December 2004

--e*I*17- (Vol. 3 No. 6) December 2004, is published and © 2004 by Earl Kemp. All rights reserved.
It is produced and distributed bi-monthly through http://efanzines.com by Bill Burns in an e-edition only.

Contents -- eI17 -- December 2004

…Return to sender, address unknown….9 [eI letter column], by Earl Kemp

Ho! Ho! Ho!, by Earl Kemp

"…My true love gave to me….," by Victor J. Banis

Cherry Pink and Uncle Milty Time, by Earl Kemp

A Checklist of Brandon House Library Editions, by Patrick J. Kearney

Everybody Loves Milton, by Stephen J. Gertz

Recollections of a Porno Photographer, by Gary Sohler

Old Leather Hide, by Earl Kemp

Milton Luros' Times Square Wise Guy, by Jay A. Gertzman

To Bea or Not To Bea, by Victor J. Banis

Whirlaway to Thrilling Wonder Stories, by Race Mathews

Our favourite Race Mathews story, by Bruce R. Gillespie

Ditmar Portfolio, cover by Ditmar

Ditmar, Dick Jenssen, the Good Doctor, by Bruce R. Gillespie

A Ditmar Life, by Martin James Ditmar Jenssen

Ditmar Portfolio, by Ditmar

If it weren't for pickpockets, I'd have no sex life at all.
               --Rodney Dangerfield

In the world of science fiction, it is also in memory of Gregg Shaw and Tetsu Yano.

#

I would like to call your attention to Bruce R. Gillespie and the effort to Bring Bruce Bayside, a worthy cause to bring Gillespie from his home in Australia to the Bay Area next February for Corflu and Potlach. There is more about this effort on eFanzines.com and your donation to the cause would be greatly appreciated.

#

As always, everything in this issue of eI beneath my byline is part of my in-progress rough-draft memoirs. As such, I would appreciate any corrections, revisions, extensions, anecdotes, photographs, jpegs, or what have you sent to me at earlkemp@citlink.net and thank you in advance for all your help.

Bill Burns is jefe around here. If it wasn't for him, nothing would get done. He inspires activity. He deserves some really great rewards. It is a privilege and a pleasure to have him working with me to make eI whatever it is. And also, Dave Locke continues as eI Grand Quote Master. You will find his assembled words of wisdom separating the articles throughout this issue of eI.

Other than Bill Burns and Dave Locke, these are the people who made this issue of eI possible: Victor J. Banis, Merv Barrett, Robert Bloch, Robert Bonfils, Bruce Brenner, Tom Brinkman, Elaine Cochrane, Brittany Daley, Stephen J. Gertz, Jay A. Gertzman, Terry Gibbons, Bruce Gillespie, Michael Goss, Lee Harding, Elaine Kemp Harris, Tony Jacobs, Dick Jenssen (Ditmar), Bruno Kautzner, Patrick J. Kearney, Miriam Linna, Jim Linwood, Robert Lichtman, Race Mathews, Phil Stephensen-Payne, Curt Phillips, Ryan Richardson, William Rotsler, Gary Sohler, Cat Sparks, Robert Speray, Bill Thom, and Jodi Wille.

A special thanks goes to Tony Jacobs for working overtime to furnish the Luros (and Greenleaf) publications cover scans scattered throughout this issue.

ARTWORK: This issue of eI features original and recycled artwork by Ditmar and William Rotsler.

Sex is God's joke on human beings.
               -- Bette Davis

…Return to sender, address unknown…. 9
The Official eI Letters to the Editor Column
Artwork recycled William Rotsler

By Earl Kemp

We get letters. Some parts of some of them are printable. Your letter of comment is most wanted via email to earlkemp@citlink.net or by snail mail to P.O. Box 6642, Kingman, AZ 86402-6642 and thank you.

Also, please note, I observe DNQs and make arbitrary and capricious deletions from these letters in order to remain on topic.

This is the official Letter Column of eI, and following are a few quotes from a few of those letters concerning the last issue of eI. All this in an effort to get you to write letters of comment to eI so you can look for them when they appear here.

Thursday September 16, 2004

I admire your effort to record the important past as you are; there will be researchers in the future who will bless you for what you are doing with eI.
               --Richard E. Geis

Saturday October 2, 2004

With all the foofraw about darker fen . . . A year or so ago I asked AL du Pisani if there were any none "Europeans" in Science Fiction South Africa. He said no. Not because they were minded to agree with the old policies of the former government, but none had ever asked.

We may have to wait a few years for a South African curse of the Mhondoro Nkebele.
               --Joseph T. Major

Sunday October 3, 2004

I have to say that eI is a highly entertaining piece of work. I've just managed to get through every issue in a few days and I can say that I've taken a great deal of enjoyment reading your work.

Of all the many things I have to blame my Pops for, an undying awareness and admiration of Robert Bonfils is one of the most impactful. My Dad kept a large cardboard California Orange box full of old paperbacks that I wasn't to touch. I knew this because he had written on the side "Do Not Open: Bees". At the time, I'd rather anything than risk a bee sting, but I grew out of that phase and opened the afeart box by the time I was twelve. Nautipuss, Orgy of the Dead, The Day the Universe Came, Starship Intercourse, they were all there. My Dad, though I've never asked him about it, must have enjoyed the Bonfils art style so much that he constantly bought books with his covers. He also had Those Sexy Saucer People and a half dozen others, mostly by Phillip Jose Farmer, which I had taken to my room one night. These were the only ones left after my Mom tossed the box out following my Dad's excommunication from the family. The only Bonfils covered pb I managed to hold onto until my Mother's major purge of the filth in my own room a few years later was Flee the Night. I still miss them. Still, along with Dolly Parton's twin early 80s classics, 9 to 5 and The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, those paperbacks with the Bonfils covers had a profound effect on my sexual awakening.
               --Chris Garcia

Monday October 4, 2004
Correction to eI16

I briefly looked over the latest eI. Bonfils said he did not do the cover to Fantasex (PR212).
And it's Tomas Cannizarro. Looking good. You are amazing!
               --Bruce Brenner

#

Much obliged for the link to your ezine, and to Jhim -- as he used to be known in the '60s --
for acting as an intermediary.

I of course remember your name from the good old days when I was a regular at Ella Parker's penitentiary in London. At the time I never knew of your connection with the wonderful world of paperback porn. My discovery of the Olympia Press at the time got me interested in the field of erotic lit. in which I am now adrift up to my neck, as my website should demonstrate -- www.sonic.net/~patk/. I know one of your contributors, Jay Gertzman, quite well. A researcher of major importance in the field. Keep up the good work!
               --Pat Kearney

#

I failed to meet one of Earl's requests. I have a lot of photos from my five years in Viet Nam in storage, but I can't find the overall index. There are over 3,000 of them, so a random search is impossible.
               --Dick Eney

