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Bobby "Boris" Pickett's love for horror stemmed from his childhood, where his father managed a movie theater, allowing him to watch classic Universal monster films. These influences, combined with his appreciation for William Castle’s theatrical horror gimmicks, shaped his later career blending spooky themes with humor. Pickett didn’t start as a musician—after serving in the U.S. Army Signal Corps in Korea, he first gained experience singing doo-wop on the ship home. However, his initial focus was comedy, performing a stand-up act spoofing horror movie stars, which he borrowed from another comedian. Winning local talent contests, he eventually left Massachusetts for Hollywood to pursue acting. While in Hollywood, Pickett reconnected with fellow Somerville natives Lenny and Billy Capizzi, joining their singing group, The Cordials. They performed in LA hotspots like Alvo Turno’s and the parking lot of Ben Frank’s, a famous hippie hangout. One night, while singing Little Darlin', Pickett jokingly inserted his Boris Karloff impression—an audience favorite that would later inspire Monster Mash.

Bobby "Boris" Pickett's journey toward creating Monster Mash started with a quirky idea during one of his band's performances. He added a Boris Karloff impression in the middle of a song, which instantly captivated the crowd. His bandmate, Lenny, suggested they record something like The Flying Purple People Eater—a big novelty hit at the time. Pickett’s delivery was so unique that it gave the band the push to consider recording their own version of a spooky, fun track. In another version of the story, after Pickett performed the Karloff bit at a beach gig, a girl approached him and mentioned that her “old man” was a record producer. She connected him to Gary S. Paxton, the man behind hits like Alley Oop and one of the producers who helped launch Monster Mash. Paxton’s background was just as wild as his reputation. Known for his eccentricities, Paxton was an unpredictable figure in the LA music scene, infamous for his antics, including an outrageous protest parade with an elephant to promote one of his songs. Paxton, despite his unconventional style, had a thing for crafting hits and getting attention for the music he worked on. His involvement with Monster Mash helped turn the novelty song into a hit. Paxton’s chaotic personality, eccentric stunts, and talent for creating buzz made him the perfect person to bring Monster Mash to life.

Gary S. Paxton's life was as wild and unpredictable as his career. At one point, he sported a large Mennonite beard and a stovepipe hat, further adding to his eccentric persona. Paxton won a Grammy in 1980 for Best Inspirational Album, but his life took some very dramatic turns. In 1980, he was shot five times by men hired by a country star he was producing, allegedly due to contract issues. The attack sidelined him for eight years, and he carried two bullets in his body for the rest of his life. Despite this, he forgave the men personally in jail, showing his complex nature. In the mid-80s, Paxton got caught in the whirlwind of the Baker family scandal, which ended his career in gospel music. After this, he moved to Branson, Missouri, where he began performing in a mask and cape under the name "Grandpa Rock." He died in 2016, having written an estimated 2,000 songs, including titles like Jesus is My Lawyer in Heaven and When I Die, Just Bury Me at Walmart So My Wife Will Come Visit Me—just a glimpse of his offbeat sense of humor and creative energy. Around the same time, Bobby Pickett briefly left his band, The Cordials, to try acting, but after his agent passed away of a heart attack just two weeks later, he took it as a sign and rejoined the band. It was then that Pickett revisited the novelty song concept, eventually leading to the creation of Monster Mash.The monster craze that Pickett tapped into was already well underway by the early 1960s. The 1950s had seen a surge in horror films thanks to reissues and TV broadcasts, with shows like Vampira—a TV character inspired by Morticia Addams—who hosted old horror films. These shows were an affordable option for TV stations, and many followed suit with their own horror-host programs. At the same time, magazines like Famous Monsters of Filmland were becoming popular, feeding into the cultural appetite for horror. The atomic age monster movies, such as The Day the Earth Stood Still and Invasion of the Body Snatchers, were huge hits, adding to the genre's popularity. By the late 1950s, novelty songs like Dinner with Drac by John Zacherley (which reached No. 6 on the Billboard charts in 1958) began to take off. These songs tied into the larger horror and monster themes of the era, eventually paving the way for Pickett’s Monster Mash. However, the tone of horror shifted in the 1960s. With films like Psycho and Peeping Tom, horror became darker and more psychologically intense. Directors like John Carpenter and Wes Craven led the next wave, introducing more explicit and violent content. The grindhouse era and exploitation films took horror in a new direction, making it more explicit and less family-friendly, distancing itself from the popcorn entertainment of earlier decades.

