I remember when my sister Rose took me to see The Creature from the Black Lagoon. It was one of those B-grade horror movies back in the day. Almost everyone in the neighborhood awaited its arrival due to the wide-spread hype.

It was scheduled to be shown at the Gallo Theater located on Claiborne Street in New Orleans, Louisiana. From 1946 until the early 1980s, the Gallo Theater was the city’s premier motion picture theater for African Americans. Sadly, this beloved landmark was demolished in 2007.

But back to my beef with this movie. I was about five years old at the time, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed in all my childhood naivete. Now, I don’t remember if my parents even knew that my sister was taking me to see a horror movie. Looking back, I find it odd that they would allow me to be subjected to such a frightening experience at my young tender age. Come to think of it, I think it was some kind of child abuse in its purest form when Rose took me to that horror movie.

I remember leaving home with Rose and walking the six blocks to the movie theater. It was a hot, muggy Saturday morning. The sun’s brutal heat had me sweating by the time we got there. I wasn’t in the mood for a movie. I really wanted to stay home and play with my toys or sit on the front porch and browse through my coloring books. Yet for some reason, my mama put Rose in charge of me that day, unfortunately to my detriment.

When we arrived at the theater, I wasn’t surprised by the long line of excited kids and unemotional adults waiting to get in. After Rose got in line to pay for our tickets, she hustled me through the double doors at the entrance. Then she took me by the hand and led me to the concession stand, where she bought each of us a cold drink and a large box of buttered popcorn that we shared.

We went through another set of double doors that led to the inside of the theater, which was almost pitch black. I had to adjust my eyes to the darkness because it was a far cry from the blinding sunlight I had left behind outside.

But I welcomed the coolness of the air conditioning that spread throughout the theater. Then Rose quickly led me to our seats in the middle of a row where we had a good view of the gigantic screen. I noticed that several adults and children of all ages filled the theater. The air buzzed with their excitement about what was to come.

Right after the cartoons and news updates flickered across the screen, we all stood up for the National Anthem. Then, the movie started.

A hush fell over the audience. The haunting, somber music so typical of horror movies back then blasted from the huge speakers on each side of the stage. The music was so loud and its bass so intense that it shook my bony little butt to the core. I felt my seat shake as if an earthquake had occurred. But I knew that there were no earthquakes in New Orleans, Louisiana. I only had to deal with hurricanes, and they were not in season.

At that moment, I realized that I wasn’t going to see a Bugs Bunny cartoon. I knew that something terrible was about to pop up on that big screen. Little did I know how much that movie would shape and scar me for the rest of my life.

I got through most of the black and white film without screaming. Yet there were a few moments when I buried my head in my sister’s lap. She just laughed at me being so scared and skittish.

But when it came to the scene where a vigilante group had tracked down the Creature in a secluded lagoon, I was on the edge of my seat and beside myself with fear. My eyes were glued to that screen. I felt like I was right there with the mob as they waited for the Creature to emerge from the dark, murky water. Torches, pitchforks, and other weapons were at the ready. I wanted to get some licks in too. I wanted a big stick to help them kill it.

Suddenly, something appeared in the dark, murky water. It was the top of the creature’s head. As more and more of its body emerged, I cringed and eventually screamed as that lizard-like beast slowly came out of the water.

The Creature from the Black Lagoon was a traumatic sight for my five-year-old eyes to see. Its scaly head with jagged gills, its muscular body, ts claws from which sprouted long talons, its webbed feet all terrified me to no end.

My eyes were glued to the screen when I saw its thick fish-like lips move, but it did not speak. Its deep-set fish-like eyes penetrated right through me, causing me to freeze in my seat. I tried to scream again, but couldn’t because my sister Rose had one hand clamped over my mouth and the other at the back of my head. She was laughing because nothing on that screen scared her. She was fearless as I hoped to be when I grew up.

So all I could do was to close my eyes as tight as I could as I listened to the ominous music and shouting from the vigilantes, all of which told me that I didn’t want to see any more of this movie. I was able to keep my eyes closed even after Rose removed her hand from my mouth. When I opened my eyes again, the credits were rolling. Unfortunately, I never got to see if the vigilantes had killed the Creature from the Black Lagoon. It was still alive to roam the halls in my mind for years to come.

I didn’t talk to Rose at all on our walk back home. I couldn’t even eat when we got home. I couldn’t do anything because I was so traumatized by that Creature.

Unfortunately, Rose and I slept in the same big double bed. My blue Schwinn bicycle, which my dad had recently bought for me, was next to me between the bed and the wall. I remember being so restless that night. And as for Rose, she was asleep within minutes of jumping in the bed, snoring like a bear in the woods. I was angry that she slept like a log. Nothing bothered her. Not even that ugly Creature from the Black Lagoon..