Monday October 4, 2004 Another fascinating issue. One after another...awesome. Bruce Gillespie is being silly if he thinks I've been snubbing him at Australian worldcons because I'm miffed at that hatchet job his fanzine did on me thirty years ago. I did not, of course, agree with the critical appraisal set forth in it, but I've been the subject of hatchet jobs on and off for decades, as well as the recipient of a lot of praise, and I take it all with equanimity. Naturally I prefer the praise to the hatchetry, as most writers would, but I don't bear grudges against those who feel the need to assail my work. (Franz Rottensteiner was another who went after me with great vociferousness in that era. When I encountered him in Frankfurt in 1984 I greeted him with a grin, let him know I was aware of his many onslaughts, and offered him a handshake. He replied to the effect that he had, perhaps, been rather overzealous as a younger critic.) The real reason why I've never spoken to Bruce Gillespie at an Australian worldcon, or an American con if he's attended one, is that I don't have any idea of what he looks like and, so far as I recall, have never laid eyes on him. If he'd care to introduce himself to me the next time we're in the same place, I'll greet him civilly enough. He is, of course, all wrong in what he says about my work, but why should I take that personally? When I was a teenage fan I trashed Howard Browne and his editorship of Amazing Stories most ferociously in a fanzine, possibly Ed Wood's Journal of Science Fiction. Five or six years later, after I had sold Howard fifty or sixty stories, he slyly pulled the fanzine out of a drawer of his desk one day when I was in the office, by way of letting me know that he had been aware all along that the guy who was selling him a story every two weeks or so was the same one who once had accused him of preferring to publish crappy s-f. He wasn't one to hold grudges either, was Howard.                --Bob Silverberg An afterthought on Gillespie, who says he was attacking me for what he saw as my pretensions as an "artist." I don't recall voicing any such pretensions. I just tried to write science fiction as well as I could, that is, to write the sort of science fiction that I thought science fiction should be. After a time I began to wonder whether all that was worth bothering about, considering the preferences of the readership. You know, such writers as Sturgeon and Leiber and Dick also tried to write science fiction at the highest level possible, and they all died poor and mostly out of print, so what was the point? That Dick made a lot of money posthumously from Hollywood doesn't justify the discomforts he had to put up with during his cash-starved life. Leiber lived in one tiny room in a slum part of San Francisco and Sturgeon in a squalid part of Los Angeles. I have had a more comfortable life than that; perhaps that proves I was never really an artist. But of course I did write a lot of hackwork as well as doing the pretentious things that drew the Gillespie ire. The real problem may have been that I failed to see that my "artistic" work, Dying Inside and Book of Skulls and Born With the Dead and the rest of that pretentious stuff, was really junk, and my hackwork, Sins of Seena and Sex Trap and such, was really art; but what can a writer understand, really, of the merits of his own work? What particularly saddened me about the criticisms that came from the Gillespie orbit was that they came from intelligent people, not from the know-nothing crowd that has mainly dominated the science fiction world. You expect the dopes to stand up and cheer for dopey fiction, but you hope for more careful reading from the bright guys.                --Bob Silverberg Bob, is it okay to run this as an LoC? -Earl Kemp Tuesday October 5, 2004 Sure, go ahead. I wanted him to hear me, and this is the best way.                --Bob # Bob Silverberg is a gentleman, as I always knew he was (we were fellow members of FAPA for ten years!), but in my mind there has long been a mistaken impression that goes something like this... Because I was the official leader of the victorious Australian contingent at Torcon 2 (1973) (the result had been announced the night before, that Aussiecon I would indeed be held in Melbourne in 1975), I was on the top table during the Hugos banquet. About halfway through the banquet Bob Silverberg came up to the table, pointed to me, and said, 'What are *you* doing there?' To which all I could say was, 'Because Australia just won the bid to hold the worldcon in 75 in Melbourne.' And Bob sauntered off. But obviously all he took away from him was: '[That unknown fan from Australia] is there because Australia just won the bid to hold the worldcon in 75 in Melbourne.' All this while, of course, I had been sending SF Commentary to Bob during the early seventies. Since such a lot of people at Torcon did look at my name tag and did welcome me as 'So *you're* Bruce Gillespie' (with delight or horror in the voice, as the case might be), I had assumed Bob had recognised me. However, even if Bob had recognised me at Torcon, he would hardly have recognised me at Aussiecon II, in Melbourne in 1985. By then I had put on a lot of weight -- most of what I am still saddled with -- and I don't think even Gene Wolfe recognised me at Aussiecon II. (I had spent an afternoon at Gene and Rosemary's place in 1973, when Jackie Causgrove and I drove up there.) At Aussiecon III, in 1999, since Peter Nicholls had shanghaied the opening ceremony by inviting all the pro writers to his place for a party, Bob would not have seen me give my Fan Guest of Honour talk, and therefore would still have not recognised me. ** 1977 (the date of Silverberg Issue of SFC) was a long time ago, except the seventies doesn't seem all that long ago to me. Much of the eighties does, but not the seventies. Looking back, I realise a lot of authors were going through crises of direction posed by the New Wave and the following wavelets. Some writers were making big money in SF for the first time; on the other hand, the more self-conscious writers were finding things difficult. Bob Silverberg seemed to wend his way through the contradictions of the time fairly adroitly, until he reached Lord Valentine's Castle and a whole new career path. Meanwhile, people like me remained excited mainly by people we might still call 'New Wave writers'. What unhinged me in the early '80s was the enormous boom in SF publishing. Suddenly I had no idea what 'the field' was doing. In the nineties, I gave up caring -- I read my favourite writers, and let the others gather their own hosts of fans. In the late 90s, I re-read some of Bob Silverberg's short stories from the seventies, and found I enjoyed them a lot more than I remember enjoying them when they first appeared. I suspect I would do the same if and when I get back to his seventies novels. These days, I'm just that tall tubby guy with white hair (but not much of it) who, for some reason, is being given a trip to America by fans in early 2005. It would be good to 'meet' Bob Silverberg for the first time... even though we've stood not many feet from each other at each of four world conventions.                --Bruce Gillespie Wednesday October 6, 2004 <snip> As for the 1973 Torcon anecdote-well, it should be pointed out right away that Torcon was four years before the infamous Silverberg issue of SF Commentary, so even if I knew that the fellow sitting at the head table was Bruce Gillespie, I'd have had no reason to have negative feelings about him. In fact I have no recollection of this 30-year-old episode at all, nor can I imagine at this late date why I asked him what I did, unless I was just fooling around. Maybe I had no idea who he was and was simply curious about his presence at the head table. Certainly there couldn't have been anything very serious or significant about my question. [Responding to Gillespie's comment about sending SF Commentary to Silverberg:] I did indeed read SF Commentary when it was sent to me, so I would have known Bruce Gillespie by name. Perhaps I looked at your nametag, recognized the name, and simply wondered why an Australian fan editor was at the dais. (I don't pay much attention to con politics and could not tell you the name of the chairman of the Boston con that I just attended, though I do know that Vince Docherty is Glasgow's.) Since Torcon I have no recollection of having encountered you again. Cons are busy places for me, panels and meetings all day long, pro parties and dinners with editors and agents at night, and there are usually plenty of people I never get to see, especially if I don't know them in the first place. I discovered only yesterday that the extremely tall John Betancourt, whom I DO know, was at Boston-he saw me, I didn't see him. I saw John-Henri Holmberg of Sweden, whom I wanted to talk to, for ten seconds in a hallway. Et cetera. I don't meet a lot of new people unless they come up and introduce themselves to me. Even without Peter's party [Aussiecon III, 1999], I wouldn't have heard your talk. Apart from the Hugo ceremony and my own panels, I just don't have time to go to con program stuff at all. <snip> As for the Silverberg issue of SF Commentary, my feeling was and still is that I wrote honestly and well in that era, and that anyone who cared about science fiction who didn't see the merit of what I was doing was not worth arguing with. I did wonder what the point of continuing as a writer was, if the earnest and committed people who read the stuff found what I was doing insufficient for their rarefied tastes, and in fact I DID stop writing sf altogether around the time of Aussiecon I and went back to it only when the financial pressures of my divorce made it necessary to do so. This was not so much out of pique that my wondrous works were not gaining sufficient praise as it was out of the feeling that there was no sense continuing to knock myself out for a bunch of idiots like that when I already had written enough good books to satisfy my own sense of accomplishment and had enough money to see me through without further labor. Eventually I DID go back to writing, and if you check out such stories as "Sailing to Byzantium" or "Enter a Soldier" you may find something worth your attention. If you don't, don't tell me about it. In general, I am singularly indifferent to criticism, rarely seek out reviews of my work, forget them pretty quickly when I find them. I choose my friends and sf according to personal chemistry, not whether they admire my work, although apparently most of them do. There are a few people whose company I deliberately avoid, and I will not name them here… But my feelings about you are simply neutral. I haven't been avoiding you, nor have I been seeking you out. Your 1977 fanzine struck me as an ungracious attack on someone who was trying to fight the good fight, but as my Howard Browne anecdote in the email to Earl indicated, I know how fierce and severe young fans can be, and I don't hold it against them in later years, any more than Howard held my teenage ferocity and severity against me when I became part of his staff. Anyway, please do come up and say hello next time we are in the same place. I do guard myself against fools, but, as I say, I have only a neutral opinion of you, and certainly am not one to nurture a grudge over a fanzine review for decades and decades. What that fanzine engendered in me was a shrug and a smile, not anger. If these people are not satisfied with what I've been doing, I thought, then they are plainly insatiable, and that's their problem, not mine. And so I have felt ever since.                --Robert Silverberg

Wednesday October 6, 2004

When I received your email telling me that eI16 was available in html format, I immediately had a look - a very GOOD look - at it. Just a quick run through impressed me enormously - especially with the quality of my graphics when I viewed them actual-size.

So I immediately 'phoned Bruce to tell him that he should drop everything and download the 'zine - especially 'cos there was a surprise awaiting him. ["Incredible Science Fiction" new original graphic by Ditmar featuring Bruce Gillespie as cover boy. -Earl Kemp]

Let me say again just how pleased I am by the way in which you've made my "artwork" look better than it is - particularly when a click on any image redisplays it in VistaVision.

I haven't read through eI16 completely yet (so much!), but I was VERY interested in the article on Greenleaf's publications. These were not available in Australia thanks to the repressive society it was then. It was even more repressive when our family (Dad, Mum and I) moved here from Shanghai in early 1941. Dad suddenly discovered that books which he had thought were innocuous were liable to have him prosecuted should the Police pay us a visit. Books like Erskine Caldwell's Tobacco Road (!!!). And, if memory serves me correctly, even some of Thorne Smith's lighthearted books were proscribed. Some years later the situation was still pretty dreadful - for example, The Biography of a Miocene Fly (otherwise known as Forever Amber) was also banned. Briefly. And even later Mary McArthy's The Group was attempted to be placed on the no-no list by our then state-governor.