In the late 70s, the horror genre really took a dark turn. Films like Last House on the Left, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Halloween were major turning points. Halloween in particular had a huge influence on Sean Cunningham, who was making adult films at the time. Inspired by the slasher flick, he went on to direct Friday the 13th, which launched the slasher craze of the 80s. During this same time, the UK saw the rise of Video Nasties, a list of banned horror films that only added to the genre's notoriety. As the 70s transitioned into the 80s, the horror genre became increasingly graphic, with practical effects reaching new levels of gruesomeness. A key figure in this era was Tom Savini, a special effects artist who had served in Vietnam. His experiences in the war deeply influenced his work in horror, with many of his gory creations drawing from the horrors he witnessed during his time in Vietnam. This period marked a shift toward more explicit and disturbing content in horror, paving the way for the iconic slasher films of the 80s.Back to Monster Mash—by 1962, the stage was set for a novelty song with a spooky theme. Pickett recalls the writing process for the song, remembering how his bandmate Lenny Capese, a major horror movie fan, played around with chord progressions on the piano. Pickett had a thing for imitating Boris Karloff's voice (though he humbly describes it as a cartoonish rendition), and after some brainstorming, they hit upon the idea of a monster-themed dance. They briefly toyed with calling it the "monster mashed potato" but shortened it to simply Monster Mash. In just a few hours, they had a demo ready, which they took to producer Gary Paxton. Paxton's enthusiastic response led to the creation of a hit.The Monster Mash concept was influenced by the craze of dance songs in the early 60s, such as Dee Dee Sharp’s Mashed Potato Time, which hit number one on the R&B charts in 1962. In fact, the mashed potato dance had roots in James Brown's live shows, where he introduced variations like "Do the Mashed Potatoes." Some of the popular songs of the time, like Mashed Potato Time, shared similarities with earlier hits, such as Please Mr. Postman by the Marvelettes, which was reworked to sound fresh and new. It was all part of the music industry's strategy of capitalizing on trends—like the twist dance craze—and reissuing songs with updated spins to fit the moment.

By the time Bobby Pickett, Gary Paxton, and Lenny Capese were ready to record Monster Mash, the song’s origins were already deeply tied to the pop culture of the moment. Pickett’s memory of the session involved not only his own band but also huge names like Herb Alpert, Jimmy Rogers, and Darlene Love. The idea that Monster Mash was recorded the same day as Alpert’s Lonely Bull and Rogers’s Honeycomb is a fun tidbit, but it gets even more complicated with conflicting stories about where the recording actually took place. Darlene Love, a legendary figure in early 60s pop and Phil Spector’s go-to vocalist, claims that the recording happened at Gold Star Studios, which she would know well. But Pickett remembers a different location. It seems like there’s a lot of uncertainty surrounding the exact details of the recording process, but one thing's for sure: it came together with a mix of talent from some of the most influential people in pop music.The Monster Mash session itself was a lively, collaborative process. After the backing tracks were recorded, the vocalists came in to work with Pickett. The interaction between him and the backup singers—especially with Pickett singing his lines and having them answer him—added a fun, live energy to the track, almost like a mini performance. It’s easy to picture the scene, with Pickett having fun with his lines and the backup singers adding their flavor. As for the band, Monster Mash credited a group called the Crypt Kickers, made up of Gary Paxton, Johnny "Dog" McCrae, backup singers like the Blossoms, and session singer Ricky Page. There's also some confusion about who played what, with Leon Russell sometimes credited on the song but Pickett clarifying that Russell only played on the B-side. With names like these involved, it's no surprise that the song became a pop culture phenomenon. And then, of course, there's the odd detail of Ricky Page singing the "Ooh, tennis shoe, wah ooh" line in the bridge, which Pickett himself admitted he didn’t know why it was included.

While he lived in the shadow of Monster Mash for most of his career, the song became both a blessing and a curse. It provided him with financial stability but also trapped him in a persona he didn’t always embrace. His personal life was marked by loss, including the tragic drowning of his son and the untimely deaths of friends and collaborators, like Lenny Capizzi. Yet, the final chapters of Pickett's life show a surprising turn toward redemption and family. One of the most incredible parts of his story is the late-in-life discovery of a daughter. After some searching, he connected with a woman named Nancy Hoos in 1997, just before Halloween, and they quickly became close. Nancy, who had grown up hearing Monster Mash, recalled the moment with warmth, saying her kids were thrilled to discover their grandfather was the man behind the iconic Halloween song. This reunion brought Pickett great joy, and he embraced his newfound family wholeheartedly, spending holidays with his daughter and grandchildren. Even in his final years, Pickett maintained his signature wit and commitment to the Monster Mash persona, joking about his condition during his battle with leukemia. He continued performing up until the very end, displaying a dedication to his craft that defined his entire career. After his passing in 2007, his daughter Nancy had a diamond made from his cremated remains, a final tribute that gained media attention in true Bobby Boris Pickett fashion. His story, a strange and beautiful reflection of persistence, loss, and the odd ways fame works, perfectly aligns with the spirit of Halloween.