Somehow I finally dozed off, but thoughts of the creature from the Black Lagoon kept running through my head. I remember dreaming that I was running through a thick jungle with the Creature on my heels. It chased me to a swamp. I fell down in the muddy marsh. I was filthy, but I got back up and started running again. After stumbling and falling a second time, I looked up and saw the Creature’s webbed clawed hand reach towards my face. I started swinging my arms and kicking my legs to get it off of me. Suddenly, I felt myself rolling over.

Seconds later, BAM! I fell out of bed and hit the floor like a bag of rocks ! I cried, “OOUUCH,” because I hit my head on my bike pedal. My loud fall woke Rose up. I heard my mom call to me from her bedroom next to ours, “What’s going on in there. Are you ok? I didn’t answer. Neither did Rose. But I could hear Rose giggling as I crawled back into bed and tried to settle down to get some sleep. It took months before I could sleep soundly again. But, somehow, I buried the trauma of the Creature from the Black Lagoon deep within me.

Over the years, I’ve remained fascinated by the impact this movie had on me as a child. I did some research and found out that the actor in that wet suit was James Arness, the one and only Marshall Dillon. I loved him in Gunsmoke but, I still couldn’t get over the damage Marshall Dillon did to me as a child by scaring me half to death in that ugly, fishy scaly wet suit.

Years ago, when I was at an Army school at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, I thought I would try some self-therapy to help me deal with the childhood trauma from this movie. I went to a Blockbuster video store in downtown Sierra Vista to get some movies for the weekend. Curious, I was brave enough to wander over to the horror section to see if this “Creature” video was available. Unfortunately, it was.

It took a lot of guts for me to even pick up the VHS tape. The picture on the front of the VHS tape showed the Creature as being green. This scary photo brought it more to life in my mind. But, I thought that as an adult, I could watch this movie to the end. I thought I could get over the fear of this Creature, which had dogged me all these years. Besides, I felt safe. I was a noncommissioned officer in the United States Army. I’d been trained to kill people, dammit. I could beat this!

My friends were close by in their rooms. Plus it was broad daylight, which would surely keep any monster at bay. From my childhood fantasies, I knew that monsters only came out at night.

So I turned on the tape recorder, put in the tape, and pressed play. When the movie started with that horrible music, I felt a little uncomfortable, but I swore to myself that I’d to stick it out until the end.

When the scene came where the creature emerges from the swamp, I was riveted. All the fear I had as a child of the monster in that movie came flooding back. I ran to the tape recorder, hit the eject button and grabbed the VHS tape as the machine spat it out. Then I hauled ass back to Blockbuster to return the movie. After I ran through the door of the store, the clerk looked at me funny and said, “Ma’am, are you okay?” I glared at him and yelled, “No! I’m not OK! I want my money back!”

On my drive back to post, I said to myself, “After all, it was just James Arness in that wetsuit, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? When no one answered, that when I decided that I might need professional therapy after all.

I was about five years old at the time, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed in all my childhood naivete. Now, I don’t know if my parents even knew that this was a horror movie my sister was taking me to see. Looking back, I find it odd that they would allow me to be subjected to such a frightening experience at my young tender age. Come to think of it, I believe Rose taking me to this horror movie amounted to some type of child abuse in its purest form.

I remember leaving home with Rose and walking the six blocks to the theater. It was a hot, muggy Saturday morning. The sun’s brutal heat had me sweating by the time we arrived. I wasn’t in the mood for a movie. I really wanted to stay home and play with my toys or sit on the front porch and browse through my coloring books. Yet for some reason, my mama put Rose in charge of me that day, sadly to my detriment.

When we arrived at the theater, I wasn’t surprised by the long line of excited kids and unemotional adults waiting to get in. After Rose got in line to pay for our tickets, she hustled me through the double doors at the entrance. Then she took me by the hand and led me to the concession stand, where she bought each of us a cold drink and a large box of buttered popcorn that we shared.

We went through another set of double doors that led to the inside of the theater, which was almost pitch black. I had to adjust my eyes to the darkness because it was a far cry from the blinding sunlight I had left behind outside.

But I welcomed the coolness of the air conditioning that spread throughout the theater. Then Rose quickly led me to our seats in the middle of a row where we had a good view of the gigantic screen. I noticed that several adults and children of all ages filled the theater. The air buzzed with their excitement of what was to come.

Right after the cartoons and news updates flickered across the screen, we all stood up for the National Anthem. Then, the movie started.

A hush fell over the audience. The haunting, somber music so typical of horror movies back then blasted from the huge speakers on each side of the stage. The music was so loud and its bass so intense that it shook my bony little butt to the core. I felt my seat shake as if an earthquake had occurred.

But I knew that there were no earthquakes in New Orleans, Louisiana. I only had to deal with hurricanes, and they were not in season. At that moment, I realized that I wasn’t going to see a Bugs Bunny cartoon. I knew that something terrible was about to pop up on that big screen. Little did I know how much that movie would shape and scar me for the rest of my life.

I got through most of the black and white film without screaming. Yet there were a few moments when I buried my head in my sister’s lap. She just laughed at me being so scared and skittish.

