January 12, 2013
by Professor 100

Pulp World Touchstones

Characters, Events, Organizations and Situations in the Pulp World

copyright 2016 James J. Kinley

Blue Monks/Order of the Burning Skulls/Monks of the Blue Flame

  • Ancient secretive order of monks. What do they want? Who knows?
  • Hidden cavern cities in the mountains of Anatolia and Eastern Europe
  • Esoteric mental practices. Strange arts of thought. Strange methods of the mind and body.
  • When using their esoteric abilities their heads are haloed in a blue flame which reveals the skull underneath the skin.
  • Purposes of their order are unknown. Sometimes they’re with the “good guys” sometimes with the “bad guys”. Sometimes both.
  • Sure they stockpile mystical artifacts but sometimes they just destroy them or use them for their own inscrutable ends. What the hell…?
  • Robes in dark colors like the shifting shadows in a cave lit only by a torch. Usual a bar or stripe or dash of the color blue, in the exact shade of the mystic blue flame somewhere on their clothing.
  • A skull is secured in a niche in a cathedral cavern in the heart of a mountain.  The skull flames relentlessly.


Briny Maiden


  • The House Over the Shifting Waters
  • Run by the Changing Man

Character: Luck Gibson

  • Weathered, grinning world traveling adventurer. Master of languages and ex-trapeze artist. Started knocking about the world at a young age, has turned his hands to many jobs and many activities. Frequently wears a battered jacket and a necktie. Says the necktie makes him look professional. Also he can get into any restaurant.
  • Worked in the circus as a boy. Born in the American Southwest.
  • Involved when a beautiful assassin became ruler of the castle city of Morevia. See Luck Gibson and the Beautiful Death.
  • Luck Gibson and the Phantom Airship
  • Luck Gibson and the Burning Ocean
  • Luck Gibson and the Demon of the Heights


Character: Mr. Now

  • Strange horror space fantasy. Genius Earth boy creates a device that allows him to trick his way into the cosmic world of the multiverse.
  • Travels from planet to planet, dimension to dimension. Has suffered horribly and enjoyed glorious triumph. His experiences have changed him and he’s not entirely human any longer. Alien bacteria has infected his system and when he finally recovered after much agony he is immune to most diseases. Exposed to alien DNA which caused him to grow some unusual organs. Can eat more things and withstand environmental extremes that normal humans could not.
  • His mind is distant, existential and strange. Has his own motivations which are largely unclear. Lives for new experiences and the dictates of his ego.
  • The Device is a large glowing crystalline craft shaped like a human skull. Nine meters tall with black spirals whirling on its glowing opalescent skin. While it merely appears to be the sad affectation of a death obsessed space traveler it is, in a very real way, Mr. Now’s own skull. Super science! Sympathetic Science that allows Now to remotely control and communicate with the Device. With the power of his mind!
  • Tall, lean, pale skinned. Soft, slate grey hair the color of some cat’s fur. Dark glittering eyes.
  • The Device doesn’t warp space or anything like that. It does what it wants because it’s too weird and smart for the universe to do anything about it, and remember, it’s Now’s skull. And the universe, which is to say, Everything, is a bit concerned about that. Everything- that is the breath in your lungs and the tea in your cup. Every atom and element is wondering what’s the deal with this guy? Everything will test him, treat with him and try to suss him out but eventually Everything will want to do something about him. The closest thing to the Elder Gods, big and weird and very unhuman. And it will all come down to the Briny Maiden.
  • Has recurring nemesis: The Bottled Horror. Terrifying pan-dimensional entity committed to the suffering of others. The Horror passed through Now’s mind and learned a lot about him telepathically. Not necessarily facts but images and emotional content. The Horror knows about Earth.
  • Brings the Worn intergalactic union to its knees with a poem.

The Death Dirge of the Hurang

“The skull-shaped ship hovered above the ground for a moment and then, light as a kitten settled to the planet’s surface. The grill at the object’s base ramped open and a tall figure emerged. A  human man, so far away from his home planet, stood in the soft glow of his strange ship. He was the weird traveler known as Mr. Now come to this planet in fire and screaming to bring an ancient and powerful intergalactic civilization to its knees.”


