Halloween Haunts: The Betamax Horror by Tom Calen
I got my first real taste of fear when I was four or five years old. It was the early 1980s in Brooklyn, New York, and the night, quite fittingly, was Halloween.
My family had joined with three others for the annual door-to-door plea for candy, otherwise known as Trick-or-Treating[*]. All combined, there were eight children in our pack: a quartet of ten year-olds, a trio aged eight, and me–the youngest by four years and the only boy. I don’t remember much about the trick-or-treating itself, which likely means I ended the route with a healthy bag of soon-to-be cavities and thus had nothing to complain about.
The plan on that October evening was to complete the usual neighborhood circuit in the hunt for sweets, and then return to the Scalletti’s house around 8 PM for cake and coffee (milk for us kids, of course). Why were the Scallettis hosting that Halloween’s “after party”? Well, you see, Mr. Scalletti had just bought a Sony Betamax Video Cassette Recorder. A large silver box—larger even than my Dad’s briefcase, which seemed downright huge to a four year-old—with a series of switches and dials, and flashing lights when it was turned on. This was some primo state-of-the-art machinery! The Calen clan wouldn’t take the VCR (a GE VHS VCR, to be exact) plunge until the following year, and then to the tune of $1200.
Unfortunately, the evening’s cinematic treat was for the adults only. Mr. Scalletti had purchased a horror movie called Poltergeist, and the unanimous decision was for the children to make themselves scarce while the grown-ups made themselves scared.
As I mentioned, I was the only boy among the kids, and was significantly younger than even the next youngest child. At four (or five) years old, I had as much interest in hanging out with a bunch of older girls as they had in allowing a boy my age to intrude in their fun, which, if pop culture is any guide, I assume was hair-braiding circles and pillow fights. So, I was exempted from the exile of the adolescents; my parents believing I’d fall asleep after such an exciting day and evening. And they were right; I did sleep through the film. Well, most of it.
Curled up on the couch next to my mother, I snoozed away while Carol Anne Freeling conversed with her TV, got sucked into her closet, and then eventually fell through the living room ceiling. Perhaps the climatic music playing during Carol Anne’s rescue woke me, or simply a second round of a sugar rush had kicked in. Whichever, I remember waking up just as Carol Anne and her brother, Robbie, were getting into their beds. All seemed peaceful, until that damn clown doll attacked Robbie.
Prior to that night, I’d never had the “monster under the bed” experience. Nor the screaming out in the middle of the night for Mommy and Daddy to check that the closet was free of evil. Those events may have come with or without the help of Poltergeist. But, after watching that scene, the fear was in me.
To make matters worse, I had a Ronald McDonald doll in my room. Fifteen inches tall, with a zipper you could zip and laces you could lace, the Ronald doll had a small Grimace tucked in a pocket, and a whistle strung around its neck. I don’t recall my feelings toward the redheaded clown before Poltergeist, but when we got home that Halloween night, and I was tucked into my bed, I do remember staring at the doll across the room with complete terror. That was the last night Ol’ Ronnie spent in my room. The next morning, shocked that I had survived a night spent with a homicidal clown doll, I dragged Mr. McDonald down two flights and locked him in a closet in the basement. I held on to the whistle, though. I figured it might come in handy should another of my toys try to kill me and I needed to wake the neighborhood.
It’s some thirty years later, and my fear of clowns, which began with Poltergeist and then was cemented by the Stephen King novel IT, still endures. And to be frank, basements aren’t really my thing either. If ever I find myself trapped in a basement with a clown . . . well, that’d be game-over, I surrender, just hurry up and kill me.
Seeing that clown doll come to life and attack Robbie Freeling clearly had an effect on me. Is it why now, as an adult, I write horror? Not entirely. I think Mom reading me the tales of Edgar Allan Poe at age six probably helped in that area as well. As did the neighborhood kids daring each other to ring Rat Man’s doorbell (that’s a whole other story). And the unsubstantiated claims those same neighborhood kids threw around about the guy living around the corner—killed his whole family with a knife, if the tales were true. No, there were many events and experiences that conspired to form the adult Tom Calen.
Poltergeist was simply my introduction to irrational fear. Fear of the creaks and bumps in the night. Fear of what lives in the shadows. Fear of the unknown. Certainly, I’ve learned over the years that clown dolls don’t come to life, and little girls’ heads don’t spin ‘round, and snowy hotels aren’t haunted. But, every October we set aside one night to celebrate a time when we thought all those things were real. So, whether it’s an old movie or new, a favorite book or a recent release, this Halloween tell the kids to get scarce and let the adults get scared!
TODAY’S GIVEAWAY: Tom is offering one set of three paperbacks of The Pandemic Sequence. Comment below to enter or e-mail membership@horror.org with “HH Entry” in the subject line.
TOM CALEN is the author of the bestselling horror series, The Pandemic Sequence, as well as the science fiction series, Scars of Tomorrow. A NYC native, Tom worked in the world of business before abandoning all reason and deciding to write full-time. From Castle Rock to Arakis, Middle Earth to Westeros, Tom eagerly devours as many science fiction and fantasy novels as time allows. He credits George R.R. Martin, Robert Jordan, and Stephen King as the major influences on his style. Tom is currently working on his seventh book, The Tilian Relapse. The second book in the Scars of Tomorrow series, The Ignota, will be available from Permuted Press on October 14 wherever e-books are sold.
Read an excerpt from The Tillian Virus by Tom Calen
@tomcalen
[*] I’m still working on getting traction for the adult version, where once a year groups of 30-somethings go door-to-door to get free beer. Maybe I’ll get a Kickstarter campaign going?
Clowns terrify me. Loved this post. Brought back memories of Sony Betamax – so revolutionary at the time – and Poltergeist which I loved. Scared the heck out of me!
That clown in poltergeist was creepy. Have no fear of clowns though.