The Crack of Dawn #800

11/7/2025

Newsletter #800

The Crack of Dawn

Newsletter 800. I started writing Crack of Dawn (back when it was The Ass Crack of Dawn) in June of 2022. This endeavor still interests me. Writing about any damn thing I feel like writing about is liberating. What I find interesting is that if I just dig a little bit, I keep unearthing stories I haven’t told yet. For instance . . .

In the hot summer of 1985, Scott Spiegel and I had just completed our film Thou Shalt Not Kill…Except, when Evil Dead 2 began shooting in North Carolina. Since Scott co-wrote Evil Dead 2 with Sam, we decided to drive down to North Carolina and visit the set.

It was hot in Michigan when we left, then got progressively hotter as we drove south. When we arrived at the Evil Dead 2 production offices and stage, located in a former public school outside Wilmington, the temperature was in the high-90s. When we got there they were shooting interior cabin scenes on sets built in the school’s gymnasium.

Not knowing the protocol, Scott and I hesitantly entered the stage and discovered that nothing going on. They had all gone to lunch. However, at the center of the cabin set, we found that they had left Ted Raimi hanging on the end of a pole. Ted had been cast in the truly unfortunate role of the monster character, Possessed Henrieta. Ted was encased in a disgustingly wrinkled and sagging, full-body latex suit weighing 75-pounds. It was over 100-degrees on that stage. Poor Ted was despondently hanging up there all alone in a 75-pound rubber cocoon. Apparently, it had been such a hassle getting him up there—most of the morning— that they weren’t about to bring him down just for lunch. Understandably, Ted wasn’t in a talkative mood. Ted told us afterward that at the end of the day, when the rubber feet of the outfit were removed, they poured a cup of sweat out of each foot.

Scott and I stayed in a barren house with Sam, Bruce, Rob Tapert, David Goodman, and Sam’s uncle Sid. Uncle Sid was a heavy-set older fella with a big grey beard, who was to play a wizard with no lines. Scott and I were cast as warriors, dressed in full-armor, also without lines (which was fine with me). Meanwhile, Uncle Sid, who had ridden his Harley from Michigan to North Carolina, had emphysema. The poor guy coughed loudly and deeply all night long, keeping us all up.

Near the end of Evil Dead 2, the lead character, Ash (Bruce Campbell), falls out of a time portal in the sky. He crashes to the ground—unaware that he’s travelled 700-years back in time. Ash opens his eyes and looks up. In Ash’s POV, five heads appear, looking down. The five heads were: Sam, Rob, Scott and me—all unrecognizable in the face-covering armor helmets—and Uncle Sid as the grey-bearded wizard. Scott’s and my big moment, and you can’t see who we are. This was a perfect example of Sam’s sense of humor, as well as his world view. Everything involves torture. At its core, that’s the basis of Evil Dead—constantly torturing Ash.

All of the scenes set in 1300 AD were shot in a gravel pit that was minimally 110-degrees. Our armor costumes were made of plastic, beneath which we all wore black thermal Union suits. Once you were costumed, taking a pee was out of the question.

At the center of the gravel pit, at its lowest point, there was a tiny little spit pond filled with dirty water. Scott and I spent most of two entire days—when we weren’t shooting, which was most of the time—sitting beside the spit pond with our helmets off, smoking cigarettes. To keep myself alive, I just kept scooping up dirty water in a dixie cup and pouring it on the back of my neck. At the end of the first long grueling day of shooting in the gravel pit, Rob said to me, “Tomorrow will be much better.” I said, “Why will tomorrow be better?” Rob grinned, “Because you know what you’re in for.”

Upon Ash’s arrival in 1300 AD, he is attacked by a flock of winged deadites—evil flying bird women with talons and fangs; much like harpies. Luckily for Ash, he has a shotgun. A winged deadite swoops in on him and he blows it to smithereens. Of course, there were no winged deadites because they were special effects to be put in later. Therefore, a long, gruelling part of the day was spent jabbing upward with our swords at imaginary winged deadites—in 110-degree heat, in armor. To our surprise, Sam gave Scott and I our own bit in the battle, and to be given a bit is an honor. Suddenly, we were the focus of this whole chaotic magilla. Sam told us to close our helmets. The closed helmets only had a small slot you could see through. Sam had Scott and I just stand there in our armor with closed helmets. It was 110-degrees. Sam’s direction was for us to turn and look up. That’s it. Meanwhile, standing right out of frame were the KNB effects guys holding buckets and a hose. On action Scott and I turned and looked up, then were then completely splattered with the blood and guts of the recently deceased winged deadite. Of course, Sam had us do several takes, delighting in our discomfort. In every take, Scott and I both got fake blood directly in our eyes through that stupid slot. And also of course, our bit ended up on the cutting room floor.

While Scott and I were there for five days, I got to witness Scott’s first taste of notoriety. Each scene was nuttier and bloodier than the scene before. Many of the cast and crew came up and acknowledged him as the co-writer. They would say say things like, “You wrote this? Really? We’re you on acid?” But it was all complimentary. Scott basked in the minor glory. I was jealous.