To those looking for a holiday gift that’s a little off the obvious trails, may I humbly suggest our first offering from Reverse Karma Press, Hard-Boiled Christmas Stories.

Folks, this 10-story collection delivers the goods — gats, gals, and even a little gore, 1930s and ’40s style. My RKP partner, John McMahan, and I — with a little help from our pulp-fiction-loving friends — picked out the best holiday-themed tough-guy stories of the hard-boiled era, and then capped the collection off with a brand-new one of our own, “Santa’s Slay Ride,” the first new Dan Turner, Hollywood Detective tale in some 60 years.

​Whether the person on your Christmas list is a fan of classic pulp literature, a lover of tough-guy movies, or just someone who likes good, swift, exciting reading, Hard-Boiled Christmas Stories will satisfy.

Check out these excerpts from two of our selections:


          “Listen,” I said amiably. “I don’t know if anyone every called your attention to it, but Christmas is a period of good will and congeniality.  Whole families gather for reunions.  Enemies forget their hates and buy presents for each other.  The world dedicates itself to joyfulness and cheer.  It’s a period of happiness, of gladness and unselfishness.”

          Allhoff swung around in his swivel chair.  He stared at me over the rim of his coffee cup. There was an unholy expression in his yellow pupils.

           “You’ve left out something,” he said. “It’s also a period when the storekeepers make a fortune by shilling the yokels into buying presents they can’t afford.   When a million morons get drunk and go home to beat their wives.  Christmas is a merry period during which the Nazis will undoubtedly blow thousands of British into little pieces, and give the concentration-camp boys an extra ration of arsenic for breakfast.  When a couple of million people are on relief and fifteen percent of the kids in Georgia have rickets.

            “Christmas!” He concluded with a grating laugh.  “I’m glad you told me about it.”

                       — from “A Corpse for Christmas” by D.L. Champion


          They shot round the corner from Ninth, slid to a stop before a row of drab, graystone-front houses, each identical with its neighbor.  The Marquis was out of the car before it stopped, was halfway up the steps of the wrong house before he realized his error and ran down and up again to the doorway whose dingy numerals were on the slip in his hand.  A toothless old hag, bald down the center of her head, was inside the dim-lit hallway, hanging a holly wreath in the grimy glass panel of the doorway.

            She rasped: “Merry Ch – oh pshaw, a copper! Nuts.”

                        — from “Nothing for Christmas” by John Lawrence


And how about this one (he says modestly), from the new Dan Turner story I wrote in the style of the great old-time pulpster Robert Leslie Bellem:


​​          Santa had me in his sights, his roscoe poised to perforate my giblets.

          ​Technically, that’s not quite correct. I was the party about to be drilled to ell-hay, all right. Not by his gat, though.

          By mine.

          ​They say when you’re about to be croaked, your whole life zips before your eyes like a triple-feature’s worth of flying tintypes. But the scenes pinwheeling through my noggin as I waited for the ka-chee that would mark my exit from this mortal coil didn’t start at the beginning. Instead, my cranial cinema was flashing events from just a few hours ago, when I’d started on the path that ended me up here, ferninst a killer in a red suit and long white beard, whose ho-ho stood for ho-ho-homicide . . .

          ​– from “Santa’s Slay Ride”


Other authors include such shining stars of the tough-guy genre as John K. Butler, William G. Bogart, Steve Fisher (of I Wake up Screaming fame) and even Johnston McCulley, creator of Zorro! And to cap it off, there’s a brand-new cover and a couple of interior illustrations by David Saunders, the top-drawer artist and pulp aficionado who comes by his talent naturally – he’s the son of Norman Saunders, one of the best-known cover artists of the pulp-mag era.

​At this writing, the Reverse Karma Press website is very close to being up and running. Until then, you can order Hard-Boiled Christmas Stories from John McMahan at mybckpages@aol.com or from me at this address. The cost is $14.95, plus $2.66 for Media Mail in the United States and by arrangement overseas ($4.90 to Canada, $10 to the United Kingdom and most of Europe). Payment can be made by PayPal. Let us know if you want the book signed and/or personalized; you bet we’re happy to do it.

​        And, by the way, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!hardboiled_christmas_stories


Two New Forgotten Horrors Books!

Yes, it’s been a long time since I “blogged,” as the “kids” say. But those who follow my radio show, Swing on This, know that I’ve been keeping up with the weekly playlists, so, despite appearances, this site is not abandoned.

What’s brought me back to write some new material? Well, evidence to the contrary, it’s not the eye-rolling that my webmaster son, Jonathan, does whenever I start talking about the website, giving everyone in the room the expression you’d give if your nutty old aunt started talking about picking up those radio broadcasts in her molars again.

No, the occasion is three new books, one of which I co-wrote, one of which I contributed to, and one I had nothing to do with, except for reading and enjoying it and promising its author I’d pass the word.

