Classic Horror Behind the Scenes: “Frankenstrange” (Part 1)

In Part 1, we learn some interesting things about Glenn Strange and his experiences playing The Monster in HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN and HOUSE OF DRACULA.

By Bill Fleck, author of the Rondo-nominated CHANEY’S BABY, available here.

Thursday, April 20, 1944. A soundstage at Universal Studios.

Actor Glenn Strange, 44, is belting out a verse of “Happy Birthday to You” and downing a huge piece of birthday cake.

The occasion? A surprise nineteenth birthday party for his co-star Elena Verdugo, who is playing a tragic gypsy girl named Ilonka in a film originally called THE DEVIL’S BROOD.

It will be released on December 15 as HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN.

The party is the brainchild of Boris Karloff, Lon Chaney, Jr., and J. Carrol Naish. Chaney is playing The Wolf Man for the third time, while Naish is portraying a sympathetic but murderous hunchback named Daniel.

And Karloff? Though he’d originated the part of Frankenstein’s creation in James Whale’s 1931 classic FRANKENSTEIN, he has sworn off the role since. So, in THE DEVIL’S BROOD, he’s playing a mad scientist instead.

“You other guys can have that paint and goo and fangs,” he says within earshot of columnist Virginia MacPherson one day on the set. “All I have to do is stick on a beard, get an evil glint in my eye, and I’m ready to cut you all up.”

And so, it has fallen to the actor born as George Glenn Strange—or Glenn George Strange?—to brave Jack Pierce’s makeup chair four hours a day to be transformed into the famous monster.

In fact, Strange is in the full Monster costume now—standing at least 6’8” and weighing upwards of 230 pounds [1], his head capped flat and bolts attached to his neck—singing “Happy Birthday” in ringing tones, clearly enjoying the cake and the company…a situation the LOS ANGELES EVENING CITIZEN NEWS describes as, “Sheer incongruity.”

[Above: J.Carrol Naish, Glenn Strange, Elena Verdugo, Lon Chaney Jr., and Boris Karloff celebrate Elena’s 19th birthday on the set of THE DEVIL’S BROOD…later retitled HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN.]

Well, for Strange, the singing isn’t incongruous. He’s actually a great singer, fiddle player, and songwriter. In fact, several of his songs have been performed in feature films. [2] And he himself once paid the bills as a singing cowboy.

But becoming the Frankenstein Monster? And working with the guy who got famous in the role?

Yeah, that’s a little weird.

[Above: Glenn Strange in HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1944) with Boris Karloff. Karloff coached Strange after hours in the role, for which Strange—who wanted to do the Monster justice—was eternally grateful.]

ONE OF THE MOST LOVED GUYS IN THE BUSINESS

According to famed memorabilia collector Bob Burns—who has often said that Strange was closer to him than a father—the actor was “one of the most loved guys in the business.”

Actor Dick Foran (1940’s THE MUMMY’S HAND) concurred, telling Burns at Strange’s funeral, “He was one of the best human beings on the face of this good earth.”

“His reputation was that of a genuine nice guy who loved music and cooking,” summarizes Chuck Anderson at THE OLD CORRAL.

So, what might actually be incongruous to those who know Strange best is when the press refers to him as “the meanest man in the world.”

This, of course, has to do with his film roles.

PEE WEE

The best available information has him born on August 16, 1899 as either Glenn George or George Glenn to Sarah and William Strange. He always said he was born in Weed, New Mexico. But Anderson—who’s done the heavy lifting on primary source research—asserts that he may have been born in Texas, since the 1900 census has the family living in McCulloch County there.

Of Irish and Cherokee ancestry, Strange later claims to have spoken Cherokee until he was 13.

By 1910, the Stranges are farming in Cross Cut, Brown County, Texas.

“Glenn had to learn to ride, wrangle horses, and drive wagons,” Anderson writes. “He completed schooling through the eighth grade, worked on the family farm, and learned to play fiddle and guitar by ear, and performed at local dances.”

Later, he performs on radio in country-and-western groups like the Range Riders and the Arizona Wranglers. He also works as a fireman in El Paso, Texas and as a cop in Durant, Oklahoma.

There’s also a brief stint as a boxer—supposedly as a student of Jack Dempsey—until a broken hand closes that chapter in his life.

