Photo of American motorcycle daredevil Evel Knievel, from today 1974, just before his ill-fated attempt to jump Idaho’s Snake River Canyon while strapped inside a steam-powered rocket. Knievel was the most famous daredevil in history at this point, and had conceived the Snake River feat as a way to further burnish his already considerable legend. But the jump failed when a chute accidentally deployed, causing the cycle to float into the canyon, where it crash-landed mere feet from the river. Had it landed in the water, Knievel would have drowned due to a jammed restraint harness, but instead he lived to jump another day.

A few days ago we alluded to Marlon Brando's weight struggles, so we thought it would be fair to post a reminder of how he looked during that time when he was the top male sex symbol in film, and the face of American rebellion. These two stills are from his seminal biker flick The Wild One, 1953.

None of us at Pulp Intl. were around during the 60s. Articles and reviews tell us Easy Rider—heavy with symbolism, sparse of dialogue, and low on budget—perfectly captured the unsettled mood of the times and changed moviemaking forever. But we weren't there, so we watch this film as latecomers, like people examining the high water mark of a flood that long ago receded. If the waters had risen higher perhaps we’d be living in a different world now, a better world rebuilt from scratch. But maybe not. Easy Rider was released in Japan today, 1970.

Just in time to capitalize on the infamous 1969 Altamont killing that brought eternal notoriety to the Hell’s Angels and Rolling Stones came Hell’s Bloody Devils. Less than a month after the December killing this film hit theaters, but if audiences were hoping director Al Adamson had insights into biker culture they were disappointed. The promo copy promises all sorts of mayhem, but instead we get a disjointed thriller with neo-Nazi villains, and Kentucky’s own Colonel Sanders in a surprising cameo. Word was he got face time in exchange for feeding the production crew. He should have cried fowl, because he gave away his chicken only to end up in a turkey. If you see this one coming your way, be sure to duck. Hell’s Bloody Devils premiered today in 1970.

In Britain, seven defendants were sentenced to life in prison yesterday for the murder of 35 year-old Gerry Tobin. Tobin was a member of the Hell’s Angels biker gang, and his killers—who ranged in age from 41 to 57—were members of the rival Outlaws gang.

In August 2007, Tobin was riding home from a motorcycle festival called the Bulldog Bash. His route took him along highway M-40 through territory the Outlaws considered theirs. They gave chase in a car, overtook the unsuspecting Tobin, and shot him once through the back of the head as he traveled at 90 mph. Two other motorcyclists trailing the scene witnessed the shooting.

Authorities were shocked by the senseless nature of the killing—the gunmen had never met Tobin. As Queen’s prosecutor Timothy Raggatt explained to the jury: “This wasn’t a case of a man being killed for any personal motive or any personal reason. This was a man who was targeted not because of who he was, but because of what he was. In one sense, Gerry Tobin was a random victim.”

You’d be surprised how many nudie magazines have been published over the years. No, I’m totally serious. It’s like guys are obsessed with sex or something. In the U.S.A., Mexico, Brazil, France, Italy—heck, even in places you’d never suspect—they churned these things out like Krispy Kremes. And don’t even get us started on the Swedes. You’d think there was nothing to do up there in the cold except think about sex. Nudie mags really came into their own during pulp’s heyday, and now, thanks to the tens of thousands of masturb—I mean, collectors out there, we can share treats like Australia’s Carnival with you. If you like that, wait until you see the copy of Road & Crack we found.