Infamous America - TEXAS CHAINSAW Ep. 1 | “A Sinister Tale”

Episode Date: October 21, 2020

In the 1920s and 1930s, Ed Gein grows up on a Wisconsin farm with a domineering mother and an alcoholic father. He’s bullied by other kids and sinks deeper into a dark mindset. In Austin, Texas in the late 1960s and early 1970s, a film student named Tobe Hooper thinks of an idea for a low-budget horror film. It sets him on a journey that becomes the stuff of myth and legend. Join Black Barrel+ for bingeable seasons with no commercials : blackbarrel.supportingcast.fm/join For more details, please visit www.blackbarrelmedia.com. Our social media pages are: @blackbarrelmedia on Facebook and Instagram, and @bbarrelmedia on Twitter. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This series contains violence and sexual references that some might find disturbing. It is intended for mature audiences only. Listener discretion is advised. The film which you are about to see is an account of the tragedy which befell a group of five youths, in particular Sally Hardesty and her invalid brother Franklin. It is all the more tragic that they were young. But had they lived very, very long lives, they could not have expected, nor would they have wished to see as much of the mad and macabre as they were to see that day.

For them, an idyllic summer afternoon drive became a nightmare. The events of that day were to lead to the discovery of one of the most bizarre crimes in the annals of American history, the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Austin, Texas, Christmas, 1972. 29-year-old Toby Hooper was at a department store doing last-minute Christmas Christmas. shopping, and he wasn't alone. The place was packed with every procrastinator rushing to buy presents before it was too late. Hooper described himself as frustrated as he attempted to clear a path through the masses. Then he came upon a display of chainsaws, and he had one of those ultra-dark

ideas that is somehow funny in the moment. He thought to himself, I know a way I could get through this crowd really quickly. And that thought gave him another idea. idea. Toby went home, sat down, and started writing. The story seemed to pour out of him. He said later that it felt like the major elements of a new movie raced through his mind and spilled onto paper in about 30 seconds. The voiceover that started the film would be added much later, and it opened the door for many people to believe that the movie they were about to watch was actually real. But in reality, the groundbreaking horror film had an accidental beginning and what might have been the most life-changing attempt at Christmas shopping in cinematic

history. From Black Barrel Media, this is Infamous America. I'm your host, Chris Wimmer, and this is a four-part series on one of the strangest killers in American history and how he inspired one of the iconic cult films in American cinema, the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. This is Chapter 1, A Sinister Tale. La Crosse, Wisconsin, 1912. Ed Gein's parents told him not to venture into the back building. He was forbidden to enter it under any circumstance, and he obeyed their instructions until the one time he didn't. The door to the building was open a crack so he could look in without actually entering.

Hanging upside down from a chain in the ceiling was a slaughtered hog. His parents stood on opposite sides of the dead animal. His father tried to hold it steady to prevent it from swinging. His mother slid it down the length of its stomach. Then she reached in and yanked out various organs as blood splattered the ground in their aprons. Ed, who was six or seven years old, whined or squealed or made some kind of noise because it alerted his mother, and she was not happy. Augusta Gein was a hearty, buxom woman filled with determination.

She was also a religious fanatic. Since there weren't many men knocking on her door, she couldn't be very choosy. So on December 4, 1899, Augusta unhappily married George Gein. Augusta immediately wore the pants in the family. George was quiet and reserved. Augusta thought he was lazy. When he did hold a job, it disappeared nearly as quickly as his paychecks. Beneath George's surface, there was plenty of rage.

He was a heavy drinker and had bouts of violent behavior, often hitting her. They had a shaky marriage with virtually nothing in common but their address. Augusta began to believe that a child would help the situation. But there was a problem with that idea. Just the thought of being intimate with a man was difficult to tolerate. Augusta believed that sex outside of marriage was an unpardonable sin. Even sex within a marriage was what she called a loathsome. duty. She believed that her tiny town of La Crosse, Wisconsin was a deplorable, sinful place

filled with harlots. But despite all of that, she wanted a child, so she lay with the husband she despised. On January 17, 1902, their prayers were answered. Augusta and George had a boy named Henry. Unfortunately, Henry caused more problems than he solved. Parenthood led to even more pressure, and George found it even tougher to keep a job. So Augusta put her foot down and took control of the small meat store her husband was managing. She went so far as to change his title on the property from owner to clerk, putting herself legally at the helm. Now that it was clear that a child had not improved her life, Augusta had to shift the blame for her misery elsewhere. So she claimed her problems existed because she didn't have a daughter. Augusta and George Gein tried for another

child. On August 27th, 1906, they had another boy. She named him Ed, and so began a complex relationship that led to some of the strangest and most gruesome crimes in American history. By 1913, Augusta Gein was tired of struggling with their store, so she decided the family would be farmers. The Geans bought a small dairy farm 40 miles east of La Crosse, Wisconsin, but they became restless after less than a year. So they moved to their final destination, a 195-acre farm in Plainfield. Augusta bought the farm in her name, which was unusual for a woman in 1914 America. There was just one neighbor, the Johnson family, about a quarter of a mile away. other than that, there was total and complete privacy.

