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

October 28, 2020 Cora Buhlert 2 Comments

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, 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.

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 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

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

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'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 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.

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.

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.

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.

The science fictional adventures of Nick the Spaceman

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.

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".

"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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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[October 26, 1965] Mythology and Multiple Earths Science Fantasy and New Worlds, November 1965

October 26, 2020 Mark Yon 7 Comments

by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

It is getting to be a routine now, but the issue that arrived first in the post this month was Science Fantasy..

The covers by Keith Roberts are still an acquired taste, but his art is starting to grow on me. Compared with some of his other efforts, I quite liked this one! It clearly illustrates Brian Aldiss’s lead story this month.

This month’s Editorial is for the second month by someone other than Kyril – where is Kyril, I wonder? Surely not still star-gazing? Nevertheless, it is another interesting one. Brian Stableford is an up and coming fan who has his first story published in this issue. As a fairly new “neo-fan”, it is his turn to try and define science fiction in the Editorial in the form of an open letter. It’s a good attempt, thoughtful and seemingly well-read. I expect to read more from this young man, who I believe is only about 18 years old.

To the actual stories.

The Day of the Doomed King, by Brian W. Aldiss

Serbian King Vukasan is wounded and in retreat after being defeated by the Turks. With his General he sets out for the Turkish capital city, but sees what he regards as an ominous omen – a magpie with a lizard in his mouth, which then dies. Troubled by this Vukasan detours to a monastery to seek understanding. There Vukasan gets two opposing visions. One is of a Serbian Empire, greater than ever, the other where the Turkish army triumph and effectively erase the memory of his monarchy. There is then a twist in the story, which you may find either intriguing or annoying, but for me the story ended satisfactorily.

Brian has been a continuous presence in the magazines this year, as a writer, commentator – and Dr Peristyle! One of the things I have noticed is the range of material showcased. Some his works are clearly science fiction and others much less so, some horror, some psychological study and even some comedy.

This one emphasises the Fantasy aspect of Brian’s work, and makes an interesting counterpoint to Robert Burnett Swann’s The Weirwoods, also in this issue. Like Burnett Swann’s tale, this is knowingly literate, written in a style clearly determined to evoke a sense of earlier times. Although Aldiss’s world is traditional Middle Ages fantasy (the back cover calls it a “tale of ancient Yugoslavia”), rather than something older, I was impressed by how much the tone of the story is set through its lyrical language, like Burnett Swann’s so often is.

For me King was one of Aldiss’s better efforts of late and shows the reader how good he can be. Whilst I suspect your enjoyment of the story will depend on how convinced you are by the ending, I enjoyed it very much. A strong start to the issue. 4 out of 5.

The Saga of Sid, by Ernest Hill

Ernest’s latest is one of his efforts to write lighter humorous tales. It is initially about a vicar who, whilst watching a baptism finds that the baby, about to be called Sid, speaks to him. Understandably chaos ensues, and a bell-ringer, who is also a local reporter and who also heard the baby talk, tries to kidnap him and sell him to a circus owner. Sid, realising a scam in action, acts like a typical baby until the men have gone. Having survived all of this, it becomes clear as Sid grows up that he is unusual. He talks of Asgard and other non-worldly things in such a way that his mother, believing him to be possessed, attempts to instigate an exorcism. The consequence of this is that during the exorcism a flying saucer appears to Sid, and Norse gods Odin and Frigg take back from Sid the soul of Baldur. This leaves him as a ‘normal’ child in the end.

This one is as silly as it sounds, but long-winded to boot. For those who find the thought of a child named Sid funny. Not for me. 2 out of 5.

Beyond Time’s Aegis, by Brian Craig

Although the story is published here as by “Brian Craig”, it is really written by two writers, Craig A. Mackintosh and Brian Stableford (who I mentioned before.) Having enjoyed the Editorial by Stableford, I was expecting great things from this novella. But, oh, this one starts badly, so much so that initially I thought that the first paragraph was meant to be a parody of epic space opera. No, its pompousness and pretentiousness is genuine.

To be fair, once past this ominous beginning, the tale settles down a little, although throughout I kept feeling that at any moment the story could disappear into a pool of its own portentousness.

The story begins in the style of a medieval-esque fantasy, yet we soon realise that this is some sort of post-apocalyptic world where travel between worlds is possible and there are mentions of technology beyond the imagination of most of the people there. It is about someone who calls himself “The Firefly”, who I at first thought was a satire of Asimov’s character “The Mule”, who is on a quest to find the “Man Who Walked Through Time” who The Firefly believes can transport him back in history to a time where this world was not in decline.

On his journey The Firefly meets a diverse variety of odd characters, who all seem to spout strange homilies and portents.

It has an almost Elric-esque tone to it, but is weighed down by the ominously weighty words of great meaning the characters seem to give at every opportunity. Each character is an allegory of something else, which becomes a little wearying. It also doesn’t help that towards the end one of the characters strangles a dialect so well that he could give Keith Roberts’ Granny Thompson a run for her money.

Far too long, and rather too derivative of Jack Vance’s Dying Earth stories for me, it is better by the end, but clearly a debut work, and an overworked one at that. 3 out of 5.

The Wall, by Josephine Saxton

A newcomer, but again nice to see a woman author in this male-dominated bastion of genre. And this was interesting, if odd. One of those allegory-stories about a city at the bottom of a saucer-shaped valley with a wall running through the middle bisecting the circle.

Two lovers, whose only contact initially is by touching hands through the wall, decide to escape the valley together, only to come to a sticky end. Weird yet vividly written, if bleak. 3 out of 5.

Yesterdays’ Gardens, by Johnny Byrne

Either I am starting to get more acclimatised to Johnny Byrne’s odd stories, or he is just getting better at writing them. This is another I quite liked. Uncle Ernie is told by a young girl of the man who lives in a silver cup in the garden. As the story progresses, all is not what it seems as we discover some sort of post-nuclear holocaust has happened. 3 out of 5.

The Weirwoods (Part 2 of 2), by Thomas Burnett Swann

We ended the first part on a bit of a cliff-hanger where the mythical creatures of the Weir were about to attack the human city of Sutrium to free Vel the Water Sprite and take some sort of revenge on the humans there.

This story begins with Tanaquil watched over by cats. She is freed by witch-queen Vegoia, who explains that a spell by Vel meant to use the city cats to disable the guards has actually led to a massacre in Sutrium. She takes Tanaquil to Arnth and encourages them to escape the city. Tanaquil, after finding her father dead, agrees. The slaves, now freed, have revolted and the journey is difficult. Vegoia finds a secret way through the forest for them to safety. At the lake they meet Vel again. Vegoia seduces Arinth, much to Tanaquil’s jealousy.

Vegoia then sends Arith to make love to Tanaquil, but is rejected by her, not wanting to be one of Vegoia’s cast-offs. Vel appears and attacks Tanaquil, but is killed. Tanaquil grieves. We discover that Vegoia is ill and she eventually dies. In the end, Vegoia and Arith, now a couple, leave for Rome to start a new life.

The second part of this serial is shorter than the first, and not quite as enjoyable, although there is much in this part to like. Burnett Swann’s descriptions of the Weir Ones' way of life are as poetic as ever, but I found the ending somewhat sad. Whilst the humans are happy, the death of Vel and Vegoia leave a sadness as their lives have been changed by dealing with humans. Whilst Vegoia has shared love with Arith, Vel in particular is an innocent who would have continued a happy and contented life had it not been for the interference of humans.

Nevertheless, though the second half did not quite match the set-up of the first part, it is undeniable that Burnett Swann’s story still has a lyrical magic that many others seem to lack – although Aldiss has a good stab at emulating it with his story this month. For that reason, still 4 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

A mixture of odd tales this month. I enjoyed the Aldiss story the most, although I suspect the twist at the end will make some readers groan. Whilst Thomas Burnett Swann’s serial was good, I did feel that it did not quite hold the potential that the first part suggested it would. The rest of the issue is, like last month, not really bad, but often not for me.

Onto this month’s New Worlds.

The Second Issue At Hand

This month’s editorial from Mike Moorcock starts by praising an author I’ve never heard of before in his attempt to broaden our literary knowledge. Alfred Jarry is “the father of the literary surrealist movement” and given Moorcock’s enthusiasm for such stories he is therefore effusive in his review of a recent collection. He then goes on to point out that, like issue 152, the emphasis this month is on new, young writers.

To the stories!

Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Wrecks of Time (Part 1 of 3)), by James Colvin

In his Editorial Mike Moorcock states that James Colvin’s (who is also Mike Moorcock, don’t forget) serial is “pretty straightforward stuff”, and it is, but I liked it. It’s not particularly new but I like the premise that there are fifteen alternate Earths, all in slightly different stages of development. Our hero, Professor Faustaff (clearly influenced by Shakespeare’s Falstaff) travels his way through them all with a group of varied assistants. He is in constant conflict with his nemesis Herr Steifflomeis and the nefarious D-Squad, who for reasons initially unknown seem determined to attack Faustaff’s teams and cause chaos, destroying alternate Earths by creating Unstable Matter Situations (UMSs).

This one is straight out of Doctor Who with a bit of The Avengers or even your Man from UNCLE thrown in, the sort of free-wheeling caper not too adrift from the old pulp fiction of yesteryear, but given a modern sensibility. It also helps that I liked Faustaff, who appears to me as a much more likeable version of Heinlein’s Jubal Harshaw. (I have a sneaking suspicion that this is Moorcock’s version of a Heinlein novel.) Not to be taken seriously at all, and great fun. But why write it as Colvin instead of Moorcock? I can see this one working in the same way that Moorcock’s Jeremiah Cornelius does. I’m pleased to read that it continues next month. 4 out of 5.

The Music Makers, by Langdon Jones

Time for Moorcock’s second-in-command to do some writing instead of editing. Set on a colonised Mars with ancient Martian cities straight out of Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles, the story is based around a musician who after performing the Berg Violin Concerto tries to come to terms with the importance of music. This is an ambitious tale, if limited by the fact that it is trying to describe the emotions generated by music in prose. The ending is a little overdone. 3 out of 5.

Until We Meet, by Colin Hume

A story of people who have lived for thousands of years, with an ending straight out of Brian Aldiss’s story in Science Fantasy. There are some nicely written parts, but that conclusion is grim. 2 out of 5.

