(Give Me That) OLD-TIME DETECTION. Summer 2020. Issue #54. Editor: Arthur Vidro. Old-Time Detection Special Interest Group of American Mensa, Ltd. 36 pages (including covers). Cover image: Unusual Suspects.

   The latest issue of OLD-TIME DETECTION (OTD) continues to maintain the high quality it has always enjoyed. Editor Arthur Vidro’s choices of material are, as usual, excellent; the world of classic detective fiction, long neglected, gets a new lease on life with every number.

   Indeed, nothing says “classic detective fiction” like commentary from Edward D. Hoch, an expert on the subject as well as a shining example of how to write it. Vidro reproduces two introductions by Hoch to mystery story collections.

   Ed Hoch’s fiction output is the envy of many writers, almost always matching quantity with quality. In his review of Crippen & Landru’s latest themed collection of Hoch’s stories, Hoch’s Ladies, Michael Dirda says it well: “His fair-play stories emphasize a clean, uncluttered narrative line, just a handful of characters, and solutions that are logical and satisfying. Each one sparks joy.”

   Next we have a valuable history lesson by Dr. John Curran concerning the earliest periods of the genre, “‘landmark’ titles in the development of crime fiction between 1841 and the dawn, eighty years later, of the Golden Age,” especially as reflected in the publications of the Collins Crime Club.

   Following Dr. Curran is a collection of perceptive reviews by Charles Shibuk of some pretty obscure crime fiction titles; for instance, have you ever heard of Brian Flynn’s The Orange Axe (“highly readable, steadily engrossing, well-plotted, and very deceptively clued”) or James Ronald’s Murder in the Family (“an absolute pleasure to read from first page to last”)?

   Cornell Woolrich was definitely not ignored by Hollywood, as Francis M. Nevins shows us in his continuing series of articles about cinema adaptations. The year 1947 was a rich one for films derived from Woolrich’s works — Fall Guy, The Guilty, and Fear in the Night — but, as Nevins indicates, the quality of these movies is highly variable.

   William Brittain is a detective fiction author who has been undeservedly “forgotten” of late, but a reprinting of one his stories (“The Second Sign in the Melon Patch”, EQMM, January 1969) shows why he should be remembered: “She wondered if anyone in Brackton held anything but the highest opinion of her would-be murderer.”

   Charles Shibuk returns with concise reviews of (then) recently reprinted books by John Dickson Carr, Agatha Christie, Anthony Dekker, Ngaio Marsh, Ellery Queen, Dorothy L. Sayers, and Josephine Tey.

   Dr. John Curran also returns. The world’s leading expert on Agatha Christie tips us off as to developments in Christieworld: a new short story collection, the closure of the long-running play The Mousetrap as well as the cancellation of the in-person Agatha Christie Festival and uncertainty about the release date for Kenneth Branagh’s version of Death on the Nile due to the beerbug, the publication of a new non-fiction book focusing on Hercule Poirot, and a radio play version of a previously unperformed non-criminous production by Dame Agatha dating from nearly a century ago.

   This is followed by a collection of smart reviews by Jon L. Breen (The Glass Highway by Loren D. Estleman), Amnon Kabatchnik (The Man in the Shadows by Carroll John Daily), Les Blatt (The Chinese Parrot by Earl Derr Biggers), Ruth Ordivar (The World’s Fair Murders by John Ashenhurst), Arthur Vidro (The Kettle Mill Mystery by Inez Oellrichs), and Thor Dirravu (The Ten Faces of Cornell Woolrich, a collection).

   Next we have Martin Edwards’s foreword to Joseph Goodrich’s collection of essays entitled Unusual Suspects (2020), which, Edwards is delighted to relate, “benefits from a quirky unpredictability and from being a mine of intriguing nuggets of information.”

   Rounding out this issue are the readers’ reactions and a puzzle page, the latter a snap only if you’re thoroughly familiar with the life and career of Hercule Poirot.