The writer is my good friend Will Murray. The book is his new Doc Savage novel, Skull Island. In it, a barely out-of-his-teens Doc joins his father and grandpa, Stormalong Savage, in a great adventure with King Kong on Kong’s own turf. It’s a much younger and far more violent Doc than we pulp fans are used to seeing. Time and again, first with the Bantam mass-market paperback series and now with the trade paperbacks for Altus Press, Will has shown himself to be a worthy successor to Lester Dent and the other Golden Age pulpsters who chronicled Doc’s life and times under the collective house name of Kenneth Robeson.  Writing in the swift and artful style of those grand old fictioneers, Will has crafted a terrific and unusual tale. “Unsettling” isn’t a term you’d normally associate with Doc’s adventures, but you could sure use it here.

And then, thanks to the indefatigable Michael H. Price, there are now two more books in his acclaimed Forgotten Horrors series: Forgotten Horrors 6: Up from the Depths and Forgotten Horrors to the Nth Degree: Dispatches from a Collapsing Genre. Both come courtesy of his publishing house, Cremo Studios, through Amazon’s estore link at https://www.createspace.com/4132897

As is the case with Skull Island, the two books can also be found on amazon.com.

While I’ve been blessed with participation in the Forgotten Horrors series since No. 3 came along, and film historian and writer Jan Alan Henderson has joined the roster as well, these books all bear the unmistakable stamp of Mike Price. He and his late collaborator George Turner began them back in the ‘70s, and Michael has continued to be the guiding intelligence and force behind them ever since George’s death in June of 1999.

Michael does the yeoman’s work on these books. He does the covers and the layouts and the lion’s share of the text. He has the final edit, and even the contributions that Jan and I make are of a piece with his brilliant and often idiosyncratic vision.  He’s a jewel, and, speaking for myself, I’m just happy to be a little part of the setting.

Volume 6 covers the great monster-kid years 1954 through ’57, which saw the death of the horror comics the beginnings of the monster-mag explosion, the first dissemination of Screen Gems’ Shock Theatre TV packages, and the success of such fear factories as American International and Allied Artists.  Staying true to the original Forgotten Horrors concept of covering independent productions, as well as non-horror pictures with horrific elements, Vol. 6 examines such offbeat titles as Girl in Black Stockings and Up in Smoke along with taking fresh looks at the more usual suspects.

Nth Degree, on the other hand, is a kind of a special case, gathering and expanding on the series of “Forgotten Horrors” columns Mike and I did for Fangoria magazine for several years, and adding some essays that I believe are the high point of the book. Michael has a couple of great extended pieces on the martial-arts star Leo Fong and Texas auteur Larry Buchanan, both of them employing the filmmakers’ own words as well as Mike’s insights.  I tried to do the same thing in my “Dave Friedman: My Favorite Johnson” (yes, I know — you’ll understand the title when you see the story), which covers my long association and friendship with this fascinating man and includes a couple of rare photos from Dave’s garage museum, I’m very proud of it, and I’m also deeply proud to be associated with my pal Michael Price’s Forgotten Horrors line.  Collect ‘em all, kids.


Hey Kids! Comics!

The very first sale I made as a writer was a comic-book script bought by Warren Publications in 1970 for the sum of exactly twenty-five frogskins. It came out in Eerie No. 32, illustrated by the veteran illustrator Jack Sparling and edited by Archie Goodwin, who I was to find out was one of the truly good guys in the comics biz. I sold a couple more stories to Warren before Viet Nam intervened – I think I was up to fifty dollars with the third one – and when I returned home from active duty the editorial policy had changed, and I couldn’t have sold new editor Bill Dubay a snow cone in hell.

So my comics career, such as it was, didn’t really begin until the black-and-white tidal wave of the late ’80s – and pretty much ended when the seas again flattened and that ship sailed (not to beat a metaphor to death or anything). Like a lot of other comics creators, I ended up amassing a fairly decent body of work during that time – roughly 1986 through 1992 — and went on to other pursuits afterwards.

As I’ve said many times, though, once you get something out there, you never know what’s going to happen to it, and I’m happy to say that two of my favorite projects from those halcyon independent-comics days are back on the market.

     The first is my fanciful pseudo-biography of horror heavyweight Tor Johnson, nicely illustrated by Bruce McCorkindale, which originally appeared under the banner of Monster Comics, a division of Fantagraphics, in 1991. The first, and so far only, comic book done in A-R Vision (which allegedly stands for alternate-reality, but could just as easily be anal-retentive), Tor Johnson, Hollywood Star makes up a proud portion of the brand-new Forgotten Horrors Comics & Stories, the latest production from my pal Michael H. Price’s Cremo Studios.

Available for 15 smackers from amazon.com and oldies.com, Forgotten Horrors Comics & Stories also reprints The Man from Planet X and Destination Moon comic books, given some new, very funny, and often near-Dadist dialogue by MHP (in the style of his highly recommended Comics from the Gone World series) that, remarkably, takes nothing away from the storylines. Michael also contributes more intriguing input from his dizzyingly prolific comics career, including a dandy fumetti illustrating Son of Ingagi and an Old Hollywood-related story of the Prowler – one of the best costumed characters to come out of the indie-comics boom — with art by Graham Nolan. Our cohort in the Forgotten Horrors series of film-history books, Jan Alan Henderson, weighs in with a fine piece concerning the ballyhoo for the movie Destination Moon – which, interestingly, included more than one comic-book adaptation.

