Vintage Pulp

July 18 2024

BOYS WILL BE TOYED WITH

I want this to be good, you two. So take one more look over here to remind yourselves what you're fighting about.

Last time we read a novel by the globetrotting Ed Lacy, we said afterward we’d travel anywhere with him. In 1961’s The Freeloaders, for which you see a beautiful but uncredited cover above, he once again conducts readers to an exotic place—the Côte d’Azur, in the company of a small clan of Americans trying to survive without work visas in and around Nice.

Freelance writer Al Cane, the most recent addition to the group, has occasional gigs and makes enough money to live. Ex-boxer/ex-cop/ex-advertising man/constant enigma Charley Martins has savings that keep him in a nice seafront apartment. But painter Gil Fletcher and inveterate schemer Ed Jones struggle daily. The women within the group are diverse. Charley’s girlfriend Pascale is young, beautiful, and precocious; Gil’s partner Simone is opportunistic and fickle; Ed’s girlfriend Daniele is industrious and kind.

Eventually, Gil, desperate to stay in Nice and in need of money for he and Daniele, cooks up a foolproof robbery scheme. But to quote Mickey Rourke in Body Heat, “Any time you try a decent crime, you got fifty ways you’re gonna fuck up. If you think of twenty-five of them, then you’re a genius.” Gil is no genius. The rest of the story deals with the aftermath of the crime on the Nice guys, the unraveling of the mystery of who the mysterious Charley really is, and Al’s growing lust toward Pascale.

As with other Lacy novels, the flavor is as important as the plot, and he dishes up the South of France (with sides of Italy) in satisfying fashion. There are always a few nits to pick with him. Any time you write a novel there are at least fifty ways to fuck up. Lacy is no genius, but he always entertains. That’s travail numéro un.

France, Italy, Nice, Cannes, Ventimiglia, Berkley Books, Ed Lacy, Leonard Zinberg, cover art, literature

Vintage Pulp

July 10 2023

THE ROAD TO LEVANT

If you let yourself be free what amazing things you'll see.

Nudism or naturism is yet another staple of mid-century publishing. Numerous magazines were devoted to the practice, and many novels we’ve read, such as Marriage Can Wait, Murder Doll, High Red for Dead, and of course, the immortal Nudist Camp, feature nudism. It’s also featured in some pretty fun movies, such as 1962’s Blaze Starr Goes Nudist. So when we saw this poster for Isle of Levant, one of the seminal nudism movies of the 1950s, we decided to have a look.

The film was made by Swiss director Werner Kunz and originally titled Lockender Süden. In its English language version it’s professorially narrated by E.V.H. Emmett. The story told is about a trio of young Danish women and their dog who take a road trip through Germany, Switzerland, and France to arrive in the Côte d’Azur and get naked on Île de Levant.

It’s largely a travelogue, but it’s also pretty interesting from purely historical and architectural perspectives. Aided by the familiar visual of a crawling line on a map, you see the sights as the trio passes through Hamburg, the Rhine Valley, Rottenberg, Zurich, the Rhône Valley, Avignon, Cannes, Nice, Saint-Tropez, and Le Lavandou, all before the era of modern mass tourism, in a classic Fiat 600 Multipla, with its rear engine and backward front doors.

As for the nudism, Kunz makes you wait for it. About forty minutes into the sixty-eight minute exercise the girls hit the island and their clothes hit the sand. At first, many people wear g-strings, but later there’s nothing. As is typical for such films, the nudists are the best-looking examples from far and wide. Activities range from volleyball to hiking to sketching to snorkeling to boating, but as this is a lifestyle film, there’s no sex nor hint of it.

Because nudism isn’t—and wasn’t then—considered sexual by its practitioners, there are a few brief shots of naked children. We live in a country where naked children on beaches are not a strange sight and we pay them little mind, but in terms of filmed reality, this is where things acquire a double layer. Selling films of naked children changes everything. Though these nudism flicks were ostensibly educational, and the nudists themselves agreed to appear as a way demonstrating the advantages of their lifestyle, a large percentage of the actual consumers of the movies—surely—got off on them. And for a small subset, thence, nude children.

