Greetings, Fellow Haunters:
 
 
I don’t have the first idea how many haunters attended last weekend’s Midwest Haunters Convention in Columbus, Ohio. I’m not even sure the attendance actually grew from 2007. What made judging the crowd difficult for me was that, for the first time, the show took place in a true convention hall.
For comparison’s sake: when the convention was last held in downtown Columbus (2006), the vendor area was a 7200-square-foot hotel ballroom. This year the vendors, auction areas, a relaxation area for attendees and a 30' x 30' inflatable haunt were all placed in the 100,000+ square foot structure that is called Hall E - F on the convention center’s map. All this haunt activity I’ve mentioned took up barely a third of this large hall. But stand back and think about the remarkable difference in size: 7200 square feet versus 35,000, or something like that, in just two years. We in Ohio are so thrilled that you have approved of the type of haunt convention we put on.
The aisleways in the vendor area were wide; at least 10 feet. Upon looking at the photographs I took, they might have even been 12 feet wide. Now you know why judging the crowd was something I could not wrap my arms around this year. Plenty of happy people came through the hall’s eight entrance doors, but they were spread out in a much larger space than ever before.
I had a relaxing time at MHC, and I hope the same was true for you.
 
 
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I walked in to the hotel’s bar at around 9:30 on Thursday evening. There were only a handful of haunters there, sipping drinks and quietly relieved to find themselves in the company of other haunters. The long bus tour to the Cincinnati area that day was not due back for a few more hours. So I sat for a while and chatted a few people up. Despite the obstacles, I drove to my brother’s house in Bexley not long afterward.
The obstacles I referred to were the many dead traffic lights in downtown Columbus, and a complete blackout in some suburbs. Bexley was one of them. As I creeped along the near-black streets, I would see only a candle or two in the windows of each of the houses I passed by. The same was true of my brother’s house. I found the three members of his family playing cards around the dining room table by the light of a single candle. A huge thunderstorm had bullied its way through the central part of the city around 6:30 that evening. As a testament to its strength, the storm made the front page of Saturday morning’s "Dispatch."
 
 
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Friday was a day filled with contrasting events. In the morning I was a certified gopher for whatever vendor needed some muscle. I lugged in batches of steel shelving for one vendor and then hauled in dollies of boxed goods for two other vendors. At the far rear of the hall were loading docks for 6 trucks. There was also a drive-up area for small trucks that pulled a rental trailer. This area was a real circus on Saturday morning.
We (meaning the MHC work crew) were supposed to get possession of the exhibit hall at 10 AM. I arrived at 9:30 just to make sure I was there on time. But we didn’t get into high gear until around 10:30 that morning. As soon as we all got the green light, people started setting up their booths like crazy.
Under candlelight the previous evening, my high-school nephew Sean Hamilton had asked me to take him to the convention center Friday morning so he could help, too. Sean and I did a fair amount of manual labor together early in the morning. At some point I told him "I’m going to visit the vendors who have already set up their booths and see if they need any special help."
Later, I learned that Sean had glommed on to a new vendor at this year’s show, a company called Sophisticated Terror out of Kansas. The fellow who ran the booth is Kale Hamel, and his big prop was a replica of an Easter Island stone god. Later, Sean told me that he had fun helping them set up their booth. The people from Sophisticated Terror told me the same thing, only in appreciative reverse.
Sean seems to be following in his Uncle Rex’s footsteps. I was a theater rat for nearly a decade before I first became involved in haunted attractions. My nephew seems to be attracted to the physical side of the illusion business, just as I was at his age.
After taking Sean home in the early afternoon, I met up with my Scab 5 comrades in the convention center as they arrived from Cleveland. Due to time constraints, we did not have a chance to check out the Bar Of Modern Art (BOMA) location where we would perform that evening. Instead we had a hurried early dinner at the hotel’s food court. Then we five were off to room 638 in the hotel, where the other four had arranged to bunk together that evening.
We were all business in that room that Friday evening as we made ourselves look horrid and strapped on evil-looking costumes. Not long after we began our work, the skies turned ugly shades of gray and a big thunderstorm cluster marched straight towards our western-facing window. The storm hit in the early evening. Strong rainstorms lashed our windows and the cars far down below us. Vehicles creeped along the monsoon streets; traffic signals were blown to and fro; the few pedestrians we saw were at the mercy of the elements.
When the five of us uglies arrived at BOMA at around 7:30 PM, the weather had finally relented. The joint was starting to get warmed up. The night club is housed in an old Baptist church, built of sturdy brick. It has seven different bars in it, plenty of hand-carved wood, stained-glass windows and more than a few elegant staircases to take you and up and down its levels. Plastered all about the walls are the fine art pieces that give the club its claim to fame. BOMA is one of the classiest bars I’ve ever set foot in.
Just after 8:30 PM, we scabs were on the job of visually entertaining the patrons as Robert "Fingers" Frankenberg played his entire CD entitled "Symphonic Sacrifices." True to his nickname, Rob played for at least an hour and I didn’t hear him miss a thing. The venue was a joy to creep around in, dressed in my "Industrial Zargon" getup. (I haven’t worn that costume for many years. It looks great, but what a pain to wear.) Afterwards, many attendees told me how much they enjoyed our part in MHC’s Friday night Club Vampire affair.
I hung around till just past midnight. Plenty of people visited BOMA that evening - convention attendees and local horror fans, alike. As the evening progressed, high-energy horror rap groups took to the indoor stage, much to the crowd’s delight. At the substantial, outdoor cocktail patio, various groups of patrons enjoyed the soft breezes, pleasant temperatures and haunted camaraderie.
 
