Monster Mash: The Creepy, Kooky Monster Craze In America by TwoMorrows Publishing

The Creepy, Kooky Monster Craze Lisa Loring 83 Ken Weatherwax 86 “Addams” memorabilia 88 Al Lewis 92 Butch Patrick 95 Pat Priest 98 “Munster” memorabilia 102 TV ’toons 106

THE GENESIS Foreword 4 Introduction 6 Harbingers 10 “Shock!” 12 John Zacherle 16 Vampira: TV pioneer 20 Horror hosts 21 Famous Monsters #1 22 James Warren 24 Forrest J Ackerman 26

MOBILE MONSTERS MOVIE MONSTERS 8mm and Super 8 films 47 Veteran horror stars 50 Boris Karloff remembered 52

Jitters ’n’ jalopies 108 Ed “Big Daddy” Roth 110 George Barris 114 Tom Daniel 117 Weird-Ohs 118 The stigma is kaput 121

MONSTERABILIA

MAINSTREAM INVASION Monsters meet rock ’n’ roll 28 Bobby (Boris) Pickett 32 Aurora monster models 34 James Bama 38 Controversial kit 42 “Naked” monsters 44 Chaney Sr. and Jr. characters 46

Mars Attacks 58 Ugly Stickers 62 Trading cards 64 Monster Old Maid 66 Monster iron-ons 68 Monster masks 70

TERRORVISION TV anthologies 74 Spooky sitcom broods 76 John Astin 78 Felix Sila 82 Addams vs. “Addams” 82

Inset images, from left: “Phantom of the Opera” and “Dracula” © Universal Studios; Freddy Flypogger © Monogram Models

MONSTERS IN PRINT Warren renaissance 122 Russ Jones 124 Angelo Torres 127

in America 1957-1972 Creepy, Eerie, Vampi gallery 128 Frank Frazetta collage 130 Basil Gogos 132 Greg Bazaz 134 Famous Films 136 Castle of Frankenstein 138 Monster magazines 139 Monster comic books 140 Marvel Comics monsters 142 Funny monsters 144

BARNABAS AND FIENDS “Dark Shadows” 146 Jonathan Frid 148 Kathryn Leigh Scott 149 Lara Parker 150 David Selby 151 “Dark Shadows” ensemble 152 “Dark Shadows” memorabilia 156 “Dark Shadows” novels 158 “Dark Shadows” comic books 159 Ken Bald 160

Written and designed by: Mark Voger Publisher: John Morrow Proofreader: Scott Peters Front cover: Shock Monster art by Keith Ward (redrafted and colored by Mark Voger); Barnabas Collins © Dan Curtis Productions; “Phantom of the Opera” and “Creature From the Black Lagoon” © Universal Studios; Herman Munster © Kayro-Vue Productions and ™ Universal Studios; Famous Monsters of Filmland © Warren Publishing; “Ugly Stickers” art by Norman Saunders © the Topps Company Back cover: Vampirella art by Frank Frazetta © Warren Publishing; “Frankenstein” and “Creature From the Black Lagoon” © Universal Studios; “The Munsters” © KayroVue Productions and ™ Universal Studios; Uncle Fester © Filmways TV Productions; “Planet of the Apes” © 20th Century Fox

THE FINAL CURTAIN

For my big brother Bud

“Planet of the Apes” 162 Eerie Publications 164 That old gang of ours 168 Monster Memory Lane 170 R.I.P. 1972 182 Epilogue 184 Acknowledgments 190 Bibliography 190 Notes 190 Index 191

(1939-2013), who bought me vampire fangs and told me all about Roland “Monster Mash: The Creepy, Kooky Monster Craze in America 1957-1972” © 2015 Mark Voger ISBN 978-1-60549-064-9 First printing, June 2015 Printed in the USA All rights reserved under international copyright conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from Mark Voger, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. Inquiries should be addressed to Mark Voger c/o: TwoMorrows Publishing. Photos credited to Kathy Voglesong © the estate of Kathy Voglesong.

