Behind haunted doors

Inside the sticky-sweaty actors’ room, ripe with mid-September heat, a crew of makeup artists transform everyday people into the likes of “gross vomit mouths” and “bloody messes with barbed wire.” The directions on their clipboards are imprecise, but the artists at ScareHhouse know exactly what to do at dress rehearsal.

Jesse Vittone, a 23-year-old stagehand from Aliquippa, is wearing a tank top and layers of blood and barbed wire. His makeup artist, Sue Wiel, piles layers of white makeup onto his face with a sponge, but it melts right off of his face in the heat.

“My mom never went through a haunted house until I started working here,” he said.

Ms. Wiel piles blood onto Mr. Vittone’s face with a tiny spatula. “If they want bloody, come to Sue. Blood makes me smile,” she said.

Katie Dudas, director of sales and marketing, swears the old Elks Club in Etna, which houses ScareHouse, haunted.

“There are certain areas our designers won’t go into,” Ms. Dudas said. Even Syfy’s “Ghost Hunters” has been through the space.

That doesn’t scare off Gretchen Wiesner, a 40-year-old substitute teacher from Monroeville, who has been working at ScareHouse since 1999.

Ms. Wiesner said once, while greeting guests, she felt someone touching her through her gloves. Other times, she feels she’s being watched.

Stephen Hodzic, 35, a therapist from Green Tree, isn’t concerned, either. He holds a central role in the haunt as an oracle, and, depending on the group of people, he’ll adapt his script and improvise.

Sometimes, he presses a button to make the table shake, pointing at a teenage girl and selecting her as a “chosen one.” Other times, he’ll notice older men laughing and inflect his voice to evoke the macabre.

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” he muses. “I hate you all, but you’re the chosen one.” He points to the tallest one in the group.

After a half-hour or so, he needs to stretch. The long hours spent in the haunt are actually quite physical.

Join the scaring squad

More than half of Pittsburgh’s haunt performers are veterans. Scott Sypien, seasonal haunts manager at Kennywood Phantom Fright Nights, estimates that at least half or more of the 200 to 300 people hired at the West Mifflin amusement park each year are returning actors.

Some of the scarers have been at Kennywood for all 15 years of the haunt. One such veteran, an 85-year-old retired school aide, buys Victorian dresses and plays a European-style vampire who “vants to suck your blood,” according to Mr. Sypien. She and her husband work together in the Vampire’s Lair.

The new hires at Phantom Fright Nights proceed through an informal interview process that is less of an audition and more of a screening. Mr. Sypien considers the interview a chance to get to know someone’s personality.

“What do you love about Halloween?” “What’s the best part of working in a haunted house?” “What are you most afraid of?” Mr. Sypien shoots out a series of open-ended questions.

Mr. Sypien also goes over basic etiquette and safety rules. Actors should not touch guests, should never be rude, should always remain in character and know when to back off if a guest seems genuinely upset. At ScareHouse, the rules are the same — with the exception of the Basement, where guests must sign a waiver to be grabbed, pushed and blindfolded.

At Kennywood, unless the actors are supervisors, they typically earn $7.50 an hour. At ScareHouse, pay rates vary, said Crystal Rupp, its director of operations.

What doesn’t vary among actors is one persistent fear.

“About 80 percent tell me not to cast them as a clown,” Mr. Sypien said. “It’s one of the most consistent fears here.”

Double identities

Kennywood’s more fluid hiring and casting gives actors space to create their own double identity. Mr. Sypien said that he finds an assigned place for people their first year, but after that about 60 percent of actors create their own costumes.

Christopher “Scarecrow” Hykes, a 30something from Plum who services firefighter equipment, has used his engineering knowledge and creativity to create upward of 30 characters, all by hand.

His most famous stunt, which gave rise to his nickname, involves two scarecrows — one that he wears and one that he uses as a dummy. At some point in the night, he takes the place of the dummy, frightening those who saw the fake one just moments before.

He’s also created an exterminator character named Bugsy and a giant Oogie Boogie, just like the villain in “The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

In the past eight years, he’s missed just two days, coming to work even after surgery.

“I’ve always really loved Halloween. It’s the holiday that you get to be something you’re not,” Mr. Hykes said. “It’s therapeutic to both hide and reveal who you really are.”