LAST TRAIN FROM GUN HILL. Paramount PIctures, 1959. Kirk Douglas, Anthony Quinn, Carolyn Jones, Earl Holliman, Brad Dexter, Brian Hutton, Ziva Rodann. Screenplay by James Poe, based on a story by Les Crutchfield. Director: John Sturges.

   Last Train from Gun Hill is a 1959 Western directed by John Sturges (Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, The Magnificent Seven) with a memorable score by Dimitri Tiomkin (High Noon). It features Kirk Douglas as a U.S. Marshal seeking justice for his murdered Cherokee wife (portrayed by the Israeli actress Ziva Rodann) and Anthony Quinn as a corrupt cattleman whose screw-up of a son is responsible for the horrific crime.

   The film, which co-stars Carolyn Jones (The Addams Family) and Earl Holliman (Hotel de Paree), is fairly standard American Western fare. The themes of frontier justice, domestic violence, the rights of Native Americans, and the relationships between fathers and sons all play prominent roles in James Poe’s solid, but not particularly novel, screenplay.

   The plot of Last Train from Gun Hill isn’t all that difficult to follow. The film begins with a somewhat lengthy chase scene in which two inebriated cowboys, Rick Belden (Holliman) and Lee (Brian G. Hutton) recklessly chase a wagon driven by a Cherokee mother (Rodann) and her son Petey.

   The mother, wanting to protect her son, uses a whip to fend off the attackers, leaving a brutal mark on Rick’s face. But it’s too little, too late. Eventually, the ruffians succeed in driving the two innocents off the road. Although we do not witness the crime directly on screen, it is clear that Rick both rapes and murders the Cherokee mother.

   Fortunately, Petey escapes and heads into town where his father, Matt Morgan, (Douglas) is a U.S. Marshal. Morgan rides to the crime scene and finds a horse with a saddle engraved with the initials C.B. He realizes it belongs to his old friend, Craig Belden (Quinn), and Rick’s father who is now a cattle baron in the town of Gun Hill.

   Prior to setting out for Gun Hill, Morgan has a brief exchange with his murdered wife’s Native American father, who urges him to seek vengeance and kill the culprit slowly, the “Indian way.” As a lawman, however, Morgan appears more concerned with justice than with revenge.

   Making his way to Gun Hill by train, Morgan meets Linda (Jones), Craig Belden’s estranged girlfriend on the trip. Unfortunately, what could have been a more exciting film devolves into a very slow-moving story in which Morgan and his old friend Craig Belden argue, debate, and fight each other over whether or not Morgan is going to bring the son, Rick Belden, to justice.

   Problem is: Belden has the whole town of Gun Hill in his back pocket, so it’s not completely clear at the outset how Morgan is going to pull this off. Still, he’s determined that he’s going to be on the 9 PM train out of Gun Hill — the last train out for the day — with Rick Belden and Lee in federal custody.

   The movie plods along for a good 45 minutes or so, with an especially lengthy sequence in which Morgan holds a whining Rick Belden captive in a hotel room. Finally, there’s a dramatic scene in which Lee burns down the hotel, forcing Morgan out into the town streets.

   The last ten minutes of the film, which features a final, inevitable, showdown between Morgan and Craig Belden, makes up for the fact that not all that much memorable happens for a good part of the film. Indeed, the biggest flaw of Last Train from Gun Hill is in its pacing. There are some scenes that go by far too quickly; others seem to take forever.

   In general, Douglas is solid in his portrayal of a U.S. Marshal. Initially, he isn’t particularly convincing as a grieving husband. That changes when he encounters a man in Gun Hill who thoughtlessly insults his deceased wife’s heritage. Indeed, nothing seems to enrage Morgan more than hearing men belittle his wife’s Native American ancestry.

   Quinn, on the other hand, seems just a bit out of place in this film. Still, his acting is perfectly fine and he portrays the character of Craig Belden as a man who is both extremely powerful and extremely lonely, a man trapped by his own success.

   Last Train from Gun Hill is by no means a work of cinematic excellence. That said, it’s not a bad film. Fans of Kirk Douglas and Anthony Quinn would likely appreciate the two men cast as friends turned rivals. In many ways, it’s a very American film, albeit not an especially cheerful one. It’s a movie about friendship, family, and frontier justice, the type of Western that one might enjoy on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

   Having eaten up much of the past few weeks paginating the index for JUDGES & JUSTICE & LAWYERS & LAW, I must again rely on my dusty old files to provide raw material for this month’s column.

   Lucky for me that my files are full of the stuff. In my salad days, beginning more than half a century ago, I got into the habit of writing for-my-eyes-only reviews not only of the full-length whodunits I read but also of the shorter works variously called short novels, novelettes, novellas and novellos, the last term coined by my beloved Harry Stephen Keeler, who probably pronounced the word with the accent on the first syllable.

   From the hundred-odd paragraphs of comment on tales of this length that are moldering in my files I’ll exhume a few that strike me as not too uninteresting today.