When I was in the States in '63/'65 I posted books to my friend Merv Binns, books like Selby's Last Exit to Brooklyn, Trocchi's Cain's Book, and Lawrence's Lady Chatterly's Lover, some of which were intercepted by the Customs, and as a result Merv was threatened with prosecution if he was sent further items. Would you - could you - believe that owning or importing a copy of Evergreen Review (Evergreen Review !!!) was a criminal offence ?

Returning from a Conference in the US in about '67 I was carrying a Grove Press paperback, The Pearl, which was very soft Victorian erotica. This was discovered by the officers - I was making no attempt to hide it - and I, and all my luggage were very thoroughly searched. As I say, I had been to a conference where I'd given a paper involving many slides, and EVERY one of these was held up to the light to see if it contained any corrupting images...

So I really liked the Greenleaf article !

And I particularly relished the thought of you posing as not one, but TWO, hunks for the cover of Song of Aaron - especially since you'd been described as (I think I remember it correctly) "much too heterosexual" ! You are clearly someone very secure in themselves and who cares not a fig for what people may think !

There should be more like you...
               --Dick Jenssen (aka Martin, Ditmar)

Friday October 8, 2004

Earl: thanks for another great issue. I thought the covers and information about Greenleaf's sci-fi soft core was a real contribution to publishing history. The titles were a hoot, esp. Sexy Saucer People. Turns part of the Cold War hysteria on its head. Olaf Stapledon is well worth discovering, as the article and illustrations clearly show.

I have wondered what "comfort" accommodations a nation makes when it uses its young men to fight, have their mental balance permanently destroyed, and often die to keep the top 5% of its business executives living in the style they need. Drugs, beer, prostitutes--I am sure you are right about the safer (if there are any) cities of Iraq being turned into a "military bordello." The mantra about LBJ was "bombs, bullets, and bullshit." That's too mild for the Bush/Cheney crew. In their crudeness, Texas-sized arrogance, and equation of Democracy with taking weak country's resources, they deserve stronger censure than my imagination can provide. I would encourage you, however, to try to have your comparisons between Vietnam and Iraq published as a newspaper op-ed piece.
               --Jay A. Gertzman

Saturday October 16, 2004

Thanks so much for continuing to crank out these bumper issues of eI. I printed out all 122 pages of the latest one today, full-color on 24-lb. white paper, double-sided -this is how I've printed all the issues, by the way -- and have been perusing it this evening, stopping here and there to read and/or marvel over the contents. I enjoyed dipping in and out of your Vietnam memories, enjoyed Deckinger's piece on almost becoming Ivar Jorgenson, made a mental note that I really must read Gillespie on Stapledon completely, and landed finally on the Advent master archive.

It's amazing how many of these books I have, some in multiple editions. For instance, I have In Search of Wonder in the first edition hardcover (formerly Boggs's copy), second edition paperback and third edition hardcover -- got the last after it was so heavily praised on, where? Memory Hole? The original Wegenheim? And All Our Yesterdays in the first hardcover, second printing paper. The Issue At Hand, first edition hardcover (inscribed to Boggs by Blish), second edition paper. Universes of E.E. Smith, first hardcover and first paper. And not a multiple, but I'm pleased to have the original Fantasy Press edition of Eschbach's Of Worlds Beyond.

But what I didn't have and have just ordered is Eney's The Proceedings: Discon. When I spotted it, I went immediately to Bookfinder and found three copies: one for $9, one for $15 and one for $75. You can easily guess which one I got.

Anyway, thanks for continuing to entertain me -- and I'm looking forward to…seeing you again at Corflu next year.
               --Robert Lichtman

Saturday November 6, 2004

It is post-election, and Dubya has bettered his daddy by getting re-elected. What's your reaction? The reaction of many has been to swamp the immigration offices of the Canadian embassy in Washington and Canadian consulates allover the US asking how they can move to Canada and/or become Canadian citizens. I have never seen a president scare the citizenry as much as Dubya. I'm scared enough to stay on this side of the border permanently. Even crossing into Niagara Falls, NY could become the beginning of a nightmare. The next four years will be a curse to the Western world. Perhaps one sign of redemption is Colin Powell's likely resignation from Bush's cabinet. He seems to be an honourable man, and the way he's been treated by Bush and his cronies would be too much for anyone. I can only hope that Powell will write a book exposing the whole mess of this post-9/11 era. Bush has the gall to say in one breath that he wanted to unite the whole country, and with another breath, say that he intends to follow his own agenda. A decisive victory, my ass…48.5% of Americans voted for change, and they will be ignored. No wonder so many Americans want to become Canadian.

Jan Stinson's article about being a fan is a refreshment. I've had far too many people telling me otherwise over the years. If you are confident enough in your interests, and you feel you match up with the group you like, then you're a fan. Ridiculous argument, after all; who's going to make up the rules over who is and who isn't? Fandom at its worst bites its own entrails and eat its young over this argument. We should be happy that every so often, someone comes along and wants to join our happy asylum. Visitors are rare enough, and we may be excluding ourselves into oblivion over who's fannish enough.

I haven't read much Olaf Stapledon, and I know I should read more. How much does the British public know about Stapledon? If you know anything would they simply drop in the reject bin, or would they celebrate him alongside Wells? I would hope it would be the latter, but… I have found some early British SF to be a little ponderous, as if still vaguely connected to the Victorian novel which I often found impossible to get through, but a little effort and some patience often rewarded me with a good story. Tried the same with the Victorian novels, but there's only so much swamp you can struggle through before you sink.
               --Lloyd Penney

I know nothing about sex, because I was always married.
               -- Zsa Zsa Gabor

EDITORIAL:
Ho! Ho! Ho!

By Earl Kemp

It's that time again. Another year is winding down, bringing with it the 2004 Annual issue of eI. Winter is well underway. The frost is upon the land and the whole world is about to start giving. Hopefully, this year, things will be better than they have been for a while. Time to move on and think good thoughts and hope for the best. DC, take note.

Thirty-four years ago, the gang at The Porno Factory wanted to do something special for Christmas. It was all part of a continuously ongoing effort to create more and bigger and better and, above all, fantastically sellable periodicals. For that occasion we turned to the great Harry Bremner, Design Director for Greenleaf Classics, Inc.

Harry took his cue from the origins of William Hamling's Nightstand Books and decided to give a salute to the original printer, Howard Stephens of Stephens Publishing Company in Sandusky, Ohio. When Howard's presses weren't running pornography, they were running coloring books. Stephens Publishing Company was, at that time, one of the largest publishers of coloring books in the country. Because of this, whenever asked what kind of books we produced, for years we told everyone we made children's books. Harry seized upon this factoid from a filthy past and created, from scratch and mostly by hand, The Dirty Ol' Man coloring book. It was a complete sellout for the 1970 Holiday Season.

Remaining in the tradition of the season, eI is proud to present an excerpt from Victor J. Banis' sensational Holiday Gay (CB545) to hopefully amuse you while you decorate your tree and hang your balls beneath the mistletoe.

Also, I feel the need to brag just a bit. For this Annual issue of eI, Bill Burns and I are giving you completely free an exceptional portfolio by Ditmar as our gift to our loyal readers. It is presented in stand-alone format for your additional convenience.

Enjoy…!

…And to all a good night….

Self-reliance is the only road to true freedom, and being one's own person is its ultimate reward.
               --Patricia Sampson

"…My true love gave to me…."*

By Victor J. Banis

Bright Red Balls

There was something about the holiday season and Christmas time that Jackie Holmes always especially liked. Most of all it was evenings like this one, set aside for trimming the tree.

Here he was in a cozy warm apartment. The fire was blazing brightly in the fireplace. A tall fir tree had been correctly placed in its stand and was already saturating the room with its delicious scent. Hot toddies had gone a long way to putting him in a dreamy mood. And to make the picture complete he had the benefit of delightful company. There beside him was one of those beautiful young men one usually just dreams about--tall, husky, with gray eyes behind long lashes, olive hued skin and erotically carved mouth. The picture couldn't have been more perfect.

"How do you like those balls?"

"Perfect," Jackie murmured appreciatively. He traced a finger over one of them.

"What about this, do you think it's too big?"

"Not at all. It looks better standing though than it did hanging. I wish we could put it on top of the tree."

His companion laughed, a deep throaty sound that sent a shiver up Jackie's spine. "Too much weight, I'm afraid. It would bend the tree down."

"I guess you're right. But the color's perfect--that deep red crown." Jackie paused for a moment, devoting himself to his efforts.

"That's better," his friend surveyed the results of the efforts. "That gives it a shiny look, makes it glisten. I think that's more appropriate."

Jackie frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe just a little more," he suggested. After a moment, he added, "Christmas just isn't Christmas without sweets. Hard candy at that."

