Movies

[November 14, 1965] A Teenage Dream (The Mating Game)

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by Lorelei Marcus

With the announcement of TV game show Password's hiatus, so were my glimpses of my favorite actor in his best form put on hold.  Left with only the occasional episodes of What's My Line where I could hope to expect maybe two minutes of his handsome face on my screen, and the schlock reruns of his stardom in the 50's that even the projectionists didn't care to watch, my chances of seeing my crush seemed bleak and scarce.

Last Sunday was a cold, dreary day that I'd spent staring at my signed photograph of Tony Randall, contemplating my dark fate, when hope burst through my door.  Hope in the form of my father and a cramped drive-in schedule that included, wedged into the afternoon slot, a movie starring the object of my dreams.

Never have I gotten into a car so fast.

The Mating Game

I went in with low expectations.  The horrid experiences of The Brass Bottle and Fluffy only furthered the trend of Randall's name in the credits being a bad omen for the quality of the movie.  That's why it was such a pleasant surprise when the film opened on a sprawling "Maryland" landscape, settling in on the hustle and bustle of the Larkin family farm.  Pa Larkin (Paul Douglas) and his children are introduced trying to sneak their neighbor's boar onto their truck after "borrowing" it for stud services.  The farm is cluttered with knicknacks, appliances, and an abundance of farm animals, all fundamental parts of Pa's "trading" business, with which he earns his living.


Paradise.

An aspiring self-sufficient homesteader myself, I liked this setup quite a bit. 

Of course, conflict quickly arises when Pa tries to return the boar to Mr. Burnshaw, who's a longtime enemy of the Larkin family.  Finally fed up with their antics, Burnshaw calls up the Internal Revenue Service and demands an income tax investigation.  It turns out that the Larkins have never paid income tax, never even filed a return.  A federal agent is assigned to the case.

Enter our leading man, Mr. Tony Randall, himself.  Luckily, contained as I was in our car, I was able to squeal to my utmost ability, only to the detriment of my father's hearing.

Randall, as the improbably named "Lorenzo Charlton", fares about as well on the assignment as you might expect any respectable government worker trying to apply law and order to an old fashioned farm.  That is to say utter chaos ensues as the whole Larkin family takes every opportunity to make Charlton feel at home when all he wants to do is get the job done.

Worse still for his work is Pa's beautiful, fun-loving daugher, Mariette (Debbie Reynolds) who takes an aggressive liking to Charlton.  (If there were ever an accurate representation of the Young Traveler on the silver screen, tomboyish, hellraising, Tony-Randall loving Mariette is it!)


Love at first sight.


Lorenzo's heart starts to thaw on the set of Forbidden Planet.

All sorts of high jinks ensue, ranging from the theft of Charlton's motor by Pa's two boys (ostensibly to keep it from burning oil; in reality, to keep the taxman in the house long enough to fall for Mariette) to a scene featuring a very drunk Charlton dancing around in his underwear.  It's an absolute romping delight to witness.


Tony Randall in his underwear.  That's all I needed to know.

Unfortunately, the fun doesn't last, as unfriendly neighbor Burnshaw calls up Charlton's boss and demands to know why the Larkins haven't been completely ruined yet.  The future looks dim as Charlton's boss comes to the farm himself, threatens to fire Charlton if he doesn't leave, and then determines that the Larkins, in fact, owe Uncle Sam $50,000!

The newly budding love between Charlton and Mariette cut off a the root, the Larkin family property on the block…whatever shall our heroes do?


Lorenzo is sent on his way.


Mariette plans to take on the IRS single-handedly.

Well, to give it away, the movie has a happy ending.  And it comes in an unpaid Civil War era government contract worth considerably more than what the Larkins owe.  In an act of heroism, Charlton convinces no less a personage than the Treasury Department's Inspector General to go to the farm and make good on the debt. 


Charlton takes on the IRS single-fingeredly.

The Larkins are happy not to owe but resistant to the idea of being millionaires, or as Pa repeatedly says:

"We eat good, sleep good, feel good. What more do we need?"

Charlton makes the brilliant suggestion of allocating the government debt to the Larkins to cover any current and future tax obligation, to which the IG gladly agrees. 

Charlton (now universally called "Charlie") and Mariette run off to roll in the haybales together, and everyone lives happily ever after.

The Mating Game is an unexpected delight with a fun premise carried by fine acting.  Paul Douglas (in his last role) and Una Merkel have wonderful chemistry as Pa and Ma, warming every scene they're in.  Debbie Reynolds does an excellent job capturing the wild charm of a young farmgirl, especially when she's dashing up and down, being chased around the barn by suitors, or riding her horse over path and fence.  Even the child actors, all four of them, are good, adding just the right punch lines to already hysterical scenes.

And of course, as always, Tony Randall is superb.  His delivery is crisp, his growing exasperation appears genuine, and his "bad" inebriated dancing is still incredibly impressive.  It is such a relief that, for once, he was able to play a competent and likable character.  To the girls I overheard in the car next over saying that "they should have gotten a more handsome leading man," I ask, "ARE YOU BLIND?"  The fastidious but charming Charlton couldn't possibly have been played better by anyone else!

But in the end, I was bound to love this movie.  It is my dream set to celluloid: living on a farm with Tony Randall.  And though the story is quite silly at times, and the ending a little too good to be true, The Mating Game serves its purpose as a sweet escape from reality.  If the tumultuous year of 1965 has gotten to be too much for you, then I strongly advise (check local cinema and TV listings of course) a trip to green Maryland with Tony Randall on your arm.

Just be sure to give him back when you're done — I do have a big fat crush on him, after all.

Until then, this is the Young Traveler, signing off.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[November 12, 1965] Doldrumming (December 1965 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Off Days

The December Amazing, boasting Cordwainer Smith, Murray Leinster, Edmond Hamilton, Robert Sheckley, and Chad Oliver, looks promising despite the hideous front cover by Hector Castellon.  Unfortunately, the unifying theme of the issue is Off Days of Big Names.


by Hector Castellon

But first, let’s survey the terrain.  The Smith and Leinster stories are new, and informed rumor has it they are the first purchases of the new editor after the exhaustion of Cele Lalli’s leavings.  They are long, so the three reprints make up a smaller proportion of the magazine than in the previous issue, less than half of the total page count.  Almost all the the issue’s contents are fiction.  The editorial is one page, as is the letter column, and that’s it: no article, no book reviews.

The editorial by Joseph Ross cocks a fairly vapid snook at outside critics of SF, most recent example being Kurt Vonnegut, who isn’t entirely outside, and the letter column—both the letters and the editor’s responses—are calculated to cheer on the magazine and celebrate the true pulp quill, with a sideswipe at the previous editor’s attempts at something a little more elevated.

Killer Ship (Part 2 of 2), by Murray Leinster

The longest item is the conclusion of Murray Leinster’s serial Killer Ship, which inhabits the subgenre of Reactionary Science Fiction.  This is not a political designation, but a description of stories that suggest—nay, insist—that the future will, conveniently for the lazy reader and writer, not be much different from the past.  This one began last issue with: “He came of a long line of ship-captains, which probably explains the whole matter.”


by Norman Nodel

There follows a genealogy of the protagonist Captain Trent’s space- and sea-faring ancestors back to the eighteenth century, followed by several paragraphs about the similarity between the dangers of space travel and those of eighteenth-century sea voyaging, complete with Trent’s ancestor sailing into port with the hanged bodies of pirates swinging from the yardarms.  There’s no indication of what Trent knows or how he has been influenced by these ancestors’ doings, so how his lineage “explains the whole matter” is a bit murky.

A couple of pages later, after it is disclosed that the ship-owners who have hired Captain Trent for a trading voyage in pirate-infested waters, er, space, would be just as happy if he gets pirated so they can collect the insurance: “It didn’t bother him.  He came of a long line of ship-captains, and others had accepted similar commands in their time.”

Six pages further on, when it appears Trent’s ship has spotted a lurking pirate: “The report of a reading on the drive-detector was equivalent to a bellowed ‘Sail ho!’ from a sailing brig’s crosstrees.  Trent’s painstaking use of signal-analysis instruments was equal to his ancestor’s going aloft to use his telescope on a minute speck at the horizon.  What might follow could continue to duplicate in utterly changed conditions what had happened in simpler times, in sailing-ship days.”

Later still: “The arrival of the Yarrow in port on Sira was not too much unlike the arrival of a much earlier Captain Trent at a seaport on Earth in the eighteenth century.” I will spare you the extensive elaboration.  And I can’t resist one more, towards the end as the Captain and his men are mustering for the final battle: “When they gathered, crowding, to get into the Yarrow’s spaceboats, the feel of things was curiously like a forgotten incident in the life of a Captain Trent of the late eighteenth century.” (Again, spare the details.) There is no suggestion that the current Captain Trent is in any way aware of this incident.  Hey, the author just said it’s forgotten!

At this point it is tempting to ask, Why bother?  Why not just swing by the library and pick up a stack of old C.S. Forester novels, and take your eighteenth century straight?

Another conspicuous feature is its pervasive verbosity.  Consider the following passage, right after the discovery that there’s another spaceship lying low very close.  Trent throws a switch that turns on the signal-analyzing instruments and goes to work.  Now:

“There was silence save for that small assortment of noises any ship makes while it is driving.  It means that the ship is going somewhere, hence that it will eventually arrive somewhere.  A ship in port with all operating devices cut off seems gruesomely dead.  Few spacemen will stay aboard-ship in a spaceport.  It is too still.  The silence is too oppressive.  They go aground and will do anything at all rather than loaf on a really silent ship.  But there were all sorts of tiny noises assuring that the Yarrow was alive.  The air apparatus hummed faintly.  The temperature-control made small, unrelated sounds.  Somewhere somebody off-watch had a tiny microtape player on, the Aldonian music too soft to be heard unless one listened especially for it.”

Next: “The signal-analyzer clicked.” Intermission over!  Story starts up again! 

And here’s another one, short but telling.  Captain Trent and the captain of a pirate-bashed ship whose crew Trent has rescued are about to travel from one ship to the other.  “The Yarrow’s bulk loomed up not forty feet away, but beneath and between the ships lay an unthinkable abyss.  Stars shown up from between their feet.  One could fall for millions of years and never cease to plummet through nothingness.” Then they snap on lines and are hauled across the 40 feet, sans plummeting or any actual risk or fear of it.

A little later (we’re up to page 29 of the October issue), there is a long description of the pirates repairing the damage to their ship that Captain Trent inflicted by ramming them.  This is actually a nice vivid word-picture.  But then:

“While this highly necessary work went on, the stars watched abstractedly.  They were not interested.  They were suns, with families of planets of their own; besides, some of them had comets and meteoric streams and asteroid belts to take up their attention.  There was nothing really novel in mere mechanical repair-work some thousands of millions of miles away from even the nearest of them.”

And it goes on, and on, appearing everywhere like water seeping up through the floorboards of a flooding house.  It’s enough to make a body wonder if paying by the word is really such a good policy.

Oh, yes, there is also a story here, fitfully visible through the padding and the constant eruptions of the eighteenth century.  Trent takes on a job carrying a cargo through pirate territory, partly to make some money and party because he hates pirates.  He has an encounter with some pirates, captures some of their crew, and rescues the boss’s daughter (boss meaning owner of the pirated spaceship, and also a planetary president).  She thinks he’s the cat’s meow for rescuing her, and he sort of likes her too, but duty calls.  Then everybody foolishly thinks it’s safe to travel again because Trent defeated this lot of pirates.  The boss’s daughter gets kidnapped by pirates again.  Trent cleverly figures out where she and the other hostages must be, goes there with his crew, confronts the pirates in their lair, rescues boss’s daughter again, wedding bells clearly to follow. 

