In the Fall of 2004, I was 25 years old and trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I’d worked for about three years at a pair of TV production companies in the Hampton Roads area, and I’d just published my first book. Feeling secure, I bought a condo in Virginia Beach. Then I lost my job. Suddenly, I had a mortgage and no job prospects. If I wanted to keep working in television, I knew I had to move to New York or Los Angeles. But I wasn’t ready.
For a few months, I was flailing. I wasn’t so much looking for a job as I was looking for mentors. One of the people I sought out was Jerry Harrell, a.k.a. Dr. Madblood. Jerry first donned the wig and persona of the late-night TV horror host back in 1975, when he about 27 years old. By the time I met him, he had been doing his schtick for nearly 30 years. As a horror nerd, I found that incredibly inspiring, so I arranged a meeting at his office at ODU, where he worked as a media manager. We talked for over an hour.
I had recently met filmmaker George Romero, and I remember telling Jerry about that encounter. His eyes lit up, and he proceeded to tell me about meeting two of his heroes, Rod Serling and Forry Ackerman. We talked about the Madblood show, of course, which he described as a family affair. I remember him saying that the main reason he was still doing the show was because he couldn’t bear to disband such an amazing team. He also said the show fulfilled his mission in life: “to tell people that it’s okay to be weird.”
At the end of our conversation, Jerry invited me to the taping of the next episode. A few days later, I met the cast and crew in a small studio at ODU. And I was in awe. I’d already had enough experience with TV production to know that it’s not all fun and games… but the taping of Dr. Madblood Presents was all fun and games. There was a lot of improvisation, a lot of laughter, and a lot of love. To me, it seemed like the ideal working environment. At the end of the night, Jerry’s cohorts Craig T. Adams and Debra Burrell invited me to return the following week. I said I didn’t want to impose, but I didn’t say no.
Soon after, I attended the inaugural MonsterFest at Chesapeake Library, where Dr. Madblood was the guest of honor. Someone (maybe head librarian Jim Blanton?) reminded Jerry that I had recently published a book about horror movies, and he immediately suggested using my book in a segment he was recording that day at the convention. Fool that I am, I did not have a copy of my own book, so I didn’t get the free press. But I was tremendously grateful that he wanted to support me in that way.
I kept going to the taping sessions for Dr. Madblood Presents, and Craig and Debra eventually put me to work... rolling Brain’s fish-tank in and out of shots. I believe I was even credited as “Brain-wrangler” on a few episodes. Those sessions helped me to escape—for a few hours, at least—my overwhelming sense of inertia in life. I didn’t know where I was headed or what I wanted to do, but for the time being I knew I was among friends. That made a big difference.
In the Spring of 2005, things turned around for me. I got a new production job—on a TV series about paranormal experiences, which was right up my alley. I also met my future wife. We took a field trip to scout the real “Madblood Manor” in downtown Portsmouth as a potential filming location for our paranormal series. I wanted to pay homage to my friends—and that’s how Madblood Manor appeared in Season 1, Episode 6 of the Discovery Channel series A Haunting.
When my stint on A Haunting ended, I was feeling confident again, so I immediately wrote a spec script for an original horror film. In the pre-credit sequence of my story, a character watches Dr. Madblood on late-night TV. I ended that sequence with one of the doc’s famous pronouncements: “This one is going to be a real ker-schtinker!” Was I jinxing my own script? Nah. Coming from Dr. Madblood, that label would have been a badge of honor.
In the Fall of 2006, my wife and I moved to Los Angeles, where we spent the next fifteen years. Every Halloween, I would watch the Madblood Halloween special online, and post comments in the WHRO website’s chat room. I was always grateful for the opportunity to spend that time with my old friends, even though I was on the other side of the country. In 2009, I returned to Virginia for a MonsterFest screening of my documentary film Nightmares in Red, White and Blue. This time, I was ready for my close-up with Dr. Madblood. Jerry couldn’t have been kinder. He treated me like a pro. More importantly, he treated me like a friend.
In the Fall of 2025, Jerry Harrell took his final bow in the (original?) Madblood wig and lab coat for a 50th anniversary Halloween special. That’s 50 years of telling people it’s okay to be weird! The message resonates more strongly today than ever—which is why Jerry will be dearly remembered and missed. I don’t think he would have wanted anyone to exaggerate the importance of his life or work, so I won’t exaggerate. Jerry Harrell was a beacon of light, for me and so many others. He provided countless laughs and inspiration and refuge and family. Those things will survive for many years to come. For that, we will be eternally grateful.
Goodnight, Doc. Thanks for turning us on.
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