Admit it. We're all guilty of indulging in nostalgia, at least some of the time. And there's no one better at nostalgic reminiscences (there's a word) than the horror meister himself, Stephen King.
It's one reason why Mr. King's Danse Macabre (DM) is one of my favorites of his books, especially his retelling of the Sputnik incident. When Stephen King publishes a book with an index, you know it has to be important. So listen up. (An aside: I looked for the word "Sputnik" before writing this, and damn if it appears in the index of DM. Indexer please note. First mention of Sputnik (not Spootnik) is on page 9.)
Spoiler alert. If you haven't read Danse Macabre, consider skipping the following.
[At the beginning of Danse Macabre, Mr. King deftly, innocently takes the reader back to October 4, 1957. He is ten years old, in a movie theater called the Stratford Theater in downtown Stratford, Connecticut. He is watching a movie called Earth vs. The Flying Saucers. He gives you time, situation and place, but before he delivers the nostalgic punch line of what happened on that significant day, he elucidates (I know, big word) on his theory of horror, and how horror affects us on two levels.
Is horror art? He asks. Yes, he answers, for the reasons he proposes. But I have my own theory. Simply stated, if horror writing is literature, and literature is art. Then horror writing is art. Sorry to have digressed.
The punch line Mr. King describes is found on page 7 of DM. He recalls the movie being stopped as it was reaching "the good part," and the theater manager on stage making an announcement. "I want to tell you . . . that the Russians have put a space satellite into orbit around the earth. They call it . . . Spootnik."]
No doubt Mr. King's journey into horror began innocently (and eerily) enough on October 4, 1957, as described in Chapter 1 of DM. And we, Constant Readers who enjoy his fiction, are glad it did.
The earliest horror movies I remember watching (filmed in black and white, which gives them a nostalgic noir feel) were Godzilla, the original Raymond Burr version, and something called Cat People. The latter is dated 1942, but I remember watching it in the early sixties. No big deal by today's special effects standards, but for someone as young and impressionable as I was then, the suspense and atmosphere it generates was breathtaking.
I remember where I was when JFK died (walking on my way to school), but not when his brother, Robert, was gunned down. I remember when Marilyn Monroe was found dead, but not where I was or what I was doing.
The Kennedy assassination was a traumatic moment for everyone in November 1963. Happily in February of the following year four young lads from Liverpool, England appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show and literally "rocked" our world. I remember there was much hype and expectation days before their appearance. No wonder I was one of the 73 million viewers who tuned in to watch The Beatles for the first time on TV.
I didn't read much in 1964, preferring watching TV to reading. There were no Cds or ereaders then, no smart phones and very few of my neighbors had color television. I remember reading two books: Old Yeller by Fred Gipson and Marjorie K. Rawlings’ The Yearling. As for horror, Edgar Allan Poe's Tales of the Macabre were much read and admired. Not the poetry, mind you--the tales.
I remember westerns were legion on TV, as were detective shows such as, among others, Hawaiian Eye, Peter Gunn, Checkmate, Burke's Law, 77 Sunset Strip and Surfside 6 (and where is it? In Miami Beach). Significantly (though not at the time) in 1965 Anne Francis starred in a detective series called Honey West. It's worth remembering because not only was it unprecedented for the era (a hip female detective who was self-reliant, sexy and cool), but also possibly the earliest display on TV of a practitioner of martial arts. A year later Diana Rigg would woo America with her portrayal of Emma Peel in The Avengers. There was also a show called (curiously enough) T.H.E. Cat, starring Robert Loggia (he of Big movie fame) and, thanks to Ian Fleming's James Bond, a spy show called The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (Robert Conrad was a secret agent in The Wild, Wild West, combining the spy and western genre in one show.)
The Twist was still big in the early sixties, but after the British invasion rock and roll went ballistic, spawning a bevy of dance crazes as well as a revolution in dress, looks and styles.
In 1965 The Beach Boys were the biggest band in the U.S. And "beach" movies (love 'em or hate 'em), especially those starring Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello, were very popular. Speaking of movies, there was also Elvis, who in 1963 filmed Viva Las Vegas, and in 1968 appeared on TV ("slim, trim and more handsome than nine movie stars") in the Comeback Special, which I remember watching.
I remember sharkskin suits, Cuban heels, dickies, hickies, transistor radios, "winner" gumballs, hula hoops and roller skates which were not "inline" but had 4 wheels on two axles. "Marijuana" was not mentioned in mixed company, and neighborhood gangs defended their "turf" and fought with chains and bats in "rumbles." “Boss,” “cool” and “hip” were positive qualities. Baggy pants were known as "gausters," and no young man in his right mind would be caught dead wearing them.
There's more, but I would rather read your nostalgic musings with regard to the sixties, seventies, eighties or nineties. If you dare. Thanks for reading and sharing.
