Got a kick talking to retired magician Harry Wise last week.

You can read about Harry’s 1964 Schenectady appearance at the State Theater in today’s “Back in Time” piece — part of The Gazette’s history page. It’s available in print and online.

Here’s a quick summary: Harry was the star of “Dr. Jekyl and the Weird Show,” a program designed to entertain kids and teenagers during the 1960s. The “Weird Show” played theaters all over the country, and summer was prime time. Kids were out of school, and a diversion with the deceased was a great way to spend an afternoon.
There were both corny and comic elements. Guys in monster suits would run off with a “terrified” young girl who was in on the gag. Snakes would “escape” into the audience, and luminous spooks would show up near the end of the show. All these special effects were accompanied by timely power failures — the lights would go out and pandemonium would follow.

Harry seemed especially proud of the big finish. He would warn the crowd an encounter with an “ectoplasmic manifestation” was imminent. This was a specially painted luminous “ghost,” who had been spending hours off stage soaking up light from high-powered lights. In the darkness, the ghost — and Harry’s giant spider, skulls, flying bats and other luminous shockers — amped up the fear factor.
“We emptied a lot of houses,” Harry said.
Filled some, too.
“We did fabulous business,” Harry said of his show in Schenectady, which took place July 21. “We packed the house. I’ve got a photo taken in front of the theater; that’s how I remember it so well.”

These shows, which also included a horror movie, must have been a blast. The newspaper advertisements were particularly fun: “From the nut house, that crazy mixed-up Dr. Jekyl and his Weird Show,” the copy read.
The ad promised patrons a week of nightmares. “Of ‘corpse,’ it’s all in fun,” read another line. “But to play safe ... ambulances and nurses on call at all times.”
Forgot to ask Harry about that last one — seems like Dr. Jekyl might have had to lay out real dough for real medical personnel. But ... if your heart can stand it ... you can see a 1964-era ad for Harry’s performance and a photo of old Harry himself by clicking HERE and HERE.

I was surprised Harry, now 73 and retired in Sanford, Fla., had such great memories of his years on the road. When I telephoned the magician last Wednesday and mentioned I was a reporter for Schenectady’s Daily Gazette, he immediately knew he had visited the city in ‘64 and played the State Theater.
“I can tell you the names of most theaters I’ve played,” Harry told me. “I can’t remember all the managers’ names. I wish I could.”

In Schenectady, matinee shows were held at 1:30 and 3 p.m. Curtains for night shows rose at 7:30 and 9 p.m.
Harry remembers meeting with John Maddaus, the Gazette reporter who wrote our original feature on the “Weird Show” that appeared in the July 22 newspaper.
“I forgot the name of the hotel where I was staying,” Harry said. “But I was up at 4 o’clock in the morning and bought 50 copies of that story. I mailed it to everyone I knew in show business.”

After that, it was another town, another bunch of shows. I was only 9 during the summer of ’64, and while Harry might have played the old RKO or Riviera in my hometown of Rochester, I doubt my parents would have permitted participation in the “Weird Show.” They’d have suggested Disney fare instead.
I’ve missed my chance — Harry doesn’t expect ghost shows will ever make a comeback. Live shows were on the way out when he was scaring teens during the 1960s. And many old theaters have been demolished or renovated for other uses — like the RKO and Riviera. Smaller cineplex theaters are too small for spook shows.
“I don’t know how you could [have one],” Harry said. “They have a screen on one end and a projector on the other.”
There would be no room for stage hands to change into “monster” outfits, no room for lamps to charge up luminous effects. In many of the “box” theaters — as Harry describes them — there’s not even a stage.

He’s happy enough in retirement. And happy enough to describe himself as one of America’s last “ghostmasters.”