GOLDEN RULES

Bond goes on a gilt trip.

When it comes to early James Bond movies, generally people’s favorites starring Sean Connery seem to be Dr. No, Goldfinger, and From Russia with Love. Among Roger Moore movies they’re usually Live and Let Die and The Man with the Golden Gun. When we wanted to read another Bond novel (we blazed through Casino Royale several years ago), and wanted one based on an iconic early movie, that left us with five choices. We went with Ian Fleming’s posthumous 1965 effort The Man with the Golden Gun. You see a dust jacket above illustrated by John Richards. The yellowish color is true—it’s not a scanner issue. You might assume the book is expensive, and it sometimes is, but we saw copies of this edition going for fifteen dollars. It was an easy buy.

Perhaps you’ve heard that the filmmakers took extraordinary liberties in adapting the novel. Well, we hadn’t—and liberties is an understatement. The villain Francisco Scaramanga remains, though he’s more urban than urbane in the book. The plot is wildly different. There’s no scheme to sell advanced solar technology to the highest bidder, no gun duel, no private island, no Herve Villechaize-like character; instead there’s a mundane desire to con a group of money men into investing in a Jamaican hotel. Bond insinuates his way into Scaramanga’s employ as an assistant/security guard. Can you imagine, in any of the movies, Bond being a security guard?

The book is of extremely limited scope in comparison to the movie. We find that fascinating because back then movies were constrained in what they could depict. Sets, models, and special effects could achieve only so much, but authors’ imaginations were theoretically unlimited. Yet moviemakers were consistently more imaginative than authors—at least outside the realm of sci-fi/fantasy. The Man with the Golden Gun the movie makes The Man with the Golden Gun the novel feel underdeveloped, but that’s no fault of Fleming’s. No 1960s authors could have conceived of moments like the movie’s spiral car leap across a river. Even so, the book is quick and entertaining. There’s a reason Fleming became a pop literature giant, and it shows here.

Maybe if we were high we'd have bought it.


We ran across this on mercadolibre.com. It’s Ian Fleming’s Goldfinger from Ediciones Albon, out of Colombia, published in 1964. The vendor was asking 200 for this. Pesos? No—dollars. That’s a lot of plata. We’d rather spend the money on actual Colombian gold, so we took a pass. But we love the cover. 

Don't worry! I'm going to get the three of you out of there!


Our girlfriends—affectionately PI-1 and PI-2—rolled their eyes at this one, and why wouldn’t they? We did too, but we work with what we’re given, and we certainly couldn’t ignore the fact that this January 1969 Adam magazine features a cover of a woman whose gravity defying breasts are directly in the center of the art. Men’s magazines, those concoctions of macho fantasy set to print, are inherently sexist, but we are mere documentarians of mid-century art, literature, and film—and crime, and weirdness, and sex—in the various forms they take. This one is a particularly eye-catching example.

While literary magazines published prestige fiction, men’s mags like Adam carried on the pulp tradition, giving authors without highbrow leanings opportunities to expose their work to wide audiences. Without the efforts of such publications, modern literature might look very different. Stephen King, for example, published many of his early stories in Gallery, a middle-tier smut monthly nobody would have mistaken for Playboy. Speaking of which, Playboy published early works from Ian Fleming, Ursula K. Le Guin, and even serialized the entirety of Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 in 1954, a year after its initial publication landed with a thud.

As far as we know Adam didn’t produce any major writers except James Lee, aka Jim Aitchison, whose Mr. Midnight books were recently made into a series now streaming on Netflix. But failing to graduate lots of future bestselling authors doesn’t change what Adam was—a publication that aimed for mass male appeal by merging all the elements of what was once known as pulp. Those elements included mystery, crime, war, exotic adventure, risqué humor, and a dose of relatively tame sexual content. We have all that and more below in thirty-plus scans, and something like seventy-eight issues of Adam embedded in our website.
For a fulfilling killing nothing beats a blade.


Today we have for your pleasure a collection of vintage paperback covers featuring characters on both the giving and receiving ends of knives—or knifelike tools such as icepicks. Above you see Harry Bennett art of a poor fella getting a knife from nowhere. Maybe Damocles did it. It’s a funny cover because we don’t think we’d grab our throats if we got stabbed in the spine, but let’s hope we never find out. Below, in addition to numerous U.S. and British offerings, you’ll see covers from France, Italy, Spain, and the Netherlands. There are many, many paperback fronts featuring knives—we mean hundreds—but we decided to stop ourselves at thirty-two today. These do not represent the best (as if we could decide something like that), or our favorites, but merely some interesting ones we’ve come across of late. If you’re super interested in this particular motif we have plenty more examples in the archives. They’d be hard to find, because we don’t keyword for knives, so here are some links to get you there: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

Hear that? Sounds like the approach of my next sexual conquest. Just grab your things and head out the side door.


