July 2016


CONVENTION REPORT: PulpFest 2016
by Walker Martin

   This convention is getting better and better, and frankly if you read or collect the old fiction magazines, then you must attend it.

   This year it was held between July 21 through July 24, 2016, but this time it ran into a major conflict. I’m talking about the gigantic media event called the San Diego Comicon. Thousands of people attend the Comicon but for me and 425 other book and pulp collectors, we would rather travel to Columbus, Ohio for Pulpfest. After all, my interest in comics ended at age 10, and I would rather watch an old film noir movie rather than the Hollywood comic character movies that are being cranked out. I mean we are book collectors, which is a lot more fun, and we love reading old pulps, books, digest fiction magazines, and vintage paperbacks.

   So, having made our decision to skip Comicon, four of us rented our usual van and traveled out on a 10 hour drive. We found plenty to talk about because all four of us are interested in different aspects of the addiction known as bibliomania. But to protect the reputations of my long time friends I will refer to them only as The Reading Machine, The Publisher, The Dealer, and The Collector.

   Among the 425 attendees at the convention, are some pretty hard boiled characters that do not let anything stand in the way of their desire to collect books and pulps. For instance Ed Hulse, of BLOOD n THUNDER, felt ill on Thursday, went to the emergency room of a nearby hospital, was admitted, and assigned a bed while tests were being conducted.

   However, the next day, he said to hell with this and returned to the dealer’s room Friday afternoon. Normal behavior for a book collector. I mean who wants to miss the chance of obtaining their wants? They call us bibliophiles for a reason…

   Each convention something new and exciting happens. This year two of my favorite collector friends received major pulp awards. Laurie Powers received the Munsey Award for her pulp research into the lives of Paul Powers and Daisy Bacon, the editor of LOVE STORY. She also has a blog titled Laurie’s Wild West. David Saunders won the Lamont Award for his research into the lives and careers of many pulp and slick artists. He has an excellent website which deals with pulp artists. They couldn’t give him a Munsey Award because he created it, so they came up with the great idea of awarding The Lamont, which was the major award given by the earlier Pulpcon conventions.

   I always score big at these conventions. Sometimes I find some great pulp cover art and often I buy some rare books or pulps. This year I took delivery of the best years of ADVENTURE magazine, 1921-1928. I already have them but I love to compare issues and drive myself crazy trying to figure out which is the better copy. About two or three years ago I saw a brief sentence in one of Mike Chomko’s book catalogs about selling his ADVENTURE set, over 200 issues. This caused me to nag and harass Mike for a long time about selling them to me. I want to extend my apologies to Mike now that I have the magazines safely in my possession. He admitted that he almost changed his mind and kept the set because there is so much good fiction in them. But being the insane collector I am, I had to have them to satisfy my pulp addiction. To hell with women, drugs, booze, or gambling. I’ll take books and pulps every time!

   Needless to say, my fellow voyagers were less than pleased to see me dragging five long comic boxes of pulps to the van. Especially since The Reading Machine and The Dealer also had many, many boxes. But somehow we managed to shoehorn them in. The Publisher keeps muttering that The Reading Machine and The Collector think the vans are made out of rubber which is expandable. But one day we will arrive and find out that the boxes don’t fit. Then the chips will fly! Pulp chips that is.

   What else did I get? How about a great letter from Mary Gnaedinger, the editor of FAMOUS FANTASTIC MYSTERIES, on Popular Publications letterhead, addressed to Calvin Beck, the future editor of CASTLE OF FRANKENSTEIN.

   Also I was weeping bitter tears because I did not win the door prize of Mike Ashley’s SCIENCE FICTION REBELS, the fourth volume of his superb history of the science fiction magazines. If there was any justice in the world he should win a major award for this series. The book costs over $100 but I offered the door prize winner a lower price for the book and he accepted. I have no shame. To get my wants, I’ll whine, beg, borrow and harass collectors until they give in.

   But my biggest find was the November 10, 1923 WESTERN STORY for only $20. Now you may ask why on earth am I so happy about this? After all, it’s only one pulp. But I have almost 1300 issues of WESTERN STORY, 1919-1949 and only needed eleven issues. Now I only need ten! Did I say anything about bibliomania and bibliophiles? I guess you have to be an addicted collector to understand my joy.