Character: Sarano Clee

Journalist, traveler, satirist.

Born of a poor family in the American South.

Mark Twain in a pulp world. Not much of a fighter. Prefers flight to physical confrontation but has an insatiable curiosity and a sometimes surprising moral courage considering his skeptical existentialism.  His curiosity and desire for experience get him into trouble.

  • Writes the Narrative of the Restless Dead
  • Has great difficulty keeping his wives alive. Goes through more spouses than Sonny Crockett.
  • Second wife disappears into the Chasm of the Screaming Mists. Clee refuses to marry for a long time but when he finally does, complications ensue.
  • Has a predilection for scarves.
  • Moustaches? Sometimes.
  • He’s an older guy. Longish white hair.  He’s been around the block more than a few times. Hard to trick, trap or con him. He’s made his mistakes and knows how people are.
  • Not a two fisted battler. Good at hitting people over the head from behind.
  • Enjoys good food and drink. Prefers comfortable beds and will travel first class when the chips are in or his publisher is picking up the tab.
  • Has written entries for the Encyclopedia of Unreliable Information


Sarano Clee in:

  • The Howling Church House
  • Blackbird Chorus
  • Hidden Mirror

“I’d been warned time and again not to come to Mirenburg.  And then warned, if I was damn fool enough to come to Mirenburg, to  never, ever, whatever I do, take a room at the Hotel Husari.  And then I was told that if I was damn fool enough to come to Mirenburg, and suicidally idiotic enough to take a room at the Hotel Husari, to not, at the cost of my own sweet life, my very soul and sanity, and the sanctity of my own fashionable necktie to not, under any circumstances, ever allow the clerk at the Hotel Husari to give me room number 318.  This is why I found myself rummaging through my pockets to find currency enough to tip the bellhop for installing me into room 318 of the Hotel Husari, Mirenburg.”



Character: Scholar of Secrets.  

Works for The Museum. Archive of the strange, esoteric and fantastic.

“So much of what I’m interested falls outside of the realms of everyday jurisprudence –indeed outside the realms of everyday reality”


  • Works for mysterious archive/museum that collects and studies esoteric items/events. Subjects all have a lyrical or terrifying quality.
  • He is short and ugly. Unruly dark hair. Clothes are good quality but old and worn. Battered tweeds and wrinkled trousers.
  • Short but thick bodied. Very, very strong.
  • Driven by the lust to learn more and more esoteric information. Knowing what others don’t know gives him a thrill.  “Uncommon knowledge”. Loves strange, unknown facts and ideas.  Savors them as a gourmand savors a rich meal or fine wine.
  • Stakes out the dockland to find out about sailors smuggling recipes written on their backs.
  • The words of an epic tale are being written word by word on a petal of a black flower smuggled on one of the few remaining camel trains through the Sahara. Each year, one camel train, one flower, one word. This transport has been happening for centuries and the story is near completion.
  • The susurrus of the waves on a certain shore at a particular time whisper the secret names of the ghosts who work as postmen.
  • Goes to the high Andes to search out Condors that, seemingly by chance, collect fossils and assemble them into dinosaur skeletons in their nests.
  • Secret sex parties in Nevada where rich people use unknown machines to swap body parts. Not merely genitalia but digits, limbs and facial features.





January 10, 2013
by Professor 100

Argenteum Astrum: Dramatis Personae

Argenteum Astrum: Dramatis Personae  by Jason Squamata

Here are the first hints of the mind-bending adventures of a genius rocket prodigy magus and his twisted crew of bohemian occultists and sex-fueled madmen as they blast-off from our mundane world and attempt to go BEYOND THE BEYOND.

Click on the illos for a closer look at the anti-hero protagonists and anti-villain antagonists of this cosmic thrill ride by New Pulp scribe Jason Squamata.


The Year is 1946.