But when it came to the scene where a vigilante group had tracked down the Creature in a secluded lagoon, I was on the edge of my seat and beside myself with fear. My eyes were glued to that screen. I felt like I was right there with the mob as they waited for the Creature to emerge from the dark, murky water. Torches, pitchforks, and other weapons were at the ready. I wanted to get some licks in too. I wanted to help them kill it.

Suddenly, something appeared in the dark, murky water. It was the top of the creature’s head. As more and more of its body emerged, I cringed and eventually screamed as that lizard-like beast slowly came out of the water.

The Creature from the Black Lagoon was a traumatic sight for my five-year-old eyes to behold: Its scaly head with jagged gills. Its muscular body. Its claws from which sprouted long talons. Its webbed feet.

My eyes were glued to the screen when I saw its thick fish-like lips move, but it did not speak. Its deep-set fish-like eyes penetrated right through me, causing me to freeze in my seat. I tried to scream again, but couldn’t because my sister Rose had one hand clamped over my mouth and the other at the back of my head. She was laughing because nothing on that screen scared her. She was fearless as I hoped to be when I grew up.

So all I could do was to close my eyes as tight as I could as I listened to the ominous music and shouting from the vigilantes, all of which told me that I didn’t want to see any more of this movie. I was able to keep my eyes closed even after Rose removed her hand from my face. When I opened my eyes again, the credits were rolling. Unfortunately, I never got to see if the vigilantes had killed the Creature from the Black Lagoon. It was still alive to roam the halls in my mind for years to come.

I didn’t talk to Rose at all on our walk back home. I couldn’t even eat when we got home. I couldn’t do anything because I was so traumatized by that Creature.

Unfortunately, Rose and I slept in the same big double bed. My blue Schwinn bicycle, which my dad had recently bought for me, was next to me between the bed and the wall. I remember being so restless that night. And as for Rose, she was asleep within minutes of jumping in the bed, snoring like a bear in the woods. I was angry that she slept like a log. Nothing bothered her. Not even that ugly Creature from the Black Lagoon..

Somehow I finally dozed off, but thoughts of the creature from the Black Lagoon kept running through my head. I remember dreaming that I was running through a thick jungle with the Creature on my heels. It chased me to a swamp. I fell down in the muddy marsh. I was filthy, but I got back up and started running again. After stumbling and falling a second time, I looked up and saw the Creature’s webbed clawed hand reach towards my face. I started swinging my arms and kicking my legs to get it off of me. Suddenly, I felt myself rolling over.

Seconds later, BAM! I fell out of bed and hit the floor like a bag of rocks ! I cried, “OUCH,” because I hit my head on my bike pedal. My loud fall woke Rose up. I heard my mom call to me from her bedroom next to ours, “What’s going on in there. Are you ok? I didn’t answer. Neither did Rose. But I could hear Rose giggling as I crawled back into bed and tried to settle down to get some sleep. It took months before I could sleep soundly again. But, somehow, I buried the trauma of the Creature from the Black Lagoon deep within me.

Over the years, I’ve remained fascinated by the impact this movie had on me as a child. I did some research and found out that the actor in that wet suit was James Arness, the one and only Marshall Dillon. I loved him in Gunsmoke but, I still couldn’t get over the damage Marshall Dillon did to me as a child by scaring me half to death in that ugly, fishy scaly wet suit

Years ago, when I was at an Army school at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, I thought I would try some self-therapy to help me deal with the childhood trauma from this movie. I went to a Blockbuster video store in downtown Sierra Vista to get some movies for the weekend. Curious, I was brave enough to wander over to the horror section to see if this “Creature” video was available. Unfortunately, it was.

It took a lot of guts for me to even pick up the VHS tape. The picture on the front of the VHS tape showed the Creature as being green. This scary photo brought it more to life in my mind. But, I thought that as an adult, I could watch this movie to the end. I thought I could get over the fear of this Creature, which had dogged me all these years. Besides, I felt safe. I was a noncommissioned officer in the United States Army. I’d been trained to kill people, dammit. I could beat this!

My friends were close by in their rooms. Plus, it was broad daylight, which would surely keep any monster at bay. From my childhood fantasies, I knew that monsters only came out at night.

So I turned on the tape recorder, put in the tape, and pressed play. When the movie started with that horrible music, I felt a little uncomfortable, but I swore to myself that I’d to stick it out until the end.

When the scene came where the creature emerges from the swamp, I was riveted. All the fear I had as a child of the monster in that movie came flooding back. I ran to the tape recorder, hit the eject button and grabbed the VHS tape as the machine spat it out. Then I hauled ass back to Blockbuster to return the movie. After I ran through the door of the store, the clerk looked at me funny and said, “Ma’am, are you okay?” I glared at him and yelled, “No! I’m not OK! I want my money back!”

On my drive back to post, I said to myself, “After all, it was just James Arness in that wetsuit, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? When no one answered, that was when I decided that I might need professional therapy after all.