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I Visited the Infamous Clown Motel and Lived to Tell the Tale

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While I cannot say that the Clown Motel is filled with murderous clowns, there was definitely something unnerving about it.”

This summer, I decided to embark on a road trip with a close friend from high school. We were going to stop at several locations along the way, but our main destination was also our most bizarre on the itinerary – the Clown Motel of Tonopah, Nevada.

I know what some of you might be thinking – why on earth would you ever want to stay at the Clown Motel? I frankly had not heard of the Clown Motel until a few years ago when I saw an internet meme featuring the infamous location. Now, I have always been fascinated with macabre aesthetics, but I have never really gotten the whole “terrified of clowns” bit. I mean, sure some clowns are freaky and unsettling, like Stephen King’s Pennywise. And those often work as intended. But being scared of the local birthday clown? Rodeo clowns? Homie D. Clown? Never got that and I still don’t.

Yet when I came across this meme, I remember people freaking out over it and I couldn’t help but to find it amusing. Was it really that big of a deal? Could it really be that creepy? If someone stayed there, could their loved ones hope to see them again? After reading up on the Clown Motel here and there over the years, and seeing a hilariously over-the-top episode of Ghost Adventures featuring it a few months ago, my friend and I decided to go see if it lived up to the hype.

The drive was nearly two thousand miles for us. We did and saw a good bit along the way, but I won’t bore you with those details. As we drove into Tonopah, it was what we expected – an old mining town that had remained busy throughout the decades. A small casino resort called the Tonopah Station greeted us as we drove in and it took only a few minutes to reach the other side of the town. As we made the drive through Tonopah, I became excited; in just a few minutes, I would see this Clown Motel that I had been telling family, friends, and colleagues about for months!

And as we reached the edge of town, there it was, in all its semi-dilapidated glory.

As we pulled into the parking lot, I immediately looked over the entire property. There was the motel, as it appeared in pictures, and next to it was the graveyard. Only a few cars were in the parking lot, none of which were near the office, which I suddenly noticed had a “CLOSED” sign on its front door. This immediately created a little anxiety within me – did the motel forget about us or had something occurred to the employee who should have been on shift? I approached the office to see a piece of loose-leaf paper folded and taped to the door with my name written in pencil. I took the piece of paper and opened it – the note explained that the office would reopen at 4:30pm (it was around 3pm when we arrived) and that my key and room number were underneath the mat right in front of me. I looked under the mat and found both key (a metal key at that – something I haven’t seen a motel use since the early 1990s) and room number.

With this discovery, we decided to look around the property a bit before heading to our room. To our right was the cemetery. My friend decided to walk through it, but I stayed back at a distance on the motel’s property. Clowns are one thing, but a cemetery that is supposedly haunted is another. I soon went back to our vehicle to look around a bit more when I finally saw my first sign of life at the motel: a man in his late forties to early fifties walking a large dog in front of the motel’s rooms. Not wanting to be rude, I waved and said hello. While I am sure he saw and heard me, he did not acknowledge me, and continued walking his dog before turning the corner and disappearing. I did not see him again and can only assume that he was staying at the motel.

My friend soon returned from the cemetery and we decided to finally go into our room. A painted clown on the door greeted us as I struggled to unlock the door. The lock finally popped open and we went in. There were two clown paintings hanging directly over our beds, but the best adjective to describe what we initially saw is ‘dated.’ Several appliances were in the room that had to be at least fifteen years old. The furniture was quite old and a musty smell lingered throughout. My friend immediately began searching the room, worried that a clown might pop out at some time (moments before, I had made a comment about the film Vacancy).

I began looking around a bit closer and noticed some things that bothered me. One was a lamp shade that was in tatters. Another were some noticeable dents along the walls. There were what appeared to be numerous scratches on some of the wood furniture. The logical side of my brain told me that this was simply because it was an old motel that probably did not have the funds to renovate.

The other side of my brain, however, started to go wild. Was there really something more to all of this?

After we had unloaded our vehicle, our next course of action was to wait for the office to reopen at 4:30pm. That was where all the clown dolls were kept and we had to see that. In the meantime, we waited in the room, planning our next move. Now, at this point in our trip, we had been away from home for a week. We were both getting homesick and not sure if we wanted to stay the night in the Clown Motel. If we were to leave after seeing the office, we could drive a few hours to another hotel near the Arizona border, giving us a four hour start on our drive back. We had made it to the Clown Motel, saw it with our own eyes, and taken plenty of pictures. The decision was then made not to stay the night, something I still have regrets about.

4:30pm arrived and we went to the Clown Motel’s office. The closed sign had been removed and we entered with no problems. We were immediately overwhelmed with what we saw – it was clearly a motel office but filled with hundreds of clown dolls, some small, some large, others smiling happily, and a few with sadistic grins on their faces. There was even a Ronald McDonald statue. Three men were also present – the youngest, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, sat on a sofa and never said anything the entire time we were there. The other two were much older, with one man keeping quiet behind the register and the other approaching us with a kindly look on his face. This turned out to be the owner, Bob Perchetti, who I can only say positive things about as he was an absolute gentleman.

Mr. Perchetti immediately asked us if we were paranormal investigators, to which we replied in the negative (apparently, according to Mr. Perchetti, the Clown Motel gets numerous amateur and professional paranormal investigators year round). We talked for a bit about various topics and paid for our room before Perchetti finally showed off some of his wares – Clown Motel coffee mugs, red clown noses, t-shirts, etc. The office was also the gift store! Not wanting to leave some of this behind, I purchased a mug and a few noses to bring to friends back home. But what I really wanted was one of the dolls. I asked Perchetti if any of the clowns were for sale and he said no, but then almost immediately reminded himself that he did have some dolls we could buy. The selection was small, but I found one that I immediately liked – a circus clown dressed in blue with its head partially detached. Nicknaming him “Loppy Head,” I knew he had to come home with me and so I happily paid for him.

We said our goodbyes to Mr. Perchetti and the clowns, and left Tonopah soon after. While I cannot say that the Clown Motel is filled with murderous clowns, there was definitely something unnerving about it. I am glad I went and saw it in person, but have no desire to return there, even with the regret I still have for not staying the night. Maybe if I was in the area, but I can’t imagine myself in a situation like that.

Oh, and as for Loppy Head, he has adjusted to his new home fairly well. I have caught him up to mischief a few times, finding him in odd places that a doll shouldn’t be able to get into, or doing things that one wouldn’t expect for something of his size. Our dogs even bark angrily anytime they see him. Time will tell if it was a good idea or not to bring him back as a memento, but for now I am happy he is here.

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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