Saturday, Aug., 25, 1979

We are seated in a semi-circle around the hearth; Frank Burch, myself, Roxanne, Joel and Chris Martin, and a young lady named Patty who works at WBAB with the Martins. Rain drips quietly outside the open windows of the living room as we listen intently to the tapes of William Weber explaining how he helped to invent the "horrors" of Amityville. I can almost picture them now, Lutz and Weber sitting here in this very room, laughing about Evinrude the "pig" cat, and planning how they can all make a few dollars by writing a good horror story.

It has been a quiet night so far; with only an occasional car slowing down outside to get a good look at the "Horror House." Frank thinks maybe the rain is keeping some of them home. "But wait until the bar crowd gets out around 3:00 a.m.," he says. "If you can stick around till then you're bound to see a little more action."

Earlier this evening Frank gave us a tour of the house from top to bottom. We examined all of the bedrooms where the DeFeo murders had occurred, including the attic room that had belonged to Ronald. Frank showed us how the moon-shaped windows there still had the original putty that was used to keep the panes of glass in place; if a single one of the odd-shaped panes had been broken and replaced, it would have been quite noticeable.

We looked around the kitchen and dining room and then went outside on the back patio and walked back past the swimming pool to the Amityville River. The night was warm and moist and peaceful. It seemed the awful memory of the murders had faded from the house and had been replaced by the glow of a happy, lived-in home. A few of Frank's young friends have also been living in the house during the Cromarty's absence, and they will all be quite sorry to leave. Even Frank's two young sons have visited their father here and enjoyed playing in the pool and the backyard.

As we walked toward the garage/boathouse to take a look in there, Frank pointed out a large, Siamese cat running past us toward the house next door.

"Hey, you're lucky tonight!" He grinned, "That's Jodie the Pig who just ran by. He loves playing in the boathouse and looking for fish." So we even got to see the famous Evinrude, aka Josie.

Now it's past midnight and the Martins and Patty have to be leaving. Roxanne and I will stay at least until three to see if the wackos come out. And come out they do! Frank was right about the bar patrons. At about 2:00 a.m. the street begins to get noisy. Carloads of rowdy teenagers and older delinquents stop and gather on Ocean Avenue outside the house. Our conversation is frequently interrupted by shouts of "Ronnie!" or "Jodie!" or "Get out!... hee, hee, hee, HA, HA, HA!"]

"I told you," says Frank. "And this is a quiet night compared to most." The rowdies are periodically chased away by patrolling Amityville Police cars, but new ones show up every few minutes. Some throw small pebbles at the house. "Show us the green slime!" they yell, or "Where's the flies?" Frank tells us how one night he found a young man hanging by his fingertips on the windowsill trying to get a good look inside the house.

I've glad we stayed to see this because it is such a contrast to the peaceful atmosphere in the house just a few hours ago. And THAT is the true horror of Amityville.