CLIMAX

EXCITING STORIES FOR MEN

EXCLUSIVE!
A COMMERCIAL PILOT ASKS:
“HOW SAFE IS AIR SAFETY?”
JUNE 250

BRIGITTE BARDOT
KITTEN IN A CAGE
Exciting New Series—
THE MEDAL OF HONOR

MY DOWNHILL SLIDE
By EZZARD CHARLES

MURDER IN THE
NUDIST COLONY
 Remember
how great
cigarettes
used to taste?
Luckies still do

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nextissue
Considered by many “the
most beautiful woman in
the world,” Liz Taylor has
for 17 of her 29 years been
a high-salaried film star.
Yet her beauty and money
have brought her as much
CLIMAX
EXCITING STORIES FOR MEN

tragedy as happiness. The CONTENTS FOR JUNE, 1961

chronic illness that has
plagued her for a decade Volume 8, Number 3
almost took her life in
March and stirred up the HOW SAFE IS AIR SAFETY?...................................................... Captain Ed Bechtold as told to Ed Hymoff 4
rumor that Liz was trying A top pilot says it won’t be safe until government and airlines take real action
to fulfill a death pact with
her late husband Mike BB—KITTEN IN A CAGE............................................................................................................. George Carpozi Jr. 7
Todd. To learn the truth Why the world’s No. 1 sexpot twice tried to commit suicide
behind that rumor and get
all the inside facts on “The THE DAY THE SULTANA DIED...................................................................................................... Howard Goshorn 12
Ordeal of Elizabeth Tay­ Stacked with Andersonville survivors, the riverboat steamed head-on to hell
lor,” don’t miss the July
issue of Climax. MY DOWNHILL SLIDE.................................................................. Ezzard Charles as told to Barney Nagler 16
“I earned $1,500,000 fighting, but now I’m broke and wonder if it was worth it”

MEDAL OF HONOR SERIES, NO. 1—THE HUMAN TORPEDO..........................................................Jack Pearl 19

NEXT ISSUE Lieutenant Bernard Ray gave his life to destroy the Nazi Barricade

THE PLOT THAT FAILED—KILL PRESIDENT TRUMAN!............................................. Josh Greenfeld 26

Claude Eatherly proved Two political fanatics tried to blast their way into the chief executive’s home
himself one of the tough­
est. most skilled combat “MY FAVORITE GIRL’’ PHOTO CONTEST................................................................................................................... 30
pilots of World War II. Five more CLIMAX readers show off their glowing gals
His claim to fame is an­
cient history now, but MURDER FOR A NAKED NYMPH..................................................................................................... D. L Champion 32
there’s one person who When two men and a girl share a French nudist colony tent it’s disastrous!
can’t forget what he did.
And that’s Claude Eather­ ONLY FOR ONE NIGHT............................................................................................................................... Steve April 36
ly—for he flew the plane In Paris, city of lovers, Hank discovered a new passion for his wife—hate
that pinpointed Hiroshima
as the first A-Bomb target. “THAT CRAZY YANKEE NEWSMAN”.............................................................................................. Bela von Block 38
For 16 years he has been Pint-sized J. A. MacGahan showed the Russians how to fight the Turks
haunted by the faceless
thousands he helped kill BADMAN FROM BUFFALO................................................................................................................ Edwin Johnson 42
that day his B-29 led the The gang murdered miners for a decade until “Red” Gannon blew it wide open
way. And they have driven
him into a mental institu­ GLAMOUR GAL LERY.................................................................................................................... Photos by Birnback 46
tion, perhaps permanently. Eve Eden left her garden to charm motion picture producers—and some of us!
Watch for “The Private
Hell of Claude Eatherly”
in the July Climax. CLIMAX BOOK-LENGTH FEATURE
LEGACY OF THE OPEN ROAD......................................................................................................... George Catton 50
Bricks lied, stole and risked his neck to do his dead pal a last favor

NEXT ISSUE CLIMAX FEATURES

MAILBOX . .............................................................. 4 THE CINEMA SCENE......................................... 76
When Wiley Post was
young his father said, NEW RECORDS............................................................ 6 GALLAGHER’S GALLERY OF GAGS 80
“That kid would rather fly
than eat!” He was right.
Wiley spent most of his
life in the air, even died --------------------------------------------------------
at the controls of his be­
loved Winnie Mae with his
friend Will Rogers beside AL SILVERMAN, Editor
him. But the one-eyed LOUIS SABIN, Managing Editor MARGARET JOYCE, Associate Editor
daredevil left a series of
aviation records that will EDWARD J. MCLAUGHLIN, Art Director BERRY STAINBACK, Associate Editor
never allow him to be for­ JOHN VOGLER. Assistant Art Director
gotten. The most famous ROBERT D. THOMAS, Advertising Manager
of these was his virtually
superhuman endurance Published Monthly by Macfadden Publications, Inc., N.Y. and other post offices. Authorized as Second Class matter
achievement in becoming Executive, Advertising and Editorial offices at 205 East hy the Post Office Department, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada.
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 SAME OLD
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 THE JAZZ GENIUS OF FATS WALLER GLAMOUR GIRL SCORES HIT We agree, Fred, that there are any num­
Your great story on the jet-propelled For my money, the March issue of ber of home-grown beauties with figures
life of jazz genius—pianist, singer, com­ Climax was the best you ever put out, and as curvaceous as La Bardot’s. But BB in
poser—Fats Waller is well worth the I’ve been a reader since the magazine first a B-Bikini is hard to B-Beat.
price of the entire March issue of Climax! appeared. My reasons for raving about
I wish some writer would undertake the March are such fine stories as “Terror THAT SWINGIN' TARZAN
task of gamering all the detailed facts Comes at Night,” “The Devil’s Mistress,” Your article “The Eternal Tarzan”
of Fats’s sizzling-paced life and write a and last but not least, your “Glamour (February Climax) was really terrific. I
complete biography of this all-time jazz Gal-lery,” featuring Sharon Alkire. I’d only wish you would have printed a pic­
great. It could turn out to be the fastest- certainly like to see a lot more of lovely ture of Gordon Scott. Could you give me
selling book in syncopated ragtime music Sharon in Climax. the address of the company that releases
history. Steven Ira Stahl Scott’s Tarzan films so that I can write
A. J. Denny Jr, Baltimore, Maryland them for some pictures and information?
Oakland, California Keep up the wonderful magazine.
As Sharon herself seems to be saying Kent Kolar
Many thanks for your article about Fats below, don’t tell anyone, but here I am! Great Lakes, Illinois
Waller. I am a staunch admirer of his
dynamic personality and musical genius. The present keepers of Tarzan’s loin
I own a few' of his recordings which I cloth are Paramount Pictures, 1501 Broad­
have nearly worn out. Could you tell me way, New York City.
where I might acquire some more?
Edward P. Webber, M.D. I am an ardent Tarzan fan and I was
Fairfield, Alabama very interested in your article. I would
like to know who is now publishing the
RCA issued a two-volume Waller album Tarzan books, and if Dennis Miller is
a year or so ago and we understand they still playing the movie role. It’s my opinion
will soon release a new one. Riverside that the Tarzan films are becoming too
label also has marketed a number of Fats’s realistic. In the latest, Tarzan the Mag­
organ recordings. nificent, not once did we hear Tarzan’s
ape cry. Nor did he do battle with any
A NAME TO RECKON WITH of the jungle beasts. Also, we are still
In his article in February Climax, “The waiting to see Gordon Scott ride an ele­
Life and Loves of Aristotle Onassis,” phant in any of his Tarzan films. Jane is
Michael Sheridan missed one very inter­ gone, the elephants arc fast disappearing
esting point. According to my Greek and Cheeta almost didn’t make it in the
friends, Onassis’ name means “the begin­ last flick.
ning, the middle and the end.” This covers John Rose
a lot of territory. Hays, Kansas
Cecil E. Hill
Jacksonville, Florida

The March Climax was, as usual,

another swell issue. I especially enjoyed
“Glamour Gal-lery,” not only for its sub­
ject matter, but for the fine photography
of Bob Waters. An indescribable quality
separates it from quite a few pin-up fea­
tures I’ve seen by the big-name pros.
Don Pritchett
Tallahassee, Florida
As a fellow free-lance photographer, I
think Robert Waters’ photos of Sharon
Alkire are excellent. I would like to see Grosset & Dunlap, 1107 Broadway, New
a photo figure duel between Sharon and York City, still publishes the Tarzan
Climax

Indeed it does, Cecil, but as Shakespeare Brigitte Bardot, each clad in a Bikini, to series, and we believe Denny Miller is
said, “What is in a name? That which we show that an American girl needn’t back still portraying one of the two celluloid
call a rose, by any other name would smell up from any Bikini-clad foreign gal. versions. We agree with you on the de­
as sweet.” Of course, it’s the sweet smell Fred Gustin terioration of the cinema ape man. Life in
of success that distinguishes Ari. Venice, Florida the jungle just ain’t what it used to be.
 MEN PAST 40
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 Sibelius: Rochester Philharmonic. The Al <ohn/Zo»t Sims Quinlel:
Theodore Bloomfield conducts two of Not one, but two of jazzdom’s most re­
the Finnish composer’s most popular doubtable tenor sax men spark You
works, “Symphony No. 5 in E flat ’n Me, a Mercury special. The solid
Major,” and “Finlandia.” Both are done construction in arrangements achieves
well, but the symphony suffers in a a remarkable blending of their diver­
listening comparison to the limpid ex­ gent horn styles that will have the
cellence of the tone poem “Finlandia.” students listening with open ears. Of
Sound quality is impeccable, the execu­ special interest here is their work on
tion is masterful. An Everest album. “Angel Eyes” and “On the Alamo.”
Highly recommended.
Burgess Meredith: Songs & Stories of
the Gold Rush, on Epic label, is a happy I.n llohenac Highlights, on stereo
combination of spoken word and west­ tape: We compared this 4-track tape
ern folk tunes. Meredith’s narration of with the stereo disc issue of the same
the stories is arresting, and liberally name. The difference in sound quality

The New Records larded with touches of humor. An in­

teresting, worth-while record for any­
one who digs the western bit.
is—and we use the word advisedly—
astonishing. The artists are Renata Te­
baldi, Cesare Siepi, Carlo Bergonzi and
Ettore Bastianini, with orchestra and
chorus. Their vocal pyrotechnics ex­
By AL GOVONI plode from the speakers with a crystal
clarity that’s startling, and though you
may have heard the Puccini arias a
Kingston Trio: .Make Way. The boys hundred times, you get the feeling you
have racked up a phenomenal string of never really heard them before. We re­
best-selling albums and their newest peat—it’s stereo tape, on London label.
Capitol release should nail down their
title as tops in their field. All 12 tracks Roberla Sherwood: Live Perform­
are in the familiar Kingston folk-ori­ ance was cut in Hollywood during one
ented groove, but they manage to sus­ of Roberta’s dates at Ciro’s and the
tain—and occasionally surpass—their sounds of audience reactions to her
usual high standard of arrangement spell-binding delivery lends an added
and delivery. “The Jug of Punch,” dimension to this Decca release. As
“Hangman” and “Speckled Roan” are usual, her program is notable for beau­
among the best titles here, but pay spe­ tiful pace, a fine assortment of ballads,
cial heed to “En El Agua,” a Latin blues and up-tempos that include
entry that could catch fire. “Avalon,” “I Used to Love You,” “Ace
in the Hole” and “Up a Lazy River.”
Lou Donaldson: Sunnyside Up. Don­
aldson’s alto is a movin’ and groovin’ Sarah Vaughan: The Divine One.
horn from first track to last on this Sarah’s heart-and-soul warmth and
Blue Note outing. He takes a melody, precise melodic line have never been
peels the meat from its bones, then puts more evident than on her new Roulette
it all back together with layer after in­ LP. For one thing, she’s working with
ventive layer of improvisation. Overall, Do Re Mi: RCA Victor’s original cast a set of superlative Jimmy Jones ar­
the session has a feel of blues in mo­ waxing of the new Phil Silvers-Nancy rangements which are subtly designed
tion. Solid side work here by musicians Walker hit musical is a fun-filled romp to showcase her unique talent with a
like Sam Jones, Bill Hardman and by a set of performers who seem to be tune. The program, too, has been hand-
Horace Parian, but Donaldson sets the having the time of their lives. The picked for the same purpose, a tasteful
pace and stays in command. Impossible Comden-Green lyrics, set to Jule assortment which includes “Trouble Is
to pick a standout track, but three we Styne’s music, are clever, apt and often a Man,” “You Stepped Out of a Dream,”
especially liked were “The Truth,” hilarious. The stars are fine, but steal­ and change-of-pace items like “Have
“Man I Love” and “Goose Grease.” ing the honors on this disc is lovely You Met Miss Jones” and the swinger
newcomer Nancy Dussault (see photo “Jump for Joy.” In the background
Andre Previn: The Previn Scene. above), who solos, teams with Silvers you’ll hear an added plus in the noo-
This MGM issue showcases two sides of and John Reardon, respectively, and dling trumpet of Harry “Sweets” Edi­
Previn, currently one of the most for­ makes it big on one of the best show son, of Count Basie fame.
midable music men around. On a few tunes in years, “What’s New at the Zoo.”
grooves, backed by David Rose’s swirl­ Xavier Cngai: Viva I’ugai. Mercury’s
ing strings, his piano rambles appreci­ The Dave Pell Octet: The Old South “perfect presence sound” recording of
atively over romantic standards. But Wails, on Capitol, is break-the-lease Cugat’s big ensemble has resulted in
it’s when Previn switches to a jazz kick Dixieland with just enough of a mod­ tonal ranges that should warm the
that he makes your ears do a double- ern touch to give it body. Pell blows an hearts of stereo addicts. The accent is
take, because here he’s a wingin’ inspired tenor, with fine backing by on his special Latin percussion instru­
x swinger. With Shelley Manne, Red Harry Betts on trombone and Jack ments, with skillful counterpointing of
E Mitchell and an uninhibited combo, he Sheldon’s trumpet. Typical tracks are high, low and mid-ranges. Aficionados
o romps through the likes of “Guido’s “Ballin’ the Jack,” “Jazz Me Blues” and who carp at the customary slickness of
Blackhawk” and “Get Those Elephants “Oh Didn’t He Ramble.” If you dig Cugie’s arrangements will find little
Outa Here.” Great jazz piano. Dixie, this is for you. fault in this collection of spice.
Cartoons in Stereo: For monaural set
owners this Audio Fidelity issue is
available under the title, Cartoons in
Sound. Either way, it is ingenious and
zany, a collection of widely assorted
sound effects, with gag endings. You
hear the sound of a submarine sub­
merging, in itself of only moderate in­
terest—till you become aware someone
has forgotten to shut the conning tower
hatch; railroad sounds build to a fright­
ening crash, followed by a vocal com­
plaint that “this is a hell of a way to
run a railroad.” Very funny stuff.

Cannonball Adderley Qninlet at the

Lighthouse, recorded live at the Los
Angeles nightspot, is another solid per­
formance by this group. Paced by Can­
nonball’s gutsy alto, they give the
“soul” treatment to a set of six. The
stellar tracks, as we heard them, are
“Blue Daniel” and “Sack o’ Woe.” Ac­
complices on this session were brother ypU Cult Influence Others
Nat on cornet, Vic Feldman on piano,
Louis Hayes at the drums, and the
sterling bass of Sam Jones. Riverside. With Your Thinking!
Julian Bream: Guitar Concertos.
Devotees of classical guitar will find RY it some time. Concentrate vately taught this nearly-lost art
Bream’s new RCA Victor album a re­
warding listening experience. Stereo
T intently upon another person
seated in a room with you, without
of the practical use of mind power.
buffs, too, will discover an astonishing This FREE Book Points
his noticing it. Observe him gradu­ Out the Way
gamut of sounds in the artist’s virtuoso
ally become restless and finally
performance of Giuliano’s “Concerto The Rosicrucians (not a religious
for Guitar and Strings,” and “Guitar
turn and look in your direction.
Simple — yet it is a positive dem­ organization) invite you to explore
Concerto” by Malcolm Arnold.
onstration that thought generates the powers of your mind. Their
George Shearing/hiancy Wilnon: a mental energy which can be pro­ sensible, simple suggestions have
The Swingin’ Mutual pairs Shearing jected from your mind to the caused intelligent men and women
and the quintet with yet another consciousness of another. Do you to soar to new heights of accom­
femme vocalist, with the usual happy realize how much of your success plishment. They will show you how
results. It is Nancy’s best set by far as and happiness in life depends upon to use your natural forces and tal­
George’s sensitive backing showcases your influencing others? Is it not ents to do things you now think are
her vibrant intensity and talent for beyond your ability. Send today
important to you to have others
phrasing. Top team effort, we thought, for your free copy of the fascinating
was on “Born to Be Blue.” Best Shear­ understand your point of view — to
be receptive to your proposals? book, “The Mastery of Life” which
ing track was a reprise of his inimita­ explains how you may receive this
ble “Lullaby of Birdland.” Capitol.
Demonstrable Facts unique wisdom and benefit by its
George Bussell Sextet at the Five application to your daily affairs.
How many times have you wished Use the coupon below or simply
Spot is a sample of modern jazz at its there were some way you could im­
best. It drives, it moves, it jumps on write: Scribe Z.G.Y.
all tracks, which are mainly fresh jazz
press another favorably—get across
works rather than retreads of oldies.
Most appealing to these ears was “121
to him or her your ideas? That
thoughts can be transmitted, re­
The Rosicrucians
(AMORC)
Bank Street.” Russell is crisply sure of ceived and understood by others SAN JOSE CALIFORNIA
himself at the keyboard, and among is now scientifically demonstrable.
his side men, Dave Baker’s trombone The tales of miraculous accomplish­ Scribe Z.G.Y.
is outstanding. Decca. ments of mind by the ancients are The Rosicrucians, AMORC
now known to be fact — not fable. Rosicrucian Park, San Jose, Calif.
Max Roach Plus 1: Mercury’s title The method whereby these things Kindly send me a free copy of
is Moon-Faced, Starry-Eyed, and it’s the book, “The Mastery of Life.”
can be intentionally, not accidental­ I am interested in learning how I
a solid mood disc highlighted by the may receive instructions about the
thrilling vocals of Abbey Lincoln.
ly, accomplished has been a secret
full use of my natural powers.
Though quieter than most of Roach’s long cherished by the Rosicrucians
waxings, it packs an undercurrent of — one of the schools of ancient wis­ Name___________ _ __ ____
dom existing throughout the world,
Climax

excitement in his unique arrangements.

Top two tracks here are those with Ab­ lb thousands everywhere, for cen­ Address__________________
bey chanting “Never Leave Me” and “I turies, the Rosicrucians have pri­
Concentrate on You.”
Climax
 By CAPTAIN EDWARD BECHTOLD
as told to Ed Hymoff

OT NEARLY enough is being done to prevent the

N next air tragedy. I have about 15,000 hours of air­
line pilot time behind me and I’ve never been in­
volved in an accident, but there’s always the possi­
bility that the plane I’m commanding will be the next
major air disaster. Like my passengers, I could be a
victim of one of the many needless causes of mid-air
A traffic approach control operator, collisions.
above, couldn’t react fast enough to Moreover, there’s always the chance that you might
prevent the air collision over New be a passenger on the plane involved in that preventable
York. One plane fell into Brooklyn. crash.
The lack of air safety controls is a grave problem
today, but it can be solved, just as most air tragedies
can be prevented—if the proper steps are taken im­
mediately.
No matter what newspaper headlines say about air­
line disasters, statistically air travel is still the safest
method of covering long distances in a short time. But
perhaps you changed your mind about flying after
reading about the mid-air collision of two planes last
December over Staten Island, New York. In that one,
128 passengers and crew members died, plus six people
on the ground who were struck by falling debris.
Or, the crash of an Air Force transport in a Munich,
Germany, street the week before Christmas with all 20
occupants killed, along with 24 persons on the ground.
Or, the January crack-up of a Mexican jet-liner
which, failing to get off the runway, plowed into a steel
barrier before skidding along the snow-covered swamps
surrounding New York’s Idlewild Airport. (Luckily,
only four crew members died, while the 102 passengers
survived the ordeal.)
Or, the Brussels disaster last February when a Bel­
gian transatlantic jet liner, attempting to land, plunged
into a nearby field and burst into flames, killing its 72
Over 350 people died in U.S. passengers and personnel, including all 18 members of
the U.S. figure skating team.
Could any of these crashes have been prevented? It
air disasters in 1960. A veteran pilot will be months before investigations are completed, but
it’s certain that some of these disasters were needless.
says that figure will soar And a close look at air travel conditions will show why.
Everytime you travel in a 1961 model passenger air­
liner your pilot is following flight procedures and regu­
to new heights unless authorities take lations based essentially upon the air traffic control
system we had back in 1938—23 years ago!
drastic action—immediately! Yet air traffic has reached astronomical proportions
since 1938. At that time airlines flew 7,720,000 passenger
miles. Last year 393,039,700,000 passenger miles were
flown in the United States. By 1970, airlines will be fly­
ing an incredible half-trillion passenger miles in the
Climax
 United States alone. The international air transport The Connie crashed on Staten Island; the mystery blip
system is patterned after this country’s, which began —a United Airlines DC-8 jet—plummeted to the
in the early 1930s with the Ford Tri-Motor, the famed crowded streets of downtown Brooklyn. No survivors.
'Tin Goose" that could fly 500 miles non-stop at the The sky was hazy and mixed with snow the day of the
then break-neck speed of 112 mph. In 1936 the work­ tragedy, yet other planes, landing at LaGuardia and
horse twin-engine DC-3 was introduced. It carried 21 Idlewild, touched down without incident. Ground con­
passengers and cruised at 180 miles an hour. It revolu­ trollers moved one plane after another in and out of
tionized air transportation and is still being used ex­ holding and landing approach positions. But the Super
tensively by foreign airlines. World War II boosted Connie and DC-8 jet were traveling on a collision course
multi-engine transports and in 1953 the still dependable of more than 600 miles per hour—460 mph for the DC-8
DC-7 began carrying 60 first class or 85 coach passengers and between 149 and 161 mph for the Connie. At that
at a top speed of 350 mph. Now 600 miles-per-hour jet speed you cover a lot of miles in 39 seconds.
airliners cross the United States in 5V:> hours—pre­ A number of air safety experts agree that the human
senting an even more serious air safety problem. brain and body can’t consistently function fast enough
in an emergency like the one Bill Smith faced. Experts
NLESS some drastic action is taken immediately—and claim air traffic control can be made truly safe only if
it should have been taken at least five years ago—pas­ it’s taken out of human hands, which means perfecting
senger aircraft in 1970 will be flying under a vintage a system of high-speed computers and near-perfect elec­
1945 air traffic control system, 25 years behind the tronic brains to handle the job. Today’s aircraft fly too
times. President Kennedy has asked for a study of our fast for the human eye to follow and recognize instan­
entire air transport system and its problems, but it will taneously, too swiftly for the mind to assess and compute
take time to plan and build improvements. Meantime, technical information concerning landing problems and
we pilots will just have to do our best under the present locations of nearby aircraft. Also, high-speed airliners
out-dated system. become involved in so many changing situations that
This system grimly proved its obsolescence December ground controllers often can’t talk fast enough to pre­
16 when a piston-engine Super Constellation bound for vent a mid-air collision.
New York City’s LaGuardia Terminal collided with a These claims are based on scientific studies. Every air­
DC-8 jet transport heading for Idlewild International line pilot knows the odds are 200,000 to one that his
Airport. It was aviation’s worst disaster—134 persons plane will be involved in an accident. But airplane dis­
were killed and there were no airborne survivors. Could asters can be expected to continue, and even increase,
it have been averted? “Yes,” declare a number of air unless a massive program is instituted to improve air
safety experts, “if the ATC system was up-to date.” traffic controls.
Working under the present ATC system. William L. Dr. Gustave Rabson of the University of Michigan's
Smith, a veteran air traffic approach control operator at Institute of Science and Technology participated in a
LaGuardia, dramatically described the most unforget­ study that reported some immediate improvements in
table 39 seconds in his life. While Smith was monitoring the present control system where possible. However, he
the Super Connie, it cleared for LaGuardia at 5,000 feet insisted that long-range research on a national scale was
before leaving its holding pattern over nearby Linden, vital. Pilots have been pleading for years for some ef­
New Jersey. Suddenly a strange blip appeared on his fective Government action instead of the make-shift
radarscope. The blip later turned out to be the Idlewild- control and safety systems the air traveling public is
bound DC-8 jet. It had overshot its own holding pattern getting.
over Preston, New Jersey, and was 11 miles from where Ten weeks after the Staten Island tragedy a Congress­
it should have been. man urged that extra radar controls be posted in New
Aircraft speeds being what they are today, Smith had York to insure that aircraft did not stray out of assigned
only 39 seconds to spot and determine the situation—and holding patterns. During the Senate aviation subcom­
act. He was one man overwhelmed by the complexity of mittee hearing at which this proposal was made, the
the problem and the system. The Idlewild controller Federal Aviation Agency’s chief of air traffic manage­
monitoring the DC-8 was in a similar fix. ment said his group would determine how much this
“Trans World Airlines two hundred and sixty-six,” would cost in salaries and in extra radar scopes.
Smith urgently called to the Super Connie pilot. “Traffic
at two-thirty (East Northeast), six miles northeast­ RUT THIS patchwork solution won’t solve the air
bound.” The Connie’s pilot acknowledged. Meanwhile, safety problem. It merely adds more manpower to
the unidentified blip on the radarscope continued to close an outmoded 23-year-oId air traffic control system.
with the TWA blip. Bill Smith made a correct snap As far as we pilots are concerned, the core of the
judgment that the planes were on a collision course. problem rests with the U. S. Government and the Fed­
“That appears to be jet traffic off your right now, three eral Aviation Agency which controls the airways and
o’clock at one mile northeastbound,” Smith cried out, supervises all air transportation. But the aviation in­
but this time the Connie’s pilot didn’t reply. Then the dustry as a whole is also at fault. Aircraft manufactur­
faster jet blip merged with the slower Connie on the ers and airline operators have made any number of
radarscope. Smith felt sick, hoping the radar-indicated compromises.
collision was a mistake. The blips momentarily sep­ Although the airlines have been buying the best
arated and a faint ray of hope eased the taut muscles in designed aircraft available, with excellent flight per­
Bill Smith’s guts. The Connie made a slow, partial right formance characteristics, top engineering, fire safe
turn on the radarscope and the other blip continued structures and higher speeds, they’ve been forced to
do without many items of cockpit equipment that
Climax

northeast. Smith’s practiced eyes simultaneously fol­

lowed both blips and once again that sick feeling gripped increase the safety factor and make our jobs easier
him. Both planes disappeared: the radarscope was blank and your trip safer. Sure. (Continued on page 77)
SEX KITTEN IN A CAGE
By GEORGE CARPOZI JR.
 Sensuality and childlike innocence rocketed Brigitte

to cinema success, but couldn’t prevent her amorous disasters. So she tried suicide

Brigitte plays the game of amour

with reckless abandon on screen and off, saying,
“I cannot live without love.” Above,
ex-husband Roger Vadim; below, troubador-lover
Sacha Distel; and a typical BB movie scene.

F YOU’RE good at figures, the combination 35%-21-

I 35% should be your cue to say “Brigitte Bardot.”
There’s a figure for you. It wriggles and wiggles with
such devastating accomplishment that it composes the
back of a skirt or a simple bedsheet into an object of
pure sensuality.
Brigitte Bardot has done for sex in the cinema what
Jim Thorpe did for the American Indian. She’s a pout­
ing, passionate, vibrant, vexing, wild and willful sex
kitten, the rage of Paris and Peoria, Berlin and Bangkok,
Marsala and Marseilles—in fact, just about every town,
city and hamlet in the world.
Yet at the peak of her fame and fortune, Brigitte
Bardot tried to end her life. What’s more, it was her
second attempt at suicide. Her millions of fans were
shocked to learn how perilously close the shadow of
death had come to blotting out their sex idol.
Why did Brigitte Bardot do it?
This is a complex question, but perhaps a look at
her life will provide some insights. Her climb to fame
and fortune was not an easy one. It is not altogether
pleasant for Brigitte to think about her past, for it has
Climax

been filled with many bizarre, heartbreaking events.

 Three of La Bardot’s many faces: a paragon of
purity, above, after she wed husband No. 2, Jacques
Charrier; a model of morbidity, r., when that marriage began to fail;
and the world’s favorite film seductress.
 She has crowded a-lot of living into her 26 years—two
marriages, one baby, two suicide attempts, scores of
frustrating disappointments before she achieved stardom,
countless love affairs and an endless whirl of madcap
dissipation.
Brigitte was born on September 28, 1934, to parents
deeply immersed in the middle class social life of Paris.
Papa Louis and Mama Anne-Marie tried to rear their
little Brigitte in a life rigidly circumscribed by rules and
taboos against which she strongly rebelled. Brigitte’s
father had an obsesson against noise, and this placed
oppressive restrictions on the little girl. Her mother’s
interests centered in a chic dress shop she operated in the
narrowly proper Passy district of Paris; Madame ^Bar-
dot’s home and family seemed to take second place to
her shop.
Brigitte grew up in loneliness. It was only when she
reached her teens that she began to glimpse the outside
world. That was in 1947, when the wistful, dreamy,
13-year-old Brigitte was enrolled in the National Con­
servatory of Music and Dancing to learn ballet. To
Brigitte, staid as the conservatory was, it seemed the
door to a never-never land, a golden Eden where
beautiful, slender women and handsome men existed
in a misty world of grace and beauty.
With an intensity she had never displayed before,
Brigitte threw herself into her ballet lessons in hopes of
someday becoming a great ballerina. But a chance con­
versation between Brigitte’s mother and the editor of a
French picture magazine resulted in a modeling assign­
ment for her. Her picture appeared on the magazine’s
cover and French movie director Marc Allegret spotted
the attractive teenager. He asked his assistant, Roger
Vadim, to bring the girl in for a screen test.
Brigitte flunked the test but won the assistant’s heart.
Although she also fell in love with Vadim, Papa Louis
ruled out marriage when Roger came around. Since
Roger couldn’t take her to live with him, he did the next
best thing—he moved in with the Bardot family. He
would wait until Brigitte was old enough for marriage,
but at the same time he would make sure no one else
usurped his place in her heart.
Meanwhile, his influence over Brigitte became over­
whelming. He got her to quit the conservatory and to
quit school so that she could devote all her time to
becoming a movie actress, under his direction. Obvi­
ously Brigitte was made-to-order for whatever cine­
matic plans Vadim had in mind. Brigitte’s beautifully
shaped, childishly seductive body was enough to launch
her into celluloid orbit as a “phenomenon of nature,” a
description coined by Vadim. The youthful starmaker
was never at a loss for such phrases to exploit Brigitte’s
voluptuous assets.
Vadim had it all figured out. Publicity was the thing.
If enough of the “right people” knew about La Bardot,
or saw enough of her, how could she miss? But before
he could get his campaign underway he had to eliminate
a couple of obstacles—her parents. He managed that on
December 20, 1952, by marrying Brigitte.
Then Vadim set his ballyhoo juggernaut in motion.
Having no faith in the future, Brigitte says, “I must re­ He showed Brigitte to everyone, exhibiting her in shorts,
semble my generation. That’s why they’ve adopted me.” blue jeans, bathing suits, Bikinis, low-cut dresses and,
in some instances, wearing only her natural adornments.
There were innumerable press conferences, all sensa­
tional—like the one Vadim conducted in bed, with a
nude Brigitte lying under the sheets beside him.
The delighted reporters and (Continued on page 70)
 Stacked ten deep with Andersonville survivors, the Mississippi side-wheeler steamed head

APTAIN J. C. Mason planted his number 12 brogans The Southern-born pilot eased the wheel around
C firmly on the deck of the wheelhouse and watched
his pilot nudge the Sultana into the Vicksburg dock.
with brawny hands. There was a smirk on his face.
“Evah been inside Andersonville, Cap’n?” he asked.
•“Easy does it!” Mason bawled as he gazed out over “No. But the stories I’ve heard haven’t been pretty.”
the sea of ragged, faded blue uniforms surging around The pilot laughed—a short, ugly laugh. “Reckon them
the wharf and far back into the waterfront streets of the Yankees done found out what hell really is, them what
bustling city. “Poor devils,” he muttered, “they look lived through it. Reckon they don’t care much who won
like they haven’t had a square meal in a year.” or lost the war.”
THE SULTANA DIED
By HOWARD GOSHORN
on to hell in a maelstrom of fire and fury

