CONFESSIONS OF A SEXAGENARIAN HORROR MOVIE FREAK

That's not nearly as carnal or creepy as it sounds.

In more agreeable language it means I'm a man in my sixties (and pushing hard toward my seventies) who has been happily obsessed with horror flicks ever since I learned to be afraid of the dark.

You might say my fascination with horror movies is genetic. My mother used to love telling my sister and me about going to see all of the classic scary movies (DRACULA, FRANKENSTEIN, THE MUMMY, etc.) when she was growing up in the 1930's. Her eyes would light up with delight as she would remember walking home through the dark streets of the city she grew up in, expecting Boris Karloff or Bela Lugosi to be waiting around the next corner, prompting her to run instead of walk. She made it sound as though being scared was the most fun thing in the world.

Her enthusiasm for horror movies turned into a family activity in the late 1950's as we went to see movies like HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL, THE BAT and THE TINGLER. I was all of seven years old in 1958, and those movies must have rearranged something in my brain, because in no time at all, I was hooked.

Seeing THE TINGLER in theaters during its first run was a memorable experience for a small number of lucky (?) patrons. The film's producer/director, William Castle, was the master of "gimmick cinema", a genre he practically founded all by himself. For HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL he had equipped some theaters with a stunt called "Emergo", which consisted of a plastic skeleton attached to a wire that extended from the screen to the back of the theater. During a key scene in the movie that featured a skeleton, its plastic counterpart would be sent along the wire, flying over the screaming (and very possibly laughing) crowd. For THE TINGLER, Castle went for a more visceral reaction. In some theaters electric wires were attached to selected seats. During a climactic scene these seats would be given a mild electric shock, scaring the wits out of the unsuspecting patrons. This cool idea was called "Percepto". These gimmicks were most likely used in Hollywood and perhaps some other major cities. It's highly unlikely that those of us going to the movies in fly-over country (in my case Danville, Illinois) would have the golden opportunity to get wired up with Percepto. But my mother swore up and down that her seat at the Fischer Theater was indeed connected to the Percepto grid. Who knows? Maybe she was right. Or maybe she was just "wired up" all by herself!

While all of this glorious mayhem was going on in theaters, television was beginning to show old horror and science fiction movies, everything from the old classics from Universal to the low budget programmers from studios like Monogram. These movies were usually shown late at night on Friday or Saturday. One regular show during this time was Terror Theater on Channel 10 in Terre Haute, Indiana. In those days, long before cable television, we were only able to get this particular channel when the wind happened to be blowing in just the right direction. One night, probably in 1959 or 1960, after my sister and I had already gone to bed, our mother asked us if we wanted to watch a scary movie, SON OF DRACULA. Was she kidding? Of course we did! We made it into the living room just as the Universal Pictures logo, that sparkling, swirling globe, was showing on our 21 inch black & white console television. After the logo faded, the screen was filled with cobwebs. Then a pair black-gloved hands appeared to wipe away the cobwebs and show the title of the picture. I will never forget the chill that ran up and down my spine when I saw those hands. Even though I've seen SON OF DRACULA many times over the years, I still get that same thrill when I watch those opening credits.

This was when my fascination with all things horror really went into high gear. I can't remember exactly when I bought my first monster magazine, but I first noticed Famous Monsters of Filmland on the shelf at a grocery store in 1961. I was drawn to the cover featuring Vincent Price in THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM. At some point, when my parents granted me an allowance, I began spending my money not only on Famous Monsters, but also on Castle of Frankenstein, Horror Monsters and Mad Monsters. Then in 1962 a horror movie show called Way Out began broadcasting every Thursday night at 10:30 on WCIA-TV in Champaign, Illinois. It was hosted by a cool guy named Trebor (Robert spelled backwards). I didn't learn until just a few years ago that Trebor was played by a young guy named  Robert Shive, an employee at the station.

Robert Shive as Trebor on the Way Out show.

Of course, Thursday was s school night, and I had no business being up so late. But my mother knew how much it meant to me to see these movies, so she allowed me to stay up. I don't think I missed a single one of these shows during its three year run. Way Out was a godsend for this fledgling horror fan. I got to see all of the Universal classics from the 1930's and 40's as well as the Bela Lugosi films made at Monogram. I also saw most of the science fiction movies from the 1950's such as THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL and IT CAME FROM OUTER SPACE. Way Out even showed some fairly recent films like MISSILE TO THE MOON and FRANKENSTEIN'S DAUGHTER. I was beginning to see the differences between the Universal films and those made by other studios. And I loved them all.

