Kirk Demarais's Blog, page 2
October 28, 2018
HALLOWEEN 2018
Greetings internet traveler! I just want to commemorate this Halloween season with a rundown of how things have played out this year. It's been a different type of season for me because this is the first Halloween in nine years that I've had a full time, day-to-day job as opposed to a precarious freelance lifestyle. This has created the classic time vs. money conundrum. Last year I was able to review a different vintage Halloween cassette every single day in October, while this year work-related time constraints kept me from crossing off several major items from my annual list of Halloween goals. (I discovered a couple years ago that lists can help keep the Halloween magic from slipping through my fingers.) Here's how it went...
1. Decorate house for Halloween Done 2.Go on October trip to Toronto3. Go to Chicago toy show Both were not prudent given my work situation
4. Go to a Halloween event See below
5. See a horror movie in the theater
Saw Halloween (2018)
6.Make my Halloween mood table No, but my house evokes a strong Halloween mood this year
7. Drive to a nearby town and go Halloween shopping Went to several
8. Play a Halloween themed video game
I started playing Fortnite to bond with my son earlier this year. Then I kept playing. This October it became Halloween themed
9.Read an 80s horror paperback
Didn't make the time
10. Watch my pre-selected Halloween movie pile
Got through almost all of it. It included things like: WNUF Halloween Special, Trick 'r Treat, Hereditary, Channel Zero: Candlestick Cove, Ghost Stories, Ghost Story, Return of the Living Dead, Mandy, The Town that Dreaded Sundown, Phantasm III and more
11. Have friends over to watch scary things Yes, two friends came over on two different nights and watched IT (2017), and Carrie respectively 12. Create something with a Halloween theme See Below
13. Make a Halloween blog post Work in progress
14. Celebrate Halloween with my family Still to come
It was a work-related errand that kicked off my "pre-Halloween" back in September. I wandered into Lowe's on a Wednesday morning and lit up when I saw a fresh display spooks sitting on hay bales. I picked up my very first life-size plastic skeleton, the kind that GLOWS IN THE DARK. The Lowe's manager lady gave a triumphant shout across the store and declared that I had bought the first Halloween item of the year. Other customers chuckled when I laid him on the floor in front of the cash register. In the parking lot yet another lady made a joke as I was putting him into the passenger seat of the truck. With expert timing I retorted, "Now I have someone to talk to." and a group of shoppers all laughed. It felt like I was in a movie where the happy-go-lucky character has the perfect skeleton buying experience while the opening credits pop on and off the screen.
A week later the skeleton was accompanied by a plastic light-up Jack-o-lantern. I found it at the Tulsa flea market and it has all sorts of sentimental value for me. First, my uncle stored his Matchbox cars and plastic toys in a treat bucket of this very same design. So I would dump out this pumpkin head during nearly every childhood visit to my grandmother's house. It also still has its $1.47 Woolco price tag stuck to it...
And best of all, the man who sold it to me said it was a classroom decoration for years. It has a masking taped label on the bottom that says "[Something] Boys & Girls, Salina, KS" I think Wootos may be a teacher's name, and it's dated Oct. 26, 1975.
I was about to pay for it when I saw this on the floor under the table...
It's the Kay Lande and Wade Denning Halloween classroom record! It includes the song "Halloween" that we sang in grade school Music class, and was the official theme song for the holiday in my mind. The digital version of this has been my go-to every year since I discovered it on the legendary Scar Stuff blog. It's a great, not-too-scary album that I could play for my son when he was very little.
It's quite possible that this record was stored alongside the jack-o-lantern, only to emerge once a year into a room of lucky children. Those pumpkin eyes probably saw costumed kids dancing to the record on chilly Kansas mornings year after year. Sigh.
September also found me on the ebay, searching for collectible reminders of forgotten Halloween memories. This cloaked skeleton figure popped up...
It's not a toy, or a decoration per se, but more of a craft item for the doll collecting set. I closed the tab and moved on. Yet, obviously I own it now, so what happened? Well, it popped up in another one of my search results and I started thinking about it. It's from 1987, and it reminds me of the sort of thing that might have caught my attention when I was a kid on shopping days when my mom would drag me from store to store. Her stores catered to moms of course, so sometimes anything distantly toy-like was all there was to focus on during the endless visits. Halloween expanded the possibilities. It could be something like a stuffed black cat, or a felt monster, or a witch cake decoration. But I liked this concept of Halloween fun for moms and grandmas.
It still has a tag on it that mentions the Virginian sisters who made it. That caused me to imagine their whole brainstorming session behind the skeleton man. Two sisters sitting in Virginia in 1987 (or '86 if they had a lot of lead time) discussing their upcoming collectible Halloween dolls. This delights me. Then I wondered what I was doing on that day. I also wonder who bought it, and why it reeks of cigarette smoke and perfume.
I was also struck by his little flannel shirt sleeves. This clearly isn't a grim reaper, but an adult wearing a handmade costume of his own design. The bones look hastily painted on the smock, and I can't tell who's craftsmanship that reflects, the doll maker or the doll's. This flannel-and-jeans wearing guy was probably working the 1987 jaycee's haunted house. This portrayal of a homemade haunter also stuck with me. All of these thoughts motivated me to bid, and when I finally did, I grew terrified that I'd lose the auction. (Turns out I had no competition.)
A couple weeks later I got a call from good ol' Mike Becker of Funko fame. He said he was planning a Halloween fundraiser called Monster Mask-O-Raid, and he was seeking vintage Halloween photos, as well as artwork for the show. Thanks to my new job I have access to screen printing equipment, which is an art form that has eluded me all my life. In a moment of revelation, I decided to combine my desire to screen print with this art opportunity, and the spark of inspiration was none other than the flannel shirt-wearing grim reaper.
I spent a couple weeks brainstorming, sketching, and finalizing my design which turned into a series of die cut-style Halloween decorations featuring the skeleton man and his decorated neighborhood.
The night before my shipping deadline I bribed a college student with a pizza dinner in exchange for supervising me as I attempted to ink my first designs. (I had already called in other favors earlier in the week to get assistance with printing the transparent film and burning the screens.) The first batch was a success! My goal was to make a series of 25 sets of three.
After my pizza-fed student teacher left I started having trouble with the black ink. My sets dwindled as the ink bled and dried in all the wrong places. Feeling defeated, I decided to stop before I ruined all my orange prints. Then it dawned on me that if I could salvage just one of each design I could submit a single complete set of three. That's what I did, and here's how they turned out...
The mask on the kid is based on a real mask that I saw on one of my old blog posts about a Traveler's Novelty Catalog. (Bottom left)
Just like this Halloween season itself, I didn't live up to my own grand plan, but I'm still very happy with the outcome.
One thing that did turn out right was number four on my list...4. Go to a Halloween event
There's a cave in Missouri that's been showing spooky movies inside it around Halloween. (In previous years they've put on a spook house in the cave, which also sounds neat.) Their sign is good too...
The exterior is pretty well decorated which gave us a jolt of Halloween magic...
I took my son to see Beetlejuice, which was his first time to see it. When it was over he looked around and said, "Oh, yeah, I forgot we were in a cave." It was a uniquely surreal experience. Water from the ceiling dripped on me several times. Maybe next year I'll see a horror show there. They screen The Descent (2005) on Halloween night.
Yesterday was another Halloween-ish time spent at a corn maze and pumpkin patch...
Those were my most notable events this month. The weather was super hot in early October, then it turned crazy cold and rainy a couple weeks ago. There were quite a few nice and gloomy days. These offered plenty of smile-inducing moments like picking up my pizza order at the service station and seeing this guy hanging in the window.
I also got my most popular ever Twitter post with this video and the caption:
"The Halloween decoration I hung outside my own window has legitimately terrified me three times now."
which is very true...
There was also a lot of shopping. Flea markets...
And Target, where you can find an official Mego Frankenstein action figure in the year 2018!..
Last year the big challenge was finding the plastic Skeleton Army that was being sold in some Dollar General stores. My twitter feed was full of boastful people lording them over me. I went to a half dozen locations before I was finally able to track them down in the next town over. This year they followed with a Mummy Army and I was poised for another hunt, but apparently the success of the skeletons convinced them to put the mummies in nearly every location.
But most of my shopping was online. Like this amazing skeleton from Boss Fight Studio that I found thanks to a tip from a twitter pal, The Pathologist...
And this British import of the mini Stretch X-Ray! Thanks to a tip from another Twitter pal.
And yet another Twitter pal, Andy Nyman, sent me this superb dime store "Lochness Monster," also from the UK!
There's also these (which came from a store, now that I think about it.)
I couldn't resist the amazingly ridiculous, ridiculously amazing Savage World horror figures from Funko...
And light-up Halloween III pins from Camera Viscera...
But my favorite of all Halloween products this year is this perfect Beistle skeleton blanket from Creepy Company.
Welp, it's late and I should post this so I can get back to work. I'll leave you with some pics of graveyards and moons from this season. Happy Halloween!
1. Decorate house for Halloween Done 2.
4. Go to a Halloween event See below
5. See a horror movie in the theater
Saw Halloween (2018)
6.
7. Drive to a nearby town and go Halloween shopping Went to several
8. Play a Halloween themed video game
I started playing Fortnite to bond with my son earlier this year. Then I kept playing. This October it became Halloween themed
9.
10. Watch my pre-selected Halloween movie pile
Got through almost all of it. It included things like: WNUF Halloween Special, Trick 'r Treat, Hereditary, Channel Zero: Candlestick Cove, Ghost Stories, Ghost Story, Return of the Living Dead, Mandy, The Town that Dreaded Sundown, Phantasm III and more
11. Have friends over to watch scary things Yes, two friends came over on two different nights and watched IT (2017), and Carrie respectively 12. Create something with a Halloween theme See Below
13. Make a Halloween blog post Work in progress
14. Celebrate Halloween with my family Still to come
It was a work-related errand that kicked off my "pre-Halloween" back in September. I wandered into Lowe's on a Wednesday morning and lit up when I saw a fresh display spooks sitting on hay bales. I picked up my very first life-size plastic skeleton, the kind that GLOWS IN THE DARK. The Lowe's manager lady gave a triumphant shout across the store and declared that I had bought the first Halloween item of the year. Other customers chuckled when I laid him on the floor in front of the cash register. In the parking lot yet another lady made a joke as I was putting him into the passenger seat of the truck. With expert timing I retorted, "Now I have someone to talk to." and a group of shoppers all laughed. It felt like I was in a movie where the happy-go-lucky character has the perfect skeleton buying experience while the opening credits pop on and off the screen.
A week later the skeleton was accompanied by a plastic light-up Jack-o-lantern. I found it at the Tulsa flea market and it has all sorts of sentimental value for me. First, my uncle stored his Matchbox cars and plastic toys in a treat bucket of this very same design. So I would dump out this pumpkin head during nearly every childhood visit to my grandmother's house. It also still has its $1.47 Woolco price tag stuck to it...
And best of all, the man who sold it to me said it was a classroom decoration for years. It has a masking taped label on the bottom that says "[Something] Boys & Girls, Salina, KS" I think Wootos may be a teacher's name, and it's dated Oct. 26, 1975.
I was about to pay for it when I saw this on the floor under the table...
It's the Kay Lande and Wade Denning Halloween classroom record! It includes the song "Halloween" that we sang in grade school Music class, and was the official theme song for the holiday in my mind. The digital version of this has been my go-to every year since I discovered it on the legendary Scar Stuff blog. It's a great, not-too-scary album that I could play for my son when he was very little.
It's quite possible that this record was stored alongside the jack-o-lantern, only to emerge once a year into a room of lucky children. Those pumpkin eyes probably saw costumed kids dancing to the record on chilly Kansas mornings year after year. Sigh.
September also found me on the ebay, searching for collectible reminders of forgotten Halloween memories. This cloaked skeleton figure popped up...
It's not a toy, or a decoration per se, but more of a craft item for the doll collecting set. I closed the tab and moved on. Yet, obviously I own it now, so what happened? Well, it popped up in another one of my search results and I started thinking about it. It's from 1987, and it reminds me of the sort of thing that might have caught my attention when I was a kid on shopping days when my mom would drag me from store to store. Her stores catered to moms of course, so sometimes anything distantly toy-like was all there was to focus on during the endless visits. Halloween expanded the possibilities. It could be something like a stuffed black cat, or a felt monster, or a witch cake decoration. But I liked this concept of Halloween fun for moms and grandmas.
It still has a tag on it that mentions the Virginian sisters who made it. That caused me to imagine their whole brainstorming session behind the skeleton man. Two sisters sitting in Virginia in 1987 (or '86 if they had a lot of lead time) discussing their upcoming collectible Halloween dolls. This delights me. Then I wondered what I was doing on that day. I also wonder who bought it, and why it reeks of cigarette smoke and perfume.
I was also struck by his little flannel shirt sleeves. This clearly isn't a grim reaper, but an adult wearing a handmade costume of his own design. The bones look hastily painted on the smock, and I can't tell who's craftsmanship that reflects, the doll maker or the doll's. This flannel-and-jeans wearing guy was probably working the 1987 jaycee's haunted house. This portrayal of a homemade haunter also stuck with me. All of these thoughts motivated me to bid, and when I finally did, I grew terrified that I'd lose the auction. (Turns out I had no competition.)
A couple weeks later I got a call from good ol' Mike Becker of Funko fame. He said he was planning a Halloween fundraiser called Monster Mask-O-Raid, and he was seeking vintage Halloween photos, as well as artwork for the show. Thanks to my new job I have access to screen printing equipment, which is an art form that has eluded me all my life. In a moment of revelation, I decided to combine my desire to screen print with this art opportunity, and the spark of inspiration was none other than the flannel shirt-wearing grim reaper.
I spent a couple weeks brainstorming, sketching, and finalizing my design which turned into a series of die cut-style Halloween decorations featuring the skeleton man and his decorated neighborhood.
The night before my shipping deadline I bribed a college student with a pizza dinner in exchange for supervising me as I attempted to ink my first designs. (I had already called in other favors earlier in the week to get assistance with printing the transparent film and burning the screens.) The first batch was a success! My goal was to make a series of 25 sets of three.
After my pizza-fed student teacher left I started having trouble with the black ink. My sets dwindled as the ink bled and dried in all the wrong places. Feeling defeated, I decided to stop before I ruined all my orange prints. Then it dawned on me that if I could salvage just one of each design I could submit a single complete set of three. That's what I did, and here's how they turned out...
The mask on the kid is based on a real mask that I saw on one of my old blog posts about a Traveler's Novelty Catalog. (Bottom left)
Just like this Halloween season itself, I didn't live up to my own grand plan, but I'm still very happy with the outcome.
One thing that did turn out right was number four on my list...4. Go to a Halloween event
There's a cave in Missouri that's been showing spooky movies inside it around Halloween. (In previous years they've put on a spook house in the cave, which also sounds neat.) Their sign is good too...
The exterior is pretty well decorated which gave us a jolt of Halloween magic...
I took my son to see Beetlejuice, which was his first time to see it. When it was over he looked around and said, "Oh, yeah, I forgot we were in a cave." It was a uniquely surreal experience. Water from the ceiling dripped on me several times. Maybe next year I'll see a horror show there. They screen The Descent (2005) on Halloween night.
Yesterday was another Halloween-ish time spent at a corn maze and pumpkin patch...
Those were my most notable events this month. The weather was super hot in early October, then it turned crazy cold and rainy a couple weeks ago. There were quite a few nice and gloomy days. These offered plenty of smile-inducing moments like picking up my pizza order at the service station and seeing this guy hanging in the window.