Captain Mason continued to gaze out on the milling like it. One thing’s for sure—they cain’t change it.”
throng of Union prisoners. “Must be more’n a thousand Mason didn’t answer. He leaned out the pilothouse
men out there,” he said. “I don’t know how we’re going window and hollered to the deckhands: “Make fast the
to get even half of them aboard for the trip to Cairo.’’ bow! Step lively there, lads.” He was a strict packet
“Oh, they won’t mind a bit o’ crowdin’, Cap’n. They master, but a safe, efficient riverman.
been stacked up like buckwheat cakes an’ lyin’ aroun’ Mason packed the huge bowl of his pipe with rough­
in each other’s filth so long, this heah boat’ll be like th’ cut and held a match to it. He took several deep puffs
Palace Hotel for th’ next few days. They’ll take it an’ as his face relaxed momentarily in thought.
 The side-wheeler Sultana, built in Cincinnati in 1863
for the lower Mississippi cotton trade, had been on the
run two years. She was registered at 1,719 tons and al­
lowed to carry 376 persons, including a crew of 85. She
was not considered fast, but her owners boasted proudly
that she had never missed a trip or lost a cargo.
She had left New Orleans on April 21, 1865, with 75
to 100 cabin passengers, a cargo of 200 hogsheads of
sugar and 100 head of assorted livestock. Captain Mason
had been advised to pick up an additional cargo of Union
prisoners of war, just released from such Confederate
compounds as the notorious Andersonville, and carry
them to Cairo. There, most of them would scatter for
their Midwestern homes and farms. Although he was to
use his own judgment as to how many he could safely
take aboard, Mason did not want the added responsi­
bility.
The long, terrible war was practically over. Lee had
surrendered to Grant at Appomattox, and General
Joseph Johnston, the last of the Confederate leaders in
the field, was about to hand over his sword to Sherman.
Captain Mason received the news with a smile. He hated
violence with what almost amounted to passion, though
he had seen his share of it during his 20 years on the
turbulent Mississippi. The frenzied guard bayoneted the alligator then threw
He had almost finished his pipe when the chief engi­ the crate overboard and clung to it until he was saved.
neer hurried up from below decks and told Mason the
boilers were leaking badly.
“A fine time for that!” Mason fumed. ‘‘Weren’t they them, and I’m placing two companies of armed troops
checked before we left New Orleans?” aboard to see that you do. I don’t intend to argue this
“They were, sir,” the engineer said defensively. “But thing any further.”
several gaskets and boiler pins have worked loose and Captain Mason knew when he was licked. He could
some of the plates have spread. They’ll have to be have flatly refused the army’s demand, but he knew
fixed, or we might blow sky high before we hit Mem­ the Sultana would be tied up indefinitely if he did, and
phis.” there was cargo to be delivered. His reputation had
Mason scowled. "Can the regular repair gang fix been built on punctuality as well as safety. He was
them? I’d hate to lay over in Vicksburg.” going to have to sacrifice one for the other, and he
“I think we can do the job,” the engineer replied. didn’t see that he had much choice at the moment.
“Then draw the fires and get to work,” Mason ordered. It was a stampede of shouting, singing, joking ex­
“We've got a full boatload, and we’ll be going upstream prisoners that swarmed up the gangplank like a horde
against a flood tide all the way. So do your best. That of dirty blue ants. Weak and half dead though they
livestock in the hold will be our profit this trip, and were, boarding the Sultana put new life into the men.
any delay will mean they’ll be eating up the profit.” They jammed the steamer from top to bottom. Boiler
Captain Mason went ashore to confer with army deck, cabin deck, hurricane deck, texas deck and even
authorities, to him an unpleasant task at best. He had Captain Mason’s sacred pilothouse held a solid mass
little use for the military. of faded blue. If a man sat down to eat, he was liable
“I’ve got eighteen hundred men here, Captain,” a to be trampled to death. Many of them slept half
hardboiled colonel told him. “How many men can you propped against the bulkheads, only their heels touch­
take with you?” ing the deck.
“Several hundred,” the captain said cautiously. Army records have never revealed the exact number
“Several hundred!” The colonel’s face turned the packed into the Sultana that April day, but unofficial
color of raw hamburger. “Do you realize these men have estimates place it at nearly 2,000. Adding the regular
been stacked up in Vicksburg for at least a week, and passengers and crew, the riverboat with the leaky
more are pouring in every day? They want to get boilers carried almost 2,300 persons when it cast off
home. They’re getting restless and edgy. We’ve got to for Memphis.
get them out of here, or I can’t be responsible for the Captain Mason was , definitely worried. He called
town. You’ll take all you can cram into that boat. I his first officer, Jim Tatum, to his cabin and issued strict
don’t care if they stand on each other’s heads!” instructions. “Tell those soldiers that they are not all
“But the law says—” to rush to one side of the boat when we come in for a
“I don’t give a damn about the law!” the army man landing. All that weight would turn us bottom-side up.”
snapped. “I’m the law here for now. Your boat is Tatum brushed his cap with his fingers in a lazy
being commandeered as an Army transport until it salute and started for the cabin door.
reaches Cairo.” “And you can also tell those crazy fools,” Mason called
Captain Mason bristled to his whiskers. “I couldn’t after him, “that if they try it, I’ll dump the lot of them
possibly take eighteen hundred,” he choked. “It’s be­ on the Memphis dock, and they can get upriver the
yond all the laws of safety.” best they can.”
“Safety be hanged!” the colonel raged. “You’ll take “I’ll tell ’em,” Tatum promised. “I wish the hell we
could dump the damn lot of ’em in Memphis, anyway.” leg, or we’U bust the Sultana’s innards in the doing.”
‘‘I wish I could dump them back on the Army right He rang the engineroom telegraph for half speed
now,” Mason said. “If anything happens, they’ll have ahead, then said, “I’m worn out, Jim, You take this
to find a scapegoat somewhere, and I have a good idea watch; I’ll go to my cabin for a few winks. If you run
it will be me.” into any trouble, wake me.”
The overloaded boat went puffing up the river, strain­ “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble from here on in,”
ing and struggling against the flood tide, her tall twin Tatum said. “The boilers seem to be bearing up.”
stacks belching black smoke and hot coals all over the A few miles out of Memphis the Sultana swung
countryside. There were reports that several woods around a bend in the river and chugged past a group
fires were started by her, but the Sultana had her head of river islands known as the Hen and Chickens. It
and was stopping for nothing. was nearly 2 o’clock in the morning, and most of the
The repatriated prisoners, oblivious of any possible passengers were asleep.
danger, whooped it up with song for nearly the entire Captain Mason had hardly settled into his bunk
48 hours it took to reach Memphis. They were going when the leaky, overtaxed boilers finally let go with
home; nothing else mattered. a mighty roar. The explosion and the brilliant sheet of
Captain Mason heaved a sigh of relief when the orange flame were audible and visible all the way back
river steamer tied up at the Memphis wharf on the to Memphis.
evening of April 26. At least he had got that far. Mason scrambled into his clothes. “My God, she
Some of the civilian passengers debarked, and the blew!” he kept repeating unbelievingly.
hogsheads of sugar were unloaded. A few of the stronger He paused outside his cabin door to stamp out a fire
soldiers were hired to help with the unloading, then started by a shattered oil lamp, then headed for the
went ashore to spend their unexpected earnings and deck. Screaming passengers jammed the passageway,
see the sights. pushing and shouting. By the time Mason clawed his way
through, his cap was missing, his coat nearly torn off,
Mason was relaxing for the first time in a week when and red streaks on his right cheek showed the paths
the chief engineer entered his cabin. “Guess we’re of sharp fingernails.
going to be held up for a couple of hours, Captain,” he The Sultana had been half-blown apart with the
said with an air of resignation. “It’s the boilers again.” first blast. The section over the boilers was an open
Mason exploded. “Get the repair gang to work, man. red maw, where hundreds of sleeping soldiers had been
I’ll be down there as soon as I get some clothes on.” slammed bodily into Kingdom Come.
“The gang’s been working for an hour now. I don’t Captain Mason had just put a foot on the top rung
know whether we can fix them up this time or not. I of the wheelhouse ladder when the second boiler blew,
wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise.” slamming him against the wheelhouse and then tum­
“You’ve got to fix them,” Mason said. “I can’t keep bling him back down the ladder like a rag doll. He lay
thousands of soldiers cooped up for the two days it stunned for a moment before struggling to his feet. A
would take if we drydock in the shipyard. And I can’t sharp, biting pain shot through his left leg; he could
be responsible for letting them all loose in Memphis hardly put his weight on it.
at one time. Why, they’d tear the place apart. Besides, Tatum found Mason holding onto the ladder with
feeding our livestock costs a pretty penny.” both hands and caught him under the armpits from be­
Under Mason’s watchful eye, the repair gang practi­ hind. The first officer, himself, could barely see through
cally tore down the boilers and built them up again the blood that poured out of a deep gash in his fore­
in three hours. But it was a temporary patch job at head.
best, and Mason knew it. “Think they’ll hold up to “She’s gone, she’s gone,” Mason groaned.
Cairo?” he asked. “That she is, sir. You hurt bad?”
The chief engineer grimaced and held up two crossed
fingers. “If I was a gambling man, Captain, I wouldn’t The CAPTAIN shook his head. “Just twisted my leg.
want to bet on it.” Help me up to the wheelhouse . . . got to beach her.”
“Well,” Mason said, “be that as it may, we’re leaving “She’s lost headway,” Tatum said. “You can’t do much
as soon as you get up steam. We’re running late as it is.” with that wheel.”
It was well after midnight when the Sultana pre­ “We can try,” Mason said hoarsely. “There’s a strong
pared to cast off for Cairo. Captain Mason stood in the current back to Memphis. We’ll use that as headway.”
wheelhouse and thumbed his scraggly brown whiskers. “All the way to Memphis?” Tatum asked in surprise.
“You know,” he remarked to his first officer, “if I “No, we’ll head for the Hen and Chickens.”
could have found any takers in Memphis, I would have With considerable difficulty, the two men went up the
sold my share in this boat and cargo and shipped on ladder and reached the empty wheelhouse.
the next steamer to Cincinnati as a paying passenger.” “Where’s the pilot?” Mason asked in amazement
Tatum laughed, but there was no humor in the when he saw the big wheel turning aimlessly.
sound. “I was going to put the same proposition to you “He was there when I came down,” Tatum answered.
for my share. I guess we’re both stuck for the rest “I guess he decided to save his skin.”
of the trip.” “Damned Johnny Reb. I’ll have him blacklisted on
“God help us,” Mason said, “and all of our passengers.” every riverboat in the country,” Mason promised grimly.
“Last time I checked,” Tatum said, “about a hundred “Get me that high pilot’s chair and lift me up on it.
of them sight-seeing soldiers were missing. Probably And you, Jim, you see about the small boats. We’ve got
dead drunk and scattered in every dive on the water- to get every passenger off that we can. The fewer we
front." have to unload at the Hen and Chickens the better. At
“Well, it’s that many less to haul, because I’m not flood tide those islands are practically under water,
waiting any longer. We’ll either make it to Cairo this anyway.” (Continued on page 85)
 as told to BARNEY NAGLER

"The papers always said I wasn't

a great champ, that I wasn't a

killer. They were right. I

never liked fighting—even when

I was earning $1,500,000 in 122

pro fights. Now I'm broke and

I wonder if it was worth it"

 HEN I was a kid in the West End of Cincinnati, people
W living poor in old frame houses talked all the time about
having a lot of money. I used to hear them and thought, wouldn’t
it be wonderful to be rich; but I never dreamed on it for long.
I knew it couldn’t happen to me. It turned out I was wrong.
I did become rich. I had 122 pro fights, starting in 1940 and finish­
ing in 1959. I held the world heavyweight championship for two
years and wore suits costing $285 and shirts costing $26. My shoes
came to $65 a pair. I could afford it. I made about $1,500,000 fighting.
Managers and training expenses took half; the Government got a
big slice. The rest I spent living good with my wife and three kids,
and investing in things that didn’t turn out Now I’m broke.
All I have left is a house I can’t even afford to pay the taxes on,
a couple of part-time jobs that give me a few dollars a week, and
the trophies I got in the ring. My old friends don’t come around
any more. Those who lived off me aren’t living as good these days,
either.
I don’t want anybody guessing about that. I don’t mean my
mother and my grandmother. I took good care of them when I had
it and I’ll lake care of them if I hit it rich again. Nor do I mean my
manager, Tom Tannas. He lives in Arnold, Pennsylvania, and he was
my manager with Jake Mintz, who’s dead now. Everything they
got from my purses was coming to them.
A couple of months ago I came to a dead-end. I told the news­
papers I was broke. I told how I didn’t have a car any more and how
the telephone was disconnected at my house at 303 Forest Avenue,
Cincinnati, because I couldn’t pay the bills. Tannas was the first
to get in touch with me.
After I talked to him, I went back to my house. It’s a big place
with 12 rooms and has a porch running around the front and side.
There’s a garage for two cars at the end of the back lawn. All I keep
there now is my slap-bass. My wife Gladys, who knows about such
things, says the house is on a plot 82 feet by 165 feet.
I found Gladys sitting in the kitchen when I came through the
back way. She looked at me without saying anything, but she
wanted to know about my talk with Tannas. “He’s got two jobs for
me,” I said. “One selling cemetery lots, the other whisky."
“Well, one’s the end and the other can put you there faster,” she
said. Then she started to laugh. I joined in. We had a good laugh
for ourselves, which is something we needed. There hasn’t been
much laughter around our house lately. But no job. I’d have had
to break up my home and move to Pittsburgh. I didn’t want to do
that.
The kids bring us great pleasure. The oldest is Deborah, who’s
ten. She was bom the year Jersey Joe Walcott took the title from
me. Then there’s Leith. She’s eight. Ezzard II is five. He’s a skinny
kid -with hardly no waist to hold up his pants. He runs up and
down the stairs, from the second floor to the parlor, and his pants
trip him up every time. When he falls, I give him fatherly talk about
being careful. Then I remember all the mistakes I made and I know
nobody can teach him about life. He’s got to learn it for himself
or he won’t learn at all. I learned the hard way.
Some people think I lost my money in pleasure. That’s not right.
I never kept ladies in apartments. I never smoked and I didn’t drink
all the years I was fighting. I never had more than one car at a time,
never gambled. The mistakes I made were on the side of goodness.
When things were good, I used to put $150, maybe $200, in my
pocket mornings. Then I’d go down to the corner and hang around
with the fellows. We’d go to a place called the Cotton Club and I’d
buy drinks for the boys. That didn’t take much, but the touches
did. Never a fellow asked for a loan that I didn’t give it to him.
When I’d get home, my pocket would be empty. None of it ever
 Mrs. Maude Russell, and my great-grandmother, Mrs.
Belle Russell, who raised me.
The apartment houses I had in Cincinnati were on
Cleveland Avenue and on Dixmont Avenue. The one on
Cleveland cost $31,000; the one on Dixmont I paid $27,000
for. The house in New York was on 84th Street, off
Broadway. My mother, Mrs. Alberta Moss, lived there.
It was more a rooming house than an apartment house.
I used to stay there when I came to New York. When
things went bad, I had to give it up. I couldn’t keep it
going. It cost me $28,000.
I always heard that the way to get rich was by owning
land. One time I went up to Bethel, Ohio, and met a
farmer. I can’t even remember his name. He had about
20 acres up there and he needed money. He said I could
have an option on his land for $2,800. I took a walk over
the property. It had a beautiful lake and good wooded
sections. I thought I’d buy it, build houses on it, then
build an amusement park near the lake. I made four
payments on the place. That came to $2,800. But when
Charles never fought better than in his first title it came time to complete the deal I didn’t have the
bout with Marciano. But in their second fight, in money.
September, 1954, Rocky stopped Ez in the eighth.
Gladys doesn’t think much of land owning. She says,
“Ez, the only land a man needs is six feet deep and six
feet long.”
Property wasn’t the only thing I lost money in. I was
fighting only a couple of years when I went into business
in a place called the Ezzard Charles Coliseum. It was a
dance hall and beer parlor near where I grew up in
Cincinnati. I lost $8,000 on it. That was my first business
an,d my first failure, but I made good on everything I
owed. I was making plenty fighting then.
I should have learned from it, but I didn’t. In 1950, I
opened a gym in Cincinnati on Clark Street and Central
Avenue. It was called the Ezzard Charles Health Club.
I thought it would be a good thing because I could run
it as a business and train there. I sunk over $10,000 into
making the place look good. I put in steam baths and
showers. Nobody seemed to pay their bills. I had to close
the place. I gave the equipment to the Y.M.C.A.
A few years ago I put down $4,500 for a little restaurant
a few blocks from my house. I called it Round One. I
even took over the cooking when I was around, but I
wasn’t there much because I was still fighting. Every
time I’d go out of town, Gladys would close the place.
“You crazy?” I asked her.
“That place is costing money, not making it,” she
said. “They’re stealing from you. I figure it’s casting
five hundred dollars a week to keep the place open.”
I didn’t listen. I liked Round One because it was a spot
to meet the guys. I’d stay open late and sit around
came back to me—not that I ever asked for it. drinking real strong coffee. Then it crossed my mind that
Gladys always said, “Ez, you’re a sucker.” I said, it was expensive coffee the way money was going out
“Can’t turn a man away if he says he needs food money and not coming back. I closed the place. I guess the
for his kids.” Even Tannas was wise to what was hap­ ones eating free didn’t like it.
pening to me. He always called me “Snooks,” my nick­ It takes a long time for anybody to get smart. It was
name from the time I was a kid. harder for me, a kid out of a poor family who started
“Snooks,” Taimas said, “unload them fellows. They’ll in Lawrenceville, Georgia, in cotton country north of
break you.” Atlanta. That’s where I was born, July 7, 1921. My
They may not have broke me, but they helped. What father drove a truck for a cotton mill. I never had a
really put me in trouble were investments. I put money brother or sister. When I was five, my father and
into things I didn’t have any right to be in. I once had mother were divorced and my father went north. My
three apartment houses, two in Cincinnati and one in mother took me to Atlanta. When things got rough,
New York. I also owned my house and another in the she sent me to live with my grandmother in Cincinnati.
West End of Cincinnati, on Lincoln Park Drive. That was Later my mother re-married and moved to New York.
the house I grew up in. I bought it when I was coming I guess my grandmother and my great-grandmother
up in boxing and it was a big thing for my grandmother, had a lot to do with making (Continued on page 66)
BEGINNING

ANEW

SERIES

Medal

Honor
 Medal of Honor no. 1

By JACK PEARL

Lieutenant Bernard Ray had to destroy

the Barricade before the Nazis wiped out

his entire company. And he knew he

would die doing it, as . . .

THE HUMAN TORPEDO

E WAS young, 21, on his last birthday. Too young, Those Krauts sure don’t act like they’re on the ropes.
H it seemed, to be wearing lieutenant’s bars. But the
young age quickly in the infantry.
For days the Americans had been pinned down in the
woods, fair game for the German mortars and artillery
Bernard Ray lay in his lean-to on a bedroll, staring in the hills as well as for the concentration of machine
up at the canopy of pine boughs that offered scant shel­ guns from the Barricade.
ter from the wind-lashed snow. He took a last drag The Barricade. No one thought of it any other way.
from the finger-singeing butt and slowly let the smoke A massive and complex arrangement of row upon row
roll out of his mouth. It was heavy with the vapor of of staggered barbed wire buttressed by railroad ties
his breath in the below-zero cold of the Huertgen Forest. imbedded in the frozen earth and surrounded on all
November 17, 1944, Schevenhutte, Germany, Company sides by anti-tank mines. The Barricade stretched across
F, 8th Infantry Division. The facts passed across his the single road that ran through this thickly wooded
mind as though on a .movie film. What the hell am I sector, completely blocking the advance of armor and
doing here? I ought to be arguing batting averages at heavy equipment.
frat house beer parties. I ought to be standing on the A GI, bundled in heavy winter clothing, suddenly
eorner with the guys watching all the girls go by. appeared out of the snow. Wearily, he unslung the car­
He took his wallet from a jacket pocket and looked at bine from his shoulder and dropped to his knees to crawl
the girl’s picture in the cloudy plastic envelope. She into the shelter of the pine boughs.
was pretty, with clear wide eyes and soft brown hair Lieutenant Ray hastily closed his wallet and put it
falling loose about her shoulders. The caption penned away. He sat up and grinned at the ruddy face of his
on the bottom of the photo said: “Darling—yours, al­ first sergeant, swathed in a wool OD scarf wrapped
ways in all ways.” The guys kidded him a lot about shawl-like around head and chin.
that, and Bernie enjoyed the kidding. He shut his eyes The sergeant snorted. “It’s cold out there, Lieutenant.
and tried to remember her in his arms. But how can Of course you wouldn’t know that, cooped up here in
you recapture any warmth with the thermometer at your steam-heated headquarters.”
minus six and the dry pellets of ice beating into your Bernie Ray laughed. He was grateful that the officer’s
face like endless pin-pricks? bars didn’t discourage the friendship of his men, as the
Well, it wouldn’t be long now. The Nazis were just bars too often did in the Statesside Army, or even in
about finished. Everybody said so. Well, somebody ought the rear echelon. Up front they were all “foxhole bud­
to tell that to the goddamned Germans in front of them! dies,” from privates on up to chicken colonels.
 “Just like the ‘Charge of the Light Brigade,’ is that it,
Lieutenant?” There was gentle reproof in the older
man’s voice. “Into the valley of death . . His mocking
voice trailed off.
“Better die fighting, than to die crouched in a hole,”
Ray replied.
“If there was a chance we could do it, Fd agree with
you,” the sergeant said. “But the Germans are dug in
too good. They’d cut us to pieces without armored
support.”
“Then what the hell are we supposed to do?”
The sergeant studied the glowing tip oi his butt. “Only
way I can see it is for the Air Force to clobber that
Barricade. Why don’t you talk to the Old Man about it?”
“I already did. Weather has grounded everything.”
“Goddamned fly-boys!” the sergeant growled in dis­
gust. “Sitting back in their warm officers’ club with a
Red Cross hostess on each knee.”
“You know better than to talk like that,” Ray said
sharply.
“Sure I do,” the sergeant admitted. “But those kids
are out there lying in the snow waiting to die. And
they will if we don’t knock out the Barricade.”
Ray slid another cigarette from the pack in his pocket
and lit it with a battered Zippo. His voice was terse:
“Maybe we could drop a bomb on the Barricade without
James Howard Ray (r.) received his son’s the Air Force, Sergeant.”
posthumously awarded Medal of Honor from Major General The first looked at him suspiciously.
Thomas Larkin on December 12, 1944. “Why not?” Ray’s excitement was rising. “We’ll build
a bomb right underneath it. Dynamite, torpedoes, ex­
plosive caps, everything that will explode.”
Bernie Ray was even a little closer to his men than A pained expression came over the sergeant’s face.
most combat officers. Possibly it was his youth. At 21, “Lieutenant,” he said quietly, "just how in hell do you
he was younger than all of his platoon sergeants and think we’re gonna plant that charge under the Barri­
many of his other non-coms. There was something pro­ cade? You wouldn’t send a detail of men into that kind
tective in their attitude toward him, although they re­ of fire would you? It would be murder.”
spected him both as a soldier and a man. “One man might be able to make it.”
“How’s it going?” Ray asked his first sergeant. The sergeant wagged his head back and forth. “Not
“It ain’t.” The sergeant squatted on his haunches and a chance. A mosquito couldn’t squeeze through the lead
stuck a cigarette in his mouth. “It is my considered them bastards are throwin’ around that goddamned
opinion,” he said bitterly, “that Company F is still Barricade.”
gonna be right here when the war ends. That is, if “Well, it’s worth a try.” Lieutenant Ray reached for
there’s anything left of it.” his helmet and carbine. “C’mon, Sergeant, let's round
“More casualties?” up our squad leaders.”
“You kidding, Lieutenant? There’s a rumor going When the lieutenant had finished describing the na­
around that the German Army is sending all its new ture of the mission there was absolute silence.
recruits up here for shooting practice.” The sergeant “Well,” said the sergeant, “how about it? What do
grinned humorlessly. "You ever go to a turkey shoot, you guys think?”
Lieutenant?” “Who’s going to do it?” a corporal asked quietly.
“No.” The sergeant could not conceal his annoyance. “Who
“We have a lot of them where I come from. You the hell do you think is going to do it? We’re going to
tether a couple of turkeys behind a log ’bout three do it!”
hundred yards away. Then your sharpshooters line up, “We?” echoed the corporal.
and every time a bird gets curious and pokes his head “Volunteers!” the sergeant roared. “What else?”
over the log to see what’s going on, bang! That’s the Lieutenant Ray searched the circle of faces around
way it is out there. Man pokes his head up, bang!” them, but none of the men would meet his gaze.
“Well,” Bernie Ray said deliberately, “it simply “Volunteers,” the sergeant repeated. “They’ll flip coins
means we’ve got to take the Barricade.” to see who gets first crack at it.” He dug a coin from
“Says who?” his packet and flipped it in the air. x
Authority was in Ray’s voice now. “Says me, Sergeant.” A thin buck sergeant addressed the lieutenant. “It’s
 asking an awful lot, sir. A man won’t stand much
chance out there.”
“He’ll have to be lucky,” Ray admitted.
“Damn!” the first sergeant exploded. “What is this,
anyway? You getting chicken all of a sudden?”
No one answered him.
Lieutenant Ray understood. Before the end of the
war was in sight the men had lived from one day to
the next, put a wall between themselves and the future.
But now they could see it, almost smell it: The armis­
tice, home, the wife, the kids, the girl friend, the bull
sessions at the corner bar. A dozen times a day he
imagined himself getting off the old Long Island train
—the Toonerville Trolley, he called it—at Baldwin,
New York, then walking up the block to his parents’
house. His mother’s face when she opened the door
and saw him standing there. God, that would be some­
thing!
The closer you got to it, the more remote it seemed
to be. You weren’t going to make it . . . Something
would happen. It got so bad sometimes, you worried
when you got a splinter in your finger. Like that
Marine who survived all the island-hopping battles
in the Pacific and was killed by a car as he jaywalked
in front of his house. Fate was not kind to heroes.
He thought of the movie he had seen as a kid, All
Quiet on the Western Front. At almost the exact mo­
ment of the cease fire order, a soldier had climbed out
of the trench to catch a butterfly. A sniper had drawn
a bead on him, and that was it.
Bernie Ray knew that was what each of his men
was thinking now: My name is pn that last bullet.
“Sergeant,” he said sharply, “there won’t be any
volunteers. I’ll assign a man.”
The GIs looked at him with resentment. You just
didn’t order a man to go out and commit suicide. You
at least permitted him the dignity of volunteering, even
if the result was the same.
“I don’t know if that’s wise, sir,” the sergeant said
hesitantly.
“I do,” Ray said. “I have my man picked already.”
The sergeant shifted from one leg to the other. “Who
is it?”
“Me.”
There were mumbled protests from the non-coms.
“That’s crazy!” the first sergeant said. “The Old Man
would burn your tail if he got wind of it.”
Ray grinned, “I hope he gets the chance. C’mon, help
me get ready.”
The sergeant put a hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Let’s
have a fair shake for everybody,” he suggested. The
other men supported him. “Let’s flip for it.”
The lieutenant’s lips lifted in a half-amused grin.
“C’mon, Sergeant, this is beginning to sound like a
World War One movie.”
A few minutes later Bernard Ray had grenades strung
from his belt. His pockets bulged with explosive caps
and he carried bangalore torpedoes. A 20-foot length
of primer cord was wrapped around his body, and a
bundle of dynamite snuggled under one arm. The
first sergeant slung the lieutenant’s carbine over his
shoulder.
“Better take this little baby along, sir. Just in case.”
Ray felt a little sick to his stomach, but he man­
aged a grin. “Well, boys, how do I look?”
“Like a human bomb, lieutenant,” someone joked;
ILLUSTRATED BY J. SCOTT PIKE
 “Volunteers, that’s who's gonna do it,”
the sergeant said, flipping a coin
in the air. But Lt. Kay had already
decided who was going to try it first.

but the man didn’t laugh. And no one else said a word. the log. He quickly clicked off the safety on his M-l.
“Keep your head down,” the first sergeant advised “He’s in a tree, all right,” Ray said.
him as they made their way forward. The sergeant raised his binoculars and turned them
Where the trees began to thin out, the two men on the treetops beyond the Barricade. “I think I’m
dropped to their hands and knees and crawled forward, on him.” He passed the glasses to the lieutenant. “The
taking advantage of every bit of cover. They stopped tallest tree in that clump on the left.”
for a breather a short distance from a soldier lying Ray studied the tree for a minute before lowering
face down in the snow behind a log. He appeared to be the glasses. “It’s hard to tell, but there does seem to
sleeping. be something up there in the foliage. An off-shade of
“Damn that kid!” the sergeant muttered. “He conks color.”
off in the middle of a bombing raid. We ought to court- He unslung his carbine and rested it on the log.
martial him one of these days.” “Let’s find out.” He squeezed off five rapid shots. They
They came abreast of the soldier and Ray’s eyes held their breaths for a moment then heard the sound
narrowed. There was a neat round hole in the top of of rustling leaves and cracking wood.
the GI’s helmet. The sergeant grinned and offered the lieutenant his
“He’s not sleeping, Sergeant,” Ray said. hand. “Good show, as the limeys say.”
He turned the body over and stared into the young Ray stared at the ribbon of smoke curling up from
face. This boy was even younger than he was. A re­ the muzzle of his carbine. What a crazy world, he told
placement, green from three month’s basic in the States. himself. Here I am feeling proud because I just killed
His child bride—he was a Kentucky mountain lad— a human being. This good man beside me—a traveling
was expecting their first baby. salesman of ladies’ wear in civilian life, the father of
“Bastards!” Ray whispered, tearing his eyes away four kids—wanting to shake my hand because I killed
from the serene face. another person. How the hell did it come about that a
“Must be a sniper close by,” the sergeant said, guy like me who used to bawl when he saw a cat hit
squinting through the trees. “See the angle of that by a car, a guy whose big ambition was to be a doctor
slug. Right through the top of his head almost.” and mend bodies and save lives—how did it come
“Maybe in a tree,” Ray suggested. Just then the about that I can destroy life and feel good about it?
dirt exploded at his feet, and a sharp crack echoed “Lieutenant,” the sergeant’s voice cut into his thoughts,
through the silence. “you better get going. This is the best time. The Ger­
“Down!” yelled the sergeant, flattening out behind mans will be eating lunch about now.”
 “Sure.” Ray looked directly at the square face
wrapped in the shawl. “Mind the store while I’m gone,
Sarge.” He dropped his hand on the other’s thick arm.
HISTORY OF THE MEDAL “Good luck.” The sergeant could barely return his
gaze.
Until the outbreak of the Civil War the On his belly, Ray slithered around the log and headed
American soldier received a monetary re­ for the road. Then he was in the open clearing sur­
ward when he did his job well. rounding the Barricade. For the present, he believed,
In the early months of the Civil War, he would be safe from the machine guns locked to fire
Senator James Grimes of Iowa told Con­ in a higher trajectory. He crept and crawled, hugging
gress: “Thousands of American men have the frozen earth with his body.
quit high-paying jobs to shoulder a gun for The Germans saw him at last, and small-arms fire
the United States. No one would be fatuous crackled in the woods. Behind him he heard the cover­
enough to suggest they did so for financial ing fire of his own troops as he weaved forward as
gain. To reward such men for gallantry with quickly as he could.
a few pieces of silver is an insult. Our war His breath came fast from fear and exertion; the
heroes deserve honor that cannot be bought explosives weighed him down, and the grenades and
at any price.” the primer cord kept snagging on rocks and twigs.
Congress and President Abraham Lincoln Thunder grew in his ears as he neared the enemy line.
Lincoln agreed. The result was a bill author­ Ray knew it was no mystery to the Germans what he
izing the creation of a Navy Medal of Honor, was up to.
and an Army Medal of Honor. The two re­ Now their heavy machine guns went into action
mained separate, technically, until 1918, from three sides, the slugs passing a foot over his head.
when revised legislation standardized the As long as he kept low, he was safe from them, but
nation’s highest military award for all serv­ once he reached the Barricade he would have to ex­
ices. pose himself. At that moment mortar shells began to
In the beginning the Medal was presented fall in front and behind him. The Germans were throw­
so indiscriminately that it quickly lost pres­ ing everything they had to stop him from reaching the
tige. To remedy this, at the end of the Civil Barricade.
War Congress rescinded over 1,000 of the By some miracle he ran the gantlet without being
awards (including one given to a woman hit. Now the Barricade itself offered some measure of
Army surgeon, the only female ever to win cover. He raised up on his elbows and studied the wood-
it). In 1899, Secretary of War Elihu Root and-steel barrier. Over the days, it had become endowed
established a screening board to process and with liateful human qualities. In the minds of the GIs
pass on applications, thus promoting rigid it symbolized the incarnation of all Nazis.
conditions for qualification. On his elbows, Ray worked himself to the middle of
As it now stands the Medal of Honor is the road and shoved the bundle of dynamite under the
awarded for “. . . conspicuous gallantry and barbed wire. Then he struggled farther into the center,
intrepidity at the risk of life above and be­ took a pair of clippers from his belt and began to
yond the call of duty while a member of the cut through the strands. It was slow, maddeningly
Armed forces in actual combat with an slow work and the mortars were finding the range.
enemy of the nation.” The deed must be He had to get on his knees now. He instantly was
witnessed by at least two eyewitnesses who knocked flat by a burst of machine-gun fire.
affirm that it is clearly an outstanding dis­ He cried out against the pain in his left side, sharply
play of courage; it must be performed at risk aware of the warm, sticky blood seeping through his
of life; and it must be a voluntary act that uniform, and that his eyes were blurring and his left
could not be considered a dereliction of duty arm growing numb.
if the soldier chose not to perform it. He began to lay the charge, frantically fighting off
Only 2,194 Medals have been awarded. Of unconsciousness. It was an almost irresistible tempta­
the 16 million men who served in the U.S. tion to drop on the snow and rest. But he looked back
armed forces in World War II, 431 received at his own lines and felt confident that he could still
the Medal. More than half of these awards make it back if he wanted to.
were posthumous. It is a democratic award: Why not? he asked himself. He had done his best
of the 431, six were generals, nine were and failed. Besides, his fast-ebbing strength was in­
majors, 31 lieutenants, 40 staff sergeants, adequate to complete the task of setting the charge and
nine corporals, six T-5s, and 79 privates. laying the fuse. Even the simple problem of unwinding
The material benefits have remained rela­ the long primer cord from his body seemed impos­
tively unchanged since its inception by Lin­ sible now.
coln’s Congress. Enlisted men get two dollars Crawl back to the platoon . . . the medics will patch
a month extra pay; at age 65 all Medal me up . . . send me back to a warm hospital bed ... a
winners receive a pension of $120 a year. Purple Heart . . . maybe even a bronze star . . . the
But as any man who wears the highest mili­ war will be over soon ... by summer I’ll be back in
tary award in the United States will tell you, Baldwin.
the Medal of Honor is its own reward. His hand went to his wallet and he thought of the
girl in the picture. Why not?
Then he remembered the frozen death mask of the
boy lying behind the log, and (Continued on page 84)
THE PLOT THAT FAILED: .

KILL PRESIDENT TRUMAN!

one of history's most brazen assassination attempts, two "party" fanatics

tried to blast their way through the ring of security around the chief

executive. They came closer than anyone ever knew!

