Growing Up with Halloween

AT LAST IT CAME. The gang had been waiting since the first of September, as the air turned chill for the first time, and mothers had joked that it would snow any day now, and the trees’ summer whispers had become autumn whistles, and the leaves were not quite green any more, and the sun had begun to come in through the school windows that faced south.

At last it came. They had been ready long before the grocery store had set out the pumpkins; and before the ten-cent store had stocked the masks, noisemakers, and little peanut-butter taffy twists wrapped in black and orange paper; and before the teachers had put up the bulletin board with black cats and jointed paper skeletons. At last it came.

Halloween.

Tommy sat at the supper table impatiently. The sun had not yet gone down; but it didn’t look as bright outside as it had a moment ago. The trees cast darker shadows. He squirmed a bit in his chair and kept his eyes on the window.
Mr. Gregson smiled as he seated himself across from Tommy. He said, “Don’t worry, Tommy. We’ll be through eating before it gets dark.”

“But, Dad,” Tommy exclaimed fervently, “I’ve got to get ready. And Mitchell and John Eric will be over in only fifteen minutes!”

“You’ll have plenty of time,” his father reassured him, “you’ll see.”

It was nothing short of torture to sit still through supper. More than once Tommy suspected his mother or father of spooning out more macaroni onto his plate when his head was turned looking fretfully out the window. But he survived the meal somehow, blurted “Excuse me, please,” and dashed for his room.

He threw himself onto the floor, stretched under his bed, and pulled out the much-wrinkled grocery sack that held his Gypsy costume. He dumped its contents unceremoniously onto the floor and rummaged through them. Eyepatch, torn pants, bright purple-dyed shirt, overvest, shoes from his dad half-packed with newspapers, rubber knife, a false moustache: It was all here.

Tommy put it all on, except for the eyepatch. He headed back down the hall to the living room and through it to the kitchen where his parents were cleaning up the dishes.

“Which eye should I cover up, Mom?”

“Just a second, dear,” Mrs. Gregson replied. “Oh -- Glenn, could you help Tommy?”

Mr. Gregson turned from putting up the plates, closed the cupboard door, and squatted down, wiping his hands on his towel. “Wow, you look good!” he said.
Then, “Let’s figure it out. Where’s your knife, Tom?”

“Here,” replied Tommy, pulling it from his belt. He offered it to his father.

“No, you hold on to it,” responded Mr. Gregson. He placed his hands on Tommy’s shoulders and gave his son a half-turn so that the boy faced the table at the other end of the kitchen. Dad pointed to one chair, still pushed back from the table. “Now, see that chair?” Tommy nodded. “Now just imagine,” Dad continued, “that that chair is a man who says you’re not the best violin-playin’ Gypsy that ever lived. So, you pull out your rubber knife and get ready to throw. Aim, aim carefully,” Dad half-whispered with his eyes on Tommy’s face, “and throw!”

Tommy threw, from the shoulder. The knife passed between two slats in the chair back, its rubber hilt striking the wall with a clear thwack! sound, and fell to the floor.

“Got him in the ribs,” Mr. Gregson commented.

“Glenn!” exclaimed Mom, properly disapproving.

“It’s all right, Suzanne. He missed the window by at least six inches.” Dad turned to make sure she knew he was joshing her. They exchanged a smile. He bent back down to Tommy and said, “Go get it and come on back.” The boy did. “Now do it again, but just aim, don’t throw it.” Tommy complied. “There,” said his father, “what are you doing right now?”

“Well, my hand’s in the air, I’m squinting my -- no, I’ve got -- my left eye’s closed!”

“Then,” summed up Dad, “that’s the eye you can cover up. You aim with your right eye, so you need it more, yes?”

“Yeah! Thanks, Dad!” Tommy turned to his mother. “Now, Mom, you said I could use some of your old pancake stuff --”

“Yes,” said Mom. “How dark a Gypsy do you want to be?”

“So no one can guess who I am!”

+ + + + + +

It was six o’clock. The dusk was growing deeper. Tommy sat on the couch, impatiently drumming his hands on the cushions, watching alternately the clock on the living-room wall and the window, through which he saw grey trees shaking their arms in the wind. His parents were sitting together in the big double rocker. His dad was reading the doubled-over newspaper and trying not to stick it into Mom’s face, while she looked through the TV Guide.