A-A=MARVEL SOLARISMARVEL SOLARIS (“JACK” to his closest colleagues) is a megalomaniacal millionaire rocket man who strives to splice and synthesize the disciplines of science and that old time religion, re-inventing chemistry and aeronautics and engineering under the influence of ancient rituals and fresh chemicals, all with one aim: to make it into space…by any means necessary. Outer space.  Inner space.  Every kind of space that unfolds outside of time.  In his palatial sanctum sanctorum (known to initiates as THE SOLARIUM), he has assembled a coven of evil geniuses.  The Argenteum Astrum.  A secret society of transcendental anarchists, dedicated to shredding the arbitrary membranes between “dreaming” and “reality”, building an astral space program under the camouflage meshes of a maniacal sex cult, sloughing all earthly concerns and preconceptions to pilot their souls into Eternity, leaving wormholes in their wake that every man and every woman will be free to follow them through in soul-ships and cathedral engines of their own.  In his feverish dreams, Solaris is a cosmic hero, an incendiary collage of the space pirates and swaggering magi in Criswell’s pulp novels from before the war.  In his feverish life, Solaris is a mad scientist, building new technologies and ways of seeing in his manic phase and blowing it all up in the thick of his depression.  On the brink of a great leap beyond the beyond, Solaris has invited the viper Criswell into his temple, perhaps as a means of martyring his own messiah complex and aborting a dangerous game he just might win.  Perhaps as sacrificial fuel for the Great Operation.

A-A=CORNELIUS CRISWELLCORNELIUS CRISWELL is a compulsive pulp writer, yarn-spinner, and con artist, silenced by a war trauma he dares not contemplate, blocked and going buggy in a military mental ward.  In lieu of writing the pulp, he chooses to live it by checking into an invasive spy school and brainwashing clinic, run by an impossible agency called MK0.  They make him the perfect undercover cult buster and turn him loose in the freak bohemia of post-war Pasadena.  A deranged millionaire rocket scientist cum occultist cum party monster named Marvel Solaris is his biggest fan and has written letters to that effect.  Criswell’s mission: to penetrate the Solarium, win the wizard’s trust, study and perhaps partake in the coven’s strange experiments, and report these hidden miracles to his shadowy masters before destroying Solaris and going missing again.  Solaris is everything Criswell wanted to be, before the treatments.  So begins a battle for the soul of a schizoid Judas, up to no good in a diabolical demimonde where every other super villain can read his crooked mind.



A-A=CANDY WORMWOODCANDY WORMWOOD is a willowy witch girl, hair the color of blood, eyes the color of alien moons, imperious like a statue of some forgotten goddess but wild like the hunt is wild, running between the worlds to overtake and pounce on divinity and rend its flesh asunder in her longing for wonder.  She’s naturally “psychic”, a talent enhanced by Dr. Greenbaum’s special medications.  She can always hear the voices of the dead, hissing through her head like her brain’s an old radio.  The tranquility of cemeteries is chaos to Candy.  In the war, she made maps for the military through fledgeling, finely feathered astral projections.  The head of her class in remote viewing exercises. She’s haunted always by the deaths that ensued.  American boys and Japanese boys, her mangled spectral entourage, hiding in her shadow, whispering their cryptic secrets.  Now she works for Dr. Greenbaum at the Institute.  He’s been healing her anxieties with experimental therapies, explaining all her visions away scientifically even as he exploits her talents at the command of his own secret dictators in the lowermost echelons of C.H.O.R.O.N.Z.O.N..  Candy senses that MK0 in general and Greenbaum in particular are in collusion with a soul-eating culture-sculpting cosmic demon.  Metaphorically speaking, at the very least.  She’s Greenbaum’s attache in the Marvel Solaris investigation.  She’s Criswell’s case worker, refreshing his programming in sessions of deep hypnosis, grooming him for his penetration of the rocket monster’s lavish laboratory, aching with her every atom to part the veils of surveillance and slip into that velvet hell herself.  She knows with elemental certainty that her destiny and her dream-life are jungled up with the burning brain of Marvel Solaris.  He seems to call out to her through the photographs, the recordings, the letters, the boxes of fetishistic evidence.  Is what she feels just the deep desire to thwart his plans, save civilization, and bring his gang of dangerous strangelings to “justice”?  Or is it Candy that will ultimately acquiesce and offer up her circuitries to the archangelic heat of Marvel’s flaming sword?


