Western Trails [February 1931] – an A. A. Wyn pulp magazine

Early 2023 I lucked into a large 1930s collection of the pulp Western Trails magazine. I featured many of the covers and spines from the haul in a blog early last year.

Sadly, many of the issues have vast condition flaws. Missing covers, both front and/or rear. (Those lacking front covers were not featured in that blog entry). Missing spines. Chunks of covers lacking. Front covers present but glued down to the internal page or onto an inserted sheet of paper and itself glued to the next interior page. Some covers are trimmed. The collection was largely a blind, take-a-chance purchase.

The earliest one is from February 1931 (Volume 7 Number 4). The covers are entirely lacking. Had the cover been present, it would have been illustrated by Arnold Lorne Hicks. Because the cover is missing, I’m featuring the one from the FictionMags site. All five fiction stories inside are illustrated by Don Hewitt, which I’ve presented below from my copy.

RIO RAIDERS by Clyde A. Warden

Lessiter, fast on the draw and a bear of a man, has departed the north country and hooked up with Judd Castle’s gang of former northern outlaws. He’s assigned to track Bert Little and kill him. Lessiter locates his prey; Bert is on his back, gazing up at the cerulean heavens. Bert Little says little but when he does, it’s concise and humorous. Lessiter tires of the banter and draws his gun only to have Bert, still on the ground, impossibly draw and shoot it from his grasp. His lead-dealer destroyed, Bert offers Lessiter the opportunity to fight in any manner he chooses. They go for bare-handed combat, after Bert tosses his gun-belt and knife aside. Lessiter laughs and draws a concealed blade. To his chagrin, Bert informs him that Buck, his dog, is awaiting instructions to tear him apart unless he discards the weapon. Lessiter does. Lessiter attempts to maul Little, but the slighter man is made of steel and utilizing moves straight out of a Theseus adventure, grips his man and using his muscle and speed against him, hurls the man to the ground. Eventually he ceases to play with him and lands an uppercut to the man’s chin that sends him sailing off the cliff to his death. Bert rides his horse (King) into town, reports the misadventure to Sheriff Lew Owens of Glenoa (a fictional town in the Rio region). Bert goes to his room to sleep but would-be assassin Perrado, a half-breed Mexican, enters via the window. Bert wrests the blade and interrogates the man before turning him over to the sheriff. He learns that Judd Castle intends to make Tanner’s girl his wife. Why? He doesn’t know. (Nor, for that matter, does the reader ever truly know, save that Tanner pissed off Castle once). Saddling King, he and Buck trod off into the wilderness. Pulling up some miles from Tanner’s home, Bert settles down to sleep but hears a horse approach in the darkness. Slipping free of his bedroll, Bert waits, then yanks the rider from the horse. It’s a girl! Apologizing, he learns this is Tanner’s daughter, Bell. Having heard stories of Bert Little’s deeds, she had ridden out at night to find him, because Judd Castle and two other men had captured her ma and pa. They scarcely finish talking when a loud voice orders Bert to unlimber his gun-belt. Bert does and learns he’s been taken by surprise by none other than a dead man, Lessiter! Turns out the giant did fall over the cliff but grasped at foliage and climbed safely to the top. Bert psychologically manipulates the moron to drop his gun and fight him, knife against knife. Lessiter is swiftly beaten, shirt sliced open, and his knife sent sailing free of his grasp! Lessiter receives a knock-out blow. Bert leaves the man unconscious upon the ground. He and Bell ride away, meandering in the dark towards the Tanner home. Lessiter comes to, recovers his knife and gun, and rides hell for leather to the Tanner home, beating the pair somehow in the dark. Lessiter warns Judd Castle of the pending arrival and Judd places Trundle outside to watch for Bert. A bad move, as Bert sneaks up and ties the man up. Then he opens the door, silently, and witnesses Lessiter and Castle leering above the tethered Tanners, threatening harm. Tanner taunts them to turn around. Realizing he’s too confident, they whip around and find Bert. The pair draw but are too slow. Bert puts a round into Lessiter’s chest and blows Castle away. Lessiter is still game and grazes Bert’s side, drawing blood. Bert pivots and ventilates the man’s forehead. Retrieving the tethered Trundle, Bert departs, to turn this one surviving man over to the sheriff. With Castle dead, he’s not concerned about the rest of the gang. (Gee whiz! Where are they, anyway?)

This was Bert Little’s 7th appearance in Western Trails by their prolific contributor: Clyde A. Warden, about whom I’ve already blogged, so I won’t delve any further into the author. I enjoyed this Bert Little tale enough to desire tackling the next issue on my shelf. The writing style is intriguing. A mixture of western and hero adventure with some humor. Bert’s personality feels emotionless, but he does have depth and range. I wanted to see if he was as interesting to read as western writer and blogger James Reasoner presented him to be. Trust in James! I’m not disappointed.

Treachery Range by Douglas Mussinon

Pal is riding the range when he discovers cut barb wire. Riding hard to pursue the stolen cattle, he catches two men from the ranch, the foreman and another rider. Drawing his gun, he forces the pair to push the cattle back home. Pushing them into the ranch-house, he surrenders them to the ranch boss. The ranch operations are handled by him. The original owner died, leaving behind a wife and son. The son was sent to Chicago for education and the wife mysteriously died. Now Pal must solve the mystery of who is really behind the two thieves and put things right. With the help of a few other cowboys, they capture all involved and Pal reveals that he in truth is the son, operating undercover.

This is the first time I’ve read anything by Douglas Mussinon. He authored pulp stories for about five years, from 1926 to 1931. In truth, he had only one tale in 1926, none in 1927, and really got going in 1928. Most of his works appear in Ace-High Magazine, but his last four efforts were spread out among other titles (of which this tale was the first of those four). What became of Mussinon? Born as Douglas Fredric Mussinon in 1902 (he has an entry at the FindAGrave site), he took an interest in radio at a young age, going so far as to write essays for prize competitions in various radio, drama, and play magazines. He won some prizes. Mussinon authored various script plays; they all seem to be religious. Later I found him working on a radio station in Cincinatti and then was to transfer to Oklahoma a couple years before he ultimately died, in 1947, at the age of 44. He also had a WW2 draft card entry. Why he died so young is unknown to me.

Brand of the Lobo by Howard E. Morgan

Kurt Pearson resigns from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to pursue the mythical man who runs with a pack of wolves. This wolf man is responsible for the murder of at least four known persons, each stabbed to death and stripped to the bone by ravenous wolves. The R.C.M.P. believe the man may exist but not the myth. Kurt is also goaded on by the discovery of golden strands of hair and a tiny boot print, a female. Hiking into the far north regions of the arctic, Kurt finally catches does battle with the behemoth himself, and wins, only to be clubbed over the head by a blonde girl. Regaining consciousness, he finds a scrawled note on paper, asking him not to follow and apologizing for stealing from his pack some tea. Doubling his fortitude, Kurt quickens his pace after their trail. He eventually meets the girl, learns her name is Celie Morel, who wishes he would leave, then changes her mind. In Kurt she sees a means to escape. Following discreetly, Kurt enters via a strange pass into a secret area the girl called Mystery Valley. He’s assaulted by a tribe throwing javelins. Slipping off the precipice, he slides to the bottom into a deep snowy drift and his pulled free by his feet. The girl comes to his rescue and pushes him into her home, whereupon Celie reveals her parents were Southerners that disagreed with the Civil War and vamoosed. They traveled the world on boats and ended up in the arctic. Shipwrecked, husband and wife survived, along with a Russian, name of Shag Sarnoff. They are rescued by Eskimos who revere them, having never seen White People. Sarnoff is big but “dumb” in many ways, bestial at best. She and her brother, Paul, were born, but their father died while they were young. The mother eventually also passed away. Celie’s brother left the valley to obtain help from the outside world, but has not returned. Kurt is certain that weather may have delayed him, if not death. The Eskimo people are essentially a lost race themselves, holed-up in this secretive valley. Kurt determines the need to escape with Celie but Sarnoff convinces the Eskimos to set fire to the building. Firing off several shots out front, Kurt rapidly runs out the back way with Celie. They had for another pass out of the valley, known to only herself, Sarnoff, Paul, and a handful others. Ascending, they find the pass is blocked! Detaching his snowshoes, Kurt begins digging the pass out while Celie handles his rifle and shoots anyone trying to impale them. Kurt eventually succeeds, jumps into the small hole he’s made, followed by Celie. Strong hands grab and pull her inside to the middle of the pass. She’s mortified to find not Kurt but Sarnoff evilly grasping her. He was prepared for her to escape and meet her in the pass, and Kurt is slightly concussed, on the ground. She swings the rifle at Sarnoff, connects once, but not a second time. Kurt leaps to the rescue and the pair duke it out until he can push the razor edge of the javelin through Sarnoff’s body and several inches out the other side. The pair find themselves hemmed in. Eskimos have them trapped three-ways: from the back, from the other side of the pass, and, from above the pass they are dropping boulders! Firing and reloading as quickly as possible, Kurt and Celie eventually realize they can’t possibly outlast the overwhelming numbers. Miraculously, more gunfire joins in and Paul arrives with reinforcements to save the day. Introductions are made and Kurt and Celie, in love, declare their intent to marry.

As a fan of frozen north wilderness tales, I was thrilled to dive into this one. To find it slightly included some form of a lost race element was a bonus feature. Unfortunately, like the aforementioned Mussinon, Morgan would have a very short life. However, despite dying around January 1933 (born circa 1892) from 1923 until his death, he cranked out about 300 stories! Some were posthumously published. Thankfully, I have more issues of Western Trails with additional works by Morgan.

Larrupin’ Leo by Joe Archibald

Walrus and Wishbone are essentially the western comedy equivalent of Laurel and Hardy, and both speak relentlessly in the style of Hollywood western acting legend, Gabby Hayes. Granted, their speech predates Gabby Hayes, and I’m not precisely certain when it was developed. They are a pair of self-confessed horse thieves. In the desert they happen upon a lion that has a splinter. They extract the splinter and the lion races away after they attempt to rope it. Later, discovering the desert town of Ghost Gulch, Wishbone gets into a bar fight with a deputy sheriff. Wishbone is insanely quick on the draw and unerringly accurate. The deputy departs and later a swaying female attracts his attention. Walrus tries to snap Wishbone out of it, but apparently the slighter, smaller framed man goes loco over fine-looking females. Walrus later learns the woman is a trap, bait set by another town’s man, as revenge. Turns out that gent is previously familiar with Wishbone for having done him wrong in the past. The lion re-enters the scene and the dame states whichever male suitor captures the lion, she’ll marry. Walrus tricks his mate by feeding the lion cow-meat laced with spices and tosses one of Wishbone’s used shirts in for good measure so the lion will associate the torturous spicy food with the smell of the shirt. Next day, Wishbone brazenly walks into the building the capture what he expects to be a friendly lion, having been the one to extract the splinter. Instead, it pretty much comically mauls him and tosses him out the building.

Gun Magic by Al. H. Martin

Sadly, the lower half of a page was missing to this tale, but not enough to dissuade me from tackling it. Undercover range-detective Klamath is brought in by rancher Sagehen to solve mysterious rustling activity and deal with the devilish Dergan, described as a partial Asiatic slant-eyed gunslinger a la sleight of hand magic. Turns out Dergan was a magician in San Francisco operating under a different name. His skill unmatched, he turned his fast hands to guns and knives. A syndicate picked him up and sent him to run out ranchers with the aid of the ever-corruptible sheriff. Toss in a feisty, tough-willed woman and we have all the ripe elements for a showdown and romantic conclusion. Intriguingly, Klamath comes across like a series character that Martin missed an opportunity to develop. Absolutely enjoyed my first Al. H. Martin tale and looking forward to more. He was not terribly prolific in the pulpwoods, but managed to create one science fiction tale, The Jovian Horde, in Wonder Stories Quarterly, Summer 1932.

