NANCY PICKARD – No Body.

Pocket, paperback reprint; 1st printing, November 1987. Hardcover edition: Charles Scribner’s Sons, October 1986.

   I can sum up one impression of this book in one short sentence: More, I think, about funeral homes than I wanted to know.

   This was the third appearance of Jenny Cain, Nancy Pickard’s first series character, and the first to be published in hardcover, the previous two being paperback originals from Avon. For the record, here’s a list of all of Jenny’s full-length cases. (There are no short stories about her, as far as I’ve been able to discover.)

      Generous Death. Avon, pb, 1984.

      Say No to Murder. Avon, pb 1985. Winner of the first Anthony Award for Best Paperback Original Mystery.
      No Body. Scribner, 1986. Nominated for an Anthony.
      Marriage Is Murder. Scribner, 1987. Winner of the Macavity Award for Best Mystery Novel.
      Dead Crazy. Scribner, 1988. Nominated for both the Agatha and Anthony awards.
      Bum Steer. Pocket, 1990. Winner of the Agatha Award for Best Mystery Novel.
      I. O. U.  Pocket, 1991. Edgar Nominee for Best Mystery Novel, Agatha Winner for Best Mystery Novel, Macavity Winner for Best Mystery Novel.
      But I Wouldn’t Want to Die There. Pocket, 1993.
      Confession. Pocket, 1994.
      Twilight. Pocket, 1995. Nominated for an Agatha Award.

   I may have missed some of the nominations the books in the series have gathered, but even so, it’s an impressive list.

   The title of Twilight suggests that it may be the last in the series. Given that 13 years have gone by since it came out and Pickard has begun another series in the meantime (one featuring true-crime author Marie Lightfoot), Jenny may have packed up her sleuthing duties for good.

   Jenny is the director of the Port Frederick Civic Foundation, which means that she knows all the important people in a small town. Also helping to explain why he has such success in getting involved (and solving) crimes of murder is the fact that she lives with Detective Geof Bushfield of the local police department. (I don’t believe it was ever stated in No Body, but Port Frederick is in Massachusetts. While reading it, I was under the slight assumption that it was in Maryland.)

   No Body is strong on humor, but other books in the series become gradually darker, or so I’ve been led to believe. Nonetheless, I think the Jenny Cain books fall in the forefront of the cozy, malice domestic movement in which amateur detectives, most of them women, have gradually taken over the non-thriller portion of the mystery publishing world today, filled as it is with quilters, herbalists, catsitters, wedding planners and so on.

   One of Jenny’s problems to solve at this book is that of 133 missing bodies in a 19th century and now closed cemetery. But while investigating the archives of the Harbor Lights Funeral Home, a more serious current crime is committed — the body of a dead man’s secret lover is found in his cover just before it’s put to earth.

   Many of the secondary characters presumably appeared in the first two books in the series. They seem familiar enough to the author that she doesn’t feel the need to overly describe them or get them involved. For the most part they stay in the background, allowing a full focus to be placed on solving the murder. Good news, as I far as I am concerned.

   Geof is called out of town for most of the book, in fact, allowing Jenny nearly free rein in tackling the case, not always successfully, adding immensely to the comic effect. The ending is quite a spine-tingler — caused by Jenny’s not quite thinking things through — but the story becomes quite a page-turner at the conclusion, there’s no doubt about that at all.

[FOLLOW-UP.]  Who would I pick to play Jenny Cain in the movies? Maybe a younger Shirley MacLaine. As for Lew Riss, the disheveled dope-smoking local reporter with dreams of a Pulitizer (and a hopeful but unrequited yearning for Jenny), perhaps Richard Dreyfuss would do.

   In the process of cataloging my collection of western paperbacks, I’ve been putting together checklists of various authors to help let me know which ones I have and which ones I’m missing.

   I’ve done such lists for Gordon Shirreffs and Tom West, although neither one is online yet. I’ve just completed one for Doyle Trent, and I’ve just finished setting up the webpage for it. (I’ll add the other two later this month when I’m not quite so busy, and work on additional ones as time allows.)

   If you’d care to take a look, you can find Trent’s page here. It’s a work in progress. Additions and correction are most certainly welcome.

