At one point she even asked if either of us knew what was "going on with The Masters?" Apparently having to spend that entire tournament weekend at a monster convention signing table was difficult for her golf-loving heart. I brought up the news and leader board on my Galaxy tablet and she perused it for a while, and thanked us for the "update on the civilised world!", she laughed. (I kinda have a crush on her, can you tell? A truly welcoming, wonderfully funny lady).

Then Kyra said hello as we came up to her table, and I told her the story of the shirt. She laughed, and thought it was very cool that "... you mean a Lennon Sister actually bought a t-shirt with my face on it?!" She then said "Oh, you're going to need some cardboard to back it..." and reached under the table and grabbed a piece of cardboard (apparently just waiting there?!) to give me. V and I slipped/taped the shirt over it, and brought her the pen.

Well, ALL three ladies were so wonderfully warm and friendly, and fun...

 Kyra Schon couldn't have been more 'normal' and cool. 

 Judith Ridley explained, "I am only writing 'Judy,' not Judith, to save on having to write more with the paint pen!" 

She was very sweet!

Ah, Barbra! Judith O'Dea rocks!

I could go on forever about how elegant and kind these ladies were, and are. But the end result for me, beyond forever having the memory of meeting three of the most important Scream Queens in my Hallowe'en Lovin' Heart... is this:

And now, officially retired from Hallowe'en duties, it is still on that same cardboard given me by Kyra, framed and mounted under glass next to my Romero zombie shelf...

... alongside my other original Night of the Living Dead treasures.

An honor.

And another splendid addition to the wondrous decor here at the Skull & Pumpkin.

To Kyra, and Judy, and Judith, a toast... raise 'em high now:

DUMDUMSHREKPOP!

Onward...

DDSP!

Punxazombie Phil.

Whether he saw his shadow or not...

I think we're in for some trouble.

DDearlySPring!

Inspiration.

Not sure how I missed this last year.

But wow...

Best zombie pumpkin ever.

Full story here.

Oh, Hallowe'en... I know you are on your way.

DDSPumpkincarvinggenius!

And that reminds me.

Greetings, S&P-brains.

I see you've been making yourselves at home. Good, good.

Settle into your seats -- this one's a little long.

Our previous post, saying goodbye to Bill Hinzman, garnered a comment from our ol' pal Fester -- you pubbies know him as a long-time and quite loyal patron of the S&P, raise 'em high -- who wrote:

"Night of the Living Dead has played almost as important a part in my upbringing as 

any of the Universal Monsters." 

Couldn't agree more, Fester. And with Sunday's passing of the Cemetery Ghoul himself, I think it's a fine time to muse over youthful memories and the influence this film has had on my growing up.

Don't worry, I'm not going to review it, or give a synopsis; we've all seen it a thousand times.

No, this is just a walk down Memory Lane... if Memory Lane passed through Evans City Cemetery.

(source)

I first beheld the wonder that is Night of the Living Dead when I was just about twelve, no older than thirteen.

To be sure, I'd seen stills in magazines like Famous Monsters of Filmland and Fangoria, and had even seen (relatively tame) clips on television shows like That's Hollywood (remember that great series?), and I recall laughing quite hard with my mom and dad when a clip of Sheriff McClelland's "They're dead, they're... all messed up!" popped up on some Hallowe'en special or other. 

So even as a little kid, I knew the basic gist -- dead people somehow come back to eat living people -- and I was terrified and fascinated by how creepy and disturbing I thought the concept was.

But when I finally caught the film on television (thank you KTTV11!) in its entirety for the first time on a late, sleepless Saturday night just at the beginning of October, I quickly realized I hadn't really known anything about it. I was enthralled, giggling, shaking my head in pure admiration. I knew I'd get no sleep, and in fact wanted to watch it again. I was terrified and euphoric, not at all wondering if it had caused damage, but if the damage was good or bad!

I was officially converted to the love of zombies.

"They're coming to get you..." Well they got me that night!

And beyond the pure enjoyment of a scary tale well told, I also felt like I had grown up a little bit, that by choosing to watch the whole thing alone, late at night, I had earned a merit badge of young manhood.

That Hallowe'en, just a few weeks later, we were setting up our family's traditional big haunted display/show at my Grandma's house, listening to spooky music and sound effects as we dressed up the house. Suddenly I heard "They're coming to get you Barbara!" coming over the sound system, and I stopped decorating and looked around. "They're dead, they're... all messed up!" came blaring over the speakers. 

"Hah!" I shouted, "I know that stuff!" Turns out our friend who always helped put together the audio for Hallowe'en night had decided to put in audio from his favorite zombie films, including Night, along with the traditional music and effects. Why he chose to do it that year, I've never known, but the awesome coincidence has always made me smile like a jack o'lantern.

