Bashing

For most of my life, I have felt as though I belonged to a different time and place. I grew up with a love of classic films, classic television, classic radio and the like. To find a contemporary interest in my list of likes and dislikes was rare indeed. The things I loved weren’t embraced by my friends or even my family. I stumbled across these things on my own. I tried to share them with others, but there was little interest in them, and so I began to view these things as my own secret treasures.

I had a lot of difficulty in making friends. I was fairly isolated as a child, and I felt a kinship with the monsters and the comedians that I shared so much time with. They were outsiders, unable to participate in the world around them because of circumstances of birth or fate. They simply did not belong. They could not help what or who they were. These creatures and creators meant a lot to me. When I watched Larry Talbot suffer the tortures of the damned and come to the realization that his life would be a solitary existence, I could relate.

A lot of people would therefore suppose that I’d be attracted to conventions honoring these things, but this wasn’t the case for me. I had no one to travel with for the majority of my life, and I feared going on my own. I imagined I would be viewed as the strange little fellow, friendless and alone, and that I would be mocked or laughed at.

One day I learned of the Monsterbash convention. For some reason, I was drawn to this event, and I couldn’t understand the reason why. The event kept popping up in my mind, and I decided to attend.

I traveled alone, as my family had other commitments and were unable to join me. All during the drive down, the old demons played in my mind. Would I be out of place? Would I be laughed at? Was I going to be disappointed and hurt by the other attendees? As I soon found out, those fears were completely unfounded.

From the moment I walked into the event, I was made to feel as though I was part of a family. The celebrities in attendance were all unfailingly kind and all seemed honestly pleased and delighted to hear about how much their work had meant. I met Chris Costello, daughter of Lou Costello, and she shared wonderful stories about her father. I met Ron Chaney, grandson of Lon Chaney, Jr. and the love and affection he had for his famous grandfather touched my heart. I met Penny Dreadful and Garou, both of whom embraced me with open arms and made me feel as though I had known them all my life. I met Kyra Schon, and was struck by her talent, kindness and artistry. I found myself sharing smoke breaks with Ron Pelligrino, one of the principals behind the event, and marveled at his knowledge of the genre and his skill as an interviewer. And in one delightfully surreal moment, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find myself face to face with Yvonne Monlaur, star of Hammer’s Brides Of Dracula. She asked if I could spare a cigarette and I got to spend several minutes alone with a woman whom I had had a crush on for many, many years.

The things that happened during the event were all wonderful. They were entertaining and informative and special in ways that I just don’t have the skill to describe. Watching Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein in a makeshift drive in and marveling when the film concluded and Dracula, Frankenstein, the Bride of Frankenstein and Ron Chaney, wearing a recreation of his grandfather’s most famous creation, The Wolf Man, all came out of the woods to menace the crowd was magical. Hearing the stories of the many celebrities provided many delights and laughs. But those things were not what set Monsterbash apart, or made it stick so firmly in my brain.

Every person there, from the smallest child to the most famous celebrity, was made to feel special and welcomed. Each person was made to feel as though they had given a great gift to the other attendees. The “civilians” were treated with kindness and respect and honest gratitude and affection by the celebrities, all of whom made us feel as though our respect and affection for their work was the best gift we could have given them. The celebrities were reminded again of just how much their work meant to all of us. And all of us made every single participant feel like a family, a group that had in many instances never met face to face, but still shared a common body of memories and experiences.

I’ve been to a number of conventions since that first Bash, sometimes as a guest and sometimes as a fan. But even the very best of them pales next to the Bash, and I think it’s for one simple reason: Love. I can’t describe it any better than that. The Bash has a sense of love and friendship and acceptance that nothing else has.

As I read this over, I am frustrated by my inability to capture what the Bash is and what it means to me. All I can say is thank you to the organizers and the attendees for creating a place where I truly feel like I belong. Penny, Garou, Kyra, Ron (Adams and Pellegrino) and everyone else, thank you. Thank you for so much. But most of all, thank you for being the people that you are. Without folks of such good and gentle natures, such kind and generous spirits, the Bash would not be what it is. There are many more people deserving of thanks, and I wish I could name them all, but I can’t.

I do hope, however, that they all know what a special place they hold in my heart.