By JOSH GREENFELD
THE MORNING of October 31, 1950,
was mild and sunny. In a Bronx,
New York, apartment a buxom, 40-
year-old Puerto Rican woman shook
her sleeping husband. “Oscar,” she
said, “get up. It’s time to go to the
work.”
Curly-haired Oscar Collazo rubbed
his eyes thoughtfully for a moment.
Then he straightened up. “Make a
telephone call to the shop,” he told
his wife. “Tell them I am ill and I
will not be to the work.” He got up
and began dressing.
Rosa Collazo was surprised. Her
husband had worked as a polisher
in a New Rochelle metal factory for
four years, and he rarely missed a
day’s work for any reason. Yet Mrs.
Collazo did as she was told without
question.
After she completed the call, Oscar
said, “I want you to go to the bank
and withdraw one hundred dollars.”
“But why?”
“Do as I say,” Oscar snapped. “I
am speaking for the party.”
Again Rosa did as she was told.
She knew better than to question a
party order. For she and her hus­
band belonged to the Puerto Rico
Nationalist Party, which, like all
extremist revolutionary groups,
maintained strict discipline over its
members.
When Rosa returned from the
bank Oscar counted the money and
placed it in his wallet. Then he left
the apartment. “Get back! Get back!” the Secret Service
At a nearby street corner he met agent shouted, pulling the President out of gunshot range.
Griselio Torresola, a friend of his
since boyhood in Puerto Rico, who
was also a member of the party. They took the subway Oscar was still silent as he closed the lid of his
into Manhattan, got off at Times Square and walked suitcase.
over to Eighth Avenue. There they entered a haber­ “You are going to Puerto Rico,” cried Rosa, her voice
dashery shop and bought clothes suitable for the most tight with fear. “You will be arrested.”
important day of their lives. Oscar chose a gray-blue “I am not going to Puerto Rico,” Oscar said quietly.
pin-striped suit and Torresola selected a gray chalk- “And if I am arrested do not worry. It does not matter.”
striped suit. They both bought expensive black hats. “I do not understand.”
“It is important that we look nice,” Oscar said. “There is nothing to understand. A man does what he
“It is more important that we accomplish our mis­ has to do. I have my orders. Nothing can change my
sion,” Torresola said. mind.”
“Looking nice makes us inconspicuous and that’s es­ “What are your orders?”
sential to accomplishing our mission.” “My orders,” Oscar said, “are to make history.” He
Their new purchases under their arms, the men went kissed Rosa goodbye and left the house.
to Penn Station. Oscar was the spokesman as they sidled At 4 o’clock Oscar met Torresola in Penn Station. A
up to the ticket window. “I would like two tickets to half-hour later, after buying some newspapers, they
Washington,” he said. boarded a train for Washington. (They read the New
“One-way or round trip?” the clerk asked. York Times with particular interest. On its front page
Oscar and Torresola stared at each other. was the story of an abortive attempt at revolution in
“One-way,” Oscar said. Puerto Rico. Just the day before, five members of the
The time, according to the big station clock, was 12 Nationalist Party had attacked the governor’s palace
noon. in San Juan with the intention of assassinating Governor
Oscar returned to his home and began packing his Luis Munoz Marin. They sprayed pohce guards with
clothes. “Where are you going?” Rosa asked. pistol and sub-machine-gun fire for ten minutes. In the
Oscar did not answer. interior town of Jayua, Nationalist rebels had also
“Please,” Rosa said, “do not leave me.” bombed the police station and shot down six officers.
And in other parts of the island various government The President could rest easily, knowing he was well
buildings had been burned. All together, 23 people had protected. Guarding his life was the responsibility of
been killed. the United States Treasury Department’s Secret Service.
Collazo and Torresola knew this violence had been And hanging in the office of the protective detail as­
planned by Pedro Albizo Campos, the Harvard-educated signed to him was a grim reminder of their duty, im­
leader of the party. They also knew that Albizo Campos printed in large type:
had served a sentence in Atlanta Penitentiary for con­
spiring to overthrow the United States government, and THE ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN
that the Puerto Rican Nationalist Party had been cited WHEN JOHN WILKES BOOTH APPROACHED,
as subversive by the attorney general of the United HE WAS STOPPED BY THE SENTINEL AND
States. Still they were determined to carry out their TOLD HE COULD NOT ENTER. “THIS IS THE
PRESIDENT’S BOX, SIR,” SAID FORBES, THE
orders.
GUARD, “NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO ENTER.”
“Unless we are hurt or killed,” Oscar said, “I doubt if “I AM A SENATOR,” RESPONDED BOOTH. “MR.
anyone will take our movement seriously.” LINCOLN HAS SENT FOR ME. I MUST SEE HIM
“Isn’t the movement more important than our lives?” ON IMPORTANT BUSINESS.” HIS GENTLE­
asked Torresola. No answer was necessary. MANLY AND GENTEEL APPEARANCE DE­
CEIVED THE SENTINEL WHO ALLOWED HIM
At 8:30 the train arrived in Washington. Collazo and TO PASS TO THE PRESIDENT’S BOX.
Torresola walked four blocks from the station to the
Hotel Harris on Massachusetts Avenue. First Collazo In front of the Blair House on the afternoon of No­
entered the hotel and registered as Anthony de Silva of vember 1, Private Leslie Coffelt of the White House
Aldridge, Connecticut. The room clerk gave him the Police was on duty in the west guard booth. In the east
key to Room 434. Five minutes later, Torresola walked guard booth were Private Joseph O. Davidson and Secret
into the lobby and signed the register as Leon Gonzales Service Agent, Floyd M. Boring. Standing at the bot­
of Miami, Florida. He checked into Room 436, then tom of the canopied steps of the main entrance was
joined Collazo. Together they studied the map of Wash­ Private Donald T. Birdzell. To say that it would be
ington in the classified telephone directory. Torresola difficult for any unauthorized person to get past the
opened his valise. It contained a Luger and a Walther guard setup is an understatement.
P-38. He proceeded to instruct Collazo on how to handle However, Collazo and Torresola were not deterred.
the P-38, pointing out that it had a double action ham­ They had a mission and they were going to attempt to
mer and a tricky safety catch. Oscar practiced loading accomplish it. They loaded their guns, inserted them
and releasing the safety catch until he felt he had mas­ behind their pants belts, and left their rooms. Stepping
tered it. At 11:30 the men went down for a snack. By into an elevator, they rode to the hotel lobby. Collazo
midnight they were in bed. stopped at the desk to ask the clerk a routine tourist
Collazo and Torresola ate a hearty breakfast Wednes­ question; in this case, however, a most incongruous one.
day morning. They asked a cab driver to show them “Will we have to pay for an extra day if we don’t
the sights. The cabbie thought the somber Puerto Ricans check out by exactly 3 o’clock?”
in their black hats were divinity students. He perfunc­ “A half hour or so difference won’t matter,” the clerk
torily pointed out the Washington Monument, the Lin­ replied.
coln Memorial, the government offices on Constitution “Thank you,” said Oscar.
Avenue and, of course, the White House. In front of the hotel they hailed a cab driven by John
The White House was obscured by scaffolding. Torre­ Gavounas.
sola leaned forward in his seat. “Why are the windows “Please take us to Fifteenth Street and Pennsylvania
boarded?” he asked. Avenue,” Oscar said. Exactly seven minutes later they
“The White House is under repair.” arrived at that corner. They gave Gavounas a dime tip.
“Doesn’t the President live there now?” They were now three blocks east of the Blair House.
“No,” the cabbie said. “He lives across the street in It was an Indian summer afternoon, the temperature a
the Blair House.” mild 83 degrees. The time was 2:15.
“Which is the Blair House?” “We will be more inconspicuous,” Collazo said, “if one
“Right over there.” The cabbie pointed toward a of us crosses the street and approaches Blair House from
building which was flanked by two guard houses across the other side. We can meet at the front steps.”
Pennsylvania Avenue from the Capitol.
The sightseers stared intently. ToRRESOLA nodded. They shook hands and parted.
“Please,” Torresola said to the driver, “take us back to Torresola crossed to the south side of the avenue and
our hotel now.” walked past the Treasury Building and the high picket
At about the time the plotters reached their rooms fence bordering the White House grounds. Collazo am­
and were checking their weapons, the President of the bled along the north side of Pennsylvania Avenue, past
United States walked briskly from his office in the the Riggs National Bank, the Treasury Annex and La­
White House Executive Wing to the Blair House. The fayette Park.
Blair House is usually reserved as a guest house for From a distance they appeared to be strollers leisure­
visiting foreign dignitaries, but while the White House ly taking in the sights.
living facilities were being remodeled, the President At 2:19 Collazo walked by the east booth of the Blair
and his family were living there. The President had had House. Torresola crossed the avenue at the west corner
a busy morning. After a light luncheon, he retired to and cut back toward the Blair House. Now they were
the second-floor bedroom which faced the street and walking toward each other, converging on Private Bird­
lay down for his customary midday nap. The time zell, who was standing at the base of the main entrance
was 1:15. looking west. Collazo stopped (Continued on page 86)
 Phil Gualillo’s Renee is Rome, New York’s
top lifeguard. Who swims with her around?
R. Lipps of Desert Hot Springs, Calif.,
would cross any desert for sultry Doris.

Sweetheart, wife, or the girl next door . . . Who’s the

“ My Favorite Girl”
gal who brings a gleam to your eye? Here’s your chance
to show her off and win some cash at the same time. Just
send us a simple black-and-white snapshot of your
favorite, girl. All you have to do is mail it to Climax
Photo Contest
Magazine, 205 East 42nd Street, New York 17, New York,
accompanied by the girl’s written permission to publish
the picture. If your picture wins 1st Prize, Climax will
send you a check for $25. For every other photo we use Dave Grube discovered Alice practicing her cycling on the
each month, we pay $10. On the back of your entry, streets of Delaware, Ohio. Now he owns a bicycle, too.
please print your name and address and explain in a
single sentence what the lady of your choice means to
you. Do not enclose return postage. None of the photos
submitted will be returned. Color pictures will not be
eligible, and please do not send irreplaceable photos. No
picture can be considered unless accompanied by the
girl’s written permission to publish her photograph.

“Sherry's sweeter than fine, fine wine,”

says Cene Wasson of Spearfish, S. D.
“Statuesque Marilyn is truly a queen,” raves Joe Franks of Lafayette, Ind. And her 1st Prize pose crowned him photo king.
 By D. L. CHAMPION

It's trouble when two men and a girl

share one tent. But when they do it in a

French nudist colony, it's disastrous!

ERMAINE SCIORELLA was French, as

G beautiful as the Cathedral of Notre Dame,
and built just as solidly. She was 24 years old
with coal-black hair, brown, provocative eyes
and a body which won her the title of Beauty
Queen of the La Garde region of the Riviera.
Professionally, she modeled at La Vogue, an
exclusive dress shop in Toulon. Non-profes-
sionally, Germaine had no use for clothes at
all—she was an active member of the nudist
camp at Fabregas, a densely wooded area two
miles west of Toulon. The naturist colony was
situated on a small, secluded peninsula, acces­
sible only by a winding footpath through the
woods or by boat from the sparkling Medi­
terranean.
During the summer of 1958, the free-wheeling
French girl lived in a tent at Fabregas and
commuted to work on a bicycle. At work, well
girdled and brassiered, she modeled chic, ex­
pensive dresses. But with the arrival of eve­
ning, she cheerfully unharnessed her hips, freed
her full bosom and cavorted nakedly with her
fellow nudists.
In July, Robert Bessoudo, the dark, good­
looking son of Germaine’s employer, returned
to Toulon after being graduated from the uni­
versity at Paris. He studied Germaine, liked
what he saw and decided to do some special
research. He made what proved to be an emi­
nently unsuccessful pass at her.
She declined his offers of dinner, dancing
and night clubs. “All my free time,” she ex­
plained, “is spent at Fabregas.”
“Well,” said Bessoudo, “may I see you if I
come to Fabregas?”
“Clearly,” Germaine assured him. “It would
be impossible not to see me there.”
“Good. I’ll come this weekend. What shall
I bring?”
Germaine eyed him appraisingly. “A tent, a
toothbrush and a bar of soap.”
“Yes. But what kind of clothes?”
“None. It’s a nudist camp. Does that dis­
courage you?”
It discouraged him like a barnful of cows

ILLUSTRATED BT JAY SCOTT PIKE

discourages a bull. He bought a tent with loving care
and on Friday evening mounted his bicycle and pedaled
after Germaine through the woods to Fabregas.
At the camp, Bessoudo was cordially greeted by a
group of coeducational nudists. Then Germaine handed
him a pants hanger and invited him to make himself
at home.
After Bessoudo had settled a question of protocol—
should he remove his clothing before or after putting
up the tent?—he undressed, pitched the tent and ran
down to the beach to join the others bathing in the
water and the sun.
During the next few days Bessoudo was alone with
Germaine as much as possible. Shortly afterwards, she
conceded he was an extremely handsome fellow and
that she was extremely fond of him. Bessoudo trans­
ferred his toothbrush and his bar of soap into Ger­
maine’s tent.
Working backward, in the Gallic manner, several
weeks after the consummation of their affair, the lovers
became engaged. However, before the wedding invita­
tions could be dispatched, the French War Office mailed
one of its own. It requested Bessoudo to report to the
draft board in Toulon where he would be conscripted
into the army and then sent off to Algeria. The docu­
ment added that, unless he did, he would be tossed into
Sante Prison for some ten years.
Germaine and Bessoudo exchanged pledges of eternal
love, eternal fidelity and several other utter impossi­
bilities. She accompanied him to the draft board and
Life in the raw did wonders for Germaine’s
then to the train which would take him to Marseilles.
already trim figure. She was a living ad­
She did not approve of his poilu’s uniform at all. It vertisement for the Fabregas nature camp.
wasn’t that she was unpatriotic; she had a natural aver­
sion to clothes.
The winter passed slowly, and the letters between
Germaine and her lover indicated that the pledge of
eternal love remained unbroken. In the spring of 1959,
while Bessoudo was chasing the enemy through the
Casbah, Germaine mounted her bicycle, returned to
Fabregas and tore off the detestable clothing she had
been compelled to wear all winter.
But somehow the old zest was gone. Germaine’s tent
was lonely without her lover. Her toothbrush was soli­
tary as it lay beside the pail of clear spring water. No
longer did Robert’s bar of plain soap lie beside her
scented cake. Her heart was empty; her full lips un­
kissed; her lovely body unembraced. Then, early in
June, a new interest approached from the sea—by kayak.
The kayak-paddler was Pierre Joyeux, a 39-year-old
supremely unsuccessful author who had proved too ec­
centric for the habitues of Paris’ Left Bank, and that,
you may be sure, is really eccentric.
His last book, which sold 350 copies, had been titled:
It Was Nothing, Period, That’s AU. It dealt with, among
other odd subjects, the sensual pleasure of murder.
Along with his literary pursuits, the stocky, bearded
Joyeux was also a weight-lifter who boasted he once
toted a 220-pound iron bar for three miles.
Until 1958, Pierre had been possessed of a blonde wife
and two daughters. But when he dragged his family Pierre Joyeux subscribed to a violent theory
out of Paris to a remote rural area to start a goat breed­ of life—that “People are made to love,
hate, deceive one another, steal, and kill.”
ing project, his wife decided she’d had enough of the
mad genius, and divorced him.
When the goats failed to breed, Pierre abandoned the
farm, bought a kayak and paddled about the offshore
islands in the Mediterranean. He lived principally on
fish, boiled rice and any vegetables he could steal from
the nursery gardens in the area. In short, he was a bum. clear that neither man carried a concealed weapon.
On this particular morning, Pierre beached his kayak Germaine explained to Robert that while she still
and climbed the green hill to the nudist camp. The first held him in strong affection, Pierre’s lofty philosophy
person he saw was Germaine Sciorella. He stared at excited her. “He thinks murder is thrilling,” she con­
her with appreciative eyes; Germaine stared back at cluded. “It’s something like a sexual experience. You
the powerfully built man who sported an ebony beard. must understand.”
Pierre broke the pregnant silence. “Is it not unusual,” Robert didn’t understand at all. If Pierre considered
he asked, “for you to be wandering about the country­ murder the same thing as romance, why didn’t he go
side without your clothing?” off and kill someone instead of making love to Germaine?
“It is more unusual,” she replied, “to be wandering “You could join the army,” he suggested to Joyeux.
about fully clothed. This is a camp of les naturistes." “Go to Algiers and knife a rebel. I’ll make love to
For the first time in his career, Pierre Joyeux leaped Germaine.”
at the chance to become a conformist. When he was Pierre explained that he would never knife anyone.
clad in nothing more than his black beard. Germaine “The swishing of a blade against a soft belly,” he said,
took him back to camp and introduced him around. “outrages my esthetic sense. I would only use a gun.”
Pierre devoted the next few day to making verbal Realizing he would get nowhere talking to Pierre,
love to Germaine by quoting lengthy passages from his Robert decided to withdraw temporarily, bide his time
book. "People are made,” he said huskily, “to love, to until he could speak to Germaine alone. He stalked from
hate, to deceive each other, to steal, to rape and to kill. the tent, dressed and cycled down to the Hotel de la
Human emotions are mere pitfalls. In order to eat, Reserve, where he proceeded to drink a large quantity
one must kill each day.” of brandy.
Germaine shivered deliciously as Pierre spoke of the On the following day, while Pierre was out in his
sensual pleasures of murder: “The swish of a knife kayak catching some fish for supper, a smiling Robert
blade against a soft belly offends my esthetic sense, but marched into Germaine’s tent. “I can’t find it in my
to kill with a gun is delightful.” heart to blame you,” he said. “I was away for a long
time. Of course, we are still engaged, but I shall release
ThERE WAS a great deal more in this vein. Pierre you. Pm going abroad, anyway. I suppose, in time, I
made slaughter sound like a mad, passionate night with will forget you.”
Brigitte Bardot. It impressed Germaine, and within a “But where are you going?”
week, Pierre was sharing her tent. Now, her toothbrush “To America. I have a job with a French electronics
had company; her scented soap was not alone; Germaine firm. They are sending me to New York.”
was no longer lonely. This information immediately weakened Germaine’s
Moreover, it appeared that Pierre, who held all human passion for Pierre. She had always dreamed of going
emotion in utter contempt, had fallen in love with his to the United States. Moreover, Robert had a well-
mistress. He treated her respectfully and, on one occa­ paying job. Pierre, in spite of his threat to go to work,
sion at least, he mentioned marriage. had never done so. He was living on Germaine’s meager
One day, while talking to Monsieur Duchaussois, a salary. She thought matters over at some length, then
fisherman who lived close by les naturistes, Pierre said, threw herself in Robert’s arms. “I really love you,” she
“I never loved anyone like Germaine. As for myself, I said. “But I was so lonely. Whenever he made love to
can live on a few francs a month but for her I shall me, I thought of you.”
make the supreme sacrifice. I shall go to work.” Standing in the embrace of a naked woman, Robert
He delivered this line with the courageous dignity of found it difficult to be logical. He promptly forgave his
Nathan Hale regretting that he had but one life to give fiancee’s infidelity, tossed Pierre’s toothbrush and soap
for his country. Then, he added casually, “Of course, out of the tent, and moved in his own.
if she ever leaves me, I shall kill her.” “We shall get married,” he said, “and go to America.
It was an ecstatic summer. Germaine commuted to We shall forget the past.”
work. Pierre loafed in the tent and awaited her return
each night. On her payday, the couple would don their At DUSK, “the past” returned from the sea. Pierre
clothes and amble down to the Hotel de la Reserve to demanded an explanation, and when he got it, he was
eat a sumptuous dinner and drink a quart of rum, to outraged that a job in America had been preferred to
which Pierre was most partial. his sensual murder philosophy. He shook his head slow­
Early in October, 1959, trouble approached in the per­ ly and announced that he was the most forlorn fellow
son of Robert Bessoudo. Discharged from the army, he in all of France.
was returning to claim his bride. He stopped in Toulon Germaine, a girl as generous with her money as with
only long enough to greet his parents and pick up his her affections, suggested they all dress and dine at the
bicycle. Reaching the nudist colony, he strode into Ger­ Hotel de la Reserve. “A sort of farewell party,” she
maine’s tent at a most unfortunate moment. She and said. “I’ll pay for it. Robert, we owe it to poor Pierre.”
her bearded lover were actively demonstrating that The trio put on their clothes. Germaine wore a brand-
their love was not entirely platonic. Robert was shocked new dress and both lovers agreed that it made her look
to the core. However, he behaved like a gentleman. exceedingly sexy.
“I shall give you a few moments to compose your­ At the hotel they ate a magnificent meal, washing it
selves,” he said. ‘1 shall leave and get rid of my clothes. down with a magnum of champagne. When they had
Then I shall return to discuss this matter.” finished, Pierre ordered a bottle of rum. At 10:30, Rob­
A few moments later the trio reassembled with but ert and Germaine became tired of wearing clothes, so
one item of adornment among them—Pierre’s beard. they decided to return to the tent and retire. Robert
This, in one way, proved an advantage: In case the shook hands with his morose rival and Germaine kissed
quarrel grew bitter to the point of violence it was quite him a final goodbye. (Continued on page 72)
 ENRY and Lucille Patterson arrived in Paris early dress came out of the hotel to take their bags, but on
H one steaming August day. They were going on to
Le Havre the following morning. The Pattersons had
hearing Lucille’s tone, she stared at the couple with
puzzled eyes. Lucille told the girl to drop the bags, but
flown to Europe three weeks before, and had been on the Henry motioned for her to take them, grumbling to
go ever since, rushing through 37 cities in 21 days. Lucille, “Don’t make a scene out here. We can’t leave
Eight days earlier, a fellow tourist had told Hank our things on the sidewalk, and the room is reserved.
the Paris hotels were jammed, so Hank had written for Let’s get out of the sun, see what the place is like. At
help to an old army buddy who was working for a news least you can rest while I look for another hotel.”
service ip Paris. The buddy airmailed back that he was “All right. I’ll stay with the things while you find a
going on vacation August 1st and was terribly sorry he decent place. I’d never trust these people with my mink.”
wouldn’t see them, but he had reserved a room for one It was a second-floor room facing another building
night for them at the Hotel Royal Raphael. Lucille, across an air shaft. In a curtained corner of the room
who never thought much of Hank’s friends, was pleased. stood the usual bidet and wash basin. Pointing angrily
“Sounds swanky” she said. “Might even get to wear my at the bidet, Lucille complained, “Not even a bath. I need
mink there—if this damn heat stops.” Lucille was a a . . .” Her voice trailed off then began again in a bitter
short, somewhat pudgy woman of 39. But her image of whine. “Shut the curtains on the window. That slut
herself was of a “regal-looking lady.” across the way can practically reach into the room.”
The Pattersons took a cab from Gare Lyon to the Henry turned to see a sturdily built but homely young
Royal Raphael, which turned out to be a modest hotel woman leaning out the window of the facing apartment,
on the fringe of the Pigalle district. As Hank was paying watching them with idle curiosity. Henry smiled apolo­
the cabbie—positive he was being robbed—Lucille ex­ getically at her as he closed the curtains, “Relax,” he
claimed, “My God, Henry, this is only a one-star hotel!” said to his wife and walked to the door. “It’s nine-
He turned wearily to look at the one faded star on the fifteen now. I should be back by eleven.”
tourist sign. “Yeah,” he said dispassionately. At noon he returned, sweaty and tired. “There isn’t a
“Well, we’re not staying in this dump. Why, see how damn room to be had in Paris. I’ve spent over four
narrow the street is. I bet this is a brothel!” thousand francs—eight bucks—in cab fares and phone
“Come on, now, Eddie wouldn’t give me a bum steer.” calls. I’m beat.”
“It’s certain to have bedbugs! I refuse to step inside Lucille muttered that his friends were slobs and that
this hovel!” she’d find a room. Somebody at the American Express
A buxom young girl wearing an apron over a flowery would know where a good hotel room could be had.
 ONLY FOR
ONE NIGHT
In Paris, the city of lovers, Hank discovered
a new passion for his wife—hate

By STEVE APRIL
Illustrated by Charles Walker

When she left, Hank sighed wearily, removed his shoes only have a one-room apartmem?” Hank said angrily.
and pants, then opened the curtains for some air. He Lucille didn’t answer. She turned over heavily, bump­
noticed the young woman fixing food at a table and ing him. Hank moved to the edge of the bed and, as if
singing quietly to herself . . . Lucille could be right. watching a movie, observed the girl join the man at the
Still, this girl hardly looked like a streetwalker. window. She placed an arm around his shoulders, but he
He fell asleep to awaken hours later when Lucille moved away.
came banging into the room, hot and furious. “Hank, Lucille began to breathe deeply and evenly. Hank
what’s the matter with you? At least pull the curtains leaned on his elbow as the girl stooped over the man and
. . . I’m ready to faint and I didn’t find a place. . . . My kissed his neck, his ear, his mouth. She began strok­
God, will you close the curtains? I want to get out of ing his back and they wrestled playfully for a moment
these clothes!” until the man said something with a laugh, and turned
After they dined at a very expensive restaurant on the back to the window.
Champs Elysees, they returned to the room at 9:30. Because they were such homely, average-looking peo­
Henry was about to snap on the light when Lucille whis­ ple, Henry was amused. But the small grin on his lips
pered, “Wait! Look at that.” faded as he became aware of the girl’s desire for the
The girl was eating supper with a thin man wearing man. Of course, Henry thought, she’s been waiting all
blue work pants and a torn underwear top. His pallid day for him, living for this one moment . . . the focus
complexion made his young features seem older. of her entire day. It must be wonderful to come home
“For crying out loud,” Henry said, “they look like to a woman that anxious to see you. Not like . . .
just another husband and wife eating supper.” Lucille turned over, bumping him again. Her eyes
“Husband and wife,” Lucille repeated sarcastically. opened and she nudged Hank sharply with her elbow.
“Just don’t turn on the light. I certainly don’t intend to “Look at that,” she said in disgust. The girl was smooth­
have any procurer watch me undress.” ing the man’s hair and nibbling at his ear.
The Pattersons changed into their night clothes, Hank was thinking how persistent she was, and what a
washed, and cleaned their teeth in the semi-darkness, beautiful thing she made of love, when Lucille said: “Of
then got into bed. Across the air shaft, the girl cleared all the shameless, cheap displays. Right in the window,
the table while the man stood at the window and smoked. with the light on and—”
After a moment, Lucille said, “Look at the slobs, eating Henry spun around. “Damn you,” he rasped, “shut
and sleeping in the same room.” your dirty fat mouth!”
“Don’t we know some young couples back home who The words echoed like summer thunder. * the end
 Pint-sized J. A. MacGahan—
the colossal correspondent II
who showed the Russians how to
fight, and wrote about war
That
as if describing a I
slaughterhouse .. Yankee
Newsman
Y RIDING hard, the “Crazy
B American” and his tough Cos­
sack detachment stayed well
By BELA
ahead of the slower-moving main
force of Russian cavalry. They were VON BLOCK
a mile outside the village of Trom
when they encountered several es­
capees from the village. ILLUSTRATED
“The Turks,” one gasped, “more
than three hundred of them . . . BY
They’ve raped the women and killed TED
many of the men . .
Shifting slightly in his saddle, the LEWIN
American pulled a big Navy Colt from
its holster and gave his Cossacks their
orders in fluent Russian. “We’ll charge
right in,” he said. “Use steel instead
of rifles—and show no quarter!”
It was the kind of command the
Cossacks understood. They fanned out
in the fields on both sides of the rutted
dirt road and drew their long-bladed
cavalry sabers. On a signal from their
Amerikanski leader, they spurred
their horses forward in a wild charge.
The Turks were caught off guard.
Certain that the Russians were miles
away to the north, they were enjoy­
ing the fruits of their conquest when
the Cossacks thundered in.
Sultan Abdul Hamid’s bashi-baz-
ouks flung themselves from the
women and girls they were raping and
burst from the houses they were loot­
ing. Stunned and confused, they ran
for the weapons stacked in the village square and the in the classics. And the boy studied. But by the time he
few sentries on duty opened fire on the approaching reached his teens, his mind was elsewhere.
tide of horsemen, Although Januarius had the brain and physical con­
Within minutes, the Cossacks finished off the Turks stitution of a scholar, he also had the heart and spirit
and the cobbled streets were littered with corpses and of a restless adventurer. To make matters worse, his
stained red with blood. parents always spoke proudly of his cousin Philip A.
“We have lost ten men and have as many wounded,” Sheridan, the dashing, flamboyant Major General “Little
a Russian non-com reported to his American commander Phil” Sheridan of Civil War fame.
an hour later. Philip Sheridan was young MacGahan’s idol. And
“There are more than two hundred and fifty dead when the doctors turned him down, Januarius begged
Turks. Only a handful managed to escape.” and pleaded with Sheridan to use his influence to get
The Cossacks were happy, but their leader did not him into the Union Army. Nothing worked, and Janu­
share the joy and enthusiasm. He barely listened to the arius listened to stories of battle while working as a
report. “Damn it to hell!” the short, scrawny American bookkeeper in St. Locus.
cursed over and over. “It’s always like this—not a tele­ He was so miserable a family council was finally
graph office within a hundred miles.” held and enough money scraped together so that Janu­
Januarius Aloysius MacGahan, America’s mo?t unsung arius could go to Europe. “Maybe he’ll get interested in
swashbuckler, was madder than a wet hen. Again and cultural things,” the MacGahan clan hoped.
again, in the nine years of his blazing career, the Ohio For the next few months Januarius moved around—
farm boy with the impossibly grandiose name could have Paris, Brussels, Berlin, Vienna, Rome—picking up lan­
beaten his head against the nearest stone wall in frustra­ guages, information and odd jobs.
tion and disappointment. “I’ll show them all one of these days,” he swore to an
American acquaintance in Paris. “I’ll prove that I can
Sure, HE’D led another charge and won another vic­ do anything that anyone else can do, and that I would
tory. But those were small potatoes compared to some of have made a damned good soldier!”
the other things he’d done—like single-handedly starting Cousin Phil Sheridan hadn’t been able to do anything
the war he, his Cossacks and the whole Russian army about sneaking Januarius into the army, but he did get
were even then fighting. And what riled him most was the ambitious young man his first real break while talk­
that it would be days, maybe weeks, before he could get to ing to James Gordon Bennett of the New York Herald.
a telegraph offce and file his story on the battle at Trom. “I need another good European correspondent,” Ben­
That was all that MacGahan lived for—the story, the nett remarked. “Do you know anyone, Phil?”
scoop, the red-hot flash that would stop the presses and “Why, yes, I do. Cousin of mine. He’s about twenty-
make editors tear down their front pages and break out four, a brilliant lad and a linguist. He’s in Europe now.”
the headline type. MacGahan got his first opportunity through pull. He
Januarius MacGahan, hell-for-leather combat com­ soon proved he didn’t need it. His dispatches to the
mander, darling of czars and emperors, hero a thousand Herald were as good if not better than those of most
times over, was, after all, just a reporter at heart. veteran correspondents. Among other things, he pre­
The journalistic profession has never produced another dicted the Franco-Prussian War and its outcome months
war correspondent quite like MacGahan. Compared to before it started in 1870:
him, even such giants as Rudyard Kipling and Richard “The Germans will march,” he wrote, “and they will
Harding Davis take a back seat. destroy the French Army, which is shot through with
MacGahan scooped the world throughout the entire graft and corruption.” Nobody believed him—until it
Franco-Prussian War. He rode 2,000 miles in one month happened.
to catch up with a Russian expedition to be the only
reporter on the spot when the Russians crushed the JaNUARIUS still dreamed of being a soldier and he
Sultan of Turkestan. It was MacGahan who captured went to the front with the French troops, even though
the Sultan’s harem and liberated hundreds of sex-slaves. he knew they were doomed.
It was MacGahan who beat the world with his on-the- He was at the disastrous Battle of Sedan, and he wit­
scene dispatches of the bloody Carlist War in Spain. It nessed the long, terrible siege that starved Paris into
was MacGahan who reported the 1875 Arctic expedition surrender. At one point during the siege, the incompetent
of the Pandora. French staff began a frantic witch-hunt for scapegoats
And, MacGahan secured the Russian Czar’s throne, on whom they could hang their failures. Someone re­
triggered the Russo-Turkish War, and was officially membered MacGahan’s pessimistic pre-war dispatches
awarded the title “Liberator of Bulgaria.” and his continuing critical stories.
It was an incredible career for the sickly, runty kid “Have that American journalist arrested!” ordered
who couldn’t get into the Union Army because the General Raoul St. Vaudant, commander of the French
medical officers were afraid he’d collapse under the intelligence section. “He is unquestionably a spy.”
weight of a pack and rifle! Januarius was hauled in and his greeting to General
Born in 1844, he was the weakling of the MacGahan St. Vaudant remains an all-time classic.
family. The MacGahans were rugged, sinewy Irish who “You, mon general, are an ignorant bastard!” Mac­
made a more-than-average success of farming in Perry Gahan bellowed. “And you come from a long, unbroken
County, Ohio. Not that that meant much. Ohio was still line of ignorant bastards!”
considered to be pretty far west in those days and the A drumhead court-martial was immediately convened.
MacGahans wore homespun and considered themselves The American reporter was charged with being a spy,
lucky if they saw $200 in cash all-year round. found guilty, and sentenced to face a firing squad the
Still, Januarius got a good education. His parents, as next morning.
evidenced by the names they gave him, were well-versed “I apologize to all the ignorant bastards in the world
 for having insulted them,” MacGahan declared when would be a ruthless war aimed at capturing the key city
asked if he had anything to say before being taken away. of Khiva. When Januarius heard that no reporters would
Luckily the United States Ambassador to France got be allowed to move with the Czar’s army, he all but
wind of what had happened. He arrived at French Army frothed at the mouth. Then he realized what a scoop he’d
headquarters at midnight and began a heated wrangle have if he could reach Turkestan with the Cossacks.
to secure MacGahan’s release. It wasn’t until dawn, after Within a week, he bluffed, begged and bamboozled
he’d awakened half the French government, that the Moscow officials into giving him a pass.
diplomat was able to get the death sentence counter­ “You can go, but at your own risk,” he was told. “For
manded. It was stopped without a moment to spare; the transportation, you will have to use your own horses
reprieve arrived just as MacGahan was being led from most of the way. You may be robbed, taken prisoner or
his cell to the place of execution. murdered en route.”
In 1873, Russian Czar Alexander II was expanding his “Just give me the pass,” MacGahan said. “I’ll do the
empire, pushing east into Asia. For centuries, Moham­ worrying.”
medan Turkestan had resisted all efforts to bring it How he ever caught up with the Russian army is
under Russian rule. Located just above Persia and something no one was ever able to figure out. He rode
Afghanistan, Turkestan was a rugged, forbidding country more than 30 days—dodging bullets, often going without
peopled by near-savage Tartar tribesmen who delighted food or water, crossing mountains and deserts—a 2,000-
in cutting Russian throats and shooting Russian soldiers mile ordeal of privation and hardship that would have
full of scrap iron and broken glass fired from their killed a seasoned Cossack.
ancient muskets. Every valley in Turkestan was a poten­ “Now that you are here, what do you want?” the
tial ambush, every boulder-studded hill a virtually im­ Russian field commander asked him.
pregnable fortress. “I want to, accompany the first wave of troops to at­
MacGahan was in Moscow when the Czar sent an army tack Khiva,” MacGahan replied blandly.
of Cossacks on a campaign to finish off Turkestan. It “Why?” the officer asked him. (.Continued on page 73)
BADMAN FROM

BUFFALO
The Sleepers robbed and murdered miners

for a decade. Then “Red” Gannon—

one man against 100—bluffed his way

into the gang and blew it wide open

By ED JOHNSON

THE woman stood in the shadows out­

side the tavern, but the man in the blue
work shirt could see her from his seat at the
poker table. Distracted, he misplayed three
hands in a row, threw his cards in disgustedly
and stood at the bar. She was still watching him,
waiting for him. Half an hour before, she had been
inside. She had brazenly bought him a drink and
said, “Walk me home.”
Turning away from her with a laugh Ernie Wag­
ner heard her say, “I’ll wait outside for you.” That
had been 30 minutes ago—30 minutes of steadily
being eyed by the woman. Now, remembering the
full roundness of her figure, he could think of noth­
ing else. He stepped into the cool blackness of the
street. She smiled. “I’m a married man,” he said
in a low voice. “I have a family. I have no money.”
“Come on,” she said and sensually walked away
from him. He gazed for a moment at the easy
grace of her rolling hips, at the long legs. He
caught up with her in several quick strides.
“Why me?” he asked, half in anger.
“Why not one of the other men in
there?” He grabbed her wrist and she
spun into him, pressing her body
against his so tight he could feel the
rapid beat of her heart. He saw a
streak of white at one temple of
her dark head, but she was young-
much younger than his wife. With­
out thinking, he slid his arms
around her supple waist. “My