   One of the big things about Pulpfest, is the great programming. There are plenty of gamers, new pulp writers, Philip Jose Farmer fans, all busy with readings, panels, etc. But my favorites occurred during the evening after the closing of the dealer’s room (I could never leave the dealer’s room, god forbid!). I won’t go into them all but I really enjoyed David Saunders on “The Artists of The Argosy” and Doug Ellis on “120 Years of The Argosy.” Another of my favorites was Laurie Powers talking about LOVE STORY and Daisy Bacon.

   Despite being ill a few hours earlier, Ed Hulse joined me in discussing WESTERN STORY MAGAZINE and the Evolution of the Pulp Western. We covered the best western titles such as WESTERN STORY, WEST during the Doubleday years, and the two big titles from Popular Publications: DIME WESTERN and STAR WESTERN. We even mentioned the terrible western titles.

   But the best part of the programming was the Guest of Honor speech by Ted White, former editor of AMAZING and FANTASTIC. He was editor during 1968-1978 and somehow, despite a small budget, managed to publish two quality SF magazines. A great achievement. I have complete runs of these digests, over 100 issues and they are full of enjoyable fiction. Ted White’s editorials are also very enjoyable.

   The auction was over 100 lots and very varied. Pulps, books, artwork, premiums, slicks, and fanzines. The biggest price paid was $650 for a copy of BEYOND THE WALL OF SLEEP, by H. P. Lovecraft, but some lots reached $250 like the Doc Savage subscription premium and 5 issues of LARIAT.

   THE PULPSTER was issue number 25, and this magazine appears to be getting better and better with each annual issue. William Lampkin is the editor, and he had articles on 90 Years of Amazing Stories by former editors and Second String Heroes. Also David W. Smith talked about “What Becomes of Your Pulps After You’re Gone” (I’m taking mine with me); Art Sippo on Philip Jose Farmer; J. Randolph Cox on Street & Smith’s DETECTIVE STORY; David M. Earle on HARLEM STORIES; and I related my adventures collecting WESTERN STORY MAGAZINE. A task that could have ruined my work career and maybe got me fired.

   I noticed more pulp t-shirts than usual. I’m always wearing them and this year I had DIME MYSTERY, ADVENTURE, FAMOUS FANTASTIC MYSTERIES, and Fred Davis. But I also saw other collectors wearing ADVENTURE, ARGOSY, SHORT STORIES, and BLACK MASK.

   Speaking of BLACK MASK, everyone was buzzing about the recent acquisition by Matt Moring of the BLACK MASK title. Soon we will see collections reprinting some of the great fiction series! Matt says there is no truth in the rumor that he is trying to get the rights of also owning the actual back issues of all the pulps. I’m worried that sheriff deputies might confiscate my collection and turn it over to Matt.

   This year dealers received a gift when they registered. We were given a baseball cap that had “Pulpfest” on it. I’m hoping to get another t-shirt next year. And finally I’d like to thank the Pulpfest committee for all their hard work: Jack and Sally Cullers and their family and friends, Mike Chomko (thanks also for the ADVENTURES, Mike!), Barry Traylor, Chuck Welch, and Bill Lampkin. Believe me, we pulp collectors appreciate your efforts.

   OK, the next pulp show on my schedule is Pulp Adventurecon which is always held in Bordentown, NJ in early November. See you there!


THANKS to Sai Shankar and William Lampkin for the use of the photos they took during during the course of the convention. That’s me talking to David Saunders in one just above. I’m the one on the right.

SELECTED BY JONATHAN LEWIS:


JOYCE CAROL OATES “Did You Ever Slip on Red Blood?” Originally published in Harper’s Magazine, April 1972. Reprinted in Urban Horrors, edited William F. Nolan & Martin H. Greenberg (Dark Harvest, hardcover, 1990; Daw, paperback, 1993).

   One thing that can be undoubtedly said for Joyce Carol Oates is that she is, and continues to be, a prolific writer and an important voice in American letters. Another thing that can be stated is that she is an expert wordsmith, one whose writing is replete with sentences that appear to flow together effortlessly and naturally.

   At least that’s the case for “Did You Ever Slip On Red Blood?” a haunting work of literary horror that originally appeared in the pages of Harper’s. Written in an experimental style with a non-linear timeframe, the story recalls the life and times of one Robert Severin, a counterculture political activist.

   As the story unfolds, the reader begins to learn that somehow, in some manner, Severin is the link that binds together two people who otherwise wouldn’t have met: a stewardess named Marian and her lover named Oberon. Rather than tell the story with in straightforward linear manner, Oates begins the story at the ending and then goes back to the beginning – or, more accurately, a series of beginnings – and then finally recounts the moment in which Marian and Oberon met face to face.