A-A=CHARLIE MUNSTERCHARLIE MUNSTER is Jack’s semi-psycho teen sidekick, the textbook juvenile delinquent gone grisly in the age of the atom bomb, the lethal snake-flavored product of bad blood, juvenile homes, and prisons for kids so broken their edges cut everyone they touch.  He crossed paths with Jack on one of his little crime sprees.  Jack took him in, had the crimes covered up, taught him magick using the exercises in old METABEAST pulp magazines.  Jack showed Charlie what the MetaBeast showed HIM, that the world is cursed by the presence of a malevolent, anti-human intelligence.  It saturates the air we breathe and the very symbols we think with.  Our fear and anxiety are its nourishment.  Charlie, despite his scorpion mindgames and his violent appetites, is Jack’s most trusted confidante…before Criswell comes.  He runs the Solarium’s shadier aspects.  He’s a driver and an assassin, a cackling consigliere, a procurer, a valet.  The Argenteum Astrum has given Charlie’s apocalyptic passions a purpose and a meaning.  He has a razor in his brain and free jazz beatnik death on tap for any fucker who stands between Jack and Beyond.  He’s a streetwise squire to Jack’s black knight, a little fanatic drooling always for more cosmic weirdness.  Charlie loves it when things get spooky.  He has his eyes on Criswell.  One snake knows another.  The closer Criswell gets to Solaris, the more Charlie is haunted backwards by blood-splashed flashes of future madness.
A-A=becky nordstrom 2BECKY NORDSTROM is a tow-headed nymphet femme fatale, a spoiled rich girl who uses her palpable appetites and infectious feminine wiles to lure Marvel Solaris away from her sister Helena and make the High Priest of The Solarium her doting love-slave.  Under the spell of her sleazy provocations, Solaris makes her the principal vessel and centerpiece of the coven’s Great Operation.  Her molten core will be the gurgling grail that fuels their leap into “A-SPACE”.  The rituals are sexual in nature, and she yields her nubile flesh and essence unto this league of madmen with ecstatic abandon.  At the orgiastic parties that feed and camouflage the coven’s experiments, Becky plays the eternal debutante and flirtatious consort, enchanting all who breathe her ambience of boardwalk taffy and summer lies.  Up in the Silver Star Chamber, she’s the delirious vehicle these demons ride into the Great Unknown.  They’re getting closer and closer to The Moon Inside.  But then Criswell comes, and Becky the hustler is hustled in turn.  Hustled into love.  The kind of subjugated, desperate love she has induced in so many without ever tasting it herself.  She’s tormented by her lust.  She can’t take it lightly.  Criswell knows just what wet buttons to push and how firmly to push them.  Solaris is tormented by jealousy.  This isn’t the free love prescribed by their opulent bohemian ethos.  This is her HUNGER.  Her infatuation poisons her as a Vessel.  She can’t truly belong to the stars when she belongs to Criswell and Criswell belongs to the labyrinthine sewers of Hell.  Love can make you so crazy your soul dissolves in an Abyss of its own making.  And your body goes cold like the void is cold until he touches you.

A-A=REX RAGEREX RAGE is a cinemagick leatherboy, an experimental filmmaker who grew up crazy between the scenes of lavish Hollywood spectacles, where his doting grandmother was a set dresser and wardrobe designer.  He’s made a way of seeing out of cinema, editing reality as he lives it, his brain a mess of movies.  He hypnotizes actors into their roles, dresses the sets with sinister symbols, shoots through a spectrum of tinted lenses, cutting and pasting the moments of his life into evocative montages that look like fever dreams and feel like eternity.  He flits between the luxurious Elysium of the studio system and the filth and fury of the underworld.  He’s an obsessive student of Oberon Cromley.  He loves Hollywood gossip and anonymous sex.  He sees the studio chiefs as black magi in the service of CHORONZON.  He wants to free the Art from their bland commercial factories.  The narcissistic star struck lord of force and fire.