Time’s Fool, by Richard Gordon

The latest story by Richard Gordon (last seen in July’s New Worlds with A Light in the Sky) is one that, like Good Night, Sweet Prince by Philip Wordley in last month’s Science Fantasy, revisits history by using a famous person. Last month it was Shakespeare; this month it is a person more infamous – the Marquis de Sade. A person perhaps best known for his perverse sexual predilections, this story gives de Sade chance to answer his accusers as he is put on trial in order to address the rather grotesque impression people have of him being one of the most evil men who has ever lived.

I liked the general idea, but felt that its purpose was more to shock than to debate de Sade’s ideas, which it does. De Sade actually comes out well from the experience. It reminded me of Moorcock’s recent story The Pleasure Garden of Felipe Sagittarius which used Hitler and Eva Braun in a similar way, as characters in the story. (Hitler even gets mentioned in this one.) This time around, prepare for “New Worlds Magazine writes positively about old pervert!” type headlines. Provocative and readable. 3 out of 5.

Night Dweller, by Terry Pratchett

A new author to me. I gather that Terry is very young – Moorcock mentions that he is sixteen in the Editorial – and if this is so, then this is an impressive story for someone his age. It is the tale of a suicide run, three men on their way to destroy an all-encompassing world eater passing through the Solar System, knowing that it will cost them their lives. Quite effective. 3 out of 5.

50% Me, At Least, by Graham Harris

After an accident, Bob Forton is restored to health to find that half of his body has been restored by artificial replacements. His outpouring of emotion at surviving is regarded as an anomaly by the doctors and nurses looking after him. An interesting one this, in that it deals with the issue of disability and makes the reader question how much of a person’s personality is based on their physical attributes rather than their other characteristics. It’s a shame I guessed the ending before-hand – the title rather gives it away. 3 out of 5.

Cultural Invasion, by Charles Platt

After his evisceration of Heinlein’s A Stranger in a Strange Land last month, Charles is back with some writing of his own this month. His last story, Lone Zone, was generally well-received, a gritty story of post-apocalyptic gangs. This time around, it’s a ‘humorous’ story of the consequences of a Russian spaceship, with cosmonauts aboard, landing by accident in Willy-in-the-Mud, a village in rural Hertfordshire. For a story so frenetic in action it is surprisingly mundane, with a weak twist in the tale. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews, Articles and Letters

After a few issues of few book reviews, Moorcock promised in his Editorial that there would be more this month. And so there is – there are reviews of Fifth Planet by Fred Hoyle, (“better”, but not to James Colvin’s tastes), Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut, which I thought would be more typical of Colvin’s interests, but is given grudging praise here.

Frederik Pohl and C.M. Kornbluth’s collaboration The Space Merchants is recommended for light-reading. Theodore Sturgeon’s More Than Human is given a tremendous thumbs-up as “his best work yet.” Jules Verne’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth is reissued in its best translated version so far, Eric Frank Russell’s Men, Martians and Machines story collection is all “readable, well-polished jobs”, if too American in style for Colvin’s tastes.

Surprisingly, John Carnell’s collection of horror stories, Weird Shadows from Beyond was found to be better than expected – “not the usual old rubbish at all”. How much of this positivity is based on Moorcock’s appreciation of Carnell I was less certain about. Martin Caidin’s Marooned was “a bore” to read, Prodigal Sun by Philip High has little of merit other than to have a good cover. The Demons by Kenneth Bulmer is “Bulmer at his best.” Lastly, Colvin can’t resist reviewing himself as he reviews Blades of Mars by “E.P. Bradbury”, although his criticism as “harmless and unpretentious enough” is quite refreshing.

Hilary Bailey reviews the “lively, varied collection” New Writings in SF 5 edited by the aforementioned John Carnell. Continuing the standard set by Charles Platt last month it may be unsurprising to regular readers to find that Farnham’s Freehold by Robert Heinlein is ”not.. a very good book.”

But no Dr. Peristyle this month.

Alan Dodd reviews a Russian science-fiction film, Cosmonauts On Venus, which is better than it sounds, even if the best actor is a robot.

Summing up New Worlds

I said last month that I hoped this issue would be a fresh start. And so it is. Moorcock admits at the beginning of this issue that this is an issue full of promising new potential rather than well-known authors, and he has kept to his word. There were surprises in this issue for me. The Pratchett was a surprise, as too the de Sade story, even if they tread familiar territory.

Nevertheless, whilst I agree that new talent should be nurtured, my overall impression this that this is an issue that smoulders rather than sparkles. There’s a lot I liked, but none that I really loved.

Summing up overall

As much as I liked the Colvin serial (so much more than Harrison’s recent effort!) the two big stories of Science Fantasy from Aldiss and Burnett Swann make Science Fantasy an easy winner this month for me.

As I type this it is nearly Halloween, one of my favourite times of the year. I hope that your celebrations are glorious and everything that they can be.

Whilst the Beatles collect their MBE's, WHO's playing at the Cavern this Halloween?

Until the next…

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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 24, 1965] "What time is it?" (October Galactoscope)

October 24, 2020 Jason Sacks 4 Comments

By Jason Sacks

Well, so far this has been a great month. Last week saw the end of a dynamite World Series, in which Sandy Koufax, the greatest pitcher of his generation, showed himself to be one of the greatest Jews of his generation as well. It was tremendously meaningful to my family that Sandy refused to start Game 1 for the Dodgers against the Minnesota Twins since the day coincided with our holy day of Yom Kippur.

As Sandy said, "I've taken Yom Kippur off every year for the last 10 years. It was just something I've always done out of respect."

As if that wasn't good enough, Koufax dominated games 5 and 7 of the series, with his electric fastball mowing down batters in a pair of crucial shutout victories. The Twins played well, and were outstanding American League champs – Tony Oliva is a monster – but it seems the Koufax gave the Dodgers the edge, and turned the '65 Series into a classic.

At the movie theatre, my wife and I caught The Bedford Incident last week at our favorite theatre here in north Seattle. If you haven't had a chance to see it yet, the film is well worth a night out — if, that is, you can handle an intense and sometimes bleak drama.

Richard Widmark turns in a powerful performance as a zealous battleship captain on the search for an elusive Soviet nuclear submarine. Also featuring Sidney Poitier and Martin Balsam, this black and white drama treads similar ground to last year's thrilling Fail Safe and ends in a similarly dramatic way.

The Hunter Out of Time, by Gardner F. Fox

If it seems like I'm dragging my feet a bit before talking about my entry for this month's Galactoscope, well, you're right. Gardner Fox's new novel is the epitome of mediocrity, a book that will give you 40¢ worth of excitement but not a whole lot more. The fantastic Mr. Fox is a prolific author who churns out more books and comic book stories than nearly anyone else living. Sometimes that causes him to create some delightful work. Other times it seems like he is just delivering words just to deliver him a paycheck. There's nothing necessarily wrong with that – I'm sure the man has a mortgage to pay – but it also represents a lost opportunity.

See, this book starts out with one of the most striking first lines I can remember.

I saw myself dying on the other side of the street.

The first page builds on that momentum, with the protagonist describing his body as "blood oozed over my fingers where I held that awesome wound."

I mean, seriously, how can you read a first page like that without feeling like you have to read more? Mr. Fox is an old pro and he clearly knows some classic tricks. As I read that book, I leaned back, took a deep breath, and readied myself for a page-turning thrill ride.

Cover by Gray Morrow

But, dear reader, I'm sorry to inform you that all the best writing in The Hunter Out of Time happens on the first couple of pages. It soon turns out that the man who falls to Earth is a time traveler from the far, far future who traveled back through a supposedly impregnable barrier to steal the man's identity. The time traveler is named Chan Dahl and soon other time-displaced men come to our time, confuse our guy, Kevin Cord for Dahl, and that unleashes the most obvious and cliched adventure you can imagine.

There's little in The Hunter Out of Time you haven't seen before. Fox gives us fantastic devices, headspinning time travel with seemingly arbitrary rules, and the obligatory beautiful, weak babe from the future. Of course Cord uses his native 20th century skills to overcome his opposition, of course Cord and the woman fall in love, and of course Fox leaves room for a sequel if somehow people want to read more of this frightfully ordinary pap.

I could go on and on about this book, but hey, it costs 40¢, it'll take you a couple hours to read, and it's got a pretty nice cover by artist Gray Morrow. I'd rather spend my time watching young Warren Beatty in Mickey One in the theatres, but you won't hate this book and it's pleasing enough entertainment for a rainy Seattle Sunday.

2 stars.

Solid Fuel

by John Boston

The rising star John Brunner has produced ambitious work such as The Whole Man and the upcoming The Squares of the City, both from Ballantine in the US, and a raft (or flotilla) of unpretentious upscale-pulp adventures for Ace Books. Some of the best of the latter were mined from the UK magazines edited by John Carnell.

by Jacks

But there’s a lot more. Brunner has been one of the mainstays of the UK magazines for a decade, but much of his best magazine work has not been reprinted because it’s too short for separate book publication and too long to fit in the usual anthologies or collections. The UK publisher Mayflower-Dell, previously distinguished by its unsuccessful attempt to bring Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure to the British public, remedies a bit of this omission with Now Then, a collection of three novellas, two from the Carnell magazines and the other, his first professional sale, from Astounding in 1953.

Some Lapse of Time

The book opens with the energetically clever and creepy Some Lapse of Time, from Science Fantasy #57 (February 1963). Dr. Max Harrow is having a bad dream of a group of starving people living in ruins, one of whom is holding a human finger bone in his hand. He wakes and there is someone at his door: the police, because a tramp has collapsed in his garage. The tramp proves to be suffering a rare disease (heterochylia, an inability to metabolize fats, which become lethal) that Harrow is uniquely qualified to recognize, his infant son having died of it only recently, and which should have made it impossible for the tramp to survive to adulthood. The tramp also has clamped in his hand a human finger bone—the same bone, the end of the left middle finger, as in Harrow’s dream.

Unintelligible to the hospital staff, the tramp proves when examined by a philologist to speak a badly distorted version of English, like one might expect a primitive and isolated group to use. Meanwhile, Harrow’s marriage is blowing up under the emotional stress caused by his son’s death and his own preoccupation. When his wife slams the car door in his face, she catches his hand in the door and severs the end of his left middle finger, which falls down a gutter. Meanwhile, the tramp is sent for a head x-ray, but he turns out to be so radioactive that not only do the films turn out unusable but he has to be put in strict isolation.

