THE BLACK LAGOON WHAT??

The Black Lagoon Bugle. What is it, or was it?  Why has it been cited in academic papers and film magazines as a resource?  How come nobody has ever heard of it and its biggest fans include John Landis, Joe Dante, Mick Garris, Frank Darabont, and other luminaries?  What made Joe Bob Briggs enthusiastically endorse it?  In what ways did this obscure, low-tech, private-circulation fanzine become a collector's item, all of a sudden?

Once upon a time in a world very far away from the here and now — that is, the pre-internet, pre-DVD existence when people had heard of e-mail but nearly no one you knew actually used it — a goofy little newsletter was born of obsession and necessity.

The obsession: the amphibious denizen of a now-classic 1954 black-and-white 3 -D movie, the creation that critic Kim Newman has rightly called "the Elvis of classic monsters," variously known as the Man-Fish, the Gill-Man, and the Big Green Guy:  The Creature from the Black Lagoon.  When most people say "creature" (small c), everyone generally knows they mean the Creature (capital c) … in short, nearly everybody's favorite monster.  Even people who have never seen the films know who the Creature is.  Along with Godzilla (who shares his scaly, reptilian demeanor), the Creature represents the bridge between the classic "famous monsters" and the 1950s rash of science-fictional monster movie retrofits.  Or, put another way, the Creature links the old school (horror films up through World War Two) to the new (the atomic mutations and big bugs of the Fifties) by being one of the first films to be called a "science fiction horror movie."  More importantly, the Creature provided the impetus for nearly every monster suit that followed in his considerably influential wake, providing a chain of title that means all those Aliens and Predators must count the Creature as an ancestor.

When viewed together, the original Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954) and its immediate sequel, Revenge of the Creature (1955), quite obviously exploit the plot-plan of another classic, 1933's immortal King Kong.  Like Kong, the Creature is one of the few "vintage" monsters who seems to have sprung from purely cinematic, rather than literary roots, unlike Dracula or Frankenstein's beleagured Monster.

But, necessity? Did the Creature really need a newsletter?  Did he even actually want one?

For collectors, Creature memorabilia outstrips the desirability of many competitors.  No one knows why.  But when one collects, one sees stranger and more obscure bits and pieces — and one feels the urge to share the information.  At the same time, by the early 1990s, many so-called monster magazines were flagging, failing, or morphing into new and less interesting forms.  There was very little of the tree-house clubbiness of Famous Monsters to be found in glossier products, which tended to emulate industry trade papers or high-end celebrity gossip rags.

So, as a hobby, as an indulgence, as a cut-and-paste home-made craft, The Black Lagoon Bugle was born on Hallowe'en, 1991, as a one-shot, one-pager for a microscopic audience who would probably find it amusing or diverting, in a greeting-card way …

… except that they didn't see it as a cute folly.  They wanted more.

The very first masthead for the first Bugle was pulled off an illustration done on the outside of a mailing envelope by Tucson cartoonist Wolf Forrest.  Within a mere bunch of months, actual professional artists, guys with pedigree and genre credibility, began to check in, ravenously responding to the Bugle as an outlet for Creature doings.  The Bugle wasn't even aware its attraction was so strong.  But thirsty acolytes surged forth like hungry zombies:  Bernie Wrightson.  Dave Cockrum.  Steve Bissette.  Gahan Wilson.  And premiere illustrator Vincent Di Fate, who whomped up a brand-new version of the masthead, for free, without a crumb of prompting.  He thought it up and did it all on his own.  It first appeared on #5 in 1992, the first "legal-sized" issue, and remained for the balance of the publication's run.

And bango — the Bugle was obligated to keep on swimming.

(Plus, it proved to be a great place to recycle several Fangoria columns also written about the Big Green Guy.  Plus, even a short story or two.)

It wasn't enough for people on the ever-increasing mailing list to indulge the mere passivity of reading about the L.A. subway system's Creature tiles, or see muddy, Xeroxed repros of rare or notable collectibles like the Doritos stickers or "monster money" that came out in '91.  Nope — they all started sending stuff.  Cartoons, letters, clippings, contributions galore.

Rare pictures, sometimes.

Enough to kick the production onto legal-sized pages (from normal stationary size), and enough more, eventually, to multi-page issues.

That happened right after Jack Arnold, director of the first two films, died in March of 1992.  The Bugle thought a eulogy was in order, and thus commenced the bitter duty of providing as much information as possible on the passing of other notable people in the Creature canon.  The Bugle eventually became notorious, if not famous, for its obituaries — particularly the one on Whit Bissell, in 1996.

But the Bugle, above all, remained oddly fun.  It was fun to cut and paste it up the "old-fashioned" way, and even more fun to hear from people who thought it was terrific fun to find a new issue in their mailbox.

Then Joe Bob Briggs plugged it in his own newsletter The Joe Bob Report (formerly We Are The Weird), in 1993, shortly after the Bugle ran pictures of Creature star Ben Chapman reading … well, you know.

Ricou Browning, the Creature himself, wrote to request back issues.

Vincent Di Fate quoted the Bugle in his doctoral thesis.

Ultimate Monster Collector Bob Burns called to say, "come on over and shoot some pictures, why doncha?"

Creature Connoisseur Bill Malone (who portrayed the Gillman himself in Bob Burns' 1982 Hallowe'en show) said, "I've got a few, you know, photographs."

F. Paul Wilson, author of The Keep, mailed in an incredibly rare Creature flip-book.

The Bugle pissed off Astounding B-Monster mastermind Marty Baumann with its "Bogus Controversy Obliteration Issue" … but we're all pals now.

KNB EFX Group founder Greg Nicotero made a habit of getting something in virtually every issue.  Ditto Tom Weaver, who permitted the strip-mining of assorted interviews he had done with many of the film principals.  Taylor White, founder of the world-famous Creature Features emporium in Burbank, actually stocked the Bugle in his store!

And before the Bugle realized it, other obligations being what they are, practically the whole of a decade had rolled by … somehow … and abruptly readers were asking about an online version.  This was prevented by the exigencies of copyright, and the concerted efforts of Creature fans all over the world to inaugurate sites featuring crystal-clear photos, animation, music, links and a cornucopia of images and opinions, free to everybody, with which the Bugle had no hope to compete, especially when it came to being timely.

The Black Lagoon Bugle was officially retired (after thanking all of its stalwarts and supporters) in 1999, with issue #22.

But, just like the most indomitable monsters, it's baaa-ack.  Sort of. Issue #23, a Chiller Theatre special commemorating the attendance of Julie Adams at the Spring 2003 show, has somehow risen from the murky depths of fanzine obscurity for one final roar … proving that old monsters never die.  They just lie in wait for a really good, scary opportunity.

— DJS