My plane landed nearly a half-hour early, despite the fact that Tobin Fields wasn't scheduled to meet me at the Louisville airport until around 10 PM. Tobin was the first Louisville resident to find my original Girdler site. He undoubtedly shared a similar enthusiasm for Girdler's work as I did. He also sounded very keyed up for some multimedia Girdler adventuring. Tobin told me he looked like Don Knotts, and he'd be wearing a Vampira T-shirt. Naturally, I was terrified. And I had an extra half-hour to conjure images of a gothic Mr. Furley.

Tobin's "Auto Manitou" turned against him as he drove to meet me, and his car broke down. He miraculously arrived on time. He was indeed clad in a Vampira shirt, though the Don Knotts bit was merely a clever experiment in false advertising. My Furley phobia quashed, we picked up my rental car and went in search of my motel.

The trip was a low-budget journey by design. I reserved a dinky room at a Red Roof Inn situated near the airport. I anticipated I wouldn't spend a good deal of time in the room except to sleep and shower. High-class accommodations were unnecessary as far as I was concerned. I was dead wrong, but I'll get to that later.

Tobin presented me with a vintage Three On A Meathook poster, which in my eyes was like receiving the key to Panic City. Before I left PA, I made a buttload of screen captures from Girdler's Louisville films. I hoped they'd help us nail down locations worthy of visitation. He and I reviewed the images on my laptop, and discussed which places we wanted to recapture on video. Tobin was especially interested in finding the precise rooftop from which Girdler filmed the opening Three On A Meathook pan of the Louisville skyline. He thought it would be neat to recreate the scene and compare Louisville 2000 with Louisville 1973.

After evaluating the locations, we chitchatted about Girdler's movies for a few hours. This was a particularly mystical experience for me, as it marked the first time I was granted the opportunity to discuss Girdler's movies with someone face-to-face. Sure, I've forced friends and loved ones to sit through Girdler flicks, but I never verbally explored the subject matter with a natural-born Girdler fan until my chat with Tobin.

I drove him home sometime past 2 AM. He had to work the next day until 6:00 PM, and I agreed to e-mail him my room phone number when I got back to my shifty little motel.

Upon return, I discovered that the Manitou which attacked Tobin's car shifted its attention to my laptop modem. My laptop was recently "in the shop" for memory issues, and it appeared some drivers were reinstalled incorrectly (allowing easy entrance for Tobin's spiteful car Manitou). I could not access the Internet or my email.

Not one to crack under tech stress, I got a head start on the next day by picking out some of the "easy-to-spot" locations from my collection of screenshots. I selected targets that looked like prime tourist traps. I brushed my teeth, stared lovingly at the Three On A Meathook poster, and eventually fell asleep to the not-so soothing sounds of jet engines.

Day One
I spent the better half of the morning on the phone with my tech support in PA, hoping against hope that I could remotely revive my modem. All attempts at resuscitation were in vain. I also called a friend at work and made her break into my email so I could send my phone number to Tobin. I was almost ready for my first round of location scouting, save a hearty breakfast.

Many people seek life-or-death thrills via rock climbing, or sky diving, or even white water rafting. I, too, am an experiential personality who likes to stare mortal jeopardy straight in the eye. Only my brand of "living on the edge" involves seeking out the greasiest of greasy-spoon restaurants.

A Waffle House stood next door to the Red Roof Inn.

I can scarcely describe the adrenaline surge I experienced when I sat down at the counter. "Diner High." Bubba, the cook/cashier/headwaiter, was missing all of his front teeth. He fried up the best country ham and eggs I've ever eaten, which I washed down with two cups of salty diner coffee. Seated next to me was a well-dressed fellow wearing a suit and a tie. He was trying to sell a hot tub to the Waffle House waitresses when I walked in (it was 90+ degrees outside). He and I got to talking, and I described my website. It turned out that he was a managing salesman representing the majority of the cemeteries in and around Louisville. He gave me his card, and said that I could write him if I needed to find anyone's grave.

Armed with a video camera and a laptop, I headed toward downtown Louisville. I figured that the easiest thing to find in one afternoon - with no knowledge of local geography - was the giant fountain cluster Pam Grier and Austin Stoker "rap" by in Sheba Baby. Tobin said it was near the Galt House (a giant, gaily-colored hotel). With my laptop aglow on the passenger seat, I drove close to the Ohio River until I finally recognized the building. Oddly, I spotted no majestic fountains.

I pulled into a large parking garage and asked the attendants if they recognized the fountains. They also pointed me in the direction of the Galt House. After roaming around the Galt for a bit, I finally found the fountains I was looking for.

A mother and two daughters were playing on the steps of the fountain. The father of the family sat on a bench nearby. Since I was videotaping the location, I decided to initiate an "on-the-spot" interview. I asked the man if he'd ever heard of William Girdler. He hadn't. I asked him if he knew of any movies made in Louisville.

He launched into his tale of meeting Pam Grier many years back. His name was John, and he lived near what I think was the area used for parking-lot scene. He credited his short stature as the main reason Grier singled him out for conversation. He said she was very nice and friendly.

