The Dark Shadows Daybook: August 8

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1968: Episode 562

Joe finally learns the truth behind Collinsport’s nocturnal activities. But if he’s a puppet, who is the hand? Angelique or Nicholas? Joe Haskell: Joel Crothers. (Repeat; 30 min.)

Joe stumbles upon Willie, who is digging up a grave. Nicholas and Angelique divert Joe from informing the authorities, and Joe later goes to a nervous Barnabas to suggest that the police will not be involved. Joe continues to succumb to Angelique’s bite, despite resisting.

Dark Shadows started out as one thing. And that one thing cannot escape what the show is becoming. The saddest example of that is the transformation of Joe Haskell.  Sad because he is a wasted, maddened casualty, played with a wonderful sense of dawning horror by Joel Crothers. He and his character were once the show’s rays of light. (Excluding an understandable temper and one, allowable, drunken night of soaking up beer and piddling class envy on the Collinsport Afgan.) Now, he’s Angelique’s blood doll, and a pitiful, disheveled one, at that. His captivation by Angelique can be written off to the supernatural, but that feels superficial. Angelique is, In every way, the anti-Maggie. Does this make her the wrong woman or the wrong woman in the right ways? Joe’s desperate attraction feels tragically right. Even her comparative indifference to him is both repulsive and alluring. 

Dark Shadows’ early world of blackmail and revenge was built for Joe Haskell, and Joe was built to be the paragon withstanding it. He reeks of honest work, integrity, and common sense. When Willie needs a warning or Sam needs a sober ear, Joe’s the guy. Vampires and demons, not so much. Dark Shadows was careful to segregate guys like Joe and Burke from the incipient sideshow. They were just not built for moments like this, and all of Collinsport Revealed to be an elaborate shell to hide what was really brewing under the surface. Jeffrey Beaumont is designed to successfully segue back and forth between the genres. His story is, by classical definitions, a comedy. Joe’s is a tragedy. When Jeffrey says that, “It’s a strange world,” he does so with bemused wonder. But when Joe Haskell says it, there is nothing more nor less than horror -- at the world and his own combination of eager desire and spoonfed ignorance. He is the doomed hero of Lovecraft, not Lynch. But David Lynch is an optimist compared to the minds behind Dark Shadows, and the fall of Joe Haskell is a prime example.

In fact, he is so alien to the newly revealed world of the supernatural in Dark Shadows that Angelique seems subtly indifferent towards him. He’s a meal to her more than a man, and she takes the job because she’s a pro. Not because she wants to. He’s a worthy victim in only the biological sense. When they share the screen, it feels like two vastly different shows have been Frankensteined together, but that adds to the dark fascination of it. Because it’s clear which is going to win, we also see which vision of the universe is stronger. Suddenly, the pedestrian world of everyday, mortal storytelling is revealed to be on the thinnest of stilts. Van Helsing doesn’t stand a chance, and we knew it all along. The unseemly and fascinating part of this story is how it brazenly tells that truth about mortal life after setting it up as unimpeachable for the past two years. Joe has been played all along, and the audience -- part of Joe’s world all along -- has been, as well.

When Barnabas returns from 1795, he immediately starts draining Vicki of blood. It’s a metaphor for the show reinventing itself by feeding off its own beginnings until they cease to be relevant. Joe’s victimization by Angelique is simply equal opportunity with a thousand-yard stare. And not without regrets. In 562, both Joe and Angelique seem equally horrified and enthralled at the prospect of meeting each other. Joe seems to have more of the opportunity to resist than any victim we’ve seen. Consequently, his eventual capitulation to bites and blackmail is all the more poignant.

This episode hit the airwaves Aug. 20, 1968.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: August 8

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1967: Episode 300

At the Old House, Barnabas awakens and asks for Willie. Barnabas orders Willie to spy on Vicki and Burke as closely as possible. Is Barnabas afraid of losing her to Burke. Later, Julia reports to Barnabas that his cure is coming along. She accuses him of being in Vicki’s room. Barnabas admits to temptation, but nothing happened. Julia emphasizes that there must be no next time. He chafes at taking orders. Neither Julia nor he can afford the questions. He agrees to stay away from Vicki. Later in the garden, Burke reveals that he’s buying Seaview for Vicki, and then asks her to marry him. She loves him but is torn. She’d have to leave the Collins family. She needs time to think. Meanwhile, Willie sees all. He and Barnabas meet at the Old House, and he reports the proposal. Barnabas vows there will be no marriage. Devlin must die!

