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Blondes may be only skin deep but their betrayals cut to the bone.

We checked out Louis Trimble way back and weren’t impressed, but every writer deserves a second chance. His 1951 novel Blondes Are Skin Deep tells the story of a Pacific Northwest private detective duo—Nick Mercer and Johnny Doane—who work for an organized crime boss as collectors. When Doane disappears in Portland along with 100K the boss sends Mercer down to find out what happened. Turns out Doane is alive and well, but in hiding, claiming he didn’t steal the money. Thus the two dicks team up to uncover the truth, and find there are femmes fatales right in the middle of it.

A pair of detectives-cum-fixers constitute a fertile concept for a novel but Trimble doesn’t produce the best result here. So that’s two misses from him. We did like the fact that the boss lives on the top floor of a hotel he owns, and the staff are mostly his henchmen à la John Wick and the Continental. But basically, Blondes Are Skin Deep never comes to fruition. Funny story: PI-1 asked, “What does blondes are skin deep even mean?” and we had the joy of trying to explain to her a title that almost means something, but really doesn’t, while she made her why-do-you-read-this-shit? face. It happens a lot.

Welch emits immeasurable degrees of heat in working class sports fable.
We’ve seen a number of Raquel Welch movies, and we appreciate her as a personality, but she wasn’t a good actress. Not to speak ill of the dead and all that, but it’s just true. She was unsubtle and inconsistent. She made some highly entertaining films, but an accomplished artiste she was not. Kansas City Bomber, which premiered in the U.S. today in 1972, is a drama that uses the milieu of roller derby but follows the blueprint of classic boxing flicks in which a fighter is eventually asked to take a dive in order to get ahead. Because of the gender flip involved in Welch playing this archetype, an extra layer of plot involves a usurious money man who’s having his way with her in bed. But the theme of an athlete selling their soul remains familiar.

Welch was a tremendous sex symbol, generally considered the hottest thing going ever since 1966’s One Million Years B.C., so Hollywood, in its infinite wisdom, sometimes had her hook up with transparently undeserving men in her flicks so her male fans could scream, “Noooooo!” In this case it’s too-old and too-fat team owner Kevin McCarthy. The jealousy that her preferential treatment by management causes among her co-skaters generates much of the movie’s conflict, but a secondary drama is that Welch’s character K.C. Carr must face one of life’s most sobering realizations—that no matter how good a person you may feel (or pretend) you are, it’s everyone else who gets to decide whether you’re actually just an asshole. You can claim to be misunderstood, but it makes no difference at all.

In the film the other skaters think Welch is a sexual opportunist who’ll do anything behind the scenes—and between the sheets—for advancement. Welch understands on some level that it’s her face and body that get her to the top ranks of roller derby. She can go, “Gee! I guess he just really appreciates my talent!” all she wants, but nobody is buying it. We think that’s a fine cinematic premise, but the problem with Kansas City Bomber is that it’s silly and faddish. The drama is way over the top, and the introspection Welch should bring to the role doesn’t resonate. Which is surprising. You’d think she’d really identify with this character—again, not to speak ill of the recently departed. We adore Welch. As a persona she was tops. As a portrayer of deep and affecting emotion… well…
As far as they're concerned no crime means no fun.


The 1994 romantic action movie I Love Trouble is unrelated to the original from 1948, for which you see a beautiful promo poster above. The first I Love Trouble is a film noir, a neglected one not often mentioned as an entry in the genre. Franchot Tone stars as a detective hired by a politician to look into his wife’s background. He’s been getting anonymous notes implicating her in some sort of illegality. As Tone chases clues from L.A. to Portland, his investigation uncovers blackmail and hidden identities, and of course a love interest pops up in the form of the wife’s sister. With its smug private dick and regular interjections of humor the movie feels derivative of The Maltese Falcon, and its romance angle is incongruous, but Tone is cool in his detective role and carries the weight of the narrative nicely. The cast is a who’s-who of stars and soon-to-be stars, including Adele Jergens, John Ireland, Tom Powers, and Raymond Burr. If that doesn’t pique your interest you just don’t love trouble. I Love Trouble premiered today in 1948 and went into to wide release January 15.