   Of all the characters who appeared frequently in novellos during the Golden Age, the two who stand tallest are Nero Wolfe and Simon Templar. Among the pile of tales of this length which the young Leslie Charteris (1907-1993) wrote about his Saintly hero, one of my favorites is “The Inland Revenue” (The Thriller, 25 April 1931, as “The Masked Menace”; collected under its better-known title in THE HOLY TERROR, Hodder & Stoughton 1932, and THE SAINT VS. SCOTLAND YARD, Doubleday Crime Club 1932), in which we follow Simon as he tries to raise enough money to pay his income tax by extorting it from a sinister mastermind calling himself the Scorpion.

   It’s a preposterously tongue-in-cheek saga with an astoundingly unfair surprise ending, but Charteris carries it off with the help of the satiric wit and brashness that were his trademarks.

   When Charteris launched his career, by far the most popular English mystery writer was Edgar Wallace (1875-1932), who produced novels, novellos and short stories faster than a rabbit can produce baby rabbits. One of the most rousing and richly plotted of his tales at the length we’re investigating today was “The Man from Sing Sing” (The Thriller, 7 February 1931; collected in THE GUV’NOR AND OTHER STORIES, Collins 1932, U.S. title MR. REEDER RETURNS, Doubleday Crime Club 1932).

   The parlormaid of Mr. J.G. Reeder, perhaps Wallace’s best known series detective, leads her boss into a bizarre case involving a lost false mustache, a spectacular embezzlement, a murdered Eton lecturer and a fortune found in a haystack. Our sleuth connects these and other items with reasoning that runs the gamut from sketchy to non-existent, but Wallace scores with his dry wit, tantalizing plot, swift economy of movement, and loving depiction of English working-class mores.

   Baynard Kendrick (1894-1977) created more than one series sleuth but his signature character was the blind detective Captain Duncan Maclain. The captain debuted in 1937 and usually appeared in novels, but during the WWII years he also turned up in three novellos, collected after the war as MAKE MINE MACLAIN (Morrow, 1947).

I don’t have a copy of that book but I do own each of its component parts, and reread one of them recently to see if my opinion of it had changed since 1968. It hadn’t.

In “The Murderer Who Wanted More” (American Magazine, January 1944) one of the potential legatees of a Staten Island matriarch’s estate is shot to death during a fierce snowstorm while traveling on the post-midnight local train from the St. George ferry terminal to the end of the line at Tottenville to visit his dying mother. Both before and after that murder come several attempts on the life of another potential legatee, a lovely young artist who had recently painted Maclain’s dogs.

   The captain’s key deduction is unconvincing and the motive Kendrick attributes to the killer shows that he didn’t know the first thing about the law of wills, but the Staten Island setting is unusual and vivid enough.

   The earliest collections of Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe novellos appeared in 1942 and 1944 but contained only two tales apiece. Most of Wolfe’s cases at that length appeared three to a book, but only after threesomes had been published featuring other sleuths including Duncan Maclain, as we’ve just seen, and Michael Shayne, the Miami-based PI created by Brett Halliday (1904-1977).

   Fast, complex and professional are the words for “Dinner at Dupre’s” (Mystery Book Magazine, September 1946; collected in MICHAEL SHAYNE’S TRIPLE MYSTERY, Ziff-Davis 1948), in which Mike’s search for the murderer of a prospective client leads him to the hamlet of Cheepwee, Louisiana and a temptingly described Southern dinner with a nymphomaniac who has a new angle on the bigamy racket.

   Brisk pace, shrewd plotting, an honest if not startling solution, and minimal self-conscious toughness prompted me a few generations ago to give this one very high marks.

   Now we tackle a work actually written not too long before I began to set down some of these scribbles. Richard S. Prather (1921-2007) didn’t turn out a slew of novellos about his quintessentially cool PI Shell Scott, but the few he did were among the joys of my late teens.

   Take for instance “Babes, Bodies and Bullets” (Cavalier, April 1958; collected in SHELL SCOTT’S SEVEN SLAUGHTERS, Fawcett Gold Medal pb #S1072, 1961). Hired to solve a Beverly Hills attorney’s murder, which he witnessed, Scott runs into a gaggle of gruesome gangsters, an assortment of luscious wenches and a mounting heap of corpses.

   The plot is sorta thin, but Prather’s feel for action and tempo and his wild-and-woolly prose, plus a sequence of gruesome horseplay in an underworld hospital, lift this novello to the top of the heap.

   May I stray from the month’s topic for a moment? The last living actor to portray Ellery Queen in any national medium died on March 12, a few weeks short of his 100th birthday. Richard Coogan was best known for TV work — starring in the early live sci-fi series CAPTAIN VIDEO, having a long-running role in the daytime soap LOVE OF LIFE, playing Marshal Matt Wayne on the Western series THE CALIFORNIANS — but he began his career in radio and portrayed Ellery during late 1946 and early ‘47.

   Anthony Boucher, who at that time was collaborating on the weekly scripts with EQ co-creator Manfred B. Lee, described Coogan’s performance in a letter to Lee (25 October 1946) as “not quite so smug” as his predecessor’s. Coogan’s main interest in his twilight years was golf. He was in his mid-nineties when I talked with him over the phone in connection with my book ELLERY QUEEN: THE ART OF DETECTION, but he struck me as in amazingly good health, and anyone who checks out his reminiscences of CAPTAIN VIDEO on YouTube, which date from roughly the same time, will surely get the same impression. May we all live so long and well.