Page 44 asks “Do You Want a Pen Pard?” Two claim to be lovely single girls. Two are guys. One is Norman Ray of Reading, PA, and claims to be the mirror image of Bert Little. Unclear if he means in traits or looks. The other is an English soldier stationed in Egypt! His name and rank: Gunner Benwick, J. F. (Jim), 6th Light Battery, R. A., Helmieh Camp, Nr Cairo, Egypt. Phew! What a mouthful, and he looks for pards in ranch life, dudes or gals. I wonder if anyone out there can track down this fella?

Page 119 features Loco Cartoon No. 9 illustrated by Joe Archibald. Interestingly, the First Prize winner to solve the cartoon won an original cover painting previously used for this magazine. Makes me wonder which cover paintings made their way into the general populace! From this issue, the winner to No. 6 was Pink Simms of 2630 S. Montana St., Butte, Montana. I believe his real name was Harry T. Simms, buried at Mountain View cemetery on 14 December 1943, age 55.

Page 120 begins a letter column by the fictional Powder River Bill. Writers featured in the column include the following: Joseph Torra, Kitty Kuharski, Paul J. McCann, William H. Kretzman, George F. Burmeister, Genevieve Thomlette, Stanley Povlak, and one from pulpster S. Omar Barker providing some historical pieces about cattle fencing.

Creasey Mystery Magazine # 4 (November 1956)

Creasey Mystery Magazine (v1 n4, November 1956) was published by Dalrow Publishing and unlike its preceding three issues, sports a full color illustrated cover. Edited by Leslie Syddall, this issue is mostly reprints by quality writers of the mystery genre. The artist signing as R.W.S. is Ronald W. Smethurst and he would be responsible for all of this publisher’s illustrated fiction magazine covers. Smethurst also illustrated some covers for WDL, aka, World Distributors.

The lead novella is Murder Out of the Past by John Creasey. It debuted in an unknown South African magazine a few years before it was revised and reprinted as thus in this magazine. In England, it was bound with Under-Cover Man and published by Barrington Gray in 1953. I reviewed that story in the prior Creasey Mystery Magazine post.

Richard Rollison, aka The Toff, is in South Africa following up on an old investigation. A lady resides down here, Christine. She is wanted in London for murdering Leah, her lover’s wife. However, she fled and vanished. All evidence suggests she had motive for murder, but no weapon was found. Years pass, and Rollison has never given up the case. In fact, he’s certain she is innocent. Walking home, she enters to find Rollison there. She’s angered and demands that he leaves. He explains he has evidence partially proving her innocence. She’s gobsmacked. Her lover, Lambert, has abandoned her because he believes she indeed is guilty of the murder. A car arrives, and Rollison enters. The chauffeur is a young black driver, George. The pair drive away from the home when suddenly a pair of rifle shots assault their vehicle. George doesn’t realize they’ve been shot at, so he initially slows down. Rollison upon the second shot figures it out and urges George to speed up. Too late. George is wounded and unconscious and Rollison, while reaching forward to nab the emergency brake, ends up tossed forward with George. The car swerves and flips into a nearby ditch. Crawling out, Rollison hears a car approach. Feigning unconsciousness, forehead dripping blood, he places his hand upon his gun and waits. A massive brute descends while his lean partner waits at a more discreet distance. The brute is named Karl and discerns that Rollison is still breathing. He intends to finish the job but Rollison shoots him and fires a second shot to scare him off, not realizing the pair are after Christine. Rollison then runs into Lambert. The latter suspects Rollison of tracing and arresting Christine. Lambert is a sure-fire man-killer and moves to assault Rollison. But the latter is a master at hand-to-hand combat and immediately disables the bigger man. He installs into Lambert’s noggin why he is there, and that Christine has been kidnapped. Shows him a photo of a man. Lambert feigns ignorance but Rollison knows he recognized the young man in the photo. Who kidnapped Christine? Who really murdered Lambert’s ex-wife, and why?

I won’t ruin the plot but suffice to say there is plenty of action and like the others I’ve read, this Creasey yarn maintains a good pace.

The Erymanthian Boar features Hercule Poirot. Written by Agatha Christie, the story debuted in The Strand, February 1940, and represents our protagonist’s 4th of his self-appointed The Labours of Hercules. They were not reprinted chronologically in the Creasey Mystery Magazine. Here, he notes that since he has concluded his 3rd labour in Switzerland, he might as well take in the countryside and explore. Well, that prior story was NOT my previous read at all. Poirot decides to take a funicular right to a higher elevation town. Handing in his ticket, he’s handed back his portion and a bonus wadded piece of paper. Smoothing it out later, he discovers that he has been recognized by the local police and they are requesting his aid in capturing Marrascaud, a racecourse gangster and brutal killer described as not a man, but a wild “boar”. The description arrests Poirot’s attention and he assigns it as the fourth labour. It requires Poirot to ascend beyond the town he wished to visit, ascend to the very top destination. Poirot can’t imagine why a vastly hunted villain should isolate himself in a locale in which there is no escape. Neither can I. Nor is this ever properly explained to my satisfaction. I won’t delve into the plot. Suffice to say, Poirot gets his man.

The Cyprian Cat by Dorothy L. Sayers debuted in the British magazine called Harper’s Bazaar in May 1933. It would seem on the surface an unusual place for a supernatural crime story. The tale is told a man to be tried for murdering his friend’s wife. Seems the narrator despises cats but cats seem attracted to him. Well, while in town at the hotel, cats keep harassing him and they disturb him so much that he buys a revolver. A tabby refuses to cease bothering him. One night, his friend requires his assistance. His wife is unresponsible. Eyes rolled back, seems to be a drugged-state. It’s pouring rain outside. He runs into his room for an item when the Cyprian cat lunges in. He manages to shoot the cat but it flies past him into the hallway, In pursuit, his friend’s wife staggers into the hallway and dies at his feet. Everyone arrives on the scene. She’s dead. He’s holding a fired gun. A trail of blood runs from his room to her. The evidence clearly suggests murder, and it doesn’t help that he intends to enter court and plead innocent, and to tell the truth. Who would believe that she and the cat are one and the same? Even worse, he doesn’t realize this. He is certain that when the dead cat is found, there they will find the bullet, for no bullet obviously was found in her. It’s a slogging read, no real eerie feel the tale aside from the obvious. It’s important to note that Sayers at no times leads the reader to assume that the cat nor the wife are evil. Then again, we aren’t sure that she is not evil. The cat is not a shape-shifter, despite what one cat blog suggests. If it were, then the girl could not possibly be in bed while the cat is outside trying to access the room.

After the abysmally boring story above, I’m hoping The Macbeth Dagger by Louis Golding succeeds in re-arousing my interest. It was published in Britannia and Eve, August 1951 and ran as an excerpted piece in Mario on the Beach and other stories (London: Hutchinson) in 1956. This is my second Golding tale; the first was in CSM #1. I’ve four more stories to read and having finished this one, I’m certain that it is the best story in the entire magazine. A minor actress marries a successful actor. She retires, tends home, he’s often away filming movies. A local painter, who the actor derogatorily calls a “poppet” to his face, paints him in the likeness of Macbeth, wielding the famous dagger. While home, he eventually dies from an overdose. The poppet eventually marries the lovely actress and grows to despise the deceased ex-husband to the point that he spits upon an object before painting. He eventually dies with the Macbeth dagger in his back. A third man entirely unrelated to all of this marries the distraught woman, and while reading one of her husband’s movies asks the man to extract some of first husband’s acting garments from the chest in front of the bed, which in turn has said painting now in the bedroom on the wall, whereas prior it was not in the bedroom. He’s digging about and decides to locate the entire garment but cannot find two items. Eventually he mumbles and it irks the girl and he extracts a pair of gauntlets. She loses her mental shit and berates him to put them back in. He looks at the gauntlets, looks at the painting, looks at her. Doesn’t say a thing. She is evil incarnate and sarcastically confesses to murdering both men and challenging him to prove it. Who will the world believe? Her confession is both psychotic and sinister and utterly fantastic, revealing that she is a superior actress capable of fooling anyone.

Sleeping Car by Peter Cheyney originally debuted in Durban, South Africa’s Natal Mercury, in the Saturday Magazine section, 1 July 1939, per the Peter Cheyney dedication site, a newspaper I’d love to locate online access, regarding historical archives. No doubt many other authors were 1st printed therein. This tale later was reprinted within Information Received and other stories by Peter Cheyney (London: Bantam Books, 1948) as The Sleeping Car. This tale may well be suited to a weird tales type of magazine, written after a fashion perhaps like Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart. Our protagonist (Neilson) is a surgeon who knows that his wife, an actress, is having an affair with another actor, Karcovski. Offering the latter a ride in his large, luxurious car, he eventually pulls over in a remote area. He convinces Karcovski to exit to vehicle and inspect something wrong with the car, and brains him across the back of the skull. Concussed, Karcovski comes to in the car to discover himself fully secured and Neilson’s surgeon tools ready for an operation. Neilson plans to remove one of his hands, destroying his career and removing him from desire to pursue Neilson’s wife. He does so, informing Karcovski to never return. Upon the first cut, a splotch of blood spurts to the car’s ceiling and spreads out in the shape of a heart. Ten years pass. Neilson finds himself ironically in the same region. Having his driver pull over, he discovers he’s indeed in the same area where he abandoned and hid the car and buried the dismembered hand. Arriving in the nearby small town, he finds the hotel fully booked but they have acquired an old large car and converted it uniquely into a sleeping car. While dining, he learns from nearby conversation that Karcovski recently died. Accepting the odd offer to sleep in the car, he lays back, prepared to relax, and notices the odd heart-shaped dark stain on the ceiling. It couldn’t possibly be his own old car? It is. He nods off and, in his mind, hears the Karcovski state his death was faked, all was staged, and the floorboard pops up and a dismembered hand enters and strangles Neilson. Next morning, he’s declared dead, heart attack, but they can’t figure how the floorboard was shifted. Was it just Neilson’s own imagination after seeing the blood splotch, or something more sinister and supernatural?

Double Booking by Herbert Harris debuted in The (London) Evening Standard, July 24, 1954 and ought to have stayed there. A well-worn plot. Man plans to murder another man, to succeed him in business. He books himself at one hotel under an assumed name, and another under his real name. Makes sure porters and such see each identity, interacts, etc., to establish an alibi for himself, and motive for the false identity. After murdering his man, he steps out from the room and runs into a young man who cleans shoes. Our killer has dirty shoes and to avoid suspicion, surrenders them to the lad. The murder is naturally discovered, and the police inform the killer the shoe-cleaner marks the soles of the shoes with chalk. His were marked the moment he surrendered them, coming out of the dead man’s room.

To which I say, so? He was in disguise! How does this prove the shoes are his? Is his name inked inside the shoes?

While the original American publication source for A Question of Survival by John Randolph Phillips has yet to be ascertained, it’s possible that an astute reader of this blog may recognize the plot. Leila Maxwell is picked up by boyfriend (Frank). He works at a gas station. Leila has noticed in recent days he is nervous about something. Pulling over at her home, she extracts the key from the ignition, forcing him into a confession. Less than a week ago, three hoodlums pulled off a bank heist and during the course of their getaway, they turned around and pretending to head into town, stopped at a gas station to be topped up. Frank found it odd given they only needed one gallon. But when he got too inquisitive and spotted a guy in the back seat, they told him he was sick. He was clearly suffering from a gunshot wound. Realizing he had them made, they threaten his life. Keep silent, or they return and off him. Frank’s been suffering a dilemma. He intends to uphold his end of the drama only if the copper that was shot and hospitalized lives. If he dies, he informs Leila he’ll cop to what he saw.

I won’t ruin the rest of the story, but I suspect therein is enough for any savvy reader to help me identify the story’s original source and likely the original title, assume it was retitled. It’s not a pulp story, but has the feel of being appeared in a slick such as something like Collier’s, The Saturday Evening Post, Maclean’s, etc.

