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This blonde space heroine appears to be fighting a laser sabre duel with a galactic villain while wearing a swimsuit, leather gauntlets, a body covering of plastic film, a fishbowl space helmet, (red) lipstick and (red) high heels. And she still won!

In terms of pure sexist silliness, it’s probably one of the best covers to Planet Stories out there!

Source: pulpcovers.com with thanks.

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No Escape

I turned slowly from the rusting ironwork railings that made up the fence surrounding the dilapidated hotel in which I had made my home - part residence, part office and part pleasure dome in which to confine my unwilling female guests. That fence was old, but it remained solid, and proof against my frustrated shaking of its structure. There was no escape. I turned to face my pursuing nemesis - the young female detective Jane Kowalski who had posed as one of my victims in order to expose my lair. Damn her! I thought bitterly as I once more took in the figure of the curvaceous and long-legged blonde. Even now I thought how absurd it was that this wonderful example of female pulchritude would not now be my reluctant guest, but instead my captor…

She was talking, arrogant hands on hips, lecturing me of course as all women always had, all my life… “This old hotel conceals a heart of pure lust and evil,” Jane was saying, the purple prose tumbling effortlessly from her full red painted lips, “its rooms filled with strange perverted devices, that you used to seduce and torture young women. They should never have seen the light of day!” I simply sneered at her. “You should have tried them out, my dear,” I grinned at her lasciviously, gazing at the hemline of her short purple skirt, stretched so enticingly across her fine nyloned legs. I looked up to see the gun in her hand. My eyes widened at the sight and my courage briefly failed me. “Please, Miss Kowalski, no…” I begged, humiliatingly.

The little minx smiled at me smugly. “It will be you who will soon not be seeing the light of day, Mr Daniels. It’s handcuffs for you. Put your hands behind your back!” I glowered at her resentfully. “When I get out…” I began, my voice dark with warning, but Jane spun me round and pushed me against the railings and pulled my hands behind me. “Tell it to the judge, creep!” the young girl detective said to me scornfully, as she clicked the cuffs around my wrists.

My interpretation of the story behind the cover to the pulp novel No Escape by John Daniels (published January 1967).

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Keeping Watch

Two Cold War female secret agents, disguised as glamour girls, infiltrate a Soviet Embassy party, and take out an unsuspecting guard…

My caption and reinterpretation added to this pulp novel cover.

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Midnight in Marsden Manor

Mandy Cassidy generally found trouble when she went looking for it, but this time the tough female private detective received the whole nine yards when she investigated the truth behind the alleged haunting of a client’s family mansion, which just happened to be sitting on land worth millions. Mandy had run into a fair few crooked property developers in her time, and was pretty convinced the flashing lights, creaking floorboards and blood-curdling night time screams at Marsden Manor had more to do with someone wanting to scare her client into an early below-market price sale, than anything to do with the supernatural. What Cassidy did not expect as midnight approached in the Manor’s drawing room which the woman had decided to stake out, was to be attacked by something that looked like a cross between the Phantom of the Opera and Count Dracula. As the opera-cloaked fiend advanced on the shocked private eye, Cassidy’s hands grasped the fire’s poker in order to defend herself. The Poe-like apparition, tall and ghoulish, grasped the iron implement strongly and leered at the struggling brunette. “Leave this place and never return…” he intoned gravely, “leave or die!” Cassidy resorted to more traditional methods to extricate herself from this fix. She raised her knee sharply and drove it into Bela Lugosi’s groin. The ghostly figure let out a decidedly non-supernatural curse and cry of pain and dropped to the floor, clutching his wounded privates. “You crazy b***h!” he cried accusingly at Mandy, face creased in agony. “That wasn’t in the script!”

Cassidy stood over her agonised opponent, still wielding the poker. “What do you mean “script”?” she demanded. “You mean you aren’t an actress?” the felled wanna-be vampire retorted. Cassidy frowned and then pulled a length of curtain cord free from the opulent drapes in the drawing room with her free hand. “I think I’d better get you tied up, friend,” she told the stricken man, “and then you can tell me just what sort of hoax and swindle is going on here!”

My interpretation of the story behind this cover to Thrilling Detective magazine (December 1948), featuring the story Haunt Me No More by Edward Ronns. With thanks to Deviant Art’s vikings2win247 for the loan of the Cassidy character.

