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Leslyn MacDonald (1904-1981)

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Poet, Actress, Theater Director, Teacher, Science Fiction Fan
Born August 29, 1904, Boston, Massachusetts
Died April 13, 1981, Orange County or Stanislaus County, California

Leslyn M. MacDonald (also spelled, erroneously, McDonald) was born on August 29, 1904, in Boston, Massachusetts. Her father was a Canadian, her mother a Bostonian. Early in life, Leslyn moved to California with her family. That's where she lived and that's where she died. For some reason, as I write this, I sense a pall over her life. That may be just my imagination. But she was once young and beautiful. She had dreams of love and all the other things of which we dream. She wrote poetry, went to the university, acted on stage, and was married to one of the greatest of all science fiction writers. They slept together on the night they met, he proposed to her the next morning, and they remained together for a decade and a half before infidelity, heavy drinking, divorce, and other everyday dramas brought an end to it all. Leslyn remarried. Her second husband, like her father, worked in a hotel. He died in middle age. She survived but has slipped from memory. Maybe we owe her something a little better than that.

Leslyn MacDonald's father, Colin MacDonald, was born in Sidney Mines, Nova Scotia, on October 17, 1873. He came to the United States sometime around the turn of the century and was naturalized as an American citizen on May 13, 1901, in Boston. A little more than a year and a half later, on September 3, 1902, he married Florence Caroline Gleason in Worcester city or county. Born on April 8, 1883, in Westborough, Massachusetts, she was ten years his junior and had just turned eighteen.

The MacDonalds had two daughters, Leslyn, born August 29, 1904, and Keith, born September 9, 1906, both in Massachusetts. (Yes, Keith was a girl.) I don't know how long the family lived in Massachusetts or where else they might have resided, but by the time Colin MacDonald filled out his draft card in 1918 (the day after Keith's twelfth birthday), they were in Riverside, California, and he was working as a clerk at the Glenwood Hotel. Here's a news item with the heading "Laguna Beach News Budget" from the Santa Ana Register, dated June 28, 1917, showing that the MacDonald family were calling California home for at least a year and a half before that:


I had no idea what the "large Cravath cottage" might have been, but I did a search for "Cravath" and "Laguna Beach," and I feel pretty confident in saying that the reference is to professional baseball player Clifford "Gavvy" Cravath (1881-1963), who was a real estate developer in Laguna Beach. The "two children" in the article were of course Leslyn, then aged twelve, and Keith, then aged ten.

So the MacDonalds were not short on means. In 1920, they were in Riverside, where Mr. MacDonald worked as an office manager in a chemical works. That same year, Leslyn had a poem published in the Los Angeles Times and reprinted in other papers:


When "Freedom" was reprinted (in the Concordia Blade-Empire of Concordia, Kansas) on September 20, 1920, Leslyn was barely past fifteen. I'm no critic of verse, but it seems to me a work of sophistication rare for a teenaged poet.

Leslyn matriculated at the University of California, Southern Branch, later known as the University of California, Los Angeles. There she was a member of Delta Tau Mu; Kap and Bells, Dramatics; and the Manuscript Club. One of her classmates and a fellow member of Delta Tau Mu and Kap and Bells was Agnes De Mille (1905-1993). Here is a photograph of the two side by side:

Left, Agnes De Mille (1905-1993), and, right, Leslyn MacDonald (1904-1981) in the University of California, Southern Branch, yearbook, 1926.

According to the Wikipedia biography of Agnes De Mille, she was not considered pretty enough to be an actress, so she became a dancer instead. (1) Leslyn MacDonald, on the other hand, did become an actress, if only a little while. In August 1924, she appeared in A Midsummer Night's Dream under the direction of Madame Margarita Orlova, a play staged at Madame Orlova's beachfront Woodland theater in Laguna Beach. (2) The Santa Ana Register observed that Puck was "very prettily played by Leslyn MacDonald of Laguna Beach" (Aug. 19, 1924, p. 14), while author and screenwriter Elinor Glyn remarked, "I have seen 'The Dream' on several occasions, but I have never seen a  more charming Puck" (Santa Ana Register, Aug. 22, 1924, p. 12). For a season at least, Leslyn was a star. She later acted with the Pasadena Playhouse (1927), directed experimental theater, and worked in the music department at Columbia Pictures. 

Leslyn graduated from the University of California with a degree in philosophy and a minor in drama, presumably in 1926. She took her master's degree from the University of Southern California in 1930. Again, the subject was philosophy. The enumerator of the 1930 census found Leslyn living in Los Angeles with her cousin, engineer Chester S. Beard, and his family. She was then working as a teacher in the public schools. Meanwhile, another star was on a collision course with hers. His name was Robert Anson Heinlein, and in the early 1930s, he was married, soon to be divorced, still in the U.S. Navy, but before the decade was out, ex-Navy and a published writer of science fiction. He and Leslyn were introduced in January 1932 by Heinlein's friend Cal Laning. Despite the fact that she was Laning's girl, Heinlein took her to bed that first night, then married her on March 28, 1932. There is a wedding picture of the couple, with Heinlein in his regalia and a very slight Leslyn at his side, here. Heinlein had his peculiarities: he was a nudist and a wife-swapper. Leslyn cared for neither activity. But she was an inspiration to her husband and devoted to his career and interests. Her poem "Freedom" from 1920 may very well have been a prophecy of their lives together.

Heinlein and his wife were at Denvention, the science fiction convention, in 1941. He was the guest of honor. She wore "semi-oriental dress [representing] Queen Niphar in Cabell's Figures of Earth." (3) She was with him, too, in Philadelphia, where he worked at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard during World War II. She knew Isaac Asimov. I suspect she knew the other writers of the southern California science fiction scene, writers such as Ray Bradbury, Forrest J Ackerman, Henry Kuttner, and possibly L. Ron Hubbard. Anthony Boucher cast her as Mrs. Carter in his 1942 roman à clef, Rocket to the Morgue. John W. Campbell, Jr., and his wife Dona named one of their daughters for her. Later she wrote to Frederik Pohl, "sad, wistful, lonesome letters," he called them, reminding him "over and over of the wonderful times she and Bob [Heinlein] and I and other local science-fiction writers and fans had had sitting around her kitchen table in the old days." Pohl continued:
This worried me. You see, it had never happened. I had never been in her kitchen, nor indeed had I met Leslyn anywhere else, either. The woman clearly was not in close touch with reality. I could think of nothing to do about it other than to reply to her letters as pleasantly and noncommittally--and briefly--as I could. (4)
Those letters would have come, of course, after Heinlein and Leslyn had divorced. That unhappy event occurred in 1947 after fifteen years of marriage. In 1948, Heinlein remarried. Leslyn also remarried. Her second husband was Jules G. (or Jewel G.) Mocabee, born on February 10, 1919, and a U.S. Army veteran of World War II despite weighing only 117 pounds at his enlistment. Like Heinlein, he was a native Missourian (possibly from New Madrid County). Mocabee received only a grade-school education and seems not to have been very gainfully employed. If the abbreviation "pdlr" stands for "peddler," then he was a peddler. He also worked at a place called the Morningside Inn in Stockton, California. He only made it to age forty-seven, dying on October 10, 1966, in San Joaquin County, California. That very likely left Leslyn Mocabee alone, for she seems not to have had any children, and her only sibling, her sister Keith MacDonald Hubbard, had died on August 9, 1949, in Orange County, California. Her father, Colin MacDonald, had also been gone many years, having died of cirrhosis of the liver in 1929. I don't know when her mother, Florence MacDonald--nicknamed "Skipper" by the way, and a Theosophist--died, but I have a feeling it came in the 1940s as Leslyn's marriage to Heinlein was unwinding. Sad, wistful, lonesome. And though her life ended in 1981, a pall of sadness remains, even today.

So my feeling that Leslyn MacDonald lived an unhappy life has been borne out by the research I have done for this article. Described by Heinlein's biographer William H. Patterson, Jr., as "a very slim, intense dark-brunette with medium complexion, lively and attractive, not quite five feet, one inch tall" and as "an unusual woman--astonishingly intelligent [and] widely read," she deserved better. Some sources on the Internet suggest that her drinking and her purported separation from reality contributed to her failed marriage to Robert A. Heinlein. There was a history of drinking in her family to be sure. And her mother, being a Theosophist, subscribed to some pretty kooky beliefs. Leslyn must not have had a very good start. But what kind of man is a nudist and wants to swap wives? And what effect must those things have on a woman who devoted to her husband? No one knows the mysteries of another person's marriage, but let's be kind to Leslyn MacDonald and give her at least some benefit of the doubt. Instead of remembering her as the distaff side and possible cause of Heinlein's second failed marriage, let's remember her as a poet and a woman, as a thinker and a muse, and as a lover and a human being, and let's remember the behind-the-scenes contribution she made to science fiction in America.