He marries Flora Eola Hooper, and they have two daughters: Vera, born in 1921, and Eva, born in 1923.

Along the way, he picks up a nickname that will stick: Pee Wee.

“I got that name way back during when Hugh Strickland was World Champion Cowboy [3],” Strange will recount years later. “My brother and I were rodeoing then, and Bud was bigger than I am…Hugh was announcing…my Bud came out before I did, and he called him Puny. He was as big as [actor James] Arness! Then I got ready to come out—Pee Wee! Puny and Pee Wee—we never lost those names, not ever.”

It's Hoot Gibson who breaks Pee Wee into films…unbilled, at first. Later, his imposing physique and rugged—but menacing—good looks score him a variety of heavies.

Eventually, he’ll rack up parts in 200 or more films.

[Above: Strange started out in films as a singing cowboy. Later, his handsome—but menacing—looks, and tall, muscular build got him parts as heavies.]

He has his first encounter with the Frankenstein Monster when he and his brother catch FRANKENSTEIN in El Paso, Texas.

“[W]here the hell did they ever find a guy that looked like that?” his brother demands to know.

Not knowing much about special effects makeup—at least at the time—Strange can’t answer. And, of course, he has no idea that Karloff’s iconic character will have a major impact on his own career.

“I never dreamed I’d be playing the part myself someday,” Strange will explain later.

STRANGE PLAYS A WOLF MAN

Friday, March 27, 1942.

“Glenn Strange leaves westerns to do the Wolf Man for Producers Releasing Corps,” the SAN FERNANDO VALLEY TIMES announces.

The box office success of Universal’s THE WOLF MAN (1941) has a ripple effect. Fox rushes out THE UNDYING MONSTER in 1942. Columbia will feature a werewolf alongside Bela Lugosi’s vampiric Armand Tesla in THE RETURN OF THEVAMPIRE in 1943.

By the time the TIMES story runs, the production of THE MAD MONSTER—featuring Strange as a wolf man—is halfway through its allotted two weeks.

Cranked out by director Sam Newfield, 42, with so-so werewolf makeup by Harry Ross, the film is something of a remake of MAN MADE MONSTER (1941). [4] In this case, the mad doctor—an over-the-top George Zucco—has vowed to create an army of obedient wolf-men to fight the world’s wars. His guinea pig? None other than Glenn Strange as the dimwitted but gigantic gardener, Petro.

Along the way, Zucco—like Bela Lugosi’s Ygor in SON OF FRANKENSTEIN (1939)—has Petro (in wolf form) pick off old enemies before an implausible fire starts in Zucco’s house, engulfing everything…and taking both he and Petro out.

But while Zucco’s hammy character is fairly well fleshed out, we get absolutely no backstory on Petro. And Strange plays him like Lon Chaney, Jr. doing his Lennie schtick…which is not lost on Chaney.

“What are you trying to do?” Chaney asks his friend. “Lennie in OF MICE AND MEN?”

“Well,” Strange replies, “I haven’t even seen the thing.” (Later, after seeing MICE, Strange is full of praise for his bud: “I don’t think anybody on the face of this Earth could have done as well, and I’m sure I couldn’t have done any better than Chaney did as Lennie. That was a terrific piece of work.”)

[Above: Strange as Petro in wolf-man form in THE MAD MONSTER (1942). The part established his credibility with producers of horror films.]

Seen today, it’s tough to disagree with author Tom Weaver’s assessment: THE MAD MONSTER is “one of those uniquely bad films that is difficult to dislike.”

And Strange establishes his horror cred.

“WE FOUND OUR MONSTER.”

By the time THE DEVIL’S BROOD begins gathering, everyone knows that Karloff is done with the Monster. [5] And Bela Lugosi—the last to play the part on film in FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE WOLF MAN (1943)—isn’t in the mix.

Enter Mr. Glenn Strange.

By now remarried—to Minnie Pearl Thompson, with whom he has his third daughter, Janine—Strange has landed at Universal. He first enters makeup artist Jack Pierce’s orbit while playing a role in LITTLE JOE, THE WRANGLER (1942), a Johnny Mack Brown/Tex Ritter vehicle.

According to Christopher Lock—Pierce’s biographer—“Pierce made note of Strange’s height, frame, and facial features” at that time (Lock, p. 243).

“I didn’t know Jack,” Strange will say later, “this was the first time I met him.”