I also got my most popular ever Twitter post with this video and the caption:
"The Halloween decoration I hung outside my own window has legitimately terrified me three times now."
which is very true...
There was also a lot of shopping. Flea markets...
And Target, where you can find an official Mego Frankenstein action figure in the year 2018!..
Last year the big challenge was finding the plastic Skeleton Army that was being sold in some Dollar General stores. My twitter feed was full of boastful people lording them over me. I went to a half dozen locations before I was finally able to track them down in the next town over. This year they followed with a Mummy Army and I was poised for another hunt, but apparently the success of the skeletons convinced them to put the mummies in nearly every location.
But most of my shopping was online. Like this amazing skeleton from Boss Fight Studio that I found thanks to a tip from a twitter pal, The Pathologist...
And this British import of the mini Stretch X-Ray! Thanks to a tip from another Twitter pal.
And yet another Twitter pal, Andy Nyman, sent me this superb dime store "Lochness Monster," also from the UK!
There's also these (which came from a store, now that I think about it.)
I couldn't resist the amazingly ridiculous, ridiculously amazing Savage World horror figures from Funko...
And light-up Halloween III pins from Camera Viscera...
But my favorite of all Halloween products this year is this perfect Beistle skeleton blanket from Creepy Company.
Welp, it's late and I should post this so I can get back to work. I'll leave you with some pics of graveyards and moons from this season. Happy Halloween!
August 9, 2018
THE LOST ROAD TRIPS: PART III- NYC VIA TENNESSEE AND WILDWOOD, NJ
“The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream.”
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road: The Original Scroll
Starting a blog posts with a literary quote is a first for me, but I've been thinking about the connection between dreams and road trips. It's simple: I often dream about road trips, and road trips often feel like dreams. Certain destinations seem to have built a permanent spot in my dream world. There are also several imaginary locations that I revisit again and again.
It makes sense, considering the impact that travel has on our psyche. We interrupt the flow of our daily lives to carve out a journey that offers a constant stream of new stimuli, sometimes visiting places that stop at nothing to amuse and delight. When I'm on a trip I'm well aware that the day I'm living will likely be imprinted in my head until death. Trips are my mental benchmarks that help me sort out the years. It's no wonder that the places we visit almost take on a spiritual significance. (Neil Gaiman's book "American Gods" demonstrates this by making tourist attractions, House on the Rock and Rock City Gardens, literal meeting places for the gods.)
Somehow my 2016 excursion to New York was more dreamlike than most. The whole premise of the trip was a dream come true. I was invited to the NY Comics & Picture-Story Symposium to give a presentation on comic book ads and novelties. It's a modest monthly event that takes place at Parsons New School and is hosted by one of my favorite graphic novelists, Ben Katchor. (Ben's work usually centers around the fictitious history of objects, industrial design, and urban rituals. Sometimes he incorporates the old novelties that I'm so fond of. In fact, one of his books is called "Cheap Novelties: The Pleasure of Urban Decay." Nothing else can put me in the same headspace as Katchor's work.) The event was the perfect excuse for a road trip, so I brought my friend Chris along and we set out to make it as epic as possible.
Since epic was the goal, our first stop was Graceland.
I had never been before. Strange, I know, considering my taste for tourist traps, and that Graceland is located on a frequently traveled route. But the timing had never been right, and reports from other people had dampened my interest. For years all I'd heard is that it's smaller than you'd expect, you can't go upstairs, and it's expensive. These statements are not unfair. I had to remind myself that Graceland's cultural significance made up for the fact that I could have spent an entire day at a theme park for roughly the same price.
The size wasn't a shock thanks to the many warnings, but what did surprise me was its sheer coolness. To me, the common notion of a dream house is usually less than dreamy. Mansions can feel cold and impersonal, but I found Graceland to be extremely cozy and inviting.
For those unfamiliar, the tour groups assemble at a visitor center across the highway from Graceland proper. The line for the bus corralled us in front of a printed backdrop of the Graceland gates. A photographer snapped souvenir photos that would be available for purchase at the end of the tour. Chris and I placed our bets as to how much those puppies would run. I guessed low. Turns out they were thirty-five bucks apiece. That's for a photo in front of an illustration that was taken across the street from the real thing. Our tour ended at closing time so the backdrop was empty and we snapped our own free photos; an act fueled by the rebellious spirit of Rock N' Roll.
There are plenty of complete Graceland photo tours on the web, so I've narrowed this down to my favorite rooms. First is the kitchen.
I'm so ready for all-over wood surfaces to make a comeback. I don't care if it's the real thing or flimsy paneling. The idea that rooms need to be "opened up" with light colors is a plague on our society. (I wouldn't mind the return of avocado appliances either.) Elvis's kitchen put me at ease. Nothing else could make him seem so human.
Even with all its '70s deco glitz, the TV room still has a basement-ness that keeps it humble. It seems surprisingly attainable now. The space is eighty percent sectional furniture and mirrors, and these days the triple screens are almost quaint.
In what was likely an effort to keep up with today's sophisticated consumer, each guest was issued an ipad to hang around their necks. The device had the ability to sense your location, and serve up a 360 degree interactive tour of your surroundings. I get the value in being able to touch on certain objects and learn more information, but it means that you're often staring at a Quicktime virtual view of the same room you're actually standing in.
The Jungle Room was the pinnacle of lush lounging. The next-level feature was a mini waterfall where you might expect to find a fireplace. This is yet another trend that I would welcome on a mass scale.
I noticed that someone had left a compact disc on a chair in the roped-off room. There's no way it was an accident. Could it have been an offering put there by a budding musician who sought a blessing from The King? When I walked back through the disc was gone. Possible explanations are: (A) the staff was very vigilant, (B) Elvis received his sacrifice, or (C) it's an Illuminati drop point.
There we go. Finally, some of my lighthearted commentary. I'm not sure why this post has started out so pensive and then price conscious. Anyway...
Truth is, the Elvis factor was pretty much secondary for me. I was so in awe of the environment that I had to remind myself that a modern legend had been cooped up in there, and even died right upstairs. But I'd pay theme park prices to see most any extravagant time capsule homes with shag carpet and green steel tanker desks.
By the way, I asked the attendant if she'd seen any ghosts walking around. Her reply was "no," but that's because she'd only worked there for two weeks.
You are correct if you guessed that we stood before the grave obnoxiously quoting the scene from This Is Spinal Tap, and harmonized a barbershop raga version of "Heartbreak Hotel."
Elvis's house closed, but the stores didn't. You could divide the souvenir shops into three tiers. The gift shop in the Graceland complex offered the officially ordained shopping experience. It's full of the highest order of Elvis gear at premium prices. Right next door in the Graceland Crossing shopping center was Souvenirs of Elvis Presley Boulevard. I was disappointed by it's carefully controlled inventory. It's like they had a couple dozen focus group-approved designs that were applied to the standard types of merchandise.
Thankfully, I spotted Boulevard Souvenirs, not to be confused with— wait, actually being confused with Souvenirs of Elvis Presley Boulevard may have been their entire plan.
Boulevard Souvenirs was everything I look for in a souvenir shop: cramped, haphazard, and longstanding. There was plenty of stock that first arrived when Clinton was president.
The shop was full of items produced by risk-takers, items too unorthodox to be considered by the upper echelon of the Elvis estate. Seeking official endorsement would be a waste of everyone's time. I bought a foamcore stand-up Graceland that fell apart in my hands, and a poorly designed bumper sticker dated 1994. I've spent a couple hours in search of that goofy sticker hoping to scan it for this article. In the process I did find an old photo that I put on a friend's Facebook page, and that inadvertently connected me to another old friend who I hadn't talked to in a quarter century. So it was worth it.
Day two took us to the twin cities of Tennessee tourism, Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge. I've written about this wonderful part of the world before. Both towns experienced a boom in tourism when the Great Smoky Mountains National Park was established in 1930s. Gatlinburg was first to develop as a tourist spot, and is more pedestrian friendly...
While Pigeon Forge has bigger attractions that are less concentrated...
We spent the bulk of our time in Gatlinburg. It's nestled in a valley beneath tree-covered hillsides which, to me, sets it apart from other tourist meccas like the Wisconsin Dells, Orlando, or Branson. I'm also sentimental about it because it's the first place I've ever been where multiple haunted walk-throughs were plopped right in the middle of a shopping district. To my joy, many businesses on the Gatlinburg strip had gone unchanged since my first visit as a teenager. So I made it a goal to take photos of things that looked more or less like they did thirty years prior.
Why stop there? Maybe some subtle Photoshopping can help bring out the 1985 in them...
This one even has payphones and a neon animal print...
I love visiting places where the economy can support more than one freestanding marshal arts supply shop...
I just noticed that there's a mask from the movie Scream showcased the front window. This means that the Ghostface mask was a vital piece of their marketing strategy, selected for its potential to lure people inside. I appreciate that so much.
I've been sitting here thinking about this, and it occurred to me to check the Google Maps street view just to see if it's also visible there. (Admit it, you were thinking the same thing.) Turns out, the Google view is four years older than my photo, but look, there it is! And it's on some sort of canvas!
Now I'm looking up Ghostface mask trivia. Four years before the movie Scream, the original Ghostface design was part of a 1992 line called "Fantastic Faces" by Fun World, the same company responsible for one of the worst Halloween cassettes of all time. The mask was originally called “The Peanut-Eyed Ghost.” There's a dispute over who created the initial design between former employee Brigitte Sleiertin-Linden and her former boss, Alan Geller. (Geller also claims he thought Scream was a student film when he licensed it. This contradicts Wes Craven's recollection of lengthy negotiations. I believe Brigitte.)
Anyway.
One of my favorite things on earth is Gatlinburg's one and only World of Illusions. I've written about it before, but it's been ten years and my feelings have changed. It straddles the line between monumental rip-off and national treasure. Sixty-eight percent of its Trip Advisor reviews are rated "Terrible." But the following one star review is exactly why I'd give it five stars... "It looks like it was built 50 years ago and not touched since then."
There are plenty of "4D" screen-driven attractions these days. Isn't there room for three dimensional figures that move with the assistance of loud, oily motors? If anything, it serves as a historic record of how special effects and magic tricks used to be done: with special lighting, mirrors, and wires. But its greatest mystery is how it has endured the decades. It has to be one of the last of its kind, and I fear its demise.
To entice foot traffic World of Illusions deceptively fills their spacious lobby with "hot" characters of the day i.e. Harry Potter, Spider-Man, Padawan Anakin, Frodo (formerly Mini-Me), even a makeshift Neo and Trinity from The Matrix. It's like a history of summer blockbusters. However, on the inside the latest property is probably Star Trek: The Next Generation.
The concept of combining a wax museum with magic trickery sounds great, but World of Illusion's greatest weakness is the shockingly short duration (with an arguably disproportionate admission price.) Compared to other local museums like Ripley's, or Guinness World Records, the number of (working) exhibits are minuscule. The first time I completed it, I thought I had walked out a fire exit by mistake. There's not even a final gift shop, you're jettisoned into a service ally. I'm guessing it takes about seven minutes for the average visitor to take it all in, and that's if they study the toy magic tricks and printed illusions on the walls, including the "magic eye" poster they probably bought at a nearby shop in the '90s. We camped inside for nearly an hour, soaking up ever detail and documenting everything. I roamed from entrance-to-exit again and again, thrilled to exist inside that dark hallway.
The exhibits were behind glass and some were so dim it was difficult to see. It felt like struggling to make out images in dreams. To my delight, at least half of the exhibits were spooky in nature. There's Frankenstein, a werewolf, and at least two vampires, one of which was part of a "Dracula to bat" room...
The "new Vampire/Werewolf Illusion" advertised out front was unfortunately, an update to the classic "Girl to Gorilla" sideshow act...
There was also a grim reaper wearing a re-purposed Batman suit!
But that's not even the best thing about it. When the face turned human, it was revealed to be Charles Bronson! That's not a joke, or a coincidence, it's a former figure from one of the town's defunct wax museums. I repeat, they had Charles Bronson as a grim reaper in a Batman suit!
But that's not the only formerly-unemployed wax figure. They tried to pass Alan Alda off as a Doctor Frankenstein! Didn't even take off the dog tags! Was this the product of a masterful sense of humor, or did the management think that customers would be too moronic to notice?
Photo borrowed from a Flickr user named "touristtrap"
The monsters aren't nearly as creepy as Superman using his powers to secretly see Louis Lane's unmentionables.
It would seem that once E.T.'s hot streak was over, he was painted green and incorporated into a Star Trek exhibit. And people complain about the eight dollar admission?!
Once again, Elvis Presley was there to entertain us in the form of a singing bust. A looped medley of "Hound Dog" and "Heartbreak Hotel" echoed relentlessly from a damaged recording. Speaking of Audio, one of the most amazing things about the place is the recorded "barker" that they pipe out onto the sidewalk. It's clearly a product of the 1970s, and I applaud them for ignoring the inaccuracies and just pressing "play" every day.
If you crave a further look at the World of Illusion, here's a recent video tour that's pretty good.
Late afternoon arrived too soon, and we still needed to get a lot closer to the coast in order to stay on schedule. We agreed to explore one more wood-covered block before heading back to the car.
My dreams recurrently involve finding neat little shops in mysterious towns. World of Illusions had already put me in a dream state, but for a moment I truly questioned whether I was awake as I saw an out-of-reach store called Doc's Magic Castle. Stores in my dreamworld are often inconveniently located, showing up on precarious hills, or other impossible places. I frequently arrive at closing time, or during a blackout. (These frustrations don't match the waking realization that none if it ever existed.)
We navigated a three story mall that never abandoned the beloved diagonal wood trend of the 70s era. Passing a nearly empty arcade on my way up supported my dream theory.
We found the facade of the magic shop, and to my thrill Doc's Magic Castle looked like a castle. However— the front gates were locked, and the lights were out. Of course it was closed, just like a dream.
Then a mysterious voice from inside said, "Give me a moment and I'll open that for you." It wasn't a magic trick, the clerk was getting ready to open! The place sprang to life quickly and a few other customers followed us in. Doc's was a neat magic shop with an extra layer of Gatlinburg aesthetic, like a dragon that could breath smoke. We eavesdropped on a boy with a heavy Tennessee accent who apparently performed street magic for tips. Leaving that scene was tough, but we had miles to tend to.
Back on the road, it wasn't long before darkness fell and sprinkles of rain followed. The moment was right for me to break out my now-ancient MP3 player, pre-loaded with content for a variety of situations. For general fair-weather travel, I had a K-Tel collection of Truckin' songs. For the long stretches of nothing I had entire four-hour episodes of "Rick Dee's Weekly Top 40" from the 1980s. For the rainy, eerie climb over the Kentucky Appalachians I had a real gem set aside.
In 2003 WFMU launched the 365 Days Project where an audio oddity was posted every day for a year. The overall experience changed me as a human, but one of my favorite discoveries was a found cassette recording of a portion of a radio show called "Is Paul Dead?" ( a link to the audio is on the web page.) It's a lengthy exploration of the legend of Paul McCartney's death coverup. The host goes well beyond the common "clues," and delves into wildly imaginative leaps of logic to support the conspiracy. The content is fascinating enough, but the tone and production value brings it to a chill-inducing level. The music places the recording sometime during the late '70s. The host's earnest delivery, and the music bed that includes the Close Encounters soundtrack and Tomita's "Bermuda Triangle" album give it the same vibe as those documentaries on unexplained phenomenon that were popular in the decade. When you pop it on you think, "This might be fun for a couple minutes," and a half hour later you're disappointed that it's over. It's one of my all-time favorite pieces of art.
Day three was reserved for the New Jersey coast. One yet-to-be-visited place that had been on my radar for a long time was the Wildwood boardwalk, former home of the legendary Dracula's Castle dark ride which burned down in 2002.