   Needless to say, I’ve added as many covers as I’ve had access to. (Even though I may have a book, it does not mean that it’s accessible.) Here are a couple of them:

JAMES DALTON – City of Shadows.

Forge; paperback reprint, May 2002. Hardcover 1st edition: Forge, 2000.

   Historical mysteries are all the rage, and this qualifies as such, I think, in both of the possible ways, but only just barely. The late 1960s and early 70s were not that long ago. The era is certainly within my lifetime, if not my children’s (in any sense that they knew what was going on). And the crime, or at least the major one, was the one called a “third-rate burglary,” at least by some at the time.

   Watergate, that is, and all of the incidentals surrounding that particularly tumultuous moment in the country’s history. Beginning before then, and continuing on, woven solidly into the background of this hefty novel, was Viet Nam and the anti-war protests; Kent State; the assassination of Martin Luther King; Jimmy Hoffa and the Teamsters; Richard Nixon; Henry Kissinger; Howard Hughes; JFK’s failed attempt to take out Fidel Castro; Spiro Agnew; the Saturday night massacre; Patty Hearst; and … I’ll leave some surprises.

   That’s the setting. Three main characters take up the rest of the space: DC police office John Quinn, and a bit of a loose cannon on the job; National Security Council aide and former Marine officer Nathan Holloway, whose loyalty is tested as never before; and Senate assistant Vaughn Conner, whose stint on the Watergate committee starts to open doors that certain other parties desperately need to keep closed.

   Their paths, painstakingly drawn, slowly converge. Quinn’s lover, a one-time call girl, and another young dead girl in the same line of work seem to be the key, the reason why these “certain other parties” have their interest aroused.

   The opening chapters are told in an onrushing, cinematic, hard-boiled style that’s very effective, but it seems to dissipate as the need to work with the facts on record, the events of the time, starts to take over. The plot is set into place in a long interconnected process that takes a while to develop, yet the story itself is accompanied with a sense of urgency that prevails for a while only to lose (surprisingly) a large chunk of its coherency and focus at the end.

   When it comes down to it, those were terribly dangerous days. No matter how the events of Watergate are embellished, with new theories or other fictional fabrications, these enhancements are still overpowered by the facts on record, as they’re known so far. Dalton (not his real name) gives it his best shot, and even though he may have hit on something here, I think he tries too hard, loses control, and comes up a notch or two short.

[UPDATE.] 10-04-08. I didn’t know this when I wrote the review, and I don’t believe it was common knowledge at the time, or I’d have mentioned in the review. But “James Dalton” turns out to have been James Grady, whose career began in spectacular fashion with Six Days of the Condor in 1974 and Shadow of the Condor in 1975.

   This seems to be the only book he wrote under this pen name. I’ve found nothing that would suggest otherwise.

ARTHUR GRIFFITHS – The Rome Express.

John Milne, UK, hardcover, 1896. L. C. Page, US, hardcover, 1907. Reprint hardcover: Arno Press, 1976. Included in The Penguin Book of Victorian Villainies, 1991. Frontispiece by Arthur O. Scott.

   I must admit, so put away the big clubs, I was not too thrilled with The Rome Express. It started off in such cracking good style too, with an overnight murder on a cross continental train and six passengers and a train porter under suspicion of stabbing the victim while the express was flying along the rails.

   Ahah, you cry, what an excellent set-up! And so it is.

   The train arrives in Paris and the seven persons mentioned are sequestered for questioning. And who are these suspects comes the question from the back row. Well, there’s General Sir Charles Collingham and his clerical brother the Revd Silas Collingham.

   A couple of Frenchmen, Anatole Lafolay, who works in the precious gem line, and commission agent Jules Devaux, Italian policeman Natale Ripaldi, English-born Contessa di Castagneto, and the Dutch porter Ludwig Groote make up the international bunch being grilled by the French authorities.

   The victim is an absconding Italian banker, Francis A. Quadling, and certain evidence in his compartment suggests a woman visitor. This and other clues point to the countess as the culprit, but is she the guilty party?