Strange also had no idea that he was under consideration for the Monster when reporting again to Pierce one fateful morning in the spring of 1944.

“Just a minute,” Pierce says. He picks up a phone and immediately calls producer Paul Malvern.

“We found our monster,” he reports in his high, clipped voice.

Malvern—whom Strange does know, since Paul has produced more than a dozen westerns—rushes over to the makeup department.

“Here’s the contour we’ve been looking for,” Pierce enthuses, pointing at Strange’s face. “Right here.”

“That’s fine with me,” Malvern responds. “Do you want to put it on him and try it out?”

Well, that’s an affirmative…

“Pierce covered the room’s mirrors with paper,” Lock writes, “before applying a basic but effective sampling of the Frankenstein Monster on his face…enough for Pierce to know what the result of the full treatment would be.” [6]

In addition to the iconic flattop—covered in black hair—and bolts, Pierce builds the Monster’s scars out of cotton, dries them, and adds them to what Strange describes as the aluminum-gray painted skin—“like when aluminum gets kind of dark, not light.”

When Pierce finishes, it’s time for a makeshift test…

“I went out and did a few little walk-throughs in the Monster get-up,” Strange explains.

He’s apparently a hit—Universal approves of him in the part, which, for Strange, is good news…until the mishaps begin.

[Above: Filming the climax of HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN was risky business for Strange, Karloff, and Karloff’s stunt double.]

Now, let’s remember…Glenn Strange is no novice when it comes to movie stunts. The guy has worked with the best, including Guinn “Big Boy” Williams, whom Strange is convinced is strong enough to pick up a horse and chuck it at him. [7]

But the Monster presents a series of different challenges.

To begin with, the creature’s signature droopy eyelids impede the actor’s sight.

“They usually get in my way when I blink,” he’ll say. “And the 25-pound shoes slow me down a little.”

Furthermore, the makeup makes his face raw.

“The monster looks worse in person than he does on the screen—only he smiles once in a while,” columnist Virginia MacPherson notices while visiting the set. “Universal’s makeup genius Jack Pierce has smeared his face with green goo that photographs like dead flesh.”

But it’s not only the goo that causes issues.

“[L]ots of times I felt like I had water on the brain…the skull cap I wore was so tight, it wouldn’t let the perspiration out. So, after a couple of hours on the set, I could shake my head and the water would rattle around inside…”

Then, too—in a throwback to studio policies like the blue veil Karloff was forced to wear off the soundstage in order not to frighten anyone—Strange is forbidden from eating in the commissary.

“They brought me my lunch in a paper sack, and I had to eat it where nobody would see me.”

Still, as Greg Mank points out, “the Monster was comatose for most of the film…[Strange] usually had little more to do than to lay prostrate and look ugly” (Mank, p. 135).

But even that turns out to be dangerous….

Feature: The Monster is encased by Karloff’s Dr. Gustav Neimann in a glass tank, and steam is pumped in to help the recently-frozen creature thaw out.

But the steam chokes the actor. So, the prop guys come up with a solution:

We’ll put hoses up his nose!

And they install a panic button for Strange to hit which will trigger a blinking light in case of emergency.

Problem solved, right?

Well….

It turns out the hoses are too long. As the steam pumps in, the strapped down, freaked-out actor finds himself suffocating because he can’t push the bad air out…

He hits the panic button.

But no one’s watching.

He hits it again. And again.

“[T]hat red cue light was flashing like the Fourth of July,” Strange remembers later. “Believe me, I almost died before somebody saw that light and got me out of there.”

Then, there’s the climactic scene.

The revived Monster is fleeing from vengeful villagers, carrying his mentor, Niemann. But he doesn’t heed Niemann’s warning:

“Don’t go this way!” the doctor sputters. “Quicksands! Quicksands! Not this way! Quicksands!”

Much of Karloff’s action will be handled by a stunt man—more on this later.

But a critical close-up featuring the characters slowly sinking under the hungry sands to their doom requires that Karloff and Strange brave a possible death by drowning.

Once again, the prop department has it all figured out.

The muck is a concoction made up of sawdust, bran, and ground-up cork. A hydraulic lift with a platform lurks just under the surface, ready to lower Strange and Karloff to their doom.

As the scene is shot, producer Paul Malvern is freaking out in the wings.

