While much of the content below can be deemed as dated (i.e. the Internet is now my newspaper and mall), there have remained two constants: 1) my affection for Lucio's art, and 2) the bottomless pit of shame I feel on a daily basis for having left early that weekend as not to miss a day of work for a company that layed me off six months later.
Further current notes of interest follow…

Mike and his autographed poster.

Beyond The Gates
by Mike Baronas

The Internet is a surreal place-an uninhibited frontier (for the time being) where one can peruse topics on just about anything up to, and probably including, the meaning of life itself…though I've never desired to search for som-thing so potentially anticlimactic. I used to be an online regular, then got bored. The much-ballyhooed World Wide Web rekindled interest, but I quickly found it to be a more grandiose wasteland than cable television. It's to my chagrin that this forum was where I found the 'obituary' to one of my most admired genre legends.

"Last night I got some of the worst news of my life," began Elite Entertainment VP Don May's March 14th post on the 'alt.horror' newsgroup. "Lucio Fulci, the great Italian horror film director, has passed away. Evidently, Lucio died from an apparent heart attack in Italy. Once I hear any more news, I will post it."

My mind reeled for a moment. The stunning revelation soon sealed onto thoughts of this very publication. You see, I passed on the opportunity to interview Mr. Fulci back in January. Actually, I was denied more than I passed, though I still choose to kick myself.

Saturday, January 6, 1996: My good friend 'Bonefish' picked up the driving responsibilities while I finished sequencing the 20+ questions I had conjured up for the master. I was a tad bit concerned that no formal interview had been arranged prior to our departure, but figured it would be easy enough to hit up Fulci's translator for some time during the annual two-day Fangoria-Creation Entertainment convention in Manhattan.

Not proving to be crucial enough to rail upon any sort of press list, 'Bony' and I milled around like cattle in the cold, dilapidated lobby of the Hotel Pennsylvania for a good 45 minutes. The throng of degenerates were finally herded into two cramped dealer areas and a screening room with piss-poor acoustics. We wandered around until claustrophobia began to get he best of us then boogied upstairs to our room. I have neither the space nor the patience to describe what a mere $129 per night gets you in New York City…let's just say the word "skanky" should suffice.

After catching up with a few friends, Bony and I sat and listened to Tom Savini drone on for the 48th time. Next up was the main man. A classy little 'this is your life' trailer of film clips highlighting the director's most infamous scenes from ZOMBIE, THE BEYOND, DON'T TORTURE A DUCKLING, THE GATES OF HELL, etc. preceded his grand entrance.

We strained for a minute or two to hear any of the questions translator/personal assistant Loris Curci fielded for Mr. Fulci without the convenience of state-of-the art equipment like, say a microphone, but were confident we'd be experiencing such interaction first-hand soon enough. We then made our way to an already enormous autograph line, I, armed with my Number-76-of-2000-pressed-in-l982 PAURA NELLA CITTA DEI MORTI VIVENTI LP and my not-as-cool, folded, dog-eared American GATES OF HELL poster, Bony with his bootleg THE BEYOND/GATES OF HELL soundtrack CD sleeve. The Creation cattle drivers rapidly prodded us through, branding us with their newly-instituted ''one signature only" policy. If nothing else was to go right that weekend, it was my fanboy destiny to get that damned poster I grew up with signed!

I grew anxious as I approached the alter and soon found myself standing directly in front of the God of Gore; my eyes focused on his balding head, my mouth searching for something to pronounce, my ZOMBIE t-shirt stretched over my large belly. In an instant he grabbed my poster, scribbled his name, pushed it to the right and reached for Bony's item. My attempts at thanking him or for a simple handshake went unnoticed. He never looked up, never acknowledged my existence, never saw the misshapen ghoul that graced my XXL waistline. Lucio Fulci, one of my most enamored horror film icons, turned out to be a grumpy old coot.

Fulci inspects the bootleg CD cover.

Despondent, I proceeded to the end or the line to get my LP autographed for collector's sake when I heard the Italian's temper flare. I turned to see poor Bonefish receiving the inquisition over his bootleg CD jacket. Fulci, hands raised in the air and blurting out some obviously unsavory comments, was calmed by his assistant Loris who confronted my friend in ask-ing, "Where did you get this CD?''

Bony's comeback:' "lt's not a CD...um, I found it...they were giving them away at some dealer's table." Lame for sure, but they bought it...autograph and all! To this day, Bony can proudly boast that he's the only one on the planet with Fulci's signature on this CD.

My second time through proved equally fruitless, but I did manage to introduce myself to Fulci's sidekick and asked about the prospect of interviewing the sourpuss he babysat. Loris, a Fangoria contributor himself, told me I had to speak to his boss, editor Tony Timpone. He might as well have said, "Go lick a wall outlet, kid"…there was no way in hell Timpone would allow his competition to get any sort of scoop on his turf.

It was obvious he was too important to speak with the likes of me, but I sucked it up, walked over to him and popped the question. As he starred off behind me looking for more PR agent bum to lick, my request finally permeated his preoccupation and he farted out, "We already have somebody covering that." Oh really? Then why did it take you and your crack staff three issues to finally pay homage to Lucio with a proper tribute after his death?

I took my bitter self down to the hotel bar later that evening where Bony and I ran into one of the Creation wranglers. Turns out she was the east-coast event coordinator, so I went for the last ditch attempt and got on my knees and pleaded for an interview. Just like that, she set up a tentative 5 p.m. meeting time. My revelry would be short-lived, however.

Mike Baronas with Antonella Fulci at Cult Con 2000.

Sunday, January 7,1996: We awoke early to the discouraging sight of a rapid snowfall, the news hyping the storm to be the Blizzard of `96. They predicted 10-12 inches would blanket the city by nightfall. In one of the most trying decisions of my life, I decided we should bag the interview and beat the snow; my monetary subconscious telling me it wasn't worth missing a day of work or another $129 night in the Hotel Shitsylvania. As we made our hasty escape from New York, I left with a strong inkling that this opportunity would never present itself again.

Rest in peace Lucio. I do hope I get the chance to know you better on the other side.

One major event I chose to exclude from the article that I have since found the fortitude to admit is my elevator ride with Lucio. Upon completion of his autograph session, he made his way back to his hotel room. I followed. As the doors closed behind me, I could see Lucio admiring my ZOMBIE shirt. I guess I was star-struck...I couldn't speak! It would have been the perfect time to harp on the interview subject face-to-face, but I just couldn't get the words out…to my ultimate chagrin.

On a less painful note, my "bottomless pit" has begun to fill itself in thanks to Antonella Fulci's kind words and friendship that blossomed at Cult-Con in November 2000. Grazie per tutto!!!