Acromegaly: noun
(Derived from the Greek words “akros“, extremities, and “megas“, big) A medical disease in which the bones of the head, hands, and feet grow larger than normal, caused by the pituitary gland producing too much growth hormone
Rondo Hatton was born with the genetic condition acromegaly which affects the pituitary gland. Like all sufferers, there were few, if any signs, when he was young, the effects only becoming more obvious after his teen years.
Born in Hagerstown, Maryland in 1894, his family eventually settled in Florida. Hatton’s childhood was unremarkable, though it is beyond the realms of normal irony that he was voted ‘most handsome boy’ in his senior year. Considered one of the foremost athletes at his school, his football-playing career taking him as far as playing quarterback for the Florida ‘Gators, he took his passion into the field of work and became a sports reporter for The Tampa Tribune. At the outbreak of World War I, Hatton was conscripted and continued to work as a journalist ultimately finding himself posted in France.
It was on the battlefields of France that Hatton was exposed to a mustard gas attack from the German front, the effects being severe enough that he was evacuated back to America. After a period of recuperation, he returned to his position as sports reporter where he remained for 18 months, at which time it was clear that Hatton had changed – and the symptoms weren’t psychological. His worsening (and still at this point undiagnosed) condition had caused a distortion of his face, head, hands, feet and more worryingly, the heart. Friends had already noticed a broadening of his nose and mouth before he went away, but as he approached his twenties, these changes became ever more accentuated, more than significant enough for the medical establishment to finally be brought in to find out the source of the issues.
Unlike the majority of sufferers, Hatton’s facial changes had not been accompanied by a rapid spurt in his height. Doctors, recognised soon enough that acromegaly was the cause. Acromegaly is a rare disease, with a prevalence of 40 to 70 cases per million, and an annual incidence of 3 to 4 new cases per million. Affecting men and women equally, it is generally diagnosed as late as when the patient is 40 or 50 years old, as symptoms take a significant length of time to present themselves. Hatton’s case was particularly unusual and has led to much speculation (most from film studios as part of their garish publicity) that the effect of the mustard gas attack kick-started the disease.
The hands and feet broaden, the fingers widen and become thickened and stubby The patient may have had to enlarge his or her ring in recent years, or to change shoe size. The face is the big giveaway – patients with established acromegaly see their nose widen and thicken, their cheekbones jut significantly, their forehead becomes more prominent, and their lips more pronounced. The forehead and overlying skin is thickened, sometimes leading to frontal bossing. There is a tendency towards the lower jaw jutting out noticeably from the upper. Their skin excretes more oil and sweat and there is a strong likelihood of sleep apnea.
New bone formation leads to an increase in skeletal growth, with the bones of the face, ribcage, spine and joints all affected, leading to significant pain. The teeth may grow apart, and the nose become massively out of proportion with the other features. Acromegalylaryngeal hypertrophy leads to the patient’s voice becoming deeper and noticeably sonorous. T
he cranial changes affect the vision and prompt incredibly painful headaches – Hatton himself described the pain as “a migraine throughout my body”. More seriously, there is a great deal of stress placed on the heart and thyroid.
Surgery is regularly required, both to treat accompanying tumours and to relieve pressure on the organs inflicted upon them by the growth in bone and tissue. Early operations concentrated on Hatton’s face, with two metal cheek implants designed to stop the increase in growth, though these were not successful and also accentuated his already distinctive look. Hatton had married in 1926 but the changes to his appearance (and perhaps to his personality – it can only have possibly led to periods of significant despair) led to their divorce five years later.
He was called ‘Monster Man’ by locals and strangers, and sideways glances were an everyday event. Doctors had suggested a warmer climate may help, though the ability to relocate had been scuppered when Hatton lost a large amount of his cash in an unsuccessful property venture. By sheer chance, he met film director Henry King in 1930, as his film, ‘Hell Harbor’ was shot locally to Hatton in Tampa. King was immediately taken by his striking appearance and offered him a small role in an upcoming film. With his prospects becoming increasingly limited in Florida and his marriage in tatters, Hatton moved immediately to Hollywood.
