ISSUE 1: DER GOLEM THE FIRST FRANKENSTEIN

by C.M. RICHARDS

Ya, class, that is an interesting point which little Igor brought up. I’ll rephrase his question for the benefit of those students who were too busy setting fire to each other a moment ago to listen as carefully as they should.

Igor, scholar that he is, pointed out that the Encyclopedia Filmfannica lists the first filmed version of Frankenstein as being made in 1910, then by Thomas Edison, and that The Golem wasn’t first filmed ’till 1914 and then 1920, both times by Paul Wegener at the old UFA studios in Berlin, Germany, and that each time Wegener played the hulking clay monstrosity. But no matter about Edison. The Golem legend goes back much further, and was in fact the inspiration for the Frankenstein monster. You say you want proof. Isn’t the word of your schoolmaster enough?

OK then, I’ll show you.

Now, as the rest of you step into the school Time machine, Igor and Basil and I’ll dislodge Little Lucrezia from that guillotine some of you amateur humorists put her in-Hush, little Lucrezia-don’t you cry!-Professor gonna rescue your skullabye-you’ll be allright!-and IGOR! don’t lean on that draw-rope(WHEW!)-There, now, we shall be on our way. The Time Machine is set for Lucerne, Switzerland, summer 1816.

Now, group, I want you to tread softly. Up this hill to the villa and be quiet! Particularly, Ferdie!-I know it’s that time of evening you change back to a frog, but could you please try not to chirrup?-just this once? If you must transform, do it down by the lake and wait for us there!

OK, Ferdie? Uh, Ferdie? Ferdie?

Now, where was I?-Oh, yes: Peeking through the windows we espy the people written about in the Nosferatu article on page 3 of the first issue of The Monster Times-Here we see the Shelleys (Percy and Mary), and over there in the easy chair is the future author of The Vampyr, John Polidori, and of course, the English poet, George Gordon, Lord Byron. Behold, class, they now sit about and read ghost stories to each other-yes, young Things, that is what people did before television–they read. But as luck would have it, some people just couldn’t or wouldn’t read, so television had to be invented for them.

As you observe, Mary Shelley is reading aloud, in French, from a book of Medieval legends-you will from time to time hear her utter such words as “Prague,” “Rabbi Leow,” and particularly “Der Golem!” How I wish I’d brought along the automatic translators. No matter. She’ll soon finish.

There, now; done! Hush, class, Lord Byron is going to speak!-Ah ha! He just said it! He said; “I propose that we each write a ghost story!” Such a history-making suggestion! Well, kids, and tads and gremlinkins, don’t balk! Don’t gape! There’s no more to see that was it. Mayhaps it didn’t look very exciting, as say, the death of Edgar Allan Poe, which we witnessed last week, but it was just as important. (Let’s hurry back to the time machine now-that’s it-say! where’s Ferdie?-Someone go fetch him from the lake, quickly-and make sure it’s Ferdie!)-Ahem! what we have just witnessed was a crucial moment in the History of Monsterdom, for that suggestion of the poet Byron’s resulted in two great works of horror literature-first, Polidori’s subsequent The Vampyr was to metamorphize in time into Dracula and Nosferatu, and secondly, Mary Shelley’s immortal Frankenstein resulted from reading the legend of The Golem, as you have just witnessed here tonight. In fact, in the preface of the 1932 edition of Frankenstein, she admits it was her intent to “equal” the ghost stories she had read this 1816 evening.

So, in other words (ummmm-Igor, are you sure that’s Ferdie, and not just some ordinary, oversized toad? Oh, well, if you say so-and we really must be going), well class, in other words, as you’ve just witnessed, the Golem clearly both as a novel, and as a feature film, was the first Frankenstein’s monster. Now, lock the time warp prevention device, Basil…

Now that we’re back, and Ferdie is chirruping contentedly in the aquarium, I’ll run the silent, 1920 version of Der Golem.

