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, 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.
Cutting the head off the snake.
Above and below, a July 1956 issue of Real Adventure magazine with uncredited art on the cover and throughout the issue. Inside you get model Peggy Ray, and a self-written feature by boxer Sandy Saddler in which he denies being a dirty fighter. The article includes a photo, which you see in panels three and four below, of Saddler mugging Willie Pep. That’s not the first appearance on Pulp Intl. for that image. Police Gazette featured it on one of its covers in February 1951 with a little photo-illustrative tweak. It’s worth glancing at and you can see it here.
So was Saddler a dirty fighter? Consensus seems to be that if he felt victimized himself, he tended to cross the line. According to theboxingmagazine.com, this happened during Saddler’s fourth fight with Pep, which featured, “elbows, butting, heeling with the glove and lacing, they were everything-gos foul-fests from start to finish. While Pep and Saddler wrestled on the inside, Saddler thought nothing of putting Willie in a headlock before throwing him to the floor. Even the referee was knocked to the floor several times in an attempt to separate the two fighters. Needless to say, the boos and jeers shook the joint to the rafters. Saddler said afterward that he felt insulted by those who insisted he was a dirty fighter.”
Saddler won 144 bouts against only 16 losses, which would seem to indicate a considerable amount of talent. He retired in 1956, at the earlyish age of thirty, after he hurt his eye in a traffic accident. Afterward her became a trainer and counted among his clients a young George Foreman. He died in 2001 but was honored by The Ring magazine a couple of years later when editors ranked him as the fifth greatest puncher of all time. We have about twenty scans of Saddler, Pep, and others below.
She’s a slippery little devil.
Oiling up like this under a hot sun is terrible for the skin but great for the camera. If you shield you eyes from the glare you’ll see model and actress Mayumi Horikawa seeming to show so much but really showing very little. Horikawa has released numerous albums and singles, one of which was called “Sunny Side.” Indeed. We’re thinking around 1980 on the photo.
Red hot action from the middle of the Cold War.
Antonio Vera Ramirez’s aka Lou Carrigan’s Brigitte en Accion was first published by Rio de Janeiro based Editora Monterrey in 1965, but here you’re seeing covers from Barcelona based Editorial Bruguera. The artist was the same for both, though—Brazilian illustrator José Luiz Benicio, and his work is beautiful. The series features the adventures of Brigitte Montfort, nicknamed Baby, a CIA agent posing as a journalist and getting into all kinds of sticky situations during the Cold War. You can see a large collection of Brigitte en Accion covers at the website Bolsi Libros Bruguera.
, Rio de Janeiro
, Editorial Bruguera
, Editora Monterrey
, Brigitte en Accion
, Lou Carrigan
, José Luiz Benicio
, Antonio Vera Ramirez
, cover art
You should have seen it. It was unbelievable. From base to tip it was like this. I swear.
Originally published in 1952, this paperback edition of Hank Janson’s Conflict came from British publisher Alexander Moring in 1957. The art is uncredited and unsigned, but it’s undoubtedly Reginald Heade, who stopped putting a name to his work after seven of Janson’s books brought about an obscenity trial and guilty verdicts. Though Janson’s writing was racy, we doubt that this cover is supposed to convey what we imply. But you have to admit—it’s a really curious pose from the female figure. See a bit more Heade here.
Screw you and the horse you rode in on.
We recently scored a stack of thirty vintage men’s magazines, and here’s the first of that group we’re posting—Rugged Men from this month in 1958. Inside is art from Walter Popp, Ed Franklin, Russ Huban, and Irv Doktor, and the cover of a man taking a tumble after his unfortunate mount gets shot is by Ted Lewin. Probably the most notable aspect of the issue is a story on how members of the Croatan tribe broke up a Ku Klux Klan rally and sent its hooded denizens scattering in terror. The incident is written of with admiration for the tribe’s efforts, and this during an era when Klan rallies were common and open racism was not only acceptable, but actually encoded in federal law. But then, deep admiration for a people that were virtually wiped out by violence is one of many quirks of the American psyche. We're sure a sociologist would have something illuminating to say about it. Seventeen scans below.
Maybe I’ve been working in this lab too long, but I’d really like to meet whoever produced this beautiful urine sample.
The Smell of Murder has nothing to do with bodily fluids, but when we see yellow liquid in a test tube that’s where our minds go. Especially after a couple of nights in Magaluf, hereafter referred to as Malagoof, where the streets run with liquid gold. The rest of Mallorca, however, was very nice. The Smell of Murder is a mystery with a gangland focus and a secondary character who works for a perfume company—hence the test tubes. That character, interestingly, is named Grace Allen and is based upon the famous comedienne. Her Vaudeville partner George Burns appears too—he’s the owner of the perfume company. 1938 publication date, plenty of reviews online, unknown cover artist.
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