Showing posts with label Sam Peffer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sam Peffer. Show all posts

Sunday, March 31, 2024

Another Look: “The D.A. Breaks an Egg”

Warning: Artistic inspiration drawn from book titles may vary.



An egg-cellent pairing for Easter. Left: The D.A. Breaks an Egg, by Erle Stanley Gardner (Cardinal, 1958); photo front. Right: The D.A. Breaks an Egg (Great Pan, 1959), with a cover illustration by Sam “Peff” Peffer. This was the ninth and final entry in Gardner’s series starring Douglas Selby, the scrappy district attorney for fictional Madison County, California.

Tuesday, January 30, 2024

Another Look: “Miss Pym Disposes”

Warning: Artistic inspiration drawn from book titles may vary.



Left: Miss Pym Disposes, by “Josephine Tey,” aka Elizabeth Mackintosh (Pan, 1957), with a cover by new-to-me vintage artist S.R. Boldero. Right: Miss Pym Investigates (Pan, 1960); cover illustration by Sam “Peff” Peffer. Scottish author Tey (1896-1952) may be most fondly remembered for her half-dozen novels featuring Inspector Alan Grant (The Man in the Queue), but her two standalone mysteries—this one (originally published in 1946), and Brat Farrar (1949)—are no less deserving of attention.

READ MORE:Decades After Her Death, Mystery Still Surrounds Crime Novelist Josephine Tey,” by Francis Wheen (Vanity Fair).

Wednesday, January 19, 2022

Lucky 13



I can’t say that I have watched more than a few episodes of Mr. Lucky, the 1959-1960, Blake Edwards-created CBS-TV drama starring John Vivyan as an honest gambler and operator of a floating casino, with Ross Martin (later of The Wild Wild West) playing his right-hand man. Nor do I own the tie-in novel embedded above, the 1960 Dell release Mr. Lucky, by “Albert Conroy,” aka Marvin H. Albert (cover art by Mort Engel). But both came to mind as I thought about celebrating today’s 13th anniversary of Killer Covers’ launch.

The last year has been more trying than I had expected. This was partly due, of course, to the lingering COVID-19 pandemic, and partly because I’m extremely tired of working alone, bereft of office colleagues with whom I can bat ideas around and thereby help refine my thoughts on editorial coverage. Also discouraging—as I explained here earlier this month—was the fact that the exterior hard drive on which I had for so long been keeping much of my book-cover art, together with the vast majority of my video clips from old TV series, suddenly ceased operating. One day a few months ago, I went to retrieve something from those computer files … and nothing happened. The unit was plugged in, yet no electricity seemed to be reaching it. I hoped that my usual computer guru could fix things, tell me that all I needed was a new power cord, but he informed me that nothing could be done. I have spent more than a little time since, just trying to re-create files on which I have depended for posts in Killer Covers, The Rap Sheet, CrimeReads, and other sites.

Only with all of that done, can I finally look ahead to what the next year might bring. There are a couple of artist interviews I’d like to do for Killer Covers. In addition, I have in mind a few series of themed posts that should keep this blog’s readers entertained. And I want to get back to writing more regular pieces about individual paperback fronts of note. If I am lucky, all of those things will be possible.

Which brings me back to Mr. Lucky.

Despite occasional frustrations, I consider myself pretty damn fortunate to have found free time enough to keep Killer Covers going for these last 13 years. So let’s celebrate that success with 13 paperbacks that include “luck” in their titles. The fronts below feature the work of such artists as James Meese (the first Good Luck to the Corpse, 1952), Robert Maguire (the second No Luck for a Lady, 1958), Sam Peffer (the second Case of the Lucky Legs, 1960), Darrel Greene (The Case of the Lucky Loser, 1959), Chuck Pyle (Lucky at Cards, 2011), and Ron Lesser (Virgin Luck, 1960).

Let me just thank everyone who has followed Killer Covers over these last 12 months, ever since the blog’s last anniversary. With any luck, we’ll all be around for many years—and many covers—to come.