   As it turns out, what brought these two lovers together was a scenario that would have been a very believable one to urban readers in 1972, the year the story first appeared in print. Severin, the reader learns, was acquitted of one crime, but went on to engage in a far more serious crime; namely, hijacking an airliner. It was there that Severin and Marian first met and where Marian would end up slipping in red blood. “Did You Ever Slip on Red Blood?” traverses genre categories. It’s a thriller, a work of crime fiction, and urban horror fiction.

   Recommended.

   Most of you may already know this, but in case not, from Bill Crider’s blog on Friday:

“Very aggressive form of carcinoma. Looks bad. Love to you all.”

   Then on Sunday:

“Hey, blog fans. I’m out of the hospital after being poked, prodded, tested. and humiliated. I’m in much worse shape than when I went in. It’s a long story. Next week I’ll try to get into M. D. Anderson. The outlook isn’t brilliant for the Mudville Nine. I might not be posting here again, so I want to say now how moved I’ve been by your comments. You guys are the best. Even if we’ve never met in person, you are truly my friends. Love to you all.”

   Although we’ve met only once, Bill and I have known each other for nearly 40 years, maybe longer. On many an occasion he’s blamed me for getting him involved in mystery fandom. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but if it is, I’m glad I did. My world so far wouldn’t have been the same without him. This is very tough news, indeed. Bill, we all love you too.

EARL DERR BIGGERS – Behind That Curtain. Bobbs-Merrill, hardcover, 1928. Serialized in The Saturday Evening Post between March 31 and May 5, 1928. Paperback reprints include: Pocket #191, 1942; Paperback Library 52-296, June 1964; Pyramid, 1969; Bantam, 1974; Mysterious Press, 1987.

   A Charlie Chan mystery, of course, the third of six, and one I first read some 60 odd years ago. I found that I didn’t remember the mystery at all. Only two things came back to me as I was reading. First, the frustration Charlie felt in not being able to return his treasured home town of Honolulu from the mainland (San Francisco) in order to meet his new born son, his eleventh child. The demands of the current case he is working on require him to stay. No loose ends for the noted Detective-Sergeant Chan!

   The second aspect of the tale that I dimly recalled was the romantic elements, the witty courtship between Charlie’s host, wealthy Barry Kirk, and June Morrow, the young female deputy district attorney who is assigned the case. When I read this back sometime in the 1950s, I thought this part of the story was boring, if not out-and-out boring. I was wrong. This time around I found it charming, as in the best of black-and-white light-hearted romantic films made a little later, once movie-makers learned how to make the best use of the new sound techniques available to them.

   Dead is a retired Scotland Yard detective who obsession with two unsolved cases, possibly related, has brought him all the way from England to California. All his notes are also stolen, indicating that he was closing in on bringing one to a conclusion, that of a young 18-year-old girl, a new bride who disappeared without a trace in Peshawar, India, fifteen years ago.

   The case is extremely complicated. There are plenty of suspects and lots of clues, many of them relevant, but equally many that are not, and all of them have to be checked out, as well as alibis. Adding to the pleasure of the reading this old-fashioned traditional mystery is Biggers’ dialogue and prose, which simply flows.

   I don’t know that this is exactly a fair play mystery, but the solution to the crime is very clever, and the romance? Well, all’s well that ends well, and this one does.

Reviewed by DAVID VINEYARD:


JAMAICA RUN. Paramount Pictures, 1953, Ray Milland, Arlene Dahl, Wendell Corey, Patric Knowles, Carroll McComas, Bill Walker, Laura Elliot (Kasey Rogers), Murray Matheson, Clarence Muse, Michael Moore, Robert Warwick, Lester Matthews. Based on the novel A Neat Little Corpse by Max Murray. Director: Lewis R. Foster.

   â€œGreat House, piracy, war, slavery, and murder, everything in Comeback Bay has grown out of violence.”        — Mrs. Dacey (Carroll McComas)

   We are in Gothic country à la Rebecca in this attractive film adaptation of mystery novelist Max Murray’s novel A Neat Little Corpse. Ray Milland is Captain Patrick Fairlie, returning to Comeback Bay in Jamaica on a mission after the war; first, to establish his old business running the islands in his boat, and second, to reclaim his one time wife, Ena Dacey (Arlene Dahl) held captive by the neediness of her sodden mother (Carroll McComas) and brother Todd (Wendell Corey) who drove a younger Fairlie away before the war.