BENJAMIN BLACK [John Banville] – The Black-Eyed Blonde. Henry Holt & Co, hardcover, March 2014. Picador, softcover, February 2015. Series character: Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe. Setting: California City (basically Los Angeles), 1950s.

First Sentence:   It was one of those Tuesday afternoons in summer when you wonder if the earth has stopped revolving.

   PI Philip Marlowe is hired by the lovely and, apparently, wealthy Claire Cavendish to locate her former lover. Marlowe quickly learns the man was killed in a hit-and-run; news it seems Mrs. Cavandish already knew. Yet she claims to have seen him alive in San Francisco. Marlowe runs into one unexpected event after another in his search to find out what is really going on.

   At the very beginning, the author’s voice makes you smile. Black does try to capture the feel of the Golden Age authors but it just never quite rings true. There are cracks in the veneer. Although Black uses terms that are not politically correct for today, they also weren’t accurate for the period. There were small details that were off — straight skirts weren’t called “pencil” skirts in the 50s.

   Some of the descriptions in the beginning weren’t bad… “That smile: it was like something she had set a match to a long time ago and then left to smolder on by itself…” but they soon disappeared. It was also painfully clear that this was not written by an American, and certainly not someone who lived and breathed the area as Chandler had done.

   Black does capture a bit of Chandler’s dry, ironic voice… ““Someone like who?” He seemed to wince; it was probably my grammar.”

   The plot’s not bad and there were good surprises, good lines… “The world, when you come down to it, is a scary place…”, but the further one reads, the more it turns from gold, to gold gilt, to brass, to lead, and becomes almost uncomfortable to read.

   The Black-Eyed Blonde might be a decent read for those who’ve not read the classics. However, to those who have, it really doesn’t hold together. Once again, I find myself believing that when an author dies, should their character.

Rating:   Poor.

THE MAN WHO CHEATED HIMSELF. 20th Century Fox, 1950. Lee J. Cobb, Jane Wyatt, John Dall, Lisa Howard. Screenplay: Seton I. Miller & Philip MacDonald. Director: Felix E. Feist.

   The Man Who Cheated Himself is a 1950 film noir set in San Francisco. Directed by Felix E. Feist, the movie reunites Lee J. Cobb and Jane Wyatt, who starred together in Elia Kazan’s Boomerang (1947).

   Lt. Ed Cullen (Cobb) and his younger brother, Andy (John Dall) are cops working homicide. Ed’s been around the block for a while; he’s tough, cynical, and a committed bachelor. Andy’s new to the homicide division. The kid’s got good looks, ambition, and an inquisitive mind. He’s a Boy Scout, hardworking and perhaps a bit too pure of heart for the job. And unlike his brother who’s a notorious skirt chaser, the younger Cullen is eager to settle down with his lovely new bride.

   Andy Cullen’s first homicide case gets underway after witnesses spot a car pulling out of the airport, leaving a bullet riddled body in its wake. As it turns out, the man who was killed turns out to be the estranged husband of the woman with whom Ed Cullen is carrying on an illicit affair. Complicating matters for the enterprising young detective is that he and Ed are pretty close, both figuratively and literally. Not only do the two share an office, they also live in the same apartment.

   The movie itself begins with Howard Frazer (portrayed by Harlan Warde) sitting at his desk with a newly acquired gun. Although he’s able to hide the gun before his estranged wife, Lois Frazer (Wyatt), enters the room, Frazer accidentally lets the sales slip fall to the ground. They argue. He leaves for the airport, headed to Seattle for something to do with salmon fishing.

   After Howard Frazer leaves the house, Lois finds both the sales slip and the gun. She’s beside herself, petrified that her husband is plotting to murder her. Fortunately for her, she’s got a direct link to the police in her paramour, Lt. Ed Cullen (Cobb), who heads over to the house and tells her to calm down. That’s then things begin to go awry for Cullen, transforming the cynical cop into a corrupt one.

   Soon, Howard Frazer comes back into the house, apparently looking for his gun. It’s not exactly clear whether he came back to rob the house or to murder Lois. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. Lois has his gun and she uses it to plug her husband in the chest a couple of times, killing him. At that moment, would-be divorcee’s action hysteria prompts Lt. Ed Cullen to dispose of both the body and the gun. The thing is, he really doesn’t need much convincing.

   As one might suspect, Cullen’s plan to get rid of Howard Frazer’s body doesn’t work out quite as planned. His car is spotted leaving the airport where he dumps the body, and his attempt to throw the murder weapon off the Golden Gate Bridge into the water doesn’t work out exactly as planned, either. Making matters even worse for him is his brother who’s eager to solve the crime no matter where it leads him. Andy Cullen even postpones his honeymoon to work on the Frazer murder case.

   The film’s penultimate scene features a cat-and-mouse chase between the two brothers in Fort Point, an American Civil War-era structure set underneath the Golden Gate Bridge. There’s one particularly visually stunning scene in which Andy Cullen walks through a long hallway with flanked with many open doorways. Alfred Hitchcock would go on to make ample use of Fort Point in Vertigo (1958).

