Tales From the Video Store: Remembering Gunnar Hansen

Toronto cult flick video store owner Luis Ceriz tells tales from his over 2 decades running the legendary SUSPECT Video.

It’s been one month since the great Gunnar Hansen passed away. A man to whom I will always have a special connection to.

Who am I? Let me introduce myself. My name is Luis Ceriz and I own Suspect Video in Toronto, Canada. Yes, that’s right, an honest- to-goodness bricks and mortar, physical, actual video store. These days saying that is akin to telling someone that you run a penny farthing repair shoppe but there it is.

We opened back in the magnetic tape halcyon days of 1991. August 3rd 1991 to be precise. I and my partner were putting together a video store that was to be the anti-blockbuster. A kind of video store with the kind of look and vibe of those record stores run by folks who wanted people to buy and listen to great bands, not crap bands you were supposed to like. They would have PRETTY WOMAN; we’d have EATEN ALIVE; they’d have YOU’VE GOT MAIL and we’d have BLACK DEVIL DOLL FROM HELL.

Yes we had drive, energy, and ideas but no damn idea of what we were doing. We ended up hiring an ‘adviser’ who ended up being the kind of fucking shyster that can leave a person fantasizing about revenge (more on that in a future column, if you’re interested dear reader) but, he told us, Gunnar Hansen, yes THE Gunnar “Leatherface” Hansen, was a personal friend of his and would be in town for a few days early August and could come by the store for a signing if we were interested and, you know, actually open by that time in exchange for some of the dough he owed us.

Of course it took us a nanosecond to say yes, even though we were nowhere near being ready and the news was dropped on our fat heads with something like two weeks’ notice but we figured this divine occurrence was too damn good to pass up and by saying yes and advertising the date of opening with Gunnar-Fucking-Hansen in appearance, would lock us to a solid date to which our asses were committed to what our mouths had agreed to.

I remember working day and night to get the place into a kind of serviceable and presentable state. Fueled by booze and more, assisted by friends (who, for the most part were also fueled by booze and more) we managed to create what I recall almost 25 years later as a sparse working store with a smattering of books, some magazines, a few toys, a whopping library of over 400 (embarrassingly tiny catalog, I know) titles, and enough room left over to swing a black cat in.

But would that ‘promoter’ come through after a multitude of screwing us over?

It was the morning of August the 3rd, 1991. A Saturday. We had just put our finishing touches on the space after being up working for 36 – 40 hours straight to do it.

Now, I don’t know how many of you ever participated in those kinds of marathon projects but the body does some wondrous and grueling things after a threshold of say, 24 hours. Your nerve endings become mildly electric, you seem to always be craving snacks or drinks. Your thinking processes..slooowsss…dooowwwn, your eyes feel as though fine sand has been liberally sprinkled in them and you start to get what I call the stupids (or the sillies which can result in the giggles).

Throw in alcohol and you can be facing a Hunter S Thomson situation of utter chaos.

It was in this state of impending delirium that we threw open the door to our store for the first time, wondering if Hansen would even appear.

He did. For once this ‘promoter’ delivered the goods just as promised. He walked in at the designated time accompanied with a large, tall, grey haired, grey bearded man.

We led them, practically floating, over to one of the vintage wood and glass counters we used back in those days where he set up and to greet the small in number but enthusiastic in energy , fans that had showed up and he could not have been more sincerely gracious to everyone there. He signed VHS tapes, body parts, photos, posters and one guy even came in with a homemade replica chainsaw!

He stayed for several hours regaling people with stories and answering questions until it was time to close up shop. Gunnar, the ‘adviser’, myself, my partner and a couple of friends of ours retired to a hearty Cajun meal and rounds of drinks. Gunnar gave us instructions on how to prepare his chili recipe and yes, it was cool/surreal/scary to listen to Leatherface give us pointers on how to prepare meat. Unfortunately, neither I nor my partner could close out the evening. By the time we were on round 3 or four our pickled heads were bobbing like…..

It was time to leave for us, but the remaining four continued on to one of our great city’s abundant strip joints where, after the DJ announced the presence in the audience of the original Leatherface of the classic TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE, he received attention of the fairer sex’s kind.

Just over twenty years later I got the chance to again meet Gunnar. He was part of a CHAIN SAW reunion at a convention which the store was an exhibitor. I approached him and introduced myself and described the opening day those many years gone and much to my astonishment he not only remembered all of it, he even remembered one of the guys that accompanied him to the strip club! We exchanged stories, I told him about the growth of the store, he told me tales of some of the films he’d made in the ensuing years and then we parted back to our spots at the show.

He looked great, his mind sharp as a tack, so it came to me, as it did to so many other fans as a massive shock upon hearing of his passing.

He was a true gentleman and to me and Suspect Video, he will forever be intertwined in the fabric of the history of my store.

RIP Mr. Hansen.

More Tales From the Video Store to come…

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