Ben Benson’s Somebody Has to Make a Move was first printed in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, July 1954, originally as Killer in The House and in the UK edition, too. The police in Massachusetts have a home surrounded. A man inside shot and killed a cop. Also inside, held hostage, a married woman and her baby. The cop-killer phoned his sister. Told her to bring him money and clothes. She does. The cops stop her car, inspect it, find the money and clothes. She’s detained, brought to the detective-inspector in charge, Wade Paris. The force has a nickname for him: “Old Icewater.” Why…? Because he’s a heartless bastard. The tale moves forward when the cop-killer’s sister implores Paris to let her speak to her brother, explaining that he is a victim of life’s cruel upbringing and circumstances. It ends with Paris taking a chance, going inside the home with the young lady. The killer moves to shoot Paris but tosses the gun aside and tries to escape. Paris takes him down, applies the cuffs, and he’s placed under arrest. Later, in the precinct, we learn the girl was led to believe (by Paris) that her brother just could not shoot Paris, so tossed away the gun and tried to run instead. Truth is that the man did shoot at Paris. The gun simply jammed, hence why it was tossed aside. Paris decided to let her believe her version of reality.

Undeniably the second-best story, and an excellent way to conclude the magazine. Wade Paris is a recurring character in several of Ben Benson’s novels. Sadly, Ben Benson, born 1913, died young in 1959, authoring scarcely a handful of short stories and nearly 20 novels. Was he a lost literary talent? Hard to judge by this one story, but if any copies of his books cross my path, I ought to remain open to reading them. Remarkably, his widow (Irene) had the foresight to renew the copyrights to most of his novels.

Jonathan Guest by Margaret Archer (UK: Jarrolds, 1952)

In 1952, English hardcover publisher Jarrolds published Margaret Archer’s Jonathan Guest. It is an historical romance, a vast break from her crime / detective novels. And depending upon one’s interpretation of the novel’s conclusion, one may even consider this to be a gothic romantic mystery, as Archer has infused numerous genres into this work.

The dust jacket art features a handsome Englishman with a happy, smiling young redhead gazing up at the man she loves. The illustration is signed lower-right “Harman.” This would be Jack Harman, who illustrated many of the juvenile western novels in Reg Dixon’s Pocomoto series. I suspect Harman contributed more cover art than he’s credited with providing, but I couldn’t readily locate other adult efforts.

Gertrude Margaret Temple was born on 5 December 1913 in Ongar, Essex, England. She authored a book at age 12; The Admiral and Others was published both in the UK and abroad in America in 1926 under the name of Peggy Temple. She was educated at Fosse Bank School in Tonbridge, then received some form of learning at Bayford House in Hampstead. Miss Temple was shipped off to attend a boarding school in Lausanne, Switzerland called Pensionnat Florissant. Little is known about this particular boarding school, but I found that Orson Welles sent his daughter there in 1959 at age 15 (per the memoir, In My Father’s Shadow: A Daughter Remembers Orson Welles) and there is a Facebook group set up for past members. Miss Temple obtained her journalism degree at University College, London, attending from October 1930 to July 1932. I located one article as by Peggy Temple in the 22 December 1933 issue of the Daily Mirror titled Inexpensive Holidays.

Miss Temple married in 1935, becoming Mrs. Archer. She would embark upon a career in journalism and spend 5 years with the BBC during World War Two, severely burning her back and spent nearly a year in a hospital to recover.

As author “Margaret Archer” she is credited with a handful of novels over the span of a decade, but then she vanished. Her novels all appear in jacketed hardcover editions published by Jarrolds. Let’s look at her Jarrold’s contributions:

1945: Canter’s Choice
1947: Gull Yard
1948: Flowers for Teacher
1950: The Silent Sisters
1952: Jonathan Guest
1952: The Gentle Rain
1955: See a Fine Lady
1956: Pardoned in Heaven

The setting begins in 1835 at the fictional Convent of the Little Sisters of Our Lady in Île des Sœurs (Nun’s Island) in the Bay of St. Marc, France. The novel is narrated by Louise Bernard, a 17-year-old girl who lives within the walls of the convent. She has flaming red hair and rather plain features. Having grown up reading faerie tales, she’s hopeful that her lackluster appearance with net her a prince and a happily-ever-after ending in life.

Rumor is that her mother was an English actress who fled to her country and married a Frenchman. Her parents are both dead, and her uncle, M. Richot, has plans to marry her off when she turns 18. Her family had money and upon 18, she inherits some unknown “fortune.”

Today, she is to meet with the gentleman her uncle has established as her suitor. She’s mortified when her disgustingly obese cousin, Paul Richot, enters. Learning her uncle has matched her with this repulsive human being, she realizes the uncle merely wishes to keep the fortune within his control.

Louise later that night plans her escape. Stealing some nun’s clothes, she escapes and eventually makes her way to the beach where she plans on taking the ferry from the island to St. Marc. From there, she plans to travel to Rouen and obtain a job.

Fate intervenes on the beach. While noticing a seaman leaning against an upturned boat she trips and ruins her ankle. This man, the titular of the book, Jonathan Guest, lifts her up and inspecting the ankle informs her that she will not be able to walk. Irritated at her misadventure, she insists on getting on the ferry. Instead, he assists her onto his small vessel, named The Petrel.

After learning of her life woes, the pair take to the water and cross to England, where her real adventure(s) truly begin. They land somewhere along the coastline of the Sussex Downs. He brings her to his home, where his mother, Matilda, keeps house, and keeps her nose out of her son’s business. Sadly, while Louise is clearly infatuated with the first real man in her life, she’s got competition in the immediate appearance of a lovely Maria Beecham; she clearly is wealthy and beautiful and blonde.

Living in Guest’s home, Louise is told to keep quiet, if she hears anything, like strange visitors in the night, to stay upstairs and keep her mouth shut. But Louise is a strong-willed individual. And despite everyone’s best efforts, there are loose lips. Is Jonathan a smuggler of illegal goods? Louise eventually befriends Matilda, an aging woman who claims to once have been the desire of many a young man. When Louise shares the identity of her mother, Matilda expressively is shocked and proves that her mother indeed was a fiery-redheaded English actress who vanished to France, thereby clearing up that mystery.

There’s many plot points and intrigue, but suffice to say, Jonathan Guest traffics in bodies. No, not slaves, but people looking to escape their tarnished past and sail away from England to France. Despite this knowledge, Louise is still in love with this rogue and no amount of calamity will sway her from her man.

Lies, deception, and betrayal run rampant and our author does a wonderful job keeping the reader forever guessing at the outcome while the narrator breaks infrequent breaks into her past and share a murky foreshadowing comment from the present, which happens to be 3 years in the future.

Come the end of the novel, Maria and Louise are forced to briefly team up to save Jonathan’s life only to be fighting at the conclusion while Jonathan attempts to escape authorities. A fire breaks out on The Petrel and engulfs Maria. Fleeing from the flames, she leaps into the waters and is never seen again. Louise is knocked senseless and the flames leap upon her. She’s rescued from the infernal by Jonathan, dropped into his dinghy, and rowed back ashore. He’s placed under arrest and hung for his crimes.

Louise comes to weeks later in Jonathan’s home, tended by Matilda. Her face is swathed in bandages. Unwrapping her face and demanding a mirror she finds her plain features marred and scarred by the flames. No faerie tale ending can heal that face, and her hair is gone. She dons a veil and learns she is pregnant with Jonathan’s child, which somehow survived her harrowing, fiery ordeal.

Time passes and her hair eventually regrows. She gives birth to a girl and calls her Joanna after the baby’s father. Maria’s brother, Ned, for whom I have entirely glossed over, orders her to abandon the veil and let her baby gaze upon her true features. She does and the baby is not frightened.

She eventually marries Ned and is pregnant now with his child. While visiting the shore where Jonathan first landed with her and likewise met their ill-demise, she sees a boat slowing coming ashore. She’s shocked to realize the man is Jonathan, alive despite being informed he was dead! Too, another man is present. His name is Barney, and he is the ultimate sinister villain of the novel. He was responsible for arranging the transportation of people for Jonathan to transport. He also sold Jonathan out to the authorities since it convenienced him to do so for a monetary reward.

Barney is mortified to find Jonathan alive and well along the shore. Jonathan confesses to having escaped the hanging and fled the country. The two fight it out while Louise watches in horror. Barney eventually succumbs to a heart attack. Jonathan loudly proclaims his victory to his lost love, Maria. He then gets back into his dinghy and rows away.

The ultimate question: is Jonathan Guest truly alive and a fugitive from English law or is a ghost, returned for retribution? The scenario could be interpreted either way.

In any case, Louise never reveals the truth that she saw Jonathan alive. And Barney’s corpse is discovered by the coast guard.

And so, the novel concludes but if anyone is intrigued by this lost literary work, I suggest you obtain a copy. Be assured that there are tons of other pieces of the puzzle I’ve avoided revealing, and plenty of lovemaking. I’m personally not one to read romance novels, but this one receives an A+ in my book!

(Side note: in real life, author Margaret Archer sustained burns to her own back during World War Two. She was in hospital in 1943. I suspect much of Archer’s personal burn experiences formed the basis for Louise’s own suffering, both physical and emotional).

Cherokee Fowler by Chuck Stanley (and the Oklahoma Land Rush of 1889)

Chuck Stanley was one of many aliases used by Charles Stanley Strong. Born 29 November 1906 in Brooklyn, New York, Strong went on to become a global adventurer and fiction writer. A look at his inadequate Wikipedia entry would lead you to believe he almost entirely wrote juvenile fiction. There’s no real mention of his westerns, his pulp fiction output, etc. Several of his westerns were published by Crown or Arcadia, and in both cases, their copyrights were renewed by the publisher, not the author (who was dead decades earlier by then).

Cherokee Fowler was originally published in the United States by the Phoenix Press in 1945 in hardcover format. None of the author’s works via Phoenix Press were renewed and have fallen into public domain.

Cherokee Fowler

Reprint rights were sold to Wells Gardner Darton & Co., and the book appeared in their Chosen Book paperback series in 1947, with an action-cover rendered by the ever-competent Reginald Mills. The art showcases a man aboard his horse, gun drawn, spitting lead, hat flying off his scalp, while chasing a wagon of some sort.

The background and entire support of the novel leans heavily on the historically controversial Oklahoma Land Rush of 1889. Clay Fowler and Ranger (his horse) are riding a westbound freight train to the Cherokee Outlet. No guns are about his person as a ruffian approaches. He wants to acquire Fowler’s horse. No dice. Range ain’t for sale. Trade? Nope. Well, the rough, by the name of Pug Bates, is an outlaw and his comrades are aboard the train. Pug will stop at nothing to obtain what he can clearly see is a fine riding specimen. Fowler and Bates exchange blows. Pug goes for his guns…only Fowler has already dove for his bag and extracted his six-gun. He doesn’t kill Bates, for which the train conductor proclaims Fowler would have done the West a fine deed in gunning him down. In trade, he’s only made a lifelong enemy.

Fowler disembarks at Cherokee Outlet where the land-grab race is staged to begin. He’s on some sort of undercover mission, but his position is undisclosed to all, including the reader. Loads of shenanigans occur before the race, including rich men and callous souls attempting to purchase from poor future settlers or people with improper protection their land deeds. Graft runs rampant, and Fowler is present when an older gent plied with liquor is murdered. From his vantage point, he plops lead into the man’s skull as his reward. Fowler knows of the man’s identity, discovers the wallet missing, and informs all the other villains present that he expects the wallet to be returned. Or what!?!!? He then goes in search of the man’s family, to inform them of his death. At his wagon train, he meets the widow and daughter. The lithe 19 years old girl immediately is infatuated with the older and vastly mature Fowler. He hasn’t time for romance. Remember: he is on a mission! Fowler learns that a man by the name of Silver Dollar Welch claims to have been partnered with the late Mr. Neale. Fowler is constantly interfering in local wrongs and keeping in contact with the military in charge of the race. They know of him, but beyond that, do not seem aware of his mission either.

