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!

First of the Second.

Welcome, welcome, dear S&Pers, to the first post of a new month!

(source)

As we all learned last year, February is Runtmonth. My niece had been lamenting the seeming endlessness of January, and I suggested that perhaps February's great brevity somehow made up for it. She then mentioned that February was the runt of months -- hence, Runtmonth.

From such inauspicious beginnings come great traditions.

Today, of course, is Runtmonth the First, or simply Runtmonth's Day (or, as I was tempted to refer to it last year, the medieval vulgarity 'Runtmas').

In honor of the new, runty, monthy Runtmonth, we have yet again changed up the songlist for our player on the right. Some things are staying over from January, but there are five Februarial tunes to enjoy for now.

Now, we all know that Runtmonth's most famed association is the holiday (not ironically) at its heart: Valentine's Day.

Here at the S&P, we're not that big into Valentine's Day per se -- we've believed for a long time that one should express their love to the object(s) of that love more than on February 14th and on their birthdays -- but there's no denying that, for whatever reason (Hallmarkian or otherwise), February is the Month of Love in pop culture.

We certainly don't discourage  romance here.

We just light it with a little more orange and black than other pubs might.

First up on the ol' jukebox after our ever-present Great Pumpkin Waltz is another Vince Guaraldi waltz that has become Runtmonth tradition here: the Heartburn Waltz, from the 1975 special Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown. It's light and jazzy and quirky like so much about childhood crushes can be... and two Guaraldi waltzes never hurt anybody.

Then, I felt like another waltz, because the waltz is the dance of love. Maybe.

I can't find real recording dates or tech notes for this next track, except to say it's from "John Leach and George Fenton" according to the Inter Webs. Nobody seems to have more information than that.

But if Paris is considered the city of romance, then its music must be considered the music of romance. Just think of a cafe, your true love, a sunny afternoon, and listen to Valse Moderne (Modern Waltz). It's short and sweet and oh so playfully romantic.

(source)

Then I thought, I've given them two waltzes, surely they couldn't take a third. So that's what I'll give them!

This one's a little slower but no less heartfelt and romantic.

A Penny For Your Thoughts is a sweet three-quarter ballad from the 1996 stage musical Red, White & Blaine. It is the song of Ima and her lover, Armani, as they spend the eve of his shipping off to the trenches of WWI-ravaged Europe doubting, dancing and ultimately declaring their undying love in spite of the question mark of his return from battle. 

It has also been suggested that the recording is actually of Christopher Guest and Parker Posey from Guest's 1996 mockumentary classic Waiting For Guffman, but that's totally not true.

And then I got tired of waltzes, but still felt like hearing the odd stage musical love song. Where was it? Where is love...?

Where Is Love? is the gorgeously sad interlude from the 1960 classic musical Oliver!, with music and lyrics by Lionel Bart. In this 1967 version, it is Leonard Nimoy who asks if love is underneath the willow tree he's been dreaming of. In outer space. 'Cause he's Spock.

And finally we feature another song from 1967 that used to be heard on this jukebox quite often, but is now returning to the S&P after a notable absence -- Francesca's ode to Felix on the shores of the Isle of Evil, There Never Was A Love Like Mine. 

Like the earlier A Penny For Your Thoughts, this song is often attributed to a satirical film, in this case 1967's Mad Monster Party, and sung by Gale Garnett (as Francesca) to Felix Flanken (voiced by Allen Swift but not heard in this song). 

Again, this is totally untrue.

I've left last month's Northern Sky, because it's good and it's a love song and it's my pub.

I did the same with the theme from Escape From Monster Manor because Runtmonth is still the off-season for me and I am still spending some time each week shooting ghosts. And it's my pub.

I sure wish everyone a fantastic Runtmonth's Day/Runtmas today, and a fine, loving Runtmonth.

Here's to romance, spooky or otherwise. 

And what is that crackling noise... ?

DDSP!

On farewells, Hallowe'en style.

Welcome, everyone. Very glad you're all here.

Please gather 'round the fireplace with your drinks for a moment.

I want to take a minute to mention something more important than animatronics and monsters and models and music.