When we think of social issues on fantasy TV of the sixties, the conversation begins (excluding a few months of 1959) with TWILIGHT ZONE and ends with STAR TREK. DARK SHADOWS addresses political circumstances, too, but in the case of episode 300, it is with fear and the shackles of baffling tradition. In STAR TREK, differences are celebrated. In DARK SHADOWS, they are often (initially) seen as challenges to be hidden and overcome. If you examine DARK SHADOWS politically, it has moments that are shockingly conservative for genre television. However, DARK SHADOWS was not really genre television. I mean it. It was a soap opera aired in the late afternoon for housewives, designed to sell canned hams and pantyhose. That makes the subversive moments enjoyed by the show even craftier. Number 300 is not subversive, but it is sadly revealing of the era. There is a lot we take for granted now. Even I am bewildered by the 60’s attitude regarding Vicki and Burke. Really? Vicki’s marriage would necessitate her leaving her job at Collinwood? The assumption is that she’s immediately supposed to become a baby factory for Burke. For a show filled with strong women, is it all smoke and mirrors under this core ethos? Because it’s taken for granted. I’m sure women from the time would affirm that it’s an accurate portrait, and that makes the decision by several of the show’s actresses to remain child-free even more remarkable.

Just as significant is the conversation that Barnabas and Julia have about what life will be like when he’s a “normal” man with no secrets… someone who can “love like a normal man.” Okay. New York. The Sixties. The theatrical arts. Haven for confirmed bachelors. Wallace and I have written about homosexuality in and around DARK SHADOWS before in separate essays. Secret identities. Living in various closets. The family can never know. Tortured yet compulsed. If you see their real self, you’re horrified. Vampirism is a razor-pointed metaphor for the pitfalls and power of closeted gay life in the 1960’s. Metaphorically, the secret of the Collinses isn’t that some of them are monsters….

On this day in 1967, the Association of South East Asian Nations was formed.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: July 31

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1969: Episode 815

Petofi and his hand are reunited, and Barnabas’ demands that he help Quentin are met with ambiguous responses. Petofi removes Barnabas’ ability to teleport and then shows him what he thinks is the vampire’s impending death. Instead, he sees David die in 1969. Petofi learns that he cannot show a death he did not cause. Petofi then goes to Magda, who sees the Hand and follows his command to be shown Barnabas’ coffin. There, he lays on the Hand and has Aristede chain the coffin.

Absolute evil provides too much fun to be all that bad, all the time. Christopher Pennock, one of the heroes of this column, once remarked that John Yaeger was rooted in the joy and freedom of pure evil. And let’s draw the line between evil and meanness. For our purposes, evil is intense self-interest to the exclusion of the needs of others. Cruelty is about causing harm to others for the sake of pleasure. Of course, “pure” is probably a bad word to use. These things aren’t scientific absolutes. (Which is a polite way of telling people with counterexamples what they can do with them.) Count Petofi is an interesting case. Much is made of his evil, and St. Thayer David rolls his eyes and cackles like he’s trying to show Plato’s Ideal a thing or two about how you really play a heavy. However, his punishment of others only comes when they get in his way. Just because he’s theatrical about it doesn’t mean that he’s deviating from his purpose: to get them to stop getting in his way. Ultimately, his desires make sense. He wants his hand back. (You know, so he won’t die.) He wants to escape an organized manhunt via extremely thorough means. He wants to ensure that those who threaten him leave him alone. Permanently. Can’t fault him for that. Along the way, like a dark Dr. Lao, he usually imparts some kind of lesson or reveals some kind of profound or lasting truth. He’s at least 150 years old, and so he views wants, needs, and consequences differently. I’m not saying that I would mind crossing the guy, because I intensely would. But unlike Angelique, he’s not cruel. His techniques have a more pedagogical bent, “Here, I made my point by taking away your powers of teleporting. Imagine what else I could do? Now, sit down and have some champagne whilst we talk about what brought us together.”