Sadly, we can’t run the 1914 version of Der Golem. Time ordinances prevent us from going back and stealing one from the past, lest it change the future. The last remaining print was irretrievably lost when a (ho-ho) Modern Artist in the 1930’s who’d probably not been allowed to cut paper dolls as a child, chopped up the last remaining reels and pasted the itty-bitty pieces in a quaint collage. The very fact that people knew of The Golem and have forgotten that pea-brained artist is Destiny’s revenge, I suppose. Though I’d really like to take you back to that clown’s workshop, class, and set you loose, and watch you make a collage out of him.-Uh, cue the projector, Igor and when the lights go out, don’t any of you go putting Little Lucrezia in that guillotine again!-this is just a silent film, there’s no soundtrack for her screams to blend into…

DER GOLEM A Monster Times Re-Creation

Our first sight is of the old Astronomer, Rabbi David Leow (Albert Steinruck), seated in his observatory tower high above the Prague, Czechoslovakia, Ghetto. He wears an old astrologer’s cap and robe, decorated with mystic symbols, and very impressively gazes through his telescope and astrolabes, referring to charts and calculations on his gnarled writing table. He computes a column of figures and suddenly flings his arms in the air in an expression of woe and grief…

The stars predict the gravest misfortunes for the inhabitants of Prague. He knows not what, but some catastrophe is imminent, and nothing but unhappiness is to follow.

Sure enough, the next day, storm-trooper-like footsoldiers of the local despot, Rudolf II, nail a document to the gate of the Prague Ghetto.

The sign declares that “All Jews must abandon their belongings and move elsewhere” in one month, or suffer the wrath of Rudolf’s army. And from other examples found in history books, you can bet that “the wrath” meant total extermination-the killing of every Jewish person, man, woman and child, and the confiscation of all their property … the correct term is “Pogrom”… and the practice sporadically carried all the way up to Hitler’s concentration camps in Nazi Germany, a mere 30 years ago.

Rabbi Leow and the other residents of the Ghetto are awe-struck, terrified. True, the Ghetto wasn’t the finest home in the world, but now they are to wander the countryside, homeless, prey to savage animals and even more savage people. Uprooted. More helpless than before, in a hostile alien feudal world. But the Rabbi has a trick or two up his sleeve.

He also has a lovely daughter, played by Lyda Salmanova, and she has long braided hair. Keep that in mind, kids!

Shortly we see Rabbi Leow in his laboratory, poring over ancient magic books with his young assistant (played by Ernst Deutsch), desperately seeking a way. Then he finds an ancient blueprint for a clay-man, to be made and brought to life with the spirit of Astaroth. But, warns the inscription, the clay man must be brought to life only for good purposes, lest the spirits that keep him alive spoil, and his unworldly strength be used to negative or evil ends… uncontrollable ends.

The Rabbi sets to work, modeling a man of clay.

In the meantime, a messenger, a tall-blond Germanic type (and bit of an oaf at that) enters the Rabbi’s home, and waiting for the old man to appear, talks with his lovely daughter instead. The messenger of the court (Lothar Muthel) really turns on the charm, and by the time the Rabbi and his assistant enter the room, messenger and daughter are chatting most friendly. The assistant looks jealously at the scene, and the messenger abruptly stands to deliver a parchment to the Rabbi.

It’s an invitation to a feast at the Emperor, Rudolf’s court. Rabbi Leow is demanded to cast the astrological chart of Rudolf, and provide entertainments-and if his magic tricks are good enough, Rudolf might just take back the eviction notice … or at least listen to the Rabbi’s case for mercy.

Imagine! All that trouble just to get a free palm-reading!

Next we see the fabulous scene where the Golem, yet clay, is brought to life. This was one of the first really complex examples of special effects, and especially effective at that.

A circle drawn on the floor, candles are lit about it. The rabbi and his assistant enter the circle for protection, and proceed to recite the proper incantations.

Poof! The circle catches ablaze! Fiery sparks shoot up from the chalk markings on the floor, as the terrified assistant quakes. Incantations continue and the laboratory fills with smoke. The circle on the stone floor is now so intense that it has actually burned a moat-like rut in the stone … dissolving it fast!

Then BEHOLD! The Spirit of Astaroth appears! … a sinister mask-face eerily floats into the room (via double exposure-a difficult special effect in 1920!) and whooshes foul smoke from its nostrils. It frighteningly hovers about the room and then, to the relief of two apprentice sorcerers, speaks … by exhaling smoke letters through its nostrils; the letters of the secret ultra-incantation, “AEMIR,” and then promptly disappears.

