7 Foot Tall Monster Robot ad

(Click on image to enlarge.)

"TRAGEDY ON WASHINGTON AVE"
The Greeneville Post, Oct. 20, 1974

A 12 year old boy is dead, shot to death by police, and the grieving parents can only wonder how this tragedy could have been averted.

On Sunday afternoon, as the autumn leaves blew down the street of this average suburb, what started out as a young boy's craft project ended up with a terrified neighborhood, stunned police, and a bereaved family mourning for a budding scientist cut down in his youth.

At 6:18 PM on the eve of the 19th, the Greeneville Police Department received a panicked call from Mrs. Crinklecut, the elderly retired schoolmarm beloved by the whole town. Her frantic report of a "monstrous, horrifying mechanical man" terrorizing her and her dog were at first met with disbelief by the dispatcher. But the patrol car sent to calm her down soon reported back a confirmation of the description.

With a request for backup, Lt. Spooner's radio call described a "hulking metal creature" on the rampage down the street. It stood seven feet tall, with "flashing, glowing eyes," with giant-sized arms that defied everything in its path. "It acts just like a creature from outer space" he radioed in, and as soon as the other cars arrived the police surrounded the mysterious being and demanded that it surrender.

Ignoring the commands crackling over the loudspeaker, the menacing metal monster slowly raised its left arm threateningly toward the armed authorities. The command to fire was given in response, and when the smoke cleared the thing lay on its side, blood leaking from holes left in the silver body by the policemen's bullets.

It was with shock and horror that they then discovered that inside the thing was the body of a boy. Identified by a neighborhood friend as Bobby Theakson, the saddened police realized that the "alien creature" had only been a suit made of spray-painted paneling wood and cheap scrap items available anywhere. The inventive young man had apparently tinkered it together in his garage, over the course of several weeks each day after school. He had been controlling it from the inside, via an ingenious series of levers. Plans for building the incredible machine were found in the garage, and were seized by the authorities to be turned over to the F.B.I. for investigation.

Wiping his eyes, Lt. Spooner bemoaned, "I'm sorry that this turned out so badly. When it raised its arm, we could only assume it was about to fire some kind of ray-beam that would turn us all into skeletons."

The tearful parents did not blame the brave police as the ambulance took away the body of the boy. "We never dreamed he was building such a dangerous weapon," sobbed his mother, Helen. "We thought it was a doghouse." "He was too smart for his own good," agreed the father, Bill Theakson, as he held his wife close. "Always reading those comic books. We knew it would get him into trouble one day." Motioning for Bobby's younger brother, he drew him near. "At least we still have Randy, who is on the PeeWee football team, which is more normal and safe."

The machine that caused the horror was burned by the neighbors on a curbside leaf pile, as they gathered that evening to console one another and try to purge the fear that for one brief fall afternoon gripped this quiet town. But few will be able to forget the nightmare that stalked the street with blinking, glowing eyes.

Lost In Space Monsters

Today's Monster Memories are of:
"Lost In Space"
(Click on images to view full size.)
Scanned from a comic book in my collection.

When I was six years old, the coolest, most awesomest thing on TV was "Lost In Space." I was watching it during it's first run, in black and white, and in my little mind there was nothing like it. I was living in Macon, Georgia, my home town, in the same place I described in my post on the Monster Magnet. After viewing the very first network showing of the early episode with the giant Cyclops monster, I remember recreating the memorable scene at play the next day.
I took some crayons and drew on a cardboard shoebox (belonging to my stepdad) some windows and a door to resemble the Chariot. Putting it in a ditch, I set up some toy soldiers around it and on top to represent the Robinsons. I then took some large clods of red Georgia clay, and moving in exaggerated slow-motion, I clomped around, picking up the large clods, and dropping them down on and around the helpless Space Family Robinsons and their vehicle. I must have looked pretty silly to any neighbors that might have been watching. I finally flattened the shoebox and people with a clod, breaking it apart in a small cloud of red dust. When it cleared, they were all dead. It's fortunate for the Robinsons and all the kids watching the show, that the episode didn't play out that way!
In one of the comics in a stack that a neighbor gave me, there was the ad (scanned in above) for the Aurora model kit re-creating that very scene. How I longed to have it! When I came across that ad again recently, it brought back a flood of nostalgia. For a moment I was that kid again, reading the comic while sitting outside under the shade of a mimosa tree. The sweet watermelon-like scent of the blossoms still linger in my memory, and when I smell them today it takes me back to that place and time.

(Image Source)

Now, of all the characters on the show, the Robot was my favorite. Of course, I related to Will, but the fantasy idea of having the Robot for a pal was extremely attractive. I imagined having him and taking him to school with me, and having him zap the bullies on the playground that dared mess with me.

