When I was a child the scariest thing on television was Unsolved Mysteries. Each week Robert Stack came into our homes for forty-four minutes to explain murders and rapes in brutal detail with the help of “dramatic reenactments” before letting us know that the person (or persons) responsible were still on the loose. I never felt less safe than during the commercial breaks following an announcement that someone who was removing people’s heads as a hobby could be in my area and that I should “be on the lookout” for the most generic description of a human being imaginable. It was amidst the Crystal Pepsi ads when the dread that had been slathered onto my eyeballs and crammed into my ears could slowly seep into the core of my brain’s fear center. But Stack didn’t just talk about cop killers in a robbery gone wrong or jealous boyfriends jamming screwdrivers into the faces of the women they once loved. Sometimes an episode would change gears and give you a bone chilling tale about a mystical haunting or swamp monster. I remember watching a segment about a family where the mom was psychic and she had a ghost as a best friend. The mom, named Heidi Wyrick, knew the ghost only as Gordy and described him as a kindly, older gentleman. Then, before you knew it, a totally different ghost began startling her in every single hallway the house had. She even verified the identity of both ghosts by looking through old obituaries. Then, one morning, she awoke with scratches on her face and the mystery of those scratches went totally unsolved.
With tales like that, it isn’t difficult to see why the show was so popular. My Aunt Dorothy would put it on like clockwork whenever I was over at her house. I’d spend the day running round pretending that I was Popeye and eating orange slice candy until my little body inevitably gave out and I was forced to recoup my strength in front of the television. So, whenever she flipped over, I was already completely hypnotized by old Warner Brothers’ cartoons or reruns of Knight Rider. Combine that with the fact that I only sat about eleven inches away from the screen and you can begin to imagine the sort of intense physiological stranglehold Unsolved Mysteries had on me. Before the show even opens you get hit with a title card warning you that the following program contains scary and disturbing images that may not be suitable for younger viewers. Other introductions warned you that everything you were about to see is a real account of actual events but that it’s not a news broadcast. Then it warned you, again, that it was scary before the haunted synthesizer warmed up, the logo came on screen, and Stack gave you a rundown on each of the mysteries that would be helping pure fear create the acid necessary to dissolve your stomach lining.
Even the upbeat mysteries would still scare my pants off because they’d start playing that terrifying music. I recall an episode where a mom in Michigan read a passage from the Bible about angels and her daughter simultaneously didn’t fall into the Grand Canyon. While it seems like that shouldn’t have been scary (or even broadcast-worthy), Unsolved Mysteries refused to play anything other than it’s signature nightmare fuel of a theme song as Robert Stack recounted the events in the most ominous voice he could muster. I watched episodes on Bigfoot’s whereabouts, UFO sightings, pirate treasure locations, and even one about Champ (New York’s equivalent of the Loch Ness Monster). Stack was unwavering in his scary professionalism and did nothing to indicate that a story was anything other than totally authentic and plausible. One woman’s hazy account on how she might have seen a Skunk Ape in the woods was presented identically to any number of missing persons cases or serial murders. Due to this consistency in tone, each mystery made me the same amount of terrified.
That is until the show started solving the shit out of mysteries. I’m not one-hundred percent sure what was going on with policing in the late 1980s and early 1990s, but that show helped solve tons of crimes. It also reunited estranged families and even proved Area 51 existed before the government finally acknowledged it. Stack was always encouraging everyone to “help solve a mystery.” However if you had information on a satanic murderer or Nazi war-criminal hiding in your apartment building, your only option was writing it in. Yet, despite this inexpediency, over half of the crimes on the show eventually ended up being solved. What I saw as a weekly opportunity for childhood trepidation and others might have considered a guilty pleasure, ended up being something with the capacity to do good in the world. That wound up being the whole point of the show. Like most things that are scary (black holes, the spooky neighbor from Home Alone, socialized medicine), Unsolved Mysteries was just misunderstood. After I realized that, I didn’t bother being frightened anymore.
This show also scared the absolute bejesus outta me. What really disturbed me was the purposeful Darth Vader-esque voice morphing of witnesses who wished to remain anonymous. Trying to sleep after a particularly heavy ep was a waste of time. Kudos for highlighting Stack’s professionalism; that man could lend gravitas to a hot dog eating competition. Solid post droog.
I don’t think spending more money you don’t have in the middle of a recession is scary… it might not be a good idea, but it’s definitely not scary. And there is always a bright side to all our terrible decisions (we can’t always see them of course, but…). Someone always wins (well, usually).
Also, stack was amazing. That show was terrifying.
We have ‘Crime Watch’ here in the UK which re-enacts crimes and scares the bejesus out of you only for it to end with the phrase: “Don’t have nightmares”!!!
What are we supposed to so???
LOVED THAT SHOW! It led me into a life of Finding Bigfoot, Ghost Hunters, U.F.O. Mysteries and every show of that type. I owe it my life. :-)
It sounds like the show might be responsible for ruining your life then.
I love the idea that the woman clocked the exact moment she read about angels (“10:37! Bible passage time!”) AND that her daughter almost fell in to the Grand Canyon and was sure to immediately note the time (“Oh man that was close! To think I almost fell to my death here, on this day, at 10:37am! I’d have missed out on 10:45 by 8 minutes!).
I was also a little curious on how they kept tabs on every little detail.
WOW! You have a great memory! I remember the show but details like that? No way! As usual you write a very enjoyable post, and the art is incredible :)
This took me back.
The music would come on and I would run like Hell, I still get a twinge of anxiety. Thanks for bringing that back for me. I’m gonna go troll Creepypasta now so I can be sure I get absolutely NO SLEEP tonight. ;)
I think that show came on right before X-Files and Highlander. My mom let me stay up late to watch those shows because she liked the actor who played Duncan McLeod.
Man I miss that Crystal Pepsi
Pingback: More than a Television Show | Bowl of Rice
Hahhaha, hilarious. I just had a vivid image of myself at age 5 sitting — of course — a foot from the TV at my friend’s house and watching “The Witches.” I had nightmares for years about being turned into a mouse and having my tail cut. Very specific. Pretty sure I still have issues. Thanks Roald Dahl.
That man didn’t pull any punches on children… literacy wise anyway. He may have softened any physical blows that a kid might have required in order to “straighten him out.”