Leslyn MacDonald's Poem in Weird Tales
"The Ballad of Lalune" (May 1941)

Further Reading
Robert A. Heinlein: In Dialogue with His Century: Volume 1: Learning Curve 1907-1948 by William H. Patterson, Jr. (Macmillan, 2010), here.

Notes
(1) Agnes De Mille, by the way, was the daughter of William C. De Mille, niece of Cecil B. De Mille, and granddaughter of Henry George, for whom Volney George Mathison was named (in part).
(2) Margarita (also spelled Marguerita) Orlova, was an actress and a self-proclaimed Russian princess. She was more likely just an American pretender to her title, name, and nationality. Madame Orlova later was half-owner of Sherwood Forest, an artist's colony located on the opposite coast, in Oakland, New Jersey.
(3) From All Our Yesterdays by Harry Warner, Jr., (Chicago: Advent, 1969), p. 103.
(4) From "The Wives (and Drives) of Robert Heinlein: Leslyn" by Frederik Pohl on his blog, The Way the Future Blogs, dated May 19, 2010, here.

Original text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Roberto Quaglia (b. 1962)

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Author, Photographer, Politician, Science Fiction Fan
Born 1962, Italy

Late last year, a reader named Simone Fazzi let me know that there was another Italian writer published in Weird Tales after Giovanni Magherini Graziani. I have stayed away from the Weird Tales issued after the Bellerophon issues of 1984-1985, but I'll make an exception here for an author from a paese meraviglioso. I would like to say grazie to Signor Fazzi for bringing him to my attention.

Roberto Quaglia was born in Italy in 1962. I don't know the particular date or place, but from 1995 to 1997, he was a councilor in Genova. His stories and other works are listed on The Internet Speculative Fiction Database, while a brief, incomplete, wholly inadequate, and typically Wikipedian biography is shown on Wikipedia. With British science fiction writer Ian Watson (b. 1943), Signor Quaglia contributed one story, "The Grave of My Beloved," to Weird Tales, to the March-April issue of 2006. That story is part of the "My Beloved" series, which were collected in The Beloved of My Beloved (2009, with Ian Watson). Signor Quaglia is also the author of the novel Paradoxine: The Adventures of James Vagabond (2009) and a number of works of non-fiction. He has been active in science fiction circles in Europe.

Roberto Quaglia's Story in Weird Tales
"The Grave of My Beloved" with Ian Watson (Mar.-Apr. 2006)

Further Reading
Roberto Quaglia's website: http://www.robertoquaglia.com/
And his biography on Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roberto_Quaglia

Roberto Quaglia
Text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Eugene C. Dolson (1860-1938)

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Author, Poet, Farmer
Born July 2, 1860, Cayuga County, New York
Died 1938, Ira, Cayuga County, New York


Author, poet, and farmer Eugene Charles Dolson was a man who stayed put. He was born on July 2, 1860, in Cayuga County, New York, the son of Samuel Dolson, a farmer, and Mary Elizabeth How Dolson, a farmer's wife. In 1870, the family was in Conquest in Cayuga County. From as early as 1892, Eugene Dolson lived in Ira, also in Cayuga County. The enumerators of the New York State and the Federal censuses found him there until his death in 1938, and that is where he rests, at Union Cemetery. The woman with whom he spent his life was fellow poet Cora Adele Matson Dolson (Jan. 7, 1859-1936). They were married on November 25, 1896, the day before Thanksgiving, in Conquest. Although she died two years before him, their union remains unbroken among the white stones of Union.

Eugene C. Dolson had two poems in Weird Tales, "Wild Horses" (June 1928) and "Under the Moon" (July 1928). Writing about children, family, country, and holidays, he and his wife had poems in newspapers and popular magazines all over the country. As Garrison Keillor might say, here is a poem for Memorial Day by Eugene C. Dolson:

Where the Soldiers Sleep
by Eugene C. Dolson

There's a quiet spot on the hillside high
Where, unforgotten, the sleepers lie,
All, all around in the close cut sward.
Over their graves white stones keep guard.
'Tis a peaceful scene all summer long.
And silent, save for the robin's song.

Under the warm blue sky of May
The graves on the hill are green today.
On many a mound to left and right
There's a little fluttering flag in sight.
And the little bright flag its vigil keeps,
Night and day, where a soldier sleeps.
(1915)

Eugene C. Dolson's Poems in Weird Tales
"Wild Horses" (June 1928)
"Under the Moon" (July 1928)

Further Reading
Not much, but keep looking.

Original text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Captain America: The Individual vs. the Collective

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We went to see Captain America: Civil War on Memorial Day. The theater was practically empty, but that's what happens when you see a movie near the end of its run. I have to say that the Avengers movies are among the best superhero movies being made and that Captain America is one of my favorite superhero movie characters. The reason is that he is truly heroic, always striving to do the right thing and not in any way morally ambiguous or morally relativistic. It's clear to me that in Captain America: Civil War we're supposed to sympathize with the title character and his cause, far more so than with Ironman and his. Before seeing the movie, I had read that there is political content in it. After seeing it, I can't say there is much of that, but if you remember just two quotes, you'll get the idea. First, in the fight scene at the airport, the Vision, a follower of Ironman, proclaims:

[F]or the collective good, you must surrender now.

Later, Captain America explains that he fights for freedom and individuality. (Unfortunately, I don't have the quote as an illustration. If somebody can come up with it, please rescue me.) So that's the casus belli: the individual vs. the collective, freedom vs. centralized control. In the real world, the collective is of course BS. ("Language!") Okay, the collective is of course poppycock. And as every person knows, we are and by rights free. (One definition of a so-called liberal is someone who loves his own freedom and hates everyone else's.) Anyway, it isn't really convincing to me that Ironman would so easily side with the collective and with centralized control. He is after all Tony Stark, a guy who does what he wants. But there is precedent in America today for big business and big industry to side with government against individual freedom. Call it crony capitalism, corporate socialism, proto-fascism, or oligarchy. Whatever its name, it represents a threat to us all. So maybe it isn't so farfetched after all that Tony Stark, like so many businesspeople in America today, would be in the tank for government control of people's lives.

So what does Captain America have to do with Weird Tales? Well, how about this:


And this:


Those are the covers of the only two issues of Captain America's Weird Tales, from October 1949 (#74) and February 1950 (#75), respectively. Horror comics were very popular in the 1950s, and the pulp magazine Weird Tales still carried with it some cachet, despite the fact that pulps were on their way out after the war. I guess that explains the switch in the title. After these two issues, Captain America regained control of his own comic magazine, but only for a while: the original run of Captain America came to a close with issue number 78 in September 1954, the same month, oddly enough, that the pulp magazine Weird Tales met its end.

Text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Two Hundred Years of Frankenstein

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I had hoped to begin today writing a new series on Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley and her Gothic romance and proto-science fiction novel Frankenstein. The occasion is the two-hundredth anniversary of her beginning the composition of Frankenstein, purported to have taken place on June 16, 1816, by Lake Geneva. Here in the Midwest, we have had a cool, rainy, and stormy spring season. Mary Godwin and her companions--her future husband Percy Shelley, his friend Lord Byron, Byron's physician Dr. John Polidari, and Mary's half-sister Claire Clairmont--experienced something like that as midsummer approached in 1816. Rather than go out on excursions, they stayed in and read. They also decided on a contest to write a ghost story. Frankenstein was the most famous--and enduring--result. Unfortunately, I'm caught up in other things, so the series I had planned will have to wait. In the meantime, we can all wish the creature a happy birthday.

Copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Independence Day on Flying Saucer Day

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Tomorrow, June 24, is Flying Saucer Day. It's also the official opening day for Independence Day: Resurgence. The first Flying Saucer Day occurred on June 24, 1947, when Kenneth Arnold saw several silvery objects flashing through the skies over Mount Rainier. That event didn't exactly mark an invasion from outer space, but intentionally or not, the makers of Independence Day: Resurgence will be observing it with the release of their movie. Best wishes to them and Happy Flying Saucer Day to everyone!

Copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

White Spheres Speak

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We went to see Independence Day: Resurgence tonight and emerged from the theater into a midsummer night. A catbird sang as daylight faded and as we talked about the movie we had just seen. It's strange that the film opened yesterday, the same day that the United Kingdom voted in favor of its own independence. I suppose that tonight Britons who love their freedom are having a whale of a party.

The saying is that there is nothing new under the sun. That's as true of movies as it is of anything. I say that to let you know that you're unlikely to see anything new in Independence Day: Resurgence (except that I don't think I have ever seen an American movie so overtly made for a Chinese audience). There are elements of Battlestar Galactica, Aliens, Starship Troopers, Star Trek: First Contact, Cloverfield, 2012, Jurassic Park (look for a chase scene with a rear-view mirror), and other movies in Independence Day: Resurgence. You might object, but that's how movies are these days. Just look at Star Wars: The Force Awakens and Star Trek Into Darkness.

There are parts of the real-life myth of flying saucers in Independence Day: Resurgence, as well, specifically, the supposed crashdown at Roswell, from sixty-nine years ago this month, Area 51, where we are supposed to have reverse-engineered alien technology, as in the movie, and J. Allen Hynek's terminology of close encounters. In short, Independence Day: Resurgence is a piece of pop-culture fluff that draws from other pop-cultural works, each with its own degree of fluffiness.

It also draws from fine art--or seems to. There is a white sphere with a slit in it. That looked familiar to me, and as the movie went on, I asked myself where I had seen it before tonight. Then it hit me. This (the thing on the left):

Looks like this:

The voice of space - Magritte Rene

Those could easily be flying saucers. The curious thing is that they were painted before the flying saucer era. The painting is called "The Voice of the Winds" and it was executed by René Magritte in 1928. Maybe the winds of the title are solar winds. And maybe white spheres speak, as in tonight's movie.

Text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

The Road to Dystopia

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A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, now known to us as "The 1980s," an entity called Tears for Fears sang the following lyric:

Everybody wants to rule the world.

At the time, I believed that to be not quite true. Then I found out that it is true, or mostly true, for in every person there is a drive, probably an infantile drive and in some people a relentless drive, to rule the lives of other people. For as long as totalitarian control of other people's lives is a possibility rather than just a dream, as it was for so many millennia, we will have to guard our rights, our freedoms, our humanity, and our individuality against all takers. I believe that Great Britain took a step in that direction this past week by throwing off the shackles of a distant, arbitrary, unelected, and unaccountable government designed to enrich and empower itself at the expense of the governed in Europe. It was called "Brexit." I hope to see more "-exit"s as time goes by.

In a countermove, Neil deGrasse Tyson, also an elitist and an adherent to the religion of Scientism, called for the creation of, in his words, "a virtual country: Rationalia." There have already been people calling him out on his stupidity. My advice to him is for him to read, first, history, specifically of the French Revolution and its ever-popular Russian sequel, and, second, literature, specifically We by Yevgeny Zamyatin and 1984 by George Orwell. I doubt that he would understand those things, as he appears to be a prize numbskull, but he should try at least.

For the sake of full disclosure, I had a run-in this week with one of Dr. Tyson's co-religionists. I don't know why, but I was shocked by her viciousness, her arrogance, and her bitterly contemptuous attitude towards anyone who believes in anything other than what she believes. I like her and admire her. I also feel sorry for her and wish that she were not so injured as to take the steps she has taken. I am also afraid to think that she, like countless millions of others, would gladly serve in the army of Neil deGrasse Tyson's new nation, Rationalia, and that she might very well wish to place her boot on the face of humanity, forever, so as to assuage the hurt feelings in her shrunken heart.

Copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Art and Artists in the Bellerophon Weird Tales-Introduction

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In 1984-1985, publisher Brian L. Forbes and his Bellerophon Network put out two issues of Weird Tales, Volume 49, Number 1 (Fall 1984) and Number 2 (Winter 1985). Those two issues were made up of old and new material, including not only stories but also artwork. The art and artists of the Bellerophon issues can be placed into one of five categories:

1. New artwork created specifically for the Bellerophon Weird Tales.
  • Bruce David (b. ?)--Cartoonist and creator of the comic strip "S.M.O.G." This may have been the only comic strip ever to appear in Weird Tales.
  • Hyang Ro Kim (b. ?)--Portraitist and cover artist.
  • Overton Loyd (b. 1954)--Illustrator, record cover artist, television personality.
  • Dave Stevens (1955-2008)--Illustrator and comic book artist.
  • George D. Sukara (b. ?)--Illustrator and animator.

2. Old artwork probably reprinted from previous issues of Weird Tales.
  • Hannes Bok (1914-1964)
  • Dwight Boyce (1910-2003)
  • Andrew Brosnatch (1896-1965)
  • Joseph R. Eberle, Jr. (1926-2006)
  • Henry del Campo (dates unknown)
  • Boris Dolgov (dates unknown)
  • Harry Ferman (dates unknown)
  • Virgil Finlay (1914-1971)
  • Matt Fox (1906-1988)
  • Fred Humiston (1902-1976)
  • Frank Utpatel (1905-1980)

3. Old artwork reprinted from other sources, probably from other magazines.

4. Unsigned decorations, spot drawings, and small illustrations

5. Photographs
  • A photograph of Eric Idle holding a copy of Weird Tales Volume 49, Number 1.
  • A photograph of model and actress Jacqueline Pulliam.

I have written about some of these artists before. (Click on their names for links.) Some I will write about at some later date. For now, I would like to look at only a few of them, beginning with Clare Angell, who, with the second Bellerophon issue of Weird Tales, became another mystery of "The Unique Magazine."

To be continued . . . 

Copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Clare Angell (1874-1932?)-Part One

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Cartoonist, Designer, Illustrator 
Born March 4, 1874, Lansing, Michigan
Died October 7, 1932, Manhattan, New York, New York

There are mysteries surrounding Clare Angell. One is of little or no interest to anyone who is not a proud Hoosier. Another might be thought of as a mere detail. A third offers a possibility. The last--and the newest--should interest science fiction fans and begs for some inquiry.

The first mystery involves Angell's place of birth. In her book Art and Artists of Indiana (1921), Mary Q. Burnet listed Angell as having been born in Goshen, Indiana. Public records tell a different story. If those records are accurate--and I believe that they are--then Clare Eugene Angell was born on March 4, 1874, in Lansing, Michigan. His father, Eugene Angell (1848-1907) was also a native of Michigan. Clare Angell's mother, Mary Butterfield Angell (ca. 1853-?), was born in Indiana, probably in Goshen. In 1880 she was with her husband and children in Lansing. Three years later, Eugene Angell, a banker and investor, became insolvent. Presumably he and his wife separated after that, and she took the children with her. The records of the 1890 census have of course been lost. They may very well have shown Clare Angell with his mother in Goshen, where she was enumerated in the 1900 census with her surviving family. But by then Clare Angell was on his own as an artist and probably living in New York City. So a mystery remains: Why did Mary Q. Burnet list Clare Angell as an Indiana native? That mystery will probably never be solved, but being a Hoosier and having no small amount of Hoosier pride, I take Clare Eugene Angell as one of us, and I have included him on my blog Indiana Illustrators and Hoosier Cartoonists. You can read what I have written about him by clicking here and here.

The second mystery involves Angell's date and place of death. Writer and collector Ken Dickinson and I have looked in vain for anything on Clare Angell's life and career after about 1923. What happened to him? Where did he go? What did he do? Well, the fourth mystery, about which I will write in Part Two of this series, seems to indicate that Angell survived at least long enough to contribute to science fiction magazines. That means at least until 1926 and the advent of Amazing Stories. Then I found an entry on the artist in a truly impressive work on series novels authored for children, research done by James D. Keeline. The problem is that I don't know what that work is called or how to get to the whole thing. Luckily I have a link to the part in question: authors, artists, and titles beginning with the letter A. Here's the link:


On page 24, you'll find a note speculating that Angell, age sixty-two, died on October 27, 1932, in Manhattan. Although the age is wrong, the name is right and the place fits with what we know about him. So for now, that mystery is solved--or at least semi-solved.

To be continued . . . 

Copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Clare Angell (1874-1932?)-Part Two

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The third mystery concerning the artist Clare Angell isn't a mystery so much as a possibility, and it isn't really essential to understanding his life or work.