   Alas, once the circumstances of the murder are described, they provide the reader with the necessary hint that All Is Not What It Seems although there is still a bit of sleuthing to do to find out what happened and who was involved. My objection is that so little is made of the other characters involved.

   To think of the motives that could be introduced to muddy the international waters! The two Frenchmen could have been defrauded by the dead man, the countess might have been blackmailed by him, perhaps he was bribing the Italian policemen and threatened to tell his superiors when he tried to arrest him on the train. The Dutch porter presents problems but then the one who appears most innocent often turns out to be the person responsible. Perhaps the absconding cad ruined the Dutchman’s daughter!

   I thought it a pity so much suspicion is focussed on the countess that other excellent possibilities are overlooked, particularly as this is a relatively short piece of fiction and there would have been room for a subplot or two. Even so, I liked the intriguing set up — I wonder what Christie fans would make of it! — so I shall probably try another Griffiths and see if I am happier with it!

      Online etext.

PETER DICKINSON – The Lively Dead.

Pantheon, paperback reprint; 1982. Hardcover editions: [UK] Hodder & Stoughton, 1975; [US] Pantheon, 1975. Other paperback editions: Avon 33811, US, August 1977; Mysterious Press/Arrow, UK, 1988 (shown).

   Here’s another author about whom I can say I never read one of his books until now. In crime fiction circles he’s probably best known for his Superintendent Pibble novels, of which there were six, published between 1969 and 1976, but of which, even though it’s of the right time period, this however is not one.

   Dickinson, by the way, was born in 1927 and is still active as a writer. You can find his biography online here, and a link at the bottom of that page will take you to a complete bibliography, so if you’re interested, there’s no need for me to reproduce it as part of this review. His most recent work as been poetry and books for young adults, the latter usually having a strong fantasy component.

   As for The Lively Dead, there is a lot I can tell you about it – and some I can’t, and if I can, I’ll let you later why. We meet the primary protagonist, Lydia Timms (we later learn she is Lady Lydia) attacking a joist with a crowbar and inspecting the wood for rot in the basement of the London boarding house she and her husband live in and own, then rushing up the stair to fix the duplicating machine that the ineffectual old men of the exiled Lavonian government have in their rooms and offices in the upper two floors (grandfathered in when the Timmses arrived).

   Richard, her husband, has had a recent breakdown but is now on the road to recovery and is studying furiously for his law exams; her small son Dickie is autistic, but is a marvel with recreating battles with small toys and other paraphernalia. He also knows Morse code better than he can read.

   Recently dead is Mrs Newberry, who also lived in the building and was the cleaner for Mr Obb and the others on the top floors. Mrs Newbury’s notorious daughter (and only heir) Procne is currently in jail for what we easily perceive as being high-level prostitution reasons. At any rate, there is continued interest in her (and her well-being) from several sides, not all of which make themselves known right away.

   Mrs Newberry is the key to everything, as it happens. Even though given a proper burial at some time during the events of the first two chapters, she turns up again circa page 110, when a body is found in the Timms’s back yard. It is Mrs Newberry.

   Superintendent Austen investigates, and in his arrogant fashion (thinks Lydia) manages to antagonize her so greatly that she will not (she says can not) answer his questions.

   It is up to her, then, to solve the case, as greatly muddled as it more and more becomes, at considerable risk to herself and Dickie. Somehow or another there is yet another malice-supplying factor that enters in. I do not believe that at the end I had indeed straightened them all out.

   What carries the day, if the detection is weak, is the beautiful, humorous and picturesque writing. Picking a page at random, and spotting a portion with the delightful Dickie in it (he is seven), here’s an example. It’s taken out of context, of course, but this is Lydia and Dickie as they are checking out Mrs Newberry’s room on page 61:

   Neither Lydia nor Superintendent seem to have ever made another appearance, unfortunately in regard to the former, never so much concerning the latter. Will I read another book by Peter Dickinson? Indeed, yes, I will.

J. R. RIPLEY – Lost in Austin

Worldwide, paperback reprint; 1st printing, April 2002. Hardcover edition: Longwind, May 2001.