However, this was never a rags-to-riches nor ashes-to-phoenix story – Hatton’s career in film is slight, having only two lead roles, ‘House of Horrors’ and ‘The Brute Man’, which was released after his death, the rest being simple-minded oafs, at best sly and conniving, at its lowest ebb playing against Charles Laughton in ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ in an ugliest man competition (Laughton obviously swamped in makeup, Hatton appearing with barely any make-up beyond that needed to blend in with the rest of the scene).
Further operations were necessary to deal with the increasing speed at which his condition attacked his body. His cheekbones were removed completely and replaced with metal. His teeth were replaced at least four times, not enough to stop his lower jaw jutting way beyond his upper, his features now almost a caricature of his past self. Despite this, he remarried in 1934 and was only ever described in glowing terms in relation to his kindness and thoughtfulness. His studio, Universal, identified Hatton as a potential major player after a string of background parts had caused enough of a stir to prompt such reviews as one from Variety that claimed his appearance ‘came a close second to that of Frankenstein’s Monster’.
Thus, in 1944, he was cast as the back-breaking killer “The Hoxton Creeper”(aka The Hoxton Horror) in the Sherlock Holmes vehicle ‘The Pearl of Death’. Universal’s plan was to use Hatton’s face as the vehicle for the horror films they had planned, an undisguised exploitation of his looks to make money.
Hatton’s biggest role was that of ‘The Creeper’, a recurring role in which he played a shadowy murderer, though the characters were only linked together by name. There is little need for Hatton to act, which is possibly a good thing, every appearance he makes is drenched in shadow, with camera angles accentuating his gigantic features.
Reviewers, the studio and the public were merciless in their critique of Hatton; he was a real-life monster, not just confined to the screen but ‘out there’. To make matters worse, his acting was often ridiculed, critics oblivious to the fact that his condition made it difficult to remember his lines. In one scene in ‘The Brute Man’ he shakes his head whilst saying ‘yes’, a heart-wrenching faux pas.
He never lived to see the circus that was waiting for him, his heart giving out before Universal had the chance to break it. We can only guess the effect his employer’s plans would have had on him. It is known that the acromegaly was not only painful but mentally challenging to Hatton, perhaps the best reverse analogy being ‘it is better to have loved once than never to have loved at all’. Universal quickly sold ‘The Brute Man’ to Producers Releasing Corporation (PRC) for $125,000 for fear that they would be seen to have been exploiting an ill man at his lowest ebb (they were right to be nervous).
Hatton is far from the only sufferer of acromegaly in film. Dick Sutherland, largely active during the silent era, appeared in over 70 films. His accentuated features did not lead to major leading roles but instead bit parts – arresting background characters, villains and background grotesquerie. Notable films include 1928’s excellent Tod Browning film ‘West of Zanzibar’ (as an uncredited cannibal); a Satanist in Benjamin Christensen‘s ‘Seven Footprints to Satan’ (1929 – also well worth a watch), and 1932’s ‘Chandu the Magician’. Much less prolific was Henry Hite, whose name gives away his most obvious feature – he can be seen as the monster in Bill Rebane and Herschell Gordon Lewis‘ ‘Monster A-Go Go’ (1965) – naturally, as the monster.
Actor Harry Wilson exhibited some signs of acromegaly – indeed he revelled in the title of ‘Hollywood’s ugliest man’ – though at 6’1″, his symptoms were largely his facial features and deep voice. Happy to play countless uncredited roles over a near 40-year career, he is known best for his role as one of George Raft‘s henchmen in 1959s ‘Some Like It Hot’; the female monster in 1958s ‘Frankenstein’s Daughter’ and blink-and-you-miss-it parts in Abbott and Costello movies, Fritz Lang‘s ‘M’, and ant mayhem flick, ‘Them!”.