Published by: TwoMorrows Publishing 10407 Bedfordtown Drive Raleigh, North Carolina 27614 www.twomorrows.com

Inset images, from left: Barnabas Collins © Dan Curtis Productions; Basil Gogos art © Warren Publishing; Reed Crandall art © Warren Publishing; Norman Saunders art © the Topps Company

A system

to the

Boy, did the Beaver (Jerry Matthers, below) get in trouble when he wore one of the monster sweatshirts above to school in a 1962 episode of “Leave It To Beaver.” As the decade ensued, the Monster Craze “mainstreamed” monsters. © NBC Universal Inc. REMEMBER THOSE TORCH-WIELDING villagers in “Frankenstein”? That’s how adults felt about monsters in the late 1950s and early ’60s. Adults, by and large, hated monsters. At best, they feared monsters would give their children nightmares. At worst, they regarded monsters as false idols that glorified the occult. The Monster Craze would one day achieve the unthinkable; it would “mainstream” monsters, make them family-friendly. But before that accidental revolution took place, monsters were frowned upon by parents, educators and clergy — not to mention, the politicians who sought their vote. There’s an episode of “Leave It To Beaver” that encapsulates adult attitudes toward monsters at the time. In “Monster Sweatshirts” (Season 4, Episode 35), which aired June 2, 1962, Beaver (Jerry Mathers) and three of his buddies purchase — you guessed it — monster sweatshirts. The shirts cost $3.75 each at Tilden’s Sporting Goods in downtown Mayfield. The monsters on the shirts are generic; Beaver buys the one with three eyes. While the boys wear the shirts on a bustling street, a woman shoots them a look of disgust. This is only the beginning.

In an early, pre-adolescent act of rebellion, the boys make a pact to wear the shirts to school the following day. Alas, when the big day comes, only Beaver honors the agreement. He is promptly sent to the principal’s office, and later, his dad grounds him for the weekend. (You could say Beaver’s dad, Ward Cleaver, didn’t have a leg to stand on. The actor who played him — Hugh Beaumont — was a star of “The Mole People.”) BUT PRIOR TO THE MONSTER CRAZE igniting in 1957, monsters — and adult discomfort with them — had been in a state of slumber. For the most part, there hadn’t been movies about conventional Gothic monsters for a long while .. . unless they were meeting Abbott and Costello. (The final film to feature classic Universal monsters Dracula, Frankenstein and the Wolf Man was, in fact, 1948’s “Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein.”) Thereafter, the monsters you saw onscreen usually fell into two categories: aliens from outer space or irradiated giant bugs that attacked entire cities. No less a body than the United States military fought them off.

The man in the long black coat

“SHOCK THEATER” SOUNDS COOL, DOESN’T IT? But actually, the title of the horror-movie show that debuted at 11:25 p.m. EST on Oct. 10, 1957, over Channel 10 in Philadelphia was a bit more of a mouthful: “The Million Dollar Movie Presents Shock Theater.” The film shown could scarcely have been more appropriate: “Frankenstein.” And neither could the host: Roland (accent on the “land”), played by John Zacherle — Presbyterian, Philadelphian, World War II veteran, former cowboy actor. Roland became a local phenomenon, but before long, Zacherle’s national profile would emerge. There was the little matter of a Top 10 novelty song, “Dinner With Drac - Part 1,” which peaked at #6 during its seven weeks on the Billboard chart in 1958. Suddenly, the “Cool Ghoul” — as Dick Clark nicknamed Zacherle — was rocking out on “American Bandstand.”

“We had a makeup man who tried to make me up to look like Lon Chaney as the Phantom of the Opera,” said John Zacherle. Photo by Kathy Voglesong

Famous Monsters of Filmland made Zacherle its cover boy twice, with issues #7 (1960), in a painting by Albert Nuetzell, and #15 (1962), in a painting by Basil Gogos. Zacherle’s national profile was also enhanced by coverage in Life, TV Guide and The Saturday Evening Post. © Warren Publishing National magazines began to take notice. In 1958, Zach and his fellow horror hosts were profiled in the March 29 edition of TV Guide (“TV’s Newest Rage: The Monster of Ceremonies”), followed by spreads in the May 26 edition of Life (“Night Harbingers of Horror”) and the Aug. 16 edition of The Saturday Evening Post (“TV’s Midnight Madness”). Then Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine put Zacherle on its cover twice, with issues #7 (1960) and #15 (1962). Famous Monsters regularly kept readers apprised of Zacherle’s comings and goings, and its in-house Captain Company marketed a Zacherley mask (crafted by master mask-maker Don Post) and poster. Add to that syndication of Zach’s later New York shows — monster enthusiast Bob Burns recalled watching him on a Los Angeles affiliate — and Zach became the nation’s Cool Ghoul. A quick note on the spelling of Zach’s name: His birth surname is, indeed, spelled “Zacherle.” His final broadcast as Roland aired on Sept. 5, 1958. (Again, the choice of movie shown was appropriate: “The Black Sleep.”) When he relocated to New York to host movies at WABC, a “Y” was added to his surname as an on-air moniker . . . and “Zacherley” was born. The following Q&A with Zacherle (born: 1918) is gleaned from seven interviews I did with him between 1991 and 2014. Q: How did you land your first job in television? ZACHERLE: I had been in a little theater group in Philadelphia. I

