Category: Marginalia

Once Upon a Wish

Welcome to Marginalia.

While our stated goal is to keep everyone up to date with the services we provide at the circulation desk, the general idea is to present that information in a light-hearted, but relevant manner.

However, before we go any further the folks here at Marginalia would like to take this opportunity to wish Marisa Lousier the very best of luck with her new job up island. She will be missed.

In the meantime my friends, let’s all gather around the tele-prompter because in this edition of Marginalia, we’re going to tell you a post-pandemic fairy tale.

(Of course, this being a fairy tale, the story itself takes place somewhere in the immemorial mists of time)

It was the only family reunion that I’d been able to attend in person since my daughter’s wedding. More folks than anyone figured on showed up and the guests were spilling out of the house and into a very spacious backyard. When the obligatory greetings and seasonal salutations ran their course I finally met my grandchildren for the first time.

Hope was the oldest and she soon won me over with her lop-sided, gap-toothed smile. She had just turned six and was bored with the never-ending chatter about who did what, why, and when during the pandemic. All in all though, she was glad that it went away because being sick was no fun, and it meant that she could go outside and play with her friends again.

As she was reaching for my hand with hers, Hope told me in no uncertain terms that as her grandfather I was much better off listening to her than all those boring old Covid-19 stories the adults were wasting their time on in the kitchen.

She took her time to tell me a tale about an inquisitive, but quite friendly, unicorn that lived in the forest behind the house; a Cheshire cat that would only appear during the light of a full moon, and the grumpy old toad who ruled the small pond behind the barn with his long, sharp tongue. Once she told me all about her backyard friends, Hope looked up, tilted her head slightly to one side and asked me if I thought they were real. In return I told her about a black and white horse that would visit me when I was younger and how no one believed me either. She wanted to hear more about it, but my daughter interrupted to say that it was getting late. Taking advantage of the occasion, I asked if it would be okay if I read my new best friend a bedtime story.

Hope liked the idea as long as I promised to tell her all about what I did before the ‘flemdemic’ stopped the world because she was really, really tired of hearing about it. In return I agreed, but only if she would draw me a picture of her unicorn in return. She yawned her way around a freckled smile and agreed to my wish.

I told her that I had worked in a law library before I retired. Hope warmed to the idea because libraries had books and, as far as she was concerned, books had stories in them – and Hope was a big fan of books with stories in them. I tried to explain to her that we were an academic library and she probably wouldn’t be interested in the kind of material contained in our collection. She immediately challenged me on the idea, but once I mentioned that our shelves were stocked with books on property law, legal citations, and torts, she quickly changed her mind and wanted to know what anybody did for fun in our library.

I started by telling her about the respite room where folks could take a moment or two to rest if they were not feeling well or were just feeling the stress of life in general. Hope wanted to know what it was that made the room special. So I told her it had an easy chair, a small table to put your stuff on, and an adjustable bed. Much to my dismay as soon as I mentioned the bed Hope scrunched up her face, crossed her arms, and accused me of trying to trick her into going to sleep before she heard the rest of my story.

After assuring Hope that I wasn’t trying to pull a fast one, I told her about an adaptive technology room in the library that helped people to access information thanks to a variety of specially designed software. I described a machine that could convert text to speech for the visually challenged and a similar device that could do exactly the opposite. The room also had a flat-bed scanner which could be used to scan documents, and then transmit the information to an email address. Additionally, one of the computers had a dual screen monitor, while the room itself was equipped with height-adjustable chairs and desks for comfort and easy accessibility.

We also had a number of designated study spaces where law students could participate in online collaborations, client interviews and individual instruction. Hope liked that fact that they were called ‘Zoom’ rooms

I saved the relaxation station for last. Not surprisingly, Hope really, really liked the idea that people could just sit around a table in a library and colour, sketch, or just plain relax with some easy peasy jigsaw puzzles. In a last ditch effort to stay up a little bit longer, she wanted to know what kind of crayons we used, how much scrap paper we had, and if you had to be a certain age or height to use them (a recent trip to the midway left Hope rather unhappy with the carny who told her she was too small to ride the Ferris wheel on her birthday).

She attempted to smother another yawn while telling me that she liked the relaxation station the best because she could spend all her time there drawing and colouring.  As her eyes finally fluttered shut I leaned over and gave her a goodnight kiss.