Over in Europe, Italy was making a quasi-star out of another acromegaly sufferer – Salvatore Baccaro. Baccaro – often billed under the name Sal Boris – can be seen in many Italian films, from Westerns to gialli (he has a blink-and-you-miss-it part in Dario Argento’s ‘Deep Red’ in the market scene, as well as the director’s earlier ‘Five Days’), ‘Salon Kitty’ (1975) and sci-fi silliness ‘Star Crash’ (1978). He’s also showcased in ‘Frankenstein’s Castle of Freaks’ (1973) as The Neanderthal Man (credited ludicrously as Boris Lugosi). The 1970s really was the decade Baccaro came into his own, throwing caution to the wind and appearing in a run of increasingly eye-popping fare – 1974s ‘The Arena’; Jacopetti and Prosperi’s ‘Mondo Candido’ (1975); 1977s ‘Emanuelle in America’ and ‘The Beast in Heat’, at which point all bets are off and Salvatore walks off into the sunset with the exploitation trophy tucked rightfully under his arm. Joking aside, Baccore knew his limitations and took whatever work came his way – just as freak show performers had done for centuries, it was a matter of making the most of what nature had dealt you.
Neil McCarthy was born in London in 1932 and was another who used his appearance to great effect. An accomplished linguist, he appeared in far more mainstream fare than some other acromegalics, with his most celebrated roles being those of Private Thomas in ‘Zulu’ (1964); Sergeant Jock McPherson in Where Eagles Dare (1967) and the brilliantly gruesome Claibos in ‘Clash of the Titans’ (1981). He was also often spotted on the small screen, with parts in everything from ‘Catweazle’ to ‘Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em’, ‘Only When I Laugh’, ‘The Gentle Touch’ and ‘Emmerdale Farm’.
Carel Struycken, the 7-foot-tall actor who played Lurch in the revamp of ‘The Addams Family’, is an acromegalic, though his predecessor in the role, Ted Cassidy, was not – at least according to his son who claimed he was simply a very tall guy. A promising musician and composer when young, his gaunt features and incredible height led to many screen appearances, from the evil Terak in 1985’s ‘Ewoks: The Battle for Endor’ to ‘The Witches of Eastwick’ (1987), ‘Men in Black ‘(1997) and ‘Gerald’s Game’ (2017). He is much loved as the recurring character of The Giant (later The Fireman) in Twin Peaks and appeared as recently as 2019 in ‘Doctor Sleep’.
Which brings us to perhaps the most famous of them all – Richard Kiel. at nearly 7’2″, Kiel is, of course, best known for playing Jaws in two Bond films, making a mainstream impact that more often played out as B-Movie chaff. Make no mistake, he covered a significant amount of that ground too – 1962’s ‘Eegah’ director by Arch Hall Sr. did not promise a career that ultimately sees him remembered as one of the screen’s most beloved baddies. Likewise, ‘House of the Damned’ (1963) and ‘Two on a Guillotine’ (1965) seemed to signpost a career in the background, though he had a knack for being both memorable and in the right place at the right time near just the right people.
Even without Bond, he would be held in esteemed regard by many for his role in ‘The Outer Limits’ episode, ‘To Serve Man’ in 1962. He appeared on The Monkees’ TV show and ‘Kolchak: The Night Stalker’, not to mention the notorious Otto Preminger film, ‘Skidoo’ (1968), a flop so huge it still garnered a great deal of attention, as well as the Barbra Streisand musical ‘On a Clear Day You Can See Forever’ (1970) and Robert Aldrich‘s ‘The Longest Yard’ (1974). But for a change of heart from the producers, we could even have seen Kiel as The Incredible Hulk, before they opted for the bodybuilder physique of Lou Ferrigno over the slimmer, taller frame on offer.
Sensibilities have changed – in many ways for the better; in some ways for the worse. Do appearances in film heighten prejudice and discrimination or help to break down the barriers between what is considered the stereotypical norm and what is deemed ‘weird’ or ‘strange’? We can only hope that ultimately, it is the actors who make that decision.
Daz Lawrence