One of the most unusual aspects of my childhood days is the amount of time I spent in cardboard boxes. You've heard of "The Boy In The Plastic Bubble," well, I was "The Kid In The Cardboard Box."

Whenever I came across one large enough to get in, I would have fun with it for weeks until it wore out. One of my favorite things to do with them was to make a spaceship. I would draw with crayons and markers on the inside, creating all sorts of screens, buttons, switches and computer panels. I would get in, blast off after a countdown, travel through space, then land on an alien planet. Getting out and exploring, the yard became a strange world of unknown dangers. The dog (we had a chihuahua at the time) was an alien creature that I befriended and shared my "space rations" (snack crackers) with. Sometimes I even took him back to Earth with me in the ship and kept him as a pet.

My parents would look out in the yard and see the box rocking back and forth and wonder if they needed to take me to the doctor to be examined for a mental condition. It was just good fun using my imagination! But the oddest use was turning myself into a robot. If the box was tall, like one for a water heater or something, but not big enough to crawl into comfortably, I would make it into a robot suit!

Detail of a comic book back cover ad for the Aurora model kit. View the entire ad here.

Cutting out a square hole in the front to see out of, arm holes in the side, and an open bottom for my feet to stick out of, I would festoon the inside with more colorful buttons, round gauges and rectangular readouts. Donning the box, I would trundle around the yard, mostly pretending to be the Robot from Lost In Space, waving my arms around and doing my best imitation of "Danger, danger! Warning, warning!" Other times it would be a mechanical suit, used by an astronaut to explore dangerous environments where a large robotic body would be helpful. What amusement I must have brought to the neighbors as I walked around in these boxes, and what shame I must have brought to my parents! But, they let me alone... better out in the yard doing whatever than inside bugging them. And cardboard boxes were cheap... make that free.

Here is a photo of an assembled and painted Robot from the Aurora kits. Any kid lucky enough to get one, is now a lucky adult if it survived and he still has it!

Photo source: http://www.geocities.com/ssbn598ssn682/index.html

Lots more cool images of models!
http://www.culttvman2.com/dnn/Default.aspx?tabid=294

Fun link: http://www.iann.net/vaults/lostinspace/

I watched the show whenever I could catch it for the next 6 years or so. My mother would fuss about the "stupid bells" that she had to listen to every day after school when it was on during afternoon reruns. She was referring to the piece of music that was always used during the climatic scene, with the clanging bells, you know the ones. Below is a drawing I did after I was older, about 13, of the Robot using the Aurora ad as reference. Meaning, I just copied it by looking at it and adding my own touches. Buy that time I was growing up into Star Trek and was beginning to consider Lost In Space to be childish. Notice the justification commentary down near the title; "The only good thing about it!" Sure, it was a kid's show... but it's fun to watch now and relive the innocent days when it all seemed so serious.

About the same time as I was playing the Cyclops and the Robot, there were Lost In Space bubble gum cards out. During several trips to the local corner store on the way home from my first grade school (I had to walk about a mile), I picked up some packs, which I stored in my box of personal stuff. Some actually survived over the years, and I now have them as proud relics of my younger years in my card binder. I've scanned in the dozen or so I have to share with you below!

The various and many monsters on Lost In Space both entertained me and scared me over the next few years. I could watch it and enjoy it, unlike "The Outer Limits," which at the time gave me nightmares, and was just too adult and intense. Lost In Space was the perfect show for the six and seven year old that I was, and the inner kid still living in me now gets a kick out of putting it on every so often... until I have had my fill of Dr. Smith for awhile. One can only take so much of him.

I'll close with a couple more Lost In Space memories. One, when I was about 11, I bought (well, my Mom did, when we were school clothes shopping) a pullover shirt that looked almost exactly like Will's. It was green and blue, with leather on the upper section. I thought I was hot stuff. I wish I had a picture of myself in that! I wore it out.

Second, I finally met Will Robinson, played by Billy Mumy, at a convention in Miami FL around 1993. I took my young daughter, who had seen him on the show when I watched it, and she was thrilled to meet him as well. We had an up-close and personal encounter with him; we were riding an elevator up to a higher floor of the hotel to see if we could look out over the Miami skyline. When who should step onto the elevator but Billy himself! It was so freaky, standing with a hero of my childhood. He really hadn't changed much other than just getting to be grown! We talked some as we rode up, and he seemed pleased that I was a fan and had watched as a kid. When my daughter mentioned why we were going up to the highest floor, he invited us into his suite to see the view!