was trying to find myself after being in the Army during World War II. I wasn’t in battles — I was behind the lines, in supply. They sent me to England, Scotland, Italy, North Africa. Then I was sent back to Washington, DC. A big shot! I couldn’t believe it. Suddenly one day, big whistles were blowing and church bells were ringing. The war was over. I got home to Philadelphia, but I didn’t know what to do. I had just gotten out of college when I was picked up and put in the Army. I kind of drifted around. I think it was a cousin of mine who got me interested in a theater group near where I lived in Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia. I went down there and got involved. I enjoyed it, I really did. I worked on scenery. One day, a lady who worked for the Board of Education said, “Why don’t you go out to the TV station? They’re starting something new out there.” The next thing I know, I’m working behind-the-scenes on this live Western soap opera. It was called “Action in the Afternoon.” Q: A live Western soap opera — it’s almost inconceivable. It just goes to show you how different early television was. ZACHERLE: It was a half-hour every afternoon, five days a week. It was really very exciting. The show was set in, I seem to recall, Hubberly, Montana, in the 1880s. They built a lot of outdoor scenery, just false-front buildings, so you could ride in on a horse, and it looked like a town. They’d ride horses outside the studio, and then if there was a shootout, they’d scramble to get inside the studio. There was a barroom, a doctor’s office. They had a horseshoe

Monster hit songs

The unholy alliance of rock ’n’ roll and monsters

THE TWO REVILED DEMON CHILDREN BEGAN TO The song itself seemed like an irrevocable call-to-arms for this mate almost immediately. new music: “We’re gonna rock, rock, rock ’til broad daylight.” We’re talking about rock ’n’ roll and the Monster Craze, which So — if you’ll accept for the moment my theory that rock was exploded around the same time — the middle 1950s. born in earnest in 1955 — the Monster Craze followed by a mere Wonderful things happened in the 1950s: TV dinners, the Hula two years. Neither phenomenon exactly won universal parental Hoop, Marilyn Monroe. But it’s no exaggeration to say the ’50s approval. Ed Sullivan famously wouldn’t allow Elvis Presley’s was also a time of social paranoia. hips to be seen on his Sunday night variety show. Monsters, as The decade’s defining event, what history calls the Red Scare, we’ve discussed earlier, were pointy-teethed, neckbolt-wearing fostered an environment in which mainstream Americans were pariahs among the Parent Teacher Association set. It’s no wonder often mistrustful of anything different, anything that was “other.” rock ’n’ roll and monsters formed their little unholy alliance. As the Army-McCarthy hearings drilled into the proletariat: You are either one of us, or one of them. ANOTHER QUESTION FOR HISTORIANS: Above: John Ashley This atmosphere created the perfect storm for the when was the first song to combine monsters and and dancing girls birth of rock ’n’ roll, which was all about rebellion rock? Certainly, “Monster Mash” by Bobby (Boris) have “ee-ooo” to and sex and crazy dances. Pickett — that freaky-funny novelty hit with referencspare in “How to When was rock ’n’ roll born? That’s a toughie. es to “Wolf Man, Dracula and his son,” which went to Make a Monster” As you watch the 1938 Andy Hardy movie “Judge #1 in 1962 — is the one we remember best. (1958). Hardy’s Children,” and Andy disrupts a boring But there are many precedents. © American cotillion by coaxing the band into playing swing, the As more and more living rooms became TV-setInternational Pictures resulting joyful chaos sure looks and sounds an equipped during the 1950s, families were vanishing awful lot like rock ’n’ roll. from movie theaters so they could watch their tiny, Historians have their theories, and their disagreements, as to blurry screens at home. Fine and dandy for Daddy, Mommy and the moment rock ’n’ roll was hatched. As for me, I point to July 9, the tykes, but teenagers needed to get away from their square rela1955, the day “Rock Around the Clock” by Bill Haley and the tions. Drive-in theaters became the perfect modern surrogate for Comets became the first song of this embryonic type to hit #1 on Lovers’ Lane. Cars provided cover for fumblings in the dark, and the Billboard sales chart. Not just because of the Billboard thing. movie soundtracks handily masked any heavy breathing.

