Growing up with Horror, part 1

"Look, we've only just met. I'm not really ready for the sort of commitment that holding-hands entails!"

 

Want to know something that I find just a touch odd? I can't really remember which horror-film I saw first as a child. I find it strange because I can recall snippets of going to the movies with my mom and dad, and seeing 1973's THE GOLDEN VOYAGE OF SINBAD, and THE TOWERING INFERNO in 1974, something which inspired four-year-old me to draw a hi-rise fire the very next day, and to briefly dream of becoming a firefighter when I grew up. 

But my initial dabbling in what ended up becoming my favorite film genre? I 'm really not sure which film that was. It was definitely on television, because my first trip to see a fright-flick in the theater wouldn't happen until 1979 (more on that later), and by that point I was already a minor horror veteran. 

What I do recall very well is that the very first horror-character to make a lasting impression on me as a child was Frankenstein's monster, because at some point I begged my parents for a dollar so I could use that to buy a pair "life-size" vinyl posters via a mail-away ad from a comic book. I'm not sure which comic that was either, but considering that he was my favorite superhero as a little kid, it was probably an issue of "The Amazing Spider-Man." Yeah, I had Spider-Man Underoos and everything, and went through at least 3 Mego Spider-Man dolls, but that's another story for another day.

My first foray into horror swag!

Anyway, after a few weeks, these HUGE posters arrived. One was a skeleton, in simple black-and-white, and the other was Frankenstein's monster in black-and-green. And they came with these little glow-in-the-dark sticker-dots so you could give them creepy, glowing pupils when you turned the lights off. My dad hung the posters up for me, and then I proceeded to get VERY creeped out by the eerie glowing eyes at bedtime and promptly retreated to the relative safety of the space under the covers, where I pondered the wisdom of my life-choices before drifting off to sleep. I recovered from my case of poster-driven anxiety after a couple of days, and those posters remained on my wall for at least a year. 

Honestly, I guess it really doesn't matter that I can't quite nail down which horror film was my first any more than it matters that I can't recall the first comic-book I ever read. The result was the same: I got a taste and ended up hungry for more. And, fortunately, I lived in an era where I could indulge in my new craving, thanks to the wonders of television syndication. 

As was the case for many a Gen-Xer, not to mention the Boomers that preceded us, late night horror flicks were something of a childhood rite-of-passage, and they served as a somewhat curious bookend to treasured weekends of yore. They began early on Saturday mornings parked in front of the TV watching cartoons with a bowl of cereal, and ended on Saturday nights, punctuated by the piercing screams of victims being chased down by some monster or other, while we cowered and peeked at the televised terrors from between the fingers covering our eyes. 

Yeah, yeah, Sunday was part of the weekend too, but it didn't count quite as much, seeing as how going to church threw a monkey wrench into the day (don't @ me folks, there's religious trauma involved), and there was probably some homework looming too, since by that point I was already an accomplished procrastinator. However, if we were very, VERY lucky, one of our available TV stations might just grace us with a horror or Sci-Fi classic for its afternoon movie, though it was far more likely to be a drama or a western. 

But Saturdays, boy howdy, Saturdays were the saving grace of the entire week. Cartoons in the morning and spooky flicks at night? Yes please! 

Now, as you may or may not know, this mostly-lapsed tradition of late-night weekend fright-flicks was already well-established by the time I was old enough to partake. Many people are familiar with Cassandra Peterson's famed "Elvira" who gained nationwide attention in the 1980's and 1990's, but she was not the first Horror-host. Far from it, in fact. 

Maila Nurmi as the titular VAMPIRA (courtesy, LA Times)

 

Hosts like Peterson have a very long history that stretches all the way back to 1954, when a wasp-waisted woman named Maila Nurmi became the first horror-host, boasting a look admittedly based off the work of New Yorker cartoonist Charles Addams and calling herself "Vampira", who presented an assortment of low-budget suspense films, as the classic Universal horrors were not yet available to TV stations at the time. As Vampira, Nurmi used her considerable wit and charm to great effect. She introduced each film, and also worked in various bits of wry commentary, as well as brief skits here and there, where she would talk to off-camera ghosts, and even offer up offbeat commercial spots for her lone advertiser, Fletcher Jones. 

The "The Vampira Show" proved to be very popular, but ended after only one year when the ever independently-minded Nurmi refused ABC's offer to purchase the rights to her character. Despite this, the show and its format would prove to be incredibly influential, and soon, a small army of entertaining ghouls would follow her example at Television stations nationwide.

In the early 1950's, studios like Universal didn't really think that their library of classic horror films from the 1930's were of any real interest to the viewing public. Thanks to a host of factors, not the least of which was the Second World War, the advent of the Atomic-Age, and the fatigue that set in after a seemingly endless parade of sequels, the interest in such creature-features waned dramatically, and the viewing public started looking for other types of cinematic thrills, as those old classics had lost their ability to shock. 