Tuesday, February 2, 2021

Sit Up and Take Notice




• This last Christmas brought me two handsome books that I had done my best to hint broadly about with people I knew were open to further expanding my art and design library. The first was Mort Künstler: The Godfather of Pulp Fiction Illustrators, by Robert Deis and Wyatt Doyle (New Texture), the latest in their succession of volumes covering stories and artwork that once graced the pages of 20th-century men’s adventure magazines. What a beautiful hardback, complete with the artist’s own reminiscences (he’s still alive at age 89!) regarding his diverse and lengthy career, plus a preface by Stephanie Haboush Plunkett of the Norman Rockwell Museum in Massachusetts and an introduction by Michael W. Schantz from the Heckscher Museum of Art in Huntington, New York. Deis last year featured some of the illustrations from this book in his blog, but paging through the completed work is far and away better than scrutinizing shrunken scans.

(Right) The Case of the One-Eyed Witness (Pan, 1958). Cover art by Sam Peffer.

• The companion publication I found under my Christmas tree was Cover Me: The Vintage Art of Pan Books, 1950-1965, by Colin Larkin (Telos UK). I agree with author-blogger Andrew Nette, who calls this “quite simply one of the most beautiful appreciations of the paperback format I can remember reading. It also fills an important gap in the history of British paperback publishing in recounting the origins and operations of Pan …, including a lot of material gathered from interviews with the artists and editors involved in the company during this time.” Not only is Larkin’s oversize work stuffed full of gorgeous cover images, but it features often-fascinating profiles of the artists behind those illustrations, from James Hilton and Henry Fox to Oliver Brabbins and Sam “Peff” Peffer. Picking up Cover Me to flip through its pages leaves you at risk of forgetting whatever else you’d planned to do that day.

• George Easter, the editor of Deadly Pleasures Mystery Magazine, has posted two pieces recently that are of likely interest to Killer Covers readers. The first collects 39 vintage paperback fronts, each of which features one or more things we don’t see around much anymore. The challenge is to identify each of those anachronisms. The answers are all available at the post’s end.

In this second piece, Easter showcases a variety of “girl with a gun”-themed covers—one of which featured in this blog’s just-concluded 12th-anniversary celebration.

• Finally, Literary Hub asks, “Is the next book cover trend … rainbows?” The examples include one work from the crime-fiction stacks, the upcoming release You Love Me, by Caroline Kepnes.

Tuesday, March 12, 2019

Because I Needed a Highsmith Fix …



Deep Water, by Patricia Highsmith (Great Pan, 1961).
Cover illustration by Sam “Peff” Peffer.

Friday, October 5, 2018

Legacy of a Spy

Lest we forget: “Friday is Global James Bond Day,” mentions Bill Koenig in The Spy Command, “the event that was invented six years ago for the 50th anniversary of the premiere of Dr. No.” One obvious way to celebrate this occasion is with a rewatching of the 1962 Sean Connery film based on Ian Fleming’s original novel. But Koenig suggests, instead, taking in a handful of episodes of Hawaii Five-O and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. that boast “significant 007 connections.” Not a bad alternative.



Dr. No, by Ian Fleming (Great Pan, 1961).
Cover illustration by Sam “Peff” Peffer.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Because I Needed a Queen Fix …



Halfway House, by Ellery Queen (Pan, 1959).
Illustration by Sam Peffer.

READ MORE:Halfway House (1936), by Ellery Queen” (Dead Yesterday).

Saturday, December 31, 2016

The Twelve Dames of Christmas, #7

Celebrating this festive season with brassy bombshells.



Dames Don’t Care, by Peter Cheyney (Pan, 1960).
Illustration by Sam “Peff” Peffer.

READ MORE:Cheyney’s Dark Times,” by Michael Keyton
(The Rap Sheet).

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Two-fer Tuesdays: Fingers of Fate

A twice-monthly pairing of book covers that just seem to go together. Click on any of these images to open up an enlargement.



In large part because he’s now been resting in his grave for more than eight decades, English journalist-author Edgar Wallace (1875-1932) is no longer the “synonym for crime fiction” that he once was. Yet, as Michael Mallory reminded us in the Summer 2013 issue of Mystery Scene magazine, Wallace was “one of the most popular writers of the early 20th century, and certainly one of the most prolific, … [turning] out an astonishing 130 novels (18 alone in 1926), 40 short-story collections, 25 plays, some 15 non-fiction books, plus journalism, criticism, poetry, and columns, in a little over 30 years. During his peak it was claimed that one-quarter of all the books read in England were penned by Wallace, and he remains one of the most filmed authors of all time.”