In a sense, the nudists of the era, despite the purity of their beliefs, were exploited by filmmakers, who knew—again, surely—that the money that flowed in was from seekers of knowledge about nudism and seekers of boners over naked women and men. As for pedophiles, though they were a segment of society that were basically never thought about by the populace at large back then, we suspect the filmmakers were aware of them. In any case, nobody is unaware today, which is why those shots now stand out in neon.

But if you wear your shiny happy 1950s glasses, Isle of Levant is worth a gander. It’s a historical curiosity, and one that made us nostalgic for an era in which we never lived. Because they were uncredited, we’ll never know who the trio of roadtrippers were, but we had an overwhelming sense of time passed and innocence lost watching them. And we thought: To have made that journey with them from Denmark through the Rhine Valley to the idyllic Côte d’Azur would have been so very fun.

Intl. Notebook

May 18 2023

A PUBLIC DISPLAY

Lindberg unveils more than just her movie for the Cannes press corps.

The above image shot today in 1971 shows Swedish star Christina Lindberg in Cannes, France, where she was promoting her movie Exponerad at the Cannes Film Festival. She was also at the prestigious event in 1973 to promote Thriller – en grym film, aka Thriller: A Cruel Picture, so you have to give her production companies Olympic Film and BAV points for effort, even though Lindberg’s movies are just arthouse sleaze when boiled down to their essence. And when your movies are not of particular merit what better way to bring attention to them than with random nudity? Shedding clothing was a go-to gimmick for Cannes starlets back when the line between mainstream and erotic film was blurrier than today.

In the first photo Lindberg is on the patio of a Cannes bar, and from her perch atop a table she stripped off everything except her panties while dozens of photographer captured her likeness and bystanders gawped at the spectacle. You can see some of assembled press in the fuzzy reverse angle at right. A bit later, on the terrace of the Majestic Hotel where she was staying, her clothes hit the tiles again, as you see below.

She wasn’t remotely finished. Here’s her memory of a publicity stunt that set Cannes ablaze: “I was going to meet the press out on a pier over the water. After having signed about a thousand invitations, which were given out to select people, I was lowered down from a rented helicopter to the pier topless. There were hundreds of photographers.”

We find it amazing that so few photos of such an event seem to survive today. There must have been thousands of frames shot of that helicopter stunt. Lindberg’s recollection of so many photographers shows you the sheer volume of imagery that’s lost to time. Luckily, she’s well documented anyway thanks to the photo sessions she made for various international magazines and her 1973 photo book. A few of our favorites are here, here, and here. She’ll return to Pulp Intl. soon.

Sweden, France, Cannes Film Festival, Cannes, Exponerad, Exposed, Christina Lindberg, nudity

Vintage Pulp

April 27 2023

EXTREME HEAT

Is there really such a thing as too much?

Elke Sommer front and center on a vintage poster claiming she’s “almost too hot”? Sign us up. Sweet Ecstasy was originally made in France as Douce Violence—“sweet violence”—and fits loosely into a cycle of films characterized as nouvelle vague, or the French new wave. Director Max Pécas, however wasn’t a new wave director. He was better known for his work at the forefront of the cinéma Z style, also known as the nanar sub-genre, films loosely equivalent, we gather, to eroticized b-movies, meaning sex and stupidity. Pécas is also remembered for a trilogy of 1970s Saint-Tropez erotic comedies. But for Douce Violence he’s an art director, trying to make a significant statement in the same broad category as La dolce vita or À bout de souffle, aka Breathless.

To that end, what you get here is a group of idle twenty-somethings for whom entitled boredom is the order of the day, as they rip around the French Riviera near and within Cannes, seeking thrills and not caring about the future. When Olivier (Christian Pezey) finds himself drawn into this clan of troublemakers living on their parents’ money, their leader Maddy (Pierre Brice) enlists his own girlfriend to be the soft edge of the wedge in a scheme to corrupt the newcomer. It’s for Olivier’s own good, you see, because he’s too bourgeois.

The girlfriend is Sommer, playing a character also named Elke, and she’s in vamp mode here, which means cat-eyed make-up and cumulonimbus hair, as she taunts and teases poor Olivier in her efforts to make him into a fellow disaffected youth. Is she too hot? No. Elke is always just hot enough. She and her pals go water-skiing (really Elke in some of the shots), swimming, boating, driving, and most of all, partying. They question convention, conformity, society, mortality, and all the rest. Like other movies of this type, there isn’t much plot. Also as in similar films, an event galvanizes and changes the group—or seems as though it might.