ILLUSTRATED BY
HARVEY JOHNSON
 home is too far,” she said, her voice hot in his ear. "We zation members. Three of the boys are waiting for him
can cut down this alley. There’s a wooded hill out be­ on the hill. But I’d rather have one man like you I can
hind it” depend on out there.”
Boots clumped heavily on the boardwalk. James “Maybe I could still help,” the redhead said.
Gannon came abreast of the alley, noticed a couple dis­ “Too late. We should see a signal fire any time now
appearing in the darkness and smiled knowingly. He if they got him.”
dismissed the incident from his mind as he lifted his Gannon wondered if an innocent man would die de­
hat and finger-combed his thick red hair. If he’d known spite the fact the murder plot was known to a law
Ernie Wagner was on his way to his death that spring officer. Sent into the coal fields to break up a vicious
night of 1820, private investigator Gannon would have gang headed by King Kehoe, Gannon had taken three
followed the man and woman. months to reach Girardville and Kehoe’s backyard—
Red Gannon tilted his hat to a rakish angle, strode three months of wild drinking and brawling in Patrick
along to the bar’s batwing doors and barged through Dormer’s tavern at Pottsville and at Muff Lawler’s
them. He was a lean man of medium height with a saloon in Shenendoah. He had established himself with
surly expression on his unshaved face. He went directly Dormer and Lawler as a lazy drifter, a drunkard, a
to the bar, pounded it with heavy fists and bellowed, bully, a man on the run from the law after committing
“Service! And be quick about it before I bruise some­ some unspecified but important crime in Buffalo. Law­
body’s hide!” ler and Dormer, won over by his act, had taken him into
Three grimy miners, big, ugly and sullen, glared at the secret organization called the Sleepers. For ten years
the loud redhead. the Sleepers had robbed, terrorized and murdered miners
“Have no doubts about it,” he said to the bartender. and mine officials in an effort to force the colliery com­
“I can lick you or any man in this room.” He turned in panies to hire only organization members. However,
time to duck a savage roundhouse thrown by the biggest most members of the gang didn’t know Kehoe was also
miner. The redhead lunged out of his crouch and snapped extorting “protection” money from the mine operators.
a gloved hand straight from his left shoulder into the A dot of flame suddenly danced on the dark hillside.
miner’s matted beard. The man stiffened and hit the King Kehoe’s face split in a grin. “He’s dead. That’s one
floor with a ground-shaking crash. Stepping nimbly to­ bastard won’t trouble us anymore.”
ward the second miner, Gannon threw his right fist,
hooked with a left and the miner collapsed face-down.
The third man, a yard-wide wedge of walking coal soot,
backed away from the redhead, turned and dashed out
the door.
“Any man in the room,” Gannon repeated, looking
around for other challengers.
Hurrying footfalls sounded from the rear of the
tavern. An angular figure in a long white apron stooped
to clear the door of the back room. The tall man grinned,
giving his sharp-nosed, bearded face the appearance of a
smirking fox. Seeing the apron start to come off, Gan­
non said, “Not you. I said any man here, but you weren’t
in the room, King Kehoe.”
King Kehoe retied his apron strings, walked behind
the bar and pushed a glass and bottle toward the red­
head. “I admire a tough man,” he said, "and a sensible
one. But I don't drink with strangers.”
“I’m Jim Gannon from Shenandoah. Muff Lawler will
vouch for me.”
King Kehoe got a second glass, filled them both and
tossed down a shot of whisky. “Muff sent you too late.”
He wiped his lips on his shirtsleeve and tugged up his
fancy red armbands. Leaning across the bar, he whis­
pered, “Let’s take the bottle in back.” ,
Gannon followed the tavern owner back into a dim,
gloomy storeroom. When the door closed behind him,
Gannon began a strange recital: “I do solemnly swear
that I will keep inviolably secret all the acts and deeds
done by this order and obey the constitution—”
“Needn’t give me the vow,” Kehoe said with a grin.
“Muff Lawler told me about you, Gannon. Come on out
here a minute.”
A padlocked door opened onto a back yard. Jack
Kehoe pointed a long finger toward the gathering
darkness in the east. “You got murder in those fists.
Wish I had you on that hill tonight.”
“Trouble for the organization?” Gannon asked quietly.
“The end of trouble, maybe,” Kehoe said. “Mine
superintendent named Ernie Wagner been firing organi­
 “Nice work,” Gannon said, inwardly sick that he’d talk to you about a killing that took place last night,”
arrived too late to save Wagner. “I wish I could’ve been the man said, dropping a hand to his holster. “Coming?”
here in time to be in on it.” Gannon found the high constable anxious to learn why
“Maybe the next one,” Kehoe said, slapping him he’d arrived in Girardville just a few hours before the
heavily on the back. “Let’s go in and celebrate.” mine superintendent’s murder. The high constable had
Hours later, Gannon left the tavern and staggered an amazingly complete dossier on Gannon, covering his
toward a boardinghouse recommended to him by King brawls in other coal-field towns, even his fabricated
Kehoe. When he knocked on the door, bolts and chains story about his Buffalo crime. Out of his own cross-
were unfastened, the door swung open and he stared examination experience, the investigator was able to
into the attractive but stern face of a woman whose jet- give answers that tied up his interrogators and in an
black hair had a white streak at one temple. hour he was released, with an exasperated warning to
“Want a room,” he said thickly. “For a couple of stay around town.
nights.” Gannon went directly to King Kehoe’s tavern, where
“Another of Kehoe’s drunks,” she sneered. “Well, he was motioned into the back room. Without a word,
come on in. But, I always collect the rent in advance.” King Kehoe handed him a familiar stag-handled pistol.
“That deputy took it from your room,” Kehoe said. “I
After she reset the locks, Gannon trailed her up a thought you might want it back.”
flight of creaky stairs and entered a small bedroom. The Kehoe grinned at the surprised look on Gannon's face.
door squeaked, the bed springs groaned, even the win­ “How did I get it?” Kehoe said. “Well, it might shock
dow—which he immediately threw up to get fresh air- you if I said the deputy was a Sleeper, so I won’t say it”
opened with a loud rasp. He counted two nights’ rent Kehoe winked. “Some of the biggest lawmen in the state
into the landlady’s palm. She kept standing there, are Sleepers, a lot of judges, too. Next spring I’m run­
watching him with a half smile. “Anything else?” she ning for high constable myself, so don’t worry about
asked meaningfully. the police. They have no proof, and their suspicions of
Gannon plopped down on the bed and unbuttoned his you will lead them away from the boys who did the job.”
collar. With a swift movement of her foot, the woman “Glad I could help,” Gannon said, “even though by
shut the door. The white streak in her hair was mis­ accident. Guess I better get back to Shenandoah now.
leading; Gannon became aware of her full bosom and I have friends there who can tell me what to do.”
voluptuous figure. He knew that in his role of fun­ Kehoe laughed. “Any orders you get in Shenandoah
loving scoundrel he ought to buy what was being offered. will be coming from Girardville, Red, right from here.
“Well?” she said, fists planted on rounded hips. But you go on back. It’ll give the constable something to
He put his hands to his head, groaning softly. “You’re worry about.”
a cruel wench,” he said. “Me so drunk and sick, could Jim Gannon was welcomed back to Shenandoah by
we make it some other night?” Muff Lawler late that night. He spent the next few
The woman moved to the bed, reached down and weeks “looking for work” in mines near Shenandoah
took a wad of crumpled bills from his shirt pocket. and Pottsville. His reports were dispatched secretly to
She counted out five dollars, tucked them in her blouse Philadelphia but he had nothing of real value to trans­
and stuffed the rest of the cash back in his pocket. mit. So he drifted back to Girardville to keep a close
“Some other night,” she said. “Paid in advance.” watch on Kehoe, since all orders apparently came from
Gannon heaved a sigh of relief when she left. In­ him. Gannon loafed around the Sleeper leader until one
stantly sober, he drew a heavy Colt revolver from his night, half in his cups, Kehoe remarked that there was
belt, ejected the shells and fished a rolled tube of paper a troublesome police officer in Rough and Ready who
from the long barrel. The tube unrolled into an en­ was slated for axing.
velope wrapped around a pencil stub and a piece of “Let me pull the trigger,” Gannon urged.
script. Straining his eyes in the light of a guttering Kehoe shook his head. “Not yet. We need more time.
candle, Gannon wrote an account of his arrival in This fellow is too good with a gun.”
Girardville and the murder of the mine superintendent.
He printed a Philadelphia address on the envelope, Gannon arrived a week later at the mining town of
sealed it and reloaded his pistol. Rough and Ready under the pretense of job-hunting.
The noisy door and squeaking staircase were im­ But at dusk he made his way to the Shaft House Tavern,
possible avenues of exit. Gannon blew out the candle, owned by a suspected Sleeper leader named James
went to the window he had deliberately opened before Carrol. Gannon ordered a drink and spotted the officer
and climbed onto the sill. Grasping a drainpipe, he slid who was “too good with a gun”—Patrolman Frank
down quietly and slipped in the shadows to a mailbox Jethro. Then he heard a familiar, throaty voice. A tall
he’d noticed up the street from Kehoe’s tavern. He woman with white-streaked dark hair was daintily
knew it might take a week or more for the letter to sipping gin at a nearby table—his Girardville landlady,
reach Philadelphia and be forwarded by a contact to Nora Regan.
state police headquarters. But the delay wouldn’t matter. Gannon pulled down his hat and turned so she
Gannon still didn’t have enough proof to convict King wouldn’t recognize him. In a few minutes the woman
Kehoe and his band. was seated at the table with Patrolman Jethro. She
The investigator was awakened the next morning struck up a conversation with Jethro, but the piano
by a loud banging on his door. Opening it, he saw the player was pounding away so loudly that Gannon
landlady, fist raised to rap again, and behind her a couldn’t make out what they were saying. He saw Nora’s
man with a bolstered Navy Colt and a well-shined tin foot, tapping to the beat of the music, and he didn’t
star. “James Gannon?” the man asked sharply. need to hear. As she conversed merrily with Jethro, her
“The same,” he admitted. shapely leg inched closer and closer to the patrolman’s
“The high constable of Schuylkill County wants to knee. Thigh touched knee—a (Continued on page 81)
London Bridge wasn’t falling down when Fair
Lady Eve Eden crossed it after arriving in the Brit­
ish capital two years ago from her home in Bath,
Somerset. But a number of males did fall under
the 20-year-old beauty’s considerable charms. Al­
though Eve was seeking show biz fame and fortune,
many of her beaus were seeking Miss Eden’s hand in
marriage. Eve says she didn’t have to use her
multilingual talents to explain things to her two
foreign swains, “No” is universally understood.

PHOTOS BY BIRNBACK

GLAMOUR
Eve also caught the eye of British motion picture
producers and soon appeared in two risque comedies,
No Love for Johnny, starring Peter Finch, and
Weekend for Lu-Lu. In one she was a blonde, in
the other a brunette. “A hair color change really
lifts my personality,” says Eve. As long as she
doesn’t make any changes in her ample 37-20-36
figure—one that has been called “more statuesque
than the Tower of London”—no one will mind. Since
her films, Miss Eden has been working in television,
hoping some better cinema roles will turn up. “I’ve
studied singing and dancing,” says Eve, “and I’d love
to do a musical, but they’re awfully hard to get.” With
her credentials, we’re sure Eve won’t wait too long.
 Legacy of the Open Road
Bricks lied, stole and risked his neck to find Old Dad’s $8,000 cache,

yet it wasn’t for him. He just owed his dead pal that last favor

By GEORGE L. CATTON >5*

Illustrated by Ray Houlihan

T IS calling me now, that lonesome, aching, inescap­ than 365 days’ absence hasn’t even dulled. And to me as
I able call, coming on the two short whistle blasts of a
train pulling out. There’s a tingling in the soles of _my
to Bricks in the next room, it brought back the memory
of Old Dad.
feet for the old, free life of a tramp, for the two endless, Who was Old Dad? He was just a common “knight of
shining steel rails that seemingly lead nowhere, yet the road,” a tramp lured to the grit and held there
take you everywhere. by the freewheeling life.
And in the next room, Bricks is not asleep. It is call­ Some victims of the two short blasts of the “highball”
ing him, too. I heard the bed creak when he sat up and go out a few months, then get tired and take root on a
the crack of the match when he lit his cigarette. It’s two-dollar job or go home to father like the “Bull” did.
calling him as it’s calling me, as it calls all of us who There are some, like myself, who finally locate the best
know it—until the day we check out. That’s the way little girl in the world and settle down to slave out “a
it is when you’ve spent time on the road. home for her beyond the strife,” as Riley puts it.
It’s rolling in again now on the soft night breeze There are some who “jog back into the ruts of the
from the railroad yards, bringing back all the years I righteous for a blowout every time they make a good
spent between the rails, all the old longing that more stake,” as Bricks classifies himself. And then there are
 tonio, clearing 50 a week apiece. The Bull was, to quote
BOOK - LENGTH FEATURE Bricks, “feeding his two-hundred-odd pounds of useless­
ness on lumps, soiling six-feet three-inches of nice
those, who go out, stay out, and check out on the road. clean grass while the sun shone and slinging bull the
Who are they? Where did they come from? What are rest of the time about his father’s vast brickyards and
their names? Nobody knows. For it is one of the unholy millions.” The Bull was the biggest, strongest,
most strictly adhered-to rules of the road to ask no worst-tempered guy I ever met on the road.
questions. When the Bull found Old Dad dead he went through
Yesterday you saw one of these bitter-enders beside his clothes and discovered a paper. He figured it was a
the coffee fire in the jungle at Seattle, Washington; next map locating the old man’s savings, but he didn’t have
October you’ll rim into him sleeping in the shade beside the gray matter to dope it out himself, so he took.it to
the tank at Spofford, Texas; at Christmas he’ll nod at Bricks. Bricks and I were sitting by the coffee fire in
you in the sand-house at Worcester, Massachusetts. the Laredo jungle when the Bull pulled in. He reached
Or maybe he’ll stay on one 200-mile railroad branch for the can and added his handful of coffee.
line till every last shack gets sore on him and he’ll have
to shift. And always he’s an old man, white-haired, Finding Old Dad dead in the San Antonio jungle,
inoffensive and as silent as his past. The younger boys Bull went through his pockets and came up with a
look at him and call him Dad. Old Dad was one of those, folded timetable—a map to the old man’s savings.
and he was Bricks’ pal.
Bricks gets his name from his red hair. He’s about as
big as an oak post, but he’s got the wide nostrils and
pugnacious jaw of determined self-assurance and an
analytical mind for untangling knots. And I wish I had
his education. I don’t mean his academic schooling, which
includes a year of college; I mean his knowledge of the
earth’s odd corners, learned firsthand at the expense
of a hideful of scars.
It was strange that a man like Bricks would make a
pal of an old fogey who never had anything to say,
never gave an opinion unless pushed and who was so
ancient they called him Old Dad. But he did and they
worked together for years.
Shorter even than Bricks, Old Dad was a silent, bent
old man, shriveled like a frosted apple and about the
same color. He’d come out of the old-time wild and
woolly West, we figured, because of the prehistoric Colt
seven-shooter he toted and his shifty, ever-watchful
eyes. Just for kicks We used to try and get behind him,
but we couldn’t no matter how we maneuvered. Yet
he always drank tea instead of coffee and smoked a pipe,
which didn’t jibe with our reckoning. —
He could speak Mexican-Spanish like an Oaxaca peon,
and his English was perfect when he used it, which was
generally when he came back pickled from his regular
monthly drunk. He always sat apart from everyone else
in the jungles, with his back to something and his eyes
half closed.
He passed out in that position. The Bull found him in
the San Antonio jungle, propped against a tree, his eyes
half open and his pipe still warm in his hand. He had
died as he had lived, alone, unknown, unharried and
unhindered by life.
In those days I was high-pitching
the two-ring trick in the small towns
of the Panhandle, and at the spring
carnival in San Antonio and at the
New Orleans Mardi Gras, saving
I »
every dollar to quit the road. There
was a little girl in Toronto, Canada,
where the Bull came from, who was
waiting for me to come back to her,
but I had to have some bread first.
Bricks and Old Dad were splitting
the customs fees and difference in
price on drawn-work and tanned
furs between Lampasas and San An­
 “Old Dad’s kicked off,” he growled. “I found him stiff But those five circles were all there were of them.
in the San Antone jungle.” “Old Dad never intended anyone to find his plant, if
Bricks looked up and I could see by the set of his that’s supposed to lead to it,” I said, smiling.
jaws he was beating down surprise and sorrow. He had “It’ll stay where it is till the old fool comes back
been waiting two days for Old Dad to come back from for it himself,” the Bull said disgustedly.
his monthly toot and cross the river for the bundle. He But neither he nor I figured on Bricks’s analytical
watched the Bull’s face for a moment, then: “Whisky or mind. He carefully folded the paper again as it was
mescal?” he asked. when the Bull took it from the wallet, then turned it
The Bull set the coffee can back over the fire and around, studying it from every angle. He knocked the
reached for his makings. “Neither!” he snapped. “Just ashes off his cigarette and held the burning tip to the
croaked natural with the weight of his sins and that old righthand, bottom corner of the map.
gat he toted.” I thought at first he wanted to destroy it, but he held
Bricks frowned. He didn’t like the Bull’s disrespect the cigarette there only a second, then unfolded the map
for Old Dad and I saw his eyelids slide down a trifle. and spread the left side across his knee.
“What did you get when you frisked him?” He chuckled. “Old Dad’s plant is just a little north of
“Not a goddam dollar!” Presidio del Norte,” he said quietly, pointing to the
Brick’s jaw set again. “Just the gun then, that’s all?” spot on the map.
Then I understood. Originally the map had been
The Bull shrugged and pulled an old black leather folded in quarters to fit into the timetable folder, and
wallet from his pocket. He drew a folded paper out Old Dad had then folded it in half. It looked like he’d
of the wallet. done so just to make it fit into his wallet. But Bricks
“And a map of the old gink’s plant,” he admitted knew Old Dad was subtle and evidently he figured
grudgingly. “But it would take a Philadelphia shyster where the center fold creases met meant something.
to dope it out.” When Bricks scorched it there and opened it again,
Bricks felt in his packet for his makings and rolled the brown spot was just a little north of Presidio del
a cigarette. He lifted a blazing stick to it. “Maybe I can,” Norte on the Rio Grande.
he said indifferently. The Bull got up and looked at Bricks. "When do we
“What’s the split, if you do?” The Bull spread the map go?”
on his knees and studied it intensely. Bricks slipped the map in his pocket. “We’ll catch the
Bricks got up casually, piled some wood on the fire ten-ten tonight for San Antone. Coming, Dreamer?”
and sat down again. “I’ll leave you at San Antonio. I’m quitting the road.”
“Fifty-fifty,” he said. Six days later I was married here in Toronto and I
The Bull eyed Bricks a moment, then scrambled to didn’t run into Bricks and the Bull again for months.
his feet. I saw the long handle of Old Dad’s ancient It was at an auction. I had been looking forward for
seven-shooter sticking out of his hip pocket -when his weeks to the railway company’s annual sale of uru
coat swung back. claimed freight and express baggage in Markham’s
“Good enough,” he growled. “But—” He looked at me auction rooms. And I was annoyed when that day ar­
questioningly. rived because I had been delayed and missed the first
Bricks saw the interrogation. “The Dreamer stays,” of it. There is a strange excitement in exchanging labor­
he said. “We might need him and if we do I’ll split iously earned money for the contents of a trunk, box or
with him.” crate and sending it home to open alone. Then there is
I shook my head and laughed. “Can’t do it, Bricks. that brief moment of breathless suspense when, after
I've been trying to make you boys believe for two prying off a lid or breaking a lock, one finds he has
months that I’m going to quit. I’m going north tonight paid out a half-dozen long green dollars for so much
to get married.” trash—or for some valuable item.
Bricks grabbed my hand and shook it warmly. “A My next-door neighbor once paid 80 cents for a box
wise gink,” he said. “But you’d better stick and see that contained 5,000 stale Turkish cigarettes, and at the
this through. For all we know, Old Dad might have a same sale bid seven dollars for a trunk full of old photo­
million planted somewhere and a quarter of it would graphs. At the previous sale he risked two dollars for a
buy a kid a new pair of kicks.” trunkful of makeup for burlesque queens and got the
I shook my head again. “I’m due on the eighteenth. laugh from the crowd for raising another man’s bid to
This is the twelfth and I’ve got to see a tailor. I’ve got 13 dollars for a barrel that yielded 30 pounds of rice
to hurry.” hulls and ten little Chinese idols. He sold the idols to a
He nodded his head understanding^ and opened the curio dealer for $200.
folded paper in the light so we all could see it. It was
easy to see why the Bull couldn’t make horn or hoof of it. So WHEN I walked into the auction rooms late, I was
Old Dad’s paper was part of a Southern Pacific time­ made. But I forgot it when I saw two husky men
table, with a map on one side and the stop times on the straining to lift a big copperbound trunk onto the coun­
other. There wasn’t a mark on the map side. We all ter in front of the auctioneer. I drove my fist down into
went over it carefully, but Old Dad hadn’t touched it. my cash pocket and sat down.
Then Bricks turned it over. The auctioneer looked the trunk over. “Twenty dol­
Old Dad had drawn five little ink circles in a row, lars? Fifteen dollars? Ten dollars? Give me a bid!”
straight up and down. About two and a half inches to he called.
the left of the middle one, he’d made another circle I fingered the money in my pocket and began figuring
with a dot in the center. We could barely make out his how much I’d risk on it. It might be full of molded
marks among all the stops and times printed there. cement samples—my neighbor told me of a man getting
 road: “One thousand, one hundred bucks!” He spun
BOOK - LENGTH FEATURE around facing Bricks, his small brown eyes blazing hate.
“Fifteen hundred of the long green!” drawled Bricks.
stung on those last year. It might be full of stones, some There was a determined note in Bricks’s voice that
crook doing a hotel out of a week’s accommodation. But had usually ended a discussion with me in the old days,
whatever it might be, it was worth a bid for a look. I but there was also an amused note. Bricks was enjoying
hesitated, however, and a voice in the crowd beat me to himself.
it—a voice I instantly recognized as Bricks’s. “Four bits!" The Bull shot one swift glance at the trunk, then
I'm short and I couldn’t see over the crowd seated in faced Bricks again. “Sixteen hundred beans!” he shouted.
that room. I stood up to look around, but the people near The auctioneer grinned. It was plainly evident that
me shouted, “Sit down! We all want to see!” So I did. Albert S. Townsend was near the exploding point.
I’d just have to wait till the trunk was sold, then stand Bricks didn’t hesitate a second. “Two thousand of the
up and follow it back in the lane the baggage handlers needful!”
made when they carried it out. Bricks would go back Neither did the Bull: “Two thousand one hundred
to pick it up and I’d see him then. shiners!”
The auctioneer slapped his big red fist down on the “Three thousand nice, clean, untainted, not inherited,
end of the trunk with a false snarl of rage and ignored gold dollars!” Bricks drawled it out insinuatingly.
Bricks’s bid. He gets five per cent commission. Then the Bull let go. Without a word, his face purple
“Here’s a locked trunk as good as new that must have with rage, he drove his massive body through the crowd
cost a hundred dollars, full of the Lord only knows toward Bricks. I climbed up on the dais beside the
what and I can’t get a bid on it!” he roared savagely. auctioneer so I could see. The trunk, the cause of it all,
“Look at it, men! Copperbound and banded, with a was forgotten in the excitement of what looked like
double-forged steel lock that a safe-cracker couldn’t would be a fight.
blow. It must weigh—
“Four bits.” It was Bricks’s voice again. BrICKS leaned lazily against the wall behind the stove,
The auctioneer straightened up, cheeks puffing indig­ his eternal cigarette hanging from his lips, his jaws set
nantly, and glared at the bidder. Then he brought his in a tantalizing, half-amused, half-sneering grin. Al­
fist crashing down on the trunk again and leaned out ways particular about his appearance, he was even bet­
over the grinning crowd in mock exasperation. ter dressed than the wealthy Bull. His clothes also
“Four bits! Fifty cents!” he roared sardonically. “I’m seemed to be expensive, only they were conservative.
bid a half dollar for a hundred-dollar trunk full of—” The Bull, howling with rage and towering nearly a
“One hundred dollars!’’ There was no mistaking that foot above Bricks, doubled his ponderous fists and shook
voice. them within an inch of Bricks’s face.
I jerked my head to the right and there, wearing a “You—you—you—” he stuttered idiotically.
high silk hat, his head and neck rising above those Bricks casually rested his hand on his hip, thumbing
around him, was the Bull. I knew by the direction of his back the edge of his coat for a quick reach to his hip
gaze that he was looking at Bricks. Abruptly, a voice pocket. “Oh, Mr. Bull, I wouldn’t say that!” he lisped
behind me caught my ear: affectedly.
“What on earth does Albert S. Townsend want with That was too much for Bull. That grin, lisp and tone
somebody else’s old trunk?” of voice put teeth on the raw edge of Bull’s rage. I
I turned around. “Who is the big man in the silk tensed forward. I didn’t want to miss anything in the
hat?” I asked. coming scrap that would end but one way if Bricks
“That’s Albert S. Townsend,” the man said through a pulled his gun.
grin. “He owns the big brick plant down on the flats.” But the Bull’s road experience came to his aid. He saw
I turned back to the auctioneer. The Bull’s persistent Bricks’s hipped hand; and remembered Bricks’s ability
boast had not been bull after all. I knew the plant and to take care of himself. He quit stuttering and thrust his
I’d seen Albert S. Townsend Senior’s obit in the papers blazing face down under Bricks’s sneer. “Five thousand
a few months back; that meant the Bull was a million­ dollars!” he yelled.
aire. “Ten thousand!” Bricks taunted.
“One hundred dollars!” The auctioneer had recovered "Fifteen thousand!"
his voice. “I’m bid a hundred dollars for a—” “Twenty-five thousand!” Bricks scraped a match across
"Five hundred real iron dollars!” That was Bricks. the top of the stove and lit his cigarette.
For a second it looked like the Bull would explode,
I PULLED my hand out of my pocket. There was some­ but he took a deep breath, drew back about six inches
thing doing here between Bricks and the Bull, and I and screamed, “Fifty thousand dollars!”
was out of the bidding now. When it was over I’d see Bricks raised his hand, picked the cigarette off his lip
Bricks and have a long talk with him. and flipped it against the wall. He pulled out his watch
The auctioneer grinned his finest five per cent commis­ and glanced at the time. Then, with the Bull’s furious,
sion grin. “Five hundred dollars!” he bellowed. “Five mottled face trembling inches from his mouth, Bricks’s
hundred once! Five hundred twice! Five—” lips sprung open: “It’s yours, Bull.” He yawned.
“Six hundred!” The Bull’s voice held a note of anger The Bull glared. His mouth worked savagely without
now. As he turned to glance at Bricks, Old Dad’s pal saying anything. His great hands clenched and un­
bid again: “One thousand mill-edged scads!” clenched helplessly. Then as he straightened up sharply,
The crowd gasped. The auctioneer opened his mouth his high silk hat toppled off his head and fell with a
to take up the new bid, but the Bull shut it for him, in thud at Bricks’s feet. A long sigh went up from the
his anger dropping back into the vernacular of the crowd, then erupted into a howl of delight.
 I can’t understand why, but that crowd held its sides He stopped and laughed again. “You saw me stick a
and shrieked with laughter. Then the Bull realized he knife into the Bull’s goat?”
had made a fool of himself. Stiffening up and whirling That’s when I said, “Come on, Bricks, let’s get out of
around, he pulled out his checkbook and strode through here,” and took him home with me. He had supper with
the jeering crowd to the auctioneer. us. As soon as my little wife went to bed, Bricks began
I jumped off the dais and made my way toward the talking, telling me the whole story:
stove, but the crowd jostled me and I had to fight my
way through. When I got there Bricks was gone. I raced I hooked up with Old Dad because he could chatter
outside, forgetful of the sale and everything else. I the Mex and I couldn’t, and I needed someone to do the
wanted to talk to Bricks, to find out what was in that jawing over the river for the drawn-work while I ped­
trunk. dled it in San Antonio.
I found him in Otto’s cafe on the corner and he recog­ Before we started the grift I had a hunch there’d be
nized me instantly. His hand shot out and fastened on a roll in it, but I didn’t think it would pan out as well
mine. as it did. It wasn’t a month before we were splitting a
“The Dreamer! Well I’ll be damned!” His face was hundred, fifty-fifty, every seven days. Old Dad sure
one great smile. “I knew you were up here somewhere, was a hicky at beating an hombre’s price down to a
but I didn’t know you were holding down this burg or frayed jitney and getting across the river with the
I’d have dug you out this morning.” bundle. He seemed to be able to spot the customs’ flies
“Bricks—for the love of Pete, what was in . . . was by their kicks.
in—” I broke off as back across the year that had gone, I was sliding my fifty over the blotter in the First
came the six years I had spent on the road, bringing the National every week; Old Dad was planting his. Every
old freedom of the swaying, rattling train and the rush month end he’d slip away and come back half soused
of wind in my face, and it jerked into my mind the rule and flat. He’d have to borrow from me for his tea and
—mind your own business. I held up two fingers to the tobacco. Old Dad never would mix, drunk or sober, and
bartender. I knew he couldn’t blow two hundred dollars on booze
Bricks laughed understandingly. “Old Dad sure was a and mop it up all by his lonesome in the four days he
wise old gink,” he said almost gently, his face grave. stayed away. But why he was saving it, and where he
“I found his plant, Dreamer. The Bull and I found—” was planting it, I never asked him—none of my business.
 the way I doped it. And he’d tried to put me wise be­
BOOK - LENGTH FEATURE fore he passed over.
So it wasn’t a guess or any wise-guy work when I
We’d been pulling that fifty per for nearly three years, scorched that map of Old Dad’s and located his plant a
and my bank license had begun to look big enough for little north of Presidio del Norte. I ain’t wise yet
Australia or maybe India again, when I got wise that whether it was his plant or not that the Bull and I dug
Old Dad was starting to slip. He must’ve been seventy up there; I don’t suppose I ever will be.
when Willie Bryan started running for president, and When you left the Bull and me at San Antonio,
the mescal he was lapping up was going to his head Dreamer, we caught the race special for Juarez and
worse every trip. dropped off at the K.C. intersection. Two days later
One day he teeters into the Laredo jungle where I was we pulled into Presidio del Norte on the rods of a rattler
waiting for him, steers his back to a stump and flops and bought two shovels and a mattock. We figured Old
down. He dives into his coat pocket and hands me a Dad would pick the most isolated section he could find
paper all folded up, then throws out a string of that to plant his money in, and according to the burnt spot
fancy language he used. on his map it lay about ten miles up the river. So we
“Over the natural course of human existence the will paid an hombre about three times what it was worth
of man has no jurisdiction,” says he, slow and thick­ for a little warped rowboat as big as an armadillo and
like. “If anything untoward, anything definite should packed a week’s grub into it.
occur, not stipulated in our arrangements, burn the Next morning at gray streaks we started up the
right-hand bottom corner of that paper.” river, taking turns cussing and sweating at the oars and
I slipped the paper into my pocket and later on, when made ten miles, as close as we could figure, by ten
I was alone, I took a slant at it. It was blank. “Old Dad’s o’clock. But the little stone houses and dobes along the
going,” I told myself. bank didn’t show any signs of thinning out so we kept
But a month later when the Bull told me he had on a couple of miles before pulling into shore to take
croaked and showed me that map, folded just like that another slant at the map. We figured we must be getting
paper had been folded, I changed my mind. Old Dad close to the spot, but there were still a few smears of
had been slipping all right and he’d known it, but not onion, tobacco and beans, and a grapevine or two stick­

When the scream rang out, Bricks and Bull lifted the 250-pound box and struggled to get to the rowboat with it.
ing up beside the dobes. There wasn't a thing in sight Pretty soon he got up and the Bull let out a whistle.
that Old Dad could’ve represented with five little We’d thought the old woman was little and ancient,
circles. but that hombre must have been her grandfather. He
Here and there along the bank was a banana plant looked exactly like a big-top mushroom with that huge
or a bunch of thornbush, but that was all. Then, all at sombrero on, and walked like if he’d been in a hurry
once, it hits me that those five little circles on Old Dad’s he might have made a furlong in a fortnight. He didn’t
map were drawn straight up and down in the column have more than twenty feet to go to reach the door of
of stops on the timetable—between the two column the dobe, but we got tired waiting for him to make it
lines. That meant the circles were between the two and sat down to have another look at the map.
banks of the river, in the water. According to Old Dad’s drawing, that sixth circle was
I leaned over the side of the boat and there, grinning on the bank somewhere opposite the middle circle of the
up at me, was a half-ton pebble with its nose a foot five,but when the old senora shifted there wasn’t any­
under water. It must have been sticking out six inches thing left on the bank. One of the dobes or the pile of
in July. I showed it to the Bull. He got excited and I stones might have been that sixth circle, but I knew Old
had to take the oars. Dad would never take anyone into his confidence; in
We pulled along, keeping our eyes on the water, and fact, I was surprised at his making his plant anywhere
about a hundred feet farther there was another one the near where anyone lived. Then I saw that he’d drawn
same size, then another. We kept pulling, looking for that sixth circle in the times column of the table, right
the fourth, but there wasn’t anything bigger than a sack around 6:05 p.m. I showed it to the Bull.
of tobacco beyond that. We turned around and rowed “That circle is six hundred and five something from
back to the first one and sitting on the bank there, was the middle one of the five,” I explained.
the oldest woman I ever got my eyes on. I’ll bet my “Feet, maybe?” he suggested.
last red she was a century young when Jim Bowie got “More like paces. Old Dad didn’t have a tape line
his at the Alamo. when you frisked him, did he?”
The Bull looked at her steady for all of two minutes, He shook his head. “No, but if he had made his plant
then turned to me with an “It-ain’t-so” expression. here he’d have to slip up at night to bury it so those
“Mother of Moses!” he exclaimed. peons wouldn’t see him. And it’s a cinch he wouldn’t
“She’s even too ancient to have held that post,” I said go far from the river soused or sober. Maybe he added
The old girl wouldn’t have dared go out in a ten-mile the six and five and it’s eleven feet from the middle
draft if she wanted to stick around home. Sitting there circle?”
on the brown sand with a bunch of cactus behind her, “Or eleven paces?” I saw his argument but I stuck
she looked like a wart on a horse’s hock. And she was to mine.
watching us like she thought we’d come to swipe her
beans. The Bull shrugged his great shoulders as if to say
We were so busy sizing her up that we weren’t “have your own way,” and I went down to the water’s
watching our drift, and first thing we knew we were edge. As well as I could judge, the middle stone of the
half out of the water sitting on another of those five was four paces from the bank. I was about the
pebbles. I pushed the boat off and we rowed down same size as Old Dad so I put my heel in the water and
another hundred feet and found the fifth. We’d found paced the other seven. Then the Bull brought the
the five little circles. shovels and the mattock and we started to dig.
I stopped rowing and spread the map on my knees. The old senora had been sitting in the old man’s place
I pointed to the sixth circle Old Dad had drawn, the outside the dobe all that time, but when I stuck a shovel
one with the dot in it about two and a half inches to in the ground she got up and hustled for the hills behind.
the left of the others. That made me suspicious. When we stopped for dinner
“And this one is—” I started to say. Then I caught she was still away.
sight of the old senora again. She was sitting up on We’d dug a hole ten feet square and a yard deep by
the bank exactly opposite the third stone. I looked at then and found nothing. Meanwhile, the Bull had been
the Bull and he shook his head. arguing with me that we were in the wrong place
“Guess again,” he growled. “Old Dad never would because the earth and mesquite roots hadn’t been dis­
have drawn a circle to represent that. Maybe he meant turbed “since the old clucker was a chicken,” as he
the dot for it. We’ll go ask her." put it. But a big idea began sifting into my dome and
I had kept our shovels going. When I thought of Old
But the old girl didn’t wait for us to land. We hadn’t Dad, his shifty eyes, his ancient Colt seven-shooter and
more than stepped onto the sand before she got up and his age, then looked at that old senora, her ancient man
scuttled away sideways like a crawfish so she could and that pile of stones that once had been a house—
keep her eyes on us while she was going. We climbed when I added all these things together I kept the
up on to the top of the bank and looked around. shovels going. Old Dad may have lived here in his
A hundred yards back from the river was a pile of youth, or at least had some ties here.
stones that had been a house in Crockett’s days. To the About 5 o’clock we struck. The Bull drove his mat­
left of that there were two dobes and a couple of tock into the bottom of the hole and pulled up about
patches of something green, and behind was a handful a foot of rotten leather.
of post-oak with a row of little hills beyond. Sitting in “Buffalo hide!” he said, rolling it between his fingers.
front of one of the dobes was a hombre with the biggest “Sh-h-h-h!” I closed him off.
Climax

lid I ever saw. Sitting on the ground, 50 feet from the hole, was the
The old girl reached the dobe while we were standing old girl. The Bull stood tall and turned loose a string
there and started waving her arms and screaming some­ of rough talk at her that would have riled a fixed-post
thing at the hombre. policeman, but she didn’t understand English or wasn’t
 like a grinding truck wheel on a frosty switch.
BOOK - LENGTH FEATURE We scrambled out and I shot a glance at the hills, but
I couldn’t see 20 feet. The Bull grabbed one end of the
caring, for she never batted an eye. Then my sus­ box and I the other. We started for the boat. Behind
picion grew out of its teens. the high bank, ten feet lower down, six husky peons
I ran my hand over my hip to make sure my gun was rose up. I could count them against the sheen of ripples
willing to work and started the shovel going again. on the water. They were so close I caught the glint of
The old girl might have known what we were hunting their knives, yet we beat them to the boat. The Bull
for, but if she did she wasn’t quite sure of its location jumped into the water and swung his end into the
or she would’ve had someone dig it up for her long ago. stern. I heaved myself over on the other side and the
She couldn’t see the bottom of the hole from where box was in the boat.
she was sitting, yet I had an idea she knew what was The Bull whirled around. He drew back his powerful
down there, and that the minute we started taking it arm and drove his fist square into the face of the first
away she’d begin something of her own. I didn’t like hombre, who almost seemed to rise off the ground before
that long absence of hers. Although I’m not a looker falling back on his neck. The second one slashed at me
for trouble, 1 believe in signs and in meeting them more with a streak of steel that ripped my coat sleeve to the
than halfway. shoulder. I crashed the butt of my gun into his mouth.
In five minutes we’d uncovered and pulled away a A third peon tripped over the one the Bull had
yard of that rotten leather. Under it was a rusty iron dropped, sprawling on his face. The Bull stamped on his
box with four big padlocks, one on each corner, that head, grinding his face into the sand. Then he swung
any safe-blower could’ve picked with a wiener. The on the fourth. He missed. They clinched. I got busy
box itself must have weighed a good hundred pounds. with the other two.
It was all the Bull and I could do to lift it out of the
dirt, it not having any handles on it. We didn’t try to THEY came at me together with a foot of knife apiece
take it out yet though. and an arm up to take my blows, but they were too
It was three feet long, and two feet wide by two deep, yellow to close in. First one would lunge at me and
covered with rust scales that we could lift off with our jump back, then the other. I kept dodging and trying
fingers. The Bull picked up the mattock to knock off to get close enough to smash one of them with my
the padlocks but I stopped him. automatic. They were just too quick for me. Then one
“Nix!” I whispered, jabbing a finger toward the old of them nicked me on the hip. That upset me some and
girl and sitting on the box. “We’ll take it over on the I reversed the gat.
U.S. side to open it. Wait till it gets dark and we’ll The one on the right went down with two slugs in his
throw it into the boat and pull across.” leg. I couldn’t have missed at that distance if I’d tried.
He grumbled something about an old fool of a woman, At the explosion, the other turned and ran. I whirled to
but he caught my drift and sat on his curiosity and help the Bull, but he didn’t need it. The fourth hombre
excitement. We’d found Old Dad’s plant according to was in the river and the Bull was in the boat, holding
his map—after a lot of work—and we couldn’t afford to his head under water. The scrap hadn’t lasted two
take any chances. We climbed up and sat on the edge minutes.
of the hole with our feet hanging inside as we rolled I untied the stern rope, threw it into the boat and
cigarettes. swung my foot overside. “Quick!” I yelled. “Get those
We’d left the boat in the water tied short to a wild oars into the locks!”
banana plant with everything in it but the mattock and The Bull let go of the peon’s hair and leaned forward
shovels, which we hadn’t any further use for anyway. to give me a hand—I thought—
We were all ready for a quick getaway, but the longer A million sparks sprang out of nowhere; the boat
I sat there, watching the old senora staring at us, the and the sheen on the water danced wildly; the sand
harder it hit me that we were going to have some fun rocked under my feet. Everything slowly began to fade,
before we reached Presidio del Norte. My blood was like the power going off an incandescent. Hang on.
racing across my ears so I could hear it, like it always Bricks, hang on. I tried to yell at myself, but I couldn't
does just before something happens. I decided it was get my mouth open.
time to move. Suddenly everything came back—jerked up short it
seemed. I was sitting on top of a groaning peon and
There wasn’t anybody in sight except the old woman three of my front teeth were swimming around in my
before dark and now we couldn’t have seen them if mouth. Out on the river, 20 feet away, the Bull was
there were. The moon wouldn’t be up till after midnight pulling like a fly-cop was after him. Then I got wise.
and it was darker than the hell-hole in a county jail. The Bull had sunk his great fist into my face when
The only way we knew the old girl was still there, was he leaned forward. He was getting away alone with
by laying our heads on the ground and spotting her the box. I jumped up and pulled my gun. With him
against the skyline. I suppose that was the way she silhouetted against the water, I could get him easily at
was watching us. that distance. Only I slipped my gat back in my hip
I reversed my gun, leaving the barrel sticking out of pocket and started on the run for Presidio del Norte.
my pocket. I don’t care about killing men if I can get I’d beat him there and be waiting for him.
away with it. and I’ve found the butt of my new I didn't.
automatic as good as a short hammer in a close mix. Every time I left the water to look for a road or a
Climax

We dropped into the hole, got under the box—which short cut across a bend, I lost the river in the dark and
weighed all of two hundred and a half—and hoisted wasted hours unraveling myself from onion beds, bean
it out. patches and cactus entanglements. Finally the moon
“Schre-ee!” The old girl let go a screech that echoed came up and I reached Presidio hours behind the Bull.
 Bull smashed his fist into
the first peon's face and
knocked him down. The second
slashed at Bricks, who
cracked him with his pistol.