Thus, the drive-in market — specifically targeted at teens — was up and running. Big movie stars? Who needs ’em? Independent movie companies, chiefly American International Pictures (AIP), instead garnered box office with sensational titles like “I Was a Teenage Werewolf” and “Invasion of the Saucer Men” (both 1957). For drive-in movies, the focus was on genre, not star power, and the rejuvenated monster genre was rid1958 ing high. Increasingly, teenagers were cast as the stars of these movies. (It was a win-win for AIP, enhancing teen relatability as it shrank payroll.) And what kind of music did teens like to listen to? Thus, dipso facto, rock ’n’ roll songs began to pop up in monster movies. “I Was a Teenage Werewolf,” which ignited the whole teen monster trend, interpolated rock ’n’ roll out of the box. Ken Miller — as a pal of Michael Landon’s title terror — sang “Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Moe” (“I wanna girl with a lotta dough”), perhaps the earliest example of a rock ’n’ monsters coupling. Miller’s voice has a pleasant ring, but his singing is incessantly behind the beat. He explained why in 2002. “I got to sing a little song there, which was unfortunately out of sync,” Miller told me with a laugh. “That’s what happens when you’re doing a film that doesn’t have a big budget. They never did put it in sync.” In “Blood of Dracula” (1957), Jerry Blaine sings “Puppy Love” (not to be

1965

confused with the later Donny Osmond song) as one of the up-to-no-good boys who crash a party at an all-girl boarding school. In “Earth vs. the Spider” (1958), a giant spider frozen in a state of suspended animation is roused by ... a blaring rock combo. In “How to Make a Monster” (1958), John Ashley plays himself (as if, ha-ha, he is a celebrity outside of AIP movies) singing “You’ve Got to Have Ee-Ooo” (it sounds like a fungus) surrounded by gyrating dancing girls. Ashley is also on hand in “Frankenstein’s Daughter” (1958), but it is Harold Lloyd Jr., son of the silent-era comic, who belts out the rockers “Special Date” (“at 10 o’clock / we’ll start to rock”) and “Daddy-Bird,” backed by Page Cavanaugh and His Trio. This happens at the pool party of Ashley’s love interest, Sandra Knight — the first, and only, Mrs. Jack Nicholson. In “The Giant Gila Monster” (1959), Don Simpson sings rockabilly as a misunderstood teenage mechanic with a hidden talent. The poster boasts “rock & roll hits” such as “The Gila Monster Crawl.” Um, hits? 1962 AH, BUT THESE FILMS MERELY presented rock ’n’ roll songs within monster movies — as opposed to actually blending the genres. In the movies, that profane collusion occurred with the opening theme from “Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow” (1959). The instrumental theme by Ronald Stein is, squarely, horror-rock — squeaky saxophone one moment, eerie strains the next. Meanwhile, in real life, the genre-blending had already occurred. “Dinner With Drac” by John

Art outside the box Bama imbued his monsters with an eerie glow

Creepy art for the Mummy, Dr. Jekyll “as” Mr. Hyde (heavily referencing Fredric March), the Hunchback of Notre Dame (ditto, Anthony Quinn), the Creature and the Forgotten Prisoner of Castel-Maré. Opposite: Bama Wolf Man box art — talk about glow. © Universal Studios; “Castel-Maré” © Warren Publishing

HE IS CONSIDERED THE GREAT CHRONICLER OF Q: How were you selected to illustrate the model kit boxes? the American West, an artist on a par with Norman Rockwell and BAMA: I was at Cooper Studio in New York. It was a big place. Andrew Wyeth. They had 45 artists and seven salesman. When the jobs would But James Bama has a skeleton in his closet. come in, the salesmen would try to match up the And a vampire. And a werewolf. And a mummy. most appropriate artist with the job. So I got the And a giant monkey . . . Aurora job. Now, Aurora never thought monsters The artist, born in New York City in 1926, is laudwould sell. There was a guy there who would ed for his breathtaking canvases depicting prairie life. always say, “Let’s try monsters.” They had just put But monster fans will always think of Bama as the out a series on disasters — bombed-out buildings guy who painted the unforgettable, shudder-inducing and things like that. Didn’t sell. So finally, they box art for the Aurora Plastics Corporation’s monster said, “Okay, we’ll try monsters.” For some reason, model kits. they went for it. I did the first one, which was Bama brought the movie monsters to life, using Frankenstein, and they brought it to a convention. garish colors to imbue them with an eerie glow. His No one at the convention liked the idea, but some backgrounds — crumbling castles, spooky forests, of them had kids there, and the kids went nuts for stormy skies — placed the monsters in a tangible it. The kids loved it. netherworld. Bama’s box paintings were, themselves, Photo courtesy of James Bama something like little movies. Q: What was the response when the first kit was As renowned as Bama is in the art world, these earlier contrireleased to stores? butions to popular culture, not to mention his memorable Doc BAMA: They sold a million of the Frankenstein models. They folSavage paperback covers, still come back to haunt him. lowed it up with Dracula, the Wolf Man, the Hunchback of Notre “The world will come to an end,” the artist told me in 2010, Dame. I did 22 of the boxes. It really got bad after a while. The art “but the monster models and Doc Savage will still be around.” director would sneak them into my office, they were so awful. Right on.