“I hate to think what would have happened if that hydraulic lift had broken when the boys were underneath that stuff,” he sighs later.

[Above: Strange with producer Paul Malvern. Malvern—an actor and comedian himself before becoming a producer—was noted for making westerns before taking on HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN and HOUSE OF DRACULA.]

Luckily—according to columnist Erskine Johnson—Strange and Karloff “came up looking like they had just fallen into a plate of breakfast mush.”

Messy, but unharmed.

The same can’t be said for Cary Loftin, Karloff’s stunt man. [8]

To begin with, Strange—who, we must remember, can’t see very well in the makeup—almost trips and falls down the 30-plus castle steps while carrying Loftin.

“I had a big strap that went underneath my coat with a ring or snap on it,” Strange will recall. “The double wore a belt around himself, and I’d snap into the ring and then put mine around him, ‘cause nobody can walk around with a guy hanging under your arm.”

But then, a bit player really gets into his role and sails a prop torch right into Strange’s back.

“[The torches] were big, with a long club, and all that burlap on them,” Strange explains, “and [his] hit me right between the shoulders, and almost knocked me off one of those steps.”

And finally, the prop guys are a little more generous with their accelerant than they’re supposed to be for the fiery conclusion. A concerned Strange isn’t sure that fire and his bulky costume are a good mix.

“I can’t move very fast with these boots on and carrying this guy besides,” Strange says to a special effects tech who’s prepping a ring of tumbleweeds to burn.

“You have plenty of time to get across there,” the tech replies with confidence.

Of course, the oversaturated tumbleweeds flash and explode, threatening to engulf Strange and Loftin any second.

“I went straight through it, kicking the stuff out of my way as I went,” Strange will recount later. “It singed [Loftin’s] hair. I almost lost that camera, I got in the water so fast, carrying him with me.”

Still, the comradery among the players is good. In addition to helping throw surprise birthday parties, Karloff also takes Strange aside and works with him on the Monster’s moves.

“Nobody ever helped anybody as much as Boris Karloff helped me,” Strange will say appreciatively in later years. “I never forgot that. I asked him for advice because I wanted to do this thing as near as he did. He would stay on the set and coach me on the walk and the movements and so forth.” [9]

According to director Erle C. Kenton, the comradery is natural since everybody likes making horror pictures.

“They give us a chance to let our imagination run wild,” he tells Johnson. “The art department can go to town on creepy sets. Prop men have fun with cob webs. The cameraman has fun with trick lighting and shadows. The director has fun. We have more fun making a horror picture than a comedy.” [10]

Friday, December 15, 1944. HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN debuts in New York City. It opens in Los Angeles a week later, and goes into general release on February 16, 1945. Reviews are decidedly mixed, but the box office is good enough to warrant a sequel.

 And a grateful Strange will be along for it.

“I THINK HE JUST ABOUT SAVED MY LIFE THAT DAY.”

Friday, October 26, 1945. THE PRESS DEMOCRAT newspaper out of Santa Rosa sports an interesting blurb on page 12:

“Universal has asked Lon Chaney and Glenn Strange, two of its monsters in ‘The House of Dracula,’ [sic] not to go deer hunting in Colorado. Too many nimrods getting shot there this season.”

The warning is printed eleven days after the production of HOUSE OF DRACULA has come to a close.

Like HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN, this new film features Dracula, The Wolf Man, and Frankenstein’s creation. It’s produced by Paul Malvern and directed by Erle C. Kenton. Like HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN, it also has a mad scientist and a hunchback—Onslow Stevens and Jane Adams.

And like HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN, Strange once again finds himself in a precarious position at the hands of special effects techs.

On this particular occasion, Strange is sitting in a “cave-like thing” set, right next to a prop skeleton (which is supposed to represent what’s left of Karloff’s Dr. Neimann).

Once he hits the pose, the techs pour a large quantity of prop quicksand—sawdust, bran, and ground-up cork again?—down a shoot and cover him.

“Well, I was in there all day long,” Strange will shudder in later years, “and that stuff was cold!”

No stranger to being covered up himself—after all, he was stuck in the muck with a straw in his mouth as the Monster in THE GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN (1942)—Lon Chaney makes his way to where Strange is shivering with a fifth of his beloved, ever-present blended whiskey.