     Also, advance orders are now being taken for the first Miracle Squad graphic novel, reprinting the four-issue series artist Terry Tidwell and I did for Upshot Graphics – also a Fantagraphics imprint – back in 1986 and ’87, packaged with our introductory Miracle Squad story (from John Byrne’s 1986 Doomsday Squad), my four-part study of the B-movie studios that inspired the Squad, and – new to this collection – an annotated sketchbook from Terry, my original prose story that inspired the Squad, and – thanks to a suggestion from publisher Bill Cunningham, aka the Mad Pulp Bastard – my dream casting of a Miracle Squad movie with actual B-pic actors from the ’30s.

That, of course, is where we’re coming from with Miracle Squad. It’s an evocation of what life might have been like for those working in the shadows of the big studios during Hollywood’s Golden Age, grinding out their little pictures in a ghetto known as Poverty Row. We love this era, and these films, and I think it shows in Miracle Squad.

For more information, or to order, contact www.pulp2ohpress.com. Cost is $17.99, and postage is free on advance orders.

Big thanks to Bill Cunningham and Michael H. Price for making these stories once again available. Please check ’em out.

      Finally, if you’re in the mood to listen to some pretty lively and even insightful discussions of obscure and unheralded movies, check out our Forgotten Horrors podcasts. As I write this, in early November, Mike Price, producer Joey Hambrick, and I are about to log our fourth one, a look at the Coleman Francis-Anthony Cardoza opus, The Beast of Yucca Flats. Between us, Michael and I have logged a good eight or nine decades of writing about this stuff and interviewing the people involved with it, and we like to think that gives us a little bit of cred.

     You can hear each installment of the Forgotten Horrors podcast at absolutely no cost on iTunes or Podbean. It’s also free to subscribe – and we give stuff away on each show!

Comments are welcomed;
please address ’em to this website

And, as always, many thanks.


Thanks to the crackerjack efforts of Jigglin’ Joey Hambrick, our producer and engineer, my good pal Michael H. Price and I are pleased to be able to announce the launch of the Forgotten Horrorspodcast. To get it, I’m told by webmaster Jonathan, all you have to do is click on this link:


That simple gesture transports you to a world of – well, I’m not quite sure what, but if you’re a fan of obscure, unheralded, and just plain off-trail movies, I think you’ll   find some enjoyment there.

As the name suggests, we’re hoping these casts make more people aware of the Forgotten Horrors series of books, which Michael and the noted film historian George Turner started back in the late ‘70s. I came aboard for number three, and

Mike’s allowed me to ride that train ever since. (See below for info on our newest tome, Forgotten HorrorsVol. 5: The Atom Age, with Jan Alan Henderson.) In the course of each podcast, we’ll probably also plug some of the other salient work we’ve done over our careers, both individually and collectively. We’ll even give stuff away to those who email our special double-secret web address (which we give at the end of each cast).

The first film to get the Price-Wooley treatment is Ed Wood’s Orgy of the Dead (1965); that discussion is now available for downloading. Next (probably in early August) will come the gay-biker flick The Pink Angels (1976), followed by the jaw-dropping 1945 vehicle for radio comedian Bert “The Mad Russian” Gordon, How Doooo You Do!!!

A note: If you’re looking for snark, it’s best to keep right on going. To paraphrase Michael, perhaps the sleaziest act of all is belittlement, and this is no audio version of The Golden Turkey Awards. But we do love these films, we’ve written about them for years, and we continue to get a great deal of fun out of them. If you’re of a like mind, Joey, Michael, and I would sure be happy to have you check the cast out and let us know what you think.

As always, big thanks for reading. We look forward to hearing from you.







While work on my new-look website continues – thanks to Jungle Jonathan Wooley, the hardest-working webmaster in the business – I have to take just a few paragraphs here to let you know that March 2011 has just become the biggest month ever for me in my writing career (such as it is).

— First, on March 15, John Wiley & Sons officially released my new biography: Wes Craven – the Man and His Nightmares. I was a fan of Craven even before he optioned (but, unfortunately, never filmed) my novel Old Fears, which Ron Wolfe and I co-wrote back in the early ‘80s, so getting to do this project was a real joy for me. As it unfolded, I found myself in a position to write about things that have been kicking around in my head for decades, ideas having to do with the connections between art and exploitation, for instance, as well as what youthful exposure to the concept of an endless, burning hell full of tortured souls might have on a writer or filmmaker. I’m proud of the book, proud of the exhaustive research I was able to utilize (unearthed mostly by one of the best researchers in the business, Rachelle Vaughan), proud of the fact that Wes Craven himself consented to a pretty thorough interview. Plus, it’s my first book to be available on Kindle!