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Ambidextrous

Sergeant Anna Harrison was working late, dutifully sorting out the sackloads of War Bonds she needed to ready for depositing with the bank the following morning. The attractive red haired WAC, the poster girl for the Feed Our Guns campaign was pleased with how successful the last month had been in persuading patriotic citizens to help fund the war effort in the Pacific. “There must be nearly $20,000 worth of Bonds here,” Anna said aloud proudly, despite being alone in the depository, “not a bad four weeks’ work - almost worth getting those corns for!” She smiled to herself and picked up the last of the bags when suddenly she was aware of a looming male shape at the reception grill. “I’m sorry, sir,” the female soldier said automatically, “we are closed now. You can buy some Bonds tomorrow though. Uncle Sam will really appreciate it.” Her eyes widened however when the barrel of a handgun poked through the opening of the grill. “I’ll just cash them all in now, sergeant!” the man on the other side growled. “Now open the door and pass the sacks through!”

Dry mouthed, Anna pulled the draw strings of the bag she was holding tight. I’m being robbed, she thought rather obviously. The young woman slowly hoisted the sack onto the counter. She could see the man on the other side of the grill now - a disreputable looking character, she noted, in a scruffy tan suit. Anna said nothing but did not move towards either the door or the other sacks. Instead she looked at the man, seemingly bemused. “You dumb dame!” the man fumed, “either open the door or pile up the sacks! Jeez, I hate broads in uniform!” Anna went towards the sack on the counter, as if to start collecting the bags together, but then she suddenly seized the man’s arm hard, grabbing his wrist with both hands and slamming it sharply three times in succession on the counter. “Arrgh!” yelled the would be robber and his gun fell from his wounded grasp. The svelte sergeant scooped up the weapon in one easy movement and trained it on the man who glared back at her, rubbing his bruised wrist. “Don’t move, creep.” she ordered him. “This broad in uniform knows how to use this gun, so don’t even think of making a run for it!” The man glowered at her. “Take it easy, ma’am, I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he growled sullenly. Anna motioned her prisoner to sit down and then picked up the phone with her right hand after deftly transferring the gun to her left. "Make yourself comfortable, honey, you'll be in a cell before midnight!" The man continued to gaze back at the WAC, his eyes blazing with humiliation. Anna kept the gun trained on him with her left hand. “And don’t get any ideas, jackass,” she told him quietly, “I’m ambidextrous.”

My interpretation of the story behind this cover to 10-Story Detective magazine (September 1942). The magazine did indeed feature ten private eye/crime stories, none of which however bear any relation to the fascinating cover illustration!

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“Hm. I think I’m going to need more than one pair of handcuffs to take you in eh, pal?”

Source: Pulp Covers: The Best of the Worst website.

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“Please Drop The Knife!”

“Please, Mr Heighton,” begged Alice, “please drop the knife! Charlie here is still breathing. I can still call for an ambulance - you don’t have to go down for murder!” Heighton gazed at the woman in confusion, his eyes moving from her to the prone figure of the man who had been carrying on an affair with his wife for eighteen months. Alice looked up at the man appealingly, noticing with hope that the knife was shaking in his hand. “Please…” she repeated. “Please - just surrender…” There was silence apart from Charlie’s shallow breathing then, at last, the knife clattered to the floor from Heighton’s weakened grasp. Alice leapt to her feet and hurried towards the discarded weapon and kicked it hard, sending it spinning far away from the distraught man. Alice had solved the case, but ended up trapping the very person who had hired her to identify his wife’s lover…

*

Afterwards with paramedics hoisting Charlie Tennyson onto a trolley and wheeling him away to the waiting ambulance outside, Alice tied the hands of the weary looking Heighton behind him with her own scarf. “I’m sorry I have to do this, Mr Heighton,” she told him regretfully, “but I am a detective. I have to hand you over to the police.” Heighton nodded sadly as he was bound. Alice escorted her prisoner out as crowds of guests gathered and she spotted a pale-looking Mrs Heighton standing, shocked in the hall. Her husband briefly glared at her and Alice reflected this probably really was now the end of the affair…

My interpretation of the story behind this cover to Popular Detective magazine (May 1950), featuring The Loveless Die First by Dale Bogard.

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Surprise Visitor

George’s eyes widened as, before his very eyes, a glamorous blonde, wielding a deadly-looking handgun, let herself in through the open window of his back room, climbing decorously inside via the fire escape and pointed her gun right at him.