“And now, until the late news, have a good evening -- and a safe and Happy Halloween.”

The doorbell rang.

Tommy sprang up and ran to the door, yanking it open.

On the porch stood two figures, one taller and the other about the same size as Tommy. The taller was Count Dracula, replete with painted widow’s peak, pale skin, black cape, and sharp teeth. The other was in a Frankenstein’s Monster costume from Kresge’s.

The duo chorused, “Trick or treat!”

“Come on in, you guys, I’m just about ready.” Tommy held the door open for them, ushered them into the living room, and left them there as he headed for the bathroom.

“Hello, boys.” Mr Gregson smiled at them from the double rocker. “Let’s see. You’re John Eric,” he said, pointing to tall Dracula, and you’re Mitchell,” he said to short Frankenstein.

The monster giggled. “Nope, we fooled you,” said Dracula. “I’m Mitchell. He’s John Eric.”

“Really?” Tommy’s father scratched his head in puzzlement. “You hear that, Suzanne? I would’ve sworn ­--” and then he winked at Tommy’s mother.

At this point the bathroom door slammed open and Tommy emerged. “Ready to go?” he asked the pair.

“Yeah. G’night, Mr. and Mrs. Gregson.”

“Goodnight, boys.”

“See you later.”

Dad walked with them to the front door. “See you later, son. Don’t be out too late, and be careful.”

“Yeah, Dad.”

And they were gone. Mr. Gregson let the screen door close and flipped on the porch light.

Dracula, Vordak the Gypsy, and Frankenstein’s Monster turned right and began working their way down the hill in the early night darkness. There was just enough of a breeze to catch their empty Trick-or-Treat bags and billow them open behind them like parachutes. They ran to the first house down from the Gregsons’, the Rices’. Tommy-Vordak pressed the lighted doorbell twice.

The door opened, and before Mrs. Rice had appeared from behind it, the three called out, “Trick or Treat!”

“Hello! Hello! Just a minute!” Mrs. Rice turned and picked up a wicker basket from somewhere out of Tommy’s sight. She opened the screen door, held it open with her left hip, and dropped one white popcorn ball into each eagerly outstretched sack.

“Thanks! G’night!” the three boys called over their shoulders, already following the trail of more candy treasures, already hurrying down the driveway and down the slope to the Abrahamson’s house.

Just as they were leaving the Abrahamson’s porch a minute later, haloed by the porchlight over their shoulders, they met two more souls. One was in a plastic step-in astronaut’s costume; the other was a fairy princess; both were in Tommy’s class at school.

“Hi, Stevie,” said Mitchell-Dracula.

“Hi, Mitchell,” replied the astronaut.

“Hi, Tommy,” ventured the fairy princess.

“Oh -- hi, Jennifer,” responded Tommy-Vordak. Sheesh, why did she single him out to say hi to? Even if Stevie was her brother, she was a girl.

“Where ya been?” asked Stevie.

“Oh, we just started up at Tommy’s house,” answered Mitchell-Dracula.

“I got a popcorn ball,” asserted John-Eric Frankenstein proudly, holding open his sack. C’mon kid, grow up! Tommy thought, then felt pride that he and Mitchell were adult enough to put up with the little kid.

“That’s nice, John-Eric,” Stevie answered with similar indulgence. See you guys later!” He and Jennifer headed up the Abrahamson’s porch. Gee, Stevie was always a good sport about being stuck doing things with his twin sister. But, sheesh, now she’s --

“Bye, Tommy,” called Jennifer, singling him out for her attention.

“Bye, see ya later, g’night!”

The trio continued down the hill. They had just left the Dornmans’ house at the foot of the hill and were beginning to cross the street back uphill the other side when they were confronted with the bane of any nine-year-old’s existence: the big kids.

Dan Berry was a pirate with a black beard and big black boots. Gary Andrews was a clown with a red rubber nose and a greasepaint frown. Freddie Spencer was a Martian with green skin and wire antennae. Jimmy Trent was a bent-over hunchback with a pillow hump and mascara scars. They were all 12, except Dan was 13, and sometimes wore their ages like a license to kill.

