Now fellas, don't fight. There's more than one jacket and boots ensemble in the world.
Some people are just bad at sharing, a fact amply illustrated by the cover of Marcus Miller's Boy Meets Boy, written for Greenleaf Classics' subsidiary Nightstand Books, 1968. Miller, who was really Samuel Dodson, wrote more than a dozen gay-themed sleaze novels in a four year span between 1966 and 1970. Some of the juicier entries include The Mother Truckers and Copsucker, the latter of which is an especially noteworthy title even in the fertile genre of sleaze. The Miller pseudonym was used for hetero sleaze too, all of which was written by Milo Perichitch. The art for Boy Meets Boy is by the always amusing Darrel Millsap, whose best work you can find here and here.
Ma’am, we're highly trained professionals who can spot guilt a mile away… Okay, you’re clean. Have a nice day!
Night Cry is a thriller about a cop who accidentally kills a murder suspect and covers it up. Seems pretty straightforward until the suspect turns out to be innocent, which will fray the nerves of even the meanest cop a bit. The body, which the cop had dumped in a river, turns up and he’s assigned to investigate the crime, which is even more nerve-racking. But there’s more—the beautiful girlfriend of the deceased soon becomes everyone’s prime suspect. Night Cry is a well-regarded book that inspired the movie Where The Sidewalk Ends, directed by Otto Preminger. The 1954 paperback front above followed earlier versions from 1948 and 1949, and the art is uncredited.
The gun? Sorry to say that’s so I can deal with about 200 pounds of excess baggage I don’t want on this trip.
The Blonde and the Boodle, from Sexton Blake Library, entry number 394, is a labyrinthine tale by British author Jack Trevor Story of thwarted love and a thwarted bank heist. Basically, girl marries a crook, girl is influenced to rob bank, girl loses loot, girl decides husband is louse, girl looks for replacement, girl selects someone even worse than her first choice. All very interesting, but what we really wanted to do was share the amazing art, which is by Fernando Carcupino, a man so respected as an artist he was knighted. Really—in 1983 he was made a Knight of the Order of Merit of the Italian Republic. That takes talent. Sexton Blake books have a vertical cover banner, but we’ve cropped that so you can see Carcupino’s work a bit more closely. For the purists among you we've uploaded the full cover as well. We’ll try to dig up more examples of this genius’s output later.
Tips for perking up a wilting flower.
This beautiful poster was made for the drama Kaben no shizuku, which was known in English as Beads from a Petal, as in beads of moisture. A lot of Japanese softcore movies have titles referencing beads of moisture, or dew, or the various parts of flowers, such as pistils and petals and whatnot. In this one Rie Nakagawa plays a married woman who is unfulfilled by sex. When her husband strays, the betrayal sends her seeking help, which she eventually gets from a psychiatrist (an ex of hers actually, which we're sure is unethical, but whatever) and he is able to determine that her aversion to sex has to do the repressed memory of having seen her parents making love when she was young. Do you need to know more? We thought not. Kaben no shizuku premiered in Japan today in 1972.
She always had a problem letting go.
This could be a Pulp Intl. first—a Japanese movie where a foreign poster is the nicest version out there. Usually the Japanese whip all competing asses in the poster design department, but just this once the Italian iteration is better, probably because it was painted by Enrico de Seta, one of the best illustrators of the period. The movie is Jitsuroku Abe Sada, which was called in Italian Abesada—L'abisso dei sensi. That means “Abesada—abyss of the senses,” but the English title decided upon was actually A Woman Called Sada Abe. The story tracks real-life murderer Sada Abe, who habitually practiced sexual asphyxiation with her lover Kichizo Ishida, and in 1936 strangled him to death with the sash of her obi. The sensational story grew into an epic folk legend, interpreted by painters, writers, and poets, and when Japan's roman porno film genre came along the incident was a perfect fit.
Jitsuroku Abe Sada was one of several films to tackle the subject. In real life, Sada followed up her killing of Ishida by castrating the corpse and fleeing with the severed organ. The movie covers this aspect of the incident too, and eventually ends with Sada's arrest. The real life Sada was convicted of murder and other crimes, but despite begging to be executed was sentenced to prison, released after a few years, and went on to live four more interesting decades. We won't go so far as to recommend Jitsuroku Abe Sada. It has its worthwhile points, among them the reliable Junko Miyahsita in the lead, but if you're going to watch a telling of the Sada Abe incident, maybe try the more famous and more explicit In the Realm of the Senses, which appeared in 1976. Jitsuroku Abe Sada premiered in Japan today in 1975.
, Jitsuroku Abe Sada
, Abesada—L'abisso dei sensi
, A Woman Called Sada Abe
, In the Realm of the Senses
, Junko Miyashita
, Eimei Esumi
, Enrico de Seta
, poster art
, roman porno
, movie review
Yup. Done gave myself more’n a few scars over the years with this trick but I got it down pretty good now.
