COLD HARD KASHMIR

British adventurers get high in South Asia.


The cover you see above for Berkely Mather’s, aka John Evan Weston-Davies’, 1960 adventure The Pass Beyond Kashmir is one of the more pleasing we’ve come across. It’s by Barbara Walton, a preeminent dust sleeve illustrator from the 1950s until around 2000. We’ve featured her a few times, such as here, here, and here, and this effort maintains her incredibly high standard. The scene depicted makes one think there’s a major romantic subplot in the novel, but the love interest is in the book for maybe twenty pages. It isn’t Walton’s fault that the art gave us expectations that weren’t met. It happens with covers sometimes. No romantic adventure here.

The story actually revolves around a sardonic and extremely determined ex-intelligence operative named Idwal Rees who gets caught up in a search for missing documents in the Himalayas that might reveal the location of an oil discovery. The action takes the form of a quest from Bombay-Mumbai into the high mountains, with new difficulties encountered in each stop by he and partner Smedley, servant Safaraz, and reluctant informer Poison. Each obstacle is followed by desperate problem solving, and hairsbreadth escapes. The aforementioned sort-of love interest, a nurse named Claire Culverton, is mainly a source of consternation for Rees and a focus for his chauvinism.

The set-up and framework are fine, but we felt that the book got bogged down with too much local color. Obviously, authors wish to impart that they’ve at a minimum done their homework, and at a maximum lived some version of what they’re writing about, but there’s also such a thing as narrative flow. We get it—Mather was really in India and Pakistan. He even served in the army there. But in our opinion he needed another pass from an editor to make for a better book. Still, as it resolved, it was decent, though anyone of Indian, Pakistani, or Chinese descent—or of good conscience—will bristle at the treatment meted out by Rees and other Brits. But you know that going in, right?

We'll talk more about how uncivilized you people are later. Right now I'm going to kill rare animals purely for ego.

Above is a nice Carl Bobertz cover for Hall Hunter’s, aka Edison Marshall’s novel The Bengal Tiger, set in India during late 1850s. The lesson here is that he who prints the books establishes the narrative. The “barbaric terror of the Sepoy massacre” against England and its British East India Company caused about 2,400 British fatalities, according to official records of the time, but the toll is now thought to have been about 6,000. The Brits didn’t bother to keep track of Indian deaths, but the change in recorded population between the previous census and the next indicated hundreds of thousands were killed. On a level orders of magnitude more disturbing is the fact that during the British occupation of India at least 40 million Indians, and possibly more than 100 million, were killed or starved to death.

If you were to ask Brits about the deadliness of their empire, most would not believe it, and many would try to excuse it. That’s no surprise. Generally, the citizens of the expansionist powers can only deal with such horrors by first denying the truth, then if that fails, suggesting that there’s a statute of limitations on mass murder. It happens, for example, whenever someone brings up slavery and westward expansion in the U.S. “It had nothing to do with me, or anyone else alive today.” However, over on the opposite side of reality where anti-Floridian concepts like factual history and mathematics reside, there are widely agreed upon studies revealing that—in Britain’s case—$45 trillion in wealth was drained from India over about 170 years. That amount of gain has very much to do with everyone alive today, and in the future. Have a good Monday!

Anger is a dish best served twice.

Remember the men’s magazine covers of elephant attacks we posted not long ago? Late last week a woman named Maya Murmu in the Indian state of Odisha was drawing water from a well when she was attacked by an elephant. The animal apparently charged her, knocked her down, trampled her, and left her smashed into the dust. An ambulance was called but Murmu succumbed to her injuries. This is where the story gets weird. Murmu’s family arranged for a funeral the next day via the traditional method of outdoor burning, but during the ceremony the same elephant appeared, grabbed the corpse from the pyre, flung it into the air, trampled it, and fled.

This is a really angry elephant we’re talking about, because that’s seriously gangsta behavior—like Gotti level, like something from a rap song. Stomp you once, shame on you, stomp you twice, you deserved that too. Not that Murmu did anything to deserve it. But elephants are supposed to have good memories, so that’s where our minds immediately went, and yours too, we bet. Reports from Odisha say the attack was unprovoked, but something set off the animal. Business deal gone wrong, personal betrayal, something. Currently it’s still at large. Authorities think it escaped from the Dalma Wildlife Sanctuary in the adjacent state of Jharkhand, but for now its whereabouts are unknown, and really, we wouldn’t recommend searching for it.

We dug around for a photo of the events mentioned, and did in fact find a shot that seems to show Murmu’s family gathered around her body but even we aren’t morbid enough to use it. We already get more than enough nightmare fuel doing this website. One of the reports we found also had a blurry elephant photo we took to be the angry pachyderm, but without a caption we couldn’t be sure. That being the case, at top you get a shot of an unrelated animal not involved in the Odisha attack. We may update this strange saga if anything new and interesting comes across, but even with the scant information available it’s a story so bizarre—and so pulp—that we had to mention it. If you want to see fifty amazing magazine covers of elephant attacks, just click here.

Calcutta is heavy on looks but light on substance.


We’ll tell you right out that Calcutta came very close to being an excellent movie, but doesn’t quite get over the hump. It deals with a trio of pilots flying cargo between India and China on fictional China International Airways. The trio, Alan Ladd, William Bendix, and John Whitney, stumble upon a highly profitable international smuggling ring and quickly find that the villains play for keeps. Along with the fliers, the film has Gail Russell as Whitney’s girlfriend, and June Duprez as a slinky nightclub singer. While the exotic setting marks the film as an adventure, it also fits the brief as a film noir, particularly in Ladd’s cynical and icy protagonist.

As we said, the movie isn’t as good as it should be, but there are some positives. Foremost among them is Edith King as a wealthy jewel merchant. She smokes a fat cigar, the masculine affectation an unspoken but clear hint of her possible lesbianism, and with a sort of jocular grandiosity simply nails her part. Another big plus is the fact that the miniature work (used in airport scenes), elaborate sets and props, and costumed extras all make for a convincing Indian illusion—definitely needed when a movie is filmed entirely in California and Arizona (Yuma City and Tucson sometimes served as stand-ins for exotic Asian cities, for example Damascus in Humphrey Bogart’s Sirocco).

On the negative side, Calcutta has two narrative problems: the head villain is immediately guessable; and Russell is asked to take on more than she can handle as an actress, particularly as the movie nears its climax. Another problem for some viewers, but not all, is that the movie has the usual issues of white-centered stories set in Asia (or Africa). However, within the fictional milieu the characters themselves seem pretty much color and culture blind, which isn’t always the case with old films. Even so, the phalanxes of loyal Indian servants, and the dismissiveness with which they’re treated—though that treatment is historically accurate—probably won’t sit well with a portion of viewers.

Here’s what to focus on: Alan Ladd. He’s a great screen presence, a solid actor in the tight-lipped way you often see in period crime films, and the filmmakers were even smart enough to keep him shirtless and oiled for one scene. We swear we heard eight-decade-old sighs on the wind, or maybe that was the Pulp Intl. girlfriends. They’d never seen Ladd before, but immediately became interested in his other films. We were forced to tell them he was a shrimpy 5′ 6” and they were a bit bummed. But he had it—and that’s what counted. His it makes all his films watchable, but doesn’t quite make this one a high ranker. Calcutta had its official world premiere in London today in 1946.
To billions of people I'm a superstar but you have the nerve ask who I am? You are so dead.


Above, an awesome image of Indian actress Rekha—née Bhanurekha Ganesan—from her hit fantasy adventure film Nagin, which is the fantastic tale of a magical snake that takes human form in order to revenge-kill some hunters. Rekha wasn’t the snake in the movie, but she looks ready to kill too. Obviously, the fact that she’s a one-name star indicates her level of fame, and though that recognition never quite took hold outside Asia, several billion people recognize her as one of the cinematic greats. Our loss, their gain. Nagin premiered in India today in 1976, so this photo would have been made sometime in 1975.
Go ahead. Try putting yourself in her position.


Let’s face it. None of us have toes strong enough to support our weight for longer than it takes to get the pancake syrup off a high kitchen shelf. Just looking at this photo causes us sympathetic pain. The image shows Sujata, who was an Indian dancer who rose to fame in golden age Bollywood before crossing the sea and appearing in numerous U.S. movies beginning in the early 1950s. In addition to her film work she toured the U.S. as half of the duo Sujata and Asoka, performing Indian, Tibetan, and other Eastern dances for amazed audiences. This shot is from the heyday of her touring period, when her toes were at their very strongest, probably around 1955.
Ursula the friendly witch.


Witches are supposed to be scary but Ursula Jeans didn’t get the memo, seemingly, as she prepares to take her broom out for a spin while wearing a rather enticing nightgown. On the other hand, maybe the nightgown is just a lure and the basket is to transport your corpse once she kills you and crushes you like an egg carton. You never know when it comes to witches. Jeans was born in 1906 in British India and launched her showbiz career on the London stage in 1922. She naturally made the transition to cinema and her films include The Barton Mystery, Dark Journey, and The Weaker Sex. This shot is identified all over the internet as being from 1965, which would be amazing if true, because she’d be fifty-nine years old in it. So, barring the evil practice of black magic to stay young, and assuming Jeans’ broom doesn’t have a flux capacitor built into it, let’s say this shot is actually from around 1935.

America's oldest tabloid continues its appointed rounds.
Today we have the cover and some interior scans from an October 1971 issue of the National Police Gazette, which dutifully explores its usual realms of sports, crime, and Hollywood. The magazine was founded in 1845, which is always astounding to consider. We bought a pile of these ages ago. In fact, they were the first bulk purchase of tabloids we ever made for the website. These ’70s issues of Gazette tend to be very cheap, but, as late stage editions, don’t hold much intrigue, which is why we hadn’t scanned one since 2014.

But we have to clear some space in our Pulp cave, so we scanned this one and immediately sailed it into the recycling bin. On the cover you have Samantha Marsh, and inside you get Joe Louis and Max Schmeling, Australian model Deanne Soutar, speculations on how old men can be and still have sex, hashish smugglers from India, and a story on the mysterious death of actress Thelma Todd. More from Police Gazette coming soon.

Cheapie tabloid shows the way to enriched health.

Above is the cover and below are some interior scans from National Informer Reader, an offshoot of the tabloid National Informer. It hit newsstands today in 1971. Generally the publication featured photographed models on its cover, but we’ve run across a few like this one with illustrations. There’s another one in the same vein inside the paper, and of course both are uncredited, though they look like the work of Alain Gourdon, aka Aslan. Needless to say, if these drawings are the work of the famed French illustrator, the editors of Informer Reader are unlikely to have paid for them.

The centerpiece of this issue is the spread on Swami Sarasvati, a famous yoga teacher who was born in India but moved to Australia and in 1969 became the host of a yoga television show that aired five mornings a week. Informer Reader shares her “sexercises,” but this turns out to be the editors’ salacious take on things—the Swami is merely offering relaxation and better health. It’s interesting, though, that she posed in a bikini. Clearly she wasn’t so zen a little self promotional skin was out of the question. You’ll notice her Siamese cat makes an appearance. There’s a video online of the Swami being interviewed, which you can see here, and amusingly, the cat makes an appearance there too.

Elsewhere in the issue readers get another installment of “I Predict” by seer Mark Travis. Never timid, this time around he warns that the U.S. and Soviet Union will develop lightning weapons to blast each other, that a member of the British parliament will be revealed as a modern Jack the Ripper, and that a famous Hollywood producer will be exposed as a drug kingpin. As a prognosticator you only have to be right one in ten times to impress people, but Travis isn’t even giving himself a chance with these crackpot predictions. We have more Readers to upload, so we’ll see if his anemic percentage improves. Scans below.

Unwelcome messenger of God encounters major difficulties converting islanders.

It sounds exactly like a story from a 1950s men’s adventure magazine, except this story is true. A Christian missionary decided he wanted to convert the tribespeople of remote North Sentinel Island in the Indian Ocean. The island had been declared off-limits years ago by the Indian government due to the inhabitants’ occasionally violent reluctance to be contacted by outsiders, but the missionary, named John Chau, refused to be deterred.

He located a fishing boat and several fishermen, and on November 15 they clandestinely and illegally traveled to the island. Being knowledgeable locals, the fishermen wouldn’t get too close, so Chau covered the final 500 meters in a canoe while the hirelings awaited his return. Later that day Chau returned indeed—in a big hurry after having arrows shot at him. At this point we would have called it a day, and you too, no doubt. But that’s why we aren’t missionaries. We tend to give up. Chau didn’t.

The next day, looking to build on his progress, he went back. This time the natives smashed his canoe—obviously considering this a significant hint as to their receptivity to Christian conversion. Chau, doubtless chagrinned, was forced to swim back to the fishing

boat. But missionaries, as we noted, are persistent. So, driven by his duty to convert the islanders, he went back—amazingly—a third time. And how did that trip work out? According to the fishermen the last they saw of Chau the natives were dragging his corpse around the island.

Well. There’s not much to say here. Who you feel is to blame in this scenario, if anyone, is a litmus test of your basic values. The fishermen have been arrested, but Chau’s body hasn’t been recovered yet due to obvious difficulties. The Indian government seems to want to let matters lie, but because Chau is American, the Sentinelese, as they’ve been dubbed, may yet pay a heavy price. One thing is certain—North Sentinel Island has dropped off our list of tropical paradises to visit. Now we’re looking at maybe going to South Sentinel Island.

North Sentinel Island: stay away.

South Sentinel Island: worth a look.

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HISTORY REWIND

The headlines that mattered yesteryear.

1945—Hollywood Black Friday

A six month strike by Hollywood set decorators becomes a riot at the gates of Warner Brothers Studios when strikers and replacement workers clash. The event helps bring about the passage of the Taft-Hartley Act, which, among other things, prohibits unions from contributing to political campaigns and requires union leaders to affirm they are not supporters of the Communist Party.

1957—Sputnik Circles Earth

The Soviet Union launches the satellite Sputnik I, which becomes the first artificial object to orbit the Earth. It orbits for two months and provides valuable information about the density of the upper atmosphere. It also panics the United States into a space race that eventually culminates in the U.S. moon landing.

1970—Janis Joplin Overdoses

American blues singer Janis Joplin is found dead on the floor of her motel room in Los Angeles. The cause of death is determined to be an overdose of heroin, possibly combined with the effects of alcohol.

1908—Pravda Founded

The newspaper Pravda is founded by Leon Trotsky, Adolph Joffe, Matvey Skobelev and other Russian exiles living in Vienna. The name means “truth” and the paper serves as an official organ of the Central Committee of the Communist Party between 1912 and 1991.

1957—Ferlinghetti Wins Obscenity Case

An obscenity trial brought against Lawrence Ferlinghetti, owner of the counterculture City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco, reaches its conclusion when Judge Clayton Horn rules that Allen Ginsberg’s poetry collection Howl is not obscene.

1995—Simpson Acquitted

After a long trial watched by millions of people worldwide, former football star O.J. Simpson is acquitted of the murders of ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend Ronald Goldman. Simpson subsequently loses a civil suit and is ordered to pay millions in damages.

1919—Wilson Suffers Stroke

U.S. President Woodrow Wilson suffers a massive stroke, leaving him partially paralyzed. He is confined to bed for weeks, but eventually resumes his duties, though his participation is little more than perfunctory. Wilson remains disabled throughout the remainder of his term in office, and the rest of his life.

Classic science fiction from James Grazier with uncredited cover art.
Hammond Innes volcano tale features Italian intrigue and Mitchell Hooks cover art.

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