   Altogether this is a most satisfying issue of OLD-TIME DETECTION.

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CAFÉ METROPOLE. 20th Century Fox, 1937 Loretta Young, Tyrone Power, Adolphe Menjou, Charles Winninger, Helen Westley, Gregory Ratoff, Christian Rub. Screenpla: Jacques Deval. Story: Gregory Ratoff Directed by Edward H. Griffith.

   This Hollywood take on French farce written by character actor Gregory Ratoff could use a bit less romance and a bit more farce, but thanks to the cast and an intelligent screenplay has more than enough charm to get by.

   There are no real crimes here, though the police are certainly involved. It’s the sort of film where everyone is conning everyone else, sometimes even themselves.

   Monsieur Victor (Adolphe Menjou) owns the Café Metropole and his accountant Maxl (Christain Rub) has just informed him he is in the red and the auditors are coming. He needs to think and act fast, but luckily for Victor things are already falling in place in the person of an American millionaire Joseph Ridgeway (Charles Winninger), his sister Margaret (Helen Westley) and his daughter Laura (Loretta Young) who are arriving soon and hoping to meet celebrities and royalty. If Victor can arrange a royal romance, he might get the money he needs from Winninger.

   All he needs to arrange that is the right man, and who should show up but flat broke American heir Alexander Brown (Tyrone Power), who manages to fall in debt at the gaming tables to Victor with a rubber check bouncing around signed by him.

   But everything will be just fine if Alexander Brown becomes the Russian Prince Alexi Paneiev and charms the beautiful Laura.

   And almost immediately things get complicated. Alexander and Laura meet before they know who the other is (or is supposed to be) and actually start to fall in love, Daddy Ridgeway smells a rat (though the wrong one), and Paul the waiter (Gregory Ratoff) proves to be the real Prince Alexi more than a little incensed by the impostor.

   Power and Young, who were virtually a screen team, play their parts with effortless charm, their combined beauty and screen presence, even as male and female ingenues, enough to carry any film, but this one doesn’t have to rely on that alone, with Menjou as the suave continental con man Victor, Winninger the slightly befuddled comical American millionaire, Westley his sharp witted sister and advocate for Laura, and Ratoff a proud, haughty, but for sale Russian prince.

   Menjou specialized in variations on this jaded but still romantic charmer no more honest than was required by the circumstances. What energy the film has comes mostly from him, Ratoff, and Westley, though Young gets her turn at the end.

   Power bridled at these sort of roles eventually and welcomed a chance after the War to play something with a bit more depth.

   Young proves smarter and tougher than anyone expects when Alexander wants out of the con game and gets framed by Victor to get money from Ridgeway, and this being American and not quite French farce, there is little edge and no sex considering the model here is known for both.

   This isn’t Lubitch, Billy Wlder, Preston Sturges, or Mitchell Leisen, and their deft hand at this sort of material is sorely missed, but it is still fun in a low key, all white tie and tails, elegant settings, good food, great wine, beautiful young people in beautiful clothes quoting François Villon in charming cafes and gorgeous suites, and charming con artists.

   The best way to describe how this material is done in the grand Hollywood style is effortless. Café Metropole is a souffle and not a meal, light, charming, romantic, and with just enough spice to keep it from being boring. Of course it is almost impossible to make this kind of film today, which may or may not be a good thing, but we will always have Paris, at least the Hollywood one.

   The sharpest bite is saved for the great last line with Westley and Ratoff getting the fade out and the laugh.

         â€œGet your checkbook out. Here we go again.”

   It’s almost enough to redeem the whole film on its own.

JOHN RACKHAM – The Double Invaders. Ace Double G-623, paperback original, 1967. Published back-to-back with These Savage Futurians, by Philip E. High (reviewed here).