   During the final scene, if not before, one begins to suspect that Lois’s hysteria was just a big act. The question of whether she was using Ed all along in a plot to get rid of her husband remains unanswered, leaving viewers to make up their own minds. Viewers likewise will have to decide for themselves whether Wyatt was a good fit for the role of Lois Frazer, who seems to be capable of only two emotional states: complete hysteria or complete control.

   The plot of The Man Who Cheated Himself is not particularly unique, at least within the detective or film noir genres. It’s Cobb’s acting that makes the film worth viewing. Look, in particular, for the scene in which Cullen, after dumping Frazer’s body, is driving across the bridge. Cobb’s facial expression at that moment epitomizes his all his hard-boiled character’s doubts and fears. He’s crossed several lines, and boy, does he know it.

   Given Cobb’s acting and the appealing San Francisco setting, it’s unfortunate that a remastered copy of this film isn’t available. Neither the audio and visual quality of the DVD I watched (from Alpha Video) is very good, with moments in which the sound is garbled, making it somewhat difficult to catch all of the dialogue. I also didn’t find the soundtrack to be all that memorable. That said, The Man Who Cheated Himself is a solid film noir well worth watching at least once.

THE FORTY-NINERS. Allied Artists / formerly Monogram, 1954. “Wild Bill” Elliott, Virginia Grey, Harry Morgan, John Doucette, Lane Bradford. Written by Daniel B. Ullman. Directed by Thomas Carr.

   But first a word about Wild Bill Elliott, born Gordon Nance, who started out his career at Columbia under the name Gordon Elliott as an all-purpose and mostly uncredited supporting player until he landed the lead in the 1938 serial The Great Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok, which led to a series of low-budget westerns at Columbia, billed as Wild Bill Elliott and sometimes playing Hickok in adventures that, as you might expect, had little to do with the actual James Butler Hickok.

   Many of these were a cut above average, and a few, directed by Joseph H. Lewis, even artistic at times, but in ’43 he left Columbia for Republic. There the budgets were bigger and the films generally more fun, but it was still a loss in prestige to go from the smallest of the Major studios to the biggest of the Minors, which was Republic’s place in Hollywood’s caste system.

   Republic even tried to lift Elliott out of the “B” ranks for a time, upping his budgets, offering more “adult” story lines and dropping the “Wild” from his billing, but eventually he returned to “B” status. His last film at Republic, The Showdown, was shot entirely on studio sets with back projection, reflecting Republic’s growing disinterest in the budget prairie film in general.

   At which point Elliott moved to Monogram, which was definitely a step down, but surprisingly his films here got even more interesting — not better made, but with distinctly off-beat characterizations and story lines.

Elliott himself, billed once again as “Wild Bill Elliott” smoked and drank, cussed now and then, and wasn’t above dealing out nastiness when called for. He even played an occasional outlaw, though reformed by film’s end, and in one movie he beats information out of a bad guy while holding him at gunpoint—hardly sporting, that, and unheard of in the better class of B westerns.

   In 1955 even Monogram tired of the low-budget western and moved Elliott into a series of detective stories, but Elliott had ended his sagebrush career with a flourish of sorts, as borne out in The Forty-Niners.

   This starts out with Dragnet-style voice-over narration, and when I say “Dragnet-style” I mean you can practically hear Jack Webb’s flat monotone in Wild Bill Elliott’s voice. Her gives dates and times, tosses in cop-comments like “It was a routine assignment” and even synopsises the outcomes in Court.

   The wonder is that writer Daniel Ullman (who made kind of a specialty out of detective/westerns) still wrought a perfectly fine western out of all this.

   Wild Bill plays a U.S. Marshall cold on the trail of the owlhoots who ambushed a fellow-lawman. His only lead is a gambler (played by Harry Morgan, who also featured in Elliott’s last Republic picture) who can lead him to the baddies as long as he doesn’t realize that’s what he’s doing. Morgan plays the kind of good/bad guy later personified by the likes of Arthur Kennedy, and he does it pretty well, grinning and joking as he cheats at cards and blackmails killers who are now comfortably ensconced as respectable citizens.

   His only weakness is a soft heart for the gal he left behind and an aversion to cold-blooded murder when that becomes necessary to eliminate Elliott, whom he’s come to respect and admire. It’s an interesting part in a movie that moves along at a brisk clip, with plenty of action and enough curves in the plot to keep you guessing, even as you realize the pre-ordained outcome dictated by the genre, and reflecting that as Wild Bill took his last ride into the sunset, he did it with a certain amount of style and the quiet dignity that becomes a western hero — even a cut-rate hero ending his days in the B-movies.

KEITH McCAFFERTY – The Gray Ghost Murders. Viking, hardcover, February 2013. Penguin, trade paperback, December 2013. PI Novel: Sean Stranahan; 2nd in series. Setting: Contemporary Montana.

First Sentence: The hands shook as the watcher adjusted the focus ring of the binoculars.

   Katie Sparrow’s search and rescue dog doesn’t find a reported lost hiker. Instead, they find a buried body which, when uncovered, was a murder victim. And then they find another.