I had heard that things don't open until May, but it was the last month of April, so what's one week? It turns out that one week was the difference between open hotels, and no open hotels, between a town and a ghost town. Here's the scene we found...
It was cool in a Scooby-Doo kind of way, but it took some getting used to.
Places that were open included: a couple t-shirt shops doing prep work for the following week, a toy shop, an arcade full of crane games, and two pizza joints. As Chris and I tried to determine the best pizzeria, workers from each place walked out of their empty buildings to woo us. We were each handed menus, and told about VIP discounts, free refills and other amenities. The decision was paralyzing. I don't remember what finally coaxed us inside one of them, but I feel bad that we dealt such a blow to the other place.
I decided to find the Caribbean hotel where I'd tried to make a reservation. It was mid-century gorgeous.
But somehow, in all my years of nostalgia-obsessed intenetting, I never learned that the entire town is a sanctuary for 50s and 60s hotel design! It was mind-blowing, block after block of "doo wop" architecture (also known as Googie, or Populuxe style). The area is known as the Wildwoods Shore Resort Historic District where the structures are saved and restored by the The Wildwood Doo Wop Preservation League.
How had we stumbled across a place like this? Again, it felt like— one big dream!
As we traveled closer to our painfully contemporary hotel, there was time for a final stop to see Lucy the Elephant in Margate City, New Jersey. This had been on my roadside bucket list for decades because it appears in nearly every book and documentary about wacky roadside architecture. Built in 1881, it's one of the oldest of its kind. It was visited by tourists back when road trips required horses.
We made it to New York City with several hours to suck up some sights. Everyone was taking photos of the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty, but I took this picture, just in case nobody thought to photograph the inside of a Times Square souvenir shop that day.
Elvis himself appropriately made a final appearance in the form of a costumed impersonator posing for tips. I didn't know he was there until I heard him angrily accusing us of taking unpaid photos of him. Chris defended us and a minor verbal spat broke out. As he walked away he flipped us off and told us to, "Eat a dick."
It was perfect! I mean, come on, that's not just dream-like, that's the kind of stuff you'd write into a novel. That's a full blown literary theme! We went from visiting hearth and home of the real Elvis Presley, to a run down robot of him in Gatlinburg, to a bitter New Yorker insulting us personally. Clearly, the trip had reached a turning point.
I gave my talk and had a blast. As a college instructor I'd forgotten what it was like to have an audience that's interested, enthusiastic, and there on their own volition.
On our last full day on the road I wanted to check in on one of my favorite little tourist spots, Cave City, Kentucky. The biggest (man made) attraction there, Guntown Mountain, was teetering on the brink of collapse the last time I'd been through. We discovered the place had shut down after changing the name to "Funtown Mountain" and some failed renovation efforts. Consequently, what I once described as "the perfect souvenir shop"(in this old post) was boarded up. The mood turned bleak, and as if on cue, dark storm clouds began to roll in. (Thankfully, as of this summer the place is operating again under the name Froggett's Guntown Mountain.)
Rather than return to the interstate I wanted to investigate the defunct Mammoth Cave Wax Museum that went up for auction in 2012.
It opened in the 70s and had a mini golf course, an ice cream shop, a tank of fake sharks, and an alpine village called Pixie World. There was also a sizable apartment for the management to live on site. I used to fantasize about buying it. The owners were hoping they could pass the torch along to someone else, but I heard the contents were sold to various buyers, ensuring its demise. Sheesh, maybe following up the Guntown Mountain discovery with another grim stop wasn't a great idea. Elvis's grave was cheerier than this.
Speaking of which, yet again Elvis had a poetic connection to our journey. His statue had been in there for decades. Just as he had left the building, it seemed like he had left us to face our daily lives once again.
Photo from 2011 by Flickr user jacobkrejci
(Here's a video tour of the Wax Museum grounds that's made even better by some abandoned Halloween decorations.)
The horizon was flickering with wild lightning when we saw a sign for a rock shop and mystery house four miles away.
Was it worth an eight mile round trip knowing it would be closed, and the storm was about to rage? Of course it was. As we pulled into the driveway the storm let loose.
The fun was over prematurely, like waking up from a good dream before you're ready. Everything around us was closed, dark, soaked, or out of business— except for the combination Long John Silver's and A&W! The lobby was a welcome dry refuge, heavy with a familiar deep-fried aroma. They cooked me up a batch of chicken planks (as I still call them) and a side of complimentary krums. We sat in the otherwise empty dining room devouring our trays of batter-dipped comfort as the storm gave the windows a thrashing.
With precision timing, the after-dinner skies grew merciful. Chris surveyed the patio, looking like an Edward Hopper painting.
The ride to our next bed was smooth and clear. Once again we were living the dream.
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road: The Original Scroll
Starting a blog posts with a literary quote is a first for me, but I've been thinking about the connection between dreams and road trips. It's simple: I often dream about road trips, and road trips often feel like dreams. Certain destinations seem to have built a permanent spot in my dream world. There are also several imaginary locations that I revisit again and again.
It makes sense, considering the impact that travel has on our psyche. We interrupt the flow of our daily lives to carve out a journey that offers a constant stream of new stimuli, sometimes visiting places that stop at nothing to amuse and delight. When I'm on a trip I'm well aware that the day I'm living will likely be imprinted in my head until death. Trips are my mental benchmarks that help me sort out the years. It's no wonder that the places we visit almost take on a spiritual significance. (Neil Gaiman's book "American Gods" demonstrates this by making tourist attractions, House on the Rock and Rock City Gardens, literal meeting places for the gods.)
Somehow my 2016 excursion to New York was more dreamlike than most. The whole premise of the trip was a dream come true. I was invited to the NY Comics & Picture-Story Symposium to give a presentation on comic book ads and novelties. It's a modest monthly event that takes place at Parsons New School and is hosted by one of my favorite graphic novelists, Ben Katchor. (Ben's work usually centers around the fictitious history of objects, industrial design, and urban rituals. Sometimes he incorporates the old novelties that I'm so fond of. In fact, one of his books is called "Cheap Novelties: The Pleasure of Urban Decay." Nothing else can put me in the same headspace as Katchor's work.) The event was the perfect excuse for a road trip, so I brought my friend Chris along and we set out to make it as epic as possible.
Since epic was the goal, our first stop was Graceland.
I had never been before. Strange, I know, considering my taste for tourist traps, and that Graceland is located on a frequently traveled route. But the timing had never been right, and reports from other people had dampened my interest. For years all I'd heard is that it's smaller than you'd expect, you can't go upstairs, and it's expensive. These statements are not unfair. I had to remind myself that Graceland's cultural significance made up for the fact that I could have spent an entire day at a theme park for roughly the same price.
The size wasn't a shock thanks to the many warnings, but what did surprise me was its sheer coolness. To me, the common notion of a dream house is usually less than dreamy. Mansions can feel cold and impersonal, but I found Graceland to be extremely cozy and inviting.
For those unfamiliar, the tour groups assemble at a visitor center across the highway from Graceland proper. The line for the bus corralled us in front of a printed backdrop of the Graceland gates. A photographer snapped souvenir photos that would be available for purchase at the end of the tour. Chris and I placed our bets as to how much those puppies would run. I guessed low. Turns out they were thirty-five bucks apiece. That's for a photo in front of an illustration that was taken across the street from the real thing. Our tour ended at closing time so the backdrop was empty and we snapped our own free photos; an act fueled by the rebellious spirit of Rock N' Roll.
There are plenty of complete Graceland photo tours on the web, so I've narrowed this down to my favorite rooms. First is the kitchen.
I'm so ready for all-over wood surfaces to make a comeback. I don't care if it's the real thing or flimsy paneling. The idea that rooms need to be "opened up" with light colors is a plague on our society. (I wouldn't mind the return of avocado appliances either.) Elvis's kitchen put me at ease. Nothing else could make him seem so human.
Even with all its '70s deco glitz, the TV room still has a basement-ness that keeps it humble. It seems surprisingly attainable now. The space is eighty percent sectional furniture and mirrors, and these days the triple screens are almost quaint.
In what was likely an effort to keep up with today's sophisticated consumer, each guest was issued an ipad to hang around their necks. The device had the ability to sense your location, and serve up a 360 degree interactive tour of your surroundings. I get the value in being able to touch on certain objects and learn more information, but it means that you're often staring at a Quicktime virtual view of the same room you're actually standing in.
The Jungle Room was the pinnacle of lush lounging. The next-level feature was a mini waterfall where you might expect to find a fireplace. This is yet another trend that I would welcome on a mass scale.
I noticed that someone had left a compact disc on a chair in the roped-off room. There's no way it was an accident. Could it have been an offering put there by a budding musician who sought a blessing from The King? When I walked back through the disc was gone. Possible explanations are: (A) the staff was very vigilant, (B) Elvis received his sacrifice, or (C) it's an Illuminati drop point.
There we go. Finally, some of my lighthearted commentary. I'm not sure why this post has started out so pensive and then price conscious. Anyway... Truth is, the Elvis factor was pretty much secondary for me. I was so in awe of the environment that I had to remind myself that a modern legend had been cooped up in there, and even died right upstairs. But I'd pay theme park prices to see most any extravagant time capsule homes with shag carpet and green steel tanker desks.
By the way, I asked the attendant if she'd seen any ghosts walking around. Her reply was "no," but that's because she'd only worked there for two weeks.
You are correct if you guessed that we stood before the grave obnoxiously quoting the scene from This Is Spinal Tap, and harmonized a barbershop raga version of "Heartbreak Hotel."
Elvis's house closed, but the stores didn't. You could divide the souvenir shops into three tiers. The gift shop in the Graceland complex offered the officially ordained shopping experience. It's full of the highest order of Elvis gear at premium prices. Right next door in the Graceland Crossing shopping center was Souvenirs of Elvis Presley Boulevard. I was disappointed by it's carefully controlled inventory. It's like they had a couple dozen focus group-approved designs that were applied to the standard types of merchandise.
Thankfully, I spotted Boulevard Souvenirs, not to be confused with— wait, actually being confused with Souvenirs of Elvis Presley Boulevard may have been their entire plan.
Boulevard Souvenirs was everything I look for in a souvenir shop: cramped, haphazard, and longstanding. There was plenty of stock that first arrived when Clinton was president.
The shop was full of items produced by risk-takers, items too unorthodox to be considered by the upper echelon of the Elvis estate. Seeking official endorsement would be a waste of everyone's time. I bought a foamcore stand-up Graceland that fell apart in my hands, and a poorly designed bumper sticker dated 1994. I've spent a couple hours in search of that goofy sticker hoping to scan it for this article. In the process I did find an old photo that I put on a friend's Facebook page, and that inadvertently connected me to another old friend who I hadn't talked to in a quarter century. So it was worth it.
Day two took us to the twin cities of Tennessee tourism, Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge. I've written about this wonderful part of the world before. Both towns experienced a boom in tourism when the Great Smoky Mountains National Park was established in 1930s. Gatlinburg was first to develop as a tourist spot, and is more pedestrian friendly...
While Pigeon Forge has bigger attractions that are less concentrated...
We spent the bulk of our time in Gatlinburg. It's nestled in a valley beneath tree-covered hillsides which, to me, sets it apart from other tourist meccas like the Wisconsin Dells, Orlando, or Branson. I'm also sentimental about it because it's the first place I've ever been where multiple haunted walk-throughs were plopped right in the middle of a shopping district. To my joy, many businesses on the Gatlinburg strip had gone unchanged since my first visit as a teenager. So I made it a goal to take photos of things that looked more or less like they did thirty years prior.
Why stop there? Maybe some subtle Photoshopping can help bring out the 1985 in them...
This one even has payphones and a neon animal print...
I love visiting places where the economy can support more than one freestanding marshal arts supply shop...
I just noticed that there's a mask from the movie Scream showcased the front window. This means that the Ghostface mask was a vital piece of their marketing strategy, selected for its potential to lure people inside. I appreciate that so much.
I've been sitting here thinking about this, and it occurred to me to check the Google Maps street view just to see if it's also visible there. (Admit it, you were thinking the same thing.) Turns out, the Google view is four years older than my photo, but look, there it is! And it's on some sort of canvas!
Now I'm looking up Ghostface mask trivia. Four years before the movie Scream, the original Ghostface design was part of a 1992 line called "Fantastic Faces" by Fun World, the same company responsible for one of the worst Halloween cassettes of all time. The mask was originally called “The Peanut-Eyed Ghost.” There's a dispute over who created the initial design between former employee Brigitte Sleiertin-Linden and her former boss, Alan Geller. (Geller also claims he thought Scream was a student film when he licensed it. This contradicts Wes Craven's recollection of lengthy negotiations. I believe Brigitte.)
Anyway.
One of my favorite things on earth is Gatlinburg's one and only World of Illusions. I've written about it before, but it's been ten years and my feelings have changed. It straddles the line between monumental rip-off and national treasure. Sixty-eight percent of its Trip Advisor reviews are rated "Terrible." But the following one star review is exactly why I'd give it five stars... "It looks like it was built 50 years ago and not touched since then."
There are plenty of "4D" screen-driven attractions these days. Isn't there room for three dimensional figures that move with the assistance of loud, oily motors? If anything, it serves as a historic record of how special effects and magic tricks used to be done: with special lighting, mirrors, and wires. But its greatest mystery is how it has endured the decades. It has to be one of the last of its kind, and I fear its demise.
To entice foot traffic World of Illusions deceptively fills their spacious lobby with "hot" characters of the day i.e. Harry Potter, Spider-Man, Padawan Anakin, Frodo (formerly Mini-Me), even a makeshift Neo and Trinity from The Matrix. It's like a history of summer blockbusters. However, on the inside the latest property is probably Star Trek: The Next Generation.
The concept of combining a wax museum with magic trickery sounds great, but World of Illusion's greatest weakness is the shockingly short duration (with an arguably disproportionate admission price.) Compared to other local museums like Ripley's, or Guinness World Records, the number of (working) exhibits are minuscule. The first time I completed it, I thought I had walked out a fire exit by mistake. There's not even a final gift shop, you're jettisoned into a service ally. I'm guessing it takes about seven minutes for the average visitor to take it all in, and that's if they study the toy magic tricks and printed illusions on the walls, including the "magic eye" poster they probably bought at a nearby shop in the '90s. We camped inside for nearly an hour, soaking up ever detail and documenting everything. I roamed from entrance-to-exit again and again, thrilled to exist inside that dark hallway.
The exhibits were behind glass and some were so dim it was difficult to see. It felt like struggling to make out images in dreams. To my delight, at least half of the exhibits were spooky in nature. There's Frankenstein, a werewolf, and at least two vampires, one of which was part of a "Dracula to bat" room...
The "new Vampire/Werewolf Illusion" advertised out front was unfortunately, an update to the classic "Girl to Gorilla" sideshow act...
There was also a grim reaper wearing a re-purposed Batman suit!
But that's not even the best thing about it. When the face turned human, it was revealed to be Charles Bronson! That's not a joke, or a coincidence, it's a former figure from one of the town's defunct wax museums. I repeat, they had Charles Bronson as a grim reaper in a Batman suit!
But that's not the only formerly-unemployed wax figure. They tried to pass Alan Alda off as a Doctor Frankenstein! Didn't even take off the dog tags! Was this the product of a masterful sense of humor, or did the management think that customers would be too moronic to notice?
Photo borrowed from a Flickr user named "touristtrap"
The monsters aren't nearly as creepy as Superman using his powers to secretly see Louis Lane's unmentionables.
