Memoir | Kenton Sem

My Creature Features: A Memoir

In 1971, I was a 9-year-old monster kid living in Portage, Indiana. Now there's a confession for you. Not exactly "I was a fugitive from a looney bin," but it'll have to do. The early 70s were an especially good time for monsters, with a resurgence of the original 1960s monster boom going on in the world of popular entertainment, and a revitalized public interest in all things occult (remember those fun, satanic TV-movies of the week like Crowhaven Farm and Don't Be Afraid of the Dark, or the mesmerizing, colorfully gruesome Man, Myth, and Magic series from Time/Life Books?). At the time, I had just discovered the infinite joys of Forrest Ackerman's Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine, the reissued glow-in-the-dark monster models from Aurora, and -- most especially -- my own little bit of personal nirvana that was Creature Features, broadcast every Friday and Saturday night at 10:30 on WGN, Channel 9, out of Chicago.

My parents somehow would magically disappear, leaving me camped out on the living room floor with a blanket and a pillow in front of a tiny, portable black and white TV set equipped with a rabbit ears antenna (it helped reception if you crossed your fingers). I would wait impatiently for the local news to finish up in order that the monsters might hold sway for a little while. Sometimes only a single movie would be shown, but more often than not it was a double feature, like Frankenstein and Son of Dracula, or Frankenstein's Ghost wrapped up with The Mummy's Ghost. Every show started with an extremely cool montage of clips from the old Universal films, perfectly backed by Henry Mancini's eerie instrumental, "Experiment in Terror."

The effect was mesmerizing, to say the least, and it really set the mood for the unwholesome treats which were to follow! So there I'd be every weekend, faithfully soaking up valuable lessons in fear film history, and memorizing useful tidbits like Maria Ospenskaya's gypsy poem from The Wolfman ("Even a man who is pure at heart..."). Here I met the Frankenstein monster and Count Dracula for the first time, while simultaneously developing a deep understanding of the historic importance of mysterious actors like Boris Karloff, Lon Chaney Jr., and Bela Lugosi. I would almost come to think of them as long-lost uncles whose exploits were still recounted at family gatherings. These films became my true childhood lullabies, and I can easily flash back to the comforting feeling of becoming increasingly droopy-eyed as the night wore on, with those wonderful old sound effects -- creaking doors, muffled cries, and snarling beasts -- accompanying me into dreamtime. Even now, the best way for me to watch Dracula is horizontally on the couch after midnight on a Saturday. It's like going back to your old neighborhood and finding out that it hasn't really changed much at all. Even so, and sleepy or not, it wasn't all soothing back in 1971, since being scared was still the main goal. The fact that we lived pretty far out in the woods, next to a large cornfield set along a lonely gravel access road definitely helped to increase my feelings of isolation and vulnerability. I remember convincing myself that if I looked up at the diamond-shaped window set into the front door of our house, I'd see a ghastly pale face peering in at me. Suffice it to say, I rarely looked up at that door, especially alone at night when the monsters were on!

This particular version of Creature Features ( it seemed like most of the larger cities had one) was a little unusual in that it didn't have a live horror host a la Ghoulardi or Zacherle. It only had "The Creature," represented by a drawing of Lon Chaney, Sr. in his memorably frightening getup from the silent film London After Midnight, and voiced from off screen with chilling, echoey menace by WGN announcer Carl Greyson (and later, Marty McNeely).

It's hard to convey to the cable/dvd/YouTube generation the idea that back then you only had several decent channels, snowy reception, and sound coming out of a tiny tin speaker. There was no such thing as renting or buying the movies at the local video store (although you might be able to purchase short clips from the films for your 8mm home projector from places like Captain Company, who advertised in the back pages of Famous Monsters ). Coming across these films on the mysterious airwaves of late night television was more than an event; it was a special ritual. Even more importantly, the Creature Features films made me seek out the novels that they were based on, and Bram Stoker and Mary Shelly quickly pointed the way to H.P. Lovecraft and R.E. Howard.

Eventually, I'd discover more physically active horror hosts like Svengoolie (Jerry G. Bishop) on WFLD -- also out of Chicago -- and Dr Shock (Joe Zawislak) on Philadelphia's WPHL. Svengoolie was kind of like an undead hippy, with goatee, sunglasses and long, dark hair, and the Dr. was based (with permission) on the "Cool Ghoul," John Zacherle. While these characters provided fine, demented fun in their own right, they were still no match for those eerie, atmospheric late night excursions with The Creature that made such an impression on me.