–Next comes Shot in Oklahoma: A Century of Sooner State Cinema, my look at the history of Oklahoma filmmaking, from the University of Oklahoma Press.  Beginning at the very first part of the 20th Century, when Edison’s boys headed down from New Jersey to get some authentic cowboys and Indians in front of their lenses, it wraps up with a look at several of the theatrical features that came along in the wake of the Movie That Changed Everything, the Tulsa-lensed Blood Cult. Acknowledging that picture’s rightful place in film history – it was actually the first made-for-home-video feature — was especially important to me. Of course, it was fun to write about as well, as were such off-trail movies as Just Between Us, This Stuff’ll Kill Ya, and the amazing Prince of Peace.

I was able to do lots of new interviews – with famed novelist S.E. Hinton, for instance, as well as Godfather of Gore Herschell Gordon Lewis – and those complement the great you-are-there stories I dug out of newspaper accounts stretching back to the 1910s. The good folks at the Tulsa World, my erstwhile place of employment, allowed me access to their extensive library (or morgue, in classic newspaper slang), which helped the book immensely.

— Finally, my longtime pal and collaborator Michael H. Price invited me aboard for the newest entry in his long-running and acclaimed Forgotten Horrors series of movie books. Forgotten Horrors Vol, 5:  The Atom Age. Once again propelled by the Lovecraftian notion of horror being where you find it, and focusing as always on small-budget productions, volume 5 covers the years 1949 through 1954 and includes fresh takes on many of the usual suspects (Ghost Chasers, Robot Monster, and the cover-featured Man from Planet X) as well as the less-obvious likes of She’s Too Mean for Me, It’s A Small World, and Skipalong Rosenbloom.

Released in mid-March by Cremo Studios,  it’s 300-plus pages of the good, the bad, and the exceedingly strange, bound together by Michael’s insight, wit, and intriguingly skewed vision, with assists by yours truly and Jan Alan Henderson, whose work I’ve long admired. It’s available on amazon.com, among other places.


As far as published output goes, I’ll probably never have another month like March 2011. I’m happy and thankful to have those three books out, and I hope that whoever reads this might find one – or more – to his or her liking.

As always, thanks for the support!

— JW

First Quarter ’09 Update

I’m guessing that Thomas Hardy, the 19th Century British literary figure, never met Thomas Duncan, the famed vocalist with Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys, despite the fact that they both had something to say about how, you know, things become different as time wears on. I never met either of those Thomases, but I know a third one — my good pal Thomas Conner. And he and I appropriated the “Time Changes Everything” title (we were thinking, frankly, of the Duncan-penned song rather than the Hardy maxim) for our one-act imagining of two meetings between the Oklahoma music icons Woody Guthrie and Mr. Wills, which I’m proud to say will be presented as a part of Tulsa’s SummerStage festival this year.

TIME CHANGES EVERYTHING, the play, is set for June 25th in the Liddy Doenges Theatre at the Tulsa Performing Arts Center. Thomas and I have been able to get John Cooper and Brad Piccolo of the Red Dirt Rangers to portray, respectively, Bob Wills and Woody Guthrie, and the entire batch of Rangers to come out in the second half of the show and play a selection of Wills and Guthrie tunes.

The SummerStage production will mark the play’s debut, although we did have a table reading with Cooper and Piccolo at the Woody Guthrie Festival in Okemah last August, which drew a standing ovation and the teary-eyed approval of Woody’s sister Mary Jo (he says humbly, digging his toe into the carpet).

The premise is simple: Guthrie and Wills meet twice, their two encounters separated by some 15 years, and talk about themselves, their music and their lives. As far as Thomas and I have been able to ascertain, and we’ve done some research that included talking to close relatives of both men, they never actually met. But Thomas, a Guthrie scholar who got a grant to study the man at Columbia University, and I – a Wills fan from ‘way back – have long been intrigued by the differences in the two musical giants and their contrasting approaches to their profession.

Now, the Performing Arts Center Trust has given us the chance to share, and we’re grateful. We’re also grateful to Tulsa’s top stage director, Vern Stefanic, whom we can’t afford but who has agreed to direct the play anyway. A longtime friend and occasional collaborator of mine, Vern agreed to direct Time Changes Everything in return for my not telling anyone about his excised appearance in Weird Al Yankovic’s Tulsa-shot film UHF (1989). Hey, consider it done, pal.

So, please mark your calendars for June 25 and join us for the intergalactic premiere of Time Changes Everything. We’ll have more news here as it becomes available. You can also check out the Tulsa SummerStage Facebook page.
for info . . . which brings me to my next topic.

     Although I hold a master’s degree in English, I had not known until a few weeks ago that “friend” could be used as a verb. I have learned this courtesy of my older son and webmaster, Jonathan, who set me up on Facebook back in late February – despite my being, shall we say, considerably beyond the Facebook demographic.