With husbands like these who needs enemies?

Mary Jo Tarola was born in Portland, Oregon in 1928 and by 1952 had established herself in Hollywood, first under the milquetoast moniker Linda Douglas, then under her own far more interesting name. Just two years into her career she married producer Pasquale “Pat” DiCicco. Not well known now, DiCicco was a bootlegger and pimp who became mafia boss Lucky Luciano’s lieutenant in Tinseltown. He was infamously abusive toward women—one dust-up with his first wife Thelma Todd led to her having an emergency appendectomy, and another with his second wife Gloria Vanderbilt involved him slamming her head into a wall. Tarola’s promising film career ended with her marriage to DiCicco, but at least she left behind a few choice artifacts like the above photo by photographer Ernest Bachrach. It dates from 1952 or 1953.

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HISTORY REWIND

The headlines that mattered yesteryear.

1916—Rockwell's First Post Cover Appears

The Saturday Evening Post publishes Norman Rockwell’s painting “Boy with Baby Carriage”, marking the first time his work appears on the cover of that magazine. Rockwell would go to paint many covers for the Post, becoming indelibly linked with the publication. During his long career Rockwell would eventually paint more than four thousand pieces, the vast majority of which are not on public display due to private ownership and destruction by fire.

1962—Marilyn Monroe Sings to John F. Kennedy

A birthday salute to U.S. President John F. Kennedy takes place at Madison Square Garden, in New York City. The highlight is Marilyn Monroe’s breathy rendition of “Happy Birthday,” which does more to fuel speculation that the two were sexually involved than any actual evidence.

1926—Aimee Semple McPherson Disappears

In the U.S., Canadian born evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson disappears from Venice Beach, California in the middle of the afternoon. She is initially thought to have drowned, but on June 23, McPherson stumbles out of the desert in Agua Prieta, a Mexican town across the border from Douglas, Arizona, claiming to have been kidnapped, drugged, tortured and held for ransom in a shack by two people named Steve and Mexicali Rose. However, it soon becomes clear that McPherson’s tale is fabricated, though to this day the reasons behind it remain unknown.

1964—Mods and Rockers Jailed After Riots

In Britain, scores of youths are jailed following a weekend of violent clashes between gangs of Mods and Rockers in Brighton and other south coast resorts. Mods listened to ska music and The Who, wore suits and rode Italian scooters, while Rockers listened to Elvis and Gene Vincent, and rode motorcycles. These differences triggered the violence.

1974—Police Raid SLA Headquarters

In the U.S., Los Angeles police raid the headquarters of the revolutionary group the Symbionese Liberation Army, resulting in the deaths of six members. The SLA had gained international notoriety by kidnapping nineteen-year old media heiress Patty Hearst from her Berkeley, California apartment, an act which precipitated her participation in an armed bank robbery.

1978—Charlie Chaplin's Missing Body Is Found

Eleven weeks after it was disinterred and stolen from a grave in Corsier near Lausanne, Switzerland, Charlie Chaplin’s corpse is found by police. Two men—Roman Wardas, a 24-year-old Pole, and Gantscho Ganev, a 38-year-old Bulgarian—are convicted in December of stealing the coffin and trying to extort £400,000 from the Chaplin family.

Italian illustrator Benedetto Caroselli was a top talent in the realm of cover art. We have several examples of his best work from novels published by Grandi Edizioni Internazionali and other companies.
Art by Kirk Wilson for Harlan Ellison's juvenile delinquent collection The Deadly Streets.
Art by Sam Peffer, aka Peff, for Louis Charbonneau's 1963 novel The Trapped Ones.
Horwitz Books out of Australia used many celebrities on its covers. This one has Belgian actress Dominique Wilms.

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