“I think I got most of it,” Strange will recall. “He poured it down me and it warmed me up some. They finished shooting and I went up to the dressing room. Of course, they had a nice fire up there. They took the makeup off and by the time I got about half undressed, I was so looped I could hardly get up. I got warm, but then I got tight.”

And as for Chaney?

“But I think he just about saved my life that day,” Strange will say. “I was chilling, I was cold. Well, by golly, he was nice to me and always has been.” [11]

[Above: Strange in HOUSE OF DRACULA (1945). The script—and stock footage cut in from THE GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN (1942)—gave Strange very little to do in the film.]

Monday, October 8, 1945. Columnist Virginia MacPherson is on set.

“Today’s schedule called for Actor Stevens to let the monster off his marble slab,” she writes, “whereupon said goon goes berserk and starts wrecking the joint.”

On hand are Chaney, Strange, Stevens, Adams, and Martha O’Driscoll, who plays Chaney’s love interest. [12]

“[I]n this one there’s a switch,” MacPherson explains in what most certainly qualifies as a spoiler. “The Wolf Man, played by Lon Chaney, turns out to be the hero. Gets the girl, kills off the other goons, and saves the day.”

“[S]omewhere along the middle of this one they operate on me and presto—I’m a good Joe,” Chaney notes.

The cameras turn. Stevens unleashes the Monster and chaos results.

Now, it’s time for Chaney to set the lab on fire.

“Nothing to it,” director Kenton assures Lon. “Just go in there and burn ‘em to a crisp. Only remember to get out yourself.”

As directed, Chaney runs in, grabs the controls of what MacPherson calls the mad doctor’s “man-from-Mars electricity set up,” and sparks fly. The sight is so worrisome that MacPherson wonders if she should evacuate.

It’s then she notices that Strange, Adams, and Stevens seem to be missing.

“We guess they sneaked out the back of the set okay, but we didn’t see ‘em,” she reports. “As far as we know they got burned to a crisp—just like the script said.”

Of course, they didn’t.

“Swell!” Kenton decrees. “Now, put out the fire, boys, and we’ll try it again.”

But when it’s time for the Monster to become consumed by the inferno himself, Strange is spared the agony. In a time-and-money-saving move, footage of Chaney burning up in THE GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN is clipped in instead.

“The hodgepodge finale was ludicrous,” Greg Mank will correctly write years later. “Chaney…literally is shown running away from himself (and Eddie Parker) as the Monster…”

But at least, Strange doesn’t have to run through literal flames again.

HOUSE OF DRACULA gets mixed reviews after its release on December 7, 1945. But box office returns are good, though the picture plays mostly on double-bills.

But big changes are in store at Universal. They cut Chaney loose as well as the Andrews Sisters and other contract players. By October, they merge with International Pictures and the new execs decide horror pics, serials, and ‘B’ westerns are out.

To all concerned, it looks like Strange’s days as the most famous monster of all are finished.

And playing the role hasn’t really been the path to actual stardom.

But Strange can’t know that he’ll romp as the Frankenstein Monster in a major production one more time…

Next month, we’ll examine Glenn Strange’s experiences making what might be his most famous film: ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN.

[Above: Strange with Jane ‘Poni’ Adams on the set of HOUSE OF DRACULA. Though the film made money, execs at the newly-formed Universal-International decided that B-pictures (such as horror films) were no longer going to be made. As such, it looked like Strange was through playing Frankenstein’s monster.]

NOTES

[1] My estimates here are based on the following: Strange is often credited as being 6’4” or taller—at this writing, Wikipedia has him at 6’6”! But Chuck Anderson at THE OLD CORRAL writes, “According to his World War II draft registration, he was 6 feet, 3 inches in height”—still huge, of course, especially in the 1940s. The same document lists his weight as 205 pounds. Given that the Monster’s boots increased an actor’s height by four inches (Staffer, et al., p. 16)—and the flattop skull would add at least an inch—6’8” seems right to me. And given that the Monster’s costume (including the boots) weighed in at least 30 pounds (remember, Strange needed no muscle padding), a guess of 230-235 seems reasonable. Feel free to disagree.

[2] Titles include WESTWARD HO (1935), and WINDS OF THE WASTELAND (1936). Tex Ritter sings a Strange song in HITTIN’ THE TRAIL (1937). Strange’s songwriting partner Eddie Dean sings their “On the Banks of the Sunny San Juan” in HARMONY TRAIL (1944) and WILDFIRE (1945).

