SirGravesGhastly.com | Media Crypt

Ghoulish Goodies

The Blade (OH)
By Paula Miner
Sunday, May 16, 1971

The old iron gates slowly creak open as the silhouette of a hunched owl appears against a glowing, full moon. Suddenly there is a blood-curdling scream . . . Sir Graves Ghastly is on the air! A dark, comically hideous face peers from a huge coffin, and leers at the camera, introducing a horror-movie show in low, spooky tones. Then, as he leans back to utter another fiendish howl, the casket lid drops, hitting him on the head. Meet Lawson Deming, who, as Sir Graves Ghastly, has been delighting Toledo-area monster devotees for five years on Detroit's Ch. 2 (WJBK). Currently, he's doing his thing Saturday afternoons from 1 to 3:30. Sir Graves confesses that he is more of a psychological escape for his viewers than a Clark Gable figure. However, he capitalizes on their demands by slicing himself into six zany personalities, and creating "the goofiest show around," during breaks in the horror films he presents. The Ashtabula, O., native's show is proof of his word, and although taping the popular program requires that he commute from Cleveland to Detroit weekly for long, brain-teasing sessions of thinking up new gimmicks, then rehearsing and filming them, he has a solid background in acting on which to rely.

The 50-ish actor (he won't reveal his age) studied dramatic arts at Western Reserve University's Cleveland College during the 1930s. After college, he free-lanced on radio in the Cleveland area before accepting an announcing job in West Palm Beach, Fla. He returned to Cleveland during the '40s and entered television. From there, TV and radio took him to Washington, where he did a show similar to the Detroit presentation, and then to Detroit, where he co-produced "Woodrow the Woodsman Show," a puppet program, during the '60s, before presenting WJBK with an outline for the Sir Graves program. "Once they accepted the idea, I had to conjure up some horrible name for myself," he recalls. "Sir Ghostly . . . Sir Graves Ghostly . . . Sir Ghouly . . . then it hit me--Sir Graves Ghastly would be perfect, because it allowed me to be a bit more human, shall we say, than any of my wild sidekicks." And are those sidekicks wild!

He speaks with fiendish affection of Walter, "the prissy one, who's allways yelling, 'He's sick -- sick, sick, sick,' and yelling it with a lisp, whenhe isn't singing his favorite tune 'Poisoning Pigeons in the Park.' " Sir Graves does none of his own singing on the show. He lip-syncs -- mouths the words -- while a record by Tom Lehrer, entitled "Dracu1a's Greatest Hits," is played. Cool Ghoul, another character favorite, is a swinging musician-type with a slight defect -- he has no body. Sir Graves explained it simply enough. "The poor boy was riding home from a gig (music job) one night on his motorcycle, when he met with an accident. Now there's nothing left of him but his head -- the one that's always telling those famous Cool Ghoul riddles." Here, Gravesey, as he likes to be called, stops to chuckle. "What do ghosts eat for breakfast? Ghost Toasties." Well, that's a Cool Ghoul for you.

Sir Graves' voice shivered with pride as he next turned to a discussion of The Glob, and no wonder. The actor must lie upside down on a very deep ramp, while a camera set up behind him shoots dowu -- and close -- to catch the artful lip-syncing that makes The Glob such a popular singing success. The Glob can be likened to Senior Wences' famous puppet, whose face is drawn on the ventriloquist's hand. Here, however, the similarity ends, for The Glob is painted on Sir Graves' face, not his hand. His natty-looking goatee serves as The Glob's hair, his curly moustache forms a tiny beard, and his eyes are two dots just above the mouth that produces such famous hits as "Ghoul Days" and a distorted version of a Beatles' tune called, "I Wanna Bite Your Hand." The Glob is vying for first place in the viewers' hearts with Tillie Trollhouse, Sir Graves' only female personality. "We couldn't stand more than one like Tillie on a show," Sir Graves commented. "One of the cameramen told me one time that she's the ugliest dame he's ever seen. I couldn't agree more."