Clare Eugene Angell (1874-1932?) was the son of Eugene Angell (1848-1907) and Mary Butterfield Angell (ca. 1853-?). Eugene Angell, born on May 13, 1848, in Livingston County, Michigan, was the son of Henry Angell (1809-June 2, 1872) and Sarah M. (or W.) Bennett Angell (Jan. 4, 1821-May 25, 1872). (1) Henry and Sarah were both natives of New York, but that is as far east as I can get them. In 1850 they were in Michigan. Before that . . . ? And I don't know the names of their parents.

Angell is a common name in some places in the East. One of those places is Providence, Rhode Island. In fact, there is a street in Providence called Angell Street. At 494 Angell Street, there is a large house, once home to a family named Lovecraft. On August 20, 1890, the last male child in America with that surname was born in that house. He was christened Howard Phillips Lovecraft. In 1926, H.P. Lovecraft penned a story called "The Call of Cthulhu." One of the characters in that story is named George Gammell Angell, almost certainly after one of Lovecraft's own ancestors and an unknown Angell of Providence. So was Clare Angell the artist descended from the Angells of New England? Maybe. We may never know. But like I have said before, if you draw any line long enough, it becomes a circle, and so a connection to Weird Tales eventually meets another connection to Weird Tales.

* * *

The last mystery of Clare Angell concerns this drawing, reprinted in Weird Tales in the Winter issue of 1985:


The first thing to take care of here is the signature and the artist's credits. The Internet Speculative Fiction Database (ISFDb) gives the artist's name as "Clare A. McGill." The misreading of the signature is understandable. If I hadn't already written about Clare Angell, I might have looked right past his name myself. But there's no doubt in my mind that Angell was indeed the creator of this illustration--or at least the right side of it.

One of the things I have noticed in looking over the Bellerophon issues of Weird Tales is that some of the illustrations appear to be amalgamations of drawings, either two old drawings fitted together, or a collage of an old drawing and a new drawing to make the old drawing fit a new story. There is something a little odd about the drawing above, attributed as a whole to "Clare A. McGill." The men on the right are dressed in early twentieth-century costume. The woman on the left is obviously a creation of a later period, probably no earlier than the 1920s. Also, the perspective is off: she's a giant compared to the men. And note the mostly blank area separating the two sides of the picture, which are linked by a few scribbled lines. Lastly, she seems to have been drawn in a different style or with a different technique than the men on the right. I would not be surprised to learn that she was drawn by a different artist.

So I guess here is the issue: If this is one drawing created by Clare Angell, then it seems to have been drawn for a science fiction magazine of the 1920s or '30s. But Clare Angell is not elsewhere on the website of the Internet Speculative Fiction Database. Did he slip through the cracks somehow? If this is an amalgamation of two drawings, then maybe the right side of the drawing came from one of the many books illustrated by Clare Angell in the early 1900s and the Internet Speculative Fiction Database is correct in not giving him any pulp magazine credits, even if he lived into the pulp magazine era (assuming the death date of 1932 is correct). Still, the right side of the drawing obviously illustrates a science-fictional scene, so I guess we had better track down Clare Angell's credits as an illustrator and make a case that he belongs somewhere on the ISFDb.

To be concluded . . . 

Note
(1) They were married on August 5, 1872, in Mason County, Michigan, not long after the deaths of Eugene Angell's parents.

Text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Clare Angell (1874-1932?)-Part Three

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Clare Eugene Angell was born on March 4, 1874, in Lansing, Michigan, and lived in Michigan and possibly Indiana as a child. In an article from The Inland Printer, from 1897 (Vol. 18, p. 670), Angell detailed his work as a clerk, a student of architecture, and a draftsman and designer for the Park Commission of Detroit. Angell attended school in Lansing and Detroit, including a year of night school at the Detroit School of Arts. Before going to Chicago, he spent some time working on a farm. I wonder now if that was his mother's family farm in Goshen, Indiana.

Before the end of the decade and of the century, Clare Angell made his way to New York City. He seems to have spent the rest of his life there. By the time the article mentioned above was published, he had begun working as an artist with the New York Press where he was recognized as a talented cartoonist and caricaturist. Angell also drew pictures of daily news events for the paper, especially when he could give them a humorous slant. His work earned him mention in the Encyclopedia Britannica under the entry "Caricature."

During the early 1900s, Angell illustrated stories and articles for popular magazines, including The Boys’ Magazine, Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly, The Illustrated Companion, and Outing. If he is known at all now, it is for his illustrations for three dozen books published from 1901 to 1920 and his designs for several series of postcards printed from 1907 to 1919. Angell created illustrations for many genre stories, including Westerns, war stories, adventure stories, crime stories, and thrillers.

As of 1921, Clare Angell was still living, though supposedly widowed. His home was in Forest Hills Gardens, in Queens, New York, one of the nation’s oldest planned communities, founded in 1908 and designed by Frederick Law Olmsted, Jr. The community's park-like setting and collection of Tudor and Georgian homes must have been conducive to the work of an artist, but I have not been able to find any work that is incontrovertibly his from after 1921. The Mazza Museum at the University of Findlay, Ohio, houses some of Angell's original art. Collector and researcher Ken Dickinson has made a thorough study and catalogue of his work as well. Unfortunately, the drawing from Weird Tales of Winter 1985 is not in Ken's catalogue, so we don't know the original source.

So, if Clare Angell's last known credits as an illustrator are from 1921, and he died in 1932, what did he do for those last eleven years? Did he in fact contribute to one or more pulp magazines, possibly science fiction magazines of the period 1926-1932? Is that where the Weird Tales illustration came from? Whatever else might be said, we can suggest that Clare Angell's name be added to the Internet Speculative Fiction Database (ISFDb) and that he receive credit for his illustration reprinted in Weird Tales. And I would suggest that credit for the illustrations Angell did for Fugitive Anne: A Romance of the Australian Bush (1902), a lost-worlds story by Rosa Campbell Praed, be added to the ISFDb as well.


A drawing by Clare Angell showing the end of the world, from an unknown magazine (1902).

Text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

PulpFest This Weekend

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A gathering of great significance takes place this week in Ohio. No, I'm not talking about the Republican national convention. That's in Cleveland. The gathering to which I refer is PulpFest, the annual pulp magazine convention. Now in its eighth year, PulpFest begins tonight, Thursday, July 21, 2016, at the Hyatt Regency Columbus and continues through Sunday afternoon. Here is a link to the PulpFest website:


I hope you can make it.

* * *

I have been out of commission these past two weeks. My computer died on July 8. Luckily my hard drive is safe, and I have all my files. I took the poor thing to a computer store. When I told him how old it is, the technician there called it "vintage." That's their official term for a machine that if it were a person would this summer be entering first grade. I wonder what that technician would make of a pulp magazine. An impossibly old and hopelessly primitive form of communication? Or a treasure like a cuneiform tablet or the Rosetta stone? Anyway, I'm back in action, if you can call sitting in front of an electronic device "action." I will pick up where I left off with the artists of the Bellerophon Weird Tales, but first with an interruption in the form of a biography of a writer whose 1945 mystery novel The Red Right Hand has been called "strange and terrifying" (New York Times) and "surely one of the dozen or so finest mystery novels of the 20th century" (Jack Adrian). I read it since I left you and I would like to tell you about it before too much longer.

Copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Joel Townsley Rogers (1896-1984)-Part One

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Aka Roger Curley, Roger Curly
Aviator, Author, Editor, Civil Servant
Born November 22, 1896, Sedalia, Missouri
Died October 1, 1984, Washington, D.C.

Joel Townsley Rogers was born on November 22, 1896, in Sedalia, Missouri, to Otis J. and Bertha T. Rogers. He matriculated at Harvard University with the class of 1918, but world events had other things planned for him, for on June 25, 1917, Joel Townsley Rogers joined the United States Naval Reserve. Based on his record of service (below), I presume that he entered active duty on August 19, 1917. According to a website with the heading "Joel Townsley Rogers-Writing," Rogers received his flight training at Hampton Roads, Virginia, and was sent to Pensacola, Florida, to be a flight instructor. He served there, in Miami, and in Rockaway, New York, the last being the station where he separated from the navy on August 15, 1919.