   This seemingly simple story of invasion from outer space is indeed something more. The prologue introduces the mystery, a secret plan of Earth against the expanding empire of Zorgan. Without knowing about this underlying factor, the reader would proceed quickly and enjoyably through the greater part of the book.

   As it turns out, a little more concentration is required. Motivations are not as obvious as they might first seem, relationships are not as they might first appear. And yet, if the blurb on the inside front cover is interpreted correctly, everything becomes as obvious as it does at the story’s conclusion. It should be obvious all along, but Rackham does a creditable job of fooling the reader.

   The society of Scarta, the invaded planet, is very well developed, with a [Poul] Anderson-like astronomy influenced theology. Another feature, passing almost without notice, is the linguistic problem of translation: for example (page 69) how do you describe war without a word for it?

Rating: 4½ stars.

Bibliographic Notes: John Rackham was a pen name of British writer John T. Phillifent. Under that name and as Rackham, he wrote 18 traditional SF novels for Ace and Daw between 1964 and 1973. He also wrote three of the series of “Man from UNCLE” books published by Ace in the 1960s.

EDWARD S. AARONS – The Art Studio Murders. Macfadden 50-198, paperback, 1964; Manor, paperback, 1975. Originally published by Handi-Book, #122, as Dark Memory by Edward Ronns; Avon 688, paperback, 1950, also as by Edward Ronns but under the new title.

   First let me assure everyone out there that I don’t feel the least bit suicidal. But if I ever do, I know the perfect, fool-proof method: I shall simply call the Police, tell them I know who the Killer is, but I can’t name him over the phone — I must meet a Detective and tell him in person. Meeting arranged, I can simply sit back and relax, secure in the knowledge that when the cops get here, they will find me dead, bludgeoned from behind. Or fatally stabbed. Or perhaps shot. Maybe poisoned, a la The Big Sleep, but that’s rare. In any case, I shall be well & truly Dead.

   Works all the time in fiction. With metronomic regularity. So much so that when I came across it here, I had a flashback to High School and Julius Caesar:

   Well I couldn’t say off-hand, but I myself just couldn’t take any more. I closed Art Studio and picked up something else.

   Up to that point, it had been a perfectly serviceable mystery. Aspiring artist and babe-magnet Henry Dana gets pushed off a subway platform two days before his big show at a prestigious gallery. No one sees him get pushed, the police are inclined to disbelieve him, and he himself begins to have doubts, but a second attack… well you can write the rest yourself. Or read my copy, which has a rather nice cover.

   I just couldn’t get past that familiar phone call that always, invariably, repeatedly, inexorably, eternally, persistently, habitually, unceasingly, perpetually, unchangingly, endlessly, unfailingly, inalterably, everlastingly, and without exception, leads to the same end.

BEHIND LOCKED DOORS. Eagle-Lion Films, 1948. Lucille Bremer, Richard Carlson (PI Ross Stewart), Douglas Fowley, Ralf Harolde, Tom Brown Henry, Herbert Heyes, Tor Johnson. Director: Oscar Boetticher. Available on DVD and currently now on YouTube.

   When the movie opens, newly minted PI Ross Stewart is admiring the work of the painter who has just put his name on the door of his office. It takes a while for the first client of most newly minted PI’s to walk in, but not in this movie. She – and of course she is a she – shows up even before the painter leaves. And he immediately falls in amorous lust for her. (I guess he has been reading too many pulp PI stories.)

   She does not reciprocate his advances, but neither does she seem all that put out by them. What she does have is a proposition for him, and strictly a business one. She thinks she know where a certain judge whom the district attorney and the police would love to get their hands on is hiding out.

   She has been following the judge’s girl friend, and ever night at a certain time she is admitted through a side entrance to a local mental institution. What she wants Stewart to do is to get himself admitted to said mental institution to see what he can learn on the inside. Stewart demurs until she mentions a $10,000 reward for the judge, which she is willing to split with him.

