Recollections Of The Famous Monsters Convention In 1974

It was forty years ago,on the eve of my twentieth birthday, that I stepped off the train at Grand Central Station to attend my first horror film convention.Yet,there I was all by my lonesome in the Big Apple, as green as an ear of baby corn, on my way to the Commodore Hotel where the convention was being held. My first big adventure!

It all began  in 1974 when I read an ad in Famous Monsters magazine about their first Convention. I'd read about film conventions but had never been to one. Coincidentally, the event was being held on the weekend of my birthday. You could say it was serendipitous; at least I thought so. But here it was, my big chance to hang out for an entire weekend with people who like myself, dug the horror and science-fiction film genre and meet people like Jim Warren, Forry Ackerman and makeup artist Verne Langdon; names that were familiar to me through the pages of Famous Monsters magazine.

I spent months saving enough money from my job working in the toy department of J.C Penny to cover train fare, a room at the hotel for three days and other expenses. However, and this is a big however, fate dealt me a blow in the form of my car needing a new set of brakes. There I was with a huge decision hanging over my head: do I get new brakes put on my car or do I say "screw it" and go to the convention anyway? Being young and not very responsible I opted to travel to New York for the weekend  and worry about my car when I came back. I ended up borrowing the money from my Dad who was none too pleased that I had spent my funds on a"Spook Show"as he called it, as opposed to getting my car repaired. To me it was totally worth it,because I had the time of my life that weekend.

So there I was, all wide eyed and innocent, trying to find my way to the subway station to get to 34th Street Station, then to the  Commodore Hotel.  As I descended down the stairs to the subway station, all of the sudden, I heard a bell go off(it was eleven 'o'clock) and immediately I was surrounded by a sea of commuters. I felt like I was floating in an ocean of people as we wound our way down the steps and onto the platform. Never having ridden on a subway train before, it was sort of scary because at one point, the lights began to flicker on and off and then for a second or two the train became totally dark.  The lights came back on again and the train continued  to it's destination. Once I arrived at the hotel, I checked in, went to my room to quickly unpack and then go to the convention to join in the festivities.

I have to interrupt at this point by mentioning that here I was, a testosterone fueled, almost twenty year old male, alone in New York City. I had,at that time,read a book on how to pick up women. Now that I was on my own in The Big Apple, well, I was ready to put into practice everything I had gleaned from this book that guaranteed my sexual success with any women I met. Oh to be young, twenty and gullible again. Not!

Anyhoo, I had read in one of the books chapters that the bellhop in a hotel knew where the women were and if you tipped him properly, he'd help you in your quest. I forked over a five dollar bill and asked, trying to appear as cool and as worldly as possible, where I could find some women. Yeah. Right.  If I were any more naive  you could have hung a neon "Here Comes The Bumpkin" sign over my head. He pocketed my five dollars and pointing to the street below said that there were women on any street corner. All I had to do was look. A fat lot of help he was. And that lousy book was little to no help either.  Oh well, live and learn.

 But getting back to my story: once inside the large darkened room where Forry Ackerman was about to speak, I noticed a rather tall fellow standing next to me; it was none other than The Ackermonster himself. There I was, trying to gather up enough nerve to say something to a man I considered to be one of my hero's and I couldn't even manage to squeak out a pitiful," Hello Forry." and watched as he walked up to the dais to deliver his welcome speech to all the attendees. Though luckily, during the course of the weekend I not only conversed with him on a couple of occasions, I also got his autograph as well.

During that memorable weekend, I made friends with many of my fellow monster fans; friendships that for  one reason or another never endured. Oh, you'd see them at another convention or maybe get together once or twice, call each other on the phone or correspond through letters; but a few years later it was if they dropped off the earth. And yet, unlike my other friends, my "monster friends" got what the hobby was all about. You didn't have to explain  to them who Roger Corman was or the nuances of your favorite horror and science-fiction films. It's great when you share a hobby with like minded people. One of my favorite memories was when a group of us sat in the lobby of the Commodore Hotel talking about horror and science-fiction films until one in the morning;it doesn't get any better than that.