So we got to visit in his hotel room for a little while, and see the beautiful view from his floor-to-ceiling windows. It was unreal. I didn't overstay, and we shook hands and parted after taking a picture of my daughter in front of the window. He really was a nice guy, and just like the Will I imagined I could hang around with as a kid. I'll always treasure the memory, and feel a little closer to Will Robinson when I watch it now. Later, down in the dealer's room, we got his autograph and a picture together with him, the one above. By that time we were old buddies.

My daughter posing in front of the panoramic view visible from Billy Mumy's hotel window.
Dear Santa: Please bring me one of the B9 Robots (see attached picture below ) for Christmas. I have been a very good boy and would like to have one for a friend.

Love,
-Fred

Get your own Robot here for "only" $24,500! If I get rich soon, one of these will reside in my collection room.

Fresh off the assembly line, ready to activate and serve humanity, with a solid gold heart.

The Colossus of New York

Today's Monster Memories are of:
"The Colossus Of New York"

1958 was a good year for monster and sci-fi movies. It's also significant that I was born that year. Significant to me, that is, nobody else, really.

This is a little low-budget film that few seem to remember, but it had a big impact on me when I saw it on TV when I was around 5 or 6. I recall sitting on my Grandaddy's lap while we watched it, so I didn't get too scared. He was a cool guy, an easy-going ex-Marine with a wry sense of humor, whose hobby was ham radio. Sitting with him at his desk full of equipment and a microphone probably accounts for the fact that I went into radio as an adult. He died too young, only in his 50's in 1968 in an accident at the Warner-Robins Air Force base in Georgia where he worked as an electrician. Someone else's careless lack of attention to shutting off a switch caused him to be electrocuted. Mostly, the way I know him is through pictures. So, the few memories I have of him are important, and when I watch this movie now I think of him. The main character played by Ross Martin was killed in a senseless accident also.

The hulking figure of the robot body, with it's glowing eyes and wide shoulders, combined with the harsh electronic voice, were quite frightening to me as a kid. The image of it smashing through the glass wall stuck with me and I never forgot it. Back then I thought it was a Frankenstein movie as it tromped around in it's big boots, and in retrospect it really is. Except Dr. Frankenstein had the good sense not to install death rays in his creation's eyes; never a good idea when you don't know how the brain will react to finding itself in a monstrous body!

I was fortunate enough to find this on a bootleg DVD recently, since it hasn't been released officially yet. Watching it for the first time in nearly 44 years brought back a flood of nostalgia, and I could swear I caught a whiff of my Grandaddy's aftershave lotion, almost as if he were there watching it with me again. Weird!

In the August 1981 issue of Fantastic Films magazine, there was an article about the movie with rare behind-the-scenes photos, which I scanned in to share with you below. Since you can't come over to my house to browse through the collection bookcases, (unless you were willing to make the trip) the least I can do is bring out items and post them here for you. Enjoy!

Here are some lobbycards you might enjoy perusing; no high-rez versions, unfortunately.

In the recent Futurama movie "The Beast With A Billion Backs," Stephen Hawking zaps some arguing audience members with eye lasers, then says, "I didn't know I could do that." I was immediately reminded of the "Colossus" scene and wondered if it was an intentional homage. It certainly has parallels; a brilliant genius mind trapped in a body that doesn't work right, who speaks with a mechanical voice, suddenly discovering he has eye beams!

Some "Colossal" Links: Monster Hunter and Senses of Cinema

Forbidden Planet Part 4

The oldest item in my collection; an original lobbycard. Click on it for a hi-res version.

Sure, I said that the previous entry was the last in my series of posts on "Forbidden Planet" but I don't always make accurate statements... I'm only human and prone to change my mind. And when I came across this retrospect in a 1979 issue of "Cinefantastique," I knew you'd want to see it, so I scanned it in and am presenting it below. Aren't I just the keenest?

"Captain to crew... I am ordering the man responsible for the stag film playing on the monitor screen to step forward for discipline!"

Considering the high regard that the film enjoys now, and the recognition of it's place in film history, it's interesting to read about the indifference the author ran into when searching for details. Now that the film has been digitally restored and lovingly released in a special edition DVD collection, it's hard to remember that nearly 30 years ago when the article was written, that to most people it was just an old movie that ran on TV occasionally. Thankfully that attitude has changed since then.

Click on the pages below to read in higher-resolution.

Okay, there you go, the final part of the Monster Memories look at Sci-fi's reigning king of movies. It was the inspirational father of two television series... "Star Trek" and "Lost In Space."
Gene Roddenberry took the intellectual aspect and expanded upon it to create a rich galaxy of characters within a functional society, that made you think. Irwin Allen took the visual aspect of the ship and robot, and created a gimmick-filled children's program for which you had to turn off your brain to watch.