By DON MANKOWSKI

Lately I’ve been using the ProQuest database for some research. This is a marvelous tool that lets one view microfilmed newspaper records for a few selected papers online. It beats the heck out of threading old spools of brittle film onto a noisy viewer in the lonely recesses of a public library, and then manually winding through days of footage, hoping that it will work and trying to focus on something. You do have to subscribe to get the service, so you’d better have a good reason to use it.

However, a little diversion now and again is nice. My diversion was to check out some non-academic stuff in the archives of the Chicago Tribune for the late 1950s. Specifically, the television listings. I set out to draw up a nostalgic list of something of interest, but the memories were too powerful. I shall explain.

Late in 1957, a package of old horror films was made available to U.S. television stations. By "old," I mean really old . . . why some were ten years old, some as much as 26. We’re talking ancient history. And by "horror" I mean a broad definition, as we shall see. The package was dominated by the Universal Studios fare, but included items from other studios, and spanned genres a bit -- there were science-fiction, mystery and suspense items in there.

I was vaguely aware that Dwight Eisenhower was the President. The Russians had just orbited an artificial satellite. The Milwaukee Braves had just upset the New York Yankees in the World Series. Mayor Daley was serving his first term. But, hey, that stuff couldn’t compare with horror films.

In those thrilling days of yesteryear, movies on television were still something of an event. You only saw them with any frequency on local stations, or late on weeknights and on weekends. Movies were not yet standard prime-time fare. Yet here was a weekly series of promising stuff!

The package was advertised as Shock Theater. Or, Shock Theatre. You have no idea how that alternative spelling complicated my research, requiring two searches to pick up everything.

I’d swear that it was at least a hundred years ago, but the record plus some simple math would indicate that I was just six going on seven years old. (As I know that I’m only 29 years old now, I really cannot account for it.) I do know that all the boys my age were quite excited about the upcoming series.

The debut film on our Chicago station was Frankenstein, on December 7th. It was a day which would live in memory, mine at least. There couldn’t have been a better choice. This was the granddaddy of the horror film, or so we were told by the older folks. Now, in point of fact, Universal had released Dracula months earlier in 1931.

Still, "Dracula" remained a mysterious name to most of the kids--some hypnotic guy in a tuxedo--whereas we all knew who "Frankenstein" was... or at least we thought we did. He was an ugly, hulking, electrically charged figure often depicted in the cartoons with a square head, a green face and bolts in his neck.

Naturally, I wanted to stay up past 10 p.m. on Saturday to watch the film. My Dad, bless his memory, encouraged me. It was, he said, one of the great movies. Why, he must have seen it maybe four times, the last couple while serving in the Army Air Corps during the War. The very idea of seeing a great film that many times impressed me: never mind that I’ve since seen Frankenstein maybe 104 times and written thousands of words about it. I seem to recall that my Mom was a bit less convinced that these films were ideal entertainment for young minds, but she trusted my Dad, and I’m grateful for that. I had to clean up my room and take a bath--somehow they expected me to do this every Saturday!--but the appointed time did roll around.

The film fascinated me. I’m told that many of my contemporaries ran from their living rooms and hid under the bed as it unspooled across the airwaves, but not me. There was an air of tension, gloom, and outrage about the movie that I rather liked, but I wasn’t scared by it to any serious extent. Of course, I sympathized with the Monster (whose name was not "Frankenstein"), as so many generations have: he’s the ultimate outsider and underdog. I was also impressed by Henry Frankenstein’s sincerity in exploring the unknown for the sake of knowledge, despite the hysterical warnings of the fools. Neither character was a villain: the real menaces were ignorance and prejudice. I’m, not going off on one of those "everything I ever needed to know" rants, but it’s a powerful lesson in the consequences of hatred born of fear.

Whatever, as the windmill burned and the film wrapped, I wanted more, and it appeared that I’d receive it. After the film I watched a trailer for something called The Wolf Man. Here’s that first month:

7 Dec Frankenstein (1931, Universal)

14 Dec The Wolf Man (1941, Universal)

21 Dec Night Monster (1942, Universal)

28 Dec The Mummy (1932, Universal)

(I was able to check this via the listings in each Saturday’s television section in the old Tribunes. It was often just the title; sometimes a one-sentence blurb.)

