Counting On The Count

Count Dracula's homeland, in the Romanian province of Transylvania, was a place Bram Stoker never even visited. But the Irish novelist made the setting for his fictional vampire tale universally famous.

Since "Dracula" was published in 1897, it's been translated into 44 languages and at least 250 movies. There's been a vampire for every age and taste.

He was a welcome guest for the innocent inhabitants of "Sesame Street," and he was rebuffed by the dishy teenager, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

This year, Dracula has come back twice. First, in the movie and DVD called "Van Helsing." And now he's on Broadway, in "Dracula the Musical," a lavish, over-the-top production that, try as they might, the critics could not kill.

It's immortality for a man who never lived, but who's become a nation's best-known citizen, and best known international tourist attraction. Correspondent Morley Safer reports.

It may seem silly, but Dracula is the darling of a desperate government. Simona Miculescu, chief diplomatic advisor to the president of Romania, once served in the Washington embassy. She understands the global value of the Count.

"The first moment I had the revelation of the strength of this legend was in America," says Miculescu. "That was the moment when I understood what an impact, what a fantastic impact, the myth of Dracula made all over the world."

"It's all kind of surreal. Because here you have an Irishman who had never been to Romania, or Transylvania, created this fictional character," says Safer. "And suddenly, it's become part of the fabric of the folklore of this country."

"Exactly. And we should use that in order to attract tourists," says Miculescu. "Because in this way, we would have the opportunity to tell them the truth about our history."

Though the Dracula we know was Stoker's invention, there is a murky connection to history, to a bloodthirsty medieval prince named Vlad the Impaler, nicknamed Dracula – devil - who kept Romania out of the hands of Turkish invaders.

"He was the George Washington of Romania," says Andre Codrescu, an American poet, novelist and essayist familiar to listeners of National Public Radio, who was born in Romania. He calls Vlad the Impaler, "the founder of our country."

How did impalement work?

"Impalement worked according to your status. If you were a small fry, a thief, let's say, you were just impaled on a short stake," says Codrescu. "If you had a certain standing in the community, then they gave you a very tall one, so you could look above the rest."

"[Vlad the Impaler] was a very fierce-looking fellow," says Safer.

"Because he was," says Miculescu.

But the father of the nation had some nasty habits. "I read a story that he would invite people to a great feast and they enjoyed a wonderful dinner," says Safer. "And then, he had them all killed."

"Yeah, cutting their noses, their ears," says Miculescu. "Yeah. I don't want to enter into details."

"Tough love, I think they call it," says Safer. Having borrowed Vlad for his vampire, Stoker placed him in the land of Transylvania, which many think he also invented. But it is real and it lives up to its fictional reputation: a brooding sinister land of spooky castles. Enter this high mountain valley and you step back in time. Mix that time warp with a cocktail of vampires and bloodthirsty history, and presto, you've got a tourist industry.

"We are entering a land which in the minds of many does not really exist," says Nicolae Paduraru, who has been running Dracula tours for 20 years.

60 Minutes joined a busload of Australians, Japanese, Brazilians, Englishmen and Americans who wanted to walk in the Count's footsteps. The Dracula they know, of course, rarely left a Hollywood soundstage. But here they are, at Castle Bran. The guides call it "Dracula Castle," which is all baloney. It has nothing to do with the real or fictional Dracula. Life imitates movies, and in the tourist business, you sell what you've got.

Paduraru does his best with a limited inventory: "This is the gorge of the river Arges. According to the legend, Vlad's wife threw herself into the river."

…Or, maybe she just fell in on one of Paduraru's Dracula tours.

To many Romanians, the real Dracula castle was built by Nicolae Ceausescu during his almost 30-year reign as dictator. That came to an end in 1989, when the army seized him and his wife Elena and shot them over and over again.

Freedom from Communism did little but reveal Romania's festering sores: abandoned children, massive corruption, a polluted landscape, and cities plagued by wild dogs. With that kind of legacy, Romania is trying to present a new face to the world. It joined President Bush's coalition in Iraq. It's now a member of NATO and will soon join the European Union.

Miculescu is seeking a symbol that would make Romania synonymous with what, exactly? "I would highlight maybe the natural wonders in Romania," says Miculescu. "I would go for even the beauty of girls. I would go for highly qualified people. The main problem I think, is to identify out of all these opportunities a symbol of Romania."

And what would that be?

"I have a feeling that as an American, you would expect me to say Dracula," says Miculescu.

And why not? To much of the world, the symbol of the United States is a mouse, who once welcomed Ceausescu himself.

"Hey, Mickey Mouse, it's a different story," says Miculescu. "It's not bloody. It doesn't have any dark sides. It's just a funny, amusing -- wonderful character."

Unlike Dracula, who spreads mayhem wherever he goes. But soon, he too will have his very own theme park, a place to rest his weary bones and scare the pants off a hoped-for million visitors a year.

"Dracula is useful. I just hope they don't go overboard, and make theme parks everywhere," says Codrescu. "I mean, if they're going to do a theme park in Romania, they should make Commie-land, which is where people could go and be followed, and they could have a pre-1989 experience."

But not even Romania is ready for Commie-Land, so while tourists wait for Dracula-Land, they can catch dinner at Bucharest's Count Dracula Club -- and for dessert, a healthy scream.

"If it helps Romania to help our image, than why shouldn't we invent some legends about, you know, anything that's related to blood. Even my teeth, if you can see, are kind of – so," says Miculescu. "I like your neck by the way."