Once returned to civilian life, Rogers decided to give writing for the pulps a try. The FictionMags Index has his first published story as "Finders-Keepers," published in Telling Tales in July 1920. However, according to the previously mentioned website, Rogers, writing as Roger Curly, had a story called "The Battle Cruiser Lady" in Snappy Stories for February 18, 1920. We probably should assume for now that "The Battle Cruiser Lady" was his first story using any byline. Dozens more followed, the last coming with the end of the pulp era in the 1950s. They were published in Action Stories, Adventure, Air Stories, Argosy, Detective Fiction Weekly, Metropolitan Magazine, New Detective Magazine, Snappy Stories, Warbirds, and other titles. Rogers had only one story in Weird Tales, "Hark! The Rattle!" from the very first issue, March 1923. Other works in the genres of fantasy and science fiction appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Startling Stories, Super Science Stories, and Thrilling Wonder Stories. Incidentally, Joel Townsley Rogers was one of few pulp writers who crossed over into writing for slick magazines, for he had three stories in The Saturday Evening Post between 1943 and 1958.

In 1920, Rogers was in Washington, D.C., with his parents and siblings. He was still working in aviation, in this case in the private sector. In 1922, the young writer was a graduate student at Princeton University and an editor at Brentano's Book Chat, where he used the pseudonym Roger Curley, a reference to his own curly hair. Rogers' first book dates from about that time as well. Entitled Once in a Red Moon, it came out in 1923, the same year in which he was published in Weird TalesBy 1940, he was in New York and working as a freelance writer. His remaining books came after that, The Red Right Hand in 1945, Lady with the Dice in 1946, and The Stopped Clock, also called Never Leave My Bed, in 1958. Rogers' books have been translated into French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Icelandic, and German. I don't know what he did once opportunities in the pulps dried up in the 1950s, but he lived for another quarter century and died on October 1, 1984, in Washington, D.C.

To be concluded . . .

Joel Townsley Rogers' Story in Weird Tales
"Hark! The Rattle!" (Mar. 1923)

Further Reading
There are lists of Rogers' stories on The FictionMags Index, The Internet Speculative Fiction Database, and on a web page with the heading "Joel Townsley Rogers-Writing,"here. The last website also has information on Rogers' family, life, and career. You can of course also do an Internet search, which will likely prove fruitful, as Rogers is a widely admired writer, especially for his book The Red Right Hand, about which I will write next.

A military record for Joel Townsley Rogers, from U.S. Adjutant General Military Records, Harvard's Military Record in the World War (1921).
A passport photograph of Rogers, with his signature, from 1919.

Text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Joel Townsley Rogers (1896-1984)-Part Two

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Joel Townsley Rogers' mystery novel The Red Right Hand began as a short story that at some point fell into the hands of Lee Wright, an editor at Simon and Schuster. On July 7, 1944, Ms. Wright wrote to Rogers. "I have fallen very much in love with THE RED RIGHT HAND," she effused, "and would love to discuss with you the possibilities of lengthening it to fit book publication." The short story version appeared in New Detective Magazine in March 1945. A couple of months later, Simon and Schuster issued the novel-length version in hardback as part of its Inner Sanctum series. A paperback edition by Pocket Books followed in October 1946, and The Red Right Hand has been reprinted several times since. I have the Carroll and Graf edition of 1983 and will use page numbers from that volume. (1)

The Red Right Hand is a murder mystery/detective tale. The detective (and narrator) in this case is a medical doctor named Henry N. Riddle, Jr., nicknamed Harry. His story, then, is a hairy riddle. The doctor himself is a riddle, and for a time, you don't know whether he can be trusted to tell the story or not. I'm still not convinced that he has told the whole truth.

The Red Right Hand is an odd story. It's non-linear--which is to say modernistic--in how it is recounted. Dr. Riddle circles around the events of the story, moving back and forth through time and looking at things from different angles in his attempt to untangle the mystery. His solution comes in real time, as, at the beginning of the novel, he does not yet know who the murderer is. (For a while, I had a feeling that he was the murderer.) The Red Right Hand is also unusual in that Riddle solves the mystery not by flatfooting around a city like Philip Marlowe or a hundred other tough-guy detectives but by sitting at a desk in a darkened house as the fiancée of the murdered man sleeps on a nearby couch and the voices of searchers resound in the night outside. Again and again he asks himself a number of questions, the foremost of which is:
     Where is the killer now?
     For I have a cold and dismal feeling that he is somewhere near me, no matter how far off the lanterns move and the voices call and the hounds bay. And near the sleeping girl beside me, his victim's wife to be. A feeling that he will strike again. That he knows I am somehow dangerous to him. Though how, I cannot yet perceive.
     Somewhere in the darkness outside the window.
     Or nearer even than that, perhaps. Inside this creaky two-hundred-year-old-hill-country farmhouse itself, it may be, so silent now and temporarily deserted of the hunters. (p. 10)
Riddle, who wanders freely through time and space in trying to solve the mystery, is also bound by time to do so before the killer strikes again and in space to remain at his desk, where he can think through the problem before him and watch over the sleeping young woman. There is throughout the story a palpable sense of menace and terror, of an unknown and unseen killer close at hand and ready to fall upon the narrator at any moment.

The Red Right Hand is non-linear, as I have said. In addition to the non-linear narrative, there are webs of connection and coincidence so uncanny and bizarre that they call into question Riddle's reliability--even his sanity--as the storyteller. In addition, there are enough red herrings to fill a driftnet. The overall sense is that this is a dream. (The murdered man's fiancée, Elinor Darrie, sleeps through the entire novel.) Riddle names the dreamlike and nightmarish quality of his story only at the end:
     "What is there to tell?" he [Rosenblatt, the police detective] said.
     "Nothing but that it was all a nightmare," I said. "A bad dream without reality."
     "That's all it ever was," he said. (p. 191)
* * *

I have noticed that in postwar culture, there seems to have been a movement towards the strange, bizarre, and otherworldly, towards dream-states, nightmares, hallucinations, fantasies, and other altered states of consciousness. You'll see that in movies as varied as Spellbound (1945), The Boy with Green Hair (1948), and Invaders from Mars (1953). The war itself, with all its horrors, explains some of that. The arrival or importation into America of European intellectual ideas such as psychoanalysis and surrealism played its part as well. (2) By no coincidence, perhaps, there is in The Red Right Hand a surrealist artist whose presence offers a clue as to the author's purposes. The artist's name is Unistaire, and, like Salvador Dalí, he is from Spain (though not Spanish but Basque in nationality). It is Unistaire who diagnoses the crime:
"This is definitely a surrealistic murder. It is the murder of a genius. It has symbolism." (p. 133)
He calls the men investigating the crime "too much the routine policemen, thinking only in terms of moronic killers for gain" and Dr. Riddle "too pragmatic and unimaginative to understand it," continuing: "What you need is to believe with all your soul in phantasms which cannot possibly exist." (p. 133) Unistaire believes that he alone, as an artist, sees the situation clearly:
      "A surrealistic murder!" he said with delight. "And it takes a surrealist to interpret and explain it. I have the key. I understand the symbolism. I will interpret and explain it. Give me a quarter head of moldy cabbage, a wig, a pair of glass eyeballs, an old umbrella, a dressmaker's form, a cube of ice, and a copy of Mein Kampf with the title printed in red letters, and I will put the picture together and explain it." (p. 134)
Some of those seemingly random and unrelated objects are actually clues--the cabbage, the wig, the glass eyeballs. The color red figures prominently in the story--the red right hand; Dr. Riddle's red hair; the red-haired dwarf, also called "Doc"; and so on. But my eyes immediately lit upon the words a dressmaker's form, for just a few months back, I wrote about a real-life surrealistic murder, about Dalí and other surrealist artists, and about dressmaker's dummies. The murder was of Elizabeth Short, the so-called Black Dahlia. She was killed on the morning of January 15, 1947, less than two years after The Red Right Hand was published. (3)

* * *

Right before reading The Red Right Hand, I read Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy by John le Carré. It's a good book and was well read and well received. The Red Right Hand on the other hand is known only to a few fans of mystery. So is Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy a better book? The general opinion would seem to be "Yes," but why? Is it really better, or is it considered better because it was written with a British accent? There is to be sure a moral dimension to Mr. le Carré's book. At first glance, that would appear to be lacking in The Red Right Hand. Also, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy appears to be more serious and sophisticated. I might object to that characterization for two reasons. First, the solution to the mystery hinges on a slip-up by the mole that might have a better place in a Dr. Haledjian mystery than in a major novel. Second, it's entirely too easy to make the mole the same man with whom George Smiley's wife has had an affair. A more complex and perhaps more realistic solution would be for that man not to be punished for one transgression by being punished for another. Instead, Smiley--and by extension Mr. le Carré, who had, when writing the book, recently gone through a divorce--gets to punish the man who has wronged him. That's not to say the solution in The Red Right Hand works out well in terms of storytelling, for it seems to me too mechanical and too dependent on multiple coincidences. I didn't let that spoil my enjoyment of the story however.