From the teaser for the episode onward, Petofi owns 815, both displaying his powers on Barnabas with surgical relish and then being hoisted by his ample petard when Barnabas teaches him a thing or two about gazing into the future. As arguably the most powerful character on the show, short of Diabolos, Judah Zachary, and Lela Swift, he needs regular humblings. First, they keep the program from lasting ten minutes. Secondly, they get him good and steamed, which is when great things tend to happen. He has surprisingly little ego -- after a tantrum or two -- about learning new things, even his own limits. DARK SHADOWS has introduced its first real supervillain since Nicholas Blair, and he’s arguably more powerful because of his unallegiant nature. Barnabas is intermittent as a presence now, and his almost-guest appearance requires a great show. The teleportation shuffle is just that, and add to it the wonderfully ambiguous loss and victory of seeing David’s death mixed with the knowledge that Petofi’s powers to display tomorrow are extremely limited. Does Petofi have the last laugh? It started about a drama regarding a will and has become the pilot for a never-made DEADLANDS tv series. Of course he does. Magda gets knocked down a cribbage board worth of pegs and Barnabas has the Hand placed on him in his soon-to-be-chained coffin. We’re off to the races.

This episode hit the airwaves Aug. 8, 1969.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: July 19

By PATRICK McCRAY

Taped on this date in 1967: Episode 292

Woodard confronts Julia about Maggie’s extended stay at Windcliff, and she reveals the connection to the supernatural, convincing to continue covering for her. Outside the Old House, Sarah bemoans the fact that she can’t find the very much alive Maggie. David takes the story of Maggie’s survival back to Collinwood, and Vicki reveals to Burke that she’s become strangely smitten with a new house by the sea.

Let’s hear it for Gordon Russell and his first episode. Over the next four years, he will become DARK SHADOWS’ most prolific writer. In it, we see his one of his great strengths: writing relationships with truth, twists, and surprises. Grayson Hall is particularly adept at pulling off his verbal labyrinths. In the first scene with Woodard, Julia actually talks the hard-headed generalist into receptiveness toward her vision of science’s conquest of the supernatural. She evades, warns, bullies, and eventually flirts her way into his trust. Her coming out as what has become a mad scientist is done with both credibility and wit. DARK SHADOWS has expanded its redefinition of the soap opera universe as one in which the supernatural is seen as something absolutely real… and one in which we humans have a fighting chance. By selling Woodard on it, she further sells the audience. So often, supernatural stories -- from DRACULA to the world of Lovecraft -- posit a universe where terror exists because it cannot be understood.  Her quest to do so isn’t folly at all, and it further roots one of the key concepts of the series. These things have limits and origins, just like we do. Moreover, they have accessible weaknesses. This isn’t man vs. the omnipotent. The seemingly “omnipotent” have challenges and foibles of their own. The story shifts from drama to horror, then back to what DARK SHADOWS truly is: drama involving horror. The power that people like Barnabas wield makes their vulnerabilities all the more poignant. And doesn’t DARK SHADOWS begin that way? Despite all of their sway, the Collins family cannot escape guilt and fear.

We see further limits with the next scene, involving David and Sarah.  Sarah, a ghost who can materialize at will, has lost Maggie. As the scene went on, I wondered what the show would be like if Sarah had simply followed Maggie to Windlciff and encouraged her to escape. Just as interesting, but probably shorter. There is a natural sadness to the scene. Despite all of her talents, Sarah is a prisoner to the Collins estate, as are so many others for so many reasons, most of which boil down to relationships.

Russell curiously juxtaposes this with the next scene involving Burke and Victoria. Vicki is a human empowered by knowledge of the paranormal, and credits it with helping her discover Seaview, a house beyond, to which she’s inexplicably drawn.Escape from Collinwood may be possible after all.  So, what is the supernatural in so many of these cases but love? It’s an extraordinary power to some and an imprisoning imposition to others. Instead of referencing it literally, DARK SHADOWS accomplishes the same thing figuratively. It’s all the business of the daytime genre, but by using the supernatural as a metaphor, Russell gives the idea an even greater universality. Not only that, he opens up a world in which both love and the occult can be examined with fresh, occasionally jaundiced, and ultimately optimistic eyes.

This episode hit the airwaves Aug. 8, 1967.