Brunner brings all these elements to a thoroughly grotesque resolution—it doesn’t entirely work, but is a grimly ingenious nice try. Others apparently think so too; it is rumored that a dramatization will be broadcast later this year in the BBC’s Out of the Unknown TV series. Four stars.

Imprint of Chaos

Next up is Imprint of Chaos, also from Science Fantasy (#42, August 1960), one of a number of outright fantasies Brunner contributed to that underrated magazine. This one introduces us to a character mainly called “the traveler,” who we are repeatedly told has “many names but one nature,” unlike the rest of us who I suppose contain multitudes.

The traveler has been appointed (by whom, or Whom, or What is not explained) as a sort of metaphysical supervisor over part of the universe, charged with ensuring the primacy of order over chaos. He is on his way to Ryovora, a formerly sensible town where they have now decided they need a god.

So the traveler nips out to our Earth and snatches the unsuspecting Bernard Brown from a hike in the wood, tells him he’s unlikely to find his way home, but gives him directions to Ryovora. There, to his discomfiture, Brown is welcomed as a god, and when the next city over hears about it and sends over their god, Brown sends it packing in terror. Then the Ryovorans say they could have done it themselves (though they didn’t), and excuse Mr. Brown, after a final scene where he and the traveler bruit the futility and undesirability of magic.

A fantasy writer bad-mouthing magic may seem incongruous, but this rationalist in spite of himself really hates it, and comes not to praise magic but to bury it, though only after enough colorful magical episodes to entertain the rubes. Here the tension is more extreme than usual. His earlier fantasies mostly featured incursions of magic into the world of ordinary salt-of-the-earth types. Here, the entire setting is exotically magical, and the story is told in the fey and pompous cadences of high fantasy.

For example, from a conclave of the necromantic elite of Ryovora: “The Margrave nodded and made a comforting gesture in the air. He said, ‘But this cannot be the whole story. I move that we—here, now, in full council—ask Him Who Must Know.’” Brunner walks the edge of parody at times (“Tyllwin [a particularly powerful magician] chuckled, a scratching noise, and the flowers on the whole of one tree turned to fruit and rotted where they hung.”). But the story is clever and entertaining and merits its three stars, towards the high end.

Thou Good and Faithful

Thou Good and Faithful is older; as mentioned, it is the first story Brunner sold to an SF magazine—and it was featured on the cover of the top-of-the-market Astounding (March 1953 issue). Moreover, the readers voted it best in the issue, and it was quickly picked up by Andre Norton for her pretty respectable YA anthology Space Pioneers. Not a bad start for an 18-year-old! Though Brunner has had some second thoughts about showing us his juvenilia; the acknowledgements note it appeared in the magazine “in a somewhat different form.” I haven’t compared the two texts, though there’s clearly some updating; in this version Brunner refers to something as “maser-tight,” and masers were barely invented when this story was first published.

The story is for most of its length a bog-standard though well-turned rendition of a basic plot: find a planet, there’s a mystery, what’s going on, are we scared? The mystery is an idyllic Earth-type planet inhabited only by robots, who presumably didn’t make themselves; what happened to the makers? The final revelation is partly in the direction of, say, Clarke’s Childhood’s End, and partly in the one suggested by the story’s title, so in the end it’s much more high-minded than the puzzle story it starts out as. This is all older news nowadays than it was in 1953, but it too merits a high three stars.

Summing Up

Now Then is a solid representation of the mid-length work of this very readable and thoughtful writer, and there’s enough in the Carnell back files for several more worthwhile volumes of Brunner novellas.

Two by Two

by Gideon Marcus

The Journey has made a commitment to review every piece of science fiction released in a year (or die trying). In pursuit of this goal, I've generally tried to finish every book I've started, and if unable to, I simply don't write about it.

It occurs to me, however, that the inability to finish a book is worth reporting on, too. And so, here are reports on two of this summer's lesser lights:

Arm of the Starfish, by Madeleine L'Engle

The latest from Madeline L'Engle, author of the sublime A Wrinkle in Time, starts promisingly. Adam Eddington is a freshman biology minor tapped to work with a Dr. O'Keefe on the Atlantic island of Gaia off the coast of Portugal. O'Keefe (a grown up Calvin, from Wrinkle) is working with starfish, zeroing in on an immortality treatment. Just prior to Adam's departure from Kennedy Airport, he runs across the beautiful young daughter of an industrialist, Kali, who warns Adam to stay away from the sinister-looking Canon Tallis, who is chaperoning the O'Keefes' precocious daughter, Poly.

Adam finds himself embroiled in international intrigue, not knowing who to trust. This is exciting at first, but a drag as things go on. Gone is the quietly lyrical prose of Wrinkle, replaced by a deliberately juvenile style leached of color. Events happen, one after another, but they are both difficult to keep track of and largely uninteresting. By the time Adam made it to Gaia, about halfway through the book, I found myself struggling to complete a page.

Life's too short. I gave up.

Quest Crosstime, by Andre Norton

Cover by Yukio Tashiro

Andre Norton has come out with the long-awaited sequel to her parallel universe adventure, The Crossroads of Time, starring Blake Walker. The universe Walker lives in is a bit like that of Laumer's Imperium series and Piper's Paratime stories: there's one Earth that has mastered the art of crossing timelines, and it has built an empire across these alternate Earths.

On Vroom, the imperial timetrack, there had been a devastating war that killed most of the female population, making them particularly precious. Also, mutation has made psionic ability the rule rather than the exception. The timeline is ruled by an oligarchy of 100 meritocrats.

At the start of Crosstime, Walker is dispatched to assist Marfy, whose twin sister, Marva, has been lost amongst the timeless — and all signs point to a kidnapping. Of course, the allure of all parallel universe books is the exploration of what-if, and so Walker and Marfy's trek spans a dead Earth where life never arose, a strange saurian Earth where sentient turtles and lizardmen rule, and ultimately, an interesting timeline in which Richard III won the battle of Bosworth Field while Cortez lost the battle of Tenochtitlan. By the Mid-20th Century, there is a Cold War between Britain and the Aztec Empire along a militarized Mississippi river. It is to this world that Marfy and her abductors are tracked, and it turns out that the kidnapping is part of a plot to topple Vroom's Ancien Regime.

True to form as of late, Norton sets up some genuinely interesting background, but the characters are as flat as the pages they appear on. This time, I made it through two thirds of the book, partly on momentum from the first book in the series, which I rather enjoyed. In the end, however, disinterest won out.

Call it two stars for both books.

Don't miss the next exciting musical guest episode of The Journey Show, October 24 at 1PM Pacific!

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 22, 1965] Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow (November 1965 Fantastic)

October 22, 2020 Victoria Silverwolf 6 Comments

by Victoria Silverwolf

Days of Our Lives

I'm stealing the name of a new soap opera, due to premiere on NBC next month, because it sums up the way that past, present, and future came together in the news this month.

Yale University put an item known as the Vinland Map on public display on October 12. This is a map of the world, said to date back to the Fifteenth Century, which seems to indicate that Norsemen visited the Americas long before Christopher Columbus. In case you're wondering about the date, it was Columbus Day, in a nice bit of irony.

A detail of the Vinland Map. That's Greenland to the right, and a chunk of North America to the left.

As you might expect, there's controversy over whether this is the real thing or a forgery. Today, nobody knows for sure if this visitor from yesterday is genuine, but maybe we'll find out tomorrow.

If authentic, the Vinland Map is a voice from the past. In a similar way, folks in the present are trying to send a message to the future.

On October 16, the penultimate day of the New York World's Fair, a time capsule was lowered into the ground. (A similar object was buried nearby, during the 1939 World's Fair.) It is scheduled to be opened in the year 6939. (I'm a little skeptical as to whether such a thing can really survive and be found nearly five thousand years from now, but I like the idea.) The contents include . . . well, see for yourself.

People in that distant era will also know that we weren't very careful about spelling.

The Beatles seem destined to represent the artistic achievements of our time, if somebody actually finds the time capsule, opens it, and figures out how to play a record. They are once again at the top of the American popular music charts this month, and show no signs of leaving that position any time soon.

The latest smash from the Liverpool lads is, appropriately, called Yesterday. Unlike their other hits, it's a slow, melancholy song about lost love. Paul McCartney plays acoustic guitar and sings, backed by a string quartet. The other Beatles do not perform on the record, so it's really a McCartney solo performance.

By the way, Act Naturally is a remake of a Number One song by Buck Owens. The Beatles go Country-Western!

Flipping Through the Calendar

Given the peculiarities of the publishing business, it's no surprise that I'm reading the November issue of Fantastic in October. With their policy of filling about half the magazine with reprints, it's also not a shock to discover that we go back in time to fill up the pages. First up, however, is a new story set in a strange world that mixes up the past and the present.

Cover art by Julian S. Krupa. It's actually taken from the back cover of the July 1939 issue of Amazing Stories.

Look familiar? We'll hear more about the Space Devastator later.

Axe and Dragon (Part One of Three), by Keith Laumer

Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

Our hero is one Lafayette O'Leary, an ordinary working stiff, living in a crummy boarding house. He has a lot of intellectual curiosity, performing experiments in his tiny room and reading obscure books. He happens to find a Nineteenth Century volume on hypnotism, and learns about a technique whereby he can experience a dreaming state, while remaining aware that he is dreaming, and exercising some control over it.

(This isn't so crazy a premise as it might seem. More than fifty years ago, the Dutch psychiatrist Frederik Willem van Eeden coined the term lucid dream for such states of mind.)

Of course, he gives it a try. He winds up in a world that seems to be a bit medieval, a touch Eighteenth Century, a tad modern, and partly straight out of a fairy tale. The limitations on his ability to alter this dream world — if that's what it is — show up when he tries to give himself a set of fancy modern clothes, and winds up dressed like somebody in a swashbuckling movie.

Lafayette, ready for action.

At first, he enjoys the situation, happily replacing the lousy wine in a tavern with fine Champagne. Thought to be a wizard, he gets mixed up with the local equivalent of the cops. Still thinking this is just a dream, he tries to disappear, with only partial success.

