A Witch A Day

“Tonight is the night when dead leaves fly, like witches on switches across the sky ... ” Words by Harry Behn, artwork by Greg Crouch   HALLOWEEN

“I’d swear you had your colors done.” Will Vinton’s Claymation Comedy of Horrors  (1991) has only garnered five reviews on IMDb, so it’s probably safe to say it isn’t on many Halloween must-watch lists. That’s a pity, because animated holiday specials are rarely as funny as this. I stumbled on Horrors  just a few years ago while browsing the kid vid in the local library. It shares a dvd with Claymation Christmas Celebration  (1987) and Claymation Easter  (1992), both very funny as well. “Claymation” is Vinton’s trademarked brand of stop-motion animation, which entered the zeitgeist in the 1980s via TV spots featuring R&B quartet The California Raisins. The Raisins perform on the Christmas special. Personally, I don’t think they’ve aged well, but that may be because seeing them makes me feel old. Horrors defies easy summary. “A wise-guy pig-inventor and his snail assistant crash a convention of, um, non-mortals at Dr. Frankenswine’s castle ....” Honestly, there’s...

  Here’s a Hallmark gem from my Halloween card collection . I don’t ordinarily go in for elaborate gimmicks, but sometimes exceptions are warranted.

Old magazines are great sources for classic Halloween images—children’s magazines especially, but also the large-format weeklies like Collier’s  and Saturday Evening Post. Seen by millions, their covers celebrating (or spoofing) fads and traditions had a long-lasting impact on holiday iconography. This Saturday Evening Post  cover by Frederic Stanley arrived in mailboxes and on newsstands 91 years ago yesterday—or the day after tomorrow, depending on how you look at it. Self-taught, Stanley created 17 covers for the Post. Note the indication here of the witch’s fire, just out of view to our right, its low light picking out the contours of her mangy cat. Note too how the composition invokes the shape of the classic witch’s hat.

Halloween house decor has come a long way since my trick-or-treating days, when a jack-o-lantern on the porch, perhaps the odd jointed paper witch on the door (think Beistle), was  it.  Seems meager now, but the appearance at dusk of those candlelit faces flickering on every stoop was, for a five year old, a phenomenon to rival the rise of Brigadoon. Which, as it happens, was the name of the neighborhood in Lexington, Kentucky, where my brothers and I first went a-masking. Eventually, lighted blow-molds appeared, sometimes accompanying, sometimes replacing, the carved pumpkins. They were thought to be a bit tacky. Later, after my day, there might be strings of mini lights—not many; again, excess was frowned on. Haunts, meanwhile, were the purview of the Jaycees. The most you could expect in the way of scares while going door to door was a teenager of the household jumping from behind a bush. How things change. This year, I bought my first inflatables: an eight-f...

Illustration from The Witch’s Broom , by Chris Van Allsburg.   Vampires werewolves, witches, and the like are understood to play by certain rules. Sometimes, though, storytellers find it worthwhile to tweak the rules—or to invent new ones. The movie  The Fearless Vampire Killers  (1967) pokes fun at undead tropes by introducing the problem of how you subdue a Jewish vampire. (Hint: a crucifix won’t cut it.) Kind of silly, but—well, good question. It’s hard not to laugh. Laugh—out loud—is exactly what I did the first time I read Chris Van Allsburg’s  The Widow’s Broom  (Houghton Mifflin, 1992). I had picked it up in the bookstore purely to admire the artwork, little suspecting the sly story I was about to be told. Like the cross gag in  Vampire Killers , Allsburg’s tale is predicated on an entirely reasonable question: Do witches’ brooms wear out? The author informs us that they do and then shows what can happen when spent brooms come into the hands of ordi...

Artwork by Joseph Mugnaini Ray Bradbury reportedly wrote The Halloween Tree  in 1967 as a response to It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown . Seems he and his kids thought the pumpkin deity’s no-show was a cheat. If true, that has to have been one of the most egregious instances of “not getting it” of all time. The first version of Tree  was a script for a Halloween special to be animated by Chuck Jones. When nothing came of it, Bradbury turned the story into a book, published in 1972. He was finally able to get his cartoon with Hanna-Barbera in 1993. It is a very long cartoon. I missed the novel when it came out. It might well have made the intended impression on me, sweeping my 12-year-old self up in the rediscovery of the forgotten, or misunderstood, origins of Halloween. When I finally came to read it a couple of years ago, I realized that I had made the attempt sometime before but dropped it out of shear irritation. Man, is it overwritten! Just the description of perfect ...

