Katherine Kolbert
	A scene from "Dawn of the Dead."

Second thing that Kristofer Velasquez did when he got to Monroeville was hit the nearest ATM machine for a couple hundred dollars. First thing he did was start snapping pictures of everything he saw -- the Monroeville road signs, the Monroeville Mall parking lot, the mall entrances.

"I had always said this would be kind of my pilgrimage to Mecca," said the 23-year-old from Northwest Chicago.

Twenty-five years ago, Pittsburgh-based director George A. Romero's low-budget zombie movie, "Dawn of the Dead," arrived in theaters with a depraved mix of gore, apocalyptic vision, social commentary and dark humor -- and became a cult hit.

And Monroeville Mall, the main setting, became -- in the words of one writer -- hallowed ground. Close to 400 people paid $10 a ticket (proceeds to charity) this spring to follow actors from the movie through brightly-lit halls more commonly peopled by teens, mothers with strollers and mall walkers.

This year's tours drew a crowd because of the 25th anniversary celebration organized as part of the annual Pittsburgh Comicon comic book convention at the nearby Pittsburgh Expo Mart. Fans are also on the alert because of reports of a remake being filmed now in Canada using a different mall.

"Most of the time we were just standing in awe," said tour participant Stephanie Lane, a lawyer from Cleveland and a fan of the movie since she first saw it as a 12- or 13-year-old in Akron, Ohio.

As tourist attractions go, Monroeville Mall is pretty laid back. A recent visit to the Suncoast Motion Picture store turned up no copies of the "Dawn of the Dead" movie. T-shirts celebrating the film may have been tucked inside some stores, but it would have taken some hunting to find them.

There is a framed copy of an old newspaper article about the mall's zombie period. It can be found hanging just behind a ficus plant near the elevator to the management offices.

Still they come. Employees can attest to the drawing power of their otherwise All-American 1.4 million-square-foot regional enclosed mall. People wander into the office every month, maybe asking for information, usually looking for permission to snap a few pictures.

"They come in here from out of state and they're all excited," said Bob Girasia, heating-ventilation-air-conditioning supervisor and a 34-year mall employee who often gets the call to show folks around.

The guys from Canada loved a spot outside where a group of movie motorcyclists were seen driving up. Two visitors from Florida were grateful when Girasia gave them a cracked, useless knob off a control panel in the boiler room where actors pretended to turn off the Muzak and the escalators. Somebody else bought lights that had been on the mall's columns until they were replaced during a renovation.

"They just want something that was in the movie," said Girasia.

The urge to take home something, anything, that captures a bit of the Monroeville Mall magic was evident during the April weekend that featured the tours.

"People were literally buying candy and small items to get a receipt from the mall," said Michael Petruzzelli, who manages the KB Toys store.

There's a bit of irony in that and, of course, "Dawn of the Dead" fans know it. The movie, which was second in a trilogy of zombie movies made by Romero, is often seen as a commentary on the culture of consumption.

The lead characters end up in the mall as they try to escape from a world where the dead refuse to stay in the ground and instead wander around preying on the living. Once in the shopping center, they block off the entrances and create their own clean, brightly lit haven complete with pleasant fountains, greenery and an abundance of easily-obtainable consumer goods.

They can't hide forever from the real world and, in the end, they are forced to go back out.

In an infamous bit of dialogue, two characters watch as zombies continue mindlessly to try to come into the mall.

"What are they doing? Why do they come here?" asks one. The other answers, "Some kind of instinct. Memory, of what they used to do. This was an important place in their lives."

Velasquez, who works at Walgreens pharmacy when he's not making progress on his own independent zombie film, cheerfully relates that he did his part to pump up the local economy.

That first $200 trip to the ATM helped him buy $120 worth of tickets to the various tours and Comicon events for himself, his girlfriend and another friend who came along on the nine-hour trip.

He went back to the bank machine a couple of times during the weekend, spent three nights at the nearby Radisson Hotel, bought memorabilia at the Comicon and wandered the mall a few times, once walking around the entire outside at 3 a.m., to soak in the ambiance. During one mall visit, he even reverted into those shopping instincts, picking up a $5 necklace at a kiosk and a $35 wallet at Brookstone.

Suncoast sold a few DVDs to Lane, who wandered the mall before the tour. A fan of scary movies, she isn't too caught up in the whole consumerism message.

"I appreciate the theme. But to look for real, real deep meaning, no," she said.

As much as anything, she's drawn to the humor in the film. Like the scene where the characters stage a bank robbery at a site now occupied by National City. They then use the cash to pay for stuff they're taking from the empty stores.

She, like Velasquez, took photos and posted reports of their visits on the Web after returning home.

A lot has changed in 25 years. Stores such as Silverman's, Cox's and Wayne-Weil aren't there anymore. The ice rink has become a food court. Tobacco Village was there when the movie was made, but it closed not long ago.

Lights in the parking lot look the same, as do the skylights. The last signs from the 1970s may be gone soon when an expansion to the mall is completed.

J.C. Penney remains but Girasia points out the chain no longer carries televisions like that smashed by the motorcycle gang in the movie. This week, boy's shorts and swimwear were selling for 50 percent off in that part of the store.

Girasia saw some of the filming, which took place at night and broke for the important Christmas shopping season. He didn't see the whole movie until this year, when someone gave him a video after the 25th anniversary celebration.

"It's a lousy movie," in his opinion. What amazes him is that many of the dedicated fans he meets weren't even born when the film was made.

At the Homepage of The Dead (www.homepageofthedead.com) site dedicated to Romero's zombie films, the Webmasters recently ran an online poll asking where visitors would most like to vacation. Around 140 people responded. More than 50 percent said Monroeville Mall, which beat out Bates Motel (5.15 percent), Elm Street (2.89 percent) and Amityville (2.75 percent)

Over at KB Toys, Petruzzelli isn't sure the movie connection is the draw for young people that the region has long been looking for. He said his store's sales bump up a bit around the Comicon events every year. He noted visitors also come to town to see locations used in "Silence of the Lambs" and Romero's earlier "Night of the Living Dead."

But the attraction of zombies and other horror flicks may be lost on the general population.

As a long-time fan of the "Dawn of the Dead" himself who also has a business doing special effects and props, Petruzzelli finds nothing odd about ending up in the very center of consumer consumption that director Romero chose to illustrate his idea.

What better place is there to be when the end of the world is near?

"You have nothing left to do," points out Petruzzelli, with a smile. "Hopes are lost. Let's go to the mall."