The race begins, and if you have ever watched a land-grab race on television or at the movies, you know it was a brutal affair. The movie I’m most familiar with is entitled Cimarron. There were two movies with that title, based upon Edna Ferber’s novel. The first was in 1931, while the second was in 1960 and starred Glenn Ford. Another movie that incorporates the land race stars Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, being Far and Away (1992). Yes, obviously there are other films, but that’s enough to go on.

Anyway, wheels broke, people were thrown, wagons rolled, bicyclists were ridden over, horses flailed, prairie dog holes broke horse’s legs, and people rode over anyone in their path. It was a bloody affair. Racers are thought of as Boomers, but this is incorrect. Boomers are actually those that campaigned to have the land offered freely to prospective Americans. Those that illegally crossed the starting line before the race officially began were dubbed Sooners. They rode well ahead to pitch their claims in advance or murdered the person(s) that wanted to claim the choice spots. Thus the Sooners could steal their incomplete deeds and fill them out in their name. To make matters worse, numerous Indian tribes had been relocated to Oklahoma years earlier, pushed out West from their homelands. Most don’t realize that many of these western Indian tribes came originally from as far East as the coastal states! They were “offered” concessions, but the fact is they were being robbed of lands once more.

Yes, I realize that historically a lot more was involved but I’m keeping the plot thin at this point.

Fowler has no direct interest in obtaining land for himself, but matters alter slightly when an old army man (Laddy Graham) runs into him. He’s there to settle down. Fowler wishes him luck and agrees to settle the adjoining lot. However, instead of riding Ranger, he hands his horse over to the 19 years old girl, instructing her that his horse is super-fast, trustworthy, and can keep her safe from prairie dog holes. After much debate, she accepts, races off and secures land for her family.

The novel is quite intricate, with numerous characters, villains, good guys, Indians, etc., all thrown into the mix. Too many to adequately cover here without your eyes and mine glazing over in the attempt. So, I’ll fast-forward, and try not to ruin the plot. Suffice to say, Fowler is a United States Marshal, appointed by President Grover Cleveland to watch over the territory and enforce gun-law.

Word gets to Fowler that a group of Sooners plan to murder Laddy Graham and Clay Fowler at their homestead. Riding into town, Fowler reveals his government status and obtains a posse, with some surprising people joining up that he was convinced operated on the wrong side of the law. But enlist in the posse they do and ride hard to circle the Sooners and begin a wild gunfight. During a halt of flying lead, Fowler approaches and pow-wows with Pug Bates, demanding the identity of the mysterious Sooner villain, only to be gunned down in the back by someone within the barn. Unbeknownst to the killer, Laddy Graham is hiding in the barn’s loft and dropped burnt hay on his person. Come daylight, one person has remnants of burnt hay on their back.

Silver Dollar Welch!!! Only, he pulls his death-dealer on Fowler and takes the Neale family hostage, who had ridden up during the daylight. They are unaware of what is transpiring but had been led to believe that Fowler was actually the man that murdered Mr. Neale.

When asked how Fowler knew from the start that Welch was no good, he confesses that he was onto Welch’s plans from the start. Welch had claimed to be Neale’s mysterious Eastern business partner that would meet him at the starting line, but the fact of the matter was that the business partner was actually…Clay Fowler!

Honestly, this one facet of the novel put me off. It was entirely implausible and unnecessary to have Clay Fowler be the secret business partner when he was already an undercover United States Marshal. Thankfully this tidbit occurs in the closing page and does not ruin the rest of the novel, which is excellent. I quite enjoyed the plot, the characters, the color, and the historical bits all thrown together. Its web of intrigue was excellently woven.

I’d love to know if anyone else out there has read Strong’s western stories, especially this one.

The Mystery of the Abominable Snowman by Michael Waugh (Australia: Cleveland, undated: 1950s)

Nearly a decade ago I posted a slew of plot synopses to various vintage publications on Facebook’s Southern Pulspters group. Over the years I have made an effort towards rescuing many of them from oblivion, but some slipped through the cracks. This item appeals to a broader audience, and given the nature of the title, should be revisited.

The Mystery of the Abominable Snowman sports the nom de plume Michael Waugh, a name that was applied to one vampire novelette and two mad scientist a la Dr. Frankenstein / zombie novelettes. All were published in Australia by Cleveland Publishing Co.

The true identity of the author has forever remained a mystery. When the publishers still actively existed, I contacted them in the hopes that they had files dating back to the 1950s. The original founder’s son replied that he didn’t know they published anything outside of Westerns. An absurd remark given they also published tons of crime material. Either an uneducated family-run outfit or a complete dodgy reply. In any case, the mystery remains unsolved.

And if that lusciously clutched blonde bombshell on the front cover gives you King Kong (1933) and Fay Wray vibes, what can I say? I’ve likewise no clue who the artist was for Cleveland in the early 1950s, but they created a bunch of wonderfully vibrant covers.

Now, onto the plot:

Millionaire mogul Oglethorpe wants to shoot a sensational film thriller in the frozen wastes, but when a real life Abominable Snowman enters the scene, the actor playing “hero” turns in a real-life greedy-villain and the down-and-out adventurer-turned-actor, Clay, must step up his game to save not only Leila, the lead star attraction but, also save them all from a man bent on killing everyone in his path to net himself the real “big game.”

Yeah. That’s the entire plot in a nutshell.

DARKER GROWS THE STREET by Bevis Winter (the 3rd Steve Craig thriller)

Published August 1955 by Herbert Jenkins Ltd., Darker Grows the Street is the third novel in the Steve Craig crime thriller series. Bevis Winter returns for his third outing with his sarcastic private detective along with partner Patrick Shaun Mulligan (now aged 31) and office-girl Kitty Callaway. The novel spans pages 9 to 190; it is comprised of 13 colorfully titled chapters. The cover art is by the highly competent Kingsbury / London illustrator Henry Fox.

Darker Grows the Street was later reprinted in 1964 via Digit Books in a mass market paperback edition.

Darker Grows the Street by Bevis Winter (August 1955)

The novel opens with another investigator (Milt Druse) contracting Steve Craig to handle some independent leg-work. Druse can’t be in two places at the same time. He’s busy handling a possible insurance-fraud case. Craig is standing outside in the dark, watching one Mr. Lentzyl. Druse has confirmed that this man has been in contact with a woman he’s watching. Said woman is the girlfriend of a cheap hoodlum, months ago arrested for robbery. His name isn’t important. He’s spending years in the pen, caught after foolishly pawning nearly all of the cheaper jewelry. The broker phoned the police. He was captured…

…but the emerald necklace, purchased and specially constructed at the request of Mr. Edgebrook for his wife, is still missing. It cost a cool hundred grand. Cost and value are two different things. It’s insured for some tens of thousands less, but the insurance firm isn’t cool with paying Edgebrook’s ex-wife for a bauble that might not be missing.

Thus enters Milt Druse, investigating the case on behalf the Vidor insurance company. He’s been tailing the convict’s girlfriend, one Alice Carpenter. And Steve Craig finds himself watching Lentzyl. And that individual is upstairs, on the fifth floor, in apartment 5c. The name on the tab says “G. Linton.” Steve’s already got a good view of her and she’s too hot a gem herself to be mixed up with the aged and nondescript Lentzyl. And he doesn’t have the moola to permit himself to paw her, despite working at Cyrene’s, a jeweler. The coincidence of his employment and the missing emerald necklace is too much to dismiss. How does he figure into the affair? And who is this Linton figure?

Digit Books, 1964

Who cares! Lentzyl is on the move. Steve hops into his Ford and tails Lentzyl’s Chevrolet onto the freeway near Los Feliz, in California. He’s tailing the man at the stereotypical “safe distance” when a dark limousine overtakes him, rolls down a window, and molests the Chevrolet with bullets, raking it with murderous abandon. The car looses control and comes to an abrupt deadly halt against the freeway wall; the limousine never slowed down, continuing on into the enveloping night.

Steve stops, inspects the scene. Lentzyl is a bloody mess. Driving onward, he stops at a callbox, phones in the wreck, and hangs up without giving his identity. Then goes home and phones in his report to Druse. That latter is gobsmacked. The killers riddled Lentzyl with either a Tommy gun or something equally devastating. And the limo’s plates were from Nevada. The driver’s and killer’s identities are unknown. Too dark to see them.

Steve could certainly use his muscular partner on this case, but they have a newly-contracted “paying” client, so Steve assigns Patrick Mulligan to sign the contract and stick with that assignment. While talking, Patrick remarks he can’t figure why Kitty Callaway works as a low-grade, barely payable secretary for them, when it was discovered she’s the daughter to a rich banker. We never are told (at least, not in this novel). Essentially, Patrick plays only a background figure in this novel, as we scarcely hear from him again.

Druse is flustered to discover Nevada is now in the mix. And Steve wants to know everything. Druse has been holding out. We know a convict robbed the Edgebrook estate, stealing jewelry from a safe, a safe that was apparently accidentally left open. This occurred likely during an argument between the still married couple, and they departed, distracted, leaving an open safe. Easy access. It’s believed the con secreted the necklace and that his girlfriend knows the location. How does Lentzyl figure in?

He didn’t, only recently he appeared at Alice Carpenter’s pad. Druse wasn’t sure how he figured in, and that’s how Steve became involved. Druse needed him watched. Only he doesn’t need watching. He’s a sieve.

Next day, Steve sends Kitty to visit Sylvia, daughter to the slain Lentzyl. She’s eighteen, works at a beauty parlor, and is cut skillfully in all the right places. Kitty goes to the parlor and while there getting her looks in order, the pair talk. Sylvia is shaken, and willing to talk to a friendly female. Kitty realizes there’s more to the case and gets Sylvia to agree to meet with her private detective boss. She does. She speaks with Steve, unsure how her father could possibly be involved. She didn’t cough up any useful information to the police. Fact is, her father’s been acting peculiar. And she discovered unaccounted sums of cash in the home. In a cash ledger, she found the sums recorded, along with the name “Alice Carpenter.” Recorded entries summed up to hundreds of dollars, into the low thousands. Where was all this money coming from? Or was the money actually going to Alice Carpenter? Sylvia couldn’t be certain. Then one day, daddy Lentzyl mentioned that maybe they ought to move to Bermuda or Jamaica. This shook her greatly. They didn’t have money to move, let alone live that sort of lifestyle. Then one night, Lentzyl received a phone call and an argument ensued. She learned enough to investigate, discovering an address he was to go to. This would be the Linton pad, where he would eventually depart and later die…

Sylvia didn’t like it, and went to investigate this Linton woman herself. Only, when the door opened, the woman inside was a woman she knew under another name: Gina Edgebrook. She freaked out and ran from the scene before Gina could get a good look at her. Gina is the ex-wife, the one who legally owned the emerald necklace, and collected $80k on the claim.

All this mysterious excitement in two chapters? Oh yeah. Bevis has a wonderful way of telling a story and a sure-fire thriller when it comes to web-work techniques. To speed the narrative along, Sylvia is nearly murdered, hospitalized after a speedboat ran her over in a rowboat. She’s in critical condition. Will she survive?

Steve and Kitty were along with Sylvia, accepting an invitation. While out at the rich and fancy retreat, Kitty noticed they were being tailed. Steve pulls over, walks across the highway and pulls some fist work and fast-tongue actioned wit upon the pair inside the dark limousine. He doesn’t like the coincidence, and when one pulls a pocket-gat, he knows he’s likely found Lentzyl’s killers. They take off, but Steve has these morons photographically memorized. They turn out to be hoods working for a Las Vegas gambling syndicate.

We learn Gina Edgebrook was having an affair with a Las Vegas mobster, name of McAvery. But when she ran up tens of thousands in gambling debts, and her sugar-daddy husband cut off her allowance, she finds that her love affair isn’t worth a dime. The man informs her she’s crossed the wrong type of people, and suggests the “loses” the emerald necklace. Now we know how she figures into the affair. The convict was chosen by the mob, only, that fool had plans of his own. He wasn’t supposed to “think.” But he decided to sell the cheaper goods and hide the real gem. You know the rest… So the mob is watching Alice Carpenter (whose real name is Arlene French) and they’d had their eyes glued to Lentzyl. Suspicious of his involvement, they rubbed him out. This would isolate Alice Carpenter and put the scare into her. It worked. She vanished.