“Arr, avast there, maties!” Dan spread his arms and his three companions stopped with him.

“Ahoy, maties! Who be ye?” he called to Dracula, Frankenstein’s monster, and Vordak the Gypsy.

“Hello, Dan,” said Mitchell. “Gee, you guys look neat.” This was a safe thing to say.

“Sure’n don’t we now? We’ve planned many a long week for this night, right me lads?”

Somehow, on this night of nights it did not seem at all out of place to see a clown, a Martian, and a hunchback raise their arms in salute and cry together, “Aye, Captain!”

“Well,” growled the placated captain, “ye’d best be behavin’ yerselfs tonight, or else ye’ll hear from Cap’n Kidd -- and ye’ll walk the plank! D’ you hear me, lads?” he snarled, leaning over towards the three younger friends.

Tommy wasn’t sure how much Dan was joking, or if he was. Ever since September, when he’d gone to junior high, Dan had been acting all grown up and only noticed the others with disdain.

Tommy looked at Mitchell, who was also unsure of what to do next. They nodded and said, more or less together, “Aye, aye, sir!”

“Good lads!” responded Cap’n Kidd. “Well, mates, let’s shove off!” The quartet headed on past them, and vanished into the shadows under the trees.

Trick or Treat!

Have I got a long-suffering, wonderful family, or what!

This is a NEWSpaper, Vincenzo! We print NEWS!!!!

Ah, yes. Carl Kolchak, iconoclast supreme.

I first met him on ABC-TV, on January 11, 1972. The Night Stalker was an ABC Movie of the Week, which were shown every Tuesday night. These were the original made-for-TV movies.

Doubtless after a week of heavy promotion, The Night Stalker aired. I wasn't the only adolescent who wanted to watch a movie about vampires on TV: after the ratings came in, The Night Stalker had posted as the Number One rated TV-movie of all time.

I next met ol' Kolchak through TAB, the Teen Age Book club, a month or so later. I saw that title in the catalog, and knew I had to have it. I also ordered the second "official" Kolkchak book, The Night Strangler, which promptly showed up as an ABC Movie of the Week about a year afer the first one.

The Night Strangler's January 16, 1973 showing was just as cool as the original's, with the added character roles played by Wally Cox (aka Underdog) and John Carradine (Dracula in House of Frankenstein, and loads of other horror roles) making it more fun.

As you can guess, these are the front and back covers of those paperbacks. You sure can't entice an adolescent male any better than with the salacious blurb on the back cover of Strangler: "A Belly Dance of Death." Hmmm.

Check back tomorrow, kiddies, on Halloween itself, where a piece of fictional prose will attempt to depict for you the magic of Trick-or-Treats and fun, safe, American Halloween in the 60s. 1960s that is.

Scary Monster from the Past

Anybody remember having to read Beowulf in English class? For some of us, it wasn't a *groan* chore. We saw behind the forced reading to find the adventure.

Dude, Beowulf went swimming with sea monsters! As an old fart, he killed a dragon! And in the main part of this poem, he plays dead while a giant bigfoot-type monster (named Grendel) prowls through the room, and then jumps up and wrestles the beast, yanking its arm out of the socket! Then he follows the trail of blood underwater to the hellhole Grendel came from, and fights the critter's even meaner mom!

First is the paperback cover of John Gardner's Grendel, which tells the Beowulf tale (part anyway) from the monster's point of view, in first person.

It made a big impression on me in high school, as evidenced by this relic from the past -- a version of the cover that I drew in 11th-grade art class.

See you tomorrow in our countdown to Halloween with some characters created by Jeff Rice (that's a hint) that were an inspoiration for a TV show last season (another hint).

The Secret Origin of Something Wicked This Way Comes!

And no, I'm not talking about the short story "The Dark Carnival." This is from Guideposts magazine, June 1991.
See you later, Kiddies, for some more Halloween hauntings!

Something Wicked Is a Great Achievement

Welcome back, my little fiends …

We continue our Halloween peek at Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes, which not only is deliciously fun and powerfully emotional, it also looks great sitting on a bookshelf right next to Agatha Christie’s book By the Pricking of My Thumbs.