He had the current behind him and pulled an oar like Old Dad’s seven-shooter. Then he roared with laughter.
a launch screw. Back of the smoker, the vestibule door abruptly
I figured the first thing he’d do would be get a line slammed. I slipped both guns into my pockets and
on the first train across the river, but he’d have to get switched into the seat facing the Bull.
the stuff in that box into something that wouldn’t attract “Tickets please?”
attention before he could take it on a train. It was the conductor; right back of him was the
So I headed for the depot and found the first train. auditor. They stared at my ripped coat sleeve and
It would be five hours getting ready to high-ball. I swollen mouth, and at the Bull’s dirty face with a “these
started hunting for the Bull and soon spied him in the two are no-fares” look. The Bull dug into his breast
baggage room, checking a big copperbound trunk on a pocket and handed the con his long ticket.
ticket as long as his leg. I kept out of his sight and “Toronto, Canada,” says the con, tearing off about a
followed him aboard the train. foot of the ticket and giving it back.
The Bull must have seen me get up from his punch The Bull was going home to pa. I pulled out a roll
and start down river after him, but he knew he was that chased the con’s contemptuous look into a pleased
safe while he was in a crowd. No doubt he felt quite smile. “Toronto, Canada, straight through,” I said. I was
easy after he got on the train and the wheels started going home with the Bull.
moving. The con couldn’t give me the ticket, though. I had to
I found him in an empty smoker, hanging half out a get off at Fort Worth and buy it from the agent. I sat
window to look back at the depot for me. He didn’t hear opposite the Bull and kept an eye on him all the way.
me till I got my gun in his ribs. He dropped back into When we stopped at a lunch station he’d get off and
his seat like someone had hit him in the face. I stood beside him while we ate. I never opened my
“Well, I’ll—” mouth to him. While we waited for Wabash connections
“Sure!” I said angrily. “And if you don’t cough up at St. Louis, I bought a new coat in a clothing store
the check for that trunk, you’re a dead bull!” where the Bull was trying on a new hat, collar and tie.
He reached into his vest pocket and withdrew the At Detroit, just to have some sport with him, I let him
check. He held it up and kissed it goodbye on both get away from me.
sides. Then, with a lightning jerk, he flipped it out the I hung back till he was a block ahead and, slipping up
window. a side street, walked back to the square. I took a ferry
I saw it float toward the river shining below in the over to Windsor, and when his train came in and started
moonlight. He’d known damn well I wouldn’t pull the to pull out again, I strolled into the coach where he was
trigger on a moving train crossing water, since I couldn’t sitting and flopped down facing him with a grin. I
Climax

jump off. brought out Old Dad’s revolver and gave it a once over.
I jabbed him with the gun as a reminder. I’ve seen some badly used weapons one place and
“Now the gat!” I snapped. another, but that old Colt was the worst victim of neglect
He reached back to his hip with a grin, handing me I ever did see. There were seven cartridges so badly
 rusted into the cylinder that I would have needed a “What did you want it for anyway?” I asked.
hammer and a punch to drive them out. The barrel He didn’t pay any attention.
was packed full of dirt. The butt was chipped where “I’ll put it in the trunk,” I taunted, “the minute we
Old Dad had used it to break up firewood and the get to Toronto.”
trigger guard was gone. I rubbed the top of the barrel But that didn’t move him either, so I shut up and let
on the seat to clean off some of the rust and found the him alone. At the depot in Toronto he hustled into the
maker’s name: Samuel Colt. 1839. baggage room with me right behind him.
Climax

I slipped the relic back into my pocket and tapped the “I’ve lost the check for my trunk,” he said to one of
Bull with my foot. “No wonder you didn’t pull it in the the baggage-smashers. “How am I going to get the
scrap.” trunk?”
He didn’t answer; just kept looking out the window. “Bring the key and identify it by its contents.”
 I looked at the Bull’s sorrowful, disappointed face. and found a little mound of fresh earth. And I knew
And that gave me a hunch. If he’d lifted the old iron I’d found old Dad’s plant.
box intact into the trunk, all he’d have to do was to In five minutes I uncovered an old 50-pound lard can
describe the box and get the trunk without further with three two-quart glass sealers in it, packed in grass.
trouble, but it was very evident he didn’t want to expose I opened them and pulled out three rolls of First Na­
the contents, so he must have opened the iron box and tional Bank bills, and a note written in Old Dad's little
dumped the contents into the trunk. cramped hand. I counted the money. There was exactly
When he left the baggage room and climbed into a $8,000 all told.
taxi, I took the elevator to the third floor and put in my Then I read the note:
application for a job in the baggage-room. I knew I
couldn’t get the trunk without knowing what was in it. Dear Bricks:
but I’d find out if I could just get my hands on it The Dreamer has been telling us for months that
for a while. They took my name and address, the color he is going to quit the road and get married. But he
knows the call of the highball which, after all, is
of my hair and eyes, my age, height and weight. It was but a call to new scenes, new excitements, new ad­
worse than joining the army. Next morning they put ventures; and always when he hears the two short
me on. blasts of the whistle, his blood will run hot and he’ll
Along about 3 in the p.m., down comes the Bull, all want to be up and away. He’s got a long, hard fight
ahead of him, a fight I lost.
dolled up with a silk hat on, and tries to get the trunk Bricks, I ask you—see that the Dreamer’s wife
again. But he wouldn’t tell the baggage boss what was gets the enclosed money, so that if he loses the fight
in it—so it was no dice. I kept back so he wouldn’t see at times, his children will not want for anything
me and I didn’t see him again until the auction. while he’s away.
Sincerely yours.
Old Dad.
I TRIED for a solid month to get at that trunk when no
one was around, but I never got a chance. All the time I came back to Toronto and got here on the day of
I was wondering why the Bull wasn’t trying to get it. the sale, as you know, Dreamer. But you were a little
Then I learned about the unclaimed baggage sale and late for the sale and so was the Bull. Before you came
got wise. The Bull knew there was no way I could get I bought my trunk, the second-hand one that I had
the trunk. All he had to do was to wait for the sale and changed the contents of the Bull’s trunk into that day
buy it for ten or fifteen dollars at the most. That gave in the baggage room, and sent it up to my boarding­
me an idea. house. If that auctioneer had known what was in that
I took an impression of the locks and got two keys trunk he’d sold for eleven dollars, he’d have had
made to fit. I bought an old second-hand trunk, loaded apoplexy.
it and sent it down to the depot on a baggage-wagon. There were 17 bars of refined silver as long as a police­
In a month that trunk of mine was in the unclaimed man’s night-stick; four bricks of red Mexican gold as big
room with the copperbound trunk of the Bull’s. as a 200-cigar box, and $75,000 in Confederate paper
Then I waited till I could get into that room when no money that wasn’t worth a plugged nickel. But the Bull
one was looking—I waited eight months. I had begun must’ve thought it was real money.
to think I would have to wait for the sale myself. Then Tomorrow I’m going to get the metal weighed up. I’m
one day there was a wreck in the yards and in about going to add another $8,000 to Old Dad’s and give it to
a minute the baggage room was empty. your wife, Dreamer, to buy a pair of corduroy strides
It didn’t take me a second to get that trunk open. And for you when the highball gets to calling. And I’ll give
when I lifted the lid, I almost fell over. I jerked Old her Old Dad’s note. . . .
Dad’s map out of my pocket and took another gander
at it and finally I realized what I’d overlooked. When BRICKS finished, we heard the highball come
When I burned the righthand, bottom corner of that up from the railroad yards on the flats a while ago, and
map, it had been folded double in four, so when I it brought Old Dad back to both of us. We’re still
opened it again the burned spot was at about the middle wondering if that rusty iron box the Bull and he dug
of the left half, on the intersection of the twofold up on the bank of the Rio Grande was a plant of his.
creases. But there were also twofold creases crossing Or was it mere coincidence that the crease lines on Old
the same way on the right half of the map, and the Dad’s map crossed just where they did when he marked
cigarette hadn’t touched them. They crossed about two his San Antonio plant? I’ve seen stranger things.
miles east of San Antonio. Who was Old Dad? I don’t know any more than Bricks
The San Antonio jungle is just two miles east of the does. All I know is, he left my wife $8,000. And who­
city, I said to myself. “And Old Dad died there. The ever buried that box above Presidio del Norte left it
juggle is in a long gully, and there are five fireplaces to Bricks. Weren’t there four red-gold bricks in that
in the gully. . . .” box? And isn’t his hair red and his name Bricks?
The next morning I bought a through ticket for San I can almost hear Old Dad say after he’d covered the
Antonio and rode the cushions. I didn’t lose a minute plant up: “There—that’s four Red Bricks!”
buying a spade and getting out to the jungle when I I wonder did Albert S. “the Bull” Townsend have his
reached San Antonio. The jungle looked like a desert high hat on when he opened that copperbound trunk he
without Old Dad and you, Dreamer. I put my heel at paid 50,000 of his dad’s hard-earned dollars for?
the outside edge of the ashes at the third of the five And I wonder did it fall off when he saw those 42
fireplaces and paced off 11 paces. nice white Townsend bricks—from his own brickyard—
Climax

The ground was flat and undisturbed. the ones Bricks put in that day in the baggage room?
I went back to the fireplace and set my heel again. I just wish Old Dad had been there to see the Bull’s
This time I paced off six hundred and five strides. My expression; it might’ve brought on one of that great old
foot ended in a pile of brush. I dragged the bushes away gink’s rare smiles. * THF END
 My Downhill Slide I was still in Harriet Beecher Stowe
Grade School when I started. By the
with me just about to go into the Army.
Well, when I got out three years
continued from page 22 time I was 16 I won my first amateur later I talked myself into believing I
title. My manager in the amateurs was could be a good fighter. I knocked out
me quiet like I am. They were good Bert Williams. He was trainer for the Marshall in a return and won 15 fights
people who went to church regularly hockey team we had in Cincinnati in a row. A lot of them were around
and I went along. Being a church per­ called the Mohawks. I remember they Pittsburgh and that’s how Jake Mintz
son stayed with me a long time. I was didn’t pay money for fighting. I got came into the picture. He was a pro­
still an usher in the Calvary Methodist watches and luggage as prizes. I quit moter in Pittsburgh and pretty soon
Church even when I was fighting. I because I wanted money. My uncle Elkus and Dyer hired him to book
used to talk to kids at Methodist meet­ called me a coward and drove me back fights for me. By 1947 he was in on me.
ings and warn them against smoking, into it. He was a funny little man with a
drinking and swearing. I was always While I was boxing amateur, I moved bent nose and a nervous, fast way of
proud that I didn’t do any of those up into Woodward High School. I didn't talking. Everybody thought he was
things and I think the kids looked up put all my time in boxing, nor in going only good for laughs. I didn’t. He was a
to me. to school. I was washing cars and store smart matchmaker and he helped me a
When I got up in boxing, though, I windows, and selling newspapers, to lot. My big problem was that I didn’t
had one way of spending a lot of money make money. I got a job in Max’s like fighting. I felt this feeling would
on myself. That was for good clothes. Clothes Shop. I was a porter. The leave me some day, but it never did.
The sportswriters put it down that I owner was Max Elkus. When I turned I remember the night I went in
was a dandy because I didn’t want to pro, Bert Williams sold my contract to against Sam Baroudi in Chicago. That
look like a fighter, but they were Elkus and another man called Charles was February 20, 1948. I took a good
wrong. Dyer. They paid $700 for me. That was look at Baroudi at the weigh-in. He
I know how I came to like good in 1940. I was still in high school. It had an ugly gray scar on the side of his
clothes. I was about ten when I saw wasn’t easy for me, fighting and trying scalp. It looked bad and I said to my­
Kid Chocolate ride down my block in to learn at the same time. I had gotten self, I hope he’s all right. I stopped him
Cincinnati. He was a great feather­ a bad start in school. Down in Georgia in the tenth round. He was hurt and
weight fighter from Cuba and he came school was in a church. I didn’t pay they took him to a hospital.
to town to fight a local boy called much attention. I could write my name, It was 2 in the morning when I got
Johnny Farr. Kid Chocolate’s car but I couldn’t read when I got to Cin­ to the hospital with Mintz. They told
stopped at a candy store and the people cinnati. They put me in a class for us Baroudi was dead. I didn’t want to
crowded around him. He was popular slow-learning boys. I was in it three see a ring again. I just sat there and
because he was flashy in the ring and months. looked ahead of me for I don’t know
wore fancy clothes. Somebody pushed In high school I failed Spanish, com­ how long. Then a man came up to me.
up real close to him and said, “Choco­ position and English in my junior year. “I’m Sam’s father,” he said.
late, how many suits you own?” He I was fighting pro by then and I didn’t “I’m sorry,” I said.
spoke a funny English because he was graduate until June 15, 1942. Just 12 “You’re a young man,” he said. “Don’t
from Cuba. He said he had 365 suits, days later I beat Charley Burley in let this stop you. It just happened,
one for every day in the year. Pittsburgh in ten rounds. It was my that’s all.”
That’s for me, I thought, I’m going 30th fight and I was almost 21. I wanted to do something for the
to be a fighter and have that much Things were mixed up for me. I man. I couldn’t bring his son back. I
clothes. didn’t know where I was going. A few told Mintz and Elkus to get a fight that
So I became a fighter and had lots months before I had knocked out Anton would give some money to the Baroudi
of clothes. I spent big money on them. Christoforidis, who once held the light­ family. Ten weeks later I fought Elmer
One time I had 90 suits. I know be­ heavyweight title. I was fighting, going (Violent) Ray in the same Chicago
cause Gladys and I once counted them. to school and still working in Max’s ring. I knocked him out and I felt good
They stood me between $240 and $285 Clothes Shop. The day after I KO’d because he had a decision over me. I
apiece, made to order at Brooks Christoforidis I went down to the store gave my $5,000 purse to Baroudi’s
Brothers. I counted 57 overcoats and and started washing windows. family.
topcoats. They came cheaper, from $125 “You don’t have to do that no more,” About this time Max Elkus died. His
to $145 apiece. I paid as high as $26 for Max said. piece of my contract went to his son
a shirt, $7.50 for a set of silk underwear “It’s my job,” I said. Gene. He sided with Dyer against
and $45 for a pair of silk pajamas. My “You’re a fighter,” he said. “You just Mintz. They said Mintz was hired to be
shoes were made by an English com­ beat a guy that was light-heavyweight a booking agent, not my manager, but
pany called Peal. They came to $65 a champ.” wherever we went around the country
pair. I never quit that job. I guess I was Mintz signed up with boxing commis­
I had two good friends then. One was fired. It didn’t matter. A year later I sions as my manager. There were argu­
Richard Christmas. I ran with him was in the Army. I got to be a cor­ ments all the time. I was getting to be
when we were kids. When I was champ poral, but I was broken for riding more valuable to everybody. Joe Louis
he became my secretary. I see him around outside camp while my outfit was thinking about retiring as heavy­
now and then. The other friend I don’t was supposed to stay in our own area. weight champ then and the talk was
see. He’s the one I used to give a lot I spent 24 months in Italy and did some that I would be in a tournament to get
of my clothes to. I’d say to him, “You boxing there. I didn’t feel much like a new champ. The rumor turned out
want this suit, it’ll cost you $15.” boxing because my last two fights be­ right. Louis went to Miami and made a
“Why, man?” he’d say. fore going in were bad ones. I lost to deal with Jim Norris that set up the
“Because it ain’t charity when you Jimmy Bivins and was knocked out in International Boxing Club. He retired
buy it.” eight rounds by Lloyd Marshall. I lost and the National Boxing Association
I went into boxing to make money. them because I didn’t think it mattered said it would recognize the winner of
a fight between Jersey Joe Walcott and
me as champion.
I beat Walcott in Chicago June 22,
1949, in 15 rounds. My end from the
fight came to $53,857. I got 51 per cent
of that and my managers got the rest,
but they paid training expenses. I felt
good. When I got home my neighbors
in the West End gave me a parade.
I saw a girl on the street about then
and I said to myself, I’m going to marry
that chick. I asked around and found
out her name was Gladys Gartrell.
Everybody said she was a nice girl and
I learned she was still going to high
school. I was a little afraid of her be­
cause she was so popular. A fellow I
knew introduced us. I saw a lot of her
after that. Meeting her was probably
the best thing that happened to me that
C lim ax

year.
I didn’t get much of a rest after beat­
ing Walcott. I was champ everywhere
except in New York State and the
 British Empire. The fellows that ran
boxing in those places said I would
have to prove I was a champ before
Exclusive Report
they’d recognize me. The IBC matched
me with former light-heavyweight
on The Grand Mufti of Jerusalem
champ Gus Lesnevich at the Yankee
Stadium ten weeks after I beat Wal­
cott. I trained at Pompton Lakes, New
Jersey, and everything would have
been all right if my managers hadn’t
The Beast
Behind Eichmann
argued all the time.
I knocked out Lesnevich in seven
rounds. Half of the $15,000 I made went
to my managers. 1 didn’t care because
I knew there was more ahead for me.
I had one other fight that year. I While Adolph Eichmann awaits trial, his former friend and advisor,
knocked out Pat Valentino in eight
rounds in San Francisco and I got half
of a $45,000 purse. The Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, one of humanity’s foremost criminals,
After that fight, Mintz and Elkus and
Dyer made a deal. Tannas was brought remains free. How does it happen that the man equally responsible for
in as co-manager with Mintz. He paid
Elkus and Dyer $32,000 for their piece the mass murder of six million people escapes arrest? Be sure to read
of my contract. I liked having Tannas
around. I should have listened to him the startling answers in the big, new issue of SAGA Magazine.
more. First thing he did was to ask
me how I stood on income taxes. I
said, “I owe eighteen thousand dollars.”
He said, “We’ll take care of that.” He
called in an accountant from Pittsburgh
named George Conte. We talked about
it and Conte set it up for me to pay
the $18,000.
I was in good shape. I was clear on
taxes. Money was coming in. I was a
sort of world champ and I had Gladys.
We talked about getting married. I
took time out from fighting the last
couple of months in 1949. Gladys and I
were married secretly December 30,
1949, in the apartment of a friend. No­
body was supposed to tell about it.
Nobody did. Gladys went home to live
with her family. I went home to live
with my grandmother and great- |
grandmother. I had an idea that it
wasn’t good for the public to know that
a fighter was married. Gladys wasn’t
happy. She said if a woman is married
she has a right to live with her hus­
band.
I didn’t see it her way and started
training for a fight with Freddy Be- ’
shore in Buffalo. A doctor examined me i
and said I had something wrong with
my heart. He wouldn’t pass me as fit.
It was a hard knock. For weeks I didn’t
know if I had a career ahead of me.
The IBC was worried because they
had me under exclusive contract. They
took me to a big heart specialist on
Park Avenue in New York. He gave |
me a tough examination. Then he said,
“Mr. Charles, if you’ve got a bad heart, Plus Other Exciting Features That You Won't Want To Miss . . .
I don’t know a thing about medicine.
You’re as good a physical specimen as
I’ve ever examined.”
I fought Beshore in Buffalo on Au­ Do They Fix Horse Races?
gust 15, 1950. He cut real bad and it
was an easy fight for me. I knocked The Inside Story
him out in the 14th round. I took down
about $8,400, which hardly covered my
end of the expenses, but I didn’t care
because the fight proved I was all right.
When I went home to see Gladys, she
The Fifth Armored Division
was upset. She said she was going to A Saga of its Road to Glory
have a baby and nobody knew she was
married. I said,. “Gladys, what differ­
ence does it make if we know we’re
married? We’re the ones that count.”
I left her unhappy. I went back to New
The Ordeal of Norman Mailer
York because I was signed to fight Joe The Real-Life Sequel to “The Naked and the Dead”
Louis at Yankee Stadium on Septem­

SAGA
ber 27. Louis needed money bad be­
cause of tax troubles and the IBC
knew that nobody would accept me as
a real champ unless I beat him. So he
Climax

ckme out of retirement. He went to in June Magazine

Pompton Lakes to train and I went to
a place called Nemerson’s in Sullivan
County, New York. Something hap­
pened there that eventually cost me my Buy Your Copy Today Wherever Magazines Are Sold!
 title, but 1’11 tell about it a bit later. special party room with a bar on the terested and read books on it. What
I worked hard for the Louis fight. I third floor. We had only two parties interested me most was self-hypnosis.
had two trainers: Ray Arcel, who was up there in all the years we’ve lived I thought I could help myself become
one of the best in the business, and here. I had big plans for the place. I a killer in the ring by hypnotizing my­
Jimmy Brown, a friend from Cincin­ wanted it landscaped the best and it self. In the hotel room that afternoon I
nati. I talked with Jimmy a lot about came to more than $1,000. decided to try self-hypnosis. It would
fighting Louis. It was a hard thing for We never knew what anything cost. help me sleep. There was a mirror on
me because Louis had always been my Money was coming in and going out a dresser at the foot of the bed. I kept
hero. “It’s like fighting my father,” I just as fast. I never paid much atten­ looking off to a distance, just seeing
told Brown. tion to the mortgage. I thought, It’s the mirror out of the corners of my
I had a doctor from Cincinnati. His only $6,000. I can pay it off any time I eyes, and I talked to myself in a sort
name was Dr. Ray E. Clark. I guess I want to. The way it worked out, I of half-beat rhythm. Pretty soon I was
was a mental problem. I didn’t think didn’t pay it off. The Centennial Sav­ drowsy and before long I was asleep.
I was as good a fighter as I could be. I ings and Loan Association still has the When Jimmy Brown came to wake
kept asking Dr. Clark to give me some­ mortgage, only now it’s up to $13,000. me to go to Forbes Field, I was in a deep
thing to make me a better fighter. He Instead of cutting it down, I had to sleep. I got up, but all the way to the
refused and said all I had to do was jump the mortgage to get living money. ball park I couldn’t shake the sleep out
be in top condition. I knew I wasn’t a Now I can’t even pay the interest on it. of my head. No matter what I did I
killer. I guess that’s what made my I worked hard in 1951. I made $9,000 was drowsy. In the dressing room I
fight with Louis close. I hit him good knocking out Lee Oma in ten rounds kept yawning. I stretched out on the
in every round and closed his eyes, in Madison Square Garden. I beat Jer­ rubbing table and caught a few winks.
but he was there at the end of 15 sey Joe Walcott in 15 rounds and took I was in a fog when I went into the
rounds. I got the decision, though, and home $15,000 from Detroit. In the last ring.
everybody recognized me as champ. three rounds, Walcott’s left hook Remember how Mintz had a big
I got a little over $100,000 for beating worked good. He closed my right eye. I argument in the ring? He didn’t want
Louis. My end was half of that. It got the decision on a big lead in the one of the officials appointed by the
should have made me happy. It didn’t. early rounds. Two months later I beat Pennsylvania Athletic Commission to
I learned that Louis didn’t like me for Joey Maxim by a decision in 15 rounds work the fight. Mintz kept yelling that
beating him. Whenever he could, he in Chicago. My end was $30,000. the official would favor Walcott. I didn’t
said I wasn’t a real good champ. It Now it looks like a lot of money, but pay much attention, just drooped in my
hurt deep. I wanted to be his friend, at the time it was disappointing be­ corner while they tied the gloves on.
but he didn’t let it happen. cause I was heavyweight champ and Naturally, Mintz lost the argument.
I had one more fight in 1950. It was should have made more. Louis made I went out at the bell in a daze. I
in Cincinnati against Nick Barone. I $200,000 in his second year as a pro, couldn’t concentrate on the fight. Wal­
knocked him out in 11 rounds. The rea­ two years before he was champ. The cott knocked me out in the seventh
son the IBC put the fight in Cincinnati newspapers kept saying I wasn’t a big round with a left hook to the jaw. I
was that they thought it would draw a drawing card. They were right. went down hard. I tried to get up but
lot of my people. It didn’t. The gate There was a club in Pittsburgh called my knees went under me and I was
came to only $53,334. My cut was $17,- the Dapper Dans that wanted me to counted out. I didn’t tell anybody about
591. fight on top of a show. They went to the self-hypnosis because I was shamed
The only good thing was that I was Mintz, who lived in Pittsburgh, and by it. I’m telling it now for the first
close to Gladys. The baby was due in told him about it. He said I would be time.
two months. Deborah was born Feb­ glad to fight because the Dapper Dans When I went home to Cincinnati,
ruary 13, 1951, and I knew I would have gave a lot of money to charity. I agreed. friends that used to hang around all
to admit I was married. When I did, The IBC went looking for somebody I the time played it cool. They dropped
the newspapers wrote it up big. They could fight. They came up with Wal­ in every once in a while, but mostly
showed pictures of Gladys. I was happy cott again. to make a touch. The people in the
because she is pretty. I had to do some­ I didn’t think much of the match street still said hello, but it wasn’t the
thing about getting a house for my since I already had two decisions over same as when I was champ. I didn’t
family now that I was a father. him. The day of the fight—July 18, change my way of living. I still started
We looked around a lot until I found 1951—I had a suite at the William Penn each day with too much money in my
the place in Forest Avenue. It was the Hotel. It was a noisy place. I could pocket. I still finished each day with
nicest house we saw. It had beautiful hear the trolley cars going by and my pocket empty.
oak-paneled walls in the center hall, people yelling in the street. I couldn’t Tannas worked on me. He tried to
in the living room and dining room. take my afternoon nap. put me on a budget. He said, “Ez, you’ll
That’s where I made a big mistake. I When I had trained at Nemerson’s never learn,” he said. "When it’s too
bought the house and had all the wood­ for the fight with Louis I met a hyp­ late you’ll know I was telling you this
work pulled down, leaving the plaster notist who entertained the guests by for your own good.”
walls. The house cost $22,500 and I doing hypnosis. I talked to him a lot. I got a return with Walcott in June
took a $6,000 mortgage. That was all He told me how hypnotism was used to 1952. We fought St Municipal Stadium,
right, but I put in $50,000 more for help people afraid of dentists, even Philadelphia, and it went 15 rounds. I
renovations and furniture. I built a on women having babies. I became in­ thought I won, but they gave it to
Walcott. Although the newspapers said
I won, nobody made a real fuss because
they felt I should have worked harder
to get my title back. I made $45,000. I
still wasn’t worried about money.
I lost my next fight too. I went out
PERRY COMO to Ogden, Utah, and dropped a ten-
round decision to Rex Layne. I had no
zip. I went along the rest of the year
on the June Cover of TV Radio Mirror and through 1953 just picking up fights.
There was plenty of work for me be­
and the story about His Future Plans for TV and Movies cause I was an ex-champ and people
would come to see what I looked like.
Nobody thought 1954 would be my
biggest year in boxing financially.
That’s the way it turned out.
Rocky Marciano was the champion by

The Paar-Sullivan Dollar Rumble now. He took the title from Walcott
and kept it in a return. I went in
against Marciano at Yankee Stadium
BOB HOPE • GARDNER McKAY on June 17, 1954. Nobody gave me a
chance, but I was in good shape. It
CARA WILLIAMS • HUGH DOWNS • SHELLEY FABARES went 15 rounds and Marciano got the
decision. It was close enough to make a
return on September 17, 1954. This time
PAUL BURKE * NANCY WICKWIRE • BUZZ CLIFFORD Marciano stopped me in eight rounds,
Climax

but he was in real trouble for a while

Get your copy of June TV RADIO MIRROR Now on Sale! because one of my uppercuts cut his
nose clear through and he bled real
bad.
 It’s late to make an excuse, but I
went into the second fight in no shape.
All through training I suffered from
hay fever. It was real bad and two doc­ The proof is in the puffing !
tors warned me to leave my training
camp in Monticello, New York, be­
cause the goldenrod all around the
place was ruining me. I stayed.
The two fights with Marciano gave
the flavor
me a total of $224,323. After paying
New York State income taxes, my end
came to $102,437.17. I thought this was
enough to keep me going a long time.
most favored in the U.S.A.
Turned out I wound up with a lot less.
One thing I always worried about
was federal income taxes. By this time,
Louis was in real trouble with the tax
people and I wasn’t looking for any of
the same. My accountant filed my re­
turn for 1954 giving my net income
after expenses as $63,205.90. That put
me in a bracket just under 50 per cent.
I paid the government $30,001.42.
A little later Gladys checked with
the accountant and found I had over­
paid by $4,000. The income tax people
agreed. Gladys told me, “Ez, there’s
no sense taking the money. Let’s apply
it to next year’s taxes.” The next year
was a bad one for me. I lost five of 11
fights and was knocked out twice.
Money wasn’t free. Gladys said, “I
think I’ll try to get that four thousand
dollars we overpaid in taxes. We’ll take
it in cash.” She went to the income tax
people and asked for it. They rechecked
our return and didn’t allow some
things. We got only a fraction of the
$4,000 back.
At the end of 1956 I announced I
was through. I couldn’t fight much and ■ always tastes fresh
I knew it. I met Judge Benjamin S.
Schwartz, who’s on the bench in the
Hamilton County Juvenile Court in
Cincinnati. He has a real feeling fox’
kids and he runs a sports program at
PRINCE ALBERT • mild, mellow flavor
• cool 'n' steady burning
the court. It makes the kids feel they
belong to something and keeps them as of March 31, 1959.” That was about Even the wrestlers wouldn’t have me.
out of trouble. all I needed. A couple of days later a fellow told
Judge Schwartz got me a job at the Now things were tough. All my real me about a job at the Urban League,
court: all I did was hang around with estate was gone. So was most of my an organization that helps colored peo­
the kids and talk to them. I was a sort money. I sat down with Gladys and ple. The job was in public relations. I
of guide. It paid me about $75 a week, talked. I went back to the only thing I called the Urban League about it. The
but it was work I liked. Judge Schwartz knew to do. I took some more fights. I man said I was too old for the job.
gave me advice about my real estate got a call from Tannas. He said, “You I’ll be 40 in July. I went to see a poli­
when things got bad. He told me how can fight if you want to, Snooks, but tician I knew. I asked him for a job.
to get some money out of the buildings don’t count on me being with you. You He looked at me and said, “Well, you
and to get rid of the ones that couldn’t take my advice and quit for good.” know you started at the bottom and you
be saved. I didn’t. I had three more fights and climbed to the top. Now you’re down
I stayed with the court job until I lost two of them. The last one was again. You’ll have to start there. I can
got a job offer from the Ohio State September 1, 1959, in Oklahoma City. get you a job working in the sewer
Industrial Commission. I took it be­ I was beaten by somebody called Alvin department as a sewage inspector.” I
cause I thought it was better to work Green. I knew I was finished. walked out.
for the State than for the County. I Last summer, when things really hit I still have two part-time jobs. One
was wrong. My job was to go around to bottom, I got work with a wrestling is teaching boxing to kids at the Lin­
manual training shops in schools in 28 troupe in Canda. I would go through coln Center in my old neighborhood in
counties and inspect the safety devices the motions with another guy and I got the West End of Cincinnati. I go there
on the machines and tools the kids to like it because it was action. Fox’ a two nights a week, pull on a sweat
used. I’d talk to the kids and answer guy new in the business I was making suit and show the kids how to hold
their questions about boxing. good money, as much as $89 a night their hands up. It brings a few dollars.
The question I was asked most was and we wrestled three, four times a The other job is to serve subpoenas
how I felt about beating Louis. week. for Judge Schwartz’s court. When he
“Not good,” I’d say. When the tour ended, I hooked up offered it to me, I said I didn’t have a
“He was a great champ, wasn’t he?” with another bunch. One Saturday I car. He arranged for me to borrow one
“The best,” I’d say. I meant it. had a date in Muncie, Indiana, about from an auto salesman named Ernie
In the summer of 1958 I thought I 100 miles from Cincinnati. I asked a Waits. I knew Ernie in Woodward High
had a vacation coming up. I asked for fellow who used to be with me when I School. We were friends. When I got
a couple of weeks off and the Com­ was champ to drive me up there. He up in boxing I didn’t see much of
mission said I could have the time. I has a car. The day I was to wrestle I Ernie. He came around whenever I won
felt good because I had been offered a took a nap in the afternoon and didn’t a big fight to congratulate me. Now
fight in Fairmont, West Virginia, wake up until early in the evening. I that I’m broke, he’s a good friend. The
against somebody called Johnny Har­ called the fellow who was going to others are all gone. Now that I know
per. I beat him in ten rounds and I got drive me and he said he couldn’t make how they think, good riddance.
another offer for another fight in it because he was fixing his bathroom I’m worried about the loss of only
Juarez, Mexico. It was with Alfred ceiling. Then I called the promoter in one of my old friends. For a lot of
Zuany. He beat me. Then I went down Muncie and told him what happened. years I was a regular at church. I was
to Dallas and was knocked out in eight He said, “Take a bus.” I said I called a believer in the Bible and still I
rounds by Donnie Fleeman. the bus station and there wouldn’t be a thought I was pretty close to God.
Climax