And then there was the dealers room  where I saw people selling movie posters, pressbooks,lobby cards; there was all kinds of paper,film and film collectibles. I had just begun collecting horror and science-fiction movie memorabilia, so there I was, drooling over the many dealers tables overflowing with collectible goodies as the money was burning a hole in my pocket. I was in Nirvana.

While I'm reminiscing , I became acquainted with a tall, mustachioed fellow from Philadelphia named John, who being all of twenty five, took the time and the trouble to hang out with me one evening and introduce me to the wonders of Times Square. He treated me like his younger brother and we visited video arcades and various strip clubs, while warning me about which places to go to and which ones  to avoid. We decided not to go into those strip clubs that had an expensive cover charge and finally found ourselves  going inside a club that had no entrance fee.

As we ogled the big breasted topless dancers, John ordered a whiskey sour and I requested a Singapore sling(my favorite mixed drink at the time.). The bartender informed us that they served only beer and soda. My friend ordered a Budweiser and I asked for a Miller. The bartender said they only had Ex Beer and soda. For the uninitiated, Ex Beer (I don't know if it still exists )was a non alcoholic beer that cost 55 cents a bottle. We asked how much for the beer and the bartender replied three dollars. John and I decided soda was the way to go and found out that the soda also cost three dollars. So that's why there was no cover charge! We drank our three dollar beers and continued  to ogle  the topless dancers with the large breasts before exiting the place.

The following year, in 1975, I saw my friend John again at the second Famous Monsters Convention and a year later, bumped into him at a twenty four hour Horror and Science-Fiction film festival in Philadelphia We watched a few movies together before I had to go home at 7:00 in the morning because my Mom needed to borrow the car. I suggested we get together and hang out since Delaware wasn't that far from Philadelphia. John said we'd see each other at the next Famous Monsters Convention and I left it at that. Unfortunately, there wouldn't be another Famous Monsters Convention and I never saw my friend again, but I'll never forget him.

It was The Famous Monsters Convention I met producer Sam Sherman( Dracula Vs Frankenstein, Brain Of Blood and Blood Of Ghastly Horror to name a few.) and spoke to him at length about independent, low budget horror films. At one point we bumped into each other and Sam mentioned he was looking for Forry Ackerman, so I tagged along with him as we conversed about the opulence of the Commodore Hotel. We caught up to Forry,who was being interviewed, so Sam and I went back to the Convention.

Another time, a roomful of us were watching  The Bride Of Frankenstein during a showing of vintage monster movies. After the scene where  hermit thanks God for his new friend, the Frankenstein monster, had ended, the entire room stood up and applauded. I remember wondering what would director James Whale and Boris Karloff have thought if they had been in that room with us, seeing our reaction to a film they made back in 1935. At the same time, I felt a sense of camaraderie; nobody I knew back in Delaware would have reacted to a horror film in this manner, much less understood why we did.

But alas, all good things must come to an end and on Tuesday morning I was heading back to Delaware, carrying with me a weekend of indelible memories . And yes, I foolishly tried to convey to my friend Larry the happy events I experienced, but like all non fans, his eyes glazed over and he mumbled something insincere like " Sounds like you had fun." But no matter. I had a great weekend,met some really cool people and enjoyed myself immensely. Who cares if he didn't get it?

Horror and Science-Fiction Conventions : The Celebrity's Latest Cash Cow.

 Here I am with Paul Picerni .who played the detective in 1953's              
House Of Wax,not to be confused with the wretched 2005 remake.         
                                                               

 A friend of mine recently told me that he went to comic book convention where actor Norman Reedus (of the hit TV show The Walking Dead) was charging over two hundred dollars for his autograph, a picture taken with him, plus a ten minutes conversation. Yikes! And that ain't all, folks. Patrick Stewart of Star Trek: The Next Generation fame, commands one hundred dollars for his autograph and ten more dollars for a picture with him. 

