A few of the contributors to the Goodtime Weekly Calendar of 1963 have been anonymous. This week we have another mystery photog (or perhaps the same single person who shot all the anonymous photos), and an image of an unknown model paired with a winged statuette. The anonymity of the photo dovetails with the provenance of the sculpture, which is a miniature of the Greek statue Winged Victory of Samothrace, a representation of the goddess Nike carved by an unknown artisan sometime in the second century B.C. But deities inevitably lose their power, and at some point someone looked at the goddess of victory, sneered, “Loser,” and pushed her over, rendering her armless and headless. But you’re just looking at the boobs behind the statue, aren’t you? Fair enough. So are we. Like the Greeks, we’re sensual that way.

There’s an interesting item making the rounds today, not strictly pulp, but worth a mention. Apparently a 1684 sex manual entitled Aristotle’s Compleat Master Piece will be offered for sale by Lyon and Turnbull auctioneers in Edinburgh, Scotland. The book, which was written in English and published there but banned until the 1960s, is part reference guide, part medical manual, and part anti-sex screed. For example, while the text offers suggestions for sexual enjoyment, and contains medical style drawings, it also warns couples what can happen if children are conceived in sin—namely that it would be born covered with hair or that Siamese twins would result. The author of the Compleat Master Piece is not known, but it's clear nothing Aristotle wrote made it into the text. Which could be considered a good thing. Great thinker and all, certainly smarter than we’ll ever be, but nobody’s perfect, and he whiffed badly a few times when it came to sex. Like for instance, he believed testicles were merely weights, and semen was produced from blood via body heat, with the best stuff coming from the area around the eyes. Given the choice, maybe we’ll take our sex advice from the anonymous hack. Auctioneers expect the book to fetch up to $650.

This issue of The Lowdown from September 1957 has three stories of particular note, we think. First, readers learn about Diana Barrymore’s fast, out-of-control life, which she had shared with the world earlier that year in an autobiography entitled Too Much, Too Soon. She had just gotten out of a long stint in rehab, and the book was a sort of catharsis, as well as an attempt to let the show business world know that she was cleaned up and ready to work again. But the revelations in the book were of a sort that had never before been encountered by the American public in an autobiography, and the controversy never really faded. Even Mike Wallace asked Barrymore in a televised interview if, like the title of her book, it all wasn’t a bit much. Three years later, at age 38, Barrymore died from an oh-so-familiar lethal Hollywood combo of booze and sleeping pills.   

Readers are also told about a brawl at the house of Peruvian singer Yma Sumac. She had just filed from divorce from her husband Moisés Vivanco and had gone by to pick up a few items. In no time at all, she, singers Esmila Zevallos and Benigno Farfan, and private detective Fred Otash got into a hair-pulling scuffle, with the family dog at the center, to boot. Even the L.A. Times covered the fight. It seemed no couple could be more in need of a permanent split than Vivanco and Sumac, but the divorce didn’t take—they remarried later the same year.

And finally Lowdown takes Life magazine to task for not having the guts to publish racy photos of Sophia Loren from her 1957 romance Boy on a Dolphin, about a woman in the Greek Isles who while diving for sponges discovers a potentially valuable, ancient gold statue of a boy on a dolphin. We’re talking Sophia Loren in wet clothes. And really, that brings us to the entire reason we’re featuring Lowdown today—so we have an excuse to publish one of the photos in question. There it is below, and now your Friday has gotten that much brighter, right? More from Lowdown soon.

Update: a great color photo from the film just showed up online. We've added that at bottom.

These Greek magazine covers from 1951 and 1955 were hiding in one of our pulp art folders from two years ago. We didn’t post them back then because we had no idea what the magazine is, or even what Ohεaypoε means. In fact, we don’t even remember where these pieces came from, which means we can’t credit them—something we’re always very good about doing. But mysterious origins or not, looking at the art anew we realize it’s top notch and we should have shared it earlier. Anyone out there who reads Greek, feel free to step up to the plate and tell us what this magazine is. 

American actress Candice Bergen rides an ass called Anagnosti through the streets of Galaxidi, Greece during a break in filming 1966’s The Day the Fish Came Out. 

Above, a Midnight newspaper with an article on Aristotle Onassis and his wife of one year, former First Lady of the U.S. Jackie Kennedy, published today in 1969. Jackie O., as she was known, was a full time obsession for the American tabloid press, though she lived on Skorpios, a private Greek island that was inaccessible to just about anyone outside the Onassis inner circle. But Midnight made up all its stories anyway, so isolated isle or not, they claim here to have the inside scoop on her marriage. Interspersed among that and other celebrity content is a lot of gore—i.e., unflinching photos of people in varying stages of mutilation, dismemberment and decay. Most of the images come from police files, though some are Vietnam War shots. Either way, they’re not for the faint-hearted. We have several more Midnights we’ll show you the inside of soon, including the blood and guts. 

Various movie posters from Russia, Poland, Hungary, Turkey, and the former West Germany, circa ’50s, ’60s and ’70s.     

It almost looks like promo art for a forgotten Hitchcock movie but it isn’t. It’s the poster for Diamantia sto gymno sou soma, a Greek erotic thriller directed by Omiros Efstratiadis and starring Eleni Anousaki as a woman who convinces her boyfriend to run over a jewel thief so they can expropriate the haul from his diamond robbery. The movie premiered in 1972 at the Thessaloniki International Film Festival, but hit Italy four long years later as Erotication. If it ever had a VHS or DVD release in North America, which we doubt, it was under the title Diamonds on Her Stolen Flesh. But even if you can’t see the film, we had to show you the dead-on-target art, with its Playboy-era Marilyn Monroe at the center of a fractured bullseye. Erotication premiered this month in Italy in 1976.