Yet Tillie is the emcee's favorite character. For the part, he exchanges his Dracula-like cape, huge bowtie, goatee, moustache, and deep, wild laugh, to become the buxomy blonde in the ill-fitting clothes that sings off-key under street lights. "She and Gravesey have something going," he laughs. "But Gravesey is just a liltle too smart. He'd never marry anyone that ugly in a million years. Those close-up shots of her are enough to turn your stomach." Sir Graves receives an average of 800 pieces of fan mail per month, including pencil, crayon, or painted pictures of himself or other monsters, done by young fans, which he says are "just ghastly." Viewers see their art work when the TV camera pans to the "Art Ghoullery."

What delights the monstrous emcee even more, however, are recent station ratings, which indicated that one-third of his audience are teen-agers, and one-third adults. "It's my tongue-in-cheek humor that gets 'em," he chuckled. "They think I'm camp, and they really dig those crazy one-liners, like 'How do you get into a graveyard? With a skeleton key.' They eat it up." Between skits, Sir Graves, Tillie, and the rest of the motley crew relax while the horror films are aired. Sometimes fans are treated to the classics -- "The Mummy," "Frankenstein," or "The Invisible Man." Other times, however, below-par Japanese science-fiction flicks are the featured bill of fare. A problem that Sir Graves runs into occurs in spring, summer, and fall, and it's known as sports. Often, when the Lions or Tigers are televised, their games pre-empt Sir Graves. Does the happy-go-lucky monster disapprove? "Oh well, let those boys have their fun," he sighs, "There's a place for all of us in this world." Sound charitable? Perhaps. But when the horror spook slinks off at sunrise carrying something long and thin, he's not returning to his graveyard to pound a stake in some vanlpire's heart -- chances are he's off on a hunting or fishing trip. Sir Graves is a human being. Honest.

Article respectfully shared under the Fair Use Doctrine of International Copyright Law as educational material without benefit of financial gain.

