Wild time leaves man with splitting headache.
The cover of this September 1970 issue of Australia's Adam magazine illustrates W. A. Harbinson's story “The Swinging Hep-Cat,” in which a man and woman spend most of their brief marriage fighting. He eventually strangles her. Or thinks he does. She actually survives and he only learns of this fact in jail from the cops who arrested him, as they laugh about it and reveal that she's fled for Paris—and the arms of another man. Much of the fiction in men's adventure magazines is disposable, for lack of a kinder term. We love it, of course. Men's magazine fiction would be nothing without hack writing. But Harbinson actually shows some skills in “The Swinging Hep-Cat,” as well as a muscular style. A sample:
We fought considerably during those early days of our marriage, bouts of most regal proportions, plates, knives, hair-brushes and antiques flying across the bedroom on fierce winds of abuse, she raging naked against the French windows in full view of the tourists below, me crouching back toward the door wondering how to tackle this bitch who had eaten my peace—a farce, a pantomime, a lunatic performance on both sides, always dissolving in the bed.
Or this little description:
Francisco Antonio D'Costa Pegado, a glorious dark beast of a man, rich as sin, tight as a drum, an incredible neurotic lover.
We checked after finishing the story, fully expecting Harbinson to have an extensive bibliography and we were right. He's written several dozen novels, mostly sci-fi, under his own name and that of Shaun Clarke. Not every good wordsmith manages to carve out a strong career—or any career, for that matter—so we were pleased Harbinson did well, because he actually knows how to use language in a way that brings it to three-dimensional life. At least he did in “The Swinging Hep-Cat.” He's still around and was last published in 2012, but we'll probably mine his earlier material, his stuff from the 1970s. We have high hopes. Elsewhere in Adam is fiction from Jack Ritchie, Austrian actress Senta Berger on the table-of-contents page, and plenty of cartoons. We have twenty-eight scans below, including a mega Berger in the final panel for your enjoyment.
Get your filthy mitts off her this instant! I told you before—under my rules everybody gets a piece!
This issue of Adam was published this month in 1977. It has a nice cover featuring a tussle on the Hudson River with New York City in the background, and Bernie Sanders looking very pissed off. And really who can blame him? This situation is inherently unequal and there’s no need for it because, clearly, there’s more than enough to go around. The story being illustrated here is Mike Rader’s “The Man They Killed at the Waldorf,” about a murder plot with national security implications. This is probably one of the last stories he published in the magazine, and it’s certainly one of his most fanciful, involving a weather control device, a kindly professor, Russian spies, and a murderous femme fatale. Also in this issue you get the usual assortment of great illustrations and pretty models. The final photo feature is called “Irish Eyes,” and for some reason we prefer that last shot upside-down, maybe because there’s a Dorian Gray sort of weirdness to it. Scroll to see what we mean. Go on—Bernie would want you to.
Nobody knows the way, but everyone knows they’re right.
Last time we posted an Adam we miscounted and said it was our fortieth issue shared. Well, this is our
fortieth (impossible to even know at this point—41st—issue shared, we can't count). It’s an earlier one, from this month in 1955. That means it’s more text heavy, giving us plenty to read, which is nice for us, but leaving us fewer pages of visual interest to scan, not so nice for the website. So today you get thirteen images where normally we post about thirty. We could have scanned several more but getting to the pages in the center of the issue was a challenge—just removing it from its sleeve resulted in losing part of the cover. Alas.
Inside the issue you get fiction and fact, including Dick Halvorsen’s harrowing story of being shot down near Benghazi during World War II and having to trek for days through the Libyan desert to reach civilization. A few years ago 95% of Americans wouldn’t have been able to pronounce Benghazi, but now it’s a cultural buzzword—meaning to some people “cover-up” or “incompetence” and to others “witch-hunt” or “wingnut.” What a world we live in. Halvorsen’s tale, referencing a time when the Allies were informally partnered with Bedouins in the area, provides interesting historical color.
In other news we have twenty-six more issues of Adam to share. Yes, we’ve been busy beavers. Since today’s issue is already fragile as pie crust perhaps somewhere down the line we’ll just pull it completely apart in order to obtain more and better scans. We’ve sacrificed physical issues of magazines before to give them digital permanency, but not of our beloved Adam. In any case, check back for another posting of our favorite men’s magazine in a week or so. And for a quick look at some of those other thirty-nine issues, maybe start here, here, or here.
