Recap
In a loft apartment in present day Boston, Eliot Blackman and Larry Rand are discussing the discovery of a rare Pickman painting of a ghoul in a cemetery. Eliot has purchased the painting and Larry assures him that the last Pickman was worth over $100,000. However, Eliot wonders if it’s his to sell and Larry notes that Pickman disappeared 75 years ago and left no relatives. They realize that the artist, Richard Pickman, must have lived in the loft, and paid for the rent by giving art lessons to the daughters of rich men. Larry comments that Pickman wore gloves in the last few years of his lives, and no one knew what it was that he concealed...
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Episode Notes
Based on the short story "Pickman's Model" by H. P. Lovecraft. This story was first published in Weird Tales (October 1927).
Nominated for an Emmy Award: Outstanding Achievement in Makeup (1971-72).
Episode Quotes
Host: H.P. Lovecraft, known to the aficionados of the occult, demonology, and witchcraft as a master storyteller, is responsible for our first selection in this museum of the frequently morbid. To you connoisseurs of the black arts, you will probably recognize it. It's a painting that tells the story of a young artist who recruits his models from odd places. And the models are very odd indeed. The painter's name, incidentally, is Pickman, and the title is Pickman's Model. And where else would you see a story like this except in the Night Gallery?
Richard Upton Pickman: There is a legend that tells of an eldritch race, more foul and loathsome than the putrid slime that clings to the walls of Hell - twisted creatures, half man, half beast, who move with the rustling sound of predatory rats, carrying with them the stench of the charnel house. Wretched mutations who live deep beneath the earth in dark tunnels, surfacing in the dead of night and returning before dawn to practice their unspeakable acts, and breed their filthy spawn, until the day arrives when their swollen numbers will finally emerge and ravish the earth like a noxious plague.
Mavis Goldsmith: Haven't you guessed? Don't you know how I feel about you?
Richard Upton Pickman: Mavis, no. I forbid it.
Mavis Goldsmith: You can't. When my heart is concerned, I am God.
Richard Upton Pickman: Then I grieve for you, Miss Goldsmith, for investing that heart in such a bankrupt enterprise.