Every year since 1982 (The Austin Chronicle’s second year in print), the Halloween issue has offered a scary mask and accompanying mask instructions. While the early years were devoted to homages to horror movie icons, the mask has morphed into a political statement, reflecting the character of the times and satirizing real-life figures famous – or infamous – to Austinites.
Heeeeeeeeeere’s Kenny! (2024) We listed all the ways the state’s “top lawman,” Attorney General Ken Paxton, has used the power of his office to sue the ever-loving pants off anybody and everybody at odds with his ultra-right-wing agenda.
Count Muskula (2023). We summarized the Austin transplant/tech billionaire/serial environmental offender/Twitter underminer in two words: “Elon Sucks.”
Alex Jones the Sad Clown (2022). The same year he was ordered to pay $1.5 billion in damages for his Sandy Hook lies, we crowned internationally reviled conspiracist and Austin’s very own Bozo Alex Jones our Halloween Mask cover.
The Hounds of Hell (2021). Taking inspiration from Cerberus, the guard dog of Hades, we selected Texas’ three heads of state – Gov. Greg Abbott, A.G. Ken Paxton, and Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick – as our joint dishonorees.
No Mask (2020). Eight months into the pandemic – and still months before the COVID-19 vaccine became widely available – we could think of no other mask as frightening as, well, no mask at all.
The Night King (2019). Greg Abbott Our 2019 ode to Game of Thrones’ O.G. villain the Night King spookily anticipated 2021’s devastating Winter Storm Uri and the subsequent power grid failure and hundreds of Texan deaths that happened on the governor’s watch. (If anybody’s keeping score: We’re still waiting for him to fix the damn grid.)
Mask of Justice (2018). Still reeling from a rushed Supreme Court confirmation hearing that brushed aside credible sexual assault allegations against the nominee, we were filled with dread of the impact Brett Kavanaugh might have on the highest court. Turns out our fears were well-founded.
Armed White Male (2017). Coming off a spate of mass shootings perpetrated by white males (a population, we noted at the time, that “has been responsible for 54% of the country’s mass shootings” since 1982), we confronted that fact head-on in one of our most polarizing Halloween covers.
Trumpkin (2016). Did the idea of a Trump presidency make us want to puke? It sure did.
Attack of the 50-Foot Uterus (2015). After another punishing session at the Texas Legislature that saw a historic dismantling of abortion rights, we pushed back with the 50-Foot Uterus. Alas, the Lege roared back and effectively banned abortion in Texas six years later.
Fear-Mongering Alien Warlord Dan Patrick (2014). A hate-spewing conservative radio talk show host-turned-hate-spewing GOP leader, Dan Patrick won the lieutenant governorship in 2014 and has held that perch ever since.
Ted-dy Cruz-er (2013). Long before Cancún Ted abandoned the state during the Winter Storm Uri crisis, before his embarrassing presidential run, and before his transition to Trump’s biggest cheerleader, we noted how unlikable the then-junior senator was.
Prince of Lies (2012). We poked fun at presidential hopeful/mega multimillionaire Mitt Romney and some of his more notable gaffes (remember those binders full of women?).
The One Percent (2011). With most of the country still struggling to recover from the Great Recession, we set our targets on the so-called one percent, the wealthiest of wealthy who also weirdly seem to get all the tax breaks. (The instructions this year were written in the voice of the patron saint of one-percenters, The Simpsons’ Mr. Burns.)
Perr E. Coyote (2010). Then-Governor Rick Perry made national news when he revealed that, while jogging with the family dog, he encountered a coyote and shot it dead with a concealed .380 Ruger. When asked what he did with the corpse, Perry told the Associated Press he left the coyote right where he shot him: “He became mulch.”
Flu-ey the Swine Flu Pig (2009). Hoo boy, remember when we thought swine flu was the worst infectious disease we’d see in our lifetime?
The Monster and the Bride (2008). Our first-ever dual Halloween mask covers featured Republican presidential candidate John McCain and his running mate, Sarah “You Betcha” Palin.
Phantom of the DevelOpera (2007). While the Chronicle Halloween cover mask has in recent years focused on state and national political figures, back in the day we weren’t shy about poking fun at local figures, as in the case of 2007 cover boy, developer Richard Suttle: “He’s been the horse whisperer in the ear of city staff for the Northcross Wal-Mart, the Las Manitas ouster, the Town Lake supercondos, and a half-dozen somewhat less notorious but equally heinous proposed blights. If you have a really bad development plan, he’s the friend you need at City Hall.”
Invisi-Bell Man (2006). Never let it be said the Chronicle is not an equal-opportunity lampooner: In 2006, we roasted long-shot gubernatorial candidate Chris Bell as the “Incredible Vanishing Democrat.”
Barbara Bush as Marie Antoinette (2005). The former first lady infamously served “let them eat cake” looks with her ill-considered response to Katrina evacuees relocated to the Houston Astrodome: “What I’m hearing, which is sort of scary, is they all want to stay in Texas. Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this [chuckles] – this is working very well for them.”
Iraqi Day of the Dead (2004). A somber, seething mask acknowledged the ongoing devastation of the Iraq War: “Remember, Day of the Dead is not a sad time. It’s considered disrespectful to the dead to weep, wail, and grieve at the altar. You are allowed, however, to be very, very, very angry.”
