The Full Hunter's Moon

The Hunter’s Moon, October’s full moon, as the name suggests was the time of year given to hunting game and slaughtering livestock. By thinning their herds, farmers could better feed and care for the animals they overwintered and the meat they cured and stored during this time would help see their families through the harsh months ahead.

When we think of October and full moons, we often are drawn to the creepy images of Gothic horror and thoughts of Halloween trick-or-treating. I can remember huddling in front of the television in my parents’ living room, watching the Curse of the Werewolf  and Dracula on Sammy Terry and getting so scared I didn’t want to traverse the dark hallway that led to my bedroom. For years whenever I saw a cloud drift across the face of the full moon I silently imagined that somewhere, someone just fell prey to the supernatural.

Now that I’m more than a little older, I’ve put the fear of Bela Lugosi and Lon Chaney behind me and come to appreciate the true meaning of Halloween. The ancient Celts saw the year as having two “hinges”: Beltaine (which fell on the first of May) and Samhain (which fell on the first of November and marked the beginning of the new year). Both of these days were considered the most magical and perhaps frightening of the calendar, they marked times when the border between natural and supernatural was at its most permeable.

At Samhain (what we now call Halloween) time itself became meaningless and the past, present, and future freely mixed as the dead and denizens of the Other World walked among the living. Ghosts emerged from the Underworld on Samhain night and the people lit bonfires to keep evil spirits at bay.

One Samhain tradition in Irish and Scottish households was the Dumb Supper. On Samhain Eve the evening meal was served in silence with a special place set at the head of the table for the ancestors. This extra place was served food and drink and no one dared to look directly at their spiritual guest for fear of bringing misfortune in the coming year. After the meal the untouched plate was carried outside “for the pookas” and left in the woods.

Now, of course, we hand out Bazooka bubblegum and Skittles to the neighborhood pookas in hopes we’ll avoid getting our windows soaped, but even this modern tradition stems from ancient Samhain practices. Samhain is a time for prophesies, disguising oneself to avert evil, and performing rites of protection against the dead and Otherworldly spirits. So, the next time you bob for apples or take the kids on their Halloween night trooping, just remember you’re holding up ancient rituals and just might be protecting yourself from the ghost of great-granddad.

 

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.