"I don't know when I've enjoyed the season more. I almost wish it were Christmas Eve. That part about going off up the chimney always gets to me."

"Sounds like a waste to me," Jackie answered. He turned slightly on the bearskin rug and his glance fell momentarily on the tall Christmas tree. Beside it, still unopened, was the large trunk in which he always stored the decorations. Oh well, he thought philosophically, I can always trim it tomorrow. As it turned out he had far more urgent things to tend to this evening.

He looked back at his companion. Like Jackie, Lorenzo was naked, reclining lazily on the soft rug. He smiled, his dark lips parting to reveal dazzling, even teeth. In the firelight his satiny skin gleamed maddeningly. Jackie reached out to the broad chest and ran one finger lightly over a brown nipple. His finger slipped downward over the rippling surface of a brown stomach. It curled in the thick patch of gleaming black hair and then it was back to its previous source of pleasure.

A massive arm moved about him, pulling him close again and Jackie felt himself drawn into the gray depths of those haunting eyes. His lips were crushed beneath another pair and then a warm tongue invaded his mouth. Jackie shivered as a strong male hand stroked his back, making its way downward.

"Beautiful box," Lorenzo managed to whisper. "I wouldn't mind getting some of that."

"I hope you don't want to wait till Christmas." Jackie tensed momentarily and then relaxed to the firm, confident exploration that was taking place. Sexually he regarded himself as a seasoned traveler; and the seasoned traveler, he had learned from experience, had to be prepared to travel whatever route necessary to reach his destination. At times that had meant traveling virgin territory--but not in this instance.

He was rolled gently over onto his back. For a moment they lay like that, the powerful weight of Lorenzo's body crushing him down against the rug. It lifted then and he felt his legs being raised into the air, balanced on wide, thickly muscled shoulders. He opened his eyes to smile up into Lorenzo's eager, thrilled face.

"Should I say please?" his companion wanted to know.

"Save your breath for 'thank you,'" Jackie informed him. They kissed and he felt the first tentative probings, then a slowly increasing pressure. He was reminded for a brief second of his companion's impressive size but the memory was not an unpleasant one. He moaned softly, more from pleasure than from pain and then he felt himself filling up, seeming to swell with pleasure as the sensations moved rigidly deeper.

Lorenzo kissed him and then buried his face in Jackie's hair, gasping hoarsely. "Dio, it's never been like this. I'm in Heaven."

"I'll be there myself by the time this is finished," Jackie informed him. "Because I think I'm going to have the hell screwed out of me."

He was right in his expectations. Until now it had been forceful but cautious. It moved on until its journey was completed, the lovely ornaments that Jackie had admired before brushing gently against the smoothness of his taut buttocks. Then, scattering goosebumps over his flesh, Jackie felt it withdrawing slowly, slowly - only to come crushing into him again, this time with an intense ferocity.

Jackie moaned again, arching upward off the rug. "Careful of the rib cage," he managed to gasp as the plunging became a roller coaster ride at breakneck speed.

"Ah, ah," Lorenzo sighed and sobbed, hurling himself against his partner. "So beautiful, so unbelievable, it's like a miracle."

Then so abruptly that it was shocking, he came to a complete stop. "It is a miracle," he exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment. "Listen, I hear bells!"

For the first time Jackie heard them too, filtering through the haze of his arousal-chimes actually, a special signal that only he would understand. "Christ!" he swore aloud.

This exclamation only increased his partner's consternation. "Then it is truly a miracle, a virgin birth--the second coming!"

"Hardly virgin," Jackie reminded him. "Although any birth from this would certainly be a miracle. Anyway I think we can forget about coming." He extricated himself from the now passive embrace of his befuddled partner. "Don't go away," he said, heading with reluctance toward his bedroom.

Annoying though it might be, he could not ignore the summons of the chimes. His training on that score had been thorough and he was dedicated to his duty. In the bedroom he went directly to the long, low dresser. On its surface was a figurine of a naked youth seated. Its appearance suggested nothing more than a piece of decorative art but in reality it was more than that. Jackie lifted it from the surface of the dresser, knowing that a concealed switch would start it operating at once. He turned the bottom side up and lifted it to his face. On this surface too it appeared perfectly innocent but concealed cleverly within the posterior anatomy of the figurine was a miniature speaker, into which he now spoke in low, terse terms.

"Holmes here," he addressed the porcelain buttocks. They were, he decided, a poor substitute for the lovely pair he had so recently been fondling.

"Jackie?" He recognized the familiar bass voice at once.

"Yes, Rich. What's up?"

"Maybe I should ask you that," the voice chuckled from the area of the porcelain crotch.

"Your voice has that come hither sound."

"Hither, thither--how can I get around to coming anywhere when these damned chimes are always going off before I do."

"Sorry about that," Rich said, then grew sober. "But this is really hot. Upton's called, he wants to see you pronto. Used Contact Hustler."

Jackie's annoyance paled--Contact Hustler meant something big. "I'm on my way," he answered. Without waiting for further comment, he replaced the figure on the dresser and started at once back to the living room.

Lorenzo was still bare on the bearskin rug, looking confused by the entire situation.

"Sorry," Jackie said as he entered the room. "But that was business, big business. I'll have to go out."

"What about this big business?" Lorenzo asked, indicating. For all the distraction his business was still up and throbbing painfully.

Jackie went past him to the table where he had left his gift-wrapping paraphernalia. He selected a large ribbon with a bow and, coming back to his companion, slipped it neatly around the prominent portion of Lorenzo's anatomy. "Put it under the tree," he suggested. "I'll be back to open it later, okay?"

In the bedroom Jackie dressed rapidly. As he did so the slender blond seemed to undergo a transformation. Naked and away from his work there was little about Jackie Holmes to indicate his homosexuality. He was small and slender but one quickly recognized the taut muscles rippling beneath the surface of his flesh. His daily routine included a program that would have exhausted even the finest athletes. Moreover he utilized every conceivable exercise to train his various facilities, racing through complex mathematical equations in his mind, testing his senses of hearing and smell and even reading daily in Braille to keep his touch keen. Few men could match the abilities of this slender, innocent-looking blond.

As he dressed however and prepared for 'work,' he donned another personality along with his clothes. Jackie Holmes-good looking, masculine, dynamic--became mysteriously a thin, limp-wristed homosexual. His blond hair was pulled down to flop over his forehead. He pinched his cheeks to a bright redness to give the impression of make-up. He adopted mannerisms and gestures typical of a certain type of homosexual known as a "queen."

In the end he looked anything but masculine or dynamic. Most important he looked utterly and completely harmless. It was a deliberate facade, one that had proved time and again invaluable to his work, for in disguising his true personality, Jackie was disguising his line of work as well. The small effeminate blond boy who stood a few minutes later before the mirror was in fact a secret agent of a most mysterious and unique sort. His true identity remained known to only a few but his reputation spread throughout the world giving hope to many unfortunate souls and striking fear in the hearts of countless wrongdoers. To these people he was not known as Jackie Holmes. To them he was simply the Man from C.A.M.P.

A private elevator whisked Jackie from his apartment to the garage of the building. Here too a facade was kept, for the building appeared to be an ordinary apartment house with a basement garage and Jackie's apartment as a penthouse. In fact, the entire building was his, the other apartments empty dummies and the long stalls of cars in the basement were all a part of Jackie's private collection.

He hesitated for a moment and then headed for one of the stalls. The vehicle he had chosen was nearly as unique as its driver. Its styling was audacious, exaggerated shapes and lines flowing into a sensual whole. The long hood was a wonderland of louvers and rivets and bright shiny things. It sported giant wire wheels and curling, chrome-plated external exhaust pipes.

Jackie opened the door and climbed into the Mercedes. The rim of the massive steering wheel was as thick as the banister rail of a stairway. It rumbled to life with a deep alto sound….

- - -
*Excerpted from Holiday Gay (CB545, 1967). Copyright © 1967, 2004 by Victor J. Banis. All rights reserved.

Sex is hardly ever just about sex.
               -- Shirley Maclaine

Cherry Pink and Uncle Milty Time*

The Science Fiction Cover Paintings of Milton Luros

By Earl Kemp

In 1942 and '43, when I was 12 and 13 years old, I never heard of Milton Luros. I was, however, deeply immersed in comic books and exciting adventure reading for "young people." It would have been difficult to tell me from any other permanent resident of Oz or Barsoomia. I was right on the edge of sane reason and about to fall off into dreaded pulpdom.

When I did fall, I fell hard, and it was Weird Tales that caught me and saved me from sustaining any real damage. From there, being a horny kid, I naturally gravitated into things like Spicy Mystery Stories for the obvious reasons. And I still hadn't heard of Milton Luros.

Yet, during those same two years of 1942 and '43, Milton Luros painted seven covers that appeared on Astonishing Stories, Future, Science Fiction Stories, and Science Fiction Quarterly. Then he quietly disappeared for seven years.