It would seem that once E.T.'s hot streak was over, he was painted green and incorporated into a Star Trek exhibit. And people complain about the eight dollar admission?!
Once again, Elvis Presley was there to entertain us in the form of a singing bust. A looped medley of "Hound Dog" and "Heartbreak Hotel" echoed relentlessly from a damaged recording. Speaking of Audio, one of the most amazing things about the place is the recorded "barker" that they pipe out onto the sidewalk. It's clearly a product of the 1970s, and I applaud them for ignoring the inaccuracies and just pressing "play" every day.
If you crave a further look at the World of Illusion, here's a recent video tour that's pretty good.
Late afternoon arrived too soon, and we still needed to get a lot closer to the coast in order to stay on schedule. We agreed to explore one more wood-covered block before heading back to the car.
My dreams recurrently involve finding neat little shops in mysterious towns. World of Illusions had already put me in a dream state, but for a moment I truly questioned whether I was awake as I saw an out-of-reach store called Doc's Magic Castle. Stores in my dreamworld are often inconveniently located, showing up on precarious hills, or other impossible places. I frequently arrive at closing time, or during a blackout. (These frustrations don't match the waking realization that none if it ever existed.)
We navigated a three story mall that never abandoned the beloved diagonal wood trend of the 70s era. Passing a nearly empty arcade on my way up supported my dream theory.
We found the facade of the magic shop, and to my thrill Doc's Magic Castle looked like a castle. However— the front gates were locked, and the lights were out. Of course it was closed, just like a dream.
Then a mysterious voice from inside said, "Give me a moment and I'll open that for you." It wasn't a magic trick, the clerk was getting ready to open! The place sprang to life quickly and a few other customers followed us in. Doc's was a neat magic shop with an extra layer of Gatlinburg aesthetic, like a dragon that could breath smoke. We eavesdropped on a boy with a heavy Tennessee accent who apparently performed street magic for tips. Leaving that scene was tough, but we had miles to tend to.
Back on the road, it wasn't long before darkness fell and sprinkles of rain followed. The moment was right for me to break out my now-ancient MP3 player, pre-loaded with content for a variety of situations. For general fair-weather travel, I had a K-Tel collection of Truckin' songs. For the long stretches of nothing I had entire four-hour episodes of "Rick Dee's Weekly Top 40" from the 1980s. For the rainy, eerie climb over the Kentucky Appalachians I had a real gem set aside.
In 2003 WFMU launched the 365 Days Project where an audio oddity was posted every day for a year. The overall experience changed me as a human, but one of my favorite discoveries was a found cassette recording of a portion of a radio show called "Is Paul Dead?" ( a link to the audio is on the web page.) It's a lengthy exploration of the legend of Paul McCartney's death coverup. The host goes well beyond the common "clues," and delves into wildly imaginative leaps of logic to support the conspiracy. The content is fascinating enough, but the tone and production value brings it to a chill-inducing level. The music places the recording sometime during the late '70s. The host's earnest delivery, and the music bed that includes the Close Encounters soundtrack and Tomita's "Bermuda Triangle" album give it the same vibe as those documentaries on unexplained phenomenon that were popular in the decade. When you pop it on you think, "This might be fun for a couple minutes," and a half hour later you're disappointed that it's over. It's one of my all-time favorite pieces of art.
Day three was reserved for the New Jersey coast. One yet-to-be-visited place that had been on my radar for a long time was the Wildwood boardwalk, former home of the legendary Dracula's Castle dark ride which burned down in 2002.
I had heard that things don't open until May, but it was the last month of April, so what's one week? It turns out that one week was the difference between open hotels, and no open hotels, between a town and a ghost town. Here's the scene we found...
It was cool in a Scooby-Doo kind of way, but it took some getting used to.
Places that were open included: a couple t-shirt shops doing prep work for the following week, a toy shop, an arcade full of crane games, and two pizza joints. As Chris and I tried to determine the best pizzeria, workers from each place walked out of their empty buildings to woo us. We were each handed menus, and told about VIP discounts, free refills and other amenities. The decision was paralyzing. I don't remember what finally coaxed us inside one of them, but I feel bad that we dealt such a blow to the other place.
I decided to find the Caribbean hotel where I'd tried to make a reservation. It was mid-century gorgeous.
But somehow, in all my years of nostalgia-obsessed intenetting, I never learned that the entire town is a sanctuary for 50s and 60s hotel design! It was mind-blowing, block after block of "doo wop" architecture (also known as Googie, or Populuxe style). The area is known as the Wildwoods Shore Resort Historic District where the structures are saved and restored by the The Wildwood Doo Wop Preservation League.
How had we stumbled across a place like this? Again, it felt like— one big dream!
As we traveled closer to our painfully contemporary hotel, there was time for a final stop to see Lucy the Elephant in Margate City, New Jersey. This had been on my roadside bucket list for decades because it appears in nearly every book and documentary about wacky roadside architecture. Built in 1881, it's one of the oldest of its kind. It was visited by tourists back when road trips required horses.
We made it to New York City with several hours to suck up some sights. Everyone was taking photos of the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty, but I took this picture, just in case nobody thought to photograph the inside of a Times Square souvenir shop that day.
Elvis himself appropriately made a final appearance in the form of a costumed impersonator posing for tips. I didn't know he was there until I heard him angrily accusing us of taking unpaid photos of him. Chris defended us and a minor verbal spat broke out. As he walked away he flipped us off and told us to, "Eat a dick."
It was perfect! I mean, come on, that's not just dream-like, that's the kind of stuff you'd write into a novel. That's a full blown literary theme! We went from visiting hearth and home of the real Elvis Presley, to a run down robot of him in Gatlinburg, to a bitter New Yorker insulting us personally. Clearly, the trip had reached a turning point.
I gave my talk and had a blast. As a college instructor I'd forgotten what it was like to have an audience that's interested, enthusiastic, and there on their own volition.
On our last full day on the road I wanted to check in on one of my favorite little tourist spots, Cave City, Kentucky. The biggest (man made) attraction there, Guntown Mountain, was teetering on the brink of collapse the last time I'd been through. We discovered the place had shut down after changing the name to "Funtown Mountain" and some failed renovation efforts. Consequently, what I once described as "the perfect souvenir shop"(in this old post) was boarded up. The mood turned bleak, and as if on cue, dark storm clouds began to roll in. (Thankfully, as of this summer the place is operating again under the name Froggett's Guntown Mountain.)
Rather than return to the interstate I wanted to investigate the defunct Mammoth Cave Wax Museum that went up for auction in 2012.
It opened in the 70s and had a mini golf course, an ice cream shop, a tank of fake sharks, and an alpine village called Pixie World. There was also a sizable apartment for the management to live on site. I used to fantasize about buying it. The owners were hoping they could pass the torch along to someone else, but I heard the contents were sold to various buyers, ensuring its demise. Sheesh, maybe following up the Guntown Mountain discovery with another grim stop wasn't a great idea. Elvis's grave was cheerier than this.
Speaking of which, yet again Elvis had a poetic connection to our journey. His statue had been in there for decades. Just as he had left the building, it seemed like he had left us to face our daily lives once again.
Photo from 2011 by Flickr user jacobkrejci
(Here's a video tour of the Wax Museum grounds that's made even better by some abandoned Halloween decorations.)
The horizon was flickering with wild lightning when we saw a sign for a rock shop and mystery house four miles away.
Was it worth an eight mile round trip knowing it would be closed, and the storm was about to rage? Of course it was. As we pulled into the driveway the storm let loose.
The fun was over prematurely, like waking up from a good dream before you're ready. Everything around us was closed, dark, soaked, or out of business— except for the combination Long John Silver's and A&W! The lobby was a welcome dry refuge, heavy with a familiar deep-fried aroma. They cooked me up a batch of chicken planks (as I still call them) and a side of complimentary krums. We sat in the otherwise empty dining room devouring our trays of batter-dipped comfort as the storm gave the windows a thrashing.
With precision timing, the after-dinner skies grew merciful. Chris surveyed the patio, looking like an Edward Hopper painting.
The ride to our next bed was smooth and clear. Once again we were living the dream.
July 19, 2018
THE LOST ROAD TRIPS: PART II- NEW JERSEY VIA OHIO
A few years ago I traveled to New Jersey with my friend Scott for two reasons. The first was to take part in the Toyman toy show in St. Louis where Scott was a vendor. The second was the chance to possibly appear on a TV show. I signed a thing saying I wouldn't discuss details about the show appearance online, so I'll continue to not discuss it. Technically there's nothing to discuss because the segment never aired. They never said why, but I assume it's because I somehow ruined it, even though I was just standing in the background.
Toyman is the best toy show I've ever been to. I haven't done the major ones like the Chicago Toy Show, but I've been to dozens of cons and fests all over the nation, and I loved how focused this one was. There were no panel discussions to distract you from that sweet vendor floor, and for the most part the content was vintage, as opposed to new products based on vintage properties which dominate most pop culture events. Toyman happens eight times a year so it fosters a strong community of vendors, most of whom posses superhuman table-curating powers.
The only downside is going when you're on a tight budget. The freelance life is said to be "feast or famine," and I wasn't feasting at the time. I spent less than thirty bucks, but my biggest triumph was a trade. I found some little MPC monsters for less than a dollar each, and when I showed them to my favorite toy vendor, he informed me that they were a super rare vending-size variant. I swapped two for a "Warrior Beast" Skullman (with repro cape, but original knife), and a purple version of a "Dragonriders of the Styx" shirtless demon.
The second, much longer leg of the trip took us through Ohio. Alarms went off in my brain reminding me about a store, somewhere in the state, that several internet friends have gone out of their way to email me about. A google search brought up Foy's Halloween stores in Fairborn, Ohio. It was on the way, AND in the perfect spot for an overnight stay!
It was late on a Sunday night when we pulled into town. The GPS led us to a spacious Main Street that was covered in neon— and skeletons! It felt like something out of an urban myth, a downtown that's decorated for Halloween year round. We were the only living beings in sight which added to the dreaminess of the moment. Instantly recharged, we hopped out to take some pics...
When morning finally arrived, the thought of that street being open got me out of bed quicker than usual. Daylight revealed a wonderland...
The Foy's empire is comprised of six different storefronts spread across two blocks. The main concentration includes an authentic dime store, a diner, a Halloween shop, a kids' costume shop, and a haunted house supply store! The grown-ups costume shop is isolated from the rest, but that's okay because it's right next to a row of book, collectible, and toy shops.
That street is almost exactly what I'd describe in a "what if" conversation...
"What business would I open, if I could open anything? That's easy, a classic dime store full of toys, magic tricks, pranks, and candy. Wait..no! I'd sell spooky stuff too, year round! Wait, why just the one store? I'd take up the whole block, and it would have a Halloween shop... and a haunted house shop... and a diner..."
According to this article the head of the operation is Mike Foy, a third generation business owner. The five and dime was first to open in 1929, by his grandpa. Mike seems to be responsible for spooking up the enterprise.
The mind-blowing visit was clouded with a longing that still lingers. Since we were there on a Monday morning in the off-season, out of all the places I listed only the dime store and the costume shop were open. They were great (the dime store was phenomenal), but these photos make me feel like a ghost with unfinished business. Somehow, I must return to haunt this street again.
But here's some of what I did see.
The costume shop was packed with all the familiar bagged costumes and loads of accessories. What made it stand out were the displays around the parameter of the ceiling...
The variety shop is the heart of the enterprise.
The signage was a symphonic medley of metal, vinyl, neon tubing, and hand-painted wood.
I walked in and my eyes climbed a central tower of magnificent objects. The base was a display of bulk candy beneath a bay of security monitors, topped with the biggest advertisement for Don Post masks I've ever seen.
I immediately thought of the movie Halloween III, and then moments later the masks from the film were staring back at me, right next to an astounding selection of Michael Myers heads.
Imagine popping in to grab a Myers mask before a party and being confronted with this decision. It's like hash brown styles at Waffle House. Do you want your mask: chopped, smooth, bleeding, chunky, or covered in hair?
(The one on the top row with the milk jug lid showing deserves its own film franchise.)
I didn't pay attention to the price range, but some look like they could cause you to miss a car payment, while the model in the top right could have been used as packing material for the rest.
Tough choice? How about one of our dozen Jasons?
We apologize for only offering eight different Freddy Kruegers. But this is just the general store. Check out our Halloween shop for the real selection.
This was all behind a glass display that ran the length of the building. The content segued seamlessly from costumes to ninja weapons to magic tricks and so on. It's hard to see, but there's a full spinner rack of pranks stuck right on top. There were also plenty of over-the-counter novelties like alien putty and whoopee cushions.
The magic items are behind a sliding glass door. (Just as they should be!) The assortment covers all different manufacturers and decades. The handmade starburst sign with the word "magic" gives me chills. That Phony Burger behind it is from the 1960s...
Near the front door, morning-fresh popcorn warmed under an electric bulb. A container of cold fruit flavored juice was available at the legacy price of twenty-five cents. This was my breakfast.
Another bank of candy concealed a more practical aisle of tourist-wear and office supplies. The concentration of merchandise had a soothing effect on me, like swaddling on a colicky baby.
Beneath the selection of souvenirs was a shelf where you could force your hand into various containers of rubber trinkets and squish them all at once.
Not enough places sell rubber bats by the piece for fifty cents.
I was profoundly impressed that they offered so many subtle variations of skeletons. My skeleton collection grew that day.
A mini shrine to the founder was taped on a massive case of bulk jelly beans.
If my loved ones are reading this, I'd be more than honored to receive the same treatment in lieu of a traditional grave.
Another day on the road took us to Red Bank, New Jersey, where Scott had set up a big toy purchase from "popculturist guru" Rob Bruce (seen pointing at me below.)
We didn't visit his main stockpile of toys, but we did get to see his hallowed office! With his blessing, here are some photos (a bit blurry due to the pounding of my pulse.)
Rob's fascination at the time was limited edition art toys and vintage bootlegs (i.e. the spider-men seen below), an inevitable choice for anyone who has possessed every mass produced toy in existence.
Rob took us to his usual lunching spot which had the healthiest food I've ever shared a room with. He talked about the envy-inducing collector culture in the northeast, and he told us about the time he got to go on tour with the Ramones.
At his recommendation we traveled to a shop in Asbury Park called Groovy Graveyard.
The shop was more proof that the northeastern United States has a perfect storm of the elements needed to create a collectors' wonderland:
-A high population
Generations of stuff-buying families who have stayed in the region.
-A concentration of resources
Disposable income, frivolous spenders, questionable purchases by both the normal and the weirdos.
-People with diverse tastes
People from different backgrounds, cultures, educations and belief systems who bought Jazz, Punk, Hip Hop, and obscure film scores. Independent, Horror, and Documentary films once watched by historians, geeks, and cinephiles. Now they're done with it, and it's our job to preserve and archive it all.
-Basements
These are not a given where I live. I've heard that it has something to do with the frostline up north, or it's too damp here, or the ground is too hard. Whatever the reason, much of the country lacks what is both a storage space, and a breeding ground for cultural study, and comic reading, and roll playing games, and hiding from social situations.
Asbury Park will always have a layer of magic on it for me because it was home to the beloved S.S. Adams Prank and Magic company. Strangers have sent me emails over the years updating me on the state of the building (and its transition into condominiums). This was my chance to check up on it and pay my final respects. There was little remaining evidence that this was the world's premier novelty company for nearly a century.
I've been enticed by the Silverball Museum and arcade for years because it's often mentioned on a live-streaming podcast called "The Best Show with Tom Scharpling." My day in Asbury Park was my big chance to finally experience it. It was exactly as great as I expected it to be. Aisles of beautiful and functioning pinball machines awaited. Getting photos of them without players took precision timing...