In hindsight, a quarter mile away from the Gein Farm would turn out to be way too close. Austin, Texas, 1968. A 25-year-old hippie with a mop haircut and scraggly beard named Toby Hooper walked out of an Austin movie theater after seeing Night of the Living Dead. It changed his life forever. The film was directed by George Romero at the height of the very. Vietnam War. It was made for just $114,000 and used zombies to explore race relations. Toby Hooper was hooked. Hooper had movies in his blood. His parents owned a movie theater out in San

Angelo, Texas, and he grew up within its darkened walls and on its cushioned seats. His mother had gone into labor with him while seated in the Paramount Theater. Hooper said he saw a movie every day, and he learned cinematic language before he learned verbal language. When he was just three, Hooper snatched his dad's Bell and Howell 8-millimeter camera and started making films. Little stories, he called them. In one, a girl was tied to railroad tracks, and a tricycle train with a beer-can smokestack was about to run over her.

In early adolescence, Hooper heard kids in the lunchline talking about a Frankenstein film he'd made. He knew that second what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. In 1962, he enrolled in the Department of Radio, Television, and Film at the University of Texas. There was no film equipment and just two students. He left after two years, but he'd made a valuable contact. Robert Schenkin, the general manager for the public television channel, KLRN. Hooper hung out with Schenkin religiously and borrowed the station's 16 millimeter camera to film his own projects.

Soon, Schenkin hired him to shoot odd jobs for the station. Toby Hooper had a camera in his hand nearly every waking moment. In 1965, he wrote and directed a short called The Heister's, which he'd been invited to submit for the Oscars. Unfortunately, he couldn't finish it in time. By 1968, when he saw Night of the Living Dead, he was a college professor and a documentary cameraman, and he was ready to make his first film. A year later, in 1969, he and his buddy, Kim Hinkle, made it happen.

It was called Egg shells, and it was written by Hooper and Hinkle, though written was a generous description. There wasn't exactly a script. Scenes were improvised or scribbled on napkins. It was about a group of young hippies who moved into an old house in the world. But the gang soon realized they weren't alone. In the basement of the house lived a force that one of Hooper's friends called the cryptoembrionic hyperelectric presence. Whatever the hell that is.

It was made for $40,000. And because Hooper didn't have money to pay actors, he used real people who lived in an actual communal house. He filmed them with a handheld camera, and he'd often sneak into the house, turn on the lights, wake everyone up, and just film whatever happened. That was the movie. In hindsight, it probably shouldn't have been a surprise that it was a financial flop.

Kim Hinkle, Hooper's friend and collaborator, who had the most memorable part in the movie when he appeared completely naked and burned his clothes and a car, said years later he hoped all the remaining copies had been burned as well. Toby Hooper was discouraged after the effort, but there was at least one little positive note. The Austin Chronicle gave the film a good review and said it echoed the works of French filmmaker Jean-Luc Goddard. Fortunately for Henkel and Hooper, they continued their writing partnership. In the next two years paved the way for their historic collaboration.

In 1972, a film was released that changed everything. It was the first film of future horror master West Craven. It was called Last House on the Left, and it was terrifying in its realism. It was about two teenage girls who were dragged into the woods and tortured by thugs. Craven made the movie for $87,000, and it made over $3 million in the U.S. alone. Suddenly, low-budget horror movies were the rage for young filmmakers and financiers. investors could see huge returns from small investments. A few months later, Toby Hooper found himself stuck in a department store during the Christmas rush,

staring at chainsaws and thinking of a way out. Plainfield, Wisconsin, 1920s. Ed Gein's mother rarely allowed him to be around other people. But other people weren't exactly flocking to Ed either. Whenever he was near his classmates, Ed's eyes shifted when he spoke. The nervous condition made most people uneasy. Ed was often teased by other children about what they called his saggy-baggy eye.

When he smiled, his mouth was lopsided. So making a connection with anyone was tough enough before factoring in his controlling mother. If Ed did make a friend, and it didn't happen often, Augusta Gein found a reason to believe the new friend was poison. The boy's family had a bad reputation, she would say. The mother's virtue was questionable. The father had a tarnished past. Ed's classmates noticed something else about him.

