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Southern Star, v. 1, issue 2, June 1941

Page 22

The Munsey Panorama     SOUTHERN STAR     Page 22

The cloud-climber was a combination of plane and balloon, and in 1910, mind you, was a helluva contraption. It went up, and it cruised, but try to get it down!
Regret that I can't recommend Hawkins for reprinting. To like him, I suppose, you'd have to be an old fogy. I am an old fogy.
NO DOUBT ABOUT IT, by Robert Carlton Brown. Complete Novel, 24pp, April, 1910.
They found Dr. Drook on a desert island, and he claimed that he had discovered perpetual motion. He showed them a remarkable machine that performed all sorts of miracles. A press agent took the good doctor in tow, resolved to make him famous. It was a hoax. Dr. Drooks' invention had concealed batteries beneath a false bottom.
For us of '41, this one is spoiled in the telling. The style is slangy, and the slang is tangy. Gawd, who said that? Anyhow, if you have a chance to buy this tale for five bucks, don't do it. Subscribe to Thrilling Wonder.
THE HAWKINS VACU0ORNAMENT, by Edgar Franklin, 6pp, April, 1910.
See above.
HER ARABIAN NIGHT IN WASHINGTON, by Henry Gallup Paine. 16pp, May, 1910.
Strictly fantasy, with no attempt at the end to explain it away.
Girl tells story in first person. Fiancee is trying to sell an aerial torpedo to a representative of the bulgarian government, but you learn very little about the nature of the invention; you just gawk at the antics of one Abdullah Ashpat, because Abdullah happens to be a jinni. He comes from the very aristocracy of jinn in that he comes from a ring when you rub the ring, and the ring comes from a sealed jar that dates from the ninth century. And Abdulluh is a card and steals the story. He flits here and there at will, he catches planes from bedroom windows, he builds railroads across the lawn, and to top it all he makes love to the gal. He is the logical one to get the Bulgarian's signature on a contract, and does it -- after the Bulgar is dead. With the ending is a surprise twist that deepens rather than clears the mystery. This ia an item for collectors.
DEAD FOR A DAY, by Burke Jenkins. [?]]pp, June, 1910.
Humanitarian Mr. Wimple had invented an electric "woundless rifle" so that when the next war was fought nobody'd get hurt; but he wasn't sure it would knock out a man for twenty-four hours, as it would a dog or gnat. Accordingly, he shot Richard Hardy. Reviving the next day, Hardy found that he had lost his job, and was persuaded to accompany the inventor to South American for further tests of the ray gun. There in the jungle it developed that the gun wouldn't knock out a tribesman after the latter had been in the rain. Only Hardy's regulation automatic saved them. Mr. Wimple decided that it might be a better idea to make an automatic that would hold more cartridges.

Postlude, by P. B. W.
"That all?" asked Joe.
"That -- well, yeah, that's as far as we got."
"Not even a good-bye?"
"Oh, sure -- g'bye!"
"Wait a minute. You wanted to round if off, didn't you?"
"Yeah -- g'bye."
"You wanted to point out, didn't you, the stories worthy of reprinting?"
"Uh -- eh -- tell Miss G. to give the double-O to the short by Norman Douglas. Maybe I'm wrong. A lot depends on the circumstances, and the time of day. And I'm one guy, not the assembled multitude. I

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The Munsey Panorama SOUTHERN STAR Page 22 The cloud-climber was a combination of plane and balloon, and in 1910, mind you, was a helluva contraption. It went up, and it cruised, but try to get it down! Regret that I can't recommend Hawkins for reprinting. To like him, I suppose, you'd have to be an old fogy. I am an old fogy. NO DOUBT ABOUT IT, by Robert Carlton Brown. Complete Novel, 24pp, April, 1910. They found Dr. Drook on a desert island, and he claimed that he had discovered perpetual motion. He showed them a remarkable machine that performed all sorts of miracles. A press agent took the good doctor in tow, resolved to make him famous. It was a hoax. Dr. Drooks' invention had concealed batteries beneath a false bottom. For us of '41, this one is spoiled in the telling. The style is slangy, and the slang is tangy. Gawd, who said that? Anyhow, if you have a chance to buy this tale for five bucks, don't do it. Subscribe to Thrilling Wonder. THE HAWKINS VACU0ORNAMENT, by Edgar Franklin, 6pp, April, 1910. See above. HER ARABIAN NIGHT IN WASHINGTON, by Henry Gallup Paine. 16pp, May, 1910. Strictly fantasy, with no attempt at the end to explain it away. Girl tells story in first person. Fiancee is trying to sell an aerial torpedo to a representative of the bulgarian government, but you learn very little about the nature of the invention; you just gawk at the antics of one Abdullah Ashpat, because Abdullah happens to be a jinni. He comes from the very aristocracy of jinn in that he comes from a ring when you rub the ring, and the ring comes from a sealed jar that dates from the ninth century. And Abdulluh is a card and steals the story. He flits here and there at will, he catches planes from bedroom windows, he builds railroads across the lawn, and to top it all he makes love to the gal. He is the logical one to get the Bulgarian's signature on a contract, and does it -- after the Bulgar is dead. With the ending is a surprise twist that deepens rather than clears the mystery. This ia an item for collectors. DEAD FOR A DAY, by Burke Jenkins. [?]]pp, June, 1910. Humanitarian Mr. Wimple had invented an electric "woundless rifle" so that when the next war was fought nobody'd get hurt; but he wasn't sure it would knock out a man for twenty-four hours, as it would a dog or gnat. Accordingly, he shot Richard Hardy. Reviving the next day, Hardy found that he had lost his job, and was persuaded to accompany the inventor to South American for further tests of the ray gun. There in the jungle it developed that the gun wouldn't knock out a tribesman after the latter had been in the rain. Only Hardy's regulation automatic saved them. Mr. Wimple decided that it might be a better idea to make an automatic that would hold more cartridges. Postlude, by P. B. W. "That all?" asked Joe. "That -- well, yeah, that's as far as we got." "Not even a good-bye?" "Oh, sure -- g'bye!" "Wait a minute. You wanted to round if off, didn't you?" "Yeah -- g'bye." "You wanted to point out, didn't you, the stories worthy of reprinting?" "Uh -- eh -- tell Miss G. to give the double-O to the short by Norman Douglas. Maybe I'm wrong. A lot depends on the circumstances, and the time of day. And I'm one guy, not the assembled multitude. I