No thanks Norman, I'll happily watch interviews with you on You Tube for free. And Patrick, I can live without your autograph. I really can.

It's a trend I've been noticing since the late 1990's; movie stars charging outrageous amounts of money for an autograph or picture taken with them. You see, I remember a time when they charged either nothing or a small fee, like five or ten dollars. When Linda Blair charged ten dollars to sign my Japanese mini poster of The Exorcist plus posing for a photo with me, the money went to an animal rights agency, not her pocket. Dee Wallace( The Howling, E.T) said her autograph was five dollars,but was apologetic about it,which I thought was rather sweet and endearing.

These days, many of the other celebrities I've encountered sit at their table along side their manager stuffing the convention goers money in a lock box. Why not place a cash register on the table instead?  I was surprised when director John Landis( An American Werewolf In London, Amazon Women On The Moon,ect) was charging thirty five dollars for his autograph. I mean, with all the high profile movies he's made the man has to be quite wealthy.  Does Landis  need  the money that badly? He ought to sit outside the hotel with a tin cup and a sign reading: Need money. Give what you can.  Yes sir, it's greed on parade and it ain't very pretty.

And how about Sid Haig? Before his runaway success as Captain Spaulding in House Of 1000 Corpses and The Devils Rejects, he was a cult actor who starred in dozens of drive-in fodder movies in the 1970's and 1980's. Back in those days, Haig would have probably been thrilled to death to have someone come up to him and ask for his autograph. However,since his sudden success,he now commands $20.00. Maybe his fee has increased as of this posting. You know, when you factor in inflation and the economy.

To add insult to injury, Tony Moran(brother of  the late Erin Moran who played Joanie on Happy Days) was in the film Halloween for a few seconds. He was the face of the unmasked Michael Myers. Yet, despite this micro bit part, Moran signs photos of himself from the film and has the nerve to charge money for his autograph.  He was in the film for a couple of seconds, for Christ's sake! That's hardly a starring role. I wouldn't give him a stick of gum in exchange for his autograph, much less $20.00.

As you can imagine, the vendors at  these conventions are none to pleased with all of this, because after the fans have spent money to enter the event and then shelling out more money to obtain autographs from their favorite actors and actress's, there's not a whole lot to spend at the vendors tables. And they pay a pretty hefty fee to set up tables at these conventions. Now  here's the kicker: the conventions pay for the celebrity's air fare, hotel accommodations and, I've been told ,their food as well. So in addition to all of this, the celebrities charge exorbitant prices for their autographs? The fans, being the sheep that they are, gladly fork over the money without complaining.

     Yours truly and actress Kelly Stables in 2005  who was 
     known as the little dead girl in The Ring  before going
    on to co- star in Two And A Half Men and The Exes.
      You're not going to believe this, but someone saw this
              picture and thought Kelly was my girlfriend. I  reluctantly
           admitted she wasn't, though I was sorely tempted to lie. 
                     Believe me folks, when it comes to women I'm not that lucky.

         

It's gotten to the point where I'm wary of approaching a celebrity just to say hi because they might want to sell me an autograph. It used to be that you went up to a celebrity, they'd shake your hand. Nowadays when they extend their hand, it's to take your money. So I've stopped attending to horror/science-fiction conventions because it's no longer about the fans, it's about how much money celebrities can suck out of a fans wallet. For me, it's just not fun anymore.

*Update 2017.

Well folks, it was bound to happened. The cost for an autograph and a picture with your favorite celebrity has gone up. Nowadays, there are two sets of prices: $30.00 for a signed autograph and $30.00 for a picture with them or(and this is a real deal) $50.00 for both!  So when you go to these conventions be sure to bring plenty of money with you because you're sure gonna need it. Hell, maybe even take out a loan to cover expenses. Naturally, the the fans, or sheeple as I call them, will gladly hand over the cash without protest. To which I say: shame on them.