   If you’re interested in the down-and-dirty behind-the-scenes aspects of the country music business, then this is the mystery for you. If not, if you’re more interested in a detective story, this second adventure of rhythm guitarist Tony Kozol will have you scratching your head, looking for more. Taken on by the Clint Cash band when a broken arm forces his predecessor to the sidelines, Tony soon finds himself once again in the starring role on a murder scene. (An earlier appearance was in Skulls of Sedona, also in paperback from Worldwide.)

   The dead man is a roadie, a member of Clint Cash’s crew, but the story really begins with a wild-eyed young Mexican trying to find his sister, and he claims the murder victim was the person who allowed her to go backstage. No one else, by the way, says they ever saw her.

   What with the non-stop partying going on — mostly booze — and the nonchalant after-hours sexual dalliances, even though Tony finds that the detective in charge is an old college buddy named Izzie Ibanez, it takes a while for any serious questions to be asked. (In a note I jotted down for myself, I can say with some certainty that this point in time occurred on page 184. There are 253 pages in all.)

   So, light and frothy is the order of the day, with a huge helping of inept police work on the side. (On something of a positive note, some of the more touristy attractions of the city of Austin are carefully pointed out.) It’s a readable combination, but all in all, for devout mystery fans, there’s little here to sink your teeth into.

[UPDATE] 10-01-08.   Since this review was written, I’ve discovered that J. R. Ripley is the pen name of pop rock musician Glenn Meganck. This is not surprising, since the music business was so authentically portrayed in Lost in Austin. A second series under the Ripley byline is totally different. It takes place in St. Barthelemy in the French West Indies, and features Charles Trenet, an inexperienced police officer newly transferred from the Gendarmerie Nationale.

       Bibliography:

   The TONY KOZOL mysteries:

Stiff in the Freezer. Beachfront, hc, 1998.
Skulls of Sedona. Beachfront, trade pb, 1999. Worldwide, pb, 2001
Lost in Austin. Longwind, hc, 2001. Worldwide, pb, 2002.
The Body from Ipanema. Longwind, hc, 2002. Worldwide, pb, 2003.
Bum Rap in Branson. Beachfront, hc, 2004.

   The GENDARME CHARLES TRENET mysteries:

Murder in St. Barts. Beachfront, hc, 2003.
Death of a Cheat. Beachfront, hc, 2006.

LEWIS B. PATTEN – Lynching in Broken Butte.

Signet, paperback reprint; 1st printing, July 1975. Hardcover edition: Doubleday & Co., 1974.

   My review of Prodigal Gunfighter on these pages a short while ago was preceded by a post on Western Noir in which Patten’s name came up in a major way. Both of these posts elicited a substantial number of comments, showing that Patten, for one, is a western author still being read, in spite of his death in 1981, and that the concept of noir and western fiction are not in the least way incompatible.

   In fact, Lynching in Broken Butte is one of the books Chap O’Keefe reviews in the latest online issue of Black Horse Extra, in which Western Noir first came up for discussion. When I recently happened across a copy of the paperback edition, I immediately set it aside to read.

   Which when I did, took me just over an hour, even though it’s 172 pages long. As is common in Patten’s work, the action in Lynching, omitting the flashback to the incident in question, takes place in just over a day in the life of the town, Broken Butte, so it’s easy to start in on page one and keep on reading. The story never stops, and neither does the reader.

   Five months before the story begins is where it really begins, though. Two drifters are jailed and then hanged for raping and killing the 15-year-old daughter of the town’s leading figure, Eric Carberry. When the town learns the next day that the two men were innocent, guilt hangs heavy over all their heads, and it comes to a boil when a US Marshal named August Cragg accidentally chooses Broken Butte as a place to stop over night while on other business.

   And thirty hours later, all hell has broken loose. (I may be off on the number of hours. It’s certainly less than two days later, but longer than one, and I am correct on calling it hell.)

   The ending comes a little too abruptly for me. With the town sheriff and Clara Easterday and her daughter Nan being held hostage, Cragg finds he has very few options, and makes do with really the only good one. Subtlety does not count in situations like this.

   But as a short and incisive morality play, Lynching at Broken Butte fits the bill very nicely, nor does Patten seem to care very much about political correctness. Except for one or two individuals, there are no shades of gray, but those couple of individuals stand out for their conflicted motivations, particularly Sheriff Jasper Horsley, whose innate weakness allowed the lynchings to take place in the first place. Noir? Yes. Indubitably.

