by Mike McCarty
I hate him for leaving me in a world without an Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois in it.
In the Kitchen with Edith:
Enjoying Dessert with Norma Jean Tumble, Leading Lady of “The Nightmare Quadrant”
Interview Conducted by Mark McLaughlin
In the early days of her acting career, Norma Jean Tumble was often compared to Veronica Lake. Both were willowy blondes with slender, angelic faces. Now Norma is a silver-haired, rosy-cheeked grandmother living in Butterfield, Ohio. She weighs well over two-hundred and fifty pounds and jokingly claims, “I used to look like Veronica Lake–now I’m as big as an ocean!”
I visited her in the farmhouse she shares with her younger brother Abner. She wore a yellow and green muumuu and white bunny slippers. She had just finished baking an angel food cake when I’d arrived. She quickly slathered some cherry-flavored pink icing on the still-warm cake and during the interview we ate the whole thing, washing it down with fresh-brewed coffee.
NJT: Me a jumbo lantern!
MM: Hmm?
NJT: According to the late, great Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois, that was what my name spelled if you mixed up the letters. Me a jumbo lantern!
MM: Oh, yes. He always liked doing that with people’s names. Since you’re a jumbo lantern, I hope that means you’ll be shining some light on his life and works.
NJT: I’ll do my best.
MM: So what was it like, working with Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois?
NJT: Wonderful! Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois was just the most complex, weird, sexy, strange man you could possibly imagine.
MM: I notice you threw in ‘sexy’....NJT: He was sexy, but he wasn’t sexual. Does that make sense? He never came on to me. He never really had any romantic interests.
MM: That’s pretty weird, when you stop to think about it. He lived 107 years and had no known sexual partners. I wonder if he died a virgin...? I guess we’ll never know.
NJT: Well, I do know this. Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois enjoyed life. He enjoyed drinking mint juleps, looking at insects, writing poetry, and climbing catalpa trees. His nails were always dirty, just like a scrappy little country-boy.
MM: Are you saying he never grew up?
NJT: Could be! He did have a sort of loony Peter Pan quality. Although Peter Pan chummed around with kids–mostly little boys, right?–and Alphonse didn’t like children.
MM: Why do you say that?
NJT: Because he said so! He found them distracting. I used to hang out with Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois a lot back then. I had a few friends with children, and whenever the little ones were around, he would whisper in my ear, “Sugar, get those noisy little peppersnipes away from me! I can’t even hear myself think!”
MM: What exactly is a peppersnipe, anyway?
NJT: Oh, just some word he made up. In that bone-box behind his beautiful eyes resided the goofiest brain in the world!
MM: I’ve met him many times–we’re actually related–but I don’t remember that he had beautiful eyes.
NJT: You’re related? You know, I thought you looked a little bit like him. Yes, Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois certainly did have beautiful eyes. They were big and soulful, with long copper lashes. One eye was bluish-green with flecks of gold, and the other was ocean-blue.
MM: They were different colors...?
NJT: A casual observer would tell you they were the same color, but I can tell you for a fact: they were significantly different colors, and both were very beautiful. Did you know that he’s the reason I’m fat?
MM: I didn’t know that. How did he make you...overweight?
NJT: ‘Fat’ isn’t a dirty word. I don’t mind being called ‘fat’–I am fat! Every time we would hang out together, we’d always go get doughnuts, because he knew I loved doughnuts. I’d always say, “No, they’ll make me fat!”–and he’d say, “Maybe you were meant to be fat. I bet you’d be a pretty fat lady.”
MM: If you don’t mind my saying, you are a very pretty fat lady.
NJT: You see? He was right! I was always a very good-looking thin woman, but I look better with more meat on my bones. How old do you think I am?
MM: Well, because you were in “The Nightmare Quadrant,” I have a good idea how old you are–and you don’t look that old. You look about twenty years younger than you are.
NJT: Exactly! I would rather look like a middle-aged fat woman than a thin little-old-lady. I really think Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois did me a favor by encouraging me to be fat.