Monsters played on the silver screen by Lon Chaneys Sr. and Jr. in model kit form: the Hunchback of Notre Dame, the Phantom of the Opera and the Mummy. © Universal Studios; Phantom and Mummy photos by Mark Voger; Hunchback photo courtesy of Polar Lights

Reel horrors

Castle Films’ “Doom of Dracula” made it possible to watch Boris Karloff remove a stake from Dracula’s heart ... over and over. “House of Frankenstein” © Universal Studios; photo by Mark Voger

WATCHING A MONSTER MOVIE WHENEVER YOU want? Without consulting your local listings for time and channel? Without your parents driving you to a theater? Sweet. In the days before home video made such a luxury so common that it is taken for granted, companies such as Castle Films, Ken Films, Columbia Films and Blackhawk Films brought moving monsters into your very home. All you had to do was turn down the lights and crank up the projector, and you could watch actual classic monster movies — albeit, versions that were silent and heavily truncated. The 8-millimeter (and later Super 8) prints were generally 200 feet — about 15 minutes long each, according to the ads. The films could be purchased in department stores or via mail order. Castle Films is the best remembered company, for two reasons. First, Castle had a lock on most of the Universal classics, thanks to a decades-old backstage business deal. Castle was founded by Eugene W. “Gene” Castle, a former newsreel cameraman, around

1918, and the company penetrated the home-movie market in the ’30s. In 1947, Castle was gobbled up by a division of Universal Studios, hence Universal’s library was ripe for the picking. Still, it took Castle a long while — 12 more years — to release its first monster movie: “Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein.”

Be the monster Masks made fans into instant Frankensteins IF YOU LOVED MONSTERS; WATCHED THE ing hands. (A Wolf Man needs his claws, you know.) movies; studied the magazines; painted and glued the model kits; Due to the high price tag, Don Post masks weren’t sold in the how could you take your fandom to the next level? average department store. (Back then, the masks could be found, By becoming a monster. for instance, in the gift shop at the Movieland Wax Museum in This was possible thanks to manufacturers — Los Angeles.) Likewise, Captain Company offered chiefly Don Post Studios and the Topstone Rubber them via mail order. Above: Topstone’s Toys Company — who found a niche making monDon Post’s masks were dead-on likenesses of gallery of generic sters out of young monster fans. movie monsters such as Dracula, Frankenstein, the monstrosities. Prices varied wildly, especially in 1960s money. Wolf Man, the Mummy, the Phantom, the Creature, Opposite: Don Post Connecticut-based Topstone’s monster masks, the Hunchback and Mr. Hyde. Post went off-road Studios masks, from some of which predated the Monster Craze, were with masks of the Metaluna Mutant from “This sold in stores and via mail order (including Warren Island Earth” and — though one can scarcely imaga color 1965 ad. Publishing’s ever-enterprising merchandising arm, ine the demand — the Mole People, eh, Person. © Topstone Rubber Toys Company; © Universal Studios; Captain Company). The hand-finished masks took around four hours © Don Post Studios Topstone’s masks of more or less generic monto complete, and the results were veritable works of sters (Girl Vampire, Lagoon Monster, Horrible art. But the claim “exactly like the actual masks used Melting Man) sold for an eminently affordable $1.49 each. in the famous Universal movies” was somewhat disingenuous. But quality doesn’t come cheap. Universal makeup master Jack P. Pierce utilized appliances, but For a mask crafted by the artisans at North Hollywood-based not full-on masks, with one exception. (By 1944’s “The Mummy’s Don Post Studios, you’d have to fork over $34 — a veritable forCurse,” Lon Chaney Jr. had grown tired of the makeup ordeal, and tune to the Beaver Cleavers of America — plus $17.50 for matchindeed wore a Kharis mask fashioned by Pierce.)