During that time, my addiction to pulp magazines reached a peak and I was devouring many of them every month. I got the copies that fed the flames of my desire wherever I could find them. There were new magazines from the drug store and used magazines traded with a friend or two who happened to share the same medical condition with me of deprived adventurousness and repressed horniness.

By the time Milton Luros reemerged as a pulp magazine cover artist in 1950 with the cover of Future Science Fiction for November-my birthday month; my 21st--I was a certified, committable science fiction junkie. And I was flexing my muscles and reaching out and latching onto everything and everyone remotely related to the thing that fed my lust. I was finding things like "Fandora's Box" in Imagination and Mari Wolf who sent me to Ed Wood for finishing some time around 1951. I was writing frequent letters of comment to my favorite artists and editors…people like Marty Greenberg at Gnome Press and Hannes Bok at Church Street Station. Now and then, in fear and trembling, a brief note to John Campbell…heroes all…residing on tall pedestals at the top of the only world I felt mattered to me.

Doc Lowndes (formally Robert A.W. Lowndes) also came in for a bunch of those fan letters from me, terminally embarrassing with run-on gushes about how much I liked the wonderful stories in his mag, and how well they were presented, and what wonderful interior artwork and awe-inspiring covers. "Won't you please send me some?"

And he did. And I was still such a novice, living a secret life alone in a science fiction world without contemporaries or peers, that I couldn't believe it. Those wonderful cover paintings hanging on my wall that Doc or Marty had mailed to me absolutely free and without obligation. I never had it so good.

Only thing is, now, looking backward, I don't have the vaguest idea what books those covers were painted for, or even the names of the artists for that matter. It is altogether possible that at least one of those unbelievably beautiful paintings could have been done by Milton Luros. And I also don't have the vaguest idea of what eventually happened to those cover paintings either.

During the five-year span covering 1950-54, Milton Luros painted 22 science fiction magazine covers, seven of which were reprinted in British editions. That's a total of 29 covers (plus 7 UK reprints), an impressive score for any artist to accomplish in such a brief period of time.

During those early to mid-1950s years I frequently visited New York City, thanks to having free-ride privileges from my then employer, the Pullman Company. I would pound the Manhattan pavements and force myself upon all unsuspecting science fiction heroes. Hannes Bok came in for lots of attention, and we never even mentioned Luros' paintings. I remember visiting Martin Greenberg and drooling over Gnome Press original cover paintings, and we never even mentioned Luros' paintings. I remember visiting Doc Lowndes and thanking him for his welcomed generosity and, while we had the time, neither of us thought to even mention Luros' paintings. So many memories….

In early 1954, Milton Luros disappeared again only to reappear a bit later reinventing himself all over again in grand style in southern California.

There were persistent rumors that Luros also painted covers for some of those Spicy pulps and some girlie, glamour type covers as well, and that he art directed a group of Archie comic books, but I have been unable to prove any of that.

Nor have I been able to locate a single original Milton Luros painting or piece of black-and-white line artwork in any collection anywhere.

The Milton Luros Science Fiction Cover Paintings

Following is a complete archive of Milton Luros' science fiction covers in chronological order of their appearance. As an example of the UK reprints, one of them has been included in the last position. The caption is color coded in red in order to compare the British reprint with the original USA edition that also has a red caption.

#

When I moved to California with The Porno Factory in 1965, every facet of my life changed radically and much for the better. As odd as it seems in retrospect, one of the most influential people I was fortunate enough to become friends with early on was my boss' biggest competitor, the very same once upon a time science fiction cover artist Milton Luros. Only things had changed considerably for the Luros' in the previous decade.

Milton and Bea Luros had parlayed their experience in the periodicals publishing and distribution industry in New York into an impressive empire loosely known as Parliament News…slightly removed from the routine mob infestations of Times Square to the relative peace and quiet of Hollywood and its unending supply of beautiful, available, short-term rentable bodies.

In this milieu, Milton Luros was Numbero Uno and Bea was in Hog Heaven.

Never mind that Luros was William Hamling's biggest competitor and best colleague. Never mind that it should appear that Luros and I should never associate with each other, never relate to each other, and absolutely never become friends. Good friends with each other. And not a moment of the time we shared together was ever spent in conspiring to do business of any sort together.

Milt and I had other things on our minds. It is so rare when one encounters a friend who is recognizably instantly as just that, even for the very first time. Our friendship was slow in growing because I couldn't believe it was happening in the first place and couldn't trust any of it to be real in the second.

As a thing of convenience for him, Bill Hamling would use me as his courier or bagman from time to time, whenever something of real significance was to be conveyed to any person for any reason. I did a lot of that, running back and forth from San Diego to Los Angeles ("beautiful downtown Burbank Airport") carrying things or verbiage for Stanley Fleishman, for the printer in Gardena, for the typesetter in Fallbrook, and for Milton Luros at London Press.

Because Stanley Fleishman was such a hero of mine, and I couldn't keep it from showing, I found myself becoming a good friend with him as well. It quickly became apparent to me that Fleishman and Luros also shared something quite special and unique…a friendship that transcended mere business matters. They let me inside, just the two of them, into the private world they knew and relished to the fullest extent possible.

It had nothing to do with business, whatever we did, Stanley, Milty, and me. I can't remember one single time when we ever even approached discussing business-whatever was ongoing or planned for the future at Greenleaf Classics or at Brandon House. We carefully kept a distance and rarely even lowered ourselves to gossip about either organization to the other. However, every other person within the industry was fair game. Some of our gossip and bullshit sessions about common industry associates like Rueben Sturman, Marvin Miller, Larry Flynt, Mike Thevis, etc. would singe the hair right off their heads if they knew of it, assuming that they still had any hair left at the time of course.

From Fleishman I got instant entry to most of his ongoing First Amendment trials, and the companionship of some of his brilliant apprentice specialists (some with access to some really good shit). And many hours of up front and in person courtroom experience watching The Great Man at work.

From Luros I got much more than I ever expected from anyone.

He quietly and quickly allowed me to become his friend. I didn't even know it was happening but suddenly there I was, understanding his half-implied but unspoken comments, replying in empathetic kind. He could convey volumes of words in a simple glance, his eyes swirling upward in mock chagrin and with an omnipresent silly little happy grin on his face. [This was Milt's signal to just ignore Bea and she would go away momentarily. After which our conversation would pick up right where it left off before the unexpected Tsunami overwhelmed us, dripping with pastrami on rye being brutalized by yellow teeth.]

He allowed me to feel secure in his presence…comfortable, safe, protected, invulnerable, inviolate, and almost beneficial. Together with Stanley, they tried to convince me that I was somehow bigger than life and that I not only had the right stuff but the obligation to use it to the fullest extent possible for the greater good.

Damn! I was one lucky sonofagun….

#

He was always giving me something, Uncle Milty was. It could be shtick or Hebrew parable or plain old cliché, but he always gave it willingly and liberally. He was also always giving me copies of some of his books, the special ones that he took so much pride in producing but, I suspect, lost lots of filthy green by doing so. In the 1970s Milton had a subsidiary called Hogarth Guild. From this imprint he produced three large, oversized coffee-table books. They were hardbound with dustwrappers, printed on slick, acid-free paper, and sported really elaborate endpapers. They were designed for the serious pornography collector and were priced in the $25 to $35 range.

While I didn't personally care for this type of antique pornography, the artwork was reproduced flawlessly by Milton's London Press. Books in this series were varied, running from the very classic The Forbidden Erotica of Thomas Rowlandson and Peter Fendi 40 erotic equarelles to the more popular Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana that was heavily illustrated with original black-and-white photographs by William Graham, the famous nude glamour photographer. These three titles appeared in 1970.

Also in 1970, but under an Academy Press imprint, Luros produced a number of books in a similar series that were noticeably a bit more hard core. They were also large, coffee-table type books printed on excellent paper with superb color reproductions. They were also hardbound and wearing dustwrappers and fancy endpapers, but they were decidedly hard core and consisted of new photography featuring really attractive models. Titles in this series were a bit more "academic" as one would expect from Academy Press. Here we find the two volume Sex in Marriage and Sex, Pornography & the Law.

He always had something really good that he wanted to show and tell at a favorite restaurant. Over time, Milt introduced me to things that still make my taste buds start twitching. Gerkinsalat! What an incredible delight. Made to order mayonnaise, a taste beyond description. Deserts to die for. And he knew where the best restaurants were in New York as well as in Europe, the best waiters, the best dishes, and the best tables. He changed my life forever; I can no longer sneer at Bob Silverberg for flaunting his Fancy Expensive Restaurants.

Milton gave me multiple limousines. He gave me real fairy tale castles. He gave me real marble floors, top shelf bottles, and really exclusive service.