Remember, it was Wallace who penned The Clue of the Twisted Candle (1918), The Angel of Terror (1922), The Green Archer (1923), The Door with Seven Locks (1926), The Forger (1927), the J.G. Reeder detective stories, and half a dozen entries in his Four Just Men series (which inspired a 1959-1960 British TV drama starring Dan Dailey). During the 1960s, British newsstands featured issues of Edgar Wallace Mystery Magazine, and Wallace was also credited with writing the first draft of the screenplay for the blockbuster 1933 motion picture, King Kong—though, as this piece in The Guardian recalls, “He died in 1932 while at work on the script.”

Blue Hand is not among Wallace’s better-remembered works. However, one Goodreads reviewer calls it a “ripping yarn,” with “an excellent villain and plenty of dramatic, if far-fetched incident[s].” And Mary Reed, the co-author (with husband Eric Mayer) of the John the Lord Chamberlain mystery series (One for Sorrow, Two for Joy, etc.), says it offers “a few twists [that] will catch the reader by surprise.” She offers this synopsis of its plot:
Legal clerk Jim Steele VC is horrified when told by Eunice Weldon, the girl he loves, that she has taken the post of secretary to the mother of Digby Groat and is going to live in the Groat family home in [London’s] Grosvenor Square.

As well Jim might [be] … Among other things, [Digby Groat] is not above menacing his kleptomaniac mother and torturing small animals. His mother will inherit a fortune from her deceased brother on a certain date if her niece Dorothy Danton cannot be found. Since Dorothy disappeared in a boating accident while still a baby, and has not been seen since, it looks as if the Groats will soon be extremely wealthy. But Jim, who is interested in the Danton case, is determined they will never get their hands on the fortune.

The first night under the Groats’ roof, Eunice receives an unseen nocturnal visitor who leaves a card stamped with a blue hand, advising her to flee the house. Despite this ominous warning, after Jane Groat suffers a stroke Eunice stays on. Other blue hand marks appear at the house and soon the reader is in the thick of a plot featuring a mysterious veiled woman, drugs, gangs, derring-do on trains, in planes, and on the high seas, and a lot more besides. Aside: if this had been a film, no doubt the audience would cheer when they see how a minor baddie comes to a particularly spectacular end.
The cover of Blue Hand shown above and on the left comes (quite ironically) from UK publisher Digit Books’ 1963 paperback edition of Wallace’s tale. There is no apparent artist’s signature on the cover, and I don’t find any reference online to who might have created that painting of an apparently frightened blonde woman, a scrubs-sporting doctor, and a menacing azure palm spread above them both. It’s been suggested that this illustration came from the most able hands of Sam Peffer, a British commercial artist who took on a variety of cover-art-creation assignments for Digit during the early ’60s, and once explained that he didn’t sign all of his work for that house. But I don’t find confirmation that Peffer—or “Peff,” as he liked to be identified—gave us this Blue Hand art.

Having fully appreciated that 1963 cover, let us now turn our attention to today’s other featured front, with its ominous, Gerald Powell-painted illustration. This comes from the 1956 Dell edition of The Restless Hands, by Berlin-born American pulp writer Bruno Fischer (1908-1992). As this article explains, Fischer “was the author of 25 novels and more than 300 short stories, a contributor to Black Mask and Manhunt magazines, and the uncrowned king of the notorious ‘weird menace’ pulps.” The Restless Hands, released originally by Dodd, Mead & Company in 1949, was the third entry in a series starring cop-turned-private eye Ben Helm. As Kevin Burton Smith observes at The Thrilling Detective Web Site, Helm was “not your typical hard-boiled, Hammeresque eye of the time.” He smoked a pipe, was married to a “loving, striking actress” named Greta Murdock, and earned “much of his living as a criminologist, writing and lecturing in that field.”

Although I haven’t found available online a review of The Restless Hands, I did manage to dig up an image (on the left) of the back cover from the aforementioned Dell edition, which provides this description of the cast members in Fischer’s story:
Tony Bascomb was the town’s black sheep. He had run away from a murder, and now he was back, and the night after he got back there was another murder.

George Dentz was the town’s frustrated lover. The poetic type. Liked women, in his own nervous way. Capable of cold-blooded murder? Nobody knew.

Mark Kinnard was the town’s hard worker. A big fellow, friendly, a quiet, dutiful son. He’d never had much fun. Hardly the killer type.