The late actor Ed Kemmer (TV's Space Patrol and the horror film The Spider)  never charged for his autograph. He said that signing an autograph for a fan was a privilege. It's not that way in this day and age, sad to say. As I said previously, conventions just aren't fun anymore. It's all about the money and not the fans.

Are Monster Kids Normal?

In the days before VHS and DVD's, we collected
Super8 versions of our favorite monster films .

As I mentioned before, my father took a dim view of my hobby. He couldn't as well as wouldn't attempt to understand why I was so incredibly fascinated with books and movies that dealt with the macabre or creatures from another world. For many years he would ask in a loud tone of voice, aching with disapproval," Why can't you be normal?" Which of course, makes me ponder the concept of normal.

You see, the word fan is derived from fanatic meaning : A person marked or motivated by an extreme,unreasoning enthusiasm,as for a cause. So when you see grown men at a football game, their faces and torso's painted to reflect the colors of their favorite team as they dance and holler
(after hoisting a few brews) like a bunch of yahoo's; they're  fanatics or fans for short. To my Dad, that was perfectly acceptable. In others words: his version of normal.

 When I was either eleven or twelve, Sister Florence Joseph,who knew of my lack of interest in sports, was my teacher in Parochial school  and was of the opinion that any normal red blooded American boy should be eager to engage in athletics. She convinced my parents  that enrolling me in Saturday Basket Ball practice would somehow, some way, imbue in me a love of  sports. Nice try people. Wasn't going to happen. So for the next bunch of Saturdays I attended basketball practice with  the same enthusiasm as if I'd stayed home and spent the day polishing the silverware. I spent more time talking with the coaches sons, who were watching the rest of us playing basketball, than I did spending quality time with an actual basketball.

Now here's the kicker: at the end of the school year, yours truly, and remember I showed little to no interest in basketball practice, was invited to a Sports Banquet! The other boys in my class who actually participated in the basketball ritual were God smacked. Several of them voiced their discontent to Sister Florence Joseph. One kid stated," All Joe ever did was sit around and talk. He never played basketball with us." But she was adamant; I was invited to the sports banquet and that was that. Perhaps the she felt that my attending a sports banquet would maybe, might, perhaps bring out a deep down, suppressed interest in sports that dwelled within  me after all. That poor, misguided woman.

My interest in the Banquet was so minimal that I told my parents about it the day I was to go. Boy, were they mad at me. But I got dressed up and was carted off to an event that included overcooked roast beef and an amateur, cut rate magician(probably the husband of one of the teachers) who valiantly struggled to perform his magic act before an obviously unimpressed audience. There was  a flurry of polite applause at the end of his so called act. After the dismal affair ended,  my  mom picked me up and took me back home. Basically, all I got out of that damned evening was a bland dinner and the antics of a piss poor magician. Ah, memories.

As long as we're talking about normal hobbies and interests, is someone who collects monster movie memorabilia and enjoys watching horror and science-fiction movies any less normal that the person who collects football cards, tacks up pictures of his favorites players on the wall of his bedroom and can rattle off a litany of football stats of his favorite team? Not in my book it isn't. A fan is a fan,no matter what his or her passion happens to be. As I like to say:whatever revs your engine.

And every hobby has it own special culture. Back in the day, when every Sunday Newspaper contained a TV supplement for the week, I would go to the movie listings and mark off all of the horror/science fiction films with a pen. I knew I couldn't possibly see them all, but I saw as many as I was able to. Years later, when I shared an apartment with my friend Larry, he noticed one Sunday that I was circling the horror/ science-fiction films that were on TV that week. He asked me why I wasn't circling any comedies or dramas. I said something like, " Because I know there's always a comedy or drama showing on TV." I don't know why, but I couldn't verbalize at the time that to me horror and science-fiction movies were something special. It's also a part of the culture,because I knew other horror and science-fiction fans who performed that very same ritual every Sunday.

