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 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?