The cover art by Robert Bonfils makes The Passion Cache look like a western but it’s actually set in the present day, or at least 1968, which is when Don Bellmore, aka George H. White, wrote the book. It deals with two fraternity buddies who go looking for twenty-thousand dollars worth of Spanish gold in the mountains above El Paso, Texas. But this is sleaze fiction, not adventure fiction, so the quest for gold is really secondary to the main character Jud’s quest to do some prospecting between the thighs of his friend’s wife Viola, an Indian girl named Desert Rose, and an eager virgin/tomboy named Sally. He’s successful on all counts, multiple times. Does he eventually end up with the gold? No, but he ends up with Desert Rose, and that’s pretty much what these books are all about.
Junko can’t come to the phone right now—she’s taking dictation.
OL nikki: Nureta satsutaba premiered in Japan today in 1974 and starred Aoi Nakajima as a woman named Junko who’s seduced by a banker involved in a scheme to embezzle 900 million yen. That’s like $350 in U.S. money. Just kidding—it’s actually a shade over a million dollars in 1974, we think. We gather that the inspiration for this film was an actual embezzlement scheme at Tokyo’s Shiga Bank. The “OL” of the title stands for “office lady,” and the entire title would translate roughly as “office lady diary: wet wad of money.” Hah hah. Wad. Um, this was the fourth entry in what was a very popular series, with seven made all together, though not all starring Nakajima. We have posters for other OL movies and we’ll get those up down the line, hopefully.
Well, I suppose we can. But only as long as you keep a peel on it—I don't want those little seeds of yours taking root.
You ever get the feeling publishers sometimes used whatever art they had sitting around? You certainly would in the case of David Dortort's 1948 paperback Burial of the Fruit, which is a “gripping novel of youth in the slums.” A slum that had a nice expanse of wetlands and recreational boating, apparently. Yes, there's nature around Brooklyn, where the novel takes place and the anti-hero takes his sweetheart out there, but you'd think this was a rural saga if not for the cover blurb. Later editions had more appropriate art. The book tells the story of Honey Halpern—a male—who becomes the leader of a gang of killers for hire. Basically, it's the story of Murder, Inc., turned into fiction. This was Dortort's debut and it got rapturous reviews and earned him comparisons to some of the greatest contemporary authors alive. But he wrote only one other novel and never did become an immortal in the literary world. Instead he's remembered for creating the television show Bonanza. Maybe that isn't as respectable as being a master novelist, but we bet he made way more money. The cover artist here is Ann Cantor.
At least she made her one shot memorable.
The above Technicolor print features American model Joann Burgess in an image from 1960 that was also featured on the cover of Modern Man magazine in January 1961. We looked everywhere, but we’re unable to find any record of Burgess apart from the two examples you see here. But at least her one appearance tends to stick in the mind, which is why it's appropriate it's titled “Memories.” See more Technicolor lithos here.
The headlines that mattered yesteryear.
1935—Jury Finds Hauptmann Guilty
A jury in Flemington, New Jersey finds Bruno Hauptmann guilty of the 1932 kidnapping and murder of the Lindbergh baby, the son of Charles Lindbergh. Hauptmann is sentenced to death and executed in 1936. For decades, his widow Anna, fights to have his named cleared, claiming that Hauptmann did not commit the crime, and was instead a victim of prosecutorial misconduct, but her claims are ultimately dismissed in 1984 after the U.S. Supreme Court refuses to address the case.
1961—Soviets Launch Venus Probe
The U.S.S.R. launches the spacecraft Venera 1, equipped with scientific instruments to measure solar wind, micrometeorites, and cosmic radiation, towards planet Venus. The craft is the first modern planetary probe. Among its many achievements, it confirms the presence of solar wind in deep space, but overheats due to the failure of a sensor before its Venus mission is completed.
1994—Thieves Steal Munch Masterpiece
In Oslo, Norway, a pair of art thieves steal one of the world's best-known paintings, Edvard Munch's "The Scream," from a gallery in the Norwegian capital.
The two men take less than a minute to climb a ladder, smash through a window of the National Art Museum, and remove the painting from the wall with wire cutters. After a ransom demand the museum refuses to pay, police manage to locate the panting in May, and the two thieves, as well as two accomplices, are arrested.
1938—BBC Airs First Sci-Fi Program
BBC Television produces the first ever science fiction television program, an adaptation of a section of Czech writer Karel Capek's dark play R.U.R., aka, Rossum's Universal Robots. The robots in the play are not robots in the modern sense of machines, but rather are biological entities that can be mistaken for humans. Nevertheless, R.U.R. featured the first known usage of the term "robot".
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