   Fly-fishing guide, painter and PI Sean Stranahan is hired to find a lost tackle box. The box is also an entry to his being introduced to the members of the Madison River Liars and Fly Tiers Club; a group of men who bought a cabin along the river. It is they who really want to hire Stranahan to find two valuable fishing flies which have been stolen from their cabin. The trail turns very dark as Sean is asked to help the police with the murders while still searching for the flies.

   From the beginning, the author’s love of fly fishing is very apparent. Even if fishing and hunting, are not your style, don’t let that stop you from reading this book for it is the characters that carry the story.

   Stranahan may be described as extremely good looking, but that really doesn’t much play into the character. Yes, women are attracted to him, but he is anything but a womanizer, and how refreshing is that. Not only that, there is no profanity in the book; another nice change.

   And although he knows how to use a gun, he doesn’t own one. If anything, it is Sherriff Martha Ettinger who comes across as the tougher character, except where her love life is concerned. Then, she is classically vulnerable.

   Katie, the dog handler, facilitates moments of humor… “Godfrey, a schoolteacher with a scratch to itch and lay south of his belt buckle and a history of women cutting his fact out of photographs….” What’s nice is that are the characters are clearly drawn and distinct.

   McCafferty provides excellent descriptions which help the reader understand the love of fly fishers and give a desire for traveling to Montana… “Above him was one of those summer skies that people who live in the East can’t believe are real, the light over the Gravelly Range lavender bleeding to pink, the clouds rimmed with golden light from the setting sun and the river a study in pointillism, as wavelets bounced colors back and forth…”

   The plot is interesting and compelling. There are layers and twists enough to keep you going. There is a classic short story, “The Most Dangerous Game,” referenced which, if the reader is familiar with the story, gives a hint of the story’s path, but one isn’t certain quite how it’s going to play in. There are characters one suspects, but enough uncertainty to keep one guessing.

   The Gray Ghost Murders is a very good read. It kept me involved from first page to last.

Rating: Very Good.

      The Sean Stranahan series —

1. The Royal Wulff Murders (2012)
2. The Gray Ghost Murders (2013)
3. Dead Man’s Fancy (2014)

THE MUMMY. Hammer Films, UK, 1959. Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Yvonne Furneaux, Eddie Byrne, Felix Aylmer, Michael Ripper. Screenplay: Jimmy Sangster. Director: Terence Fisher.

   Over the past fifteen years or so, film and television writers have embraced both fanged vampires and, to a lesser extent, furry werewolves. With the exception of The Mummy (1999) and the franchise it launched, mummies, those aristocrats ensconced in linen and raised from the dead, have not played prominent roles as villains. This is unfortunate.

   Not only are mummy tales, when critically unwrapped and analyzed, as terrifying as vampire yarns. They also provide a fascinating insight into how Anglo-American filmmakers have understood their particular era’s relationship to the ancient Egyptian past. From Napoleon Bonaparte’s first campaign in Egypt (1798) and British Museum’s Rosetta Stone exhibit (1802-present) to the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb (1922), the mysteries of long-vanished Egyptian civilizations have piqued the curiosity of western observers.

   Mummy films are the cinematic representations of this strange, enduring fascination. The two best-known mummy films are undoubtedly Universal’s The Mummy (1932) starring Boris Karloff and the aforementioned 1999 quasi-remake starring Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz.

   But there’s also a 1959 mummy film that deserves ample consideration. The Mummy, starring Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, and Yvonne Furneaux, is perhaps the least known of the three films of the same name. To varying degrees, the plot is borrowed from three previous, even lesser known, mummy movies, The Mummy’s Hand (1940), The Mummy’s Tomb (1942), and The Mummy’s Ghost (1944). Directed by Terence Fisher, The Mummy (1959) is a Technicolor Hammer Production with great horror film acting, lavish and colorful settings, and an excellent, memorable score composed by Franz Reizenstein.

   The film begins with an archaeological dig in Egypt. It’s 1895 and three members of the same family discover the tomb of Princess Ananka, the high priestess of the ancient Egyptian deity, Karnak. Because John Banning (Peter Cushing) is injured and somewhat immobile, the English archeologist’s father, Stephen Banning (portrayed by Felix Aylmer), is tasked, along with his uncle Joseph Whemple (Raymond Huntley), with entering the tomb.

   Along comes Mehemet Bay in a red fez (portrayed by the Cypriot character actor George Pastell). He warns the two men against disturbing the dead, lest they unleash a curse against desecrators. As you might imagine, the enterprising Englishmen don’t heed the warnings of this excitable foreign fellow.

   Skip to three years later. It’s 1898 and Stephen Banning is back in England. Sadly, the poor chap’s gone completely mad. His son, the scholarly John Banning, is now ambulatory and living with his wife (Yvonne Furneaux). Life is apparently pretty good for the younger Banning, who appears to be living a plush life on an English country estate.

   But good things never seem to last for those who disobey warnings not to disturb the dead. We know that there’s trouble ahead when Mehemet Bay arrives in England on a quest to avenge the opening of Princess Annaka’s tomb. After Stephen Banning is found dead in his room (murdered by the mummy Kharis), a police inspector by the name of Mulrooney begins to investigate the mysterious goings on.