The Wolf Man was a superb second choice. A decade removed from the creakiness of Frankenstein, it was slick and fresh looking in contrast. Good grief, it even had a musical score. The accounting of the legend and the build-up to the revelation of the werewolf was excellent, and the delivery did not disappoint. The film had an excellent cast with people that I’d come to know quite well: Claude Rains, Evelyn Ankers, Ralph Bellamy, and Maria Ouspenskaya.

It was my introduction to true icons Bela Lugosi and Lon Chaney, Jr. My Dad informed me that Junior was okay, but that the man’s father was perhaps the greatest actor of them all. Alas, I’d probably never get to see Chaney Senior, as his films were silent ones made, oh, sometime during the Ice Age.

A week is a long time when you’re six. The third week’s offering, Night Monster was just a good mystery with Lugosi and Lionel Atwill. Still, the world didn’t stop for me due to one monsterless week, so I guess that I was learning patience. I'm not ashamed to admit that at six years of age, I wanted to see monsters, action and scary stuff, and would of course be bored by talky or subtle films here. Alas, some people never go beyond that stage, though I certainly have . . . I hope. I still enjoy a good monster.

I guess that Christmas went by sometime here, but more importantly, I got to see The Mummy. By all rights this one should have seemed slow and lackluster to a young kid, but the mood set up by the excellent, extremely scary opening, with Karloff’s mummy returning to life was enough to keep me watching, and marveling at his performance as Ardeth Bey. This guy was truly amazing. I remember finding Zita Johann pleasantly exotic as the princess.

Happy New Year and all that -- on into 1958. January’s line up:

4 Jan Murders In The Rue Morgue (1932, Universal)

11 Jan Dracula (1931, Universal)

18 Jan Werewolf of London (1935, Universal)

25 Jan The Spider Woman Strikes Back (1946, Universal)

Murders In The Rue Morgue was lively enough with that Lugosi fellow and his mysterious and menacing ape in fogbound Paris, and is a film that I still enjoy today, but I was really waiting for Dracula. I perceived that Bela Lugosi, who had died only recently, had been quite a memorable actor. Everyone remembered him, it seemed.

Regarding Dracula, I remember both my parents cautioning me that I might find it dull. The capsule review by the Sun-Times critic quipped that the film "had lost its bite." It was a revelation of sorts to me that it was okay to blast a classic, and that's no small thing towards developing a healthy critical attitude. I didn't mind Dracula so much. The opening scenes were great, and just seeing Bela Lugosi in his element was enough to carry one through the rest of the picture, even if most of it was rather flat.

Years later, during its best period, Famous Monsters magazine did a "filmbook" on Dracula, maybe about 1962, devoting most of an entire issue to it, suggesting that it was one of the greatest. This really had me psyched up for the next viewing, for which in those days, you might have had to wait six months or more. I found the film a disappointment that time around. You see, the FM articles were profusely illustrated with photographs, many of them, we were told, from Bela Lugosi's personal collection. These were very dramatically composed, often with Lugosi spreading his cape like bat-wings while gazing hypnotically. He somehow looked taller and leaner. The still photographers had performed brilliantly, but the latter portions of the film itself had let them down.

Down through the years, I've watched the film many, many times, and have come to recognize its frequent flaws and missed opportunities. I prefer the Spanish-language alternative that resurfaced along the way. But, the Browning film still hasn't become too dull for another viewing. I did get to see it in a theater on two occasions, and I assure you, it plays better under those circumstances. The big screen gives it a weight that can't be recaptured on a small box in a safe home, adding some unseen menace to the edges.

With a very creepy opening, which is not totally dispelled for the remainder, Werewolf of London instantly became one of my all-time favorites. Henry Hull's makeup job is nowhere near as elaborate as Lon Chaney's was to be six years later, but his wolfman is somewhat more believable for that, someone you might conceivably meet on a familiar street if unlucky. Hull often looks like the devil himself, whereas Chaney is a big gorilla or a big bear from some angles, something you’d only encounter in a zoo.