This was a golden age in history to be a horror movie fan. Actors now known as legends, such as Boris Karloff, Vincent Price, Peter Lorre and Basil Rathbone, were all alive and well and turning out quality films at American-International Pictutes. Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing were busy at Hammer Studios filming updated versions of the old Universal monsters. And a beautiful young actress named Barbara Steele was starring in some very moody, shocking Italian films, as well as having appeared opposite Vincent Price in AIP's THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM. I didn't get to see all of these films when they first came to theaters. But I was able to see some of them when they were re-released. Most of them I finally saw on television during the late 1960's and in the 1970's. One movie I did see in the theater was THE INNOCENTS (1961), starring Deborah Kerr, now considered to be one of the greatest ghost stories ever put on film. Even at the tender age of ten I was able to sense the psychological weirdness of this very adult film. These films were supposedly not intended for children. But we managed to get in anyway. Either someone wasn't paying any attention or they just didn't care. And for that I offer up my eternal gratitude to the gods of cinematic horror, whoever, or whatever, they happen to be!

While I didn't get to see BLACK SUNDAY when it was released in America in 1961, I saw all of the famous still photographs that were featured in the monster mags, and knew the film's plot as described in the Special Vampire Issue of Castle of Frankenstein. I was totally fascinated by the film years before I was finally able to see it on television, and by its incredible lead actress. The first time I saw Barbara Steele was in 1964 in CASTLE OF BLOOD, which was playing on a double bill with another Italian film, HERCULES IN THE HAUNTED WORLD, featuring Christopher Lee. The movies were being shown at the Palace Theater in Danville. This somewhat run down theater was right next to the more elegant Fischer Theater, which is where THE INNOCENTS had played. The movies that came to the Palace were always of the more low budget, exploitational variety. The Saturday matinees at the Palace were wild experiences. Fifty cents for two features and some cartoons. Jammed with screaming kids and teenagers, most of them throwing popcorn at each other, and some fights breaking out here and there. But for me, coming to see CASTLE OF BLOOD was a serious mission. I was there to see Barbara Steele. I was focused. When she first appeared in the film, it was a close-up of her very strange and beautiful face in all of its black & white Gothic glory. I was mesmerized, and remain so to this day. All of these decades later, Miss Steele, now 81, is the last remaining star from the glory days of 1960's horror films.

As I entered my twenties, my fascination with horror movies subsided quite a bit. At some point I threw away all of my monster magazines. I seldom went to see newer horror films as they began concentrating on graphic violence and gore rather than the Gothic atmosphere I had once loved. It wasn't until the advent of home video that I started getting my old enthusiasm back. I started collecting some of my favorites on video cassette. When the DVD/Blu-ray era came in, my collecting hobby took off like crazy. I hadn't seen some of the Universal classics since my ancient Way Out days. Now I was seeing them with adult eyes and appreciation. But the old magic was still there in full force. And I even started collecting monster magazines again, not just some of the old ones I used to have, but the new generation of mags like Filmfax, Scarlet Street, Scary Monsters and Monster Bash. In 2005 I attended my first fan convention, the Monster Bash in Pittsburgh, PA. It was great fun being surrounded by folks who shared all of my obsessions. When I was growing up, being a monster fan was a rather lonely experience, as no one else I knew cared about horror films in the same way I did. On the last day of the convention, when the crowds were thinning out, I was in the hotel lobby when Forrest J. Ackerman, the legendary publisher of Famous Monsters of Filmland walked past me and gave me a friendly smile. I was so tongue-tied I couldn't even speak. I almost genuflected.

In 2011 I attended my first Horror Hound convention in Indianapolis, Indiana. My mission? To meet Barbara Steele. I was able to sit down with this marvelous woman and chat with her while she autographed a photo for me. "To Michael..." Then she drew a little heart symbol and gave me a warm, lovely smile. I gazed into those incredible green eyes and was mesmerized once again. It was just like being transported back to the Palace Theater in 1964.