The next day we visited Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash comic shop.
It functions as both a store and a studio for the show "Comic Book Men" on AMC. So there's more elbow room than many comic shops, and as you can see the lighting is heavy duty. (The thing on the left is a prop from the Kevin Smith movie "Tusk.")
Most of the products were new comic books, but they did have a display case of View Askewniverse memorabilia. Speaking of which, we did run into Brian O'Halloran who played Dante in Clerks (1994). On the way there I had thought, "Hey, what if we ran into someone from a Kevin Smith movie?" followed immediately by "That's ridiculous, what am I thinking? Why would they even be there?" and yet, there he was.
There was also a moment when one of the "Comic Book Men," Bryan Johnson, and I were the only two people in a room. Brian dropped a Gatorade and it rolled toward me, but stopped about eight feet from where I was sitting. Part of me thought that maybe I should pick it up and hand back to him, but again, it felt like a long way. I was frozen with this dilemma while he chased down the bottle muttering "For f***'s sake." as I sat and watched awkwardly. We never said a word to each other.
Here are a few more places I saw in the Garden State...
On the way home there was an excellent tribute to the Pennsylvania Turnpike at one of the rest stops. (Pennsylvania has the best rest stops.) The glassed-in shelf was full of vintage souvenirs...
We stayed with a friend in Nashville who showed us the sights.We went to the tourist row of shops and bars. Many people wore boots, but I suspect very few were cowboys or cowgirls.
The Ernest Tubb Record shop was full of history, but their music supplies were low. (Those white things in the mostly empty racks on the right was their CD selection.) They were ripe for the vinyl comeback and I hope they've embraced it since my visit.
I got to take a peek at Hatch Show Print design shop, which is a graphic designers' destination in itself...
We went to yet another store that's supported by a reality TV show. Antique Archaeology is where some of the loot from "American Pickers" ends up.
The selection is amazing, but it's not a place for bargain shopping.
This concludes my eastern tour of "rooms full of stuff." More lost road trips to come!
Toyman is the best toy show I've ever been to. I haven't done the major ones like the Chicago Toy Show, but I've been to dozens of cons and fests all over the nation, and I loved how focused this one was. There were no panel discussions to distract you from that sweet vendor floor, and for the most part the content was vintage, as opposed to new products based on vintage properties which dominate most pop culture events. Toyman happens eight times a year so it fosters a strong community of vendors, most of whom posses superhuman table-curating powers.
The only downside is going when you're on a tight budget. The freelance life is said to be "feast or famine," and I wasn't feasting at the time. I spent less than thirty bucks, but my biggest triumph was a trade. I found some little MPC monsters for less than a dollar each, and when I showed them to my favorite toy vendor, he informed me that they were a super rare vending-size variant. I swapped two for a "Warrior Beast" Skullman (with repro cape, but original knife), and a purple version of a "Dragonriders of the Styx" shirtless demon.
The second, much longer leg of the trip took us through Ohio. Alarms went off in my brain reminding me about a store, somewhere in the state, that several internet friends have gone out of their way to email me about. A google search brought up Foy's Halloween stores in Fairborn, Ohio. It was on the way, AND in the perfect spot for an overnight stay!
It was late on a Sunday night when we pulled into town. The GPS led us to a spacious Main Street that was covered in neon— and skeletons! It felt like something out of an urban myth, a downtown that's decorated for Halloween year round. We were the only living beings in sight which added to the dreaminess of the moment. Instantly recharged, we hopped out to take some pics...
When morning finally arrived, the thought of that street being open got me out of bed quicker than usual. Daylight revealed a wonderland...
The Foy's empire is comprised of six different storefronts spread across two blocks. The main concentration includes an authentic dime store, a diner, a Halloween shop, a kids' costume shop, and a haunted house supply store! The grown-ups costume shop is isolated from the rest, but that's okay because it's right next to a row of book, collectible, and toy shops.
That street is almost exactly what I'd describe in a "what if" conversation...
"What business would I open, if I could open anything? That's easy, a classic dime store full of toys, magic tricks, pranks, and candy. Wait..no! I'd sell spooky stuff too, year round! Wait, why just the one store? I'd take up the whole block, and it would have a Halloween shop... and a haunted house shop... and a diner..."
According to this article the head of the operation is Mike Foy, a third generation business owner. The five and dime was first to open in 1929, by his grandpa. Mike seems to be responsible for spooking up the enterprise.
The mind-blowing visit was clouded with a longing that still lingers. Since we were there on a Monday morning in the off-season, out of all the places I listed only the dime store and the costume shop were open. They were great (the dime store was phenomenal), but these photos make me feel like a ghost with unfinished business. Somehow, I must return to haunt this street again.
But here's some of what I did see.
The costume shop was packed with all the familiar bagged costumes and loads of accessories. What made it stand out were the displays around the parameter of the ceiling...
The variety shop is the heart of the enterprise.
The signage was a symphonic medley of metal, vinyl, neon tubing, and hand-painted wood.
I walked in and my eyes climbed a central tower of magnificent objects. The base was a display of bulk candy beneath a bay of security monitors, topped with the biggest advertisement for Don Post masks I've ever seen.
I immediately thought of the movie Halloween III, and then moments later the masks from the film were staring back at me, right next to an astounding selection of Michael Myers heads.
Imagine popping in to grab a Myers mask before a party and being confronted with this decision. It's like hash brown styles at Waffle House. Do you want your mask: chopped, smooth, bleeding, chunky, or covered in hair?
(The one on the top row with the milk jug lid showing deserves its own film franchise.)
I didn't pay attention to the price range, but some look like they could cause you to miss a car payment, while the model in the top right could have been used as packing material for the rest.
Tough choice? How about one of our dozen Jasons?
We apologize for only offering eight different Freddy Kruegers. But this is just the general store. Check out our Halloween shop for the real selection.
This was all behind a glass display that ran the length of the building. The content segued seamlessly from costumes to ninja weapons to magic tricks and so on. It's hard to see, but there's a full spinner rack of pranks stuck right on top. There were also plenty of over-the-counter novelties like alien putty and whoopee cushions.
The magic items are behind a sliding glass door. (Just as they should be!) The assortment covers all different manufacturers and decades. The handmade starburst sign with the word "magic" gives me chills. That Phony Burger behind it is from the 1960s...
Near the front door, morning-fresh popcorn warmed under an electric bulb. A container of cold fruit flavored juice was available at the legacy price of twenty-five cents. This was my breakfast.
Another bank of candy concealed a more practical aisle of tourist-wear and office supplies. The concentration of merchandise had a soothing effect on me, like swaddling on a colicky baby.
Beneath the selection of souvenirs was a shelf where you could force your hand into various containers of rubber trinkets and squish them all at once.
Not enough places sell rubber bats by the piece for fifty cents.
I was profoundly impressed that they offered so many subtle variations of skeletons. My skeleton collection grew that day.
A mini shrine to the founder was taped on a massive case of bulk jelly beans.
If my loved ones are reading this, I'd be more than honored to receive the same treatment in lieu of a traditional grave.
Another day on the road took us to Red Bank, New Jersey, where Scott had set up a big toy purchase from "popculturist guru" Rob Bruce (seen pointing at me below.)
We didn't visit his main stockpile of toys, but we did get to see his hallowed office! With his blessing, here are some photos (a bit blurry due to the pounding of my pulse.)
Rob's fascination at the time was limited edition art toys and vintage bootlegs (i.e. the spider-men seen below), an inevitable choice for anyone who has possessed every mass produced toy in existence.
Rob took us to his usual lunching spot which had the healthiest food I've ever shared a room with. He talked about the envy-inducing collector culture in the northeast, and he told us about the time he got to go on tour with the Ramones.
At his recommendation we traveled to a shop in Asbury Park called Groovy Graveyard.
The shop was more proof that the northeastern United States has a perfect storm of the elements needed to create a collectors' wonderland:
-A high population
Generations of stuff-buying families who have stayed in the region.
-A concentration of resources
Disposable income, frivolous spenders, questionable purchases by both the normal and the weirdos.
-People with diverse tastes
People from different backgrounds, cultures, educations and belief systems who bought Jazz, Punk, Hip Hop, and obscure film scores. Independent, Horror, and Documentary films once watched by historians, geeks, and cinephiles. Now they're done with it, and it's our job to preserve and archive it all.
-Basements
These are not a given where I live. I've heard that it has something to do with the frostline up north, or it's too damp here, or the ground is too hard. Whatever the reason, much of the country lacks what is both a storage space, and a breeding ground for cultural study, and comic reading, and roll playing games, and hiding from social situations.
Asbury Park will always have a layer of magic on it for me because it was home to the beloved S.S. Adams Prank and Magic company. Strangers have sent me emails over the years updating me on the state of the building (and its transition into condominiums). This was my chance to check up on it and pay my final respects. There was little remaining evidence that this was the world's premier novelty company for nearly a century.
I've been enticed by the Silverball Museum and arcade for years because it's often mentioned on a live-streaming podcast called "The Best Show with Tom Scharpling." My day in Asbury Park was my big chance to finally experience it. It was exactly as great as I expected it to be. Aisles of beautiful and functioning pinball machines awaited. Getting photos of them without players took precision timing...
The next day we visited Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash comic shop.
It functions as both a store and a studio for the show "Comic Book Men" on AMC. So there's more elbow room than many comic shops, and as you can see the lighting is heavy duty. (The thing on the left is a prop from the Kevin Smith movie "Tusk.")
Most of the products were new comic books, but they did have a display case of View Askewniverse memorabilia. Speaking of which, we did run into Brian O'Halloran who played Dante in Clerks (1994). On the way there I had thought, "Hey, what if we ran into someone from a Kevin Smith movie?" followed immediately by "That's ridiculous, what am I thinking? Why would they even be there?" and yet, there he was.
There was also a moment when one of the "Comic Book Men," Bryan Johnson, and I were the only two people in a room. Brian dropped a Gatorade and it rolled toward me, but stopped about eight feet from where I was sitting. Part of me thought that maybe I should pick it up and hand back to him, but again, it felt like a long way. I was frozen with this dilemma while he chased down the bottle muttering "For f***'s sake." as I sat and watched awkwardly. We never said a word to each other.
Here are a few more places I saw in the Garden State...
On the way home there was an excellent tribute to the Pennsylvania Turnpike at one of the rest stops. (Pennsylvania has the best rest stops.) The glassed-in shelf was full of vintage souvenirs...
We stayed with a friend in Nashville who showed us the sights.We went to the tourist row of shops and bars. Many people wore boots, but I suspect very few were cowboys or cowgirls.
The Ernest Tubb Record shop was full of history, but their music supplies were low. (Those white things in the mostly empty racks on the right was their CD selection.) They were ripe for the vinyl comeback and I hope they've embraced it since my visit.
I got to take a peek at Hatch Show Print design shop, which is a graphic designers' destination in itself...
We went to yet another store that's supported by a reality TV show. Antique Archaeology is where some of the loot from "American Pickers" ends up.
The selection is amazing, but it's not a place for bargain shopping.
This concludes my eastern tour of "rooms full of stuff." More lost road trips to come! THE LOST ROAD TRIPS: PART II: NEW JERSEY VIA OHIO
A few years ago I traveled to New Jersey with my friend Scott for two reasons. The first was to take part in the Toyman toy show in St. Louis where Scott was a vendor. The second was the chance to possibly appear on a TV show. I signed a thing saying I wouldn't discuss details about the show appearance online, so I'll continue to not discuss it. Technically there's nothing to discuss because the segment never aired. They never said why, but I assume it's because I somehow ruined it, even though I was just standing in the background.
Toyman is the best toy show I've ever been to. I haven't done the major ones like the Chicago Toy Show, but I've been to dozens of cons and fests all over the nation, and I loved how focused this one was. There were no panel discussions to distract you from that sweet vendor floor, and for the most part the content was vintage, as opposed to new products based on vintage properties which dominate most pop culture events. Toyman happens eight times a year so it fosters a strong community of vendors, most of whom posses superhuman table-curating powers.
The only downside is going when you're on a tight budget. The freelance life is said to be "feast or famine," and I wasn't feasting at the time. I spent less than thirty bucks, but my biggest triumph was a trade. I found some little MPC monsters for less than a dollar each, and when I showed them to my favorite toy vendor, he informed me that they were a super rare vending-size variant. I swapped two for a "Warrior Beast" Skullman (with repro cape, but original knife), and a purple version of a "Dragonriders of the Styx" shirtless demon.
The second, much longer leg of the trip took us through Ohio. Alarms went off in my brain reminding me about a store, somewhere in the state, that several internet friends have gone out of their way to email me about. A google search brought up Foy's Halloween stores in Fairborn, Ohio. It was on the way, AND in the perfect spot for an overnight stay!
It was late on a Sunday night when we pulled into town. The GPS led us to a spacious Main Street that was covered in neon— and skeletons! It felt like something out of an urban myth, a downtown that's decorated for Halloween year round. We were the only living beings in sight which added to the dreaminess of the moment. Instantly recharged, we hopped out to take some pics...
When morning finally arrived, the thought of that street being open got me out of bed quicker than usual. Daylight revealed a wonderland...
The Foy's empire is comprised of six different storefronts spread across two blocks. The main concentration includes an authentic dime store, a diner, a Halloween shop, a kids' costume shop, and a haunted house supply store! The grown-ups costume shop is isolated from the rest, but that's okay because it's right next to a row of book, collectible, and toy shops.
That street is almost exactly what I'd describe in a "what if" conversation...
"What business would I open, if I could open anything? That's easy, a classic dime store full of toys, magic tricks, pranks, and candy. Wait..no! I'd sell spooky stuff too, year round! Wait, why just the one store? I'd take up the whole block, and it would have a Halloween shop... and a haunted house shop... and a diner..."
According to this article the head of the operation is Mike Foy, a third generation business owner. The five and dime was first to open in 1929, by his grandpa. Mike seems to be responsible for spooking up the enterprise.
The mind-blowing visit was clouded with a longing that still lingers. Since we were there on a Monday morning in the off-season, out of all the places I listed only the dime store and the costume shop were open. They were great (the dime store was phenomenal), but these photos make me feel like a ghost with unfinished business. Somehow, I must return to haunt this street again.
But here's some of what I did see.
The costume shop was packed with all the familiar bagged costumes and loads of accessories. What made it stand out were the displays around the parameter of the ceiling...
The variety shop is the heart of the enterprise.
The signage was a symphonic medley of metal, vinyl, neon tubing, and hand-painted wood.
I walked in and my eyes climbed a central tower of magnificent objects. The base was a display of bulk candy beneath a bay of security monitors, topped with the biggest advertisement for Don Post masks I've ever seen.
I immediately thought of the movie Halloween III, and then moments later the masks from the film were staring back at me, right next to an astounding selection of Michael Myers heads.
Imagine popping in to grab a Myers mask before a party and being confronted with this decision. It's like hash brown styles at Waffle House. Do you want your mask: chopped, smooth, bleeding, chunky, or covered in hair?
(The one on the top row with the milk jug lid showing deserves its own film franchise.)
I didn't pay attention to the price range, but some look like they could cause you to miss a car payment, while the model in the top right could have been used as packing material for the rest.
Tough choice? How about one of our dozen Jasons?
We apologize for only offering eight different Freddy Kruegers. But this is just the general store. Check out our Halloween shop for the real selection.
This was all behind a glass display that ran the length of the building. The content segued seamlessly from costumes to ninja weapons to magic tricks and so on. It's hard to see, but there's a full spinner rack of pranks stuck right on top. There were also plenty of over-the-counter novelties like alien putty and whoopee cushions.
