The cover illustration for the February 1971 issue of Real Men magazine might go with the story “He Bet His Babe In A Poker Game…And Lost!” that lurked inside. But with so many so-called ‘men’s adventure’ magazine stories like this particular issue’s “Sex-Hungry Women – Where To Find Them!”, “Give A Dame A Gun And She’s A Killer!” and “I Went To Bed With A Lez…Just To Find Out What It’s Like!” (from ‘an average young wife’, no less), it’s not always entirely clear which story the cover art goes with. Nonetheless, it’s classic 1960’s-70’s style vintage sleaze, and likely could’ve been paired with any of a number of that marketplace’s stories and articles.
(Spotted at that most excellent of reference sites, Notpulpcovers.com)
Back in 1944, ‘Noir Prince’ David Goodis penned a dogfight story titled “Dusk Is For Dying” under his own name for Fighting Aces magazine. For Goodis, any time may have been a good time for dying, dusk or dawn.
But let’s assume that “The Dawn Is For Dying” (above) by Lance Kermit doesn’t deal with heroic American airmen blasting Zeroes, Messerschmitt’s or whatever else Fighting Aces magazine showcased.
Actually, “Lance Kermit” was one of several pen names David Goodis used for the pulp magazine market (though he used his own name for many stories too). Not that I’d consider Adventure magazine a prestige venue…or any of the men’s adventure or ‘sweats’ mags, for that matter. But a David Goodis story graced by an Al Rossi two-page B&W illustration is prestigious enough for me, even if Rossi’s art is pure vintage sleaze at its ‘best’…or worst, depending on your point of view.
Now that I think about it, this April 1959 issue would’ve been on the newsstands during my own The Stiletto Gumshoe project, the hoped-for series’ first novel set in April and May of that same year. As it happens, “Sharon Gardner/Sasha Garodnowicz” (the Stiletto Gumshoe herself) inherited a soft spot for mystery fiction and true crime pulps left behind by her old man, and she’d have been sorely tempted by “The Case Of The Deadly Doll” and “Are You A Slave Of Desire?”. But I know she’d have snickered at “Land Of The Love-Captive Girls” and John Stygna’s cover art with its sword-wielding sheik and harem girls. My bet: A quick thumb-through of the rag would’ve probably found her settling in to Kermit/Goodis’ “The Dawn Is For Dying”.
From Peter Adrastos Athos’ First Draft Wordpress blog (link below): a 1973 LP from Bay Area band Cold Blood. The front is a pretty fair homage to the mid-fifties true crime and detective magazines that used photography instead of illustrations. But it’s the album cover’s back side that’s a real treat. Head to First Draft to read more about this band and the LP, or better yet, just to keep an eye on the blog’s “Pulp Fiction Thursdays”.
Noir? Nope. Kinda-fun vintage sleaze with a dark veneer? You betcha.
Over-Exposed is a 1956 low-budget Columbia Cleo Moore leer-fest from director Lewis Seiler. If Moore’s collaborations with writer-director-actor Hugo Haas teased and titillated (with more sizzle on the films’ posters and lobby cards than on-screen), this one makes no excuses about being an exploitation flick. And yet, it’s pretty engaging and written/shot/acted much better than it had any need to be.
The film opens with Cleo Moore dragged from a paddy wagon along with a group of fellow clip-joint B-Girls and (we’re to assume) hookers while a crime photographer snaps away. The cops tell her to be on the next bus out of town if she wants to stay out of jail, but she ends up bunking down at the crime photographer’s dumpy home studio. He may be old and a drunk but they become pals and he teaches her some studio basics from both sides of the lens. Gifted with some of his old camera gear, she finally buys that bus ticket and heads for the big city, anxious to become a news photographer, but unprepared for the cut-throat competition.
She hooks up with a young, handsome reporter played by Richard Crenna (on a break from the last season of his long-running radio/TV role as geeky high-schooler Walter Denton on Our Miss Brooks). He’s smitten right from the start, but Cleo’s not looking for love, she’s looking to make it big in the big bad city. She’s working soon enough, but only as a mob-connected cocktail lounge’s “flash girl” where the fit of her skimpy costume is more important than her camera skills. Ambition gets the best of her, though. “Green becomes me,” she says, and soon enough her camera’s got her tied up with a sleazy columnist, mobsters and blackmail schemes, ultimately kidnapped by the mob.