What was I thinking? I was thinking I needed to do it because at the first meeting of SummerStage producers, Chad Oliverson, marketing and public-relations manager for Tulsa’s Performing Arts Center Trust, emphasized to us all how important a marketing tool Facebook was for our productions. Chad told us we should all get on it post haste, or words to that effect.

Unfortunately for me, he didn’t tell me what to do once I got there.

I’ve kind of figured a few things out, thanks to Jonathan and my other savvy son, Steven, who both explained that people I knew would want to “friend” me once I joined up, and that I should “friend” them back. So I’ve been “friending” the hell out of everyone who pops up on the site, and they’ve been “friending” me. Some of the people “friending” me are my “friends” in real life. (Overuse of quotation marks for allegedly humorous purposes stolen from Dave Barry.) Some are good acquaintances and former co-workers I’m fond of. Some are people whose name I’ve heard or whose work I’ve enjoyed. And a few seem to have beamed in from the planet Neptune. But I’m just promiscuous about it. You want to be my friend? Swell? Hop aboard, everybody! More the merrier! WA-HOO!

Now, though, I’m starting to understand that I’m supposed to do more than just join up. As I write this, I’ve been “friended” by 181 people, That’s swell, but some of them are asking me things about which I have no clue. And not only that, but they’re asking each other questions about me. I punch up the site every couple of days and stare warily at it for a while, and it looks as though people are wanting me to participate in fun things, surveys and such. But I’m too freaked out to allow myself to poke around for more than a few minutes.

Of course, we’re all afraid of what we don’t understand – a theme expressed again and again in popular culture, as I remind my OSU-Tulsa horror-movie class boringly often – and I think I’m subliminally afraid that if I type the wrong thing, some cyber-tentacle is going to burst from the screen and wrap around my neck, pulling me into a hellish place where I’m forced to fight off spiders with darning needles like Grant Williams in THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING MAN while responding to each and every Facebook question and request — including the one I got a few days ago telling me someone had thrown beads at me, and asking did I want to throw beads back? I mean, you know, I don’t see any beads. Where are the beads? WHERE ARE THE FREAKING BEADS?

I have no doubt that I’ll get better at this, eventually, and if you’re one of the cyberhip, you’ll probably dismiss this as simply a Grandpa Simpson-esque rant. But I really am confused; it seems to me that if you really wanted to do this Facebook thing right, you’d have to spend several hours a day on it.

I don’t have that kind of time. But I do plan to post something about this website blog on my Facebook page. Is that hypocricy, or just opportunism?

      Finally, the half-hour documentary BILL BOYCE – MONEY ACTOR – which debuted last year at Tulsa’s Circle Cinema, is now available for purchase via PayPal. (PayPal — now there’s an internet idea I can handle.)
A ten-spot gets you the remarkable story of Mr. Boyce, Oklahoma-born star of THE SLIME PEOPLE, who not only romanced Marilyn but kicked Elvis’s butt in touch football. Leo (HELL HIGH) Evans directed it, I produced and wrote it, and award-winning young filmmaker Jonathan (WITCH COP) Wooley (whom I’m planning to gravy-train in my old age) edited it.
Get it in an attractive case, postage paid, for $10.

Fourth Quarter ’08 Update

Oklahoma City’s gorgeous this time of year.

Okay, maybe not exactly gorgeous, but certainly cooler than it was a couple of months ago. So let’s call it tolerable.

On the morning of Oct. 3, I’ll be headed down the turnpike to OKC with my pal and partner in Reverse Karma Press, John McMahan, where we’ll join scores of our old comic-book, pulp, paperback, radio-show and movie-paper collecting pals for the big OAFCON 2008.

What’s that? Well, as my chum Bart Bush describes it in the press release, (written by another of my longtime buddies – and the proud co-editor of our 1971 fanzine TORTURE-MURDER PICTORIAL – Bruce Shults), it’s “more than 50 dealer’s tables piled high with comic collectibles and other childhood treasures . . . . Dealers coming from coast-to-coast will be mainly offering comic books and collectibles made before 1980. If you enjoy vintage items like movie posters, paperbacks, series books, sheet music, this show is for you. Former club members and long-time fans from across the country will be in attendance.”

OAF, you see, stands for the Oklahoma Alliance of Fans, a group of comic-book collectors who found each other back in the late ’60s. Through the untiring efforts of Bart and Robert “Bosco” Brown, dozens of us converged on OKC last year for the OAF 40th reunion, and once we got over the shock at what four decades of gravity can do to a person, we decided we still liked each other enough to get together this year and have a full-fledged convention (or “con,” to the uninitiated), the kind we used to have before people started buying and selling all their old junk – I mean, valuable nostalgic treasures — on the freaking computer.

McMahan and I have approximately 9,875 copies of Reverse Karma Press’ debut offering (in conjunction with Off Trail Publications, of course) SUPER-DETECTIVE FLIP BOOK left, and we’ll be happy to sign as many as you want or need. We even will have a few of the rare un-signed copies available. Reprinting two Jim Anthony – Super Detective pulp tales from the ’40s, it’s getting some nice reviews online and elsewhere.