Sean Connery died a few days ago at age ninety, so we think it’s a good time to share a rarity we’d been hoarding for a while. Connery and Luciana Paluzzi star on the cover of this Japanese edition of Ian Fleming’s James Bond thriller 007/Sandâbôru sakusen, better known to the world as Thunderball. This was put out by Hayakawa Books as a movie tie-in just before the film hit Japan in December 1965. Fleming originally published it in 1961 as a novelization of an unfilmed-at-the-time Bond screenplay by Kevin McClory, Jack Whittingham, Ivar Bryce, and Ernest Cuneo. That’s a lot of people, and unsurprisingly there was rancor involved in who got credited before a court settled the issue. This is an awesome find, and the rear cover is interesting too. We’ll have more rare Bond items a little later.
The deeper you go into this casino the wilder it gets.


Today we’re circling back to James Bond—as we do every so often—to highlight these movie tie-in editions of Ian Fleming’s Casino Royale. The movie these are tied into is not the 1963 original with Sean Connery, but the 1967 screwball version with David Niven as Bond and Woody Allen as Bond’s nephew Jimmy Bond. If you haven’t seen it, just know that it was terribly reviewed, with Time magazine calling it an “an incoherent and vulgar vaudeville.” These covers are derived from the Robert McGinnis Casino Royale movie poster, which is an all-time classic. McGinnis created two versions of the poster—one with text and one without, with the painted patterns on the female figure varying slightly. You see both of those below.

The paperback was published by both Great Pan and Signet, and the cover art was different for the two versions. The Great Pan version at top is McGinnis’s unaltered work, but the Signet version just above was painted by an imitator, we’re almost certain. We’d hoped to answer this for sure by visiting one of the numerous Bond blogs out there, but none of them have really discussed the difference between the 1967 paperback covers. That leaves it up to us, so we’re going to say definitively that the Great Pan version was not painted by McGinnis. Whoever the artist was, they did a nice job channeling the original piece, even if the execution is at a much simpler level.

Moving back to the posters, if you scroll down you’ll see that we decided to focus on the details of the textless version to give you a close look at McGinnis’s detailed work. The deeper you go the more you see—dice, poker chips, glittery earrings, actor portraits, and more. If you had a huge lithograph of this on your wall and a tab of acid on your tongue, an entire weekend would slip past before you moved again. This is possibly the best work from a paperback and movie artist considered to be a grandmaster, one the greatest ever to put brush to canvas. If anyone out there can tell us for sure who painted the Signet paperback—or whether it is indeed McGinnis—feel free to contact us.

James Bond's daughter leaves the Soviets shaken and stirred.


The 1967 James Bond spoof Casino Royale was a box office disaster, but it had its moments. London born actress Joanna Pettet, playing Mata Bond, estranged daughter of Mata Hari and Sir James Bond (David Niven), performed an eye-catching, Buddhist-themed dance number in a faux temple that must have cost a huge chunk of the movie’s budget. We don’t know how actual Buddhists feel about the bit, but it looks like Pettet had a laugh or two. In the film she’s sent to take on SMERSH, the Soviet spy agency that appeared in fictionalized form in Ian Fleming’s Bond novels. Pettet appeared in a handful of other films, but her career mostly comprised television roles on shows such as The Fugitive and Night Gallery. Her Mata Bond dance is short but probably worth a look. You can see it while the link lasts here.
Filmgoers say yes to No and a franchise is born.


Since we’ve already talked about two movies inspired by Bond today, why not discuss the landmark that started it all? There had always been spy movies. Even the James Bond films, with their focus on high concept action and fantastical super villains, had predecessors. But United Artists, director Terence Young, Sean Connery, and the rest took the basic notes of those earlier efforts, wove them into a fresh composition, and cranked the volume up to eleven. This Spanish poster painted by Macario Gomez was made for the first Bond film Dr. No, which played in Spain as Agente 007 contra el Dr. No. Ian Fleming’s novel had been published in 1958, and the film hit cinemas four years later. Like From Russia with Love, which we watched recently, we’ve seen it more than once, but not for years, and decided to screen it with fresh eyes.

We imagine audiences had never seen a spy movie quite like this, with its opulent production values and near-seamless construction. Set in Jamaica, the exotic locations are beautifully photographed, and while the filmmakers’ portrayal of the island isn’t necessarily authentic, it’s immersive, and makes the required impression of a land of mystery and danger. An altogether different impression was made by the ravishing Ursula Andress, and we suspect once word got out certain filmgoers bought tickets just to see her. Joseph Wiseman’s villainous Julius No, a few hi-budget gadgets, and a secret lair filled with expendable henchmen complete the set-up—and establish the Bond template for the future. Add the unflappable if occasionally imperious spy himself and the fun is complete.