I went home and tried to go back to bus leaving in time to get me there for Somewhere along the way I lost Him.
work, but I got a letter from the Com­ the show. He said, “Okay, Ez, see you Makes me think that’s why all these
mission. It said, “This is to advise you some other time.” things have happened to me. z
that you will be taken off the payroll I knew what he meant. I was out. * THE END
 BB—Kitten in A Cage continued from page IB
racing wildly on the remnants of badly
strained endurance. The humiliating
fight outside the nightclub again drove
photographers who covered this inter­ formalities as introductions (she hadn’t her to the point of disaster. Her wild,
view (one that an American press agent met Vallone), Brigitte simply knocked hectic life had left Brigitte tired,
would have traded his wife to have on Vallone’s door. The door opened to drained, empty of all emotions except
dreamed up) left to report that they had a new romance. But it ended very doubt and a persistent, inexplicable
seen an amoral, wanton woman with quickly—Vallone was also married. fear.
the unmistakable look of depraved in­ Next came hei' amorous adventures Despondent, Brigitte languished at
nocence. This was precisely the image with the wandering troubador, Sacha Les Cabrolles, wandering along the
Vadim had set out to create. Distel, a bronzed, handsome young god. beach alone. There was nothing to look
Brigitte was on her way. First there Singer, guitarist and lover in the classic forward to, nothing worthwhile to look
were bit parts (in which she almost al­ tradition, Distel was the embodiment of back upon. It was September 28, 1960,
ways appeared nude, an accepted prac­ every man’s bedroom ambitions; a care­ her 26th birthday.
tice in French films) and then there free, laughing drifter in a world gone That afternoon, she bought barbitu­
were bigger parts. Finally came the big too solemn. rates and in the early evening gulped
one. And God Created Woman was the Sacha’s playground was all Europe, down the pills, then slashed her wrists.
movie’s title and Roger Vadim, by now and all Europe became Brigitte’s play­ Her friend Mercedes Simon, one-time
a film director, was determined to make ground. Night and day the playmates secretary to Sophia Loren, found Brig­
it the greatest film of all time (at least were seen together in nightclubs, the­ itte unconscious, wrists bleeding. Brig­
at the box office) and at the same time aters and restaurants all over the con­ itte was rushed to the hospital, near
to rocket his wife to stardom. He in­ tinent. But they spent most of their death. Hours of uncertainty followed.
tended to put Brigitte to the acid test of time on the beach at St. Tropez. It was Then the doctor’s prognosis: Brigitte
“lucid immorality.” That is, to present there that they are reported to have Bardot would recover, but she was a
her as an uninhibited, unfettered, flesh- made the best music together, espe­ very sick girl. She would have to rest
and-blood image of eroticism. cially at night when Brigitte would run for a long time.
in the surf clad only in her tan. Perhaps as she left the hospital and
ROGER achieved his goal, but it de­ But Sacha eventually faded out of went off to the Riviera to rest, Brigitte
stroyed his marriage. The playing of the picture when Brigitte marched off had a chance to reflect on her cata­
just one scene accomplished both these to make a new picture, Babette Goes to clysmic young life. Perhaps the at­
things. Brigitte was on the bed, nude. War. Why was the troubador’s engage­ tempted suicide brought her reckless
Jean-Louis Trintignant, her handsome, ment cut short? Because Brigitte’s lat­ existence into sharp focus. Certainly
equally nude leading man, lay along­ est leading man was just handsome the publicity attendant on her nearly
side her. enough, just virile enough to lead her successful, self-inflicted death caused
“You must make love to Brigitte as if to the altar off the screen. Jacques her at least to consider how she looked
she were your very own,” Vadim Charrier wed la belle Bardot on June in the eyes of the world.
shouted to his male star. “Remember, 18. 1959.
she is your bride. She is all yours.” Unfortunately, like Trintignant be­ AND THE world looked at her in a
At first, Jean-Louis was bashful. He fore him, Jacques was drafted into the number of ways. To many people the
hesitated to make love to Brigitte as French army. But Jacques, who had name of Brigitte Bardot merely con­
Vadim ordered, especially since she left his wife pregnant, couldn’t stand jures up a picture of a sex pot. They
was the director’s wife. But Vadim the separation. Nor could he stand the write her off as a brainless, untalented.
urged Jean-Louis on, insisting that kidding from the other French poilus non-actress. They say she capitalizes
Brigitte would love it. And once they who, as loyal Brigitte Bardot fans, all on multitudinous stages of undress and
began their sizzling kiss, nothing could had pinups of the sex kitten in their insolent motions of her body as a sub­
stop them. Not even Roger yelling, lockers. And poor Jacques had none. stitute for dramatic ability.
“Cut!” To make matters worse, some of the At the Hotel de Paris in St. Tropez
This scene, featuring probably the pinups were nudes, which nearly drove on the French Mediterranean, where
longest kiss in motion picture history, sensitive Jacques insane. He finally did Brigitte gallivanted with earth-shaking
revealed Brigitte’s animalism, sexuality have a breakdown and was hospitalized. reverberations, Brigitte is well remem­
and amorality, and it wasn’t all his­ The Army realized that Jacques was bered by Madame Aubour, wife of the
trionics according to people on the set. a sick young man and gave him a year’s hotel owner. “Brigitte is an insuffer­
Thus, when And God Created Woman severance from the service. This raised able cow,” Madame Aubour says. “All
was finished, one Vadim-created-wom- a howl in the French assembly, but it the beautiful young men in St. Tropez
an-star was again single. Brigitte went soon died down. despise her and there are a lot of beau­
back to Paris and Jean-Louis Trintig­ Brigitte then had her baby, a boy tiful young men here. She was here
nant went with her. The love affair who bounced into a nurse’s arms as one day for coffee, being terribly co­
finally cooled when Jean-Louis went Mama bounced back before the cam­ quettish. The tourists whistled at her.
off to fight in the Algerian war. eras to make The Naked Truth. Brigitte BB was furious and left in a huff.”
Brigitte’s attentions quickly turned to a was the star. Jacques tried to be the Madame Aubour fluttered her eye­
man whom she had dreamed about in co-star, but the director wouldn’t have lashes and wiggled her hips to emulate
her teens, the spectacularly popular him. Then, when another handsome Brigitte, then said with finality: “She
French singer Gilbert Becaud. That ro­ leading man was picked, Jacques began is common. She has no manners. She
mance ended abruptly, however, when to worry. He remembered how a lead­ is not gracieuse.”
a French newspaper printed a headline ing man named Jean-Louis Trintignant Madame Aubour’s opinion is echoed
that had the subtlety of a punch in the had stolen Brigitte away from her first all over the world by women who hate
jaw. It said BB had fallen for G.B. husband. Jacques wasn’t going to let Brigitte Bardot. But with all due re­
It didn’t take anyone—including Be- the same thing happen to him. He spect to Madame Aubour and the mil­
caud’s wife—long to figure out what posted himself at the studio day after lions of ladies who can do without
was going on. day to keep tabs on the love scenes. France’s sex kitten, many other people
Becaud was forced to publicly de­ say there is a lot more to Brigitte
nounce his love for Brigitte. His re­ However, after he had interfered Bardot than sex.
jection of her proved a severe emotional several times with the picture-making The Bardot appeal is not merely a
jolt for La Bardot. It pricked her bal­ Jacques was tossed off the set by the matter of her eye-pleasing contours; it
looned ego. Brigitte tried to lose her director. So Jacques decided to teach comes in large part from her para­
depression in sleep. She swallowed a the director a lesson; he went home and doxical personality. Noted French au­
barbiturate. In minutes a soft, sweet tried to kill himself. Then the director’s thor Simone de Beauvoir once made
wave of drowsiness caressed her wife tried to kill herself, saying she this critical appraisal of the actress:
troubled mind. She swallowed another thought her husband was in love with “People who know BB speak of her
tablet, then another. Staggering from Brigitte because he got rid of Jacques. amiable disposition, her kindness and
her dressing room, her behavior The person hurt most by this epi­ her youthful freshness. She is neither
alarmed her friends and they took her demic of attempted suicides was silly nor scatterbrained, and her natu­
home where she recovered. Her friends Brigitte. In desperation she fled Paris ralness is not an act. It is nevertheless
covered for her by issuing a statement and went off to the quiet village of Les striking that recent articles which pre­
to the studio and press that Brigitte had Cabrolles. There she found a shoulder tend to reveal the real BB mention only
suffered food poisoning. to cry on and instantly felt better. But her edifying traits of character.
Once well again, Brigitte tried to for­ not for long. Jacques punched the head “Brigitte, we are told again and again,
get Becaud by making time with on that consoling shoulder, which be­ is just a simple girl. She loves animals
Climax

debonaire dramatic actor Raf Vallone, longed to Sam Frey (Brigitte’s new and adores her mother. She is devoted
who was then appearing on the Paris leading man, naturally), when he to her friends, she suffers from the hos­
stage in Arthur Miller’s A View From caught them leaving a bistro together. tility she arouses, she repents of her
the Bridge. Never concerned with such For Brigitte Bardot now, life was caprices, she means to mend her ways.
 “These are excuses for her lapses: “They think I am the same kind of

*YEllO
fame and fortune came too suddenly, girl off-screen that I am on,” Brigitte
they turned her head, but she is coming says. “They don’t realize that all I want
to her senses. In short, we are wit­ out of life is what any normal girl
nessing a veritable rehabilitation . . wants: love, a family, happiness.
Another school of thought declares “They think making films is a lark.

BOU
that Brigitte needs no rehabilitation, Look at my face, look at my hair, look
that she is perfect just the way she at my eyes. Look at what the hot
is. Leave her alone, these disciples lights have done to me. I work very
scream; for only in her do they find a hard for what I have.
matchless combination of sensuality and “Some people say I am not a very
femininity. good actress. Maybe so. But I have not smokes sweetest
There’s no disputing that Brigitte pro­ had very much chance to act. Mostly
jects these characteristics with terrific I have had to undress. That is not act­ because it’s caked witl
impact. They have made her a living ing, and I know it. I would like to be
legend both on screen and off. a good actress. A good actress lasts and

HONEY
For in private life Brigitte is still a sex appeal does not.
smouldering siren who cannot resist "What I need more than anything is
being a female in every sense of the real affection. I need to feel it and to
word — temperamental, unpredictable, give it.” Then she adds quite frankly,
changeable. Listen to a friend’s de­ “I need a man in my house, a man
scription of a date with BB: around me all the time. It is no more
“We were supposed to meet at the complicated than that.”
opera,” the friend said. “Brigitte ar­ Brigitte’s candor and sensuality are
rived, charming, only slightly late. ‘You alarming to women. They feel hu­
know,’ she said, ‘when I think of it, miliated and degraded by her out­
opera is very boring. I think we would spoken ways, and by her beauty. And
be better off having a snack at Les they fear her influence on their men.
Halles (the Paris food markets). Some­ Naturally men are captivated by
body told me of a small bar there.’ Brigitte’s seductiveness, but that hardly
“So we leave for Les Halles. We ma­ means they are all kindly disposed to pure sweet honey.
neuver like a channel pilot to park the her. Frenchmen, for the most part, hold J It starts sweet,
car right in front of the restaurant. We to the precept that a woman who gives smokes sweet, stays
walk inside and sit down. But no sooner
does she stick her nose into the menu
up her feminine wiles automatically
loses her sex appeal. A woman who
4 sweet. It’s extra
mild, too. Because
than Brigitte thinks out loud: ‘Well, you
know, the opera . . . I’m sorry now. We
wears pants puts a chill on their de­
sires. But Brigitte destroys that con­
fl a permanent filter
protects your
could have come here after. How about
going back there? Oh, yes. Let’s go!’
cept. Whether she wears pants or not,
she arouses desires. And that is an fl tongue against
tars, irritants.
“ ‘But by the time we get there, it irritant to most Frenchmen for it chal­
will be right in the middle of the second lenges their role as lord and master
act,’ I say. of their women.
“ ‘That doesn’t make any difference. Furthermore, in the game of love
Who gives a damn?’ which Brigitte plays with reckless
“So, we go back to the opera, it’s in abandon on screen and off, she is as
the middle of the second act. We dis­ much the pursuer as the pursued. That
turb twenty persons to get to our seats, is the most painful wound the French
then settle down to watch the stage. masculine pride must bear. The French­ $360
Fifteen minutes later in a small voice, man cannot tolerate the fact that when Yello-
she says: ‘Oh it’s pretty bad. I’m bored. he takes BB in his arms, she is sizing
Let’s get the hell out of here. I’m him up, too.
hungry.’ ” Brigitte’s success has been based on
French newspapers refer to Brigitte two basic Gallic movie traditions, the Write Dept. Y6 for free booklet on pipe smoking
as “the eternal woman-child.” And enfante terrible and the femme fatale. YELLO-BOLE PIPES, INC., New York 22, N.Y.
there is a childishness about her—her
pouting lips, long, disheveled tresses,
and her seemingly endless search for
new playmates, as if she would like to
embrace everyone in the world. But
perhaps Brigitte’s most strikingly child­
like characteristic is that she is a crea­
ture of instinct who yields to her im­
pulses with blind abandon and tragic
intensity.
She is gripped by the fever of living
and a passion for the absolute. To her,
death is always imminent, only a step
away.
Reflecting the credo of so many young
people in this frightening era of atomic
and hydrogen bombs, Brigitte Bardot
seems opposed to traditional mores. Im­
patient and easily irritated, she cannot
live on hope, and she has no faith in
the future.
“I must resemble the whole of my
generation, and that’s why they have
adopted me so nicely,” Brigitte says.
On men she says, “I need absolute,
overwhelming, jealous love. Good looks
and sex appeal are not important to me.
A man has to have a soul, that’s all.
If I am in love with somebody I don’t
care if he is young or old or beautiful.”
To those of the old guard who view
the new generation with disdain for
having forsaken the philosophy of
their elders, Brigitte is deplorably
earthy and materialistic. They say she
“springs from and expresses the im­
morality of an age.” (The young reply
quite simply that immorality is ageless.)
 By artfully combining the ingenue and color may not be able to understand tined to fail like her others had.
vamp types, Brigitte has achieved cine­ why Brigitte suffers so. But one thing Brigitte Bardot is one of the most
ma immortality. Her unruly golden is certain, as she herself has said more unpredictable, most unstable, most un­
hair, dimpled cnin, petulant mouth and than once: “I cannot live without love.” tamed women God has created. Her
dreamy hazel eyes give her a baby­ And therein may lie her tragedy. ego and libido are so complex that only
doll appearance. Add to this her ex­ Love in every form, tender and tor­ a highly skilled psychiatrist would have
pressionless features and her come- rid, faithful and fickle, real and fancied, a fighting chance to analyze her with
hither look, the symmetrical body with has surrounded the sultry sex kitten any degree of accuracy. She is a sex
its roller coaster curves and catiskc nearly every moment of her life; but kitten treading in a cage of conflicts,
grace, and you have the enfant fatale she still must search for the right man, foundering between egotism and a sense
Bardot. the true love she yearns to find. of inferiority, elation and dejection,
Yet Brigitte realizes that though she Even in Jacques Charrier, who repre­ poor sense and logic—and an intense
is beautiful and worshipped by mil­ sented a new frontier of manhood to yearning for love.
lions, she still is sad, lonely and strange­ Brigitte because he was “unspoiled and If she ever finds her one lasting love,
ly adrift. gentle in nature” and had all the quali­ perhaps the door will swing open and
The average male who has drooled ties of a jealous lover to fulfill her re­ Brigitte Bardot will exit her cage. If
over the peeled pelt of Brigitte Bardot quirements, Brigitte has found disap­ she doesn’t, her next suicide attempt
on the wide screen in glorious Techni­ pointment. Their marriage was des­ may spell fini for BB. * the end

Murder For A Nude Nymph continued from page 39

mainland. Germaine and other nudists
positively identified it as Pierre’s.
The gendarmerie converged on Port
Pierre kept on drinking, ignoring his The fisherman threw on a robe, hur­ Cros, and searched every millimeter of
theory that human emotions are pit­ ried to the Hotel de la Reserve and the small island, but Pierre was not
falls. His eyes were misty with senti­ telephoned the police in the town of La there. Most baffling was the question
mental tears and he felt a sense of loss. Seyne. of how he had departed the island with­
Slowly but surely his self-pity became Fifteen minutes later, Commissioner out his kayak. The search continued.
anger. His brow darkened, his eyes Renee Curty arrived, along with two Germaine did not attend the camp
narrowed, his beard almost bristled. other police officers and a doctor. in the summer of 1960. The tragedy
Finally Pierre staggered to the bar Dazedly, Germaine led them to the spot still affected her, so she vacationed on
and fastened bleary eyes on Michel where her fiance lay dead. the beach at Toulon even though it
Boroto, the bartender. “Tell me.” Joy­ By this time the camp was aroused meant being burdened with a Bikini.
eux said, “have you ever lost the love and the officials found themselves sur­ On October 1, 1960, a group of hikers
of your life?” rounded by a chattering group of un­ were trudging up a mountain near
“Often,” Boroto said cheerfully. “And dressed men and women. Cassis, a region situated between Tou­
I tell you, it’s easier than losing your “Will you return to your quarters,” lon and Marseilles. As they emerged
wife.” requested the commissioner. “I must from the woods into a small clearing,
Pierre considered this and announced think, and you people disturb my men­ one of them spotted a man lying be­
it was cynical. Then, he asked: “Have tal processes.” neath a tree. At his side were a rifle
you ever killed a man?” Germaine swore that Pierre was the and a half-filled box of ammunition.
“No, and if I had I wouldn’t discuss murderer. She had recognized his voice As the hikers drew nearer they ob­
it with the customers.” when he had called out. had seen him served that the man wore a luxuriant
“Give me another rum,” Pierre de­ fleeing after the shot had been fired. black beard. One of them bent down
clared. “I have resolved to indulge in “But I don’t think you will ever find and made an additional observation:
a sensual experience.” him.” she said. “He must have taken There was a neatly drilled hole in the
“Good,” said the amiable barkeep. “I his kayak. That devil knows every inch man’s temple.
trust she is pretty.” of this coast and can live off fish and The hikers reversed their march
“This doesn’t concern a girl,” Pierre seaweed.” down the mountain. Within the hour,
informed him. “It has to do with a Commissioner Curty was more opti­ Commissioner Curty, a doctor and other
gun.” mistic. He had Germaine driven to her officials were on the scene. The doctor
Pierre drained his glass and strode home in Toulon, then he ordered a estimated that the man had been dead
from the bar. When he reached the guard placed at her house until Pierre for approximately two weeks. There
nudist camp he did not remove his was captured. A general alarm was was an empty .22-caliber shell in the
clothing. Instead, he picked up the .22 issued to the coastal patrol to search breech of the rifle. And the dead man.
rifle which he used for hunting rabbits, the immediate Mediterranean area. For Commissioner Curty noticed, answered
loaded it, and approached the tent two days no sign of Pierre was re­ the description of Pierre Joyeux.
where Germaine and Robert were ported. Then the Toulon-based French The body, the rifle and the box of
sleeping. fleet utilized its anti-submarine units in ammunition were toted down the moun­
Robert’s head was resting on Ger­ an attempt to pick up Pierre’s kayak tainside and transported to the mor­
maine’s ample bosom when a shout out­ on their radar screen. At the same tuary at Marseille. Germaine Sciorella
side the tent awakened him. “Robert! time, more than two hundred gen­ and Pierre’s mother were sent for.
Come out. I want to talk to you. It’s darmes were deployed along the sandy Weeping as they gazed at the cold,
urgent.” coast. bearded face on the bleak slab, they
Germaine stirred in her lover’s arms. A week after the killing a fisherman identified the corpse as Pierre Joyeux.
“It’s Pierre,” she said sleepily. “What sighted, in the moonlight, a small boat “He was always a peculiar boy,” was
does he want?” containing a single figure. He called Mrs. Joyeux’ understatement. “Al­
“I don’t know.” Robert yawned. “But the gendarmes who converged, rifles at ways unhappy and disturbed. I hope he
I’ll talk to him. I know how he feels." the ready. As a powerful searchlight has found peace at last.”
He got up and strode out into the sent its beams over the water, a voice Germaine was forgiving. “He killed
night. In the waning moonlight, he saw suddenly cried, “Don’t shoot! It’s the my angel, but, somehow, I still care for
Pierre Joyeux raise the rifle, pull the admiral!” him. I could never really hate him.
trigger . . . Indeed, it was retired Admiral La Once, his philosophy impressed me.
Germaine sprang from bed and Coste, a moonlight-fishing addict. He Even now, I don’t know whether he
opened the tent-flap in time to see was justifiably annoyed at the inter­ killed Robert because he was jealous
Pierre, rifle in hand, running down the ruption of his evening’s sport. or because of the sensual thrill it must
hill toward the beach. Lying on the But the Paris publisher of Joyeux’ have given him.”
grass, his face covered with blood, lay book was delighted. The story of the
Robert Bessoudo. She rushed at his nudist camp murder had been splashed Pierre Joyeux was buried in un­
side, lifted his head and spoke to him. across the front pages of the Parisian consecrated ground. Germaine still
He did not answer. press and Pierre’s book was selling like works as a fashion model, still young
Still nude, she ran to the house of French postcards. The publisher was and beautiful but not unaffected by the
the fisherman, Duchaussois. The pound­ making a fortune. Unhappily, Pierre events in her past.
ing at his door awakened him and he did not appear to collect his royalties. Two questions remain unanswered.
opened it to see a voluptuous woman The hue and cry along the coast con­ How did Pierre manage to cross eight
with blood on her face looking like a tinued for some five months but there miles of water from Port Cros to the
Climax

pornographic nightmare. was no trace at all of Pierre Joyeux mainland without his kayak? And did
“Get the police,” Germaine cried. until April, when his kayak was found he experience that glorious sensual
“He’s killed my angel.” She collapsed in a secluded cove on the island of emotion when he murdered himself?
on the threshold. Port Cros. about eight miles off the * THE END
“Do you have a score to settle with the Bennett cabled: STORY GOOD BUT
Tartars?” WHAT DID YOU DO FOR ENTIRE
“Score to settle? Hell, no! I just want DAY IN HAREM?
to get a story.” When MacGahan didn’t reply, Ben­
It’s hardly surprising that the Rus­ nett docked him a day’s salary, on the
sians shook their heads and dubbed grounds that no man deserved pay for
Januarius Aloysius MacGahan “The such a day!
Crazy American.” However, they inter­
posed no objections to his plans for
committing suicide. If he wanted to get
MacGahan returned to Moscow to
find that accounts of his daredevil ac­
tions had preceded him. He was wined
SCANDINAVIANS
killed, that was his business. and dined by the Russian nobility, and
When the final attack on the walled
city began on June 9, 1873, MacGahan
especially by Russian noblewomen.
Very possibly they were intrigued and
A GREAT NEW LINE
rode with the leading unit, his Colt six- eager to find out the answer to the same OF QUALITY PIPES
gun clutched in his fist. question that had bothered James Gor­ These pipes are imported from Den­
Turbaned tribesmen lined the six- don Bennett. A man who could spend
an entire day in a harem and come out mark—the center of modern design
foot-thick walls, firing from the battle­
ments, raking the Cossack ranks. A on his own feet was a man worth —and combine ALL of the fea­
troop rode for one of the giant gates knowing! tures that make possible the
in the wall, which had been partially Czar Alexander II also heard about achievement of new
breached by the Russians’ direct fire the gallant American newspaperman
from 12-pound field guns. and invited him to St. Petersburg. The heights in your smok­
Cossacks’ sabers clanged against Mo­ Czar was captivated by MacGahan’s ing pleasure.
hammedan swords and scimitars as perfect manners, broad education and
MacGahan steered his galloping horse quick wit. In fact, Alexander wanted to
into the midst of the hand-to-hand award Januarius a medal for his part
combat at the gate. Once inside, he in the Khiva operation, but MacGahan
opened up with his Colt, dropping one had to turn this down. In those days,
tribesman. To his left a Cossack spun the U.S. Congress refused to approve
off his horse, and MacGahan avenged acceptance of foreign medals by Ameri­
his death by killing the Tartar who had can citizens. The Czar got around this
split the Russian’s skull. by issuing an official decree designating
When his Colt was empty the war MacGahan a molodyetz, a Russian
correspondent reloaded and spurred his national hero.
mount forward, yelling, “Come on, fol­ MacGahan could have stayed in Rus­
low me!” sia and lived well for the rest of his
The Cossacks poured through the gate life. He was offered titles and posts, ★ HANDCUT BY DANISH CRAFTSMEN
by the dozens but MacGahan had been business opportunities and appoint­
first! ments, but at 29 he was already an old + MADE FROM GENUINE CORSICA
Savage fighting raged through the fire horse. When he sniffed danger and BRIAR
city for hours. And in the thick of it excitement, he had to be in the middle * MODERN MASCULINE STYLING
was MacGahan, cursing because there of whatever was brewing.
was no way he could send his “big His next adventure was covering the ★ FULL SIZE, LIGHT WEIGHT
story” to the Herald. Spanish Civil War. MacGahan’s reports, + COOL MELLOW AND LONG-LAST­
When the city was secured and only written in the midst of battle in the ING SMOKING
mopping-up operations continued, Mac­ Pyrenees, filled the front pages of the ★ NO BREAKING-IN PERIOD
Gahan headed for the prison. There, he Herald. He covered the war and Europe
saw the liberation of more than 45,000 until he was called home to accompany At last here is a handmade quality pipe
slaves, mostly Russians who had been an Arctic expedition being organized at an unbelievably low price and each
kidnapped in raids or taken prisoner and financed by his newspaper. pipe is guaranteed not to burn through.
during battles and locked in cellars The expedition was a flop by This is a pipe any pipesmoker will be
and dungeons. After a while MacGahan Januarius MacGahan’s standards. It was proud to add to his collection, for not
left the liberation task to the Russians. too tame and too comfortable. only do they smoke better—they also
He had bigger ideas. “It was colder in the Pyrenees, more look better—and cost less.
Still untaken was the strongest dangerous in Paris and more fun any­ Every day more and more men turn to
bastion in all Khiva, the palace of the where else!” he told Bennett on his re­ pipesmoking for more satisfaction and
Khan. It was a castlelike complex of turn to New York. “You handed me a economy—why don’t you?
thick-walled buildings, one of which sissy job, an assignment that a cub re­
was the Khan’s fabled harem, in which porter could have handled.'” SELECT ANY OF
95
he was reported to have more than 500
incredibly beautiful women.
Now, if there was anything that
Januarius liked more than fighting and
The expedition had been one of Ben­
nett’s pet projects and he resented the
outspoken criticism. The two men quar­
reled, and MacGahan quit.
THE THREE EXCITING
MODELS FOR ONLY 5 EA.

writing, it was women. Oddly enough, he didn’t go to work

He slipped away from the Cossacks for another U.S. paper, although all the
and made for the harem. To his sur­ large ones made him excellent offers.
prise, he found the Khan’s palace un­ Instead, he went to England and went
defended. Seeing that defeat was in­ to work for the London Daily News at a
evitable, the guards had deserted. reported £4,000 per year—then worth
“I saw a gorgeous young girl of about about $20,000 and a staggering salary.
eighteen,” he said later. “She stared One of the first places the News sent
at me in silent appeal for help. Never him was back to Moscow, where he was
before had I so regretted being ignorant received with all the honors and adula­
of a language as I was at that moment. tion due a molodyetz. There were revo­
But I understood the message in her lutionary rumblings in Russia and Czar
eyes and followed her. . . ” Alexander was trying to stop a rebel­
MacGahan talked and wrote like that, lion before it started. He conferred
when he wasn’t punctuating his sen­ often with his favorite American, ask­
tences with cuss words. ing his advice about reforms. —OR TAKE ALL 3 FOR ONLY $1595
Late the next day, Russian troops got “He was my good friend and I valued For immediate delivery send
around to checking on the palace. A de­ his counsel,” the Czar stated later. check or money order to:
tachment entered the harem to be met “Many of the reforms I instituted were
by none other than the “Crazy Ameri­ suggested by him.” DAN-PIPES
can,” who calmly announced that he But reforms weren’t enough. The Dept. C-61
Climax

had liberated all the women there. Russian throne rested on shaky founda­ P.O. Box 39026
Whether their number was 500 or five tions; something more than a few ran­ Cincinnati 39, Ohio
MacGahan never said. Much later, after dom liberalizations and changes was
his accounts of the capture of Khiva needed to shore up the crumbling Full satisfaction—or your money back
reached the Herald, James Gordon structure.
 Whether he did it knowingly or acci­ the staid British public had never read been chopped off and their eyes poked
dentally, MacGahan provided the props. such graphic accounts of rape, torture out . .
In the 1870s, the map of Europe and mass-murder as now began to ap­ As soon as the Western world’s press
looked much different than it does now. pear on the front pages of the Daily reprinted the stories, a storm of pro­
For centuries, much of the area known News. test broke around Disraeli. He had to
as the Balkans had been under tyran­ His dispatches went into clinical de­ do an about-face, stating that he would
nical Turkish rule. Bulgaria, Monte­ tail about sexual assaults on Bulgarian not support the Turks if Russia de­
negro, Serbia and Rumania were under women, the methods the Turks used to clared war on them.
Turkish domination, and Turkey was dismember and mutilate their victims’ His successor, W. E. Gladstone, de­
ruled by the ruthless Sultan Abdul corpses, and the condition of bodies that clared in 1880: “The Daily News and
Hamil II. had decayed or had been half-eaten by its correspondent, the American Mac­
As early as 1875, there were flareups dogs. Gahan, destroyed Disraeli.”
of revolt in the Balkans. To crush them, Such things mean little today in a With the British threat out of the
the Sultan sent tens of thousands of world that has read of concentration way, the Russians swung into action,
soldiers to spread terror, death and camps and death factories and has gone declaring war on Turkey on April 24,
destruction in the unreliable areas. through two global wars. But 80 years 1877. MacGahan was in St. Petersburg
A huge Turkish army was sent into ago, Britishers were shocked and horri­ when the Czar issued the proclamation,
Bulgaria and massacre followed mas­ fied out of their wits to read such pas­ “MacGahan’s war” is what the know­
sacre. The death toll rose to more than sages as these: ing courtiers around the Czar called it
50,000 within the first few weeks. “Beneath our horses’ feet was a heap And it was. from start to finish. He’d
Many of the big wheels around the of skulls, intermingled with bones from laid the groundwork for it, removed the
Czar saw a golden opportunity in the all parts of the human body, human obstacles that stood in its way, and
situation. A war against Turkey to help hair, putrid flesh, lying there in one practically ran it from there on.
liberate the Balkan countries would foul heap and emitting a stench like By Imperial decree, Januarius Mac­
make an ideal noble cause that would that of a dead horse. It was here that Gahan was given the right to go
unite the Russian people and take their the dogs had been eating . . . wherever he pleased with the Russian
minds off their own troubles. “I heard stories about little babies armies, and all commanders in the field
“But we don’t dare attack Turkey,” being carried around by Turkish bashi- were directed to give him every con­
the opposing faction in the Russian bazouks, spitted on bayonets, their in­ sideration and courtesy. What was far
Court advised. “The British might come testines festooning the rifle barrels . . . more important to Januarius, the Czar
in on the side of the Turks, against us.” “The Turkish troops ripped open decreed that no dispatches could be
MacGahan set out on a daring one- pregnant women and killed their un­ sent from the war front by any other
man campaign to solve the problem. born children . . .” correspondent until MacGahan had sent
That he succeeded—and how he went The Daily News played these dis­ his! It was the greatest break ever given
about achieving his aims—remains one patches, which ran to many thousand a war correspondent, but no one can
of the most incredible chapters in mod­ words, for all they were worth. And deny that MacGahan had earned it.
ern history. they were worth plenty. The only criticism that might be
“I am leaving immediately for Bul­ English ladies glanced at the front leveled against the enterprising genius
garia,” he informed the London Daily pages and fainted dead away. British of journalism is that he chose the wrong
News in the summer of 1876. “I intend men turned green around the gills. instrument to smash the power of the
making a firsthand investigation of the However, all recovered and read the Turks. The Russian army was hopelessly
reports about Turkish atrocities and accounts to the end, and then went on inefficient and riddled with corruption,
massacres.” to read the editorials and nod in angry and its rank-and-file were almost as
The editors rubbed their hands with agreement when the paper demanded uncivilized and ruthless as their Turk­
glee, because the News had been fight­ that “Disraeli—friend of the Turkish ish enemy.
ing Prime Minister Disraeli tooth and monsters—must go!" But march off they did. with Mac­
nail. He was sympathetic to the Turks, MacGahan’s sensational stories kept Gahan, mounted on a white charger
and MacGahan’s Turkish campaign on coming, through July, August and and carrying his Navy Colt, leading the
could be the lever that would pry him September. Stepping up its campaign, way. He had asked for and been given
out of office. the News reprinted the goriest of the his own “private army,” a troop of
“File maximum-length dispatches dispatches in pamphlet form and dis­ Semipalatinsk Cossacks, among the
giving all details of horrors and atroci­ tributed them by the millions through­ fiercest and most fearless of all Cos­
ties you see,” they told the ace corres­ out the British Isles. sacks. His men revered him. He was as
pondent. “Leave out nothing, spare no “I saw the remains of pretty young brave as the bravest in their ranks, al­
expense. Write so that our readers will girls who had been literally raped to ways out in front, always in the thick of
see the blood, hear the screams of the death and then their bodies were battle.
dying and smell the corpses.” stacked upon the altars of the churches Yet more important than victory was
Unquestionably, the Turks had perpe­ and there burned . . . getting the story of the battle on its
trated ghastly horrors in Bulgaria, but “Little children, whose hands have way to London.
At Trom, the spectacular journalist
solved his problem by writing out his
dispatch on leaves torn from a pocket
notebook.
“I want you to select ten of our best
| WASHERS • DRYERS | men.” he told the Cossack NCO. “I
have a special mission for them.”
The Cossacks thought they wele be­
ing sent on a patrol. Instead, MacGahan
gave them a packet of papers and a
scrawled message to the commander
of the main Russian body.
“General, we’ve taken Trom,” the
note read. “Please see that these dis­
patches are sent by military telegraph
immediately. I trust that you will give
your personal attention to this matter.”
Although the cocky little American
meant nothing personally offensive by
the note, the Russian general didn’t see
things in the same light. He considered
the tone of the note insulting. He re­
membered how well the American stood
with the Czar, however, and sent the
dispatch. But MacGahan had made an
enemy.
The general got even soon thereafter,
during the siege of Plevna. Plevna was
the anchor of the entire Turkish de­
Climax