   Fairlie soon learns things aren’t any better. Mrs. McComas hates him for threatening to take Ena away, Todd is still arrogant and short tempered, and Human (Bill Walker) the butler and houseman still runs the house and the natives with Obeah powers in one hand and Dacey influence in the other.

   A new element though is William Montagu (Patric Knowles) looking to buy the beach front property, and interested in an old legend that the house was sold to another Dacey whose boat went down in a great storm with the evidence. He has found the heirs to that Dacey, Janice and Robert Clayton (Laura Elliot and Michael Moore), and wants Fairlie to dive on the old wreck to look for evidence of the sale.

   Things are tense enough before Robert is found at the bottom of the ocean with his skull caved in, murdered.

   Montague: One doesn’t lose a brother every day.

   Todd: One couldn’t unless one had an awful lot of brothers.

   Fairlie finds the chest with the papers, but not before he is nearly murdered by another diver and Janice Clayton nearly suffers a fatal riding accident.

   Meanwhile things are getting more complicated with Todd finally coming around as he and Janice seem to fall for each other — or is he merely scheming to keep Great House, and Obeah man Human is casting spells and determined that the Dacey’s will never leave Great House no matter what the cost.

   Ena: Human has cast a spell. The rolling calf is loose and someone must die.

   Save for some rather unconvincing underwater scenes, and perhaps a too obvious villain (the book was a little better in that regard), there is some decent suspense generated and some good detective work including a well handled hearing where the truth is revealed, thanks to Fairlie’s detective work and help from the local police (Murray Matheson). The ending is nicely ironic and exciting giving the grand old place a proper Gothic send-off, since as someone once put it, Gothic fiction of the modern kind is about women getting a house, and often losing it and getting a man instead.

   Though no auteur, Lewis R. Foster (who started as a writer on films like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, It Happened Tomorrow, and The Farmer’s Daughter) was a capable director whose work in the late forties and fifties include some of my favorite minor A films of the era including Armored Car, The Lucky Stiff, Manhandled, Captain China, and Those Redheads From Seattle before moving primarily to television where he directed numerous series ranging from Four Star Playhouse to Zorro, Tales of Wells Fargo, and Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color along with a few films like Dakota Incident and Tonka.

   Jamaica Run won’t top anyone’s list, but it is an attractive and involving mystery, well acted, tightly directed, and with more than enough to keep most mystery fans involved.



Reviewed by JONATHAN LEWIS:


NIGHT UNTO NIGHT. Warner Brothers, 1949. Ronald Reagan, Viveca Lindfors, Broderick Crawford, Rosemary DeCamp, Osa Massen, Art Baker, Craig Stevens. Based on the novel by Philip Wylie. Director: Don Siegel.

   Years before he directed Clint Eastwood, Don Siegel worked with Ronald Reagan in Night Unto Night, a romantic melodrama with a tinge of sunshine noir. Set on Florida’s alternatingly sunny and stormy East coast, this early film by Siegel is overall a highly uneven feature, but is nonetheless an immensely watchable postwar psychological thriller that defies easy categorization. Consider it a Gothic romance crossed with a ghost tale, or as a crime film without really any significant criminal act. It’s not great, but it’s good.

   Reagan and Viveca Lindfors portray star-crossed lovers, each living in the shadow of death. Reagan’s character, John Galen, is a scientist in the business of developing medicine to save lives. In one of life’s dark ironies, he learns that he is slowly beginning to develop epilepsy. His response to this is to flee from his native Chicago and rent a house on the Florida coast. Most importantly, he wants to be alone and to shut out the world.

   That’s easier said than done, however, as he slowly becomes entangled with two European sisters, Ann Gracy (Lindfors) and her highly seductive sister, Lisa (Osa Massen). After Lisa fails to seduce Galen, she becomes enraged when it’s revealed that Galen and Ann have fallen in love.

   If things weren’t complicated enough for our physically declining protagonist, he soon learns how psychologically scarred Ann is from the death of her first husband. So devastatingly broken in fact, that she hears his voice speaking to her from beyond the grave. Unfortunately, Lindsfors tends to overact these scenes, making them more maudlin than terrifying.

   Siegel’s use of atmosphere in cinematic storytelling, on the other hand, can’t be beat. Add in a dark and stormy night battering the windows of an old house, a gun collection, and you’ve got yourself one overwrought post-war melodrama that tries, even if not all that successfully, to say something about love conquering death. Still, for Reagan fans and those interested in seeing what Siegel’s early output was like, Night Unto Night, at a running time of less than ninety minutes, is well worth the effort.

