Chiller Theatre and their List of Losers - Hollow Halloween

The "Grand-Daddy" of the over-priced, soporific memorabilia conventions is "Chiller Theatre," which still draws muttering grumbling New Yorker geeks on a tedious trip out to nowhere (New Jersey). Some pay $20 or more to reserve a seat in a van that some comic book store hired out for the day, ferrying fools back and forth. Others wander the maze of the Port Authority Bus Terminal, find a bus to the (small) Jersey town nearest the convention site, and then call up for a taxi to bring them to the actual hotel.

It's easier for the geekier schmucks from New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Connecticut, who can have mommy drive them to the obscure location.

Obscure? New Jersey converts swampland into "convention centers," malls and football stadiums. The land is cheap. All it takes are some corrupt politicians to decide where to build, and how much money goes into the back pocket.

The idea with the "convention centers" is that all the morons who do business with New Jersey factories (the ones that make the state smell so awful) need hotel space for the annual meeting of all the affiliates, and rooms where the dullards can hold meetings. Once in a while, these centers get taken over not by boring businessmen but by Chiller and similar memorabilia outfits. The meeting rooms are transformed into grotesque displays...some rooms for people selling worthless merchandise and others loaded with nobodies sitting around trying to look like they did when people actually cared about them.

I think you know that I haven't been to one in about ten years...the last time I chaperoned an actress to her table...which was back when Chiller actually had some better-known stars. (One problem is that the more interesting stars from 40's and 50's horror and sci-fi are all dead, 60's stars are not as ambulatory...and most anyone from the 70's on is not a star at all.)

Even then, I was disgusted by most of what went on. I hated these Halloween assholes (Chiller always taking place close to if not ON Halloween) dressed up as they made their sweaty way down the corridors of (past)time. I hated the greedheads who'd bellow and moan and shout as they pawed through magazines, photos wrapped in plastic, or the (few) bins of records. "Curb your enthusiasm" would've been the NICEST thing I could say to them. Along with, "Stop having an orgasm over EVERY SINGLE MAGAZINE and COMIC BOOK...get on with it already and give somebody else a chance to flip through."

The mild "thrill" was that amid the dealer rooms with bootleg VHS and DVD (not much of THAT anymore) and the vast clot of absolute junk for sale...including masks and action figures and other dopey toys...there were the autograph rooms. From a room full of junk you'd suddenly walk into a room full of...junkies. Old whores. Half-retired fags. Sad salesmen who once appeared in an Ed Wood movie. In some cases, it was pretty much like you were walking into an old movie..."Bedlam," starring Boris Karloff. The one about insane people.

Only instead of Boris Karloff...there was SARA KARLOFF...along with, maybe, Bela Lugosi Jr. autographing a photo of his father for $5.

Back in the day, there might actually be a few old-timers worth looking at. You could take pictures of them free...they'd either ignore you, put their head down, or grin, or do a "famous" expression of menace. If there was no line you could just walk up and politely express your delight in seeing them...even if that delight wasn't the WORSHIP that meant you'd throw $20 for an autographed photo.

Some fans buy pix because they feel SORRY for these stars. I think memorabilia shows were the forerunner to "if you like it, buy it" and "support the artist by buying a t-shirt." You know, the demeaning of the star. Instead of the STAR being the STAR...the unwashed slob has the power because he has a $20 bill in his chubby hand. The D-listers put on their best smiles as Chubby walks by, hoping he'd think enough to "tip" them for an autograph on a photo. All of a sudden Chubby's not a nerd anymore. He's THE MAN WITH THE MONEY. Stars, it turns out, can be bought...and bought cheap.

With few exceptions (apparently Barbara Steele and some other babes would refuse to make eye-contact, or just shoot daggers of hate at everyone) the stars ceded power to the NERDS. A few clods I USED to know, would call me after coming back from some stupid event: "Oh, I bought a photo of XXX..." "Why?" "I felt sorry for her, nobody was at her table..."

Now? People have to need to worship SOMETHING (it's either Islam or Marvel super heroes). While Comic-Con attracts the big bucks, smaller stinkers like Chiller still thrive. Wasting hundreds of dollars means nothing when a janitor can earn $100,000 in the public school system. There's a recession going on? Money is tight? You'd never know it from the smug plumbers and dronish computer repair geeks who come swarming through the rooms to brighten their dull lives.

At Comic-Con there's the "pride" of bragging that no star can't be bought. "Yep, I got William Shatner...got Patrick Stewart...here's a picture of my ugly self right next to Adam West!" Nevermind it cost $75 to $150 for those few seconds of "fame." Then there's the superiority of going to Chiller and being the BOSS who calls the shots. The stars look up hoping to be picked...hoping to get that $20. Afterward, the BOSS shows off his prizes to his moronic friends. Like some D-lister's autograph heavily personalized with utter desperation: "To my best pal Stinky, so wonderful to meet you, (signed) Faded Actress."

I remember sitting next to an actress friend, who was being ordered to sign an elaborate inscription. It was humiliating. She said, "I don't know if I should've done that." And I told her, next time someone asks for more than a personalization, I'll be the "bad guy" and say no. Next time somebody asked for an elaborate compliment on a fucking photo, I said, "Please, let's keep the line moving, she only personalizes with a first name." She turned and said, "Nonsense...it's all right with me...now what did you want me to write?"

The convention "rooms" devoted to autographing? Chiller's convention, at some awful hotel or other, has names for every room. Too bad the names are on the door, and not sitting at the tables. Most of the names aren't names at all...except to desperate horror and sci-fi and trivia fan idiots...but there are plenty of them to at least make it worthwhile for SOME forlorn idiots to show up.

Really. How many of those "stars" would you want to talk to or get an autograph from...for FREE?