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown  premiered on October 27, 1966. I was in second grade. Those who didn’t grow up in the 1960s and ’70s will find it hard to comprehend how really special “specials” were in the three-network era. Catching Great Pumpkin  (and A Charlie Brown Christmas  (1965) and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer  (1964) and How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966)) was crucial to the holiday experience. There was no recording it or buying a copy or logging on for anytime viewing. You got to see Linus’s pumpkin patch vigil, and Snoopy’s flying ace exploits, and Charlie Brown’s rock collection, exactly once a year. And if you happened to miss it? Well, you probably felt as cheated as Sally did for missing Violet’s party and “tricks or treats.” Once a year—yet you somehow managed to learn the dialogue by heart, down to the characters’ endearingly odd inflections, care of the child voice actors. “What’s that? What’s that?” But even after dozens of viewings,...

  “Brewed with Belgian yeast, pumpkin purée, spices, and locally grown gourds, the Witch of Pungo has an intriguing mouthfeel derived from honey malt and caramel wheat. This pumpkin ale was inspired by the story of Grace Sherwood, better known as the Witch of Pungo, who was the last person convicted of witchcraft in Virginia.”  —Back Bay Brewing Co. Sherwood, a 46-year-old midwife and herbal healer, was accused of witchcraft by neighbors with whom she had troubles. After telltale witch’s marks were found on her body (as they always were in such cases), she was given the “ducking” test, which she failed—luckily. She spent several years in jail. Sherwood later recovered her property, which had been confiscated, and resumed farming. She died in 1740, aged 80. In 2006, Sherwood was exonerated by Governor Tim Kaine, and in 2007 a statue to her memory was erected in Virginia Beach. Read more about The Witch of Pungo . View a not-altogether-reverent pumpkin ale promotional clip ...

In a prior post I commented on how Disney shortchanged its Halloweentown in the atmosphere department. Atmosphere was everything in Warner Bros.’s version of Eastwick, the storied witch-magnet town. The short-lived Eastwick  series (11 episodes aired in 2009) is remembered fondly by fans for its lustrous look, in addition to the chemistry of its stars. The show actually was the third attempt to bring  The Witches of Eastwick,  book and movie, to the small screen, though the only one to get the green light, however briefly.  A front runner out of the gate,  Eastwick stumbled when, as one IMDb commenter noted, the story line spun out of control. A challenging time slot didn’t help. Despite vocal fan support, the show wasn’t given a chance to regain its footing. It was canceled on November 9, 2009. Eastwick  never got a dvd release, though bits of it can be found online. From left, Rebecca Romijn, Paul Gross, Lindsay Price, Jaime Ray Newman. Eastwick ...

Bewitch your family! And by “bewitch” they mean “render semi-comatose.” If you’re at all curious what it would be like to actually prepare something like this, here’s someone who did . Vintage Karo/Armour/Bisquick ad, date and publication unknown.

Debbie Reynolds, still lighting up the screen. I’ve seen two of the four films in Disney’s  Halloweentown  franchise : Halloweentown  (1998) and Halloweentown II: Kalabar’s Revenge (2001). Maybe my expectations were unrealistic for a Disney cable movie, but the town of the title was seriously disappointing. This Halloweentown is simultaneously garish and banal, probably alright for a juvenile audience but hardly up to snuff for anyone who remembers the enticing gloom of A Nightmare Before Christmas (1993, also Disney). Okay if there’s no budget for elaborate sets and makeup, but darkness is free—and forgiving. I think it’s significant that the movie’s best moments are in fact the shadowy ones: the Halloween night opener, when Grandma Agatha Cromwell (Debbie Reynolds) arrives with a witchly twinkle, and the scene where the Bad One is first revealed to us, roiling out of the screen in a dim theater. In contrast, the outdoor sequences in Halloweentown, with its cheap-l...

I didn’t know Will Ferrell was in the  Harry Potter movies. This plaster witch caught my eye while I was nosing around a thrift store at lunchtime today. It was done in one of those storefront arts-and-crafts studios, I expect. Do those still exist? The purple eyes made me think of Elizabeth Taylor. It’s a pity Liz didn’t play more witches. The woman could cackle. (No, I didn’t buy it.)

I bought this glass witch ornament long before Halloween trees became an unfortunate “thing.” It was sold as a Christmas ornament, and I use it as a Christmas ornament, not because I can’t bear to let go of the “spooky season,” but because it’s a novel subject for Christmastime, and I like an eclectic tree, one that rewards inspection the way themed trees seldom do. I also have a Chiquita Banana ornament, among many, many others. It’s about surprise and delight. I don’t find Halloween trees delightful, and they surprise me only in their sudden, baffling popularity. There are limitless ways to decorate for Halloween without plundering and polluting Yuletide rituals. Haven’t fall and winter become enough of a blur, thanks to retail interference? Can’t we at least pretend  to cherish the distinct traditions that once made each holiday special? A Christmas tree, even an artificial one, means something. The promise of life in the dark of winter. You remember: boughs of holly and al...