The magic items are behind a sliding glass door. (Just as they should be!) The assortment covers all different manufacturers and decades. The handmade starburst sign with the word "magic" gives me chills. That Phony Burger behind it is from the 1960s...
Near the front door, morning-fresh popcorn warmed under an electric bulb. A container of cold fruit flavored juice was available at the legacy price of twenty-five cents. This was my breakfast.
Another bank of candy concealed a more practical aisle of tourist-wear and office supplies. The concentration of merchandise had a soothing effect on me, like swaddling on a colicky baby.
Beneath the selection of souvenirs was a shelf where you could force your hand into various containers of rubber trinkets and squish them all at once.
Not enough places sell rubber bats by the piece for fifty cents.
I was profoundly impressed that they offered so many subtle variations of skeletons. My skeleton collection grew that day.
A mini shrine to the founder was taped on a massive case of bulk jelly beans.
If my loved ones are reading this, I'd be more than honored to receive the same treatment in lieu of a traditional grave.
Another day on the road took us to Red Bank, New Jersey, where Scott had set up a big toy purchase from "popculturist guru" Rob Bruce (seen pointing at me below.)
We didn't visit his main stockpile of toys, but we did get to see his hallowed office! With his blessing, here are some photos (a bit blurry due to the pounding of my pulse.)
Rob's fascination at the time was limited edition art toys and vintage bootlegs (i.e. the spider-men seen below), an inevitable choice for anyone who has possessed every mass produced toy in existence.
Rob took us to his usual lunching spot which had the healthiest food I've ever shared a room with. He talked about the envy-inducing collector culture in the northeast, and he told us about the time he got to go on tour with the Ramones.
At his recommendation we traveled to a shop in Asbury Park called Groovy Graveyard.
The shop was more proof that the northeastern United States has a perfect storm of the elements needed to create a collectors' wonderland:
-A high population
Generations of stuff-buying families who have stayed in the region.
-A concentration of resources
Disposable income, frivolous spenders, questionable purchases by both the normal and the weirdos.
-People with diverse tastes
People from different backgrounds, cultures, educations and belief systems who bought Jazz, Punk, Hip Hop, and obscure film scores. Independent, Horror, and Documentary films once watched by historians, geeks, and cinephiles. Now they're done with it, and it's our job to preserve and archive it all.
-Basements
These are not a given where I live. I've heard that it has something to do with the frostline up north, or it's too damp here, or the ground is too hard. Whatever the reason, much of the country lacks what is both a storage space, and a breeding ground for cultural study, and comic reading, and roll playing games, and hiding from social situations.
Asbury Park will always have a layer of magic on it for me because it was home to the beloved S.S. Adams Prank and Magic company. Strangers have sent me emails over the years updating me on the state of the building (and its transition into condominiums). This was my chance to check up on it and pay my final respects. There was little remaining evidence that this was the world's premier novelty company for nearly a century.
I've been enticed by the Silverball Museum and arcade for years because it's often mentioned on a live-streaming podcast called "The Best Show with Tom Scharpling." My day in Asbury Park was my big chance to finally experience it. It was exactly as great as I expected it to be. Aisles of beautiful and functioning pinball machines awaited. Getting photos of them without players took precision timing...
The next day we visited Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash comic shop.
It functions as both a store and a studio for the show "Comic Book Men" on AMC. So there's more elbow room than many comic shops, and as you can see the lighting is heavy duty. (The thing on the left is a prop from the Kevin Smith movie "Tusk.")
Most of the products were new comic books, but they did have a display case of View Askewniverse memorabilia. Speaking of which, we did run into Brian O'Halloran who played Dante in Clerks (1994). On the way there I had thought, "Hey, what if we ran into someone from a Kevin Smith movie?" followed immediately by "That's ridiculous, what am I thinking? Why would they even be there?" and yet, there he was.
There was also a moment when one of the "Comic Book Men," Bryan Johnson, and I were the only two people in a room. Brian dropped a Gatorade and it rolled toward me, but stopped about eight feet from where I was sitting. Part of me thought that maybe I should pick it up and hand back to him, but again, it felt like a long way. I was frozen with this dilemma as he said "For f***'s sake." and chased down the bottle as I sat and watched awkwardly. We never said a word to each other.
Here are a few more places I saw in the Garden State...
On the way home there was an excellent tribute to the Pennsylvania Turnpike at one of the rest stops. (Pennsylvania has the best rest stops.) The glassed-in shelf was full of vintage souvenirs...
We stayed with a friend in Nashville who showed us the sights.We went to the tourist row of shops and bars. Many people wore boots, but I suspect very few were cowboys or cowgirls.
The Ernest Tubb Record shop was full of history, but their music supplies were low. (Those white things in the mostly empty racks on the right was their CD selection.) They were ripe for the vinyl comeback and I hope they've embraced it since my visit.
I got to take a peek at Hatch Show Print design shop, which is a graphic designers' destination in itself...
We went to yet another store that's supported by a reality TV show. Antique Archaeology is where some of the loot from "American Pickers" ends up.
The selection is amazing, but it's not a place for bargain shopping.
This concludes my eastern tour of "rooms full of stuff." More lost road trips to come!
Toyman is the best toy show I've ever been to. I haven't done the major ones like the Chicago Toy Show, but I've been to dozens of cons and fests all over the nation, and I loved how focused this one was. There were no panel discussions to distract you from that sweet vendor floor, and for the most part the content was vintage, as opposed to new products based on vintage properties which dominate most pop culture events. Toyman happens eight times a year so it fosters a strong community of vendors, most of whom posses superhuman table-curating powers.
The only downside is going when you're on a tight budget. The freelance life is said to be "feast or famine," and I wasn't feasting at the time. I spent less than thirty bucks, but my biggest triumph was a trade. I found some little MPC monsters for less than a dollar each, and when I showed them to my favorite toy vendor, he informed me that they were a super rare vending-size variant. I swapped two for a "Warrior Beast" Skullman (with repro cape, but original knife), and a purple version of a "Dragonriders of the Styx" shirtless demon.
The second, much longer leg of the trip took us through Ohio. Alarms went off in my brain reminding me about a store, somewhere in the state, that several internet friends have gone out of their way to email me about. A google search brought up Foy's Halloween stores in Fairborn, Ohio. It was on the way, AND in the perfect spot for an overnight stay!
It was late on a Sunday night when we pulled into town. The GPS led us to a spacious Main Street that was covered in neon— and skeletons! It felt like something out of an urban myth, a downtown that's decorated for Halloween year round. We were the only living beings in sight which added to the dreaminess of the moment. Instantly recharged, we hopped out to take some pics...
When morning finally arrived, the thought of that street being open got me out of bed quicker than usual. Daylight revealed a wonderland...
The Foy's empire is comprised of six different storefronts spread across two blocks. The main concentration includes an authentic dime store, a diner, a Halloween shop, a kids' costume shop, and a haunted house supply store! The grown-ups costume shop is isolated from the rest, but that's okay because it's right next to a row of book, collectible, and toy shops.
That street is almost exactly what I'd describe in a "what if" conversation...
"What business would I open, if I could open anything? That's easy, a classic dime store full of toys, magic tricks, pranks, and candy. Wait..no! I'd sell spooky stuff too, year round! Wait, why just the one store? I'd take up the whole block, and it would have a Halloween shop... and a haunted house shop... and a diner..."
According to this article the head of the operation is Mike Foy, a third generation business owner. The five and dime was first to open in 1929, by his grandpa. Mike seems to be responsible for spooking up the enterprise.
The mind-blowing visit was clouded with a longing that still lingers. Since we were there on a Monday morning in the off-season, out of all the places I listed only the dime store and the costume shop were open. They were great (the dime store was phenomenal), but these photos make me feel like a ghost with unfinished business. Somehow, I must return to haunt this street again.
But here's some of what I did see.
The costume shop was packed with all the familiar bagged costumes and loads of accessories. What made it stand out were the displays around the parameter of the ceiling...
The variety shop is the heart of the enterprise.
The signage was a symphonic medley of metal, vinyl, neon tubing, and hand-painted wood.
I walked in and my eyes climbed a central tower of magnificent objects. The base was a display of bulk candy beneath a bay of security monitors, topped with the biggest advertisement for Don Post masks I've ever seen.
I immediately thought of the movie Halloween III, and then moments later the masks from the film were staring back at me, right next to an astounding selection of Michael Myers heads.
Imagine popping in to grab a Myers mask before a party and being confronted with this decision. It's like hash brown styles at Waffle House. Do you want your mask: chopped, smooth, bleeding, chunky, or covered in hair?
(The one on the top row with the milk jug lid showing deserves its own film franchise.)
I didn't pay attention to the price range, but some look like they could cause you to miss a car payment, while the model in the top right could have been used as packing material for the rest.
Tough choice? How about one of our dozen Jasons?
We apologize for only offering eight different Freddy Kruegers. But this is just the general store. Check out our Halloween shop for the real selection.
This was all behind a glass display that ran the length of the building. The content segued seamlessly from costumes to ninja weapons to magic tricks and so on. It's hard to see, but there's a full spinner rack of pranks stuck right on top. There were also plenty of over-the-counter novelties like alien putty and whoopee cushions.
The magic items are behind a sliding glass door. (Just as they should be!) The assortment covers all different manufacturers and decades. The handmade starburst sign with the word "magic" gives me chills. That Phony Burger behind it is from the 1960s...
Near the front door, morning-fresh popcorn warmed under an electric bulb. A container of cold fruit flavored juice was available at the legacy price of twenty-five cents. This was my breakfast.
Another bank of candy concealed a more practical aisle of tourist-wear and office supplies. The concentration of merchandise had a soothing effect on me, like swaddling on a colicky baby.
Beneath the selection of souvenirs was a shelf where you could force your hand into various containers of rubber trinkets and squish them all at once.
Not enough places sell rubber bats by the piece for fifty cents.
I was profoundly impressed that they offered so many subtle variations of skeletons. My skeleton collection grew that day.
A mini shrine to the founder was taped on a massive case of bulk jelly beans.
If my loved ones are reading this, I'd be more than honored to receive the same treatment in lieu of a traditional grave.
Another day on the road took us to Red Bank, New Jersey, where Scott had set up a big toy purchase from "popculturist guru" Rob Bruce (seen pointing at me below.)
We didn't visit his main stockpile of toys, but we did get to see his hallowed office! With his blessing, here are some photos (a bit blurry due to the pounding of my pulse.)
Rob's fascination at the time was limited edition art toys and vintage bootlegs (i.e. the spider-men seen below), an inevitable choice for anyone who has possessed every mass produced toy in existence.
Rob took us to his usual lunching spot which had the healthiest food I've ever shared a room with. He talked about the envy-inducing collector culture in the northeast, and he told us about the time he got to go on tour with the Ramones.
At his recommendation we traveled to a shop in Asbury Park called Groovy Graveyard.
The shop was more proof that the northeastern United States has a perfect storm of the elements needed to create a collectors' wonderland:
-A high population
Generations of stuff-buying families who have stayed in the region.
-A concentration of resources
Disposable income, frivolous spenders, questionable purchases by both the normal and the weirdos.
-People with diverse tastes
People from different backgrounds, cultures, educations and belief systems who bought Jazz, Punk, Hip Hop, and obscure film scores. Independent, Horror, and Documentary films once watched by historians, geeks, and cinephiles. Now they're done with it, and it's our job to preserve and archive it all.
-Basements
These are not a given where I live. I've heard that it has something to do with the frostline up north, or it's too damp here, or the ground is too hard. Whatever the reason, much of the country lacks what is both a storage space, and a breeding ground for cultural study, and comic reading, and roll playing games, and hiding from social situations.
Asbury Park will always have a layer of magic on it for me because it was home to the beloved S.S. Adams Prank and Magic company. Strangers have sent me emails over the years updating me on the state of the building (and its transition into condominiums). This was my chance to check up on it and pay my final respects. There was little remaining evidence that this was the world's premier novelty company for nearly a century.
I've been enticed by the Silverball Museum and arcade for years because it's often mentioned on a live-streaming podcast called "The Best Show with Tom Scharpling." My day in Asbury Park was my big chance to finally experience it. It was exactly as great as I expected it to be. Aisles of beautiful and functioning pinball machines awaited. Getting photos of them without players took precision timing...
The next day we visited Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash comic shop.
It functions as both a store and a studio for the show "Comic Book Men" on AMC. So there's more elbow room than many comic shops, and as you can see the lighting is heavy duty. (The thing on the left is a prop from the Kevin Smith movie "Tusk.")
Most of the products were new comic books, but they did have a display case of View Askewniverse memorabilia. Speaking of which, we did run into Brian O'Halloran who played Dante in Clerks (1994). On the way there I had thought, "Hey, what if we ran into someone from a Kevin Smith movie?" followed immediately by "That's ridiculous, what am I thinking? Why would they even be there?" and yet, there he was.
There was also a moment when one of the "Comic Book Men," Bryan Johnson, and I were the only two people in a room. Brian dropped a Gatorade and it rolled toward me, but stopped about eight feet from where I was sitting. Part of me thought that maybe I should pick it up and hand back to him, but again, it felt like a long way. I was frozen with this dilemma as he said "For f***'s sake." and chased down the bottle as I sat and watched awkwardly. We never said a word to each other.
Here are a few more places I saw in the Garden State...
On the way home there was an excellent tribute to the Pennsylvania Turnpike at one of the rest stops. (Pennsylvania has the best rest stops.) The glassed-in shelf was full of vintage souvenirs...
We stayed with a friend in Nashville who showed us the sights.We went to the tourist row of shops and bars. Many people wore boots, but I suspect very few were cowboys or cowgirls.
The Ernest Tubb Record shop was full of history, but their music supplies were low. (Those white things in the mostly empty racks on the right was their CD selection.) They were ripe for the vinyl comeback and I hope they've embraced it since my visit.
I got to take a peek at Hatch Show Print design shop, which is a graphic designers' destination in itself...
We went to yet another store that's supported by a reality TV show. Antique Archaeology is where some of the loot from "American Pickers" ends up.
The selection is amazing, but it's not a place for bargain shopping.
This concludes my eastern tour of "rooms full of stuff." More lost road trips to come! July 8, 2018
THE LOST ROAD TRIPS: PART I
People often tell me that they miss my travelogues. To be more accurate, one person told me that they miss my travelogues, however, that person is a magician. (Hi Frank.) A magician's request carries tremendous weight in my personal economy of things, so here goes.
In the last few years I've been on several all-American road trips that I have failed to share with the internet. Ideally, I would drop all the photos into a Kodak slide carousel, invite you all into my darkened living room, and let you enjoy a slice of pie as I cycle through the pictures to the sound of Esquivel records playing in the background. A series of blog posts will never come close to that, but you can still eat pie if you want.
Only one of my outings was a pure vacation where I got to choose the destination and route. The rest were unrefusable opportunities or ride-alongs which limited my roadside kicks to places that happened to be on the way. When there's a bigger goal, a schedule to stick to, and the route is at the mercy of a carload of independent wills, each successful stop is an unexpected triumph. When Mr. Fate is your bus driver, the lack of control can be offset by a near-overdose of serendipity when things do turn out great.
For my first post, I'd like to make an addendum to the massive write-up of my 2015 visit to the Archie McPhee headquarters. It was so massive that I didn't try to squeeze in the sights we saw along the highway. The first one was a doozy, Casa Bonita in Denver, Colorado.