Cleo Moore’s not Ida Lupino or Lauren Bacall. Richard Crenna’s not Bogart or Mitchum. And director Seiler (who started out in the silent era) isn’t Fritz Lang or Nicholas Ray, though he did direct Whiplash in 1948. This is pure exploitation drive-in fare, ripe with leering mid-fifties naughtiness (which means it’s kind of tacky). But Moore delivers this time, the story moves along at a decent clip and there’s a nicely crafted shot or two along the way. And by that I don’t mean all the ogling of Cleo Moore prancing around her apartment studio in a black leotard and mesh hose or tussling with lushes in in her “flash girl” costume. Over-Exposed is in rotation on the Movies! Network’s two night’s of sorta and sorta-not noir films, and if you have that channel, I’d give this one a try.
I know absolutely nothing about writer Raoul Artz, and am only guessing that he penned seventies sleaze books, at least based on titles like Las Obsesiones Sexuales, El Amor En Sueca and (as translated online) Sexual Women and Sexual Dating: The Call Girls, all from 1976. (That last one’s still knocking around inside my head. “Dating” equals “Call Girls”?)
Vintage sleaze or not, I adore the cover art for Artz’ Barrios Chinos from 1972, though I’m frustrated as hell that the artist is uncredited. The book’s back cover text reads (as run through an online translator): “The legend of Chinatown laid bare. Truths and tragedies in neighborhoods that come to light in a stark, realistic and sobering way. All the big cities have a quiet neighborhood. A forbidden neighborhood, a Chinatown. This work offers a panoramic view of what the Chinese quarters of the world’s main cities really are.” Based on the cover art, I’m supposing the ‘panoramic view’ focuses on more of that ‘dating’ and those ‘call girls’.
One hell of an illustration, though…
As for Neil Pritchie, scribe for “35 Dolls Of Memphis” in the preceding post: I don’t know much, though his name pops up in various lowbrow pulps in the 1950’s, and I’ve seen (but neglected to buy, it being one of those overpriced ‘collectible’ paperbacks) his 1962 novel The Savage Kick, where badass Roy Haney and his young lover Ava peddle cut dope to the beatnik crowd and sell ‘hijacked flesh’ to squares in the early sixties hipster scene, which looks less than glamorous based on the paperback’s Stanley Zuckerberg (1919 – 1995) cover art.
“35 Dolls Of Memphis” is a Neil Pritchie story from the January 1956 issue of Stag magazine, which lucked out with this two-page spread duotone illustration by Illustrators Hall Of fame inductee James Bama, well represented in the “men’s adventure magazine” market at that time, his solid run on Bantam paperback covers still a few years away.
“There weren’t enough detectives in Memphis to question all the inmates of Daddy Samples’ harem,” the story’s tease stated, “a collection of luscious females, each a murder suspect.”
Would it surprise us if the Bama art turned out to be the best part of the tale?
Pulp magazine and vintage paperback collectors have done a darn good job of tracking down writers’ pen names and identifying cover artists’ unsigned works. But the artists and illustrators who banged out the black & white interior spot illustrations – surely for starvation rates that wouldn’t buy a cup of java and a sinker – sadly will remain anonymous for the most part, with very, very few ever credited, and even the pulp experts often stumped. I sometimes think of them as the anonymous residents of the Tomb Of The Unknown Illustrators, such as these examples pulled from a couple issues of Spicy Detective magazines from 1940.
Espionage, horror and Euro-sleaze film poster illustrations (and layouts) by Italian illustrator Mario De Berardinis (1931 – 1977).
The De Berardinis surname just seems to go along with artists for some reason, with the 1950’s – 1970’s era Italian poster, digest and paperback cover illustrator on one hand, but also Rosetta De Berardinis, a Washington D.C. abstract painter, and of course Olivia De Berardinis, the popular glamour and erotic art illustrator, though none are related in any way to my knowledge.
Time for a smoke while the boys conduct business?
Curt Aldrich was a pseudonymous house name used by Nightstand, Leisure and other paperback publishers for sleaze titles, and credited as the author of 1965’s Bedtime Standin, for which the unusually dark-hued Robert Bonfils cover art is shown here (Bonfils typically a fan of the brightest hues on his palette).