There are some clever plot twists along the hackneyed way, as one would expect from a guy who’s been at this for well over four decades.  There are also characters, sort of.  Captain Trent is the strong laconic guy who may have inner turmoil but keeps it to himself.  Everybody else is essentially a cartoon, notably Trent’s crew, who play a big part in his success, and who are essentially a bunch of roughnecks the Captain has recruited from barroom brawls and who follow him because he’s a pretty good brawler too.  Finally, there is the definitive happy ending: “This novel will be published in the winter by Ace Books under the title ‘SPACE CAPTAIN.’ ”

One star for both parts.  That’s the average of two stars for smooth professionalism, and zero stars for polished vacuity; life’s too short to waste time on this.

On the Sand Planet, by Cordwainer Smith

All right, Henry, wheel that one out and release it to the next of kin.  Who’s on the next slab?  Oh, Cordwainer Smith.  Sounds promising.  Except . . . 

On the Sand Planet seems to be the last in the Instrumentality series featuring one Casher O’Neill that began with On the Gem Planet and On the Storm Planet, with Three to a Given Star tangentially related.  They were all published in Galaxy, to considerable praise from the Traveler.  But . . . if the others appeared in Galaxy, what is this one doing here at the bottom of the market?  Unfortunately, suspicions confirmed.


by Jack Gaughan

Casher O’Neill has been on a mission to relieve his home planet Mizzer of the tyrant Wedder, and to that end has circuitously toured the galaxy and has obtained various superpowers, apparently courtesy of T’ruth, an Underperson derived from a turtle.  That’s all before this story opens.  Now, he’s landing on Mizzer again, walks into town and into Wedder’s citadel, and using his superpowers, rearranges Wedder’s head and portions of his supporting anatomy, turning him into a pussycat.  Metaphorically, I mean.  While he’s at it, Casher restores the intelligence of an idiot child. 

Now that Casher is done with his life’s work, he drops in on his mother, who has mixed feelings about him, and his daughter, who has her own life and would just as soon he went away.  So he decides to go to the Ninth Nile (this city Kazeer is at the confluence of a whole lot of Niles, it seems), though he is warned he will need iron shoes for the volcanic glass.

At the Ninth Nile, Casher meets D’alma, an elderly dog-underperson and an old acquaintance, who accompanies him, first to the gaudy City of Hopeless Hope, where everyone seems to be engaged in the practice of one religion or another, and D’alma warns that they are “the ones who are so sure that they are right that they never will be right.” Then, to the place of the Jwinds, “the perfect ones,” who destroy intruders who don’t meet their high standards.  But Casher, who contains multitudes in his enhanced cranium, is too much for them.  On to Mortoval, where a gatekeeper lets them pass when Casher again musters his superpowers to invoke “old multitudes of crying throngs.” The gatekeeper asks, “How can I cope with you?”

“ ‘Make us us,’ said Casher firmly.
“ ‘Make you you,’ replied the machine.  ‘Make you you.  How can I make you you when I do not know who you are, when you flit like ghosts and you confuse my computers?’ ”

On to Kermesse Dorgueil, where D’alma warns “here we may lose our way because this is the place where all the happy things of this world come together, but where the man and the two pieces of wood never filter through,” and a guy named Howard explains, “We live well here, and we have a nice life, not like those two places across the river that stay away from life,” and they make no claim to perfection. 

Here Casher encounters a woman, Celalta, who is dancing and singing, having resigned as a lady of the Instrumentality, and Casher recruits her as traveling companion by grabbing her wrist and not letting go.  Also he introduces himself by telepathy-dump, including “the two pieces of wood, the image of a man in pain,” and tells her it’s “the call of the First Forbidden One and the Second Forbidden One and the Third Forbidden One.” The Trinity, like you’ve never seen them (or it) before!  I guess.

Onward, past the Deep Dry Lake of the Damned Irene, resisting the temptation to lie down with the skeletons and die, to “the final source and the mystery, the Quel of the Thirteenth Nile,” where there are trees and caves, and fruits, melons, and grain growing, and evidence that other people used to live there, and also some surviving chickens running around.  Celalta declares, “We’re Adam and Eve in a way.  It’s not up to us to be given a god or to be given a faith.  It’s up to us to find the power, and this is the quietest and last of the searching places.” Et cetera.  Celalta says she’ll start the fire if O’Neill will go catch some chickens.

Well, this is pretty ridiculous.  It’s obviously some sort of religious allegory, reminding me a little of my ill-fated glancing encounter with The Pilgrim’s Progress, told in an often sonorous style but a plain vocabulary, like a negotiation between the King James Bible and Fun with Dick and Jane (that’s not a complaint).  But the point is a little elusive.  I get that at least one of the two is thinking about Adam and Eve, since she says it straight out.  But then what?  Mr. Smith owes us one more story in the series, catching up with Casher and Celalta and their inevitable children after ten years or so in isolation, living on feral chickens roasted in a cave.  But you know it won’t happen.

Two stars for this shaggy God epic.  As exasperating follies go, it’s at least readable and amusing.

The Comet Doom, by Edmond Hamilton

The reprints are an exceedingly mixed bag.  Surprisingly, the best is also the most archaic, Edmond Hamilton’s The Comet Doom, from the January 1928 Amazing.  There’s a big green comet passing by, and it turns out it’s inhabited by atomic-powered metal beings with tentacles who used to have organic bodies but gave them up.  These folks have about used up the comet’s resources and want to replenish their stores by carrying off a handy planet, ours to be precise.  In fact they have just yanked the Earth out of its orbit.  To further their scheme, they land on a lake island and snatch our heroes, Coburn and Hanley, and offer them metal bodies and immortality if they will help out in the liquidation of their species.

Hanley goes for it, Coburn escapes.  About this time, Marlin—the story’s narrator—is passing by the island in a boat which is half-destroyed by the comet, swims to shore, and encounters Coburn, who recruits him to the human cause.  They attack the cometeers and Coburn is killed, but the already-transplanted Hanley, in a final moment of human loyalty, destroys the machine that is steering Earth towards the comet, along with the comet-people present.  Doom is foiled.

This one is reasonably readable, mostly done in a style that reflects close attention to H.G. Wells, with echoes of both The Star and The War of the Worlds, despite the pulpish plot.  Two stars by today’s standards, probably a standout by those of its time.

Restricted Area, by Robert Sheckley

The other reprints are from the brief high-budget, and relatively high-brow, flowering of the Ziff-Davis magazines during 1952 and 1953, immediately after the magazine went from pulp size to digest size.  Robert Sheckley’s Restricted Area, from the June-July 1953 Amazing, is one of the slick but empty and cartoony pieces he produced in quantity at the beginning of his career, along with the more incisive ones. 


by Greisha Dotzenko

Space explorers land on a paradisical planet–wonderful climate, no germs, no rocks, lots of colorful friendly animals ready to hang out and play, and a giant steel shaft ascending to the clouds.  But after a while, the animals start to slow down and keel over.  Connect the dots.  Glib and facile, and the author knows it—this one hasn’t been in any of Sheckley’s multiple collections to date.  Two stars, barely.

Final Exam, by Chad Oliver


by Ashman

Final Exam by the sometimes redoubtable Chad Oliver, from the November/December 1952 Fantastic, is also from what we might call the Intermission, or Respite, between the Ziff-Davis magazines’ last gasp as pulps and their monotonous and purposely formulaic low-budget era of the mid- and late 1950s.  Like much of Oliver’s work, it reflects his anthropological bent (actually, a pretty straight-line bent—he’s become an anthropology professor at the University of Texas), but strikes an unusually sour note.  Professor La Farge’s class in Advanced Martian History is on a field trip to see and condescend to some of the colorful and primitive surviving Martians, but the time for the Martians to turn the tables has arrived in this heavy-handed satire.  Two stars, barely. 

Summing Up

Well, a couple more hours we’ll never get back, and not much to show for it, except an eccentric misfire from a sometimes brilliant writer, and a tolerable relic of a bygone era.  Next?

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[November 10, 1965] Strangers in Strange Lands (December 1965 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Time for the Stars

I was having a lovely conversation with fellow traveler Kris about the mixed reviews for the British anthology show, Out of the Unknown.  Some critics are saying the stories aired would have been better served in a conventional setting rather than on Mars or wherever.

Indeed, this has been a common complaint for decades, that science fiction should be uniquely SF with stories that depend on some kind of scientific difference/unique setting, even if many of the trappings are familiar.

Galaxy is a magazine that has led this charge since its inception in 1950 and it therefore comes as no surprise that this month's issue features a myriad of settings that are in no way conventional, backdrops for stories that could take place in no genre but science fiction.

Citizens of the Galaxy


by John Pederson, Jr.

The Mercurymen, by C. C. MacApp

On the face of things, Mercury would seem a most inhospitable planet for colonization.  Until this year, the general conception of things was that the innermost planet of our solar system was tidally locked, presenting just one baked hemisphere eternally toward the sun, while the other remained in perpetual frigid night.


by Gray Morrow

C. C. MacApp offers up a most imaginative tale set on this half-cooked world.  The planet, or at least the twilight zone between the hot and cold sides, is overrun with the vines of a plant, the interiors of which are large enough and contain sufficient air and water to support human inhabitants.  How they plant came about or how the settlers came to dwell in them is a mystery, but hundreds of years later, the colonists have reverted to near savagery.  The ecosystem of the vines provides most of their needs: latex for vacuum suits, luminescent mold for light, oxygen-producing fungus for air.  But for precious metals and for new soil for crops, the denizens must venture into the airless waste outside.

Similarly, population pressure periodically forces tribes to split, members of a certain age tasked to form a new settlement further along the vine. The Mercurymen is the tale of Lem, eldest son of a recently expired chief, who leads a party out over the bleak landscape of Mercury in search of a new hope.  Along the way, he must deal with a deadly environment, hostile tribes, and treachery within the group.

Because so many of the concepts are alien, even as the characters are human, The Mercurymen can occasionally be a detailed, hard read.  Nevertheless, I appreciated MacApp's world building quite a lot, and I was carried along with Lem on his engaging, difficult adventure.  The novella would merit expansion into full length novel though the following discovery may require a complete change in setting to make it work:

From Nature, Volume 208, Issue 5008, pp. 375 (October 1965):

Rotation Period of the Planet Mercury, by McGovern, W. E.

The recent radar measurements of Mercury indicate that the period of rotation of the planet is 59 +/- 5 days1. This result is in complete disagreement with the previously quoted value of 88 days based on the visual observations of the markings on Mercury2-6. In this communication we show that the same visual observations can not only be reconciled with the radar-determined rotation period of Mercury but, in addition, can be used to derive an improved value for the period of rotation of the planet, namely, 58.4 +/- 0.4 days.

Yes, Mercury isn't tidally locked at all, and the stories that made use of this presumption are now all obsolete.  Editor Pohl may even have known this even when he put this issue to bed, as the news first broke in June.

Still, it's a good story, and again, you can squint your eyes and pretend it takes place on a different one-face world entirely.

Three stars.

Galactic Consumer Reports No. 1: Inexpensive Time Machines, by John Brunner

The latest Galaxy non-fact article is written in the style of the venerable magazine Consumer Reports, offering evaluation of six cut-rate personal time machines. 

The aforementioned Kris noted that there seem to be two John Brunners: one who writes Hugo-worthy material like The Whole Man and Listen! The Stars… and another who churns out hackwork.  I'd say this piece is representative of a third Brunner, neither outstanding nor unworthy.  It's a cute piece, although I would have appreciated a little more time travel in it.

Three stars.

Laugh Along With Franz, by Norman Kagan


by John Giunta

In a disaffected future, "None of the Above" (the so-called "Kafka" vote) threatens to become the electoral candidate of choice.

More pastiche of outlandish societal explorations than tale, I found myself falling asleep every few pages.  I'm afraid Norm Kagan continues not to do it for me.

One star.

For Your Information: The Healthfull Aromatick Herbe, by Willy Ley

A rather defensive Willy Ley discusses the history of tobacco in his latest science article.  It's actually pretty interesting, though I am no closer to taking up the still-ubiquitous pasttime than I was before.

Four stars.

The Warriors of Light, by Robert Silverberg


by Jack Gaughan

In the previously published story, Blue Fire, Silverberg introduced us to an Earth of the late 21st Century, one that worships the Vorster cult.  Vorster and his disciples cloak the scientific pursuit of immortality with a bunch of religious mumbo jumbo, complete with a rosary of the wavelengths of light.