[3] c. 1917-1927.

[4] Anne Nagel has a similar role, and even dates a reporter.

[5] Though he’ll still get mail from fans who think it’s still him in the part.

[6] Unfortunately, Lock provides no source for this story. And there appears to be some confusion as to the exact order of events. I’ve reconstructed it here as best as I can from the sources I was able to find.

[7] Williams is also the guy who was announced for the role of Lennie in Lewis Milestone’s OF MICE AND MEN (1939) before Lon Chaney, Jr. got the part.

[8] …at least according to www.universalmonster.fandom.com. According to www.imdb.com Loftin, Gil Perkins, and Billy Jones all did stunts in the film…uncredited. Who did what is not listed.

[9] This is clearly evident in HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN’S final sequence.

[10] On this particular day, Johnson observes, a card game was part of the fun: “Dracula raked in the pot with three nines. The Wolf Man was left holding a pair of Jacks.” The Monster had folded.

[11] “I’d like to do another picture with him sometime,” Strange continued in a MODERN MONSTERS interview in 1966. “He’s followed in the footsteps of his old Dad pretty well. He’s a good horror man; you know that. I doubt if anyone could have done as good as Lon as the Wolf Man.”

[12] Carradine, who plays Dracula, is also there, but not in the scene. “Just came around today to have my picture taken and watch the fun,” he says.

SOURCES

Anderson, Chuck (Webmaster). “Glenn Strange: Western Villain and Frankenstein Monster.” THE OLD CORRAL. www.b-westerns.com. Web.

“Assorted Monsters Prove Unusual Guests at Party.” LOS ANGELES EVENING CITIZEN NEWS. April 27, 1944, p. 16. Print.

Gifford, Denis. A PICTORIAL HISTORY OF HORROR FILMS. London: The Hamlyn Publish Group Limited, 1973. Print.

“Glenn Strange leaves westerns to do the Wolf Man for Producers Releasing Corps.” SAN FERNANDO VALLEY TIMES. March 27, 1942, p. 4. Print.

“House of Dracula.” AFI CATALOG OF FEATURE FILMS. www.afi.org. Web.

“House of Frankenstein.” AFI CATALOG OF FEATURE FILMS. www.afi.org. Web.

Johnson, Erskine. “Johnson in Hollywood: Into the ‘Mush.’” THE LONG BEACH SUN. May 13, 1944, p. 8. Print.

Lock, Christopher. JACK PIERCE: HOLLYWOOD’S MAKEUP MASTER. Centerline Publishing and Consulting LLC, 2022. Print.

MacPherson, Virginia. “Hollywood Film Shop” (U.P.). ENTERPRISE-RECORD. April 18, 1944, p. 2. Print.

MacPherson, Virginia. “Horror Monsters: Dracula, Wolf Man in Thriller.” (UP) HANFORD MORNING JOURNAL. October 9, 1947, p. 3. Print.

“Mad Monster, The.” AFI CATALOG OF FEATURE FILMS. www.afi.org. Web.

Magers, Boyd. “Characters and Heavies: Glenn Strange.” WESTERN CLIPPINGS. www.westernclippings.com. Web.

Mank, Gregory William. IT’S ALIVE! New York: AS Barnes & Co., Inc, 1981. Print.

Staffer, M.M., Don Glut, and Bob Burns. “Special Interview: Glenn Strange.” MODERN MONSTERS 4, October 1966. Print.

“Top Entertainers to Appear in Chuck Wagon Cavalcade.” SAN BERNADINO COUNTY SUN. May 19, 1949, p. 27. Print.

“Universal has asked…” THE PRESS DEMOCRAT. Santa Rosa, California. October 26, 1945, p. 12. Print.

Weaver, Tom. POVERTY ROW HORRORS! Jefferson, NC: MacFarland, 1999. Print.

Witbeck, Charles. “The Man Behind the Bar.” RICHMOND TIMES-DISPATCH. August 20, 1972, p. 102.

Witbeck, Charles. “It Will Be Strange When Glenn is No Longer On GUNSMOKE.” THE BRIDGEPORT POST. October 9, 1973, p. 24.

Note: The pictures herein are included for educational purposes only. I do not own the copyrights.