Even though I had left for the airport long before she woke up, Hope had somehow managed to keep her end of the bargain. So you can imagine my surprise once I got home and found a large piece of coloured scrap paper hidden inside my flight bag.

I carefully unfolded what turned out to be a hand drawn picture of the horse from my childhood with the only difference being the number of stripes involved and the horn in the middle of her forehead.

Initially, her picture adorned my fridge door until I thought better of it and purchased a frame. Hope’s artwork now lives in a much more suitable location directly above the fireplace where it never fails to draw extensive praise from everyone who views it.

And with that in mind dear reader we bring our post-pandemic fairy tale to a close, but before we sign off you will be pleased to know that everyone involved lived happily ever after (including the animals).

As for the moral, all I can tell you is that a single wish has the potential to last a lifetime. For proof of this all you would need to do is listen to Hope’s younger siblings as they told the story about the friendly unicorn that lives in their grandfather’s house at each and every family reunion that followed.

 

The End

 

Prose: david eugene everard

Art: Acadia

Editorial Advice & Assistance:

Marisa Lousier & Michael Rheault​

 

Welcome children (of every age) to this year’s collection of ghastly stories and ghoulish puns all designed to raise the hair on the back of your dear old Uncle Phil’s large bald head.

For this edition of Marginalia we’re going to travel back in time and pay homage to the Halloween horror stories that appeared in those classic pulp magazines from the 1950’s, ‘60’s and ‘70’s. I don’t know about you, but I scoured the shelves at our local second hand shops for back issues of Black Cat, Creepy, and Tales From the Crypt, to name but a few. So grab your bargain basement broomsticks and let’s begin.

Greeting fellow gremlins, my name is Dr. Phil Graves and I’m honored to be your Halloween Horror Host for this especially spooky issue of Marginalia Presents.

 And what better way to start this smorgasbord of mouth-watering delights than with an appetizer that suits the season? 

 The only thing Peter ‘Pumpkin Head’ Punter liked better than Halloween was his mother’s home made pumpkin pie. So with that in mind, let’s steal a couple of shovels and dig into a tale called…

The Pumpkin Patch

The clock struck the hour for the thirteenth time as he slid deeper into his dream. Peter knew he shouldn’t’ve done it, but it was far too late for that kind of thinking now. Scared and uncertain, he wrapped a bed sheet around his shivering body and listened while the cold, barren wind knocked relentlessly on his bedroom window. Meanwhile, a menacing series of obscure shadows reached into his room and warned him about the unspeakable horror that was waiting for him on the other side of midnight.

Peter knew he was dreaming, but there was nothing he could do about it — and the harder he tried to wake up the further he slipped back into the restless abyss. Suddenly, a sound unlike anything he had ever heard in his life emerged from the pumpkin patch just outside his bedroom. He turned his head to one side and listened carefully. What he heard was the sickening sound of the garden’s former occupants escaping from their tangled roots.

Methodically, the oblong orbs worked their way past the leafless Garry Oak tree with its thin, gnarled branches pointing the way. As they approached the house itself, Peter nervously glanced out the window and noticed how closely the faces carved into each and every pumpkin resembled the alarming images found in the latest edition of his favorite horror magazine.

If only he hadn’t done it. Even his mother warned him not to, but that didn’t stop him.

Eventually, the room started to shrink and the walls turned themselves inside out as the home grown anomalies began to talk to him.

“She told you not to, didn’t she young Jack? She told you right to your face while you were in the kitchen helping her with the Halloween treats didn’t she, but you just couldn’t be bothered to listen to her could you?”, they chanted over and over again.

The round orange army marched to the back door, entered via the mudroom, turned left at the broom closet, and arrived at his unlocked door. Peter desperately tried to wake up, or at least force a scream past his trembling lips, but all he could manage was a silent stage whisper. The wide, hideous faces of the gathering masses accused him over and over of the crime he had committed, but nothing could save him now unless he could find a way to wake up!!!

Fighting through the unrelenting grip of his nightmare Peter reached for a bedside flashlight and tried to turn it on. It flicked once, then twice, and then crashed to the floor as he found himself back in the horrifying dream that was still unfolding in front of his half closed eyes.

No matter what he did the dream refused to concede. He tried again and again to call for help, but his mouth just wouldn’t obey. And right when he thought he was never going to wake up again he felt something grab him.