Warriors of Light is not a sequel to Blue Fire, per se.  Instead, it is a story from a completely different perspective, that of an initiate of Vorsterianism who is recruited by a heretical group to steal some of the cult's deepest serets.

Reportedly, Silverbob produces 50,000 words of salable material per week, enough to make it seem like SF is his full time career even though it's just a fraction of his overall output.  Light is not the brilliant piece that its predecessor was, but the Cobalt-90 worshipping future Earth remains an intriguing setting, and I look forward to the next story that takes place therein.

Three stars.

"Repent, Harlequin!" Said the Ticktockman, by Harlan Ellison

In Ellison's latest tale, The Master Timekeeper, a.k.a. the Ticktockman, is the arbiter of justice for a chronologically regulated humanity.  Everything runs to schedule; tardiness is punishable by the lost of years from one's lifespan.  There is no room for deviation, nonconformity.

Yet one clownish fellow, known as The Harlequin, cannot be restrained.  His antics distract, his capers disrupt, his personality compells.  This dangerous threat must be stopped.  But in erasing the heretic, can even the master inquisitor escape just a little of the nonconformist contagion?

This is the most symbolic of Ellison's work to date, and with a deliberate, almost juvenile storytelling aspect that veers toward the Vonnegutian.  I appreciate what Harlan is doing here, but there's a lack of subtlety, a ham-handedness that makes the piece less effective than much of his other work.

Oh, my telephone is ringing.  One moment. 

Ah.  Harlan says I'm an ignorant so-and-so and if I withdrew my head from my seat, I might be able to better comprehend his work.  (Note: this is not an exact transliteration).

Anyway, three stars.

The Age of the Pussyfoot (Part 2 of 3), by Frederik Pohl


by Wallace Wood

Last up is the continuation of last month's serial by editor Pohl, who is indulging himself in his first love, writing.  Forrester, who died in the late 1960s only to be ressurrected in the 25th Century when medical technology was up to the task, has run out of dough and has become employed by the one boss who will have him, an alien from Sirius, member of a race with whom Earth is currently in a Cold War.

In this installment, we learn about how this state of not-quite conflict came to be, as well as about the Forgotten Men, the penniless humans who make a living outside of normal society.  We also learn how difficult it is to survive when one cannot pay the bill on one's "joymaker," the ubiquitous hand-held combination telephone, personal computer, and electronic valet. 

Let us hope that we never get so reliant on this kind of technology that we find ourselves similarly helpless without them!

Pussyfoot continues to be entertaining and imaginative, far more effective in execution of its subject than similarly themed Kagan piece, though less satirical in its second installment than its first.

Four stars.

Beyond This Horizon

My Heinlein motif for the article section titles may be a little misplaced given that R.A.H. doesn't appear in the pages of Galaxy this month. Call it artistic license since his most recent novels are coming out (or have come out) in sister mags Worlds of Tomorrow and IF.

Anyway, at the very least, the stories in the December 1965 Galaxy hold to the Heinlein tradition of fundamentally incorporating unique settings. No transplanted Westerns or soap operas here!

For the most part, it works, resulting in a solid 3-star issue. Why don't you pick up a copy, Space Cadet, and see if you agree!




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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[November 8, 1965] You Must Be Mythtaken (Doctor Who: The Myth Makers)

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By Jessica Holmes

Yes, I am quite proud of myself for that title. This month, we’re taking a trip back to a time where the line between myth, legend and fact becomes blurred. Doctor Who has a new producer in John Wiles, who has some big boots to fill, and a new writer for this serial, one Donald Cotton. Let’s dive in and see how they got on.

TEMPLE OF SECRETS

Let’s establish one thing immediately: this serial makes a number of breaks from the popular accounts of the siege of Troy. To establish a second thing, I don’t mind this. It’s a legend. There might be a kernel of truth in there somewhere, but most of it was probably made up so that it would make a good story. Well, except for the bit about fighting the river god. That definitely really happened.

The real problem here is the music. Who in the world signed off on this?! It sounds as if they fitted a below-average marching band with shock collars, gave them sheet music that had been half-eaten by a dog, then made them perform drunk with no rehearsal, and giving them an electric jolt every few seconds.

It’s just noise! I have heard more pleasant primary school music recitals.

It would perhaps be more bearable if I had something to watch, but my picture quality is very poor once again. I think it must be the weather where I live.

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor and his companions watch the unfolding fight between Achilles and Hector on the monitor, and the Doctor makes the spiffing decision to go and ask these nice chaps where and when they’ve landed.

It’s at that point that Hector practically dares the Fates to toy with him, as he mockingly challenges Zeus himself to come down and save Achilles, who is at his mercy. So when there’s a bright light and an old man pops out of a magically appearing box, he’s more than a little taken aback, and that gives Achilles the opportunity to run him through.

Achilles mistakenly believes the Doctor to be Zeus, having appeared to him in the guise of an old beggar (which made me chortle), and the Doctor doesn’t bother to correct him.

Having learnt where he is, the Doctor attempts to return to his TARDIS, but Achilles begs him to stay, showing him the camp of Agamemnon, where the Greeks have spent the last ten years sitting outside the walls of a rather well-executed miniature model of Troy.

The Doctor and Achilles meet Odysseus (yes, THAT Odysseus), who is just a total jerk, as my American friends would put it. The Doctor has a quiet giggle to himself as Odysseus sarcastically comments that Achilles probably just chased Hector around the city until he got tired rather than facing him in honest combat.

Odysseus isn’t at all convinced that the Doctor is Zeus, and after examining his tiny ‘temple’, insists that he accompany them back to the camp. After they all leave, a Trojan patrol comes out of hiding, recovering Hector’s helmet and discovering the ‘temple’ for themselves.

Steven gets tired of waiting inside the TARDIS and goes to find the Doctor, leaving Vicki behind to rest her injured ankle, which I had forgotten all about.

In the Greek camp, Meneleus, husband of Helen (the face that launched a thousand ships, but doesn’t appear in this story) is frankly bored of this whole siege. If Paris wants Helen, he can keep her.

…I see why she left him.

Agammemnon, however, is not ready to give up, and he threatens to issue a challenge to Hector on Meneleus’ behalf.

Luckily for Meneleus, that’s when Achilles gets back and informs them that Hector’s crossed the Styx.

Odysseus arrives shortly after with the Doctor in tow. The Doctor tries to prove his divinity by revealing hidden truths, such as the fact that Agamemnon’s wife is unfaithful, but it seems just about everyone knew that except the kings, who refuse to believe it without proof.

Agamemnon finds himself in a difficult position, and decides to imprison the Doctor, unwilling to risk killing him and incurring the wrath of the gods, or releasing him and having him spill all their secrets to the Trojans.

Desc: Odysseus and Cyclops

Odysseus eavesdrops outside the tent, where he’s met by a mute spy, Cyclops. Probably no relation. Cyclops tells Odysseus, through hand gestures, that he spotted a stranger coming to the camp. Investigating, Odysseus finds Steven and takes him captive, accusing him of being a spy.

Attempting to maintain his cover, the Doctor prevents the Greeks from killing Steven on the spot, telling them that if they take him to his temple tomorrow, he’ll perform a miracle and smite the spy.

Well, they’ll be quite happy to take him to the plain, but he’d better hope for bad weather… because the TARDIS is gone.

Again.

He really does have a habit for misplacing it, doesn’t he?

Desc: an empty plain, with a disc with the image of a horse on it lying on the ground.

SMALL PROPHET, QUICK RETURN

I can’t decide whether I like this pun or whether I want to steal all of the writer’s pencils.

When the time comes for ‘Zeus’ to do some smiting, the Doctor finally caves and admits that he’s not Zeus, leading to him and Steven being captured and interrogated.

Meanwhile, the TARDIS has found its way behind the walls of Troy. Paris, Hector’s brother, is feeling rather pleased with himself for having captured a Greek shrine of some sort.

His sister Cassandra tells him to get rid of it. Naturally, he ignores her. She points out that it was unguarded, and it’s about the right size for somebody to hide inside. Has he perhaps considered it’s a trap? Doesn’t this all sound rather familiar?

Their father, King Priam, soon joins the party and attempts to prise the door open, as inside Vicki frantically searches for something to wear. For heaven’s sake, just put on a bedsheet and you’ll fit right in.

After listening to the Doctor and Steven’s true accounting of who they are and how they came to be here, Odysseus figures that they wouldn’t dare tell him such a blatantly absurd story unless they were actually telling the truth, which is questionable logic but then again none of the great thinkers have been born yet (and boy, does it show!), so perhaps we shouldn’t be too harsh. He agrees to release them on the condition that they help him take the city. Oh, and they only have two days to do it.

In Troy, Cassandra is about to burn the TARDIS as an offering to the gods when Vicki finally emerges, introducing herself as a traveller from the future. All that time in there and you couldn’t come up with any cover story at all?

Cassandra accuses her first of being a pagan goddess of the Greeks (which is confusing, as at least in The Iliad’s version of events, which is what this serial is mostly based on, the Trojans worshipped the same gods), and then of being a false prophet, though Paris points out that Cassandra doesn’t have a monopoly on reading entrails and having weird dreams.

Vicki explains that she’s not prophesying, she’s just recalling her knowledge of history, which is different. Cassandra still insists that they should kill her, while Paris argues the opposite. In the end, Priam kindly assures Vicki that she shall die when HE says so, and not a moment earlier. How very…comforting.

Oh, and the name will have to go if she’s staying. Vicki sounds far too weird for their liking, so the king re-names her Cressida. How rude.

But that name does ring a bell…

Meanwhile , the Doctor and Steven are trying to come up with ideas for breaching the city, and Steven brings up the wooden horse. The Doctor shoots the idea down, as nobody would actually be stupid enough to fall for that.

A messenger arrives to inform Odysseus that he’s been volunteered on Achilles’ behalf to go and answer a challenge from Paris, but Odysseus isn’t about to fight heel-boy’s battles. Steven volunteers to go instead, and allow Paris to take him as his prisoner so that he can search for Vicki. Odysseus thinks it’s suicide, but acknowledges that it is at least very brave.

With him gone, the Doctor keeps coming up with ideas. Tunnelling’s been tried already, but how about flight?

Steven surprises Paris as he very quietly and hesitantly calls out for Achilles, necessitating a change of loincloth on Paris’ part. He astutely observes that Steven isn’t Achilles. Lowering his voice, he admits to thinking that really this whole thing seems to have got a bit out of hand, and he doesn’t really fancy killing anyone who isn’t Achilles anyway.

Desc: A man in Greek armour fights a man in Trojan armour.

Well maybe you should have thought about that before running off with a married woman, hmm?

That said, he has a point.

He reluctantly starts fighting, and Steven has to pretend to lose, because let’s face it, Steven could eat Paris for breakfast if he were actually trying.

It’s very funny when a baffled Paris asks ‘I beg your pardon?’ and then Steven has to actually talk him into accepting his surrender, buttering him up by pretending that the Greeks tell all sorts of extraordinary tales about Paris. He sure would like to tell some of those tales within earshot of the Trojans, and gosh, wouldn’t they all be very impressed with Paris for capturing this great Greek warrior? Cough, cough. Hint, hint.

Nonplussed but a little flattered, Paris agrees to take Steven back to the city, and the pair leave, watched by Cyclops as they go.

In the city, Priam treats Vicki to a slap-up meal courtesy of his cousin Aeneas’ smuggling operation, and regales her with tales of just how much the Trojans like horses. They really, really like horses. There’s such a thing as liking horses too much, you know.

Vicki recalls a legend she once heard regarding Troy and horses, and Priam tries to press her about it. She changes the subject by asking about Troilus, the king’s youngest son. He’s rather good looking, isn’t he?

There’s a bit of a random, out-of-nowhere line on not putting too much stock into good looks, as that will only get you into trouble. Just take Paris and Helen. Paris is a nice looking bloke, popular with the ladies, and also a total cowardy-cowardy-custard. He got all taken with Helen’s beauty, and before you know it there’s a decade-long war.

