At this haunted house, ‘Larry’ rhymes with ‘scary’

At the end of every October, a receiving line runs through Larry Finney’s home in Lower Bolingbroke.

It begins on the front porch, leads into the foyer, marches across the living room, makes its way through the dining room and disappears into the garage.

If you enjoy being creeped out, this is your kind of runway.

It probably is no coincidence “Larry” rhymes with “scary.’’

The cast of characters includes a life-size werewolf, a spooky witch, a talking butler, a screaming nurse and skeletons dressed in black with flashing red eyes.

The headliner – pardon the pun – is the Headless Horseman, who has been a fixture in this Halloween museum since the early 1970s.

Yes, he and Larry go way back.

There is no peace and quiet in the downstairs of his house. The figures are voice-activated and motion-activated, so the slightest bump, stomp or sideways glance can provoke them.

Over the years, they have made themselves at home in corners and chairs, like uninvited house guests.

Except that Larry did invite them. And the guest list for the party keeps growing every year.

The garage is a happy haunting ground of blinking lights and eerie sounds across a landscape of miniature graveyards, tiny houses and flying witches.

There is so much screaming, moaning and gnashing of teeth you might swear you’ve stumbled into a room of depressed Atlanta Braves fans after last week’s Game 7.

It takes more than 300 batteries to supply the juice for the more than 200 characters and props. It takes two or three days to put it all together.

Larry, a retired special education teacher and former high school baseball coach, turned 75 years old last month. But he has taken years off the lives of relatives and friends with his annual indoor trail of terror.

Nancy Finney, his wife of 47 years, does not share his enthusiasm. She has remained a good sport about it, though. She stays slightly amused and mildly annoyed until the calendar runs out in October.

“I have to start taking it down on Nov. 1,’’ Larry said. Then he laughed. “Or I have to start moving out.’’

Larry’s love of Halloween – it’s his second-favorite holiday behind Christmas – began when he was 7 years old. His younger sister, Linda Padgett, was born the day before Halloween and grew up having to endure comments about celebrating a birthday so close to the witching hour.

The family lived on Carling Avenue, near the old Lanier High School. Halloween was a big deal in the neighborhood. Folks could leave their front doors unlocked and carefree costumed kids would come home with bags filled with candy. Larry later would accompany his own children to go trick or treating along Ridge Avenue, a popular Halloween tradition for many Maconites.

He began taking the holiday to another level in 1972, when he worked at Central State Hospital in Milledgeville.

“Some of the children had never been trick-or-treating,’’ Larry said. “We dressed them in costumes and took them to Macon. At the first house we went to, the lady came to the door dressed as a witch. One little boy started yelling that she was a real witch, and they all started running. We had to round them up.’’

Later, he began telling the story the Headless Horseman in special education classes he taught at Jones County High School and Mary Persons. For effect, he would toss a frying pan against a wall at an unsuspecting moment and watch the students practically jump out of their skin.

He considered it a “teaching moment.’’ It was more like a “screeching moment.” At any rate, it got their attention.

Larry eventually found a permanent home for his Halloween props at his house. He began entertaining friends, family members and neighborhood children with his little shop of horrors every October. He has had a few tour groups go through and hosted several repeat visitors.

He has continued to add to his collection every year, catching the after-Halloween sales at CVS and Michael’s. He is unsure how many people will visit this year, since the pandemic has either eliminated or curtailed trick or treating in a number of neighborhoods and communities.

Still, he didn’t have any second thoughts about setting it up this year.

“I enjoy it myself,’’ he said. “It’s an outlet for me. Some people hunt and fish. I do this …. and play in a band.’’

He is the drummer for The Fabulous Boomers Band, which performs at local wedding receptions, class reunions, conventions and corporate events.

And the beat goes on for his other passion. There have been times when he has frightened youngsters to the point where they have jumped off his porch and ended up in the bushes. He once appeared from behind his kitchen counter and surprised a touring church group. (He later said he didn’t realize Baptists knew so many curse words.)

Deep down, he knows people like to be scared.

“And I,’’ he said, grinning, “like to scare them.’’

Ed Grisamore teaches journalism at Stratford Academy in Macon and is the author of nine books. His column appears on Sundays in The Telegraph.