I've been meaning to pay tribute to the Casa Bonita franchise since the earliest days of this blog, but the subject is overwhelming. When I was a kid the Tulsa location was like a local taste of Disneyland. The interior resembled a Mexican village on a starry night complete with a maze-like cave and a huge video arcade. I'd heard legends of the flagship Denver location for years, with its cliff divers and magic shows, but this was my first visit. I'm only going to include a couple token photos here to leave open the possibility for a dedicated post in the future. But I will say that it was immensely bigger and better than I had dreamed. I couldn't have been more excited to discover that this location had spooky stuff too, like a walk-through monster cave!
There is an elite class of roadside attraction that uses dozens, if not hundreds of billboards to tantalize drivers down the off-ramp. "Rock City Gardens" in Chattanooga and "South of the Border" in Dillon, South Carolina are my favorite examples. The multitude of signs I encountered for a place called Little America resembled a collection of stock photography, but the "billboard onslaught technique" always works on me.
I immediately got the sense that this place was a major highlight during the golden age of American road-tripping, and Wikipedia confirmed it. Little America opened in 1952 and soon became a fixture of the Lincoln highway, the nation's first transcontinental road. It doesn't need to boast any novel amusements because in the unforgiving Wyoming countryside all it takes to become a traveler's oasis are the basics: fuel, food, lodging, coffee, "spotless restrooms," cocktails, and a service garage, most of these available 24 hours a day. Its sixty-five gas pumps made it the world's largest service station for a time. Such a comfy, ample, supply depot can make a driver reluctant to return to the lonely road. It feels like leaving the Prancing Pony to wander the barrens of Middle Earth.
(Here's some foreshadowing...)
The complex has two competing themes. The name and the presence of penguins refers to a base in Antarctica reminding visitors that this dose of civilization is highly secluded. According to a legend on an old advertising flyer, the founder, S.M. Covey, made a vow to build this place into a "haven and a refuge" after he was once stranded in a blizzard on this very site. He deemed its construction "a promise kept...a dream come true."
Covey had a real penguin shipped across the sea to serve as a living mascot. The bird died in transit, and the stuffed carcass is still on display in the lobby— a reliquary to a corporate martyr. I couldn't get a photo of "Emperor the Penguin" because it was in the process of being cleaned. So at least they clean it.
Penguin statues are scattered among the other visual motif, Georgian style architecture of early America. The mix of zany and historic gives the place a unique vacationland appeal.
Speaking of unique appeal, I knew nothing about the history of the place, but I got the sense that it wasn't itself anymore. Like the sign out front, it seemed somehow incomplete. Sure enough, online photos show that a cartoon penguin was part of the original design. Unfortunately, they look to be in the final stages of shedding their mid-century whimsy. The newest signs attempt to class up the joint.
Their billboards went from this to this...
(60s billboard photo by John Margolies, new sign photo via)
Trying to play it straight goes against the very DNA of the establishment. Little America was designed from the ground up to cater to the boom of new families adventuring in their new family sedans. The shapes and colors of comic strips spilled into the real world to summon fun-seeking tribes. Regardless of the signs, this place will always be more like a theme park than a Colonial Williamsburg.
The overcast day of my visit emphasized the way the color and flavor has been drained. And now, so help me, I'm looking at vintage postcards for this place. I ache for a lost world...
All I want is this: It's 1966, and I'm a traveling novelty salesman. I coast into the Little America parking lot as smoke pours from under the hood of my Nash Rambler. I'm stranded for a week until a new part arrives, leaving me no choice but to survive on their amenities, and wander the grounds chatting up fellow tourists. During the week I break my personal record for rubber skeleton sales.
When you're traveling hundreds of miles through featureless plains, a couple of simple stone monoliths are enough to get everyone excited enough to stop. The Ames Monument was part of Union Pacific's effort to improve their reputation after a financial scandal in 1867. It's a tribute to two brothers who financed the first transcontinental railroad during a time when many proclaimed the duo to be "kings of fraud."
I'm learning all of this now because I couldn't be bothered to read the three plaques at the foot of the pyramid. I was just happy to find an empty lot where we could stretch our legs and let the powerful winds hold up the weight of our leaning bodies.
About twenty miles down the road there was a more self-explanatory attraction, The Wyoming Abraham Lincoln monument which has been at this location since 1969.
The visitors center looked disheveled. I like that.
This view from the Lincoln monument looks like something that would be framed on a wood-paneled wall in the corporate headquarters of a trucking company...
These back to back attractions were followed by an empty expanse that made me wish I had an electric car. Wyoming could do a better job with their monument dispersing.
A couple hours later I was relieved to find a gas station, but to call it that is an understatement. This was a Travel Plaza of great significance, The Sinclair station in Sinclair, Wyoming that's positioned in front of the Sinclair Oil Refinery. This gave me the opportunity to pump my favorite brand of gas (based solely on the corporate mascot) while staring at the place where it was concocted.
Considering that the refinery is close enough for them to drop off the gas during their coffee breaks it would stand to reason that the fuel would be cheaper. Not so.
On the way back from my Archie McPhee adventure I was more relaxed. I was thrilled with my visit, and in no hurry to return to real life. Following a tip from a friend we stopped at Multnomah Falls, Oregon.
The humid, cool air was refreshing, and the hovering scent of firewood from the visitor center made a blanket of cozy. The moss covered surfaces were like cushions for your eyes. It's no secret that I'm crazy about the junk food equivalent of roadside attractions, but I can absolutely appreciate such a nutritious place.
For lunch we stopped at Spooky's Pizza in The Dalles, Oregon. I still don't know what the mascot is, or why it's called Spooky's but I love both of those things. I'd like to think he's a ghost in a bow tie, but I'm often prone to thinking that things are ghosts. All their web site says is that it opened in '66, closed in the 80s, and reopened in '99. (That's '66 upside down!)
Like Pizza Hut, there is synergy between the signage and the rooftop. But they've topped the hut with multiple pinnacles and clerestory windows that match a functioning chimney.
The chimney looks to be attached to this massive fireplace. The Pizza Hut of my youth also had a massive fireplace. This taught me that pizza tastes better when you're near hot black iron. (Another example is in this old Pizza Parlour review, from back when 22 comments on a post was normal.)
This painting was a clue that there may have been more to the Spooky's experience...
Customized vending machines are the sign of a next level pizza joint.
A number of the yelp reviews that I read mentioned fond childhood experiences at the restaurant. Spooky's obviously embraces their history. Contrary to Little America, I'll bet that seeing old photos of this place wouldn't make me feel like I'd entirely missed out on something wonderful.
We stayed the night in Denver, and after my family settled in for the evening I went in search of the secondary market. There are times when I get powerful cravings to be surrounded by old media. Thus far, the trip hadn't offered much of that, so I hit the thrift store circuit. Once they'd all closed I got turned around in a complex of strip malls. A single store was still lit up. I made a moth-like approach and discovered Black & Read Books, Music, and News! It was exactly what I was itching for.
I opened one of the front doors and had to step around stacks of newly arrived boxes of VHS tapes. The store had the energizing aroma of paper goods slowly deteriorating. The vast inventory was organized with aging signs hand-written in Sharpie. I held monster manuals, board games, laserdiscs, and Heavy Metal magazines. It was open late, and the prices were very good. After buzzing for a couple hours, I left with mostly movie soundtracks on vinyl. There are still several more titles I wish I'd picked up. I returned the next morning to confirm that it wasn't just a dream...
The last leg of the trip took me by a place I have tried but failed to visit in the past. The home of the world's largest prairie dog. I missed it by about a year, but I think I'm okay with that. Online reviews are not kind. They have titles like, "Heavy with shame for seeing this." The problem was that the accompanying "zoo" seemed terribly mismanaged. Here's what remained...
The tantalizing fence was there to make sure that you paid your $10 entry fee...
The fake giant prairie dog was long gone when I got there, but Google images does not forget...
Here are some other sights from the road...
That's a skeleton on the grill in April. Respect.
Buford, WY, with a population of one (which is now called
A year-round Haunted House in Utah. More respect.
The gas station where I learned that pumping your own gas was (at the time) illegal in Oregon...
Thankfully, there's no law against ninjutsu supplies and skeleton art...
The windiest observation deck that is adamant about covering up vandalism...
The Mall in Hays, Kansas bucked all the new trends in outdoor signs for decades, and now they are better for it.
The same mall ignored all the graphic designers' doublespeak about the need for a unified logo, and they absolutely made the right decision.
UPDATE: I found a postcard that indicates the above was the original logo, and the orange striped version is the update. And look, the interior was so warm and inviting. The stripes were once on the mall exterior too! Why, as a society, have we given up on color?
More lost road trips are on the way!
In the last few years I've been on several all-American road trips that I have failed to share with the internet. Ideally, I would drop all the photos into a Kodak slide carousel, invite you all into my darkened living room, and let you enjoy a slice of pie as I cycle through the pictures to the sound of Esquivel records playing in the background. A series of blog posts will never come close to that, but you can still eat pie if you want.
Only one of my outings was a pure vacation where I got to choose the destination and route. The rest were unrefusable opportunities or ride-alongs which limited my roadside kicks to places that happened to be on the way. When there's a bigger goal, a schedule to stick to, and the route is at the mercy of a carload of independent wills, each successful stop is an unexpected triumph. When Mr. Fate is your bus driver, the lack of control can be offset by a near-overdose of serendipity when things do turn out great.
For my first post, I'd like to make an addendum to the massive write-up of my 2015 visit to the Archie McPhee headquarters. It was so massive that I didn't try to squeeze in the sights we saw along the highway. The first one was a doozy, Casa Bonita in Denver, Colorado.
I've been meaning to pay tribute to the Casa Bonita franchise since the earliest days of this blog, but the subject is overwhelming. When I was a kid the Tulsa location was like a local taste of Disneyland. The interior resembled a Mexican village on a starry night complete with a maze-like cave and a huge video arcade. I'd heard legends of the flagship Denver location for years, with its cliff divers and magic shows, but this was my first visit. I'm only going to include a couple token photos here to leave open the possibility for a dedicated post in the future. But I will say that it was immensely bigger and better than I had dreamed. I couldn't have been more excited to discover that this location had spooky stuff too, like a walk-through monster cave!
There is an elite class of roadside attraction that uses dozens, if not hundreds of billboards to tantalize drivers down the off-ramp. "Rock City Gardens" in Chattanooga and "South of the Border" in Dillon, South Carolina are my favorite examples. The multitude of signs I encountered for a place called Little America resembled a collection of stock photography, but the "billboard onslaught technique" always works on me.
I immediately got the sense that this place was a major highlight during the golden age of American road-tripping, and Wikipedia confirmed it. Little America opened in 1952 and soon became a fixture of the Lincoln highway, the nation's first transcontinental road. It doesn't need to boast any novel amusements because in the unforgiving Wyoming countryside all it takes to become a traveler's oasis are the basics: fuel, food, lodging, coffee, "spotless restrooms," cocktails, and a service garage, most of these available 24 hours a day. Its sixty-five gas pumps made it the world's largest service station for a time. Such a comfy, ample, supply depot can make a driver reluctant to return to the lonely road. It feels like leaving the Prancing Pony to wander the barrens of Middle Earth.
(Here's some foreshadowing...)
The complex has two competing themes. The name and the presence of penguins refers to a base in Antarctica reminding visitors that this dose of civilization is highly secluded. According to a legend on an old advertising flyer, the founder, S.M. Covey, made a vow to build this place into a "haven and a refuge" after he was once stranded in a blizzard on this very site. He deemed its construction "a promise kept...a dream come true."
Covey had a real penguin shipped across the sea to serve as a living mascot. The bird died in transit, and the stuffed carcass is still on display in the lobby— a reliquary to a corporate martyr. I couldn't get a photo of "Emperor the Penguin" because it was in the process of being cleaned. So at least they clean it.
Penguin statues are scattered among the other visual motif, Georgian style architecture of early America. The mix of zany and historic gives the place a unique vacationland appeal.
Speaking of unique appeal, I knew nothing about the history of the place, but I got the sense that it wasn't itself anymore. Like the sign out front, it seemed somehow incomplete. Sure enough, online photos show that a cartoon penguin was part of the original design. Unfortunately, they look to be in the final stages of shedding their mid-century whimsy. The newest signs attempt to class up the joint.
Their billboards went from this to this...
(60s billboard photo by John Margolies, new sign photo via) Trying to play it straight goes against the very DNA of the establishment. Little America was designed from the ground up to cater to the boom of new families adventuring in their new family sedans. The shapes and colors of comic strips spilled into the real world to summon fun-seeking tribes. Regardless of the signs, this place will always be more like a theme park than a Colonial Williamsburg.
The overcast day of my visit emphasized the way the color and flavor has been drained. And now, so help me, I'm looking at vintage postcards for this place. I ache for a lost world...
All I want is this: It's 1966, and I'm a traveling novelty salesman. I coast into the Little America parking lot as smoke pours from under the hood of my Nash Rambler. I'm stranded for a week until a new part arrives, leaving me no choice but to survive on their amenities, and wander the grounds chatting up fellow tourists. During the week I break my personal record for rubber skeleton sales.
When you're traveling hundreds of miles through featureless plains, a couple of simple stone monoliths are enough to get everyone excited enough to stop. The Ames Monument was part of Union Pacific's effort to improve their reputation after a financial scandal in 1867. It's a tribute to two brothers who financed the first transcontinental railroad during a time when many proclaimed the duo to be "kings of fraud."
I'm learning all of this now because I couldn't be bothered to read the three plaques at the foot of the pyramid. I was just happy to find an empty lot where we could stretch our legs and let the powerful winds hold up the weight of our leaning bodies.
About twenty miles down the road there was a more self-explanatory attraction, The Wyoming Abraham Lincoln monument which has been at this location since 1969.
The visitors center looked disheveled. I like that.
This view from the Lincoln monument looks like something that would be framed on a wood-paneled wall in the corporate headquarters of a trucking company...
These back to back attractions were followed by an empty expanse that made me wish I had an electric car. Wyoming could do a better job with their monument dispersing.
A couple hours later I was relieved to find a gas station, but to call it that is an understatement. This was a Travel Plaza of great significance, The Sinclair station in Sinclair, Wyoming that's positioned in front of the Sinclair Oil Refinery. This gave me the opportunity to pump my favorite brand of gas (based solely on the corporate mascot) while staring at the place where it was concocted.
Considering that the refinery is close enough for them to drop off the gas during their coffee breaks it would stand to reason that the fuel would be cheaper. Not so.
On the way back from my Archie McPhee adventure I was more relaxed. I was thrilled with my visit, and in no hurry to return to real life. Following a tip from a friend we stopped at Multnomah Falls, Oregon.
The humid, cool air was refreshing, and the hovering scent of firewood from the visitor center made a blanket of cozy. The moss covered surfaces were like cushions for your eyes. It's no secret that I'm crazy about the junk food equivalent of roadside attractions, but I can absolutely appreciate such a nutritious place.
For lunch we stopped at Spooky's Pizza in The Dalles, Oregon. I still don't know what the mascot is, or why it's called Spooky's but I love both of those things. I'd like to think he's a ghost in a bow tie, but I'm often prone to thinking that things are ghosts. All their web site says is that it opened in '66, closed in the 80s, and reopened in '99. (That's '66 upside down!)
Like Pizza Hut, there is synergy between the signage and the rooftop. But they've topped the hut with multiple pinnacles and clerestory windows that match a functioning chimney.
The chimney looks to be attached to this massive fireplace. The Pizza Hut of my youth also had a massive fireplace. This taught me that pizza tastes better when you're near hot black iron. (Another example is in this old Pizza Parlour review, from back when 22 comments on a post was normal.)
This painting was a clue that there may have been more to the Spooky's experience...
Customized vending machines are the sign of a next level pizza joint.