He shared his love for art, for paintings, and for models with me. The intense, personal things about the female form that so excited and inspired Luros all the days of his life. The almost worshipful caressing of flesh tones recorded for posterity in color photographs.

Surrounded by such beauty, it was always very difficult for me to understand why…how even…that Milton could so obviously love Bea-who personified abrasiveness and was far from glamorous-as much as he did. "If you could see her through my eyes…?"

"Cherry pink," he always called it, that special incandescently radiant glow there just beyond the portals of paradise.

Luros was obsessed with the perfection of the human form, male as well as female, and in the equally perfect reproduction of that image in even more perfect color, of those hand-added glints in the eyes and apparent sexual sweat beading their flawless bodies. He would stop his presses and check the run-of-press colors many more times than was necessary.

As a manufacturer for hire, Luros proved his worth to me and to Greenleaf Classics on many occasions. He was one of the most honest and honorable businessmen we ever had any relationship with. He was the best of the best in every department because he insisted upon it. Milton and London Press was my first choice to produce The Illustrated Presidential Report of the Commission on Obscenity and Pornography (GP555, 1970).

And Luros also printed the various advertising brochures for that book that eventually brought about our indictment and trial for "conspiring to distribute obscene matter." Then he folded, stuffed, and mailed those same brochures to various mailing lists, and the rest of that tale is already old hat by now….

Milton Luros was generous to a fault, always picking up the tabs and pushing more of the better stuff onto me again and again. There are times when I feel the need for total, uninterrupted luxury, and it is those times when I share anew some of our old favorites and chug a toast of Chivas Crown Royal in their honor.

#

Bea Luros was as impossible to believe as she was to describe. She was short, very obese, and everything about her was pudgy. Her head, her face, her neck, her shoulders, her arms, her wrists, her fingers…. And everything that could be decorated with a diamond was. She glittered from the top of her dyed hair to the tips of her exquisitely manicured fingers. She dressed well and wore expense like a fine, floor-length mink.

She had absolutely no manners of any sort and was a healthy exhibition eater. Anything edible was fair game to her regardless of ownership as if somehow a divine right. She didn't care much for personal hygiene, neglected her teeth, and usually talked with a mouth full of someone else's entrée.

At first I was positive I hated Bea Luros. In fact, I had no experience at all with any overly rude, pushy woman. Always before I had either managed to avoid them or to get rid of them in some fashion including through rudeness. Only when the person you really want to get rid of as rudely as possible is incredibly married to your good friend, what are you going to do?

You suffer, is what. You endure. You squirm. Inwardly you rebel but outwardly you keep right on smiling.

Bea Luros was the most unforgettable person I ever met. That is because at the same time she was the rudest, crudest, loudest, most obnoxious boor who ever lived. Absolutely nothing was beneath her shame and she would loudly blurt out the most embarrassingly intensely personal questions in public situations. She would bellow voice her opinions about anyone or anything without provocation. She would condemn a tardy waiter to hell but not before capturing whatever edible goodies that waiter was carrying.

She would scream for attention across a crowded, very expensive, very snobbish restaurant, and she would be obeyed. She would eat from every plate within the reach of her pudgy, diamond-studded and -enwrapped arms and fingers. No food was safe near her. The four entrees she would order for herself only serving as appetizers for the other nearby diners' plates.

She would make bellboys, busboys, maitre des, and CEOs go faint and weak in the knees just looking at her turn harridan and listening to the ear-popping decibels of her foghorn voice.

Bea was The Bitch of the World.

#

She grew on me. Somehow, even though I really tried to keep it from happening, she slipped past the guard post and I gradually began accepting her as a somehow necessary Court Jester. I was delighted to discover that by thinking of Bea as being amusing, rather than the Avoidable all others saw her as, that I could tolerate her. In time, that toleration turned into begrudging admiration and, in retrospect, she gave me many hours of unequaled entertainment and amusement.

Together Milton and Bea built one of the largest, best run empires in southern California, and it lasted them well into the 1970s before deterioration, infiltration, and capturing set in too heavily. By that time, both of them were tired of the business and a great deal more. They had done just about everything they could think of wanting to do, repeatedly. They had been everywhere.

Age and medical conditions were taking their toll on both of them. Milt had, for years, suffered on-again, off-again gout, associated with good living and even better food. Bea, who had spent all those years trying to consume all of that good living and even better food, was ready for a little downtime.

When the mob made them the offer that they could not refuse, they accepted and retired gracefully to part of the half of Los Angeles County they had been secretly buying up with pornography profits over the years. Successful to the bitter end.

- - -

*This one is for Brian Kirby; "I'll always keep an eI out for you." Special thanks to Terry Gibbons for much help with this article and the Luros cover archive. Dated November 2004

Life is a sexually transmitted terminal disease.
               --Colin Greene

A Checklist of Brandon House
Library Editions*

By Patrick J. Kearney

California-based Brandon House Library Editions were, along with the Olympia Press in New York, one of the best of the many erotica publishers which sprang up in the United States following the effective collapse of censorship there in 1967. It was one of several subsidiaries of a larger, umbrella organisation called Parliament News, run by a man named Milton Luros with the help of his wife, Bea.

The success of the Library Editions, and also of another subsidiary called Essex House, was due primarily to the labours of their editor Brian Kirby, a young musician and science fiction fan. Kirby's choice of material, as will be seen from the listing, was adventurous, and included specially commissioned translations of French and German erotica, reprints of a number of important erotic classics, and new editions of some of the Paris Olympia Press titles with original 'Afterwords' by their authors. In addition, the books were often printed on good paper, and the choice of cover art included work by artists such as Rops, Labisse, and Munch.

I would like to thank the following individuals for their generous assistance in compiling this checklist. To San Francisco bookseller Andy Stafford, for giving me access to his own collection of Brandon House Library editions and his catalogue of them. To Victor Berch, for his notes on the pseudonyms of the translators and authors. And to San Francisco poet Jack Hirschman, for advising me of his own role in writing Introductions to some of the Library Edition titles. Assistance from other individuals is to be found credited in the checklist.

The numbers preceding each entry are the series number of the individual titles.

As always, I will be happy to hear from anyone with additional information on any of the entries, in particular those French or German works whose origins I've been unable to trace. Please contact Patrick J. Kearney at patk@sonic.net and the URL for my website is www.sonic.net/~patk/.

The Checklist

721. MAXWELL KENTON [Terry Southern & Mason Hoffenberg]. - Candy. 1965. pp. 189. 75¢.
- Originally published at Paris in October 1958 by the Olympia Press as volume 64 of its Traveller's Companion Series.

901. JOHN CLELAND. - [Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure] Fanny Hill. 1963. pp. xv + 247. 95¢. Seven illustrations by William Hogarth.
- Originally published at London in two volumes in 1748,49 by Ralph Griffiths.

903. CLAUDE PROSPER JOLYOT DE CREBILLON. - [Tableau de mœurs du temps dans les différens ages dela vie] A Lady of Quality. Preface by W.R. Eshelman. Introduction by Aldous Huxley. 1964. pp. xxiv + 202. 95¢.
- An anonymous translation of a French erotic novel originally published in an edition of just one copy between 1750-1760, and reprinted secretly at Bruxelles, probably by Jules Gay, about 1863. The Introduction by Aldous Huxley is extracted from an essay accompanying The Opportunities of the Night (London: Chapman & Hall, 1925), Eric Sutton's translation of Crebillon's La Nuit et le moment. The Brandon House edition of this work normally encountered is 16.3 centimetres in height, and has wrappers (front, spine and back) illustrated with a somewhat indifferent montage drawing of distinctly modern-looking women in various stages of undress. The Brandon logo-the turrets of a castle with an entrance gate between them-is in the top right-hand corner of the front cover, with the price 95¢ immediately below it. The title and author's name is enclosed in a fancy oval on the front cover with, at the foot of the front cover, the information that there's an Introduction by Aldous Huxley. There exists however, in the collection of Mr. Paul Bayrer, a variant edition of A Lady of Quality. The variant is a good eight millimetres taller, being in fact the same height as other Brandon House titles, and the front cover is illustrated with a rather more interesting picture of a single woman, her face partially obscured by a veil and holding a fan in her right hand. Instead of the Brandon logo, there is a small oval medallion containing the initials 'LP' and the price 95¢. The title and author are not enclosed in this variant. The spines of both editions are more or less the same, with the familiar logo of the letter 'P' enclosed within an oblong frame at the top and with the title and author printed down the spine in italics. Both editions have the number '903' across the bottom of the spine. The interiors of the two editions are identical. Which of these came first is difficult to know, as is the reason for the variant. Paul Bayrer gives precedence to the larger of the two, however, theorizing that when publishers wish to save money they tend to reduce the size of books and thus save costs on paper.

