COLUMNISTS

Interview with the Creature

The Creature from the Black Lagoon
The Creature from the Black Lagoon

It took a while to locate him in the Old State House, the state’s first Capitol right here in downtown Little Rock. It’s now been transformed into a museum. Call it the state’s attic, full of all kinds of historical curiosities regularly rotated exhibit by exhibit. He had to be here somewhere in this current exhibit-“Lights! Cameras! Arkansas!” It’s all about this state’s many connections with Hollywood, and no such project would be complete without The Creature from the Back Lagoon (1954), one of the best bad movies ever made. He plays the title role.

Yes, it also stars a fetching Arkansas girl named Julie Adams who was raised in Blytheville and graduated from high school in Little Rock. Now playing a gracious 86-year-old grande dame, she made a red-carpet entrance at the exhibit’s opening night, still charming all in sight. But the Creature, elusive as ever, was proving as hard to hunt down among all these winding corridors and hidden recesses as he was in the movie.

He was nowhere to be seen among the dusty portraits of territorial governors or near the glittering display of inaugural gowns worn by governors’ wives over the years-a whole history of American modes and moods over the years. (My favorite is still the flapper style of the Roaring Twenties; you can almost hear the band playing a Charleston in the background.) But where was the Creature? The day was fleeting.

With nobody else around and the old floorboards creaking, the place can get a little spooky. And then, around a turn and in a display devoted to the movie . . . there he is! Not so fearsome after all. His fish eyes are almost friendly, his slit of a mouth about to smile. And are those gills or just seaweed tresses? And what a magnificent dorsal fin-its ridges feel like . . . .

“Look but don’t touch!”

What? Who said that?

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, but you people think you can just waltz in here and get fresh. I have feelings, too, you know.”

This time it was I who apologized. Where were my manners, not to mention respect for others’ personal space? How thoughtless of me. I only wanted an interview.

“You think it’s easy being me? With all you people staring, and me drawing only an extra’s wages? Like I was part of some crowd scene or maybe a carnival freak show? The demand for monsters, especially aging ones, ain’t what it used to be, you know.”

I was sorry to hear that, but eager to find out something about the Creature besides what was in the press releases.

“Sure, I’m from Arkansas. My dad was a fisherman and mom used to write children’s literature when she wasn’t raising us tadpoles. My artistic aspirations come naturally. And, no, we didn’t live on Greers Ferry or Lake Hamilton or anywhere near some high-rise or gated community. Just good country people. From a bend in Bayou Bartholomew, and, believe me, there are still plenty of them despite the Corps of Engineers.”

He sounded legit. He even pronounced Bayou the Arkansas way, with the long O, as in Ba-Yo, not Ba-You.

“This business abut my being a monster was just for the movie posters. Julie Adams had no reason to fear, believe me, and she knew it. I could tell she kind of liked me, though she’d never admit it, what with that bother of a fiance of hers around all the time. All I wanted was a date for Saturday night, which wasn’t easy to get in high school. Yeah, I know, who likes their high school years anyway, except for jocks and prom queens? Mine weren’t really all that bad, actually. I made the swim team and earned a letter jacket in the 400-meter freestyle. Was even voted most likely to exceed. You can read all about it in my Facebook entry . . .” I was duly impressed. He wasn’t such a bad sort after all, if a little scaly. And a lot self absorbed. But who isn’t self-absorbed? He was just trying to be cooperative, the way he went on and on about himself. Lots of grist here for a feature article. Or maybe an exposé. “I was a Teenage Amphibian!”-something along those lines.

“I wasn’t so unpopular once the kids got used to me. There was one girl, a honey-blonde I still think about sometimes. A real Southern belle. (“Darlin’, you’ve got the cutest fins!”) Probably married a corporate exec and is a grandma by now . . .”) The Creature grew almost wistful.

“I don’t know what it is with you people and monsters,” he was saying. “Some kind of strange fascination. Beauty and the Beast and all that. But I don’t mind the press, though I can understand why others do. Not very popular these days, are you? If you ever were. You people in print are finding out what it’s like to be part of an outdated niche occupation, too, aren’t you? Like old movie monsters. Me, I’m looking forward to finishing up this gig and seeing the family, maybe taking a little time off, preferably in some nice watery place.”

“Where? Boggy Creek sounds good. And it’s not far from here. Over at Fouke. I hear tell it’s nice. They may even have some part-time night work for me when things get slow, like showing up in some outlander’s headlights when he gets lost. They just love to tell about it. Makes their day, or rather night. You’re not gonna believe this, but some folks don’t believe in me. I’m like the ivory-billed woodpecker that way. Only I got real pictures. A whole movie, actually.”

That’s when he retreated into his clammy silence, as if he were only some kind of empty costume. Which was fine. I’d intruded on his hospitality long enough. And was ready to be alone myself.

Soon I was out in the summer heat-even if summer isn’t even here yet, not officially. Welcome to Arkansas. Out on the empty sidewalk, everything shimmered in the haze. I already missed the Creature. Maybe it was fellow feeling. We all have some monster in us, don’t you think?

———◊———

Paul Greenberg is the Pulitzer Prize-winning editorial page editor of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette.

Editorial, Pages 16 on 06/19/2013

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