The next title was The Spider Woman Strikes Back, starring Gail Sondergaard. Now, does that sound exciting? Who, strikes back how, from whence? This film is a follow-up to the Sherlock Holmes film The Spider Woman (1944), though not really a sequel. I doubt I'd seen the Holmes film by this point in time. Of course I'd be disappointed by the lack of a monster (there was to be no eight-legged lady), but the image of a jar full of black widows being used as a weapon is something I've never forgotten, though I probably haven’t seen this one since the Sixties.

Shock Theatre aired on Chicago’s Channel 7. It’s call letters were WBKB in those days, although it would later adopt the WLS signature of its popular radio affiliate. They generally ran ABC network shows up until Shock time. I know that my grandmother wouldn’t miss Lawrence Welk’s show for anything. I often sat through the conclusion of Ann Sothern’s sitcom Susie so as not to miss the start of the horror film. About the only thing I remember of that show was a minute-long gag at the end that interrupted the commercials at the half-hour.

1 Feb The Invisible Man (Universal, 1933)

8 Feb The Black Cat (Universal, 1934)

15 Feb The Mummy's Hand (Universal, 1940)

22 Feb Secret Of The Blue Room (Universal, 1933)

The inventive camera tricks introduced in The Invisible Man were still fresh after a quarter century, especially to someone my age. Claude Rains’ supreme confidence and memorable voice would stay with me forevermore. In idle moments, I could wind a bandage about my head, slip on sunglasses, and practice his lines. People looked at me as if I were mad, but what did I care?

The stalking mummy--promised but not really delivered in The Mummy--shows up at last in The Mummy’s Hand, the first of the Kharis films. Now, through the years, I enjoyed Hand, as well as The Mummy’s Tomb, Ghost and Curse -- but it would be a long time before I could sort them out, remember whether there were four of ‘em, rather than three or five. The ending of Tomb kept we awake all night . . . or was that Curse? No, it was Ghost.

Secret Of The Blue Room was another non-monster outing. The premise of this one involved a room where you couldn’t spend the night and come out alive. My other grandmother had a guest room in her basement where I’d sometimes stay when visiting, and it was painted a deep blue. I never looked at it quite the same after that. I can recall nothing more about the film, and haven't had an opportunity to see it since. Based upon recommendations from people I trust. I'll find it interesting. It has Lionel Atwill and Gloria Stuart.

I find that opposite Channel 7’s Shock, the CBS affiliate on Channel 2 usually ran another movie in a series called The Best Of MGM. NBC’s Channel 5 countered with Dr. Hudson’s Secret Journal, which was medical melodrama. WGN, the independent Channel 9 was running Four Star Theater in those days. Those were your choices in those days, four channels -- I don’t believe that we got our educational (later "public broadcasting") channel for a few more years, and UHF broadcasts were still years away. Didn’t matter to me: I wouldn’t have watched anything else for the world.

1 Mar Dracula's Daughter (Universal, 1936)

8 Mar The Mummy (Universal, 1932)

15 Mar Man Made Monster (Universal, 1941)

22 Mar Dr. Renault's Secret (Fox, 1942)

29 Mar The Mad Doctor of Market Street (Universal, 1942)

Dracula's Daughter is of course, a disappointment to a young viewer, as Dracula isn't in it. Actually, I didn't note this until my second viewing, as the old count's corpse (played by a dummy) is involved in the plot, and is briefly seen. I somehow figured he had some action that I'd blinked and missed.

Too young to appreciate the moody poetry of this one, I wrote it off as a lesser effort. Today I'd readily admit that it's the best of the Universal Draculian flicks. And of course, here we had "the sequel!" What a concept! No longer was a film a closed book, an atomistic entity. The story went on. Indeed, for some of us, it would never end!