   Through extensive flashback scenes narrated by Peter Banning (Cushing in a quite memorable voice-over role within the film), we learn that Kharis (Lee) was the high priest of Karnak. Centuries ago, Egyptian authorities mummified Kharis and buried him alive as punishment for his attempt to bring Princess Annaka (also portrayed by Yvonne Furneaux), whom he loved, back from the dead.

   The second half of the film revolves around Mehemet Bay’s attempt to utilize Kharis to kill the other two Bannings before heading back to his native Egypt. There’s a notable scene in which Peter Banning and Mehemet Bay tensely discuss the ethics of archeology, perhaps a subtext about London’s historical meddling in Egyptian affairs.

   If the plot sounds somewhat convoluted, you’ll have to trust me both when I say that it’s really not and, even if it were, it really wouldn’t matter all that much. In many ways, plot isn’t what makes this version of The Mummy a classic horror film worth watching at least once.

   It’s the filmmakers’ skillful use of color and lighting, particularly when combined with Reizenstein’s score, which transforms a film with an otherwise standard mummy-seeks-revenge plot into a captivating cinematic experience. Although the Egyptian scenes are clearly sets and not filmed on location, there’s something about them that makes them incredibly vivid.

   One final note: while watching The Mummy on DVD, I kept thinking how much I’d like to see the film in a dark movie theater, particularly one with a great sound system. Who knows? Maybe some day, I shall.

TAYLOR McCAFFERTY – Pet Peeves. Pocket, paperback original, 1990.

   If you’re tired of private eyes in big cities, you might dip into (Barbara) Taylor McCafferty’s Pet Peeves. Haskell Blevins returms to his hometown of Pigeon Fork, Kentucky, rents an office upstairs from his brother Elmo’s drugstore, and hangs out his shingle.

   And waits, in the eternal tradition of PI’s. Eventually the beauteous Cordelia Turley turns up to turn Haskell’s knees to mush. And to hire him to find out who killed her Granny. Sheriff Vergil Minrath has not made much progress over the past seven months, though there are some low-lifes in the underbrush that might serve as suspects.

   Pleasantly whimsical tale.

      The Haskell Blevins series —

1. Pet Peeves (1990)
2. Ruffled Feathers (1992)
3. Bed Bugs (1993)

4. Thin Skins (1994)
5. Hanky Panky (1995)
6. Funny Money (2000)

   As many of you may know I love going to pulp conventions and I’ve been attending them since 1972. I have a maniacal desire to read and collect old books and pulps. I realize it may be an addiction and a vice but it doesn’t seem to hurt my health or finances like drinking, drugs, gambling, or chasing women. Well at least it didn’t hurt me until this convention.

   For the last few months my legs have developed a pain which bothers me while sitting and sleeping. I’m often awakened at night by the pain and I’ve yet to find a comfortable position to sleep. I’ve seen different doctors and pain pills don’t help that much. A nerve doctor said maybe my back problems was the cause and I have scheduled further x-rays and MRI’s. But the main thing the medical profession agreed on was that I would not be taking any 15 hour trip to Chicago. (Airplanes are a problem because of claustrophobia and limited bags to bring back pulps.)

   Needless to say, being the insane collector that I am, I ignored all medical advice and on Thursday, April 24, I was in a car heading from Trenton, NJ to Morristown, NJ, where I was one of five collectors who had rented a big van. After an hour in the car, and even before getting to the van, I was in distress and reminding myself that I was a book collector and reader and nothing was going to stop me. I had to keep saying this to myself several times during the trip, which I now refer to as Death Trip 2014.

   But somehow, 15 hours later, I limped into the Westin hotel near Chicago and thought only about going to my room and having a stiff drink, pain pills or no pain pills. But in my room, the usual desire to meet other collectors and talk about books and pulps, kicked in and I went to the hospitality room. Once there, I stationed myself against the wall near the refrigerator where the beer was and I proceeded to drink, thinking By God, I made it.

   And I’m glad I did because I met a man who runs one of the very best pulp blogs. Sai lives in India and administers a blog called Pulpflakes. A great name for a great website and it’s all about pulps, the authors, the editors, the artists, the magazines. This was Sai’s first pulp convention.

   Another interesting person was Mala Mastroberte, the queen of the pulp pin-ups. Ed Hulse had the great idea to have her at his BLOOD n THUNDER table and perhaps it was too great an idea. I heard more than one collector refer to table not as the BLOOD n THUNDER or Ed Hulse table, but as the Mala table. Mala was a big hit and fortunately she had her boyfriend to watch over her because some collectors are all about the books and they don’t know how to act around women. Nothing worse than a leering bookworm. I ought to know.

   But don’t feel too sorry for Ed Hulse because he stumbled across the find of the show. Shortly after the convention opened he bought several long comic book boxes of ALL STORY. Most seemed to be priced at $5.00 and included several Edgar Rice Burroughs issues. Most were from 1917-1920 and there were over a hundred. I need one issue from this period and since I only need a total of 4 to complete my set, I was naturally very excited and figured the issue had to be there.

   Since we were all busy the first few days of the convention, there was no time to look through the magazines until Sunday afternoon. With great anticipation I watched as the magazines were sorted into years and then into months. The issue I need is dated July 7, 1917 and I noticed there were 11 months well represented from 1917. But one month was completely missing. You guessed it. No July issues at all.