So come see us. No matter where you live, if you’re into this sort of thing, it’ll definitely be worth your trip.

That’s OAFCON, set for Friday and Saturday, Oct. 3 &4, at the Biltmore Hotel, 401 S. Meridian in Oklahoma City. Admission is an incredibly low five bucks for both days.

For more about OAF and the convention, visit www.oafcon.blogspot.com.

And, if you can’t come to OAFCON and want a copy of SUPER-DETECTIVE, check the blog entry right before this one for instructions on how to order it from the comfort of your own home.

     I recently attended another great convention, Pulpcon in Dayton, Ohio (see www.pulpcon.org for more). As always, it was great to get with my publisher friends John Locke and John Gunnison to work over some ideas for new projects (along with a box or two of wine), and to see other good pals who share my love of pulp lit of the ’30s and ’40s.

Among the latter are Don Hutchison, Nick Carr, and Dave Walker, who always set aside time to have a martini or two with me as we gaze out the big windows at the top of the Dayton Crowne Plaza and talk about long-ago writers and writing. Sometimes, the topics ramble away a little. Dave reminded me of a conversation we’d had, sitting in that same bar high atop the hotel, a year ago.

“You and Don started talking about the movie version of The Grapes of Wrath, and how great it was,” Dave said. “You were going over scenes, and talking about the nobility of the Joads, and how there were so many moving things in it – and you both were just about in tears.
“That’s when Nick leaned in and said, ‘So, what do you boys think about King Kong?’ ”

I heard some great lines at Pulpcon this year, but the most memorable one came from Rusty Hevelin, one of the original organizers of the event back in 1971. As I passed Rusty’s table, stacked high with pulps, in the dealer’s room, I overheard him say, “The closer I get to 90, the less stuff I need for my collection.”

Second Quarter ’08 Update

Folks who like their adventure high and wild – especially when it comes from the pages of the pulp magazines of yesteryear – know the name Doc Savage, the Man of Bronze, whose over-the-top tales from the ’30s and ’40s pulps found a whole new audience decades later as paperback novels (and, in fact, continue in new reprints today.).

He’s one of the major heroes from the pulps, an Olympian group that includes the likes of Zorro, Tarzan, and the Shadow.

So, maybe you know Doc Savage. But do you know Jim Anthony – Super-Detective?

If the answer’s no, we can take care of that in a New York second. By we, I mean my pals and collaborators John McMahan and John Locke. Collectively, we have just produced a new trade paperback that reprints a pair of Jim Anthony adventures in what we’re calling the Super-Detective Flip Book: Two Complete Novels. It just hit amazon.com and other cyberspace outlets; you can find it there, or you can order it from Off-Trail Publications (offtrail@redshift.com) via PayPal ($18 plus $2.50 for media mail, $5 Priority) or by sending a check or money order to Off-Trail at 2036 Elkhorn Road, Castroville, CA 95012.


     What do I get for that geetus, you ask? Well, what we’ve done is reprint a couple of the best novel-length (using the admittedly generous word-count standards the pulps used to define a “novel”) Jim Anthony yarns, taken from two separate phases of the Super-Detective’s career.

The first, 1940’s Legion of Robots, can certainly be taken as, uh, an hommage to Doc Savage. Anthony, with his secret fortress and preternatural powers, will certainly remind the alert reader of Doc, something that was purely intentional on the part of Anthony’s publisher, the always opportunistic Trojan Publishing Corporation. At the time Legion of Robots came out, however, comic books were beginning to steal the thunder of what were known as the hero pulps, offering thrills and power fantasies more easily accessed by young readers. Still, the folks at Trojan figured there might be a buck to be made in another hero pulp, and so along came the underrated Anthony.

(Anthony’s relationship not only to Doc Savage, but also to DC Comics and its flagship character Superman, is explored in a fact-packed introduction by McMahan.)

By 1943, Jim Anthony had undergone a major overhaul, with the more juvenile aspects of his stories gone in favor of a more down-to-earth, hard-boiled approach. We were fortunate to find a great, timely-as-today’s-headlines tale, Murder’s Migrants, to complete our twofer flip book. It’s a fine effort, written by two of the most famous guys to come out of the detective pulps – Robert Leslie Bellem, creator of Dan Turner, Hollywood Detective, and W.T. Ballard, whose Bill Lennox, written for the famed Black Mask magazine, was the first true Hollywood detective character in the pulps. Together, these two solid wordsmiths crafted a swift and entertaining novel (and the backstory of their collaboration is one of the things I deal with in my own introduction).

So there you have it: Two novels, bound together in a style intentionally reminiscent of the Ace Double Novels of the ’50s and ’60s, and brought to you by John Locke’s Off-Trail Press – purveyor of some of the best pulp reprints and associated non-fiction that you’ll ever see – and Reverse Karma Press, the little outfit McMahan and I have put together.

We’ve spent a couple of years delving into the world of Jim Anthony, and we find it a fine and exciting place. We think you will, too, and we’d be delighted to have you check out Super-Detective Flip Book: Two Complete Novels. and let us know what you think.