By the time the last gasp had faded from his frozen throat Peter realized that it was his mother who was holding him. He drew a long, deep breath and looked around the room.

Thankfully, everything appeared to be normal again. When he tried to tell his mother about the dream, she ran a hand across his sweat soaked brow and suggested that next time she baked a pumpkin pie he should probably wait until she put it into the oven before eating it.

The next day, he ventured out into the garden wanting to apologize for his actions only to find that each and every pumpkin in the patch now had an image of Peter’s face carved into them.

And while you’re still digesting that delicious story, we have just enough time left for one last terrifying tale.

 Oddly enough, right across the street from Peter’s favorite pumpkin patch was an old haunted house, but, as you’ll soon see, neither the squeaky steps, widow’s walk, or permanently drawn curtains, ever stopped kids from asking the old woman who lived there for a treat on All Hallows Eve. Besides, what could be more fun than a Halloween story that reaches deep into Uncle Phil’s Gigantic Grab-Bag of Gags and Groaners?

Knock-Knock

Her house was the one place everyone went on to Halloween night because the old woman who lived in it also owned the ‘Sweet Treats Sugar Shoppe’ on Main Street. So it only figured that she would be handing out the best candy in town, but there was a catch (because there’s always a catch when you’re a kid). In order to get a treat you had to tell her a knock-knock joke she had never heard before.

Not knowing where to start I went with an old classic:

“Knock-Knock!

Who’s there?

Ice Cream.

Ice cream who?

Ice cream every time I see a ghost!”

“Young man, that’s older than I am – and I was around when Mayor Fillmore Crypts opened his first Memorial Cemetery, she said while looking through a set of ornate glasses that only maintained their precarious position on her long, thin nose because of an oversized wart, “but I like you kid, so I’ll give you two more chances.”

Of course I tried again, I mean, after all, she owned a candy store.

“Knock-Knock”

Who’s there?

Boo.

Boo who?

Don’t cry lady, it’s only a Halloween costume!”

“Sonny”, she said, “that joke is older than the first one – you only have one more try left so make it good!”

So, I gave it my best shot.

“Knock-Knock!

Who’s there?

Zombies.

Zombies who?

Zombies make honey, Zombies don’t!”

The old woman smiled, adjusted her glasses, and said that I deserved something for the effort. She reached into the smoldering cauldron that guarded her doorway and removed three individually wrapped, apple shaped treats. I watched anxiously as she slipped them in my pillowcase, taking careful note of what colour the foil was. As I turned to leave she suggested that if I came prepared next year I might get a better treat.

I really wanted to reach right in and pull one of those treats out of my bag to see what it was, but in our house the Halloween rule maintained that you couldn’t touch your candy until you got home.

Once I was finally inside our house I dumped my treasure onto the living room floor. I couldn’t locate the old woman’s candies right away because I was too busy sorting everything out for later (the other rule was I could enjoy a few treats that night, take a handful with me to school the next day, but I had to leave the rest for mom to dole the rest out as she saw fit).

Between the cracker jacks and licorice sticks one of the old woman’s apple shaped offerings finally found its way into my hand. I started to unwrap it before changing my mind and giving it to my mother. A moment or two later, she asked if I had opened anything else from the same woman who gave me the other two items. I reached for them and found that the wrapping on each one was inscribed with a different Knock-Knock joke.

While, it certainly looks to me like the old woman had an interesting way of handling the gremlins who came to her house on Halloween in search of a ‘Sweet Treat’ from the ‘Sugar Shoppe’. I can’t wait to see what she has store for our young lad next year. As for you dear reader, here’s one last knock-knock joke that’s sure to please.

 “Knock-Knock!

Who’s there?

Gladys.

Gladys who?

Gladys is my last Halloween Knock-Knock joke?”

 

Well that’s it for this year my fellow fiends, but don’t forget to join us next time when Dr. Phil Graves will drop by The Dead Letter Office and post some truly eerie offerings for your stamp of approval.

 

This edition of Marginalia was stitched together by your local, neighbourhood Skeleton Crew.