“Glad you left your window open, honey - very helpful,” the woman told him jauntily, “although it’s a shame you’re home - for you at any rate!” George swallowed as the slim skirted and tight blouse-clad female dusted herself down. “What-what do you mean?” he asked his surprise visitor nervously. The elegant intruder sighed. “Now don’t you give me a hard time, pumpkin,” she answered, “I just need to lie low on your apartment tonight. That’s not too much to ask is it?” George’s eyes were transfixed by the barrel of the gun, trained on his chest. “I-I…” he stammered. “Yes, dearie,” the girl interrupted breezily, “but that does mean I have to tie you up and gag you before I’m on my way - we gotta keep things respectable after all!” She winked then beamed at him sweetly. “You must have a clothes line and a tea towel I could use on you, haven’t you?” she asked, smiling. “I-I guess so….” said George a little desperately. “Then go fetch, sweetie,” the woman replied, a slight edge entering her otherwise cheery tone, “there’s a good boy.”

My brief interpretation of the story behind this cover to the Perry Mason novel, The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom by Erle Stanley Gardner (1949)

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book cover - Brigitte - at Notre Dame - circa Dec 1970

Jose Luiz Benicio

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The Kidnapper

Janine felt the ropes around her wrists loosen after hours of her working on them. The kidnap victim knew she only had one opportunity to achieve complete surprise over the lumbering gun-toting brute who had seized her as she approached her parked car the previous night after working late at Mount & Sons Architects. Confined on a canal boat, bound to a bunk, the petrified secretary suddenly found her fear melt away to be replaced by cold determination as the leering thug who called himself “Mac” approached the young woman as she lay back on the mattress. “Hey, baby,” the man said, grinning wolfishly, “how about you and me have some party time while we wait for your bosses to pay up?” Janine smiled back warmly at Mac. “Sure, honey,” replied, “but you’ll need to loosen these ropes a little and put that big nasty gun down.” The kidnapper gave her a knowing look. “Nice try, sweet cheeks,” he told her, “but you stay tied. But I will put my piece down. Then we can have some fun.” The man winked at Janine before turning round to place his gun on the table next to her bunk. That was when the adrenaline kicked in and the young woman burst into action, her wrists suddenly free and she seized Mac by both hands around his neck.

The man was caught completely off guard. He dropped the gun, and his face turned scarlet. “Don’t strangle me!” he cried his voice taking on a pleading tone, “I’ll give up, only don’t strangle me!” Janine took no notice but squeezed the thrashing man’s neck even tighter. Then to her surprise, he suddenly went limp and rolled onto the floor. “My God,” the secretary said aloud, “I think he’s fainted!” Janine swung her legs carefully over the bunk and nudged Mac’s prone form with a toe. There was no response. Tearing off the remains of the rope from her wrists, the girl looked down contemptuously at her beaten foe, who was slowly beginning to stir. “I’d better tie you up before I call the cops, asshole!” she said to the stricken kidnapper. “Heavens knows why I was ever scared of you!”

My interpretation of the story behind this dramatic cover to Off Beat Detective Stories, Vol 3, #3 (July 1959), featuring Baby Needs A New Lover! by Flip Lyons.

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The Deputy Sheriffs

Tough redheaded cowgirl Judy Pearson, accompanied by her younger, and less courageous teacher sister, Katy, had set off on the trail of outlaw Bill Cassidy, the man they knew had framed their father who was now languishing in the South Gulch jail awaiting trial, despite the only evidence supporting the charge of cattle rustling against him was Cassidy’s own testimony, who had then skipped town. The useless and lazy sheriff accepted the case against Mr Pearson was slim, but he had someone in his jailhouse and didn’t want to go tear-assing after a gunslinging outlaw who was probably across the border by now anyway. But Judy and Katy could not accept this and through a combination of coaxing, wheedling and shaming, the girls persuaded Sheriff Dallas to deputise them both to bring in Cassidy if they could - then the sheriff promised would consider releasing their pa. “You’re on your own, young misses,” Dallas warned the women as they rode off however, “I ain’t got the men or the time to raise a posse to come to your rescue. You understand me?” Judy nodded grimly and she and her sister urged their horses forward in pursuit of the unscrupulous Cassidy.