And, as always, big thanks for stopping by.

First Quarter ’08 Third Update

Both Dave Stevens and Mario DeMarco loved the romance and wonder of entertainment from days gone by – loved it so much that they filtered it through their own souls, reshaping it and recasting it, shining it up and sending it out.

Dave, of course, was the artist and writer best known for creating the great comic-book character the Rocketeer, a character rooted in the gosh-wow science-fiction movies and pulps of the ’30s and ’40s. His stunning work on the Rocketeer stories quickly made him one of the first and brightest stars of the independent-comics movement of the ’80s.
Mario, on the other hand, was less well known, his audience comprised mostly of fans of B-western movies, for whom he created pen-and-ink portraits and self-published paeans to the cowboy-movie stars of yesteryear. (His obituary in the Worcester (Mass.) Telegram & Gazette indicates that he also had a 50-year-career as a cartoonist with the Navy Times.)

They both created a lot of their oeuvre in the ’80s, although I have no idea of whether they were aware of each other’s work or not. They both died in early March, within a week or so of one another. And I knew them both, at least a little bit.

I met Dave Stevens in San Diego in 1974, where I was fulfilling my obligations as a Navy Reservist – following two years on a helicopter carrier – by spending a couple of weeks as part of the crew of a fleet tug. My previous Navy service had included some time in that city, where I’d had the good fortune to meet Shel Dorf and Richard Butner, both of whom were heavily involved with the San Diego Comic Convention (which had then been going only a few years). I believe it was Richard who introduced me to Dave one weekend, when I was able to get off the tug and into town. I was impressed when I found out this young guy was inking backgrounds for one of my comic-book heroes, Russ Manning, on the Tarzan comic strip.

I recall Dave as being pretty shy and reserved that day, but we nonetheless hit it off. Both of us not only dug comics and pulps, but old movies and serials and – perhaps most important – the leading ladies of low-budget horror and science-fiction movies.

As the years went by, we’d exchange the occasional letter or phone call, in addition to seeing each other at conventions, where we’d make the time to do some catching up. After he’d begun dating the ’50s B-movie actress Yvette Vickers, I went to my mailbox one day to find an envelope with an 8X10 glossy, taken on the set of Attack of the Giant Leeches, she’d signed for me. For my part, I sent him a cassette tape of Dreamsville, one of my all-time favorite LPs, featuring Henry Mancini’s ultracool jazz orchestra behind vocalist Lola Albright, who played Edie Hart on the Peter Gunn TV series. In 1991, when Disney put out the Rocketeer movie, I was able to interview Dave for the Tulsa World, where I was working as an entertainment writer. Later, he told me that the picture had been the No. 10 moneymaker for that summer – which, unfortunately, wasn’t quite big enough to trigger the planned sequels and other spinoffs.

After the Rocketeer comic-book stories hit, and especially after the movie, Dave Stevens became a huge star on the convention circuit. His Betty character, a tribute to ’50s pin-up queen Bettie Page, led to Ms. Page’s rediscovery, and Dave ended up becoming the most famous pin-up artist since Alberto Vargas.

As fame increases, so do the demands on a person’s time and energies, and the last few times I saw Dave we talked through a stream of interruptions and distractions, which seemed to bemuse him a bit. It was clear that day that he did what he did from love, not a lust for fame or money. It may be clichâd to say that, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

Dave Stevens, to the end, remained one of those people you always look forward to seeing again. To know that you won’t be able to do that in this particular sphere of existence has saddened a great number of people, myself included.
While Dave died early – at 52, from leukemia – Mario DeMarco was 86 when he passed, having actually lived through the movie heyday of the B-western stars in the ’20s, ’30s and ’40s.

Mario and I never met, but we wrote one another, and I have several of his handcrafted B-western books in my library. I first became aware of him in 1979, after I’d left my college-teaching job to move back to my home turf and try to make it as a writer. The very first gig I got was at a tabloid-sized newsprint publication called The Big Reel, published out of North Carolina by a man who was, I believe, had a day job as a carpet cleaner. His name was Don Key, and his publication, slanted toward the old westerns, was for folks who – in those pre home-video days – collected, sold, and traded stills, movie-related publications, and 16mm films. Just after we’d moved, I saw a notice that he was looking for a book reviewer for The Big Reel. The pay was a penny a word, and you got to keep the books and magazines sent to you for review, as well as receiving a gratis subscription to the publication itself.

I’ve never been much of a reviewer, but it was a paying gig, so I applied. For the next couple of years or so – before the mag was inundated with amateur critics who’d do the job for free – I got a check every three months right on the dot, and that $45 paid for a lot of groceries in those days.

Mario DeMarco was doing line drawings, coupled with biographical nuggets, for The Big Reel, and he crafted a little logo for my column. Right after I started working for the magazine, he sent me his self-published Yours Truly, Tom Mix, a “photostory” of the great western star, along with a letter talking about how the book “wasn’t meant to be a ‘classic’ – it was printed at my expense (and extremely expensive) for the fans who really loved Tom – and for the collectors too – for in it went a lot of love and care.”

