Yes! Another fight over me successfully started. My work here is done.
We've never seen a fight over a woman that the woman influenced in any way except being seen as an object of ownership by testosterone filled guys, but for this piece of art for Roger Duchesne's Faut les avoir bien accrochées we're going with femme fatale-induced violence because of her lifted glass and smile. There's a signature: “Marculeta,” which left us with some sleuthing to do. We think the illustrator is probably Alfredo Marculeta, a Basque artist, primarily known for comic book work, active in Spain and France during the 1950s and 1960s. Don't quote us on it.
The title Faut les avoir bien accrochées has an amusing translation: “must have them well hung.” Ahem. Actually, though, we think the phrase is a colloquialism meaning to have one's heart set on, or to have a strong heart. Don't quote us on that either. We'd prefer if the title actually did mean being well hung. Then the femme fatale's smile would be perfect: “Don't bother fighting over me, boys. I must have them well hung.” This came from Éditions le Trotteur and was published in 1953.
You get the feeling he's not her biggest Fanfan.
Above: a well worn cover for André Héléna's Fanfan la douleur, for Éditions le Trotteur's Condor collection, 1953. The art is by Jacques Thibésart, aka Nik, and it caught our eye because it seems to have been inspired by the famous promo image from Gilda of Glenn Ford losing his temper and slapping Rita Hayworth. At least we think so. If that's the case Thibésart wasn't going for an exact duplicate, but it feels about the same. You can check for yourself at our collection of Hollywood stars—including men on men, women on men, and women on women—slapping each other. It's fourth in the set.
This looks easy but it took ages to master. The ceiling of my house looks like Swiss cheese and I went through two tvs and a cat.
This spinning on a finger trick is definitely not recommended if you want to pass your gun safety course, but you'd certainly be the envy of your friends—the ones you didn't accidentally shoot. You can be sure Miss Dorothy had this trick perfected, since she was a franchise character who appeared in three novels by Oscar Montgomery, aka José del Valle, in 1952 and 1953. Poker de blondes is the second entry, the first is here, and the third will follow at some point.
She knows the best way to a man's heart—ballistically speaking.
It's been a couple of years since we had a cover by French illustrator Jean Salvetti, so here's one for Dorothy ouvre le bal, or “Dorothy opens the ball,” published in 1952 by Paris based Éditions le Trotteur and written by Oscar Montgomery, aka José del Valle. There were three books in the Dorothy series, with this one coming first. Short synopsis: Dorothy goes to Egypt, hurts a bunch of bad men. As you can see, Salvetti signed his work Salva. More Salva here, here and here.
If anyone can get these people whipped into shape it's her.
Above is a cool cover for Jak Delay's 1953 thriller Mission “microbienne”, a title that would translate as “microbial mission.” He wrote it for Éditions Le Trotteur and the art is by Mik, aka Jacques Thibésart, someone we've talked about extensively. We particularly like his femme fatale here. She's carrying a whip, the indispensable accessory for any modern woman, perfect for keeping male subordinates in line, and good for getting the attention of bartenders and waiters. The microbienne aspect of the story has to do with chemical warfare. The heroine Isabel Didier is tasked with retrieving French bacteriological weapons stolen by East German spies. As usual in these types of tales, Isabel is a real hotty and that's basically her main advantage dealing with various hapless commies. Or put another way, the Cold War warms up quickly thanks to Isabel. Mission “microbienne” could be the first in a series. We aren't sure. But maybe we'll check into that and report back. In the meantime, more Mik covers here and here.
Hiding behind her won't help you. She's my wife, and this morning she demanded a divorce.
Here's another cover to add to our collection of women being used as human shields, Faut pas me la faire by Robert Chirze, aka Georges Claveyre-Peyre, for Éditions le Trotteur's collection Les Grandes Roman Noirs, 1953. The art is a particularly nice example of the work of Alex Pinon, and you can see another piece here.
Okay! Please, enough! How about we just admit we're both wrong and leave it at that!
So, after all these years the consensus among experts finally is that cover artist Jacques Thibésart's stylized signature should be read Mik instead of Nik, so we've shared this cover today to call attention to the change we've made to all his previous mentions on Pulp Intl. The man has caused no end of trouble. But he's worth it, because just look at this piece above, with a femme fatale Harveying the living daylights out of a problematic male. This fronts Bevis Winter's Quand elles se mettent à cogner... which was published by Éditions Le Trotteur in 1953 for its series Le Roman de Choc, or Shock Novel. Winter was an English author active during the 1950s who published as Hyman Zoré, Al Bocca, Gordon Shayne, Peter Cagney, and other pseudonyms. It's possible—but not certain—that Quand elles se mettent à cogner... is actually a translation of Larry O'Brien's 1950 thriller Angels Bruise Easy. But don't quote us on that, because French mid-century popular literature is a constant mystery and not even the experts seem able to unravel it.
She may be a bald mouse but you're about to be a dead rat, buster.
This beautiful cover was painted for Éditions le Trotteur's popular collection Espions et Agents Secrets by Nik, aka Jacques Thibésart, and illustrates Yannick Williams', aka Jacques-Henri Juillet's 1953 thriller Mademoiselle “Chauve Souris”, aka Miss “Bat”. That's a lot of aka's, and here comes one more. In French souris means “mouse,” chauve means bald, and the two words together mean “bat”—literally “bald mouse.” French paperback titles can get a little slangy, though. Souris by itself—a mouse—is also a word for a pretty woman. So there could be another aka happening here in the form of a pun. We don't know. Jo, where are you? We need you on this one.
Oh, and there's one more thing, also aka related. Thibésart has an unusual signature—not visible on this cover but viewable here—in which the “N” could be read as a stylized “M.” Just lately, online experts are beginning to wonder if his signature should be read “Mik” instead of “Nik.” Thibésart is still around, but in classic French fashion refuses to discuss any of this despite several queries being floated his way. So for now we'll stick with Nik. Also, we don't want to change all our previous posts on this guy. We will update later if needed.
Update: it was needed.
Nuclear intrigue in North Africa.
Above, top notch cover art by Jacques Thibésart, aka Mik, for Jo Claver’s Bombe atomique à Port-Lyautey, which was published by Éditions Le Globe and Éditions Le Trotteur in 1956. Claver was aka Georges Claver-Peyre, and this particular book is Cold War intrigue and romance set in Morocco. See more fine Thibésart here and here.
The headlines that mattered yesteryear.
1936—Crystal Palace Gutted by Fire
In London, the landmark structure Crystal Palace, a 900,000 square foot glass and steel exhibition hall erected in 1851, is destroyed by fire. The Palace had been moved once and fallen into disrepair, and at the time of the fire was not in use. Two water towers survived the blaze, but these were later demolished, leaving no remnants of the original structure.
1963—Warren Commission Formed
U.S. President Lyndon B. Johnson establishes the Warren Commission to investigate the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. However the long report that is finally issued does little to settle questions
about the assassination, and today surveys show that only a small minority of Americans agree with the Commission's conclusions.
1942—Nightclub Fire Kills Hundreds
In Boston, Massachusetts, a fire
in the fashionable Cocoanut Grove nightclub kills 492 people. Patrons were unable to escape when the fire began because the exits immediately became blocked with panicked people, and other possible exits were welded shut or boarded up. The fire led to a reform of fire codes and safety standards across the country, and the club's owner, Barney Welansky, who had boasted of his ties to the Mafia and to Boston Mayor Maurice J. Tobin, was eventually found guilty of involuntary manslaughter.
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