REVIEWED BY BARRY GARDNER:


SARAH DUNANT – Birth Marks. Hannah Wolfe #1. Doubleday, hardcover, 1992. First published in the UK: Michael Joseph, hardcover, 1991.

   This is Sarah Dunant’s second mystery, but the first (I believe) featuring London-based private detective Hannah Wolfe.’ I believe we have a winner here.

   Hannah accepts a job that’s basically a missing persons case — young ballet dancer hasn’t send her more-or-less adopted mother a card when she should have, and the woman is concerned. Though Hannah first believes that the young woman simply wanted not to be found, she takes the case because she needs the money. After the investigation has begun, but before anything substantive has been learned, the missing dancer is fished out of the Thames, dead, an apparent suicide, eight months pregnant.

   Based on what she’s learned, Hannah doesn’t believe it,`nor does someone else: she is retained by an anonymous client to investigate further. The` trail leads to Paris, and leads Hannah into an ever-deepening questioning of her own feelings about motherhood.

   Hannah Wolfe was not only believable, but appealing, and altogether the best feminine PI I’ve met in a long while. The character was beautifully developed, as were those of her sister, her ex-boss and “mentor,” and several others. Dunant’s prose style is literate and understated, and the narrative flow was very good.

   This was an excellent book. There were no unbelievable characters, the plot made sense, the writing was fine, and it didn’t end in an orgy of violence. I don’t want to go overboard, but I liked this better than any first book (for me) I’ve read in a while. You need to give this lady a try.

— Reprinted from Fireman, Fireman, Save My Books #5, January 1993.


       The Hannah Wolfe series —

Birth Marks. Joseph, 1991.
Fatlands. H. Hamilton, 1993.
Under My Skin. H. Hamilton, 1995.

REVIEWED BY DAN STUMPF:


ROOM 43. British Lion, UK, 1958. Originally released in the UK as Passport to Shame. Odile Versois, Herbert Lom, Diana Dors, Eddie Constantine, Brenda de Banzie. Written by Patrick Alexander. Directed by Alvin Rakoff.

   The ultimate British “B” picture.

   Eddie Constantine stars (despite his 4th billing) as a London cab driver who gets in a financial pinch with a rather iffy loan company and is befriended by suave, wealthy Herbert Lom… who, it turns out, owns the Loan Company. Indebted to Lom, Eddie gladly agrees to a marriage of convenience to cute, virginal Odile Versois, who needs to marry a British subject so she can stay in the employ of a nice rich lady (Brenda de Banzie.)

   It’s all a tissue of lies, of course. Odile was framed for theft by her employer back in France, who is in league with de Banzie, who is in league with Herbert Lom, who runs one of those high-overhead white-slave outfits you see only in movies: the kind I mentioned in House of a Thousand Dolls. [Reviewed here. ]

   In this case, the expenses of enslaving Ms. Versois include bribing her erstwhile boss back in France, Ms de Banzie’s elegant apartment, the cost of getting a big truck to smash Eddie Constantine’s cab, then paying for the damages and tearing up the loan. There’s also the iffy loan company front, but maybe it pays for itself. Maybe it also pays for the small army of hired thugs Herbert Lom keeps at hand to ambush Eddie every ten minutes or so and beat him up when he gets qualms of conscience about the lovely Odile. As for the elaborate brothel, complete with secret passageways and a “respectable” façade where de Banzie holds court… well damned if I know where the money’s coming from.

   But of course this wasn’t meant to be believable. Gritty, sordid and tough, yes, but in no way believable. Sort of the cinematic equivalent of an old Gold Medal paperback, with our hero rescuing the heroine, who is promptly snatched away by the bad guys, then rescued again, then… well you get the idea. There’s a nifty car chase, a few fights, a tawdry drug-dream, roof-top cliffhanger, and a general donnybrook when the Cabbies of London (here acting as England’s version of the Texas Rangers) battle Herbert Lom’s goon squad.

   There’s also a brassy jazz score reminiscent of Elmer Bernstein’s classic Man with the Golden Arm, but perhaps the major point of interest here is Diana Dors, playing the proverbial hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold and decked out in lingerie right out of an Irving Klaw catalogue.

   Without Diana Dors, this would still have been engagingly trashy, but her appearance here lifts it into the class of sublimely sleazy. Not a great film by any standards — maybe not even a very good one — but fun all the way.

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