Growing up in the 1960s in Manhattan, I was frightened of three things: Billy, the neighborhood bully on his red bike; something my teacher called an A-bomb; and my dad (he had a bit of a temper). Somewhere between the playful 1960s and today, pre-teens and teens stopped experiencing fright. For them, it’s now terror, which has rendered Halloween both quaint and preposterous. [Photos above and below by Marc Myers]