
By day, Roy Hollingsworth is a carpenter at Kennywood, working on roller coasters.
By night, he's the Prince of Darkness in the Villa of the Vampire.
On this particular evening, Mr. Hollingsworth wasn't looking particularly frightening, at least not yet. Standing in line to have his makeup done for the opening of Kennywood's Phantom Fright Nights last Friday, he clutched the traditional Dracula-esque black cape he'd brought from home.
"I call it 'my villa,' and these are 'my children,'" he said, sweeping an arm toward the men and women who were having fake scars, blood and bruises applied by the makeup artists.
Kennywood Entertainment has hired roughly 250 additional workers for its seventh annual Fright Nights weekends, a scarefest of mildly gruesome proportions scheduled to run every Friday and Saturday through Nov. 1, with a bonus Sunday on Oct. 12.
"As a holiday, Halloween is No. 2 now. It really exploded, 10, 15 years ago," said Kennywood General Manager Jerome Gibas.
"Knotts Berry Farm [in California] was one of the first" amusement parks to turn the Halloween season into a special theme park event, Mr. Gibas said.
"It's the same with retail and craft stores -- Halloween is a big seller."
Starting with three haunted "mansions" six years ago, the Fright Nights event now encompasses 10 walk-through attractions and numerous themed "scare zones" in the park in West Mifflin.
The big coasters and some other rides are open as well.
Phantom Fright Nights attractions aim to be more scary than gory, Mr. Gibas said. Kennywood recommends Fright Nights for patrons 13 and older, he said, although "I see parents rolling in here with baby strollers."
"We want that element of surprise," he said. "It's the scare factor."
The Dark Shadows maze, for example, is nothing more than a very dark walk-through with special effects such as wind and "moving" soft walls. But for those who are claustrophobic, it's a nightmare.
"It just depends on what scares you," said Jeff Filicko of the park public relations department.
By far, the biggest ick factor can be found at the newest attraction, Voodoo Bayou. The disturbing brainchild of Matt Eames, it's a walk-through attraction filled with corpses, snakes, coffins, skulls and a great deal of fog.
Mr. Eames, a production designer and art director for the park, created the plan for Voodoo Bayou, which occupies the now-drained space normally used for the Raging Rapids ride.
He hand-crafted the automated figure of "Granny Granger," an angry old woman sitting on the rickety porch of her bayou home. He also designed a number of bloody surprises along the maze.
Touches of humor are found here and there: one rotting corpse is wearing a ripped Kennywood T-shirt.
Director of ride operations Marie Ruby and electrician Joel Brennan handle the technical challenges of Fright Night, said Mr. Gibas, "they pretty much run the show."
As Kennywood personnel hustled to greet its first Fright Nights guests last weekend, Mr. Eames was in the proverbial eye of the storm.
"I dabble in everything," he said as he literally dabbed gray creme makeup on the face of woman who would be working in Captain Skully's Curse, a haunted walk-through.
The corpse in question, Cheryl Sebula, 42, of Irwin, works during the day as a troubleshooter for Verizon.
"When you have an office job, this is a nice change of pace," she said, smiling ghoulishly beneath a face streaked with gray, white and maroon makeup.
Her daughter, Nicole, 20, also is working at Fright Nights.
Mr. Eames has worked out a color-coded schedule this year that he hopes will make the rush for makeup easier.
Employees are issued cards in a variety of colors. The cards identify workers who should have more elaborate work done and alert makeup artists to take those people first as lines form.
"You can get really creative with the makeup, but when you are doing so many people, sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and just get it done," Mr. Eames said.
He varies the intensity of the colors depending on "how fresh they are. An actor in a haunted house is supposed to be dead," he added, pointing to Mrs. Sebula.
Each subject gets between 10 and 15 minutes' work. A handful will receive pre-made devices crafted from latex by Mr. Eames: exaggerated noses or jawline features that will be glued into place, then blended with makeup.
"Somehow, we'll get to everybody in a timely manner," he said.
Fright Nights employees are encouraged to embellish costumes with accessories brought from home.
Eric Schmitt, a Canonsburg native now living in New Kensington, appeared, at first glance, to be a normal guy in a khaki Voodoo Bayou tour guide outfit. But he had purchased creepy costume contact lenses that made his eyes appear to be black with white spirals.
Sitting in another makeup chair, Thomas Jefferson High School junior Will Boger was having his face done up by Baldwin High senior Brittany Leshen.
Brittany, who said she wants to study special effects makeup, was applying thick fake scars to Will's face, layering shiny red on top of whitish goo.
How easily will this come off later?
"I'm wondering that, too," Will said.
At one point, an artist called down the line, "Pass the scabs, please."
Makeup room tables were scattered with various jars and containers resembling the sort of products Clinique would have rejected outright. Most striking were those marked simply, "Bottle of Blood."
This evening, there would be blood, even if it was fake.
Bill Gerber, of the South Side, was going for a different look as he worked on Morgan McLane, 20, of Forest Hills.
Mr. Gerber, who is studying at Western School of Health and Business, was delighted to see that Mr. McLane's red card read "witch doctor."
"As soon as I saw that, I said 'That's it: Papa Shango.'"
First came the white base, then the black accents, the hollowed-out eyes. Throw on a necklace of fake bones, and Mr. McLane bore more than a passing resemblance to the former World Wrestling Federation star.
Most of the Fright Nights workers earn $7.15 an hour, managers make a dollar more, and everyone who works the entire schedule through November 1 gets an additional 40 cents an hour bonus. But it was clear they weren't there for the money.
The crowd's reaction, many said, is the biggest reward.
Most evenings, Mr. Filicko said, he will wander out of the park offices and find a place to stand by the fog-filled ravine of Voodoo Bayou.
"I love to come in here and listen to people scream."