Our hero tries to vanish, but can't quite do it.

Lafayette winds up in the palace of the King, where he is thought to be a prophesized hero, destined to save the realm from an ogre and a dragon. He also meets the King's magician, who seems to know more about what's going on than he admits. For one thing, he's responsible for the steam-powered coaches and electric lights in this otherwise nontechnological world.

The magician looks on as Lafayette admires himself.

Eventually, our hero meets the King's beautiful daughter, as well as the master swordsman who is her current boyfriend. Jealousy rears its head, and a challenge to a duel arises.

Lafayette assumes that his opponent, like everybody else in this world, is just a product of his imagination. Therefore, he reasons, the foe can't really be any better with a sword than he is. It looks like he might be in for an unpleasant surprise.

Tune in again for the next exciting chapter!

So far, at least, the tone of this novel is very light. Laumer almost seems to be parodying his own tales of the Imperium, with the protagonist finding himself in alternate realities. Unlike those serious stories, this one is a comedy. The people inhabiting the dream world speak in a mixture of archaic language and modern slang. The police are about as effective as the Keystone Kops. It's entertaining enough to keep me reading, but hardly profound.

Three stars.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow, by Ray Bradbury

The rest of the magazine consists of stuff from the old days, both the prose and the art. First we have a piece with a title that is fitting for my chosen theme. It comes from the May 1947 issue of Fantastic Adventures.

Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones, for what looks like a very odd story.

The protagonist is a would-be writer, reduced to pawning his typewriter due to his failure to find his way into print. (Surely based on the author's own early years, I assume.) He comes home to find a strange device. It sends him messages from the far future.

Illustration by Virgil Finlay.

Tomorrow's world is a dreary place, under the rule of a brutal dictator. A woman sent the machine back in time, insisting that the writer kill the remote ancestors of the tyrant. If he doesn't, the woman will be executed. If he does, the future will change, and she won't remember him at all. Since he's fallen in love with her, he will lose her either way. Besides this dilemma, he faces the moral crisis of murdering two innocent people.

This early work shows Bradbury developing his style, although it is not yet fully formed. You may think that's a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, it's got some emotional appeal, some passages of poetic writing, some implausibilities, and some lapses in logic. The ethical problem at the heart of the story — would you kill Hitler's ancestors? — is an important one, but here it's mostly used as a plot point.

Three stars.

I'm Looking for "Jeff", by Fritz Leiber

From the Fall 1952 issue of Fantastic comes this horror story, created by a master of the macabre (and other things.)

Cover art by Leo Summers. The Capote story is his very early work Miriam, which is a fine, eerie tale.

A bartender claims that a mysterious woman shows up regularly, although the owner of the joint can't see her. The reader is aware right from the start that she's a ghost.

Illustration by Emsh.

She uses her feminine wiles to pick up a customer, offering her affection in return for a promise to do something particularly violent to somebody named Jeff. The fellow, entrapped by her seductive charms — even the scar that runs across her face doesn't mar her beauty — agrees. He encounters Jeff, and makes a terrifying discovery.

There are no surprises in this variation on the classic theme of vengeance from beyond the grave. What elevates it above the usual ghost story is truly fine writing. The woman's first appearance, when she is a barely detectable wisp, is particularly fascinating.

Four stars.

Wild Talents, Inc., by Robert Sheckley

The September/October 1953 issue of Fantastic supplies this comic yarn.

Cover art also by Leo Summers, what little you can see of it.

As you'd expect, the company named in the title deals with people who have psychic powers. It's pretty much an employment agency for such folks. Their latest client presents a problem.

Illustration by Emsh

It seems the fellow can observe anyone, at any location. Unfortunately, he's very much an oddball. His only interest is in recording their sexual activities in excruciating detail. The guy in charge of the company has to figure out a way to protect the public from this Peeping Tom, while making use of his peculiar ability in an acceptable way.

The whole thing is pretty much a mildly dirty, mildly clever, mildly amusing joke. You might see it as a spoof of the kind of psi-power stories that appear in Analog far too often. A minor effort from an author who is capable of much sharper satire.

Two stars.

Tooth or Consequences, by Robert Bloch

Another comedy, this time from the May 1950 issue of Amazing Stories.

Cover art by Arnold Kohn

It starts off like a joke. A vampire walks into a dentist's office . . .. It seems even the undead need to have their cavities filled. The vampire also swipes blood from the supply kept refrigerated in the same medical building. When the red stuff is then secured under lock and key, to prevent further thefts, the vampire tells the dentist he better get some of it for him, or else. There's a twist at the end you may see coming.

I suppose there's a certain Charles Addams appeal to the image of a fanged monster sitting in a dentist's chair. Otherwise, there's not much to this bagatelle.

Two stars.

The Eye of Tandyla, by L. Sprague de Camp

We go back to the May 1951 issue of Fantastic Adventures for this sword-and-sorcery yarn, one of a handful of stories in the author's Pusadian series. (The best-known one is probably the novel The Tritonian Ring, also from 1951.)

Cover art by Robert Gibson Jones

The setting is far back in time, long before recorded history. (The story goes that de Camp wanted to create a background similar to the one appearing in Robert E. Howard's tales of Conan, but in a more realistic fashion.) A wizard and a warrior must steal a magical gem from the statue of a goddess for their King, or be executed. Their plan involves disguising themselves with sorcery and sneaking into the place.

Illustration by Virgil Finlay.

To their amazement, it proves to be really easy to grab the jewel. So simple, in fact, that they smell a rat. They cook up a scheme to put the gem back in its place, steal a similar one from another place, and present that one to the King instead. Complications ensue.

You can tell that this isn't the most serious story in the world. The plot resembles a farce, with its multiple confusions and running back and forth. It's got the wit often found in Fritz Leiber's work of this kind, but not quite the same elegance. I'd say it's above the level of John Jakes, or even — dare I say it? — Howard himself, if not quite up to the very high standard of Leiber.

Three stars.

Close Behind Him, by John Wyndham

The January/February issue of Fantastic is the source of this chiller.

Cover art by Robert Frankenberg. The so-called new story by Poe is actually Robert Bloch's completion of a fragment.

Two crooks rob the house of a very strange fellow. The guy catches one of them in the act, so the hoodlum kills him.

Illustration by Paul Lundy.

The pair make their getaway, but are followed by blood-red footprints wherever they go. You can bet things won't go well for them.

This is a pretty decent horror story, nicely written, although — once again! — not up to the level of Fritz Leiber, particularly since we've got an example of his excellent work in the field of tales of terror in this very issue.

Three stars.

Space Devastator, by Anonymous

I'm not sure if I should even mention this tiny article, excerpted from the pages of the July 1939 issue of Amazing Stories.

Cover art by Robert Fuqua.

Anyway, it's less than a page long, and speculates about a huge station in orbit, equipped with a bunch of big mirrors.

Illustration by Julian S. Krupa

The notion is that such a thing could destroy entire populations from space by focusing the sun's rays and burning up cities. Casual mention is made of the fact that it could supply solar energy as well. I suppose it's imaginative for 1939, but it's so short — the original version was probably somewhat longer — that you can't get much out of it.

Two stars.

What Day is Good for You?

Today comes out a big winner over Yesterday and Tomorrow in this month's Fantastic. Leiber's contemporary ghost story is clearly superior to tales set in the future or in the legendary past. Otherwise, this isn't that great an issue, ranging from OK to below average.

You might well get more entertainment out of an award-winning film, such as this Italian comedy, which got the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film last year. Sophia Loren plays three different women, and Marcello Mastroianni three men, in a trio of lighthearted tales of love.

For some reason, every poster I've seen for this movie features Loren in her underwear. I wonder why that might be.

And you'll definitely enjoy the next exciting musical guest episode of The Journey Show, October 24 at 1PM Pacific!

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Comics

[October 20, 1965] The Wonderful Shadow (A British Comics Overview)

October 20, 2020 Kris Vyas-Myall Leave a comment

by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

We are now well into the autumn here in Britain. Leaves are turning brown; the nights are getting colder and the shops are getting supplies in for Guy Fawkes Day.

For those unfamiliar with the British tradition, we celebrate the foiling of a 17th century plot to blow up the king and parliament. The festival is not without controversy, where in some place effigies of the Pope are still burned. Debates are often had in my family, both from the rightness of the festival and those members who find the fireworks bring back terrible memories of the blitz.

As we are preparing to celebrate a 360-year-old event, the future is slowly coming into our everyday lives. A woman in New York has been charged with traffic offences through a computer program. Whilst in Britain an official recommendation has been made for use of more audiovisual equipment in higher education.

This can also be seen in our entertainment this Autumn. On TV we not just the return of Doctor Who but the exquisite new shows Out of the Unknown and Thunderbirds. In the cinemas we have two excellent scientific disaster films, The Crack in the World and The Bedford Incident. On the book front, I am looking forward to the upcoming releases of John Brunner’s The Squares of the City and Thomas M. Disch’s Genocides.

There is one pleasure I have not mentioned before. That of going down to my local corner shop and picking up the latest British comic books.

Comics do not get anywhere near the praise that science fiction in other media does. In an interview before his passing, C. S. Lewis said:

One thing that weighs against us heavily is the horrible shadow of comics.

However, I contend they are an important part of the field and Britain is producing some of the best right now.

Pre-War Origins

Whilst satirical cartoons have been around as long as printing presses have been setup in Britain and newspaper strips and text comic publications have been around since the 19th century, the story of comic books as we know them today came about over the last few decades.

Earlier this century, the most popular reading material for juvenile boys and girls were story papers. These were low cost productions featuring illustrated text stories, typically in the bent of Victorian adventures.

The Union Jack story paper featuring the extremely popular Sexton Blake.

At the same time there were a few successful annuals published of characters who appeared in newspaper strips, such as Daily Express’ Rupert Bear.

Dundee based publisher D. C. Thompson combined these two ideas together and began producing what we would now see as the typical British humor comic book. With single- or double-page comedic stories, like watching a satirical sketch show. Whilst the story papers tended to be upper class adventure stories, these new comic books had a more anarchic and working class bent.

First issue of The Dandy, beginning DC Thompson’s foray into comic books..

However, with the advent of World War 2 and the ensuing paper shortage many story papers and comics ceased publication. Those comics that did survive, such as The Dandy and The Beano, remain incredibly popular today. Also, some of the pre-war story papers continue to be published, such as Boy’s Own Paper.