The room is now normal again. The rut is vanished from the lab floor. Healed. The Rabbi and his assistant are passed out on the floor. The excitement was a bit much. Rabbi Leow revives first and rushes to a writing desk and copies down the magic letters on a slip of paper, deposits them in the back of a 5-pointed clay star, and places the star on the chest of the 62 foot clay man.

Instantly his eyes pop open. Paul Wegener, who played Der Golem as well as made the movie, was a typically German-looking actor-massive, harsh with blockish Teutonic features; he was a natural for a clay giant … and yet a strange if not ironic choice for the protector of the Jews, in light of events in Germany in years that followed-here was a person the spitting blue-eyed image of one of Hitler’s “Master Race” protecting Jewish people from extermination by hostile anti-Semitic Teutonics.

The Golem makeup was something else again. Huge clumpy feet with 3-inch soles (like the kind Boris Karloff was to later sport in FRANKENSTEIN)…a bulky vast double-breasted suitcoat, similar also to Borisover-sized sport-jacket, and a matted clay Prince Valiant fright-wig to make the head seem a little more proportionate to the 3/2-foot padded shoulders. If he’d only had bolts in the neck, a crew-cut, and scars on the wrists, he could have easily been a sub for the 1931 Universal FRANKENSTEIN.

Now the clay man was brought to life, and the good Rabbi, figuring an idle mudpile is the devil’s playground, set him to work doing chores; chopping and fetching wood, drawing water from the well, and doing the afternoon shopping at the local marketplace. This is one of the lighter moments of the film, with the assistant stumbling along, keeping an eye out for the Golem, who freaks out the humble shopkeeper. “That’s all right,” assures the assistant, “He’s a friend of Rabbi Leow’s!” Some comfort!

Finally arrives the big night at Rudolf’s castle. The hall is packed with too-beautiful nobility and ladies of the court, carousing about and getting drunk. Rudolf calls a halt to the festivities and informs all that Rabbi Leow is to perform some sort of a magic act for everyone’s entertainment. All eyes are on the Rabbi and his assistant. Rabbi Leow signals his lackey.

The assistant springs to open the door, and in lumbers Der Golem. All are amazed at the new guest, but return their attentions to Rabbi Leow. “I am going to show you now,” he begins sagely, “The history of my people. This is a very difficult magic feat, and should the spell be prematurely broken, I cannot claim responsibility for the dire consequences!”

“Do you know where your children are tonight?”

With this warning concluded, he begins. First an incantation or two, and a vast spectral apparition materializes on the courtroom wall, above the heads of the spectators. “This is the saga of my people … these are their great leaders and yours!” he says, as images of the Exodus from Egypt and the wandering through the wilderness are displayed. Men representing Abraham, Issac, Jacob, Aaron & Moses step into closeups in the footage (double exposure, again) and seemingly stare out of the apparition down at the members of the court.

Just then the court jester makes some crude joke, and all the nobles are suddenly in an uproar, laughing mockingly at the forces they cannot understand. The vision melts, spell broken.

But now a retribution ensues! Tumultuous winds swoop down and blow through the castle! People panic and crash into one another. The Golem stands in the doorway, barring exit. Pillars give way. Lightning bolts smite the courtroom. Chaos reigns, and the roof and floor begin to crack. Great columns crumble and the ceiling slowly sifts down, to crush all in the courtroom.

“Save us! Save us!” all cry. At a signal from Rabbi Leow, the Golem confidently strides center-stage, raises his arms and like some great stone superman, holds up the collapsing ceiling till all may escape.

Grateful, Rudolf II of Czechoslovakia apologizes for the rudeness of his court, thanks Rabbi Leow and assures him that there will be no Pogrom, no expulsion, and that the Jews of Prague may remain in their homes, unhindered.

A happy ending? Not quite. Not yet. Now Rabbi Leow returns home, overjoyed. And in his laboratory, consults his magic charts. Bad tidings, he learns, are in store for one who fails to dismantle a golem after its usefulness is over. Once its good deed has been done, it is prey to control by evil spirits. Looking over his shoulder to see the Golem glowering, and approaching him menacingly, he quickly plucks the star from the monster’s chest, breaking the spell. Lifeless, the clay-man topples to the floor. The terrified rabbi vows to smash up the statue the next day; after celebrations.

