My husband is a Monster Kid, one of the post-World War II baby boomers who never outgrew his childhood obsession with old horror movies. He writes on them, lectures on them and, of course, watches them. Every June, we are on the road from our home in Houston to the Monster Bash Convention in Cranberry Township, Pennsylvania. We broaden this year’s road trip to attend two other horror related events. This post is dedicated to the phantoms, ghosts and monsters we met all along the way.
Our first stop was New Orleans. We have family close by this extraordinary city, and one member works for the Bourbon Orleans Hotel in the French Quarter. This is a fine, historic hotel, steps from Bourbon Street and a short stroll to Jackson Square. It is a great location. If you are lucky enough to get a room with a balcony you will be able to see Bourbon Street as well as the back of the Saint Louis Cathedral. 
After dark, the shadow of an angel is projected on the illuminated cathedral wall. On a previous trip we visited the Historic Voodoo Museum on Dumaine Street, and shops like Madame Leveau’s House of Voodoo. Lots on New Orleans in my husband’s book on zombie movies, “Patron Saints of the Living Dead.” While we were there, the tall ships arrived as part of America’s 250th anniversary celebration. Many of the sailors in their spotless white uniforms strolled along Bourbon Street that night. It looked like fleet week.
Driving north, we saw what was left of a local monster. What looked like the shredded tire from an 18-wheeler (plenty of those on the highway) was a large roadkill alligator. Someone had cut off its head. Not unexpected, for alligator skulls and dried, preserved heads are for sale everywhere in the area.
After a night on the road in Cullman, Alabama (charming town), we reached Louisville and stayed in nearby Prospect, Kentucky. Every year around Memorial Day, Louisville hosts Wonderfest, “a weekend of sci-fi, horror, comics, models, dealers, guests and seminars.” The models of monsters, aliens, panoramas, and anything that tickles the fancy of those interested in science fiction and horror movies are created and on display here by incredibly talented artists. The guests include filmmakers and special effects experts. Workshops and roundtables are hosted on various topics.
That same weekend at the same hotel (Crowne Plaza Louisville) are the annual Rondo Hatton Classic Horror Awards, “honoring the best in classic horror research, creativity and film preservation.” The award is named for a character actor of the 1940s who had a brief period of stardom as “The Creeper.” My husband did not win anything this year, but he is a past two-time winner and a member of the Rondo’s Monster Kid Hall of Fame. The presentation ceremony is a simple, light-hearted affair, attended by a few dozen people. Winners are spread across the country and the globe, and most send their acceptance speeches on video. Some of this year’s came from the UK and New Zealand. David and Diane Colton are responsible for this unique affair.
We have been to, and written about, Louisville several times, and have toured the main attractions (such as the Louisville Slugger Museum, Churchill Downs, the Muhammad Ali Center). One site which no visitor should outlook is the Cave Hill Cemetery & Arboretum. It is an old cemetery with countless unique carved stones and bronze headstones and monuments. The variety of trees and plants to be seen is very impressive. Among the permanent residents are Colonel Saunders of fried chicken fame, Muhammad Ali (a much-visited gravesite—we had to wait for cars to pull away to get a decent photo) and—in one of the most memorable graves—Harry Leon Collins, “Mr. Magic,” a Frito-Lay sales manager who switched careers to become a stage magician. Atop his grave is a life-size bronze statue, posed as if addressing an audience. A huge section of Cave Hill is a national cemetery for military veterans.
Cave Hill Cemetery is immaculately maintained. Not so, the adjacent Eastern Cemetery—abandoned and overgrown, with monuments cracking and tipping over. It is a spooky place and was once a site for mass paupers’ graves and reused grave sites.
Louisville does not lack spooky places. Waverly Hills Sanatorium was built in the wake of a tuberculosis epidemic, remembered as the “White Plague.” The sanatorium closed in 1961, and tours are now offered. Like most deserted sanatoriums, it is claimed to be haunted. Louisville’s Witches Tree is an old, gnarled, twisted maple that stands at the corner of a very pleasant neighborhood. Witches allegedly once performed rituals beneath it. The city cut down the original tree in 1889, and—so goes the legend—angry witches took revenge via summoning a destructive storm which did great damage. The tree which now stands on the same site began growing almost immediately after.
Every city needs an urban legend, and Louisville’s is The Goat Man, also known as The Pope Lick Creek Monster, half man and half beast (the beast half sports horns). It lives beneath a railroad trestle. Its legend has many variations, with The Goat Man using everything from hypnosis to ventriloquism to an axe to claim victims. Since 1988, believers have attributed five deaths on or near the bridge to The Goat Man. The Norfolk Southern Railway, which owns and maintains the bridge, does not agree and is not happy about the legend.