And thank you, Mr. King, for making nostalgia so appealing.
It's one reason why Mr. King's Danse Macabre (DM) is one of my favorites of his books, especially his retelling of the Sputnik incident. When Stephen King publishes a book with an index, you know it has to be important. So listen up. (An aside: I looked for the word "Sputnik" before writing this, and damn if it appears in the index of DM. Indexer please note. First mention of Sputnik (not Spootnik) is on page 9.)
Spoiler alert. If you haven't read Danse Macabre, consider skipping the following.
[At the beginning of Danse Macabre, Mr. King deftly, innocently takes the reader back to October 4, 1957. He is ten years old, in a movie theater called the Stratford Theater in downtown Stratford, Connecticut. He is watching a movie called Earth vs. The Flying Saucers. He gives you time, situation and place, but before he delivers the nostalgic punch line of what happened on that significant day, he elucidates (I know, big word) on his theory of horror, and how horror affects us on two levels.
Is horror art? He asks. Yes, he answers, for the reasons he proposes. But I have my own theory. Simply stated, if horror writing is literature, and literature is art. Then horror writing is art. Sorry to have digressed.
The punch line Mr. King describes is found on page 7 of DM. He recalls the movie being stopped as it was reaching "the good part," and the theater manager on stage making an announcement. "I want to tell you . . . that the Russians have put a space satellite into orbit around the earth. They call it . . . Spootnik."]
No doubt Mr. King's journey into horror began innocently (and eerily) enough on October 4, 1957, as described in Chapter 1 of DM. And we, Constant Readers who enjoy his fiction, are glad it did.
The earliest horror movies I remember watching (filmed in black and white, which gives them a nostalgic noir feel) were Godzilla, the original Raymond Burr version, and something called Cat People. The latter is dated 1942, but I remember watching it in the early sixties. No big deal by today's special effects standards, but for someone as young and impressionable as I was then, the suspense and atmosphere it generates was breathtaking.
I remember where I was when JFK died (walking on my way to school), but not when his brother, Robert, was gunned down. I remember when Marilyn Monroe was found dead, but not where I was or what I was doing.
The Kennedy assassination was a traumatic moment for everyone in November 1963. Happily in February of the following year four young lads from Liverpool, England appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show and literally "rocked" our world. I remember there was much hype and expectation days before their appearance. No wonder I was one of the 73 million viewers who tuned in to watch The Beatles for the first time on TV.
I didn't read much in 1964, preferring watching TV to reading. There were no Cds or ereaders then, no smart phones and very few of my neighbors had color television. I remember reading two books: Old Yeller by Fred Gipson and Marjorie K. Rawlings’ The Yearling. As for horror, Edgar Allan Poe's Tales of the Macabre were much read and admired. Not the poetry, mind you--the tales.
I remember westerns were legion on TV, as were detective shows such as, among others, Hawaiian Eye, Peter Gunn, Checkmate, Burke's Law, 77 Sunset Strip and Surfside 6 (and where is it? In Miami Beach). Significantly (though not at the time) in 1965 Anne Francis starred in a detective series called Honey West. It's worth remembering because not only was it unprecedented for the era (a hip female detective who was self-reliant, sexy and cool), but also possibly the earliest display on TV of a practitioner of martial arts. A year later Diana Rigg would woo America with her portrayal of Emma Peel in The Avengers. There was also a show called (curiously enough) T.H.E. Cat, starring Robert Loggia (he of Big movie fame) and, thanks to Ian Fleming's James Bond, a spy show called The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (Robert Conrad was a secret agent in The Wild, Wild West, combining the spy and western genre in one show.)
The Twist was still big in the early sixties, but after the British invasion rock and roll went ballistic, spawning a bevy of dance crazes as well as a revolution in dress, looks and styles.
In 1965 The Beach Boys were the biggest band in the U.S. And "beach" movies (love 'em or hate 'em), especially those starring Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello, were very popular. Speaking of movies, there was also Elvis, who in 1963 filmed Viva Las Vegas, and in 1968 appeared on TV ("slim, trim and more handsome than nine movie stars") in the Comeback Special, which I remember watching.
I remember sharkskin suits, Cuban heels, dickies, hickies, transistor radios, "winner" gumballs, hula hoops and roller skates which were not "inline" but had 4 wheels on two axles. "Marijuana" was not mentioned in mixed company, and neighborhood gangs defended their "turf" and fought with chains and bats in "rumbles." “Boss,” “cool” and “hip” were positive qualities. Baggy pants were known as "gausters," and no young man in his right mind would be caught dead wearing them.
There's more, but I would rather read your nostalgic musings with regard to the sixties, seventies, eighties or nineties. If you dare. Thanks for reading and sharing.
And thank you, Mr. King, for making nostalgia so appealing.
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Honey West 1.JPG
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