‘Dark’ dominion Barnabas and fiends: Monsters in broad daylight IT WAS A MONSTER FAN’S DREAM COME TRUE: A daily soap opera featuring vampires, werewolves, a Frankenstein type, a Van Helsing type, a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde type, witches and ghosts. Everything, it would seem, except a Godzilla type raining nuclear fire on foggy, gloomy, drizzly Collinsport, a coastal New England village where the weirdest things happen. Though not at first. When “Dark Shadows” debuted on June 27, 1966, it was different from an average daytime drama, if still a far cry from the monster rally it would become. Initially broadcast in black and white, “Dark Shadows” began as a soap infused with mystery, as young Victoria Winters (Alexandra Moltke) took a job as a governess at Collinwood, ancestral home of the crusty, old-money Collins clan. The idea for the show came to series creator-producer Dan Curtis (1927-2006) in a very “Dark Shadows” way. “It happened with a dream,” Curtis told me in 2003. “I had a dream about a girl on a train, stopping at this small staizens of Collinwood: the rotting hand of Count Petofi ... the living tion out in the weeds, middle of the night, getting out, standing on head of Judah Zachary ... the Jekyll-and-Hyde machinations of a platform, train pulling away. And she was doing it in voiceover. Cyrus Longworth and John Yaeger ... Adam, the Frankensteinian It was sort of like she was reading a letter. I could hear her voice. creation of Dr. Lang ... Eve, Adam’s “Bride of Frankenstein.” “And I woke up. I thought, ‘Oh, what a great idea.’ This girl Barnabas found a rival for his place on the cover of 16 was being hired as a governess, and this whole Gothic thing. I Magazine in pulchritudinous werewolf Quentin Collins, played thought, ‘What a terrific idea.’ Then I went back to sleep. with an intense gaze and fuzzy mutton-chops by David Selby. “I got up in the morning and I thought it was the worst idea I The black cherry on top was the haunting music of Robert Cobert. had ever heard of in my whole life. My wife was awake. I told her You could learn a few things by watching “Dark about this dream. She said, ‘Well, I think it’s a Shadows.” Who knew that Barnabas walling up great idea.’ I said, ‘You do?’ ” Fangs for the memories! Reverend Trask with brick and mortar was a literShortly after that, Curtis sold the show. Opposite: Jonathan Frid ary allusion to Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Cask of “It was not a tough sell,” he recalled. as Barnabas on a paperAmontillado”? (Actually, back then, who knew “I thought it would be a nighttime show, but back cover. Above: The what a “literary allusion” was?) The show chalthe guy who was head of daytime (at ABC-TV) show’s shaggy werewolf. lenged the laws of physics with its penchant for loved it. He insisted that we develop it for day© Dan Curtis Productions time-tripping. Storylines were set in 1795, 1897, the time. We made a deal. That was it.” contemporary 1960s, the future and parallel time. When Curtis introduced the show’s first “Dark Shadows” inspired an avalanche of merchandise, includsupernatural storylines — the ghost of Josette (Episode 70, Sept. ing comic books, model kits, board games, trading cards, a 30, 1966) and the flame-engulfed phoenix Laura Collins (Episode 32-book paperback series and a Grammy-nominated #13 hit single 191, March 30, 1967) — he saw a bounce in the ratings. (“Quentin’s Theme”). There was a syndicated “Dark Shadows” Thereafter, Curtis and his writers kept the scary coming. comic strip and two feature films, “House of Dark Shadows” It all led to the introduction of 18th-century gentleman vampire Barnabas Collins on April 18, 1967. The casting of Canadian actor (1970) and “Night of Dark Shadows” (1971). All this, and “Dark Shadows” still maintained its soap-opera Jonathan Frid — handsome in an odd way, and a little bit sad — cred by introducing a classic love triangle. Barnabas was eternally was pure kismet, a perfect pairing of player and role. Barnabas caught between the woman he loved — sweet, innocent Josette was no wild-eyed bloodsucker; he was a reluctant vampire who (Katherine Leigh Scott) — and the woman who would stop at regretted his kills and was capable of feeling love. nothing to possess him — big-eyed witch Angelique (Lara Parker). With his black-onyx forefinger ring, silver wolf’s-head cane The mad monster party ended with the final episode on April 2, and strandy hairdo, Barnabas became a cult figure — and Frid 1971. But we still haven’t seen the last of Barnabas Collins and became something of a teen idol. Kids ran home from school to watch Barnabas’ daily exploits, and those of his fellow freaky den- “Dark Shadows.”

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