From Louisville, we drove east, stopping along the way in Foxburg, Pennsylvania, another charming town—so charming that we stayed there again on the drive home. We continued our trek east at a leisurely pace, away from the highways and through the mountains. Weird stuff is always near, and we stumbled on something really odd in Wyalusing, yet another charming town, this one with a population of less than 1,000. Perhaps its most famous resident—its only famous resident—was Jean Stevens, who kept the mummified bodies of her husband and twin sister in her home, and treated them as living members of the family. Apparently, a number of townspeople not only knew of her “family” but gave her a hand with the family when she needed it. Her story made a flash in the news in 2010. Jean was then 91. She died in 2012, but her legacy lives on, as does a mystery about what’s in a shed on her property that a no one dares go into.
We reached Wurtsboro, New York, nestled between the Poconos to the west and Catskills to the east. No monsters there, though sightings of a Big Foot type creature have been reported. In our travels, we have learned that there is hardly a wooded area in North America where someone does not claim to have seen Big Foot or something like it. We stayed in a cottagey cabin next to a babbling brook.
Far more tangible than the ever-elusive Big Foot is what lies in Blairstown, New Jersey, about an hour south of Wurtsboro. The Friday the 13th franchise consists of 12 slasher films, and many spin off products, featuring masked killer Jason. It all began in Blairstown where the first movie was made in 1980. The town has embraced its dark legacy. Camp No-Be-Bo-Sco (North Bergen Boy Scouts), where most of the story takes place, is advertised by its name in the film, Camp Crystal Lake, and sometimes offers tours (otherwise it is closed to the public). The Blairstown Diner, used for a scene early in the film, is not very large, but has devoted some of its precious space to a gift shop of Friday the 13th tee shirts and souvenirs. A full-size Jason mannequin stands near the checkout counter. 
Movie posters and Jason’s iconic hockey mask adorn the walls. Out of the state visitors who come just to see the landmarks discover a rare treat—the charms and cuisine of a genuine Jersey diner. The first film was a huge success (around $60,000,000 gross on a $550,000 budget). Jason hit the big time and none of the sequels were made in Blairstown.
{Note: Horror film aficionados know that Jason does not appear until the second film and does not don his mask until the third—but both are more than welcome in the Blairstown Diner. By the way, Blairstown has no relation to The Blair Witch Project, which takes places in Maryland.}
Half an hour northwest of Wurtsboro is Bethel. For three days in August 1969, more than 400,000 people and dozens of music acts gathered there for the Woodstock Music Festival. The 300 acres are now on the National Register as culturally significant. The beautifully manicured site hosts outdoor concerts and boasts a museum. We enjoyed a snack on a verandah overlooking the grounds. So, if anyone asks, “Were you at Woodstock?”, we can say “Yes!” No events were underway while we were there, but judging from the size of the parking lot, and the posted list of do’s and don’ts, crowds during performances must be huge.
Half an hour north of Wurtsboro is a genuine ghost town, Parksville. The town is in the heart of what was known as “The Borscht Belt,” which sported vacation camps and resorts primarily for Jewish people. The area began to decline in the 1950s and is now only a memory. Watch the 1987 movie Dirty Dancing (all of it) and 1976’s The Front (part of it) to appreciate the Borscht Belt in its heyday. Parksville is partially populated. Stretches of empty, abandoned buildings—and a strange, abandoned parking lot with a few rusty, broken cars—comprise the ghost town. Nearby is the site of what was a buckle of the belt, Grossinger’s Resort. It closed in 1986, and time, neglect and finally fire (in 2022) have left little to see. If you’re interested in ghost towns, do not delay in visiting Parksville—restoration is underway.
From Wurtsboro we drove west to the Monster Bash. On the way, we made a pitstop in Brookville, PA and stumbled on an interesting coffee shop, Grounded Brewings, with a coffin in its logo and a skeleton in its window. We then passed West Sunbury, where one resident’s lawn statuary is iron sculptures of dinosaurs and Big Foot.
Our main stop on the way to Monster Bash was in Evans City, proclaiming itself “Home of Night of the Living Dead.” The 1968 film opens in the Evans City Cemetery where the first zombie attack occurs. Headstones reading “Kramer” and “Blair” (what is it with that name?) are clearly seen in the film. When we visited, plenty of people were there not only photographing the graves but making charcoal rubbings. Night of the Living Dead was made on a budget of ~$120,000 and grossed about $30,000,000. Due to an error by the distributor, the film was not properly copyrighted, denying the film makers their fair share of the earnings.
{We would have liked to visit the sites of the making of another horror classic, 1958’s The Blob, filmed in southeastern Pennsylvania—too far off our planned path to reach this time.}
Photos courtesy of Phil Smoot
Since 1997, Ron and Ursula Adams and a team of enthusiastic volunteers have staged the three-day Monster Bash Convention, now held at the Pittsburgh Marriott North in Cranberry Township. The Bash celebrates classic horror films, and through the years, its guests have included many film makers and stars. The great stars of the golden age—Lugosi, Karloff, Chaney, Price—are long gone, but children of all of them have visited the Bash and shared memories. There are also a brilliant assortment of Horror Hosts. Collectors and vendors display their wares and their treasures for all to see. Movies—both the great classics, obscure movies and independent, innovative films—are shown and play well into the early morning hours.