Boys Own Paper — The June issue of Boy’s Own Paper

Press Outrage and Religious Revival

Just as in America, the 50s represented a drastic change in the comics market due to a panic over their corrupting influence on children. Apparently arriving as ballast on ships, US comics began to arrive in Britain after the war. These included horror and crime comics which resulted in a heavy backlash against a whole range of imported comics.

A “morally corrupting” issue of Captain Marvel sent to the government for review

Interestingly, this panic was one that seemed to be supported by all regions of society. Conservatives were appalled by their content, liberal intellectuals considered them trash not worth defending and communists saw them as American cultural imperialism. The media published lurid stories blaming comics for any act of delinquency and the teacher’s unions pushed the government to act.

There are two important results for us. Firstly, parliament passed the Children and Young Persons (Harmful Publications) Act, outlawing picture stories that may corrupt a young person. Even though no one is yet to be prosecuted under this, it is still on the books and it (along with general import restrictions) has severely curtailed the number of imported comics to the UK.

Secondly, was the establishing of an alternative. Rev. Morris was an Anglican vicar running the Christian magazine, The Anvil. Seeing the American comic books coming in he was apparently impressed with the quality of the artwork but disgusted by the content. He had already been producing a small amount of comic strips with artist Frank Hampson, so together they launched Eagle.

This followed the anthology format of DC Thompson comics but with a few notable differences. Firstly, the strips tend to be weekly serializations with some stories continuing for almost an entire year, allowing for much more content and depth. Secondly, the content a mix of different genres. The comics of the first issue consisted of:

• Dan Dare, Pilot of the Future – Science Fiction
• The Adventures of P.C. 49 – Police drama
• Captain Pugwash – Humorous pirate stories
• Professor Brittain Explains – Science fact
• Seth and Shorty – Western
• Skippy the Kangaroo – Humorous big game hunter stories
• Heroes of the Clouds – History
• Discovering the Countryside – Science Fact
• Rob Conway – Contemporary Adventure
• The Adventurer – Historical Christian adventure

Finally, issues of Eagle also contain text stories, sometimes serializing memoirs of well-known figures such as Winston Churchill. This last point has helped them gain more acceptance than the longstanding humor comics.

This mold Eagle has established is the style of most comic books today. Probably the only major change recently is increased length, as many have expanded from 18 pages to 40, allowing for a wider range of content.

Not So Heroic

Unlike in America, superheroes are not common. The biggest, Marvelman (an imitation of Captain Marvel), ceased publication in 1963.

Probably the closest is Garth (Daily Mirror) a super-strong adventurer whose tales tend towards the cosmic:

His stories have a John Carter or Flash Gordon feel and will probably appeal to fans of pulpy adventures.

There is one other interesting newer addition in this category, The Spider (Lion). A kind reserve Batman, he is a supervillain who uses his technical skill and intelligence to commit daring crimes:

What I like about this comic is the balance it strikes between us being horrified by his actions and still rooting for him to carry out these deeds. Highly recommended.

Journey into Space

Right from the cover of the first issue of Eagle, space adventures have been central to British comics. Dan Dare continues to be the most popular of these stories in his war against The Mekon and other space threats.

Ashley Pollard covered some his adventures at the start of the decade but, recently, I have found they are relying more on splashy art and action scenes over plot. I think there are two newer series that deserve more attention.

The Daleks have become a pop culture phenomenon in Britain so it seems inevitable they would get their own comic. However, splitting them off from The Doctor (who gets his own adventures in TV Comic), has created a great opportunity to explore them in more depth.

In the TV Century 21 strip the Daleks we get to see are still ruthless and evil but instead of facing off against our noble time travelers they often face off against other despicable races and are more than happy to use genocide to fulfil their ends.

Daleks 2 — The golden dalek emperor celebrating planetary destruction

What we are left with is a fascinatingly nihilistic strip that suggests that in the daleks’ part of the universe there is no place for kindness. It is only about victory by any means.

The Rise and Fall of the Trigan Empire (Ranger) has only just started but already looks to be an incredibly ambitious space epic. After a spacecraft crashes on Earth, Professor Richard Haddon spends his life trying to translate their language and discovers the entire history of their civilization.

This only began last month but we have already seen the Vorgs and their leader Trigo trying to build a city but dealing with the threat of the aggressive Loka:

And seems to be setting up for a grand tale of civilizations that could be on par with Asimov's Foundation. I am eagerly awaiting future instalments.

Whilst space stories may be essential to British comics, spy stories, as with every other medium, are appearing more and more.

Spies in disguise

Probably the most beloved comics today are the newspaper strip adventures of James Bond and Modesty Blaise.

But two of the best British science fiction comic strips are also spy tales.

Vic Gunn (Lion) tells the story of an alternative Britain where Emperor Rudolph has taken over as dictator of Britain and agent Gunn leads the resistance. This year’s main event has been The Battle for Liverpool

Here a resistance cell has emerged in Liverpool. Gunn is determined to make it a free city, Rudolph is determined to crush the resistance by any means necessary.

What I most appreciate is how serialized it is. Rather than Gunn simply winning week to week, the story started with Rudolph’s plan to takeover and has been a continuing battle between the two, with Rudolph winning so far more often than Gunn.

On a different note we have Lady Penelope (TV Century 21). Before appearing in Thunderbirds, she had her own strip with her and Parker’s adventures to bring down villainous threats to the future world.

What I like most about this strip are the unusual characters of Penelope and Parker. Lady Penelope is as competent as anyone in The Avengers but is unapologetically feminine and charming. Parker, on the other hand, is very much a working-class hero, a burglar who speaks in a cockney dialect which is a distinct contrast to the upper crust figures that dominate spy literature.

High Adventure

Space and spy stories are not the only kind of adventure strips that may be of interest to SFF readers.

I love a touch of Sword and Sorcery, so Maroc The Mighty (Lion) appeals to me.

John Maroc is a 13th Century Crusader in possession of The Hand of Zar, a magic amulet that gives him superhuman strength. He tries to travel back to England, righting wrongs along the way.

Although the stories will have the irritating tendency to contrive reason why The Hand will not work, they are still fun adventure stories akin to ITC’s The Adventures of Sir Lancelot.

On a more science fictional note, we have The Human Guinea Pig (Eagle). Mike Lane acts as a tester for Prof. Lively’s inventions which will inevitably have terrible results. Such as a formula that reverses evolution:

The best part is the relationship between Lane and Lively. Despite the trials they go through they remain good colleagues and are always willing to work together for scientific solutions to the problems.

Fuzzy Little Satire

One final strip I want to spotlight is Flook (Daily Mail). This newspaper strip by two jazz musicians at may seem to have little to interest the SFF fan, being the adventures of a little boy and his furry friend Flook. However, the contents of it are a sharp satire on contemporary Britain and worth everyone's while.

A good recent example is Flook having to deal with racist attacks with the Klan even trying to kill him and needing to use magic to outsmart them.

There is an incredible skill on display balancing the darkness of the material with clever humor and a lightness of touch that make it something outstanding.

In Conclusion

These are only a sample of the great comics available in the British market right now. I did not get to touch on the interconnected Gerry Anderson universe, The Iron Man (not the Marvel character), The Toys of Doom or Space Cadet.

My best advice? Go to your local corner shop and pick-up a few comic books that look to have a more serious bent. Alternatively, look at the strips in one of tabloids. There is such a variety in each I am sure you will find something to enjoy.

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Magazine, Serial

[October 18, 1965] Turn, Turn, Turn (November 1965 Fantasy & Science Fiction)

October 18, 2020 Gideon Marcus 5 Comments

by Gideon Marcus

The Winds of Change

History is divided into eras: The Stone Age, The Middle Ages, The Renaissance. There are Golden Ages and Dark Ages. The Jazz Age. The Gilded Age. One is never quite sure of a period's exact delineations, the precise moments of its beginning or end, until the next one is well on its way. It is possible to tell when one is in an age, however, and also to feel keenly the wistful uncertain sense one gets in the doldrums between epochs. Who can't have felt that way in the year succeeding President Kennedy's assassination, when his civil rights program, American involvement in Indochina, even the character of government in general hung in the balance. And who can doubt that, for better or worse, the Johnson era has clearly begun?

I've lived through two sea changes in music. The first was in 1954, when the overripe swing and schmaltz on the radio was overrun with a wave of rock and roll, particularly if you tuned into the Black stations (luckily, a radio tuner cannot easily be segregated). By 1963, the winds of change had become muddled. With folk, pop, motown, surf, and country vying for our eardrums, it was quite impossible to know then where the next two years would take us. Then the Beatles spearheaded the biggest British invasion since 1812, and a new age was upon us.

Science fiction has its ages, too. When I got into SF in a big way, the genre was clearly plumb in the middle of one. It was 1954, four years after Galaxy's editor, Horace Gold, had thrown the gauntlet down at the feet of puerile pulp SF, five years after the new Fantasy and Science Fiction established a literary benchmark for the genre that has yet to be exceeded. Science fiction primarily came in digest sized magazines, and the market was aflood with them. Quality ranged from the penny-a-word mags which were little above the pulps that preceded them to stellar new fiction that burst beyond our solar system and ranged deep into our pysches.

As the 60s dawned, the genre had become anemic. Almost all of the monthly digests had gone out of print. The old stalwart, Astounding, had changed its name to Analog, but is fiction remained stolidly fixed in an older mode. Gold retired from Galaxy and Fred Pohl struggled to keep it and its sister mags fresh as its reliable stable of authors left for greener (as in the color of money) pastures. F&SF's helm passed on to Avram Davidson, whose whimsical style did the magazine few favors.

But the genre seems to have found its feet and is stomping off in a new direction. Propelled by a "New Wave," again largely based in Britain, the science fiction I've been reading these days no longer feels like retreads of familiar stories. They have the stamp of a modern era, an indisputable sense of 1960s. And no single issue of a single magazine has represented this renaissance in SF better than the latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction.

A Fresh Breeze

by Gray Morrow (illustrating the many perils of … And Call Me Conrad (Part 2 of 2)

Come to Venus Melancholy, by Thomas M. Disch

Disch is one of the flagbearers of the new era. In just three years, this new author has produced more than 20 stories, some of them quite brilliant. In this one (set on an obviously pre-Mariner Venus), a lonely cyborg staffer of a trading post literally holds you captive while she tells the sad story of how she lost her love.