When in Rome kill as the Romans do.
forty thirty-nine issues of Australia’s Adam magazine, but none since March. That isn’t because we’re running out, but merely because we decided to focus on American men’s magazines for a while. But Adam is the king as far as we’re concerned. For us, it’s the most attractive, most interesting, and—because of its penchant for stories set in the Aussie outback and wilds of South Asia—the most exotic of all the publications from the late mid-century period. Maybe that’s why we have more than 1,200 scans from the magazine tucked inside Pulp Intl.
Today’s issue, number
forty-one forty we’ve scanned and uploaded, has a typically lurid cover illustrating James McQueen’s story “Blood on the Sand,” which is one of the better pieces we’ve read in Adam. McQueen spins a yarn about a Roman gladiator named Marcellus who faces his best friend Helvius in the Colossuem. Helvius loses, but is spared by a thumbs-ups from the emperor. But the two friends have to fight again, they know Marcellus will win again, and they know the emperor never spares a life twice. The bulk of the story is set in the few days of contemplation and partying between the two battles. It's a very effective little tale.
Elsewhere in Adam you get nice spreads from Samson Pollen and Bruce Minney, lots of thrilling fiction, and lots of naked women, including one in a soap foam bikini that reminds us of when Reiko Ike did the same. On a different subject, moving forward you may notice a break in our magazine scanning activities. Could be days or months. We have to replace our reliable old Mac with a new one and we’ll be losing our Adobe programs—i.e. no more Photoshop for cleaning scans, and we aren’t going to buy it for $1,500 because, as much as we like being one of the sites that uploads new, original content to the web, that price tag is just insane. We can still scan individual pieces of art and not need to use Photoshop on them, but magazines require retouching because the way they're bound means the scans come out skewed. If you've ever scanned one you know what we mean. We’ll see what we can do to work around the problem. In the meantime enjoy this Adam. Twenty-six images below.
Update: Forty issues, thirty-nine, who can keep count? Well, we actually went back through the website and today's makes forty. Still plenty. Plus we have twenty-one more issues in reserve. Look for those down the line.
Be careful about looking for cheap thrills—you might just find them.
This issue of Adam magazine with its nice cover art illustrating Arthur J Bryant’s story “Hey-Day in Hong Kong” appeared this month in 1971. Bryant’s story, which has a convincing sense of firsthand realism, is about an Aussie traveler searching Hong Kong’s red light district for a “yum-yum girl” but ends up attacked by three thugs. Turns out the hooker employs the toughs because she wants any man who purchases her services to prove he’s deserving of her gifts by fighting for her. You haven’t really had sex unless you’ve done it after being punched in the ribs and eye. Try it sometime.
Elsewhere inside you get more fiction, a bit of fact, plus the usual assortment of humor and models, including, notably, nudist icon Diane Webber, aka Marguerite Empey. The cover art for Adam was painted by Jack Waugh and Phil Belbin. The pieces are always unsigned, but we’re thinking this is Belbin’s work. Don’t quote us on it, though. Both Belbin and Waugh have departed this world, and we doubt there’s an Adam archive somewhere definitively crediting the covers. Anyway, we have thirty-four scans below and so many other issues of this magazine tucked away in the website it’s silly. If you want to see them just click here.
The headlines that mattered yesteryear.
1946—Cannes Launches Film Festival
The first Cannes Film Festival is held in 1946, in the old Casino of Cannes, financed by the French Foreign Affairs Ministry and the City of Cannes.
1934—Arrest Made in Lindbergh Baby Case
Bruno Hauptmann is arrested for the kidnap and murder of Charles Lindbergh Jr., son of the famous American aviator. The infant child had been abducted from the Lindbergh home in March 1932, and found decomposed two months later in the woods nearby. He had suffered a fatal skull fracture. Hauptmann was tried, convicted, sentenced to death, and finally executed by electric chair in April 1936. He proclaimed his innocence to the end
1919—Pollard Breaks the Color Barrier
Fritz Pollard becomes the first African-American to play professional football for a major team, the Akron Pros. Though Pollard is forgotten today, famed sportswriter Walter Camp ranked him as "one of the greatest runners these eyes have ever seen." In another barrier-breaking historical achievement, Pollard later became the co-head coach of the Pros, while still maintaining his roster position as running back.
1932—Entwistle Leaps from Hollywood Sign
Actress Peg Entwistle
commits suicide by jumping from the letter "H" in the Hollywood sign. Her body lay in the ravine below for two days, until it was found by a detective and two radio car officers. She remained unidentified until her uncle connected the description and the initials "P.E." on the suicide note in the newspapers with his niece's two-day absence.
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