Happy Birthday H. P. Lovecraft

It would be easy to describe the life of Howard Phillips (H. P.) Lovecraft as sad and tragic. He was born  into a working class family, in the working class home at 194 Angell Street in Providence, Rhode Island.  He grew up an only child, the son of a traveling salesman and a mother who traced her ancestry to the settlers of Massachusetts and he would see loss and madness close up before he grew to manhood.

Lovecraft created the genre of weird fiction along with its bleak premise that not only is humanity is insignificant in the cosmos, it cannot even grasp the truths that the universe holds. Though Lovecraft never achieved widespread recognition during his lifetime, his work has influenced a great deal of what we know as horror and science fiction to this day. During his career Lovecraft collaborated with Robert Bloch (author of Psycho), Robert E. Howard (creator of Conan the Barbarian), and August Derleth (who codified and added to the Cthulhu Mythos). Author Stephen King said of Lovecraft:

"Now that time has given us some perspective on his work, I think it is beyond doubt that H. P. Lovecraft has yet to be surpassed as the Twentieth Century's greatest practitioner of the classic horror tale."

I wish I could say that I came across Lovecraft out of a deep interest in horror and weird fiction as well as a questing imagination, but to be honest role playing games were my first introduction to his Cthulhu mythos. I spent hours pouring over Chaosium's Call of Cthulhu rulebook only to fall out of love with the game when it became apparent that the story arc of any character could be summed up as curiosity - discovery - madness - death. When I read Lovecraft's work, I discovered that the same could be said of any of his major characters. You don't read Lovecraft for the happy endings, his world is dark and cold, devoid of human comfort and understanding.

Farewell Sammy Terry

Childhood is a frightening time. You’re smaller and less powerful than everything in your world, you have no say about what happens in your life, and then there are people (or creatures of the night) like Sammy Terry. Sammy, aka Bob Carter, appeared on WTTV channel 4’s Nightmare Theatre every Friday night, bringing classic b-grade horror flicks to the Indianapolis metropolitan area during the 1960s and 70s and I largely blame him for my being afraid of the dark for most of my prepubescent life. It was Sammy who introduced me to the classics: Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, Dracula, the Creature from the Black Lagoon, and the Phantom of the Opera. He taught me the ocean is filled with giant mutant creatures that crave human flesh, that the vacuum of space is peopled by insectoid alien horrors with unspeakable plans for humanity, and that the house at the end of the block actually is haunted. Life would have seemed a lot safer without Sammy’s dark theatre of nightmare, but then it would have been a lot more boring too.


Thank you for introducing me to the dark side of things, Sammy. Without you, I might not have become a writer. You taught me fright both as high art and cheap thrill. I’ll miss you, but then you’ll be with me every time a cloud passes over the moon or whenever I hear the sound of thunder in the night.


 

Do you have memories to share about Sammy Terry? Drop me a comment, I'll put them on the air.

Sammy Terry

Dear Reader,

Recently, while searching the web for Halloween paraphernalia, I stumbled on a small piece of my childhood. As a kid I remember wanting to stay up for the late-late show. I believe every town large enough to have a local television station had (or has) a late night purveyor of B-grade horror flicks and in Indianapolis, it was Sammy Terry. He occupied the television schedule from midnight until two or three, filling the time with double features like "The Creature from 50000 Fathoms" and "The Bride of Dracula". It was a mark of manhood when I could outlast my brother in the face of the Creature from the Black Lagoon (I'll always have a soft spot for the scaly fellow for that very reason).


Reminiscing about brotherly torment aside, though, the particular piece of my childhood I encountered was Sammy Terry's MySpace page. I will repeat that - Sammy Terry MySpace. Unfortunately, repetition doesn’t make it seem any more real.

Sammy Terry being on the Internet seems - wrong. Don't get me wrong, I'm far from opposed to the idea. In fact I'm thrilled to see he's still active and has the kitsch sense of humor he always brought to his show. Maybe it's the pixelization of all my old memories that lends a surreal quality to seeing Terry on the web. Cherished things are best viewed in subdued light.

I close my eyes and I'm back in the tiny first-ring suburbia ranch house where I grew up, laying on the shag carpet and listening to Terry's ghoulish laugh. The TV is turned down so that it won't wake the parents as Sammy's coffin creaks open and the devilish MC rises to bid his fans and victims a goooood eeeevening. Then there'd be the send up of the evening's features with a good send up of the first monster to darken the screen. During the intermission between features, George (the chattering and suspiciously rubbery spider that took the role of Terry's co-host) would put in an appearance, reminding Sammy of some pertinent humorous line. Though I'd be asleep half way through the second feature, I wouldn't dare turn the television off. The staying up was the thing.

Years later Elvira, Mistress of the Dark would bring a new look to the late night horror genre but there'll always be something special about Sammy's late night antics. Through his show I saw some of the early masters of the genre and some of the great (and infamous) films of the forty's, fifties, and sixties. The world is a better place for your being in it, Mr. Terry.