(source)

So for a time, every October would bring at least one or two late night broadcasts of Night (usually on KTTV11 but also on KABC7), and I would ponder the mysteries of zombies and survival while making Hallowe'en stuff, and I would easily hear tidbits of the Night soundtrack and dialogue at Grandma's house on the 31st. 

Night of the Living Dead was now officially folded into my Hallowe'en experience.

In early October of 1986, my mom surprised me with a gift she had found while grocery shopping (at Ralph's, which in October was another kind of Hallowe'en 'tradition' in my family). I still have it:

(Yes Shellhawk, there's li'l Miniboo back there!)

I couldn't believe it. "It was only three bucks," Mom told me, "and I knew you had to have 'They're all messed up' before Hallowe'en!" -- my mom is really cool, by the way, didn't know if I ever told you that -- and I immediately put it into the VCR.

For some reason I put that jack o'lantern sticker over the price label during the first time I viewed the tape (the very afternoon she brought it home to me) and it's still there.

The thing is, I watched Night of the Living Dead at least once every day for weeks afterwards, especially in the early afternoons when I was generally alone (like many, I was a young bum just after high school!). After that Hallowe'en, I'd enjoy the weekly Saturday or Sunday afternoon viewing.

The ritual was: order a medium pepperoni and sausage pizza from Domino's, along with a few Cokes, and await the delivery while watching the beginning. I could count on the pizza getting there by the time Ben showed up at the farmhouse in the film, and I giggled every time his truck pulled up with a screech while the Domino's guy rang the doorbell!

At any rate, I watched this VHS copy hundreds of times. Easily hundreds of times. Christmastime. Eastertime. Summer nights were great times to chill out and visit my old ghoul friends, and of course come Autumn, it was tradition. As I built props and masks and drew up plans and ideas, I'd invariably have it playing in my room.

Over those crucial years, I folded Night into the rest of the Hallowe'en Universe I had created. I'd see an image of Bill Hinzman creeping through the graveyard, and feel a grey-orange Autumn sunset. Cooper and Ben arguing became part of a soundtrack that also included the Bride hissing, the Wolfman howling, and Linus groaning "You didn't tell me you were gonna kill it!" The ghouls from Night began hanging out with Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Fly. It influenced my tastes, my craft and my outlook on celebrating the Dark.

In the Fall of 1988, I received two more Gifts of the Living Dead from -- you guessed it -- good ol' Mama. I did mention how cool she is, didn't I?

First was the Complete Night of the Living Dead Filmbook:

-- a blow-by-bloody-blow recounting of the history of the film by one of the film's creators, writer John Russo, and:

-- the Fantaco t-shirt I have worn every Hallowe'en since. Seriously. Come this October 31st, I'll have worn this tee atop or underneath my costume for 24 years. I wore it during the HGTV shoot so it would be visible throughout the segment. I wore it last October. It's just Hallowe'en for me.

Night has become so much a part of my Hallowe'en that I tributed it (and its younger brother Dawn) for Hallowe'en of 2008, about which you can read (and view) a little here.

So.

You can see how this film has been an influence.

Certainly, it is not the only horrific, fantastic film to enthrall and inform and enlighten me as I grew up. It is only one of many, many influences.

But it is squarely among the handful of favorites occupying the center of what makes me, me. I have it on DVD in various releases, and I still make sure it's running (along with its Romero zombie siblings) while I make Hallowe'en.

I must thank Mssrs. Romero, Russo, Streiner, Hardman, etc., but I must also surely thank my Mama.

And again, I thank Bill Hinzman for being #1, and for shambling, shuffling, and leading us into a new world of gods, and monsters, and zombies.

DDSR.I.P.!

Farewell, First Zombie.

Welcome loyal S&Pers, welcome.

Please take a moment to fill your glasses. We have another toast of remembrance to raise.

I have just been informed of the passing of Bill Hinzman at the age of 75.

Yes, Bill Hinzman... the screen's first full-fledged, flesh-eating Romero ghoul -- in short, The First Zombie.

Scott William Hinzman

(1936 ---- 2012)

Hinzman was the Cemetery Ghoul, the Graveyard Zombie, from the very first modern zombie film in the first and best zombie film property in history, 1968's Night of the Living Dead.

He may not have been Zombie Zero -- we don't know who, or what, was the first shuffling, biting, infecting ghoul along the East Coast after that Venus probe came back from space carrying that mysterious, high-level radiation -- but he was the very first ghoul we saw, as Johnny teased his sister, "They're coming to get you, Barbara."

He started it all.

He also happened to be a fine cameraman for Romero for that film, and was involved in other Romero projects like There's Always Vanilla (1971), Season of the Witch (1972) and The Crazies (1973). He worked on other films as well, notably directing his own reboot of his Cemetery Zombie character in Flesh Eater (1986).

