"The Man Who Killed Halloween" by Ray Garton
Cemetery Dance's A Halloween Short Story ebook series
Readers unfamiliar with "The Man Who Killed Halloween" by Ray Garton may prefer to read these notes only after reading the story.
Halloween was a gray and drizzly day in El Reno, Oklahoma, a suburb of Oklahoma City. As the day darkened, nine-year-old Julia Murray knocked on the door of her next-door neighbor, eight-year-old Todd Strauss. The Strausses had moved into the complex earlier that year, and now Julia and Todd were good friends. But she knew that someday they would marry and have a house of their own, where she would cook Todd’s favorite foods, like pizza and French fries and macaroni and cheese. For now, they lived with their parents next door to each other and played together often.
The door was opened by Todd’s father. He was a big, fleshy man who spoke in a soft, almost feminine voice that always struck Julia as odd compared to his big, lumpy, overweight body. His homely face brightened with a warm smile. Julia assumed Mr. Strauss had just gotten home from work because he still wore the white coat he wore at his job.
“I brought something for Todd,” Julia said. “Can I give it to him?”
“He and his sister are putting on their costumes right now,” Mr. Strauss said.
Julia handed him a photograph. It was a school picture of her, and on the back she had written “I love you.”
“Can Todd go trick-or-treating with me?” she said.
“I’m sorry, honey, but we’re going with my friend Jack and his kids. We’re heading over there for dinner, then we’ll go trick-or-treating.”
“Oh. Okay. Tell him I said hello.”
“I will. I’m sure he’ll like the picture. You have a happy Halloween, now.”
As he closed the door, Julia turned and went back home.
She would never see Todd Strauss again....
My animus toward writer Ray Garton has gone without contradiction over numerous years and short stories. But with "The Man Who Killed Halloween" we have reached the exception: a story of real seriousness that at the same time steers readers clear of the usual wallowing in a lumpen urban milieu of prostitutes, addicts, and peep show employees.
Readers of David J. Skal's history of Halloween, Death Makes a Holiday, will recall its shattering introduction. There Skal tells the story, with generous historical context, of Ronald Clark O’Bryan. In 1974 O’Bryan, hoping to defraud his insurance company, killed his eight-year-old son with a poisoned Pixy Stix. This was, Skal notes, the beginning of the "thoroughly ingrained urban legend of Halloween treat-tampering."
"The Man Who Killed Halloween" by Ray Garton tells a fictional story, though the plot closely follows the facts. Garton dramatizes with care and circumspection, taking us through October 31 and the early hours of November 1. By story's midpoint he has created a palpable atmosphere of thickening dread and anguish:
Back home in their El Reno duplex, David and Rebecca prepared the children for bed.
“Can I eat some of my candy?” Lisa said.
“Tomorrow,” Rebecca said. “It’s already past your bedtime.”
“Just one piece!” Todd said.
“All right,” David said, “just one piece.”
Rebecca sighed with disapproval but did not object.
Lisa chose one of the bite-size Hershey bars while Todd rummaged through the booty in his bag.
“Remember, you’ve got this, too,” David said, holding up the Pixy Stix. It was too long to put in the sack of candy and Todd had set it on the coffee table when they came into the house.
Todd brightened. “Yes! I pick that.”
“Just make sure you brush your teeth well before you go to bed,” Rebecca said. “Now, off to your rooms and put on your pajamas.” She put her hands on Lisa’s shoulders from behind and steered her down the hall.
“I can’t get this open,” Todd said as he struggled with the end of the long straw.
“Let me,” David said. He took it to the kitchen, retrieved a pair of scissors from a drawer, and cut off the stapled end of the straw. He handed it back to Todd and said, “Now, off to your room for your pajamas.”
On their way to Todd’s bedroom, the boy tipped the straw over his mouth to eat some of the candy, but nothing came out. He shook it a few times without success.
In the bedroom, he said, “It’s hard inside. It won’t come out.”
David took the straw again and rolled it vigorously between his hands. The hardened powder crunched and crackled lightly as it broke up inside. “Should work now. Open up.”
Todd tipped his head back and David poured some of the powder into his mouth, saying, “There you go.”
Smacking his lips, Todd screwed up his face and said, “It’s nasty. Real bitter.”
“It is? Should be sweet.”
Todd sat on the edge of his bed and wiped his mouth as a shudder of disgust passed over him.
“You want some Kool-Aid to get the taste out of your mouth?” David said.
“Yes, please.”
Skal finishes his chapter:
....Ronald Clark O’Bryan was put to death by lethal injection on March 30, 1984. In his final statement, he did not admit his guilt or even mention his son, except to say that “we as human beings do make mistakes and errors.” He forgave all who took part in any way in his death, and asked for the forgiveness of anyone he had offended in any way during his thirty-nine years on earth.
His last meal, as recorded by the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, consisted of a medium-to-well-done T-bone steak, french fries and ketchup, whole-kernel corn, sweet peas, a lettuce and tomato salad with egg and French dressing, iced tea with sweetener, saltines, Boston cream pie, and rolls.
He didn’t ask for candy.
Garton:
David Strauss was arrested on November 5, 1974, and charged with the murder of his son Todd and the attempted murders of his daughter Lisa, both of the Carmichael children, and Jeffrey Putnam.
The evidence against him at the trial was bountiful.
Pixy Stix are always heat sealed on the ends, never stapled. A customer at Oklahoma City Optical testified that he had seen David walking to his car with a paper bag in one hand and a stapler in the other.
David had said incriminating things to a long list of people, asking about how to obtain cyanide and what amount was fatal to humans, and claiming that his financial problems soon would be over because he expected a large sum of money by the end of the year.
Police were unable to figure out how he had obtained the cyanide, but they knew he was trying. A chemical supply company salesman testified that David had inquired about purchasing cyanide. When he was told that the minimum amount sold was five pounds, he said it was too much.
David maintained his innocence throughout.
After closing statements from each side, it took the jury 45 minutes to find him guilty on all counts. An hour and ten minutes later, they sentenced him to death.
Among his fellow Death Row inmates at Oklahoma State Prison, David became known as the Candyman. They hated him bitterly for his crime and shunned him. Even surrounded by other killers, he spent his last years friendless and alone.
After three postponements, still insisting that he was innocent, David Allen Strauss was executed by lethal injection on March 31, 1984.
Within its own small compass, "The Man Who Killed Halloween" is certainly worthy of comparison with In Cold Blood. Garton's authorial voice and organization of material is impressive.
Jay