He seemed very feminine. Augusta Gein always wanted a daughter, so maybe she helped shape some of his behaviors. However they developed, they didn't help young Ed Gein. Ed's posture, diminutive size, soft voice, and fluttering hand gestures were all far from masculine. And he cried easily. And for all these things, Ed was taunted by other kids.

Nonetheless, Augusta made both her sons promise not to be contaminated by women. In the meantime, the Gein family was about to get smaller. George Gein had been a heavy drinker for decades. By 1937, he was an invalid and completely dependent on his family for survival. His family despised him, so the next three years must have been miserable. In 1940, George Gein died at the age of 66. His family seemed to be relieved, to be relieved of him. Now, with World War II kicking into high gear,

40-year-old Henry Gein just missed the cut for the draft, but 36-year-old Ed was still eligible. So in 1942, Ed traveled 130 miles to Milwaukee for his physical. The Army rejected him because of the growth on his life, left eyelid and impaired his vision, which sounded more like their excuse than an actual reason for disqualification. Remarkably, that trip was the farthest Ed Gein ever traveled from home. With the war in full force, the Gein brothers needed to bring in some extra money for their struggling farm. Ed did some handyman work, patching roofs and repairing fences. He also did

some babysitting. When Ed was a kid, other children didn't care. for him, but as an adult, kids loved him. Ed did magic tricks and told them creepy stories about headhunters and cannibals from the adventure magazines he read. The parents of the children thought he was a little strange, but they liked his down-to-earth attitude and dependable nature. They also liked his non-threatening size. He was only about five feet tall and weighed 130 pounds. Meanwhile, while Ed's older brother Henry, who was an extremely hard worker, found more lucrative and important jobs away from the farm. The brothers were now spending less and less time together, and Henry was concerned that Ed was too attached to their mother. The criticism bothered Ed

Gein immensely. Ed thought Augusta was perfect, and a veritable saint, and he never forgot his brother's disparaging words. Henry's criticism became the bane of Ed's. existence and Henry's existence was about to expire. Plainfield, Wisconsin, May 16th, 1944. The Gein brothers were fighting a fire near their home when Henry suddenly died. He was just 43 years old, and exactly how and why he died remains up for debate. Though Henry's body was found lying on a scorched piece of ground, there were no burns on his clothes or on any parts of his body. Several bruises were found on his head as if he'd been struck by something. This definitely didn't seem like death by fire.

Even stranger was that Ed had guided the deputy sheriff directly to his brother, but he hadn't been able to locate Henry earlier that day for a search party. Something didn't feel right, but there wasn't much anyone could do about it. However Henry's death happened, Ed now had his mother all to himself, but not for long. A few months after Henry's death, Augusta complained about feeling faint and sickly. Ed rushed her to the hospital and was told his mother had suffered a stroke. Oddly enough, Ed was excited. Augusta had always been the overpowering backbone of the family.

Her new helplessness allowed Ed to take care of her and proved that he was worthy of her love. In the winter of 1945, a trip to get some straw from a neighbor haunted Ed for the rest of his life. He and his mother drove to the Smith's house and saw the hot-tempered man beating a puppy with a large stick. As the dog yelped in pain, the woman Smith lived with ran out onto the porch and begged him to stop. Ed's mother was shaken up, but not, as you'd expect, by the abuse of the defenseless animal. It was the mere sight of the woman that enraged Augusta Gein. Mr. Smith was living with a woman out of wedlock. Augusta Gein called the woman Smith's Harlot, and less than a week later,

Augusta suffered a second stroke, and Ed rushed her back to the hospital. This time, it was too late. Augusta Gein died on December 29, 1945. She was 67 years old. Ed Gein was inconsolable. His only friend was dead. From that moment forward, Ed Gein would never be able to be able to beckonelable. Ed Gein would never be the same. And neither would Plainfield, Wisconsin. Austin, Texas, 1972. 29-year-old Toby Hooper was at a Montgomery Ward department store to do his last-minute Christmas shopping. The place was packed, and he quickly became frustrated as he tried to weave through the masses. That was when he came face-to-face with a display in the hardware section. No, it wasn't anything he'd buy for a friend or a relative as a present. It was a stack of chainsaws.