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		Ghoulish Goodies The Blade (OH) By Paula Miner Sunday, May 16, 1971 The old iron gates slowly creak open as the silhouette of a hunched owl appears against a glowing, full moon. Suddenly there is a blood-curdling scream . . . Sir Graves Ghastly is on the air! A dark, comically hideous face peers from a huge coffin, and leers at the camera, introducing a horror-movie show in low, spooky tones. Then, as he leans back to utter another fiendish howl, the casket lid drops, hitting him on the head. Meet Lawson Deming, who, as Sir Graves Ghastly, has been delighting Toledo-area monster devotees for five years on Detroit's Ch. 2 (WJBK). Currently, he's doing his thing Saturday afternoons from 1 to 3:30. Sir Graves confesses that he is more of a psychological escape for his viewers than a Clark Gable figure. However, he capitalizes on their demands by slicing himself into six zany personalities, and creating "the goofiest show around," during breaks in the horror films he presents. The Ashtabula, O., native's show is proof of his word, and although taping the popular program requires that he commute from Cleveland to Detroit weekly for long, brain-teasing sessions of thinking up new gimmicks, then rehearsing and filming them, he has a solid background in acting on which to rely. The 50-ish actor (he won't reveal his age) studied dramatic arts at Western Reserve University's Cleveland College during the 1930s. After college, he free-lanced on radio in the Cleveland area before accepting an announcing job in West Palm Beach, Fla. He returned to Cleveland during the '40s and entered television. From there, TV and radio took him to Washington, where he did a show similar to the Detroit presentation, and then to Detroit, where he co-produced "Woodrow the Woodsman Show," a puppet program, during the '60s, before presenting WJBK with an outline for the Sir Graves program. "Once they accepted the idea, I had to conjure up some horrible name for myself," he recalls. "Sir Ghostly . . . Sir Graves Ghostly . . . Sir Ghouly . . . then it hit me--Sir Graves Ghastly would be perfect, because it allowed me to be a bit more human, shall we say, than any of my wild sidekicks." And are those sidekicks wild! He speaks with fiendish affection of Walter, "the prissy one, who's allways yelling, 'He's sick -- sick, sick, sick,' and yelling it with a lisp, whenhe isn't singing his favorite tune 'Poisoning Pigeons in the Park.' " Sir Graves does none of his own singing on the show. He lip-syncs -- mouths the words -- while a record by Tom Lehrer, entitled "Dracu1a's Greatest Hits," is played. Cool Ghoul, another character favorite, is a swinging musician-type with a slight defect -- he has no body. Sir Graves explained it simply enough. "The poor boy was riding home from a gig (music job) one night on his motorcycle, when he met with an accident. Now there's nothing left of him but his head -- the one that's always telling those famous Cool Ghoul riddles." Here, Gravesey, as he likes to be called, stops to chuckle. "What do ghosts eat for breakfast? Ghost Toasties." Well, that's a Cool Ghoul for you. Sir Graves' voice shivered with pride as he next turned to a discussion of The Glob, and no wonder. The actor must lie upside down on a very deep ramp, while a camera set up behind him shoots dowu -- and close -- to catch the artful lip-syncing that makes The Glob such a popular singing success. The Glob can be likened to Senior Wences' famous puppet, whose face is drawn on the ventriloquist's hand. Here, however, the similarity ends, for The Glob is painted on Sir Graves' face, not his hand. His natty-looking goatee serves as The Glob's hair, his curly moustache forms a tiny beard, and his eyes are two dots just above the mouth that produces such famous hits as "Ghoul Days" and a distorted version of a Beatles' tune called, "I Wanna Bite Your Hand." The Glob is vying for first place in the viewers' hearts with Tillie Trollhouse, Sir Graves' only female personality. "We couldn't stand more than one like Tillie on a show," Sir Graves commented. "One of the cameramen told me one time that she's the ugliest dame he's ever seen. I couldn't agree more." Yet Tillie is the emcee's favorite character. For the part, he exchanges his Dracula-like cape, huge bowtie, goatee, moustache, and deep, wild laugh, to become the buxomy blonde in the ill-fitting clothes that sings off-key under street lights. "She and Gravesey have something going," he laughs. "But Gravesey is just a liltle too smart. He'd never marry anyone that ugly in a million years. Those close-up shots of her are enough to turn your stomach." Sir Graves receives an average of 800 pieces of fan mail per month, including pencil, crayon, or painted pictures of himself or other monsters, done by young fans, which he says are "just ghastly." Viewers see their art work when the TV camera pans to the "Art Ghoullery." What delights the monstrous emcee even more, however, are recent station ratings, which indicated that one-third of his audience are teen-agers, and one-third adults. "It's my tongue-in-cheek humor that gets 'em," he chuckled. "They think I'm camp, and they really dig those crazy one-liners, like 'How do you get into a graveyard? With a skeleton key.' They eat it up." Between skits, Sir Graves, Tillie, and the rest of the motley crew relax while the horror films are aired. Sometimes fans are treated to the classics -- "The Mummy," "Frankenstein," or "The Invisible Man." Other times, however, below-par Japanese science-fiction flicks are the featured bill of fare. A problem that Sir Graves runs into occurs in spring, summer, and fall, and it's known as sports. Often, when the Lions or Tigers are televised, their games pre-empt Sir Graves. Does the happy-go-lucky monster disapprove? "Oh well, let those boys have their fun," he sighs, "There's a place for all of us in this world." Sound charitable? Perhaps. But when the horror spook slinks off at sunrise carrying something long and thin, he's not returning to his graveyard to pound a stake in some vanlpire's heart -- chances are he's off on a hunting or fishing trip. Sir Graves is a human being. Honest. Copyright ©1971 The Blade. All rights reserved. Article respectfully shared under the Fair Use Doctrine of International Copyright Law as educational material without benefit of financial gain. <Back Website ©2002-2005 Keith Milford. All Rights Reserved.