Next day finds all residents in the Ghetto laughing and dancing joyously. Thanks and festivities are the order of the noon as all the village gathers in the Synagogue to thank God that they have been delivered. Well … almost everyone.

The young assistant has tarried, and raps on the bedroom door of the Rabbi’s daughter, offering to escort her that afternoon to the synagogue. The door falls open, as no bar had been drawn, and the young assistant espies Rabbi Leow’s daughter in the arms of the young messenger of the court. The door is quickly slammed in his face and locked.

Jealous, the young wrathful assistant scurries to the lab, grabs the star and replaces it on the Golem’s chest. Springing to life, the Golem raises his arms fiercely, and follows the stupid assistant, who pointing to the bedroom door, yells “Kill him!” Golem smashes down the door, grabs German messenger, and carries him to yon roof of ye observatory, the terrified daughter and the assistant following close behind. With a mighty heft, old Golem heaves the messenger from the rooftop down to the street, 50 feet below. Then! he turns on the assistant-who scurries away. The Golem grabs the girl by her long braids and drags her through the streets, seeking means of doing more quaint evil. When he finds fire (a torch) he drops the girl, preoccupied with this marvelous new instrument of destruction. Setting the torch to the Ghetto (something Rudolf II’s soldier henchman would have done). he gloats as the buildings go pretty-pretty burn-burn. Celebrants in the Synagogue smell smoke and stream into the street, bewildered, to fight the blaze. The Golem thwarts their aims awhile by tossing them about like toys. Then he staggers away in search of more destructive things to do.

Meanwhile, the jealous assistant finds the dazed young girl and together, lovingly, they vow to try to make something of their lives from that day forth. They embrace.

As this happens, elsewhere, the Golem has found his way to the Ghetto gate, forces open the door and lumbers out. Before him are a group of young German children, boys and girls playing and making necklaces of daisies.

One little girl of 4 strides up to the Golem. He picks her up; how curious. She reaches out and playfully plucks the star from his chest.

The Golem topples backward, lifeless. The now evil nemesis has been defeated by the innocent curiosity of a child. When the people of the Ghetto rush to the gates, they view the toppled Golem surrounded by happy young children. They heft up the clay statue and cart him back inside the Ghetto to dismantle him. The last scene of the film; the statue carted back inside, the massive gates swinging shut, ending the saga of the walking behemoth, the first and original Frankenstein’s monster; DER GOLEM!

ISSUE 1: nosferatu …what ever happened to the vampyr?

By Dave Izzo

Destiny wasn’t asleep at the switch when Nosferatu was culled from the warped imaginations of the early German Film-makers. In fact, Dracula/Nosferatu and The Golem/Frankenstein are really cousins of sorts as this (and the following) article will demonstrate. The first family reunion of this monster clan goes back to Switzerland, 1816 when their invisible memories subtly provoked some of the finest giants of the 19th century literature. To wit: Lord Byron that poet they always make you read in your English Lit class was verily the prototype of the ol’ Duke of Darkness himself! Heavy? Right on!-er-rather Fright On.

Dave Izzo has done some spiffy research on the origins of NOSFERATU

Vampires-
the way of empty flesh

When was the last time you saw a vampire? If you never have, or you’ve just forgotten when it was, don’t feel bad; you’re suffering from a loss felt by horror lovers everywhere. That ancient and revered species of bloodsucker is going the way of the aardvark, the seal and the American bald eagle: that is, extinction. Once the world abounded with vampiric toothy smiles. They’ve got a history that goes back to antiquity, and for auld fang syne is worth a retelling.

When man began, vampire legends were a universal phenomenon touching all the corners of the globe. From an Arabic djinn to a Greek vyrolackas, every country had its own night-crawler. The manifestations of their undead evil varied in each place, but the goal was always the same; blood.

Centuries ago this life-sustaining liquid was regarded as a magical element, and equally supernatural was any being that attempted to steal it. Early man’s superstitious mind expected satanic corpses to try midnight raids on someone’s blood supply.

Vampires Invade Libraries

As man stumbled out of the dark ages, the belief in blood-robbers became less public as people pretended to be more civilized. Nonetheless, man’s subconscious fantasies prevailed in the form of Gothic fiction.