In that moment, Hooper had a thought that was darkly funny at the time, but would end up changing his life. His mind worked like a movie camera, and he zoomed in and focused on the chainsaws. For one brief second, he envisioned himself yanking on the cord of a chainsaw and feeling the machine roar to life in his hands. He would slice his way through the crowd and escape the infuriating store. Instead of acting on the macabre fantasy, he raced home. home and began scribbling notes for a new screenplay. He said later it all came to him in what felt like 30 seconds. The hitchhiker, the older brother at the gas station, the girl escaping twice, the dinner sequence, people out in the country out of gas. If Toby Hooper had bought all his

gifts through mail order catalogs, there might never have been a Texas chainsaw massacre. Now he had the bones of a new story, but there was still a lot of work to be done. There were lots of dots to connect. So Toby called up Kim Hinkle, his collaborator from his first film Eggshells, and told him he had another idea. This time it was a modern version of the Hansel and Gretel fairy tale. In their previous venture, there was no budget, no cast, and the film had flopped. So if they were really going to make this new film, this modern fairy tale, how could they do it if they once again had no money and no cast? Hinkle had the answer. He said,

Horror films is about it. Hinkle started going to Hooper's house every night to figure out the plot structure. Hinkle said they were mainly working out a feel. The Hansel and Gretel undertones remained, but they were going to turn the story more sinister. The film needed an updated version of a witch who cooked and ate children. So Hinkle and Hooper hit the books, what few there were on the subject,

and studied killers and cannibals. The term serial killer was just beginning to float through certain circles of the FBI, but it wasn't in widespread use at the end of 1972 or the beginning of 1973. Either way, there were still plenty of examples for inspiration. The Manson murders had happened three years earlier. Ed Kemper was about to be arrested after a year-long killing spree. Ted Bundy was active. And of course, there was the ghoul of Plainfield.

Ed Gein. The horrors that were discovered in Ed Gein's farmhouse were almost beyond imagination, but they ended up fueling imaginations for years. At the time of Gein's arrest, an author named Robert Block was living just 35 miles from Plainfield. Despite the close proximity and the massive amount of press coverage of Gein's case, Block claimed he didn't know the story until he was nearly finished writing his new book. That book was called Psycho.

And in Block's words, he was drawn to a scary idea. The notion that the man next door may be a monster unsuspected, even in the gossip-ridden microcosm of a small town. Block published the book in 1959. Alfred Hitchcock made it into a world-famous movie in 1960. And in early 1973, Kim Hinkle, co-writer of a new untitled horror movie, studied the man who was thought to have inspired both works, Ed Gein. Hooper and Hinkle wrote furiously for six weeks and completed their first draft.

The story was still loosely inspired by the Hansel and Gretel fairy tale, but now it evolved to incorporate other inspirations. The aesthetic of West Craven's low-budget horror film Last House on the Left, Toby Hooper's chainsaw idea while Christmas shopping, the case of Ed Gein, and a story told by a doctor friend of Hoopers. Hooper would say later that a physician had bragged about an insane costume he'd made one year for Halloween. The doctor claimed he'd cut the face off a human cadaver and worn it as a mask. From that story, one of the most enduring and iconic characters in movie history was born, Leatherface.

Hooper and Hinkle decided Leatherface was. would wear masks of human skin that would change the mask to fit his mood. The first draft of the script was done. The plot was mapped out. The characters were established, but they needed a title. They tried several. One was Saturn in retrograde, but that was quickly abandoned. They used stalking leather face and then just leather face for periods of time.

Then they tossed those aside as well. The title they used most frequently was Head Cheese. Yeah, that was the working title. The one that is arguably the most memorable title in movie history came later. That's in Chapter 2 of the story of Ed Gein and the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Next time on Infamous America, Ed Gein is alone, bored, and lonely in his farmhouse. And people begin to go missing around Plainfield, Wisconsin. Toby Hooper scrapes together $60,000 for his new movie.

He assembles a cast and crew of locals from Texas and begins a production that turns out to be almost as crazy and infamous as the movie itself. And as promised, the film finds a new title. That's next week on Infamous America. And if you're a member of our Black Barrel Plus program, you already have access to the full season. If you're not a member, you can sign up now through the link in the show notes or on our website, blackbarrelmedia.com.

Members receive access to each new season in its entirety one week before the season begins for the general public. And members receive exclusive bonus episodes. Sign up today for just $5 per month. Special thanks to Dan Madigan for his insight into the life of his friend, Toby Hooper. This season was researched and written

by Brian Frazier and myself. Original music by Rob Valier. editing and sound design by Dave Harrison. I'm your host and producer Chris Wimmer. Find us at our website, blackbarrelmedia.com or on our social media channels. We're Black Barrel Media on Facebook and Instagram and B-Beryl Media on Twitter. And you can stream all our episodes on YouTube. Just search for Infamous America podcast. Thanks for listening.