The Dark Shadows Daybook: AUGUST 8

By PATRICK McCRAY

Aug. 8, 1966
Taped on this date: Episode: 41

Sam contemplates his sketch of Burke when the phone rings. It’s Roger, asking if he’s alone.
Roger is worried about his drink with Bill Malloy… no letter will protect him. Sam hangs up on Roger and then tears up the sketch of Burke. Liz enters the drawing room and Roger brags about preventing Burke from meeting up with Carolyn by intervening with her ring gambit. They compare what they did with inheritances. Roger enjoyed his, but Liz used hers to maintain the company. And why didn’t Roger mention Ned’s call? She needed his advice, but is coy about why. She says she’s more concerned about Roger than Ned. Maggie arrives at the cottage and a tortured Sam asks why she wouldn’t let him run away. She assures him that they’ll lick ‘em, yet. Maggie tries to get him to talk, but he demurs, claiming he’s lost his touch at portrait painting. She says he’s more concerned with Burke. His return has changed everyone. Sam briefly hints that might be the case, but blames the liquor. Maggie asks if this has to do with the ten-year old car accident and Roger Collins. He leaves and she calls Collinwood. Vicki answers, and Maggie asks for Roger. He’s not at work and Maggie doesn’t know where he is. On cue, Roger strolls in. Roger takes the call… and hangs up. Later, Joe calls and Liz is surprised he’s not on a date with Carolyn. Could she be with Burke? Joe is contrite about his drunken confession, either way. At the cottage, Sam in incensed that Maggie called Roger. Later, a furious Roger pounds on the door. They agree on their mutual hate. Roger leaves, swearing that Sam’s boozy weakness won’t take him down. They both plot on each other’s destruction. At Collinwood, Vicki tells Liz she’s going to town and asks Liz to go. Liz, of course, refuses, and Vicki leaves. Liz once again has no success at reaching Ned, but the silence is broken by a drunken Sam, banging at the door.

Because we haven’t lived with these characters for months or years, it’s very difficult to grok an episode where they don’t do much. Later, the show can get away with that. After time and shared experiences, we don’t necessarily come for the story. We tune in to be with old friends. But not… quite… yet. Still, this is a vital episode because it is the first written by playwright Francis Swann. So what? After all, the name does not resonate like Sam’s or Gordon’s. Yes, yes, we know. Nevertheless, this is the first author of the show other than Art Wallace. With that, it may temporarily lose some edge (despite Sam’s booziness), but it will gain that rock band synergy of Hall, Russell, Sproat, and the rotating support team. Swann was a Broadway playwright (OUT OF THE FRYING PAN) and a prolific writer in the early days of television.

(Episode 31 airs on this date.)

Aug. 8, 1967
Taped on this date: Episode: 300

Julia enters as Vicki happily awaits Burke. Vicki asks her about her dream of the prior night; someone was in her room, she was in danger, but was unafraid. How odd. She thinks someone actually was in her room because the lid of the music box was open and it was playing. The suggested intrusion disturbs her. Julia suggests she did it half-asleep. Liz enters, remarking that Julia’s doing a lot of research at the Old House. Julia exits and Liz says that Burke’s made a firm offer on Seaview. Both are pleased. At the Old House, Barnabas awakens and asks for Willie. Barnabas orders Willie to spy on Vicki and Burke as closely as possible. Is Barnabas afraid of losing her to Burke. Willie says it’s inevitable, and Barnabas threatens him with his life for such opinions. Later, Julia reports to Barnabas that his cure is coming along. He now has a normal heartbeat. He is skeptical, but wonders what a normal man’s life would be like. He will be able to give and accept love. Julia must cure him, but Barnabas must cooperate. She accuses him of being in Vicki’s room. Barnabas admits to temptation, but nothing happened. Julia emphasizes that there must be no next time. He chafes at taking orders. Neither Julia nor he can afford the questions. He agrees to stay away from Vicki. The doctor and he must learn to trust each other. Later in the garden, Burke and Vicki end their date making out. Burke has much to say, and waited until they were alone. He reveals that he’s buying Seaview. For her. For them. He loves her and pops the question. She’s surprised. She loves him, but is torn. She’d have to leave the Collins family. She needs time to think. He’ll ask every day until she breaks down and says yes. She’s wanted an identity, and her search will be over as “Mrs. Burke Devlin.” Meanwhile, Willie sees all. In the drawing room, Liz and Barnabas speak of his future prospects in business. He asks about the sale of Seaview. It’s a shame to have it out of the family. Liz suspects it’s for Burke and Vicki. Liz supports the idea of marriage. Barnabas is uneasy, but denies it. Willie and Barnabas meet at the Old House, and he reports the proposal. She needs time to think, but Willie seems sure she’ll accept. Barnabas vows there will be no marriage. Devlin must die!