   There is nothing more embarrassing than seeing some old guy sobbing because he needs a pulp. I managed to control myself and slunk off to the bar to drown my sorrows. I can deal with leg pain but not with missing out on my book wants.

   A good friend of mine told me about his find. He bought over 50 WEIRD TALES from the 1930’s for only like $25 to $45 each. I couldn’t believe such good luck and almost had him convinced that something must be wrong with the issues, perhaps pages excerpted or poor condition. But no, the magazines were ok.

   At this point I’d like to talk about the importance of attending these conventions, not only Windy City, but Pulpfest and the few one day shows that are held. I realize there are valid reasons for not attending, such as poor health and lack of money. But I’ve always forced myself to figure out someway to attend because I find so much not only in the dealer’s room but through friends and contacts. For instance I managed to get the several lots I wanted in the auction. If I had stayed home because of my leg problem, I never would have gotten them.

   And the conventions revive your interest in collecting, which I seriously believe is one of the joys of life. I actually feel sorry for non-collectors and people who call collectors the dreaded “hoarder” name. (There is a big difference in meaning between “collector” and “hoarder” but that’s another subject that many non-collectors simply do not understand at all.)

   Collecting has helped increase my desire to keep living, otherwise I might just pine away and eventually waste away like many of my non-collecting friends. I would have to say collecting books and pulps is the grandest game in the world and one that can give your life meaning.

   Now you might ask what did I get after all the trouble described above? Well, one problem with living a fairly long life is the chance that you might start to run out of things to collect. I guess at one time or another, I’ve collected just about every major pulp, digest, and literary title, including many slicks. I never bothered with the love, sport, and aviation genres but I’ve been involved with most other titles.

   So my wants are getting kind of esoteric and bizarre. A few issues here and there to complete sets. A few pulp artists or magazine cover paintings. Many years ago I used to collect the hero pulps but I sold them all. But the auction listed several lots of the SHADOW digests. They had most of the issues from 1944-1948, a total of 40 in all.

   I was interested in these issues because the magazine became more of an adult crime magazine during the post war years. Returning WW II vets did not give a damn about the Shadow but the back up stories and novelettes were of interest. I managed to be the high bidder on all the Shadow digest lots, a total of 10 lots. The average price came out to only $21 per issue which was far lower than the $50 -$80 prices that I saw in the dealer’s room.

   Another item I desperately wanted was a preliminary sketch by artist Lee Brown Coye. The finished piece of art in FANTASTIC, February 1963, I think is stunning and I noticed the preliminary drawing was very detailed and close to the finished art. Again, I was the winning bidder at $650.

   Speaking of the auctions, there were two that lasted several hours during the evening. The Friday auction was mainly from the collections of the Jerry Weist estate and the Robert Weinberg collection. The Jerry Weist items were mainly very nice condition SF magazines and the Weinberg collection included some stunning SF correspondence, cancelled Munsey and Popular Publications checks and all sorts of interesting items.

   The original manuscript of C. L. Moore’s “Black God’s Kiss,” which appeared in WEIRD TALES, October, 1934, bought the highest amount of money I’ve ever seen at a pulp convention auction: $4,500 plus the $500 buyer’s premium. That’s $5,000 for an iconic, unique item.

   Some other authors represented by checks and letters were L. Ron Hubbard, Farnsworth Wright, Henry Whitehead, Abraham Merritt, Austin Hall, Homer Eon Flint, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Murray Leinster, Isaac Asimov, Fred Pohl, Otis Adelbert Kline, George Allan England, Algis Budrys, Eric Frank Russell, and others too numerous to name.

   The Saturday night auction was made up of over 100 lots listing most of the issues of the SHADOW magazine. Most issues went for reasonable prices. Following the SHADOW auction there were almost another 100 lots listing various pulp magazines but there also was a Frank R. Paul illustration from FANTASTIC NOVELS which went for $800.

   The Windy City show is not just the dealer’s room and auction, though that’s what most collectors are interested in. There also was a very large art show with quite a few pulp paintings and illustrations from the collections of Doug Ellis and Deb Fulton, Robert and Phyllis Weinberg, and others. Ed Hulse put on his usual fine film show which lasted all day and even after the auction in the early morning hours. The themes celebrated the 95th birthday of BLACK MASK and WESTERN STORY.

   There were two panels after the dealer’s room closed. The first one was on a subject that was very much needed but had often been ignored over the years at Pulpcon. The Western Pulps panel was comprised of Ed Hulse, Walker Martin, and Tom Roberts. In about an hour we tried to make up for lost time and discuss major elements of this important topic. Which of course is impossible since there were scores of western titles and it was the biggest selling genre by far except for perhaps the love pulps.

   I gave my opinion concerning the best western pulp magazines, all of which I have collected over the years. The biggest of all was WESTERN STORY, 1919-1949 with over 1250 issues. I need about 11 issues including the first one and I’ll never be able to complete the set but I have hopes of getting it down to single digits.

   The second best and some would say even better than WESTERN STORY, was definitely the Doubleday issues of WEST during 1926-1934. During this 8 or 9 year span the magazine was often published on a weekly and bi-weekly schedule and had all the good authors. It was sold to another publisher in 1935 and continued on for many years but not at the Doubleday level. Third and fourth best would be DIME WESTERN and STAR WESTERN and some feel they were the best westerns published by Popular Publications.