As for the moral dimension of one vs. the other, The Red Right Hand seems to be simply an entertainment. But Joel Townsley Rogers hit on something in his book, identifying early on a kind of killer who is entirely too familiar to us now, the psychopath or sociopath. Dr. Riddle asks the question:
Assuming his brain is not just a dead jumble of loose cogwheels and broken springs, what is he trying to accomplish--what makes him tick? (p. 6) (4)
He approaches the problem as a man of science, a rational man, a physician--but also perhaps as a psychopath, for one way of looking at the psychopathic killer is as a person without a soul who wishes to open up his victim to see "what makes him tick." When the body of Inis St. Erme, the young woman's fiancé, is found, it's skull is also found to have undergone a crude trephine. (5) Dr. Riddle describes it:
"It wasn't an operation with any sense to it, either. It looks like some crazy man trying to get an idea out of St. Erme's head with an auger after he was dead." (p. 138)
There it is again, something we have seen before, namely, the psychopathic killer opening people up, trying to find out what is inside them, what animates them, trying to uncover the mystery of the human soul or spirit which seems to be lacking in the killer himself. And as I said, the psychopath shares much with the medical doctor, who tends to see the human body as a mechanism, as a concatenation of cells, tissues, and organs rather than as the seat of the sacred human self. Again, Joel Townsley Rogers, in a lowly pulp novel, diagnosed the problem:
Old Adam [MacComerou, author of a textbook on psychopathology] . . . . had naturally found some amusement in pricking, in his quiet way, at practitioners of medicine and surgery . . . . One of the most interesting chapters in Hom. Psych. was one called "Jekyll-Hyde, M.D.," in which he had gathered together the case histories of murderers who had all happened to be doctors. I'll admit that he had plenty there. (p. 95)
The mole inside a spy agency makes for a nice villain, but he has shown himself to be a man of his time. The psychopathic killer, including the killer who acts out his bloody and bizarre pseudo-artistic or pseudo-intellectual theories, including also the medical doctor or surgeon, who sees people not as human beings but as soulless machines, is a killer who survives into the present and will very likely be with us for a long time to come.

Notes
(1) The quotes and publication history here are from a web page entitled "Joel Townsley Rogers-Writings" at this link.
(2) Postwar pseudo-religions based on science fiction owe a good deal to those developments as well. Dianetics and Scientology grew in part out of psychoanalysis. The myth and pseudo-religion of flying saucers, especially the contactee and abductee phenomena, are replete with accounts of dreams, nightmares, hallucinations, and other altered states of consciousness.
(3) To read more on the Black Dahlia murder, click on the label on the right.
(4) Notice the imagery of time passing and also of a mechanistic and reductionist or atomistic view of the human person.
(5) The victim's name is odd but significant: try rearranging the letters to see what you get. A hint: it's what the opposite of the hand named in the title of the book might say.

Coming soon to this space: An image of the cover of The Red Right Hand.

Original text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Weird Tales and the Inner Sanctum

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The Red Right Hand (1945) by Joel Townsley Rogers was first issued in hardback by Simon and Schuster as part of its Inner Sanctum Mystery series. As Mike Tuz pointed out in his recent comment, that was at about the same time that Universal Pictures was releasing a series of horror movies under the same name. If you listened to the radio in 1945, you were likely to hear a sardonic voice and the sound of a creaking door in the introduction to a weekly show called Inner Sanctum Mystery (more popularly known as Inner Sanctum Mysteries). A decade later, you could have watched Inner Sanctum on television, if only for a season. So how were these series related? Where did the Inner Sanctum brand begin? And what did it all have to do with Weird Tales? That's what I'll write about today.

First, I should say that there doesn't seem to be much of a connection between Weird Tales and Inner Sanctum Mystery. In beginning my research, I was hoping to find more. So maybe the title of this article is a little misleading. On the other hand, there are some pretty big gaps in the online history of the brand. For example, a list of radio episodes on Wikipedia includes the names of only a few scriptwriters. Likewise, The Internet Movie Database includes the titles and casts of all forty episodes of the TV series, but the writers' names are mostly missing. And good luck finding a comprehensive list of the titles in Simon and Schuster's hardbound Inner Sanctum Mystery series. So maybe there are still connections awaiting discovery. Weird Tales and the Inner Sanctum had this much in common at least: both began in the 1920s as the creations of enterprising young publishers.

In the case of Simon and Schuster, those enterprising young publishers were Richard L. "Dick" Simon (1899-1960), a piano salesman, and M. Lincoln "Max" Schuster (1897-1970), an editor of a trade magazine. (1) According to Wikipedia, that fount of all knowledge, "Simon's aunt, a crossword puzzle devotee, asked Simon whether there was a book of these puzzles that she could give to a friend. Simon discovered that none had been published, and, with Schuster, launched a company to exploit the opportunity." The year was 1924, plumb in the middle of a decade of fads and other wonderful nonsense. Crossword puzzles became the latest, and Simon and Schuster was off and running.

Almost from the beginning--or at least as early as 1927--Simon and Schuster ran a regular advertising column called "The Inner Sanctum" in the New York Times and Publishing Weekly. Readers may or may not have known it, but "the Inner Sanctum" is the name the two publishers gave to an office within their own suite of offices on 57th Street, just off Fifth Avenue. The Inner Sanctum was in fact a room situated between the respective offices of Dick Simon and Max Schuster. Here is a playful map from 1927, drawn by C. Vernon Farrow:


The legend reads, in part, "The Sun Never Sets on The Inner Sanctum of Simon and Schuster." Before going on, I would like to show another map drawn by the artist Charles Vernon Farrow (1896-1936):


This one is entitled "A Map of the Wondrous Isle of Manhattan" and is dated 1926. The isle was and is wondrous to be sure, and the cartographer Farrow made a wondrous map to match it. This map in particular makes me think of Dell's famous line of map-back paperbacks of the 1940s. Dell was the second major publisher of paperback books in America. Simon and Schuster, publishers of Pocket Books, was the first.

So "the Inner Sanctum" originally referred to the house of Simon and Schuster, then to series of books published by that house. Not all of the Inner Sanctum books were mysteries, at least at the outset. There is, for example, an Inner Sanctum edition of War and Peace, published in 1942. According to Martin Grams Blog (here), the Inner Sanctum series, published monthly, were color coded: blue binding for "serious drama," red for "lighter fare" and/or romance, and green for "detective stories." (Mr. Gram's wording is a little ambiguous. I hope I interpret it correctly.) Later, once the radio show became popular, the Inner Sanctum series were strictly mysteries.

The first Inner Sanctum Mystery was I Am Jonathan Scrivener by Charles Houghton, published in 1930. In 1935, a young woman named Lee Wright (1904-1986) began working at Simon and Schuster as a secretary. The following year, she became editor of the Inner Sanctum Mystery series, and in 1944, senior editor. It was Lee Wright who was so effusive about Joel Townsley Rogers' story and novel The Red Right Hand, and it was she who saw it into print in 1945.

Another Simon and Schuster employee figures pretty prominently in the story of Inner Sanctum Mystery as well. His name was Leon Shimkin (1907-1988), and in 1924, at age seventeen, he signed on with the firm as a $25-a-week bookkeeper. Described by the New York Times as "[t]ireless and hard-driving," Shimkin soon worked his way up to be business manager and eventually to chairman of the board and owner of the company. He was in on the founding of Pocket Books, the first line of mass-market paperback books in America, in 1939. (Shimkin was treasurer of the venture.) "While critics scoffed at the notion of selling 25-cent paperback books in supermarkets and similar outlets," wrote the Times, "Pocket Books was an immediate success." It also spawned myriads of paperback book publishers, many of which lived on the pulp genres of science fiction, fantasy, horror, crime, detective, and mystery stories. Paperbacks also helped bring pulp magazines to an end after World War II. Hardbound books survived of course, and the Inner Sanctum Mystery series carried on at least until the 1960s. I have titles for 1960--The Dead Beat by Robert Bloch--and 1966--The Incredible Scholck Homes by Robert L. Fish. I don't know when the last title in the series was published.