   Now you very well may be thinking to yourself that you have seen or read this story somewhere else before, and if you have watching or reading a lot of pulp fiction or B-movies from the 30s or 40s, I am sure you have. But with a director like Oscar Boetticher, sometimes known as Budd, at the helm, the 60 plus minutes (barely over) goes by very quickly.

   In any case, mental institutions in the 30s and 40s were no place to find yourself shut up in, and the one in Behind Closed Doors is no exception. But Lucille Bremer playing Richard Carlson’s partner in this particular plan does hold up her end of it, and all ends well, eventually.

PHILIP E. HIGH – These Savage Futurians. Ace Double G-623, paperback original, 1967. Published back-to-back with The Double Invaders, by John Rackham (review to be posted shortly).

   Two rival organizations surviving the end of present-day Earth’s civilization battle over a psycho-genetically controlled primitive named Robert Ventnor. As it often happens in High’s stories, Ventnor is captured and quickly trained in almost an overnight transformation.

   In fact, Ventnor becomes an expert in both micro-robotics and biology, combining both fields to find new methods in curing diseases. It is therefore not surprising that he becomes the key to the future of mankind.

   The story of mankind’s fall is not the usual one, not war, but the over-centralization of production, and that of decreasing quality. The description of gradual anarchy is quite chilling.

Rating: **½

Biographical Update: Quite a bit of information about the author can be found in his online obituary written by John Clute, from which the following excerpt seems relevant:

   “Nothing High wrote was as unremittingly apocalyptic as Shute’s On the Beach (1957), but his space operas consistently pit figures of valour (and science-fictional super powers) against dystopian cultures and worlds. One of the best of them, Butterfly Planet (1971), typically engages manipulative aliens against an Earth splayed into dystopian factions; telepathic sex for the good, and instant devolution for villains, arousingly ensue.”

  DR WHO AND THE DALEKS. Amicus, 1965. Peter Cushing, (Dr Who) Roy Castle, Jennie Linden, and Roberta Tovey. Screenplay by Terry Nation and Milton Subotsky, from the BBC Television Serial. Directed by Gordon Flemyng.

   I’ve kind of wanted to give this a look, ever since I saw the previews at the old Southern Theater back in the late 1960s, and I’m glad I got around to it at last.

   It’s Kid’s Stuff, with paper-thin characters, contrived plot, and labored pratfalls from Roy Castle, but I shall remember it fondly, long after better films lie lost in my fading memory, thanks to the gaudy photography of John Wilcox (whose credits include The Third Man and Outcast of the Islands) and the splendid sets, courtesy of Bill Constable, known for… well, not for much, really.

   But once the principals get into the City of the Daleks, this thing takes on the look of a child’s dream, with labyrinthine corridors of shiny plastic, sheer cliffs, bottomless pits, walls that spin like the numbers on slot machines, and the Daleks themselves, rolling about like lethal gumball machines.

   And all at once, this tatty, cliché’d thing takes on a dream-life of its own, actually building up considerable suspense as it barrels toward a lively donnybrook played out like a child’s ballet.
   

THE RIFLEMAN “The Marshal.” ABC, 21 October 1958 (Season 1, Episode 4). Chuck Connors (Lucas McCain), Johnny Crawford (Mark McCain). Guest Cast: Paul Fix, James Drury, R.G. Armstrong, Robert Wilke, Warren Oates, Abby Dalton, Bill Quinn. Written & directed by Sam Peckinpah.

   It doesn’t really get any more western than this. Written and directed by Sam Peckinpah, “The Marshal,” a first season episode of The Rifleman has it all. A once respected lawman gone to seed and now a drunk who refuses to even carry a gun. A pair of brothers terrorizing a town. A scheming outlaw willing to murder without hesitation. A redemption arc for the aforementioned drunken former marshal. And some terrific character actors.