“  “Camp” is a word tossed around a lot by people criticizing Seven Arts/Hammer’s The Witches  (1966), specifically the bizarre, choreographed sabbath near the end. That sequence is certainly unlike anything you’re likely to see in other Sixties-era supernatural thrillers. Personally, I find the stylized eroticism—the barefoot writhing, the suggestion of same-sex lust, Priestess Stephanie’s glob swallowing and orgasmic eye flutter—riveting, and wholly in keeping with the picture’s weird sexual undercurrents. To wit, I think it’s pretty clear what “horrible things” went down in Africa to cause the breakdown of schoolteacher Gwen Mayfield (Joan Fontaine)—things from which she has only marginally recovered when she takes the headmistress post in rural Heddaby. And make no mistake, village patroness Stephanie Bax (Kay Walsh) is wise—surely weighed those “things” favorably when deciding to hire poor, confused Gwen. “You’re as fastidious as I am,” she purrs. That huge bed warmer we ...

  Don’t tell Mary, but ... ... Jack’s costumes are better. (From Children’s Activities  magazine, unknown date.)

  I learned of Phyllis Reynold Naylor’s witch books year before last, while doing some research for this blog (see Oct. 23, 2019 ). Naylor opened the series in 1975 with Witch’s Sister, which introduces Lynn Morley and Marjorie “Mouse” Beasley, best friends who’ve come to suspect an old widow in their neighborhood of witchcraft. Specifically, Lynn thinks the woman, Mrs. Tuggle, is recruiting Lynn’s older sister Judith for her coven. Witch’s Sister  is a subtle book about the pitfalls of making assumptions based on appearances rather than reality. Actually, I’m not sure Naylor set out to write a supernatural series at all. Sequels in 1977 ( Witch Water ) and 1978 ( The Witch Herself), however, leave no doubt that the girls are dealing with something uncanny, while struggling with the skepticism—and criticism—of the adults in their lives. The Witch Herself  skillfully caps off the events in the previous books; it’s the best of the three (the best of the series), and the sc...

This witch makeup has flair. Professional face painter (also clown and balloon sculptor) Sharon Neilson shows how to achieve it on the dvd Create Faces: Face Painting Halloween Classics (Aesthetic Video Source, 2009). She also demonstrates makeup for a pirate, princess, devil, clown, monster, scarecrow, and unnamed but recognizable superhero. Neilson has lots of good advice, and the kids are cute. This beldame is brought to you by kids’ show Activity TV, which seems to be defunct but lives on via dvd. The presenter uses glitter gel around the eyes but suggests substituting ordinary glitter if you don’t have the gel. I’m pretty sure that’s a terrible idea. Another segment shows how to make witch’s brew punch ( see Oct. 11 ) with plastic spiders frozen in ice cubes. Um, choking hazard? Yet another segment shows how to whip up a mummy costume with cheese cloth, which sounds to me like a ticket to a Shriner’s burn unit. Children appear to be actors, so uncanny perkiness abounds. ( Activi...

“I’m a witch, not a magician!” exclaims Samantha, tasked with saving Darrin’s hide (again) after trippy lookalike cousin Serena deals the famously short-fused spouse some deserved payback. This is probably the funniest line from “Hippie, Hippie, Hooray,” episode 21 of long-running sitcom Bewitched ’s fourth season. The show aired on February 1, 1968, mere months after the Summer of Love, making the counterculture-cunundrum humor timely, if awkward. Truth is, there’s a desperation to Serena’s “free spirit” shtick. I mean, look at that hat. It’s a cry for help. What Samantha, the dutiful wife, really thinks of her outr é cousin is hard to gauge.  At one point, disguised as Serena, she regales the Tates, who have come to snoop, with an impromptu rendition of the “Iffin’ Song.” Tribute, or cruel parody? You decide: The Iffin’ Song .

Witch Bazooza wants to win the Scariest House contest on Halloween. Having spell-tastically broken the windows, rusted the hinges, and summoned the requisite bogeys, she attempts to wave up the piece de resistance: a carved pumpkin. Alas, things don’t go as planned. If at first you don’t succeed .... Striving frantically for the elusive gourd, Bazooza, with cat Ajax looking on, turns her yard into a veritable vegetable medley of jack-o-lanterns. Carrots, beets, corn ... but not a single pumpkin. The shame of it all! Little does she suspect how amazing all that cut-up veg is going to look after dark. At midnight, the judges arrive and present Bazooza with First Prize: a jack-o-lantern trophy. Hooray! Witch Bazooza, by Dennis Nolan (Prentice Hall, 1979) Cute book. And isn’t “Ajax” a great name for a cat? I wonder if you can guess what I’d name his brother. (No, not “Bar Keepers Friend.”) Books by Dennis Nolan

An icy hand enlivens this somewhat pedestrian “Witches’ Brew” punch from A Ghastly-Good Halloween (Oxmoor House, 2012). For an equally sophisticated go-with, try “Witch’s Finger Bread Sticks with Maple Mustard Dip,” recipe at epicurious.com. Love those fingernails! And for the kiddies? Why not the “Popcorn Witch Hands” found at frugalmomeh.com? The fingernails are Hot Tamales candies. Those crazy Canadians.  

