Herschell (“Hersch” to his friends) Gordon Lewis was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania on 15 June 1929. His father died when Hersch was six, leaving his mother to raise her two sons alone. He earned a master’s degree in journalism from Northwestern University, soon afterward taking a position as a professor of English literature at Mississippi State College. Hersch’s teaching career wasn’t a long one, however, and by 1953, he had started working in radio, first on the air at WCOJ in Coatsville, Pennsylvania, then as the manager of WRAC in Racine, Wisconsin. From there he moved into television, then advertising. It was the experience he gained producing television commercials, plus some encouragement from colleagues, which led to his interest in making feature films.

    We’ve discussed at length his partnership with Dave Friedman and the circumstances surrounding their break-up, and Dave’s move west to join forces with Dan Sonney. Hersch took a different path, preferring to work on his own. From 1964 onwards, Hersch both produced and directed the majority of his films, affording him the level of control he desired. Occasionally he hired himself out as a director, a ‘hired gun’, who would turn out a film for a straight fee, usually for a theater chain owner who wished a more profitable product to exhibit, and decided that producing his own films was the way to go. These were some of Hersch's more forgettable efforts—films such as Alley Tramp, Jimmy the Boy Wonder, and The Magic Land of Mother Goose. However, these are just a fraction of Lewis’ output. A prolific filmmaker, Hersch turned out thirty-seven movies between 1960 and 1972, touching on most areas of Exploitation. He helped usher in (with Dave Friedman) the Nudie-Cuties, created (also with Friedman) the gore film, played in the Hicksploitation pool for a bit, tried his hand at Blaxploitation, and even got into the biker film genre, producing and directing the first all-girl biker gang pic, She-Devils on Wheels (1967).

    Though it’s not one of Hersch’s best, or even best known, films, She Devils … is perhaps the best choice to illustrate his style and philosophy of filmmaking. Filmed in two weeks, on a budget of less than $60,000, it was a typical H. G. Lewis production from start to finish. Designed from the outset for general release, rather than the more limited “specialty” film market, it was a rather tame outing for the director who was famous for films featuring nudity and gore. There was no nudity, no foul language, and, other than two big set pieces, a remarkably low level of violence for a biker film.

    Like most of Lewis’ movies, it was shot in Miami, Florida, in and around the town of Medley, and following Hersch’s belief that using real ‘actors’ in his films was a waste of money, the production held auditions in the Miami area for women motorcycle riders who wanted to act in a film. To quote Christopher Wayne Curry’s A Taste of Blood: the Films of Herschell Gordon Lewis, “Lewis once stated that the only stipulation to playing a biker in his film was that ‘these ladies had to really know how to ride’.” As Hersch explains in the commentary track to the Something Weird Video / Image Entertainment DVD release of the movie, it was easier to teach female bikers to act, than to teach actresses to ride motorcycles. He also used real Medley Police officers in several scenes. As he states, they looked like cops, and acted like cops, because they were cops.

    That was indicative of Hersch’s method of filmmaking, in a number of ways. Never having had the luxuries of a major studio production at his command, he was quite happy doing without them. The girls rode their own bikes, with the exception of Nancy Lee Noble, who played the gang’s teenage mascot, Honey Pot. For her, Hersch went to a local bike shop looking for something to rent that would be appropriate for the petite Noble. He found the perfect bike, a Honda 50cc scooter. When he asked about the price to rent the scooter for two weeks of filming, he was told $9 a day. When he asked how much to buy the bike, the answer was $100. He bought the little bike out of his own pocket, and when the filming wrapped, he put it in the back of his VW van, took it home to Chicago, and rode it for two years, until the diminutive motor gave out. Another of Hersch’s cost-saving measures was one that frequently annoyed cast and crew alike. Hersch, a self-described “fried chicken nut,” would visit the local Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant when on location, and strike a deal to supply the production with chicken dinners for the duration of the shoot. For Hersch, cheap fried chicken for three meals a day was heaven; for everyone else, it quickly grew tiresome. So closely associated with KFC were Herschell G. Lewis’ productions that Col. Harlan Sanders himself had a cameo in The Blast-Off Girls, filmed in Chicago.