A-A=SAMSARA ZURN SAMSARA ZURN is a self-styled gypsy surrealist; a filmmaker, a modern dancer, an ordained voodoo priestess with a tendency to get possessed.  She’s a Queen of Bohemia with impeccable credentials.  Her father was a vagabond jazz musician who revolutionized his idiom.  Her mother was a communist socialite.  She lost her virginity to deranged Parisian art criminal Jacques Vache (known also as Otherman) in a palatial mental institution in 1933.  While studying in New York, she made haunted paintings, hungry films, and occult choreographies based on Tantric yoga poses and the agonies of the saints.  In 1939, she visited Haiti to film voodoo rituals for her thesis on the atavistic religious roots of dance.  Despite her academic pretensions, she was swept up in the drums and the delirium and was possessed by the Loa known as Madame Erzulie, the primordial pre-human godform of love and lust and moon-mad heartbreak.  She’s been filled up with Erzulie ever since.  Her ambiance seems to sexualize motherness.  The forces she works with are older than light.


A-A=METABEASTOBERON CROMLEY, in his prime, was known globally as “the wickedest man alive”.  Fresh out of Cambridge with a lush inheritance and delusions of grandeur, he drove the premiere secret societies of Victorian England into an occult gang-war that changed the shape of space and time.  Under the pyramids, he received transmissions from Secret Chiefs and Ascended Masters.  He formed cults and crime rings and orgone laboratories.  He played all five sides against the middle in two world wars.  He brought ruin, madness, and extreme corruption to every life he touched.  He also engineered and codified a conjuring technology of cosmic correspondences that spliced all previous magickal systems and turns the mind that uses it into am will-driven dream machine.  In the darkest hour of World War 2, when it seemed that no brotherhood of light would stand a chance against the burning swastikas and blitzkriegs of CHORONZON’s latest upgrade, Cromley assembled a league of sorcerers, super villains, and half-mad scientists, initiates one and all in The ARGENTEUM ASTRUM.  Unspeakable rituals weave their souls into an Astral Airship, the BABALON, bound for the cathedral core of the Moon Inside, to receive some fresh weapon from the Secret Chiefs who scheme for the wholesale translation of man into god.  Swarms of ghost-gnashing pranasites from within and without the craft made a crash of it.  Cromley was the soul survivor, if you can call what’s left of him survival.  He’s been severed from his Overself which basks in silvery splendor on that lost moon we only ever see in dreams.  Physically, he’s degenerated into a shriveling suburban junkie, milking various acolytes through constant correspondence, just to sustain the cold embrace of his beloved opiates. In the thirties, there was a shudder pulp magazine devoted to his crimes. Articles in the back pages taught a generation of malcontent’s the basis of Cromley’s system.  This is how he first touched the mind of Marvel Solaris.  Cromley has presented himself as a wise old mentor figure, trying to manipulate the formation and training of the new Argenteum Astrum via his influence on his protogee.  For the sake of mankind, of course.  Cromley wants his soul back.  There were allegedly 665 stories written for MetaBeast magazine.  There is one myth left to live.


A-A=HELENA NORDSTROM SOLARIS SLOANEHELENA NORDSTROM SOLARIS SLOANE is Jack’s ex-wife and pining priestess.  They fell in love when he was coming up.  She followed him without a backward glance into the domain of initiation, ritual magick, and experimental living.  She lost him to her devious little sister.  She found solace in the arms of Edmund Sloane, the Cromleyite Jack deposed as head of the O.T.O..  Edmund is on a pilgrimage now, and Helena can’t tear herself away from the Solarium, the house she built with Jack.  She hates him a little bit less than she loves him, and she feels like she’s the only soul left in his circle who isn’t exploiting him in some fashion.  Her magick is the magick of pretty things: jittery jewels and silky silence and stars before they’re close enough to eat you.