Only problem is, so did Steve’s contact, Milt Druse. Following a lead, Steve investigates a pad and discovers the corpse of Milt, shot once, in the back. Clearly he never knew it was coming. He leaves the body as discovered, making sure the scene remains relatively untouched. He doesn’t watch Alice to know anyone is aware of the murder, certain she might be involved.

Steve puts the scare into Gina Edgebrook, and she flees her pad. Watching from a distance, Steve tails her until she hooks up with one of the pair from the limousine. Spotting that she is about to hand over a small packet to the hood, he moves in, snatches the package and gets into a fight with the hood in broad daylight. Escaping, he opens the parcel to discover the emerald necklace inside. Patting his back over the clever discovery, he shows it to his secretary. She’s not impressed and remarks it’s a fake. Taking out a “glass,” they inspect it. She’s right. Not only that, but they spot dirt and grit in evidence. I won’t explain the relevance of that, lest I reveal too much of the plot, but it’s important.

Did Gina know the necklace she was handing to the mob was a fake? If yes, then her life wouldn’t be worth much. If she claimed to not know it was legit, then who made the fake? And how did it come into her possession, after being stolen? Clearly, she had to have obtained it from wherever the convict hid it, given the grit.

Steve has it figured. When McAvery suggested she lose the bauble and claim the insurance to pay off the gambling debts, Gina wasn’t willing to surrender the emerald necklace. So she approached Lentzyl about possibly making a duplicate. Having grown up dirt poor and discovered for her beauty by her ex-husband, she wasn’t aware that rich debs often made duplicates of their jewelry. Lentzyl knew “somebody” and had the goods duplicated. With the fake in hand, she planted it in the safe. The convict made off with the cheaper bunch of real jewels and the fake emerald necklace. The real one had never left her possession. The insurance company legally was forced to pay up. She paid off the mob and kept the profits. Only one problem. Lentzyl read of the robbery and got wise, began to blackmail her. Only, when he discovered the mob was involved, he wanted out, became scared. Hence why he suggested to his daughter Sylvia that they relocate. Only, he waited too long. They rubbed him out, then attempted to remove Sylvia, too. And Steve didn’t take kindly to this attempted murder. Steve enters Gina’s pad with one of the hoods present and slaps him down then browbeats a confession from Gina, going so far as to note that the necklace given to that very hood had been a fake. Realizing she’s a two-timing dame, the hood wants to murder her, but Steve tosses him into another room. Returning, he discovers Gina has fled the scene.

It’s not long before he receives a call from Gina, and with Kitty in on another phone line, the pair listen to her spiel. She’s fleeing the country with the real goods and what cash remains. While crying over the phone, she laments her foolish greed and faux love affair. It’s ruined her, and led to various deaths, etc. She panics over the phone when she hears someone enter, and then all is silence. Steve and Kitty rapidly drive across town and leaving her in the car, he goes up and discovers Gina Edgebrook bent backwards into an illogical position, strangled to death. Kitty followed Steve in, unwilling to remain in the car during the dead still of the scary night, alone. She spots the tongue-protruding corpse and nearly faints.

The pair are surprised to discover another car has arrived. Turning off the light, they wait in darkness while the figure enters and with a flashlight, makes for the safe. Flipping on the light they find Arlene French, aka Alice Carpenter. Steve confronts her and she plays innocent, claiming to be there to see Gina about private business. Informing Alice that Gina is upstairs in the bedroom, he sends her up all alone. She sees the corpse and alarmed, accuses Steve and Kitty of murder! She has them figured all wrong, suspecting they are tied up with the Las Vegas mob! Clarifying their positions, and confirming that she murdered Milt Druse (she had entered her pad, found him, and thought he was also a mobster) she is shaken by all her mistakes.

The plot takes another turn when they begin to hear “thuds” on the upper landings in the house. Someone else is present, and whoever it is, that person isn’t aware that Steve, Kitty, and Alice are present. They are most likely the murderer of Gina, and doubly-likely, upstairs searching the entire house for the missing emerald necklace. Making his way up to confront the intruder, Steve comes face to face with gambler/lover McAvery. The pair duke it out. Steve is losing badly, and McAvery makes to depart…only, he finds himself now confronted with two women: Alice and behind her, Kitty. Drawing his gun, he plugs Alice in the arm, but that’s his last gasp. In her coat pocket is a small caliber gun, and she pulls the trigger six times. Five bullets roost in McAvery, and click six fires nothing. That empty chamber? That one is in the back of Milt Druse.

But, where is the infernal emerald necklace? McAvery had slain Gina, tossed her and her bedroom possessions, and moved thoroughly throughout the house, clearly on a search-and-obtain mission from the mob. He didn’t find the goods. Steve, after making a literary reference to Edgar Allan Poe’s The Purloined Letter, shows the two girls what McAvery had overlooked…and what I am not going to reveal to you!

Book Wants: N. Welsey Firth and assorted aliases

I am actively searching for vintage books authored by Norman Firth written under a myriad of aliases. Many are noted below. This list is not complete, as there are publications I am not aware of. He appeared in obscure digest-sized magazines and digest-sized comic books, too. Please feel free to quote anything by this author. No hardcovers needed.

Please contact me: morganwallace@gmail.com and send photos of the items you have to offer.

as by N. Wesley Firth
Desire at Midnight (Clifford Lewis; two editions exist)
Frightened Virgin (Grant Hughes)
Lady in Leicester Square (Brown Watson)
Night Secrets (not seen)
Open Holsters (Hamilton & Co) – western
Soho Girl (Grant Hughes)
Stallion City (Scion) – western
The Strip Tease Murders (Utopian)
This is Murder, Lady (Mitre Press)
The Woman of Danger (Modern Fiction)

as by Earl Ellison
Angels are So Few (John Spencer)
Bullets for Miss Barret (John Spencer)
Guns and Saddles (Grant Hughes) – western
Love Wore a Fez (Grant Hughes)
Miss Gloria Gets Wise (John Spencer)

as by Joel Johnson
Riders of Ghost Valley (Grant Hughes) – western
The Masked Killer (Scion) – western
Hell’s Outlaws (Scion) – western

as by Gaston Lamond
Marked Woman (Clifford Lewis) – Crime and Passion Series

as by Andre Lamour
Flaming Passions (Clifford Lewis) – Crime and Passion Series

in magazines
Rip Roaring Western (Bear Hudson)
Intimate Love Stories
Thrilling Crime Stories
Four in One Gang and Thrill Shorts (Gerald G Swan)
Crime Confessions
Stag: Man’s Own Magazine
Stag: The Popular Male Miscellany

PHANTOM [Vol. 1 No. 1, 1957] a weird stories magazine

The cover proclaims Phantom magazine to feature “true ghost stories” but does it? The editorial inside suggests that some of the stories claim to be true and some are fiction, but the editor decided not to clarify which was which, leaving that up to the reader to decide. This debut edition features no date, but inside an advert stating that the next issue would be out next month. That second issue sports a date of May 1957. That’s no guarantee that No. 1 appeared in April. It may have come out a month or two earlier. Undoubtedly UK fanzines discussed its appearance on the stands and I’d love to read their thoughts.

Phantom had a confusing publishing history. The first two issues state they were published by Vernon Publications and to send correspondence or manuscripts to Dalrow Publishing Company. By the third issue, both were dropped and Dalrow Publications was installed. The final four issues appeared via Pennine Publications.

Phantom was priced at 2/- and was digest-sized, measuring 5.5 x 8.5 inches. The cover features a spooky building with wispy strands of fog across a cemetery and the cliche barren-of-leaves tree with a full moon in the distance. The artwork is signed R.W.S., short for Ronald W. Smethurst, and he was their only cover artist for the entire 16-issue run. No editor is listed, but we can probably assume it was Leslie Syddall, previously discussed while blogging Combat # 2 (December 1956).

Having read and indexed the other two Dalrow magazines (Combat and Creasey Mystery Magazine) I am fairly confident that the majority of the fiction in Phantom are reprints, the overwhelming majority of which have yet to be traced.

The Thing That Bites by Bernard L. Calmus introduces readers to Jerry Carder, a ghost investigator and paranormal specialist. Carder visits a remote haunted village with the intention of proving the paranormal events are fake but finds himself very much involved in a life-or-death struggle against a spiritual female vampire. Carder faces his fear of her and nails the lid shut on the case when he discovers the Countess and the vampire assaulting the young men in the village are the same. Our author’s full name is Bernard Leon Calmus. Following the second world war he edited Lifestream magazine and their series of “controversy” pamphlets. The British Library has some of his books, booklets, and plays. However, Bernard Leon Calmus was not his real name. In 1947 he renounced his birth name of Barnett Laab Kalmus. I found the above story to be a simple, easy read, and enjoyable, even if lacking in detective work. Did the story originate within issues of Lifestream, or some other unindexed publication?

In The Permanent Tenant, Primrose Townson presents readers with a “possession” or “soul transference” tale. Couple of guys room at a remote location in Yorkshire. They discover a recluse also rooming. They are given to understand he is a professor or some-such nonsense, but they are convinced he’s an escaped convict. Much time passes when one day they hear a person in pain. They discover the recluse on the ground, having likely slipped and bonked his noggin. One of the guys claims to have expertise in the occult and wishes to see if he can transfer his soul or essence into the unconscious man. Moments later, the recluse comes running into the room screaming for his friend’s help! It’s clear the man is speaking via his friend. He falls down and seems to die. Mortified, he runs into the room and finds his own friend dead. A verdict is returned of heart failure. And the “dead” recluse? Alive and doing well. A rather weak tale. No explanation is given as to how the man transfers his soul or mental being into the mind of the recluse. Primrose Townson was created by the editors of Phantom to hide the fact that they had actually nabbed six stories by one authoress: Mrs. J. O. Arnold. This tale, like all six of hers present in this magazine, come from the same source. The Permanent Tenant was published in the Derbyshire Advertiser and Journal (21 February 1930) as part of their Estrange Experiences series. I don’t know if this was a syndicated feature or if the Derbyshire Advertiser and Journal were the first to print the tales.

Mrs. J. O. Arnold was an author during the early 20th century, with novels such as Fire I’ the Flint (London: Alston Rivers, 1911) and Megan of the Dark Isle (London: Alston Rivers, 1914). Her real name is Adelaide Victoria Arnold (née England) and the alias stems from her husband’s name, John Oliver Arnold, whom she married in 1883. Adelaide was born in the 3rd Quarter of 1860 and died during the 2nd Quarter of 1933. She wrote about a dozen novels spanning the 1910s-1920s. Online source state that many of her later works had a supernatural slant to them. This excites me as some of her short stories have been traced to pulps and other popular publications.

George Burnside’s The Ginger Kitten is a bit more difficult for me to explain. Horror aficionados will have to correct me here, but the tale involves an older wealthy woman and maid/servant. The woman hates cats, among other things. A ginger kitten with green eyes shows up one day, uninvited. Much as they try, the kitten keeps coming back. The maid apparently likes the cat and suggests they keep it to kill the mice. The woman relents, but soon, strange happenings occur. Worse, the maid eventually states that there is too much to do and must leave unless they obtain additional help. Soon a ginger-haired woman with green eyes answers the call and performs her duties. But, she seems contrary to the woman at times. Not directly, at first. Then the cats begin to appear. A steady stream then a torrent overtake the home. Plus, milk and food disappear. The woman stays up one night and listens for noises. She eventually hears noises and goes down to investigate. She hears snarling / growling noises and stumbles across the second maid. She runs for her life and later confronts her concerning the stolen food. She denies the charges yet there is milk smeared on her, etc. She is fired and the cats all vanish from the premises. Was the ginger kitten her familiar? She clearly became cat-like at night and hostile. George Burnside is yet another posthumous alias for Mrs. J. O. Arnold. The Ginger Kitten was published in the Derbyshire Advertiser and Journal (7 March 1930) as part of their Estrange Experiences series.

Another Man’s Fear by Gavin Williams had me at first thinking I was about to read an Edgar Allan Poe pastiche to The Tell-Tale Heart, but I was wrong. A very old lady in an apartment nightly plays loud music on her record player, ancient music. She continually has health issues, and her younger neighbor takes it upon himself to assist in scheduling her doctor appointments. Then one day, she is gone, and a new tenant has moved in. The fellow is trying to move the massive wood-framed bed across the room because he hears an obnoxious noise, a dripping sound. Our fellow doesn’t hear a thing. Every Thursday the new fellow hears the dripping, and it slowly drives him insane. Even moving out and with a friend, he is powerless to resist the call and returns to the bedroom, the drip. He eventually rams a pair of steel scissors into his breast and kills himself. To his horror, the neighbor now hears the drip, but claims it is only the dead man’s blood dripping through the mattress to the floorboards. And suddenly, he realizes the room indeed has some form of evil residing. An unusual horror story with no real ending. Was the man “mad”? Or could he really hear the dripping? Did the old lady, the prior occupant, also hear the drip, and is that why she played her ancient records loudly? This sort of horror story makes for good night-time reading or a camp-fire tale. I’ve no clue who Gavin Williams was; he is not the very same named person that contributed horror fiction and articles during the 1990s and to the film industry. But could they be related? FictionMags shows that our Gavin Williams had one further story in the 12th issue of Phantom. I’ll look forward to reading it.

The Best Bedroom opens with the narrator (or author) stating: “this is not a ghost story, rather a strange psychic experience.” Thank you for the clarification, Mrs. Arnold. And she didn’t lie. A wealthy woman and her chauffeur stop at a countryside inn after her car suffers mechanical problems. Refusing a room with a leaky roof, she’s given the family’s ancient “best bedroom.” Unfortunately, it has a history of scaring all residents. She immediately feels a psychic energy present but is confident that she can conquer it. Falling asleep in the massive bed, she awakens to the horror of being in suspended animation, reliving the horrors of a woman who died after being removed from the room and entombed alive in a coffin. She finally breaks free and faints. Ordering the matron to relay to her the females who died in the room, she finally lands upon the one who’s terror she suffered through. A pleasingly gothic / psychic horror story. The Best Bedroom appears in the Derbyshire Advertiser and Journal (31 January 1930) as part of their Estrange Experiences series.

In Terence Kitchen’s The Tenth Notch, a young man is invited to stay with Major Randall and his Afridis servant. Moving into a newly acquired Hawthorn Cottage in Sussex Downs, the major has his servant unpacking weapons from his war campaigns when a kukri slips free of its sheath. The major relates that it belonged his faithful Gurkha soldier who died in combat, while discussing the Tirah campaign of 1897. Sadly, the man never had the opportunity to slip his kukri free before dying. The visitor notes it has nine notches. Later that night, while the major is asleep, he walks into the leisure room to find the servant still unpacking and polishing the weapons. In the mirror over the fireplace, our young man is mortified to see a dark-skinned man reaching across the servant. Spinning about, he sees nothing. His imagination? Going to sleep, he rises the next day, walks in the room, and finds the man cleanly decapitated, the kukri bathed in blood, and sporting a tenth notch. The entire story is related to the reader from the man’s own notes of the case, which he did not related to the police for fear they would lock him away. He realizes the ghost of the Gurkha had returned to slay his enemy, for as the major had related, once their kukri was unsheathed, they must kill their opponent. Terence Kitchen is yet another alias for Mrs. J. O. Arnold. The Tenth Notch was published in the Derbyshire Advertiser and Journal (7 February 1930) as part of their Estrange Experiences series.

Perhaps one of the better constructed tales yet, Barney Gunn’s The Hungarian Wine Bottle takes place in 1930s Hungary, after Hitler has come to power. A newshound decides not to return without a different sort of story for his paper. After the author relates to us a lot of ancient war history, including a new explanation for why the cross on the crown is crooked, the newshound decides to investigate a tunnel that leads from a castle and under the river that saved the locals from the Turk invasion. The locals refuse to discuss the tunnel, fear etched on their faces. Sneaking in and down the steps to the cellar floor 30 feet below, he comes to an old wood door with rusty hinges and an ancient, oxidized padlock. He can’t break through the door nor break the lock after repeated attempts. Giving up, he’s greeted with an unusual sound. The door falls off the hinges towards him as he backs to the stairs. His candle is blown out. Striking a match, he enters the damp tunnel and discovers an old wood wine bottle, corked. Popping the cork free, for their is liquid inside, he goes to sniff it when a hand falls upon his shoulder. Turning, he beholds a young lovely lady in old clothes. She doesn’t speak a lick of English, but follows when she leads on with her lamp, which he thinks unusual that only his own tiny candle gives off any light. They come upon a wounded soldier. Taking the wine bottle from him, she pours liquid into the man, but he does not revive. Distraught, she hands the bottle back to the newshound and he realizes the candlelight is pouring right through her body! She blows out the candle and he feels as though someone has bonked him on the head. Awaking, he finds himself outside the tunnel, the door still perfectly sealed, himself at the foot of the steps. Did he imagine all of it, accidentally slip on the steps, and concuss himself? Escaping the castle, he retreats into town and runs into the other news sharks, who want to know where he’s been and who was the girl. Say what? He discerns he’s actually been missing for a whole day, and a small replica of the wine bottle is in his possession! Ever since that moment, he is with the replica and no harm befalls him. Entering WW2, he is gravely wounded and slated to die. His wife brings him the trinket and he has a full recovery! Re-entering the war, with the trinket undoubtedly bestowed upon him by the ghostly girl as a good luck charm, he finds that bullets and bombs do him no harm but everyone to the left and right of him are slain. So, what precisely is protecting him? The trinket? The soul of the girl?

I have to confess, when our narrator pulls the cork, I was expecting a djinn, not a ghost. What precisely the wine bottle has to do with the entire episode is unclear, save as a prop for the rest of the story. Frustratingly, I could not locate anyone by the name of Barney Gunn alive in England.

The Cupboard is by Cecilia Bartram and there appears to have been two ladies by this name alive in England. The first was born in 1896 and died 1967 in Yorkshire. The second was born in 1921 in Yorkshire, married Frank Tingle in 1942, and death date is unknown. It is quite feasible that the second lady was the daughter of the first. The fact that they were both born in Yorkshire is important given the story takes place in Yorkshire! All for naught, our author is neither lass. It’s once more Mrs. J. O. Arnold! The Cupboard was published in the Derbyshire Advertiser and Journal (28 February 1930) as part of their Estrange Experiences series.

The story opens with the authoress as “Mrs. Bartram” meeting with fellow wealthy elitists. She has a habit of entering all manner of contests and notes that the current entry is for an “unusual experience.” None of those present offer a genuine bit save for one chap who claims to have psychic abilities but avoids the occult. He relates an old incident in which he was bicycling in the Yorkshire moors when a nasty winter storm descends and the snow and chill is too much. He seeks shelter at a cottage, knocking repeatedly. A potato farmer lets him in. Coming to terms over bread, cheese, and an old bed in the attic for the night, our psychic turns in for bed but spots a tall, padlocked cupboard in the room. Later, he discovers a key, and an irresistible “pull” to open the cupboard. He does and finds himself beholding a redhaired man hanging inside suspended from a hook. Mortified, he locks the cupboard, runs downstairs that next morning, jumps on his cycle and pedals on his way. On the way into town, he runs into the potato farmer and another man returning at a fast pace. Inquiring if he found a lost key in the attic, he acknowledges indeed he did. The farmer then accuses him of stealing his cash in the cupboard, but the psychic remarks upon the dead man instead. Both farmers are surprised, and the pair return to the cottage, open the cupboard, and…no dead body. The hook is present. And so is a small box with the farmer’s cash all inside. The pair inform the psychic that where he stayed is known as Hanged Man’s Cot, as a man did just that 50 years earlier and the psychic isn’t the first to have seen him!

Next up is a second story by Bernard L. Calmus, being The Howl of the Werewolf. The setting is the tiny village of Tille, France. A terrified young lady is running for her life and Inspector Lineau spots her in the woods. Grabbing her arm, he secures her and forces an explanation. She relates that while walking in the woods she saw a shadowy figure that appeared to be in pain. She then witnessed it turn from a man to a wolf. Lineau spots the sinister form but can hardly credit his eyes. A wolf, here? Certain they’d all been eradicated hundreds of years ago, he’s nonplussed. But when they hear screams, the pair find another person ripped to shreds, the local “poacher”, and his stolen rabbit on the ground untouched by the wolf. Escorting the Ms. Grande to her father, an occultist, they find another person already at the doorstep, knocking. Her father opens the door to admit Gerard Kerch (whose name reminds me of author Gerald Kersh; coincidence?) and then in walks Inspector Lineau with the girl. They relate the facts as they know them and her father suggests it was a werewolf. More deaths occur in typical sensational style. The story concludes with Kerch shaken when his betrothed is brought in on a stretcher, bloodied and very dead. He’s certain the girl’s father is the werewolf, after all, he is always pale and weak and then seems alive and vibrant after each death. Calling to the townspeople and conveying his feelings, they grab weapons and storm Grande’s cottage, dragging the man out to be hung. Grande claims to know some secret incantation to reveal the werewolf’s true identity, forcing it to transform. Kerch remarks this is idiotic and yet, Grande utters the words (whatever they are, the author doesn’t reveal) and suddenly, to no reader’s surprise, it is Kerch who transforms. The village people, already incensed, go insane and batter the werewolf. The girl begs Lineau to use his service revolver to put Kerch out of his misery just as a fireplace poker bangs down upon Kerch’s skull. Lineau inserts himself and kills Kerch.

Thomas Narsen is our final guise for Mrs. J. O. Arnold. The Tank was published in the Derbyshire Advertiser and Journal (14 February 1930) as part of their Estrange Experiences series. I’m beginning to think I ought to locate some cheap copies of her assorted supernatural novels. Has anyone ever read her books? I’d love to hear your thoughts about her stories. A ruined relic of the War (aka: The Great War, aka, WW1) is given to a seaport town but they don’t want it. “It” is a demolished wreck of an English tank. Relocated inland to an isolated town, the war survivors find it interesting. None of them served in the tank corps but have stories surrounding them. Then, one night, at the local pub, one tells tales of an eerie blue light emanating from the tank on the hill. Doubters call him drunk or fun him, but when a “tramp” steps forward and informs one and all dead-sober he’s not only seen the light but heard voices singing their old war hero tunes, the laughter dies away. The town distrusts tramps (foreigners) and the narrator interrogates the man. To him, he finds the man indeed did serve in the War. Time passes and the tales grow worse and more and more see the blue light and hear the singing. They are fearful of the tank. The narrator decides to investigate at night with his lantern when the “tramp” runs up to him, begging him not to go. He confesses that he created the light and singing. Why? Well, tramping along, penniless and homeless, he was surprised to see the tank. Recognizing the tank’s number as one intimately, he relates that everyone inside died during the War. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he set inside as his temporary home and haunted it to keep snoops away. Only one problem. The tank’s dead took on a life of their own. Terrified, he runs away in fear and the narrator continues up the hill. His lantern’s light goes out (claims it ran out of fuel) and the blue light flames up and the singing commences. Nothing inside this time is causing the occurrence.

Her Eye on the Shadows is a two-page tale by married couple Patricia (Pat) & Peter Craig-Raymond. The protagonist is Angela Laine, and the story takes place in 1956. For the past year she has painted and rapidly sold a dozen identical “dark” paintings. They aren’t her style. Something or someone else has been possessing her hand, paint, brush, canvas, but signing her name to the works. She knows she has just finished the last work and is forced to pick up a thin blade and thrust it deep into her breast. That the tale takes place in 1956 is important as it firmly dates when the story was likely originally published, but the source is currently unknown (by me). Peter Craig Raymond (no hyphen?) was born 12 December 1931 and married Patricia (Pat) Lutley-Sandy in 1952. Peter wrote articles, was a magazine editor, wrote books, was a television host, a land investor, involved in football, and was as of the early 2000s, still alive. After which, I lose his trail. He’s credited with editing Beautiful Britons, a gentleman’s magazine published by Town & Country during the 1950s with photos of girls. There are also four books to his credit: one on English dancer Roland Petit (Losely Hurst Publishing, 1953) and a book on an English dancer, Victor Silvester’s Album (Centaur Press, 1955), and two further concerning dancing, being Your Child in Ballet (Ballet Publications, 1954) and So You Want to Be a Ballerina (Colin Venton, 1956). All of which leaves me bewildered that I can’t solidly place my finger on the author’s identity. So, four books on dancing, and editor of a gentleman’s magazine of English lovelies? He also contributed articles to Ballet Today. 1960 he is listed as managing director of Triumph Foundations. A 1961 article notes he just returned from New York City with his “actress wife” Pat. Then in 1962 he seems to have formed the Sumnorth Property Company which suggests PCR was trying to sell land or investment opportunities in Brazil! Another article in conjunction with the Brazil land-offer suggests he is a wealthy football (soccer) fan and was a team manager. He turns up on the British Film Institute site as a presenter to the television series Stars in the West for 1961-1962. The married couple had 3 children: Lee Craig-Raymond (1952), Vaune Craig-Raymond (1956), and Tay Orr P. Craig-Raymond (13 May 1968, dead 1979). Vaune married Barry Hodgetts in 1981 and Lee married Alan Lewis in 1987.

Alan Crooper supplies I Wore a Black Ring! and the tale initially takes place during WWII. The unnamed narrator is a radar officer in the R.A.F. and stationed on Akyab island, which is near Burma. He’s assigned to maintain cleanliness and tries to assign the duties to various Indians with little luck. Nabbing a Mahratti, he orders him to clean the latrines. Days later, he learns the man hasn’t done the job at all. Days later, our narrator is posted to Ceylon and discovers the same Mahratti present, trailing him about. Eventually the pair come together, and the Mahratti presents him with a black elephant hair ring, stating it will give the wearer good luck once, and then it will be returned to the Mahratti. Say what? “It” will return to the original owner? The man doesn’t want it, but refusal would be an insult. He slips it on and discovers that he can’t take it off, no matter what lubricant he tries. Time passes, the war ends, and he hooks up with some old mates and they decide to go rock climbing. Obtaining their gear and wheels, they begin their adventure. Only, the car continuously finds all manner of ways to not cooperate. Tire problems, engine problems, steering column woes, etc. It’s an absurdity of calamities which begin to wear on the reader (myself) as the story progresses from the Weird to the Comedic. I don’t fancy the two together, unless it’s entirely clear the story is meant to be a comedy. They eventually come across a car looking for a tow; they tie their climbing rope to the car and tug it along. Only, the rope splits! They discover the rope was damaged and had they used the rope to climb, as intended, they’d either come to harm or likely death! Returning home, the narrator’s wife asks what became of his black ring. He’s stymied. When did he lose it on the journey? Matters come to a head when he receives a redirected letter, sent to him from the Mahratti explaining he’s happy to have his ring back and that he’s glad that it performed its function pleasantly for the narrator, who now realizes the black ring saved his life. Now, there does not appear to ever have been anyone by the name of Alan Crooper in existence. I suspect this story was originally published in Singapore, Burma, or somewhere else in that region of the world, but who knows?

F. J. Taylor’s The Empty Platform is a two-page vignette; the narrator discovers he likely was arguing with a ghost as to what time a train would arrive. He learns from the ticket collector the time in which the ghost requested hasn’t arrived in years since a train accident. He recalls the incident well for a man was waiting on the train platform for his love to arrive. When she died in the smash-up, he committed suicide. The story was reprinted in the 7 February 1959 edition of the South Yorkshire Times and Mexborough & Swinton Times.

River Mist by K. S. Choong debuted in the Sunday Standard (Singapore) 15 January 1956, originally as The Monster of the Highlands by Michael Choong. The tale opens with Abdul explaining events leading up to the deaths of three Europeans to police investigator Corporal Ramir. One female and two men are dead. Abdul relates that he overheard their entire conversation the prior day. The woman had claimed to have heard voices commanding her to leap through the mist into the river below. This would be certain death. Local lore suggests a serpent or prehistoric being lives in those waters. The one man believes her story and wishes to investigate. She begs he doesn’t. The doctor suggests she hears nothing but her own desires. Abdul suggests that no mysterious being actually slew the trio. He thinks the older man slipped, fell, and died. The Corporal indeed notes he has a broken leg and could have died as suggested. Abdul then suspects the woman lost her mind, picked up a large rock and clubbed the other over the head. Then she killed herself. Corporal Ramir suspects otherwise and states Abdul is a liar and a thief, that he snuck up and killed all of them for their money, as he has a history of being a noted liar. Abdul panics, steps back away from the Ramir, and falls through the mist to his death into the river. Mingled with his dwindling screams, Ramir is certain he hears another noise. His imagination, or, is there really a supernatural presence?

K. S. Choong and Michael Choong are both aliases for Choong Kok Swee and he was born 9 September 1920 in Penang, Malaysia and died in 1987. He was married to Barbara Joo Keong. He received his education at St. Xavier’s Institution. Monsoon Magazine editor and publisher in 1945. During the 1950s he was editor of the Pinang Gazette and the Pinang Sunday Gazette. His wife in 1955 won the $2,500 prize contest for solving a puzzle in The Straits Times. In 1971 he was the first editor-in-chief of Malaysia’s The Star newspaper which was modeled on UK’s tabloid The Sun. The oldest fiction story I’ve traced by Choong appears in Singapore’s Sunday Tribune (18 May 1941) titled The Dead Cert.

The rear cover features the poem “Witches Song” by Tiberius. Its earliest known publication was the British magazine Weird World No. 2, 1956. However, while both editions feature the same text, confusion arises when I discovered that a later edition surfaces with twice as much text! The later publication appears on Page 18 in Essayan (Summer 1962), a magazine for Eccles Grammar School. The poem is titled Witches’ Song but it is not credited to Tiberius; it credited to student “D. Brown”. I’d love to track down the student and ask them where precisely they located this longer version. Eccles Grammar School no longer exists; it was merged into another school. I wrote them but [sadly] never received a reply.

Now, a “Tiberius” did turn up in the American literary magazine called Driftwind, which is notable for having published poetry by H. P. Lovecraft. Most of those issues have never been indexed. Could our Tiberius be from this publication?

YARD LENGTHS: 5 Detective Stories by Donald Shoubridge

In 1946, Pendulum Publications released Yard Lengths, a collection of five detective stories by Donald Shoubridge, the first issue in their short-lived Pendulum Popular Detective Series. The approximate paperback dimensions are 4.75 x 5.75 inches, and contains 120 pages. The cover art is not signed, but features a silhouetted man smoking a cigarette with a drawn gun in one hand. The title refers to Scotland Yard, naturally.

The contents below include the pages each story spans. I was not able to trace each story’s original source of publication.

• (3-25) Murder of the Month
• (25-53) The Case of the Municipal Poet
• (54-61) Hot Water
• (62-86) The Man Who Died Too Easily
• (86-118) The Case of the Property Gun

In Murder of the Month, sales of the Comet are down, and no crime has been reported. The owner calls Comet editor Lloyd Davies in his office and demands answers. Turns out the newspaper has not featured a nice juicy crime or murder in q long while. Readers love crime. Yates Morgan is in charge of the crime column on the Comet newspaper, and his career is to come to an abrupt end should no decent crime headline the Comet. While tossing darts, he smartly offers to kill the Comet’s owner. The month is coming to a close, when Yates has another person phone in a message that he is hot on a crime and will report back in later. Then, mysteriously, the owner is found dead in his office, with a dart lodged against his skull. Scotland Yard’s Chief-Inspector Standiford enters the bloody scene, performs an examination, calls in the coroner, etc., and interviews all relevant persons. Who saw the owner last? The editor. When was Yates last scene? Days ago, reportedly out on a case. The dart? Yates was a master dart tosser, and deadly accurate. A girl with romantic ties to Yates assures he is not capable of murder. Standiford can’t confirm that, but he is 100% certain Yates can’t have used a dart to murder the owner. In order to pull it off, he had to hurl it through the open office window with great force. True dart tossers due not forcefully hurl darts. In the end, Scotland Yard sets a trap that leads to the editor leading them to a derelict warehouse, where the drugged Yates is discovered, slated for death.

In The Case of the Municipal Poet Miss Adams visits Scotland Yard to look into, and overrule the verdict of the local police, coroner’s report, jury, hell, even a suicide note, etc., regarding the death of Leonard May. The Yard send out Detective-Inspector Henderson to satisfy Miss Adams, despite the fact they are assured that May indeed did commit suicide. The story eventually boils down to murder…of course. Seems a friend (Stevenson) was deeply in debt and contract May to write a novel, including a suicide scene, which the friend submitted as his own…and was accepted! Well, clearly May had to be removed from the financial equation. He climbed the wall, broken a chip from the bricked sill, and Henderson knew from that moment that someone had climbed in. The friend utilized the suicide scene but had May rewrite one on fresh paper, and kept it until it could be put to use. Stevenson is missing; turns out he fled to another city. He’s eventually tracked down and surrounded, but smugly boasts he can’t be tried for May’s murder since it was already settled as suicide. Henderson announces he has no intention of arresting him on the murder charge. Fraud will do…for the moment. Stevenson realizes the charge of fraud will be merely a preliminary to facing a murder rap, and a hanging.

Detective-Sergeant Mason isn’t satisfied with the accidental death of elderly Colonel Russell. Mason simply can’t wrap his mind around the old man going to take his regular bath, slip and bang his noodle on the “geyser” (faucet), and eventually drown while unconscious. Something doesn’t jive: the bath water is still quite warm. Certain the servant Collins was responsible, Mason utilizes Isaac Newton’s Law of Cooling, and discovers the bath water couldn’t possibly be as warm as it was hours later if Collins had drawn the bath when he did. Clearly, Collins bumped the old man off over the head, spread blood on the geyser, and turned on the water after Colonel Russell had already had his bath. Seems that Collins is the one in Hot Water….

Mr. Baxter is a man who hasn’t had a good night of sleep in a long time but has finally found it at the Spraypoint Private Hotel. Pleased to have sound sleep, he’s contracted to stay on in Room 9 for many more months. Proprietress Miss Ames is pleased. She hasn’t had steady income and for once, she has secured 11 winter residents. All debts paid! Then Room 9’s neighbor (Mrs. Belling) proclaims that Baxter has kept her up all night with his constant moving about. Ames is nonplussed. How can he keep her awake when Baxter just professed to a full night of sleep? Something smells wrong here, but Miss Ames aims to retain Mrs. Belling as an occupant. Miss Ames moves Mrs. Belling into Room 5. Remarkably, a traveling couple by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Wallace arrive and demand a room. The only room available is Mrs. Belling’s forfeited room, which isn’t readied yet. They don’t care. No rush. So Miss Ames readies the room and they move in. The next morning, the chambermaid discovers a very dead Mr. Baxter. She runs to Mrs. Ames, who worries about the negative publicity of a dead man. The local doctor suggests natural causes, death by heart attack. But Miss Ames, a former nurse, is not satisfied with The Man Who Died Too Easily. She has never seen a heart attack case in which the person did not disturb their sheets. In fact, Baxter looks calm, and the sheets are smooth. Eventually she convinces the doctor to bring in the police. The Wallaces refuse to remain in the hotel after hearing hotel gossip of Baxter’s death. She asks if they slept well, to which they say they did. Yet, both look like they hadn’t a night of sleep, haggard expressions on both. They pay and Miss Ames leaves them, feigning she needs to go make change. While gone, the Wallaces decide to depart rather than wait for their change. I won’t ruin a perfectly good plot with details, but it runs like a good Agatha Christie mystery, entwining various parties to secure Baxter’s death. The down-low is Baxter led a rather unscrupulous life as a young man, getting involved with wealthy women, securing their funds and vanishing. Well, the heirs of one elderly woman spent time locating Baxter, as the Will provided they would not get the estate until Baxter himself passed away. With one of the assassins being diabetic, they injected insulin into Baxter. The affects of an insulin overdose in a person with not enough sugar in their system is that they simply fade away and die…

The final case present in this collection is The Case of the Property Gun once more features Chief-Inspector Standiford. Invited by Major Kerring to attend a locally enacted crime-play with him, Kerring is embarrassed to watch a horrible presentation unfold before his eyes with Standiford as his guest, who has never attended a crime-play prior. The principal actor (Nigel Brook) continuously makes mistakes and finally at the close of the first part, the curtains close. It is announced that Brook took ill and was sent home. Rather than end the play, the producer, Robert Morgan, assumes Nigel Brook’s role, being fully versed in all the actor’s roles. In the ensuing love-triangle betrayal scene, the wronged husband walks in, and wielding a revolver, fires twice at point-blank range. Stunningly, the producer takes two very real bullets to his body, and dies immediately on the stage. Kerring and Standiford realize that the following scenes are not part of the play and leap into action. Thus ensues a wide variety of interviews and cross-examinations, including Standiford instructing all members of the cast to reenact their every date-stamped move during the course of the day, so that Standiford may discover who had the time to switch out the fakes for two live rounds. Our author Donald Shoubridge tries his best to misdirect the reader into agreeing with Standiford’s conclusions, but I had earlier on already suspected that the reportedly ill Nigel Brook played his best role: he faked his illness and swapped out the bullets himself, knowing full well that Robert Morgan would assume his role. He needed the man out of the way, because the romantic interest he played on stage was his real-life love interest. However, she wasn’t the least bit interested in he! She is in love with Robert Morgan. Standiford discovers his mistake once the love-triangle is revealed, and Nigel Brook escapes a right proper hanging by making a significant drop of his own, out a window to a very rapid deathly splat far below….

Honestly, I started out not enjoying the first story, but as I read each successive tale, I found myself immersed in Donald Shoubridge’s world, and thoroughly looking forward to tackling the next crime. Many writers back then wrote simple, straight-forward crimes with a simple honest conclusion. No twist. Shoubridge manages to eke out twists and turns whenever possible, enough to maintain my interest.

But first: who is Donald Shoubridge?
He doesn’t appear on the UK Birth-Marriage-Death Index site nor on Family Search, although there are plenty of persons bearing the surname. Shoubridge authored many stories from 1935 to 1940; did the author die in 1940, during World War Two? Hopefully a relation to the author may one day discover this blog and reveal more details. But, with 1940 as a starting point, I searched for any possible Shoubridge dying between 1940 and 1941.

Two possibles came back:

1. Charles Alfred Shoubridge (Jan 1858 – Dec 1940)
   Teddington, London Borough of Richmond upon Thames
2. Kenneth Ray Shoubridge (unknown – 28 April 1941)
   Torpoint, Cornwall Unitary Authority, Cornwall
   Sapper with the Royal Engineers

Neither grave record mentioned author, so I leave both men as thus.

Now, I was surprised to find Chief-Inspector Standiford making a second appearance. Was Standiford a recurring character in any other stories? When I decided to research Standiford, on a whim, color me surprised to discover less than a handful of persons by that name alive during the 1800s in England! The name seems honestly to have died out by 1870.

However, one Ray A. Standiford marriage shows up in 1945 to Dora Fisher. Where on earth did he come from? I couldn’t find a birth in the UK for him, so I turned to Dora. The FamilySearch site showed that she immigrated as a British citizen to America in 1951, with a 4-year old daughter, Linda, who herself had an American passport! Their destination was 3715 Huntington Avenue, Covington, Kentucky. Linda’s American passport opened new doors. Clearly Ray is an American citizen. So I switched to FindaGrave and found that Linda died in Riverside, California. Born in 1922, she died 2012, and is linked to Ray Alexander Standiford. He was born 23 July 1923 in Kentucky and died 12 November 1992 in Riverside, California. He likely enlisted or was drafted for WW2 and met Dora was in England. Clearly, this Standiford could NOT be Donald Shoubridge, whose earliest known works appear in 1935. Ray would have been a young teen. Still, in 1945, he did marry Englishwoman Dora Fisher when he was aged 21. Likely he was there during the war years. Ray’s father was Charles, likewise born in Kentucky, in 1882. I was hoping that records would indicate he was born in England, or his wife was. Alas, no luck!

So, if the Standiford name was already dead in England by 1870 (assuming no others are missing from the Birth/Death index) then how on earth did the pseudonymous Donald Shoubridge learn of the name? Could the author be somehow related to the Standiford line? It seems unlikely, but so does using a surname that hadn’t actively existed for fifty years! I genuinely hope somehow, someway, someone out there in the world can solve this mystery!

Orchid Lady by N. Wesley Firth (Hamilton & Co., circa 1948)

Orchid Lady was published by Hamilton & Co., circa 1948, and states inside the author is Sheila A. Firth. If you’ve been following this blog closely, that name might ring a distant bell, as I have blogged one other title by that name. SAF actually is the alias of N. Wesley Firth, a man who died young (aged 29) but managed to inexplicably churn out a massive amount of literature. His output has historically been decided by the quality of his science fiction stories. Nobody will dispute that his SF efforts are (and were) terribly dated rubbish. However, it is a crime to hold that against him, when he excelled at crime, detective, and gangster-esque fiction writing.

Orchid Lady features lovely cover art by Oliver Brabbins. Sadly, my copy had the entire length of the right side exposed to “smoke” from likely being sold in a railway tube station, or a warehouse fire. A diagonal chunk of the rear cover is likewise affected. The staples are bloodily rusted and crumbling. I’m not complaining; it is the first copy I’ve ever seen in 20+ years collecting Firth, but I’d certainly gratefully accept a clean upgrade.

The cover depicts a lovely redhead wearing a sexy dress while a young, attractive man leans over her from behind. Remarkably, this scene does actually play-out within the story…more on that in a second.

The story itself runs from Page 3 and concludes on 25.

The novelette opens with a description of morning life down Middlesex Street (aka: Petticoat Lane). Desolate overnight, by dawn vendors of all sort move in and set up their stalls and prepare to sell wares and foods.

Winnie Shawcross is a delightful beauty assisting George Canebridge to sell jellied eels. She is described as: nineteen years old, a figure the envy of all her girl friends, and the admiration of her would-be boy friends; five foot three of petite charm and grace.

Her parents had died during World War Two and being neighbors, George gave her a ten-shilling pay-day assisting with his fish stall on Sundays; she also worked during the week at a milk bar. The Sunday pay helped her pay for her poor rooming situation.

George is in love with her. That is patently obvious, but she aspired to escape poverty and the lower echelon of the masses. She wanted what she saw in the movies.

Then, a miracle occurs. A pair of camera-men desire to document activities down the lane and want her to be the cover girl for that next issue of Picture Magazine Weekly. They briefly interview her, during which she stammers out the following: “I’d like to–to have a wonderful evening gown, and a visit to the theatre one night–and most of all, I’d like to receive–orchids, from–from an admirer.”

Latching onto her orchid remark, they decide to caption their cover girl photo “The Orchid Lady”…actual publication releases complete with a piece detailing her hopes and whimsical dreams.  Shockingly, a parcel arrives complete with orchids and gown and 100 Pounds to spend as she wishes, from the two cameramen. She can’t possibly accept the gift, phones them, decline all, but they coerce her to accept, claiming that sales on that issue sold very well and they each received a raise as a result. She finally relents, guiltily…then compounds her innocence by deciding to pull a white lie and call in sick, in order to attend a fancy restaurant and theatre. The restaurant recommended by the cabbie is dismissed when she spies a lovely French restaurant–“Le Cafe Bleu”–in the West End district. This becomes her first mistake. The entire menu is in French. Gratefully, the waitstaff are friendly towards the uneducated vision of beauty, but then the offends them by a pittance tip. Realizing the insult, she flees the scene and tries to capture the moment again by secluding herself at a theatre, and commits her second err, trying to tip the page. The page declines, stating policy not to accept tips.

Seating herself in the semi-darkness, she watches the conductor and band prepare to play when a male voice states “Do you mind?” and she looks up into a vision of masculine beauty. Here was her ideal of manhood; he looked well traveled, very intellectual, and yet intensely human. He was dark and tall, and he had a small mustache.

They date casually for about a week, and he convinces her to meet his society friends. She is very reluctant, knowing her lower East End upbringing will be ridiculed and may adversely affect his social standing. Upon arriving, she finds the group snobby and just as she imagined, ruthless. One female remarks she is the flavor of the month and that the young man will eventually marry her. Disbelieving the ugly truth, the competing lady sneaks her back into the room to eavesdrop on the youthful group’s conversation. Winnie overhears the young man state many offensive things, including: “you don’t think for a moment that I’d ask you to accept that kid as one of ourselves…I’ll drop her fast enough as soon as I tire…”

Winnie has heard enough, and despite the evil girl revealing the truth, she herself appears to be sympathetic towards Winnie and secretes her discreetly out a back entrance to avoid further humiliation. Returning back to her original reality, she tires of hearing the ugly realities from George and decides they too can no longer be friends. But, when the camera man reappears, he discloses that the gifts and cash actually came from George, from his meager savings, but George didn’t want her to know. Realizing George and the hardworking stiffs are the real people in the world, she proceeds to make right her relationship…but before she does, the playboy re-enters the scene, demanding to know why she vanished on him. She quotes some of his private ugly remarks and gives him the cold shoulder!

The story presented is entirely different in style from Firth’s assorted crime and American gangster-stylized stories. It’s cleanly written, flows evenly, without any blood-and-thunder. It’s a complete shame that he died young, right when he was attempting to break into bigger things.

A number of his novelettes and novels have been reprinted in England in the Linford Large Print series, aimed at the library trade. Naturally those print runs will be quite low and most those copies will not survive. They appear under Firth’s true birth name: Norman Firth. One novel in the Linford series actually marks the World’s First Publication, as it languished as an unpublished manuscript upon Firth’s death. Thankfully, the family retained it and this superior novel (Murder at St. Marks) was brought to print. Bold Venture Press in Florida has recently been working with Firth’s estate rep towards bringing more of his works back to modern readers, with a story appearing in their Bold Adventures magazine, in issues 40 and 43.

The remaining pages, 26 through 32, includes a bonus short story by Eve Calvert, entitled Her Next-Door Rival. The short filler tale involves a young lady who relies on a constant, ready supply of dates from her boyfriend. Strangely, he leaves a note indicating he must stay late at his job. Looking out the window, she spots him walking with the neighbor, a sexy dark-haired girl, and then she hops in his car and they depart. Infuriated, she then receives a call from her boss to come to work late to take notes, etc. Nothing better to do, she goes to work to find her boss drunk and a table set with fine foods and wine to ply her. He proceeds to molest her and she bizarrely declares that he must be behind the recent spate of clothing robberies at the warehouse. He confesses, and likewise states her neighbor facilitates the transaction. Slapping him about the face, she makes to leave only to find the door firmly bolted. Too strong to pry loose, she finds herself staring down the barrel of a handgun, about to be murdered, when the window behind him crashes inward and her boyfriend lands and disarms the drunkard. He explains that he has actually been working undercover with authorities to crack the smuggling gang’s efforts. The police suspected the neighbor as being complicit but never had the opportunity to investigate her abode without her around. So, the boyfriend was brought in to play deceitful to his girl, make “love” to the dark beauty, and take her away on a date, clearing the path for the police to raid the home. Discovering all the evidence, they then raided the warehouse. A very flimsy tale. In reality, a cop would come through the window instead, if they were unable to break through the door. Not the boyfriend. But, that’s fiction for you.

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