fense in Bulgaria. It was Khiva all

over again—with one big difference:
“She asked for a demonstration.** The city's defenders weren’t tribes­
men armed with muzzle-loading rifles.
They were highly trained and disci­ throne of Bulgaria.
plined troops equipped with fairly “You saved our lives and gave us
our freedom,” the head of the delega­ at last a complete, modern guide to lasting
modern weapons.
The Russian advance on Plevna tion declared. “We want you to be our mutual sexual happiness for all couples.
bogged down in a morass of inefficiency. king.”
A reporter first, MacGahan filed stories Czar Alexander supported this plan
and sent MacGahan a letter by special
Illustrated
exposing the situation and sent them
over the military telegraph for relay to
London. The messages were brought
to the army commander’s attention. He
seized the opportunity for revenge,
courier urging him to accept the crown.
What the Ohioan replied to the Czar
is not known. It is known that he
politely but firmly turned down the
SEX FACTS BY OR. A. WILLY.
ordering MacGahan arrested on a Bulgarian delegation’s offer. OR. L VANDER,
OR. O. FISHER
charge of “spreading subversion and “Oh, hell!” he later remarked to AND OTHER
revolutionary propaganda.” British diplomat Walter Baring who AUTHORITIES
Januarius was tossed into a filthy was with him in Constantinople. “I
peasant hovel and told that the gen­ suppose I’d really like to be a king,
eral had blanket authorization from the but I’m just a war correspondent. I’ll Available
Czar to shoot anyone “out of hand and never be anything but a reporter.” in this
without formality of trial” if he was In June of that same year, he became Country
found “disseminating revolutionary ill. The hardships and the exertions of for the
propaganda.” the previous nine years had taken their
The order superseded all other direc­ toil of his frail constitution. Although first time
tives. But Januarius was no longer the he wasn’t yet 34, he had no resistance
brash and impulsive youth he had been to disease. The miracle was that he had
when he called General St. Vaudant stayed healthy so long. THIS GIANT
an “ignorant bastard” in somewhat The best medical help available was SIZE BOOK CONTAINS
similar circumstances eight years be­ mustered to cure him. But it was 1878,
fore. and little was known about typhoid. HUNDREDS OF AUTHENTIC,
This time, he went before the Rus­ Also, there were complications. Despite ENLIGHTENING ILLUSTRATIONS
sian commander and apologized pro­ everything that could be done, his con­ —many in life-like color.
fusely. Then he made a deal that saved dition rapidly grew worse.
his neck. On June 7, he sank into a coma, Now available to the public in this country, for the first time,
is this big guide to modern married sex practice- Written and
“I promise 1’11 send stories back to came out of it briefly the next day, said illustrated by the most noted physicians and medical artists on
Moscow that will make you look like a few words and again lost conscious­ sexual enlightenment. See and read how you can acquire endur­
ing, harmonious married love by means of hundreds of ex­
the greatest of all generals and the ness. On June 9, shortly before dawn, clusive, authentic pictures (many in true-to-life color), plus
detailed step-by-step instructions written frankly and simply.
bravest of men,” he promised. “In ex­ he died. This complete, large book includes important NEW informa­
change, you’ll drop the charges against His death went almost unnoticed in tion and illustrations never released here before. This book is
a frank, straightforward presentation of facts to satisfy mature
me.” his native country. The New York interest in the sex functions of the human male and female.
The officer agreed that it had all been Herald ran a brief item about its Gives the most helpful authoritative guidance on sex problems
of every kind — both abnormal as well as normal. Clearly
a terrible mistake; MacGahan was “former correspondent” and published understand and see the physiology and functions of the sex
back on the team. a short biography. Other American organs of both male and female. Many troubled men and
women have found a new,.happy married sex life and new con­
Januarius lived up to his promise— papers, for the most part, ignored his fidence in themselves by reading "The Illustrated Encyclo­
to a point. When the Russians finally death completely. pedia of Sex.” Sells for $5.00 — but it is yours for the amazing
low friend-winning price of only $2.98. This offer good for a
organized the siege of Plevna and over­ It was a far different story in Europe. limited time only. Mail coupon NOW!
whelmed the Turks, he was among the The London Daily News ran a black Partial List of 61 Big Chapters. Each a “Book" in Itself.
first into the city. Then he started to border on its front page. In Russia, the • Techniques that bring • Natural birth control
write. Czar decreed a day of mourning. In complete gratification to the
sex act for male and female
• New discoveries in birth
control
He wrote not only of the savagery Bulgaria, the mourning period was set • What causes climax in • Woman’s fertile days
women • Causes of sex drive in women
and atrocities of the Turks but he also at a week. Special masses were ordered • Blunders made by men in sex • Female frigidity, its causes
described the stupidities of the Russian for him in Spain. Newspapers every­ act. How to avoid them and cures
• Technique of first sex act on • Causes and cures for sexual
command. He wrote with an acid pen where on the Continent published long bridal night impotence in men
about the callous indifference of the tributes to this fabulous American. • Why woman fails to attain • Abnormal sex organs and
climax what can be done
Russians to the plight of the Bulgarians Friends, among them the British • Husband and wife attaining * How to correct male's
who had managed to stay alive inside diplomat Walter Baring, arranged for mutual climax
• How male organs function
premature climax
• Delaying sex life’s finish
the city. MacGahan’s burial in Turkey, and a in intercourse • Male changes of life and its
“The Russians are making no at­ simple marble slab was erected on Mac­ • How female sex organs
function in intercourse
effect
• Causes and treatment of
tempt to feed, clothe or house the pitiful Gahan’s grave. • How sexual urge in woman male and female sterility
masses of half-starved, disease-ridden “The freedom of four nations from differs from man
• Woman’s perfect complete
♦ Feminine self-satisfaction
• Causes of sexual urge in men
humanity,” he revealed. “Hundreds are slavery is his monument,” was the sexual satisfaction • How sex activity affects
dying daily. Half-decayed corpses are inscription. • How to derive perfection in
sexual act
weight of male and female
• How to use preparatory love
lying everywhere, withered hands and Within the next few years, more than • Reactions of man and woma towards greater satisfaction
putrescent masses of flesh that were 20 statues and monuments to Mac­ during sexual relations
compared
in sex act
Just a few of hundreds
once faces are to be seen wherever one Gahan’s memory were erected in Bul­ • The truth about sex vitamin of frank, enlightening
that improve sexual powers
looks. No attempt is being made to bury garian cities and towns. Still, he was illustrated instructions!
the dead, save the dying or care for all but forgotten in America. Then, Partial List of Illustrations with Authentic Color Pictures!
those who might be made to live . . .” after an Ohio state senator toured Bul­ Male Sex Organs
Showing functions of male
• Cross Section of the Hymen
in various stages
He outfoxed the general by address­ garia in 1883, that state’s legislature sex organ • Cross Section Showing Cause
ing the dispatches to the Czar himself, appropriated money to bring Mac­ 'Illustrating effects on breasts
after pregnancy
of Women’s sexual ills
with an added request that “His Majesty Gahan’s body home and to build a Showing areas of woman’s • Picture Story of normal
Sexuality in male
order one of his aides to relay these monument to his memory in New Lex­ organs producing highest
sensations • Picture Story of Woman’s
accounts to the London Daily News as ington, county seat of MacGahan’s Watch step-by-step growth Sensation Curve
of child in pregnancy
expeditiously as possible.” native Perry County. Complete Color Picture
• Picture Story of most
important cause of impotence
The Czar chuckled, saw to it that When the Communists took over Bul­ Story of Woman’s Sex • Two Inserts of Female
Organs
the American’s dispatches were sped garia after World War II, they ordered Pictorial Story of Woman’s
Bodies showing how
pregnancy takes place
on their way to England—and then be­ all the statues and memorials to Mac­ “SAFE” days
• Picture Story of Cause of ... plus many more
gan reshuffling his high command. Gahan destroyed and his name re­ Sterility in women pictured instructions
With the fall of Plevna, Bulgaria’s moved from all history books.
liberation was practically complete, and So today, ironically enough, the only FsEN D-No"m'onTyTFReF10 DAYTRiArcoilPOH1
the Russian forces concentrated on the monument to Januarius Aloysius j CADILLAC PUBLISHING, Dept. F-890 !
Turkish capital, Constantinople. MacGahan is the one at New Lexington, ’ 220 Fifth Avenue, New York 1, New York
In the meantime, the Bulgarians Ohio, U.S.A. * THE END • Send me “The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Sex” in plain .
established an emergency caretaker | wrapper marked “personal.” I will pay postman $2.98, I
government. One of the first acts of this ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★A plus postage on delivery (sells for $5.00). If not com-
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government was to proclaim Januarius । my money will ba refunded. I am over 21.
Aloysius MacGahan “The Liberator of INVEST IN | NAME------------------------------------------------------------------- —- ।
Bulgaria,” an official title which was

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Climax

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 THE
CINEMA L.-r., Miriam Colon, Ren Johnson, Sam Gilman and Marlon Brando in One-Eyed lacks.

MARLON BRANDO, probably Holly­ kill Dad, Rio includes Louisa in his
wood’s finest actor, has attempted to vengeful plans. During the fiesta the
make a “quality” Western. He starred, next night he seduces her. In the morn­

SCENE directed and his company produced

One-Eyed Jacks, a picture with probing
characterizations and a statement about
mankind. The film seems to say that
ing he coldly tells her he lied and
admits, “I shamed you,” crushing the
girl. Then Rio says, with feeling, “And
I wish to God I hadn’t”—which comes
hate, no matter how understandable, right out of left field. For at this point
leads only to disaster, but that it can be we know only Rio the professional
overcome by love and lead the hate- woman-shamer. In fact, except for his
“PATTERNS OF SEX AND LOVE: A filled man to ultimate inward peace. earlier willingness to sacrifice himself
Study of the Frenchwoman and Her This is a pertinent theme for our for Dad, Rio has been a complete
Morals.” That’s the title of the Gallic troubled times. Unfortunately, the scoundrel. Yet we are supposed to ac­
answer to our Kinsey Report, and it’s Pennebaker Production, produced by cept this sudden crucial change in Rio’s
the basis for Love and the French­ Frank Rosenberg and released by Para­ character. Well, it takes more than a
woman, a titillating film that gaily mount, fails because Mr. Brando’s love line of dialogue to make it believable.
brings alive the facts of French life in a scenes, upon which the action hinges, But neither Mr. Brando the star nor
series of witty, poignant vignettes. Be­ are unconvincing. Mr. Brando the director gives us more,
ginning with Childhood—a how-to epi­ Despite this failing, One-Eyed Jacks, and the subsequent love scenes—and
sode on informing young innocents of in VistaVision and a beautiful, muted therefore the entire film—suffer for this
the truth about birds and bees—the Technicolor, is a motion picture to see. reason. It may be that the motivation
comedy situations gather speed and ma­ The characterizations alone are inter­ for Rio’s turnabout was lost when Jacks
turity as we see sex and the opposite esting enough to recommend it to a was cut from its original five-hour run­
sex handled by adolescents, virgins, large audience. ning time to its present two hours and
honeymooners, adulterers in an amusing The story runs like this. Having spent 21 minutes.
three-way love affair, divorcees, and five years in jail because his bank-rob­ The other performances are uniform­
lastly, bachelor girls finding the solution bing partner, Dad Longworth (Karl ly good, especially newcomer Pina Pel-
to their manless plight. The men in the Malden), betrayed him, Rio (Brando) licer’s, who is consistently restrained
audience will be especially pleased by rides into Monterey seeking vengeance. and often quite moving. But perhaps the
the adulterous behavior of captivating Dad is now the sheriff there and Rio is picture’s best feature is Karl Malden’s
Dany Robin, who may be remembered going to kill him, then rob the bank well-defined sheriff, a Judas so plagued
for her role opposite Kirk Douglas in with his former cellmate, Modesto by guilt that he brutally bullwhips Rio,
Act of Love. All in all, this is a frothy (Larry Duran), and a pair of bandits then breaks the gunman’s hand in an at­
romp which leaves little to the imagina­ they’ve picked up, played by Ben John­ tempt to mollify his own conscience.
tion as we are treated to love play and son and Sam Gilman. Since he has to Later, Rio says to the sheriff, “You’re
light patter a la Frangaise. Kingsley In­ wait a day for the bank to open, Rio a one-eyed Jack around here, but I’ve
ternational, distributors, and the pro- feigns friendship with the sheriff, saying seen the other side of your face.” The
fl ducers, Metzger and Woog. won’t make he got away the time Dad ran out on second side of Dad’s face is starkly
| headlines or a fortune with Love and him and that all is forgotten. credible; Rio’s is not, otherwise One-
the Frenchwoman, but they will make Dad now has a wife, Maria (Katy Eyed Jacks might have found itself in
film-goers happier for two hours and 23 Jurado), and a stepdaughter, Louisa the exemplary company of High Noon
minutes. —LOUIS SABIN (Pina Pellicer). Not satisfied to merely and Shane. —BERRY STAINBACK
 OPPORTUNITIES
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including DC-6s, DC-7s, Elec­ expert in all matters pertaining to
flight. When the FAA is haled into
tras and Constellations. He court and issue is taken with any of its BE FREE FROM TRUSS SLAVERY
knows about air safety. Al­ policies, then Congress gets its dander Surely you want to THROW AWAY
though he’s never been in­ TRUSSES FOREVER, be rid of Rupture Wor­
up because it considers criticism leveled ries. Then Why put up with wearing a griping,
volved in an accident, as Re­ against FAA as also directed at the men chafing and unsanitary truss. For there is now a
gional Safety Investigator for on the Hill who created the aviation new modern Non-Surgical treatment that is de­
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Climax

Non-Surgical treatments are so certain, that a

tion, Ed has had to study and some avoidable accidents could be laid Lifetime Certificate of Assurance is given.
report on many commerical at the door of Congress. However, this Write today for our New FREE Book that
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several aviation committees, publicly Excelsior Medical Clinic, Excelsior Springs, Mo.
 took the FAA and its policies to task. But it was not until a final fatal acci­ Instrument manufacturers honestly
After almost every accident the FAA, dent in 1959 that positive action was believe their equipment has been prop­
like its predecessor CAA, makes an an­ taken. Now there’s a newly installed erly researched and developed by their
nouncement about new developments to system of approach lights which has own technical people. But why take the
improve air safety. Shortly after the just become operational. manufacturer’s word for it? This equip­
Staten Island collision FAA announced LaGuardia air terminal’s runways ment should undergo more stringent
it was considering three moves: (1) still pose serious landing and take-off service testing by FAA which, in turn,
All high-speed aircraft operating in problems. This airport, built on swampy would tag it with its official certificate
high-density areas must carry distance­ ground, is constantly sinking. The air­ of approval and assume responsibility
measuring equipment; (2) All planes port operators have tried to remedy this for its acceptance.
with a take-off weight of 12,500 pounds situation by adding more fill to beef up Instead, pilots are saddled with the
must carry flight recorders; and (3) the soft spots. The result: somewhat problem when an instrument suddenly
lower speed limits for jet airliners op­ rough, bumpy and “wavy” runways. We goes haywire. We’ve learned to live
erating in terminal areas. The distance- have to make the best of it; for under with many of these malfunctions and,
measuring equipment, would inform a these marginal conditions we’ve con­ in most cases, we’ve learned how tn
pilot of his precise distance from cer­ tinued to fly bigger, heavier and faster cope with them provided it’s a single
tain ground stations. The flight record­ aircraft into LaGuardia. We can handle failure not compounded by a chain re­
ers, in addition to preserving data on this problem. But psychologically action breakdown of other instruments
air speed, altitude, heading and time, speaking, it’s quite a drain on any pilot. and devices. We know these malfunc­
would also record cockpit conversa­ We’re bucking the FAA today, and tions are bound to happen because the
tions, engine vibration, fuel flow, tem­ we’ve tangled a number of times with art of instrumentation is not perfect.
peratures, brake operations, flap and its predecessor, the CAA. During its But once an accident is blamed on a
gear positions, navigation signals re­ three years of existence the FAA has faulty altimeter which might have
ceived and other data. ruled on just about everything under given a pilot a false reading, or a mal­
On paper these steps sound logical the sun in the aviation field. It’s easy functioning air speed indicator that
enough. Nine weeks after the Staten for FAA to repudiate the air transporta- caused a deadly low altitude stall, how
Island collision FAA announced the do we explain to passengers that noth­
successful test of a three-dimensional ing on our cockpit instrument panel is
radar unit. Radar now in use indicates llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll infallible? The man on the street will
only a plane’s geographical position, not usually remark that a faulty cockpit
its altitude. That’s why LaGuardia air instrument can always be blamed for

CLIMAX
traffic controller Bill Smith could not an accident. Then there’s “human
immediately know there was any real error,” and more specifically “pilot er­
danger when he saw the radar blips ror,” that’s also been called the cause of
converging. This FAA announcement many a tragedy. A fatal crack-up more
about 3-D radar is five years and at often than not has been charged against
least 24 mid-air collisions too late. Why
then did FAA waste an extra year de­ July Issue a pilot, who, usually a fatality himself,
is not around to defend his actions.
Human error? Yes! Pilot error? Well,
veloping 3-D radar when early in 1957
and again in 1958 both the Navy and
Army announced they had developed
on sale May 30th we’re not infallible either!
Human error could be laid at the
and tested just such an air safety sys­ door of FAA and its often unrealistic
tem for use in high-speed aircraft oper­ iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii and impractical regulations which have
ations? What's more, the military unit contributed to some disasters. Take the
appears more efficient than the FAA’s. pilot, for example, and his multi-fold
James L. Anast. director of research tion system when the agency doesn’t responsibilities. He must have a level
for FAA, said his agency hoped to in­ have to bear responsibility for some of proficiency below which the airlines
stall 3-D radar at a major airport with­ of its rules. Take that recent announce­ dare not go to obtain captains and co­
in 18 months. Previous estimates had ment about more safety aids for air­ pilots.
put the first installation two to five craft as a prime example. If there had My routine is probably representa­
years away. Mr. Anast said the initial been no mid-air collision over Staten tive of an average pilot’s schedule. I
test of the FAA 3-D system took place Island, FAA would not have been make it a point to be well-rested before
on February 13, 1961. A slow 100 mph placed in the position of announcing every flight. I leave home with enough
Piper Cub, flying various patterns some plans for installing all types of new leeway to give me a good hour at the
20 miles from the airport, was picked devices to insure safer flights in the airport after I check in. During this
up on the radar within an accuracy of future. This equipment sounds like the hour I study weather and flight condi­
500 feet of its actual altitude. This Mr. answer to future tragedies. But FAA tions along the route, prepare my flight
Anast added, would be sufficient for won’t assume responsibility for the effi­ plan and cheek fuel loads which are im­
use in the present traffic control system, cient performance of this equipment. portant today to every pilot and his
which separates planes at 1,000 foot in­ FAA now certificates flights and employer. From management’s stand­
tervals. While the military-developed ground crews and aircraft. This includes point hauling too much fuel cuts into
3-D radar was tested on high-speed certificating airframes for structural in­ the payload. One of the things wc’rc
combat aircraft, the FAA “proved” its tegrity, engines for reliability and air paid for is knowing just how much fuel
point with a plane that first became and ground crews for proficiency. But is required for a safe trip without car­
popular when the present ATC system there’s no certification process—no posi­ rying any excess.
went into operation 23 years ago. tive vote-of-confidence certificate—on We’re also faced with a paperwork
Actually, 3-D radar was promised cockpit instruments. This is the basic problem. Studying the revisions and
way back in 1958 when General Elwood equipment we use daily—radios, alti­ operating procedures put out by FAA.
R. Quesada headed the new Federal meters, compasses and air speed indi­ the airline and the aircraft manufac­
Aviation Agency. He predicted 3-D cators. So they describe all types of turer takes up a lot of our time. I ran
radar and other automated safety de­ new safety devices after a mid-air a ten-year study of CAA and FAA
vices would be installed in the New collision once again has frightened the regulations of ATC system flight regula­
York area by 1960. Shortly before re­ public with an old problem. But FAA tions and discovered at least one re­
tiring from government service last won’t stand behind these devices or set vision a week running anywhere from
January, Quesada revised his predic­ up rigid service testing standards be­ one to ten, 15 or even 100 pages long.
tion. He said 1970 would be more like fore approval and use. Airline pilots earn their keep. We
it, at least for a nationwide semi-auto­ Instead FAA “supervises” instrumen­ know that the “calculated risk” con­
mated air traffic control system. His tation through what it calls a “Techni­ cept is an inherent part of our business.
changing estimates are similar to many cal Standard Order” whereby the in­ This concept is based upon the thinning
promises made to pilots over the years. struments and other cockpit safety, safety and error margin resulting from
Take LaGuardia airport for example. navigation or communication devices operating bigger, heavier and faster air­
We’ve been told about new improve­ must meet minimum standards. A craft within a traffic and transportation
ments that would be built into this air­ manufacturer can sell new cockpit system that has not kept pace with the
port and we’ve been watching the slow equipment to the airlines only if it swift development of aircraft. The
facelifting going on there for many meets the TSO standards. There it re­ newer and faster the plane, the greater
years. Our main complaint was LaGuar­ mains until it either breaks down or is additional knowhow and responsibili­
dia’s “Black Hole.” For years this “Black replaced by an improved model. Pro­ ties we must assume.
Climax

Hole” situation existed on the approach viding, of course, that the airline is We don’t take issue with the fact that
to Runway 22. Coming in over water willing to foot the bill for new cockpit air traffic controls possibly should be
for a landing, we had no proper ap­ equipment that’s not specifically re­ fully automated in the jet age. There
proach lighting to help us measure quired by FAA regulations, but is still are 17,000 air traffic controllers in this
depth and distance during night flights. a definite operational or safety aid. country working with nothing more
than a basic radarscope that locates an understand how each will react to a
aircraft’s position in relation to the specific problem or emergency. Does
ground. He’s bogged down in clerical the man on the ground know what the
paperwork that could be handled by pilot will do next? Will the pilot per­
automation. If he was freed from paper­ form as the air traffic controller expects
work he could devote himself entirely him to? There’s always a bookful of
to taking care of the more important regulations telling us what to do under
decisions concerning plane movements. specified emergency conditions. But
We pilots are at the other end of the there are so many people and regula­
line. If controller’s are overloaded, tions involved in the system that a
we’re overloaded. He’s fortunate in this breakdown could—and does—cripple
cooperative system, though. He’s safely any positive action. Moreover, pilots are
on the ground while we may be travel­ the last people to argue with air traffic
ing 600 miles per hour through a dense and ground controllers. We need them
traffic area where a split-second slip too badly.
might mean disaster. The military SAGE (Semi-Automatic
Many of the nation’s airports have Ground Environment) system, in which
also been a distinct hinderance to the letters, figures and lines on a map screen
air traffic control system. For years the indicate altitude, speed, direction, loca­
Air Line Pilots Association has called tion and number of aircraft in the area,
for more airport improvements, legisla­ is the closest we’ve come to semi-auto­
tion for the zoning of property near air­ mated air traffic controls. But the mili­
ports and the standardizing of runway tary owns and uses this system ex­
lighting. clusively, refusing to share it with com­
Airports are in many respects like mercial airlines. SAGE is an excellent
highways. There are good ones and bad air safety system.
ones. The poor airports are like bad This is not the first time the military
highways, where a three-lane road has come up with an unusual air safety
feeds high-speed traffic into a one-lane device, yet each time a security label is
underpass. Airport deficiencies are one pinned to it. The public is then made to
of the most serious air transport prob­ suffer should an air disaster occur that
lems today. FAA has been slow in de­ might have been avoided if the military
termining what each airport should ac­ equipment had been passed to the air­
complish in the way of service and just lines.
how to reach this goal. Some airport Somewhat similar to SAGE is the
operators don’t follow standard guides proposed AGACS (Air Ground Auto­
to setting up uniform taxi areas, run­ matic Communications System). Called
ways, lighting facilities, approach high­ “Ajax” after the mythical Greek war­
ways and even parking areas. The huge rior, it will be a fast talker and good
Idlewild complex is one example. When listener. In two minutes will be able to
that Mexican airliner failed to take off flash questions and receive answers
last January, it ran into a steel barrier from 500 different aircraft, learning
at the end of Runway 25. If there had each plane’s position, altitude and “ad­
been a properly constructed over-run, dress” or identification. Under this pro­
instead of a solid barrier that should posed ATC system, machines will do 80
have been designed to give, the four percent of the work, giving the pilot
crew members who died would likely more time to fly his plane and the
be alive today. controllers more time to devote to
One of our greatest concerns in the acute safety problems.
air is the lack of safety devices. We’ve But according to General Quesada’s
recently had transponders installed that revised forecast, this new ATC system
give aircraft a unique blip on the ATC is a long way off. Meanwhile, aircraft
radarscope, permitting controllers to tell development is spurting so fast that
one plane from another. Most needed, 1970’s Ajax system is liable to be out­
however, is collision avoidance equip­ dated by the time it’s set up. Five years
ment, but a universal anti-collision sys­ ago both the U. S. Air Force and the
tem hasn’t yet been developed. Not a Air Line Pilots Association went on Save $1.50 Under
day goes by that a near miss isn’t re­ record before the Radio Technical Com­
ported somewhere in the world. mission of America with similar policy Newsstand Prices!
Navigation is still a great problem. statements in crystal clear language—
We have to fly by line-of-sight, a meth­ namely, that the ATC system should J” Fill in and mail this coupon foc/ay/""J
od which causes a number of serious immediately begin working on methods ' SPORT, Dept. 6-61
and often near-fatal compromises to be of handling flight operations from zero ; 205 E. 42 St., New York 17, N. V.
made in flight. Since airlines have no altitude to 100,000 feet at 2,000 miles ■ Sirs: Send me the next 18 months of SPORT for J
area type navigation capability, we are per hour speeds. That was five years 1 only $3.00, saving me $1.50 under newsstand J
forced to fly a railroad track form of ago. The CAA dragged its feet and J prices. I enclose $3.00 as payment in full. |
navigation. That is, we move in a FAA did nothing except write addi­ । □ New Subscription.
straight line from ground transmitter tional flight rules and regulations. I □ Extend present subscription. i
A to ground transmitter B and then to Meantime, we’ll have to be content I Name....................................................................... 1
point C beyond. The aircraft is usually with the present traffic system. There
heading for a point well beyond C. were 65 aircraft accidents in 1960 in । Address................................................................... I
Flying “on the beam” includes passing which 327 passengers and 37 crew mem­ I City..............................Zone... .State.................... I
over each control point on the way to bers died. Action taken five years ago
its destination. If a number of aircraft would have prevented some of these
are flying in the same direction, along
the same route, then there’s a traffic
problem building up as they move in
disasters.
The number of deaths in airline
crashes last year was 138 higher than
PAFM<JWANTED
■
I 4^1^— IVI For musical setting... send
poems today. Any subject.
Immediate consideration. Phonograph records made.
and out of the various control points. in 1959 and 235 more than in 1958. But CROWN MUSIC CO., 49 W. 32 St., Studio 164, New York 1
The controllers at these points suddenly the airline death rate is not as high as
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these control areas.
Another example is the Idlewild con­
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million miles flown. And remember,
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FALSE TEETH
aircraft arriving from all directions are were driving long distances had flown,
More Firmly in Place
continuously moving in and out of hold­ most of them would be alive today. Do your false teeth annoy and embarrass
Climax

ing patterns. This creates a tremendous Finally, if the U. S. Government will by slipping, dropping or wobbling when you
eat, laugh or talk? Just sprinkle a little
amount of activity in ground control act now to improve air traffic controls FASTEETH on your plates. This alkaline (non­
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Climax

"I had to hand Arty an unconditional release. "Hey, men! I think we can get our first game
He's got the measles." with a team from out of town!"
 EARNING 11MIEV9
seeming accident inspired by the music “The gin,” Gannon said. He tossed the ENOUGH WIUIlEl 5
—and there was no acknowledgment shot down. “I might be passing through,
of the contact either on Nora’s smiling I might not be.”
face or in Jethro’s expression. The con­ Gannon was still working on Carrol’s
tact was repeated, in tempo with the gin supply late that evening. He was
song, and when the piano grew silent close-mouthed and he could sec Carrol
Nora’s thigh remained locked against was amazed by the amount of liquor
Jethro. The patrolman no longer drank. he could hold without the least sign
He stared bluntly at Nora, a challeng­ of intoxication. At 11 o’clock, three
ing look in his eyes. husky miners staggered into the tavern
Gannon saw the woman get up and singing an Irish ballad and bellowing
slip out into the street. An instant later curses between lyrics. Carrol tried to Do you need more income for home — car — vacation,
Jethro eased from the place. Affecting tone them down but didn’t want to in­ fun?
a practiced stagger, Gannon hurried terfere with their celebration. Flicking Right now the Accident Investigation and Adjusting
outside as though in urgent need of an uncertain grin at Gannon, Carrol Field offers men 18 to 60 tremendous opportunities.
fresh air. He saw Nora and Jethro set out a new gin bottle. “Can’t blame Here's why: This vital business distributes more money
walking down the center of the street, the lads,” he said. He bent across the than any other service industry. Last year alone over 200
arms linked. Gannon followed them, bar and whispered, “They’re the ones MILLION ACCIDENTS had to be investigated for Insur­
keeping in the shadows of the buildings. did it.” ance Companies, Airlines, Railroads, Steamship Lines, and
There was no real basis for suspicion. Jethro’s murderers, Gannon realized Government Offices. The number of such losses is grow­
All Gannon knew was that Jethro was bitterly, were enjoying themselves less ing—and the need for trained men is booming.
a target for Sleeper guns, Nora Regan than two yards from him. “Tell them You can investigate full time for one company—or earn
was unexpectedly in Rough and Ready, to keep quiet,” he said in a commanding $3 to $10 an hour in your own business. A. J. Allen
and Nora Regan ran the boardinghouse tone. earned over $2,000 in ten weeks. Gary Williams doubled
Carrol walked over and talked to the his former salary in four months. NO prior experience or
recommended by King Kehoe. Perhaps
higher education needed. And age is no barrier. Here is
Nora was simply out for a fling, but it men. Gannon saw them glance in his
a field wide open to men 18 to 60.
certainly looked like a planned pickup. direction. Their voices lowered. After
Let us show you how Universal Schools has trained
Whatever the circumstance, Frank a while Gannon strolled over to them
hundreds of men in their own homes in spare time—and
Jethro was the man of the hour and and nodded to Carrol, who immediately
then helped them add thousands of dollars to their in­
Gannon had to stick with him. introduced him as Red Gannon, one of
comes. Send TODAY for FREE Book. No salesman will
The patrolman seemed to be doing King Kehoe’s boys. And Gannon call. Write at once to me
the leading. He took the girl to a small learned the killers’ names: James
Boyle, Hugh McGehan, James Roarity. M. O. Wilson, Universal Schools
shack on the outskirts of town and the
door closed behind them. Gannon McGehan, a big, loud-mouthed man, Dept. M-6 6801 Hillcrest, Dallas 5, Texas
waited, listening to the crickets chirp­ was obviously annoyed at the order to Please send FREE book on money making oppor­
ing, keeping his ears tuned for sounds keep quiet. “So you’re Gannon, the tunities in the Accident Investigation field.
of someone approaching the shack. He tough man from Buffalo,” he said,
waited two hours and splashes of light abruptly jerking a Colt from under his Name____________________________ Age______
began to brighten the sky. Soon it coat. “See that? The handle ain’t long Address________________________________
would be too risky to remain on guard. enough for the notches I could carve
Gannon was about to leave when the on it.” City----------------------------------- Zone____ State______
door creaked open and Nora Regan Roarity and Boyle laughed. The red­
stepped out. Buttoning her blouse, she head shoved McGehan’s gun aside and
peered around intently, then headed cracked him in the face with a short I’LL TRAIN YOU IN ADVERTISING
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later the shack literally jumped off the talk,” he said.
ground, smoke spurted from its shat­ “I told you fellows to shut up,” SELL Advertising Book Matches
tered windows, and a tremendous ex­ Carrol said nervously. “Alex is going
plosion jarred Gannon’s ears. Gannon to yell when he finds out about this.” FULL OR PART TIME!
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started to run for the wreckage when Gannon had heard of Alex Campbell, Dally Cash Commission plus pre­
someone in the street shouted, “Fire!” miums for both you and your cus­
rumored to be an important Sleeper in tomers. Be a direct representative
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He ran into the street with a group of to report anything that might make SUPERIOR! Hillbillies, safety series and dozens
of other styles. All wanted sizes 20.
people moving toward the burning, de­ Alex look bad.” i t 30,40stlck matches. Quick dally sales,
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axes and hose. The bucket brigade a drink?” c.i.x-ISI.»» triu.lU, Ckluitll
sweated for an hour before the blaze
was extinguished. When the embers
cooled, firemen found the charred
corpse of Patrolman Frank Jethro. GREAT NEW LIFT FOR
Gannon eased through a pair of
swinging doors, stepped around a man
mopping the floor and smiled at the
RUPTURED MEN
long row of bottles on the back shelf
of Carrol’s Shaft House Tavern. “Can
you recommend the gin?” he asked a
long-legged man he recognized, from
Suspens-O-Truss
descriptions, as James Carrol. THE TRUSS YOU ASKED
The man back of the bar looked
Gannon over with a sneer. “You pick US TO DESIGN
’em, I serve,” he snapped. Now—double relief and comfort for the
“Too bad about Jethro,” Gannon said. rupture sufferer! A masterfully designed
He flashed a wide, mirthless grin. “I truss with the added lift of a special
got there just in time to see them pick built-in suspensory all in one support! New ease and comfort for reducible
up the pieces. Came down from inguinal hernia; and thanks to the suspensory, an added feeling of relief and
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Gannon.” pads for balanced protection of entire lower abdomen. Elastic body belt. Foam
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Climax