Spooky stories: david ‘grave-digger’ everard

Creepy pictures and art direction: Paul Totzke

Eerie editorial assistance and advice: the usual suspects

Horror host: Dr. Phil Graves

Our Sponsor: The Fillmore Crypts Memorial Cemetery. Where the motto is, ‘You’ll Dig Our Plots – or Die Trying’.​

Welcome to Marginalia. While our stated goal is to keep everyone up to date with the services we provide here at the circulation desk, the general idea is to present that information in a light-hearted, but relevant manner.

~ Fade in with the ‘Silver Shamrock Song’ from Halloween III ~

As you may recall, last year we related a tale of vampiric plagiarism that involved the estate of Bram Stoker and the producer of Nosferatu (Albin Grau). For this edition of Marginalia, however, we asked the skeleton crew at the circulation desk what stories best exemplify the idea of Halloween for them?

But first a message from our sponsor.

It’s mid-term time again, so let’s take a moment to remind you that while we have a large number of previous exams for our students to choose from, we do not have them all. Nonetheless, feel free to stop by the reserve room loan desk and we’ll be more than happy to give you what we’ve got.

Bonus Tip: Most reserve items (loose-leaf materials are an exception) are available for an overnight loan period if you take them out within the last two hours before closing.

~ Thunder & Lightning Opening ~

Halloween, or All Hallows’ Eve as it was once known, apparently evolved from an ancient Celtic holiday called Samhain. This particular festival marked the beginning of winter and its participants donned masks in an effort to avoid the ghosts of those who had died during the previous year.

The present day incarnation can be traced back to a British decree which allowed the poor to go begging from door-to-door for (sweetly spiced) ‘Soul Cakes’. Eventually, this led to the modern day practice involving costumes, masks, skeletons and a ubiquitous black cat.

Well, gals and ghouls, that’s it for our spooky synopsis so let’s get right to our feature presentation.

Nosferatu (F.W. Murnau; Film 1922)

In order to avoid a potential lawsuit by the Stoker Estate producer Albin Grau set the film in the year 1838, and re-named the lead character Nosferatu in the process, but his strategy ultimately failed (see our October 31, 2018 edition of Marginalia for more details). Nosferatu (Max Schreck) does not make an appearance until almost 20 minutes into the film.

Drácula (Spanish version: George Melford; 1931 Film)

The Spanish version of Drácula was shot on the exact same sound stage as its more well-known counterpart (starring Bela Lugosi). When the main production wrapped for the day, Melford’s Spanish crew would go in and use Todd Browning’s sets, props and costumes. The idea was an early experiment by Universal Studios to exploit the international market. However, it was quickly determined that simply dubbing the actor’s lines would be a lot cheaper than paying for a second cast and crew.

War of the Worlds (Orson Wells: Oct. 30 1938 Radio Broadcast)

Some people were so scared when this ‘News Flash’ first aired they barricaded windows and bolted their doors in an effort to hide from the alien invasion. Many of the listeners also called their local fire departments and police stations for help.

The Lottery (Shirley Jackson; 1948 Fiction)

When the editors of the New Yorker Magazine accepted Jackson’s short story submission they only had one request – would it be okay if they changed the date she used in her story to the one they were planning to publish it on (June 26). She agreed.

Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey; 1962 Film)

A small portion ($40) of the $30,000 budget was used to pay the city of Lecompton, Kansas for damaging the bridge used in the opening scene. The movie itself had a production crew of six, counting Harvey, and was reportedly shot in three weeks. The ghoul sequence in this movie inspired George A. Romero’s later film ‘Night of the Living Dead’.

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (Bill Melendez; 1966 T.V.)

After watching this animated special some children felt so sorry for Charlie Brown that they actually sent him candy (care of ABC-TV).

Night of the Living Dead (George A. Romero; 1968 Film)

They used chocolate syrup for blood because it just looked better on black and white film stock. The thick, dark sauce was poured over pieces of roast ham and placed inside the remains of recently deceased townsfolk. The (living dead) ghouls would then savagely rip it out of their still warm corpses and devour it wholeheartedly.

Love it to Death (Alice Cooper; 1971 Recording)

After two albums on Frank Zappa’s Bizarre label (1969’s ‘Pretties for You’ and ‘Easy Action’ in 1970), their initial Warner Brothers offering made people stand up and scream – and with tracks like ‘Is it My Body’, ‘Black Juju’ and ‘The Ballad of Dwight Fry’ who could blame them.

