Journey with me back in time, nearly a half-century
ago, to the summer of 1975. To a typical suburban house in a typical suburban
neighborhood. My house, in fact, in my neighborhood. Specifically, to a
sweltering night in July. Young Hopper, seven or eight years old, frozen in
pure petrified fear.
I’ve had several moments of pure petrified fear in the
morning of my life, but I think this one was noteworthy for its duration. For
forty-five years I swore I was rooted in place for two solid hours, unable and
unwilling to remove my little self to a place of safety and security.
Last night I discovered the truth of what happened all
those years ago.
During this young time in my life I was in the habit
of sneaking out of my bedroom after bedtime. Usually just to go to the bathroom
across the hall, but occasionally the lure of the flickering television light from
the living room would catch my eye, seize it and not let go. I watched a lot of
movies (or portions of movies) from the shadows of the hallway. Movies my
father would watch from the couch (hidden from the hallway) after my mother had
gone to bed.
I must admit wide-eyed viewing with some puzzlement Barbarella and A Clockwork Orange. So, yeah, I suppose that’s when seven or eight
year old me caught sight of his first boobies. Those I remember in detail,
though snippets of more innocent films also mesmerized me out in that hallway
when I was supposed to have been snug and sound asleep in bed.
One night – that infamous night in July we’re now
revisiting – I snuck out for a trip to the bathroom but decided to see what Dad
was watching first. My face leaned out of the shadows and immediately gazed
upon the horror that froze me in terror. The horror staring back at me from the
television set.
Every nerve in my body tingled and every synapse
fired. The fight or flight reaction kicked in to overdrive but I was
overwhelmed – I could do neither. I couldn’t cry out – I had no voice. I couldn’t
move to relieve my bladder. I couldn’t stumble into the living room for fear of
being punished nor could I tumble back into the dark recesses of my room – for the
simple reason it was pitch black and the Horror might be awaiting me there.
Just what did I see?
The image burned itself in my mind, but I’ve never
found out what it was in all the years of searching the web.
Then, in the wee early hours of this morning, fighting
insomnia, I found it.
What was the Horror that froze me in pure terror for
two solid hours?
This ..
Keep scrolling down …
Keep scrolling down a little more …
A little more …
Here it is:
Yep.
That’s the monster from 1955’s The Phantom from 10,000 Leagues. My father was watching this movie,
and the exact moment I crept up to see what was on the screen, this creature
jump-scared itself, along with an orchestral trumpet blast, into my permanent,
scarred memory.
Around 2 am this morning, some 543 months later,
unable to sleep, I was playing FreeCell on the computer and watching a trio of
old 50s sci fi on Youtube: This Island
Earth, The Deadly Mantis, and –
on a whim – The Phantom from 10,000
Leagues. It is an eminently bad movie, perhaps one of the worst of the era
and one of the worst movies I’ve ever watched.
But I am extremely pleased that a life mystery has
been put to rest. I can now sleep at night and not fear encountering the
Phantom on my early morning trips to the bathroom.
Oh, and the movie itself is only 80 minutes long. The creature
with its dreadful trumpet blast makes its appearance early in the film, so, at
most, I stood in that dark, sweltering hallway a little over an hour.