This image is the “original” cover art for the hardback.

One great facet of this great book is Bradbury’s depiction of the relationship between Will Halloway and his father Charles Halloway, library janitor and knight in arthritic armor. Will and his dad love each other, but don’t express it much. Will’s failing is the typical youth’s self-centered outlook that “nobody ‘old’ can understand the turmoils of my life.” Dad’s failing is that his melancholy temperament inhibits his remembering the joy of living, and sharing that wonder with his son.

The conflict they (and Jim Nightshade) must face will force them to pull together, reexamine themselves and each other, and ultimately break down the wall of reserve between father and son.

A personal note … like Will and Charles Halloway’s relationship, my growing-up wasn’t filled with warm, happy times with my father – huh, my dad’s name is Charles, too! That is, I was loved as a child, but my dad’s main expression of love was going to work every day, and taking a second job in the evenings to pay the bills. Of course, he threw balls and Frisbees with me, and I sat on his lap eating popcorn Sunday nights and watching Bonanza.

But although I was (and still is) the emotional show-off type, Dad was more reserved. It wasn’t until about college time for me that he began to show on the outside the love he had always held on the inside.

The first time I read Something Wicked was in the Spring of my Senior year in high school. Soon afterwards, I asked Dad into my bedroom to listen to Harry Chapin’s song “Cats in the Cradle.” As I turned the record off at the end of the song, I sensed that Dad was wondering why I wanted him to hear it. But I gave him a hug and said, “I just wanted to thank you for NOT being a dad like that!”
More meanderings tomorrow, my little graveyard rats, along with Bradbury’s OWN recounting of the inspiration of Something Wicked This Way Comes !

Another Brad-Burial

If you love Halloween...

If you had a best friend as a kid but you grew apart...

If your relationship with your father was ever "love from a distance"...

If you grew up feeling that Halloween is the BEST holiday of the year ...

And if you believe in right and wrong, and that you should do your best to do right...


Then this is a book for you!

As the cover says, a long awaited major novel by Ray Bradbury. This is the cover of the paperback first printing. Pretty allegorical, huh? I'm assuming that the mirror-maze panel on the left symbolizes the evil "drinking damnation unto himself," or however the quotation runs. The panel on the right symbolizes the gamble that interaction with Cooger & Dark's carnival proves to be. The tall reflection in the middle may symbolize Jim Nightshade's desire to be "grown-up," too soon. Note the carnival's flyer blowing across the gambler's face.

The smartest thing this kid could possibly do would be to turn and run away, eh? But, I believe you can glimpse that this fellow has blond hair--his hair seems a light color. This means that he's Will Halloway, and in turn, this means that his friend Jim Nightshade has probably just run into that treacherous maze ahead of Will.

What other choice does Will have? He has to try to help his friend!

(more tomorrow, kiddies!)

More Creepy Goodies Abound

Well, only one today, kiddies.

Some of you may not have heard of how horror comics from EC "borrowed" some of Ray Bradbury's stories without permission and printed them in their comic books.

That's just what happened! And, when Bradbury found out about it, did he scream and yell and threaten to sue? No, that's not what a gentleman would do.

What he did was, have a meeting with some editors at EC about their "accidental" omission of his story credit and payment. EC wised up real quick and actually worked out a deal for more stories, actually mentioning Bradbury's name as a blurb on several covers!

Now, that's a win-win situation, kiddies!

In 1965, the nice fantasy fiends at Ballantine Books collected Bradbury's EC tales and reprinted them in paperback (black & white, natch!) as "The Autumn People." Stories are:

There Was an Old Woman -- The Screaming Woman -- touch and Go -- The Small Assassin -- The Handler -- The Lake -- The Coffin -- Let's Play Poison.

PLUS ... A foreword by the brave Mr. B himself.

With art by "Ghastly" Engels, Davis, Crandall, et alia, this book was quite a find for youngsters such as ourselves in the way-back times.

Stay tuned for more Brad-Burials tomorrow!

Count Floyd Is a Genius

Ooh, very scary kiddies!