Rebecca Sprague was the town’s beauty. These three men wanted to marry her, but two women had been strangled, and one of the three was the slayer. Nobody knew which, least of all Rebecca.

She had a choice: lose the man she loved, or take a 3-to-1 chance on marrying a brutal killer!
There’s no mention in that text of New York City gumshoe Helm. But then, as The Thrilling Detective’s Smith makes clear, Fischer’s protagonist is “rarely the central character in these multiple-viewpoint thrillers, although he does always seem to be the one to (mostly) tie things up.” Presumably, he sweeps in at some point to accomplish the same thing here.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Rap Party: “Six Criminal Women”

Toasting The Rap Sheet’s first decade with a cover countdown.



Six Criminal Women, by Elizabeth Jenkins (Pan, 1958).
Illustration by Sam “Peff” Peffer.

Five down, five more to go ...

Monday, June 8, 2015

Most Wanton



Being a longtime follower of crime fiction, I’m accustomed to the same words popping up frequently in book titles. How many times, for instance, have I seen dead, death, deadly, dying, murder, kill, killer, blood, darkness, and other such terms--all dog-whistle calls for genre fans like me--decorating covers in the Mystery & Thriller aisles of bookstores? But I wouldn’t have thought that wanton would receive anywhere near so much exposure. Pulling down my copy of The American Heritage Dictionary, I find the word has more than a few meanings, among them “immoral or chaste; lewd,” “gratuitously cruel; merciless,” “frolicsome; playful,” and “undisciplined, spoiled.” Perhaps because the term wanton covers such a wide range of behaviors, it has featured on many more books than I would have imagined before researching this subject.

I’m posting here a variety of covers employing wanton. The beautiful yellow one above is from 1955’s The Wanton Hour, by Lewis Clay. Sadly, I don’t find an artist’s name given on the back cover or anywhere online. (See “Update” at the bottom of this post.) Several of the novels below, though, carry art by prominent illustrators.

The two fronts from editions of Brett Halliday’s Murder and the Wanton Bride, for instance, were both executed by Robert McGinnis, as was the first of two covers shown here for Carter Brown’s The Wanton. (The façade of Richard S. Prather’s Way of a Wanton and the second Brown/The Wanton image are credited to Barye Phillips.) The first, green-backdropped, 1959 front of Peter Cheyney’s Dark Wanton below (the one with the young woman on a bed who, oddly, smiles while observing two men battle each other) was done by Sam “Peff” Peffer. Rudy Nappi created the cover of Weep for a Wanton, by Lawrence Treat. Harry Schaare executed the dark artwork for Michael Gillian’s Warrant for a Wanton. And Robert Bonfils is admirably represented by his work below on The Wanton One, by James Rubel, and Sweet, Young & Wanton, by Don Holliday.

Click on any of these images to open an enlargement.




























Additionally, I came across a number of vintage paperback books--in the crime-fiction genre and others--that use wanton in their cover teaser lines. Roswell Keller illustrated the front shown here of Patrick Quentin’s Slay the Loose Ladies (originally titled A Puzzle for Wantons). Rudolph Belarski created the artwork fronting Never Walk Alone, by Rufus King. Bonfils was again the ribald genius behind the provocative façade of No Holds Barred. Maurice Thomas was responsible for the painting on the 1952 Signet edition shown here of Cleve F. Adams’ Sabotage. And Harry Schaare gave us the lovely artwork for Crime Cop, by Larry Holden.









Suggestions of more covers for this gallery, anyone?

UPDATE: At the time I assembled this collection of book fronts, I couldn’t figure out who’d painted the cover of the 1955 novel The Wanton Hour, by Lewis Clay. Only in late July 2015 did I stumble upon another, later paperback façade that seems to leave no doubt as to the answer. Check this out: The cover on the left comes from a 1958 edition of the novel The Mustard Seed, written by Vicki Baum, with an illustration by Lou Marchetti. (Click on the image for an enlargement.) Notice the passionate pair in the lower right-hand corner of that image. They look almost exactly like the two young lovers fronting The Wanton Hour. I can only conclude, therefore, that Marchetti was behind both illustrations. He must have created the painting for Clay’s novel first, then three years later employed the same embracing couple in his artwork for The Mustard Seed. Both works were published by Pyramid Books.