   One thing does bother the backside of my brain, though. Soon after the lynchings, the true killer of Eloise, Carberry’s rebellious young daughter — a local townsman — is identified, convicted in court, and executed. If I had been he, I’d have threatened to make a fuss about the lynchings. He must not have had a very good lawyer. With a guilty secret like this hanging over the town, it sounds like a deal in the making to me.

[UPDATE] 10-01-08.   Here’s how I’d cast the film made from this novel, subject to some second thoughts tomorrow:

   Marshal August Cragg – John Payne

   Clara Easterday – Peggy Castle

   Sheriff Jasper Horsley – Lee J. Cobb

   Eric Carberry – Ed Begley

   In my review of Sarah Stewart Taylor’s book Judgment of the Grave, in the post just preceding this one, I referred to it as noirish, but truth be told, the word surprised me when I wrote it. It came out naturally, but believe it or not, calling the book “noir” hadn’t occurred to me until that very moment.

   It’s really a detective story with darker than usual overtones, and it’s very possible that Ms. Taylor had nothing more than that on her mind when she wrote it. So I’ve been puzzling it over. Why did my subconscious take over like that?

   Is the book noir? Probably not, but I said in my original comments, with a slight but deliberate change of focus and intent, it could have been. (The marketing efforts were probably along the lines of it being an academic cosy.)

   But continuing in the direction I was thinking, since I mentioned a black-and-white film version, I’ve come up with a possible cast, if the movie were to have been made back in the 1950s:

      Sweeney St. George – Ruth Roman

      Tim Quinn – Dane Clark

      Ian (Sweeney’s friend in England) – Zachary Scott

      Beverly Churchill (the missing man’s wife) – Beverly Garland

      Cecily Whiting (mother of the boy with leukemia) – Mercedes McCambridge

      Bruce Whiting (divorced from Cecily) – Robert Ryan

      Lauren Whiting (Bruce’s new wife) – Gloria Grahame

      George Whiting (Bruce’s father) – James Whitmore

      Will Baker (local innkeeper) – Raymond Burr

   With a cast like that, there’d be no doubt. Not so?

SARAH STEWART TAYLOR – Judgment of the Grave.

St. Martin’s; reprint paperback; 1st pr., Aug 2006. Hardcover edition: St. Martin’s; July 2005.

   It is impossible to keep up. When I go looking for whatever book to read next, I often pick one out at random, and invariably it’s the second or third in a series, almost never the first. (I used to teach college courses in probability, so I’m not complaining. I know exactly what the odds are, and they’re against me.)

   Judgment of the Grave is the third of four of the recorded adventures of Harvard-based art historian, Sweeney St. George. It’s early in this review, instead of at the end, where I often do it, but here’s a list of all four. All came out first from St. Martin’s in hardcover, then in paperback:

      O’ Artful Death. 2003 / June 2004.

      Mansions of the Dead. July 2004 / May 2005.
      Judgment of the Grave. July 2005 / Aug 2006.
      Still As Death. Sept 2006 / Oct 2007.

   And in spite of excellent reviews and good sales rankings on Amazon, these four appear to be all there’s going to be. Sarah Stewart Taylor’s website does not seem to have been updated since October 2007 and the last entry in her blog is dated May 2, 2007.

   That’s a shame. In spite of some quibbles which I’ll get to shortly, I enjoyed Judgment of the Grave quite thoroughly. So well, in fact, that if I knew where my copy was, I’d read Still As Death next, just to find out what happens to Sweeney and her romantic difficulties in her followup adventure. And failing that, go back and read one or both of the first two (see above), just to learn how all of her romantic difficulties began in the first place.

   Quibbles: These very same Sweeney’s romantic difficulties — and all of the problems the other characters have in Judgment of the Grave. They’re a major part of the story, and they tend to overpower the detective story involved.

   But what they also help create is a dark, atmospheric tale filled with angst, anxiety and sorrow, beginning with the opening scene (after a short prologue) in which Sweeney meets a young 12-year-old boy with leukemia while she’s researching gravestones in a Concord MA cemetery.