Our first image of Halloween madness is the world's first "instant paperback," produced in 1969 on the death of Boris Karloff (aka William Henry Pratt), the California truck driver and acting stand-in whose "interesting" face was noticed by Jack Pierce, the prima donna of Universal's makeup department, as an interesting face upon which to build the ghastliest monster yet attempted for the silver screen...

Frankenstein's Monster! Karloff died on February 2, 1969, and this book, an anthology of Famous Monsters of Filmland articles, reminiscences, and interviews, came out within a month.

Even more so than the monster craze started by FM and stoked by all the other film magazines; by Eerie, Creepy, and their ilk; more so than the tattered EC comics handed down from uncle or big brother; -- this book legitimized monsters to our parents.

"Junior, why don't you stop reading those monster rags, they'll rot your mind!"

"But mom, this is a serious book about the makings of a complicated movie, with make-up tips and everything! Look! IT'S A BOOK!"

"Well, then, if it's printed in a book ..."

STAY TUNED, KIDDIES, FOR MORE MONSTER MADNESS ...

15 Years Later in STAR TREK

Compare this slick concoction with the Lincoln Enterprises photocopied/mimeo'd cataolg in a previous post. Evidently Paramount learned which side to butter the fannish bread.

This newsletter/update was sent out to fan clubs nationwide. Ever since the early 1970s, when the fan nerds began graduating from college and *gasp* earning a living, their newfound status as money-spenders gave weight to the growing chorus: We want STAR TREK! We want STAR TREK! We want STAR TREK!

Forgetting (if you don't mind) the Animated Series, the on-again, off-again status of the property frustrated fans to no end. So, when the contracts and stars were FINALLY all lined up in the right row, Paramount began stoking the greedy little hearts of fans worldwide with offerings such as this one.

And like a good husband discovering that his beatiful bride snores or laughs funny or .... , we sat there in the audience and took what came, because it was ....STAR TREK.

Back in the Day

Yes, before instant publishing and home computers, before cable TV and video recording, there was a world where you had to actually be home to watch a TV show when it aired.

On the plus side, back then there were also about 8 minutes more TV show and 8 minutes less commercials/station IDs.

And if a TV show became popular, based either on ratings or on fan mail, then a little cottage industry might spring up, put together by a star's studio, agent, or even fan club. These folks would handle mailing out autographed photos, etc.

And if a show became REALLY popular, there might be some money to be made by selling film off the editing-room floor, or extra uniform patches, or ... well, look at the pix.

This Lincoln Enterprises catalog came along after STAR TREK's cancelation. Inside all scripts are offered, up to the end, for $5.50 each. Anyway, have a look at another piece of fandom from the past.

Notice how the text is mimeographed typwriterese? And how the art was just scotch-taped on? This is how it was done in the age when men were men, and women were babes.

You also might notice that the "logo" on the front page (center panel of first image) was actually scissored out from the STAR TREK letterhead and taped onto the catalog page. You can see the original color letterhead below.

Back when sci-fi was a dirty word and STAR TREK had about the status of the Followers of the Sun in "Bread and Circuses," this is how the word got around.

Wanna Be a Member?

That title is taken from the great Betty Boop cartoon, "Bimbo's Initiation." But we're not here to talk about sweet Betty, are we?

Nope, it's time for another Super-Button! It's got an early rendition of ol' Supes by Wayne Boring, from before Wayne went off on his own barrel-chested, "The Chin"-style tangent.

Here's the teeny-tiny writing around the back edge of the button:

BUTTON WORLD MFG. INC. B'KLYN 36 NY OFFICIAL LICENSE COPYRIGHT NATIONAL PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS 1966.
Hey Kids! print it on a sticker and wear your own button! Show how proud you are to be an Official Member Superman Club! (that's what the button says, anyway)

Star Trekkin'

Back when there was only ONE "Star Trek" (was there ever another one?), you could buy this nifty letterhead paper & envelope. I trimmed the scan -- the envelope is really a standard #10 size.

Who Remembers Shrinky Dinks?

For all of the silly-minded out there (like me), NO! "Shrinky Dinks" are NOT what the male members of the Polar Bear Club have 30 seconds after jumping into subfreezing water.

No, Shrinky Dinks were an emotionally charged, high-action, highly involving toy! Y'see, you took these pieces of special paper, colored them, then put them into a hot over, and ...

