#electric chair
frank knows exactly what he’s doing posting that shit on instagram.
“my kids really wanted some of my old hoodies though. these may look familiar to some of you…”
fuck outta here
Chicago Coliseum, October 30, 1927, Chicago
Original caption:
One of the greatest attractions at the National Radio Show, held at the Coliseum this week will be Saturday night when Bernays Johnson sits in the death chair for the second time in his life. There will be three times as much electrical current passed through his body as is required to run an ordinary street car. Photo shows left to right, Officer William McCullough, Bernays Johnson in chair, and Adolph Girsch, testing the switch
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At least The Asphyx has a title that makes you sit up and take notice. A 1972 British horror film set in late-Victorian England (and, wouldn’t you know it, the subject of my new Grand Old Movies post–for Halloween, yet), it’s a little mild with the scares but it seethes with ideas. Starting with the notion that there exists a death-seeking spirit coming to fetch one at the moment of passing, it dives into a rather morbid little tale confounding mad science, Greek mythology, spirit photography, an obsession with immortality, and the invention of an early film camera. That last is not actually remarked upon in the film but just happens to be there, operated by the protagonist, a country squire who dabbles in making things. These objects include, along with the camera, such domestic devices as a guillotine, a gas chamber, and an electric chair–some years before electricity was even installed in homes. All in the cause of trapping the Asphyx before it traps you. Like its title, the film is both weird and unique, anchored by the robust performance of Robert Stephens as the eternity-seeking squire. It may not be the most memorable horror film, but it certainly has its moments, especially one of Stephens undergoing a self-administered electrocution. What one won’t do for Science. Click here to read my post. And Happy Halloween.
Some people would want steak or lobster for their last meal. Me? I’d ask for a bunch of un-popped popcorn kernels so I could swallow them whole, be escorted to the electric chair, and give the audience a grotesque show as the popcorn (hopefully) pops from inside my electrified flesh prison.