   Cambridge police detective Tim Quinn, whom Sweeney has met before and seems to have a history with, meets her again as he follows up on a missing person’s report — a professor having a similar interest in gravestones and the history of the Revolutionary War has disappeared after taking part in a battle re-enactment up near Concord. Quinn’s wife committed suicide, we learn, and he’s forced to take his 10-month-old daughter along with him. Sweeney is a multi-tasker. She babysits and helps solve the mystery at the same time.

   Meanwhile Sweeney’s almost-but-not-quite-affair with Ian has been put on hold while he’s home in England. Phone calls every night. I don’t quite understand where Toby fits in, but he somehow seems to have overnight privileges.

   Also often crowding the mystery aside are long expository pages on the War of Independence, how it was conducted, how not all of the colonists were fighting for freedom, and how much the British depended on spies.

   The latter may be the reason for the present day killings, or perhaps not, because all of the other character’s marriages are either broken or on the verge, and jealousy or revenge are also excellent reasons for murder. A veritable Peyton Place, without the same degree of notoriety or sensationalism.

   I suppose you already know, having gotten this far, whether or not you will ever read any of the books in the series, but nonetheless, with a bit of pruning down and firming up, and filmed in black-and-white, or with dark, shadowy indoor scenes contrasted with the bright colors of an autumn New England sky, Judgment to the Grave would be as noirish as they come. It’s not Los Angeles, but there are a lot of dark secrets in Massachusetts too.

[COMMENT.]  Later the same day. I’m embarrassed to point this out, but while searching for some more information about the author on Google, I discovered that I’d totally forgotten that Walter Albert reviewed this same book here on Mystery*File, and not too long ago.

   He liked it too.

   I received the following email from Mike Chomko yesterday with some startling but not surprising news. Here it is in its entirety:

   Following the 2008 Pulpcon, I came home with a feeling of hope that things were finally going to change and Pulpcon would start reversing its recent losses. Now, nearly two months later, that feeling of hope is gone.

   For a number of years, Jack Cullers, Barry Traylor, and I have been pushing for changes in the way that Pulpcon is run. For years, our pleas have been countered with “that’s the way we’ve always done things.” Following two lengthy committee meetings at the 2008 Pulpcon, Jack, Barry, and I seemed to get enough concessions out of the other committee members to feel that the convention was finally going to be run in new ways.

   At the general business meeting held at this year’s Pulpcon, one idea that was discussed was finding a new site for the convention. Most members in attendance seemed to favor remaining in Ohio, but in a city other than Dayton.

   About two weeks after returning from the convention, I took it upon myself to contact the cities of Cincinnati, Cleveland, and Columbus. All three municipalities responded, but Columbus was by and large the location that demonstrated the most interest in hosting our convention.

   Needing some information for Columbus to put together a proposal for hosting Pulpcon, I contacted Bob Gorton, the chairman of the Pulpcon Committee. Bob provided the required information, but also stated he felt that it was time to renew the contract that Pulpcon had with the Dayton Convention Center.

   I forwarded Bob’s email to the rest of the Pulpcon Committee-Richard Clear, Jack Cullers, Don Ramlow, Mary Ramlow, and Barry Traylor. The result of my email was a vote to renew the contract with Dayton (with Jack, Barry, and myself dissenting) and a reprimand from Bob Gorton. He told me that he was unaware that I had made a motion to call for a vote whether or not to stay with the Dayton Convention Center. I was simply trying to get things done quickly and responsibly.

   At this summer’s committee meetings, Bob Gorton told us he is “not very good with email.” He said that he “largely ignored most email.” However, he agreed to “meet” via email at least once a month. The committee decided to hold a meeting via email on the first weekend of every month. We could contact each other via email at other times, but the monthly meetings would be required.

   Our first email meeting was held over Labor Day weekend. To start our discussion, I combed through the Pulpcon business meeting minutes and the minutes from our two committee meetings, and wrote what I thought should be done concerning a wide array of items. I asked the use of volunteers, venues in which to advertise, conventions where we should have flyers, links to other websites, an explanation addressed to the general pulp community explaining why Pulpcon was returning to Dayton, changing the types of material that can be sold at Pulpcon, showing movies at the convention, obtaining mailing lists, newsletter revisions, a survey of Pulpcon attendees, and other things. I also suggested that with all the work to be done, we should be communicating more than once a month.