 
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My other official task was to be the convention’s "Official Ambassador" (that’s what my name badge sported) on Saturday morning at the entrance to the vendor area. The show did not open to the public until 9 AM, but I was there at 7:30 rarin’ to go. Already, there was a small crowd around the registration booth. There was a small coffee vendor right outside the doors, selling specialty blends. On the other side of the registration desks was a larger booth that sold smoothies, fruit and bakery. These two kiosks added to the free continental breakfast that the producers had provided for early attendees; coffee, decaf, hot water, tea bags, fruit and a nice assortment of baked goods. This free meal was placed right in front of the registration desks.
I sat on the door from 8:30 till 9, letting in those who I knew were vendors and politely keeping out those who did not belong. Right at 9, Kathy Schieferstein suddenly asked me to be the proctor for a group of classrooms right around the corner from the main doors. For the next 15 minutes I watched over these three classrooms (whose sessions weren’t scheduled to begin until 9:30) and got to meet the instructors. These classes were for those interested in the Midwest Fantasy Show. At 9:15 the young lady who volunteered to be the proctor arrived, relieving me of my temporary duty. She told me that she thought her call time was 9:30, not 9 A.M.
The four MHC producers split up the overall show duties this way: Kathy Schieferstein is the goddess of the registration desks. She oversees all the stuff about name badges and signing up for classes and are we registered for the costume ball and where can we get something to eat and all sorts of other administrative baloney. Her husband, Barry, is the grand poobah of the vendor area. He signs up vendors, takes care of their special needs, lays out the vendor floor and makes sure everyone who spends good money at MHC has his/her voice heard. Neena Collins takes the Midwest Fantasy Show under her wing. She rounds up the body-art artists and models, puts together the repertoire of classes and a whole lot of other seemingly-little things. Kelly Collins is the event guy. He runs the big party stuff: the all-day Thursday haunt tour, the Friday-night bus tour, the costume ball on Saturday night and the auctions on Sunday morning. Watching them closely, as I have over the years, I don’t know how they could put on anything more complex than they already have.
For the rest of Saturday morning I was doing my normal thing, making attendees feel welcome to both the MHC and the great haunting state of Ohio. I met folks from as far away as Rhode Island, Utah and California. Since those who wish to attend MHC’s vendor room do not have to register nor must they have a name badge, there were quite a number of unknown people who walked by me into the vendor room that sunny morning.
My Scab Five comrades and I met for lunch at the food court on Saturday. Some of them had already taught classes that morning. Others, were due to lead their sessions that afternoon. We talked about what we experienced the night before at Club Vampire, what the day on Saturday had been like so far and what the future holds for us all.
There are so many more items I could tell you about. Here are but a few:
When I arrived at the hotel on Thursday evening, I was wearing a Rotting Flesh Radio t-shirt. Who else should join me on the ride up the elevator but Jonathan himself.
The Monster Make-up War was different because the time period was chopped down to 30 minutes instead of the normal one hour. Next year, the models and audience should be switched 180 degrees so that the sunlight falls upon the models’ faces.
Rich Hanf was the person who made the Frankenberg/Scab 5 event take place.
The 2007 Lord Zargon t-shirt that I donated to Haunters for Hooters fetched 15 bucks. Its real value was around $30. Big deal. Even I haven’t found a way yet to put the victims of breast cancer into dollar terms.
My spies tell me that there were about twice as many vendors at MHC as attended TransWorld in Las Vegas this past March. What an interesting statistic.
I helped Ed Edmunds of Distortions unpack his crate on Friday morning. It was he alone and a single, large plywood crate at MHC in 2008. But I took careful note that his company, the best-known prop vendor we have, decided that 2008 was the year to begin exhibiting at Midwest Haunters Convention. For me, it was a special moment.
Thank you all, members of the haunt universe, for making my visit to MHC in 2008 a time-slice to remember.
 
 
Very truly yours,
 
Rex B. Hamilton