The main attraction in the film is Elke, and she delivers what early ’60s audiences wanted—an envelope pushing performance amidst a growing wave of censorship-destroying movies. Like Bardot and others, Sommer shows a lot of skin, and almost—almost—goes topless. Though it’s supposed to be gauche to say so about a woman these days (but we don’t care, because sex is why we’re all here, and it’s ultimately all that matters, despite modern attempts to obfuscate it, hide it, police it, and shame it), Elke’s very stimulating. And she doesn’t even look her best here, due to the crazy make-up and hair.

As a final note, we suspect the movie was censored in the U.S. to remove some revealing bikini scenes, some shots of Elke’s asscrack, a bare breast caress by a male character, and (probably) some or all of a sweaty, open-shirted dance by a black character. The poster certainly was censored—no doubt about that. The word “ecstasy” was placed to cover the word “violence.” You can just see it if you squint. So the movie’s title was set to be literally translated, but that was deemed too much for Americans—or at least some Americans (southerners, we suppose). Douce Violence opened in France and Belgium in early 1962, and reached the U.S. today the same year.

France, Cannes, Douce Violence, Sweet Ecstasy, Violent Ecstasy, Elke Sommer, Pierre Brice, Agnès Spaak, Christian Pezey, Vittoria Prada, Max Pécas, poster art, cinema, movie review

Vintage Pulp

November 6 2021

A RICH EXPERIENCE

David Dodge explains how to travel like a boss even if you aren't.

Is The Poor Man’s Guide to Europe pulp? Think of it as pulp adjacent. David Dodge was one of the better crafters of crime and adventure fiction during the mid-century, so when we learned that he had written travel guides we knew they were must-reads. His novels were often outward looking. To Catch a Thief was set on the French Riviera; Plunder of the Sun, Mexico; The Long Escape, several Latin American countries including Chile and Peru. And Dodge’s first travel book How Green Was My Father dealt with Mexico and Guatemala.

But Europe is the subject here, and accompanied by Irv Koons illustrations, Dodge mines nuggets of valuable info from his continental experience for Americans who cross the pond. As this is a book about getting by on a budget, much of the info has to do with currency trading, a reduced concern these days, but the ins and outs of swapping cash make for some interesting insights into the various countries involved, and Dodge is clever at weaving travel anecdotes while keeping his narrative money focused. Example:

Night was falling with that dull thudding sound it makes when you don’t know where you are going to sleep. By bribing the concierge I got three beds at a “first class” hotel across the street. It was terrible—overcrowded, noisy, and operated according to the old army slogan: Don’t you know there’s a war on, buddy? I got out early the next morning, walked three blocks to the center of town toward the Via Vittorio Veneto, and landed two bedrooms, a sitting room, a bathroom, and a balcony in a clean, old-fashioned, superbly operated Italian albergo with a wonderful cook and waiters who caught dropped napkins before they hit the floor. The patrono, who spoke six languages, took Elva and me to the opera as his guests three nights later while his wife babysat with Kendal, and the overall charge was 8,500 lira a day, about $13, all meals and table wine included.

And that’s pretty much what travel is about for us—seizing victory from the jaws of defeat. Other anecdotes had us searching for confirmation, they were so hard to believe. For example, was it really the trend in 1953 for some women on the Cotê d’Azur to wear a cache-sexe? Dodge says it was. It’s central to a tale about his friend crashing a rental car into a palm tree after seeing two cache-sexe clad women on the Croisette in Cannes. In case you don’t know, this cache-sexe was a thong bottom and stick-on breast coverings that made women look almost nude when viewed from the rear.

We have topless and occasionally unclothed women on our beach, but still, we’d give a lot to see something like what Dodge describes, considering these women were not on the beach, but ambling down the street. We once saw two women in bikinis who had wandered several blocks from our beach to ponder the outside of the local cathedral, and that visual incongruity stuck with us for weeks. The cache-sexe must have absolutely scandalized people. And thrilled them too. Maybe that’s why Dodge wrote a sequel guidebook focused entirely on the south of France with the tongue-in-cheek title The Rich Man’s Guide to the Riviera. We bought that one too. Stay tuned.

France, Italy, Rome, Cannes, David Dodge, Irv Koons, cover art, literature

Femmes Fatales

June 4 2020

LET THE SUNSHINE OUT

Cardinali sizzles in the south of France.

Our sun is categorized as a G2V type star, and in this blinding photo Italian actress Nuccia Cardinali—sometimes Cardinale, occasionally Karen Carter—is too G2V to be true as she poses for a shot in Cannes, France. Her cinematic career was scant, consisting of a dozen or so films. But that’s okay—she personifies summer, surf, sand, and all things good and glowing in this image. It appeared as a centerfold in Ciné-Revue magazine in 1970.

Italy, France, Cannes, Ciné-Revue, Nuccia Cardinali, Nuccia Cardinale, Karen Carter

Intl. Notebook

May 12 2020

NO CANNES DO

Hitchcock says no festival for you this year!

The 73rd edition of the Festival de Cannes, aka the Cannes Film Festival, would have kicked off today in the south of France, but was cancelled a while back. It’s just one of a wave of event cancellations that will cascade through the year. Festivals as diverse as Burning Man and San Fermin, aka the Running of the Bulls, have also been shelved. But getting back to Cannes, we thought this would be a good moment to commemorate past fests with some historical photos. Above you see Alfred Hitchcock on a boat with the town in the background, in 1972, and below are about fifty pix from the 1940s through 1970s, documenting various iconic moments, and a few quieter ones. Maybe the Cannes Film Festival will back next year, maybe not. At this point, predicting anything is an exercise in futility. But at least we’ll always have the memories.

Edith Piaf sings on the terrace of the Carlton Hotel on the iconic Boulevard de la Croisette at the first Festival de Cannes to be held under that name, in 1946. Back then the event took place in September and October, but would shift to May a bit later.

Diana Dors and Ginger Rogers arrive at the fest the only way anyone should—breezing along the beachfront in a convertible, in 1956, with an unknown driver.

Kirk Douglas holds court on the beach in 1953, and Brigitte Bardot soaks up rays in the foreground.

Michele Morgan poses at the first Festival in 1946. Photo ops of this sort were essential sources of publicity for stars, and would soon become opportunities for non-stars seeking to be discovered.

Case in point. Robert Mitchum poses with actress Simone Sylva in 1954. Sylva was allegedly not supposed to be there, but shucked her top and photo-bombed Douglas in an attempt to raise her profile. It didn’t work. She made only a couple of credited movie appearances after her topless stunt.

Romy Schneider and Alain Delon at the 1959 fest.

An unidentified model or actress poses in the style of Anita Ekberg from La dolce vita in 1960. This looks like it was shot at Plage du Midi, which is a beach located a little ways west of the Cannes town center.

A unidentified partygoer is tossed into a swimming pool after La Dolce Vita won the the 1960 Palme d’Or. The Festival is almost as well known for legendary parties as for legendary film premieres.

Another unidentified model or actress poses on the boardwalk in 1979. Generally, you don’t have to be known to draw a crowd of photographers—you just have to be nearly bare. She’s wearing lingerie, so that explains the interest, though this is modest garb for a Cannes publicity stunt. It’s never a surprise to see a headline-seeking film hopeful strip all the way down to a string ficelle féminin, or thong, which is the limit of what is legal in Cannes

Sidney Poitier and Jean Seberg have a laugh in 1961. This was the year Poitier’s flick Paris Blues was released, so it’s possible he had jetted down from the capital for the Festival.

PhilomeÌ€ne Toulouse relaxes on the sand in 1962 while a boy practices the classic French look of disgust he’ll be using the rest of his life.

Actor Bernard Blier, 1975.

An unidentified bikini wearer boldly enjoys a lunch in a café on the Croisette, 1958.

Natalie Wood aboard a sailboat in 1962.

Grace Kelly, 1955.

Kelly times two—Grace Kelly and Gene Kelly, hanging out, also in 1955.

Sammy Davis, Jr. poses in front of a billboard promoting his film A Man Called Adam, 1966.

Joan Scott gets sand between her toes in 1955. Scott is obscure. She isn’t even the most famous Joan Scott anymore. The IMDB entry for the only Joan Scott near the appropriate age is for an actress born in 1920 who didn’t begin acting until 1967. The Joan Scott above doesn’t look thirty-five, though, and we doubt she would have been the subject of this somewhat well-known photo without parlaying it into a film appearance before twelve years had passed. So we don’t think this is the Joan Scott referenced on IMDB.

Sharon Tate, with Roman Polanski, and solo, 1968.

Marlene Dietrich brings glamour to a tiki themed bar in 1958.

Tippi Hedren and Alfred Hitchcock release caged birds as a promo stunt for The Birds in 1963.

Sophia Loren sits with husband Carlo Ponti, who was a member of the 1966 Festival jury.

Raquel Welch poses on a motorcycle in 1966.

Jane Birkin takes aim with one of her cameras in 1975.

Dorothy Dandridge frolics in 1955, when she was promoting her film Carmen Jones.

Cinematic icon Catherine Deneuve and her sister Françoise Dorléac in 1965. Dorléac died in an automobile accident a couple of years later.

Robert Redford lounges on the beach in 1972. Based on his outfit you’d think he was in Cannes to promote The Sting, but he was actually there for his western Jeremiah Johnson, which screened May 7 of that year.

Sophia Loren waves to well-wishers in 1964.

Bogie and Bacall paired up and looking distinguished in 1957.

John and Cynthia Lennon in 1965, and John with Yoko Ono in 1971. Every story John told on that second trip probably started with, “When I was here with the first love of my life…” until Yoko smacked him across the mouth.

Rock Hudson and bicycle in 1966.

Unidentified actresses pose on the beach in 1947. To the rear is the Hotel Carlton, mentioned in the Edith Piaf image, built on the Croisette and finished in 1910.

George Baker, Bella Darvi (right—your right, not his), and an unknown acquaintance have a surfside run/photo op in 1956.

Jayne Mansfield and Russian actress Tatiana Samoïlova enjoy a toast in 1958. Mansfield probably shared the story of how she once made Sophia Loren stare at her boobs, and Samoïlova said, “Cheers to you—well played, you provocative American minx.”

French actor Fernandel, whose real name was Fernand Contandin, on his boat Atomic in 1956.

Arlette Patrick figures out a different way to generate publicity—by walking her sheep on the Croisette in 1955.

A pair of water skiers show perfect form in 1955, as a battleship floats in the background.

Jeanne Moreau, for reasons that are unclear, poses on a banquet table in 1958. Most sources descibe this in such a way as to make it seem spontaneous, but we have our doubts. It’s a great shot, though.

Two unidentified women take in the scene from the terrace of the Hotel Carlton, 1958. This shot is usually said to portray two tourists, but the woman on the left is the same person as in the bikini lunch shot from earlier, which tells us she’s a model or actress, and both photos are staged. Like we said, publicity is everything in Cannes.

Danielle Darrieux and Sophia Loren at the 11th Cannes Film Festival, 1958.

Italian actress Monica Vitti chills on a boat in 1968.

Aspiring stars catch some rays on the Croisette beach in 1955. The two large posters behind them are for The Country Girl with Grace Kelly, and Jules Dassin’s Du rififi chez les hommes, both below.

The renowned opera singer Maria Callas, 1960.

France, Cannes, Festival du Cannes, Cannes Film Festival, Palme d’Or, La dolce vita, A Man Called Adam, The Birds, Alfred Hitchcock, Edith Piaf, Diana Dors, Ginger Rogers, Kirk Douglas, Brigitte Bardot, Michèle Morgan, Robert Mitchum, Simone Sylva, Romy Schneider, Alain Delon, Sidney Poitier, Jean Seberg, Natalie Wood, Grace Kelly, Sammy Davis Jr., Sharon Tate, Roman Polanski, Marlene Dietrich, Tippi Hedren, Gene Kelly, Maria Callas, Sophia Loren, Carlo Ponti, Raquel Welch, Jane Birkin, Joan Scott, Dorothy Dandridge, Robert Redford, John Lennon, Cynthia Lennon, Yoko Ono, Rock Hudson, Lauren Bacall, Humphrey Bogart, George Baker, Bella Darvi, Jayne Mansfield, Tatiana Samoïlova, Catherine Deneuve, Françoise Dorléac, Fernandel, Arlette Patrick, Jeanne Moreau, Danielle Darrieux, Bernard Blier, PhilomeÌ€ne Toulouse, Monica Vitti, poster art, cinema

Femmes Fatales

December 2 2018

YANCY FREE

From behind the microscope to in front of the camera.

You don’t know U.S. actress Emily Yancy but she’s been around for a long time. She started performing on television in 1963 and is still going strong as of 2018. Of her few cinematic efforts two were notable—the blaxploitation classics Cotton Comes to Harlem and Blacula. Her small screen appearances include Starsky & Hutch, The Mod Squad, and MacGyver.

The above photo is from 1961, and it was made when she was eighteen years old and competing in the Miss American Beauty Pageant, not be confused with the Miss America Pageant. Interesting story, she was a biology major and was working at NYU Medical Center operating an electron microscope when her coworkers persuaded her to give parading up and down a stage in a swimsuit a shot. She won Miss American Beauty, which gave her a chance to compete again in France.

She was sent to Cannes and finished second in the Miss Cannes Film Festival competition. After that Hollywood called and those boring old electrons were forgotten. Television, film, nightclub performing, modeling and a lot of travel followed. There’s a lesson in this story, and maybe not one that should be taught to little girls—Forget science! Give us a little leg!—but you don’t need a microscope to see that Yancy takes a great picture, and her career longevity suggests she made a good choice.

France, Cannes, Cannes Film Festival, New York City, Cotton Comes to Harlem, Blacula, Starsky & Hutch, The Mod Squad, MacGyver, Emily Yancy, television, blaxploitation

Modern Pulp

August 27 2018

DODGY SITUATIONS

Huh? What do you mean you tipped him enough earlier to cover our whole stay?

David Dodge was a very deft writer. When he died in 1974 The Last Match hadn’t been published, but Hard Case Crime put it out in 2006, and it falls into the same category as his To Catch a Thief, as well as jet-set grifter novels by other authors.

For us this book was tremendously entertaining. Dodge takes his protagonist to Spain, southern France, Tangier, Central America, Brazil, and other exotic locales, weaving in foreign vocabulary and mixing it all up to reflect his character’s life as an international rolling stone. Like when he explains offhand that the Brazilian soft drink guaraná is fizzy like a Portuguese vinho verde, but sweet, and perfect for mixing with cachaça.

Little things like that give the tale great flavor. And the story of an inveterate con man knocking about from country to country while stalked by a smitten aristocratic beauty (who he refers to as Nemesis) has plenty of amusements. Some say it’s not Dodge at his best because it has no plot, but stories only need to entertain. Dodge, like his main character, is remembering the highlights of his life and mixing in a portion of male-oriented fantasy.

We’ll admit to having a weakness for the tale because we’ve been to most of the places mentioned, had high times drinking guaraná mixed with cachaça, and met more than one charming hustler or beauty who arrived from parts unknown to send the town reeling. But as objectively as we can manage to assess, we think The Last Match is good, lighthearted fun. Highly recommended.

France, Brazil, Peru, Spain, Morocco, Cannes, Tangier, Marrakech, Hard Case Crime, To Catch a Thief, David Dodge, cover art, literature

Hollywoodland

February 21 2017

PURE DYNAMITE

New tabloid explodes onto the gossip scene.

When we describe Dynamite as a new tabloid, it’s only partly true. It was a new imprint. But its publisher, the Modern Living Council of Connecticut, Inc., was headquartered at the Charlton Building in Derby, Connecticut, which is where Top Secret and Hush-Hush based operations. When you see that Dynamite carried the same cover font as Top Secret and Hush-Hush, and that those two magazines advertised in Dynamite, it seems clear that all three had the same provenance. But unlike Top Secret and Hush-Hush, it doesn’t seem as if Dynamite lasted long. The issue above, which appeared this month in 1956, is the second. We are unable to confirm whether there was a third. But if Dynamite was short-lived it wasn’t because of any deficiencies in the publication. It’s identical in style to other tabloids, and its stories are equally interesting.

One of those deals with Henry von Thyssen, the Dutch born, German descended heir to an industrial fortune, and his wife, Nina Dyer, heiress to a tea plantation in Sri Lanka, back then called Ceylon. The von Thyssen family manufactured steel in Germany, including for Hitler’s Third Reich, and came out of World War II unscathed, as big companies that profit from war always do. Dyer was a dilettante famed for making bikinis popular on the French Riveria. According to Dynamite, von Thyssen was so desperate to marry Dyer that he allowed her to keep her boyfriend, the French actor Christian Marquand. Society gossips whispered,

but both spouses were fine with the set-up until von Thyssen accidentally ran into Dyer and Marquand in Carrol’s nightclub in Paris and was forced to save face by starting a fight. The couple soon divorced, but not because of infidelity, as many accounts claim. What finally broke the couple up was that Dyer dropped Marquand. Dynamite tells readers: “[von Thyssen] has ditched his sloe-eyed Baroness because now she’s decided she loves him.”

Interesting, but there are many similar stories about open high society marriages. What interested us, really, was the portrayal of Dyer. Apparently she had at some point been strongly influenced by Asian women. Her husband described her as “soft and feminine and oriental looking.” Dynamite painted this word picture: “She walks as though she has a water pot balanced on her head, her dark, slanting eyes are inscrutable, and her movements are so languorous and cat-like that von Thyssen gave her a baby panther as a companion.” Dyer eventually had two panthers, and was often seen walking them on the Croisette in Cannes. After her marriage to von Thyssen ended she quickly married Prince Sadruddin Aga Khan, but that marriage ended in divorce. Over the years she had been given many gifts. Besides the panthers there were cars, jewels, and a Caribbean island. But the one thing money never bought for her was happiness. She committed suicide at age thirty-five.

There’s a lot more to learn about Nina Dyer—her modeling career, her adventures in the south of France, her free-spirited ways in the Caribbean, her 1962 E-Type Jaguar Roadster that was found in Jamaica in 2015 and restored for a November 2016 auction, and more. So we’ll be getting back to her a little later. We still have about fifty tabloids from the mid-1950s and we’re betting she appears in more than a few. Meanwhile, elsewhere in Dynamite is a story tracking Marilyn Monroe’s movements around Fire Island during a summer 1955 vacation, a report about Frank Sinatra being barred from the Milroy Club in London, an exposé on prostitution in Rome, a breakdown of the breakdown of Gene Tierney’s engagement to Aly Khan (Sadruddin Aga Khan’s brother), and a couple of beautiful photos of Diana Dors. We have about thirty scans below for your enjoyment. Odds are we’ll never find another issue of Dynamite, but we’re happy to own even one. It’s great reading.

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HISTORY REWIND

The headlines that mattered yesteryear.

September 9

1956—Elvis Shakes Up Ed Sullivan

Elvis Presley appears on The Ed Sullivan Show for the first time, performing his hit song “Don’t Be Cruel.” Ironically, a car accident prevented Sullivan from being present that night, and the show was guest-hosted by British actor Charles Laughton.

September 8

1966—Star Trek Airs for First Time

Star Trek, an American television series set in the twenty-third century and promoting socialist utopian ideals, premieres on NBC. The series is cancelled after three seasons without much fanfare, but in syndication becomes one of the most beloved television shows of all time.

September 8

1974—Ford Pardons Nixon

U.S. President Gerald Ford pardons former President Richard Nixon for any crimes Nixon may have committed while in office, which coincidentally happen to include all those associated with the Watergate scandal.

September 7

1978—Giorgi Markov Assassinated

Bulgarian dissident Giorgi Markov is assassinated in a scene right out of a spy novel. As he’s waiting at a bus stop near Waterloo Bridge in London, he’s jabbed in the calf with an umbrella. The man holding the umbrella apologizes and walks away, but he is in reality a Bulgarian hired killer who has just injected a ricin pellet into Markov, who develops a high fever and dies three days later.

September 6

1901—McKinley Fatally Shot

Polish-born anarchist Leon Czolgosz shoots and fatally wounds U.S. President William McKinley at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York. McKinley dies September 12, and Czolgosz is later executed.