Rocky Horror Show (Richard O’Brien; 1973 Musical)

Richard O’Brien, a devout science fiction fan, wrote the music and lyrics. The stage production was first performed at London’s Royal Court Theatre in 1973 and O’Brien played the role of Riff-Raff (a part he had written specifically for himself). Two years later it was turned into a film directed by Jim Sharman. The Rocky Horror Picture Show was Tim Curry’s cinematic debut.

The Thing (John Carpenter; 1982 Film)

Carpenter’s tour de force opened in theatres on the same day as ‘Blade Runner’ (June 27). The story was adapted from John W. Campbell Jr.’s classic sci-fi short story ‘Who Goes There?’

Halloween III: Season of the Witch (Tommy Lee Wallace; Film 1982)

The only film in the series not to feature Michael Myers as ‘The Shape’. To get the right texture for the fluid oozing from the robots’ mouth the props department used frozen orange juice. For those of you who like to keep score this movie has a body count of nine.

Addams Family Values (Barry Sonnenfeld; 1993 Film)

Charles Addams created the characters for the New Yorker Magazine in 1937. The original T.V. show was shot in black and white and aired from 1964 to 1966 (on ABC-TV). John Astin (Gomez) returned to play the role of Grampa Addams in a 1998-2000 adaptation called ‘The New Addams Family’.

The Nightmare before Christmas (Henry Selick; 1993 Animated Film)

Walt Disney Studio’s thirty-third feature film and their first to be shot with stop-action animation. If you look closely you’ll see that Zero’s nose is really just a small, glowing jack-o-lantern. The first of two films on our list by Henry Selick.

Cloverfield (Matt Reeves; 2008 Film)

It has been called a monster movie for the MySpace generation and along with the ‘Blair Witch Project’, with its similar hand held camera style, people continually left the movie theatre complaining of motion sickness.

Coraline (Henry Selick; 2009 Film)

The snow used in this film was apparently made from a combination of super-glue and baking soda. Coraline had a production budget in the neighborhood of $30,000,000 and was the first stop-action animation feature to be shot entirely in 3D.

That’s all for this edition of Marginalia folks, but be sure to join us next time for ‘The Curious Case of the Missing Curse’.

~ Fade out to the sound of an ancient coffin lid closing ~

 

CRYPTIC CREDITS:

Topics and editorial assistance by the fine folks at the Diana M. Priestly circulation desk.

Image concept & design by Paul Totzke and David Everard

Plot by Dr. Phil Graves.

Written & Produced by David Everard.

 

Welcome to Marginalia. While our stated goal is to keep everyone up to date with the services we provide here at the circulation desk, the general idea is to present that information in a light-hearted, but relevant manner.

The Diana Priestly Law Library was designed to promote a positive and inclusive environment for everyone who walks through the door. To that end, we offer multi-functional classrooms, enclosed study spaces (both individual and group) as well as one of the finest collections of law books in all of Canada.

The reserve room, located next to the circulation desk, is where we keep our high demand material along with various other items of interest (including Professor Ted McDorman’s famous rubber chicken).

If you’re feeling the pressure of post-secondary stress, or just need a place to chill out between classes, you’ll want to visit our Relaxation Station on the first floor. We also have a single-occupancy respite room for those individuals who require something a little more private, but you’ll need to pick up a key from the circulation desk to access the space.

As for locating particular items, we operate under the Library of Congress classification (LCC) system. It may sound challenging, but it’s really not all that different from the Dewey Decimal arrangement they use at the public library (simply put, the LCC is alphanumeric in nature and ‘Dewey’ is not).

Although the LCC is fairly easy to navigate, every now and then someone will ask us why we don’t organize our material like they do over at the campus bookstore. It is an interesting idea, but we require a more precise method of organization – especially when the item in question is needed for more than one course or covers additional topics.

Just the same, if you ever have a problem finding anything – from a simple citation guide to Ted’s mystical chicken – feel free to stop by the loan desk and we’ll be more than happy to help.

With that in mind, I remember being asked by a graduate student if I could help them locate an item known as ‘The Red Book’ (which was all they could offer in the way of identification). An author, title or call number reference would’ve helped, but we eventually figured it out.

On a lighter note, the system can also be manipulated in some rather interesting and often entertaining ways. For example, I once thought it might be fun to use a LCC call number (in this case it was ‘KF259/C35/2014/c.3’) as a password for a ‘junk’ email site I was accessing at the time.