917. FRIEDRICH-KARL FORBERG. - [De Figuris Veneris] The Manual of Exotica Sexualis. Preface by Hilary E. Holt, Ph.D. 1965. pp. x + 248. 95¢.
- An English version of Forberg's commentary to his edition of Antonius Beccadelli's Hermaphroditus (1824). This translation would seem to be a reprint of one published at Paris in 1899 by Charles Carrington.

920. ED CRAY, editor. - An Anthology of Erotic Restoration Poetry. 1965. pp. 160. 95¢.
- A good collection of erotic English verse from the late 17th century.

931. ANONYMOUS [Sinclair Beiles]. - The Love Pagoda. The Amorous Adventures of Hsi Men and his Six Wives. Introduction by Albert Ellis. 1965. pp. 238. 95¢.
- A page-for-page reprint of Houses of Joy, Paris: Olympia Press, 1958.

935. NICHOLAS CHORIER. - [Satyra Sotadica de arcanis amoris et veneris] The Dialogues of Luisa Sigea. Introduction by Albert Ellis. 1965. pp. 320 + ads. 95¢.
- Originally published, in Latin, probably at Lyons about 1660. This edition is a reprint of an English translation first published at Paris in 1890 by Isidore Liseux.

943. PAULINE REAGE [Anne Desclos]. - [Histoire d'O] The Story of O. Introduction by Albert Ellis. 1965. pp. 214+ ads. 95¢.
- Histoire d'O was originally published in French by Jean-Jacques Pauvert in June 1954 at Paris. An English translation, anonymous but by Baird Bryant, came out simultaneously from the Olympia Press, also at Paris. The Olympia Press subsequently published a second translation, by Austryn Wainhouse, as The Wisdom of the Lash in May 1957 when it formed vol. 44 of its Traveller's Companion series. The present edition is a reprint of the second translation.

967. ED CRAY, editor. - The Fifteen Plagues of a Maidenhead and Other Forbidden Verse. 1966. pp. vii + 203 + ads. 95¢.
- An anthology of English erotic verse, mainly from the 18th century, including The Delights of Venus (1709, a fragment of Chorier's Satyra Sotadica de arcanis amoris et veneris rendered into verse), and the celebrated Essay on Woman (1763), usually ascribed to John Wilkes.

980. MARGARET ANSON [James G. Bertram]. - The Merry Order of St. Bridget. Introduction by John Trimble. [Illustrated.] 1966. pp. xi + 237. 95¢. Printed on low-acid paper.
- The Merry Order of St. Bridget was originally published at London, 'Printed for the Author's Friends MDCCCCLVII' [actually 1868], by John Camden Hotten.

984. JOHN WILMOT, 2nd Earl of Rochester [supposed author]. - Sodom, or, The Quintessence of Debauchery. Introduction by Albert Ellis. 1966. pp. ix + vii-xlvi + 47-123. 95¢. Printed on low-acid paper.
- A 17th century play of gross obscenity and mordant cynicism, Sodom seems to have been written about 1671 and was originally circulated in manuscript copies amongst the courtiers and other hangers on surrounding King Charles II in England. Early printed editions evidently existed but have not survived, and today the earliest existing printed text is one published at Paris in 1904 by H. Welter. It was prepared very poorly for the press by L.S.A.M. von Römer from a faulty manuscript in the Hamburg State Library. The present edition is taken from a rather better version, edited (allegedly) by Robert Nurenberg from a MS in the Bibliothèque National, Paris, and published in 1957 by the Olympia Press at Paris as volume 48 of the Traveller's Companion series.

1012. FATHER ANTONIO GALLONIO. - Torture of the Christian Martyrs. Illustrated. 1966. pp. xiv + 235 + index + ads. $1.25.
- A translation of De SS. Martyrum cruciatibus ... liber, quo potissimum instrumenta et modi, quibus ijdem Christi martyres olim torquebantur, accuratissime tabellis expressa describuntur (Rome, 1594). The translation is probably a reprint of the one done by Alfred Richard Allinson for Charles Carrington and published at Paris in 1903.

1202. ANONYMOUS. - Danielle and Uncle Armand. Translated by L.E. LaBan [Lauraine Kirby]. 1970 pp. 206 + ads. $1.95.
- One of the last titles to bear the Library Editions imprint, numbered out of sequence. Green wrappers.

1203. ANONYMOUS. - [Das Bildnis des Dorian Gray] The Erotic Picture of Dorian Gray. Translated by Henrik van Breda [Mark Alexander & Lauraine Kirby]. Vol. 1. 1970. pp. 205 + ads. $1.95.
- A translation of a pornographic German work, originally published at Paris during WWII for the benefit of the occupation forces. However, Jan Moret, a Dutch collector, reports the following: "From the catalogue of Antiquariat Ars Armandi no. 16 Berlin: Das Bildnis des Dorian Gray. Roman von ***. Paris: l'Annee Bibliographique, Les Decouvertes Litteraires, um 1930. Pp. 227. Seltene Deutsche Ertausgabe.

1204. ANONYMOUS. - [Das Bildnis des Dorian Gray] The Erotic Picture of Dorian Gray. Translated by Henrik van Breda [Mark Alexander & Lauraine Kirby]. Vol. 2. 1970. pp. 191 + ads. $1.95

1206. THE BOARDING SCHOOL. Translated by Hendrick van Breda [Mark Alexander & Lauraine Kirby]. 1970. Pp. 208+ads. Green wrappers.

1208. HOFFMAN, E.T.A. - [Schwester Monika] Sin & Sister Monica. Translated by L.E. LaBan [Lauraine Kirby]. 1970. Pp. 224+ads.
- Originally published in 1815 at either Posen or Leipzig. A Facsimile reprint was published in 1910 at Vienna in an edition of 800 copies, which was in turn reprinted in 1965 at Hamburg by Gala Verlag.

2001. MARIE-THERESE [Marie-Thérèse Cointre]. - [Vie d'un prostituée] I'm for Hire. Introduction by Robert Kramer. 1966. pp. 158. $1.25.
- The original French text of this work, in expurgated form, was first published in J.-P. Sartre's periodical Les Temps modernes (no. 27, December 1947). Shortly afterwards the complete text was published clandestinely. An English translation, anonymous but rumored to have been by Robert Nurenberg, was published in April 1955 by the Olympia Press, Paris. This present edition is a reprint of the latter. In the same year as Brandon House published its edition of this work, another edition, with the author's full name on the titlepage and an Introduction by Simone de Beauvoir, was issued at New York by Brussel & Brussel.

2002. PAOLO MANTEGAZZA, Doctor. - [Gli Amori degli uomini. Saggio di una etnologia dell' amore] The Sexual Relations of Mankind. 1966. pp. 364 + [100]. Illustrated. $1.25.
- Original Italian text first published at Milan in 1886, in two volumes. The present edition would appear to derive from one of two different translations published during the 1930's at New York. The earliest appeared under the imprint of The Anthropological Press in 1932 and credited to 'James Bruce', a pseudonym of Solomon Malkin. The same translation was reprinted about 1935 by Benjamin Rebhuhn's Falstaff Press. The second translation, by Samuel Putnam, was published in 1939 by the Eugenics Publishing Company.

2003. W. F. ROBIE. - Rational Sex Ethics. Illustrations by Heinrich Kley. 1966. pp. 351 + 333 + ads. $1.95.

2004. EMIL LAURENT, Doctor, & Paul Nagour [L'Occultisme et l'amour] Magica Sexualis. 1966. pp. 274 + ads. $1.25.
- Original French text originally published at Paris in 1902. This translation is probably a reprint of the one done by 'Raymond Sabatier' [Solomon Malkin] that appeared c. 1934 from both the Falstaff and Anthropological Presses.

2005. PIETRO ARETINO. - Ragionamenti. The Harlot's Dialogues. 1966. pp. [20], 83, [3], 89, [3], 100 + ads. $1.25.
- A translation of the third dialogue of the first part of the Ragionamenti. The Italian original was first published at Venice in 1534. This present edition is probably reprinted from the translation published at Paris in 1889 by Isidore Liseux.

2006. IWAN BLOCH. - The Marquis de Sade's 120 days of Sodom and The French Age of Debauchery. 1966. $1.25.
- A reprint of Marquis de Sade's anthorpologia sexualis of 600 perversions. 120 days of Sodom [New York, Privately printed by Anthropological Press, c1934].

2007. GRUSHENKA PAVLOVSK [?Val Lewton]. - Grushenka. Three Times a Woman. Edited and Revised by Brian Kirby. Introduction by Robert Kramer. 1966. pp. xii + 260. $1.25.
- Originally published at New York in 1933 with a false Paris imprint. The supposed author was a well known film producer, responsible for a series of good low-budget horror movies in the 1940's by such directors as Robert Wise, Mark Robson and Jacques Tourneur.

2008. ALBERT MOLL. - Libido Sexualis. 1966. $1.25.
- A reprint of Libido sexualis; studies in the psychosexual laws of love verified by clinical sexual case histories. New York, American ethnological press, 1933.