A-A=DAMIAN SZANDORDAMIAN SZANDOR is a sideshow Satan, a painted devil, a circus mentalist and high priest of evil, a stage magician and master of spectacle who runs an infernal anti-church in L.A. that caters to criminals and showbiz types that sre seeking a piece of strange.  Membership in the ARGENTEUM ASTRUM has opened his mind to spectacle on a cosmic level.  His world is steeped in darkness, but he has an appetite for wonder.  He has two beautiful daughters, a gang of hooded minions who do his bidding for kicks, and truly demonic dirt on some of the biggest names in showbiz.  He does the Svengali thing with fresh off-the-bus ingénues as a sideline.  Szandor is a hustler, an agitator, and a sensualist.  He craves power, chaos, and cache.






A-A=DR. GREENBAUMDR. SIDNEY GREENBAUM  is a creepy G-Man with his own agenda, a psychoprogramming virtuoso and mind control innovator who appeared out of nowhere after World War 2, toiled for a time in the twisted vineyards of espionage, emerging in the upper echelons of the newborn CIA as the director and principal architect of MK0, an R & D division that seeks to weaponize human consciousness and build the perfect spy…the perfect soldier…the perfect citizen.  His security clearance will open any door in the realm.  His influence is pervasive and always toxic.  He conducts atrocities at the Institute like Mozart conducted symphonies.  Through the eyes of The ARGENTEUM ASTRUM,  Greenbaum is a slave of CHORONZON,  a designer of its most hideous inquisitions.  But Greenbaum just wants to get the job done.  Absolute control over every living soul.  That is the Demon’s objective.  Despite his position as avant garde superstar and the most highly paid practitioner in the mind control industry, Greenbaum is insatiably curious and acquisitive when it comes to breakthroughs made in his field.  His Zero Process (allegedly conceived and developed at Dachau) turns ordinary sociopaths into wind-up killers and sleeper agents.  He’s busting cults all over America and assimilating their technologies.  Criswell is one of his jagged little prototypes.   Solaris is public enemy number one.  “Give me 3 days, a locked room, and a vial of LSD-26, and I can turn you into anyone at all.”

A-A=HEINRICH VON ECKHARDTHEINRICH VON ECKHARDT  was a dashing Knight of the Reich, a rocket science mastermind and weaponsmith and part-time pilot in the SS astral projection program, in which he was known by the codename UBERGEIST.  When it all went to Hell and Holocaust, he was smuggled into the States to plug his findings into a primitive and deeply conservative space program.  He and Solaris share a love for rockets, forbidden knowledge, and pulp magazines.  He’s using the spaces unfolded by the ARGENTEUM ASTRUM to continue his Nazi experiments, splicing hardcore science with the more nebulous technologies of the occult.  Above all things, he wants to bring miracles back from the astral plane to enrich the physical world.  He wants to lead an “improved” human species into space.






Behold the erotic arsenals and lascivious laboratories of KLAUS REICHMANN, the infamously sinister scientist of sex.  In the greenhouse gazebos and wind-up gardens of the Solarium, Reichmann builds biomorphic sex engines and prana-building sex boxes and cloud-busting, UFO-scrambling energy guns that run on, you guessed it, SEX.  Reichmann is a wild-eyed fanatic, devoted body and mind and soul to the infinite applications of his great discovery: “orgone energy”, buzzing blue particles and soul-tingling waves of undiluted lifeforce that surge through our sexual networks and nourish all that lives in its growing.  An untapped boundless power source that can only be perceived by the eyes and tongues and microscopes of the mind.  It can only be harnessed with impossible technologies.  Let’s call it primitive TantraTech.  So he’s holed up in this lavish think-tank, protected and bankrolled by Solaris, exiled by the academies and wanted by the authorities of seventeen nations.  The conjoined specialties of the Argenteum Astrum have created an ambience of wet nightmare on Orange Grove Boulevard.  The physics are loose here.  No enemy agent can make it through their psychic screens without getting lost forever.  Reichmann is haunted by fractured future memories of the orgiastic paradise the world might be when freed from the suppressive, fear-milking contagion that is C.H.O.R.O.N.Z.O.N.  A perfectly programmed party might blast them off into zones where that dream of perfect pleasure can be mapped and reverse-engineered into physical reality.  Then, the nations of the earth will mutate into one unwavering, sustainable pornocracy.  Then, Reichmann’s voluminous notes will be embraced and studied as a new scripture, a new algebra, a new way of seeing and being…instead of schizophrenic witch scribbles, fit only for burning.