MM: But being overweight is usually bad for your health....NJT: My health is just fine. Come upstairs with me, I’ll prove it to you!
MM: Oh, I’m just here for the interview–NJT: Silly boy, I don’t want to have sex with you! Oh, I would if you wanted–I haven’t had sex since my last husband died–but that’s not what I was talking about. I have some weights upstairs in my bedroom. You’d be surprised how much a big old gal like me can lift!
MM: You certainly have a real passion for life.
NJT: I learned to appreciate life from–who else?–Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois!
MM: Now let’s get back to the ‘show biz’ part of this interview. What movies or TV shows were you in before “The Nightmare Quadrant”?
NJT: No TV, just a few cheap horror movies, like my first one, “I Was a Teenage Flesh-Eater” from 1954, and a couple Japanese monster pics–“Batodactyl” from 1955 and “Batodactyl VS. The Space Demon,” 1956. I was so young back then–and so skinny! Batodactyl was what they called the monster in the American release. I forget what he was called in the Japanese version. Battuka? Battanga? Something like that.
MM: How did you get into Japanese monster movies?
NJT: I was married to my first husband at the time. A dentist, Dr. Otis Perlman. Older than me. A pleasant man, but boring. We were on vacation in Japan and the director spotted me in a restaurant. He’d recognized me from “I Was a Teenage Flesh-Eater.” He was this exuberant potbellied Japanese man and he insisted that I star in his Batodactyl movies. So, I stayed in Japan and Dr. Perlman came back to the States alone. We never saw each other again.
MM: Didn’t you get a divorce?
NJT: No, we didn’t! But I got remarried anyway. Several times! Wasn’t that terrible of me? Technically I was still married to Otis. But, I was never accused of bigamy. Otis died in 1985. He never remarried. Sad.
MM: I’ve never seen either of the Batodactyl movies. I’m guessing that Batodactyl was a cross between a bat and a pterodactyl...?
NJT: Yes! And he had big fluffy moth antennae, too. The Space Demon looked like a squid with a sort of hare-lipped, devilish cat-face. Each of his tentacles ended in a lobster claw, which really didn’t make any sense. But then, none of it made any sense anyway, so I guess it was okay.
MM: Now tell me about your career after “The Nightmare Quadrant.”
NJT: Oh, I did lots of horror movies, tons of them, including some Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois movies, like “Gumbo Witch!” from 1961...“Night of the Crawdad,” 1963...“Loup Garou Mansion,” 1965...and “Vampire Chateau,” 1968.
They put me in old-age make-up for “Gumbo Witch!” It was about a witch who turned her enemies into frogs and crawdads and fish and then killed them and put them in her gumbo. It was actually pretty creepy. The witch’s pot was filled with actual gumbo, and we kept it cooking for hours. We’d eat that gumbo and then throw in more ingredients and make more....Just thinking about that movie is making me hungry for gumbo. I’ll make some tonight.
“Night of the Crawdad” was a stupid movie about a giant crawdad that attacks a barn-dance. In the end, a big catalpa tree falls on the crawdad and breaks its back. Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois had a thing for catalpa trees. “Night of the Crawdad” was originally supposed to be “Night of the Incredible King-Sized Praying Mantis,” based on his novel, Mant
is Attack! But, the studio objected since Universal Pictures had made “The Deadly Mantis” in 1957. That already had a giant praying mantis in it.
MM: Do you watch a lot of sci-fi and horror movies?
NJT: No. The only horror and sci-fi movies I’ve ever seen are the ones with me in them–and even then, I usually don’t watch them to the end. I did watch “Night of the Crawdad” all the way through. I was in love with my leading man in that one–Edmund Calloway. We were married for about five years–had a couple kids. Eventually Eddy started hitting the bottle and picking up weight, and he couldn’t get any work after that, so I divorced him. But while we were making the movie, he was lean and handsome, a real looker.