   The responses to my queries and ideas were practically nil from Gorton, Don Ramlow, and Richard Clear (who was new to the Pulpcon Committee).

   Since that first email meeting, Bob has been silent, not communicating with Jack, Barry, or me. I do not know if he is communicating with anyone else. Don has emailed a few suggestions, as well as Mary. Richard Clear has likewise made a few comments. But for the most part — except for fairly constant communications between Jack Cullers, Barry Traylor, and myself — the Pulpcon Committee has largely been silent.

   In fact, in a recent email to the entire committee, Don Ramlow wrote: “I know everyone has their own responsibilities. However, my schedule is the busiest in the fall. I’m setting up 12 radio productions for my theatre group All Ears theatre, teaching five colleges classes (one which is on-line requiring a lot of email contact), working with other people on other conventions, trying to find time to practice with my rock band “Chaos Theory” and finally finish up my 200,000 word reference book on OTR so I can submit it to the publisher yet this year. That, in addition to finding time to spend with Mary and our children and grandchildren. I realize that my schedule is not of concern to others and that you all have your own commitments. However, for me it means trying to budget time for all of them and the only way I can do that is to schedule accordingly.”

   When asked this week about preparing advertising flyers for Gary Lovisi’s book show, Bouchercon, and Rich Harvey’s Pulp Adventurecon, Gorton and Don Ramlow did not respond.

   Given Bob Gorton’s silence and Don Ramlow’s suggested lack of time to commit to the work required to turn Pulpcon around, I asked them to resign from the committee. Both Jack Cullers and Barry Traylor seconded my motion. Unfortunately, both Gorton and Ramlow have ignored my request.

   Jack Cullers, Barry Traylor, and I have decided that if we want to move the convention forward, it is impossible to continue to work with Bob Gorton and Don Ramlow. They seem to feel that shortening the convention to three days will be enough to turn things around. They seem to think that by creating a few generic flyers that seem to be addressed to people who already know about Pulpcon, the convention’s troubles will be over. They seem to think that they need to devote very little time and energy to turn Pulpcon around. They seem to think that communication is unnecessary.

   Although it’s time for Gorton and Ramlow to step aside so progress can be made, they do not appear to be willing to do so. Jack Cullers, Barry Traylor, and I are willing to devote the time and energy needed to get Pulpcon moving forward. However, we cannot do so with the obstructions set up by Gorton’s inability to communicate and Ramlow’s lack of time and cooperation. We have therefore decided to break away from the Gorton/Ramlow convention and organize our own Pulpcon.

   This past June, Jack Cullers learned that the Pulpcon service mark, originally registered to Rusty Hevelin, had lapsed in 1989. So Jack applied to register the service mark in his own name. The United States Patent and Trademark Office is currently investigating Jack’s claim to the service mark. Jack, who has been a member of the Pulpcon Committee for many years, believes there should be no difficulty in registering the service mark in his own name.

   Jack, Barry, and I are currently investigating sites in Columbus, Ohio for a planned Pulpcon to be held in late July or early August, without the obstructionists Gorton and Ramlow. We are also in discussions with interested parties who are considering holding an East Coast pulp and paper convention, most likely in November 2009.

   Whenever we hold the convention, we plan to publicize it and open it up to a wider array of material than has traditionally been allowed at Pulpcon. However, if we are to organize a successful convention, we will need your help. Please plan to support our convention in whatever month it is held.

   If you are a dealer and would be interested in selling at our show, please let us know as soon as possible. If you are interested in lending a hand, please drop us a line. More particulars will follow as our plans become better defined.

   If you’d like to be added to the new Pulpcon mailing list, please send your name and address to Mike Chomko at michaelchomko@rcn.com or 2217 W. Fairview Street, Allentown, PA 18104-6542 or Jack Cullers at jassways@woh.rr.com or 1272 Cheatham Way, Bellbrook, OH 45305. Please be sure to include your email address if you have one. Thanks.