A still from 1953's INVADERS FROM MARS

If you want an example, look no further than 1948's ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN, a horror comedy that sends up not only Frankenstein's immortal creature (now played by Glenn Strange), but also Bela Lugosi's Dracula, and Lon Cheney Jr's Wolfman. What was once horrific was now being trotted out for laughs, and movie-goers instead turned their attentions to tales of titanic, mutant creatures spawned by the radioactive powers of the Atom-Bomb, and hostile, hopelessly-advanced invaders from the uncharted depths of outer-space.

But the popularity of Vampira revealed that there might be an audience for such fare after all. And even as her show ended, a pair of syndicated movie packages would open the floodgates to revive old classics, exhumed and reanimated to thrill and inspire a new generation of eager viewers. 

In 1955, Thomas O'Neill, chairman of the General Teleradio broadcasting group purchased the entire film library of RKO studios, including its extensive library of B-pictures, for $15.5 million, because his new TV stations were in need of programming, and knew the same was true of other such groups across the country. This extensive library included not only undeniable classic dramatic gems like CITIZEN KANE and IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE, but the likes of KING KONG, MIGHTY JOE YOUNG, CAT PEOPLE, and I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE. 

This sale served notice to other Hollywood studios that their own film-libraries held bona fide profit potential, and who among them would want to pass up the opportunity to cash in with films that were otherwise gathering dust?  Certainly not Universal, who in June of 1957 agreed to a 10-year lease of the TV broadcast rights though Screen Gems, who then assembled a formidable array of classic frights in a syndication package appropriately called Shock! which would quickly be followed up in 1958 by another selection entitled Son of Shock! 

With this influx of available content alongside Nurmi's trailblazing example, the stage was set, and in 1957, John Zacherle of Philadelphia's WCAU channel-10 would serve as the new standard-bearer for what was to come, hosting that station's SHOCK THEATER as the creepy and engaging "Roland". The popularity of his show and his character would soon see station after station making moves to create their own twists on the format, and many station staffers, from booth-announcers to weathermen, would step up to become hosts of their own weekend shows. 

John Zacherle as Shock Theater's Roland

To call these homegrown horror-hosted programs popular would be an understatement. They were an absolute sensation that didn't just provide stations with content, they provided them with a devoted following of dedicated viewers who would tune in each and every weekend, and make the hosts themselves beloved minor celebrities.  

These shows inspired two generations of horror-loving youngsters, who were hungry for more ghoulish content. The demand directly inspired publisher James Warren and editor Forrest J Ackerman to produce what was intended as a one-off magazine, "Famous Monsters of Filmland", in 1958. The magazine quickly sold out, and demand remained so high, that Warren quickly issused a second printing to fulfill it, and the one-shot quickly became a regular publication that ran until 1983. You can also thank these shows for the inspiration behind Bobby "Boris" Pickett's immortal novelty song, "The Monster Mash," and the career of legendary FX artist, Rick Baker, just to name a few.  

Heck, even in today's streaming age we have a few horror-hosts lurking around, like Joe Bob Briggs over on SHUDDER, and the seemingly immortal Chicago-sensation Svengoolie (Rich Koz) over on MeTV, who took over from the original Svengoolie (Jerry G. Bishop), revived that show in 1979, and has been going strong ever since. It's fair to say that without this storied history of horror-hosts and their influence, we probably would have never seen the likes of USA's UP ALL KNIGHT, TNT's MONSTER-VISION, or even the cult-charms of MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000, who absolutely had remnants of Vampira and Roland within its broadcast DNA. 

Anyway, like so many fellow Gen-Xers in the mid-to-late 1970's, I was able to catch a surprisingly wide-variety of scary flicks on late-night television. One of the more important TV stations in Southern West Virginia was WOWK TV-13, an ABC affiliate broadcasting out of the city of Huntington. Every Saturday night following the 11:00 news, the station would air a show called CHILLER (aka CHILLER THEATER). This isn't the same fondly-remembered CHILLER THEATER that aired on WIIC (Now WPXI) in Pittsburgh, hosted by local TV personality Bill "Chilly Billy" Cardille. Nor was it the equally well-regarded show of the same name that aired on WPIX in New York. 

While in its more distant past, CHILLER had once featured in-studio skits that would air around the commercial breaks, and for a time even featured intros from Johnathan "Barnabas Collins" Frid from the horror-soap DARK SHADOWS, CHILLER never had its own long-term host. By the time the mid 70's rolled around, the intros to CHILLER consisted of a simple title-card image of a spooky, cliffside castle lit by moonlight. The image was accompanied by creepy background music, wolf-howls, and so on, and occasionally a brief voice-over into for the movie that would end with a classic reverb-effect. I also recall that the word "CHILLER" would appear over the title-card at some point, usually towards the end of the voice-over.

As yet another aside, one of the area's rival stations, WSAZ, once had a short-lived hosted horror-show of its own called SHOCKWATCH, with it's master of ceremonies being a ghoul named "Gaylord", portrayed by one Fred Briggs, but that show ended a decade before I was born. However, in the 1970's, the station would host a horror marathon on New Year's eve, with voice-overs courtesy of the very well known local-legend Jewel "Mr. Cartoon" Huffman, who happened to be the stations erstwhile Weatherman.