But back to the movie. For the giant crawdad, the special-effects guy–a very nice man named Walter, I forget his last name–went to a seafood restaurant and picked a bunch of lobster shells and legs and bits and pieces out of their dumpster. Then he cleaned them, dried them out in his oven, painted them orange, and glued and wired them together, making four working crawdad puppets. He gave them doll’s eyes, and that made them look really creepy.
In “Loup Garou Mansion,” I played an old Cajun witch again. I’ve always been extremely interested in the paranormal, and Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois indulged my interest by allowing me to play witches. “Loup Garou Mansion” was about a mansion out in the bayous with a big, elaborate family curse attached to it. Werewolf, silver bullets, full moon, blah blah blah.
The only real plot-twist that makes “Loup Garou Mansion” different from any other old werewolf movie is the fact that the werewolf doesn’t cast a reflection in mirrors, even after he’s turned back into a regular person. Of course, maybe Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois just got his vampire and werewolf lore mixed up. The mansion in that movie is also the Fontaine residence in “Cry for the Alienoid.”
In “Vampire Chateau,” I played a rich French vampire lady-scientist named Simone Duvalier, who chops up her male victims and reassembles the best parts into the perfect undead lover. So her new artificial boyfriend is sort of a good-looking vampire Frankenstein’s monster.
I remember, on the set, Alphonse was playing with a praying mantis and he asked me, “Do you think we could put a little cape on Oswald and put him in the movie as a vampire praying mantis–or would that be too silly?” I told him, “Yes, that would be extremely silly!”–so he didn’t do it. But he wanted to. He actually wanted to put Oswald in a little vampire costume!
MM: Oswald? I recently talked to Chip Ranger, and he told me that Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois had a pet praying mantis named Oswald back around 1957, when they were shooting “The Nightmare Quadrant.”
NJT: Yes, that’s true.
MM: “Vampire Chateau” was made in 1968, eleven years later. So it probably had to be a different praying mantis. He named that one Oswald, too?
NJT: It was the same one.
MM: In 2006, I visited Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois in the nursing home and there was a praying mantis on his knee. Don’t tell me–
NJT: That was Oswald, too.
MM: I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty sure praying mantises don’t live that long.
NJT: You’re right, they don’t. But that wasn’t a praying mantis.
MM: Well then, what was it?
NJT: I wasn’t going to tell you...but you’re already pretty close to figuring it all out anyway.
MM: Figuring what out?
NJT: Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois was a warlock. A white warlock–he only used his powers for good. Oswald was his familiar spirit.
MM: Well now, if Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois was a warlock, I think he would have said something about it. Heck, he’d have crowed like a rooster about it!
NJT: He never knew.
MM: I don’t understand.
NJT: I knew, but I never told him. He just thought he lived a charmed life, and I let him think that. It’s not good to let someone know they own the keys to the world.
I think, deep down, Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois realized he was different from other men. And certainly he must have suspected that there was something different about Oswald. I mean, Oswald was with him since he was a teenager. As an entomologist, he had to know that no normal praying mantis could possibly live that long.
He just kept fooling himself, year in and year out. It was easier that way. He would tell me, “Oswald is super-strong because I feed him hamburger all the time! He’s going to outlive all of us.” Well, he was certainly right about that.
Just look over your left shoulder. See that little fellow on the windowsill? (Norma pointed behind me, so I turned. On the sill of an open kitchen window, I saw an adult praying mantis, looking in our direction.)
MM: Don’t tell me that’s Oswald!
NJT: Yup, it sure is! Sometimes, Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois would call him “Sod Law.” You know, that whole anagram thing.
Oswald, Auntie Norma has a treat for you! (At this point, Norma went to the refrigerator and took out a small plate covered with plastic wrap. She popped the plate into the microwave for a few seconds, and then took it out and unwrapped it. The plate held several small pieces of cooked hamburger. She touched the meat to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then presented this offering to the praying mantis. Instantly the insect began to feed.)