‘Shame he didn’t meet a nice sensible girl like you,’ he tells Vicki. ‘It’s character that counts, not good looks.’

Ouch! Talk about a back-handed compliment.

Priam hastily apologises, insisting he didn’t mean it like that, and is about to press Vicki on what she knows of the war again when Paris marches Steven into the room, pleased as punch.

Shocked to see each other, Vicki and Steven blurt out one another’s names, and Cassandra realises at once that they must know each other.

If ‘Cressida’ knows this Greek, what more proof do they need that she’s a spy? There’s only one thing to be done with spies. They must be put to death.

Desc: A soldier in ancient Trojan armour brandishes his sword.

DEATH OF A SPY

I was quite disappointed that this episode didn’t start with a punny title. Some might consider that a good thing, though.

Tired of Cassandra’s zealotry, Paris intervenes to stop the guards dispatching Vicki and Steven. Priam is willing to believe Vicki when she says she’s not a spy, but she’ll have to prove herself. She will have to use her divine powers to aid Troy against the Greeks. If not, she’ll be burnt. In the meantime she will have to stay in the dungeons, but Priam assures her that it’s actually rather nice down there.

At least he’s affable, but I think all the men in this story have one brain cell between them and they’re playing pass-the-parcel with it.

Don't look so unimpressed, Odysseus. It's not as if you've got any better ideas.

The Doctor continues to pursue his idea for a very anachronistic flying machine. I think if you left him to his own devices for long enough he’d end up inventing the aircraft carrier several millenia early.

However, he’s not too keen on the idea of testing his invention, something Odysseus would very much like to see him do.

In the dungeons of Troy, Vicki and Steven are visited by Cyclops, who Steven tells to warn the Greeks not to attack until the day after tomorrow, so that they can buy Vicki some time. It’s then that the king’s youngest son, Troilus, visits ‘Cressida’ in her cell.

He brings her some food, and she coaxes him into sitting and talking with her.

Meanwhile, the Doctor abandons his idea of using flying machines, claiming to have made a mistake in his calculations. If you ask me, I think he was just scared of trying out his contraption.

With no better options available he finally suggests the idea of building a wooden horse. He explains the legendary plan, and Odysseus actually seems quite taken with it. So is Meneleus, once the Doctor explains to him that they’re building the horse, not looking for an actual fifty-foot-tall equine.

Maybe there is someone stupid enough to fall for it, after all.

In Vicki’s cell, she’s getting rather cosy with Troilus, and poor Steven no doubt feels very awkward as the chatting turns to outright flirting. Troilus even asks at one point whether Steven is really just Vicki’s friend or if he’s something more. Someone’s a little jealous!

When he finally leaves, Steven mocks Vicki for being so unsubtle. She retorts that she was only doing what she could to get them both out of prison. But was that really all there was to it?

Unfortunately for the pair of them, it looks like their message to delay the attack won’t reach the Greeks. Cyclops gets caught as he leaves the city, and is swiftly killed by a Trojan soldier.

The Greeks finish building their horse in an astonishingly short amount of time. Wait, where did they get the wood? There don’t seem to be any trees nearby. They’d have to travel and cut the lumber and transport it back and assemble it…and they did all that in a few hours? Yes, I’m nitpicking a fictional retelling of a pseudo-historical event that almost certainly did not happen, but it’s my job.

Desc: The head of the Trojan horse

The Doctor waits with Odysseus and his soldiers inside the horse, but the Doctor isn’t at all happy about it. In one memorable line that I am very, very surprised made it past the censors, Odysseus snaps that the Doctor is making him “…as nervous as a Bacchante at her first orgy.”

I beg your pardon?

I think you’ll find that a Bacchante is a female ROMAN follower of the ROMAN god, Bacchus. The Greek equivalent would be a Maenad, a female follower of the Greek equivalent, Dionysus.

The nonsense they’ll allow in children’s television these days!

Soon Troilus comes to Vicki in her cell and tells her that the Greeks have all left. The king thinks that she’s been a good luck charm after all, and has ordered her release. Unfortunately Steven isn’t as lucky.

The Trojans start bringing the horse into the city, much to Cassandra’s dismay. As annoying as she can be, she's the only person in the city with half a brain.

The Trojans think they’ve won… but it’s only a matter of time.

Desc:: The Trojan horse stands on a hill.

HORSE OF DESTRUCTION

The title of this episode sounds like it lost its nerve halfway to being a pun. That, or it’s just a stupid title. I know that Doctor Who likes ‘Noun of Adjective’-style titles, but ‘Horse of Destruction’ just sounds silly.

Cassandra says that the horse is a trick, an obvious trick, and the arrival of the ‘temple’ has brought nothing but bad luck, just as she said. Well, a stopped clock is right twice a day.

They notice ‘Cressida’ seems to have vanished, and Troilus goes to look for her while Cassandra sends her maidservant, Katarina.

Desc: Paris, Priam and Cassandra all look out the window.

Vicki releases Steven from the dungeon, telling him about the horse problem, and Steven wonders if his message got through. Well, chum, take a look at the great big horse standing in the town square and tell me what you think.

Perhaps it’s something in the water?

Troilus finds that his ‘Cressida’ has gone missing, and Cassandra starts screaming, yet again, about finding her and burning her. Cassandra, I like the mythical version of you, but all that screeching is giving me a headache.

Vicki returns to the palace, and they grill her on where she’s been. She manages to placate them, and the king goes with his children to investigate the horse, leaving Vicki alone with Katarina.

The Doctor grows thoroughly sick of Odysseus’ company, and finally snaps. He thoroughly tells him off, but the 'hero' pays him no mind.

Is there a Doctor in the horse?

Troilus returns for Vicki, who warns him to leave the city and find Steven (or as Troilus knows him, Diomedes) out on the plain. He takes her advice and takes his leave. Moments later, the Greeks emerge from the horse and begin dispatching the Trojan sentries. The Doctor looks on helplessly, dismayed at all the bloodshed.

Troilus doesn’t find ‘Diomedes’ out on the plane, but he does find Achilles. He doesn’t have long to wonder if ‘Cressida’ played him false before Achilles attacks. It’s a tough fight, but Achilles catches his heel on a bush and stumbles, enabling Troilus to deliver him a mortal blow. However, the dying Achilles summons the last of his strength and thrusts his sword at Troilus, gravely wounding him. So much for sending him out of harm’s way.

Desc: Achilles lies mortally wounded.At least it's more dignified than dying of an arrow to the heel.

The Greeks open the gates of Troy, letting the rest of the army inside the city. The royal family barely have time to realise what’s happening before Odysseus bursts into the palace, and they realise that all is lost.

Vicki and the Doctor find each other in the chaos, and Vicki sends Katarina to find Steven before taking the Doctor into the TARDIS to talk to him.

However, wearing the guise of a Greek soldier doesn’t do Steven any favours. He gets a nasty wound in the shoulder before Katarina finds him and brings him safely back to the Doctor.

Vicki emerges from the TARDIS. In a curious gesture she hugs the ship before turning and walking back into the city. The Doctor watches in concern as she goes, but makes no attempt to stop her.

Odysseus attempts to prevent the Doctor from leaving, but the Doctor doesn’t have to put up with his nonsense any more. As the TARDIS vanishes, Odysseus wonders if he really was a god after all.

But where’s Vicki?

Desc: Vicki and Troilus arm-in-arm.

Out on the plains, Troilus is wailing over ‘Cressida’s betrayal quite hilariously, thoroughly chewing the scenery. He settles down once she turns up and explains herself. She couldn’t just leave him and allow him to think she’d betrayed him. Besides, she belongs here now.

Excuse me? You flirt for five minutes with this guy and you decide to go and live in the Bronze Age? Vicki, that’s the teenage hormones talking. What was the Doctor thinking letting her go?

Aeneas conveniently shows up, and Troilus and Cressida go to join him in building a new Troy. I can think of a lovely spot on the Italian peninsula which should do quite nicely.

And then they kiss. How romantic.

No, I don’t buy it. I’m sorry, but I just don’t. That’s twice now that Doctor Who has written off a teen-aged companion by making her fall in love with a bloke she’s just met, This time it feels less believable than it did with Susan, for whom it made sense as an ending to her arc, but Vicki showed no signs of being ready to stop travelling. In addition, Susan and David had been through more together, whereas Vicki apparently falls in love with Troilus after one chat in a prison cell.

The Doctor is a terrible guardian. Who in any universe would think it’s a good idea to leave a teen-aged girl in a warzone? Absolutely nothing good could come of that.

However, he’s more worried about Steven right now, who has taken a turn for the worse and badly needs drugs. I suppose whatever the Doctor is a Doctor of, it’s not medicine.

Katarina, who looks to be well on her way to being Vicki's replacement in the TARDIS crew, think she’s died and that the Doctor is a god. Who does that make him, I wonder? Hades?

Desc: Katarina and the Doctor

Final Thoughts

The Myth Makers is a very enjoyable serial with many funny moments. I found myself laughing aloud in parts, having fun all the way. Donald Cotton does appear to have the knack for comic writing. With a number of cast members already established as comic actors, it’s no surprise that it turned out to be as funny as it did. Conversely, I think the serial is at its weakest when it’s trying to be more serious.

Vicki’s sendoff doesn’t make much sense to me, as it feels like too abrupt an ending for her story. I cannot speak to what may be going on behind the scenes at the BBC, but I suspect that Maureen O’Brien might have been a casualty of whatever shake-ups the new producer has in store. Only time will tell, but this has been the weakest companion departure so far. That's a real pity, as I liked Vicki a lot. She was witty, intelligent, kind, inquisitive, and just a delight to have around. O’Brien and Hartnell had excellent chemistry together. I feel quite sorry for our leading man now that all of his old long-term castmates have left.

Perhaps Katarina will be able to fill the hole Vicki left. It would be quite interesting to see how a girl from ancient Troy would react to all the weird, wonderful and horrible things out there in the Doctor’s universe.

I wonder what she’d make of a Dalek?

Text reads: Next Episode, THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS

3.5 out of 5 stars




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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[November 6, 1965] Turns, Turns, Turns (Avalon Hill's Midway and Battle of the Bulge)

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by Gideon Marcus

For the Byrds

"To everything (turn, turn, turn) there is a season (turn, turn, turn)" says the newest hit record by The Byrds.  It appears that America's premiere wargaming company, Avalon Hill, has taken this phrase to heart, releasing not one but two World War 2 themed games in the past year, one taking place in the sultry days just before summer, the other in the bleak frigidity of mid-December.

Midway and Battle of the Bulge both are significant departures from the games that preceded them (e.g. Afrika Korps, D-Day, Tactics II, Waterloo, Stalingrad, etc.) and both push the state of the art in armchair wargaming forward quite a bit.

Of course, as charter members of the Galactic Journey Wargaming Society, Janice, Lorelei, John, and I spent many hours giving these games a spin.  And you, luck readers, now get to see the fruits of our "labor"!

Midway

For seven months after Pearl Harbor, the Japanese raged almost unopposed across the Pacific.  Their juggernaut rolled over Indonesia, the Phillipines, Burma, Hong Kong, Singapore, New Guinea, and the American outpost of Wake Island.  Yet their primary goal, the elimination of the American navy, eluded them.  The Japanese doctrine was centered around a decisive fleet battle victory that would force the Americans to the negotiation table.

On June 4, 1942, the Japanese got their chance.  Six Japanese carriers and an invasion force steamed for the American island of Midway.  Three U.S. carriers were dispatched to prevent the island's capture.  Thanks to some expert code-breaking and a little luck, the Battle of Midway ended in a Japanese defeat, marking the high-water mark of their expansion.

But could it have gone differently?

Battleship for grownups

If you've ever played the Milton Bradley game Battleship, you already have an idea how Midway works.  Sort of.  Midway is actually two games in one.  The first takes place on a strategic board depicting the ocean around Midway island.  The Japanese fleet enters from the west in several groups while the American navy is arrayed in the east.  Each turn, both sides call out sections of the board to search with their scout aircraft.  If enemy ships are spotted, carriers (and the airfield on Midway) can launch aircraft to attack them. 