There was a lot of love and care in everything Mario did to help keep the B-westerns alive, and perhaps to help telegraph their joys to a generation that didn’t grow up with Saturday afternoon shoot-’em-ups. And a lot of love and care went into Dave Stevens’ wondrous work as well. They were working very different sides of Nostalgia Alley, certainly, but Dave Stevens and Mario DeMarco covered their respective turfs with joy and wonder, working with the benign ghosts that haunted them to create new images for our dreams and daydreams.

For my money, those were two lives well lived.

(The Internet is full of obituaries and tributes to Dave Stevens. My friend Jim Vance has a very nice one at http://www.james-vance.com/jvblog/?p=80)

First Quarter ’08 Second Update

My webmaster and cyberspace advisor, Jonathan Wooley, having educated me recently about the importance of website blogging, has now advised me that it’s a good idea not only to regularly add links to other websites, but also to write a bit about the linkees. With that in mind, here’s a little something about the folks behind the web addresses:

–Jim Vance ( http://www.james-vance.com ) has been a very good friend and occasional co-conspirator of mine for more years than I’d like to remember. I will not embarrass him here by relating where we met, but I will say that it was at the world premiere of a local movie in which he had, shall we say, a major part. I will also note that he was the sober one at that meeting. In the immediately subsequent years, we visited a lot of comic-book conventions together, notably Larry Lankford’s late and much-lamented Dallas Fantasy Fairs and Festivals, and entered the independent comic-book market as scripters, with Jim receiving well-deserved acclaim. (Among other things, he won a Harvey and two Eisners for his superb graphic novel with artist Dan Burr, Kings in Disguise , a Depression-era tale told from a boy hobo’s point of view. Recently reprinted by W.W. Norton, it belongs in every American’s library. Honestly.)

Jim continues to turn out great work full of wisdom, compassion, and clarity. I also envy him for his ability to knock out first-class blog entries on his site http://www.james-vance.com, most of them having to do with comics and graphic novels, which is where he’s doing most of his work these days.

— Chuck Ayers (http://www.chuckayers.com ) is the creator and host of a fine radio show called the Red River Jazz Cafe, which I’ve been enjoying beginning at noon Saturdays on radio station KZLI (1570 AM). KZLI is (along with oldies station KRVT, 1270 AM) half of a great northeastern Oklahoma AM-radio combine that’s bravely swimming against the current (forgive the mixed metaphor) by offering programming that couldn’t be different from the soulless corporate effluvia clogging our airwaves.

Chuck’s show is a great example of what I mean. It’s full of laid-back, small-combo jazz – often including something from my favorite, Oklahoma boy Chet Baker — strung together with Chuck’s equally relaxed conversational reminiscences of his younger days in California and Oklahoma. KZLI, for all its wonderful qualities, isn’t exactly a clear-channel flamethrower, so if you’re not in the Tulsa area, pick up the cafâ on Chuck’s website. Heck – you can even order up a show from the menu. Plus, there’s some old-time radio programming and ’50s rock ‘n’ roll available there as well.

And while we’re on the topic of music . . . Broadway, concert, and TV star Sam Harris (Did you catch his laugh-out-loud character on last year’s sitcom The Class?) is working on a new album, and he’s released a track on YouTube. Go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulqENsff5bw to see “War on War,” an anti-war number that, to me, is a first-class, spirited, re-imagining of the late 1960s, when kids marched for peace and love was in the air. (Following my time as one of those peace marchers, I ended up on a helicopter carrier in the Gulf of Tonkin, but that’s another story.) Sam’s song hits all the right buttons, spiritually and musically – there’s a little echo of the Yardbirds’ “For Your Love” in the chorus, a Beatles evocation on the bridge, and a nod to Edwin Starr’s greatest hit.

Sam’s organized a music-video contest around the song, so those of you who are into that sort of thing should check it out. So should everyone else – except, maybe, those who still believe that folks like Bill O’Reilly speak for America.

Finally, check out the newest two issues of Fangoria the world’s No. 1 horror-movie magazine, for a couple of pieces I’m proud of. I visited the Oklahoma City-based set of the new movie Soul’s Midnight for my report in Fangoria No. 270. It includes a sidebar interview with director (and stand-up comedian) Harry Basil, who talks about both Soul’s and Fingerprints, a second Oklahoma-lensed feature that’s generated a lot of pre-release buzz.

In Fango No. 271, the current issue, my pal and frequent collaborator Michael H. Price joins me for a look at the underrated 1980 horror film Without Warning, which was undoubtedly an “inspiration” for Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Predator. We’ve said it before and we’ll say it again: The big studios co-opted every good idea the low-budget drive-in filmmakers had, pumped ’em up with money and starpower, and released ’em as major movies, without acknowledging their cheap-film roots at all. The Without Warning/Predator similarities, I think, were a harbinger of this practice, which still exists today, you bet.