I’ve always been interested in the occult, so I was able to figure out what the deal was with Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois very early in our friendship. All the signs were there. A great love of trees and nature...incredible luck...a magnetic personality. His love of lyrics and poetry–all witches and warlocks are addicted to chants of various kinds. He was casting spells without even knowing it. Though he mispronounced a lot of words...his spells would have been stronger if he’d said all the words right.
There were other signs, too. The constant presence of some small animal–the familiar spirit. Ever notice how a lot of rich people always carry around little dogs? The obsession with anagrams! Witches and warlocks are nuts about anagrams. They have strong identities, too. That’s why no one ever called Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois by just his first or last name. Always the complete name, hyphen and all.
And of course, the long, filthy fingernails! Magical people, good and evil alike, feel akin to the earth. They don’t mind the soil. But even though his nails were filthy, Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois kept his soul chaste. As a white warlock, he had no need for sex.
MM: Why is Oswald hanging around you now? Did you become a witch?
NJT: A person can’t ‘become’ a witch or warlock. It’s a power you’re born with. Our little friend visits me because I think about him and his late master. Familiars can read thoughts from a great distance.
MM: Chip Ranger and Kevin L. Jacobi both told me that they’ve seen some praying mantises since Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois died.
NJT: They both saw the same one–our friend on the window sill. Oswald must have visited them, drawn by their thoughts. Familiars can go from here to there in the blink of an eye. The poor little thing...he’s lonely. He wants a new master. He’ll find one eventually, I’m sure.
So do you believe what I’m saying? That Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois was a warlock?
MM: It’s hard to believe–but it makes sense, so it’s hard to disbelieve, too. If he was a warlock, it’s a pity he never knew. He never got to use any of his magic.
NJT (laughing): Honey, Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois used his magic every day! His magic and his eccentric personality were intertwined. He used his powers to get his awful novels and poetry published–to get his crazy TV show on the air–to make plenty of absolutely ridiculous movies. He brought his visions to life!
Of course, things didn’t always go his way. Because he didn’t know he had magical abilities, he never used them to their full extent.
If he’d been a more powerful warlock, the TBS network executive
s would have gone along with everything he did and “The Nightmare Quadrant” would have continued for years and years. Still, it’s good that he didn’t know. There’s no telling what he might have been tempted to do.
All in all, I would say he practiced good magic. His projects did well. Folks had fun and made money. He used to yell and throw a fit every now and then, but that had nothing to do with his powers. That was just him being a peppersnipe!
MM: So what you’re telling me is that bad books, movies and TV shows are actually the works of powerful witches and warlocks who are poor writers?
NJT: Never thought of it that way before. Sure would explain a lot.
MM: Where do you suppose Alphonse Sweetwater-DuBois is now? What happens to white warlocks when they die?
NJT: I’m sure that strange, wonderful man is now resting in the shade of some huge, heavenly catalpa tree, drinking mint juleps and playing with praying mantises. Oh, just look at that Oswald. Really, isn’t he the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen?
MM: Now, should you call a male insect “gorgeous”? Wouldn’t “handsome” be more gender-appropriate...?
(I turned around again. The praying mantis, who was indeed handsome, was still standing by the plate. Apparently he was full, because he let the little chunk of meat he was holding fall from his grasp. I wondered whether or not I should tell Abner that Norma’s grip on reality was slipping away. Once she’d started talking about witchcraft–or rather, warlockcraft–I had decided to humor her, since I was a guest in her home. A mind-reading familiar in the shape of a praying mantis! I thought. This old gal’s going to need a straitjacket pretty soon. I should swat that stupid bug with one of her bunny slippers. Two seconds after that idea crossed my mind, Oswald waved his forearms furiously and vanished in a puff of lime-green smoke.)
Afterword:
Tripping The Fantastic
By David Dunwoody
What a long, strange trip it’s been.
And I do mean trip–whether huffing Black Flag, swimming the Orange River or just experiencing the madness captured in these pages, it’s been one hell of a ride. As we now reach the end–my afterword–I can only stress that it was about the journey, not the destination.