Next up, if I’m to believe the record, was The Mummy. It seems rather odd for them to show a rerun with so much fresh material on hand, not that I’d have minded another look at that classic. It’s possible that the earlier broadcast of which I spoke was for some reason pre-empted, and the film was rescheduled for this night along with my recollections of it. Alas, changes to the television schedule were not deemed important enough to be noted subsequently in the papers, so I’ll probably never know. The record is imperfect. I sincerely hope that some monster fan five or ten years older recorded all this in a diary.

Man Made Monster (or "Manmade Monster" as the listing had it) was Chaney Junior as a fellow who thrived upon electricity and went around all lit up like a Christmas tree. Now, rumor has it that Lon frequently found himself in that state in life, but here I mean literally. I ask you, how can one go wrong with that formula? Great, four-star film so far as I was concerned.

The first non-Universal film to play in the series -- it was Twentieth Century Fox--was Dr. Renault’s Secret. I note that it started at 11 p.m., an hour later than usual, because the station was covering some important high school basketball competition. The programmers probably chose it for that night due to its short length (58 minutes). I thought it was pretty good, with J. Carrol Naish as an unfortunate man promoted from ape status by the Moreau-like George Zucco.

I should explain that 10 p.m. in the central time zone was the equivalent of 11 p.m. on the east coast -- it’s when the networks surrendered control to local stations. Saturdays might have featured more syndicated stuff. As late network programs like The Tonight Show (and this would be Steve Allen or Jack Paar, not yet Johnny Carson) only ran on weeknights, the weekends were movie nights.

Despite a great title, The Mad Doctor Of Market Street was a lesser Universal effort from the forties, but it featured another good performance from Atwill. I was learning to recognize these fine supporting players.

5 Apr Cry Of The Werewolf (Columbia, 1944)

12 Apr Son Of Frankenstein (Universal, 1939)

19 Apr Soul Of A Monster (Columbia, 1944)

26 Apr The Mad Ghoul (Universal, 1943)

A great title, but a letdown: Cry Of The Werewolf. It was very talky, and the werewolf only shows up at the end, just long enough to be eliminated. Furthermore, it's a four-legged wolf, not the wolfman we've come to expect. This was the second non-Universal, this time from Columbia Pictures.

Soul Of A Monster is the most mysterious title that turned up in my research. Does the name "Quasimodo" ring a bell? Well, this didn't. I find that it's a 1944 film that starred George MacReady and Rose Hobart and is about a man’s deal with the devil. Sounds interesting, but if indeed I watched it back in 1958, I recall nothing about it.

One of the "B" Universals, The Mad Ghoul benefits from a typical performance by George Zucco as the standard mad doctor, and a neat makeup job on David Bruce, one that renders the reluctant zombie all wrinkly. "I must kill what’s-his-name, and then myself," says he, off for a mindless murder-suicide!

These films were not shown in strict chronological order, even within a series. The first proper Frankenstein sequel, The Bride of Frankenstein, wouldn't show up in the television package until much later. The recent biographical film Gods And Monsters took some artistic license in showing James Whale watching his film on television circa 1957. I’m sorry that we don’t have his take on "horror hosts."

Now, Son Of Frankenstein was a tour de force, what with Karloff back as the Monster, a great supporting role for Lugosi, Basil Rathbone and Lionel Atwill. I didn’t note any continuity gaps; I guess I didn’t pretend to know it all back then. Rathbone’s athletic dispatch of the Monster was a new high point.

Although I’d now say that Son/F was a step down from the two Whale-directed Frankensteins, it remains a good film.

To be continued...

(Don Mankowski dedicates this to the memory of four-star father, John D. Mankowski (1923-2004).)

Thanks, Don.  This is truly the genesis of the "monster madness" that swept us little Baby Boomers firmly and forever into the classic horror camp.  This was something entirely new to the TV-viewing experiences of the kids watching back then...they were used to cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, but monsters and victims...that was pretty galvanizing to Fifties and early Sixties Adolescent America.  This is really like taking a trip down Monster Memory Lane for many of us, a trip that will conclude with the second and last installment of this article next month.

Article copyright © Don Mankowski

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