Hah hah, it always cracks me up when you ask me that, baby. No, you can’t drive my convertible.
Passion Is a Woman is a Hollywood melodrama by Kate Nickerson, née Lulla Adler, focusing on aspiring but untalented actress Linda March, who hooks up with a series of men, including a director, an optometrist, and others. She eventually steals the actor husband of a fading but still powerful starlet, and has to contend with the spurned woman’s wrath. The art is from Rudolph Belarski, and the flipside of the book, posed by two models, is rather interesting too.
Breakdown dead ahead.
Speaking of driving, here’s another poster for the thriller They Drive by Night. We already talked about it a bit last month and shared a French poster from 1947. The movie is excellent, considering how the last act is written, and Ann Sheridan is especially good. We also like her in the center of this photo-illustrated poster. They Drive by Night had its world premier today in 1940.
National Informer shares hunting tips with readers.
Like most cheapie tabloids, National Informer practiced the journalistic equivalent of: Hah! Made you look! That objective has been achieved on the cover of this issue from today in 1970, with its text that blares, Hunting Women Can Be Fun. Sounds provocative, but as you might guess, the editors are merely talking about the best places to meet single women, which include the office, bars, and blind dates. Regarding the office, after explaining that any bachelor who works in one will generally find that there are many secretaries, file clerks, and typists ripe for the picking, the article goes on to offer this advice: “In general it is best to take the office girl to lunch. That way if you find a loser you don’t waste an entire evening.” Yes folks, according to some sources of the time female office workers were little more than harem girls—just look over the selection and take your pick! What an obstacle course the workplace must have been for women back then. But what are we thinking? It still is. Scans below.
Trouble on the tracks.
The above photos are interesting examples of the editorial focus of the Los Angeles Examiner during the 1950s. Pretty much anything that crashed, burned, bled, or exploded made it into the paper. In this case, a motorist going east on Ramona Boulevard lost control of his car, struck the median, and careened through a chain link fence onto the railroad tracks flanking the road. The spectators are eyeing the scene from the Herbert Avenue overpass. This happened today in 1951.
So I thought I’d wear something really sexy for you this evening and we could—wait, what’s burning?
Nothing kills romance like having to throw water over your flaming girlfriend. On the one hand you’d have saved her life. On the other, you'd spend the next decade hearing, “I honestly think you enjoyed drenching me.” Luckily that scenario doesn’t actually happen in The Lady Is Taboo. Instead it deals with a woman who believes she’s gotten sexually involved with a killer. Norman Bligh wrote it for Quarter Books in 1951, and the cover art is by the always wonderful George Gross.
Diane Webber brings a bit of warmth to winter.
Today’s Technicolor lithograph features a recognizable figure for once—the much adored Diane Webber, a California born model, dancer, and actress who was also known as Marguerite Empey and became one of the most important fixtures of the 1950s and 1960s nudist magazine scene. You can see a few examples of those here. Webber was also a two-time Playboy centerfold under her Empey persona, in May 1955 and February 1956. We’ve mentioned before that the blank spaces at the tops of these Technicolor prints were made for the insertion of advertising, and at right you see how that worked with a calendar for a Baltimore, Maryland establishment called Stanley’s Drive-In. The original image was called Exclusively Yours and appeared in 1955. The calendar came out in the winter of 1958.
These? These are all for me.
Elli Parvo was also known as Elly Parvo and Elly Pardo, but was born in Milan as Elvira Gobbo. In Italian, “gobbo” would most likely be pronounced with a long “o,” like “hobo,” but most English speakers would pronounce it sonically close to “garbo.” That word—garbo—brings up good associations because of the actress Greta Garbo, and as a bonus it’s actually a Spanish word that means “grace” or “elegance.” So that got us pondering how gobbo sounds so bad to our brains, while garbo sounds so good, though they’re nearly identical words. This in turn got us to thinking gobbo might actually mean something lovely in Italian, and if we learned its translation we’d have a new association for the word, and in the same way garbo must have sounded weird to English speakers until it became associated with a beautiful actress, gobbo could be transformed from sounding like something you dredge up from your lungs, similar to an Affleck or a Ruffalo, to something beautiful. So we plugged the word into the translator and you know what it came up with? “Hunchback.” Really. So, from humble beginnings, Elvira Gobbo made the smartest move of her life by changing her name and, as Elli Parvo, became one of the biggest stars and most desired sex symbols of Italian cinema, appearing in fifty films between 1934 and 1960. The above shot is from 1947’s I fratelli Karamazoff, and she’s hoping to down enough shots to black out any recollection of being a member of the hunchback family.
Stop squirming, stupid, or you might make me cut the damned thing off.
It’s anonymously written and the cover art isn’t great quality, but we couldn’t resist sharing this one. This is as low rent as sleaze fiction gets, even from a company—Special Collection Series—that published such fare as Hot-Assed Snow Bunnies, Degradation of Nurse Mercy, and the worrisomely titled Her Security Dogs. Do you really wonder why these authors refuse credit for their work?
Here's a lama, there's a lama, and another little lama
To offset the ridiculous cover above, we thought we’d share something a bit more traditionally pulp, so here you see the front of Jerôme Caval’s 1964 thriller Le lama de Lima, which means, well, exactly what it looks like it means. The book is volume 30 of the Espionnage Service-Secret collection from the Parisian publisher S.E.G., and the brilliant art is uncredited.
If you’re looking for mercy you’ve come to the wrong place.
The Big Bird Cage finds writer-director Jack Hill at the top of his form as he sticks star Anitra Ford in a Philippine jungle prison where an evil warden uses the female inmates as slave labor to process sugar. Pam Grier and Sid Haig are revolutionaries who want to recruit women for their cause, so Grier infiltrates the prison and primes the women for a big break out. This is one of the most remembered of 70s B-romps, a sleazefest filled with iconic scenes such as Ford being suspended by her hair, and seven-foot model Karen McKevic slathering her body with grease and dashing naked through camp. The classic poster is above, a brilliant production photo appears below, and if you’re looking for actual reviews, well, there are about a thousand online. Wild, weird, and oh so incorrect, The Big Bird Cage premiered in the U.S. this month in 1972.
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