In the event the hard-riding ladies didn’t have to wait long to meet their quarry. They followed his trail easily along the river until the light began to fade. As the two sisters lit a campfire to have an evening meal of bacon and beans, the outlaw strode into the riverside clearing, bold as brass. “Howdy, ladies,” Cassidy said smoothly, “that bacon smells awfully good. Could you grubstake a hungry cowpoke?” Katy gave a yelp of surprised fright and even Judy looked nervously at the sixgun the man pointed directly at her. But the redhead was made of sturdy stuff. She fixed the outlaw with her bright blue eyes. “Cassidy,” she said to him calmly, still crouching over the campfire, frying pan in hand, “don’t be a fool. My sister and I have been deputised by the sheriff to bring you in, so drop your gun and surrender!” Cassidy was momentarily speechless and then he laughed. “You sure got cajones, ma’am, if you don’t mind me saying!” he grinned. “But how’s about I plug you and your deputy sheriff sister and just eat your bacon and beans?” Judy swallowed, not sure what to do. Then suddenly there was a metallic clang! Her eyes widened as Cassidy looked surprised before falling to his knees and tumbling into the dust. Behind him, wielding a water-boiling pan, stood Katy. “Did I do right, sis?” the girl asked Judy nervously. Judy beamed up at her sister, her smile filled with admiration and pride. “You sure did, honey!” she exclaimed. “Now you go fetch some rope. It will give me great pleasure to tie this scoundrel up good and tight before we haul him back to South Gulch and free pa!” Katy grinned back. “I sure will, deputy sheriff!” she replied.

My interpretation of the story behind the cover of Speed Western Stories (January 1943), featuring Rogue Rides the River by James A Lawson; caption mine.

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Disconcerting Female Confidence….

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The Virginal Queen of the Andes

The two unscrupulous explorers hoped to extract the gold that belonged to this tribe of forty nine mysterious warrior women they had encountered in a remote corner of the Andes, through an evil plan. Betraying the kind hospitality offered to them by the noble tribeswomen, the explorers kidnapped their queen. The men had discovered the status of virginity was sacred to these young females who had left their respective peoples to join together in a life of female purity, chastity and devotion to their queen. The scoundrels intended not only to ransom Queen Akilpo for the gold, but to despoil her also and break the magic that held this female colony together, thus making their mad mission of plunder easier. But the explorers were interrupted in their foul plot by a group of swift runners as they struggled over the rocky terrain with their unwilling and struggling captive. Akilpo was rescued, her virginity intact. As for the men, captured and bound by the women, they were flung at the queen’s feet for her to determine their fate…

My interpretation of the story behind the cover to True Adventures (June 1960) featuring the story The 49 Deadly Virgins. Cover art by Victor Olson. Source: MensPulpMags.com.

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Zorro

“Gaah! Get that damned hound off me!” Felix almost shrieked as Zorro came bounding towards him, teeth bared. He waved his gun in the direction of the dog, hoping to fend it off before it could spring at him. Anita reacted fast. “He only listens to me,” she told her terrified captor urgently, “and he’s not scared of anything. As soon as you drop your guard, he’ll be on you!” As if to back up his mistress’ words, Zorro growled from deep within his throat at Anita’s adversary. Felix, who had a fear of dogs going back to his childhood, gazed at the animal, his face contorted. “I could shoot the beast…” he warned. Anita’s eyes widened in alarm, but she did not panic. “You could…” she agreed carefully, “but if you miss or only wound him, I promise you, it will be the last thing you do!”

Felix looked at the red headed detective desperately. “Then what do I do?” he asked the bound woman almost beseechingly. Anita’s reply was immediate. “You untie me and hand me the gun.” she calmly told the man who continued to gaze in terror at Zorro. “Only then do I tell him to calm down.” Felix looked from woman to the Great Dane in a panic, as Zorro raised his claws threateningly towards the man. It was too much for Felix. “Yes! Anything!” he replied. “But then what?” Anita’s glossed lips came together in a satisfied smile. “Then I tie you up, you arrogant creep!” she grinned. “And let’s see how you like it!” Felix didn’t know whether the fear of the dog was worse than the shame of being outwitted by this damned female private eye. Zorro growled loudly again. “All right, all right - you win, damn you!” he exclaimed at last and threw his gun to the floor, so it landed at Anita’s feet, and he began to shuffle towards the tied up woman to release her.

My interpretation of the story behind the cover to The Lady Regrets by James M Fox (1947).

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The Rat

“Yes, this is the rat who sold you out, Louie,” Darlene said and began to unpeel the tape gag from the bound man’s mouth, “the question is, how much are you willing to pay me to turn him over to you?” Louie “Big Man” Vittorio looked at the blonde impassively. “How about I get my boys just to take this little fink off your hands, sweet cheeks?” he asked her with a slight smile on his face, and sat back in his armchair indulgently as his two thugs reached inside their jackets. “How about if your lugs take one step forward, I put a bullet in the middle of your forehead, Big Man?” replied Darlene, smiling sweetly.

There was silence while man and woman looked each other in the eye. Finally Louie chuckled. “How does two hundred grand sound to you, sweetheart?”

My interpretation of the story behind the cover to Women In Crime magazine #3 (Spring 1946)