Only a limited number of sections can be searched per turn, depending on the nationality and disposition of ships, so there's a lot of cat and mouse to this portion of the game.  Whoever gets the first strike has an advantage, though a straight slugfest will tend to favor the Japanese as they have more planes.

Hornet's nest

The second portion of the game involves the actual plane to ship combat.  The defending player arranges their ships to maximize antiaircraft screening while the attacker arrays a combination of torpedo bombers, dive bombers, and escorting fighters to most effectively sink vessels.  No attacks can be made risk free, though it is always better to lose one or two planes in an assault if the yield is the loss of an enemy carrier deck.

Points are scored for vessels lost and the speed at which the Japanese take Midway.  Indeed, the Japanese can win their battles pretty handily, but just a turn or two delay or the loss of a key ship can cause them to lose the game on points.

That's what happened when John and I played — as the admiral of the Kidou Butai, I left the American navy at the bottom of the sea and took Midway, but the delay in my timeline caused me to come shy of my victory conditions by just a few points.

Scorecard

I appreciated the novelty of Midway.  It was quite different from the other wargames I had played to date, although, to be fair, I have not played Bismark, which I understand also has a search and evade dynamic.

Nevertheless, there just wasn't enough to the game to merit a lot of replay.  As much as I like ships and am an ardent Nipponophile, Midway failed to grab me.  John felt similarly.

Three stars.

Battle of the Bulge

Where Midway was the faltering step of a military at the height of its power, the Battle of the Bulge was the twilight of a fallen giant.  In December 1944, the Allied forces had steamrollered their way across France and the Low Countries, pushing the Nazi Reich back to its traditional Rhine border.  While it was clear that the war wouldn't be won by Christmas, it also seemed that the Germans, hard pressed in both the east and west, could no longer take any role other than the defensive.

This conclusion was wrong.

On December 16, 1944, an onslaught of panzers and troops smashed against a thinly defended point in the Ardennes forest — the same area the Germans had attacked on their way to Paris in May 1940.  Aided by a cloak of overcast, the Wehrmacht lanced into Belgium with the aim of dividing the British and American armies, seizing the port of Antwerp, and forcing the West to sue for a separate peace.  Within a few days, German troops had laid siege to the stubborn redoubt of Bastogne, and Tigers and Panthers were probing the banks of the Meuse river, an important allied defensive line.  By then, Hitler's last gasp had formed the shape on the ground for which this episode of the war was named.

Of course, we know how things ended.  The rugged defenders of Bastogne answered "Nuts" to calls for their surrender.  Allied reinforcements blunted and then repelled the Nazi advance.  The skies cleared up after Christmas allowing the overwhelming British and American air superiority to savage the German lines.  By early January 1945, the battle of the bulge was over, and Germany's ability to wage offensive war decisively destroyed.

What if?

Avalon Hill's newest game recreates this exciting (if preordained) battle in close detail.  Turns last just twelve hours, and units are represented down to the regiment/brigade level.  As with the game, Waterloo, the Germans start out with numerical superiority and have to work their way from one side of the map to the other against increasingly reinforced Allied lines.  Indeed, both Waterloo and Battle of the Bulge fight over practically the same real estate.  Poor little Belgium.  Victory is won by the German player if a sufficient number of troops is pushed across the Meuse and supported for 48 hours.  Alternatively, that number can be smaller if the Wehrmacht takes and holds the key towns of Clervaux, St. Vith, and Spa.

While many of the mechanics of the game look familiar at first blush, Battle of the Bulge represents a great departure from its predecessors.  For one thing, it has a completely different Combat Results Table.  Virtually all of the Avalon Hill games since Tactics II had used the same chart to determine the effects of combat.  This time, instead of just offering "eliminate", "retreat", and "exchange" (equal destruction of both forces) options, there are now also the results of "engaged" (which locks up units until the battle be decisively resolved) and "contact" (neither side inflicts any damage).

Roads and the holding thereof are critical.  Off the roads, troops and vehicles are slowed to a crawl.  On the roads, advances can slice deep into enemy territory.  However, such advances can only be made nilly-willy in the Basic Game; in the Advanced Game, there are supply considerations, which largely only affect the Germans.  If a Wehrmacht unit cannot trace a logistical path along roads back to the east side of the map without it being blocked by allied units or their surrounding "zones of control", it immediately loses much of its mobility.  After six turns of being cut off, surrounded units of either side cease to exist.

Treads hit the Road

In the first game, I played the Germans against John using the Basic Rules.  It was a handy victory, my panzers rushing with gay abandon behind the Allied lines and reaching the Meuse well before Christmas.  But without supply restrictions, the game felt little like a simulation of any real-world situation.

As it turned out, my next opponents were Janice and Lorelei, hot on the heels of an excellent and hard-fought game of Waterloo.  They enjoyed working together as a team (which made sense in both games as they played coalitions rather than single nations) and I appreciated the added challenge that came from matching wits with a double-brained foe.

Given the apparent German advantage in Battle of the Bulge, they needed every neuron they could get.  The Wehrmacht simply overwhelms the first few turns, and so long as the dice are reasonable, advance is swift.  The German assembles a ridiculous number of panzers to assault one spot, while assembling the rest into suite of two to one attacks, making sure to surround their prey.  Since no attacker deaths can result from either of these types of fights, the Huns can sweep through their resistance while taking very few casualties.

In the game we played, I don't feel the Allies made any specific mistakes and yet I reached the Meuse at around the same time as I had in my game with John, and I only lost a single unit in the process.  Needless to say, we'll have to play again (likely switching sides) to see if the issue is the game or just beginner's bad luck.  The current plan is to play a game starting December 16, 1965 and play through in "real-time". 

I'll be glad to play the good guys.  Putting on Wehrmacht gray makes me very uncomfortable.

Scorecard

As for rating, pending further study, I'd give Battle of the Bulge four stars.  It's definitely got replay value, and it's the most dynamic Avalon Hill game I've played to date with the possible exception of Afrika Korps.

Previews of Coming Attractions

It looks like Avalon Hill has managed to squeeze out one more title this year.  An advertisement for Blitzkrieg came with my latest catalog; it looks like it will be some kind of generic, division-level strategic game. Looks fun and customizable — needless to say, I've ordered my copy!

Join the Fun!

If all this talk of playing general stirs something your bones (and hey, it's a lot more fun and less harmful than actual fighting), you are warmly invited to join our Galactic Journey Wargaming Society.  We have been facilitating several play-by-mail games so that even players remote from each other can enjoy a contest: over the summer, we had a smashing good time killing each other in a friendly game of Diplomacy.

And you get a spiffy newsletter!  What are you waiting for?




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Movies

[November 4, 1965] The Best Bad Science Fiction Wrestling Can Offer (A Review of Two Films of El Santo)

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Ginevra Gafaro

There is nothing that hits the spot like a good bad science fiction film. For the best bad science fiction, there is nothing quite so satisfying as the genre of masked wrestler movies.

These films are required to balance plot, science fiction, and actual wrestling all while operating on a tight budget and being filmed in a short number of weeks. The ingenuity required of the cast and crew is nothing short of extraordinary. There are no stunt doubles and little room for error.

Two of the best examples of the new genre, Invasion of the Zombies and Samson Versus the Vampire Women, are now showing in a double feature at the Fort Lauderdale Thunderbird Drive In Theater — dubbed in English, but I've seen the originals, and I had to see them again in any format possible, they're that good.

Why These Films are Good

The plots of both films follow a simple premise: science fiction shenanigans occur and the best person to help resolve it is the masked wrestler Samson. It is easy to extrapolate how it ends from there. The beauty of these films is in the fast pace that keeps viewers at the edge of their seat and frankly, that they offer some of the most impressive wrestling matches ever seen on the screen.

El Santo
The masked wrestler himself, El Santo.

Both of these films star actual masked wrestler Rodolfo “El Santo” Guzman Huerta essentially playing himself on the big screen. Both films are produced by Alberto Lopez with cinematography by Jose Ortiz Ramos. Starring opposite El Santo is Jaime Fernandez who technically plays a character named Detective Rodriguez in one film and a character named Inspector Carlos in the other, but it is easy to imagine them as the same character.

Invasion of the Zombies

Title shot of Invasion of the Zombies in Spanish
Title shot from the original film, Santo Contra Los Zombies. This was later released in English under the name Invasion of the Zombies.

Invasion of the Zombies opens exactly as you might expect: on a ring match between Samson and another wrestler. The bout is a combination of choppy greco wrestling and some impressive lucha libre moves. One lovely highlight is when Samson jumps, grabs his opponent around the neck with his ankles and throws him flat on his back over on the other side of the ring. Incredible.

Ankles
Gorgeous.

The match goes on for about ten minutes before the actual plot begins (which is just fine). A young woman, Gloria, reaches out to local police after her father disappears. He had just finished his book on zombies. Three detectives agree to take the case, and they head over to her house to investigate. They find no leads but they do meet her uncle and his dedicated caretaker, who are distraught about the missing relative.

The film cuts to three men breaking into a jewelry store while moving in unison. They use what appears to be a laser wand to burn through a jewelry vault. A man walks in and shoots one of the three men. The bullets don’t affect him in the slightest, not even when one is shot directly in his head! The shooter is knocked unconscious by what is clearly a zombie and the three robbers leave. As they approach their getaway car, the police attempt to stop them. Again, bullets have no effect on these men, who are all obviously zombies, and the police are easily defeated.

Three men dressed in grecco style clothing while emptying out the safe deposit boxes.
Three robbers, who may or may not be zombies, empty out safe deposit boxes.

And Now For Samson

The officers explain the events to the police chief back at their station. No one uses the word zombie but it’s pretty clear this was not the typical robbery. The police chief calls local masked wrestler Sampson for help on his audio/visual communications system. Clearly the strange circumstances can only be resolved with his assistance.

Police Chief and Santo communicate through communication devices.
Samson talks with the Police Chief regarding his request for assistance.

Meanwhile the private investigators looking for the missing professor come to the same conclusions as the police chief: they decide to ask Samson for his help in their investigation. No explanation is given, but really, at this point does anyone need to provide one?

Samson somehow manages to use his communications system to spy on the black hooded villain controlling robbers. He sees the villain order the three robbers to steal children from the local orphanage. Samson rushes over to stop them. When he arrives, the zombies have children under each arm and the orphanage is on fire.

Zombies steal children from an orphanage. Typical zombie nonsense. Zombies steal children from the orphanage and light it on fire. Because they're evil.

Luring them outside to fight in the grass, a three-on-one battle ensues, Samson keeping them busy until the police appear. The good guys then all band together to stop the three robbers and yet the robbers still manage to defeat them. Not all is lost; the zombies escape without stealing any children.

The officers manage to identify the robbers and are shocked to discover they are all dead men. It is at this point that someone proposes that these people are zombies. The police chief cannot believe it.

To The Shock of No One, Things Escalate

The black hooded villain decides something must be done about Samson. He abducts Samson’s next wrestling opponent and injects him with an unknown substance.

In the ring match against Samson, the opponent shows superhuman strength and skill, nearly choking Samson to death. Samson notices something strange under his opponent's tights and pulls open the hem of his pants. The tug causes smoke to pour out from the pants and the opponent falls over in the ring. His body disappears right in front of everyone, leaving behind a strange belt on fire.

The villain then decides to try to kidnap the Mayor and Gloria. Like you do.

The villain sends three zombies out to do his bidding.
The villain gives his orders to his three favorite zombies.

Samson and the team of detectives trace the villain down to his lair, Samson battling the villain while the police fight the zombie horde. He manages to slay him and break the zombie controlling machine. The identity of the villain is revealed and the zombies disappear in a mesmerizing special effect.


Zombie Horde.

Here the story ends with a beautiful comment from Samson: “When men violate the rules of God, they become victims of their own misdeeds.” It is a more thoughtful ending than one would expect for a movie about a masked wrestler fighting zombies.