Leatherface the Re-Districter (2003). Tom DeLay – the conservative politician formerly known as “Hot Tub Tom” – led the effort to redraw congressional districts heavily in Republicans’ favor, inciting the Democrats – or “Killer Ds” – to famously flee the state to prevent a quorum. DeLay resigned from Congress in 2006 amid a criminal investigation, but he bounced back(?) with a three-week stint on Dancing With the Stars in 2009.
Keystone Cop (2002). Five years into his tenure as Austin police chief, Stan Knee enjoyed cover placement – and a blistering investigation by Jordan Smith detailing low morale and accusations of cronyism in his department.
Gas Mask (2001). In the weeks following the September 11 attacks, America was terrorized by letters laced with anthrax sent to several politicians’ offices and media organizations. Five Americans were killed and 17 were sickened in what the FBI called ”the worst biological attacks in U.S. history.”
2000: Governor Rick Perry They say a picture is worth a thousand words. In this case, we let the terrifying visage of Governor Good Hair speak for itself.
The Bar Witch Project (1999). The only woman (so far) ever elected mayor of Austin (serving from 1977 to 1983), Carole Keeton (daughter of Dean Keeton, former UT Law dean and namesake of the campus-area street) cycled through a handful of last names, depending on the marriage (McClellan, Rylander, Strayhorn), and swapped party affiliations, too, from Dem to Republican and finally to independent in her failed 2006 challenge to sitting Governor Rick Perry.
Oompa Loompa George W. Bush (1998). The grand inspiration for depicting Governor George W. Bush as Roald Dahl’s diminutive chocolate factory workers? As Chronicle co-founder and former Editor Louis Black explained in his column that week, the Music section was running a feature on oompah bands and they just kind of ran with the idea. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar?
Triangle Park Robot (1997). The tortured development process behind the three-cornered parcel of land in North Central Austin inspired this year’s cover, as well as a Chronicle Triangle Design Contest. One reader proposed transforming the tract into an alien signpost constructed from moonlight towers in a pentagram shape – “a cosmic howdy doody of Texas-sized proportions” to our interstellar friends and neighbors.
Chupacabra Máscara (1996). This folkloric creature marked the tail end of a string of nonpolitical masks.
Memnoch the Devil (1995). The Chronicle went deep into Anne Rice country with this ode to her fifth novel in The Vampire Chronicles, to go with Raoul Hernandez’s multipage review.
DIY Vampira (1994). The issue featured an interview with Maila Nurmi, TV and B-movies’ Vampira, reprised in Tim Burton’s Ed Wood, which was out at the time.
Jim Bob Moffett as Rodney Dangerfield (1993). His plans for a 4,000-acre development upstream of Barton Springs ignited an environmentalist backlash that led to the Save Our Springs ordinance.
H. Ross Perot (1992). The big-eared billionaire who ran as an independent against Bill Clinton and sitting Prez George H.W. Bush didn’t win the election, but he did claim our Halloween Mask honors.
The Developer of the Black Lagoon (1991). Developer Gary Bradley saw the investment value in the environmentally sensitive land over the Edwards Aquifer Recharge Zone before anyone else, and his Circle C Ranch (that’s the CR logo on the creature’s forehead) paved the way for all the other development out there.
The Best Governor Money Can Build? (1990). When the GOP gubernatorial candidate and oilman Clayton Williams infamously compared rape to bad weather – “If it’s inevitable, just relax and enjoy it” – he blew a 20-point lead in the polls and got bested at the ballot by opponent Ann Richards.
Mark Weaver (1989). An anti-porn, anti-gay crusader, Weaver successfully lobbied to get the Chronicle removed (briefly) from H-E-B stores because of our gay personals. By the following issue, the paper was back, but Weaver continued crusading. At one point he was thought to have the largest collection of sex toys in the state.
Day of the Dead (1998)
Vampire Jorge Carrasco (1987). This cover vamping on City Manager Jorge Carrasco marked the first time the Chronicle put a political figure in the Halloween hot seat. Days after that issue was published, Carrasco resigned.
The Headless Trick-or-Treater (1986). Our only Halloween nonmask.
Leatherface from The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1985). The early Austin Chronicle Halloween Mask covers were homages to horror icons.
Elsa Lanchester as the Bride of Frankenstein (1984). “The monster demands a mate.” That was the theme of Marge Baumgarten’s profile of Lanchester that issue.
Al Lewis as Grandpa from The Munsters (1983). Lewis was the special guest that weekend at Liberty Lunch’s first annual Monster Fest.
In a 1998 column, former Chronicle Editor Louis Black explained the origins of the Halloween Mask: “In the beginning, the Halloween mask covers were of monsters. The first one was for Halloween 1982, our second year of publishing. Knowing of filmmaker and cinema legend Robert Burns’ obsession with Rondo Hatton, we interviewed him for a short story on the actor and asked Guy Juke to do a drawing of Hatton as a Halloween mask cover. The drawing was gorgeous – still is – and inside, Burns helped demonstrate how to cut the cover out and make a mask.
He continued: “Hatton suffered from acromegaly, a pituitary disease which results in excessive bone enlargement (though it is now completely controllable). Hatton’s face looked monstrous, though he was a sweet, gentle man. At first he was mostly a bit player in movies, but after playing the Creeper in Pearl of Death he became a B horror monster star, appearing in Spider Woman Strikes Back, Jungle Captive, House of Horrors, and The Brute Man (inspired by Hatton’s life). Unfortunately, Hatton died not long after the first two were released.”
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