So whether you  collect elephant figurines and have voraciously read any and all books on the subject,or have obtained every record of your favorite band and can tell anyone who will listen the entire history of of each of the members, or like myself, someone with an appreciation of the horror/science-fiction genre; then you're a fan. And everyone should be passionate about something; it makes life interesting.

In the 1960's and the 1970's there was a plethora of monster goodies that we Monster Kids has to choose from.

My Thoughts on Being A Monster Kid .

                         

                  Here I am as The Voodoo Child at a 1974 Halloween Party.     

Here I am, almost sixty years old and I'm referring to myself as a  Monster Kid. Now for those of you out there who have no idea what a Monster Kid is, well, an explanation is in order. A Monster Kid is someone who grew up in the late fifties to the late sixties, when Monster Movie Magazines, Monster toys, Monster model kits, wallets and notebook covers emblazoned with a Universal monster on them, Super 8 condensed versions of your favorite monster movies,and other such goodies were plentiful. Someone once referred to these years as the Golden Age of  Movie Monster Merchandise. We Monster Kids had it all.

You know, my poor Dad would be rolling over in his grave if he could hear me calling myself a Monster Kid. He never really understood horror and science-fiction films or for that matter, why anyone would want to watch them. All through my childhood and teenage years, he called them " goofy movies". Which of course, made me love those kinds of movies all the more. I truly believe if he had said nothing and had not constantly hooted down and jeered at my monster hobby, my interest  might have ran it's course and I would have moved on to something else. But his disapproval  made my attachment to the strange, fantastic films that inspired both awe and wonder in me even stronger.

My monster hobby even help pull me through some tough times in my personal life. My parents, and I have to blunt about this, were two people who should have never gotten married in the first place. The reason they stayed together was a rather stupid one: for my brother and I. It's not a good thing having a family unit when the husband and the wife are always fighting. Oh, they'd get along for brief periods, but they argued more times than not. Add drinking(on both their parts) and domestic violence(my Dad was an abusive man) and you had a situation where divorce was the only sensible solution. My Dad once said in an attempt to me feel guilty, " I stayed with your Mother for you and your brother." My reply was ," You didn't do us any favors."

My monster hobby actually helped me through some of the unpleasant periods in my young life . One time, my parents were spending the day arguing back and forth about some such shit. It seemingly went on for hours. At one point, I went out to get the mail and much to my surprise there was the first issue of Monster World in the mailbox that I'd ordered from an ad I found in the back pages of Famous Monsters Magazine. Immediately I went into the rec room and began devouring the contents of the magazine. Although my parents had stopped their petty bickering,the tension in our house was so palpable, if anyone had dropped by to visit on that day they would have felt it immediately.

But there I was, happily reading my monster magazine when my brother Mike came to me and asked," With all of this going on, how can you sit there reading ?"  I replied something along the lines of," I just want to read my magazine." In other words, this was my escape from my parents drama. At the age of fourteen I didn't possess the proper tools to cope with my Mom and Dads inability to pull their disintegrating marriage together. Since there was no one else in my family to turn to(my Aunts, Uncles and Grandparents weren't worth the powder to blow them to hell) and no support groups existed back then, I was left on my own; refuge into the world of  monsters, robots and the supernatural was my way of dealing with the situation. But, I'm damn sure there are other Monster Kids out there with similar stories, so I'm not trying to elicit sympathy from anyone. I'm simply telling you where I've been.

But, getting that off my chest , I have to admit that through the fifty some years of being a Monster Kid, I've had a lot of fun, whether going to monster movie conventions and meeting like minded individuals like myself or seeing the latest horror or science-fiction film at a movie theatre (when  theatres showed real 35mm film prints and not DVDs), or acquiring a piece of movie memorabilia for my collection. And while I've known people besides my Dad who don't get my enthusiastic appreciation of the horror/science fiction genre, well, that's their problem and not mine. I'm a Monster Kid and proud of it. End of story.