Argenteum Astrum copyright 2013 Jason Squamata


January 10, 2013
by Professor 100

Pulp Family Profile: Ron Fortier

ron fortier

Through the years there have been consistent and growing waves of interest in pulp fiction due, mostly, to certain artists, creators, and fans that love the form and have worked hard to ensure that it did not fade away.  Over the years they continued to gather together to appreciate and discuss old pulp fiction as well as created new pulp works for the modern age.

One such luminary is comic book writer, sci-fi and pulp novelist, educator, publisher, playwright, and New Pulp Air Chief Ron Fortier.  Ron Fortier has been an unstoppable powerhouse in the world of new pulp fiction, working alternatively as a writer, editor, publisher, and reviewer.   Fortier’s pulp work can be found in every format, whether digital publishing, print prose, printed comics, podcasts, or a myriad of pulp related sites all over the net. And in each of these efforts you can feel the blue flame heat of pulp at its best.

I first encountered Fortier’s work in Now comic’s The Sting of the Green Hornet where he crafted intelligent and surprisingly realistic personalities for characters that have rarely been more than two dimensional.  The Green Hornet, the masked vigilante character, created by George W. Trendle and Fran Striker in 1936, originally for radio broadcasts but quickly moved to movies, comics, and eventually television; is not strictly speaking a pulp character.  Yet, with his gas gun, face mask and snazzy trench coat and fedora he definitely has that golden age pulp feel.

Fortier created the legacy aspect of the Green Hornet and his partner Kato, bringing together all of the various incarnations of those characters into a coherent narrative that explained how the various renditions of the character through the decades were, in fact, a heroic tradition handed down through their respective families. This allowed Fortier to honor the efforts of all of the creators who had worked on those characters before him, as well as bringing striking depth to his stories. This legacy aspect of the characters is now considered canon and has been used in all of the subsequent renditions of the Green Hornet and Kato in comics.

Since that work on the Green Hornet Fortier has contributed stories for Moonstone Books for such classic pulp heroes as The Spider and the Domino Lady.

Apparently not content to rest on his laurels from this stellar pulp related comic book work; he was one of the founders of Airship 27, a publishing business dedicated to bringing new pulp stories into the 21st Century.  It was with Airship 27 that he certified his true pulp pedigree and earned his rank as Air Chief by becoming one of the foremost publishers of New Pulp fiction. As Fortier states, the Airship 27 website is the best place to learn about his portfolio of published works and his upcoming projects, as well as acquiring some of the best in New Pulp.

For pulp fans one of Fortier’s most exciting projects was his resurrection of the classic, but short-lived, pulp hero Captain Hazzard. The Captain Hazzard character was first published in a single, self-titled pulp magazine that ran for a solitary issue with the story “Python Men of the Lost City”.   Fortier re-imagined the character for new Captain Hazzard stories.

You can find the Captain Hazzard books, and the impressive array of other Airship 27 publications by other New Pulp authors, at their online store. That’s where you can also get stories featuring Fortier’s New Pulp character Brother Bones, and find out how to read his ongoing superhero series Mr. Jigsaw.

As if that wasn’t enough, Fortier runs Pulp Fiction Reviews blogspot  where he, just as the name implies, reviews contemporary fiction that has a pulp edge.  While bringing his critical powers to bear, you can feel his enthusiasm for and love of the genre, which he traces through many of today’s popular thriller series. He doesn’t limit his reviews to big name series, however, he also seeks out works by smaller publishers who are doing their best to keep the flame of pulp fiction burning bright, and gives them a prominence they may not have gotten otherwise.

Ron Fortier has a love and enthusiasm for pulp fiction, which has motivated him to create new works for a world that is hungry for wonders to enjoy, while, at the same time, supporting others who want to do the same.    That crackling energy and real-world work ethic  has always characterized true pulp creators.  Air  Chief, we salute you.


Image provided courtesy of Airship 27 and Air Chief Ron Fortier.