Samson Versus the Vampire Women

Title shot of Samson Versus the Vampire Women
Original title shot of Santo vs. Las Mujeres Vampiro, later released in English under the title Samson vs. the Vampire Women

Samson Versus the Vampire Women starts strong with haunting music and beautiful close ups. A vampire woman, Tundra, slips from her coffin to awaken three male vampires from their slumber. The men have been chained to granite slabs while the women rest comfortably in underground coffins.

The aesthetics of their home are stunning, a fine line between Gothic and Grecian. The special effects on the audio render the opening monologue nearly unintelligible but the beauty of the film makes it irrelevant.

The film cuts to a young woman, Diana, playing Moonlight Sonata on the piano for her brother and father. She stops playing and claims she felt summoned by the face of a beautiful woman.

The beautiful woman that Diana claims is watching her.
This is the beautiful woman Diana believes is watching her. She's right.

Diana and her brother retire for the evening, leaving their father to pull out some papers covered in large hieroglyphics. He starts to translate the document, stating that in 200 years a descendant of the woman named Rebecca will be called when she turns 21 to be put through the rituals of the vampire women.

This appears to be a universe where 200 years prior, people recorded information by using rudimentary hieroglyphics as a cipher to prevent the information from falling into the wrong hands. This is the only explanation one can surmise for the use of hieroglyphics spelling out gibberish and being read in the wrong order.

The professor calls Samson for assistance on his audio/visual communications device. Samson enters his office through the balcony, and the professor explains that Samson is the masculine equivalent of Rebecca with the condensed force of masculine strength. The actor's ability to deliver that bit of dialogue is impressive. The professor asks Samson for his assistance in keeping his daughter Diana safe. It is believed that she is the descendant of Rebecca. It’s either that, or she’s the descendant of Sappho.


The professor speaks with his friend Samson. I wonder how they became friends.

It is very important for you to know that Samson spends this entire film wearing tights, his mask, and an optional cape. It’s a good look.

Samson looking very handsome and shirtless.
Samson looking very handsome in his shirt optional attire.

We Now Interrupt Your Plot for Wrestling

Here the film cuts to Samson at a wrestling match. The match goes on for quite a while, but it’s composed of excellent fight choreography. And if you didn't come here for the wrestling, why did you come here?

Afterwards, the film moves back and forth between some quick scenes:

The vampire woman from the beginning of the movie bites Diana’s neck and drinks her blood before running off. The Carmilla similarities are off the charts.

Vampire woman leans down to drink Diana's blood.
The vampire leans down to drink Diana's blood.

A group of vampire women corner a man and drain him of blood in their lair.

The vampires discuss how they will take Diana on her 21st birthday. It is just as absurd as you can imagine, a cross between a high school girls sleepover and a cult militia. I am torn at this point in the movie. On one hand, clearly Diana would be happy with these young women considering that this is being presented as some sort of destiny plot. On the other hand, she can do better.

Vampire woman gather to discuss stealing Diana.
The vampires gather to discuss the abduction of Diana. My enemy, rubber bat on a string, makes an appearance.

In the evening, the professor throws a birthday party for Diana. The front door is guarded by two men who are charged with making sure no one enters without an invitation. A male and female vampire put him into a trance and slip in among the party guests. Not proficient at mingling, the vampires are discovered and Samson shows up to fight them. He manages to drive them off. A man is found dead from vampire bites. The group gathers to discuss next steps.

Two vampires walk into a party.
Two vampires walk into a party. They talked their way into an invitation.

Plot Relevant Wrestling Commences

Samson is forced to leave in order to fight in his next wrestling match. His opponent wears a black mask and fights with inhuman strength. Things are touch and go but Samson unmasks his opponent only to reveal a hideous vampire face. The spectators and officials riot. In the confusion, the vampire escapes and is next seen abducting Diana in a taxi.

Officers and wrestling fans alike riot.
Nearby officers try to stop the vampire while wrestling fans riot.

Her father consults his books and thus determines the location of the vampire lair. Samson immediately heads over… and walks into a trap. The vampires chain him down on one of the granite coffins but the foxy Samson manages to escape. He keeps the vampires busy but they pin him down, reaching for his mask. Just as they are about to reveal him, the sun comes in from the windows and sets the vampires on fire. A few manage to escape to the underground lair, but Samson is determined to stop them. He grabs a flaming torch and sets all of their coffins to blaze.


Samson sets fire to the vampire coffins.

Triumphant, Samson carries Diana out of the lair. He hands her back to her family and drives off into the distance.

It Sounds Terrible. Why Bother Watching?

So is it worth watching a pair of import SF films about a wrestler fighting the evil forces of the supernatural? In a word, yes. Invasion of the Zombies offers some stunning visuals and a clever version of zombies not seen before on the silver screen. Using a belt and computers to control zombies? Brilliant. Similarly, the soundscaping in Samson Versus the Vampire Women really cannot be overpraised — creepy, haunting, and beautiful in equal measures. And El Santo is always a joy to watch, one of the greatest athletes to appear on the silver screen.

True, there is also some awful film making. Invasion of the Zombies doesn’t even bother to attempt to explain why a masked wrestler is the ideal person to fight zombies or search for a man in a missing persons case. For every jaw dropping action sequence in both films, there was at least one very stupid on screen event. The ancient Egyptian bit was particularly enraging.

But the gravest sin of all, dear readers, is the use of a cheap rubber bat on a visible string in multiple shots of Samson Versus the Vampire Women. The bats weren’t even necessary for the film’s progression.

Still, for all the faults, at the heart of both films is a sincerity. Their creators clearly tried to make a product greater than the sum of its parts. That the films end up a joy to watch despite their admitted flaws is evidence that the creators have succeeded.

These two movies are truly some of the best bad science fiction that wrestling has to offer.

Samson waves goodbye from his car.
Samson waves goodbye.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[November 2, 1965] Revolution! (December 1965 IF)

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by David Levinson

Americans have an odd relationship with revolution. They’re quite proud of their own, but extremely leery of anyone else’s. But revolution seems to be the natural order of things in the 20th century. Not all of them have been violent, nor have all of them been political. And no doubt we will see many more – political, scientific, economic, social and even sexual – before the decade, let alone the century is out.

Revolution turned upside-down

Since the end of the War, the major colonial powers of the 19th century have been gradually handing over control of their colonies to the native people. It hasn’t always been voluntary, nor has it always been smooth. But the British seem to be doing better than the others at handing over power. Most transitions have gone smoothly, though not perfectly. Until now.

Negotiations have been ongoing with Rhodesia since last year. The sticking point has been an improvement in the status of Black Rhodesians and an end to racial discrimination, insisted on by the United Kingdom. The white Rhodesian government led by Prime Minister Ian Smith is vigorously opposed the idea of equality for Blacks.

Talks broke down on October 8th over the issue of majority rule. With rumors circulating that Rhodesia will declare independence, the U. N. General Assembly voted 107-2 to call on the United Kingdom to use military force to prevent such an event. Ten days later, the Organization of African Unity passed a similar declaration. British Prime Minister Harold Wilson has gone to Rhodesia to continue negotiations, apparently without success. On the 30th, Wilson gave a press conference before returning home in which he stated that a unilateral declaration of independence would be treason, but that the United Kingdom would rely on trade sanctions and ruled out the use of military force against “kith and kin”. A peaceful resolution does not seem to be at hand.


Harold Wilson (l.) and Ian Smith (r.)

Revolutions start to finish

Americans may not like the idea of revolution in the real world, but as part of their national mythology it turns up frequently in fiction. This month’s IF is filled with revolution, both political and otherwise.


There’s no clue what this odd revolutionary slogan means. Fred Pohl promises an answer next month. Art by Morrow

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress (Part 1 of 5), by Robert A. Heinlein

In 2075, the Moon has been a penal colony for nearly a century. A prison without walls or guards, because there’s nowhere to run, and after just a few months, permanent physiological changes caused by the low gravity mean no one can go back to Earth. That means that many people living there are free men and women descended from former prisoners, but still subject to the Lunar Authority.

One such is Manuel Garcia O’Kelly-Davis. Mannie, who lost his left arm in a mining accident and has several interesting prosthetics, is a computer repairman. One of his jobs is maintaining the Lunar Authority’s central computer, a High-Optional, Logical, Multi-Evaluation Supervisor, Mark IV – a HOLMES FOUR. Somewhere along the way, so many different modules were added to the computer it gained consciousness. Only Mannie has noticed and dubbed this new “person” Mycroft, Mike for short, after Sherlock Holmes’s smarter brother. Mike is quite the joker, with a fondness for practical jokes and puns, but he’s lonely, since everyone else is too stupid to have figured out that he’s alive.

At Mike’s request, Mannie attends a political meeting where he is introduced to Wyoming Knott, a rabble-rouser from Hong Kong Luna, and runs into his old teacher, Professor Bernardo de la Paz. After Wyoh (as she prefers to be called) gives a stirring speech encouraging revolution against the Authority and the Prof agrees with her goals but pokes holes in her methods, the meeting is broken up by the Warden’s goons and turns deadly.

Mannie helps Wyoh escape and, while they’re hiding out, introduces her to Mike, who eventually creates a feminine personality called Michelle to talk to Wyoh. The next day, they meet with the Prof and have a discussion about revolution. Mannie and Wyoh exchange a knowing look when the Prof points out the importance of communications; that’s one of Mike’s bailiwicks. After the Prof expounds on the idea of revolutionary cells, Mannie suggests a few improvements and suddenly finds himself nominated to head the revolution. To be continued.


Mannie wearing his Number Three arm. Art by Morrow

All but the most rabid Heinlein fans will agree that his last few novels have been uneven at best. But this is Heinlein at his best. We have the standard Heinlein characters here: Mannie, the competent man who mostly goes along to get along until pushed to do more by circumstance; Wyoh, the strong, beautiful, brilliant woman who does the pushing (though not a love interest so far); and the Prof, the older man who loves teaching and the sound of his own voice. Mike is a bit different. He obviously has a role to play, but we need to see more.

Not much really happens in these 50 pages, but Heinlein keeps you reading, even through long discussions of Lunar marriage customs and revolutionary organization. And once again, Heinlein has slipped a minority protagonist into his work. Mannie is not only Latin as his name suggests, but he probably counts as Black, with a grandfather deported from South Africa. When he first sees her, Mannie notes that pale, blonde Wyoh is clearly first generation since the genes tend to get all mixed up pretty quickly, so most of the people we meet are probably of mixed race.

Four stars and I’m eager to see more.

Security Syndrome, by Gerald Pearce

Professor James Brown has arrived at the regional headquarters of the Society to report someone as politically unreliable: himself. Despite his double-A rating, he feels that his sensitive position and his exposure to older texts full of “unescoism” have rendered him unfit. To say more would give the whole story away.

The United States has clearly undergone a revolution prior to the time of this story. The unnamed Society merely advises the government on the political reliability of citizens, and we hear of a second Bill of Rights, which includes a guarantee of “freedom from seditious, false and heretical doctrines”. It also seems that Brown’s actions are going to trigger another revolution.

This is a good story, though not without problems. I had some difficulty keeping the various Society members straight, and the story sagged in places. Still, a solid three stars.

Toys for Debbie, by David A. Kyle

Six-year-old Debbie Curtis likes to play with toys for both girls and boys, but she does have a tendency to break them. Insurance salesman Mr. Black has offered her father some excellent terms and occasionally drops by with a present for Debbie. What could be the harm?

I often complain that an author has attempted a “Twilight Zone ending”, an ironic twist that hasn’t really been set up. Long-time fan David Kyle (who most recently appeared in these pages as an artist) has written what would be an excellent episode of The Twilight Zone. It’s easy to imagine Rod Serling popping up at the end to offer a terse epilogue. Every moment is earned, and it ends not with a twist, but a shudder. Three stars.

St. George and the Dragonmotive, by Robert F. Young

Lieutenant George St. George of the International Pastpolice has gone to sixth century England to investigate an anachronism. There he meets a few knights, including one from Camelot, hunting for a dragon which has devoured a fair maiden and several peasants, who miraculously remain “on live”. The dragon proves to be a train, resembling the Stourbridge Lion, driven by a young woman he dubs Cassiana Jones. Train-lover George must work his way into her favor to track down the source of this industrial revolution.