From 1765, beginning with Walpole’s CASTLE OF OTRANTO, to 1825, these novels swept through Europe. They usually had a heroine who encounters and conquers a variety of weird happenings, including a vampire or two. At this time they were only minor characters, and it wasn’t till 1816 that a vampire was presented in his modern form.

Vampires Invade Switzerland?

In the Summer of that year, the English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley and his wife Mary vacationed in Switzerland at the home of another great poet, Lord Byron. Also there was Byron’s physician and companion John Polidori. During a succession of rainy days that kept them indoors, they rummaged through the attic and came across an old book of ghost stories. For entertainment they sat in a circle and read them aloud. Quoting Mary Shelley, one story went like this.

“There was a tale of the sinful founder of his race, whose doom it was to bestow the kiss of death on all the younger sons of his fated house. His gigantic shadowy form was seen at midnight, by the moon’s fitful beams, to advance slowly along the gloomy avenue. The shape was lost beneath the shadow of the castle walls, but soon a gate swung back, a step was heard, the door of the chamber opened, and he advanced to the couch of the blooming youths. Eternal sorrow sat upon his face as he bent down and kissed the foreheads of the boys, who from that hour withered like flowers snapped upon the stalk.”

Though not exactly a vampire, this spirit contains vampiric elements. Evil when alive, he becomes one of the undead as punishment. He steals life from youth as he prowls the night.

English Lit’s Own Vampire

Inspired by these tales Lord Byron suggested that the quartet try writing their own horror stories. All four attempted the task, but as the Summer turned to Autumn only two continued. Surprisingly, it was the two poets who dropped out, and the amateurs that succeeded. Mary Shelley wrote her classic FRANKENSTEIN, and Polidori “borrowed” THE VAMPYRE.

The good doctor stole the idea from Byron, but wrote and developed the story himself. It features a Lord Ruthven whose suavity and regal bearing become the model for all subsequent vampires. This evil aristocrat, after swearing his unknowing companion to secrecy, fakes his own death. Later, the companion returns to London and finds the vampire alive, preying on society. Bound to his oath the man can say nothing, and the vow must last a year and a day. As time passes, the pressures of his horrible knowledge drive him to the edge of insanity. He soon learns that his sister’s been beguiled by the villain’s charms and plans to marry him on the last day of the vow. Her half-crazed brother begs her to delay another day, but she will not, believing him to be mad. At midnight, freed from the oath, and moments before his death, he sends friends to her rescue. It’s too late. Ruthven is gone, glutted with blood.

Lord Byron: Dracula’s Grandfather

It should be mentioned that Ruthven is a fictionalization of Lord Byron. Byron was an internationally notorious personality, known more in his time for his scandalous life than for his works. Byron and Polidori, at first friends, argued constantly during that Summer, and parted as enemies. THE VAMPYRE was intended as an insult as well as a serious work. The first full-fledged vampire story in English, it initiated a very important literary chain that still exists. As for Byron, he’ll be happy to know that there’s a little of him in every vampire since 1816. And there’s been plenty of them.

a Drac-o-lantern lights the way

Most of them were bad imitations of Polidori’s novel, but in 1897 the man appeared with the flowing fangs. None other than DRACULA, the baddest bloodsucker of them all! It was written by Bram Stoker whose only previous fame had been as the manager of England’s top actor of the time, Sir Henry Irving. Stoker in DRACULA, accomplished the definitive novel of vampirism. He tied together all the strings of demonology, legend, the folklore, then added Polidori’s foundation and created the ultimate vampire.

The powers and limitations of the nefarious count were established as the precedent for the future. Like many authors, Stoker searched for some facts to lend a measure of authenticity to his tale. He found a fifteenth-century Slavic nobleman named Drakula, a general in battles against the Turks, also an insane sadist, torturer, and murderer who used his noble power to victimize the local peasants. One manuscript telling Drakula’s story, called him a wampyr, a derivative of vampire.

For fantasy’s sake, Stoker’s villain is supposed to be the same man four hundred years later. Here is evil incarnate, Count Dracula as first seen by the hero who has just entered the Transylvanian castle.

Would you buy a used coffin from this man?

“Within stood a tall old man, clean-shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere… He moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand, grasped mine with a strength that made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it was as cold as ice – more like the hand of a dead than a living man…

“His face was a strong – a very strong aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and particularly arched nostrils, with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples, but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose… The mouth was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth; these protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale and at the top extremely pointed; the chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor.