By turns horrifying and heartbreaking, it's a moving piece. Four stars.

The Peacock King, by Larry McCombs and Ted White

Less effective though more experimental is this piece on the first successful hyperdrive jaunt. After four failures, it is determined that the transition to hyperspace bears similarities to drug-induced schizophrenia. One couple, so in love as to practically share a consciousness, is fed a regimen of psychoactives to prepare them for the trip.

Somewhat roughly written, and perhaps too short, it is nevertheless a fascinatingly "now" story delving into new territory.

Three stars.

Insect Attractant, by Theodore L. Thomas

This usually disappointing column of sf-story ideas masquerading as short science articles starts promisingly, discussing how insect pests could be eradicated through synthesis of female sex pheromones, which could then be sprayed to disrupt their breeding cycles. A fine alternative to DDT.

But then he goes on to suggest that human females have similar pheromones, and that distillation and application of same could be used by marriage counselors, as if love is purely a matter of chemical compatibility. Perhaps the author has never been in love, let alone gotten married. Of course, Mr. Thomas may have meant the piece in jest, though I also resented its casually sexist overtones. Either way, it's not worth the page it occupies.

Two stars — and let's please 86 this column, Mr. Ferman?

… And Call Me Conrad (Part 2 of 2), by Roger Zelazny

When last we left Konstantin Karaghiosis, Minister for Cultural Sites on an atomics-devastated Earth, he was giving a tour of Greece to a blue-skinned Vegan, name of Cort Vishtigo, and his human entourage. Ostensibly, the alien was on Earth to write a travelogue. His true purpose is unknown, but the members of the Radpol movement believe Vishtigo's trip is a real estate survey, prelude to the Vegans buying up the planet to plunder. An assassination attempt is in the offing, and Karaghiosis (virtually immortal and currently going by the name of Conrad) believes that the alien's bodyguard, Hassan, is the likely killer.

That's the context, but the tale Zelazny weaves reads like a modern interpretation of mythology, with Conrad's party encountering a host of radiation mutated beasts, humans, and everything in-between. Conrad is a tale of survival, of derring do, of proving worth. It's also a pretty good mystery with a satisfying, if a touch too pat, ending.

At first, I was leery of Zelazny's style, a first person macho that threatens to become precious. But there's enough self-deprecatory humor to make it work, and I found the pages flying. There's enough action to keep it moving, enough depth to keep you thinking.

Four stars for this segment, and the novel as a whole is elevated to this rank as well.

El Numero Uno, by Sasha Gilien

It used to be that Death attended to matters personally. Now, the business has boomed, and he requires field agents armed with legal contracts instead of scythes. This particular case involves a harried operative on the sports beat and a particularly recalcitrant matador scheduled for expiration.

Good stuff in the style of Ron Goulart. Four stars.

Squ-u-u-ush!, by Isaac Asimov

Having previously discussed the shortest measure of time, the largest measures of dimension, the hottest heat, and the coldest cold, the Good Doctor now explores the densest densities, starting with ordinary matter and proceeding the greatest crushes in the universe: the interior of giant stars.

Cutting edge stuff, and it's the first time I learned of neutronium, a state of matter even more compressed than that found inside a white dwarf.

Four stars.

A Few Kindred Spirits, by John Christopher

Last up, the much heralded author of No Blade of Grass offers up a tale combining a queer (in both senses of the word) group of dogs, the concept of reincarnation, and the pursuit of literary laurels. A character study cum literal shaggy dog story, it's perhaps the most conventional piece of the issue — save for the rather daring (and refreshingly uncondemned) discussion of alternate sexual preferences.

Four stars.

The Sound of Shoes Dropping

It is clear that, after a long many-tacked jaunt in trackless seas, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has set a bold new course. I have high hopes and more than a little suspicion that this New Wave era has many more exciting years left to it.

After quite a few lean years, I'm finally getting my dessert again!

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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[October 16th, 1965] The World According to Bonnie Cashin

October 16, 2020 Gwyn Conaway Leave a comment

by Gwyn Conaway

I have recently fallen back in love with the ever personal, exhaustively practical designs of the worldly Bonnie Cashin. From ballet costumes to uniforms for servicewomen during World War II to Coach, there’s no doubt she has had a far-reaching influence on our culture.

Bonnie Cashin wearing a wool zebra-striped tunic, early 1960s.

A staple of American design, Cashin is most known for pioneering the sportswear culture we now thoroughly enjoy. But her work has been far more diverse than one is led to believe. She lends a worldly view to American design, and explores other cultures through silhouette and textile alike. Let’s explore her inspirations and creations.

In 1960, Bonnie Cashin visited South Korea. Here she dons a gat, a black horsehair wide-brimmed steeple hat which is traditionally worn by noblemen and scholars during the Joseon period. Perhaps this foreshadows her interest in symbols of status and power.

I would be remiss to not first introduce Cashin’s most recent invention, the Blanket Coat, an evermore popular trend that will most assuredly be in style for a decade or more. While at first, the Blanket Coat seems to follow the boxy trapeze cuts ubiquitous in fashion, it does so from a long-informed fascination with the shapes and details of other cultures. This style, derived from her recent interest in the Japanese kimono, departs from the expected silks and linens and turns instead to delicate, fuzzy mohair wool which softens the look. Bold colors and patterns, though not directly derived from kimono, are inspired by Eastern color schemes, which at first glance create discord to the eye but settle into a harmonious and energetic palette.

Blanket Coat, 1965. While the bright yellow and pink palette of this coat may be jarring at first, it's worth noting that this is the color palette of a young unmarried Korean woman's hanbok.

Her interest in kimono doesn’t stop there. Recently, she released experimental suits of tweed wool. These curious pieces portray Cashin’s devotion to character and story. Note the kimono displayed traditionally on a wooden pole, in comparison to the angular shoulders of Cashin’s design. I was floored by Cashin’s clever jab: that women are often the dressings of the room. This silhouette lends the woman’s tapestry its own agency, thereby freeing the woman from conventional expectations.

This particular silhouette rose in Cashin's fall/winter 1964-1965 season. The kimono pictured right is made of rinzu silk, circa 1800-1840.

Beyond silhouette, textiles also play a bold role in Cashin’s creative expressions. Cashin looks to symbols of power and translates them into womenswear. Born in 1908, before women’s suffrage (embarrassingly, we’ve only had the right to vote for forty-five years) and witness to the bravery of women at war, I can’t help but surmise that Cashin’s designs are for women with strength of character. (On the ethicality of appropriating symbols of power from other cultures, I tend to believe it’s best to leave them in the hands of their successors. However, after centuries of Western fashion committing the same fashionable faux pas, I doubt there will be an end to this design philosophy anytime soon.)

A perfect example of this is the wool coat below. Closely resembling Kente cloth, a woven textile worn by powerful men and women in many African nations, the coat takes on more meaning. These types of cloth have many different meanings and patterns, depending on the culture of origin. Here we see Cashin calling to what might be termed a “Primitive” pattern today, but what in reality is the cloth of kings and queens. I appreciate the poetry of a misrepresented textile being used in womenswear, as women are so often misrepresented and underestimated.

Left, Cashin's tweed wool and suede car coat. Center and right are images of Prestige Kente and Ewe Kente cloth from Ghana. Kente cloth is also utilized in countries like Nigeria, and printed onto Dutch wax cloth, the textile used to create their elaborate headwraps. Cloths like these were traditionally reserved for the most powerful people in the community.

Perhaps one of her riskiest forays into cultural design is her dive into Native American and Pakistani design. While she commonly uses suede in her styles, she takes her “Indian” inspirations much further in the design below. She is clearly inspired by Pakistani Ikat, or perhaps Swat (a type of wedding dress), silhouettes that share the trapeze torso and dolman sleeves so popular in the West now. She also pushes suede to new heights in this series, incorporating fringe and cosmic designs akin to the origin stories of Native tribes in the American plains.

Cashin's designs, labeled Indian Summer and Indian Territory (left to right). Note the fine suede leather and fringe, indicative of the American native nations, which wore deerskin and suede rather than cloth due to tall grass. Meanwhile, the shape of the top's design (pictured right) is reminiscent of Indian ikat or swat dresses. Cashin combined both "Indian" inspirations to make this look.

A Pakistani Swat dress of the 19th century. Swat are traditional wedding dresses in the Bengal region. Cashin's inspiration may also have come from an ikat-style tunic, dress, or coat. These are sometimes referred to as ikat kurta, and can be found across Uzbekistan, Nepal, Pakistan, and northern India. Note how the underarm is round, thanks to a gusset. This detail, among others, is emulated in Cashin's design above.

In short, Cashin’s worldly aesthetic lends power to the American woman. It’s well-known that she designs with the modern woman in mind: mobility and urbanity above all others. Despite her lightning-quick career and successes, she doesn’t allow herself to stick her nose in the fashion industry and keep her head down. Rather, she looks up at the world around her in search of true character and strength.

It's no wonder that the modern woman, so eager to explore the world and carve out her place within it, is entranced by Cashin's designs.

[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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Science / Space Race

[October 14, 1965] Taking a Deep Dive (the SEALAB project)

October 14, 2020 Kaye Dee 1 Comment

by Kaye Dee

The SEALAB II habitat on the dockside ready for its official launching ceremony

In my article at the end of August about the Gemini 5 mission, I mentioned the unique phone call that Gemini 5 commander Gordon Coper made from space to his fellow Mercury astronaut Scott Carpenter, who was working aboard the SEALAB II experimental underwater habitat. Carpenter is the first astronaut to also serve as an aquanaut, and the two roles are clearly related, since they both involve operations in dangerous, barely explored environments, isolated in small, confined craft. Since the third (and last) crew in SEALAB II has just completed their undersea mission, I thought it would be interesting to look at the SEALAB programme this month.

Getting Saturated

The SEALABs have been developed by the United States Navy to research the technique of saturated diving and enable a better understanding of the psychological and physiological stresses that affect people living in confined isolation for extended periods of time. This research into long-duration isolation is obviously relevant to space exploration as well as undersea activities.