An unusual comic style for Gray Morrow, but the best thing about this story. Art by Morrow

Typically for Young, the protagonist is an addlepated twerp. Worse, though he falls in love with the engineer, it’s clear he’s more in love with the idea of driving a train. Worse than that, she doesn’t get a name in her own right until the very end. It’s also far too long for such a thin story. Two stars.

The Girls on USSF 193, by Stephen Goldin

Astronauts are coming back from their tours of duty in space with weakened hearts, because they won’t do the cardiac exercises prescribed by the National Space Agency. Director Jess Hawkins came up with a plan that is dubious to say the least, morally questionable and probably illegal.

You sometimes hear the phrase “sexual revolution” about changing attitudes towards sex. In the past it’s sometimes meant being open about what people are doing anyway, and sometimes it’s about real changes in sexual attitudes. This story dabbles in the latter, but is highly implausible. It hinges on a career bureaucrat making a move that puts his job on the line, a job he knows others are gunning for.

Goldin is this month’s first time author. The writing here is decent, despite the implausible plot, but the attitudes towards women are deeply questionable. Two stars.

LONCON II or Through a Monocle? Darkly, by Robert Bloch

Bloch’s report on this year’s Worldcon was allegedly written on a hotel typewriter between the end of the con and his departure for home. I believe it. This rambling nonsense reads like it was written by a man short of sleep with his brain in a different time zone. You’ll learn much more about the con from our colleague Kris Vyas-Myall’s report. One star.

Mercury, by J. M. McFadden

Mercury is an alien predator with an unusual hunting style. She is captured by an expedition and brought to an Earth zoo. There will be consequences.

The story is quite obvious and depends on some rather stupid behavior, but it’s short and not a bad read despite all that. This is McFadden’s second sale, and I’m not averse to seeing more from him. Three stars.

Retief’s War (Part 3 of 3), by Keith Laumer

Retief continues his search for Fifi. Unable to find his army, he joins forces with the remaining Terries and prepares for a last stand against the Voion hordes. Rescue arrives at the last minute in the form of the Federated Quoppina army led by Fifi, who is none other than Retief’s cousin Princess Fianna Glorian Deliciosa Hermione Arianne de Retief et du Lille. A typical Retief plan is put together to save the rest of the CDT mission, knock Ikk and his Voions out of power, quash Groaci schemes and get Retief mostly out of trouble.


Tief-Tief rides to the rescue. Art by Gaughan

What a disappointing ending. A number of things happen that make little or no sense, but happen to move plot forward. Back in the first part, I noted that there was more room for things to develop, but Laumer seems to have run out of room anyway and it all rushes to a slam-bang ending. Two stars for this part and a very low three for the novel as a whole.

Summing up

There’s lots of revolution in these pages, political, industrial and sexual. But there’s nothing revolutionary. IF is by no means mired in the past like Analog and the outward forms often acknowledge the changes happening to the genre, but the bones are still those of a decade ago or more. IF is still worth reading, and Fred Pohl has never struck me as averse to change, but he really needs to pick one of his three magazines to at least experiment with bringing them into the 1960s and beyond.


Nothing here looks terribly new either.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[October 31, 1965] Finished and Unfinished Business (November 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Spooks and SF

All Hallow's Eve is upon us, that annual moment when the barrier between the worlds of the living and the dead is at its weakest. The departed spirits of those with unfinished business return to fulfil their goals. And puckish souls, alive and passed, spread mischief.

And amidst all this, there is candy.

In this light, the November 1965 issue of Analog is the perfect companion for Halloween. There are familiar faces, a significant departed face, delicious trifles, and sad tricks.

Tricks and Treats


John Schoenherr

Down Styphon!, by H. Beam Piper

If you read H. Beam Piper's Gunpowder God this time last year, you're familiar with Calvin Morrison, a Pennsylvania cop who got whisked to an alternate world where Aryan tribes settled the Americas and the precursors to our Amerinds stayed in Asia.  Calvin encountered a feudal patchwork where the United States had been, and he quickly took advantage of his military prowess and knowledge to help break the gunpowder monopoly of the House of Styphon, becoming Lord Kalvan of the principality of Hostigo in the process.

If you haven't read Gunpowder God, you'll be rather lost reading Down Styphon!, which is a direct sequel.  After winning its first battle against its neighbors, Hostigo now finds itself about to be attacked by neighboring Nostor and a host of Styphon-funded mercenaries.  Only by developing a mobile force and the science of military cartography can Kalvan and Hostigo hope to repel the vastly superior forces of the invaders.

Down Styphon! is little more than a campaign log, chronicling the ebb and flow of the fight from the initial preparations, to the attempted Nostorian breakthrough, to their ultimate rout. It's clearly a middle third to a novel of Kalvan's story, started in Gunpowder God.  Indeed, the tale ends on a cliffhanger: it is clear that Styphon has one more trick up their sleeve and will not go down without a fight.

The problem, of course, is that readers of Analog may never get a conclusion to this tale.  Sadly, Mr. Piper took his own life last November, and Down Styphon! is touted as the author's last published story.

On the other hand, a novel of Lord Kalvan (Lord Kalvan of Otherwhen) came out recently, and it may well have the resolution to the story.  It's also possible that editor John Campbell will license the last part of the book to finish the saga in Analog.

One hopes so.  While Down Styphon! is clearly incomplete and focused primarily on a single battle, it is yet one of the best and most riveting recountings of a military campaign I've read.  There is such rich detail that I could easily see Avalon Hill making a wargame out of it.

So I give this tale four stars for what it accomplishes and in appreciation for what it could have been (and perhaps might be — fingers crossed).

Even Chance, by John Brunner


John Schoenherr

A young Kalang tribesman in the remote mountains of Java rushes to meet a party of foreign anthropologists.  He bears a shard of a crashed vehicle, one he's certain will convince the expedition to regale him with gifts, as had happened during the War when a pilot had set down his crate and had to be nursed back to health.

But the fragment is highly radioactive, and the craft it comes from is not of Earthly construction.

That's a great setup for a story, but in (the oddly titled) Even Chance, the setup is the whole story.  You know its outcome from the beginning, and the thing reads like something from the 1940s.

A high two — it's not offensive, but it could use finishing.

A Long Way to Go, by Robert Conquest


Kelly Freas

A Mr. Randall from modern day is transported 500 years into the future.  Unlike other contemporaries who had made the trip, Randall is allowed to keep his memories of the 20th Century even if it means he'll have trouble adjusting to the 26th, the better for anthropologists to study him.

At the end, however, it is decided that it is better for Randall to be acclimatized after all.  The time traveler takes the news philosophically, noting that the future seems to have solved all of today's problems. But, his future host sadly informs him, they have unique problems of their own.

Once more, we have a fine setup to a story that fails to go anywhere. Indeed, I'm not quite sure what the point of the tale was.

Another high two.

Some Preliminary Notes on FASEG, by Laurence M. Janifer and Frederick W. Kantor

Here's a cute quasi-scientific piece on the generation of fairy godmothers, done in the style of a short journal article.

Three stars.

Onward and Upward with Space Power, by J. Frank Coneybear

On the other hand, Coneybear's longwinded piece on steam power in space keenly suffers for want of an introduction, a conclusion, and subheadings.  I suppose it's better than pseudoscience, but Analog really needs a dedicated science writer like F&SF's Asimov and Galaxy's Ley.

Space Pioneer (Part 3 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


Kelly Freas

At last we come to something that does finish: Reynolds' latest serial.  When last we left Ender Castriota (who had assumed the identity of Rog Bock to join the roster of the colony ship Titov on its way to complete a blood feud against the last of the Peshkopi clan, rumored to be on the vessel), the colony of New Arizona had been attacked by natives.  As the first intelligent aliens encountered by humanity, their presence on the planet not only poses an existential threat to the new settlement, it also invalidates the colonial charter.

A war ensues, egged on by the Captain of the Titov, who, not wanting to see his lucrative opportunity fade away, insists the aliens are simple animals.  That these "animals" wield crossbows and religious totems makes no difference to him.

Curiously, the "kogs" (as the indigenes are derogatorily called) are extremely humanoid in appearance.  Stranger still, they appear to be confined to the island on which the Titov landed.  I'm sure you can guess, as I did, the true origin of the "aliens."

Space Pioneer's third part is, like Down Styphon!, primarily a chronicle of battle and, like the Piper story, a deftly executed one.  Reynolds is good at that kind of thing.  The Peshkopi feud issue is resolved, and not as I expected it to be, and there is some good development of the relationship between Castriota and Zorilla, the one member of the colonial board who seems to be a decent man.  I was disappointed that Cathy Bergman, advocate for the non-charter member colonists had a minimal role in the third segment, however.

All told, I'd give Part Three four stars, and the book as a whole three and a half.  Good stuff, but it likely won't make the nomination for this year's Galactic Stars.

Assorted Sweets

With all of its ups and downs, Analog clocks in at exactly three stars.  However, as with any Halloween grab bag, you can always skip the candy you don't like and concentrate on what you like.  There's certainly much to enjoy in this month's first and last thirds.

Analog is surpassed this month by Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.7), Science Fantasy (3.2), and New Worlds (3.1).

Campbell's magazine is better than this month's largely reprint Fantastic (2.8) and the perennially lackluster IF (2.6).

Only one story out of the 30 new pieces was written by a woman, which makes Science Fantasy the winner of this month's SF equal opportunity award without trying very hard. 

Sad as that statistic may be, there was far more worthy reading this month than usual.  One could easily fill two big magazines with nothing but 4-star stuff.

So grab yourself this month's digests, stuff them in your trick or treat bag, and have a swell spooky holiday of haunting.  I know I will!




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Movies

[October 29, 1965] Oater, West German style (The movie, Winnetou Part 3)

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Cora 'faxed this piece from West Germany along with yesterday's comics article. It was such a delightful snapshot into the state of Westerns in Europe that we're giving it an off-schedule publication. Enjoy!


by Cora Buhlert

Not a dry eye in the house:

Winnetou Part 3

West German cinemas are currently dominated by the heroic Apache chief Winnetou and his white blood brother Old Shatterhand from the adventure novels of Karl May.

Karl May (1842 to 1912) was a small time criminal turned writer of pulpy adventure stories and continues to be one of Germany's most popular authors more than fifty years after his death. Generations of German youths have devoured the glorious adventures of May's heroes in the Middle East, Mexico and the Old West, adventures the author assures us are autobiographical, even though May never left Germany. The most popular are the novels and stories May wrote about the adventures of Old Shatterhand, a Saxonian engineer and thinly veiled May stand-in, and his friend and blood brother Winnetou. When I was twelve, I was going to marry Old Shatterhand and my best friend Dagmar was going to marry Winnetou.

In 1962, Horst Wendlandt, producer of the popular Edgar Wallace films, began adapting May's novel for the big screen. Two weeks ago, the long-awaited Winnetou Part 3 hit West German cinemas, starring Hollywood star Lex Barker as Old Shatterhand and French actor Pierre Brice as Winnetou. In spite of the numbering, this is already the seventh movie about the adventures of the heroic Apache chief – the number three only refers to the fact that this movie is the adaptation of the third volume of May's Winnetou trilogy.

Now everybody who has read the novels (and is there anybody in Germany who hasn't?) already knows that Winnetou heroically gives his life to save his friend and blood brother Old Shatterhand at the end of the story. Nonetheless, there was not a dry eye in the theatre when Winnetou tragically expires in the arms of his best friend to the soaring theme music by Martin Böttcher.

Winnetou and Old Shatterhand
Friendship beyond death: Winnetou (Pierre Brice) and Old Shatterhand (Lex Barker)

Producer Horst Wendlandt and actor Rik Battaglia, who played the man who shot Winnetou, reportedly received threats. However, fans need not fear, for the Winnetou movies are still a cash cow for Wendlandt and so the heroic Apache chief will be back in German theatres in only two months in the prequel Old Surehand, Part 1.

Will you be buying a ticket?