For many years, Bill had been a staple at horror and fantasy film conventions, dressing up in his iconic makeup and suit, delighting convention goers, autographing pictures and spending time with Dead fans, all of whom will tell you what a kind, funny and approachable fellow he always was.

He doesn't look all that approachable here, but seriously, he was!

Sorry to see you go, Bill.

I hope you can get some rest now.

But...

... somehow, I can't imagine him staying down for long...

So, a toast, as we must --

They came and got you, Bill. 

DUMDUMSHREKPOP!

Game day.

It's not shaped like a foot.

It's not even shaped like a ball.

But it's loads of fun.

Being a pub, the S&P always has a place for those Autumn folks who enjoy the Autumn tradition of American football, even if we don't really make too much noise about it.

We don't allow arguments about teams, yelling at the old Predicta above the bar, or any wagering on it, of course.

But The Big Game is afoot, as Sherlock Holmes would say... or would've said if he'd been into football.

The team buses have arrived...

The players are getting in the zone...

The cheerleaders are warming up the fans...

"Gimme a Z..."

"Grunnnhhhzzzghgghooanzzz...."

Everyone on the field is ready for action...

"Dude! I'm open!"

No matter your team, or who wins, or if you really even care, I hope you all enjoy your Game Day. 

We'll be watching and laughing and enjoying ourselves all Day.

And Night.

And Dawn.

DDSuperP!

Again with the basics.

Hello, loyal S&Patrons (like how I did that?).

Looking at the big old grandfather clock in the foyer, I see it's a bit of a late night for your humble pubkeep, which isn't unusual -- if Autumn People aren't generally night people, I'm  a vermicious knid -- but it is a little annoying.

I suppose I shouldn't be all that bothered by being awake. I don't often get to bed much earlier than this.

But the reason I am currently awake and not sleepy is mostly because of a week's worth of an annoying warm-weather cold (oh my! the irritation at that one, ruined all kinds of plans) and because of the recurrence of a nightmare with which I've had a love-hate relationship since I was a very little pubkeep.

OH, I'm not awake from fear. Not really.

I am up with my mind running through other old nightmares, just for the nostalgic fun of reliving them.

Haven't you ever done that?

I have no hang ups about such things. I enjoy talking about what scared me as a kid (isn't that most of what we're all doing with our Hallowe'en Lovin' Ways anyway?), and I'd like to admit a few to all of you.

I'll exact payment for your ridicule when I'm finished...

First up, the very dream I had for the first time in years, but one I've had off and on since early childhood.

There's no real story to this. It's just a sort of mental loop, a perpetual animation of a creepy old thing walking through a long, dimly green decrepit hallway like this...

... and he just keeps opening these doors every twenty paces or so, fumbling through a giant key ring with his bony fingers, opening and closing (with ungodly echoes and creaks) each door, while he cackles and grumbles about something troubling him.

He looks, to the best of my late-night graphics tabletability, a little like this:

I've tried to create this nameless creep many times since childhood, and he never comes out looking like he really looks in the dream. Here, he's nearly cute, an odd little mix of a Mystic from The Dark Crystal and one of the little buggers from Critters. He has gnashing, spiky teeth, wrinkless all over, and wiry hair all shocked out and sweaty. His voice alternates between a high-pitched, creaky whine and a low, gutteral sort of belch.

For some reason, this vision haunted me in a dream when I was little and I not only never forgot it but keep seeing it every once in a great while. Just following this freak as if I were a camera to his lower right, as he walks, gnashes, opens, walks, gnashes, opens... It's dim, dark, echo-ey and very disturbing. Who in Hell is he? What's he doing? Where is it? Will it ever end? Total terror for little me.

But I think there are a few other concepts that can make me shudder just as I did as a kid, and this is only the most personal (and internal -- I have no idea where it came from but the actual dream doesn't look like anything I've ever seen before).

Another of these notions is the zombie.

No, I loves me my zombies, as you all know very well.

But I always think, in real, real life, if I suddenly stumbled onto this horror one quiet, breezy night...

... I'd really just be frozen with real terror. No music, no sound but the wind. They're just walking, not even making noise. And they're dead. And they want to eat me.

Terror.

Another concept I've previously mentioned as being terrifying to me is Possessed Girl. I addressed it better and more completely in the post I just linked, so you may visit it more fully at your leisure. But the concept still manages to unnerve me.

I have also found, even though it's kind of a rare image, the notion of a headless woman.

I don't know why, but the idea of a woman being headless but still in a dress or walking, or otherwise full of life, just freaks me out just as it did when I was a kid. I remember having a hot, sweaty Summer nightmare about a headless woman in my closet rocking side to side, waiting for me to open the door. Shiver!

Then that October, I saw an episode of Happy Days called 'Haunted' where just such a nightmarish vision comes downstairs to frighten Hallowe'en revelers...

