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Ernie Anderson as Ghoulardi -- the cool ghoul that continues to lead a cult of followers 50 years after he hit the Cleveland airwaves.

(James A. Ross/The Plain Dealer)

Oscar Wilde once said, “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

Ol’ Oscar’s line is particularly fitting this time of year – when we don costumes to explore our inner fantasies and transform into the creature we wish we really were.

So does that mean that we are wearing a different costume the rest of the year? The socially acceptable face, the one that doesn’t tell the boss or the world to go to hell?

Hit it, Camera 4 – it’s time for Ghoulardi.

Fifty years ago, the legendary late-night horror host hit Cleveland’s late-night airwaves with a weird beard, crazy frightwig and mad lab coat. More than that, he rolled out rebellious attitude that fit nicely with the crazy get-up.

He told his bosses, his audience, the world, the solar system, the little green men from Mars and anyone else within earshot to go to hell.

They responded by begging for more, more, more. The cretins will have their wish again this weekend.

Egads, it’s the Big Chuck & Lil’ John Ghoulardifest.

PREVIEW

The Big Chuck and Lil' John Ghoulardifest

What: Spooky, kooky celebration of horror flicks, sci-fi memorabilia and Ghoulardi.

When: 5-9 p.m. Friday, 9 a.m.-7 p.m. Saturday and 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Sunday.

Where: LaVilla, 11500 Brookpark Road, Cleveland.

Guests: Tim Conway, Big Chuck and Lil' John, Bob "Hoolihan" Wells, Dick Goddard, the ReBeats (Beatles tribute), Harp Twins and more.

Admission: $15 per day; $30, three-day pass. Free for children up to age 12 when accompanied by an adult.

Tickets and schedule: www.theghoulardifest.com.

The three-day bash celebrates the 50th anniversary of Ghoulardi hitting the airwaves with B-movie memorabilia, live bands, a costume contest and a food-eating competition, not to mention former associates and proteges of The Man.

This year’s soiree features Tim Conway, who will appear at 2 p.m. Saturday and do a Q&A about his times with Ghoulardi.

More than guests, ghouls and games, Ghoulardifest celebrates the iconoclastic spirit of the man who found freedom in the character, says event co-host Big Chuck Schodowski.

“He was the first hippie, the first shock jock, the first guy that would tell it like it is and tell people off,” says Schodowski, the former TV host who got his start working with Ghoulardi. “He hid behind that goatee and mask to say or do whatever he wanted.”

Anderson’s reign over the boob tube was brief; the late-night movie host stalked the airwaves of WJW Channel 8 from 1963 to 1966.

Anderson died in 1997. But his rebellious presence is as big as the “50-Foot Woman.”

The stunts marked the birth of the so-bad-it’s-good B-movie aesthetic — not to mention a hip irreverence that inspired all kinds of lowbrow cults: garage rock, comic books, trash cinema and punk rock.

“Cult is the right word,” says Schodowski, in describing the fandom surrounding a guy who’s been off the air for 46 years. “Some people come for the nostalgia, but it’s more than that – Ghoulardi also represents an attitude.”

He didn’t care if that attitude rubbed you the wrong way, Conway told me earlier this year.

"You couldn't be a counterculture guy on TV back then. The management and audience didn't go for that,” said Conway. “But Ernie did it, he was a rebel with a cause."

Management saw his as a pain.

Anderson, who liked to get his drink on, would watch the opening of his shows while nursing a martini in a bar next door called Seagram’s. He’d tear out at the last second, often slapping on his fake beard as he ran down the hallway of the station.

“He did whatever he wanted,” says Schodowski. “He didn’t just play movies like the other hosts of his day.”

Indeed. Ghoulardi often appeared in them, thanks to a camera trick that superimposed him over the film.

He interrupted them with sound effects and firecrackers. And he punctuated them with off-kilter tunes such as “Desert Rat” and “Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow.”

Anderson developed his own spiel, a lexicon of Beatnik babble that included phrases like “purple knif” or “cool it with da boom-booms.”

He also did what no one in their right mind would do – especially back then.

“He genuinely thought the movies were awful,” says Schodowski. “So he’d tell viewers ‘Hey, groop, these movies are so bad, don’t waste your time. Turn off the channel and go to bed.’ ”

In the process, he proved that reverse psychology could turn viewers into mesmerized zombies.

“Shock Theater” tripled ratings for the time slot, according to Tom Feran, author of “Ghoulardi: Inside Cleveland TV’s Wildest Ride” and a reporter at The Plain Dealer.

At the show’s peak, Ghoulardi scored 70 percent of the late-night audience. Yes, this was pre-cable-niche America, but it remains an unheard-of feat in TV.

The Cleveland Police Department even attributed a 35 percent decline in juvenile crime to the show.

Anderson tried to stick to the script when Ghoulardi’s “Shock Theater” hit the airwaves on a cold Friday night — 11:20 p.m. Jan. 11, 1963.

“That lasted about two weeks,” says Schodowski. “Then he started pushing and pushing it further and further.”

The otherwise dignified Anderson embraced the get-up and became the cool ghoul of the night.

“It makes sense we do this around Halloween,” says Schodowski. “He became a free spirit behind that mask.”