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Comics

[October 28, 1965] Knights, Adventurers and Anthropomorphic Animals: Comics in East and West Germany

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by Cora Buhlert

Clever Little Foxes: Fix and Foxi

Here at the Journey, we occasionally visit the wonderful world of comic books, mostly from the US but also from the UK. However, comics have long been a global phenomenon and so I'm presenting you the comics of East and West Germany.

Superheroes may rule in the US, but in West Germany, you will have a hard time finding American superhero comics, unless you have befriended an American GI who can hook you up with the latest US comics.

Erika Fuchs
Erika Fuchs, the brilliant Germany translator of the Donald Duck comics

Instead, the most popular US comics in West Germany are none than the Disney comics featuring Donald Duck, Mickey Mouse and friends. A large part of the reason why the Disney comics are so popular in West Germany is the brilliant work of translator Erika Fuchs, who introduced inventive wordplay and allusions to classic literature into the comics and thus gained a large adult fanbase. The various linguistic "donaldisms" created by Erika Fuchs have even entered the regular German language by now.

Till Eulenspiegel No. 2

Fix und Foxi

Inspired by the success of the Disney comics, in 1953 West German artist Rolf Kauka created his own comic magazine called Till Eulenspiegel, named after a popular trickster character from German legend. However, a pair of clever foxes named Fix and Foxi quickly became the most popular characters and in 1955, the magazine was retitled as Fix und Foxi. The two foxes quickly adopted a whole menagerie of animal friends such as the wolf Lupo and his cousin Lupinchen, the mole Pauli and the sister Paulinchen, the raven Knox, the hare Hops, the hedgehog Stops and the mouse Mausi. Other characters to appear in the magazine are "Tom and Klein Biberherz" (Little Beaverheart), a cowboy character and his indigenous friend, and "Mischa im Weltraum" (Mischa in Outer Space), a humorous science fiction comic. Those who have read the Archie comics will find that Mischa looks very familiar.

Fix and Foxi
Fix and Foxi and friends
Fix and Foxi Mischa
"Mischa in Space" on the cover of Fix and Foxi. Mischa looks very reminiscent of US character Archie.

Mecki: The Amazing Adventures of a Little Hedgehog

Fix and Foxi are not the only anthropomorphic animals in West German comics. There is also Mecki the hedgehog, whose tangled history predates the two foxes. Mecki first appeared in 1938 – still nameless and not in comic format at all, but in an animated puppet film adaptation of the Grimm fairy tale "The Race between Hare and Hedgehog". The film spawned a series of picture postcards featuring the clever little hedgehog.

Mecki debuts on the cover of Hör Zu! No. 43 in October 1949

In 1949, one of those picture postcards landed on the desk of Eduard Rhein, Renaissance man (in now 65 years, Rhein has been a Zeppelin engineer, inventor, technical writer, violinist and novelist) and editor-in-chief of the radio listings magazine Hör Zu! (Listen!). Rhein was looking for a mascot for the magazine, a character who would offers snarky commentary on the program listings. He promptly adopted the hedgehog and named him Mecki. The character debuted on the cover of issue 43 of Hör Zu!, still as a puppet character in a pre-war picture postcard. When Rhein ran out of picture postcards to reprint, he recruited cartoonist Reinhold Escher to draw new adventures of the brave little hedgehog.

Mecki wedding
Mecki and Micki get married with all their friends in attendance
Mecki strip
A Mecki comic page from 1951

From 1951 on, one page Mecki strips appeared in Hör Zu!, initially as standalone stories and later as serialised adventures. Mecki also quickly acquired friends and family, including his wife Micki and the two children Mucki and Macki, the penguin Charly, the Schrat, a permanently sleepy gnome, the seven Syrian hamsters, the seaman Captain Petersen, the cat Murr and the duck Watsch. Together, these characters travelled the world, ventured into various fantasylands and even conquered the Moon and Mars as early as 1953.

Mecki auf dem Mond
Mecki and friends visit the moon in glorious colour
Mecki auf dem Mond
Mecki and friends visit a lunar inn

Beginning in 1952, Mecki's adventures also appeared in full colour picture books. The first book, Mecki im Schlaraffenland (Mecki in Cockaigne) was written by Eduard Rhein and illustrated by Reinhold Escher, but from book two on, Wilhelm Petersen illustrated the Mecki books and later also shared artist duties with Reinhold Escher on the comic strip. Reinhold Escher's style is more cartoony, while Petersen's is more naturalistic, but both of them are highly talented artists. As a result the Mecki strips and particularly the picture books look gorgeous.

Mecki and his extended family eventually returned to the medium that birthed him for a series of eighteen short puppet movies. The toy manufacturer Steiff also produces dolls of Mecki and his family. I got the complete set of Mecki, Micki, Macki and Mucki as a birthday gift some time ago and treasure them.

Mecki Family
The Mecki family toys as produced by Steiff

In spite of Mecki's popularity, his future is uncertain, for his creator Eduard Rhein left Hör Zu! last year – not voluntarily, it is rumoured. And Rhein's replacement shows little interest in Mecki. The comic strips continue to appear in Hör Zu!, but the annual picture book has been cancelled. Nonetheless, I hope that the friendly little hedgehog and his friends will continue to delight readers for a long time to come.

In the News: Nick Knatterton and Bild Lilli

Daily comic strips can be found in many West German newspapers. However, most of these are reprints of American comic strips such as The Phantom, Blondie or The Heart of Juliet Jones. Homegrown German comic strips are rare.

One exception is the square-jawed private detective Nick Knatterton, whose adventures appeared between 1950 and 1959 in the magazine Quick.

Nick Knatterton
Box art for the Nick Knatterton boardgame

Nick Knatterton's real name is Nikolaus Kuno Baron von Knatter. His mother Baroness von Knatter was an eager reader of murder mysteries. Inspired by her, Nick Knatterton decided to become a private detective and changed his name, so as not to embarrass his aristocratic family. Knatterton was a confirmed bachelor for many years, until he met and eventually married the heiress Linda Knips.

Nick Knatterton comic

Nick Knatterton was created by Manfred Schmidt, a cartoonist who hails from my hometown of Bremen. Shortly after World War II, Schmidt came across a Superman comic. Inspired by this new to him medium, he created Nick Knatterton. Other inspirations for the character were Sherlock Holmes as portrayed by Hans Albers in the 1937 movie Der Mann der Sherlock Holmes war (The Man Who Was Sherlock Holmes) as well as the American dime novel hero Nat Pinkerton, whose adventures a young Manfred Schmidt had devoured in the 1920s.

Der Mann der Sherlock Holmes War
Hans Albers as not Holmes and Heinz Rühmann as not Watson in "The Man Who Was Sherlock Holmes" (1937). Note the resemblance to Nick Knatterton.

What makes the Knatterton comics so amusing are not just Schmidt's crisp drawings, but also the political satire that Schmidt, who considers himself a Communist, inserts into the strip.

Whereas Nick Knatterton is very political, Bild Lilli, another homegrown West German comic strip character, is not overly political at all. Created by cartoonist Reinhard Beuthien for the tabloid Bild, the attractive Lilli is a ditzy young woman who works as a secretary, but dreams of catching a wealthy husband. The mildly risqué Lilli strip was popular enough to spawn a Lilli fashion doll and a line of matching outfits. But sexist humour fell out of favour and so the strip was cancelled in 1961.

Bild Lilli

This could have been the end of Lilli, but instead she continued her career under a different name. For in 1958, an American tourist named Ruth Handler purchased a Bild Lilli doll and was so impressed by the idea of a fashion doll that she created her own version. Named Barbie after Mrs. Handler's daughter, this doll became a huge worldwide hit.

Bild Lilli and Barbie
Separated at birth: Bild Lilli on the left and Barbie on the right

Heroes to Carry in Your Pocket: Sigurd, Falk, Tibor, Jörg and Nick

One of West Germany's foremost comic publishers is the Walter Lehning Verlag, which started publishing comics in 1953, beginning with reprints of Italian series such as the jungle hero Akim and the western hero El Bravo. Those had been originally published in the so-called piccolo format, small and wide booklets in horizontal format that look like individual newspaper strips stapled together, so the German editions used the same format.

Sigurd
Sigurd the noble knight

The advantage of the piccolo format was that at twenty pfennig apiece, the comics were cheaper than those published in regular magazine format. As a result, the reprints of Italian action comics were so popular that Lehning commissioned Swiss German artist and writer Hansrudi Wäscher to create several new series in the same format.

Sigurd
Sigurd fights monsters

Wäscher's first creation for Lehning was Sigurd, a medieval knight who had more than three hundred adventures between 1953 and 1960. Sigurd was a big success and was quickly followed by Falk, another knightly hero, Tibor, a jungle hero in the mould of Tarzan who was created as a replacement for the Italian Akim character, Jörg, a young nobleman who experiences adventures during the thirty-years-war, and Nick, der Weltraumfahrer (Nick the Spaceman), a science fiction comic.

Falk
Falk, yet another noble knight
Tibor
Tibor, son of the jungle
Nick
The science fictional adventures of Nick the Spaceman
Jörg
Jörg experiences the horrors of the Thirty-Years War

However, the prolific Hansrudi Wäscher also worked for other comic publishers. He created Nizar, yet another jungle hero, for the publisher Kölling Verlag as well as Titanus, a science fiction comic, for the Gerstmayer Verlag. The Titanus comics had a special gimmick, because they came with 3D goggles.

Titanus
Terry Starr, the blond and square-jawed hero of Titanus.

Adventures Behind the Iron Curtain: Mosaik

Western comic books also found their way across the iron curtain, to the delight of East German youths and the despair of the Communist authorities. And so in 1955, the East German publisher Verlag Neues Leben created their own comics magazine called Mosaik. Initially, the magazine appeared quarterly and switched to a monthly schedule in 1957. Due to the vagaries of Socialist paper production, Mosaik issues are not easy to find on the newsstands of East Germany and always sell out quickly, unless you know someone who will reserve a copy for you.

Mosaik No. 28
The Digedags travel into space

The stars of Mosaik are three cobolds named Dig, Dag and Digedag. The Digedags, as they are collectively known, have amazing adventures in time and space. So far, they have fought pirates, founded a circus, travelled to ancient Rome and into outer space and meet various important historical figures. Their latest adventure has taken them to the Middle Ages, where they picked up a new travelling companion in the clumsy knight Ritter Runkel.

Mosaik 1965
The Digedags fight pirates.

So how Socialist are the Digedags? The answer is, "It's complicated." During their epic space adventure, the Digedags were dragged into a conflict between the Republican Union, a Socialist utopia, and their sworn enemies, the Großneonian Reich, an expansionist capitalist hell state ruled by people dressed in what looks like SS uniforms. But while the space saga wore its Socialist heart on its sleeve, the following inventor cycle was the opposite. For the inspirational inventors from history the Digedags encountered include not just East German hero Otto von Guericke, 17th century scientist and mayor of Magdeburg, but also capitalists such as James Watt and even Werner von Siemens, aristocrat and capitalist, whom the Digedags meet as a young lieutenant in the Prussian army.

Commander of the Großneonian space station
The uniform worn by the villainous commander of the Großneonian space station does look strangely familiar.

However, the main objective of Mosaik is apolitical fun, which is also why the magazine is so much more popular than other publications from the same company such as Die Trommel (The Drum), the official magazine of the Ernst Thälmann Young Pioneers, which includes such thrilling comic strips as "The Girl from the Soviet War Monument" or "The Red Climbers".

The Girl from the Soviet War Monument
"Das Mädchen vom Ehrenmal" (The Girl from the Soviet War Monument), an inspirational comic strip from "Die Trommel" (The Drum), the official magazine of the Ernst Thälmann Young Pioneers.

The Digedags were the creation of cartoonist Hannes Hegen, but in true Socialist fashion the comic is created by a collective of writers and artists. The current head writer is Lothar Dräger. The main artist is Lona Rietschel, one of the few women to work in German comics.

And that's it for the comics of East and West Germany. Next month, I will introduce you to the comics of Belgium, France and the Netherlands.




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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction