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.