   We now live in a era that has no western short fiction magazine and this is hard to believe when we look back to the 1930’s and 1940’s when the newsstands groaned under the weight of these titles.

   There were many interesting western writers and some of my favorites are Luke Short, W.C. Tuttle, and Walt Coburn. Coburn had a drinking problem and this showed in some of his work but when he was feeling good and sober, he was one of the best because he grew up on a working cowboy’s ranch and knew how the men dressed, talked, and rode. Black Dog Books will soon be publishing a collection of Coburn’s fiction from WESTERN STORY. Keep an eye out for BULLETS IN THE BLACK by Walt Coburn. Introduction by the great James Reasoner.

   My old friends of 20 or 30 years ago would have said that I have committed sacrilege by not including Max Brand. Max Brand collectors used to be all over the place at Pulpcon, collecting the pulps, binding the stories into home made books, writing articles and talking about him. In fact, if they were still alive I would not dare say anything negative about Brand. Not if I wanted to keep their friendship. They loved Max Brand and for over 50 years I’ve tried to love him also. Some of his work I like and some I hate. I now would have to say that Max Brand wrote too much and too fast and that’s going to hurt him as far as being remembered.

   The Second panel was on Saturday night and discussed Hammett, BLACK MASK, and the Detective Pulps. Moderated by John Wooley along with such experts as Ed Hulse, Digges La Touche, and Bob Weinberg. I was so jealous about not being on this panel that I tried to pick a fight with Digges by yelling at him, “So You’re the expert on Earle Stanley Gardner!”. But I didn’t have enough to drink to be drunk enough, so they ignored me.

   Bob Weinberg did make one interesting statement about the cover art of DIME DETECTIVE being better than the covers of BLACK MASK in the 1930’s. Maybe the late thirties yes, but when Paul Herman, another BLACK MASK art collector, and I heard this, we started muttering that though we love and have covers from DIME DETECTIVE, the early 1930’s covers of BLACK MASK are amazing. Joe Shaw made sure the cover artist captured the tough, hardboiled, atmosphere of the magazine.

   The funny thing is that someone told Bob Weinberg about my disagreeing with him. Later on, he approached me and told me I was wrong, and how could I say such a thing, etc. But this just shows why Bob and Paul and I, are pulp art collectors. To collect cover art you must be opinionated and passionate about the subject. Otherwise you don’t collect original art at all.

   The program book, which is compiled and edited by Tom Roberts, is excellent. About 50 pages on the detective pulps, another 50 pages on the western pulps, and 50 pages on art and film. I’m certain you can get a copy from Black Dog Books.

   On Sunday, I talked with Doug Ellis about the attendance. He said they broke 500 for the first time ever (the most the old Pulpcon ever had was 300) and had 150 dealer’s tables. I spent the entire three days limping around the room and the place was always busy. The old Pulpcon used to have periods where it looked deserted but you don’t see this at Windy City or Pulpfest.

   So, on Monday morning, in a steady rain, we just barely crammed in all our treasures into the great white van. There were a couple times I almost said to stop the van, so I could get out, but we made it back to Morristown in about 14 hours. I was so exhausted that I wondered if I could make it to the car for the ride back to Trenton. We transferred all the boxes to Digges’ car and were ready to go. I told myself, look I just made 14 hours, I can make another hour or so. Then Digges told me the car battery was dead and the car would not start.

   At this point the details are a sort of blur for me. I remember standing in the dark and thinking what now? If it was up to me, I’d still be standing there. Fortunately Ed Hulse’s sister let us come into her house even though it was late and gave us coffee. She even called her Triple A and had them jump start the car. So off we finally went.

   Now the big question is will I be able to make to Pulpfest, August 7, 2014? Collectors, you better believe it!

ASA BAKER – Mum’s the Word for Murder. Stokes, hardcover, 1938. De11 #743, paperback, 1953, as by Brett Halliday; several other Dell printings likely, including Dell #5918, 1964.

   Asa Baker — the narrator, not the pseudonymous author — writes Westerns when he doesn’t have writer’s block. Thinking of branching out into the mystery field, he accompanies his friend Jerry Burke, co-ordinator of law enforcement in El Paso, Texas, while he investigates several murders that had been advertised beforehand in the newspaper. Three unconnected killings take place, each announced in advance, with the primary suspects all having unimpeachable alibis.

   The plot is a good one. While contending something is a “first” is folly without having read every mystery published, I will say it is the earliest example known to me of this device. The most well-known use of it didn’t appear until 1950.

   That having been said, I cannot otherwise recommend the novel. Baker fancies himself the superior of the El Paso Chief of Detectives, but is just as much a nitwit. Jerry Burke is colorless. The writing is little above hack.

   In addition, the paperback edition also has the flaw, or so I would contend, of having been updated. For example, pay phones cost a dime in the edition I read [from 1964] , whereas they were only a nickel in 1938.

Editorial Note: Mike Nevins reviewed this same book in one of his columns late last year, while you can find my comments on The Kissed Corpse, the other “Asa Baker” title, posted here on this blog earlier this year.