Saturation diving is a technique that reduces the risk of decompression sickness (“the bends”) for divers working at great depths. If a diver breathes inert gasses, while in an environment pressurised to match the intended depth of a dive, the body will become saturated with the gasses, reaching a state of equilibrium once the blood and body tissues have absorbed all they can. Once this occurs, a diver’s decompression time will be the same whether he stays underwater for hours, days, weeks, or even months. This means that if a diver lives in a suitably pressurised habitat, he can work underwater for long periods and only have to undergo decompression once, at the end of his assignment.

The Genesis of SEALAB

SEALAB has its origins in a research programme by Captain George F. Bond, a US Navy physician. In 1957, Dr. Bond began Project Genesis at the Naval Submarine Medical Research Laboratory in Connecticut with the aim of demonstrating that divers could withstand prolonged exposure to different breathing gases at multi-atmosphere pressures. The first two phases of Project Genesis were carried out in 1957 and '58. This involved exposing animals, including rats, goats and monkeys to saturation using a variety of breathing gasses. Dr. Bond happened to meet Jacques Cousteau, the famous French oceanographer, when he gave a talk about the concept of saturation diving in 1957 and the two men became good friends. They co-operated on their diving research, and Cousteau even contributed some ideas to SEALAB II.

"Papa Topside", Dr. George F. Bond, (left) on the SEALAB I support ship with Argus Island in the background

NASA Keeps the Research Going

Despite his promising results, the Navy was not interested in funding the human trials that Dr. Bond needed to progress his research. Then, in 1962, NASA stepped in and funded the human research programme because it was interested in using a mixed -gas spacecraft atmosphere (either nitrogen-oxygen or helium-oxygen) for the Apollo programme – although it has now decided to use a simpler low-pressure oxygen atmosphere for the Apollo spacecraft, despite its potential fire danger.

Between 1962 and 1963, Capt. Bond, with the help of three volunteer divers, experimented with varying gas mixtures of oxygen, nitrogen and helium. One volunteer, Chief Quartermaster Robert A. (“Bob”) Barth took part in all these experiments and went on to become a member of the crews of SEALAB I and II.

"Papa Topside" and SEALAB I

By 1963, Capt. Bond’s team had collected enough data for the Navy to initiate its “Man in the Sea” programme, which would include an experimental habitat, dubbed SEALAB. Dr. Bond serves as the Senior Medical Officer and principal investigator of the SEALAB programme. The SEALAB I crew nicknamed him “Papa Topside”, for being always available on the support ship that kept station above the undersea habitat.

SEALAB I was a cigar-shaped chamber, 40 feet long and 10 feet in diameter. It was constructed from two converted steel floats and held in place with axles from railway cars. The lab had two portholes on each side and two open manholes in the bottom, but water didn’t enter because the pressure inside the chamber was the same as the surrounding water. SEALAB I used a helium-oxygen atmosphere that caused its crew to develop funny, squeaky voices that made them sound like a garbled Alvin the Chipmunk! The habitat was linked to its surface support ship by a Submersible Decompression Chamber, that served as a lift (elevator) between the two. Cables carried electricity, compressed gas, fresh water, communications, and atmosphere sampling lines between SEALAB and the support ship.

The quarters were pretty cramped and uncomfortable on board SEALAB I

First tested in the waters off Panama City, Florida, SEALAB I was lowered to 193ft into the Gulf of Mexico. It was then moved 26 miles southwest of Bermuda and lowered to a depth of 192ft, beside a US Navy research tower named “Argus Island”.

SEALAB I was both a habitability study and an experiment in developing safe decompression procedures for saturation diving. It had a crew of four aquanauts, including former experimental subject Bob Barth. They began their submerged sojourn on 20 July 1964, which was intended to last three weeks. The team investigated the effects of nitrogen narcosis on cognition, tried out the characteristics of the new “Neoprene” foam wet suit and performed many other performed physical and biological experiments. These included using ultrasonic beacons, current meters, and an anti-shark cage, as well as attempting to grow plants in the helium atmosphere.

Unfortunately, the SEALAB I mission had to be aborted after 11 days, due to an approaching hurricane. The support ship attempted to lift the habitat by crane from the ocean floor while slowly decompressing the divers (rising 1 foot every 20 minutes), but the churning sea caused the habitat to sway dangerously back and forth. As a result, the crew were transferred from the habitat to a small emergency decompression chamber and brought to the surface within minutes.

An amazing underwater shot of the emergency decompression chamber coming to the rescue of the SEALAB I crew

Despite being cut short, SEALAB I was a major success, testing and proving the concept of saturation diving. Many lessons learned from SEALAB I would be applied in the development of its successor-SEALAB II. This included better solutions for raising and lowering the habitat (after two early attempts that dropped it!), lower humidity, improved umbilicals, and a reduction in the gear the divers needed to wear and store in the habitat. A helium voice unscrambler was also developed to improve communications with the aquanauts, because the changes that the gas made in their voices made them almost unintelligible.

The crew of SEALAB I with Mercury astronaut Scott Carpenter, who had originally planned to join their team. (left to right) Gunner's Mate First Class Lester E. Anderson; Lieutenant Robert E. Thompson; Astronaut M. Scott Carpenter, Chief Hospital Corpsman Sanders W. Manning; Chief Quartermaster Robert A. Barth

SEALAB II

SEALAB II is a big advance on its predecessor. Constructed in a naval dockyard in California, it is 57 feet long and 12 feet in diameter, with a small “conning tower”: I’ve heard someone describe it as looking like a “railway tank car, without the wheels”. It has eleven viewing ports and two exits. SEALAB II is also much better equipped, with hot showers, a built-in toilet (I wonder what they used on SEALAB I?), laboratory equipment and a fridge. The gas mixture used onboard is 77-78%helium, 18% nitrogen, and 3-5% oxygen at a pressure of 103 psi, which is seven times that of Earth's atmosphere! SEALAB I found that helium chilled the habitat uncomfortably, so SEALAB II has been fitted with heating coils in the deck to combat the cold. Air conditioning has also been included in this habitat, to reduces the humidity.

A new support ship was provided for SEALAB II, equipped with a Deck Decompression Chamber and a Pressurised Transfer Capsule, used to transport the aquanauts from the surface to the habitat. And, of course, Papa Topside was there, presiding over the experiment.

Inside the Tiltin' Hilton. This team photo of the first SEALAB II crew pokes fun at the habitat's slight tilt. Team leader Scott Carpenter is in the centre of the photo.

In August 1965, the habitat was placed at a depth of 205 feet in the La Jolla Canyon off the coast of California. The location has earned it the nickname of the "Tiltin' Hilton" because it was placed on a sloped part of the ocean floor, giving it a six-degree tilt and a slight cant to port. The first SEALAB II crew, consisting of 10 divers, swam down to the habitat to take up residence on August 28. One of those divers was Mercury astronaut M. Scott Carpenter, who has joined the SEALAB program on leave from NASA.

Astronaut Aquanaut

Carpenter became interested in the SEALAB program after meeting Jacques Cousteau in 1963. He originally planned to be a member of the SEALAB I crew, but was injured in a motorcycle accident during training and so was unable to participate in that experiment. But he became the commander of the first two teams to use SEALAB II, spending 30 days living on the ocean floor. SEALAB II has hosted three crews of ten men, each of 15 days duration. Altogether 28 divers occupied SEALAB II between August 28 and October 10, with Carpenter and Bob Barth both part of two crews.

Originally a Naval aviator, then an astronaut, now Scott Carpenter has added to his resume as the team leader of the first two SEALAB II crews

The SEALAB programme seems to have been a bit jinxed for Carpenter: his right index finger was wounded by the toxic spines of a scorpion fish. In addition to his conversation with Gemini 5, soon after his arrival on SEALAB II, during his time in decompression at the end of his mission, Carpenter also took part in another special telephone call, this time from President Lyndon Johnson. Since Carpenter was calling from a decompression chamber with a helium-oxygen atmosphere, his "chipmunk voice" was almost unintelligible as a helium voice unscrambler was not available!

The cold water off the Californian coast has been a real test for the aquanauts, along with poor underwater visibility. Even with its heating coils and air conditioning, SEALAB II still experienced high humidity and cold, with the temperature having to be raised to 86°F to ward off the chill. Nevertheless, the aquanauts conducted many physiological experiments and tasks, including testing new tools, methods of salvage and trying out an experimental electrically heated drysuit.

Dolphin Delivery

The Navy Marine Mammal Program also supported SEALAB II, assigning one of its bottlenose dolphins, named Tuffy, to assist the SEALAB crews. Tuffy’s Navy trainers attempted to teach the dolphin useful skills, such as delivering supplies from the surface to SEALAB, or carrying items from one aquanaut to another. Tuffy was apparently not up to the standard of that famous TV dolphin, Flipper, but I’ve heard that he will also be assigned to the SEALAB III mission when that takes place, so the Navy must have been happy enough with his performance.

Tuffy the Navy dolphin, at work during the SEALAB II programme. Wonder if he'll get a TV series of his own some day?

Third time continues the charm?

The third, and last, crew to serve on SEALAB II departed the habitat on October 10, marking the conclusion of a very successful experimental programme. SEALAB I and II have been a resounding success and the knowledge gained from these expeditions will certainly help to improve the techniques of saturation diving and, consequently, the safety of deep-sea diving and rescue. I’ll be watching the future SEALAB III mission, when it arrives, with interest!

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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[October 12, 1965] Gaming Across the Pond (Wargaming in Britain)

October 12, 2020 GalacticJourney Leave a comment

The Journey lettercol continues to be active. Last month, we received a piece so interesting that we felt it deserved an article slot on its own. So let us present Mr. Geoff Kemp with his delightful survey of virtual conflicts in the UK…

Geoff Kemp

Two Roads Diverged…

Although primarily built on the foundations of two similar companies on either side of the Atlantic Ocean, board gaming has taken divergent paths over the course of the last 130 years. In America, Parker Brothers were formed in 1883 by George S. Parker. His gaming philosophy was to move away from the then current board games published to promote moral and social values, such as The Mansion of Happiness or which emphasized how hard work and manners would make you happy/wealthy, like Office Boy, to games that are fun to play. In contrast, in the United kingdom, John Waddington of Leeds founded a company which originally produced packs of cards and other paper products before moving over to initially card games and then board games primarily produced, like Parkers, for families to enjoy.

There was a great deal of crossover and communication between the two companies, with Parker Brothers producing ‘Monopoly’ in the USA before licensing Waddingtons to produce an English version: a London board rather than the original Atlantic City board used in the states. Later Cluedo was invented by Anthony E. Pratt of Birmingham, England and manufactured by Waddingtons before American rights were sold to Parker Brothers for production there. These were the two main players in producing board games for many years on both sides of the Atlantic, often licensing their games to each other. Thus gaming was seen as primarily seen as a family pastime and this continued with the arrival of companies such as Ariel Productions and H.P. Gibsons.

Things started to change for us in 1962, with the arrival firstly of 3M games (also known as Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing Company) closely followed by The Avalon Hill Games Company (known as TAHGC) in the USA. They produced games which started to move away from ‘family’ games and towards board games geared for traditional wargaming as played on tabletops, featuring wooden/metal and occasional plastic models, as well as more financial based games or strategic games. From 3M came Twixt ('63), Stocks And Bonds ('64) and Acquire ('65) whilst Avalon Hill produced Stalingrad ('62), Afrika Korps ('64), Midway ('64), and Battle of the Bulge ('65). Combined with games such as Diplomacy (Games Research – 1954) and Risk, which was published by both Waddingtons and Parker brothers, there has been a suite of games diverging from the family games genre. Possibly the biggest recent innovation, however, was Avalon Hill’s. They began producing a magazine devoted to their games, in the form of ‘The General’ which saw the first edition dated 1st May 1964 with articles on game tactics, history and industry (almost exclusively AH related).

This is where gamers on this side of the pond have turned a shade of green in envy as even the magazine (much less the games it describes) can take weeks to get to us here, although at least we now have more of an idea of what is happening in the States. Besides home grown products such as the games from Waddingtons, Gibsons, Ariel, and a few others, it is not easy to get hold of a lot of American games; even the exceptions such as Acquire or Diplomacy are only found in some of the bigger department stores, unfortunately.

Another area where boardgames have diverged is in the area of sports related games, although this is more likely down to the popularity of different sports in each country. Again you have various Avalon Hill games such as Football Strategy ('60), Baseball Strategy ('62), and Le Mans ('61) whilst in the UK we have Subbuteo Football ('47), Subbuteo Cricket ('49), Wembley ('52), Stirling Moss Rally ('65) and Formula One ('65). Baseball being primarily an American sport and Cricket a British sport explains why each has gotten a game in their respective countries.

Possibly the biggest confusion is over ‘Football’ simulations as the game has different names on each side on the Atlantic. I believe in America, the Football Strategy game by Avalon Hill relates to what is known in the UK as ‘American Football’, whilst Subbuteo Football and Wembley are games reproducing Association Football which I understand to be known as ‘Soccer’ in the USA. Is this correct?

But racing is universal in appeal. Formula One is an excellent British game, easily the best British attempt to date to reproduce the excitement of Motor Racing. Unfortunately, although I have heard good reports of Le Mans, I have yet to see a copy so cannot really comment there. Stirling Moss Rally is based on Rallying (stage as opposed to circuit racing), which has been popular in Europe since 1895 and has many famous Races. The most well known is probably the Monte Carlo Rally which was first raced in 1911.

I have said that it is not easy for us here to be able to get hold of American Games, but is it the same for you in getting hold of some British games. I realise that in some cases certain games are available in both countries, such as Monopoly (published by both Waddingtons & Parkers) or Cluedo (Waddingtons), also I believe known as Clue (Parkers), but am unsure how many other games that applies to.

So what are you playing at the moment? Here I am enjoying a mixture of British and (when I can get them) American games. Current Favourites are in no particular order, Acquire (3M), Midway (Avalon Hill), Dog Fight and Square Mile (Milton Bradley), Astron, Risk, Railroader, Formula One and Mine A Million (Waddingtons), Wildlife (Spears), Wembley (Ariel) and Subbuteo Football.

They say that war arises between two parties over scarcity of resources. It is clear, however, that there need be no resumption of hostilities between Britain and the United States in the near future thanks to the abundance of games produced and shared by our two nations.

Now, if only my copy of The General would arrive in the post!

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[October 10, 1965] Doctor Where? (Doctor Who: Mission To The Unknown)

October 10, 2020 Jessica Holmes 1 Comment

By Jessica Holmes

Probably weren’t expecting me to be back so soon, eh? We’ve got a very, very unusual story this week, courtesy of Terry Nation. Why is it so unusual? Let’s find out.

MISSION TO THE UNKNOWN

We see the man from last week’s preview waking up in the middle of the forest, and saying he must kill. Kill who? Well, that doesn’t really matter. The killing is the important part. Don’t get too attached to him.

Nearby two men, Cory and Lowery, are trying to repair their spaceship. They are apparently with the UN Deep Space Force. I don’t know what that is but it certainly sounds cool. They’re starting to wonder where Garvey, the other bloke who woke up with a craving for murder, has vanished to. He shows up before long, and corners Lowery alone outside the ship. However, before he can kill him, Cory pops out and shoots him dead.

Rather than reacting with gratitude, Lowery is very upset with Cory for shooting his friend without giving him a chance. Cory makes a reasoned and sensitive response to his protest, introducing Lowery’s cheek to the palm of his hand.

He then shows Lowery the thorn behind Garvey’s ear. It’s a Varga thorn, he says, and this is what drove him into a murderous state.

The pair go inside the ship, and outside, Garvey’s hand starts to move, the flesh beginning to mutate into something else…

Inside the ship, Cory fills Lowery in on information he probably ought to have been given in the first place, but then again, if he already knew it then there wouldn’t be an opportunity to do an exposition dump. Cory is an agent with the Space Security Service: licence to kill, naturally. About a thousand years have passed since the last Dalek invasion of Earth, but they’ve been rebuilding their power in the meantime, and just last week a Dalek ship was spotted in local space.

As Cory explains all this, a now-transformed Garvey rises from the dead. He is more plant than human now.

Cory goes on to explain that he’s investigating this planet because, as the most hostile planet in known space, it could be a hidden base for the Daleks. Bringing up the thorn again, he tells Lowery that it’s a Varga thorn, and the Varga plant only grows naturally on the Dalek homeworld of Skaro. Logically, if there are Varga here, the Daleks must be too. Well, thinking about it, they could have been here, done some gardening, and then left, but he doesn't seem to consider that.

Sure enough, in the next scene we see a few Daleks. They’re expecting to receive emissaries from seven planets soon. Before they can hold their meeting, however, they’ll be needing to do something about the alien spaceship they’ve found. They’re going to destroy it, and any occupants. Big shocker, there.

The human astronauts are in big trouble as they set up their rescue beacon outside the ship. They’re surrounded by Varga, and the Daleks are closing in on their position.

Spotting a huge rocket ship flying overhead, Cory surmises that something very big is going on here, and if the Daleks are involved then the whole galaxy is in danger. They need to record a message and send the rescue beacon as soon as possible.

Before they can send it however, they hear the approaching Daleks, and grabbing the rocket they head for the cover of the jungle.

The Daleks find the human ship and set out to search for the crew, but not before blowing their vessel to smithereens.

As the pair move through the jungle, disaster strikes when Lowery brushes against a Varga, and it pricks his hand. Frightened, he conceals it from the other man. Have you watched no horror flicks ever, man? Everyone knows that nothing good ever comes of concealing the fact that you're about to turn into a bug-eyed monster/zombie/shrubbery with legs.

Meanwhile, an assortment of strange alien envoys are meeting with the Daleks. However, the meeting can’t begin as one of the aliens knows of a hostile influence on the planet, but the Daleks assure them that the humans are in the process of being hunted down and destroyed.

The assembled aliens agree to an alliance with the Daleks in a historic first which is very bad news for the rest of the galaxy. They represent the greatest invasion force ever assembled, and where are they planning to begin? Earth, of course.

It’s a very nice planet but why are aliens always so obsessed with it?

It’s interesting to me at any rate to see Daleks making alliances with other powers in space. They always seemed like loners to me, but I suppose pragmatism wins out in the end. I'll be curious to see how this all turns out. I wouldn't be surprised if the Daleks turn on their allies as soon as they outlive their usefulness.

Things go from bad to worse for the humans, as Lowery is quickly succumbing to the Varga’s poison. Cory returns from scouting to report having found a Dalek city hidden in the jungle, and he heard an announcement that the invasion of the galaxy is about to begin.

However, the Varga venom has consumed Lowery, leaving Cory with no choice but to shoot him dead as he reaches for his gun. Alone and with the Daleks fast catching up to him, he hurriedly records a message to warn the rest of the galaxy.

And then the worst-case scenario happens.

As he tries to attach the message to the beacon, the Daleks surround him. With a cry of ‘Exterminate!’ they blast him with everything they’ve got. Moments later, Cory lies dead, and his message will never be sent.

The galaxy won't know what hit it.

Final Thoughts

No, really. That’s it. That’s the whole story. This is the first Doctor Who story to be a single episode long. Not only that, it’s the first one in which neither the Doctor nor his companions make an appearance. I suppose he got his day off after all!

And to top it all off, this is the only episode so far in which the baddies win.

It is surprisingly dark. Doctor Who has never really shied away from character death, but it’s normally just the bad guys and one or two goodies at most that end up kicking the bucket. If this is setting the tone for the upcoming behemoth of a serial, which will also be by Terry Nation and featuring the Daleks, then we might have some grim television ahead of us.

Don’t get me wrong, though— I like it. It does admittedly feel more like a prequel to a bigger story than an actual standalone story of its own, but it’s tightly paced, they’ve managed to squeeze in a little characterisation which is pretty commendable given the very short runtime, and the Daleks are back to feeling like a real threat again, plus a tease of a number of other potentially interesting enemies.

It looks like our pal the Doctor is going to have his work cut out for him. We’ll have to wait and see how he gets on…

And for one final thing, I hear that this is Verity Lambert’s final episode as a producer on Doctor Who. I think we all owe her a big thank you for her role in bringing the show to life in the first place, and as a woman I thank and commend her for being the BBC’s first woman producer, paving the way for the many talented women who will follow in her footsteps. Thank you, Verity, and we all wish you the very best of luck for the future.

4 out of 5 stars

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