The Bond franchise’s success inspired scores of imitators, as discussed in the two posts above, but with a few exceptions those movies usually work today on the level of unintentional comedy or eye-rolling camp. Dr. No, despite Bond’s interjections of humor, took itself seriously. Viewers were supposed to believe its most fantastic elements were possible. In addition, they were supposed to see Bond as the uber-male, a man who fights and loves hard, is virtually immune to sentiment, and never mourns losses for long. That notion of ideal manhood has certainly changed—for the better we’d say—but even accounting for the tectonic cultural shifts in the interim Dr. No holds up like the best vintage thrillers. It’s stylish, charmingly simple, and—if one assesses it honestly—progressive for its time. It premiered in England in October 1962, and reached Spain today in 1963.

Famed author Ian Fleming arrested after strangulation rampage at his publishing company.


We talked about how Ian Fleming feuded with his publisher Perma Books over name changes to his James Bond novels. This is another one of the offending paperbacks, 1957’s Too Hot To Handle. Not only had this book already been successfully published as Moonraker by the British hardback imprint Jonathan Cape, but the Lou Marchetti cover art Perma used doesn’t fit the Bond brand at all. Signet Books did infinitely better when it got the rights in 1960. As far as Fleming trying to strangle everyone at Perma, we can’t confirm that as fact. But we bet he thought about it. 

Garzanti cover for Bond collection is absolutely favoloso.


Here’s a little something to add to the Ian Fleming bin. This is Il favoloso 007 di Fleming, published in Italy in 1973 by the Milan based company Garzanti. It’s a compendium of the four James Bond novels CasinoÌ€ Royal, Vivi e lascia morire, Il grande slam della morte, and Una cascata di diamanti, better known as Casino Royale, Live and Let Die, Moonraker, and Diamonds Are Forever. The cover for this is great, we think, and as a bonus the interior also contains some black and white photos.
 
But really, we were drawn to this because of the model and her fishnet bodysuit. Or is that lace? Doesn’t matter. She’s none other than Claudine Auger, aka Domino from 1965’s Thunderball. Sean Connery gets a corner of the cover as well, and the rear is interesting too, with its shark and cards from To Live and Let Die. Technically, those cards should be tarots, but whatever, nice art anyway. And speaking of nice, we also located the photo used to make the cover, and you see that below too. Really cool collector’s item, which we’d buy if we read Italian. But alas, that isn’t one of our languages, so this one still languishes at auction. 

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HISTORY REWIND

The headlines that mattered yesteryear.

1967—Summer of Love Begins

The Human Be-In takes place in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park with between 20,000 to 30,000 people in attendance, their purpose being to promote their ideals of personal empowerment, cultural and political decentralization, communal living, ecological preservation, and higher consciousness. The event is considered the beginning of the famed counterculture Summer of Love.

1968—Cash Performs at Folsom Prison

Johnny Cash performs live at Folsom State Prison in Folson, California, where he records a live album that includes a version of his 1955 hit “Folsom Prison Blues.” Cash had always been interested in performing at a prison, but was unable to until personnel changes at his record company brought in people who were amenable to the idea. The Folsom album was Cash’s biggest commercial success for years, reaching number 1 on the country music charts.

2004—Harold Shipman Found Hanged

British serial killer Harold Shipman is found dead in his prison cell, after hanging himself with a bedsheet. Shipman, a former doctor who preyed on his patients, was one of the most prolific serial killers in history, with two-hundred and eighteen murders positively attributed to him, and another two-hundred of which he is suspected.

1960—Nevil Shute Dies

English novelist Nevil Shute, who wrote the books A Town Like Alice and The Pied Piper, dies in Melbourne, Australia at age sixty-one. Seven of his novels were adapted to film, but his most famous was the cautionary post-nuclear war classic On the Beach.

1967—First Cryonics Patient Frozen

Dr. James Bedford, a University of California psychology professor, becomes the first person to be cryonically preserved with intent of future resuscitation. Bedford had kidney cancer that had metastasized to his lungs and was untreatable. His body was maintained for years by his family before being moved to Alcor Life Extension Foundation in Arizona.

1957—Jack Gilbert Graham Is Executed

Jack Gilbert Graham is executed in Colorado, U.S.A., for killing 44 people by planting a dynamite bomb in a suitcase that was subsequently loaded aboard United Airlines Flight 629. The flight took off from Denver and exploded in mid-air. Graham was executed by means of poison gas in the Colorado State Penitentiary, in Cañon City.

Any part of a woman's body can be an erogenous zone. You just need to have skills.
Uncredited 1961 cover art for Michel Morphy's novel La fille de Mignon, which was originally published in 1948.

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