“… I could not but notice (his hands) were rather coarse – broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me… I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me… The Count’s eyes gleamed…”

a Vampire named Irving?

Of course his eyes gleamed, because when he leaned over it was to get a better look at the hero’s neck. With a description like that there’s no mystery about who the villain is going to be. In fact, check a picture of Henry Irving and you’ll see that Stoker pulled a prank a la Polidori and Byron. The joke in this instance is between friends, not enemies, and is only one of the links that connects DRACULA and THE VAMPYRE.

Count Dracula, as did Lord Ruthven, schemes a plot that will get him to England. Once there, his evil draws him to the loved ones of the book’s hero. But unlike Lord Ruthven, Dracula attempts too much and is defeated. The factor of vampire migration is obviously motivated by a need for more victims, but the arrogance of pursuing people who know you exist is a display of defiant power. These Polidoric elements continued in the first vampire flick which starred… wrong, not Bela Lugosi, but Max Shreck. (Who?) Shreck, incidentally, means “Terror” in German.

Rumanian Vampires

Maniacal Max played the title role in the 1922 German silent NOSFERATU (the word is the Rumanian one for vampire!) The story begins as does Stoker’s novel, but scriptwriter Henrik Galeen digresses with some unusual ideas that extend Stoker’s melodramatic romanticism into that stuff called psychological symbolism.

The hero, sleeping unsuspectingly in the count’s castle is about to get his blood checked. At this moment, hundreds of miles away, his wife Nina awakens whispering her husband’s name. Suddenly, Nosferatu recoils and cannot go on.

Love Conquers All (sometimes)…

It was Galeen’s object to show that love could combat the vampire even in his supernatural realm. After the hero escapes, the villain, who comes to appear more and more as the image of pestilence, leaves his castle for redder pastures.

Drinking his way across Germany, Nosferatu changes physically as his evil increases. Tall and thin (you can’t get fat on a liquid diet) his snakelike figure grows hunchbacked, and his already ugly face contorts into a grotesque gargoyle. Finally, he reaches the town of Bremen and there meets Nina – in a scene that symbolizes Galeen’s belief that the evils which Nosferatu represents cannot conquer those who confront them fearlessly.

Instead of fleeing from the vampire, Nina welcomes him. As she does, the sun breaks through and the villain dissolves into nothing. The strength of goodness wins out over evil and is given an aspect of magical power. The evil it defeats is considered a disease that gets more repugnant as time lets it continue. The message of these ideas was dramatized by the film’s director F.W. Murnau.

Murnau had the ability to eliminate boundaries between the real and unreal. Reality was bordered by dreams, and a tangible person, like Nina, might impress the audience as an apparition. The success of the film rested largely on the camera’s rendition of eerie horror.

Vampires since: Necks to Nothing!

How to make a film from a stage play is what happens in Lugosi’s DRACULA. It’s an extremely one-dimensional movie in that all it did was to virtually film a stage presentation. The special effects pioneered by Murnau were completely neglected. And even though Lugosi was renowned as the vampire, if you refer back to Stoker’s conception, he really doesn’t make it.

With a few exceptions, like Chris Lee’s excellent portrayal in HORROR OF DRACULA, vampire flicks fall far short of Stoker’s fabulous novel. The Polidoric tradition has been nearly forgotten in the wake of films such as BILLY THE KID VS. DRACULA. (Yes there actually is a disaster by that name). Woe is the world when a weirdo like that creep in DARK SHADOWS bares his fangs between toothpaste commercials. Vampires surely need our mortal support.

Let the hovering spirits know that you’re still with them. One nice thing you might do is leave some blood in a saucer on your doorstep before you go to bed. After all, vampires aren’t bad guys compared to things like wars, poverty, and drugs. They’re only figments of fantasy to relieve us from the real evils in life. Look at it this way; I’d rather take on Dracula than an A-bomb anytime.

(Speaking of A-bombs-check out our chilling Mushroom Monsters article on page 18, and ditto our special comic strip version of Nosferatu on page 20-Ed.)

No, that’s not the butler who always “did it”-That’s Nosferatu, the first filmed recreation of Bram Stroker’s Dracula. Note them hands!