1954's THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON

At any rate, thanks to CHILLER, I was steeped in horror (and Kaiju) from a very early age. Along with classics like DRACULA (1931), THE MUMMY (1932), BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1935), and GODZILLA VS MONSTER ZERO (1965), I also saw future MST3K fodder like IT CONQUERED THE WORLD (1956), I WAS A TEENAGE WEREWOLF (1957), THE DEADLY MANTIS (1957), THE GIANT GILA-MONSTER (1959), and REPTILICUS (1961).

Even relatively recent fare from the early 1970's like 1973's LEMORA: A CHILD'S TALE OF THE SUPERNATURAL, 1974's DEATHDREAM (aka DEAD OF NIGHT), and TWISTED BRAIN (aka HORROR HIGH), found its way on-air, and all of which serve as examples of grisly and unsettling movies that I arguably watched too young. However, since I wasn't usually prone to nightmares as a result of my horror-habit, my otherwise overly-concerned Mom just let me keep on watching. Thanks mom, and God rest your soul.

1977's KINGDOM OF THE SPIDERS

And how can I forget schlocky fun like spotting the glamorous Joan Collins in dreck like FOOD OF THE GODS (1976), a young Dirk "Starbuck" Benedict in SSSSSSS (1973), and the honey-baked glory of William Shatner's brand of ham in KINGDOM OF THE SPIDERS (1977)? As you can see, I didn't forget, and couldn't leave those off the list. Basically, it was a lot of fun for a kid like me, and it was one of the things I would look forward to each and every week. Cartoons in the morning, and spooks at night. What could be better? 

Now, in all fairness I must admit that even though I'd been watching a steady-stream of horror for a little while, I wasn't entirely immune to the odd scare here and there. In the summer of 1977, the TV spot for the US release of Dario Argento's now-classic SUSPIRIA hit the airwaves. The somewhat infamous ad featured a woman brushing her hair with her back to the camera while reciting a poem via voice-over, until she spun around to reveal a ghastly human skull for a head. Well, 6 year old me was just not ready for that one, and it sent me howling and crying to my Mom for comfort. 

A Pittsburgh-area Newspaper Ad for DOTD

Just over a year later, George A. Romero would unleash DAWN OF THE DEAD, and it would feature another ad spot well-designed for truly creeping out my not quite 8 year-old self. Aside from being given a real case of the heebie-jeebies (or, the "jibblies'), I don't recall my reaction to the trailer itself. However, I do recall angrily coloring over the print-ad in my local newspaper in retaliation for having been unsettled by the adverts for a film that would become a treasured favorite by the time I was 16. 

But nothing, NOTHING could have prepared me for the horrors that were unleashed in the summer of 1979 when myself, my mom, my older brother, and my sister-in-law all headed to the local theater to see THE AMITYVILLE HORROR, the latest fright-flick to be supposedly based off of a true-story that was, for the most part, a pack of fraudulent lies. And as I alluded earlier, this was the first horror-film I got to see in a movie theater!

I found the film itself to be a little spooky, but also fun. I was just fine when an angry, disembodied voice menaced an increasingly nauseous priest. I was fine when glowing red eyes appeared outside a bedroom window. I was fine when horrible fluids started filling the toilets. And even as the child of a testy divorce, I was fine as James Brolin's George Lutz was menaced by murderous nightmares and became increasingly angry and abusive, much to the chagrin of Margot Kidder's Kathleen. After all, I'd been watching horror on the regular for around 4 years at that point, and had thus been adequately inoculated for what lay ahead...on the screen at any rate. I was fine with all of that, and the harrowing climax as well.

What actually got me though was my older brother's horrible SKOAL habit. He was sitting right next to me, and kept placing his spit-cup right beside my fountain Coke. Back in those days, you see, theaters didn't have cup-holders. You either had to hold your drink or sit it down on the floor in front of you, which absolutely contributed to the ubiquitous stickiness of movie-theater floors. During a particularly tense moment, I reached down for my Coke while my eyes remained glued to the screen, raised the cup to my lips, and then warm tobacco-spit hit my tongue. A brew more foul and ghastly than anything leaking from the walls of the Amityville house. I immediately reacted with utter disgust, dramatically spitting out the terrible fluid and wiping away at my violated tongue, while my brother laughed like a hysterical hyena and my mom glared back at him with a look best translated as, "where did I go wrong?"

What a jerk.  

Anyway, scary TV-spots and makeshift spittoon-contents aside, my horror experiences in early childhood were a lot of fun. But as much as I enjoyed the thrill of watching (and sometimes drifting off into slumber while watching) horror films way back then, I didn't truly love and appreciate the genre in any real sense. At this point my feelings for horror were akin to a flirtatious crush, but the seeds had definitely been sown. In the winter of 1981, the "romance" would come into full bloom.

The true horror of the 1970's

End of Part 1