Well, those things are all pretty damned important to all of us, I know.

But I've been reading about something that has me thinking, and feeling, and I wish to express it.

One of the many fine, fun and instructive Hallowe'en sites on the spidery Web for many years has been Season of Shadows, a passionate and prop-laden labor of love. It has a blog, picture and video galleries, how-to's, a chat room, a live webcam of their haunt and workshop, and tons of other magic.

Season of Shadows is the brain-and-heart child of John Wolfe, a talented and crazy Autumn Person who loves Hallowe'en and has made it so special for so many grown-ups and kids over so many years. John has helped and inspired many other Hallowe'en Lovers to do it right on the Big Night.

And I've been reading that, sadly, John's health is in serious decline... and he has written his last blog post at Season of Shadows just in the last few days.

But if you would please go read that post, you'll find that, although his struggle has been painful and difficult and seemingly terminal, his SPIRIT is up, resolved to accept what's happening, and what will happen. It's at once a sad and inspiring post.

And it has me thinking about something that for some years now I've believed to be (mostly) true:

I believe most Autumn People, Hallowe'en Lovers, Horror Junkies and Monsterkids of all ages have a bit healthier grasp of What May Come, and perhaps a less-panicked, more accepting sense of our own mortality. It doesn't mean we grieve any less -- in fact I think it helps us grieve more fully and honestly -- but I think we just tend to face our most basic fear, our own 'ending', so much more often than those who are too afraid to explore the dark side of life. Facing it and celebrating it through Hallowe'en and all our other monstery rituals makes us more ready to deal with such things. Not better, not wiser, just more... attuned, perhaps.

I find such strength of spirit in that post, in John's acceptance of whatever is in store.

Indeed, it's sad and sobering, but it's RIGHT that in our quiet, ending hours we let our cares fall, entrust ourselves to the Great Mystery, neither jump for joy nor collapse in sorrow, but just BE.

We who live in this worldly realm truly live in a season of shadows, 

and then pass into the season of Light in our turn.

And any time we observe that passage of one of our own, as Autumn People we are obliged to toast, tribute, and promise to remember the Spirit that is moving to ever-greater haunts in that far October Country where dark and light are the same, where sadness is no more, where pumpkins glow like sunset.

... where real Hallowe'en is forever.

So, a toast.

Blessed be to you John.

Now let's the rest of us sorry fools promise each other to do up Hallowe'en bigger and better this year than ever before!


DUMDUMSHREKPOP!

Ghost of the Ghoul Goes West, pt. 4.1

Hey, S&Pbrains!

Don't get up. This is just an update from the lab. I even 'posterized' the video just to do something a little different from the other videos. It's almost effective.

Almost.

A better linkage system and smoother movement, and along with his head working like a champ, it looks like I might just pull this off.

Better not claim victory just yet.

But I'm enjoying the whole process and learning a lot about things I thought I already knew all about. Like servos, torque, wiring.

And my patience.


DDSP!

Ghost of the Ghoul Goes West, pt. 4

Welcome, welcome, loyal S&Pers!

I hope you are enjoying your visit to our little pub, keeping cozy and warm.

I've tried to lay in a good supply of firewood this year -- it's getting awfully cold after such a mild start to the month.

So, I've been working and tinkering and sweating (and cursing and shouting and throwing) over my monster making lately, but I have made some progress.

I hesitate to show this but only because it's so hard to cleanly operate a 4-point animatronic controller and point and shoot a camera at the same time.

But it's progress:

I think this is the right direction, and with a few stronger servos and a new  linkage idea for the elbow, ol' Edward Van Bone will be able to gesture quite graciously (if not gracefully) for the museum crowds at Monsterpalooza. (And honestly, it does move much better and waaay more smoothly when I have both hands to operate things... I swear!)

Oh, he'll have hands, too. I'm just... going insane trying to make them work right. But they will.

Just an update from the laboratory.

Continue to enjoy Winter. If I get too wrapped up in my work, and don't always hear a call or a shout for something, you can always ask Fester or Mr. Chicken -- they know their way around the place and I trust them with the bar.

Well, I trust Mr. Chicken anyway... 

DDSP!