   Although Chuck Connors is the star, this episode really belongs to Paul Fix. He portrays Micah Torrance, a once fearless marshal who is first seen stumbling drunk outside of a saloon. Lucas McCain (Connors) takes him under his wing and offers him good hard work on the ranch. It’s there that both he and his son Mark (Johnny Crawford) realize how much damage whiskey has gone to Micah’s body and soul.

   At more or less the same time that Micah is trying to put his life back together, outlaws ride into town. Leading the group is the handsome, but devious Lloyd Carpenter (James Drury before he starred in The Virginian). There are also two brothers. Flory Sheltin (Robert Wilke) and his brother Andrew (Warren Oates).

   Without giving away too much of the story, let’s just say that something happens to the current sheriff of North Fork (R. G. Armstrong) that allows for Micah to take his place as the chief lawman of the fictional New Mexico town. Fix would go on to appear in some 150 or so episodes of The Rifleman.
   

MARTEN CUMBERLAND – The Knife Will Fall. Doubleday/Crime Club, US, hardcover, 1943.

   In most of the mysteries written by Cumberland under his own name, the detective was the formidable Commisaire Saturnin Dax of the French Surete , so it came as a bit of a surprise to me when I recently discovered that Cumberland was an accomplished English journalist for most of his life and was apparently as British as they come.

   (Even less known than Cumberland is today, is the fact that under the pseudonym of Kevin O’Hara he also wrote of the adventures of a London private eye named Chico Brett. None of these books seems ever to have been published in this country.)

   In this novel, my own first introduction to the gentleman, the phlegmatic Dax is described as a great bulk of a man; otherwise, our picture of him is reduced and restricted by seeing only his brain at work . If in personality he seems imaginatively dull, his assistant, the English-loving Felix Norman, in strong contrast, does more and reacts more.

The case itself is a peculiarly disjointed one. The connection between a series of victims who seem never to have met or known each other before is the playing card each of them received as an advance warning. One aspect of the case, that of a wife who strangely disappears after being observed reading about the murders in the papers, is even more tenuously tied in.

   False clues – red herrings – abound, many of them deliberately set by the gang of killers, led by a mysterious mastermind, or so Dax hypothesizes. The central part of the story sags rather badly. There is no sparkle, no real verve to keep our interest alive. Not until a wholly unexpected killing takes place, taking us by total surprise, are we jolted out of our apathy. The ending is a hodgepodge, but I have to admit that the facts do fit what seemed till then a nearly unexplainable series of events.

   A very strange book. Very much out of the ordinary, as if Cumberland had caught the pattern of French thought as well as he sees to have aught the rhythm of the French tongue, (Take this observation with a grain of salt. I’m no expert on either one.)

Rating: C plus.

Bibliographic Update: There were in all 34 adventures of Comissaire Dax, not all of which were ever  published in this country, along with a sizable number of standalone mysteries. As for Chico Brett, whom I mentioned in the review, there were 16 of those, and as I said, none have been published over here. As for the author himself, he has a very short entry on Wikipedia, which you may find here.

   This has been a terrible year for conventions. SF conventions, Windy City, and Pulpfest, all cancelled and postponed to next year. For 50 years I’ve had my choice of shows to attend, usually going to Pulpcon/Pulpfest and Windy City. But for the first time I had no convention to attend until Pulp Adventurecon on November 7, 2020. A couple months ago I would have said that there was no way the show could be held because of the NJ lockdown mandated by Gov. Murphy.

Left to right: Walker Martin, Matt Moring, Scott Hartshorn,
and William Maynard seated.

   But somehow, against all odds, Rich Harvey and Audrey Parente managed to organize a show despite the virus increasing in NJ. Social distancing was the rule with masks and hand sanitizer available. The venue was new with the location moved to Mt Laurel, NJ at the Clarion Hotel. I don’t believe we will be returning to the Bordentown location.