TERR - IF - IED me! Even when it turned out to be some kid having fun pranking his pals on Hallowe'en night, I was just shuddering at how creepy this was, and how it was so like my nightmare some months before.

Now, I'm not saying I spend any meaningful amount of time or energy on these notions at any given moment. They're just there, under the surface, whenever I consider being truly frightened of anything that isn't real.

Not real. I mean, all of us feel real terror about how the world can be, the horrendous things life throws at us, throws us into, makes us do and takes from us. Any of us can name any number of horrible realities we'd just as soon never think about that keep us awake and sweating in the lonely watches of the night, those dark moments as parents when we think of all the things that can go wrong for no other reason but that things go wrong... but that sort of terror is not at all what I'm referring to here.

No, these are the things that have little logical basis, no real weight, no basis in reality. Things like one of my friends being terrified for some of her early years by a moving ball of yarn and needle, or the giant hands that would come out of the ceiling to grab another of my friends on a fairly regular basis.

They just scare me, and can still scare me like they did when I was a kid.

And oh, don't get me started on her...

Pure terror. Lady Elaine would somehow kidnap me, take me away from my parents, and make me live with her in her Museum-Go-Round subsisting (I always suspected) on things like corn nuts and asparagus, making me cut my hair and wear false lashes and rouge on my nose.

So, after you've all had a laugh, I demand reparation.

Any serious childhood 'scaries' you still feel? Or can at least remember?

Now, I don't mean the movie(s) or book(s) that scared you (like they were supposed to), or common phobias like clowns or spiders (I'm lookin' at you, Frog Queen!) or even favorite monsters. I don't mean grown-up fears either. I think we've covered some of those in our other 'Fear For Thought' discussions.

I mean the lifelong, illogical, no-one-else-would-possibly-find-it-scary secrets you've kept since you were first terrified by whatever it was/is?

I challenge you all for stories, pictures if possible but at least some comments and stories of the crazy thing or things that drove you to your parent's bedroom when you were young.

C'mon... I know you each have at least one thing that can still bring you to your childhood knees in abject terror, even if you can't possibly explain, even to yourself, just why.

Free drinks all around for every story.

Get crackin', get dreamin'...

DDSP-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-oooooky!

Now playing...

... on the Philco Predicta TV above the bar.

A back to basics bit of B-movie beauty.

Edward D. Wood Jr.'s 1959 masterpiece:

Oh, now, don't worry. I won't make all of you sit through it.

I mean, you can find it freely viewable all over the 'net -- it's in the public domain -- but I imagine, or rather hope, that anyone visiting the S&P already has at least one copy on DVD (and probably VHS!) in their library.

This film brings me back to summer midnights with a black & white, 9" television and the feeling that I would have understood this filmmaker. That he would have 'gotten' me. And that holy the heck, even *I* could make something spooky and cool. 

I mean, Plan Nine's lack of technical prowess was (still is) funny, but it also offered a kind of glimpse into how the movie was made, and that anyone could do it. I could see the bad sets and the props made of things I recognized and it all felt like one could go into the garage and whip up something no worse, and maybe better!

Talk about a film that practically begs you to pick up a camera and make anything you wish, with no money but with reckless, enthusiastic abandon.

It inspires creation -- the creation of spooky things.

'Cause it's got Bela, Tor, Criswell and Vampira... come on!

And the dialogue... oh my God.

Eros: First, you had your firecracker, a harmless explosive...

Lt. Harper: One thing's sure: Inspector Clay is dead — murdered — and somebody's responsible!

Eros: Those whom we're using cannot think. They are the dead, brought to a simulated life by our electrode guns. You know, it's an interesting thing when you consider: the Earth people, who can think, are so frightened by those who cannot — the dead.

Larry: Strange. If someone had broken in, the dirt should be piled up here somewhere. It looks like it's fallen in, into the grave. 
Lt. Harper: Larry, you'll be out of that uniform before you know it.

Criswell: My friend, you have seen this incident based on sworn testimony. Can you prove that it didn't happen? Perhaps on your way home you will pass someone in the dark, and you will never know it, for they will be from outer space. Many scientists believe that another world is watching us this moment. We once laughed at the horseless carriage, the aeroplane, the telephone, the electric light, vitamins, radio, and even television! And now some of us laugh at outer space. God help us... in the future.

And is it solaranite? Solarbanite? Solanite? 

OH, we all know how terrible it all is. It's supposed to be the worst film ever made, right? Well... I disagree. The cardinal sin of a film is to be boring, unentertaining, uninteresting. As bad as Plan Nine can be, it is certainly never any of those things.

So yeah. We're watching it all night.

It makes me want to make Hallowe'en.

And yes, Criswell...

God help us... in the future!

DDSPlan9!