A few years later, a faculty member brought his Labrador retriever to the library in an effort to help students deal with exam stress by taking it for a walk. To make this work properly within the confines of the LCC we created a temporary call number that started with K9.

To this day patrons still ask us where we keep our copies of ‘The Red Book’, but thanks to the Library of Congress classification system they remain shelved under the same call number I once used for a password (a.k.a. ‘The McGill Law Journal’s Canadian Guide to Uniform Legal Citation’).

Thanks for reading and I hope you’ll join us for our next installment of Marginalia where we’ll take a look at the 1919 World Series and how a simple reliance on hearsay, rather than hard evidence, forever damaged the reputation of Chicago White Sox owner Charles Comiskey.

by
david eugene everard

Editorial assistance and advice by Alex Burdett and everyone here at the circulation desk
Photo and art direction by Paul Totzke

Welcome to Marginalia. While our stated goal is to keep everyone up to date with the services we provide here at the Diana M. Priestly Law Library circulation desk, the general idea is to present that information in a light-hearted, but relevant manner.  With that in mind, we’d like to dedicate this edition of Marginalia to the 45RPM record on it’s 70th Birthday – long may you spin (w/ thanks to Kim Nayyer for the tip). 

Marginalia Presents: CirC Beat Magazine.

Hey, hi and hello to all you groovy guys and gals out there from your fabulous friends here at CirC Beat Magazine (where we only chatter about the platters that matter).

The name’s Riff Riley and I’m your Rock & Roll reporter (substituting for Lester Bangs – who is on assignment). Our ‘Feature Story’ today concerns everybody’s favorite all night party band, The Check-Outs. In case you’ve been lost in the ozone lately, they’ve been busy pleasing patrons at the Diana M. Priestly Law Library and we finally got a chance to interview them.

The Check-Outs latest chart topper is called ‘On My Way to You’ and it’s available on from Reference Desk Vinyl at your favorite independent record store (and we highly recommend The Turntable in Fan Tan Alley). Trust me here folks, ‘On My Way to You’ rocks harder than a sledgehammer on steroids.

The sound is loud, rough and raucous with a classic early ‘60’s style garage vibe. They’ll play anywhere at the drop of a hat as along as the venue is easy to find and wired for sound. Take note that their next big gig is an all ages affair at the Purple Onion with label mates Zero Deluxe and Flashback Academy on April First.

Now that you’re up to date, let’s meet The Check-Outs in person (please note that the individual band members have politely requested that we refer to them by their self-assigned stage names).

The newest member of the group, Ramona, doubles as their Bass & Furboard player (it’s a Furby covered synthesizer that provides the band with its warm, fuzzy sound). Ramona is a Scorpio/Sagittarius cusp who thinks ‘Tripoli’ by Pinback should be played much more often than it is. When she’s not slapping strings or twisting knobs she helps out at the loan desk with Papercut and wireless set-up questions and anything else that comes her way.

Juanita plays ‘Air’ guitar with the group in between shifts at the loan desk. Her song of choice is ‘Margaritaville’ and cites ‘Stop’ as her favorite astrological sign. Her library duties include organizing reserve room material, coordinating the desk staff, as well as responding to any number of Faculty requests and whatever else is necessary, whenever it’s necessary.

‘South-Side’ Mike runs his left-handed guitar through a ‘66 Pathfinder tube amp with the volume control locked on twelve. His duties at the Priestly include assigning graduate carrels, facilitating Inter-Library Loan requests and handling whatever else comes up during the course of his shift. He‘s a Capricorn who likes to listen to ‘Enjoy the Silence’ by Depeche Mode as often as possible on his portable cassette player.

Flossie Mc P. strums a 12 string guitar and sings harmony. Her day time duties include room bookings, item processing, answering emails, phone calls and loan desk requests along with a plethora of related services essential to the day to day operation of the loan desk.

‘Downbeat’ Dave manages (more or less) to keep his drum kit in tune, while preaching the importance of a basic backbeat. When he’s not playing with The Check-Outs you can find him working the late shift at the library where he updates loose-leaf binders, provides desk coverage and shelves books (both big and small). He claims to be a Taurus, but we all know that’s a lie.

‘Brother’ Paul plays piano, organ, and sings. He runs the show.

On stage visuals are courtesy of the Ectoplasmic Assault Light Show.