...they got smaller. Wow, huh. Check out the box. "Provides hours of fun," it says so!

And they say kids never had fun in the old days!

More Fun Food in OKC

Here are a couple of more relics from the distant past when eating places were fun, but did not cost the equivalent of a car downpayment (are you listening, Outback and Hideaway?)

JB Nimble's was the ice cream parlor who offered the Kitchen Sink award featured a couple of days back.


Fred Gang's Meat Market is only a dim memory now, but it really existed -- I stole a couple of napkins!

A Couple More Buttons

In 1956, Republicans wore this button, "I Like Ike and Dick." Note that the back of the button has some kind of union logo.

Could IPEW stand for International Petroleum and Electronics Workers?
Back when you got premiums with cereal, you couldn't beat a Superman pin! found only in Kellogg's "PEP" cereal, a name that has gone away into the sunset, like "Sugar" Frosted Flakes and "Sugar" Smacks.

Lost Treasure of Oklahoma City

When we came to Oklahoma City in the mid 1970s, there were lots of fun places that no longer exist. I didn't even get to visit some of them, such as Molly Murphy's. Others, because we went to OCU in NW OKC, we were more likely to visit.

Shakey's Pizza Parlor was at NW 39th Expressway & May Ave. This yo-yo is electric! It holds a double-A battery, copper contacts, and a small flashlight bulb in each half. When the yo-yo rotates, centrifugal force propels the contacts to connect, making the yo-yo light up! Of course, now the contacts have corroded, and the lights don't work, rats!

J.B. Nimble's Ice Cream Parlor was where NW 63rd St and the Northwest Expressway intersect. Right now I think the site is a car dealership! At any rate, J.B. Nimble's was a "destination," with bright lights, parties going on, and the infamous "Kitchen Sink." This concoction arrived at your table in a roughly 4 x 12-inch dish, said dish being upheld above its base by a miniature U-trap (plumbers take note). Just as it sounds, the Kitchen Sink was a LOT of ice cream, nuts, and toppings. If one person could finish the whole thing, they received the famous Kitchen Sink Award. The mists of time forbid me from remembering which of my cohorts earned the honor.

Wonder Woman Puzzle

Well, if you're like me and can't figure out women, at least here's one that may be easier to figure out.

Super Books !

The Gospel According to Superman is by John T Galloway and came out in 1973, published by A.J. Holman Company, a division of J.B. Lippincott. It covers the familiar equations of Jesus with Kal-El, with the plus of having lots of B & W reprint pages within its small covers.

In Search of a Superman is by Frank Allnutt, "author of the best seller, THE FORCE OF STAR WARS." I'm sure all of us are familiar with that one too. This one isn't even from a "label" of a major publisher, like the first book. This one is "An Omni Book," published by Omni Distributors. It came out in 1979, on the heels of Superman: The Movie.

Both of these books, like the similar 2006 The Gospel According the the World's Greatest Superhero by Stephen Skelton, enunciate (sometimes to tedious length) the intented, and more likely accidental, likenesses and differences between the two.

Readers of National Lampoon in the 1970s may remember the Neal Adams-illustrated Son-o'-God comics that sometimes appeared there.

Of course, similarities are there in nearly every hero tale, since it seems that people have always looked for a hero to rescue them from the trials of this Earth.

I hope you find Him.

Super Cheese!

If you’re a reader of Dial B for Blog --http://www.dialbforblog.com/ -- then you might remember Robby’s “Month of Superman,” wherein he showed off lots of different stuff. When he features “Super Cheese,” he was displaying something I had sent him.

Yes, Superman Imitation Pasteurized Cheese Spread really DID exist. It was produced by the Clearfield Cheese Co. of Curwensville, PA. Although you might not have heard of Clearfield Cheese Co., I guarantee you’re familiar with one of their inventions.

Clearfield Cheese Co. was the dairy that invented single-wrapped cheese slices!

Hey Kids! Here’s how to make your own Superman Cheese box! Copy the picture and paste it onto a legal-size page in the graphics program of your choice. Resize the image to 7 ½ by 13 ½ inches. Print it out, cut and tape it, and voila! Your own Superman Imitation Cheese Spread box!

(cheese sold separately)