In late October 1992, shortly before Election Day, I hosted a Halloween dinner party, partly as an excuse to make invitations out of postcards I’d recently picked up at the National Gallery bookshop in Washington, D.C. This one incorporates Edvard Munch’s The Sin  (1902). The meal was a success, but the revels afterward—well, as the invitation hints, masked would-be pundits jabbering about Bill Clinton and George Bush wasn’t exactly the do I had in mind.

It’s always interesting to see how artists depict witches in flight. Are they astride the broom or side-saddle? Is the business end fore or aft? This Goya etching, “Pretty Teacher!” (1797–1799), is in the collection of the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. A one-off magazine about witches that I picked up last October ( Witches: The Truth Behind the Legends & Lore)  had this to say about Goya’s many witch subjects: “Goya’s paintings were actually his protest against how the church had led Spanish society into a mire of superstition and ignorance.” Okay! The Rijksmuseum counts among its holdings many illustrations of witches at work, play, and en route to mayhem. Here’s a wonderful detail from “Hexensabbat” (1603–1612), attributed to Jacob de Gheyn. More about witches in art from the Rijksmuseum

All photos: Phyllis Galembo This buckram mask with straw hair was probably factory made in the 1930s. She is one of several witches pictured in Phyllis Galembo’s  Dressed for Thrills: 100 Years of Halloween Costumes and Masquerade (Abrams, 2002). Halloween costumes were largely homemade through the late 1920s, though masks had long been available in stores and catalogs. Not necessarily “from nothing” homemade. Patterns, specially printed fabrics, and detailed instructions in pamphlets and magazines could be pressed into service then as now. The witch garb below, from the late 1940s or early 1950s, is off the rack, though the mask is still buckram rather than the plastic familiar to baby boomers like myself. Ah! A clammy K-Mart mask on a chilly Halloween night—rapture! Galembo has also published a book, Maske ,  about masquerade traditions in Africa and Haiti.

If you’ve never seen Amicus Productions’ The House That Dripped Blood (1971) but think you might  see it, then don’t look at this picture: Amicus was famous for its portmanteau horror films, i.e., full-length features consisting of short stories unconnected to one another save through their relationship to the movie’s unifying gimmick—in this case, a house with a bad history, recounted to a police detective with weird ears by a priggish estate agent who has a knack for sealing rental deals by warning people away. House  presents four tales, one of which is scarcely connected to the house at all. The best of the lot is “Sweets to the Sweet,” featuring our Jane (Chloe Franks), with Christopher Lee as her father. There’s also a governess—ever a sign of good things to come. Or evil things, as the case may be. Another of the House segments is titled “Waxworks,” but rest assured, “Sweets” is the story where the wax—in effigy—really works. The House that Dripped Blood on IMDb.

I came across this facsimile of an early twentieth-century Swedish Easter card on eBay while searching for a particular chromolithograph I want of a witch flying up a chimney. (I still haven’t located the print.) The painting is by  Adèle Söderberg. Witches at Easter? Who knew?  Turns out there’s a tradition in Sweden of children dressing up as freckled crones (or perhaps something complementary, if they’re boys) and going door to door on Maundy Thursday, exchanging small Easter cards for goodies, frequently candy-filled eggs. The custom references old beliefs that witches flew up their chimneys on that day—think Last Supper—to rendezvous with the devil at  Blåkulla—Blue Hill—for an extended revel. Per tradition, they would take a coffee kettle with them. Little treat seekers in Sweden today still collect their booty in kettles. For me, the telephone wires complete the charm of this image of a witch pausing for a pick-me-up. I’m reminded of the witches seen riding electri...

The picture on the bottom of this vintage (1980s?) trinket box from Marcel Shurman makes me think the recipe printed around the side is for a flying potion. The box measures 4-1/4 x 3-1/4 in. x 1-3/4 in. high—just the right size for your trolls’ toenails. Here’s a shopping list for your convenience. Web of spider Tail of viper Jack-o-lantern’s hat Wing of bat Eye of newt Green owl’s hoot Tooth of snail Troll’s toenail Hair of frog Snout of hog