2009. AUGUSTIN CABANÈS. - The Erotikon. 1966. pp. 251 + [30]. $1.25.
- An English version of a French work that appeared originally about 1910. The present edition is probably a reprint of the translation done by 'Robert Meadows' [Solomon Malkin] that was published in the early 1930's in quick succession by the Anthropological, Falstaff and Panurge Presses.

2010. IWAN BLOCH. - Odoratus Sexualis. 1966. $1.25.
- A reprint of a work originally published in English with the imprint: New York, American Anthropological Society, 1933.

2011. ERICH WULFFEN. - Woman as a Sexual Criminal. 1966. $1.25.
- A reprint of a work originally published in English with the imprint: New York, American Ethnological Press, 1934.

2013. HENRY SPENCER ASHBEE. - A Complete Guide to Forbidden Books. Introduction by Robert Kramer. 1966. pp. 447. $1.25.
- An abridged version of Ashbee's celebrated three-volume bibliography of erotica, originally published in London between 1877-1885 under the pseudonym 'Pisanus Fraxi.'

2014. MARCUS VAN HELLER [John Stevenson]. - Roman Orgy. Introduction by Jack Hirschman. 1966. pp. 180 +ads. $1.25.
- Originally published at Paris in April 1956 by the Olympia Press as volume 23 of its Traveller's Companion Series.

2015. BENJAMIN TARNOWSKI. - Pederasty in Europe. Preface by Brian Kirby. 1967. pp. [xx] + 233. $1.25.
- An English version of a late 19th century German work. Possibly a reprint of the edition published at New York in 1933 by the Anthropological Press as Anthropological, Legal and Medical Studies on Pederasty in Europe.

2016. OSCAR WILDE [supposed author]. - Teleny, or, The Reverse of the Medal. Introduction by Jack Hirschman. 1967. pp. 243 + ads. $1.25.
- Originally published at London in 1893 in two volumes, by Leonard Smithers. The present volume is undoubtedly a reprint of the edition published at Paris in May 1958 by the Olympia Press as volume 62 of its Traveller's Companion Series.

2018. ALEXANDER TROCCHI. - White Thighs. Introduction by Jack Hirschman, and a new Postscript by the author. 1967. pp. 208. $1.25.
- Originally published at Paris in June 1955 by the Olympia Press as volume 14 of its Traveller's Companion Series at which time the authorship was ascribed to Trocchi's pseudonym 'Frances Lengel.'

2019. ANONYMOUS. - Randiana, or, Excitable Tales. Introduction by John S. Murphy [Hilary E. Holt]. 1967. pp. vii+ 150. $1.25.
- A reprint of a pornographic novel originally published at London in 1884, probably by Edward Avery in collaboration with the mysterious William Lazenby.

2020. ALEXANDER TROCCHI. - Helen and Desire. Introduction by Jack Hirschman, and a new Postscript by the author. 1967. pp. 208. $1.25.
- Originally published at Paris in January 1954 by the Olympia Press as volume 2 of its Atlantic Library Series, at which time the authorship was ascribed to Trocchi's pseudonym 'Frances Lengel.'

2021. LORD GEORGE HERBERT, pseud. - A Night in a Moorish Harem. Introduction by James. E. White [Hilary E. Holt]. 1967. pp. 160. Illustrated. $1.25.
- A reprint of a pornographic novel originally published at Paris c. 1896. No copy of the original edition has been located, although adverts for it have been found in clandestine catalogues of the period. The earliest known edition to have been reliably described is one published at Paris about 1900 by either Renaudie or Elias Gaucher.

2022. ATAULLAH MARDAAN, pseud. - Deva Dasi. Introduction by Geoffrey Lowndes [Jack Hirschman]. 1967. pp. 176. $1.25.
- Originally published at Paris in April 1957 by the Olympia Press as volume 42 of its Traveller's Companion Series.

2023. ANONYMOUS. - The Diary of Mata Hari. Translated by Mark Alexander. Introduction by Hilary E. Holt, Ph.D. 1967. pp. 248. Illustrations. $1.25.
- Purports to be the first translation of the erotic diaries of Margaretha Geetruida Zelle MacLeod, also known as Mata Hari.

2024. MAURICE CHIDECKEL. - Female Sexual Perversion. Foreword by Dr. S. Wolman. 1967. pp. 304. $1.25.
- A reprint of a work originally published with the imprint: New York, Eugenics Publishing Company [c1935]

2025. IWAN BLOCH. - Strange Sexual Practices. 1967. $1.25.

2026. ANONYMOUS [Edmund Duponchel, Frederick Hankey & Alfred Bégis]. - [l'Ecole des biches] School for Girls, or, Morals of the Little Ladies of our Time. Translated L. E. LaBan [Lauraine Kirby]. Introduction by Allen D. Warner [Hilary E. Holt]. 1967. pp. xi+164. $1.25.
- The first English translation of l'Ecole des biches, an erotic French work that was first published at Bruxelles in 1868 by J.-P. Blanche. Prior to its original publication, the work circulated amongst amateurs in manuscript copies taken from a calligraphic manuscript prepared for Edmund Duponchel by the artist Émil Ulm. See also entry no. 2039, below.

2027. HENRY JONES [John Coleman]. - The Enormous Bed. Introduction by Geoffrey Lowndes [Jack Hirschman]. 1967. pp. 214 + ads. $1.25.
- Originally published at Paris in February 1955 by the Olympia Press as volume 1 of its Traveller's Companion Series.

2028. FELIX BRYK. - Sex and Circumcision. [With illustrations.] 1967. pp. 342.
- A reprint of Circumcision in Man and Woman; its History, Physiology and Ethnology, by Felix Bryk. Translated by David Berger, M.A. (New York: American Anthropological Press, 1934).

2029. MARCUS VAN HELLER [John Stevenson]. - Kidnap. Introduction by Jack Hirschman, and a new Postscript by the author. 1967. pp. 207. $1.25.
- Originally published at Paris in August 1961 by the Olympia Press as volume 5 of its Ophir Books series.

2030. JEAN-LOUIS FOUGERET DE MONTBRON. - [Margot la ravaudeuse, et ses aventures galantes & Le Canapé, couleur de feu.] The Amorous Adventures of Margot and The Scarlet Sofa. Translated by Mark Alexander and L. E. LaBan [Lauraine Kirby]. Introduction by Hilary E. Holt, Ph.D. 1967. pp. 174 + ads. $1.25.
- Translations of two 18th century French erotic novels. The first, Margot la ravaudeuse, seems first to have been published in 1750 with the probably false imprint 'Hambourg.' The original edition of Le Canapé was published at 'Amsterdam' [Paris?] in 1714, which circumstance makes it unlikely that Fougeret de Montbron was the author of it since he would have been about 10 years old at the time.

2031. MARCUS VAN HELLER [John Stevenson]. - The Loins of Amon. Introduction by Jack Hirschman, and a new Postscript by the author. 1967. pp. 207. $1.25.
- Originally published at Paris during the first quarter of 1955 by the Olympia Press as volume 11 of its Traveller's Companion Series.

2032. ALEXANDER TROCCHI. - School for Wives. Introduction by Jack Hirschman, and a new Postscript by the author. 1967. pp. 207. $1.25.
- Originally published as School for Sin at Paris in March 1955 by the Olympia Press as volume 3 of its Traveller's Companion Series at which time the authorship was ascribed to Trocchi's pseudonym 'Frances Lengel.'

2033. FELIX SALTEN [supposed author]. - [Josefine Mutzenbacher, oder Die Geschichte einer Wienerischen Dirne] The Memoirs of Josephine Mutzenbacher. Translated by Rudolph Schleifer [Hilary E. Holt]. Introduction by Hilary E. Holt, Ph.D. 1967. pp. 304. $1.25. Cover art by Félicien Rops.
- The first English version of this famous 'naturalistic' novel concerning a Viennese prostitute. The German original was first published in a private edition in 1906. The ascription of the authorship to Felix Salten, better known for his childrens' novel Bambi, seems fairly well established. A translation of a spurious sequel will be found noted at no. 3002, below. An earlier translation, with illustrations by Mahlon Blaine, was published at 'Paris' [New York] in 1931 by either Jake Brussel or Sam Roth.

2034. ALEXANDER TROCCHI. - The Carnal Days of Helen Seferis. Introduction by Jack Hirschman, and a new Postscript by the author. 1967. pp. 191. $1.25.
- Originally published at Paris in May 1954 by the Olympia Press as volume 7 of its Atlantic Library Series, at which time the authorship was ascribed to Trocchi's pseudonym 'Frances Lengel.'

2035. MARCUS VAN HELLER [John Stevenson]. - The House of Borgia. Two Volumes in One. Introduction by Jack Hirschman, and a new Postscript by the author. 1967. pp. 352. $1.25.
- Volume One was originally pub