Photo courtesy of Phil Smoot
Photo courtesy of Phil Smoot
And there are talks by film historians, and that’s where my husband comes in. He’s attended 21 Bashes (and I’ve been to 20) and lectured at most of them. This year, he and his fellow Monster Kid/author/film historian Greg Mank, spoke on the 1935 movie Mad Love. For three years now, Greg speaks before the showing of a film on its making and the behind-the-scenes story, then the movie is shown, then my husband delves into what’s in the movie and how it relates to the other films.
The audiences love them, in part because they put on a good show and in part because everyone is looking for a good time. The best thing about the Bash is the crowd. They come to laugh, to learn, to exchange experiences, and to buy! The vendors offer great, odd and funny stuff.
Ron Adams is always looking for the unexpected. For years, he had the original Blob on show (and we were allowed to touch it). A few years ago, he staged a fencing match between his daughter (then taking fencing in college) and actor/director/makeup & special effects artist Tom Savini. The year it was The Muppet Experience, with the original Muppets (bigger than you might think) filling a room on display.
After Monster Bash, we headed home, but made an important stop in Van Buren, Arkansas, for an event at “Monsters on Main,” a store on—you guessed it—Main Street. The shop offers many items related to monster and horror films—DVDs, tee shirts, collectibles, rare pieces, books, etc. And magazines—the owners, Don and Vicki Smeraldi, are also publishers of Scary Monsters and Castle of Frankenstein. My husband writes for both of them. He was one of three authors at a joint book signing, and then gave a talk on his favorite film, Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein. We’ve been to a lot of similar shops, and this one is by far the best.
Across the street from Monsters on Main is the King Opera House, built in 1891. It is haunted by the ghost of actor Charles Tolson. In September 1903, Tolson and his troupe completed their engagement at King’s and were at the nearby station awaiting a train. A doctor, allegedly protecting his daughter who had become infatuated with Tolson, shot and killed him.
From Van Buren, we drove to Dallas to visit family and friends. En route we passed through southeastern Oklahoma. In much of the state—as the song goes—“the wind comes sweepin’ down the plains.” Not in the southeast corner, which is mountainous, heavily wooded, and with stories of the local Big Foot abound.
In Dallas, we always visit—and spend more than we planned—in our favorite antique shop, Curiosities, near White Rock Lake on Garland Road. It had really, really weird stuff—ceremonial masks from different cultures, stuffed animals, antlers and skulls, holy icons, unholy icons. Owner Jerry Cohen and before him his mother has been acquiring such items from around the world for many years.
Curiosities is close to White Rock Lake, and we drove around it, wondering if we might see one of Dallas’ most famous, and permanent, residents. “The Lady of the Lake” is allegedly the ghost of a young woman who drowned there. A number of accounts of her tale are online, but none give her name or when she died. White Rock Lake is man-made, and opened in 1910, so the drowning was sometime after that.
The first sighting of her ghost may date to 1952. A young woman—long hair, tattered dress, soaking wet—emerges from the shadows and asks for a ride home. She gives an address in Oak Cliff (a Dallas neighborhood south of the lake). She gets in the backseat and, somewhere on the drive, simply vanishes, leaving behind a puddle of water on the seat.
For years, I lived a stone’s throw from White Rock Lake and never saw the lady. But I never stop for hitchhikers.
In the 1950s and 1960s, some low budget science fiction movies were filmed in and near Dallas: among them The Giant Gila Monster, The Killer Shrews (both 1959), and—the best of them, which isn’t saying much—1968’s Mars Needs Women. For some years, I worked at The Science Place (Dallas’ science museum), and scenes of that movie were filmed there. In the film, due to chaotic chromosomes, the male-to-female ratio on the red planet has hit 100-to-1. So, Mars does need women. This museum which is closed now but the stunning Fair Park where it was located is alive and well. It has one of the nation’s largest collection of Art Deco exhibition buildings. It hosted some of this year’s World Cup games and is home to museums and The Texas State Fair.
About 30 miles south of Dallas is The Munster Mansion, a full-size, startlingly accurate reconstruction of the home of the Munsters in the 1960s television series. We visited a few years ago and donated some Munster memorabilia which my husband has acquired. Sandra McKee, one of the owners, gave us a personal tour through the house. The interior is as impressive and accurate as the exterior. Among the celebrities who have visited is Butch Patrick, the original Eddie Munster. We met him at the Monster Bash. The Munster Mansion is certainly unique experience.
Just north of our home in Houston is the National Museum of Funeral History. It is an amazing place, with many displays, dealing with embalming, cremation, Day of the Dead, the Shroud of Turin, and funerals for royals, popes and presidents. Most impressive are the many—most in mint condition—historical hearses and caskets. The museum takes its subject seriously, but does have a sense of humor: a wall is dedicated to horror film icons Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, Vincent Price and others (including Herman Munster portrayer, Fred Gwynne).
We enjoy our trips to the Monster Conventions each year and every time we go try and take a different path to see more unusual sites and of course to see new monsters!