The Check-Outs are managed by Short Change Charlie at Hyperbole Entertainment.

The band would also like you to know that their instruments of choice include Rickenbacker Guitars, Farfisa Keyboards, Vox Amps and Premier Drums.

You can catch them in person ‘Eight Days a Week’ at the Diana M. Priestly Law Library.

CirC Beat Magazine’s Sweet Sixteen:

1- On My Way to You by The Check-Outs

2- San Francisco Girls – Fever Tree

3- Talkin’ Environmental Blues – ELC

4- Grand Slammin’ Jam (in ‘A’ Major) – Frozen Rope

5- I Want You Back – The Recalls

6- 60 Cycle Hum – Microphonics

7- In the Year 2525 – Zager & Evans

8- Short Term Loan – The Overnighters

9- Look it Up – OPAC

10- (This Ain’t No) Bureaucracy – The Rubber Stamps

11- Lost & Found – The Callslips

12- Mid Term Blues – The Dew Daytes

13- Tin Foil Hat – Alien Invasion

14- What’s the Problem – The Torts

15- Melody Hill – The Archies

16- Best Be Leaving by Sundown

 

Prose: david eugene everard © 2019

Photo Credit: Paul Totzke  © 2019

Judging by the bright leaves and the bare trees that once held them Halloween must be here.

Welcome to Marginalia. The intention behind the new blog category is to keep everyone up to date with the services we provide at the circulation desk. Along the way we’ll also introduce you to the staff members who work here and as well as sharing some stories about the library in general. Our intention is to keep it light, but relevant. With that in mind, let’s start things off with a tale about gimmick infringement called Dracula v Nosferatu.

However, before we begin our epic monster bash, here’s a timely treat for you straight from the circulation desk. Did you know that if you borrow a two-hour item from the reserve room during the last two hours before closing it’s not due back until early the following morning?

So, if you’re ready for our main event, let’s open our favorite monster magazine to page thirteen.

Sadly, Uncle Bela isn’t here to narrate it himself because he’s off having his front teeth trimmed and polished at Dr. Acula’s School of Creative Dentistry, but he did ask me to relate this rather duplicitous tale of copycat vampires in his absence.

Albin Grau was a German film producer who had the idea of doing a movie based on Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula (1897). Max Reinhardt protégé F.W. Murnau was brought on board to direct and the film was called Nosferatu (1922). There was just one small hitch: Grau didn’t have the rights to either the story or the character.

Other attempts at deception included changing Dracula’s name to Count Orlock, moving the story line back to 1838, and altering Stoker’s ending (death by knives) by having their vampire die from direct exposure to the first light of a new day.

Florence Balcombe (Bram’s wife and literary executor of the estate) was not amused and sued over the intellectual property rights, but what she didn’t know at the time was that Prana Film (Grau’s production company) had gone bankrupt due to an overly expensive promotional campaign. Curiously, that particular strategy came back to haunt Grau a second time when some early publicity posters, which included the phrase “freely adapted from Bram Stoker’s Dracula”, were discovered. In lieu of a cash settlement the court ordered that all European copies of Nosferatu be destroyed. But as any respectable cryptozoologist will attest, vampires are notoriously resilient creatures. Some years later, Florence gave Universal Pictures her blessing and they released an authorised version in 1931. Producer Carl Laemmle Jr. recruited Tod Browning to direct the film and hired Bela Lugosi, a little known, thickly accented, stage actor from Hungary to play Dracula.

Nevertheless, a few copies of Nosferatu managed to survive the European purge. That, combined with the fact that Stoker never registered a copyright for Dracula in America, allowed the film to eventually surface in the United States where it soon became a critically acclaimed addition to the Horror genre.

As we turn the page on this cautionary tale of vampiric plagiarism, I’d like to take a moment and share a quick secret with you (but only if you promise not to tell Uncle Bela). As much as I respect his long standing association with Dracula, I still prefer Max Schreck’s portrayal of the character. Simply put, his plasma chilling performance in Nosferatu sends a sharp shiver of delight through me that runs right from the bottom of my dirt covered Transylvanian coffin all the way to the thick, shiny tips of my blood stained fangs every single time I see the film.

Just in case you’re wondering, my name is Eva Prim and I’m a vampire just like my Uncle Bela!

Happy Halloween!

Photo & Prose: david eugene everard © 2018