(Click Here to see my over-excited, impromptu interview with John. I sound like a moron. Mpeg Movie: 3 MB.)

Brimming with Girdler gusto, I next sought The Belle Of Louisville, a steamboat that appears in Zebra Killer and Abby. I spied the ship from the Galt, but had to backtrack a few blocks in order to reach the docks. I also spotted the general area where Pam Grier jet-skied. I must say: looking at (and smelling) the water of the Ohio River that flowed near the docks helped me form a deeper respect for James Picket's courageous Zebra dive.

I returned to my car and drove around a bit more. I found the nightspot Girdler's daughter works at, though it appeared closed for the afternoon. I started to look for the loan house used in Sheba Baby, but traffic began to swell for the Friday rush hour, and I thought a return to my sleazy motel was the brightest thing to do.

An hour or so later, I met up with Tobin. We went to a fabulous store called Wild And Woolly Video, a privately owned outfit that specializes in obscure flicks and video curios. My jaw dropped at the sprawling collection of schlock and trash. Todd, the owner of the store, e-mailed me a few times via the old site. He expressed interest in completing his store's Girdler collection with the addition of Zebra Killer. I hunted for that flick over a year before finally tracking down a copy, and I received said copy a mere week before my Girdler trip. Todd gave me a CD with Blaxploitation radio spots, including ads for Sheba Baby and Abby, in exchange for the video. While in the store, I telephoned Mr. Lee Jones at Tobin's request. Lee worked on many Girdler movies, and he was a personal friend of Bill's. I was anxious to speak with him.

Lee told me that he specifically worked on Asylum, Meathook and Grizzly. He said he was most heavily involved in Grizzly, as he helped secure the financing from Edward Montoro. Lee was also a key player in a lawsuit filed against Montoro after Ed absconded with the Grizzly profits. Lee makes a cameo appearance in the film, along with Grizzly screenwriter Harvey Flaxman.

(Click Here to see Flaxman interview Lee Jones in Grizzly. Mpeg Movie: 777 KB)

Montoro earned his first film fortune by distributing Beyond The Door in the US. Like Abby, Beyond was an Exorcist rip-off that faced legal repercussions from Warner Brothers. When Girdler decided he wanted to make a Jaws knock-off as fast as possible, he contacted Lee, who immediately thought of Edward as a potential investor. Lee said Grizzly's budget was around $1 million, a sum that was returned to Montoro many times over via box office receipts.

Lee said that in the late 80s, Montoro fled to South America or Mexico to dodge the many lawsuits filed against him. Lee hasn't seen him since.

Lee sounded both confused and excited the website. He couldn't figure out why anyone would go to such lengths to document Girdler's career, but he also seemed eager to talk about his old friend. Lee Jones has his share of B-Movie beauties under his belt, including Hillbilly Hookers and Invasion Of The Girl Snatchers. He's also an on-the-go businessman. He runs an Internet software company in Louisville. He was open to the idea of meeting up the following day, and he offered to put me in touch with Joe Schulten, executive producer of Meathook. Lee asked me to call him early the next morning to hash out the details.

I hung up the Wild and Woolly phone, and traveled to the local Kinkos so I could photo-copy Todd's Sheba Baby pressbook. Afterwards, we bid the video store a fond farewell, and jetted straight to the WonderFest reception.

WonderFest is an annual sci-fi/horror toy and model expo held in Louisville. Dave Conover, a fellow who helps put on the show, is the author of the Charles Kissinger website. He contacted me as a result of the first Girdler site. Conover wrote an article about Kissinger for an alternative newspaper in Louisville last year, and gathered every scrap of Girdler/Kissinger information from the Louisville library he could find. He sent me a robust collection of local Girdler coverage (some of which appears in the Girdler On Girdler section). I was so thankful, I figured it would be nice to attend the show in Dave's name, and subsequently planned the Girdlerland 2000 trip around his show. As another token of my appreciation, I gave Dave an original Sheba Baby LP since he collects vinyl oddities.

I didn't get to see Dave much. He was busily performing his pre-expo duties. I did get to meet Beau Kaelin, another Girdler-head who contacted me via the site. The three of us swapped Girdler movie insight for some time. Tobin and I slowly realized we hadn't eaten anything since much earlier in the day. The hotel hosting the reception stopped serving food before 11:00 PM (which I still think is bizarre). Mad with hunger, we jumped in my rental and foraged for sustenance at a Wendy's.

I dropped Tobin off at his apartment sometime after midnight and went back to my dingy room. I pored through my new Sheba Baby press pieces while I listened to the Blaxploitation radio-spot CD from Todd. I obsessed well into the morning. I found the pressbook highly entertaining. It contained all sorts of faux advertorial articles touting the film, and many were very funny. I was particularly amused by the following press item:

While making a film in his home town of Louisville, Kentucky, director William Girdler handed Pam Grier his own car keys to be shown as she entered an auto for a scene in American International's "Sheba Baby." The car was to be blown up as soon as Pam alighted, and everything worked perfectly - except that Girdler's keys were left in the car. His wry reaction: "Some actors are too realistic…"