    Shot simultaneously with She Devils … was Just for the Hell of It, billed as the, “… ultimate teen delinquency picture.” Starring frequent Lewis collaborator Ray Sager, and featuring some of the same performers in bit roles as She Devils …, the movie was similar in tone and style to the Teensploitation films coming from AIP at the same time, only with Lewis’ flair for sex and gore. While She Devils … was intended for general release, to be distributed through AIP on a double-bill with the “Billy Jack” film Born Losers, and was deliberately filmed without nudity or (much) gore, Just for the Hell of It was distributed through Lewis’ normal channels, and is much more a typical “Hersch” movie.

    The late 1960s were Hersch’s period of experimentation. He tried every genre of exploitation that interested him, from biker films such as She Devils…, to Rock and Roll pictures (The Blast-Off Girls), Sexploitation (The Girl, the Body, and the Pill), and Juvenile Delinquency movies (Just for the Hell of It) … and, of course, Horror and Gore films. In 1967 alone, Hersch produced no fewer than seven movies, one of which was made for hire for Spook-Show promoter Jack Baker, and features a stage performance by magician Roy Huston (The Magical Land of Mother Goose). The less said about that “… celluloid atrocity,” the better.

    Of the other six films, three were Horror—A Taste of Blood, Something Weird, and The Gruesome Twosome. The Gruesome Twosome contains one of the weirdest bits to appear in a Herschell Gordon Lewis production—the pair of talking Styrofoam wig blocks that lead off the movie. As Hersch would later explain, this was nothing more or less than filler … they needed a minimum of a seventy-minute runtime to qualify as a top of the bill feature film, and through a timing error they wound up several minutes short. Unfortunately, they didn’t discover the error until they were back in Chicago editing the film that they had shot in Miami. The wig blocks were simply something that could be done cheaply, quickly, and locally, without relying on the cast that had dispersed, and sets that were no longer available.

    Nor was that the only filler in the film. There is a long sequence of people necking at a Drive-In, intercut with scenes of the ever-dependable Ray Sager eating. Another sequence that was used to pad the runtime was one of a group of teens partying at the beach. As Hersch explains, they were forced to use every scrap of film they shot for this movie to get it up to an acceptable length. Such are the challenges when you make feature films for less than $40,000.

    The 1970s started out strong for Hersch, with his most ambitious Gore film to date, The Wizard of Gore. Though Hersch would refer to this as a “jinx picture, ” it has since come to be recognized as one of Hersch’s ‘signature’ films. One of his more incomprehensible films, to be honest, but it does stand out in his filmography. It began in trouble, as the actor cast in the lead role of Montag the Magnificent, “… threw a hissy fit over the script and was summarily fired…” by Hersch. Once again, Ray Sager was pressed into service, and he gave a valiant effort in the part. Unfortunately, the needs of the role exceeded his abilities as an actor, adding to the overall campiness of the finished product. Visually, however, the film was a masterpiece of gore effects, running the gamut from a chainsaw evisceration to death by industrial punch press. Though Hersch was forced to pass, for a second time, on a proposed scene showing the complete dismemberment of a human body (to be accomplished with the use of a whole goat carcass), The Wizard of Gore still set a standard for the Gore genre that was hard to exceed .

    Within two years of The Wizard of Gore’s release, Hersch would produce his last film, The Gore Gore Girls. His ultimate gore film would also be his best, at least, the best since Two Thousand Maniacs. A better script than The Wizard of Gore, along with higher production values and a more talented cast, combined to make The Gore Gore Girls a much more entertaining film. Though the plot wasn’t any higher concept than was the norm for a Lewis film, it was well-executed. The film did well at the box-office, but Hersch’s active mind had grown bored with the business of making movies. While still relatively young, at forty-six years-old, he opted to change careers, going into advertising. One of his accomplishments in that field was the popularization of Direct Mail Marketing. Yes, the man who had invented the Gore film, and had produced some of the greatest Exploitation films in history—was responsible for the spread of junk mail.

    Herschell Gordon Lewis passed away in September 2016, three months after his ninetieth birthday. Until the end of his life, Hersch loved talking about his movies and the people he worked with in the business, especially his good friend, Dave Friedman. The split that ended their working relationship didn’t affect their friendship; late in life, both became frequent collaborators with Something Weird Videos’ Mike Vraney in the preservation of the history of Exploitation.

    It’s due to these three men, all sadly lost since writing this book began, that it exists at all. They inspired it, with their movies, and with their memories. Their love for these films is contagious, and hopefully, we can pass it on to successive generations.