A number of the yelp reviews that I read mentioned fond childhood experiences at the restaurant. Spooky's obviously embraces their history. Contrary to Little America, I'll bet that seeing old photos of this place wouldn't make me feel like I'd entirely missed out on something wonderful.
We stayed the night in Denver, and after my family settled in for the evening I went in search of the secondary market. There are times when I get powerful cravings to be surrounded by old media. Thus far, the trip hadn't offered much of that, so I hit the thrift store circuit. Once they'd all closed I got turned around in a complex of strip malls. A single store was still lit up. I made a moth-like approach and discovered Black & Read Books, Music, and News! It was exactly what I was itching for.
I opened one of the front doors and had to step around stacks of newly arrived boxes of VHS tapes. The store had the energizing aroma of paper goods slowly deteriorating. The vast inventory was organized with aging signs hand-written in Sharpie. I held monster manuals, board games, laserdiscs, and Heavy Metal magazines. It was open late, and the prices were very good. After buzzing for a couple hours, I left with mostly movie soundtracks on vinyl. There are still several more titles I wish I'd picked up. I returned the next morning to confirm that it wasn't just a dream...
The last leg of the trip took me by a place I have tried but failed to visit in the past. The home of the world's largest prairie dog. I missed it by about a year, but I think I'm okay with that. Online reviews are not kind. They have titles like, "Heavy with shame for seeing this." The problem was that the accompanying "zoo" seemed terribly mismanaged. Here's what remained...
The tantalizing fence was there to make sure that you paid your $10 entry fee...
The fake giant prairie dog was long gone when I got there, but Google images does not forget...
Here are some other sights from the road...
That's a skeleton on the grill in April. Respect.
Buford, WY, with a population of one (which is now called
A year-round Haunted House in Utah. More respect.
The gas station where I learned that pumping your own gas was (at the time) illegal in Oregon...
Thankfully, there's no law against ninjutsu supplies and skeleton art...
The windiest observation deck that is adamant about covering up vandalism...
The Mall in Hays, Kansas bucked all the new trends in outdoor signs for decades, and now they are better for it.
The same mall ignored all the graphic designers' doublespeak about the need for a unified logo, and they absolutely made the right decision.
UPDATE: I found a postcard that indicates the above was the original logo, and the orange striped version is the update. And look, the interior was so warm and inviting. The stripes were once on the mall exterior too! Why, as a society, have we given up on color?
More lost road trips are on the way!
October 30, 2017
HALLOWEEN TAPE REVIEW #31: The Hallmark Halloween Tapes
Hallmark put out four different Halloween cassettes between 1986 and '89 during the peak of the Halloween cassette trend. The tapes were part of their annual Halloween promotions. For example, if you spent five dollars, you could get a tape for $1.95 (Which really wasn't less than most Halloween cassettes at the time.) The first three releases share a great deal of content (see specifics below) while the '89 release was an all new recording. I have many questions about these tapes, and perhaps the answers rest deep in the Hallmark archives, but for now I'll happily rely on pure speculation.
Title: The Haunting Sounds of Halloween
Manufacturer: Hallmark
Year: 1986
Also popular from Hallmark that year: Black cat and witch Merry Miniatures
Total Runtime: around 60 Min
Repeats on both sides: Yes
Stories: No
Music: Cinematic music, some synth, and some pipe organ music
Narration: No
Distinct Audio: "Aren't you a little big to be trick or treating?" and other lines of dialogue
Review: Hallmark has always presented a grandma-friendly version of Halloween that complimented the discount store blood and disfigured monster masks. It often found its way onto teachers' desks and store clerk smocks, and I always welcomed the site of it. Naturally, their Halloween cassettes follow the same whimsical aesthetic.
Rather than a harrowing soundscape, the Hallmark effects come at you methodically, and with a bit too much dead air in between each noise for my taste. The mood stays tongue-in-cheek as a handful of actors speak semi-comical lines. Most are written to work with a trick or treat porch scenario like: "My, what an ugly costume." and, "Didn't the other kids tell you not to come here?" The effects in between are death-free; instead they focus on things like door hinges and cats.
The Haunting Sounds of Halloween is the rarest of the four Hallmark releases. It was seemingly replaced the same year it came out with The Sounds of Halloween (see below). The assortment of sound effects are almost identical and presented in the same order. The difference is that Haunting Sounds repeatedly plays John Williams' theme to the 1979 version of "Dracula." There's also a synth track that I can't identify (and neither can the Shazam app) which doesn't necessarily sound scary. It reminds me of the beginning of an '80s movie. My sense of wild speculation tells me that the tape was pulled and replaced due to a lack of legal clearance on the music. (The credits only list Paul Whitehead after Music Production.) Was it supposed to be placeholder music, or was this intentional thievery, or just a misunderstanding? The answer to all of those questions is "yes."
Legal or not, The Haunting Sounds of Halloween is well produced and creates an amusing, spooky atmosphere without traumatizing youngsters.
Rating: 4 of 5
Title: The Sounds of Halloween
Manufacturer: Hallmark
Year: 1986
Total Runtime: 37 Min
Repeats on both sides: No
Stories: No
Music: "Toccata and Fugue in D-Minor," and a bunch of Halloween friendly pop covers.
Narration: No
Distinct Audio: See previous review
Review: As mentioned above, the effects side of this recording is virtually the same as The Haunting Sounds of Halloween, but without the music (except for good ol' "Toccata and Fugue in D-Minor.") There are also added flourishes to existing sounds (like reverb) and a few added extras (Like a monster roar after some dialogue) as well as some general shuffling around. Unfortunately, the edits take a significant bite out of the runtime.
Perhaps in an effort to make up for this loss, side two is now full of Halloween party staples: "Ghostbusters," "Monster Mash," "Thriller," "Purple People Eater" and another dose of Bach. This was probably somewhat convenient in the mixtape era, however the downside is that the cover songs are a hollow shell of the original recordings. Of course that can be pretty entertaining too. The Vincent Price stand-in is delightfully droll, and completely loses track of the rhythm. They made the wise decision not to use a Michael Jackson impersonator, opting for a female vocalist instead. Paul Whitehead is once again the music producer so it's nice to know he didn't lose his job after the first album.
Sounds of Halloween suffered a loss after the previous release, but there's some new fun to be had. It's kind of a yin yang situation.
Rating: 3 of 5
Here's the closet that I can find to streaming audio...
Title: Howl-o-ween Sounds
Manufacturer: Hallmark
Year: 1987
Also popular from Hallmark that year: Lapel Pins
Total Runtime: 45 Min
Repeats on both sides: Yes
Stories: No
Music: "Toccata and Fugue in D-Minor"
Narration: No
Distinct Audio: See previous releases
Review: Howl-o-ween Sounds is easily the worst of the bunch because it includes the neutered effects of The Haunting Sounds of Halloween repeated on both sides. So there's no music at all except of course "Toccata and Fugue in D-Minor " which is a basic human right at this point.
They released it a second time with a different cover, possibly to fill their Halloween tape void in 1988.
Howl-o-ween Sounds wouldn't be so bad if we didn't know what we were missing—but we do.
Rating: 2 of 5
Title: Spooky Sounds
Manufacturer: Hallmark
Year: 1989
Also popular from Hallmark that year: Woodland Merry Miniatures
Total Runtime: 60 Min
Repeats on both sides: No
Stories: No
Music: Incidental music and a collection of spooky pop tracks
Narration: No
Distinct Audio: New wacky dialogue
Review: Three years after their foray into Halloween audio Hallmark must have realized that they had gotten all the mileage they could from The Sounds of Halloween. In 1989 they put together an all new album that follows their well established format of non-threatening sounds paired with kooky dialogue. Some of it is featured in this entertaining video...
They also went back to the half effects/half music model and filled side two with a set of newly recorded cover tunes that include: "The Munsters," "Monster Mash," "The Addams Family," "Ghostbusters," "Twilight Zone," "Dark Shadows," and an original called "Haunting Melody."
With a fresh new tape under their belt they also released a fresh new promotion...
Spooky Sounds is a strong effort that proves that experience, and an ability to learn from one's mistakes can lead to new heights.
Rating: 4 of 5
HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!
HALLOWEEN TAPE REVIEW #30: Alfred Hitchcock Ghost Stories
Title: Alfred Hitchcock Ghost Stories
(AKA Alfred Hitchcock Presents Ghost Stories for Young People)
Manufacturer: Wonderland Golden Records
Year: Cassette 1988, original recording 1962
Total Runtime: 44 Min
Repeats on both sides: No
Stories: Six different ones
Music: "The Funeral March of a Marionette" written by Charles Gounod (The Theme to "Alfred Hitchcock Presents") also some incidental music
Narration: All narration by John Allen
Distinct Audio: N/A
Review: This less-than-official-looking version of Alfred Hitchcock Presents Ghost Stories for Young People seems to be a legitimate reissue of the 1962 album which was also produced by Wonderland Golden Records. The decision to revisit the title in 1988 may have been due to the newfound popularity of cheap Halloween tapes, or it may have been an attempt to profit from the mid-80s version of the "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" TV series.
Alfred himself provides a 'wrap around' for the six stories. They are expertly narrated by John Allen, and enhanced with an effective soundtrack. The tales come from all different sources, and some may be familiar to those already interested in the genre. "The Haunted and the Haunters" seems to be a loose interpretation of Edward Bulwer-Lytton's 1859 short story of the same name. It's tone is a bit more dire than the rest, which are rarely frightening. "Johnny Takes A Dare (The More The Merrier)" is very similar to "Wait 'Til Martin Comes Home" as it appears on Scary Spooky Stories (1973).
"The Helpful Hitchhiker" is the same urban legend that inspired Red Sovine's "Phantom 309," and the Large Marge scene in "Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (1985)." "The Open Window" by Saki was first published in 1914, and a different recording of it appears on Troll Records' Thrillers and Chillers (1973). "Jimmy Takes Vanishing Lessons" was first published as a Childrens book in 1950.
Though the source material isn't always the strongest, it's fun to light up a room with the spooky sounds of yesteryear. It's also three hundred times better if you listen to it with a kid.
Rating: 4 of 5
October 29, 2017
HALLOWEEN TAPE REVIEW #29: Chiller by the Cincinnati Pops
Title: Chiller by the Cincinnati Pops conducted by Erich Kunzel
Manufacturer: Telarc
Year: 1989
Total Runtime: 59 Min
Repeats on both sides: No
Stories: No
Music: Mostly music with a few sound effects vignettes
Narration: No
Distinct Audio: The "dangerous" sound effects. See below
Review: Back in high school, discussions about audio fidelity came up often because most of my friends were finally making the leap to compact discs, one Christmas and birthday at a time. My friend's audiophile dad taught us about the SPARS code, a three letter sequence printed on the discs that told you "how digital" an album was. So "AAD," the least desirable in our eyes, meant that an album was recorded in Analog, mixed in Analog, and Digitized for CD. Of course the ultimate was pure "DDD" because nothing sounds better than digital, right? ...Right?
I raced home and examined my collection of about ten CDs. (Thank you Columbia House music club.) Not a single triple D in the bunch. What was the point of even buying CDs?! (Aside from sound quality, durability, instant access to individual tracks, and so on.) This feature suddenly rose to the top of my list of things to look for in a compact disc, ranking slightly above the recording artist and album. What a classic case of ruining something I vastly enjoyed just because the grass seemed greener elsewhere. It's more ridiculous when you consider that my "sound system" came from JCPenny and had three inch speakers.
At the time I didn't understand how rare DDD recordings were. The only one I'd ever heard was my friend's copy of Nothing Like the Sun by Sting. Occasionally I'd find one in the record store, but nothing I wanted to spend two weeks of allowance on. That changed one evening in the Soundtrack CD section of Sound Warehouse. (I'm ashamed to admit how self-satisfied I became when I finally had "the right" to shop in the CD department.) I grabbed a CD with a beautifully illustrated haunted house on the cover. I perked up when I saw things like "Night on Bald Mountain," "Twilight Zone," and "Poltergeist" on the track listing. Then my eyes zeroed in on the SPARS code (bottom left)...
Triple D PURE DIGITAL! The cherry on top was a mysterious "Digital Sound Effects" warning for certain tracks. In the parking lot I tore open the booklet and read that these three tracks should not be played at high volume at the risk of damaging you speakers because the sweet digital fidelity is so powerful! I couldn't get home quick enough.
The first time I played Chiller I cautiously kept the volume dial around the "one" mark. I could hear a burst of lightning. I re-listened a few more times inching up the volume with each play. It's true, the warning tracks are incredibly loud, though I don't think my portable boom box was in any danger. But on a large system that thunderclap could give everyone in the room a heart attack.
On the other hand, I wasn't used to music that could get so quiet. There's such a dynamic range that the soft parts are nearly inaudible on low volume. But this has a great affect on songs like "Funeral March of a Marionette" when the first burst of percussion can give you a true jump scare.
I realize all of this has nothing to do with the cassette. I got the tape in a lot of unopened Halloween audio, and I don't plan on breaking the seal because I still have that delicious digi-clean DDD compact disc.
I didn't recognize a lot of the music titles when I bought it, but upon listening they were instantly familiar thanks to TV shows and movies. I discovered that "Danse Macabre" is the basis for the Halloween song I learned in school. I love about three fourths of this album. Chillers only loses me when some of the selections veer out of spooky territory. (Now I'm eager to check out the sequel they made in 2002 that isn't afraid to wallow in less Classical pop culture.)
Chiller is more than just a well recorded album. It's a collection of seminal Horror music in the hands of experts. Also, the letters on the cover glow-in-the-dark!
Rating: DDD
I can't find a streaming link, but it's on Pandora and itunes.
(Here's a detailed track by track review that I enjoyed.)
October 28, 2017
HALLOWEEN TAPE REVIEW #28: Halloween Horrors
Title: Halloween Horrors
Manufacturer: A&M Records
Year: 1977
Total Runtime: 30 Min
Repeats on both sides: No
Stories: Side one is a single story
Music: No
Narration: No
Distinct Audio: "My baby! Have you seen my baby?"
Review: It seems that A&M Records took note of a sales trend that started with the massively successful Disney's Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House (1968) and continued with albums like Sounds to Make You Shiver (1974) and Ghostly Sounds (1975). Their response was Halloween Horrors. This seems to be the only Halloween album released by a major record label (if you don't count Disney). It's also the only one I know of that uses the genuine Dolby "B" noise reduction system. Printing a blurry Dolby logo on the back of the sleeve doesn't count; sorry Night in a Graveyard and Haunted House .
It's also likely that Halloween Horrors had one of the all-time biggest Halloween album budgets (which isn't saying much). This would explain why their search for voice talent was not limited to people who happened to be sitting in the office that day. They employed actors
Side one features a fifteen minute "Story of Halloween Horror" that follows a young man visiting his newly inherited haunted estate. He recounts several legends surrounding the house during his drive over, and his visit confirms the tragic history.
I first heard this at a dinner party when I was in fifth grade. Shortly after meeting the two brothers of the household they dragged me into their bedroom and insisted that I ignore their room full of exciting new toys, and give my full attention to their mysterious cassette tape. As the story progressed I was afraid that I was hearing something that I shouldn't have been. I wondered if their parents even knew what they'd gotten their hands on. During the climactic ghostly encounter the distress in the young man's voice and the distorted cries of the apparition struck me at my core. My parents had no idea why I was acting strangely for the rest of the night.
Side two features "The Sounds of Halloween and other useful effects." These certainly proved useful for the countless record companies who strip-mined the record for some easy cash. For people like me who are tired of hearing all the thieves and imitators it's a treat to tap into the source material.
Halloween Horrors set the standard for Halloween records and it remains a true classic.
Rating: 5 of 5
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