Tom, you’re of the right age–and I think a lot of folks here are, too–to remember The People’s Almanacs (vol 1 and 2) and The Book of Lists, vol 1 and 2. All four hefty tomes came out sometime between 1972 and 1981.
They were by a single family, which consisted of wildly successful pulp writer Irving Wallace and his son David and daughter Amy. They were a wonderful mix of true facts and really dubious ones, presented side by side. I’ve tracked them all down in the last few years, and from an adult perspective, it’s easy to spot the winking hokum like stories about Pope Joan and stuff of that ilk, but it’s really well done stuff.
And the thing is, my friends and I made sure there was never a copy of these books to be checked out at the local library. We were always getting one of these volumes. There were fun sexy bits in there, but also really scary crap. And it was the presentation–sitting cheek by jowl to a very accurate retelling of the assassination of JFK, you’d have the story of the ghostly elevator operator, and presented AS FACT. Adult audiences rolled their eyes and smiled. We kids were dumb enough to buy that stuff hook, line, and sinker at face value. It was REAL.
That’s how RL Stine did that issue of Bananas. He was just out of college at the time and decided to give free reign to trying to scare the crap out of 12 year old kids like me, who were just gullible enough. The true facts were all the sort of local legend hokum–Resurrection Marys, cattle mutilations, etc.–only presented completely as “This is real, and oh my god…”
I do remember there was a fiction story in the issue. It was about a little girl who simply vanishes one day in her house. The family can hear her talking and crying for help, but she can’t be found anywhere. Her voice is distant, ghostly, and they can talk back in forth, though obviously there’s something supernatural going on. The little girl’s parents have detectives out and priests. They try to find a way to bring the little girl back. She sounds more and more frantic and scared, her voice seeming to come from the walls…but it starts to fade more and more, the more scared she gets. Eventually they never hear her again, or at least not regularly. Occasionally at night, they’ll hear her cry out, or scream or moan, but that’s it. Eventually they move out. The girl or her spirit or whatever linger in the house, scaring future residents.
All of this was a year or two before Poltergeist essentially ran with that idea, but I think it was an early RL Stine original, and there was nothing comedic or goofy about it. It was creepy as all hell. It hit me personally like a ton of bricks. I was never bothered if I was left alone, because I was never lonely. I’d play with friends or listen to records or read a book or build a model or play videogames. This was a story where alone meant lonely, and it freaked me right the hell out.