In the early 1940s, Leon Shimkin sold the rights to Inner Sanctum Mystery to Universal Pictures. By the time the first movie came out in 1943, Inner Sanctum Mystery, also called Inner Sanctum Mysteries or just Inner Sanctum, had been on the radio for a couple of years. I suspect that Shimkin helped orchestrate that deal, too. In any case, the radio show, which began on January 7, 1941, was a hit. Under producer Himan "Hi" Brown (1910-2010), Inner Sanctum Mystery ran for more than eleven years and a total of 526 broadcasts. The last came on October 5, 1952. (2) As I said, the writers' credits are mostly missing. Stories by Edgar Allan Poe and Guy de Maupassant, both of whom were in Weird Tales, were adapted for the show.

From 1943 to 1945, Universal released six movies in the Inner Sanctum Mystery series starring Lon Chaney, Jr. These are supposed to have been based on the radio show. The titles are:
  • Calling Dr. Death (1943)
  • Weird Woman (1944)
  • Dead Man's Eyes (1944)
  • The Frozen Ghost (1945)
  • Strange Confession (1945)
  • Pillow of Death (1945)
Weird Woman was based on the story "Conjure Wife" by Fritz Leiber, Jr., and although "Conjure Wife" wasn't in Weird Tales (it was in the rival title Unknown Worlds in April 1943), its author was. The movie title of course echoes that of Weird TalesBy the way, Leiber's father, Fritz Leiber, was in the non-Universal movie Inner Sanctum from 1948. He played a character called Dr. Valonius.

Finally, Hi Brown produced the television adaptation of Inner Sanctum in his studios in New York City. The show ran for forty half-hour episodes from January to October 1954. (The show ended a month after Weird Tales.) As an early anthology series, it gave a lot of young actors and actresses--Warren Stevens, Jack Klugman, Jack Albertson, Betsy Palmer--a chance to appear on television. It very likely helped pave the way for other anthology series as well, particularly The Twilight Zone (1959-1964), which, like the original radio series, had, in its host, the series' only regular character. The host of The Twilight Zone was of course played by Rod Serling, a most worthy successor to the Weird Tales mantle.


Notes
(1) Simon seems to have been the principle partner. There is comparatively little on the Internet about Schuster. Find A Grave has him, but his birth date--March 2, 1897--and birthplace--Austria--are missing. Schuster's father was a U.S. citizen at the time of Schuster's birth. According to Schuster's World War I draft card, "[the] child came to the U.S. when [he was] 6 weeks old." Max L. Schuster died on December 20, 1970, at his home in Manhattan.
(2) Like pulp magazines, radio drama and comedy were casualties of the post-war world. All survived in one way or another, however. Pulps didn't die so much as simply change form. They became paperback books, digest-sized magazines, and standard-sized magazines. The last true pulp magazine was Ranch Romances and Adventure, which came to an end in 1971 or thereabouts. Radio shows didn't exactly die, either. They simply became TV shows, and most of the old radio stars made the switch to television. Some, like Jack Benny, were successful. Others weren't. Incidentally, Hi Brown produced a later radio show called CBS Radio Mystery Theater (1974-1982), more or less as a reprise of Inner Sanctum Mystery, complete with the sardonic host and the creaking door. I am happy to say that we listened to that show when we were kids, and so we got in on the very tail end of radio drama in America.

Here are some sources:

Simon and Schuster
"Leon Shimkin, a Guiding Force At Simon & Schuster, Dies at 81" by Edwin McDowell, New York TimesMay 26, 1988

Inner Sanctum Mystery

"Debunking the Myth . . ."

Original text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Edd Cartier (1914-2008)

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Illustrator, Draftsman, Art Director
Born August 1, 1914, North Bergen, New Jersey
Died December 25, 2008, Ramsey, New Jersey

Whether he knew it or not, Edd Cartier contributed to Weird Tales. His drawing in the Winter 1985 issue was used to fill out a page containing a book review by Gustavo H. Vintas, M.D. The drawing (which I will post once I have my scanning problem figured out) looks like a clipping from a larger drawing and probably came from another magazine. Cartier is best known for his illustrations in The Shadow, Doc Savage Magazine, Astounding Science Fiction, and Unknown. He also worked for Gnome Press and Fantasy Press. I suspect the drawing came from Astounding or Unknown.

Edward Daniel Cartier was born on August 1, 1914, in North Bergen, New Jersey, and studied at the Pratt Institute in two stints, one before and one after the Second World War. He served in the U.S. Army during the war and used his G.I. Bill benefits to earn a bachelor of arts degree from Pratt in 1953. He was a unique and versatile artist, and his work, whether signed or not, is unmistakable. It's a shame that he never drew pictures for Weird Tales, as his dark, weird, macabre, and often humorous style would have worked in the magazine. In any case, Cartier died on Christmas Day in 2008 at age ninety-four. I checked my copy of Edd Cartier: The Known and the Unknown (Gerry de la Ree, 1977) and could not find the illustration used in Weird Tales. That's no great surprise, as Cartier created hundreds of drawings published from 1937 onward.

Edd Cartier's Illustration in Weird Tales
Spot drawing on the book review page (Winter 1985; from an unknown source)

Further Reading
  • "Edd Cartier (1914-2008)" by Bhob, Potrzebie (online), Dec. 27, 2008, here.
  • "Edd Cartier, 94, Pulp Illustrator, Dies" by William Grimes, New York Times, Jan. 8, 2009, here.

Text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Rodney M. Ruth (1912-1987)

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RMR
Illustrator, Advertising Artist, Children's Book Artist, Syndicated Comic Strip Artist

Born September 21, 1912, Benton Harbor, Michigan
Died January 27, 1987, Park Ridge, Illinois

When I introduced this series, I didn't know who RMR was. I found out at PulpFest by looking at an issue of Amazing Stories in which Rod M. Ruth signed several illustrations with a distinct flourish to his initials. He was born Rodney McCord Ruth on September 21, 1912, in Benton Harbor, Michigan. Edd Cartier went to school in New York City and found work with Street and Smith, a publisher with headquarters in that city. Rod Ruth did much the same in his locale by studying at the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts, the Frederick Mizen School of Arts, and the Institute of Design, and going to work for Ziff-Davis of Chicago. His illustrations appeared in Amazing Stories and Fantastic Adventures from 1940 to 1951. He also drew the newspaper comic strip The Toodles from 1941 to 1958. Ruth had a more varied career than Cartier and continued working as a professional artist even after pulp magazines came to an end. He illustrated books about dinosaurs and animals and Rand McNally's series of books about monsters and aliens, for which he had a real flair. Rodney McCord Ruth--RMR--died in Park Ridge, Illinois, on January 27, 1987, at age seventy-four.

Rodney M. Ruth's Illustrations in Weird Tales
"Yellow" by Conda Douglas (Winter 1985; from an unknown source)
"The Bus People" by J.N. Williamson (Winter 1985; from an unknown source)
"Peau de Cuir" by Steve Perry (Winter 1985; from an unknown source)

Further Reading
  • "Ruth, Rod,"The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction (online), Jan. 14, 2013, here.
  • "Rod Ruth,"Lambiek (online), no date, here.

Note: I have a new computer, but when you get a new computer, about half of your old stuff no longer works. For me, that includes some of my software, plus my scanner, plus my scanner/printer/photocopier. As soon as I solve the problem of a scanner, I will post images again.

Text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

A Note from PulpFest

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PulpFest this year was far less eventful for me than last year's show. I found a few books and magazines to add to my collection. I also found a couple of items for my research about my home state of Indiana and its connection to the pulps. And I saw a magazine cover that made me think of a recent comment from one of my readers who asked me to post images of all of the swipes Frank Frazetta made in his artwork. That's not something I can do, of course, as I don't know about all the swipes Frazetta might have made in his long career. All I can do is look at Frank Frazetta's swipes and possible swipes--of which there are few by my estimate--and the swipes other artists made of his work--of which there are hundreds, if not thousands--and do this only as I find them.

And I found one, maybe, at PulpFest:

Here is the cover of Adventure for March 1931 (first) with a cover by Leonard Cronin. When I saw this image, I couldn't help but think of a painting by Frank Frazetta:
His cover painting for Atlan by Jane Gaskell (1968).