   The dealer’s room was very large with 16 dealers and around 30 tables. The pandemic kept attendance down but there were 60 to 80 attendees. However, as you can see from the photo of the room, often the room appeared almost empty. Here are my snapshot impressions:

   Author and dealer Darrell Schweitzer had his usual table but did not appear to sell much.

   Matt Moring and I shared a table but between us we sold only four pulps. However we came to buy, not to sell.

   Gary Lovisi and his wife were present with the new Paperback Parade issue. Gary also filmed a report on You Tube.

   John Gunnison had six tables and appeared to be selling well.

   Ed Hulse said this show was better that the last two Pulp Adventurecons combined. At least for him.

Ed Hulse.

   Paul Herman had a table full of paperbacks and did well.

   William Maynard sold many books that he heavily discounted.

   Martin Grams shocked me with his “Going out of business” sale. For many years he has been selling DVDs and writing books about the old TV series. But he soon will be opening a Coffee shop and his last book will be the one on the Lone Ranger.

   Digges La Touche usually stays all day buying pulps but this year he was in and out before I even arrived. The virus has changed our buying habits.

   What did I buy? William Maynard sold me a set of the Sanders of the Rivers stories by Edgar Wallace. Ed Hulse sold me a couple nice looking books on L. Ron Hubbard, and John Gunnison sold me three pulps that I had once owned. It seems that I had traded off these issues but as I often do years later, I start collecting them again.

Dealers room.

   The big buy for me was the silver anniversary issue of Top Notch, March 1935. I had mistakenly sold it 20 years ago and it took me all this time to find another copy. I also bought a copy of the May 1939 issue of Dime Detective which I used to own. It has a great titled story by Cornell Woolrich, “The Case of the Killer-Diller.” I also use to own the Dime Mystery issue for October 1947. If you collect Black Mask and Dime Detective, you should also collect the other Popular Publication detective titles such as Dime Mystery, Detective Tales, New Detective. I’ve been in the pulp collecting game so long that I’ve started to collect titles for the second time around.

John Gunnison, on the right.

   For several years I’ve been hosting a brunch get together for my long time friends on the Friday before the show. This year, after much thought, I decided to go ahead and have a scaled down version of the lunch. There were six of my closest pals in attendance:

   Matt Moring–In addition to being in charge of Steeger Books and Altus Press, he also collects pulps and original art

   Paul Herman–Dealer, art collector, and Black Mask collector.

   Nick Certo–Book dealer and art collector.

   Scott Hartshorn–collector of all sorts of bizarre things and art collector also.

   Ed Hulse–Now for a couple friends who are not art collectors. Ed is editor and publisher of Blood n Thunder magazine and Murania Press books..

   Digges La Touche–Book, pulp, and dime novel collector. Not too many dime novel guys around anymore. He also is the last of the pulp excerpters. I remember when there were a lot of old time collectors excerpting pulps and making home made books of the excerpted stories.

C. M. Eddy material (Weird Tales author and friend of Lovecraft).

   I just added up the years I’ve known these guys. Over 200 years between them! Some good deals were made at the pre-convention brunch also. Matt sold a three volume Steeger Books edition of H. Bedford Jones complete John Solomon series. A set of preliminary Larry Schwinger drawings for his Cornell Woolrich paperback covers were sold. Several issues of Western Story were bought. After the brunch we found a new place to eat dinner near my house. PJ’s Pancake House and Tavern. Once again I noticed that I’m often the only drinker. This must mean something but I haven’t figured out what. Maybe a Nero Wolfe connection? Or tough private eyes?

   We stayed at the convention until almost 4 pm and then went to Mastoris Diner, another post-convention tradition. Good friends, good food, good drink, as my old friend Harry Noble used to say.

   So thank you Rich and Audrey for taking the big risk and putting on the convention. Hope to see you next year without the pandemic! Also thanks to Paul Herman for taking these photos.

   I hope to see many of you at Windy City in April and Pulpfest in August next year. I don’t know if I can survive another such year as 2020.