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“A pack of lies,” Gannon said.
Carrol gave him a tall glass. “This KINLEN COMPANY DEPT. MGD-61T
ain’t the best place for a Sleeper con­
vention now. You here on business?” 809 Wyandotte St. Kansas City 5, Mo.
 When he left the tavern, Gannon felt may not do much, but at least they’re Munley chuckled. “That's Charlie
he had put in a good night. At last he loyal to their own.” McAllister, a regular fashion plate. But
had the names of Sleepers involved in Kehoe reached under the bar for a it was me wearing the cap that night.
a murder, and at the same time he had fifth of his special stock. “Takes a big Charlie lent it to me.”
strengthened his status with King Ke­ man to admit he’s wrong,” he said. “Should have known better,” Mc­
hoe by administering a bitter lesson to “Here’s one Sleeper holds no grudge Allister flared. “You let Uren and
the talkative killers. because you lit out of here in a huff. Sanger see you. I nailed them from
He returned to Girardville, aware Have some of the good stuff.” behind, where it was safe.”
now that Nora Regan was a vital part Gannon drank Kehoe’s whisky gen­ “Too bad,” Gannon said coldly. “It
of the Sleeper organization and that erously while he outwardly cringed means McAllister has to get rid of his
King Kehoe still did not trust him under the leader’s mild bawling out for prize topper. And fast, Charlie—now!”
enough to let him in on a murder plot. being impatient and reckless. “Need McAllister stuffed the hat in his
He hoped Kehoe’s attitude would you more than ever now,” Kehoe said. pocket and hurried from the saloon.
change. He loitered around the saloon, “You’ve got more savvy than most of He was bareheaded when he returned.
picked up scraps of information and the men. Did you hear about the Coal Having won their confidence, Gannon
proved himself thoroughly disreputable. and Iron Police?” was able to draw several revealing
But after almost six months’ work he King Kehoe told him that several statements from the men. In addition
felt he’d reached a dead end. Then, new judges had been appointed in the to the killers’ names, he finally had ac­
one day, a ragged-looking stranger area and that special police were al­ tual admissions of guilt from their own
sidled up to Gannon at Kehoe’s bar. ready establishing headquarters at lips. And as a law officer. Gannon’s
“Buy a ticket to Philly,” the man whis­ Pottsville, Shenandoah, Tamaqua and testimony would stand up in court as
pered and was gone. The detective other points. "I’ll have to have constant murder evidence. However, he was un­
knew it was an order recalling him, yet information about these policemen,” able to wheedle the name of the man
he still lacked the evidence to put Ke­ Kehoe said. "I want you to go to Shen­ who had ordered the slayings.
hoe away. andoah, keep an eye on them, let me On an inky black Shenandoah side­
“Been sitting around here drinking know just what they intend to do here, street that night Gannon secretly re­
myself fat.” he told Kehoe that night. what methods they use. You’ll report ported his findings to Captain Linden.
“I’m sick of hanging around doing noth­ directly to me, no one else. To make “We’ve got at least two of them for the
ing. I think I'll drift back to Philadel­ sure there’s no interference from any gallows,” Linden said, “but you still
phia. see if I can hook on with the fast jealous local men, I’m making you the have nothing linking King Kehoe to
operators.” new secretary of the Shenandoah Di­ any of these murders. He’s the man we
Angry, King Kehoe tried to dissuade vision.” must convict to smash this organi­
him but in the end Gannon cursed out Gannon’s surprised gratitude was zation.”
the Sleepers as a bunch of do-nothings, genuine. Nothing could have astonished “I know,” Gannon said. “I’ll have to
packed his bag and headed toward or pleased him more. He was finally on work out something.”
Philadelphia “to get his hand in again.” The undercover agent spent several
“If I never come back to this damn ifkir+'k
*
'k-ir+-k-ir1r1rir'kir-kiiirir+iriri'ir-kir+ days trying to come up with a scheme
hole, it’ll be too soon!” to force Kehoe’s hand. The King liked
When he reached Philly. Gannon met BUY U. S. SAVINGS BONDS to talk all night about the Sleepers and
with his superior officers and some AND INVEST IN YOUR FUTURE about general plans to kill and bomb,
ranking members of the state police. but he was too clever to reveal any­
He had been called back because the ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ thing that would directly involve him.
authorities were going to take action Gannon decided to exert pressure on
in force against Kehoe’s gangsters. A the inside, with a chance to come up the man. “I’m going to kill Gordon
special police unit had been organized with the necessary proof against Kehoe James,” he told Kehoe one evening.
and was moving into the mining re­ and his murderous gang. Gannon went James was a mine watchman who
gions to guard the collieries during at once to Shenandoah, quietly passed had frustrated a number of Sleeper
strikes and protect threatened mine word of his assignment to Captain Lin­ plans to dynamite his colliery. Several
officials. The Coal and Iron Police, as den, who obligingly established his cen­ organization members had narrowly
they were known, were commanded by tral headquarters in Shenandoah to avoided arrest by him, and young
Captain Robert J. Linden, a man Gan­ add importance to Gannon's Sleeper James was saying loud and long that a
non knew and respected. job. In the days and weeks that fol­ show of strength would run the Sleepers
"What about me?” Gannon asked. lowed Gannon found little to do. King clear out of Pennsylvania.
Captain Linden, impressed by Gan­ Kehoe was biding his time, keeping his King Kehoe laid a hard pair of eyes
non’s progress in the field, flopped sev­ shakedown operations frozen while he on Gannon. “You trying to land my
eral copies of newspapers on his desk, read or listened to Gannon’s reports job now?” he said. “You want to make
headlines facing Gannon. “The decent and tried to figure how to circumvent the decisions?”
citizens have finally had just about the Coal and Iron Police. Gannon de­ “Hell, no!” Gannon snapped. "But if
enough of the Sleepers,” Linden said. bunked the new police force in his re­ ever a man needed killing, James is it.
"These are some of the newspapers that ports and tagged them a bunch of His big mouth may get everyone up in
dare to mention names of notorious badge-polishers. After a month and a arms. Let me make you a gift of him.”
Sleepers. Your name appears in several half of inactivity, the King decided to Kehoe turned down Gannon’s offer,
accounts. The editors consider you one resume operations. saying the redhead was doing more im­
of the worst of the gang members and Three mining company officials were portant work by keeping tabs on the
they suggest you are responsible for killed and two shafts were dynamited Coal and Iron Police. “You helped
several unsolved murders.” in the first week. Then, in a colliery cover the Raven Run deal,” he said.
“I’ve got a black reputation, all right,” town called Raven Run, the superin­ “That kind of protection is priceless.”
Gannon said. “It’s too valuable not to tendent of a local mine, Tom Sanger, Gannon wouldn’t let the issue die,
make use of.” and his friend William Uren were am­ though. In the next few weeks he con­
“Can you return to Girardville?” bushed on their way to work. Uren was stantly nagged Kehoe for permission
Linden said. killed instantly. Sanger, with slugs in to kill James. When the watchman
“I can go back if you plant a fake a dozen places, managed to live long thwarted another dynamite plot and
story in the Philadelphia newspapers.” enough to say that one of the gunmen killed one of the Sleepers, Gannon
“Give me the seed,” Captain Linden had worn a fancy, brown velvet cap. needled Kehoe in what was now a
said with a smile. Gannon, whose movements through sore spot.
Several days later a travel-stained the coal fields were now an accepted “Let me worry about James!” Kehoe
man with red hair kicked open the matter, showed up a few days later at said angrily.
swinging doors of King Kehoe’s tavern. the town of Ashland, just three miles Feigning drunkenness a few evenings
Kehoe, wiping up the front bar, gave from Raven Run. The key man here afterward, Gannon laid his loaded Colt
Gannon a curt nod. “Been expecting for the Sleepers, the investigator had on Kehoe’s bar. “We got to blow up
you,” he said. learned, was a man named Thomas that mine and bring the owner into
Gannon shook his head dejectedly Munley. Gannon found Munley with line,” Gannon said to the King. “We
and asked for a drink. “Philadelphia his foot on the brass rail of a saloon; can’t do it with bird-dog James around.
was a big mistake.” beside him was a tall man sporting a So I’m going to nail ole bird-dog to­
“Yeah. Read about it in the papers,” dandy-looking velvet cap. Introducing night—for good.”
Kehoe said dryly. “Those fast operators himself as secretary of the Shenandoah Kehoe leaned forward threateningly.
didn’t back your play, eh?” Division, Gannon said, “I’ve got a rov­ “Keep you mouth shut. Stay out of
Gannon swore until his normally ing assignment to keep watch on the this.”
Climax

florid face was pepper red. “That’s what Coal and Iron Police. Thought I’d stop Gannon twirled the cylinder of his
I think of those Philly punks,” he said by to let you know the police are look­ gun. “Six kisses for Mrs. James’ little
and belted down a shot of whisky. “I’m ing for a man in a cap just like the one boy.” He grinned drunkenly.
willing to eat dirt, King. The Sleepers your friend is wearing.” “He’ll be had,” Kehoe said in ex­
asperation. “Tomorrow night on his way “Twice he knew about the plan and YOUR HAIR ON TOP?
to work. You go home and sleep it off.”
Beaming with satisfaction, Gannon
twice James escaped. Wait’ll Kehoe
gets hold of him!”
LOST OR JUST RECEDING?
lurched from the tavern. His stride So that was it, Gannon thought. Nora
straightened as soon as he was off the Regan had kept him busy while Kehoe’s
main street and he hurried to his nightly assassins murdered the watchman.
rendezvous with Captain Linden. Paus­ Gannon quickly and quietly slipped out
ing just long enough to pass on the the front door. That Sleeper was prob­
details of the murder plot, Gannon cut ably hanging around just to make sure
for his boardinghouse. he didn’t leave the boardinghouse.
Three gunmen waited in hiding for The investigator’s first thought was to
James the next evening, but he failed reach Captain Linden, since he was his
to show up. The Sleepers learned that only hope for protection. He waited
James had quit his job and left Girard­ impatiently at the regular side-street
ville. “The man was born with a four- meeting place for Linden. After two
A LORD WINDSOR
leaf clover in his hand,” Kehoe mut­
tered. “But the matter isn’t closed.”
hours without sign of the captain, in
desperation Gannon sneaked along to FOUND ABSOLUTELY UNDETECTABLE
The far-flung Sleeper organization the back door of the small headquarters
hunted feverishly for Gordon James office of the Coal and Iron Police.
until they located him working another A bewhiskered officer seated at the
coal field. Another murder plot was desk instantly recognized Gannon.
worked out, Gannon learned of it and “You’ve got some crust, coming in
notified Captain Linden. Once more here,” he said, rising to his feet.
James got out of town. “Where’s Captain Linden?”
Three hours later Gannon was called The officer scowled. “I ought to ask
into the rear room of Kehoe’s tavern. you! The captain’s overdue, didn’t get
“Tell me more about your trouble in off the evening train from Philadelphia.”
Buffalo,” Kehoe asked. Because of his highly secret work,
Gannon realized he was under sus­ Gannon’s real identity was unknown
picion, probably because of the James to the Coal and Iron Police. And they Lord and Lady WINDSOR Inc., 145 East 49th St., New
hated him almost as much as Kehoe. He York 17, N. Y. Phone EL 5-0168.
affair. But he had the details of his
OFFICES IN PRINCIPAL CITIES
past prepared in advance and he an­ knew they’d never believe his story.
swered Kehoe’s questions easily enough. Until Captain Linden arrived, Gannon LORD WINDSOR THE SUMMIT OF PERFECTION
He felt certain that the Sleeper leader could not rely on help from them. Ex­ Mail Coupon Now for Free Details—No Obligation
was satisfied. pecting to walk into a cross-fire of
“Kehoe suspects something,” Gannon bushwhackers’ bullets at any moment,
Gannon took a roundabout route back j WINDSOR, 145 E.49th St., New York 17,N.Y.Dept. 112 "j
later reported to Captain Linden. “I
think my usefulness to you is at an to his boardinghouse room. He figured I Please send me FREE without any obligation on my !
part full details on LORD WINDSOR in plain white
end.” the Sleepers wouldn’t think of finding I envelope.
“Stick it out for a few more days,” him there. He wrote out a fast report
Linden advised. “I’m going to Phila­ on the Gordon James murder and ad­ I Name ....................................................................................
delphia tomorrow to discuss the situ­ dressed it to Philadelphia.
ation with the top. When I get back A heavy fist thumped on his door. | Street ......................................................................... |
I’ll be in touch with you.” Gannon whirled, clawing out his gun. I City.......................................................... State..................... j
Gannon walked with his hand near He stood motionless, feeling like a
his gun for the next two days and tried trapped animal. A hubbub of noise
to keep his back to a wall. Everything drifted up from the street. The insis­
seemed all right. Kehoe laughed and tent knocking continued. Then what
sounded like a shoulder smashed
FOREIGN
joked with him, the other men bought
him drinks. In fact, it suddenly became
too friendly: Nora Regan entered his
against the door. The top panel splin­
tered and a hand came through, grop-
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“You paid for something and I believe —we’ve come to take you!” a voice not required. All ages. Free information.
in squaring debts.” shouted. DAVENPORT FOREIGN SERVICE
She set a bottle of whisky on the Gannon jumped to the window and Dept. B-22. G.P.O. 1354, New York I. N.Y.
battered bedside table. Laughing, she glanced down at a milling, seething
grabbed Garmon’s hair and shoved him crowd of angry faces. “There he is!”
back on the bed. a chorus of voices roared. Gannon IMPORT YOUR OWN WATCH
Gannon wanted no part of the couldn’t believe the Sleepers were so DIRECT FROM SWITZERLAND
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thing you ought to receive the goods.” the ground hard and lay stunned for a 493 GLENWOOD BUFFALO 8, NEW YORK
Using his reputation for love of the moment. Then he raced around back,
bottle as a gruff excuse, Gannon man­ away from the enraged mob.
aged to turn the would-be love session
into a wild drinking session. By morn­
There wasn’t a safe place for him
within a hundred miles. The only thing
600 FORyoty
ing there had been some playful wres­ he could do was try a 1000-to-one-shot You can borrow $600 or as little
tling but both he and the woman were bluff. as $50 for any purpose, in the
blind drunk and her debt still had not Men drinking at the Hibernian House most confidential way ... by
been paid. The sunlight that slatted bar turned, mouths gaping, when the mail! Anyone in U. S. with
into the room chased her out to resume wild-looking figure with flying red hair steady income eligible to apply
. . . repay in 24 monthly pay­
her job as landlady. Gannon lay on the burst through the doors. Jim Gannon ments. Mail coupon for free
bed for nearly an hour until he’d stepped to the center of the floor, hand loan application sent in plain
sobered some, then he went downstairs hooked in his belt near his pistol. envelope.
looking for the coffee he needed so “Kehoe!” he screamed. “Kehoe, you
badly. But just as he was about to enter bastard, come out here!”
the dining room he spied one of the The crowd melted out of sight, sliding
Sleepers talking to Nora Regan and behind the bar, behind tables and
BUDGET FINANCE CO.
stepped back out of sight to listen. chairs and out the door. Gannon swept
• Budget Finance Co., 114 S. 17 St., Omaha 2, Nebr..
“Yeah, we got that blasted James all a bottle of whisky from the bar,
• Dept S-51
right,” the man’s voice said. “You did smashed the neck open against a table
C lim a x

* NAME_______________________________________
a nice job yourself, Nora. I wouldn’t and gurgled down a drink from the : ADDRESS________________________________________
give you two cents for Gannon’s hide sharp-edged opening as whisky cas­
: CITY STATE
now.” caded down his chin and wet his shirt.
• OCCUPATION____________________________________
“That dirty sneaking cop,” Nora Kehoe shot out of the back room, his
mumbled, still feeling the whisky. face trying to mask intense surprise.
 “Nobody calls me copper and lives!” Rushed off into the night, Jim Gannon
fikBorrowBY MAIL1 Gannon yelled.
Kehoe frowned, his voice was patron­
was the most amazed man in Pennsyl­
vania. His acting talents had spurred
$321? Repays” $600 izing. “Come in back,” he said. “No
need for everyone to hear our business.”
an outraged mob of law-abiding citi­
zens to try to lynch him and caused his
Cash Gannon noticed several muscular enemies, the Sleepers, to rescue him.
YOU want Sleepers sidling around behind him. He At Pat Dormer’s tavern in Pottsville
took a second gulp from the broken Gannon found himself the hero of the
back in small monthly installments Amount 74 Houthi, bottle, spat blood when the glass gouged
to fit your paycheck. Take as long el Lian Payments
hour. He was given the finest off the
as 24 months. No co-makers. Every­
StOO
his lip. Slumping dejectedly, he went back shelf, had a doctor dragged in to
th! ng private. No matter where you live,
rush this coupon. Loan Order Blank mailed $300 $17.41 into the back room. His mumbling voice stitch his painfully cut lips, was lodged
Free in plain envelope. Noobligation. Act! $400 $22.7$ was choked with whisky and faked in a luxurious hotel room. Before noon
DIAL FINANCE CO., 410 Kilpatrick Bldg.
DIPT. F-39 . OMAHA 2, NEBRASKA
$500 $27.69 emotion. “No cop, Kehoe, not me, and the next day he received word from
$600 $32.4$ the man says it has to face my gun. I’m Captain Linden, who had just got back
DIAL FINANCE CO., Dwpt. F-39
410 Kilpatrick BldE., Omaha 2, No**
.
MO AGEMr a Sleeper, wouldn’t even spit on the from Philadelphia and had to see Gan­
Please rush FREE Loan Order Blanks dead face of a cop.” non at once. The redhead met him on
Kehoe pushed the babbling redhead the outskirts of Pottsville and told him
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address. whisky bottle away from him. Two the back room of the Hibernian House
.STATE,
Sleepers moved behind Gannon as Ke­ he had at last overheard Kehoe admit
CITY.
hoe grabbed at the bottle. But Gannon to ordering a murder—that of the brave
clutched it like a rag doll, took drink watchman Gordon James. “I got it
after drink, muttering senselessly until down here,” he said, tapping his skull,
blood flowed down his chin in a steady “word for word. You can spring your
stream. “Hate the law, shot one and trap any time now.”
knifed another in Buffalo. Man who Squads of special police immediately
says I’m a cop’ll have to shoot with me.” rushed from Philadelphia and swept
One of Kehoe’s men appeared in the over the coal fields like a blue-coated
door, motioned for the King. “There’s a flood. A long list of names, carefully
mob out in the street,” he said. “They compiled by Jim Gannon, was used to
went to Gannon’s place to lynch him, round up the secret members of the
6000 Sunset,
but somebody saw him come in here. Sleepers. Without a shot being fired,
They got murder in their eyes.” more than 80 thugs were arrested, in­
-----VOLUNTARY CONFINEMENT “Send them home,” Kehoe said. “I got cluding King Kehoe, and Nora Regan.
Genuine Chief of Police first claim on Gannon.” All of the accused murderers had one
Chrome Finish Double Lock
Handcuffs. These authentic, The man shook his head. “Not me. last chance to see “Jim Gannon” when
handcuffs are light, com­ This is a real lynch mob. They’re clean-shaved, well-dressed Detective
pact and flexible, always
ready for use (equipped shouting that they’ve had enough of James McParland took the witness
with 2 steel keys). An extremely clever gift for the Sleepers—and that Gannon’s the stand at their trials and calmly gave
peace officers, jurist or the man who has everything.
Adjustable Foolproof. Exciting possession. NOW worst of us. They aim to string him the testimony which doomed many of
ONLY $5.75. Belt Type Leather Caso $1.25. SEND up.” them.
CHECK OR MONEY ORDER. NO C.O.D.’s. Dpt. 8-6
GODFREY IMPORT CORP., 85 Chambers St., N.Y. 7 “I ought to let them have him,” Ke­ “He cried when I called him a cop,”
hoe said. “The two times he knew of Kehoe screamed, brushing aside his
HYDRAULIC JACK REPAIRS our plan, James escaped. Once he didn’t lawyers. “The bastard cried real tears,
Earn While You Learn at Home and we kill the bastard.” He turned and I believed him!”
Millions of jacks ln gas & auto-service stations, and stormed toward Gannon. King Jack Kehoe had his own mo­
truckers, body-shops, riggers, factories, farms
need servicing. We show you HOW—easy step The man by the door shouted after ment of grief, and his was no act. Sixty
by step directions—what tools to use. EARN UP him. “What will I tell the mob?” Sleepers were given long terms in
TO $5 an hour, in spare time, in your own base­
ment or garage. Start your own business NOW. “Let the police handle them,” Kehoe prison, but Kehoe and 20 more were
Write for folder No, 336 &. free bonus offer. snapped. convicted of murder and hanged.
Institute of Hydraulic Jack Repair “Police, hell! They’re sitting back Throughout the coal fields of eastern
P.O. Box 50. Bloomfield, N. J. grinning.” Pennsylvania miners and mine owners
Kehoe loomed over the seated de­ could again operate without fear. Black
DETECTIVE PROFESSION tective for several minutes, eyes trying
to probe into the secrets of Gannon’s
gold came up from the earth to heat
homes, forge steel and give birth to
Opportunities everywhere for trained
investigators, both men & women, pri­ mind. “Damn it!” he said finally. “No America’s great age of industry. De­
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Send now for free information on easy slashing his lips that way. Get him out hard as any anthracite, had played an
home study plan, badge, certificate & of here, the back way. Take him to important part in making this possible.
profitable future. No salesman will call.
PROFESSIONAL INVESTIGATORS Pat Dormer’s place.” * THE END
14503 York, ocpt. a, Los Angeles 41, Cat it..

CARBIDE CANNON
Big Boom! The Human Torpedo Forest and out across the Cologne
Plain.
$4.40 continued from page 29 “God!” said the Old Man as he sur­
veyed the blackened splinters and
noisemaker, starting gun, cele­
brations, etc. Safe. No recoil. all the cold, dead faces he had seen in twists of wire that had once been the
Hundreds of shots for few cents.
Uses carbide. Fast firing. At­ the past few days. All the dead who Barricade. “Bernie Ray did it. That
tractively made of heavy cast little kid.”
iron. Money back guarantee had fallen before the Barricade, and
9-in. Cannon $3.95 plus 45c
cewneaan tv.in all those still to come. The sergeant cried unashamedly.
plus 55c post, send $9.50.
Ammunition 39C tube (500 It was growing dark. His vision was “Kid? The lieutenant was the biggest
shots); 3 tubes 51.00 postpaid. man I ever knew.”
failing and it was like staring into a
Johnson Smith Co. Dept. 953 Detroit 7. Mich.
long tunnel . . . Seventeen years have passed. The
With sudden resolution, Lieutenant memory of Lieutenant Bernard Ray’s
Bernard Ray grasped one end of the deed will never be forgotten. The peo­
primer cord snaked tightly around his ple of Baldwin, Long Island, erected
* DRY SOFT middle and fastened it with fumbling a memorial to their biggest war hero
fingers to the dynamite. Battling des­ to make sure he will not be forgotten.
* STAY SOFT perately against his weakness, he at­ Another reminder rests in a satin-lined
tached the other end to the charger. box in a drawer of the Ray household.
WEAR LONGER Then he struggled to his knees, clutch­ It is a medal: a blue rosette faced with
ing the plunger with both hands. A white stars from which is suspended a
LEATHER bursting mortar shell behind him wreath-encircled gold star topped by
hurled his body forward and he came an eagle with spread wings. In its claws
down hard on the plunger. the eagle clutches a pendant bearing a
where better Amid a staggering roar of red and single word: VALOR.
work gloves
are sold orange flame, the Barricade and Ber­ It is a word quite different from
Climax

nard Ray vanished from the earth. “courage” or “bravery,” or “guts.” It

Before the day was over the Amer­ stands for a man’s unselfish self­
WOLVERINE GLOVES ican Army was driving the Germans sacrifice for his fellow men. It de­
before them, through the Huertgen scribes Bernard Ray. * the end
The Day The Sultana uiea continued from page 19

Tatum eased Mason onto the chair, leave me,” as the boat was lowered
watched him clutch his brawny fists away.
around the wheel spokes, then said, Another soldier, a member of the
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” armed guard, watched the flames lick
Aboard the river gunboat USS Gros­ toward him. In desperation he ran,
beak, Master’s Mate Peter Barrett, the musket in hand, toward a stout wooden
watch officer, saw the first orange flame cage that everyone had fearfully
that stabbed the sky, and he quickly avoided on the trip. The cage held a
notified his skipper. ten-foot alligator for delivery to the
“My God!” Barrett exclaimed. “All Cincinnati Zoo.
hell’s busted loose upriver! We’d better The soldier bayoneted the reptile
get there fast an’ see if we can help with wild stabs, tossed the crate over­
board, leaped in after it and clung on
Be
those poor devils.”
The Grosbeak cast off and headed
for the Sultana. The gunboat was the
until rescued the next day. He was
babbling incoherently when he was BOOK Boss
first of hundreds of craft to answer the pulled from the river. He said later SAMPLE Earn more from the start in spare-
call of disaster, but it was a losing that he had fears he might not have LESSON time in your own home. STOP worry­
killed the beast, and that it would at­ ing about lay-offs, enjoy steady in­
battle. WITH COURSE come, independence for life in the
Men who hadn’t been blown off the tack him at any moment. YOU MAKE
growing field of FURNITURE CUS­
TOM UPHOLSTERY.
doomed boat by the two explosions now The cold, grey light of dawn found V SLIPPER Right off you start learning AT HOME
faced almost certain death by fire. Hot the river dotted with survivors all the with .tools, complete frames, fabrics
CHAIR
coals from the furnaces, sprayed all way to Memphis. They were clinging to and materials. ALL FREE with your
N. Y. State-approved UTS Home
over the midship section, had converted logs, spars, barrels, sections of railing, Study Course. You learn skilled pro­
the vessel into a seething cauldron of doors, anything they could grab onto. fessional custom upholstery, reupnoi-
stery. furniture finishing, repair, how
flames, fanned by a brisk breeze that Most of them were badly burned, naked to make beautiful slip covers, cushions
blew sternward. The trapped men hung and almost dead from shock and ex­ CHAIR and draperies. EARN WHILE YOU
LEARN, in spare time . . . the
on until they faced being fried to a posure. UTS easy way.
crisp, then leaped screaming into the Between 500 and 600 victims were Send for FREE Illustrated Book—
FREE Sample Lesson.
dark, murky water. Few of the ex­ hauled away to Memphis’ overcrowded, OTTOMAN
Get ready for well-paid job, big
prisoners could swim, or had the inadequately supplied hospitals, where WITH profits from steady work, as your
own boss, running your own busi­
strength to do so, and they died by the about 200 died. Rescue operations con­ SUP COVERS ness. Training in N. Y. School also
hundreds, filling the night with their tinued for several days, but toward the Yours fo Keep available. MAIL COUPON NOW!
despairing cries. end only corpses were being brought APPROVED FOR VETERANS
or Sell Accredited by N.H.S.C.
The ship was still a half mile from ashore. There was no telling how many
the Hen and Chickens when a third more were caught in the thick under­ UPHOLSTERY TRADES SCHOOL
Dept. PH-177-10, 721 Broadway. N. Y. 3, N. Y.
explosion rocked the Sultana. The growth along the banks. The Sultana Please send me FREE book, "Your New Way to a
wheelhouse disappeared in a gush of had burned to the water’s edge, then Successful Career” with FREE Sample lesson. No
obligation—no salesman will call.
crimson and a shower of splinters. sunk to the bottom, carrying trapped □ Home Study □ Training in N. Y. School
Broken bodies—Captain Mason’s among bodies with it. please print plainly
them—great chunks of twisted ma­ No record was ever made of the ex­
chinery, hunks of wooden superstruc­ act number of dead, but it was esti­ □ Check if Korean Veteran
ture, deck planking, cabin furniture mated at around 1,700, including civil­
and blazing embers spewed into the ian passengers and crew members—one
sky, then fluttered like dying birds
into the dark, forbidding Mississippi.
Some of the objects landed as much as
of the worst steamship disasters of
all time.
Because of the soldiers who had been
SONG IDEAS WANTED
300 feet away. aboard, an official government inquiry
Captain Mason’s ripped body was was held. Many witnesses were called, Songwriters, with publisher contacts,
found days later, caught in a tangle of and reams of testimony were taken. want song ideas. SHARE ROYALTIES.
tree roots near the east bank of the First Officer Jim Tatum, the only NO FEES. Send poems:
SONGWRITERS' ASSOCIATES
river. crew’s officer to escape, was called as a Studio O, 1650 Broadway, New York 19, N. Y.
The Sultana was completely out of key witness. He hobbled up on crutches;
control, drifting aimlessly downstream. his right trouser leg pinned up at the
One end of the deck supporting the knee.
main bulk of passenger cabins collapsed “Mr. Tatum,” the government’s at­
like crepe paper, forming a flat chute torney began, “you were first officer of
down which hundreds of shouting men the Sultana. In your opinion, what was
slid to be cremated alive. the principal cause of this disaster?”
Lifeboats, launched under the direc­ Tatum hesitated. He didn’t know
tion of First Officer Tatum, were im­ what testimony earlier witnesses had
mediately swamped by terrified, ani­ given, and he was determined to pro­
malistic survivors reaching up from tect the reputation of his dead captain.
the waters to claw their way aboard. In halting words, he said: “Well, to You Can
Some men clung to blazing bits of
wreckage until the last moment, when
begin with, those damned boilers were
in pretty bad shape—” HE-MAN VOICE
Send today for FREE booklet
the fire toasted their fingertips, forc­ “Do you think Captain Mason was “Voice Power and Personal
Power” by Eugene Feuch-
ing them to let go with a sob and dis­ guilty of negligence in continuing the tinger. Just send your name,
appear beneath the waves. address and age. Mailed in
trip without having them completely plain sealed envelope. No ob­
ligation.
Deep in the hold, cattle, horses and overhauled in Memphis?” PREFECT VOICE INSTITUTE
pigs bellowed and squealed their agony Tatum bristled momentarily. “Cap­ 210 S. Clinton St., Studio FN-7
Chicago 6, til.
as no one made an attempt to save tain Mason was one of the best captains
them from fiery death. It was every on the Mississippi,” he said sharply.
man for himself now—animals be
damned!
“He died trying to save his ship and his
passengers. He did everything a man
NOW...
Uncontrollable panic seized those still could.” ADD THRILLING COLORS
aboard the doomed boat. One soldier, The attorney smiled thinly. “I’m not to Black and White TV with
crowded out of the last lifeboat about challenging Captain Mason’s bravery,
to be lowered, went berserk with fear.
He grabbed a jagged hunk of deck
planking and began swinging it wildly
sir. But I am questioning his judgment
in trying to take an overloaded boat
with bad boilers up the Mississippi.
COLOR-V i
NOW you ton see everything on your own TV sei
in wonderful color. Semotionol (010S-V filter
at the lifeboat passengers. It caught Now, do you think he should have laid green fits right over your TV giro...instantly
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ing his skull wide open. properly overhauled?” brilliant, eye-filling colors. Attach it yourself in a
Another passenger reached up and “I didn’t question his judgment,” ends. You, your family, your friends will really enjoy the color
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tried to grab the plank from the soldier. Tatum said hotly. Pay postman $2.98 plus (.0.0. and postage charges, Only
Suddenly a pistol roared. The crazed “I’ll put it this way,” the attorney or remit with order, we wdl ship (OtOS V postpaid 98
soldier clutched at his stomach and persisted. “What would you have done SUPERIOR PRODUCTS, Dept. 88-2
folded up on the deck, screaming, “For had you been captain of the Sultana?" 34 EAST 12th ST NEW YORK 3. N. Y.

God’s sake, don’t leave me . . . don’t Tatum stared straight ahead. “I

 This FREE booklet reckon I’d have tried to make it, too.” this obvious overloading?” the attor­

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“But weren’t you worried, Mr.
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“Sure we were worried,” Tatum
ney asked.
“Protest?” Tatum exploded. “I never
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been the first success step lor snapped. “We were worried if the right down that colonel’s throat. But it
thousands. Describes fabulous boilers were going to hold up. We were didn’t do no good. The army had the
jobs as traffic managers, ticket worried about what we were going to big end of the stick on that deal.”
agents, airline station managers,
operation agents, etc. Gives facts do with them soldiers. We were wor­ The government attorney pulled at
on the nation's most modern ried about getting cargo to Cincinnati one ear for a moment. “Then it is your
transportation school. Learn on schedule. Yes, sir, there were a lot opinion that bad boilers and too many
why airlines offer UNLIMITED of things we were worried about. Cap­ passengers were the principal contrib­
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tain Mason and I had just about every­ uting factors.”
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NATIONWIDE UAlib SINCE 1872
guess we were worried about that, too.” those boilers were bad, and it’s also a
The attorney smiled. “Precisely,” he cinch we had too damned many soldiers
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sibly blowing up in the river and los­ a combination of both. But I still say
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□ If under 17. check here for special booklet. “You’re damned right it did!” it could’ve happened to anybody. I
NAM E________________________-___________ AGE-------------- “But you did it anyway?” sailed with him for ten years, and
A D D R ESS_________________________ PHON E---------------------- “I reckon we did. I guess that’s kinda never saw him do a wrong thing in all
C IT Y_______________________________STATE-------------------- .
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plain.” that time.”
The attorney examined some notes And that was the final decision of
REMAILING SERVICE: in his hand, then said, “You had quite a
load aboard, didn’t you?”
the inquiry—overcrowding and leaky
boilers had combined to do the job.
LETTERS AND CARDS REMAILED FROM WASHING­
TON, I). C. AT 25 cents each. WRITE—CONFIDENTIAL. “That was the main trouble. We had No one was punished, or even
E. ROSS HAMILTON too many people aboard. If it hadn’t reprimanded for possible negligence.
1316 No. Taylor St., Arlington I, Va.
been for that damned colonel at Vicks­ The catastrophe received only moderate
burg—” notice in the nation’s newspapers. The
High School Course “Colonel Jamison?”
“Whatever his name was. If it hadn’t
attitude seemed to be: Well the re­
turning soldiers were mainly nobodies
at Home Many Finish in 2 Years
been for him shoving those soldiers in from small Midwestern towns and
Go as rapidly as your time and abilities permit. Course
equivalent to resident school work — prepares for college like a pen full of pigs, we’d have made farms. Furthermore, the army did
entrance exams. Standard H. S. texts supplied. Diploma.
Credit for H. S. subjects already completed. Single subjects if
it. We were only allowed 375 passen­ everything possible to soft-pedal the
desired. High school education is very important for advancement
in business and industry and socially. Don’t be handicapped all
gers on the Sultana, and he made us whole affair.
your life. Re a High School graduate. Start your training now.
Free Bulletin on request. No obligation.
take almost 2,000 soldiers. It’s a damned Except for the grieving families of
American School, Dept HA69, Drexel at 58th, Chicago 37 wonder we didn’t turn over and sink the victims, the death of the Sultana
right there at Vicksburg." was soon forgotten, and all but drowned
looking for a “Didn’t Captain Mason protest about in the tides of history. * the Ksr>

PUBLISHERS
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tributed by successful, reliablecompany,noted . Kill President Truman! continued from page 33
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organizations, churches, etc. Send for Free Booklet. ten feet behind him and whipped out and Collazo ran to the curb after him.
Vantage Press, Dept. 21 A, 120 W. 31, New York 1. the Walther P-38. Holding it against From the east booth Private Davidson
his chest with both hands, he aimed at and Secret Service Agent Boring
How to Make Money with Birdzell’s back and released the safety
catch.
opened fire on Collazo.
Torresola, believing that he had put
Simple Cartoons* Birdzell heard the catch click off and both Downs and Coffelt permanently
/ A book everyone who likes wheeled around. Collazo fired twice. A out of action, leaped over the hedge
should have. It is free; no bullet landed beneath the soldier’s near the guard booth and opened fire
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* Dept. 586, Pleasant Hill, Ohio
ing it, limped into the middle of Penn­ zell had fired once at Collazo. He was
sylvania Avenue. This lured Collazo’s set to take another shot when a searing
LEARN fire away from the Blair House. pain tore through his left leg. The next
Meanwhile, Torresola had come upon moment he was flat on his back. Torre-
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chief usher and then hurried upstairs. his brain. Coffelt passed out and never
In the hall she met President and recovered consciousness.
Mrs. Truman. “We need a doctor,” Mrs. Collazo too had run out of ammuni­
Walker cried through trembling lips. tion. He retreated from the street and
“One of the men has been shot.” crawled behind the hedges in front of
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Secret Service Agent Vincent F.
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If not proud, neither was Rosa Col­
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steps was Secret Service Agent Stuart The would-be assassin was at first In case after case, while gently relieving
G. Stout. His post was the main door morbidly depressed. “I am a dead man pain, actual reduction (shrinkage) took place.
and when the battle began he’d taken a anyhow, no matter what happens,” he Most amazing of all —results were so
Thompson sub-machine gun from a said. “I have failed and I will die, so thorough that sufferers made astonishing
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street, ready for anyone who tried to Had he really wanted to kill the The secret is a new healing substance
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In the east guard booth Private Dav­ “Yes. I am a Puerto Rican National­ research institute.
idson took careful aim at Collazo and ist. I had to.” This substance is now available in sup­
fired. The fanatic revolutionist slipped Would he have killed anyone who pository or ointment form under the name
to his side, clawed at the steps and fell stood in the way? Preparation H®. Ask for it at all drug
“Yes. Except Mrs. Truman.” counters.
over on his face. Davidson’s bullet had
ripped into his chest. Even though it was Torresola’s bul­
Secret Service Agent Boring came lets that killed Coffelt, Collazo was
trotting out of the east booth on the held on a murder charge. He was in­
double. He looked past Collazo and saw dicted by the Grand Jury for “attempt­
Coffelt lying in the doorway of the west ing to perpetrate a house breaking, that
booth, his gun still in his hands, appar­ is to say entering a dwelling known as
ently ready to fire. the Blair House, with intent to assault
Unaware of Coffelt’s wounds he with dangerous weapons, and with in­
cried, "Hold it, Les!” tent to kill the President of the United
At the sound of Boring’s voice Col­ States.”
lazo lifted his head. He raised his gun Three leading members of the Dis­
and pointed it at the Secret Service trict of Columbia Bar Association pre­
man, but Boring charged over and pared a skillful defense for him. At his
kicked the gun out of his hand. trial, which began on February 27,
The gun battle was over. 1951, before Federal Judge Alan T.
The time was 2:25 p.m.; the assault Goldsborough, Collazo testified that al­
had lasted just six minutes. though he had plotted the Blair House
Thirty-one shots had been fired. Tor­ attack, he had no intention of killing
resola had squeezed off eight and hit the President. The assault, he claimed,
WEAVER SCHOOL OF REAL ESTATE 1934)
with seven—three in Coflfelt, three in was staged solely to publicize the cause 2020L GRAND AVENUE KANSAS CITY, MO.
Downs, one in Birdzell. Collazo had of the Puerto Rican Nationalists.
But U.S. Attorney Fay replied, “For
fired nine times and hit just once—
Birdzell. Six slugs were later discov­ what purpose would anyone go to the ANALYZE HANDWRITING
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The President of the United States, A month later, Judge Goldsborough Dept. FN-7 ... Springfield 4, Missouri
however, was still very much alive. He fixed October 26 as the day Collazo was
proceeded to go through with his
scheduled appointments. Surrounded
by a cordon of Secret Service agents,
he left the Blair House by a rear en­
to die in the electric chair.
The execution, however, was stayed
as Collazo’s attorneys began a long se­
ries of appeals. On May 22, 1952, the
FEETmTOES itch?
Beware! Athlete’s Foot Starts Just That Way!
Get Dr. Scholl’s Solvex at once.
trance and rode out to Arlington Ceme­ Supreme Court rejected Collazo’s final Stops intense itching right off.
tery to dedicate a monument to British appeal. It ordered the execution sen­ Instantly kills fungi on contact;
helps heal red, raw, cracked or
Field Marshal Sir John Fill. tence carried out. But on July 25, the peeling skin. Sold everywhere.
Meanwhile, every available Wash­ very man whose life Collazo had sought
ington police cruiser converged in front
of the Blair House. Then the ambu­
to destroy saved his. In an executive
decree President Truman commuted
WScholls SOLVEX
lances arrived. One picked up Birdzell, the death sentence to life imprison­
another Collazo, a third took Downs ment.
and Coffelt. They were all rushed to That commutation may have been
the Emergency Hospital, three blocks the bitterest punishment of all for Os­
away. car Collazo. He has lived to see his MUSCLE BUILDING
The families of the wounded guards leader, Pedro Alibzo Campos, ridiculed
gathered nervously in the hospital and sent to jail; his fellow Puerto Rican Sensational New Methods
waiting room. At 6:36 p.m. Private Cof­ Nationalists again fail dismally when Less Time—Less Effort—Better results
BODY-TONE
felt, who had been on the operating they attempted to shoot up the House Bom 638BB, North Miami 61, Flo.
room table for three hours, died of of Representatives. And finally, he has
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“It is God’s will—if someone had to go,
I am glad the President was spared.
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 HOW DEEP IS THE OCEAN? Scientific Director Dr. Andreas B.
Rechnitzer and the U. S. Navy bathyscaph "Trieste” found
out: 7 history making miles. Dr. Rechnitzer is a Camel smoker.
He says, “I smoke Camels for one good reason: taste...rich,
satisfying taste I enjoy every time I light up.”

it less ?

HA

Ph.D
ON THE DECK OF THE
U. S. NAVY BATHYSCAPH "TRIESTE''
He's enjoyed Camels for years.
How about you? If you're smoking
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The best tobacco makes the best smoke •