So is that a swipe? I don't think anyone can say for sure. In art, there is the concept of rhythm, that is, a repetition of elements so as to give a sense of movement. A pack of wolves lends itself to a rhythmic treatment, as in these two images. All are wolves, but each is slightly different from the rest of the pack. Together they give an impression of animation and movement.

Here's another wolf cover:

Weird Tales, September 1942, with a cover by Albert Roanoke Tilburne.

Note the encircling movement of the wolves in each picture and the way they advance into the foreground after emerging from beyond the horizon. Tilburne was known to make a swipe or two, but is this a swipe from the earlier Adventure cover? As Mr. Owl says, "Let's find out."


Here is the Adventure cover, flipped so that the wolves are in the same orientation as in Frazetta's and Tilburne's covers. There is some similarity in Frazetta's picture to the flipped version of Cronin's picture. More incriminating is Tilburne's treatment, for the wolves in the rear are posed in exactly the same way that Cronin posed his wolves more than a decade before.

So Tilburne is guilty, but is Frank Frazetta? That last wolf is suspiciously familiar: it looks a lot like Cronin's last wolf. Ditto the leaning conifer. But is this a swipe? You'll have to decide that for yourself, as I can't say for sure.

Text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley

Henry del Campo (1899-?)

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Artist, Illustrator
Born March 10, 1899, Sant Feliu de Guíxols, Catalonia, Spain
Died ?

In my research, I have found that when a person disappears from or cannot be found in the public record, there is usually good reason. It's not just because he fell through the cracks somehow. The problem with artist Henry del Campo is that--although he had a good reason for first disappearing--he came back into the world and used his own name in his illustrations for Weird Tales. Only then did he disappear again.

Henry Valentine del Campo was a Spanish artist born on March 10, 1899, in Sant Feliu de Guíxols, a city on the Mediterranean coast near the border with France. His parents were Purdence or Petro del Campo and Sara or Sarah del Campo. Both were native Spaniards, and both came to the United States in 1912. They had two sons, Emil, born on August 12, 1895 or 1896, in Sant Feliu de Guíxols or nearby Girona, Spain, and Henry del Campo. The boys came here with their parents at the same time and were supposedly naturalized in 1919. If that's the case, they both earned it, for both served with the U.S. Army in Europe during the Great War.

Henry del Campo, though younger, was first to enlist. He was inducted into the New York National Guard on May 8, 1917, a month after the Unites States declared war on Germany. Del Campo first served in the infantry, then was transferred to a machine gun unit. He served overseas from July 9, 1918, to May 8, 1919, when he deserted "while in confinement awaiting trial" in Miramas, France (this according to his military record). I don't know why del Campo was in confinement, and I can't say how he escaped, but for the next twenty years, he hid from view.

Miramas, France, the place of Henry del Campo's confinement, is on the Mediterranean coast, not far from the port of Marseilles and by my guess about 200 miles from his birthplace in Spain. There are implications in all that, but probably no one now can say how the fugitive from American military authority made his way back to the United States. In any event, by January 4, 1920, the day they were counted in the U.S. census, del Campo was with his family in Brooklyn. I think it likely that they were hiding him, and because they were hiding him, they had to hide themselves by claiming a different surname. They were the del Gambos instead of the del Campos: Petro, who worked in a cork factory, Sarah, Emil, a stenographer, and Henry, without an occupation.

Henry del Campo was married by then. He had in fact married before shipping out to France. His bride was Marguerite Helen Casey, an Irish-American girl whom he wed on June 20, 1918, in Brooklyn, the day before her twentieth birthday. I don't know where she was in 1920 when Henry del Campo was counted with his family in New York, but in July 1922, Marguerite del Campo petitioned for naturalization in that same city. She claimed Spanish citizenship and arrived in New York from Havana, Cuba, by way of Key West, Florida. I wonder if the couple had lived in Cuba while things cooled off for Henry del Campo in his home city of New York.

In contrast to his brother, Emil del Campo served honorably in the U.S. military. He was inducted on May 29, 1918, in New York, and on July 31, 1918, he was transferred from an infantry unit to a machine gun unit. He was promoted to corporal the next day. The older del Campo brother served overseas from July 6, 1918, to August 23, 1919. He was honorably discharged on August 28, 1919, but served in the New York militia until August 12, 1959. He died in September 1964 in Spain, possibly in Barcelona (or his death was reported by the consulate in Barcelona). Emil del Campo showed up in the 1930 census with his widowed mother in Brooklyn. He was a widower, too. His brother, however, was still missing, at least from my search. Finally, on March 17, 1939, Henry del Campo reappeared, surrendering himself at Fort Totten, located in Queens, New York. "[R]eturned to military control" he was discharged on April 13, 1939, "under other than honorable conditions, by reason of desertion admitted and physical unfitness." Trial was "deemed inadvisable." (All from his military record.) Five months later, in November 1939, his first drawings in Weird Tales were published.

Henry and Marguerite del Campo were enumerated in the U.S. census on April 16, 1940, in Brooklyn. Next door were Emil del Campo, a foreman for a WPA project, and his mother Sara [sic]. Henry was, at the time, an illustrator working on his own account, while Marguerite was an office worker at a kennel club. According to what they told the enumerator, they had lived in the same place in 1935. All that leads me to believe that del Campo didn't just start working as an artist or illustrator in the five months between his military discharge and his first drawings in Weird Tales. It seems more likely that he had been working in his chosen field for some time and that only in 1939 was he finally free to use his own name again. Maybe there are drawings by del Campo hiding, like their creator was at the time, in the magazines and newspapers of the 1920s and '30s.

Weird Tales moved to New York City in 1938 and came to an end in 1954. In the intervening years, Henry del Campo contributed twenty illustrations to the magazine, mostly in the years 1939-1942. (There is a gap from 1942 to 1947, roughly the war years. Could del Campo have been involved in the war effort?) Other than a reprint in the Fall 1984 issue, del Campo's illustrations for Weird Tales from 1939 to 1954 are his only known credits in the genres of fantasy and science fiction. After the last was printed in January 1954, Henry del Campo disappeared once again. His wife, Marguerite Helen Casey del Campo, died in October 1988 in Brooklyn, New York. As mentioned, his brother, Emil del Campo, died in September 1964 in Spain. I'm afraid I can't say when or where Henry del Campo died. Spain is a possibility, but then again, maybe not. In any case, the mystery of Henry del Campo is perhaps half solved, if the mystery of any person's life can be said to be to any degree solved.

Henry del Campo's Illustrations in Weird Tales
"The Withered Heart" by G.G. Pendarves (Nov. 1939)
"Towers of Death" by Henry Kuttner (Nov. 1939)
"Black Was the Night" by Laurence Bour, Jr. (May 1940)
"Golden Chalice" by Frank Gruber (July 1940)
"The Artificial Honeymoon" by H. Bedford-Jones (July 1940)
"The Fiddler's Fee" by Robert Bloch (July 1940)
"The Gentle Werewolf" by Seabury Quinn (July 1940)
"The Blind Farmer and the Strip Dancer" by H. Bedford-Jones (Sept. 1940)
"The Reward" by Robert Clancy (Sept. 1940)
"The Unusual Romance of Ferdinand Pratt" by Nelson S. Bond (Sept. 1940)
"The Last Waltz" by Seabury Quinn (Nov. 1940)
"The Wife of the Humorous Gangster" by H. Bedford-Jones (Nov. 1940)
"Turn Over" by Dorothy Quick (Nov. 1940)
"Honeymoon in Bedlam" by Nelson S. Bond (Jan. 1941)
"The Downfall of Lancelot Biggs" by Nelson S. Bond (Mar. 1941)
"The Affair of the Shuteye Medium" by H. Bedford-Jones (Mar. 1941)
"Death of the Kraken" by David H. Keller (Mar. 1942)
"The Churchyard Yew" by J. Sheridan le Fanu (July 1947)
"Green Brothers Take Over" by Maria Moravsky (Jan. 1948)
"The Calamander Chest" by Joseph Payne Brennan (Jan. 1954)
Heading for Book Reviews page (Fall 1984; originally in a previous issue of Weird Tales)

Further Reading
None known.

An illustration by Henry del Campo from the story "The Wife of the Humorous Gangster" by H. Bedford-Jones, reprinted in The Adventures of a Professional Corpse by H. Bedford-Jones (The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2009).

Text copyright 2016 Terence E. Hanley
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