Three words: Feminist Field-day. I’m a terrified, Don Knotts-ish coward, hiding under my covers for fear that hooded, Third Wave Feminists will storm in with a giant syringe and extract my mojo, just like Dr. Evil did to Austin Powers in the second documentary… and even I am bewildered by the 60’s attitude that Vicki’s marriage would necessitate her leaving her job at Collinwood. The assumption is that she’s immediately supposed to become a baby factory for Burke. Very alien to today’s eyes and something that dates the show far more than the costumes. Just as significant is the conversation that Barnabas and Julia have about what life will be like when he’s a “normal” man with no secrets… someone who can “love like a normal man.” Okay. New York. The Sixties. The theatrical arts. Haven for confirmed bachelors. Wallace and I have written about this regarding the show before in separate essays. Secret identities. Living in various closets. The family can never know. Tortured yet compulsed. If you see their real self, you’re horrified. Etc, etc. So, yeah, there’s that.

(Episode 292 airs on this date.)

Aug. 8, 1969
Taped on this date: Episode: 820

1897. Petofi visits Charles Delaware Tate, who is again painting his ideal woman again and again… she exists to him, the only thing in the world that’s his. Petofi has a special commission for him. Hearing the details, Tate says it’s too grisly. Petofi says that no one will be hurt, and that he will be back at noon. Shaw comes back to his hotel room to find Amada packing. She can take no more of Trask. But Tim needs her. She feels used, but he reminds her that he pays her well. She says she’s changed since New York. All Tim needs is one more day and one more job. Amanda agrees. She is to meet a certain Count Petofi. At the mill, Magda seeks Petofi’s help. A note says, “Between life and death, there is no room for a flea to jump.” It is a gypsy warning she’s received. He knows the gypsies are coming and will do nothing. It will attract the gypsies to him. Magda cannot betray him; he casts a spell to make it impossible for her to speak or write his name. She leaves as Amanda leaves, saying that Tim has sent her. Petofi immediately sees that she is the woman Tate painted. But Tate’s name means nothing to her. She feigns a past in New York. She wants Petofi’s talisman so that he may have his revenge and they may leave, in love. He reveals that the “talisman” is his hand, and she may not have it. Petofi sends her away with a message. He has good taste in enemies and women, but no sense of strategy. Magda returns to a ransacked Old House. King Johnny of the Gypsies is in the house! If she returns the hand and does not deceive them, he will reduce her punishment. However, she will still stand trial for Julianka’s death. She says she cannot get the hand and he should kill her now. He encourages her to look. At the Inn, Amanda finds that Tim is motivated for revenge on Trask because of his responsibility for the death of a woman he loved. She agrees to stay, but she begs him to stay away from Petofi. His questions of her past frightened her; beyond two years back, she knows nothing. At the Old House, Petofi’s spell silences Magda, despite King Johnny’s blows. She is powerless. In the chaos, he finds the hand’s box. Somehow, the hand is within it!

Every episode at this stage of 1897 is a giddy gift, making the Petofi Days an embarrassment of riches. Gypsy kings and mythology! Roma justice! Women created out of thin air, and a hand that can be in two places at once. King Johnny Romano is played by Paul Michael, who also lends Jeff Clark the boat he uses to be all herotastic in HOUSE OF DARK SHADOWS. He was from Providence, RI, which is H.P. Lovecraft country and pretty close to Newport, the home of Seaview Terrace… the photo model for the original Collinwood. His was a rich and interesting film career, including an appearance in the haunting PENNIES FROM HEAVEN and blows a huge puff of smoke at Jerry in the SEINFELD episode, “The Maestro,” where he plays Ciccio.

(Episode 815 airs on this date.)